Chuck Tingle
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Posting Online That I Like The Color Yellow And Then Getting Pounded By Thousands Of Angry Comments About How I Said I Hate Blue
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 15:38:32 +0000 UTCAUTHOR'S NOTE: originally this tingler is presented FREE OF CHARGE to all buckaroos as a part of spreading the word about LUCKY DAY
UNFORTUNATELY patreon has decided to BEND THE KNEE and say that romance and erotica stories need to be forced behind a paywall. SORRY BUCKAROOS. looks like you gotta be a subscriber for this one now
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Remo has the day off, and he’s in a stellar mood as he treks across town for a matinee with his friend. It’s on this journey that Remo notices how many yellow flowers there are, and decides to make a simple post on the Tinglepost social media platform. He types: I like the color yellow.
When Remo exits the movie, however, he discovers that all hell has broken loose. He’s gone viral online for his careless words about the color blue, thousands of people arguing with him about things he never said. The next thing Remo knows, he’s face to face with the physical manifestation of thousands of angry comments, but now that he’s confronting the bizarre nature of the internet head on, he’s beginning to think the solution to his problem might be a little easier, and more erotic, than he first thought.
This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on gay comment avalanche action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and living online pattern love.
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My job could certainly be worse, but on days like today I’m blown away by just how much the office grind wears you down. Fortunately, I’m realizing this from the opposite end of this equation, one of appreciation, because I’m off.
Somehow, everything seems a little brighter, fresher, and sprinkled with a touch of joy. As I make this morning’s warm brew of chocolate milk, I’m not at all overwhelmed by the need to hurry up and rush out the door, and as I saunter into the backyard I find myself fully capable of enjoying this sweet, creamy flavor. I sit in my wooden Adirondack chair and gently lift the mug to my lips, allowing my body the time and space to actually relax. I can feel my muscles starting to unfurl, releasing the unspoken tension that always seems to be lurking just below the surface. I close my eyes and lean back against the warm wood, sun cast across my smiling face.
Today is mine, and I very well could have done absolutely nothing. However, I’ve decided to spend this weekday afternoon with a friend, hitting up a matinee down the street and letting my mind drift off to some fantasy realm without middle managers or earnings reports.
I take my time, soaking the morning in, then eventually get ready with a quick shower and a few minutes with the new book I’ve been enjoying. Eventually, I lace up my shoes and head out the door, strolling down my front steps and onto the sidewalk.
It feels as though today as only gotten more glorious as it’s gone on. I breathe deep as my eyes scan the neighborhood, taking note of each flower in the various gardens I pass. There’s an unusually large amount of yellow ones, something I hadn’t noticed before, and it seems particularly fitting for the tone of this warm, jubilant day. They match the shining sun above, as well as a yellow house that I hadn’t really registered until this very moment.
I pull out my phone as I walk, opening up my Tinglepost app and putting this wonderful feeling into words. This social media service is known for its pithy and concise comments, offering up three hundred characters for each post that you make, but today my message requires much, much less. My thoughts are short and sweet.
I like the color yellow, I write, then hit send. Moments later, I can see that my username, AverageBuckaroo22, has published this random thought for the world enjoy, a little mental nugget that would’ve otherwise stayed tucked away in my mind.
I put my phone away, and I barely get the chance to glance back up before I hear my own name shouted out from the other side of the street.
“Remo!”
I recognize it immediately, glancing up to find my friend Heidi. She’s joining me for the movie this morning, and clearly excited about it, jumping up and down as she waves.
I wait until the cars have passed, then hurry over to her and greet her with a warm hug. “You ready?” I question, already knowing the answer.
“I’m been waiting for someone to adapt A Midsummer Butt's Pound for like five years,” she professes.
Our theater is right around the corner, and it’s not long before we’re headed inside. The buttery aroma of popcorn washes over us, along with some refreshingly cool air conditioning. We scan our phones up front, tickets registering, then head down a long aisle of screening rooms, and it’s during this time that I take the initiative to turn off my device. Some people just put their phone on silent, but I prefer a complete disconnection from the world, handing myself over to the cinematic experience.
