THE GREATEST WHOLE

THE GREATEST WHOLE

“I hate therefore I am.” – Bognor Zandor

By A. A. Khan

Illustrated by Nico Bassez and SLAK

When Bognor Zandor awoke from a blood-curdling dream he scribbled, for the first time, in his dream journal. He wrote the words “Termination Therapy” in chicken scratch, not realizing that this dream would result, in the beginning of the end. The dream that would cause such an enormous mutation, the world would never recover.

Not in a bad way like a suicide bomber screaming the name of the prophet, as the murdered ghosts of a billion clitorises scream out loud in unison, and as the scream begins it is joined by all the other ghost clits of Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus…all of ’em!! Creating a disharmony so poignant that all the penises of the world turn black and fall into piles of dust and a collective sympathetic “AWWWWW!” is heard from all the men.

Bognar’s end was gonna be the end of us all. His research and study would never have prepared him for what was to be his last great vanishing act. One that would have all churches on its knees, and all Satanists bending backwards doing the wave.

This dream was unlike any he had ever had, similar to perhaps Tesla’s fabled dream seeing the universe in all its glory and waking up and realizing that saving the world always means an unhappy tortured end for its savior. Bognor sat up in his bed, he felt something moist underneath him, his frown grew, as he realized he had relieved himself in his sleep. The fact that his body had reacted this way indicated that perhaps he had experienced somewhat of a little death in his sleep. This tiny death was nothing like what the French called their toe curling, bubble bursting orgasms. This tiny death was to be the little spark that lit up the flint that eventually chased a fiery tail till it blew up the entire world.

Bognor stared at the words he had scribbled very carefully… he touched the letters almost in disbelief. Nothing looked the same anymore, this was the mutation he had been waiting for all his life. What to do next? He lit up a cigarette and walked towards his balcony.

The first step would be to put into words what he had dreamt. Hmmmm…. He paused for a moment and then it suddenly began to dribble out uncontrollably like a pus filled abscess….

The “Termination Therapy” must be applied to all who wish to exist, the first step is to give yourself a “terminal deadline”. One must decide on a reasonable date of expiry depending on what the person felt they had left to accomplish or give to the world. This date was to be set in stone, by purchasing an expensive obsidian gravestone directly from the therapist. This would provide us with our first stream of revenue, this was probably one of the key components to set in action the resulting “wave of mutilation.” Bognor snickered at the thought of mutilation.

If indeed love is what mends us all and heals all wounds and is truly the ultimate painkiller then what is hate? Is it what darkens the talon as it pierces through the flesh, or is it the beak that slurps the entrails and hoarks out the ball of fur and bones. Is it the spot of drool that falls out of the executioner’s mouth as he tightens the eye guard of the guilty. Is it perhaps the shiny blossom of semen that forms at the erect tip of the circumcised penis of the border guard who knows there is someone bleeding to death from a plastic bullet unable to cross the border to get help trapped in the trunk of reality.

Bognor runs into the bathroom and douses his face in cold water. “Concentrate dammit, the moments are fleeting, you need to concentrate, the dream was still heavy in his mind.

“After purchasing the obsidian gravestone from the therapist for a hefty fee, the next step is to write out a list of 8 things left to be done before the expiry date. This process will assure the subject will feel the true enlightening glow of fulfillment as he/she reaches it’s goal. The subject must be restricted to only choosing 8 acts in order not to overwhelm their minds and go overboard. Eight seemed like a number of humility, the sign of infinity, what could be more satisfying at the day of termination then a beautiful number 8 floating in your mind. Bognor decided to include the eight as a symbol on the tombstone, to hammer in the feeling of accomplishment into solid obsidian no less.

The subject must then with no hesitation sign a contract with the therapist that if and when the date of expiry has been reached and certain goals have not been fulfilled then for a fee, an extension can be purchased. Failure to pay for such an extension will result in early termination and severe public humiliation.

Bognor suddenly stopped for a moment and thought of his 13 year-old-nephew. Young Zoltan, was not the brightest of children, it seemed that the smartphone that was purchased to keep tabs on him had a very strange adverse effect on him. His overuse of the hashtag made it increasingly difficult for him to understand common grammar. He began to silently shut himself off of the entire world locking himself into his telephone. Miraculously though, he was able to find many people who had experienced the same thing. He found himself surrounded by his “#fuckbuddies” and began living quite the lavish life of a #crazedsexaddict. This seemed like the perfect situation for young Zoltan whose silence had actually opened up something much deeper within, a huge gaping black hole that could only be filled by sexual deviancy and conquests without a word ever being uttered. The harder, the better, the faster, the more painful…. The Hyde on him was Jeckyll’n!!! Zoltan would never come to an end, in fact, the whole became so huge that he found himself fucking himself into oblivion. His body was found lying electrocuted naked with nothing but a live wire shoved into his testicles.

Bognor was very disturbed by the thought of young Zandar, he always blamed himself for his little death. Suddenly Bognor found himself chuckling again at the thought of Zandar’s death as being a “petit mort”. He had never ever imagined his death would pop into his brain as something humorous. Bognor was losing his train of thought… must get back to “termination therapy”.

In order for this therapy to work, the patient must choose very powerful acts in order to feel “the Ultimate Whole”. He snickered at this name because he realized it was indeed inspired by his dead nephew, but nonetheless it was the perfect name for the state of bliss that will occur after the patients check off each of their 8 life terminating goals.

The next step was to find the right marketing corporation that could help spread this practice like a mold. Bognor wanted to have his name on every billboard! All over the world, the “new savior” that DRROOOPPPED TRRRRROW and gave the world back its purpose. “The Man” who made life a meaningful whole once again. He slapped himself in the face very hard to wake him up from this temporary delusion of grandeur.

What is next? The patient must be provided with an economic plan based on their income and personal assets, when this plan is approved from the bank, then the termination policy may begin. There must also be a jury of elders who can counsel the patient and provide wise advice regarding which of the eight wishes to do in what order.

All of this will carry a very “hefty n’ healthy” fee which will feel like nothing when the patient reaches “the Ultimate Whole.”

Bognor’s thoughts began to wander again. He thought of the greatest shams of the modern world and imagined his “Termination Therapy” could be like the new sensation! The next soft drink that not only tastes great but SATISFIES YOUR SOUL!!!!! Liquid Obsidian in a gas filled that bubbles and pops…. He could taste the sweetness.

Bognor knew that there was a company out there that could make all these dreams come true. Infact he had met with A.J., the VP of this company and was convinced at its grandeur the moment A.J. stepped outside with Bognor and brought him to the urinal. He looked over at Bognor and said “What’s better than selling ice to the eskimos?”

Bognor stared at him blankly and shrugged his shoulders…

“Selling them seals to fuck!!!! HAHAHAHAAH!” A.J. began laughing wildly, spittle was coming out of his mouth as he urinated with a force that even a medical doctor like Bognor was shocked and amazed. “Look at that stream!” he shouted in his mind. Bognor always wondered why such stupid things impressed him. He wondered if he was indeed born with not one, but two testicles, maybe he would be a different man. He was drifting again… he went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of pills. This will keep me concentrated… he put two Xanax into his mouth and crushed them with his teeth. This was a practice he loved because not only did his body absorb it faster then ever but he also loved the poisonous taste it left in his mouth.

Once the “Termination Therapy” buzz was set in full motion, he imagined line-ups that might clog entire city blocks. Overflowing seas of liquid obsidian, that reeked of rotting rubbage and flowed from every tap… in the fiery distance shining Obsidian Temples that gleamed holy into the night… The thought of it brought tears to his eyes. Imagine how many folks could use a swift kick in the ‘nards only to find the true meaning of life was just a tombstone away.

What Bognor had not imagined was the ever growing cult of the white goddess. Blond haired and red eyed they ran in packs like rabid hyenas carrying with them a pump action gun that needed to be seduced properly in order to shoot a creamy white goo that could turn any obsidian tombstone into a bubbling gurgling puddle of milk. They communicated in grunts and snarls as they made their way painfully out of the hive, a translucent castle filled with an infinitum of pods in which genes were manipulated to form a hybrid albino half German Shepard and half human being. These dog boys communicated very little but operated very swiftly. There main purpose was to obliterate as many Obsidian stone worshippers as they could and after that they would be allowed to return to the hive and copulate with the queen.

The white Goddess was said to be the mother of all queens. She transformed her womb into the hive and was said to be the love that kept the holy temple pulsating with life. Gazing into the translucent walls one could see the grandeur of the tribe as each young child was being nursed into existence. The eyes glowed red and seemed to stare off into oblivion.

The sounds that filled the air inside the hive could humble any living creature into being a selfless drone. Many visitors filled up one designated area of the hive. Any stray passers by who were attracted by the sounds of the hive were lulled into this room and then milked protein by protein until all that was left was a dry husk.

