DIzzIE
16th January 2007, 02:41 AM
Tried my hand at writing another piece of fiction, just more more misshapen splatterpunk (aka logorrheic word vomit). This is a first version, so any and all suggestions are greatly encouraged! :)
Where Babies Come From To Go
(another fable)
BY: DIzzIE (2007)
Oompa loompa, oompa de? It?s not everyday that you wake up to the tune of the lovable oompa loompas. But then again, it?s not everyday that your father fucks you.
Mine did.
And this is my story. My name is Judy, and would you like to fuck me? Haha, nah jus? messin?, there?s nothing left there anymore, see it all got quite messy?
I knew this would be bad when I felt his pearly whites zigzag through my rosy reds, the oompa loompa jingle slurring out of his half open maw. Following the subsequent vomiting on my part, he moaned with salacious pleasure, his bird chest glistening with bile-encrusted mac n cheese from last night. But this isn?t a love story. Let me go grab the fishhooks.
10 minute intermission (let?s all go to the lobby, and get ourselves a snack!)
OK, well now I?m bleeding. And probably also crying, but then..like..laughing in that I just chugged 50 ounces of liquid drain cleaner kind of way. Cry cry laugh laugh spurt spurt--oooh blood!
Fuck Judy (ahahhaa, double entendre humour!), gotta maintain girl, keep your shit together, and DIzzIE, stop writing this shock cock and just let me die, but Judy, there are no walls in the asylum.
So I here I am, sitting on a very Trainspotting toilet in a very House on the Prairie bathroom. I?ve got the hooks strapped in, trying to gank this thing out. A fucking turd that crawled through the wrong end. We?ll set it straight, savvy? I can feel it ripping through me, it?s little teeth biting and gnawing at me, a struggle against its own existence.
Ah, here it comes, amidst a cataclysm of ripping flesh and gushing waterfalls of bubbling blood. I?d be more repulsed if I wasn?t so turned on, I think my clit?s somewhere behind my left earlobe by now. But here it comes! An over ripened strawberry dipped in chocholate, as it were. Mmmm mmm. Bending over my little unwanted bundle of manufactured joy and sluuuurp. Mmmm, no, not quite strawberry.
And then!
The bestest thing in the whole wide world that could happen to a seven year old pulling out and chewing on her father?s seed with rusty fishhooks does happen: her mommy walks into the bathroom.
She was nude, save for her stubbed dog collar and her Hello Kitty bath slippers sullied by the ankle deep pools of dookie resulting from a long clogged bath drain, as was her wont, and I could see her shiver in delight as her cock become as erect as the cross in Father Patrick?s cellar.
Saying nothing, mommy wobbled over and kneeled down in front of my bloodied figure sprawled over the toilet. Cooing and drooling she started to goink the wee fetus out further. Suddenly falling back as a piece of the skull came off with the hook and little Dilly plopped into the toilet.
Slurping up the excess blood, and tenderly swiping away the month old turdsicles from the toilet bowl, I lay there gasping as mommy dearest let shower a rain of excrement forth all over my bloodied bodice. I realized the freeing of the bowels could only mean one thing.
And sure enough, Dilly had been in the open world for naught more than a few seconds before mom backed into me, the plump malformed head of the little body sliding into her rectum with a soft slithering and a low groan. Instinctively, I moved down on the toilet seat, and with my torn legs behind my ears, watched the child?s unformed feet greasily slide into my own shit stained orifice.
The umbilical cord still pulsating, we knew that we could both feel the little bundle twitching and spazing as we groaned, pumping and grinding. Occasionally I could feel it kick (just like in the movies!), and from my mom?s howls I knew that she could feel its little head biting.
Prfffrrrfft.
Oh fuck.
The sound of a bowel release and Dilly?s head squirting out of mommy amidst an orange-green geyser of exiting excrement. Excitement!
Oh sure, it then tried to crawl away, but I squeeek pulled it back with the squeeek cord, and then it?s back inside for some more tug o? war.
3 to 7 hour later, hardly a surface was left unscathed as all was covered in one product or another of mighty womynhood. Only little Dilly lay immobilized in the center of the room, the sporadic twitching sending a squirt of caked whatever over the door, and occasionally into our open mouths.
Ding-Dong! Luuucy I?m home! , said the big bad wolf as he walked through the door, after a hard day?s work at Lucille?s Land of Latex.
Hmmmm, smells like bacon!
