What The Fuck Hotel 2

   They've got all the bases covered in this little swah ray depicted here. Part man, part woman, part critter. The only thing missing here is the kitchen sink and some abandoned farm machinery. And if Chelsea Handler shows up that will more than make up for the kitchen sink and the farm machinery not being there. Sights like the above are common at the What The Fuck and so far no one has ever complained. They just say "What the fuck….." So the What The Fuck can't be cited for being named wrong. There's no mystery or confusion about that at all. In fact after a stay or two that's the only thing you don't say "What the fuck" about: their name.

The Sarkovsky Brothers

   The Sarkovsky Brothers, some of whom being pictured here, love to fuck. They will fuck anyone or anything with a hole in them. Male, female, animal vegetable or mineral, it just does not fucking matter,  these boys will get seriously involved with it because they are the Sarkovsky Brothers. You don't even have to pay them, they will pay you. Many people ask "Well, who are the Sarkovsky Brothers?" Well, that's hard to say. What we do know about them is that they paint their lips and fingernails black. We do know that. We also know they never wear clothes. We know that and we can figure out why. As for why they paint their lips and fingernails black, that we don't know. We also know that those who have been fucked by the Sarkovsky Brothers say that it was the best and most fantastic experience of their lives. The theory is that their secret is their unfailing enthusiasm. They don't speak, they only make horrific disgusting noises but they manage to convey to their subjects a conviction that they are being worshipped as much as they are being fucked. Many people don't even remember the fucking. They only remember the feeling that they were adored. Since the Sarkovsky Brothers do not wear makeup and since travel to other planets is not a part of Earth's idiom, no one knows where the Sarkovsky Brothers actually come from. Other than from their cocks and apparently they come from those a lot.

The Anti-Amazon Hotel and Casino

   You probably have been thinking from what you have read so far, not that anyone actually is, that Amazons are the ruling party in the New Las Vegas. Not by a long shot. And certainly not at the Anti-Amazon Hotel and Casino. Here the cock is king. And women are its devoted servants and worshippers. That thing at the center of the picture that looks like a hoofed horse's leg is the mascot of the ruling party here: men. The unofficial motto of the place is "my penis right or wrong." You can come here with your wife if you want but she is basically going to be ignored by the staff, all of whom are female. They are not going to be rude to your wife. In fact they are not even going to notice she is present. All they will see is you. If you insist that they talk to her at all you are going to have to inform them that she is there. For you are all they are going to see. And can you blame them? You have a penis! And they are not going to care what kind either. Big small black white bifurcated de-balled triple-balled de-scrotumed soft hard square or triangular, it will make no difference to them: you are the man!

The Breeding Chambers

      Needless to say there are no actual human females like the ones pictured above in existence.
      You know, Hitler gets a lot of bad press, but if you draw aside all the blood and the 20 million combat-related deaths, he really was an enthusiastically inventive guy. And human breeding farms were high on his cheery and upbeat fun-to-do list. Strangely, his emphasis seemed to be all over the place: noble, handsome warriors, and trim, fertile females devoted to having more noble handsome warriors.
   The future breeding farms of the New Las Vegas, however, will be devoted to creating new and exciting sex-obsessed orgasm-fixated wonder-dolls that live and breath just like us. While the two beauties pictured here are spending some time with a big black-dicked monstrosity, breeding those latter  things, or anything even close to them, will be out of the question. Jurassic Park comes immediately to mind and I think you know where I am going with this. Like we don't have enough problems in that arena. However, long-tongued females are never looked upon with scorn and perfect beauteous ladies with forked, two-foot-long pliable glans-envelopers will come at a premium price-point to the tourist looking for memorable penis-related adventures. And of course there will also be a long long line of vagina-owners and nipple-possessors who will not look the other way at the prospect of entering into new realms of oral excitement and gratification. But all that's down the road. So make sure you spend a lot of time at the gaming tables, citizen! The money for this enormous biology project has to come from somewhere!

