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Fluff Girls Of The Houston 500

Five of the ten fluffers -- women on hand to get the guys hard before reaching Houston -- primp in an empty green room. Diamond sits on the floor, holding a dusty wall mirror horizontally for Kira and Coco to do their makeup. There is an easy, loud rapport among the fluffers. They talk about a girl they know who got a part on a Cinemax softcore movie, and cover strategies for the day. (Playing with one another is a much better way to keep a guy hard than actually touching him.) One woman invites critiques of her breasts, which have been augmented to Ds thanks to "that 64-year-old john from Mexico," who dropped over six grand on them. She still has Band-Aids under her nipples. For protection, all of the fluffers get a pair of kneepads ($5.99 apiece) and a dose of antibiotics to block the transmission of STDs.

Fluff girls of the houston 500

"The press conference went awesome," says Metro Vice President Greg Alves into a cell phone from Houston's dressing room, where Houston is getting her pubic hair trimmed. One of the fluffers is John Holmes' widow, Laurie, and Alves would like "to get some mileage out of that."

Around 11:30, with daylight burning and cameras rolling, the fluffers ease her out of her spandex sheath, down to her checkered flag corset. Eventually, one -- Coco or Kira -- straps on a dildo (Sister Strap On, $39.95) and penetrates Houston. A very real hush falls over the attendees, for when a fluffer shouts, "Work it!" it rings out past this circle of lights to the corners of the black, field-sized warehouse.

The boom camera gets positioned overhead. Meanwhile, the professional, the hopeful, the hopeless, the media and the just-plain bored ("I had nothing better to do today," someone named Adam tells me) all stare while a fluffer with a fake name drives a fake penis into a porn star with a fake name, both women on megadoses of antibiotics. Houston snarls for the camera. An Internet simulcast is available for $9.95, and 4,000 people trying to log on at once will crash the server. A rebroadcast of the event is scheduled for the following Saturday.

The men wait in line outside the pit, where the fluffers do their thing. Some men are naked, some keep their boxers on while waiting in line -- a red pair with the words "Don't Panic" on the waistband stands out. With every man wearing mandatory Metro/Houston 500 T-shirts, shoes are the only clue to a person's identity on the outside. One man wears a Mexican wrestling mask, another a wig. Understandably, the day becomes a blur for Houston.

Sometimes a fluffer will take a man to the edge of orgasm and he will rush up to jerk his own private miracle onto Houston. There's the occasional anal bit and a guest appearance from Metro starlet Misty Rain, who used an Executive Double Dong Harness ($54) on Houston, but otherwise, the whole event settles into a numb pattern, broken by shouts of "Fluffer!" "Lube!" and "Next!" Always "Next!"

There are rules at the Houston 500, documented in a leaflet with seven commands: "NO FINGERS," "BE CLEAN" and "WEAR YOUR METRO T-SHIRT." An unwritten rule of the gangbang requires that money not be discussed. The fluffers won't say how much they're earning; production coordinator Jim Malibu doesn't want to talk about it. Greg Alves will tell me that this event cost "well over $100,000" to produce, but Houston shuts me down. "No one will ever know what I make," she says. "That's no one's business what I make. Unless you're paying me." But money is why she is here: Her stripping rate after today will likely triple, her signing rate doubles and perhaps she will be able to retire in six years like she plans.

Also prohibited is unsanctioned sexual activities. A heavy girl in a sheer pink dress with faux fur trim is escorted out by security when she's caught giving head to five men in a shadowy corner of the soundstage, 20 feet from the buffet. A freelance fluffer.

Ron Jeremy steps up as No. 620. (He batted cleanup in Gangbang I, waived this duty in II and swore he would only do it today if they really needed him -- if they were one guy short of the record.) The crowd gets dense, packs in, stands on tiptoe just as before. But instead of the reverent silence during the fluffers' opening salvo, they issue a raucous countdown. 10, 9 ... The old order is passing ... 6, 5 ... Jasmin is stepping down ... 3, 2 ... A new world record! Ron blows his load on cue, as he has done countless times during the past 24 years.