The "Termination Therapists" tried to deny the existence of the dog boys of the white goddess since there was no living creature who had ever actually seen the hive. It was called the "The Great White Lie" by the elders and those who questioned its existence were often banished to the badlands where there doom usually began by following the mysterious sound that hummed in the air.

No one dared to think that the therapists and the white goddess could perhaps have been working in cahoots, after all the harshest punishment for not fulfilling the eight pathways to enlightenment was often public humiliation in the form of public castration,which ultimately ended in the launching of a sexless body into the badlands. No eunuch had ever returned to tell a tale from such a fate.

Bognor Zandor awoke from a most horrific dream. His body was connected through a series of veins and arteries that connected him to the room in which he was imprisoned, his screams seemed to vanish into a powerful hum that rendered him powerless. He opened his eyes and they had turned bright red, the image of this was burned permanently into his mind. He woke up terrified covered in sweat. This was to be the first of a numerous amount of visions he would have of himself inside the hive.

Bognor wondered why these horrific visions plagued him. He felt that as he progressed in finalizing his termination therapy these dreams became more lucid and more real. When he received the final stamp of approval from the marketing company to set the termination therapy into the public eye, he celebrated on his balcony by himself with his favourite bottle of bubbly. He wondered if it was indeed sad that he had no one to share this moment with, he looked around at the city in front of his eyes and noticed a strange substance falling from the sky. It seemed like soft snowflakes began to fall ever so gently from the heavens above. Bognor smiled and felt like someone from above had felt the tiny wave of loneliness that stung him right then and there. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth and let the flakes fall in. The goddess was pleased she was about to meet her maker.

6 o'clock news..... "Bognor Zandor is a name you will never forget! His brand new "Termination Therapy" is all the rage and will have you smiling till your last dying day - or your money back!"

The line ups had started and with it the greasing of the council of elders. Under the table handjobs and the satisfied salty smiles of the toothless deities were forming on every city block. Cremations on every street corner to make room for the influx of bodies. Rabid homeless vagrants frothing at their ash filled mouths convinced that there was some sort of vitamins in the piles of ashen remains. The world was growing more sinister, more hypersexual, the elders sexualized the eightfold path as much as possible. The pope was hung decapitated, disembowelled and dismembered, his entrails used as rope entangled around his holy hat. His blood dripped into a giant bubbling cauldron, a long winding line of worshippers waited patiently for a little taste from the holy bowl. A masked man mixed the cauldron with a giant oar as his assistants shovelled in frankincense and myrrh into the fire below. A thick yellow smoke rose into the air filling up lungs causing blissful cough attacks knocking folks unconscious. Their family members held on to their limp bodies and kept silent trying not to expend too much energy. The papal blood serum was very valuable and was running out fast, the masked man kept mixing in vials of different concoctions into the cauldron thinning the blood out with mercury and salt crystals and sulfur. The smoke coming out of the cauldron was absolutely awful smelling, like mixing the putrid stench of burning hair with decaying cadaver. Was this what lead to ultimate salvation? Was the greatest hole a steaming cauldron full of the last shards of the civilized world?

A dark cloud hung over the courtyard as Bognor began to make his trip to the high courts. He was supposed to meet with the supreme council of elders who were supposed to help him start administering the first step in the spread of the termination therapy...the obsidian tombstones. The factory was ready to start carving, the therapists had been delivered their notes, the phone lines were always occupied. The people were frantically trying to make appointments. The miners had been stockpiling millions of tons of obsidian, no volcano was left untapped.

When Bognor was 10 years old, his father took him to a very strange ritual. An hour long trek through the forest brought them to the mouth of a cave. They were greeted by a man who handed them a small vial of blood. Which Bognor's father Stavros quickly hid inside his cape. They proceeded to walk down a very old stone staircase which led to a room filled with people. This place was known as the "Crimson Market" and within a few minutes Bognor was about to witness a ritual that would change the way that currency worked all over the world. There was no money exchanged here, only small vials of some kind of mysterious blood. Bognor watched closely as the strange caped men whispered into each other's ears and passed along these vials. His father refused to explain anything to Bognor, occasionally he would look into his eyes and make sure he wasn't falling asleep. Suddenly a loud horn sounded, a man holding a hollow bull horn blew into it and made a low drone followed by the shrill of a gong. Two men with enormous muscular arms came in carrying a bubbling cauldron. They poured part of it into a small pool creating 8 little puddles of mercury. The time for reflection was about to begin. One hooded elder came out of the crowd and stood in front of the first puddle, he gazed into it, pulled out a vial and began to pour it into the puddle.

The blood began to boil, a strange smoke began to rise, the hooded man lowered his head and inhaled deeply. The smoke like a snake slithered into his nostrils. His eyes turned bright red and he quickly lost consciousness. The young Bognor was petrified, what had happened to the man to make his eyes so red. Bognor's father tightened his grip around his wrist, in a silent way he seemed to want Bognor to snap out of his fear and be brave. Bognor felt a strange confidence rush into him as he felt the squeeze on his wrist. That night Bognor remembered eight different hooded men repeating the same ritual. After the eighth one was laid down, the horn was blown again. The rest of the men in the room raised their vials into the air and began to hum loudly. A bright white light began to shine out of the puddles as the hum grew stronger. The gong was repeatedly struck and suddenly Bognor felt invincible. He looked around to see if there were any other children in sight. He saw one boy or two boys looking around the same as him, but when their eyes met they quickly looked away almost terrified by the sight of someone they might know.

Ruby Red - The Crimson Queen

As the cities grew wilder and more frantic, a wide spread panic spread like quick silver. Extremists self immolating themselves inside old banks, hungry cannibal homeless people eating burnt carcasses, sex crazed lunatics raiding sex shops and looting medical surplus stores, tying themselves together with rubber hoses and humping each other madly on streetcars.

Who would have guessed that a strip club could be so successful in such times? The security staff wore black leather suits and could crush anyone into submission. The dancers were heavily guarded. The elders could be seen above the stage, only their silhouettes as they watched from above, often whispering commands into each other's ears and pointing at random people in the crowd and commanding their goons to pulverize at the simple nod of their heads. Bognor entered the building from the rear, a practice that also made him snicker. He remembers vividly a brief love affair he had with a dancer. Her name was Red and she had the most luscious of lips. He returned to this club every second sunday, it was a most bizarre ritual. He entered the ass shaped doors and headed straight for the coat check. He would hand his black leather aviator jacket to the door man, who would then place a small vial secretly inside the inner pocket.

Bognor would then walk through a crowd of mad men, frothing at there mouths, chewing loudly on pieces of mystery meat served on wooden skewers. They watched the dancers and ate piles of these meatsticks. The smell of the fermenting meat permeated the air. Bognor would hop along through the crowd until he reached a huge set of doors. He would look up into a small lens and suddenly the door would open. He entered the elevator and pressed a series of buttons. He was immediately sent to the top floor. The Elders awaited him. The smile on his face grew as he prepared himself mentally for what was about to happen. As he reached the top floor, he reached into a velvet bag and pulled out a strange hood. He placed it on his head and began breathing very deeply. The elevator opened and a loud roar followed, he stepped into the room.

"Open the jugular!!!" an elder screamed. The lights grew bright red, a strange organ began playing, the air began filling up with steam. Bognor followed a path, one that he had memorized, with each step a light shone under each foot. Until he stopped in the middle. Silence grew deafening, he felt a gentle hand stroke his chest, suddenly another hand began stroking his legs, it looked as if they were searching him for something. He suddenly grabbed one of the hands and squeezed its wrist. His smile grew stronger, he remembered that same sensation from when he was a little tyke. He drew the hand close to his face and opened his mouth. The hand wrapped around his gaping mouth, covering it tightly. He began panting deeply taking in huge breathes through his nose. He slowly started losing consciousness, he felt more hands caressing him and guiding his body as it went limp.

When he opened his eyes they began to water, he had lost all concept of time, he lay in a puddle of silver liquid, completely naked. In front of him lay a red skinned woman, her lips shone covered in powdered ruby... they sparkled wildly as she began to sing. Her skin glistened as if liquid was constantly gliding down the source hidden in the starry bliss that lay behind her. Bognor's eyes reddened, she slowly climbed on top of him, his body began to get covered in this strange liquid dancing off her skin. The mercury underneath them bubbled. She embraced Bognor and her tongued slipped into his mouth. They began breathing into eachother, with each breathe his eyes reddened. The liquid that surrounded them began to cool, sending a shiver down his spine.

Her legs parted and began to gush out an ooze of unfertilized eggs, tiny little pods that began collecting around Bognor's aroused member. As she squirmed on top of him he entered what felt like an underwater cavern lined with translucent jelly, the viscous membrane that wrapped around the both of them got tighter as he thrusted his hips penetrating her. His eyes had turned completely red, suddenly he felt a sharp bite on the tip of his penis. He felt something enter his urinary tract, like a long thin tongue that began nursing his salty nectar. As the semen began to shoot out this strange proboscis entered him even deeper. The proteins began sloshing around each egg was slowly being fertilized, his mouth still covered by hers, still breathing in unison, he began to

feel his heart pumping outside of his chest. An image began forming in his mind, a woman covered in red dust, sparkling brightly with every turn, flaunting her every curve, she lay in a bed of white feathers, around her a wall of infants, red eyed, covered in broken bits of eggshell.

