Chuck Tingle
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Fake News, Real Boners - (Classic Tingler Revisited)
🕑 Added 2024-11-22 16:04:06 +0000 UTCafter the recent election there has been a lot of talk about MEDIA BUBBLES and of course TROMPS favorite topic of FAKE NEWS. things have changed in the culture of this timeline where simply lying gets the job done, and it has taken a while for those of us who do not appreciate the liars to come to terms with this.
it seems that old tromp will be around again, just when i was so relieved to not have to write any current events tinglers about that goof. the tingleverse is a reflection of our timeline in many ways, so when he is trotting through our world he is also trotting through the tingleverse and that can get exhausting.
yes i think that is the best word: exhausting.
so i have the political feelings brewing and we are entering a time where i think the PUNK ROCK side of my trot will be rearing up its head a little more, but STILL i am not quite ready to speak on tromp again. THE HEADACHE i get just thinkin on that. i feel like a buckaroo layin in cozy bed on a cold morning knowing that alarm is gonna start ringing any moment just thinkin 'dang the time is approaching here we go'
so consider this choice of a CLASSIC TINGLER REVISITED to be me STIRRING in those waking hours. not quite a tromp tingler, but certainly tromp adjacent. this is a very fun one that i really enjoy, especially because it is a unicorn tingler which are part of the four main tingleverse trot but also pretty rare in their way... JUST LIKE UNICORNS.
anyway buckaroos, please enjoy FAKE NEWS, REAL BONERS
Toobo loves the news, and after years of searching, he’s finally found a voice that he can trust with Buttbart.com. After a heated conversation with an old friend, however, Toobo is compelled to drop in on his favorite Buttbart commentator and get to the bottom of some serious allegations.
Soon Toobo discovers that, not only is Buttbart a fake news site, but his favorite writer is actually a handsome unicorn named Yerno. Together, the two of them quickly discover that the news may be fake, but their boners are real.
This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling human on gay factually inaccurate unicorn action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, facials, and fake news writer love.
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FAKE NEWS, REAL BONERS By Chuck Tingle
If you ask someone who their favorite writer is, most will immediately jump to the classics of genre; like King, Rowling, or Tingle. These titans of literature are both popular and prolific, flooding the world with incredible tales that have, over time, become the shining diamonds of fiction.
Of course, there are plenty of other readers who will reply that they favor stories of non-fiction, tomes of information placed in just the right order to elicit reactions of wonder and amazement.
Documentarians of the written word are much less appreciated, I find, but still looked after by the masses at large.
Fewer still, however, appreciate the most looked over non-fiction writers of them all: the authors behind our news.
You’d think that the ones bringing us up to date information from all around the world would get all the glory, but in most cases people don’t even pay attention to the author behind the articles. Sure, some news personalities find themselves in the spotlight, but most of them are in front of the camera instead of between the lines.
When you’re as much of a news hound as I am, however, you start to notice the same names popping up over and over again.
I’m fascinated by the comings and goings of the world around me, and because of that I spend an hour and a half every morning reading the paper or going through my favorite blogs online. It’s nice to get a multitude of perspectives on the issues and, even more importantly, reading multiple sources lets you find those little gems that fall through the cracks.
Jessica Borto has been my favorite source of these journalism nuggets for years now, and the more time goes by, the deeper her scoops have become. By now, her nuggets of truth have become massive chunks, powerful insights on stories that the rest of the press seems to be ignoring completely.
It’s gotten to the point now that Jessica is the only one I care to read, excited to get her straight shooter input on subjects that the other blogs won’t dare touch. In a world of lies, Jessica shows me the truth through her daily posts on Buttbart.com.
She’s my favorite author because of this, but I’d be lying if I said that was the only aspect of my attraction. Truth be told, Jessica Borto is an absolutely stunning woman, black hair and blue eyes with a smile that could knock you off your feet if you weren’t careful. I’ve only seen one photograph of this angel, the photo that accompanies all of her articles online, but even that is enough to kick my heart into overdrive.
First and foremost, though, I respect her mind. I want to make that clear.
The newest Buttbart article is absolutely incredible, speaking to me in a way that has to be experienced to be fully understood. It is transcendent.
‘
Can you believe it?’ Jessica writes, ‘Everything you thought about
those goofballs was real, and this finally proves it! You're so smart! If
you share this, your elitist friends are going to feel so dumb. I can't wait
to see the look on their faces when you hit them with all of these solid
facts. Let's get to it!
