Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,121
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
It was 5:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning in Early April. My alarm clock was buzzing up a storm!! I was excited as hell, as today would be the day I have been waiting on for years. See, my old buddy, Batholomew Buckingham Beauregard Lee III (or “Big Dick” for short) was dying. As a result, he was giving away all his earthly possessions. When it came to me, old Big Dick wanted to give me his stash of 100 bars of gold bullion!
“Please accept this token from me, Rod, as a testament to my love and respect for you for all the years you kept me set up in whores and blow”, he said. Choked up, I looked old Big Dick in his dying eyes and said, “FUCK-THAT-SHIT!!”. Taken aback, Big Dick said, “But Rod, this is … gold Bullion. One hundred bars of it!!”. I replied, “What the fuck am I going to do with 100 fucking candy bars?!? I got the Type 2 diabetes, fuck wad!!”
Old Big Dick said, “No, Rod. You do not understand….” But I cut him off and said, “No, Big Dick, YOU don’t understand!!! If I do not get what I want, then I am gonna tell your old lady everything!!” Big Dick’s eyes grew wide. Sheepishly, he asked, “everything?”
I continued, “Everything, from the backroom down at “Titty Ticklers”, to the men’s sauna at “The Bear’s Club”, to the horse stables at “Bestiality Acres”. Big Dick swallowed hard and looked to the ground. This was his moment of reckoning. Slowly, he looked up at me, though he could not look me in the eyes with the long, black shadow of his past cast down upon him.
“What do you want, Rod?”, he asked. I paused, allowing a grin to develop on my face. I finally said, “I want the Glory Hole.” Big Dick’s eyes immediately widened in horror. My smile grew wider and wilder in response to his reaction. I started laughing. It was measured laughing at first, but it quickly grew into uncontrollable, maniacal laughter.
Before I continue, let me tell you about the Glory Hole. It probably is not exactly what you are thinking it is. Instead, it is a fishing hole. It is a slough off of some unknown river that is absolutely teaming with big largemouth bass!!. Hell, a ten pounder is a dink in this lake. In fact, it is known amongst those few who know of this place that several new world records have been caught here, including a behemoth 57lb bucketmouth back in 2015!! You heard me right – 57 FUCKING POUNDS!!! But nobody is ever going to say a word about it because then the fucking yankees and media will be all over it. We want it all to ourselves!!
Now, this place has to remain secret or else it will go to hell. Old Big Dick bought his way into this closely guarded knowledge, as I understand it. I don’t know how many others know about it either. It is some kind of brotherhood of sorts. According to Big Dick, you can get your throat slit if you reveal this place to anyone. Oh, and they are Satan worshippers too. At least, that is what Big Dick said.
And now, Big Dick is dying, and I have his balls in a vice. He lowered his head again and said something that sounded like a prayer, except it ended with “Hail Satan”. Then Big Dick looked up at me and said, “Alright, Lord Long Rod, it shall be yours. I shall bestow my seat to you. But be forewarned, with this honor comes great responsibility. Membership in the Order of the Willow Leaf is highly coveted and must be viciously guarded. You shall have my seat in the Order”.
I asked, “Seat? You mean like a seat at the High Table, like in John Wick?” Big Dick replied, “NO, a seat on a bass boat, like a Ranger or a Skeeter.” Now it were my eyes that were widening!!!
See, this here Glory Hole is something special. Old Big Dick took me a few times, usually when I beat him in a poker game or threatened to tell his old lady about some skank he was banging. But it is not like any other fishing hole. It is protected. Nobody but The Few know where it is at.
For example, when Big Dick took me, I had to be hooded, hogtied, and drugged. This way I could not see where I was going; I could not sneak a peek; and I had to be disoriented as all hell. You depart in a non-descript white van. They then hood you and knock you out. The next thing you know some big guy is throwing your ass into the bottom of a Ranger bass boat. “BAMM!!” Your ass hits the floor! You start waking up but remain all groggy. Some hooded cult looking guy puts a rod and reel in your hand and says “SPINNERBAIT!!! FISH!!! NOW!!!!”
