I have been posting some DuDu adventures in the politics section. Since the posts have nothing to do with politics and the original thread was about the rights of foreigners in Turkey, I though I would create this thread in the off-topic section for all those that would like to amuse themselves with DuDu literature. Feel free to post your own fantastic DuDu stories & ventures.

Episode 1...

Ok... Second try at duduism. I guess the first attempt didn´t work too well, as I see no scooter in the horizon, nor the cute helmet.

We are going to employ dialectic logic & luring techniques to bait the foreign victim into my hairy chest...

For this though, I will have to don my special dudu outfit of white, semi-transparent, tight speedo to show the goodie goodies. I will initiate eye contact with the target. Once noticed, I will pretend to reposition the speedo & fix the sexy wedgie. While she is taken back by the provocative sight, I will suddenly proceed to do my special Cüneyt Arkýn dive (swimmers´ head-first dive, but somewhat different - somewhat unique to Turks... only we can dive that way). Once the white wicked-weasel speedo is wet and is no longer semi-transparent, but outright x-ray vision, I will pull myself out of the pool in one swift move that will enhance all my muscles. I will continue with the eye contact cobra style hypnotizing the prey stare by stare.

I will make sure I will pass by her on the way to my towel. By now, she will be in the full-monty mood unable to look anywhere else, but at the cobra. That is when I will initiate the cobra dance. I will ask if I could use her sun tan lotion to lube myself against the dangers of being exposed in the sun. She will understand, and will hand over the lube. I will start with the ankles moving slowly toward the thighs. I will compliment her on her fine choice of lotion, while doing confusing circular motions around the chest area. Particular attention will be given to the extra sensitive nipples.

By accident, I will squirt some of the lotion on the target. In fake panic, I will apologize and offer to rub it around. She will be delighted by my manners. Once the ankles, legs, chest, belly, thighs, forehead and the cheek bones are sufficiently lubed, she will be asked to lie on her belly. This will be moment for the cobra to strike. One hand on her back, the other dudu hand will swiftly get a hold of the cell & the room keys in her purse. I will stick them into my white speedo so that she won´t notice the scam. Being done with the lubing, I will lean over to her ear and whisper how much I look forward to seeing her at the resort night club tonight. I will slide away...

By the time she gets back to her room, I will have looted everything.

There will be a red rose on the bed and a message scribbled on the mirror in red lip stick. 

You have just been DUDUed...

Adventures of a young DuDu - episode 2

After tens and hundreds of successful cobra dance performances along the beaches and resort pools of Southern Turkey, our hero, the young DuDu, has finally reached a point that all successful con-artists reach at one point in their lives. He had finally become bored with his craft. 

He had amassed a small fortune of literally hundreds of cellphones, bags full of expensive cosmetics & parfumes, a wardrobe of expensive silk shirts & snake-leather shoes, wads of foreign currency from virtually every part of the world, an impressive photo album of his victims, and memories enough to fill a 500 page autobiography. Finally, boredom had coiled in his dudu belly like an anaconda reminding him of the insignificance of his life from a cosmic perspective. 

Regardless of the vast numbers of tourists that he had lured into his shadowy & slimy world over the years, our young dudu had nevertheless started to wonder whether he would leave a mark in history. Would he, for example, be honoured by future generations and have his name placed among the likes of Casanova or Don Juan? Would girls camp outside the MTV studios yelling & screaming just for a sight of his manliness? Would people auction off his used white speedos on eBay? Would he receive an invitation to the Davos Summit to share his opinion about important things like ´the women´s rights at the work place´? Our DuDu could´t answer any these questions, and felt deeply depressed. It just felt like that one time he was severly kicked in the nuts by an angry Turkish grandma right in the middle of his cobra dance by the pool side. Except that, this time, the pain would just not go away. It would linger and linger till he found an answer.