"I am the Crimson Queen, I have chosen you to be my surrogate. I shall feed upon you weekly and create an army that will one day protect us from the ash eaters. I am speaking through you, i can communicate directly with the deepest parts of your mind. I have known you since you were a child and you witnessed my birth. You shall leave here with a vial containing my blood, guard this with your life, for if you lose this i will no longer feed off of you, i will toss you out and let your mind rot and watch your body be torn into shards of carnivorous laughter. Now give me the pearl that i seek...."

The cigarette burned until the filter waking up Bognor, his singed finger yellowed from the smoke. The taste in his mouth was all too familiar but he just couldn't put his finger on it. His body felt completely revitalized, each cell shone with pride and elegance. His mind was as clear as a crystal prism, ready to dazzle the world in radiant colour. What was going on? Why did he feel so good? What pearl had he lost? So many questions washed away in waves of ignorant bliss. He pulled himself together and got right out of bed, how long had he been lying there? Every doubt that riddled his mind vanished as he felt the erection of a thousand lifetimes smiling up at him from below. He ran to the bathroom and took a long shower.

"hello Bognor, it's Ruby. I want you to meet me at the Lotus tonight. I have some information that you need. I don't know why it's taken me this long to realize it, but this might throw a wrench into the whole machine. Don't forget to bring the chrysanthemums that i love so much. Later gator." she hung up the phone. He listened to the message several times as he put on his clothes. Where the hell was he gonna find chrysanthemums at this ungodly hour? He flossed his teeth and headed out the door.

He lived twenty minutes from Chinatown, as he walked under the giant red dragon statue he noticed a bouquet of the very flowers he needed behind the window of a junk shop. He looked around and saw no one on the street. He picked up a rock and knocked on the glass, shattering it.

He grabbed the flowers and threw some change on to the table where they were lying. "This ought to be enough," he mumbled under his breath. He shoved them into his jacket and began hustling over to the lotus. He looked down the street and could see a bonfire in the distance. He knew that this could mean an unnecessary delay, the last thing he would need right now is to be bothered by some ash eating toothless freaks. He decided to take another street, he shuffled quickly through the night. The sign of the Lotus flickered to an erratic beat, the music from the outside sounded like flies smashing themselves on to an electric wire. As he came closer he could hear the drums, followed by the screech of saxophones. He opened the door and the room was packed. Fountain soda junkies lined the walls, their teeth corroded by sweet nothing. Chewing on straws and mumbling to each other about how they were on the right path, on their way to "choose to lose" grumbled Bognor in the back of his mind. They were all complaining about how difficult it was to get the right therapist to take on their case. None of them knew that they were in the presence of the father of the termination therapy. Had they known perhaps they wouldn't have even cared. Too busy getting their kicks from saccharine potions. Too lost to even know how to feel about the ash eaters and the sodomites that were fucking in the piles of garbage right outside the door. They had no idea how close they were in turning into one of them god forsaken ash eaters, how the demise of their teeth was the first step into losing their minds. "Cleanliness next to godliness" was what Bognor kept repeating in his mind. He knew his fate was far more beatific than these nogoodniks, anyway the only reason he came was to see Ruby.

He went and sat in a private booth in the back, he shut the velvet curtain and waited for her. "Did you bring me what i wanted?" a voice came out of a small speaker hidden inside the chair. Bognor looked up into a lens and nodded, he pulled the flowers out of his jacket and placed them on the table. "wow did you learn that in the circus?" He smiled a big smile giving her the best clown face he could muster.

Suddenly the table began turning and spiraling into the floor, Bognor loved this part, it seemed this secret elevator ride made him feel like a kid again. If only he had a penny for all the mysterious caves and tunnels he had been in all his life, his mind started to hum. He was unconsciously preparing himself for another night that he would barely remember.

The elevator stopped, the curtains were opened by some fancy ruby red slippers that glittered straight into the depth of his being. Every twinkle made the silent hum in his brain a very imaginary decibel louder. The slippers were dangling off of two beautiful legs, his soul began frothing at the mouth. Ruby entered the room, wrapped in a silk scarf and nothing more, she grabbed the flowers and began giggling like a little girl. "Are you gonna share this time?" asked Bognor as coy as he could be.

She placed the flowers in a large glass bowl, she closed it and inserted a tube, she took the pincers off the tube and the glass bowl began filling up with an orange gas. The flowers began reacting immediately to this gas, they began glowing brightly in a spectrum of color and white light, a sacred dance of fission and fusion followed by a quick flash until they suddenly turned into a bright orange powder. Ruby opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue, it was long and thin like a snake and carefully snuck its way into the bowl, it squirmed around like an unholy reptile tail freshly cut off, when she pulled it out it was covered in the powder. Bognor closed his eyes and opened his mouth, her tongue glided through the air with the swiftness of a humming bird and wrapped itself around his tongue, with a giggle she sucked it right back into her mouth making a sound like a soft wet whip. "Shattttack!"

Bognor swallowed and beads of sweat began forming on top of his head. Ruby could not wait any longer, she jumped into his lap, grabbed his head and rammed it between her breasts. Bognor's hands began wrapping around her. The silk scarf she wore just fell to the ground exposing her milky white skin. Bognor dove right into to the pale abyss, rubbing his face it felt like his first baptism into the ways of the flesh. With every undulation he felt his girth explode viciously. "Wait I had something important to tell you," she whispered into his ears breathing heavily between each word.

Bognor wasn't listening, he began taking off his clothes very quickly. Ruby turned her head towards the glass bowl and stuck out her tongue again for another dip. This time she sucked it back for herself. As she closed her mouth, she moaned a deep tone and began humming inside her mind. The crystals had a very strong and powerful kick. Within moments they were making love to each other with a fevered ferocity and an unbridled passion. Her nails dug into his back and as they glided down his flesh she began hallucinating large wings growing rapidly out of his wounds. Bognor opened his eyes, his pupils jet black. One quick glance into the lens above and he saw himself as a rabid dog boy eating the flesh of a doe. With every blink of his eye the image reddened more and more, till all he could see was soaked in crimson. His father's face lifted out of the meat of the doe, he opened his marbled eyes and a powerful light came pouring out.

They both began humming louder and louder. As Bognor penetrated Ruby, she pulled the tube out of the glass bowl and inserted it directly into her mouth, inhaling the orange gas directly. Her toes began curling and her entire body began tightening, the arch of her back glistened as a strange black liquid started pouring out of her spine. The black ooze solidified as soon as it hit the air and formed a leather like second skin around them both. The tube fell out of her mouth and began filling the leather sack with the orange haze. Every breath they took lulled them into a deep sleep. Their bodies exhausted and unconscious wrapped tightly in the black leather, lay silent in the orange mist.

"Dr. Rohr, the patient has lost a lot of blood, what can we do?"

The doctor took the tube, and shoved the needle into his own vein, then took the other end and stabbed it into the patient's neck. "If this doesn't help, then nothing will." The nurse looked shocked, she had never seen a doctor do such a thing. It turned her on. She stared into his eyes, he grabbed her closer to him and they began sucking each others faces. She glided her head down to his crotch and unzipped his fly. She proceeded to swallow his erect penis as his blood pumped parallel into the body of the patient. It was a twisted threesome, and as the three of them pumped away, sucking and pumping blood, sweat, spit and semen, launched into a twisted life saving dance. The ticking clock deafened their sensitive ears, their hearts began beating in perfect unison. She breathed life into his doctor dick with a fury of on old jazz legend peaking on benzedrine milking the notes from his infinite mental abyss, chewing on the cotton like it was served out of the goddess' own holy teets.

The patient opened his eyes and took in a deep gasp of air, he began breathing heavily. A pungent odor filled the air as he pissed himself. "Damn, looks like we gotta squirter" the doctor and nurse began snickering. The doctor exploded into the mouth of the nurse, with a swift tug of professionalism, she popped out his flesh paddle and yanked the blood filled tube out of the patient's arm in one fallow swoop.

"I recommend you keep this to yourself, i would never have done this if you weren't here."

Like a friendly goddess the nurse smiled, a lust filled volcano erupted in her vagina, she came in molten mouthfuls of smoke and lava. The act at hand awakened a sixth sense inside of her. The doctor's selfless action was a trigger that unleashed her godliness. He began to stare blankly over everything around her, as she spun her neck around in slow circles she exercised the dervish trance that made her float through the world like a blessed feather from the cloak of the white goddess slowly floating into the open mouth of the volcano, until poof it turns into a cloud of ash.