Intimate Dining and Dancing

   Intimate dining and dancing in the New Las Vegas means "feeling someone up in a serene, mood-inducing, public environment with an intimate designer-driven ambience conducive to foreplay." Or you can just eat. Actual "dancing" is always, at best, more of a prelude to fucking than it is an actual exercise in dancing, especially in America where dancing for white Anglo Saxon Protestant Christian and other Christian-American subsets is considered wrong. At best it is considered gay. In reality it's foreplay. And since most Americans can't dance - most men at least - why not just do actual foreplay and call it dancing and dining? Even though its closer to feeling-up and drinking. Dining and dancing, feeling-up and drinking…..feeling-up and drinking is a lot more honest and a lot less annoying. Meanwhile, pictured above are two women, one with a penis - or maybe they both have penises for all I know - doing some dining and dancing: dining on each others' saliva and dancing with each others' erogenous zones. I call it dining and dancing. you call it tomahhto. Who really gives a shit as long as it's hot.

The Pillars of Peckers

   The Cirque du Soleil, as mentioned much earlier, will be back in France where they belong when the New Las Vegas comes into existence. Their personnel, however, some of them, or people just like them, will remain behind, if they have any sense, so that they can live more productive, far less strenuous lives entertaining the New Las Vegas visitors, by doing things a lot more enjoyable than crawling around like pensive, wary lizards while wearing skin tight unbreathable costumes for hours at a time night after night for years until, at the first sign of weight gain or physical weakness, they are suddenly replaced by a duplicate lizard impersonator without warning and without fanfare and with no difficulty in finding a replacement from the deep and bottomless circus-bench of European acrobats who could not conceive of any different way of life than to be in a European, depressing, god awful, blow my brains out right now, circus.
   Nope, in the New Las Vegas all you will be required to do, at least if you're female, will be - among a very select few other-varieties of simple tasks - to pretend to be suffering and in anguish upon the Pillars of Peckers. That probably won't be their final nomenclature of course, but I think between the two of us we can take a few liberties in the interest of clarity and getting to the point.
   The Pillar of Peckers will be small towers of columns or man made stalagmites with writhing, coiling, enveloping, gripping, oozing, pulsating, squirting latex penises which - in the manner of Japanese Tentacle Porn - which is a bonifide variety over there, God bless 'em and their little fucking-obsessed brains, which tells me that being nuked is good for you - that our struggling hapless naked hot 18-30 year old victims have to contend with, much to their sad sad agony.
   Parenthetically, though not depicted here, a variation of the pillar of peckers will be the mainstay of the gymnasium areas of the various hotels, specifically the climbing wall, which will not have epoxy and resin and acrylic and plastic hand and foot holds of oddly-shaped amorphous blobs sticking to the climbing wall, but rather steel, flesh-colored erect human boner replicas of various sizes and lengths. Climbing shorts will be small and with leg openings larger than necessary with a no-underwear-worn policy so that strangers can stand below and look up at the climbers' occasionally revealed gonads. It's all merely a perk to promote good health, the prurient aspects being merely……Ok, actually the prurient aspects are the main whole point, I admit it. You caught me.

The Cauldron of Cock

   The cauldron of cock is a meandering sidewalk presentation that can often also be found also in various hallways and arcades leading to one place or another and features a buxom hot witch and her buxom young apprentice creating a potion that results in a large cock slowly emanating from the froth. The apprentice is then suppose to - all confused - follow the witch's commands in mollifying the apparition in order to make it return into the bubbling murk. I don't suppose I have to tell you how this mollifying operates. That's right, she has to appease the thing. The show has no other purpose than to be a dirty little presentation. Period. Gifts of currency after the apprentice completes her task are never refused or scorned, no matter how small; it's not as though either one of them worked their asses off to give this show. However hot naked women eroticizing pretend cocks in cauldrons for your eyes and memories is worth some cash if you stood there and watched and if you're not a fucking prick. It's not complicated. Hey, it's better than some little fucking Peruvian illegal slapping a business card with photoshopped stars over the tits and pussies of the chick on the card and a fucking phone number you're supposed to call so some nightmare from the public dumps in the Philippines or some beat-up Muslim grandmother from Iraq can show up at your crappy motel room and shoot you in the belly and take all your stuff. Yeah, fukkin A I'm right, sparky.