I would look around and see old Big Dick sitting on the front platform of the boat, rod in hand. He would say, “Sit the fuck down in the back so we can fish, asshole!!” Then we would depart, with Big Dick working the electric trolling motor on the bow. Sometimes I would get sick and puke over the side of the boat. Whatever they drugged me with gave me a terrible headache.
But, then, I would start fishing. The next thing you know, I had a ten pounder on the hook!!! Then another, and another!! After a few minutes pass, I am in a state of total and complete Nirvana-level elation over catching such fine bass. I do not even remember the ordeal it was to get there. Hell, on my first trip, I probably caught 30 bigmouths over 10 pounds, with a couple north of 20 pounds!!!
I said, “Shit fire, Big Dick!! Nobody is going to believe this shit!!!!” Big Dick looked back at me and said, “That’s right. They won’t. And if you speak a word about this place to anyone, you will be one dead motherfucker!”. That is when I was first exposed to the dark side of the Glory Hole. It is, in reality, some kind of bass fishing cult!! But, hell, I would keep my mouth shut to be able to visit this place and get my hook into some fat fucking pigs like this!!! And I did keep my mouth shut.
Near sunset it is time to return to the dock, get hooded and bound, and take the injection. After what must have been a bumpy ride (due to all the cuts and bruises on me) and some hellish hallucinations, I would come to around 3:00 a.m., lying on my front lawn, naked, and with the neighbor’s Rottweiler licking my sacks.
Where is this amazing Glory Hole located? Nobody knows, except for The Few. Hell, it may even be in another state. God knows I have spent plenty of time hunting it down based upon Google Earth searches. But I have been unsuccessful. Eventually, I stopped looking. It had grown to mystical status in my head. But then, one thing or another would happen and I would manage to get Big Dick to take me again. Then it started all over again: Bound, hooded, drugged… But it was damn sure worth it!!!
A couple weeks later old Big Dick died. I went to the funeral. It was a decent and reverent service. Afterward, I gave my condolences to Big Dick’s widow, the Dame Victoria Windsor Lee However, friends and family just called her “Big Twat”. I offered to go home with BT that night and console her with my Long Rod. She replied, “Well, Big Eddy, Little Bear, and Peter Stone are already coming over tonight to do that. But maybe, if you want to drop by later, sure, Rod. Go ahead.”
Of course, I was not interested in sloppy seconds, so I stayed home. The next day I received a cryptic note in my mail box. It said simply: “Your presence is requested”. It was signed “The Few” and included the image of a magnificent largemouth bass jumping from the water. It also included instructions to be bound, hooded, and lying on my front lawn at exactly 1:30 a.m. I got my neighbor Cocaine Carl, to help me out with this.
Well sir, they showed up, drugged me, then we left. I woke up … sometime later. I was lying on a cold, hard floor. My head was thumping. Eventually, I heard footsteps. They approached me. I had not even opened my eyes yet. Then the footsteps stopped all around me.
I heard a thunderous voice speak down unto me, as if from the heavens above. I imagine the voice was not unlike what Moses heard when the Lord God spoke down unto him in the desert. The voice over me said, “Lord Long Rod. You shall rise in our presence.” I opened my eyes. The light was painful, so I squeezed my eyes shut again. I wondered to myself what kind of fucking drugs they had been using on me. Sensing my hesitation, the godlike entity in my presence commanded “RISE!!!”.
I did as I was told. Once to my feet I fully opened up my eyes to find 7 men standing around me. They were all wearing black robes with hoods hiding their faces, and each such black robe was adorned with the sign of the evil Baphomet, displayed in blood red ink. Oh, and their cocks were hanging out through holes in the pelvic area of their robes. I thought to myself, “This does not look good.”
Indeed, it was not good. In order to inherit Big Dick’s seat among The Few, I had to, uhhh ….perform a service. Suffice it to say that I learned that day why this here fishing hold is called “The Glory Hole”. Afterward I was anointed as a full member of The Few. We then had drinks and smoked cigars and told ribald tales from the past to the amusement of one another.
