I’ve watched quite a lot of porn in my day. As you may have noticed, my wtf threshold is rather high but there are some pornographic films I have come across that really are bizarre even for me. It takes a lot for me to pause and go “WTF am I watching?” Here are 13 of the most Bizarro porn movies and clips you should see…
Obviously all links are NSFW and XXX rated. Don’t worry if you get a weird boner, it happens to the best of us and I obviously have watched all of these movies so you can just blame me for your weird fap this Twisted Tuesday.
1) Edward Penishands – An actually decent movie as far as Bizarro porn is concerned. The plot is almost identical to Edward Scissorhands except it’s a porn and he has peni for hands. Edward is kind of hot too if you’re into crying goth boys with penis hands.
This clip of Edward Penishands eating spaghetti is fucking art.
2) Live Action La Blue Girl – Based on the classic hentai which is known for quite a bit of tentacle rape, the live action version isn’t nearly as good as the animated version but it’s still a good attempt and they did a decent job with the tentacles. There’s a lot of them.
3) Biancaneve e i sette nani./Snow White and the Seven Dwarves – LOVE this Italian Snow White porn! The link shows the classic scene where Snow White is getting anal from a dwarf while the other 6 dwarves cheer him on. There is something really magical about that scene that Disney totally missed out on.
4) Alice in Wonderland: An X-Rated Musical Fantasy (1976) – This 70’s Alice in Wonderland musical porn is a whimsical and cheesy porn tribute to the Lewis Carroll classic. It’s pretty tame since it was made in the 70’s, although still totally X-rated.
5) Frankenpenis – Remember John Wayne Bobbitt who had his penis cut off by his wife who threw it out the window while driving and he had to have it sewed on? If you were too young to remember that, it actually happened and Bobbitt ended up making a porn film with his freshly attached penis, aptly named Frankenpenis which is an “outlandish porno spoof featuring a post-surgery John Wayne Bobbitt as Frankenpenis, a castrated man who had a ‘super penis’ sewed onto him in an experiment.”
6) Let My Puppets Come – Often compared to Meet the Feebles since there aren’t many pornographic puppet movies, Let My Puppets Come is about puppets who make a porn movie with human and puppet talent.
The concept of the film is much more interesting than the actual movie. The bondage porn scene from Meet the Feebles is much better:
7) Jack-in-the-Box – Random porn clip, that I’ll admit, gave me a weird boner. I don’t even know how I found it but some guy dressed like a creepy clown thing jumps out of of a jack-in-the-box and giggles maniacally the entire course of having sex with some chick.
8) A Wet Dream on Elm Street – “PLOT: After having sex with her boyfriend, a woman is shocked when he transforms into Freddy Krueger, who she mistakes for Edward James Olmos. Freddy seduces the woman with his glove, which has vibrators affixed to the fingers.”
9) E.T. porn – Everything is Terrible described the E.T. costume as a “burn victim wrapped in seaweed” which I found to be pretty accurate. E.T. is a female and explores human sexuality with some “high society” people and looks like the Toxic Avenger with cancer.
10) Genki porn – Totally against this because poor sea creatures, but it is wtf so had to add it to the list. VICE has a good documentary on the guy who makes Japanese eel porn. The pictures are pretty incredible. I’ll give him that.
11) This Ain’t the Smurfs XXX – Porn parodies are super popular now, there is pretty much a porn parody of every TV show and film in existence. It’s an extension of rule 34. io9 has an epic guide to porn parodies and I’ve seen most of them. The Smurfs one is pretty up there in the Bizarro meter.
13) Along Came the Spider, from Perverted Stories 32 – Seriously the most Bizarro porn I’ve ever seen. If you can top a porn with a giant creepy female spider giving a blowjob please let me know in the comments!
Happy Twisted Tuesday Bizarros! Hope you have a twisted fap!
by Philip Tannehill
I hope you enjoy this next disgusting installment of Spider Couch. You can find the first chapter here. -KA
I awoke in the darkness with a burning sensation in my genitals. I panicked, only to recall that I had escorted home a couch, not a loose woman. This thought did not sooth the burning, so I unzipped my pants and began to feel out the situation. Immediately I observed that my penis felt much larger than ever. I groped along its shaft down past my knee, then felt a second penis extending out from behind the first, before suspecting that grave forces were at work.
After another minute of frantic fumbling, I pieced together what had occurred. The spider couch had slipped one of its thin black legs up my urethra and another up my anus. This was most unpleasant indeed.
I attempted to spring out of the couch to make for the basement stairs, but the spider legs restrained me like a prisoner’s chains. “Help!” I cried. “Help!”
Griselda was a light sleeper. I called for her repeatedly, desiring more than ever to see my sister’s face crack the darkness and appear in the doorway, bathed in light, at the top of the stairs. The spider’s legs pushed further inside me while its other six legs crushed my ribs in a smothering embrace.
Right as my vision started going fuzzy, Griselda appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked down on our obscene lovemaking (if the spider couch was in fact trying to seduce me) and screamed. The characteristic move for her to make next would’ve been to slam the door, bolt it, and flee to her room – or faint outright. But Griselda was a brave sister who apparently loved me more than I knew. Contrary to her nature, she stormed down the stairs two at a time and came to stand before me and the spider. Her hands were balled into fists.
“Take your hands off him, you bitch,” she said.
I’d never heard such strong language from my sister. When the spider couch tightened its grip, Griselda raged forth, swinging her fists like hammers. A blow glanced off my head, but in her frenzy she also landed several key strikes on the spider couch’s head. Overwhelmed by my sister, the spider couch loosened its clutches on my bowels and freed my penis of its wrath. Its grip on my torso was also released.
