Idiot Asshole
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2021
The two figures before me, which any of the heaven's gods should haven forbidden existence of, were not of man or woman - or, perhaps, both once were either but no more - for between what could only be guessed as legs were a duo of mangled, horrific sites. O, if only I could scythe away the memories of what I had seen! For the first; a pale tube, crudely stapled to the mons, looking like a death as pale as the flesh that sat before me. Hairs emerged from places that no hair should come from and stitching, so primitive that it could only have been permitted by a forgotten society such that of the far-flung savages of the Easter Islands, were bursting with blood and ichor, suggesting a medical rejection too repulsive to even comprehend. My eyes strayed away from the crotch-monster to the whole of the person, and what I saw was a squat devil, standing no more than five feet, with hair cropped almost to the scalp, grotesquely large glasses sat upon its nose, and horrifying scars slashed across its upper torso, suggesting the former presence of breasts - should breasts, suggesting a soft and feminine humanity that was completely absent in the being - be what once perched on the beast's chest. Upon one arm was a hideous scarring, where skin was no more, and in my weakness I entertained a horrific notion that the flesh-tube had come from that...
But the true terror, one which would have driven even the infamous mad Arab Abdul Alhazred to despairs unthought of even to himself, was the gruesome visage visited upon the once male specimen. For where a phallus should have been there was nothing, nothing but a yawning void of dried blood, pustles and a stench that inspired retching and gasping upon anyone unfortunate enough to have visited its proximity. Around this crater of inhumanity were a foul parody of the human labia, lipless skin stretched to limits which would be deemed blasphemous by any religious authority, and a rotting bulb of once-penile flesh, which the creature attempted - in a crude mockery of human fashion - to stimulate with its vile, large man-hands, while emitting ghastly groans that only existed to mimic human pleasure. The hands, like the whole of the being, were caked in grease and grime, suggesting an unfamiliarity with basic hygiene only matched by the base pygmies of the heart of the dark African continent. This once-person was dressed in an ill-fitting blouse and skirt, with stains - one needs not dwell on the source of these splotches - marked across the garments. Upon its face, an unholy smirk that seemed to emit several contradictory emotions - satisfaction, misery, pleasure, depression, happiness, contempt - belying its transcendentally inhuman nature. Its unkempt hair was shoulder-length and in a color that would never appear in the natural world.
Upon seeing these demonic parodies I attempted to flee. I remember it only vaguely, for the stench of rotting and dying flesh, as well as the shock of the unspeakable horrors in front of me, had startled my sanity and caused me to sink into unconsciousness. When my travelling companions had awoken me, the things had long gone. Gone where I do not know, but I have later heard whispers that they had joined their brethren in the 41%, down at the bottom of the ocean. The only proof of their existence, one that I had by chance caught a glimpse of while on a tour of the Miskatonic University many years later, was a small, stone statue of a creature with a clearly male frame, fingers grasped around an alien object still yet to be identified by researchers, thrusting into its pelvic region with a grimace of pain etched onto its face, and upon the bas-relief, these words were etched:
I am a real woman. I am true and honest, and I would fuck me wgah’nagl fhtagn
But the true terror, one which would have driven even the infamous mad Arab Abdul Alhazred to despairs unthought of even to himself, was the gruesome visage visited upon the once male specimen. For where a phallus should have been there was nothing, nothing but a yawning void of dried blood, pustles and a stench that inspired retching and gasping upon anyone unfortunate enough to have visited its proximity. Around this crater of inhumanity were a foul parody of the human labia, lipless skin stretched to limits which would be deemed blasphemous by any religious authority, and a rotting bulb of once-penile flesh, which the creature attempted - in a crude mockery of human fashion - to stimulate with its vile, large man-hands, while emitting ghastly groans that only existed to mimic human pleasure. The hands, like the whole of the being, were caked in grease and grime, suggesting an unfamiliarity with basic hygiene only matched by the base pygmies of the heart of the dark African continent. This once-person was dressed in an ill-fitting blouse and skirt, with stains - one needs not dwell on the source of these splotches - marked across the garments. Upon its face, an unholy smirk that seemed to emit several contradictory emotions - satisfaction, misery, pleasure, depression, happiness, contempt - belying its transcendentally inhuman nature. Its unkempt hair was shoulder-length and in a color that would never appear in the natural world.
Upon seeing these demonic parodies I attempted to flee. I remember it only vaguely, for the stench of rotting and dying flesh, as well as the shock of the unspeakable horrors in front of me, had startled my sanity and caused me to sink into unconsciousness. When my travelling companions had awoken me, the things had long gone. Gone where I do not know, but I have later heard whispers that they had joined their brethren in the 41%, down at the bottom of the ocean. The only proof of their existence, one that I had by chance caught a glimpse of while on a tour of the Miskatonic University many years later, was a small, stone statue of a creature with a clearly male frame, fingers grasped around an alien object still yet to be identified by researchers, thrusting into its pelvic region with a grimace of pain etched onto its face, and upon the bas-relief, these words were etched:
I am a real woman. I am true and honest, and I would fuck me wgah’nagl fhtagn