"Ruby Red, the crimson queen

prettiest girl out on the scene

watch her suck and help her pluck

the fluids out of some lucky baroness

a feathered lady

your efforts won't soon be forgotten

just lay down beside me and wrap me in your cloak

until my soul tastes foul and rotten"

BONIN' WITH THE COMMISSIONER

The elders called in the police commissioner. He was thrown into the ring with a cloth bag wrapped around his head. Suddenly a large proboscis slithered out and wrapped around his head, with one quick jolt it recoiled with a sinister flexibility tearing the velvet cloth bag to threads. The commissioner's eyes were bright red, he couldn't see a goddamn thing. Sweat poured down his forehead furiously.

"What do you want?" he screamed in desperation.

"Well, commissioner, we the elders have decided to give you a warning and an invitation? Your fate has been written for you, sir, from now on your actions will be monitored carefully. Your secret affair with young Ruby was not so secret after all, isn't that so Ruby?"

"yes, and he has a small dick, hahaha!" Ruby snickered as her voice echoed throughout the room chaotically.

"Ruby? What the hell is going on" the commissioner yammered as if someone had cut off his testicles.

The proboscis wrapped around his waist and lifted him in the air and flipped him upside down. The blood rushed to his head, the sweat poured out of him profusely as the muscular tongue tightened around him.

"Why are you doing this?" the commissioner desperately tried to reason with the elders.

"Well commissioner Harper, do you recall setting fire to a file cabinet full of missing cases involving thousands of aboriginal women? Do you also recall the gang rape that occurred in your prison facility that resulted in the fatal haemorrhaging "bloody lil' indian" as you called her. You have done many bad things Harper, and now it is time for you to pay. Proceed with the femoral penetration and then return him to the surface, his humiliation will be complete."

"Noooo!!!!"

The proboscis split into three slender ones, each just as powerful as the original. Two of the probes attached to his ankles and spread his legs apart. The third appeared mysteriously with a human femur dripping in a sweet salvia, glistening with the rage of every missing teen aboriginal woman whose life was thrown into a shedder followed by a can of lighter fluid and the zippo that burned it all down to oblivion. The penetration began, slowly the femur was inserted into his anus. The salvia made the bone even more sticky, making the pain ten folds more severe.

The laughter of the elders rang through the air and thundered heavily into his mind.... never again... never again... his screams were high pitched and sounded like a puppy. The commissioner would be returned to the surface, dropped into his bed in a burlap gunny sack, with a new fear to haunt his every waking hour. The elders showed no mercy.

Divinity in Solitary Confinement

Stern Leibkuchen was born under a bad sign. From his strange conception which involved a car smashing into a youth hostel thrusting the residue of an innocent wet dream into the vagina of an unconscious catholic nun who not only survived the crash but believed that she was inseminated by the big guy himself and carried the new saviour of our generation. Stern's birth was also very peculiar as she had been locked up in the basement of an Austrian church because the head priest was convinced that his mother had been fooling around with some alter boys and got herself knocked up. Unfortunately this was just untrue, his poor mother had no idea what a penis even looked like let alone felt its penetration. After the sixth month of her solitary confinement she completely lost her mind and began hallucinating that she was in fact the holy virgin, she tore every cloth in the room to shreds and made a nest for herself to lie in. She was visited by many an angel and sometimes even a demon would come by to shake her up and give her lashings and call her a harlot. This demon was none other then the priest who found it amusing to paint his face red and put on a set of mountain goat horns to visit her every once in awhile. He even convinced a homeless man to dress up like god and let him cuddle with her for hours at a time. She would lay in his lap as he stroked her hair and sang the few scriptures he could barely remember in trade for a meal and a warm place to sleep.

Stern's birth was not as pretty as the nativity, in fact during the heavy contractions, his mother lost her mind completely and wound up not only devouring the placenta out of severe hunger, but she also smeared blood all over the walls making the whole room look like a massacre had taken place. When the priest found her she was growling like an animal walking around on all fours with a half eaten umbilical cord still hanging out. Her skin had turned pale white almost translucent, she looked like an emaciated white wolf with bloodstains all over.

The priest was frightened and clubbed her over the head with his cane, he wrapped the child in a cloth, quickly cleaned the baby and ran off setting fire to the church and all that was in it. Stern's poor mother's remains were lost in the ashes of the church and he was taken to a nearby village and dropped off at the mansion door of a barren baroness who was thrilled to find the greatest christmas miracle on her snow covered doorstep. The fate of the priest was not as pretty, he turned into a stark raving lunatic wandering from town to town telling tales of the white wolf that he once saw who gave birth to a human child, his stories would put a scare into most town folks and he was usually driven out of town by an angry mob. When the story of this white wolf made it to the Baroness she knew right away that it had something to do with the child. She had been waiting for this child, she had dreamt about it before in dreams. The white goddess was sending her her progeny.

Baroness Liebkuchen named her new son Stern, which literally meant star, and would tell him that was where he came from. The heavens had no more room up in that sky and the Lord decided to send a star directly to her. Little Stern loved that story, and was raised in a princely manner, clothed in the finest of silks and raised on wolf's milk.

When he was thirteen the baroness decided that he was ready to receive the proper instruction to assume his place in the Crimson Market. It was there where he met a young Bognor who was about five years younger. Stern was to replace the Baron who had died over two decades ago from a severe case of influenza. The Baroness paid a hefty price to have Stern trained by the finest of teachers. These secret teachings ironically took place in the basement of the castle and were only done at night in complete secrecy.

He was first instructed about the powers of Mercury and the monetary value of his blood. A few of the elders had heard of some rumours about where Stern really came from and because of this his blood was very valuable. There was a sacred value placed on him because his origins were said to be from a white wolf that the white goddess had impregnated. This immaculate conception came from the white goddess choosing her surrogate to be another female. The most divine conception occurred without any male involvement, and the elders believed that these boys born from this miracle had immortality in their blood. The elders also knew how to milk them without affecting their growth. They kept vials of their blood which were often traded for very valuable favours that would help the elders gain control of entire countries and churches all over the world.

"Bognor!" screamed Stern. "Are you still with us?"

Bognor was not, his reality had become seriously deformed in his mind. His sexual escapades and his breeding sessions by the Elders had all twisted around one and other. He began having trouble deciphering between what was real and what might have been an intense lucid dream. Bognor stared blankly at Stern with an expression on his face that resembled a lost puppy. Stern found this expression very endearing, it reminded him of his adolescence. He simply smiled back at Bognor and asked to see him later privately.

"The Termination Therapy model that Mr. Zandor has brought to the table is flawed, but we have no choice but to carry on with it. The elders have instructed to proceed with all tombstone manufacturing. The flaw in the model lies in one thing, do you know what that is Mr. Zandor?"

Bognor pinched himself in the testicles in a very successful yet painful attempt to regain complete consciousness. "The flaw is not a flaw, it is simply taking into account that the entire model might be a total utter failure."

The audience in the room was silenced, every murmur halted.

Bognor stood up, he felt as clear as a blue sky without a trace of cloudiness. "The state of humanity is very ill, I cannot count the amount of atrocities i witness daily, whether it involves children sacrificing themselves in the giant bonfires on almost every street corner, to the mass orgies that stand next to those pyres or the never ending line ups that have become the sinews of our ash eater ruled streets. The Termination Therapy was a glimmer of hope I saw, the obsidian tombstone was just a hallucination, I swear it had something to do with the litre of elderberry schnapps i vomited shortly after writing it. I don't want to be held captive here while you blame me for what may go wrong. I am simply as lost as anyone else out there, why I was chosen to change the course of humanity is still a great mystery to me, but i will say this, i enjoy being a surrogate, in fact, it's the only pleasure i get in this life.”

“Awwwwww,” the audience sympathized.

“All my days have been spent dreaming about this white goddess, speaking to her, being fed by her, I have silently watched the elders use my body as a vessel and have remained silent, in fact I have felt spiritual relief in every draining act of sacrifice i was ever involved in. What more can a man do?" Bognor's eyes filled with tears which was quickly absorbed by his wrist.

The audience slowly began applauding, the applause grew into a roar, two people hoisted Bognor into the air and began parading him through the room. Bognor smiled a huge smile, but deep inside his body filled with fear. He had never been so unsure of himself. He wished his father was here to guide him through this like in the past, he felt as helpless as when he would clutch on to his father's leg during the blood cult meetings whenever he was frightened.

Stern watched Bognor's expressions like a hawk, he could see the very panic that was nestled right there next to his bright smile. Stern whispered to a minion and told him to make sure that Bognor came to see him privately in his office.

The meeting was adjourned, slowly people began coming up to Bognor hugging him and shaking his hands. The minion went straight up to him, grabbed him and lead him to Stern's office. He was torn viciously from his new adoring fans. Bognor opened the door and sat down on the chair in front of the desk. Bognor had never been in an office filled with so many old trinkets. Stern had collected many an odd artifact, most of them were framed in old mahogany frames, everything looked immaculate. Bognor noticed a scrapbook that lay on the desk in front of him, he quickly opened it. What he saw amazed him, very old clippings from story books in different languages, images of hybrid breeds of man and animal. Freaks of nature some painted, some photographed, all of it on yellowed ancient paper, with small pencil scribblings intricately organized by some kind of unexpected genius.