The event begins with a few interviews with some of the participants. Annabel Chong arrives later and is greeted by the event director. Bone briefs Chong on the format and then gives a briefing to the rest of the participants. The footage cuts to an interview Chong gives to the press. Ron Jeremy (host of the event) introduces the fluff girls and commences the gang bang. Chong, changed into a gown, emerges from a side entrance and climbs onto the stage. The stage, built to look like a Roman playground, has a bed in the middle; the setting was intended to allude to the orgy of Roman empress Messalina.[2] Bone, using a loudspeaker, calls for the first five participants. Chong engages in sex acts with the participants for five to ten minutes until the next group is called. Chong had insisted on the use of condoms for the event, but those of the men who were professional performers were allowed to participate without using them.[2]

As you might expect, colors that are considered common for the breed have the lowest prices ranging from 4,000 to 5,000 USD, while colors which are more unique and harder to produce come at a higher price as well. For example, a solid lilac Frenchie puppy would be around 7,000 USD while a lilac merle can go up to 8000 USD. The rarest and most expensive colors like platinum, Isabella and fluffy are highly valuable for breeders, therefore cost a lot more: you can expect their prices anywhere between 8,000 and 30,000 USD.

There are two crucial things you need to know about the lint that forms inside of belly buttons. The first is that it's referred to more scientifically as "navel fluff," though occasionally those writing about in scientific literature call it belly button lint (BBL). The second is that navel fluff forms more often in middle-aged, hairy men, especially ones who have recently put on weight.

In addition to the online survey, Kruszelnicki and his colleagues collected samples from willing volunteers and also asked some to shave the hair from around their belly buttons. It turned out that shaving belly hair indeed prevented the accumulation of lint. While perhaps not the world's leading experts on the topic, Dr Karl and his colleagues arrived at an explanation for the formation of navel fluff that, at least, makes intuitive sense. Hairs around the belly button, they think, operate as a "one-way ratchet mechanism", stealing tiny fibres from inside your clothes and depositing them into your navel.

Older clothes, less lint Kruszelnicki wasn't the only person to take a stab at what forms the fluff that fills belly buttons around the world. In 2009, a Vienna University of Technology researcher named Georg Steinhauser published his hypothesis in the eyebrow-raising journal Medical Hypotheses. For reasons known only to himself, Steinhauser collected his own navel fluff each evening for three years. Though he insists that he maintains good personal hygiene, including a shower each morning, his navel invariably becomes filled with fluff by the day's end. In all Steinhauser collected 503 samples from his own belly button. Their combined weight didn't even reach a single gram. On average, a single piece had a mass of 1.82 milligrams, though seven pieces were more than 7.2 milligrams, and the winner was a true belly button behemoth, weighing a whopping 9.17 milligrams.

But Steinhauser took his research one step further. He analysed the chemical composition of a BBL sample that he collected after wearing a plain white 100% cotton t-shirt. If his navel fluff were made solely of fibres from his t-shirt, then the analysis would reveal that the lint was made entirely of cellulose. What he found, however, was that other debris became folded into navel lint as well. Based on the chemical readout, Steinhauser suspects that the remaining matter is made of house dust, flakes of skin, fat, proteins, and sweat. Stomach hairs, it seems, do not discriminate. Based on this, he reasoned that those whose navels accumulate fluff might have generally cleaner and more hygienic belly buttons, because the removal of lint takes everything else along for the ride.

None of this is especially new. After the Sooners beat the top-10 Cowgirls in the second game of the series (6-0; a rare non-run-rule outing), they secured their 10th straight Big 12 regular-season title. In the nine Women's College World Series that have been played since 2012, they've won four and finished runner-up in two more. They own the second-longest winning streak in NCAA softball history (41 games in 2019), and the third- and fourth-longest (40 apiece from 2020 to 2021, and again from 2021 to 2022). By the time their most recent run was snapped by Texas in April, their 38 straight victories to kick off 2022 was the best start to a season in NCAA annals.

There's a collective amen, and then, almost like it's an afterthought -- some girls have already started to break free from the huddle and have to scoot back to rejoin the chorus -- they shout: "One, two, three, WIN!"

THEY DO WIN, naturally. And the next day too, for a clean sweep of Oklahoma State and an unblemished record at home for the season. The most kudos you can offer the Cowgirls in that three-day span is that they weren't run-ruled once, the only Big 12 team that faced the Sooners all year to pull off such a ... "feat."

So when Alo strides to the plate two innings later, it's only natural that practically everyone -- her father, Levi; her coach; Grace Lyons; Alo herself; the usher named Carla who's stationed by the dugout and refers to the squad as "my girls" -- knows in a way that's guttural that she will not swoon a third time. And they'll cop to knowing as much.


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