The Physical Manifestation Of Wurdle Pounds My Butt As A Slightly Frustrating But Ultimately Rewarding And Meditative Daily Routine

After hearing good things about the online game Wurdle, Karl tries his hand at this daily contest. He’s already got a great morning routine, and he’s excited to add something new to the mix.

Unfortunately, Karl’s Wurdle game goes south quickly, ending in disaster and ruining Karl’s day. But when the physical manifestation of Wurdle challenges Karl’s preconceived notions about relaxation and meditation, Karl is willing to give the game one more shot.

The problem is simple: Karl keeps guessing sex based words. However, the physical manifestation of Wurdle is ready to do what it takes for better results, finding the D and clearing the carnal corners of Karl’s mind.

This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on gay physically manifested word game action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and Wurdle love.

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THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF WURDLE POUNDS MY BUTT AS A SLIGHTLY FRUSTRATING BUT ULTIMATELY REWARDING AND MEDITATIVE DAILY ROUTINE

By Chuck Tingle

As morning sunlight streams in through the window of my bedroom, dancing across my face in gentle, playful beam, I can’t help but smile. It’s another beautiful day.

I take a moment to awaken fully, not quite ready to crawl out of bed yet. You’d think I was sleeping in, that this was the beginning of a blissful day off, but that’s not the case. It’s Monday, in fact, and while my peers are soon to begin their usual routine of scrambling around the house in a frantic mess before work, I’ll remain in this comfortable headspace for as long as I need.

There’s nothing particularly special about me. I have a job just like the rest of them, and I don’t particularly like it. I still have to pay my bills, and have my fair share of unexpected life emergencies that pop up now and again.

Finally feeling the time has arrived, I reach out with my arms and legs, stretching as wide as I can and then holding like this as a satisfying yawn slips from my throat. It’s going to be a good day.

I climb out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen, immediately getting started on my routine.

This, of course, is the secret to my calm and collected state. The only unusual thing about me is that I’ve taken time to craft a self-care routine that works, a conflict-free morning that uses every step of the way to set me up for a happy, healthy day.

It’s easier said than done, and I wasn’t always this way, but over time I’ve managed to carve out a path that works. Years ago, I’d wake up to the sound of a caustic, buzzing alarm, those piercing shrieks cutting through my mind in bolt after bolt of hot white noise.

After a small shift, however, my body grew accustomed to this early timeline, and my alarm was tossed in the trash.

Once the routine settled I was waking up on my own, greeted by the warmth of the morning sun instead of a horrible digital buzz. The literal timeline of my pre-work schedule has not altered, still adhering to the same program as before, but my mentality about it has shifted entirely.

Small changes make a big difference.

I pour myself a glass of chocolate milk and grab a bowl of overnight oats, the breakfast I’ve discovered that makes me feel the healthiest. I don’t eat it at the table, however.

Instead, I head out onto the back porch and sit overlooking my quaint little view of paradise. It’s not much, but even the most modest home in Billings will provide a glorious slice of nature on a morning like this.

As golden sunlight lilts through the trees, I allow myself to sink into the moment. I take my time with the meal before me, allowing my eyes to wander across the flora that dot this lush little corner of the world. The morning air is fresh, feeling pleasant against my skin.

Once I’m finished with breakfast, I take the rolled up mat positioned just inside my door and unfurl it excitedly. I stroll to the middle of my yard and lay it out, creating a dry rectangle of softness for me to sit upon.

Settling, I close my eyes and let my mind float away. I push out all the thoughts that might otherwise be crowding my personal mental space, allowing myself a moment to untether. Meditating can be difficult, but since making this a normal part of my morning routine I’ve found it easier and easier. Not only that, but my practice has become even more effective within a shorter amount of time.

It only takes ten minutes of this for a noticeable boost in my mood.

After swimming in this tranquil sea of nothingness a while, I finish my meditation and stroll back inside. I’ll be heading to work soon enough, but I’m still not in a rush. In fact, I’ve arrived at my favorite part of the morning.

This section of my routine is an exercise in balance, a segment of my life that’s entirely unscheduled and unplanned. It’s a time for me to read, think, draw, or take up any other option that might tumble its way into my thoughts.