Opening the bathroom door, mmmmm I guess dinner?s ready!
http://www.grsites.com/sounds/18791905/comic/comic007.wav
[insert canned sitcom laugh track]
Where Babies Come From To Go
(another fable)
BY: DIzzIE (2007)
Oompa loompa, oompa de? It?s not everyday that you wake up to the tune of the lovable oompa loompas. But then again, it?s not everyday that your father fucks you.
Mine did.
And this is my story. My name is Judy, and would you like to fuck me? Haha, nah jus? messin?, there?s nothing left there anymore, see it all got quite messy?
I knew this would be bad when I felt his pearly whites zigzag through my rosy reds, the oompa loompa jingle slurring out of his half open maw. Following the subsequent vomiting on my part, he moaned with salacious pleasure, his bird chest glistening with bile-encrusted mac n cheese from last night. But this isn?t a love story. Let me go grab the fishhooks.
10 minute intermission (let?s all go to the lobby, and get ourselves a snack!)
OK, well now I?m bleeding. And probably also crying, but then..like..laughing in that I just chugged 50 ounces of liquid drain cleaner kind of way. Cry cry laugh laugh spurt spurt--oooh blood!
Fuck Judy (ahahhaa, double entendre humour!), gotta maintain girl, keep your shit together, and DIzzIE, stop writing this shock cock and just let me die, but Judy, there are no walls in the asylum.
So I here I am, sitting on a very Trainspotting toilet in a very House on the Prairie bathroom. I?ve got the hooks strapped in, trying to gank this thing out. A fucking turd that crawled through the wrong end. We?ll set it straight, savvy? I can feel it ripping through me, it?s little teeth biting and gnawing at me, a struggle against its own existence.
Ah, here it comes, amidst a cataclysm of ripping flesh and gushing waterfalls of bubbling blood. I?d be more repulsed if I wasn?t so turned on, I think my clit?s somewhere behind my left earlobe by now. But here it comes! An over ripened strawberry dipped in chocholate, as it were. Mmmm mmm. Bending over my little unwanted bundle of manufactured joy and sluuuurp. Mmmm, no, not quite strawberry.
And then!
The bestest thing in the whole wide world that could happen to a seven year old pulling out and chewing on her father?s seed with rusty fishhooks does happen: her mommy walks into the bathroom.
She was nude, save for her stubbed dog collar and her Hello Kitty bath slippers sullied by the ankle deep pools of dookie resulting from a long clogged bath drain, as was her wont, and I could see her shiver in delight as her cock become as erect as the cross in Father Patrick?s cellar.
Saying nothing, mommy wobbled over and kneeled down in front of my bloodied figure sprawled over the toilet. Cooing and drooling she started to goink the wee fetus out further. Suddenly falling back as a piece of the skull came off with the hook and little Dilly plopped into the toilet.
Slurping up the excess blood, and tenderly swiping away the month old turdsicles from the toilet bowl, I lay there gasping as mommy dearest let shower a rain of excrement forth all over my bloodied bodice. I realized the freeing of the bowels could only mean one thing.
And sure enough, Dilly had been in the open world for naught more than a few seconds before mom backed into me, the plump malformed head of the little body sliding into her rectum with a soft slithering and a low groan. Instinctively, I moved down on the toilet seat, and with my torn legs behind my ears, watched the child?s unformed feet greasily slide into my own shit stained orifice.
The umbilical cord still pulsating, we knew that we could both feel the little bundle twitching and spazing as we groaned, pumping and grinding. Occasionally I could feel it kick (just like in the movies!), and from my mom?s howls I knew that she could feel its little head biting.
Prfffrrrfft.
Oh fuck.
The sound of a bowel release and Dilly?s head squirting out of mommy amidst an orange-green geyser of exiting excrement. Excitement!
Oh sure, it then tried to crawl away, but I squeeek pulled it back with the squeeek cord, and then it?s back inside for some more tug o? war.
3 to 7 hour later, hardly a surface was left unscathed as all was covered in one product or another of mighty womynhood. Only little Dilly lay immobilized in the center of the room, the sporadic twitching sending a squirt of caked whatever over the door, and occasionally into our open mouths.
Ding-Dong! Luuucy I?m home! , said the big bad wolf as he walked through the door, after a hard day?s work at Lucille?s Land of Latex.
Hmmmm, smells like bacon!
Opening the bathroom door, mmmmm I guess dinner?s ready!
http://www.grsites.com/sounds/18791905/comic/comic007.wav
[insert canned sitcom laugh track]