Thom Acee fights the Robot Invasion...

THOM-ACEEWe joke a lot on this site about the eminent replacement of Man by his mechanical creations.

And as with any good joke, in these Apocalyptic flights of fancy there is some truth to be had within them. 

And there is... The long storied history of human technological advancement is lined with the ashes of scrapped laborers and skills outmoded by the march of time. 

But we don't have to look to the wreckage left in the wake of the Industrial Revolution to see what waits for the under skilled of our society as we rely more and more on robots for our menial task. 

We have to look no further than our bedrooms. 

Once the chamber of lustful activities, more and more it is becoming the haven of loveless lives as couples turn to their electronics to get even the most basic of human urges handled via mechanical means. 

I had always thought my household would have been spared such a Fate; my wife Annie and I always making sure to be attentive  to one another's needs in that department. 

But this past year, I had found myself preoccupied with my passion project (Cletus T. Broshus: Monster Hunter, available on this site and soon on iBooks). My wife, being the good soldier that she is, went along with it... Patiently accepting the long spans of nights laying in our bed alone while I chomped cheap cigars outside and pined over the interactions of gods, monsters, and meth heads.

I had thought she had done this "alone"... Shouldering this burden in the hopes of being a good "life giving" wife to her husband. But recent discoveries have yielded new evidence leading me to believe that there is no joy in Mudville....   


And it had everything to do with mighty Thom Acee striking out…


Rise of the Machines


I had finished writing Cletus a few weeks back, and was taking some time away from the keyboard while I plot my next endeavor to rekindle things with my wife. 

Usually an easy sell, lately I have found her more resistant to my advances.

Like any right thinking, insecure American, my first thoughts were to adultery... But an initial search for signs of infidelity yielded nothing more than a sad story of an overburdened woman completely devoted to a helpful but otherwise useless lifemate. 

But there had to be something that was eating up the libido...

So I turned to the Oprah- the oracle of divining the madness of the feminine mind- and starting being more helpful around the house thinking a happy and less tired from the slave labor of homework wife is a wife more likely to go full porno once the time comes. 

Sadly though, all it made for was a more dejected Thom... Wandering around his house wiping dust off of shelves while his wife smiled like a sexually satisfied Chester cat as she looked on. 

There was something else afoot here just waiting for me to stumble upon it...

And I did, literally... I was walking next to my bed while cleaning my room (my wife off at some child's party with P-Nut) when I kicked the thing that has unraveled my world. I grabbed at the hard rubber with my toes, trying to pull it out from under the bed with my toes. It felt like a roll of quarters… only longer and thicker.  Failing to unearth it with my toes, I reached down to see what it was that hurt my foot and in horror I picked up my 12 inch competition.  It was purple,  with metal balls in it and an elbow right in the middle.  On the base there was a simple touchpad control that alternated not only the speed of the vibration but also the speed (and direction) of the rotation.  

So help me, this fucking thing scared me.  


It rotates at about a forty five degree angle and with enough speed that I could have whipped up some pancakes with it should I have felt like it.  I drop it back to where I had found it, walked into the kitchen, and poured myself a tall glass of Absolut.  

How could this have happened? I asked myself over and over.  In my wildest nightmares, never had I suspected anything this fucked up.  

Laying before me, cold and hard, was the reason I had found myself in a sexual drought...

My wife was cheating on me with the T-1000…

OK... so maybe this thing had not appeared on a flash of brilliant light and thunder due to a wormhole in the fabric of time and didn’t have the ability to turn itself into various solid metallic shapes, but this Skynet creation was definitely evil and was defiantly the cause of all my recent pain and agony.  I had not been prepared for this discovery.  Man, woman… fuck even man’s best friend- sure.  But the idea that a girl I was dating had to use a cold lifeless machine to find sexual fulfillment that I obviously was failing to deliver just drove me mad.  As I drifted off to sleep that night I tried to not thinkany more on the discovery.  But I could not.  I just kept thinking about every morning I tried to get me a little before work only to be rejected because she was still tired and didn’t feel like it and how the second the garage door closed her and the T-1000 would just go to town.  I found myself gnashing my teeth.  I was getting angry.  Hell, I was more than angry.  I was fucking mortified.

I could hear my grandfather’s voice in my head… the shame it conveyed as it echoed in my head… sobbing on how a machine had replaced his grandson in the most basic of human acts.  I tossed and turned.  I slept like shit.

The next morning I woke up with a clear head.  While the idea that she was going to be all silly with that mechanical demon later still clouded my mind, I tried to focus on the positive.   In my sleep, I had determined that I had a shitload on this mechanical monster.  I have money.  I‘m funny.  It does not take a tremendous amount of booze to think I am cute.  Other than size, girth, and stamina, that fucking rubber cock had nothing on me.  What could it do?  Make her cum at will?  Pu-shaaa… like that matters a hill of beans in the long run.  Could it take her out to dinner?  To a movie?  Could it dry her tears and hold her when she felt sad?  