This particular morning, however, I’ve got something in mind.

I walk over to the kitchen table and plop down, my laptop closed and waiting for me. There’s a post-it note stuck to the lid as a reminder of the activity I’m moments away from diving in on.

“Try Wurdle,” I read aloud, removing this tiny piece of colorful paper and tossing it in the nearby trash.

A friend of mine, who knows how much I love a good self-care routine, recommended I try his new favorite online game. Apparently, it’s been sweeping social media by storm, yet this is my first time hearing about the word-based puzzle.

The task is simple enough. A grid of blank squares, arranged in rows of five by six, hold the secret of a specific five letter word within. When you guess a word in these blank spaces, the answer will slowly begin to reveal itself through color-coded information. If you select the correct letter in its correct space, that letter will turn green. A yellow result means you’ve discovered a letter within the word you are looking for, but it’s in the wrong position.

Despite having never played before, I get the feeling these little riddles are right up my alley. It’s not just the fact that I love games, it’s the assurance this particular game has a distinctly meditative component that fits perfectly within my already introspective mornings. Apparently, Wurdle really calms you down.

I open my computer and find my way to the Wurdle website. Immediately, the five by six construction of blank boxes appears.

“Okay,” I state aloud, talking to myself as I fall into the groove. “Let’s pick a first word.”

I consider my options, recognizing a good way to start is to think of something with common letters that don’t often repeat. Eventually, I land on a favorite word of mine.

“Pound,” I state proudly, typing the letters in.

I press enter and watch as my results appear, but to my disappointment I haven’t managed to uncover much. There are no green results, although a U is hidden in there somewhere.

I think for a moment, then enter my next word.

COCKS.

I’m not sure why I think of this particular input, but it appears the direction of my subconscious mind is correct. It’s quickly revealed the S is an its correct location.

DICKS.

Unfortunately, this guess is a major setback. The only letter that stays green is the S, while the rest of them come up short. My chances are slowly disappearing.

SHAFT

This one isn’t a complete failure, revealing that both S and T lurk somewhere within my mystery word. However, by now I’ve started to panic, and my guesses are becoming less and less thoughtful by the second.

I’m starting to think this game isn’t quite as meditative as I’d heard.

TOUCH.

The U and T are still in there, but I’m no closer to reaching the end of this enigma and there’s only one guess left.

“Fuck!” I cry out.

My heart is slamming within my chest now, racing along as I consider my final input.

TIGHT.

My last guess is a complete failure. Without thinking, I slam my hand down on the table before me, and while the table itself stays upright and secure, my chair does not. Apparently on its last legs, the piece of wooden furniture below me gives out.

I slam against the kitchen floor with a thunderous crash, my chair shattering below me and scattering out across the tile. I’m flat on my back, dazed and confused as I struggle to understand what the hell just happened.

I feel like an idiot, not because I failed the Wurdle test, but because I let it get under my skin. It’s fine to feel emotions, obviously, but when you get that worked up over something so inconsequential, it’s a little bit embarrassing.

“You alright?” comes an unexpected voice.

I blink a few times, wondering if I hit my head a little too hard.

Moments later a large, floating figure positions themselves above me, gazing down with a look of utter confusion. I’m shocked to find this unforeseen visitor is the physical manifestation of my most recent Wurdle game.

“Ugh,” is all I can think to say. “What are you doing here?”

“You tell me,” the living concept offers in return. “You’re the one who manifested me.”

I furrow my brow. “I did?”

The Wurdle game nods, then extends his hand toward me. I gaze up at this hovering entity a moment longer, then finally reach out and accept their grip. They help me to my feet.

“I’m Hompo,” the living game offers.

“Karl,” I offer in return, brushing myself off. “I thought you were supposed to be relaxing and contemplative.”

Hompo shrugs. “I mean… most of the time I am.”

Shocked, I shift my gaze between this physical manifestation and the smashed chair that lies in pieces on the floor around us.