While confiding into a close DuDu friend of his, our young hero had finally convinced himself that there may, after all, be a cure for his misery. For many years now, it was rumoured among the DuDu boys that there lived an old man on a lofty mountain top, named the DuDu GuRu, whom troubled DuDus could consult. This man had apparently been the original DuDu to start it all, and had eventually retired to his secluded mountain top to contemplate his life. Although it was extremely tough to get to the top of that mountain and that the old men deeply resented all rookie DuDus, he would nevertheless help those that managed to make it to his cave on the summit. Kind of like the half-naked Leonides climbing the mountain for his consultation with the Delphic oracle, a DuDu would also have to strap on a loin-cloth and try to make his way to the top, while vicious eagles & falcons, trained by the DuDu GuRu himself, would attempt to take bites of his exposed bum with their bloody beaks. It was rumoured that many rookie DuDus didn´t make it to the cave, and simply fell of the mountain - their names & legacies eternally forgotten.

Despite the challenge, our hero had a strategy to get to the top without getting his buttocks clawed at or beak-picked by the beastly birds of prey of the old bastard. He succeeded doing what many had failed & paid with their lives. Ingeniously, our hero brought along loafs of bread for the beasts. Just as one feeds the seagulls on the ferry across the Bosphorus, he threw bread pieces toward the birds, while he steadly made his way to the top. He was delighted at how there was not a single scracth or claw mark on his Appollonian bum. When he found the old DuDu GuRu sitting and staring at him intently in the cave, our hero knew that he had already made a dent in world history. He would forever be remembered as the rookie DuDu that duped the GuRu...

The old man man seemed annoyed, and yet deeply impressed by the cunningness of his rookie visitor. This young boy kind of reminded him of his own youth... He seemed different from the previous fools that had made it to his cave. Like a ventriloquist, the old bastard spoke. His lips didn´t move.

- I see that you have made it rookie. What is it that you seek?

- I seek meaning master DuDu GuRu. I want a meaning to my life, and a legacy to leave behind.

- A legacy? Huh! (the old bastard giggled) There are no legacies that a DuDu can have other than the hearts that he has broken... Is that not enough for you, rookie?

- No, master. I know you have the cure to my affliction. I have made it to your cave. I have risked my bum. You owe me an answer.

- I owe you nothing, rookie. But, I like you. You remind me of myself. I will tell you what you need to do. There is only one thing that can be done. There is only one path the to eternal fame you seek. There is only one thing that no DuDu has ever been able to achieve. Even I couldn´t take this challenge. Are you sure you want to hear it rookie? For once you hear it, you will never be able to forget. Once you are on this path, you will never be able to turn back. If you fail, you will wither away.

- Yesssss DuDu GuRu. Yesssss.

- Well, there is a menace to all DuDus. This menace has been sharking around in Southern Turkey for years now. She is known as the DuDu-Killer. An ice cold aphrodite from the land of the ice - Iceland. They say that she was raised by Icelandic DuDu-haters bent on exterminating our kind. She knows the art of Tantric love. She knows the dak secrets that loom in every DuDu´s heart. She knows our weaknesses, rookie. She exploits them just like we exploit our victims. She knows that every DuDu secretly fantasizes about that one special woman to fall for. She knows that every DuDu wants to be tamed & eternally loved. She captivates our kind with her demonic charms, and enslaves those, who make the mistake of falling in love with her. Then, she leaves them blue-balled, drying & withering away like dead flowers in autumn. Once you fall for her ways, there is no cure.

-  I shall not fall for her master. Do tell. What must be done? I shall get her cell phone and wreck her bank accounts. I can do those things with my cobra moves.

- Don´t be foolish rookie. You cobra dance is no match for her. She has no cell phones, and no bank accounts. She owns nothing and owns everything. She snails from one victim to another, and leaves no traces behind. You must be very careful with her rookie. There is only one way to end her menace. There is only one way to stop her from milking DuDus dry.

- What way is that Master?

- She must fall for you. You must make her fall in love with you. That´s the only way. If you do that, you shall be redeemed from your miserable affliction. You shall be remembered as that one DuDu that slayed the Dragon. Go now rookie, and never come back. I have no more words for you.

Our hero descended the mountains lost in his own thoughts. None of the beasty birds attempted to pick on him for they knew that this DuDu was heading for much worse.