Fact: you know what's real and what's not because you're not some
goofball blinded by the media. They might have data but you've got
opinions, and who says those can't hold just as much weight? I've got
opinions, too, and I've also got a website! Look who's smart now!
Wow, can you believe how dumb everyone else is? You're not like
them, you're a free thinker. Who has it all figured out. Nice one. You're
really amazing.’
Incredible.
I’m reading Jessica’s newest post on the liberal media’s connection to the space dinosaur agenda when my friend, Gorn approaches, breaking my concentration. I look up from my laptop, suddenly thrust back into the subtle din of the coffee shop that buzzes around me.
“Toobo!” Gorn shouts, smiling wide. “What’s going on man, I haven’t seen you in forever!”
I grin, too, standing up to greet this old friend. We hug briefly and then I motion for the chair across from me. “Sit! Talk to me for a minute!” I offer. I pull my laptop back a little bit in an effort to make room at the small table.
“This is so crazy seeing you,” continues Gorn. “I’m just in town for the weekend, I didn’t know that you lived here still.”
I nod. “Yep, never really felt the call of the big city, I’m happy right here for now. The world is a big, fascinating place, but I’ll take the slow lane for myself.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with that,” offers Gorn.
“Are you living in Los Angeles?” I question.
Gorn nods. “Yeah, had to make the change for work, it’s great to get
back here sometimes though. When I finally settle down and raise a family I’ll come back for sure.”
“It would be nice to have you,” I inform him.
Gorn nods, taking a long sip from his coffee as he leans back into his chair, settling for a moment. “I hope the town is still this small by then,” he continues, looking out through the window next to us, his eyes darting back and forth across the people who pass us by.
“I don’t think that will happen,” I assure him.
Gorn laughs. “You say that now, but there’s some high profile folks moving out here to escape the city life,” my old friend explains.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, curiously. “Like who?”
“Rumor has it that Brads Pitt just got a place out by the lake,” Gorn informs me, then leans in. “You know who else I heard just moved to town?”
“Who?” I question, excited for a little gossip.
“That one fake news lady,” says Gorn. “You know who I’m talking about, right?”
“Fake news?” I question aloud. “No, I don’t know her.”
Gorn taps his fingers across the table, thinking hard now. “You know! What’s-her-name!”
I shake my head. “I only read the real news.”
“She’s got black hair, I think her name is...” he trails off, then suddenly claps loudly as he finds the words that he’s searching for. “Jessica Borto! That’s it. She’s living out by the lake now, too.”
I stare back at my friend in stunned astonishment, trying to figure out if he’s actually just messing with me right now. Maybe he saw the website I was reading before he sat down and this is just some kind of wildly inappropriate practical joke.
“What do you mean fake news?” I question.
“You know... fake news,” Gorn repeats back to me. “Like ridiculous conspiracy theory stuff; Secret space raptor butt invasions, government cover ups, Buttbart.com. That kind of thing.”
“You don’t think there’s a space raptor butt invasion happening right now?” I question, the aggression suddenly seeping into my voice just a little bit too much.
Gorn laughs, shaking his head. He appears to think that I’m being sarcastic.
“I’m serious,” I continue. “You don’t think they’re coming over from other timelines and infiltrating our government?”
My friend suddenly stops laughing, his smile melting away as he stares back at me from across the table. “That’s crazy,” Gorn tells me.
“But what about all the footage of their ships behind the white house?” I question. “President Yuldok knows more that he’s saying!”
Gorn scoffs. “Footage?” he asks. “Have you seen it?”
My friend’s question stops me dead in my tracks. Come to think of it, I haven’t actually seen the footage for myself. “Well, no,” I admit, shaking my head.
“Don’t you see that Jessica Borto is just trying to make a buck?” Gorn explains. “She’s just making up sensationalized stuff so people will keep coming back to that nutty website of hers.”
“This nutty website!” I suddenly erupt, spinning my laptop around so that my friend can witness the euphoric words that are covering my screen.
Gorn’s eyes go wide when he sees what I was reading, then immediately starts backtracking his words. It’s too late for the now, unfortunately.
“I think you better leave,” I announce loudly, interrupting Gorns fumbling attempt to keep the peace.
Not knowing what else to do, my former friend eventually goes silent and then stands up from his chair, walking towards the coffee shop door. He places his hand against the frame, about to push outward and then stops.
Gorn turns back around to look at me.