Hell Hotel Consierge

   The Hell Hotel is nothing if not service oriented. While it would befuddle the employees there should it happen, it is possible a guest might have an issue he needs resolved. Customer dissatisfaction is taken seriously so your mediator is calculated to make you less ill at ease than other things in the hotel might be failing at. Or will be failing at, actually. The Hell Hotel does not actually expect to turn a profit. What it expects is that you will commit suicide. Still, some sacrifices have to be made in the direction of  normal expectations, so that is why "Summer" exists. That is Summer above. She's actually a delight. Your meeting with Summer will be alone. She does not permit herself to ever be outnumbered. Actually the management doesn't permit it. Summer sees being outnumbered as a challenge. Not much of one but certainly more than a mere one on one combat, which she finds demeaning. To her. So, you will be alone with Summer and you will explain your dissatisfaction. And she will decide what to do about it. And she will do something about it. What she does depends a lot on you. On your attitude, actually, more than on your complaint itself. For example, you complaining about tarantulas in your room and doing it in a polite and excusatory manner will very likely get her to nod and assure you quietly that it will be handled to your satisfaction. On the other hand you complaining that the do not disturb sign keeps falling off the handle and complaining about it in an abusive tone just might get you immediately and ferociously dismembered, your body devoured, and your whereabout denied by one and all of the rest of the staff. For their own good, if for no other reason. Hey, it's called the Hell Hotel. It's not called Mother Gooseland.

Futanari Follies

    God bless the Japanese, they are one insular band of isolated, non diversified mother fuckers, and when they focus on something they go at it with a frantic enthusiasm, and one of the things those little monkeys focus on the most is imaginative erotica. And one of their cultural creations is futanari; hot chicks with dicks fucking each other in cartoon form. They won't be cartoons though in the futanari venues and restaurants featuring these antics. Now it has to be remembered that a true futanari critter is solid female. Not a man with tits. But a woman with a cock. That's very important or it would be…well, weird. And who needs weird. Not the New Las Vegas! Is there such a species? Well, there is in Japan and no one is having a problem with it. Postpone the chromosome testing until one of them commits a murder is my philosophy. Just leave well enough alone. And jizz them tits!! WOO HOO!!

Pool of the Cock Turtles

   Ah, the pool of the cock turtles. The fun sensation that will be an enthusiastic draw at all the pools in the New Las Vegas will be the remote controlled cock turtles. They will be operated by the guests, and the ladies - or, fuck it, the men too I guess - will appraise the different operators of each device and if she so chooses will coyly permit the cock turtle operated by whatever fetching cock turtle operator catches her fancy, she will if she likes make herself coquettishly available to it, as we see the desperately in love bather doing here. But what if an errant cock turtle wins the day, one operated by a geek? Ah, then the hijinx begins. However cock turtles are easily avoided - hey, they're turtles. They ain't marlins. Imagine the hottie you like laying back and spreading her legs for your turtle! Ah, the erotic thrill of it all. surreptitiously fucking a complete stranger without even using your own dick! This is where reputations are born. The adept turtle operator will gain a reputation difficult to surpass in any other arena of life. Adroitly manipulating your cock turtle into providing a memorable orgasmic experience on a total stranger who has chosen your turtle to fuck her!…..oh my. Oh my!!!

