She’s My Tranny Pie

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Internet dating sites are phenomenal. It baffles me that traditional prostitutes are still in business despite the existence of unrecompensed pussy smorgasbords like Plenty Of Fish and OK Cupid. I wouldn’t have had a fraction of the wildly enjoyable STD scares I’ve endured (untainted I might add – either my immune system is spectacular or the statistics are spectacularly exaggerated) without these web-based shortcuts to Giney Town, because the bar scene is equally fun to the waiting period between an STD test and its results, only worse because there’s white people dancing.

The only thing that rivals the physical pleasure of the flesh-based interactions enabled by dating sites is the comedic pleasure provided by some of the unbridled slobs that have the ovaries big enough – packed up somewhere inside their gunts – to actually initiate contact as though a handsome motherfucker like myself would even stroke a key on their behalf, never mind penetrate them under free will.

Sure, broads like to complain about everything the overflowing inbox of semi-literate muck they must sift through on these sites – but I have extensive experience fielding messages as a hot chick since I trolled as one back when MySpace wasn’t a punch line and posted the results: Idiots Of MySpace Volume IIIIIIIVVVI. As magically horrific as that was, the sum stupidity off all my interactions there pales in comparison to the one-off horror of a simple expression of interest from the topic of today’s post – that being this ungodly abomination:

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This 6-foot-tall, blue-eyed BBW is a non-religious Pisces with brown hair. This flirty high school graduate works in the insurance field, smokes often, drinks socially, and isn’t seeking a relationship or any kind of commitment. Commitment? No – this wild thang is simply looking for “a hot guy to have a little fun with” and wondering “if you’re man enough for the challenge?” She enjoys the club scene and… that’s right fellas… also has herself a motherfucking dick and one set of full-fledged testicles – all courtesy of being birthed a male.

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Look at that mountain of repulse. Six feet tall! I didn’t know they stacked morbidly obese tranny that high! She looks like motherfucking Mark Henry in whiteface!

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Go ahead, drink her in… one gelatinous mouthful at a time:

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Sweet tit meat, fella.

I’m sure some of you prattling pap smears out there are thinking, “This is unfair. What did she ever do to you?” First of all, she’s a he. Secondly, fuck you on principle. Third: SHE IS A MOTHERFUCKING HE. And fourth and foremost: I’m as live-and-let-live as it gets. But Mount Kili-tran-jaro here put itself on my radar. I wasn’t scouring the web for lipstick-dick-n-tit-adorned corpulence. I was minding my business, waiting for emotionally fragile, physically attractive, female by birth, continued female by choice, preferably teenaged broads to email me and allow me a platform to seem the perfect mix of disinterested yet engaging that they simply must have unprotected sex with me post haste. My profile provides no indication of interest in whatever the living fuck what’s pictured in those photos could possibly be described as. If you’re gonna challenge my manhood – and my ability to keep food in my stomach – and dump your stupid Bigfoot tits and your fat Carnie Wilson face in my lap, then you’ve made yourself fair game. When you come upon my profile and you’re six feet tall, 99% body fat, and have a mixtape of sex organs hanging off yourself, and you decide, “Let me contact this astonishingly handsome heterosexual gentleman because hey, what the fuck, maybe he’ll dig what the Apocalypse would look like in the form of a dating profile,” then yes, I’ll bang you you’re eligible to be publicly scrutinized on a shitty blog called Unleash The Beef. Which, above all else, is really what justifies this proceeding: I have a website, time to kill, and nothing to say.

“Her” profile, however, says the following:

Do you want children?     Yes.

So I’ll say this: I understand that the primary function of adults on this planet is to fuck up children. What we’re looking at in this post is what happens when you really, truly, colossally fuck up a child. When you destroy it. This is as bad as it gets for a childhood gone awry, short of those that grow to be murderers, politicians (but I repeat myself), Matchbox 20 fans, or disc golf enthusiasts. I will resist the urge to carry on humorlessly for 10,000 words about what an unmitigated horror it would be to be reared (as in “raised” – not “buttfucked”) by this singular human circus, but once you move past the initial hilarity of the notion that Barnum & BBW wants children of its own and you consider the fact that there’s a chance this could become a reality in our Tolerance Or Death culture, if you don’t weep openly – either with empathy for the children or horror over the photos of sexual holocaust I’ve shown you – well, then you’re a stronger tranny than I am.


9 Responses to “She’s My Tranny Pie”

  • Anonymous

    from a short-time lurker.

    AWESOME blog man. I have really enjoyed your humor and writting style. don’t stop.

  • Unleash The Beef

    Well it’s my modus operandi to stop – usually for periods of time just long enough that readers stop threatening to kill me if I don’t post and conclude that I’ve retired the sight or finally been murdered by a fellow reader – before randomly reemerging. But I’m glad you dig it. Thanks.

  • King Quimby

    I think I told you this but I met the chick from idiots of myspace in real life. It was epic to say the least. Long story short I miss you.

  • A?

    Admittedly, he/she is “such a… surprise”.

    But “sweet” wouldn’t be my choice of adjective.

    Although, he/she certainly does “make a grown man cry”.

    If, perhaps, for reasons unintended (on his/her part).

    As a side note: Were I to gamble, I’d bet you’d rather have sex with Mark Henry.

    Seeing as he is billed as “the world’s strongest man” and regularly inducts unfortunates into his “Hall of Pain”, you could always cry “rape” if discovered.

    Easily – and believably – so.

  • Unleash The Beef

    Between the facts that:
    1) You read this site
    2) You’re familiar with the lyrics of Jani Lane
    3) You’re familiar with the particulars of Mark Henry’s gimmick
    I’m willing to state publicly that I’ll swing with you not only to the left, but also to the right. And you know what’ll happen if I think about baseball…

  • A?

    What can I say?

    I’m a man of eclectic tastes.

    And I’m honored by your proclamation, UTB.

    However, UTB, I reserve – straight as I am – my same sex “swingin’ ” for either Gary Oldman (because he’s fucking awesome) or David Coverdale (I’d listen to that man read the phone book).

    Whoops!

    It seems I’ve confessed a bit too much.

    Thus, I leave you with this advice:

    “Keep your mouth shut, that’s what we’re gonna do—

    Unless you wanna wind up in the Wishin’ Well, too.”

  • Unleash The Beef

    You must be talkin about that one where they say it got no bottom… say it take you down to Hell.

  • Matt

    Love your site man, this article cracked me the fuck up.

    I could see s/him giving Mark Henry a run for his money on Monday Night Raw. I’m kinda wondering why s/he hasn’t signed a 5-year contract with WWE yet. I can picture the advertisement:

    “Trannysaurus! The World’s Most Crushin’est Chick Swingin’ Mad Dick! Available only on Pay Per View!”

  • D C

    Fuck send me some pics lets hook up

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