"Ah, I see you're quite a reader are you?" Stern intended to catch him red handed. He snickered and reassured him that no harm had been done.

"Bognor, I have known you since your birth and I have seen you turn into quite something. I know you may only remember me from the rituals, your father used to hold you so tightly, i remember how jealous i was seeing that. I was raised without a father, my mother the Baroness Leibkuchen was indeed very loving but after the age of thirteen i did not get to see her as much as i wished. In fact I wasn't allowed to do much on my own. They milked me everyday, pouring my blood into little vials sent away on small leather conveyer belts. They say i might have been one of the first surrogates. I don't think you could really call my early years a real childhood, I was a born commodity, rigorously trained to speak for the elders. Bognor, I summoned you here to shed a little light on what has been happening. Have you ever dreamt of the hive?"

"Yes, I have. I have made love to the white goddess also. She has nourished my soul, and that is why I came forward with the Termination Therapy, I did it for her. I want to go back inside of her. Can you help me get there?" Bognor spoke straight from his soul. He had never felt so naked in his life, not even when probed by proboscis' or wrapped in translucent skins and milked.

"Ah, mein bruder! Welcome, i have awaited for your arrival here. The Elders have prepared quite the welcoming for you. Take these and put them in your mouth, don't swallow them."

Stern handed Bognor two small square shaped pouches, he placed them in his mouth.

"Now close your eyes, and you won't feel a thing."

Stern picked up his favorite piece of desert glass and rubbed it for good luck, Zandor began to slip into a foggy state of unconsciousness. The strong smell of kerosene filled the air as the tiny door underneath his desk began to slowly open up.

“The butcher has prepared the feast” a voice came from beyond. The Elders were famished.

Bognor was about to feel the surface of the hive, his limp body slid through the door. Stern felt his karma being chastised, he began to question the good intentions of the elders. A fevered panic hit him like a horny redneck trying to hog tie his favorite swine. He felt rope burns around his neck which began to arouse him, he wondered if it was his own nervousness creating this sensation or if the elders were provoking him. The choking feeling was something he recalled from his training, where he was once fellated by ruby red at a cemetery, it was intended to be a punishment for trying to escape the castle. He rubbed his neck and held on tightly to the ivory pendant he was given on his thirteenth birthday. He closed his eyes and kissed it.

The ivory pendant was carved as a feathered mutant, it was hard to make out what it really was, he used to joke and tell people it was a hairball coughed up by the divine goddess herself after a particularly heavy love making session with his wolf mother.

Suddenly a strong mist began filling the room, as it dampened Bognor’s clothes they began disintegrating, leaving him naked and hanging over a large glass bowl. Stern climbed down a spiraling staircase and stood right in front of Bognor’s motionless naked body. Stern squeezed the ivory pendant releasing a tiny silver blade. He took the blade and slit a very thin cut under Bognor’s chin, a thin stream of blood trickled down his body and began dripping into the enormous glass bowl.

Stern took the blade and cut into his middle finger, a drop of quicksilver formed instantly, he put his finger into Bognor’s wound and small droplets of mercury began rolling down his body attached to the trail of blood. As the blood and mercury mixed in the bowl, Stern took out a small ball of cotton from his pocket, he spat into his hand and mixed the cotton into the saliva. He then applied it to the wound which cauterized immediately, no scar could even be seen or felt.

Stern clapped his hands together, two emerald green snakes slithered around Bognor’s arms, they began moving his body lowering it into the glass bowl. The tiny puddle of mercury and blood began bubbling, a thick yellow smoke began coiling around the glass, the snakes slid in circles around the glass, they were dancing with the smoke. Stern went down the spiral staircase and disappeared. Bognor began opening his eyes very slowly, the smoke was stinging, so he closed them again. The snakes ran into his nostrils, instantly his body began violently shivering and choking. His eyes opened wildly as the emerald snakes flew out of his mouth inducing him to vomit a rancid smelling bile all over his naked body. The bile mixed with the mercury and the blood. The smoke began to change colors, from yellow to purple to a deep crimson color. A cover was lowered on to the large glass bowl and the smoke filled it to the brim.

Bognor could no longer be seen, his body was engulfed in the red clouds. The glass bowl began to slip lower onto the darkness until it was invisible.

Underneath was where the orgy was about to begin. The glass bowl was lowered into what looked like a giant lotus, the huge petals each of which had a young red haired maiden laying eagerly rubbing the powdered red shiny pollen all over their bodies. When they were completely covered from head to toe in the pollen, the glass lid from the bowl was lifted, the smoke slowly dripped out revealing Bognor, naked glowing red, like a demon had freshly been released from the gates of hell. His eyes opened and a bright red light poured out of them. He rose out of the glass and felt the power of ten bulls rushing through his veins. He leaped out of the glass onto the center of the lotus, he was suddenly mauled by ten of the women. They crawled towards him, their eyes fixed on the prize. Bognor’s skin burned all over, the mixture of his bile with the smoke, blood and mercury made him glow red like a lobster fresh after its brains had already exploded, ready to serve. As the women surrounded him, two of them at a time began giving a tiny lick and then withdrawing with serpent like agility. They took turns licking him in a circle, always two tongues synchronized. This strange ritual began speeding up making Bognor increasingly aroused and increasingly nauseous. Suddenly the smell of kerosene started getting very strong, making him extremely dizzy. The licks started getting longer and longer up his legs, never touching his genitalia, but coming infinitely close. Occasionally he could feel their warm breath rubbing up against his testicles, driving him mad with eros.

"Bognor!" screamed Stern. "Are you still with us?"

The sound of his voice was amplified and echoed infinitely, the words seemed to bounce off the walls which could not even be seen, the only light came from inside the lotus. Bognor was speechless, the sound of Stern’s voice made him look like an innocent deer in headlights about to be crushed into mince meat by some drunk truck driver. His penis was fully erect making him feel very awkward to hear Stern’s commanding tone. A quick flashback of the day he lost his virginity electrified his mind until it was wiped out completely by the kerosene smell which grew to be nearly unbearable.

"Bognor!" screamed Stern. "Are you still with us?"

The emerald snakes returned, this time they wrapped themselves around his erection and suddenly hoisted him into the air ten feet up. The pain was terrifying but somehow still incredibly erotic, as he hung there upside down, his body arched he could still see the women rubbing more pollen all over themselves still staring at him, looking deep into his soul.

“What are your eight paths? Tell me now?” Stern’s thundering voice came with a splash of kerosene directly in Bognor’s face, the pressure of the liquid was so severe that it drove right into his nostrils and felt like it was pouring out of his eyes…. He screamed as loud as he had ever screamed, the women covered their ears, but still hardly even blinked, locked onto Bognor as if they were ready to devour him like a dessert.

When the burning subsided he began to speak, his voice was tender and weak yet his thoughts came as clearly as he would never have expected.

“To bring the world to the white goddess,” he took a deep breath and continued.

“To serve her every whim and repent for my services.”

His head rolled around mercilessly like a dervish had crept into his soul.

“To give her my blood to nourish her body”

“To give her my soul to empower her mind.”

“To provide her the meat from my surrogate body.”

“To ignite the fires within in preparation for the arrival of the hive.”

“To wait for my brethren to be birthed from my blood.”

He suddenly drew a blank, he had no idea what the eighth path was. The silence was deafening, the women squinted there eyes as if they were sending him the answer. They all raised their pollen covered arms and from their fingertips out poured a red silken thread which began wrapping around his naked body, first covering his mouth so he could not speak. Within seconds he was mummified by the silken thread, the snakes lowered his body so it hung in front of Stern, who took off the ivory pendant and flicked open its blade. He punctured the silk around both of his ears, and whispered softly into each of them.

“I welcome you little brother, and when the time is right the goddess will let you know what the eighth path shall be. For now we thank you for coming forward and bringing us your visions, it is the only hope that remains for the entire human race, the transition is beginning, the hive is closer then you will ever know. The Crimson Path came from the goddess’ left hand, it entered the sacred wombs of many creatures creating solitary saviours who would have to fight much harder than the rest of the herd to be heard. Throughout history our cult of holy blood was given sacred birth signs to follow, sacred mixtures of holy blood coveted by the most powerful of leaders, the most holy of saints and the most heinous of ash eaters. The peasants were denied any knowledge of this, we gave them fictitious tales and spun them all into their sewing circles with nonsense and mystery. Your father brought you to us, he had found you in the most heinous of places. Inside a maze of blood and the most wretched evil. Your father was sent to kill one of the most beautiful and evil creatures to have ever attacked the white goddess and her sacred hive. She was a mutation that went very wrong, said to have been born out of the placenta of her celestial majesty's very own birth. This evil creature’s blood was ice cold and milky white and one drop could silence a whole village. Erasing its entire existence. One drop could send entire villages into a cold icy frozen terror and leave nothing but dust, ash and bones. No witnesses to even tell the tale. The ash eaters were born out of her wrath, beings so lost that all they could crave was the ashen remains of bodies, they built altars and pyres and sent there worshippers to terrible fiery deaths only to feast on their charred remains. So poisonous was her monstrous wrath, that they sent your father on a mission that no one would have expected anyone to survive. He not only brought her head to the white goddess but he found you inside of her body, a naked little baby. His every instinct knew not to kill you, instead he wrapped you in cloth and took you home to raise as his own. When he presented the elders with the severed head of the mutant, he brought you and said that he also found you in his journey and would raise you as his progeny. Only on his deathbed did he admit to the elders that you were actually found inside the monster and it was after those words slipped out of him that his heart stopped beating forever more.”