Pole Dancing

   Yup, you're one step ahead of me. That pole ain't brass, and any acrobatics she is going to be doing on it wont be very complicated. They will be pretty rudimentary. Mosly repetitive. Probably involving sliding and not much else. And it's very likely she will do all that she can to keep the pole on the outside of her anatomy. The animatronic she is dancing on is not particularly animate. Only the cock moves: straight up or hanging down limp. On amateur night contestants' movements against it are the deciding factor on whether or not the cock is hard or limp. Actually the employee who is paid to operate the cock decides. He decided this by his estimation of the ardor the dancer applies to the cock. The applause and cheering of the audience does a lot to help him make a decision. At some point he can make the cock squirt. Or ooze. Oozing is good but the squirts are pretty impressive and at the end of amateur night a winner is decided and she gets a prize commensurate with her efforts. It's always a good one. The fake semen is actually edible, so if she decides to make a complete erotic spectacle of herself, even if she doesn't go home the winner at least she won't go home hungry.

The WTF Hotel

   Sometimes you just don't know where to begin. Having to describe the What The Fuck Hotel is always one of those times. It's enough to say you'll be paying attention, whatever it is you see when you get there. You just won't always know what the fuck it is you're paying attention to. You might not know what but you will know why: because there will pretty likely be tits and ass involved; some of it human. What exactly is going on here, for example, is partially understandable. And that would be what is happening in the foreground. As for what the deal is regarding what's going on in the chair in the backround…..I mean, what the fuck? It appears to be insectoid, but it also seems to be obscene. I can only assume it's cock comes out of its mouth. So technically it's not gay. If it was going in…..well, frankly, I don't even know how to end that sentence. Whatever the fuck is going on it's all being very excellently presented. So you can't fault the Hotel for being slipshod and indifferent. That's got to be worth something. Just not something with an explanation.

The Buffets

   Frankly you're not going to be wanting a lot of food. The New Las Vegas is not about food unless its semen, or pussy juice, or, in the Lactating Lounges, human-baby milk. You have the option in the buffet rooms, if you insist on calling them that, of being the food provider or being the food recipient. There are only two customers here today, strangers to each other as are most guests at a buffet, and one has chosen to be on the selection table - which turns, in case you want a different selection to come into view, and one has chosen to be the selector. Once he has made his selection he stands upon the running board, as it is called, and they both circle slowly until the meal is finished. He may also choose to feed while being fed off of. All he has to do to do that is bend forward. Payments are voluntary and usually there is never a problem offering it. Making change is considered bad form. So don't ask. Don't be a dick. Just have one.

Animatronics, New Las Vegas Style

   I believe it was Disneyland that introduced the world to the animatronics experience. Abe Lincoln, as I recall, the man who declared war on his own country and has as a result been hailed as America's greatest President, was animatronick'ed into action at a venue wherein he held forth in a droning listless announcement to the effect that…well, I don't remember what he said but I think the idea was to convey the message that if you are unenergetic enough and pretend to be weighed down with the weight of your own stupidity to the point where you are even too exhausted to speak quickly and lively or from some other emotional zone than deep clinical depression you will be considered to contain liberal amounts of distilled greatness. There was also another animatronic venue as I recall call Bear Country Hoedown, or something, featuring a fake bear singing in a deep slow drone "There was blood on the saddle. There was blood all around. And a big black puddle of blood on the ground." The word "blood" was recited with a definite special emphasis every time. This was back when Disney was cool and not cute.
   The animatronics at the New Las Vegas will be a little different. There will be bearlike creatures but they will be much more humanoid, and they will be getting their dicks sucked. They probably won't be singing. And the only puddles anywhere will be animatronic semen. Probably on the ground. And all around. And in the saddle of the blowing female's ass saddle. If the brute depicted above ever takes his thumb out of it.