As I hold the power button I notice something strange, an unusually large amount of notifications rolling in from my Tinglepost app. I don’t have many followers on there, typically receiving four or five likes on each post, but based on what I’m seeing it appears that I’ve crossed the threshold of a dozen heart icons.
I smile to myself as the phone shuts down. Seems like a lot of people agree with me about the color yellow.
The movie is fantastic, and for the duration of its two hour and fifteen-minute runtime I find myself utterly captivated, eyes glued to the silver screen as images dance and swirl before me. It’s the perfect way to spend this day off.
When Heidi and me finally wander back out onto the street, we quickly discover that our appetite has been worked up into a frenzy.
“You hungry?” I ask.
My friend nods ravenously, her eyes already darting around to the various restaurants that make up this little shopping center. There’s a few great options nearby.
“Spaghetti?” she replies.
“Hell yeah,” I confirm.
We head over to a cute little Italian spot in slip inside, the host directing us towards a cozy, corner booth. This place is appears to be more of a dinner spot, so it’s relatively empty, but this only adds to the peaceful mood that’s been blissfully carrying my body through this day.
“So, what did you think of the movie?” I start, opening the menu and allowing my eyes to wander their way across the various offerings.
“Loved it,” Heidi says. “Amazing. Perfect adaption. I can’t believe the critics we’re so mixed.”
“They were?”
Heidi nods. She closes up her menu and sets it down, then pulls out her phone. She turns it on. “Yeah, I think the score was in the low seventies,” she explains. “I’ll look it up.”
Seeing my friend pull out this little handheld device immediately reminds me of my own. I extract my phone and turn it on.
Before I get a chance to check my messages, however, our waiter arrives. “Have you gotten a look at the menu?” he asks, pulling our attention towards him.
“Absolutely,” Heidi replies. “I’ll have the spaghetti with tofu meatballs.”
The waiter turns to address me, and as the two of us lock eyes I can feel the phone in my hand start to buzz. It trembles over and over and over again, a new notification every second, but out of politeness I refuse to look away. “Oh… I’ll have the…” I start, my mind wandering as my thinking is sidelined by the strange happenings on my phone. “I’ll have the… same thing.”
The waiter nods, then strolls away to put in our orders.
“Are you okay?” Heidi asks, noticing how bizarre that interaction was.
“Yeah,” I reply, then finally turn my attention to my phone. “I’m just getting all kinds of notifications.”
I glance down at my device to see that my assertion is only partially correct. I am getting plenty of notifications, but they are all the same kind. My screen has filled with comment after comment on my post about the color yellow.
“What the hell?” I murmur to myself, genuinely confused.
I open up the app to investigate further, immediately swept away by an avalanche of digital information. Pixelated words begin to fill my field of vision, cascading over me at a rate that’s damn near impossible to keep up with.
I finally stop focusing on the sheer volume of information and hone in on one, singular message. This one is a direct response to my post, another user adding a comment of their own.
I read it aloud under my breath. “So blue can just go fuck itself? Is that right? Pathetic.”
“Huh?” Heidi chimes in.
I clear my throat and then glance up to address her directly. “I don’t really know,” I admit. “I made a post this morning saying ‘I like the color yellow’ and it looks like it went viral.”
Heidi smiles. “Oh! Well, that’s cool!”
I shake my head, and her expression falters. “No, not that kind of viral.”
“What kind of viral?”
I hand over my phone and my friend starts to read. As she takes in all of this information her concern continues to mount, her brow furrowing more and more. Finally, she speaks up.
“Wait, so you said that everyone who likes blue is stupid and should die,” she asks.
“No!” I blurt.
Heidi glances back to the phone and starts reading from a comment. “Kind of crazy how AverageBuckaroo22 is okay with saying that everyone who likes blue is stupid and should die.”
“I definitely didn’t say that,” I protest.
“It seems like you did,” she presses. “Some other person on here is talking about how they’d delete their account if they got caught saying they hated the color blue. There’s a bunch of memes and stuff. There’s another big post about you but it’s like ten comments long.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, putting my head in my hands.