The emerald snakes unravelled and Bognor’s body fell into a lake of mercury. As it floated on top, the ripples seemed to go on infinitely. A light began shining brightly from above and enveloped all that could be seen, his body sank into the silver as the hum around grew deafening.

Ruby Tuesday’s Day at the Beach

Ruby peeked out the closed blinds to look at what kind of sunshine was shining outside. She had a strange craving for the sand and sun, but she knew that getting there was going to be tricky. Certain blocks had been entirely taken over by the ash eaters, it was a frightening sight. Masses of people huddled around a soap box, a priest standing on top hollering about the saviour being inside the flames, commanding the followers to throw themselves and their children into the pyre. The faces of most of the followers were so malnourished and emaciated they were tough to look at. Especially for a gorgeous goddess who simply spent her finest moments mating or milking her way to the top. Ruby’s life was quite lavish, from her collection of boots and high heels to her collection of tales of dominating the lives of so many slaves that were powerless in front of her commanding presence. She could make them do anything, from picking her up and carrying her through the streets in her very own customized palanquin, which contained emergency tranquilizer smoke bombs incase she was ever in danger. She adored being carried for miles at a time, it gave her time to meditate about her real purpose in life. She knew that the hive was coming, but this did not trouble her mind at all. She adored finding the noble blooded and milking them, but to her they were not just simple conquests, they were her lovers, who not only worshipped her every whim, but they provided her with challenging thoughts, conversations and most of all volcanic eruptions of pure uncontrollable fits of laughter.

As much as she enjoyed the feeling of the pollen, and craved its taste every morning when she would awake, what she truly lived for was laughter. There simply wasn’t enough of it in the world anymore. It almost became a weakness because sometimes she could fall for a simpleton simply because of the goofy whistle that snuck out of his pronunciation of words starting with an ‘s’. Her guiltiest of pleasures was keeping a diary filled with the names and detailed descriptions of the funniest people she met.

Meeting people was also getting harder and harder, though she loved to swing through the ass shaped doors of the Lotus club and just wait for the prey to come collect inside her web and suck off of them as she pleased. It was sometimes too protected for her taste, the elders had made it all so safe for each goddess that she sometimes felt like the princess and the pea. She would ache inside for a little chance to see some danger or find someone hilarious to tickle her every funny bone, and boy did she have many.

Journal entry

0406662 - The day started off so dull, I dragged myself out of the club early in the morning, i had been milking this guy for two days straight, though he was delicious he was boring the shit out of me. Mental note: next time you pick up a cowboy make sure he is hung like a horse rather then a mule. That was when i met Gunter Brombeere, the goofiest fucker i had ever seen. I left the club in my litter and had my slaves stop in front of this buck toothed titan. His front teeth were so big I could spot them from a mile, he walked with a limp and slurped before speaking.

“Good evening ma’am and how can i be of ssssservice, Gunter is ma name, Gunter Brombeere, pleasure to make your sssssss’ thhhhhhh aquaintanssssstch.” he slobbered out the sentence and let a bead of saliva trickle down his beak. Ruby burst out laughing so hard she nearly pissed herself, actually a few drops of urine did trickle out of her vagina and that usually meant she had a winner.

“Gunter, darling, where can a lil’ girl like me find a nice quiet place to bathe? I feel so awfully dirty, i just need a good scrubbin’ that’s all” she batted her eyelashes twice and had him completely mesmerized.

He could hardly speak, “well, um, well, um, haha, well, um”

“Why don't you hop into my little litter here and join me, i could certainly use some company.”

Gunter was so amazed he jumped into her litter without any hesitation, dropping his hat and forgetting to even pick it up.

“Well take us to the quarry, i know a place nice and quiet and safe from all dem coal eatin’ monsters. Just go on straight for two miles and turn left when you see a big old oak tree.”

Gunter had no idea what pleasure dome he was crawling into, if being “saved” was really something this might be as close as it gets in this day and age.

On there way to the quarry Gunter stared deeply into her eyes almost hypnotized by the way they sparkled in the sun.

“Why ma’am your eyes sparkle like a sssssstrawberry sssssun.” he squeezed out the words and they rang in Ruby’s ear like poetry.

“Why Gunter, no one has ever told me that. Whatever is a strawberry sun, do tell.” her voice soothed him like a salt water lithium bath.

“Well ma’am as a child i grew up on a farm and my parents grew nothing but berries, this was when i was a youngin’ and the world hadn’t fallen to pieces just yet. Sometimes I’d grab me a big old bowl and fill it up with strawberries and sit out in the sun and just rub them berries all over my face and then my mother would find me in some pile of hay fast asleep and call me her ‘strawberry son’. I always reckoned she meant ssssun as in the sun up high.”

Ruby began to feel a glow overwhelm her, hearing those words come out of him was like gossamer from an angel. She felt her soul sparkle.

“I’ll tell you a little secret, I have been looking for a strawberry sun, and something told me that i would find one today, now can you help me out of this carriage and show me to the quarry.”

Like a bolt of lightening Gunter jumped out of the litter and stuck out his hand. He had the manners of the most princely of princes. Ruby was eating up every instant, they began walking arm in arm as she commanded her carrier minions to flea. Finally she was left alone with Gunter.

“Will you sit here while i bathe myself?” She asked him ever so gently, knowing that he would be as subservient as the trained rottweiler she had waiting for her silently in the bushes.

“Well ssssssssoitenly!”

She burst into laughter and felt a shiver thunder all over her body. His obedience turned her on so much that her nipples were already rock hard.

She unbuttoned her dress and it slipped off of her body, and Gunter exclaimed, “That dress there did roll off you like you was an ear of corn, hahahah.”

She laughed and laughed, completely naked, her breasts jiggled with so much happiness. Gunter just sat and watched, without any trepidation.

Ruby jumped into the water head first. When she resurfaced Gunter was just as he was before, almost motionless, he stared at her with big eyes, his buck teeth shined ever so brightly.

“Gunter, if i was a fish would you know what to do with me?”

“Well I suppose i might catch you and keep you in a little bowl next to my bed.”

Without any hesitation, she leapt out of the water, grabbed Gunter, and dragged him in the water. Their lips were glued to each other as she dragged him underwater and breathed heavenly life into his goofy little frame. She twirled around him like an eel and wrapped him up tight, and made love to him till the evening sun turned bright pink.

“Is that what you think you’re mama saw in your face, that big ol’ sun up there?” she asked him as she stared deeply into his soul.

“Why, yes, ma’am that’s exactly what i meant, sssssillly ol’ sun!!!!”

They laughed together explosively, wrapped tightly around one and other, this was a keeper she thought, a definite keeper.

The Unfortunate Flower

“What could I offer the queen of love in return,

who lacks nothing at all? Balm for the body?

The food and drink of the gods?

I have nothing to give to her who lacks nothing at all.

You are the door through which the cold gets in.

You are the fire that goes out. You are the pitch

that sticks to the hands of the one who carries the bucket.

You are the house that falls down. You are the shoe

that pinches the foot of the wearer. The ill-made wall

that buckles when time has gone by. The leaky

water skin soaking the water skin carrier. “

—Tablet VI From “Epic of Gilgamesh”

Tallulah Schrecklich had been working for the elders since her conception. Her mother before her, Marta Schrecklich, held a prominent position in the Council of Humiliation, she was single handedly responsible for thousands of punishments varying from her favorite “Femoral Penetration” to “Kerosene Dousing”, “Mercurial Enema”, “Epidermal Seismic Reduction” , the list of punishments was almost infinite. Marta was a very well respected member of society, and as any good mother she wanted the best for her daughter. She enlisted her at a young age into an academy of domination. To be able to enroll in this academy one must prove that the blood of the initiate must be of some incredible value. Lucky for Tallulah she bore the mark of Gugalanna behind both her ears. This mark was said to be a scar left from a past life, when that child’s spirit, which was previously incarnated as a bull, lost its horns in a great sacrificial ceremony which made all of her future incarnations official courtesans to the White Goddess.

