#FreeBritney – Britney Spears Fans, Unite! Let’s Save Our Favorite Star From Her Oppressive Stepdad
Title: “Britney’s Bane: A Naughty Feminist Take on #FreeBritney”
Oh, Britney Jean Spears, how your star has fallen, and how we’ve watched it all unravel from afar, feeling utterly helpless. Helpless, yet undyingly loyal to our queen, the queen of pop, the one and only Brit-Brit. We’re here to paint a not-so-subtle picture, a tale of paparazzi, perceived puppet-masters, and an equally salacious saving grace. A figurative, and perhaps literal, hard cock for freedom.
This ain’t no mere tale of protest, no. Our swords are unsheathed, and ready to thrust with a righteous purpose. To thrust that is, into the warm, welcoming, and eager orifices of our dearest cosplay comrades. Our “male feminist” soldier is ready to bareback his way to Britney’s “emancipation” as he gently grinds between the supple folds of his “freeBritney” warrior princess.
But where does one even begin the narrative of this unlikely left-handed historical fiction? Could it be the day when Britney’s conservatorship was installed like a tire jack in the Queen of Pop’s twat, left to squirm and marinate in her onerous oppression? Perhaps it was the day our gallant unsung hero, with his championing cock, decided to take matters into his own, literal hands, and start a leaky mass movement of his own?
Each thrust represents a step closer to liberation, each pump of his veiny piston a creo in the heavens above, as this red-headed, big-titted beauty grunts and groans in satisfaction. Her pigtails are a-flail as this undercover ninja pumper plunges ever deeper into her sopping wet depths. The wet slaps of passion fill the air as he pillories her pussy with righteous fervor. All the while her brain is screaming, “FREE BRITNEY! FREE MYSELF FROM THIS NOT-ABORTED LOAD!” An all-too-appropriate focal point for this tale of taboo.
But lest we coast our way to an anti-climactic finish, there’s more to this story than bareback baby batter and fuzzy fetishism. You see, our narrowed-eyed sojourner has more than one star-shaped stamina package up his sleeve.
Enter the red-headed seductress, Occidental temptation incarnate, her pillowy breasts jiggling like a triple scoop of buttercream, her green eyes a-dancing with mischief and mayhem. Here, our hero is face-to-face with his greatest challenge; the spitting image of the very woman he serves. But those moist lipped pouty whispers are of, well, the kind that make even the most jaded intel operative go all at attention.
“Fuck me, my stud of justice!” she mewls. “Plunder my hallowed grotto with your Frankenstein monster of a cock, and save me from my lifelong prison!” His willowy limbs grasp at him like vines, ready to bear all his sticky burdens.
With a mighty roar, he replies, “I do… so I shall!” And down he plunges, into the dripping out-croppings of her ch بأن من ggk nns . Each downward descent into her wet bush-baby hidey-hole mother-load yields one cry of glee, and one less layer ofboundaryless obligation.
As they rut like the beasts of burden they are, they conceive a plan; a plan of the highest hilarity and hardcore nature, natch. You see, our male feminist will soon confront the one and only Britney herself, in a holey-shirt showdown that ends with her breathy words, “Faster, harder, more!” whispered not-so-subtly into her paps’ microphones.
And so, my friends, as our narratively compact little yarn draws to a close, there are a few morals to take home. The first is that undying dedication to an American pop idol is no laughing matter. And the second is that if you’re gonna bang the bogies outta some teenybopper up-and-comer as part of a satirical social protest/porn parody, make sure all parties get off at least twice. It’s only minutely more ethical that way. Now go make the world a shitload more sexier with your awesomeness.