The spaghetti suddenly arrives, two steaming plates of pasta and marinara sauce placed on the table between us. I’d been so hungry just moments earlier, but all of this warm food now seems deeply unappetizing.
The waiter leaves and we sit in silence for a moment, until finally I muster up the energy to lift my face off of the table. “I didn’t say any of those things,” I profess. “I just said I like the color yellow.”
Heidi hesitates a very long time, then finally nods. “I believe you,” she sighs, and as a longtime friend, I can tell that she really means it. “What do you need?”
“I feel like I just need to box this food up and go home,” I reply. “I’m so sorry.”
We call over the waiter and, soon enough, the meals are packed and I’m exchanging a hug with my friend. As we part ways, I immediately find myself pulling out my phone and looking down at all the messages as they pour in. Things seem to have expanded since my initial post, a number of think-pieces popping up to discuss exactly what I said and pull apart the deeper meaning. One of them is about how I probably hate the color red, too.
Finally, it’s just too much. I delete my initial post.
For the briefest moment, the notifications stop, but seconds later my phone starts to buzz again. More comments are rolling in now, various people tagging me from all across the internet.
“Trying to hide it now?” I recite one comment aloud. “Screenshots are forever.”
Another one has a picture of my initial post and just asks the rhetorical question: this you?
I’m strolling down the sidewalk with my head buried in my phone for the next few blocks, hustling along until, suddenly, I’m not. The next thing I know, I’m tumbling forward, flipping end over end as my phone shoots from my hands and I slam into the ground. The air puffs from my chest as I find myself face down in what appears to be grass. It’s certainly not sidewalk, which is what I would’ve expected.
I push myself up and then glance around, observing my surroundings. It appears I’ve wandered off of the main path, somehow ending up in one of my neighbor’s front yards. Not only that, I’ve tripped right over them while they were laid out sunbathing.
“I’m—I’m so sorry,” I stammer, shaking my head. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“That’s alright,” comes a kind, soulful voice.
I glance up and freeze in place, shocked by the unexpected figure that stands before me. Blocking out the sun is a handsome, muscular figure in brilliant blue, a cloud of mist that swirls and churns with various phrases. At first I can’t quite make out what they say, but when I finally catch sight of the actual words my heart skips a beat.
“Who are you?” I question.
“I’m the physical manifestation of the thousands of angry comments about how you said you hate blue,” the figure replies.
I leap to my feet, fuming. “What the hell!” I blurt, getting in the physical manifestation’s face. “I never said that!”
“I know, I know,” he admits, throwing his hands up. “Just because you said it, doesn’t mean people aren’t hearing it.”
His words strike deep, both devastating and profound. I let out a long sigh, calming down a bit.
“What are you doing here?” I question.
“I actually live on your street,” the physical manifestation admits, then puts out his hand. “I’m Yorpit.”
I give him a firm shake. “Remo,” I reply.
The two of us fall into an awkward silence, not entirely sure what to say. Finally, Yorpit clears his throat. “Listen, I’m really sorry about all the comments and stuff.”
“Are you kidding me?” I scoff. “You’re the one making them!”
The swirling blue mist shakes his head. “That’s a common misunderstanding about us physically manifested concepts. I’m not the one posting online, I’m just the embodiment of that idea. I think it’s all ridiculous, personally.”
“You do?” I ask, a little shocked.
Yorpit nods. “I mean, I read what you posted, it’s ridiculous to think that you were disparaging blue just because you like yellow. I mean, come on! There’s a limited amount of characters! The point is to be short with your comments! You don’t have to address every permutation of opinions regarding every subject you mention.”
“Right!” I cry out, throwing my hands up. “Exactly!”
“Listen, don’t beat yourself up about it,” he continues. “Being online is basically just saying something, and then having a hundred other people start arguing with you about their weird, completely disingenuous interpretation of something you didn’t actually say. It’s basically just folks arguing with their own projections in an endless loop.”
“That… sounds awful,” I reply.
