Once upon a midnight creamy, I was dabbing, weak and horny,
Over many a sweet and sensual volume of Patposting lore—
While I cuddled, nearly crapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As Doctor Dre gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Plyon forevaeva,” I muttered, “Breaking up for nevaeva—
Only this and Pat will score.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak Shitpost Center;
And each Barcast cast member wrought its post upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From Eighths surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost hopes he will score—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Vylore—
Nameless here for evermore.
- Some Australian (2021)
It was a beautiful fucking day in Equestria. More beautiful than a glorious ice cold can of Monster BFC edition. His Patcoin account was exploding in stonks.
On the screen there came a mining, a mining of Patcoin. Gently on my screen saver. My Patcoin pays for games and especially that of Patan. A settlers game of lewdness never witnessed by ponies before.
One such pony, Octavia Melody, had been purchasing the elusive Patcoin on Robin's Hood. A wealthy business pony had told her, advised her, to meme this precious coin into the public eye. Now we will be blessed, with rains of Patcoins down in Patrica.
Octavia squealed joyfully. She could now buy the even more precious sparky-wankies from her beloved Pat-kun.
One day, a beautiful god amongst men, the chaddest of beefcakes, Sir Pat, Guardian of the Cup, went to his pimphouse in Equestria. It was a grandiose palace that he won after beating Seto Kaiba in a duel using his insane Yu-Gi-Oh technique so that he could house his rapidly expanding harem.
Pat smiled as he opened the door, excited to see his harem.
“Welcome home, Pat-rama-sama~!” Vylon exclaimed
“Hey sugar pumpkin~” Pat replied
“What do you want first? Dinner? A bath? Or wa-ta-shi~” Vy asked in a sing-song and totally not anime waifu voice. (She’s Filipino, not Japanese you racist fuck.)
Pat thought for a moment, he loved food but he’s been feeling a bit pent up after so many rounds of Yu-Gi-Oh. But hey, Patcoin wasn’t a cheap investment!
“You know what? I’m in the mood for some good ol’ lovin’ hon.” Pat answered her “But I think something’s missing.” Pat then raised his head “Hey where da Bri’ish pones at?”
As if on cue, a grey furred pony stepped into the room, “Oh my~ You called for me, master?” The pony asked.
“Yes I did. I’ve been feeling pent up and well we can’t have a concerto without you, Octavia.” Pat responded to his proper wife.
“Oh? And what concerto do you intend to compose today, Master Pat?” Octavia inquired.
“How about the Cuntcerto of Spanky Wankies in Sex major?” He proposed.
“Oh DAHRLINNNNG~ that sounds wonderful!” She emphatically responds in an unusual voice more akin to a certain other Bri’ish pony. “That said, I think we’re missing someone.”
Pat thought for a moment about whom Octavia was talking about before it hit him. Of course, second best girl!
“Oh Snek Girl! We all wanna have some fun~!” He called.
A busty yet slender woman with very long pink hair, clad in a skin-tight black revealing dress with magenta straps walked downstairs. Her eyes were covered with a pink blindfold.
“How may I serve you today, Master?” The Sneky Woman asked.
‘Sneky’, of course, was not her real name, but merely a nickname. Her real name was Amanda. But it had a long and interesting backstory.
Amanda, as she was known then, was born on the Pacific island of Tonga in 1853. Back then it was known as Pineapple Island, reflecting the large numbers of guava which were grown there (in those days, these were known as ‘pineapples’).
She grew up rapidly, forced to grow from a girl to a woman by the death of her father. He died suddenly, from overwork in the mines. Amanda cried when this occurred. She grew into Medusa from Greek mythology in Fate.
“We’re gonna go harder than stone, and we need your help.” He answered.
“You know what my curse is right?” She asked, making sure Pat knew what he was getting into.
Pat looked down at his glorious polyamorous triad with a wide smile.
“I’m going to do sex to them.”
It is well known that in Africa, the grasses and the clouds contain chemicals that promote virility, fertility and big penis. That is why in Africa the men have large penises. Pat, separated from Africa by several centuries of descent, still retains these parts; for it is well known that these virile and fertile factors are conveyed within dominant genes. In fact, in Africa, these come from the rain, which is blessed with the semen and the hormones of the local tribal cult god. These rains were going to be blessed.
Pat was born in Germany in 1972. This year held cosmic significance, for 1+9+2+2 is 19, which is a prime number. Anybody born in a year of a prime number is destined for greatness, which is commonly known. Being born in a prime year, Pat prepared from a young age for a leadership position. He bullied his peers.
One day Pat was out boating on lake Tchad. He was in a small boat. He had a life jacket, some rations, and a paddle.
Pat got out his paddle which beautifully had his name embroidered to give a special redmark. It also had an etching of his dick, so people would know who broke in dat ass. Pride rock was a little well known monicore for Pat’s shlong. And he was about to make this hedgehog bitch call him simba.
Sonic came in, saw what was happening, and paled. He had always wanted some of that Pat spankies, and now was his chance. He dropped to all fours like a sweaty, aging dog with a weak bladder, and began to tremble with anticiPation.
“Give it to me Pat Senpai!” Sonic begged.
These words, of course, held great significance in Sonic’s life. It had not even been ten years since the fateful day that Sonic had met that enigmicatic figure. It had been a rainy day; the angry and mournful weather had only barely reflected the misery that permeated his soul. Sonic was younger then. He recalled walking down the road, stepping over puddles and small piles of mud. He had to keep his sneakers clean for her. He had bit his lip, trying to bite back the anxiety. Today was the day.