“Doesn’t look like it,” I retort. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Well, typically a personalized physical manifestation occurs when you need to learn something about yourself,” Hompo explains. “It’s a way of expressing some subconscious life lesson that’s waiting to say its peice.”

“Oh, okay,” I offer with a nod. “Do you think you’re here to help me win the next Wurdle game?”

“Maybe,” the physical manifestation replies, shrugging.

My heart skips a beat, excited by the prospect of taking another run at this deeply frustrating puzzle. I rush to the kitchen table once again, standing now that my chair has been destroyed.

The screen glows luminous before me, tempting me with another game.

“Alright, round two,” I announce.

I begin to search for a restart button, but as I hunt for this elusive option I begin to feel a wave of nervous apprehension wash over me.

“Actually, it’s a once a day thing,” Hompo explains.

“God damn it!” I cry out, a little angrier than I intend. “This game sucks!”

Hompo steps back a bit, frightened by my outburst.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, struggling to turn things around. “No offense. I’m wondering if this game is really for me. I was told it would be relaxing, but it just gets me upset.”

The physical manifestation nods along, listening closely. “Maybe Wurdle is just a different kind of meditation than you’re used to,” he suggests.

I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”

“There are all kinds of ways to get in touch with yourself,” Hompo explains. “Some people like a quiet moment of silence, others like blasting heavy metal music. Neither of those methods is wrong. Maybe learning how to relax using brain games is a lesson that would help you grow even more. If you don’t like it, that’s fine, but since you’ve manifested me already, you might as well try.”

I consider his words, trying my best to stay objective despite my elevated heart rate. This physical manifestation is right: I love my morning routine, but I’m not giving myself much of a challenge.

“This game is just so frustrating,”I counter.

“Well, it’s only your first time playing,” Hompo offers. “You’ve gotta take your time with it. I’ll help you, and maybe we can grow together.”

That sounds pretty nice.

However, I don’t have long to dwell on Hompo’s idea. As my gaze wanders over to the nearby clock, I suddenly realize I’m about to be late for work.

“Shit!” I blurt. “Let’s talk about this when I get back!”

As the day continues onward I gradually start relaxing, eventually letting go of the tension I cultivated early this morning. The more time between me and my failed Wurdle attempt, the more I grow excited about the prospect of tomorrow’s puzzle.

Strangely, I’ve found myself becoming more and more focused as the day goes on. This is a new kind of self-centering process, one that’s a far cry from my usual exercise of sweeping away every thought and leaving my mind blank. Instead, I find myself swept away with these various options and approaches.

By the time I arrive back home, I’m chomping at the bit to start my Wurdle training.

I walk through the door of my home to find Hompo sitting on my living room couch, an episode of the reality show The Buckaroo playing out on television before him.

My guest points the remote and puts my television on mute. “Hey!” he calls over. “How was work?”

“Fine,” I offer, “I was thinking about other stuff though.”

“Oh yeah?” the physical manifestations of Wurdle replies, now turning off the TV entirely. “Like?”

“Like being the best damn Wurdle player there is,” I retort.

The physical manifestation of this popular online game laughs heartily. “Well, I’m glad you’re interested. Let’s start with some basics.”

I stroll into the room and take a seat across from Hompo, leaning forward and listening intently.

“First of all,” the living game begins, “you’ve gotta stop guessing only sex related words.”

“What?” I blurt. “I don’t!”
 Hompo sighs. “Your last game was pound, cocks, dicks, shaft, touch and tight.”
 “Oh,” I stammer, considering his words for a moment. “Uh… okay then… sure.”

“Why don’t you throw out something you think is a good first word?” the physical manifestation offers. “How are you going to start tomorrow’s game?”

I pause, racking my brain. For some reason I’m having trouble coming up with a five letter option.

“First thing that comes to your mind,” Hompo continues. “Just spit it out.”

“Penis!” I cry.

The physical manifestation just shakes his head awkwardly. “Well, here’s the problem. You’ve got sex on the brain. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“It’s been a while,” I admit.

The two of us sit quietly now, our eyes locked for reasons I can’t fully understand. My subconscious brain has taken over, routing the actions of my body well before I know what they mean.