Would he be the one to charm the DuDu-Killer? Or, would he wither away in love like so many of his fellow DuDus that had dared to take the challenge?

 To be continued...

Adventures of a young DuDu - episode 3

While sipping his ice mocha in his underwear, our hero gazed at the flat screen with the expression of a defeated UFC warrior. It had already been three months since his encounter with the old man, and he still had not been able to locate the Icelandic DuDu-Killer. Here and there, he would hear from other DuDus about a stunning Scandinavian popping up in Bodrum one day, and showing up in Antalya the next. By the time he would jump in his car and make it to the location that the DuDu-Killer had been seen last, it would be too late. She would be long gone having left behind stuttering DuDus madly in love with her. It would be hard to get any sort of reliable info from these poor souls. The number of her victims had risen to such levels that, among the DuDu community, those who had sipped from her love potion were nicknamed FiFis. Although other DuDus, who had never encountered her, joked constantly about DuDu-turned-FiFis, everyone was deeply terrified. Panic was spreading like wild fire.

It wasn´t just that these poor souls fell in love with her. It was as if they would become hypnotized and remote-controlled love slaves. Our hero suspected that there was more than good-looks & tantric sex tricks involved in her game. It felt supernatural. It smelled fishy. There was foul play. Clearly, this demon-cow had some kind of control over her love slaves through telepathy.

There had already been a number of rather suspicious cases of FiFis acting really bizarre. One case involved a young FiFi running through the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul butt-naked, singing Britney´s ´Womanizer´. By the time security managed to catch the poor soul, the scene had already been recorded in the cell phones of giggling Japanese girls. The videos had made their way to YouTube almost instantly, alerting the world to the severity of the situation. Another case involved two young FiFis, who had terrorized supermarket customers in Istanbul. Butt-naked again, one was apparently sitting in a cart, while the other one was pushing him through the aisles. A sweet grandma in the veggie section picking eggplants fainted. Of course this incident was also filmed and made its way to YouTube adding further shame to the legacy of DuDuism in Turkey.

Turkish DuDus had become the laughing stock all over the net. Forums were filled with links to FiFification videos. To make things worse, a group of about 50 angry DuDu victims from various European countries had made a plea to the Turkish authorities to ban all DuDu activity on Turkish beaches and resort towns. EU politicians had jumped on the wagon and pressured the government. The message was clear. If Turkish DuDuism was not eradicated, the gates of EU would remain shut forever.

Fearing for the worse, Erdogan addressed the whole nation on TV, and gave a hearty speech. It touched many hearts. While the Ministry of Turkishness banned Turkish men from wearing semi-transparent white speedos in public places, Turkish mothers took the next step. Similar to the US organization, MADD, Mothers Against Drunk Driving, Turkey now had its own MADD - Mothers Against DuDuism. They wore t-shirts saying "If you are a DuDu, You ain´t my son". Day by day, it became harder for DuDus. What they used to brag about to their friends at coffee houses had become a taboo subject. Turkish men, whether DuDu or not, stopped bragging about their conquests of foreign women.

Leading to social unrest, the nation was divided. Not all agreed with the idea of banning DuDuism. Not all liked the way European politico-clowns were once again sticking their European noses into Turkish affairs.

"Who the hell are they to tell us what to do with our DuDus?" said one protestor. "Had it not been for their horny women lurking around Turkish resorts for the legendary Turkish candy stick, there would be no DuDuism in the first place" said another.

Enlightened columnists wrote about how this particular problem of Turkish Duduism had actually been created directly by foreign female tourists. It was argued that foreign men, especially the Western European kind, were simply too small and just couldn´t rock their womenfolk like the big-packaged Turkish DuDu boys did. One expert on the matter presented statistical evidence that Western Europe, followed by North America, were the largest producers & consumers of penis pumps & enlargement pills. Since no such sales were ever recorded on Turkish soil, the logic clearly followed that Turkish men must have no such needs in the meat department.

