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-UE
Comments
I am tied down to a table, leather restraints dig into my skin
I writhe in a futile attempt to break free, but to no avail. A sickening dampness runs down my arms; I seem to have reopened my wounds for the umpteenth time
Okay, we get it, militant Christians are bad, and so are militant atheists.
Christ.
The blood, warm and sticky runs down to my armpits to clot with blood flown and clotted long ago.
The blood flows in patience to the waters of my baptism. Although it is dark, I can still make out the gathering of scabs at my wrists
Suddenly, a man walks in, holding a candle
That's not even what anyone has been talking about for ages, man.
His grin, distorted and monstrous due to the soft bloom of the candlestick serves to excite me in ways I never thought possible. He notices, and takes firm hold of my now-throbbing member.
A screech in ecstacy as my urethra is annointed with the hot, slow caress of hot wax
My penis is now fully plugged. No matter what I do, I can still feel the alien presence inside me, filling me up. I am unable to think clearly
"Time to get up", he says. He unshackles me from the table and turns his back to me. I wait patiently.
Soon, he turns back, holding a small piece of string or summat
He pushes it deep into my waxy urethra
and lights it
"Lead the way!", he shouts, putting a boot to my back. I move forward excitedly, eager to meet my fate.
We walk for several minutes, my dick candle cutting a path through the dark
It's not long before I hear the groaning-- the somber descant of hundreds of lost bodies, struck dumb by pleasure or pain or both.
lets talk about swords shall we
A cruel, calloused hand at my shoulder lets me know that I am to turn into the room on my right, where the groaning is loudest. I am engorged.
The room, massive, is dappled with lights; some weak, some strong. All are arranged neatly along the walls, vanguarding the moans behind them
A closer look reveals that the moaning is coming from lumps of hardened wax, affixed to the walls in crude, amorphous heaps
the lights, too, originate from this wax. I am unable to afford any more time to detectivework-- the cruel hand finds my hair and drags me to a black pot of boiling liquid
I am thrown towards the pot, jostling it, spilling some of its contents on my face and hands-- it burns. It is wax
"Get in," the man says. "Get in or I'll make you look like even more of a fool on IJBM!"
Terrified, I comply-- I scramble up the side of the pot, bracing against the cobblestone wall when needed
I make no hesitation-- I throw myself into the pot and the remnants of my past life are boiled away.
I am jellified
please
dude
what
a little after an eternity, I am complete; softer hands-- hands no less cruel, mind you-- find me. I am removed from the pot. My form is stiff yet malleable.
"Hush," the voice says. "You will have company"
It is then that I am placed on the wall, in a spot reserved just for me
where I am to sing my song of pain and torment along with my brothers and sisters
forever
...
Are you done?
You know the shortest horror story in existence? It goes like this:
And then IJBM was I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.