The longer we simmer like this, however, the more I begin to understand what’s going on. I’d been so frustrated earlier that I didn’t realize how incredibly handsome Hompo is, a beautiful simplicity to his gameplay mechanics.

“You think it might clear my mind to get off?” I question.

The physical manifestation of Wurdle nods, slowly standing up from the couch and strolling confidently toward me. I rise to meet him and the next thing I know we’re kissing passionately, our hands frantically exploring one another’s bodies in a potent release of erotic tension.

I start by tracing my fingers along the strong corners of Hompo’s rectangular body, noting the beautiful, angular nature of his perfectly sculpted form. I work my way from top to bottom, teasing him the entire time with the promise of something more.

Meanwhile, Hompo begins to strip away my clothing, taking his time as he pulls the fabric from my body. As each layer is removed I can feel my frame trembling just a little bit more, my skin gradually exposed to the cool night air. It’s not long before I find myself completely naked before him, bearing my body, and soul, for this incredible word game.

Lower and lower my hands drift across Hompo, eventually arriving at the physical manifestation’s waistline. I hesitate here for a moment, allowing the tension to build.

“I’m looking for a D,” I softly coo in the living Wurdle’s ear. “I think it might be right down here.”

With that, I slip even lower and wrap my finger’s tight around Hompo’s cock. The physically manifested online game gasps slightly, the soft air erupting from his lips in an unexpected puff.

I immediately get to work, stroking him off in a series of slow, deliberate pumps. The handsome living game pushes back against me, grinding his hips in time with the movement of my hands as we fall into sync. While I had plenty of trouble interpreting his letter-based clues, Hompo’s body is much easier to read.

Eventually, I take thinks to the next level by slipping to my knees before the physical manifestation. I open my mouth wide and slip his swollen rod between my lips, picking up right where my hand left off.

“Oh fuck,” Hompo groans loudly, shutting his eyes tight and leaning his head back in a state of utter bliss.

Pulling out all the stops, I reach up and begin to play with the game’s hanging balls while I service him with my lips. Hompo clearly enjoys these two distinct sources of pleasure, his knees trembling slightly as he struggles to retain his composure.

I can’t help but chuckle to myself, amused by just how much the game is enjoying himself. He has no idea what’s coming.

When the time is right I pull back and release the physical manifestation’s cock from my lips, taking a brief moment to center myself. I’ve escalated the speed of my blowjob to its fastest pace, and now the next step is an entirely different approach. With this in mind, I dive back in, hungrily swallowing Hompo’s shaft.

This time I don’t bob across his cock. I allow Hompo’s rod to slip deeper and deeper within me, sliding all the way down to the absolute depths of my neck. I’m astonished at how well I manage to withhold my gag reflex, especially when wrangling a member this large.

Eventually, my face reaches the hilt. I’m pressed hard against the physical manifestation of Wurdle’s incredible abs, holding like this for as long as I can possibly manage. I take my time, allowing Hompo to savor this moment and fully enjoy my deep throat maneuver, but eventually I’m forced to pull back for air.

Soon enough, I’m erupting away from the word game’s glistening cock, sputtering and gasping but ravenous for what’s next.

“I need you to fuck me,” I demand.

Seizing the moment, I climb to my feet once again. I’m belligerent with lust now, utterly consumed by my desire to take Hompo’s massive shaft deep within. I give him one more passionate kiss, wrapping my arms around the giant rectangular gameboard’s floating form and then leaping onto him.

I open my legs and somehow manage to use them like a massive vice, gripping Hompo’s muscular body as he holds me in place. It takes a moment for the two of us to settle, but soon enough the handsome physical manifestation is reaching down and aligning his giant cock with the tightly puckered entrance of my back door.

I can feel the living game testing the limits of my anal seal, teasing me a bit and then finally having mercy as he slides my body down onto his enormous rod.

“Holy shit!” I cry out, my eyes rolling back into my head as Hompo enters me. “That cock is so fucking big!”

While I’m well aware of his size, taking this physical manifestation into my ass is a much different experience than swallowing him. The enormity of Hompo’s cock makes itself achingly well known, stretching my sphincter to the absolute limits.