I leapt off that couch so fast I probably looked like a reindeer with hot coals on its ass. I practically flew up the staircase and when I got to the top I turned around, remembering Griselda. She was in the clutches of the spider couch now. The evil piece of furniture had torn away her nightgown and was spreading her labia to resemble a manta ray.
“Help! Help!” Griselda cried.
I was not falling for that trick. I knew that if you helped someone who was caught in the spider couch’s cushiony web, then the spider couch would target you. Not to mention, if the spider couch happened to catch me before I freed Griselda, both of us would be stuck, forced to engage in crude and bizarre sexual acts with the couch. Who would feed Griselda’s cat then?
“Look, Griselda. Here’s how it is. If I go down to save you and happen to get caught myself, who will look after Mister Mittens? It is my responsibility not to save you, dear sister. I’m sorry, but think of the dear little Mittens.”
“Mister Mittens has been dead since Thanksgiving, you ass,” she said. “You sold him to the butcher in exchange for a turkey sandwich.”
“Oh really?” Upon reflection, I did recall enjoying a superbly marvelous sandwich around Thanksgiving. There had also been a distinct absence of feline activities around our home. I’d assumed that Mister Mittens was starving (because how do you feed a cat when you can hardly afford to feed yourself?) and had grown too weak to leave Griselda’s room. Poor cat. Sold to the butcher for a sandwich. Ah, I remembered the exchange in clearer detail now. One mewling sack of claws and fur in exchange for thick cuts of white meat on a bed of mashed potatoes and gravy, resting between two slices of toasted wheat bread . . . and cranberry sauce. Loads of cranberry sauce. God, what a sandwich. To imagine I’d acquired it for the low price of my sister’s only companion. It was a crying shame she wasn’t a cat hoarder. Selfish of her, one might say. I was sorry for Mister Mitten’s death, though, because if he hadn’t already been sold for a sandwich, I could bag him up and take him down to the butcher’s straightaway in the morning. This time of year, the furry brute could fetch a fair lot of hot ham water.
I was depressed about the murderous state of my new couch, but also very hungry, so I slammed the door of the basement on my sister’s screams. Perhaps she had some other items I could pilfer for a bowl of hot ham water.
[To be continued.]
As a bizarro spin on the classic weird tale, it only seemed appropriate to serialize “The Spider Couch,” just like they used to do in the old pulp magazines. I hope you enjoy this first installment. – K.A.
by Philip Tannehill
Even though all my friends are dead, I do not regret dragging in the spider couch on that frightful, frosty night last December. I do not regret it because without the spider couch I would be dead myself. Who needs friends when they own a couch with fangs and eight legs? Who needs anything at all when the slightest hunger pang sends their couch scurrying for another meal to feed them? The spider couch knows my needs better than any human ever could. The spider couch loves me like no other has before. So what if Griselda and her cat had to die? Wasn’t it worth the sacrifice? Countless people have sisters and feline companions, but I am the only one blessed with a spider couch.
Around Thanksgiving, Griselda and I had fallen on hard times. Our inheritance had just about run out and the bankers were threatening to repossess the house. Naturally, the narrow-minded Academy of Sciences still refused to allow me back after my little fiasco with the rabid chinchillas. Ha! They could shove their science up their ass. Without them, though, Griselda and I were broke. My sister had suffered from a paralyzing nervous condition ever since she was young, so I couldn’t expect her to go out and find a job. Eating oatmeal was about the most strenuous activity she could undertake. Anything beyond oatmeal was liable to juice a blood-curdling scream from her bones.
I spent a great deal of time brooding in the darkness of the basement. I felt a kinship with the mold that grew on the walls. Then one evening right before Christmas, an idea struck: I would go for a walk. Of course! Why hadn’t I considered it in all the previous month? A vigorous walk always brightened my spirits and got the goop flowing to the old brain box. So I set out a quarter past eight with no destination in mind. Perhaps I’d wander into a pub and waste our last coins on fine ales imported from Belgium. Or, if my tender parts tingled, I might arrange to lie for an hour with a lady of the night. That’s not to say I was a women and booze man. It’s just that sense the destitute get from the last sorry coins in their possession. They believe anything can happen. That’s what I believed. And wouldn’t you know, after marching through the cold for several hours, my breath freezing before my face with every exhalation, I came across a big black furry thing blocking the pedestrian walkway on Lower Waits Bridge.
I was suspicious at first and halted in my steps. I shouted at the object, fearing it to be a vagrant sea monster or even a ghost. Sea monster sightings were rare in December, but once in a while they got mixed up and returned upriver when they meant to make for open seas. It is also possible that the ales I consumed – not Belgian, but still of fine quality, I assure you – at several pubs along my walk contributed to my unsettled state of mind. Whatever the case, after shouting at the big black fuzzy thing for upward of an hour, I came to realize that I would have to make the first move. The temperature was still dropping and the alcohol I’d consumed was being metabolized at an undesirably quick pace. I needed to cross the bridge to get home. I had no choice but to confront this monster or ghost. So I approached.
Imagine how I squealed when I discovered not a beast, but the opposite: a seemingly unused, luxurious, artisanal couch. The appendages sticking out of the couch were bizarre, sure, but they only added to its uniqueness and beauty – not to mention the fact that it was free for the taking. So I slung the heavy couch over my shoulders and stumbled the rest of the way home, where I lugged my newfound piece of furniture down into the basement and sank into a slumber known only by the frostbitten and the damned.
What happened next was nothing short of nightmare.
[To be continued next week on Flash Fiction Friday!]
Philip Tannehill spends most of his time working on his family’s farm in the Midwest. In his spare time, he reads and writes. An enthusiast of gothic literature and bizarro fiction, he dreams of someday opening a cult movie theater in a haunted mansion. Right now, he’s just waiting to win the lottery.