Then something unexpected happened. One of the members said, “Gentlemen, our guests have arrived.” We were then shuffled into another room to find a couple of good old boys in overalls and wearing Bass Pro Shop caps unconscious and on the floor, with their bare asses up in the air. Another member then said, “Alright, boys!! Let’s get to it!!!”.
I will not get into all the graphic shit about what happened next. I think I have said enough for you to have gotten the picture. As it turned out, The Glory Hole was run by a cult of queer rapists. For whatever reason, they preyed on good old boys like me who liked to bass fish. I found this sort of odd, since all of The Few loved to bass fish too. They loved to bass fish and … do gay stuff to unconscious men. Yeah. That is what this was.
After a while, all the sodomy and trophy bass fishing got old. So, I resigned my seat. I decided to stick to trout and pussy from now on. I heard they picked old Pete “The Meat” Steel from “Danglers’ Dance Studio” as my replacement. Frankly, the whole episode left me perplexed and disturbed. I mean, I LOVE bass fishing. But I should not have to get assaulted in order to enjoy it. Now I kind of associate one with the other, which has totally ruined it for me. After a bit, I could not even fly fish for trout anymore without thinking about my time among The Few at The Glory Hole.
Yep, that place pretty much fucked up my head. I tried therapy, but Dr. Minglah just kept pointing at me and laughing. But finally, things sort of worked themselves out. See, I hit rock bottom. Then, in the midst of a drunken 10-day coke burn, I started thinking about how old Big Dick started this and that he was the reason for my torment!!
I decided to go dig up that motherfucker and rape what was left of him!!! Then I remembered how that was kind of the problem. So, I decided to go piss on his gravestone. But on the drive over there to the graveyard a though hit me. Old Big dick was a practicing homo!! OMG!!! I started busting out laughing!!! Old Big Dick was a fucking QUEER!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
I immediately felt 110% better!!! Thereafter, with this epiphany I was able to get clean and sober, and resume my prosperous career. After a couple of years it was like nothing had even happened. I was free again, because no matter what I had been through, at least I was not a fucking queer like Big Dick!!!! LOLOLOO!
“Please accept this token from me, Rod, as a testament to my love and respect for you for all the years you kept me set up in whores and blow”, he said. Choked up, I looked old Big Dick in his dying eyes and said, “FUCK-THAT-SHIT!!”. Taken aback, Big Dick said, “But Rod, this is … gold Bullion. One hundred bars of it!!”. I replied, “What the fuck am I going to do with 100 fucking candy bars?!? I got the Type 2 diabetes, fuck wad!!”
Old Big Dick said, “No, Rod. You do not understand….” But I cut him off and said, “No, Big Dick, YOU don’t understand!!! If I do not get what I want, then I am gonna tell your old lady everything!!” Big Dick’s eyes grew wide. Sheepishly, he asked, “everything?”
I continued, “Everything, from the backroom down at “Titty Ticklers”, to the men’s sauna at “The Bear’s Club”, to the horse stables at “Bestiality Acres”. Big Dick swallowed hard and looked to the ground. This was his moment of reckoning. Slowly, he looked up at me, though he could not look me in the eyes with the long, black shadow of his past cast down upon him.
“What do you want, Rod?”, he asked. I paused, allowing a grin to develop on my face. I finally said, “I want the Glory Hole.” Big Dick’s eyes immediately widened in horror. My smile grew wider and wilder in response to his reaction. I started laughing. It was measured laughing at first, but it quickly grew into uncontrollable, maniacal laughter.
Before I continue, let me tell you about the Glory Hole. It probably is not exactly what you are thinking it is. Instead, it is a fishing hole. It is a slough off of some unknown river that is absolutely teaming with big largemouth bass!!. Hell, a ten pounder is a dink in this lake. In fact, it is known amongst those few who know of this place that several new world records have been caught here, including a behemoth 57lb bucketmouth back in 2015!! You heard me right – 57 FUCKING POUNDS!!! But nobody is ever going to say a word about it because then the fucking yankees and media will be all over it. We want it all to ourselves!!