Tallulah had a very special room in the Lotus club. She was a tall, dark haired amazonian dream. Her cunniliningus techniques were “otherworldy” at a considerably young age she was asked to eat many an important poonhani, eventually climbing a divine invisible social/sexual ladder that lead to the white goddess herself waiting for her at the top. Though she had no memory of it, Tallulah had tasted the holiest of holes, which she earned with her mighty divine tonguing. She had not only sucked on the divine peach but she made it cum gloriously and through this selfless act she was considered one of the holy daughters of Ishtar, the ones who tasted the nectar of immortality and selflessly gave the holiest of pleasure to the divine.

They said, about Tallulah’s powers, that they could not be learned, they had to be passed on through secret codes in her genealogy. This coding was said to go back as far as the origins of the first divine creatures. Her main function at the Lotus Club had nothing to do with acquiring surrogates and milking them, her supreme talents were coveted by a different kind of internal clientele. You could definitely call her someone who aimed to please. She provided a much needed shoulder to cry on for the other Lotus queens as well as making their cunnies drip rivers of heavenly pleasure whenever the elders required. This made the queens completely obedient to the commandments of the elders. They secretly became enslaved through cunning lingo and heartfelt penetrations.

The milking process also had many ups and downs, the most difficult part of it had something to do with how emotionally wrapped up the queens got with their prey. Falling in love was just the tip of the iceberg, with each surrogate that was milked, a dependency was being fed and growing fast. Some girls thought it was just the power of the pollen and its strange addictive qualities, they assumed it was just an addiction like any other, but the truth was far from that.

Tallulah had a very deep relationship with many of the queens, her personality was as warm as a blanket quilted by a loving grandmother. Her bosom provided many of the queens with not only a place to snuggle away all their troubles but it was like the opening of the horn of plenty leading to a glorious pleasure dome of a thousand candle lit orgies and mountains of flesh and ecstatic toe curling eruptions with the steamy aid of golden dildos and warmed porcelain butt plugs and the tongue of a divine champion.

Tallulah had her own floor in the lotus club, strictly forbidden for anyone but the queens. She lay in her bed like a praying mantis, her head pointing to the small waterfall that ran infinitely in her room. She would dip her hands into the stream and wash her body, very slowly. The arch of her back sparkled as the beads of water rolled down majestically. Her head, like a dervish twirled, effortlessly round and round, a soft hum rose out her mouth like steam as she performed her daily meditation.

A bell rang, she turned around and grabbed the silk robe that hung from a hand shaped hook in the wall. She tied the robe up and proceeded to the door. The opened a slit revealing an eye hole, she peeked in and her eyes widened at the sight of her visitor.

“Ruby! Come in, my darling!”

Ruby came in and sat down on a velvet love seat. She had a radiance around her, she unbuttoned her jacket and placed it on a night table in front of her.

“What is it my dear? You look like you have something wonderful on your mind.” Tallulah motioned towards her and sat right beside her. She began stroking her hair almost immediately, admiring its softness and beautiful sheen.

“Tallulah, i just had a wonderful life changing experience. I found myself a new mattress, this time he is positively stunning maybe even a game changer. A buck toothed romeo, his name is Gunter, isn't that hilarious! I had to talk to you because i feel something really special this time.”

“Gunter, that does sound quite funny, did the elders send him to you for milking?”

“No I found him on the street. I was just running around in my litter outside and bumped into him. He used to live on a farm with his folks, grew strawberries! His mama used to make schnapps from all sorts of berries. He is so simple, it just struck a major chord inside me.”

“Well bring him into your lair, make him a surrogate, that is the best thing you could ever do to him, he’ll be protected from all the evils that await him out there..”

“That is the thing, I don't want to, I want to keep him on the outside.”

Tallulah gave Ruby a strange look. She did not expect to hear this from her at all. Many a thought exploded in her mind, she wondered if this was even possible. She knew that Ruby had a mischievous side, but why would she desire having a mattress on the outside. “Mattress” was a nickname that Ruby had invented for the men that she milked. It felt empowering to call them that simply because there didn't exist a word in her vocabulary for a male mistress. When the image of her laying on dozens of mattresses all over town popped into her head it was followed by an explosive fit of laughter that surely made her pee a little, so the term stuck. When she started using it regularly the fad caught on amongst the other queens that lived at the lotus.

“Ruby, why in heavens would you want a mattress on the outside? Your home is in this hive, you have everything you need here.”

“Something in me has changed. It all feels really pointless all of the sudden. I feel like meeting him has opened up a hole in me, something that i have never been able to fill. I have never longed to be far away from home until now. I feel like this ember inside of me is glowing and needs for me to attend to it before it burns everything down.”

Tallulah began to fear what the elders might do with Ruby had they found out that this kind of dissidence was brewing inside of her. She whispered in Ruby’s ear, “listen to me closely, do not tell anyone else about this, you could get yourself expelled or even far worse. You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer.”

“Tallulah, I never fathomed this as even possible. My craving for the pollen is even affected. What should I do?” Ruby’s tone slowly turned from innocent into deeply disturbed. She stared into Tallulah’s eyes. As they were locked into this gaze Tallulah smirked and new exactly what Ruby needed. Her head sank below into Ruby’s lap. Ruby fell back and closed her eyes, she was ready for a rocket dose of ecstasy, perhaps it would help in her recent confusion, perhaps it would clarify what she needed to do… it did.

Dr. Rohr read the medical report carefully before saying anything. “This was no regular peanut allergy gone wrong, there is enough evidence here to imply some kind of foul play.”

“But Doctor, what do you mean with foul play?” asked Nurse Bettina. She crossed her arms trying to plump up her breasts so the doctor would notice them.

“Bettina, the body of this man was clearly violated and tortured. There is evidence of being drowned in kerosene, and i also noticed some very strange stretching of the anus and an incredibly sticky strange salvia in the anal discharge, some kind of sticky sap or resin. By the way what is that perfume you are wearing, it is absolutely intoxicating.”

She rolled into his arms and they began necking frantically. “But Doctor...oooh… this is… ahh.. the wrong…. umph….place to do this.” The words rolled off her tongue slowly each word interrupted by an ecstatic orgasmic yelp.

“This patient was tortured by the Elders, he must have been a very bad boy.” He lifted her off the ground and lay her down on the dead body.

“Doctor, this is terribly wrong. Wait…” she removed her panties and threw them on to the floor of the morgue. “but i don't give a fuck,” she commanded giving him all the more reason to pound her on top of this cold meat platter under her ass. The checkered tiles of the room hadn’t seen this kind of action in years. The doctor began making sweet love to Bettina using the cadaver as a mattress, this new degraded low he had reached made his penis harder than ever.

“You can't fuck the life back into him, but you can surely do it to me.” Bettina whispered into Dr. Rohr’s ears and grabbed his head tightly.

Suddenly an alarm began to ring loudly in the building. “What the fuck is that?” she asked while Dr. Rohr climaxed inside of her.

The sirens of the entire city were ringing causing a mass panic of people running around all over the place. Dr. Rohr zipped up his trousers and quickly proceeded to the main office of the hospital. All doctors were summoned to the main office for an emergency meeting.

pedro dingus..... "When I'm 65...."

after admiring the night from a far, pedro dingus decided to spend his last few hours in a slightly different manner then usual. He pulled out his grand daughter Luna's favourite bed time book, "The Owl is not Fowl" and sat next to her in her bed.

"Grandpa, if the owl is a hunter by night what does he do all day?" asked Luna, her voice squeaked eloquently. She was as bright as an eight year old girl could get, he thought to himself, as his eyes filled with a little salty tear of pride and joy.

"He does what we all do all day.... dream a little dream and pray for a goodnights slumber."

"Oooh I like that.... what should I dream about tonight, gramps?"

"Well, sometimes you just have to close your eyes and just let the night take you to where it wants to take you. Sometimes our dreams can be more fun then anything else in the universe. You see all these stars outside spattered all over the night sky, each one of them is a dream come true waiting to be caught by some little dream hunter."

"How many have you caught?"

"Oh my love, I am an old man, I traded all my stars in for one thing, you know what that was?"

"What?"

"It was for you!"

Luna's eyes widened and reflected a starry dynamo of love, her grandpa was the greatest.

"Now, where were we? Page 6, i believe," he opened up the book and began to read.

"The owl spread his wings far and wide and swooped down with all his might to catch the mouse. Oh, Mr. Owl why must we play this game all the time? What good will it do to the world for you to end my little mouse life."

"Well little mouse, for one thing my belly will be full and i will release something in you that has been waiting to just fly away freely. The owl smiled a goofy smile and for one moment the little mouse got lost in the goofiness of his hilarious owl face."

"You see little mouse, i come from a world of freedom, i fly when and where i want, some birds never get to feel that freedom. Some are put into cages as soon as they hatch, the life of fowl is rather foul. The owl and the little mouse giggled together at his pun. Little mouse replied, "but how does that explain why you need to eat me?"

"The owl locked his eyes on the mouse, "because mother nature created this chase so the circle of life remains unbroken. I promise I will make this quick, wait a minute is that a cat right behind you?"