On that mysterious and life-altering day, he had eventually accepted a lift from a stranger. That stranger had been a handsome man. He had stopped, offered Sonic a lift; and before he knew what was going on, Sonic was in the front seat and eagerly thanking the man for his hospitality. Sonic wished he had not been so trusting.
The radio, as Sonic recalled, had been set to some classic station. The music had been a little too intellectual for Sonic’s liking, but he had found it soothing. He had asked the man his name.
“Tortured Shadow,” the man had said. He looked off towards the horizon before continuing. “At least, that’s my OC’s name.” Sonic had found his evasiveness so attractive.
“Wow,” said Sonic. “You are so enigmatic.”
“I guess you could say I’m pretty deep,” the man said, smoking a cigar. He stopped talking, and turned to look at Sonic. “Wanna suck my dick?”
“Give it to me Pat Senpai!” Sonic had cried, for the second time of many.
Sonic bit his lower lip and his chilli dog started to swell with meaty lust.
‘Chilli dog’, of course, held particular significance for him. It had been in Peru, in the lower steppes of the Andes, that he had first encountered that fateful foodstuff. He was a juvenile hedgehog then, headstrong and wild.
He had been hitchhiking his way across Latin America, trying to escape the memory of his imperious and domineering mother, when he met Sancho. Sancho, of course, was just one alias of many. His real, legal name had been Ario Sancho di Santano y Palato Cruz.
Sonic had accepted a lift from the stranger, despite speaking only a few words of Spanish.
“Soy blanco,” Sonic said. He blushed when Ario made eye contact with him.
“You speak Anglo, gringo,” Ario said. Sonic nodded in the affirmative, not able to force his uncomfortably tight throat to attempt to form words.
The following few days had passed as a halcyon blur, obviously. Sonic had scarcely known if he was on heaven or on earth. They flew through Patagonian flatlands, Andean mountains or Mexican swamplands by day, and showed each other the magic of homosexual love by night,
One day, on the edge of climax, Sancho uttered those fateful words - “chilli dog,” he cried.
These words, of course, corresponded to a particular food item - a specialty of those former Spanish colonies in South America - with which Sonic rapidly familiarized himself. It comprised a ‘dog’ - a sausage of pig prostate, anus, penis and other unmentionable parts - and a ‘bun’ - that is, a roll of refined white bread. This, married happily with this Hispanic icon chilli, made a ‘chilli dog’, as Latino as Che Guevara or illegal immigration.
Back in the present, Pat grinned down and raised the paddle into the air with his muscular mocha arms. This was an unexpected addition, but he wasn’t going to pass up the chance.
He brought down the paddle with a solid thwack, making sonic let out a whimper of desire and satisfaction. Immediately, Vylon looked up in shock.
“WAIT!” she cried, “Where’s my Spankie Wankies?”
“They’re coming baby,” he said with a wink, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna go fast.”
“Oh no!” Sonic said, but it was too late.
Pat began to give sonic spankie wankies at the speed of sound. And that sound was moaning and slapping. He did this until the hedgehog collapsed on the floor and a bunch of gold rings fell out of his ass. Only then did he turn back to Vylon with a glint of sexual prowess in his eyes.
“Alright baby girl,” he said, “It’s time to make your cheekie weekies sit up and call me daddy.”
“Oh yes Pat!” Vylon cried and presented her ample rump, “Slap me like you’d slap enigma if he said he didn’t know who T-Pain was!”
Given that Pat was black and T-pain was also black, this was about to be a very hard paddling. He pulled back and swung down hard.
“Spankie wankies for my little bran muffin!!” he cried, just as the surface connected with her Bootius Maximplus.
Octavia watched in deep enjoyment at the completely wrecked blue hedgehog and the now whimpering Vylon. This was everything she wanted. Her man causing pain to her rivals. It made her wetter than the great flood of 1862. Considering that killed a lot of horses, she was very wet indeed.
Now she approached Vylon and spread her legs. Vylon eagerly slurped up the pussy juice as Pat continued to spank his other girlfriend’s ample buttocks. The cute medusa snake girl watched as snakes do. (Seriously, they’re in your walls, and they like to watch you have sex. Hiss hiss motherfucker.) It was very hot. They were all really into it.
And so, Pat gave vylon the spankie wankies, Vylon licked octavia’s mare pussy, snake girl Amanda medusa watched like a creeper, and sonic sat as an incoherent heap in the corner. Where he cummed and shidded in pleasure. Then Pat put his dick in all of them at the exact same time and there was an orgasm explosion that engulfed all of equestria with his love seed. And from that seed rose many waifus. Waifus for everyone. That is why we have waifus to this day.
Priest cried.
Now, on every Paturday, we celebrate the occasion of the great spanking wanking. To celebrate his gifts we sing the song of love and adoration to him, as follows, that he may bestow waifus on us forever more:
PAT HAREM
(sung to the tune of Pokemon theme)
I want to be friends with Pat
He’s the best there ever was
I want to get him all the babes
It is my only cause
We’ll hit hotel rooms hand in hand
With bitches thin or wide
It’s my personal mission now
To be sure he cums inside
PAT HAREM (gotta screw em all)
Oh watch and you’ll see
He’ll screw every last lady
Oh you’re my best friend
And you can cum in either end
PAT HAREM (gotta fuck em all)
That cock so thicc
Got girls aching for for his dick
He gets pussy
And he gets poon
PAT’S HAREM
(Gotta screw em all, gotta fuck em all!)
YEAH!
All hail Pat, praise and glory be to him.
-THE END-
Author's Note
- Pencil made this pic of his OC
I'm serious this is his OC