The Consierge At The Amazon Hotel

   The Amazon Hotel and Casino can be a bit intimidating to the average male visitor, but it's designed to separate the men from the worthless unworthy earthworms. Despite her environs her job is to help you find the things you are looking for in the New Las Vegas. All she asks, and I am being a bit ridiculous using the word asks, but all she asks is that you have a clear idea of what it is you want before you ask her where you can find it. Otherwise she might be telling you where you can find your dick, since you won't have it any more. This is not to say she's a bitch. She's just busy. A lot of people want to talk to her, or at least think they do when they first get a gander at her. So she is willing to give them all a moment's benefit of the doubt. But she has to actually get to them all in order to do that. Which she can't do if you're standing there drooling gibberish, not knowing whether or not you want dinner or a hot black cock up your ass. Keep in mind that she's not surrounded by skulls because death creeps her out. And she's not buckass naked because she's easily embarrassed. So you might want to think carefully about trying to shock her with your questions about whether or not she would like to experience your undoubtedly phenomenal lovemaking capabilities. She's there to do a job. Not give you one. Vermin male.

Gratuitous Vaginal Penetration Murals

 
   Elves, God bless 'em, are pretty much the go-to guys when you need to abuse and take advantage of someone. They have virtually no defenses, and if Tinker Bell is any example, they're all cuter than pixies. Well, what the fuck, of course they are, they are pixies. Where the fuck is my head. For all the abuse you never see one of them in anything even close to resembling a bad mood. They are either astoundingly resilient emotionally or else they are so fucking hearty that what we see as abuse they see merely as a weekend of skiing in Vale, all expenses paid. So what is there to be troubled about by seeing a smooth naked elf being acrobatically penetrated by what can only be something five times her size and weight. The cock is going in and I don't see any blood, and besides, it's just a mural. True, it's not the usual hallway  or corridor or dining room mural of Aztecs and peons and union laborers on the railroad working together dutifully for a better tomorrow and raising shovels and garden hoes high in salute to a New Deal where everyone will be equally busy with 15th century back breaking farm labor in a global spirit of agrarian reform. No, it will be elves getting huge cocks thrust up their pussies, their naked bodies bent strainingly in sexual ecstasy. Same difference though. 'Cause they're just murals and they're by definition not anything important.

Restaurant Decor

   Before you come to any conclusions about what you see, you can relax in the assurance that this is nothing more than the other side of a booth and table inside one of the many French restaurants in the New Las Vegas. The French of course are the most disgusting and simultaneously annoying people on the face of the planet. The food they serve to each other is not fit to serve to pigs living in an underground French sewer. However the site of one of the menu items copulating with a woman whose naked ass and one naked tit covered in centipede sperm are fully visible has the effect of tempting one to investigate a little further this nightmare experience called "French Dining" and of course experiencing what the New Las Vegas is all about, even if the new thing being experienced is French cooking. Xenomorph ahpehteet!

The New Las Vegas Security

   This is one of the security personnel in the casinos and restaurants and performance venues - which is virtually every square inch of the New Las Vegas. The headgear is fetching, no? It is designed to be both attractive decoration and also a reminder that she can kill you and send you to St. Peter for final analysis before you even know you are in eternity. But that is not her primary function. Her primary function is to be always close enough to you so that you can see her tits…and even touch them if you like! Yes, that's right, she is not at all prudish. She will even spray rubbing alcohol on your hands before you do. The charge for this service?….showing her your dick and jacking off for - but not on - her. Hey, I told you the New Las Vegas really kicked ass. But you actually have to cum if you agree to this bargain. And within a reasonable amount of time too. Five minutes, tops. And if you don't? Well a deal's a deal and you broke your end. There's  a hundred dollar fine. You say you don't want to pay? Oh, I did hear you wrong? Yes that's what I thought.

Superheroes In The New Las Vegas

 In the New Las Vegas superheroes such as Batman and the inexplicable existence of Catwoman will be presented in a more honest manner than before. Their genitals will be showing rather than inferred from bulging halter-top skintight uniforms and bulging codpiece gonad coverings. Plus, instead of performing superfeats of heroism they will be copulating. In dynamically presented scenic settings as depicted above. And Hopefully Batman's penis will be more erect.