“I know I’m not going to talk you down from whatever trip you’re on
right now,” Gorn explains, “but I do have one suggestion. If you really think that’s not fake news then why don’t you go to the source?”
I’m not quite sure what he means by this, so I remain silent in an attempt to assert my dominance.
“Go out to the talk to Jessica,” Gorn continues. “See how real she is.”
With that, my former friend leaves in a huff, slamming the door behind him as he disappears out into the crowd beyond. I turn back to my laptop and take a long sip from my coffee, considering Gorns words.
I trust Jessica, I really do, but there is something about his ferocious skepticism that has me thinking in brand new ways. Maybe I should go stop by Jessica’s place, if only to welcome her to the city.
I immediately begin to scour the internet for my favorite author’s new small town address.
I have to admit, from the outside of the house I find Jessica’s modesty quite admirable. For one, her home is not actually on the lake but a few miles back, set into the hillside between several similar residences. There is nothing particularly lavish about the place.
I glance down again at the printed paper gripped tightly within my hands, reading the bloggers address carefully to myself, confirming every number and nuance. Looks like this really is the place.
I take a deep breath, then start heading up the front walk.
Let it be known, I trust Jessica more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, but I can’t help feeling a slight twinge of nervous apprehension deep down in
my gut. I try to push it away, but it’s there. I can’t wait to get this over with so I can put this doubt away for good.
I arrive at the front door of the house and rap three times against the front screen, listening as a dog starts to bark and yip from somewhere inside. I can hear someone shuffling around for a moment, quieting the dog and then approaching the door from within.
“Who is it?” someone calls out, their voice both raspy and frail.
“Uh... my name is Toobo,” I explain. “I’m here to talk with you for a moment, I’m a huge fan of your work.”
“You selling something?” the voice calls out.
“No, I just wanted to say hi.” I continue.
I can hear several locks springing open up and down the length of the
door and then suddenly it yanks open, revealing an older woman with a hairnet on and a cigarette hanging limply from her lips. “Okay... Hi,” the woman says gruffly.
“Are you... Jessica?” I stammer, taken completely off guard. She looks nothing like the photos.
“Jessica?” the woman repeats back to me, a twisted expression of confusion on her face. “Nobody here named Jessica.”
“The writer,” I continue pushing. “Jessica, the news blogger.”
A smile begins to make its way across the woman’s lips, stretching farther and farther until eventually she bursts into a fit of laughter.
“What?” I stammer in confusion.
“Come on in,” the woman says, opening the door and waving me inside. “I think you’ll find what you’re looking for right downstairs.”
I step into the house and immediately get the feeling that something strange is going on. This is not at all the type of chic modern home I would have expected from one of the world’s most prominent voices in online news.
I stand frozen in the entryway for a moment, trying to realign my thoughts while the older woman stands next to me, waiting patiently. Eventually, she motions me towards the stairway, and I start forward.
Slowly, carefully, I creep down the stairs and into a darkened basement, the only light before me radiating outward in a dim, dull blue. I can hear the sound of a keyboard clacking away somewhere within this hollow space, the sound bouncing back and forth off of the cold cement walls.
My heart pounding a mile a minute, I want to call out, but I can’t find the words. Instead, I continue forward in silence until, suddenly, I find
myself standing behind a large figure, whose outline is illuminated by the screen before them.
I can immediately tell that the being before is not the woman I expected. In fact, it’s not even a woman at all.
“Jessica?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
The figure stops typing, frozen in silence.
“Yes?” they ask, their voice cracking slightly as they try to disguise it. “I’m a big fan,” I continue, “but I’m guessing that you’re not who you
say you are.”
“Why would you say that?” the figure questions.
“Because you’ve got a giant spiral horn on the top of your head and a
beautiful flowing mane,” I counter.
Realizing that the game is up, the creature spins around in his chair to
reveal the face of a handsome unicorn, eyes tired and weary from starting at a screen for too long in the dark.
A wave of disorientation suddenly washes over me, almost knocking me off of my feet. If Jessica Borto’s identity had been a lie, then what else about this incredible internet news empire could be a work of fiction.
“Who are you?” I ask. “Who are you really?” The unicorn hesitates. “Can we take a walk?”
The cool air off of the lake feels pleasant against my skin, but the beautiful scenery is not enough to settle the potent anxiety that courses through my veins. My unicorn companion and me are trotting down a path that leads around the waterfront, silent for now as a myriad of thoughts continue to flood through our minds.