Now, this place has to remain secret or else it will go to hell. Old Big Dick bought his way into this closely guarded knowledge, as I understand it. I don’t know how many others know about it either. It is some kind of brotherhood of sorts. According to Big Dick, you can get your throat slit if you reveal this place to anyone. Oh, and they are Satan worshippers too. At least, that is what Big Dick said.
And now, Big Dick is dying, and I have his balls in a vice. He lowered his head again and said something that sounded like a prayer, except it ended with “Hail Satan”. Then Big Dick looked up at me and said, “Alright, Lord Long Rod, it shall be yours. I shall bestow my seat to you. But be forewarned, with this honor comes great responsibility. Membership in the Order of the Willow Leaf is highly coveted and must be viciously guarded. You shall have my seat in the Order”.
I asked, “Seat? You mean like a seat at the High Table, like in John Wick?” Big Dick replied, “NO, a seat on a bass boat, like a Ranger or a Skeeter.” Now it were my eyes that were widening!!!
See, this here Glory Hole is something special. Old Big Dick took me a few times, usually when I beat him in a poker game or threatened to tell his old lady about some skank he was banging. But it is not like any other fishing hole. It is protected. Nobody but The Few know where it is at.
For example, when Big Dick took me, I had to be hooded, hogtied, and drugged. This way I could not see where I was going; I could not sneak a peek; and I had to be disoriented as all hell. You depart in a non-descript white van. They then hood you and knock you out. The next thing you know some big guy is throwing your ass into the bottom of a Ranger bass boat. “BAMM!!” Your ass hits the floor! You start waking up but remain all groggy. Some hooded cult looking guy puts a rod and reel in your hand and says “SPINNERBAIT!!! FISH!!! NOW!!!!”
I would look around and see old Big Dick sitting on the front platform of the boat, rod in hand. He would say, “Sit the fuck down in the back so we can fish, asshole!!” Then we would depart, with Big Dick working the electric trolling motor on the bow. Sometimes I would get sick and puke over the side of the boat. Whatever they drugged me with gave me a terrible headache.
But, then, I would start fishing. The next thing you know, I had a ten pounder on the hook!!! Then another, and another!! After a few minutes pass, I am in a state of total and complete Nirvana-level elation over catching such fine bass. I do not even remember the ordeal it was to get there. Hell, on my first trip, I probably caught 30 bigmouths over 10 pounds, with a couple north of 20 pounds!!!
I said, “Shit fire, Big Dick!! Nobody is going to believe this shit!!!!” Big Dick looked back at me and said, “That’s right. They won’t. And if you speak a word about this place to anyone, you will be one dead motherfucker!”. That is when I was first exposed to the dark side of the Glory Hole. It is, in reality, some kind of bass fishing cult!! But, hell, I would keep my mouth shut to be able to visit this place and get my hook into some fat fucking pigs like this!!! And I did keep my mouth shut.
Near sunset it is time to return to the dock, get hooded and bound, and take the injection. After what must have been a bumpy ride (due to all the cuts and bruises on me) and some hellish hallucinations, I would come to around 3:00 a.m., lying on my front lawn, naked, and with the neighbor’s Rottweiler licking my sacks.
Where is this amazing Glory Hole located? Nobody knows, except for The Few. Hell, it may even be in another state. God knows I have spent plenty of time hunting it down based upon Google Earth searches. But I have been unsuccessful. Eventually, I stopped looking. It had grown to mystical status in my head. But then, one thing or another would happen and I would manage to get Big Dick to take me again. Then it started all over again: Bound, hooded, drugged… But it was damn sure worth it!!!
A couple weeks later old Big Dick died. I went to the funeral. It was a decent and reverent service. Afterward, I gave my condolences to Big Dick’s widow, the Dame Victoria Windsor Lee However, friends and family just called her “Big Twat”. I offered to go home with BT that night and console her with my Long Rod. She replied, “Well, Big Eddy, Little Bear, and Peter Stone are already coming over tonight to do that. But maybe, if you want to drop by later, sure, Rod. Go ahead.”