I grip the game tightly, hanging here from his muscular chest and allowing my body to adjust to his incredible penetration. In the hands of another lover, this moment could quickly lead to disaster, but Hompo handles it perfectly. The physical manifestation doesn’t move a muscle, refraining from pumping in and out of me until my body has had a chance to adjust.

Eventually, however, the two of us begin to grind against one another. As discomfort melts away, this sensation is quickly replaced with a distinct warmth that lurks at the pit of my stomach. I can feel my ass loosening up as I fully accept him, this specific position providing a shockingly deep penetration.

I’m free to move my hips, but Hompo is the one who’s truly in control. The muscular sentient game begins to pump me across his shaft, gripping my rump and lifting me up and down across his rod. It’s a visceral encounter, and standing up like this would likely be too exhausting if not for the physical manifestation’s incredible strength.

Meanwhile, my rock hard cock is rubbing against the front of his body, this friction across the head of my cock prompting yet another source of incredible pleasure.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I stammer, the words falling out of my mouth over and over again. Louder I grow until I’m screaming out at the top of my lungs, Hompo continuing to hammer away at me from below. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”

I can feel the first hint of an impending climax as it works its way through my frame. The sensation begins as a warm sizzle at the pit of my stomach, gradually making its way down my arms and legs and filling me up with a strange ache. It’s gloriously pleasant, yet there’s also a hint of tension in this overwhelming wash of feelings and emotions.

Faster and faster Hompo slams me, elevating his speed until there’s no room left for advancement. He’s giving it to me with everything he’s got, a runaway train with no sign of slowing down.

That is, of course, until reaching the climax of its journey.

I reach down between our sweaty bodies and grab ahold of my cock, snugly gripping it and applying even more pressure to my swollen, sensitive head. It’s more than enough to push me over the edge.

The next thing I know I’m throwing my head back and letting out a wild, unbridled scream, completely lost in the moment. The pressure within me releases in a sudden, quaking wave, erupting across my form as hot white spunk ejects from the head of my cock. This milky seed splatters across Hompo’s chest, painting him with a beautiful design that’s immediately rubbed away by our grinding bodies.

All the while, the physical manifestation of Wurdle never lets up for a second. He carries me through my entire orgasm, then begins to shake with a climax of his own. Soon enough, he’s pumping into me, flooding my asshole with a massive payload of the living game’s warm jizz.

When Hompo finally finishes he pulls out of my body, allowing his spunk to fall forth and splatter across the floor. He lets me down carefully and the two of us embrace, overwhelmed by the emotional connection we’ve just established.

We stand like this for a good while, our bodies locked together are our breathing gradually slows. I feel calm and collected, ready to take on anything.

“Give me a five letter word,” the sentient online game suggests.

“Prank, or truth, or gumbo, or names,” I offer, rattling off the first few random words that pop into my head. None of them are sexual.

Hompo smiles. “Those are all great.”

The next morning I wake up to the light of the sun. I stretch out in bed, just like I usually do, only this time my arm and foot connects with the warmth of Hompo as he lies here next to me.

My lover is still asleep, and I don’t wake him as I slip out into the living room. I begin my usual morning routine, making my breakfast and eating it out back while I briefly connect with nature. I do my meditation, then head inside.

By now, the handsome physical manifestation of Wurdle is waiting for me.

“You ready for today’s game?” he questions.

I sit down and begin this exciting new puzzle, working my way through a series of guesses and reacting accordingly. I vary my words, yet despite all this it’s finally revealed the correct answer is POUND, my initial guess on yesterday’s puzzle.

I’ve won, but just barely. This was my final input.

I’d be easy to be disappointed by these results, but I’m reeling with excitement. My score isn’t perfect, but it’s a little better than yesterday’s, and I’m sure tomorrow’s score will improve even more.

More vital than the score, however, is my current mental state. I’ve entirely let go of the pressure surrounding this game, instead appreciating it for the quaint mental exercise it is.

Right now, with Hompo by my side, I feel relaxed, thoughtful, and yes, meditative.

I reach out and pull him close, excited for what tomorrow brings.