“It’s not always like that,” he clarifies, “but… it’s enough to get annoying.”
“So, what am I supposed to do about it?” I question. “I was thinking about writing a ten page-”
“Let me stop you right there,” Yorpit interjects. “Do not respond.”
“But I’ve gotta give my side of the story!”
“They don’t think these people care about your side of the story, they just want to be pissed off for a few hours,” he explains. “If you think your original comment was taken in bad faith, just wait until you post a follow up.”
I let out a long sigh, shaking my head. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Wait it out,” the swirling physical manifestation explains. “Give it a few hours… maybe a day.”
“Really?”
Yorpit nods. “That’s the deal. If you’d like, you can hang around an tan with me. I’ve been laying out all morning and it’s a great way to kill time.”
Yorpit’s words cause my gaze to drift across his muscular body, and it’s the first time that I get a chance to really acknowledge just how attractive this physical manifestation is. My gaze lingers on Yorpit’s chest until I catch him smirking playfully, at which point I look away.
“You see something you like?” he jokes. “I thought you were just gonna ignore all those comments.”
I laugh. “I thought so, too, but…” I trail off.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head.
The swirling physical manifestation steps towards me. “What?” he repeats, firmer now.
“But… you’re really cute,” I admit.
“Is that so?” he coos. “Well, if that’s the case, then I can think of something much better than tanning if you’d like to occupy your mind for a little while… your body, too.”
He’s right up against me now, erotic tension sizzling through the us. I glance around and realize that we’re actually quite hidden out here in the yard, obscured by a large row of hedges.
We hold just a moment longer, then finally erupt in a fit of passion. Our lips meet as the two of us begin to furiously make out with one another, losing ourselves in the moment.
My hands start by caressing Yorpit’s face, then neck, then shoulders, slowly working their way down his body as I explore the topography of his chiseled form. My fingers drift across the texture of various angry comments, but I ignore them completely, focused instead on the general shape of my handsome physically manifested lover.
Yorpit explores me in turn. He immediately begins to strip away my clothing, gracefully peeling the fabric from my skin and revealing my body to the warm rays of daylight. I can’t help but notice the way the sun pops against the beautiful blue sky above, this classic pairing of colors contrasting against one another.
It’s not long before I’m standing naked before Yorpit, my hands still working their way across him. I’ve reached his waistline now, teasing him with the prospect of something more as my fingers drift back and forth across this border. I can feel his hips pushing against me, his body yearning for my touch.
“Please,” he whispers in my ear, and this single word finally pushes me over the edge.
I have mercy, reaching down and wrapping my hand around Yorpit’s cock. The physical manifestation of thousands of angry comments about how I said I hate blue lets out a long, satisfied groan, his eyes shut tight as he leans his head back and accepts the pleasure that courses through him.
I begin to pump my hand up and down his length, working him slowly before switching things up yet again. I drop down to my knees before the handsome swirling concept, his enormous rod jutting out towards my face in all of its bright blue glory. Playfully, I kiss the head of his shaft, then I open wide and accept his rod between my lips.
“Oh fuck,” Yorpit groans, his stomach clenching tight as he braces himself against the waves of pleasure.
I immediately pick up where I left off, my head pumping across him at the same speed as the hand that came before. It’s only now that I start to gain speed, moving faster and faster and then suddenly pulling back and releasing his shaft from my depths.
A long strand of saliva hangs between my lips and the head of Yorpit’s cock, glistening in the sunlight. I take a moment to prepare myself, then swallow him down yet again, only this time I change my technique. Instead of bobbing my head across the physical manifestation’s length I just take him deeper and deeper, somehow relaxing my gag reflex as I swallow him all the way down. Soon enough, Yorpit’s cock is fully inserted, my face pressed up against his abs as he places his hands against the back of my head. He holds me here in this stunning deep throat maneuver, and I stay put until I’m finally forced to come back up in a frantic gasp for air.
“I need you to fuck me,” I snarl, belligerent with lust.
I fall to my hands and knees, then turn around and crawl away from Yorpit in the bright green grass. It feels good between my fingers and toes, giving me even more confidence as I rock my hips from side to side.
