As you may have noticed from the previous entry, I have a tendency to believe that at the end of the day, people just want to screw themselves as hard as they possibly can. I realize this is a pretty heavy attitude, and I'd be happy to adjust it ... if it wasn't for the fact that things like the Glance app keep proving me right.
You may have heard of Glance in January, when it made its debut under its original name, Sex With Glass. In one fell swoop, it managed to combine the worst facets of all the realms of geek dickery: It was designed for Google Glass, it gave the platform a giant middle finger by actively advertising the sex aspect in its very name, and its whole point was face-swapping the person you're fucking with, well, you.
"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"
For that is the whole point of Glance, whether they admit it or not (they can't, because for a supposedly cool company Apple has some serious issues about sex). When you make an app where the whole point is swapping viewpoints with another person, you know full well what that shit is going to be used for. They even hint as much on their website:
Moments are more beautiful when we experience something we've never seen before. Glance makes even the simplest experiences more special, surprising, and delightful.
Take note of that vaguely Camembert-like stench wafting by your nostrils, for that is the smell of innuendo. Well, that, or the smell of your partner's taint, playing a harmonious tune with the view of your own, enjoyed through their Google Glass. Is that an image you would cherish? Because it's not an image I'm going to cherish. Get your pasty, Google-Glassed asses out of my living room.
And in case you're curious, I can save you the price of the app by saying your O-face looks like this. Everyone's O-face looks like this.
#1. Vore Toys
If you're not comfortable with the idea of a grown-ass man lubing himself up and stuffing himself in a huge rubber dragon head for kicks, walk away now. I hear there's a nice article about bunnies just next to this one.
Still here? Good.
To be human is to be a prisoner of your urges. We can discuss wines and argue about French philosophers all we want, but we're still basically animals with a prime evolutionary directive to procreate. We sure as shit are striving to become something else, though: For whatever reason, at some point in history our brains decided that watching other people screw is cool too, and that's how the sex industry became such a major player on every field of innovation. That's also how we've become jaded and willing to experiment more and more. Hell, I myself have been known to [REDACTED -- Cracked Legal Dept.] while [REDACTED with extreme prejudice -- Legal] it with a [50 states. What he's describing is illegal in 50 fucking states. -- L.] and a lawyer [Oh, goddammit.]. We all have our innocent little secrets, even if we're one day going to get zapped big time by some passing alien fleet because of that shit you're up to, Steve.
The thing is, occasionally someone's particular interests wind up so convoluted and overthought, they're as far removed from ordinary sexuality as taxes. Consider vores, a tribe of fetish enthusiasts that reside in some of the darkest jungles of the Internet. They get off from the idea of either eating or being eaten by someone or something, and usually both the eater and the eaten are represented by a luscious catgirl or a dragon with boobs or some shit. Well, those guys have sex toys too:
I went to the website to check if this thing has air holes so you won't have to, and I'm sad to report that it has.
That's a "head nommer," and ahahahahahahaha holy mother of balls I can't even finish this sentence without collapsing in laughing fits. The manufacturer talks a big game about "drool-scented lubricant" and "saliva pumps" and whatever passes for ambition in circles where your highest dream is being fed to a hentai character, but come on -- that thing is clearly a massive artificial vagina for your face, and also the best goddamn thing I've seen all week. If they had a butt version of that, I could cross like six names off this year's Christmas shopping list alone.
Oh, and there's also that dragon thing I was talking about earlier. Sadly, it's not quite finished yet, but even more sadly, it looks like it eventually will be.
Now, imagine a 300-pound, bebonered man, slathered in oil and struggling to enter the mouth.
Pauli Poisuo is a Cracked columnist and owns barely any of this stuff, honest. Follow him on Twitter.