Male Impregnation Tutorial

A poetic guide to handling unexplainable amphibian lust and the reversal of biological responsibilities in male-female relations.

source: 4chan

She didn’t stare into his eyes — it happened too sudden.
She didn’t whisper sweet lies, just pressed the right button.

It wasn’t a one-night stand, not online-dirty-talk sex,
no holding him by the hand, no ranting about his or her ex.

She didn’t rape him, neither did she ask for permission —
just told him he had that fragile look, the kind that fuels her intuition.

She only smiled when he asked, “Did you bring protection?”
Her quiet, practiced mask hid the depth of her intention.

He shook when her slick tadpoles wriggled deep into his ear,
fell apart when she breathed the word “home,”
didn’t fight — only wept once,
praying their offspring would form clean, not warped at the core.

He woke at dawn unsteady,
a pit where sleep had been —
she laughed, “Don’t break already —
it’s barely settled in.”

He knelt beneath her heels
while she drank and called him sweet;
far inside, the newborn wheels
began turning in the heat.

He sensed something was wrong,
but by then it was too late —
one amphibian reached his frontal lobe
and laughed, “Dude, you swallowed the bait.”

The journey dragged on, and after a while
the creature inched along its narrowing road,
etched a slow, spiraling mile,
and pushed through his nose as a grumpy, ill-tempered toad.