“You like what you see?” I ask, reaching back and giving my rump a slap.
The physical manifestation nods.
“Then get over here,” I command.
Yorpit finally springs into action, climbing into position behind me. He carefully aligns his cock with the rim of my puckered back door, teasing me with the head of his shaft as he pushes against me and then pulls back. He’s building the tension.
Finally, the swirling blue form has mercy, plunging deep with a single, powerful thrust. A startled gasp escapes my lips as he impales my body, my asshole stretched to its absolute limit.
“That’s so much,” I sigh, gritting my teeth as my fingers dig into the grass.
It’s the truth. While I’d had no trouble taking Yorpit into my throat, it appears the butt is another story entirely. Fortunately, this handsome physical manifestation is a patient lover. Yorpit immediately recognizes the tension in my body and reacts accordingly, holding deep within me and staying completely still. He remains like this as my muscles slowly begin to relax, and gradually any sense of discomfort has melted away, transforming into an aching warmth at the pit of my stomach.
Gradually, Yorpit begins to rock his hips against me, slowly finding a rhythm as the two of us gently fall into sync with one another. I push back against him, the pleasure moving back and forth between us and blooming with every passing round.
“Just like that, just like that,” I murmur under my breath, repeating the words over and over again at an ever-escalating volume. It’s not long before I’m calling out at the top of my lungs, completely lost in the moment. “Just like that! Just like that!”
Yorpit is hammering away at a steady pace now, his hips slapping my ass and ringing through the yard. The warmth at the pit of my stomach has started to spread across the rest of my body, filling me up with a glorious tingling sensation.
Overwhelmed with arousal, I reach down and grab ahold of my hanging cock. I start to beat myself off in time with the slams behind me, these two distinct sources of pleasure swirling together like the magical, endless twisting of Yorpit’s physically manifested body.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I growl.
The strange tingling has become unmistakable now, a sign that this mighty orgasm is looming high above me and ready to break. It builds and builds like a cresting wave, threating to come crashing down at any moment until, finally, that’s exactly what it does.
I throw my head back and the climax erupts, a frantic howl escaping my lips. All the while, Yorpit continues hammering away at me from behind, pounding my ass with everything he’s got. I frantically beat myself off as hot white jizz erupts from the head of my cock, splattering across the yard below.
The second that I’m finished, Yorpit pushes deep. He holds tight and unleashes a payload of his own, filling me up with so much cum that, eventually, it comes squirting out from the rim of my tightly packed ass.
As we finish, the two of us collapse into a fucked silly heap, wrapped in one another’s arms. We lay in the grass like this, gazing up at the vast sky above. A few clouds have rolled in to populate the endless blue.
“That was really nice,” I say. “You really took my mind off of all that drama.”
Yorpit smiles. “Glad I could help.”
“You actually think ignoring all that stuff is going to work?”
“I do,” he replies.
We stay like this for a good while, but eventually I stand up and start pulling on my clothes. The physical manifestation watches me dress, his eyes lingering with appreciation across my body.
“You wanna do that again some time?” I ask. “I’d love to see you again.”
“I’d love to see you again, too,” Yorpit admits. “I’m just not sure how much time we have left.”
I freeze. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“The internet has a very short attention span,” he informs me. “You’re the person of the day right now, but tomorrow… well, there might not be very many angry comments to manifest from.”
It takes a moment for me to fully understand what he’s saying, but when it finally hits me it lands hard. I rush over and wrap my arms around the living concept, pulling him close and kissing him deeply on the lips. For this brief moment, I don’t think about the future we may or may not have together, I simply exist here in the present, appreciating the important lesson that he’s taught me.
When I finally step back, I discover that my arms are empty. There’s nothing left to hold onto.
On the walk home I turn on my phone, not quite sure what to expect. Despite Yorpit’s sudden disappearance, there’s a part of me that can still feel that cascade of buzzing alerts coming on, but as the device boots up I’m greeted with blissful silence. The crowd has moved on, it appears.
All it took was a little time in the grass.