A professor added that the problem had historic roots as well. Apparently, the fame of Turkish sausage had already been spread across Europe during the Ottoman Era. The wise professor presented photographs of European women running toward the Ottoman army during the Siege of Vienna back in 1529. Nobody in the audience seemed to pick on the fact that modern photography was not invented until the 1820s. The logic followed that the only reason the Siege of Vienna by the Ottomans had failed was because the Ottoman army, terrified of being raped by these Austrian nymphs, had to retreat back. Had Viagra been invented back then, Vienna would be speaking fluent Turkish.

Further evidence was provided about how the Russian Empress Catherine II, known as Catherine the Great, was also fond of Turkish sucuk, and had made a personal visit to the young Sultan´s tent, which lead to the Treaty of Kucuk Kaynarca at the end of the Russo-Turco War. The name "Kucuk", meaning "Little", was misleading, as the sucuk the Empress had was obviously huge.

Fearing for the unity of the country, Turkish generals made a controversial group appearance on TV, wearing their white speedos and demanding from the government to un-ban white speedos immediately. In complete defiance of all democratic principles, a senior general curtly stated that, despite Erdogan´s new legislation, he would be wearing his white speedo on the beach with honour. This whole shenanigan about DuDuism was obviously another tactic of Western powers trying to carve up our motherland.

The generals told in extent about how the foreign powers were busy with their sinister plans trying to establish a homeland for DuDus in South Eastern Turkey, called DuDustan. This DuDustan would be placed right next to Kurdistan, and would serve as a base for terrorizing tourists in Turkey. They added that DuDu training camps had already been spotted in Northern Iraq, and that the army wouldn´t hesitate to act, if any of these DuDus slipped through the border. Regarding the newly formed organization of Mothers-Against-DuDuism, the wise general made it clear that the true place of a Turkish mother is in the kitchen cooking delicious meals for her son.

The Army and the pseudo-intellectuals were not the only ones showing love for the DuDus. There was now periodic violence breaking out on beaches and holiday resorts. DuDu loving tourists, who chose to stand by their DuDu lovers, were constantly engaged in catfights with the MADD mothers. Hair pulling and egg-throwing mania had become an epidemic. Videos of wicked-weasel-wearing DuDu girls rolling in dust with homely Turkish mothers wearing ankle-length skirts were popping up on YouTube every other day. Being veterans of domestic violence, the MADD mothers had the upper hand and usually kicked ass.

In the middle of all this turmoil, our hero felt helpless. He wondered if DuDu-Killer was also observing all this. Was she having fun? She was winning for now. But, she was going to get it real hard very soon. Just as our hero took another sip from his mocha and glimpsed at his morning paper, the main headline nearly choked him to death.

KONDA, a highly respected survey group in Turkey, had apparently held a poll among the younger Turks about "dirty-talking" in bed. A whopping 97% of the young men confessed that they regularly "dirty-talk" to their girls. A shocking 89% of the girls said that they loved being "dirty-talked". When asked about their favorite dirty-talk, almost all unanimously agreed that they preferred "Who is your DuDu?" to "Who is your Daddy?".

Our young hero felt his blood boil. This was too much. Not only was this Icelandic demon wrecking havoc among his own kind, but was also corrupting the innocent youth. He vowed that he would end it. He vowed that he would not stop until this witch was kicked into the depths of boiling geysers back in Iceland. In sheer anger, he picked his Icelandic phrase booklet, and studied more naughty phrases in Icelandic. He wanted to be ready, when he came face to face with the DuDu-Killer.

To be continued...

This is what I call real creativeness!

AWESOME!!

So glad this has a thread of it´s own!

Am eagerly awaiting Part 4 ....4 of 100 I hope!

May this dynamic creativity continue!!!   What have you started boy?

I wonder if there are any FiFi´s amongst TC?

Maybe Cynicmystic himself is a FiFi?

 Aren´t all the Turkish men on TC FiFi´s? If not, they wouldn´t be here but ´chasing´ tourists, wouldn´t they?

Well, there are DuDu´s I agree, but I am not sure about the number of FiFis yet