“Yerno Porshpeen is my name,” the unicorn finally admits, breaking the silence. “Jessica is just someone that I made up to get more readers.”
I shake my head. “But why? You’re handsome enough as a unicorn,” I confess.
“People don’t trust unicorns,” Yerno explains. “If you’re made of magic, people assume you’re trying to trick them with it. If you want to sell fake news, it’s just not going to work.”
“Fake... news?” I repeat back to him, unable to understand this wholly unfamiliar concept.
“It’s for ad revenue,” Yerno explains. “The companies pay us for clicks, regardless of the content. If I come up with a really great story I could be rolling in cash overnight.”
“Why are you living in your parent’s basement then?” I question. “You’re one of the most popular news sites out there.”
“Did you see the Lambo in my garage?” the unicorn questions. “Who cares where you’re living when you’ve got one of those bad boys.”
I shrug. “I mean... it’s your money.”
A look of concern crosses Yerno’s face very briefly, but it’s not quick enough for me to ignore it. I get the sense that this enchanted creature has lost his way, a character that once provided me with so much assurance suddenly seeking guidance of his own.
“Why don’t you try real news?” I ask. “You’re such an amazing writer.”
“Most of the real news companies are American, they don’t pay as well as the Russian fake news sites,” Yerno counters.
“What?” I ask, a little alarmed. “Russian?”
Yerno shrugs. “I don’t know, for some reason the Russian companies really want this fake news out there.”
I’m not sure how to react to this, so I say nothing in return, plunging our conversation into silence once more.
Eventually, our casual stroll leads us to a dock that extends out onto the lake. We turn off onto the structure and walk down a long series of wooden planks until reaching the end. Yerno and I stop, staring out across the water.
“I thought I had finally found something honest in this crazy world, but now I realize that everything’s a lie,” I admit, solemnly.
“Not everything,” the unicorn assures me. “Just the crazy conspiracy theories your conservative friends post on social media.”
I let out a long sigh, and then gaze around at the natural wonder before me. “I guess you’re right, this is honest, isn’t it?”
The unicorn sniffles a bit. “Yeah, it is.”
I glance over to realize that Yerno is now tearing up, a single streak of saltiness gliding down his chiseled face.
“Are you okay?” I question.
“I hate doing this,” Yerno says. “I hate writing fake news. My life used to be so full of meaning and now it’s just a mess of... nothingness.” Not sure what else to do, I put my arm around the unicorn and pull
him close.
Immediately, a surge of electricity pulses though us, something that I
only would have expected if Yerno was who he said he was, but not now. This feeling is distinctly sexual, an aching lust for my new companion, and it
comes as entirely unexpected mostly because I have never once felt attract to another man until now.
Still, there is no denying this incredible pull. I find myself completely blown away by Yerno’s newfound honesty, his desire for truth after a past full of lies. I had been attracted to his writing more than the meaning behind it, and maybe that was worth something in its own strange way.
“I don’t want to lie anymore,” Yerno tells me. “I don’t want to lie to anyone else, and I don’t want to lie to myself.”
We exchange glances, our eyes locked in some kind of strange and powerful standoff until finally I take a deep breath and go in for the kill. I lean forward and kiss Yerno deeply on the lips, a moment that he fully reciprocates.
The next thing I know, me and Yerno’s hands are roving wildly across one another’s muscular bodies, searching for the physical truth of one another under this haze of fiction. It’s not long before my fingers begin drifting lower and lower, eventually undoing the unicorn’s belt and pulling forth his enormous cock.
The creature is already rock hard as I begin to stroke him, pulsing my hand across his length slowly at first and then speeding up over time. Eventually, I’m just too horny to hold back any longer and drop to my knees before the magical beast, opening wide and taking his shaft between my lips.
I frantically get to work pumping my face over Yerno’s dick, cradling his hanging balls with one hand while I work my magic. I pull out and lick his shaft from base to tip, savoring the taste of his hearty unicorn rod before plunging back down again. This time I push my face even further however, relaxing my gag reflex as I take Yerno in a perfectly performed deep throat.
I let the unicorn hold me here for a moment, listening to the soft slosh of the waves on the dock below. The breeze continues to make me feel alive for the first time in ages, and the cock in my throat doesn’t hurt either.
Yerno leans back his unicorn head and lets out a long, satisfied neigh, his voice carrying out across the water. He stamps his hooves on the wooden dock playfully, showing me his best trot as I continue to service him.