Of course, I was not interested in sloppy seconds, so I stayed home. The next day I received a cryptic note in my mail box. It said simply: “Your presence is requested”. It was signed “The Few” and included the image of a magnificent largemouth bass jumping from the water. It also included instructions to be bound, hooded, and lying on my front lawn at exactly 1:30 a.m. I got my neighbor Cocaine Carl, to help me out with this.
Well sir, they showed up, drugged me, then we left. I woke up … sometime later. I was lying on a cold, hard floor. My head was thumping. Eventually, I heard footsteps. They approached me. I had not even opened my eyes yet. Then the footsteps stopped all around me.
I heard a thunderous voice speak down unto me, as if from the heavens above. I imagine the voice was not unlike what Moses heard when the Lord God spoke down unto him in the desert. The voice over me said, “Lord Long Rod. You shall rise in our presence.” I opened my eyes. The light was painful, so I squeezed my eyes shut again. I wondered to myself what kind of fucking drugs they had been using on me. Sensing my hesitation, the godlike entity in my presence commanded “RISE!!!”.
I did as I was told. Once to my feet I fully opened up my eyes to find 7 men standing around me. They were all wearing black robes with hoods hiding their faces, and each such black robe was adorned with the sign of the evil Baphomet, displayed in blood red ink. Oh, and their cocks were hanging out through holes in the pelvic area of their robes. I thought to myself, “This does not look good.”
Indeed, it was not good. In order to inherit Big Dick’s seat among The Few, I had to, uhhh ….perform a service. Suffice it to say that I learned that day why this here fishing hold is called “The Glory Hole”. Afterward I was anointed as a full member of The Few. We then had drinks and smoked cigars and told ribald tales from the past to the amusement of one another.
Then something unexpected happened. One of the members said, “Gentlemen, our guests have arrived.” We were then shuffled into another room to find a couple of good old boys in overalls and wearing Bass Pro Shop caps unconscious and on the floor, with their bare asses up in the air. Another member then said, “Alright, boys!! Let’s get to it!!!”.
I will not get into all the graphic shit about what happened next. I think I have said enough for you to have gotten the picture. As it turned out, The Glory Hole was run by a cult of queer rapists. For whatever reason, they preyed on good old boys like me who liked to bass fish. I found this sort of odd, since all of The Few loved to bass fish too. They loved to bass fish and … do gay stuff to unconscious men. Yeah. That is what this was.
After a while, all the sodomy and trophy bass fishing got old. So, I resigned my seat. I decided to stick to trout and pussy from now on. I heard they picked old Pete “The Meat” Steel from “Danglers’ Dance Studio” as my replacement. Frankly, the whole episode left me perplexed and disturbed. I mean, I LOVE bass fishing. But I should not have to get assaulted in order to enjoy it. Now I kind of associate one with the other, which has totally ruined it for me. After a bit, I could not even fly fish for trout anymore without thinking about my time among The Few at The Glory Hole.
Yep, that place pretty much fucked up my head. I tried therapy, but Dr. Minglah just kept pointing at me and laughing. But finally, things sort of worked themselves out. See, I hit rock bottom. Then, in the midst of a drunken 10-day coke burn, I started thinking about how old Big Dick started this and that he was the reason for my torment!!
I decided to go dig up that motherfucker and rape what was left of him!!! Then I remembered how that was kind of the problem. So, I decided to go piss on his gravestone. But on the drive over there to the graveyard a though hit me. Old Big dick was a practicing homo!! OMG!!! I started busting out laughing!!! Old Big Dick was a fucking QUEER!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
I immediately felt 110% better!!! Thereafter, with this epiphany I was able to get clean and sober, and resume my prosperous career. After a couple of years it was like nothing had even happened. I was free again, because no matter what I had been through, at least I was not a fucking queer like Big Dick!!!! LOLOLOO!