But as the day progressed it slowly dawned on me that I was fucked.  Sure the T-1000 couldn’t take her to the movies or to dinner… bu


t I never did those things for her either!  Usually we just sit around the house and get stoned.  And as for the whole sadness and crying bit… I am usually the cause of the tears and the sadness, so the chances of her coming to me to make the bad go away were slim to none.  Odds were she would be going out for dinner and drinks with one of her gay friends to turn that frown upside down and at the end of the night crawl into bed with the T-1000 and just vibrate her cares 

For a moment, I felt the crushing defeat of the impossible odds... I was lucky she had sought comfort in the cold mechanical arms of the T-1000, as opposed to some unclipped Don Juan. But besting a machine would not be easy. away. There was no rational solution to this problem.  This machine was more man than I was and in a head to head contest would trounce me like a bitch.  

But I do not give up that easily (or better put I had no desire of being the first guy to lose a girl because the dildo was better company).  Like John Henry in the legends of old, I knew I had to do something about this mechanical menace.  

But what?  

I could send her flowers, I thought.  But flowers only play into her plan I thought… using T-1000 for the fun work and leaving me all the bullshit that involved money.  

No… I needed to be more predatory… Make more of a pronounced statement as to what was mine and what belonged to the rest of the world.  

So that night I tried to pee on her leg while she was in the shower.  

The next morning I woke up on my couch (having been chased out of my room for being a disgusting perverted fuck), my head ringing with her whispers to the machine that stayed in the room… mocking me. 

Days passed…I had not slept.  My face was long, my skin ashen.  My eyes were grey and baggy.  The hum of my diesel truck engine taunted me all day at work, each vibration sounding like mechanical laughter.  The machines knew my disgrace.  Everyone knew.  I felt it in their stares.  I saw it in their eyes.  Slowly I spiral into madness.

And in my madness I heard the cool Scottish voice of Sean Connery….

“There can be only one…”

fuckbot-TAI now knew what I needed to do.  I could not live a cuckold, and I was not about to let a machine take from me anything without a fight (unless of course, Terminator 2 was more than just a good action movie and the machines do in fact self actualize at some point in which we will have no choice but to submit to their whims and desires).  I was going to have to be a man about this.  Annie works on Sundays, I said to myself… At last I would have my revenge.

Sunday came and I sprang out of bed.  Annie had already left for work, leaving me alone with my nemesis and a whole ten hours to put this nightmare to an end.  I picked it up.  It is about as thick as a can of red bull and made of something far too hard to break in half by hand.  It had some weight to it, so I thought about just throwing it into traffic.  But I rethought it when I considered my horrible luck and how it would be less than fun trying to explain to a cop why I was throwing rubber dildos at cars.  

So I threw it against the floor.  Hard.  It bounced back and struck me in the shin.  I yelped in pain as I attempted to kick it and all I managed to do was hurt my toe.  On top of being humiliated by this fucking thing, now it was gonna kick my ass.  My skin grew hot.  

I grabbed it (sadly with more visible emotion than I had used in quite a while) and threw it in the toilet.  If force won’t kill you, you mechanical motherfucker, then maybe water will, I thought to myself as I depressed the flushing lever.  

In the struggle and subsequent throw I had managed to turn it on.  I chuckled to myself as the mechanical beast banged into the bottom of my porcelain throne.  I looked down expecting to see death.  Instead I saw this fucking thing swimming laps around the bowl; the pink end swirling around like a pleasure causing propeller.  Apparently not only was it shatter proof, but it was also water proof.  I run out of the room screaming.  Suicide starts seeming like a rational option at this point.  

Annie came home a few hours later to find me huddled in a corner of my room, her rubber cock lying on the floor in front of me.  She sighed a patient sigh… like the way the mothers of retarded children must sigh when their son does something retarded and picked up her dildo.

Annie- “So… why is my vibrator out here and why are you sitting there all bunched up?”

Me- “Cause I have accepted the fact that I have been replaced…”

A- “Replaced by what?”

M- “The T-1000… that’s what…”

A- “The T-one what?  Are you fucking high?”

plugged-in-TAM- “oh no… I am finally seeing clearly… The glow, the smile… It’s the T-1000 you desire.  All I am is the stupid fuck that takes you to movies…”

A- “You are high…”

M- “And you’re a cheating whore…”

She bites her lip.  I see that she is about to break at any second.  She just shakes her head.

A- “I have no fucking idea why I put up with you… fucking retard… I’m gonna take a shower.  Can you try and be normal by the time I get out?”

I try to utter a voice in my defense, but the slam of the bathroom door stops me.  I feel a tear roll down my cheek.  

So now abused, broken, and shamed I live a life of shadow.  By day I paint false smiles across my cheeks, hoping that it is enough to hide my personal pain.  At night I bury my head into my pillow and turn the volume all the way up on my TV hoping the laughter provided by @Midnight is enough to drown out the quick breathes and dull vibration going on next to me.  

I cry myself to sleep.   


What Do You Think

Gay Marriage....

Our Friends Check Them Out


You are here: HomePopTrends Thom Acee fights the Robot Invasion...