I finally pull back for air with a gasp, then turn around on the ground and pop my ass out at Yerno. I reach back and undo my belt, slipping the fabric down to reveal my round, muscular rump.
“You like what you see?” I coo.
“I love it,” Yerno tells me. “It’s the most real thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“This is all real,” I assure him. “All the butt that’s fit to pound.”
I reach back and give my ass a playful slap, then spread my cheeks open with one hand to reveal the tightly puckered hole in all of its glory.
Yerno takes no time getting down into position behind me, aligning his massive rod with the rim of my backdoor. I can feel him teasing me for a moment, testing my taut anus with the head of his shaft before suddenly slipping in all the way inside.
The unicorns powerful thrust causes me to brace myself on the dock below, a long aching groan escaping my lips as my body struggles to adjust to his enormity. Even though I had taken Yerno in my mouth just moments before, I still find his size somehow surprising; it’s massive girth stretching my butthole to its absolute limits.
With every pump from behind, however, my body begins to adapt. The searing discomfort slowly gives way to something else entirely, a feeling of fullness that I have never before experienced. I find my body torn between uncomfortable ache and blissful pleasure, every thrust against my backside pulling me towards the latter.
“Oh my god, I’m so fucking full of your fake news writing dick!” I yell. “You’re filling my ass like you’ve filled my brain with misinformation!”
Egged on by my erotic words, the unicorn speeds up, faster and faster until he’s slamming as hard as he can up into my rectum. The dock below me is shaking so violently that I’m worried it’s going to collapse, but somehow the thing manages to stay together.
“Harder!” I scream. “Fuck me harder!”
Seized with arousal, Yerno suddenly pulls out of me and flips me over onto my back. My legs splayed out to either side, the enormous magical creature kneels down before me and repositions his cock at my now reamed entrance.
This time Yerno doesn’t waste a moment getting down to business, thrusting inside of me with his powerful grace and pounding away at my butthole with a series of deep swoops. With every slam up my ass my muscular legs shake in the air, wide and proud as I give myself over to Yerno completely.
“No more lies,” the unicorn huffs.
“I trust you! I really trust you!” I moan.
“I trust you, too,” offers the unicorn. “This is all that matters, this
moment right here.”
“Fuck yes!” I reply, my eyes rolling back into my head.
I can feel a strange new sensation pouring out across my body now,
starting at the pit of my stomach and then running out down my arms and
legs in strange pulsing waves. It’s a dull warmth, overwhelming and erotic as it radiates from somewhere incredibly deep within me. It’s not long before I realize that this is the magical prostate orgasm I’ve heard so much about.
Helping myself along, I reach down between my legs and grab ahold of my cock, then beat myself off in time with the authoritative slams up my butt. Each movement causes the feelings brewing within me to grow at an exponential rate, until suddenly they are exploding across my entire body, blowing out every one of my senses.
In this moment I feel as though I am floating above myself, watching my muscular frame below as it spasms and quakes in a fit of orgasm.
Out here, in this new plane of existence, everything is real; even the news.
Moments later I collapse back into myself as the final tremors of orgasm dissipate. Cum has blasted from my cock and covered my ripped chest in a beautiful, pearly glaze.
“Now it’s your turn,” I tell Yerno with a smile. “I want you to see the truth like I did.”
The unicorn pulls out of my ass and trots over to my face, hovering in position while he furiously beats himself off. I stick out my tongue playfully, cradling Yerno’s balls as I egg him on until finally the majestic beast unloads a massive blast of warm jizz across my smile. I catch as much of it as I can in my mouth, while the rest of the unicorn spunk splatters down my cheeks on either side.
I swallow proudly, then suck whatever remains of his cum from Yerno’s slowly deflating shaft.
“That was amazing,” my unicorn lover gushes.
“It was,” I agree, standing up and wrapping my arms around him. We stand like this for a moment and then suddenly I’m being lifted
into the air. Yerno has me is his mighty arms, holding me over the edge of the dock as I laugh and kick with playful excitement. The next thing I know, the magical creature is throwing me in, the water exploding all around me as my body is cleansed.
I feel completely refreshed, somehow removed from my past as the cum washes away from me.
There is a loud splash in the water next to me as the handsome unicorn jumps in, and the next thing I know we are face to face in the cool blue as we tread together face-to-face.
“This feels like what I was looking for the whole time.” I tell Yerno.
Yerno kisses me deeply on the mouth, reassuring me more than any words ever could.