"The mouse quivered and jumped as the owl opened his beak and snapped his spine."

Luna had already fallen asleep. Pedro kissed her on her forehead and placed the book neatly back into the shelf.

Pedro went into the cellar and opened up his secret tickle trunk, in it a pair of leather studded ass less chaps, some black gloves and a bottle of pills. He quickly put on his wares, grabbed a trench coat and called a cab.

"Take me to Whistlin' Kirk and make it quick."

The cabbie took twenty minutes to find the place. Pedro paid him twenty dollars and told him to keep the change.

He took off his trench coat and laid it on the first homeless guy hiding under a heap of blankets. He walked down a dark alley and rang a doorbell. He admired the ass shaped doors and rubbed his hands in content. The hole opened and examined him from head to toe. His outfit had been approved, the sound of the lock unhinging was loud and satisfying.

"The owl can see everything in the dark, as it scours the floor it contemplates eternity, up becomes down and down for him is up."

As Pedro entered the hallowed halls of Whistlin' Kirk he could see the steam coming up from the rickety floor panels. He could smell the intoxicating musty resin of abandon that awaited him. He began undressing as he ascended the stairs. The sounds of extreme excellence began dancing upon his eardrums.... darkness ascends.

Pedro glided his hands along the walls, occasionally rubbing up with some globs of unknown substances. He felt around the corners of the room, the mouldy protein stench grew thicker the further as he walked slowly and more carefully with every step. A very low thumping bass drum throbbed ever so softly on his ears, a hypnotizing drone of impending doom tickled his most private of parts.

"Where is my throne?"

His excitement made him feverish, though completely dark he began vividly hallucinating his big black leather wings erupting out of his back. He suddenly felt a infinite set of hands lift his body and slowly lay him down.

Suddenly he felt some cold metal around his ankles. The shape of saddle and the stirrups were fresh flowers blossoming in his brain, he envisioned spores bursting with poisonous powder. The hands guided his legs into the beastial gynaecological throne and he finally had assumed the position. For one moment he thought of how many vaginas must have been examined in this very chair in it's previous life in the medical office it came from. What had this table done to deserve being thrown out and reborn in this darkroom? Could it be a simple question of karma? Perhaps the cold metal was tired of being warmed by the ritual of examination, it needed something hotter, more dangerous, something more brutal.

Pedro closed his eyes, and began crushing the pills he had tucked under his tongue. He chewed on them and felt his saliva react. Chemistry at its finest he thought.

The music got louder, suddenly he felt the hands start caressing him harder. His cock immediately hardened. "when i'm 65," he smiled at the thought.

The drugs began working, the foreboding sound of the orchestra tuning... the yelps of a helpless animal.... heavy tobacco stained breath warming up his neck.... the throbbing members that gathered at the door... pounding.... pounding.... the viscous membranes penetrated, torn by friction, blood vessels rushing out in haemorrhage of ecstacy. The swans were landing, he could see them on the river, he admired their reflection as he emptied the sack of breadcrumbs into the water.... ahhhhhhh.... he screamed in pain, his mouth immediately glory holed and gagged... drowning in discharge, his body began to shudder, his heart raced with the devil he had been waiting for... he saw the beast and stared into his eyes.... the owl's beak dripped of saliva, he felt the beak sever his innards, his skin burned as his soul began to turn into ash.

When his body was found it had been deceased for over ten hours. It gurgled like a coffee pot on a low simmer and oozed a criminal stench of blood, shit, sweat, and semen.

"I guess the boys didnt no he'd kicked the bucket, what a fucking mess! Although in all my years in the force, I've never seen a stiff look quite so satisfied. Happy Birthday you old queen."

Gunther Admires The Ass Shaped Doors

Ruby went over her plan in her head so many times she felt nauseous. After her last session with Tallulah she decided that the only way to proceed with this was indeed to let Gunther into the lotus and have him as her new surrogate. She figured by having him this close to her would certainly protect him from the outside world. She found it difficult to even imagine how he survived so long without being killed out there. Maybe his goofiness protected him, maybe it was a front and he was actually some kind of twisted genius in search for the finest woman he could find. "And that's ME!" she screamed exploding like a bottle of champagne.

Ruby checked the time, Gunther was supposed to arrive at the club in twenty minutes. She quickly got herself ready for him. She summoned one of her minions and told them to find Gunther and take him to the fifth milking station, she would be waiting for him there.

Gunther showed up five minutes early, he hesitated for a moment when he saw the ass shaped doors. He was hypnotized by the brilliant craftsmanship, it actually hit very close to home. He felt the wood they were made of. "Hmmmmmm... Swamp Cypresssssss..... very nice!"

He was so impressed by the carving style, a shower of memories of his youth exploded like fireworks in his mind. He looked at the plaque on the floor which had the name of the wood carver on it. "Made by Julian Fried of New Orleans"

Suddenly the memory of Julian hit Gunther like a bolt of lightening. Gunther spent many summers in New Orleans, and he remembered a wood shop where he used to order things from. He remembered the brown curly hair of a young man by the same name. He remembered a conversation with him about making a door the shape of a vagina. He remembered laughing out loud so hard at the thought of his dream doors. He vividly remembered Julian or Jules as they called him as being a very passionate wood carver, one with odd ideas and dreams unlike any of the other workers in the wood shop. "I think my pussy doors will be a hit with born agains." Gunther was always a magnet to these types of folks, the ones with madness shining in there eyes, who always loved to share there most intimate secrets with Gunther. He exuded trust from his crooked teeth to his slight hunchback, it was hard not to tell him everything that you were hiding.

Suddenly the ass shaped door opened and smashed Gunther in his face, knocking out one of his front teeth. "Jesus, my chomper, where is it?" A commotion began brewing, Gunther hit the floor in search for his favorite front tooth,

as he got on his knees, the doors opened up again and hit him on the ass so hard that he rolled down the stairs.

The elders were watching this all and laughing hysterically, "this idiot is uttlerly fascinating!"

Gunther's slapstick amused the elders to no end and they sent for him. "Bring him to be milked by Rosa, we want to watch this fool a little closer."

Gunther had found his tooth, and held a blood soaked handkerchief to his face. He roamed around the lotus club looking for Ruby. Her minion quickly found him and began guiding him to her milking station.

"Wait, this man has been summoned by the Elders!" yelled one of the latex goons as they grabbed Gunther's other arm.

A strange tug of war began, Gunther had no idea how to react, he began drooling and saliva mixed with the blood from his broken tooth began spilling on the floor.

Ruby quickly put on her silk robe and ran to his rescue. The elders had made it very clear that no lotus queens were to ever enter the bar area, this was strictly forbidden. But seeing as Ruby had nothing on her mind but Gunther's well being in mind, she marched into the bar area, grabbed Gunther, punched out both her minion and the latex goon and proceeded to exit through the ass shaped doors that Gunther had admired so much.

When she got outside she realized that she was going to be in a heap of trouble. The panic began setting in, "we gotta get out of this place!" she whispered to Gunther, with an urgency she had never expressed to him before.

Gunther knew this was very serious, he spat onto the ground, threw ruby onto his back and began running.

They stopped in front of a man on a motor bike, ruby leapt onto the man and with one swift punch he fell off the bike. Gunther got on the bike revved the engine, Ruby sat behind him and they raced off into the sunset like Bonnie and Clyde.

Elders on Fire

"What is the meaning of this?!" the elders questionned Tallulah. "Were you aware that Ruby was getting ready to become a dissident!" Tallulah nodded from side to side feigning ignorance. "We collected the blood samples that the idiot left. Do you know what we found? This strange miscreant holds one of the rarest blood types, one that we have searched for for centuries. His ancestry hails from the south, Louisiana to be precise, his blood is highly coveted in the Crimson Market, said to have been bred from a bat worshipping cult of southern inbred christians."

Tallulah's hair stood on end when the elders uttered those last words. The scars behind her ears began to tingle. "Bat worshippers? Inbred Christians, please tell me more."

"An ancient group of twisted Christians led by a Rev. Sherman B. Blortz. He was the progeny of two twins, and was born blind and disfigured but with a particularly sharp mind. To look at him one needed a certain amount of refrain, he was as ugly as they get. Young Sherman had an affinity for bats, partially because of his incredibly poor eye sight. He used to be quite a pathetic sight, crawling on all fours until that fine day when he found his soapbox, which he would then climb and let out his fierce howling gospels. Mainly talking about how being blind was indeed the way God meant for us all to be born, so we would not judge anyone for anything but their good deeds. He claimed that the bat was a holy animal, who's blood was riddled with a serum that made you see angels and demons. He grew up secretly hidden in bat caves, and would fill up a bag full of bats which he would decapitate and whose blood he would drink. This made the young Sherman so ill, fevered, and stark raving rabid, that he would hallucinate wild ungodly scenarios and speak of the end of the world. Terrifying the other slaves on the plantation but making them obey his every command in fear that the demons would come back and taunt them through this holy inbred angel."

Tallulah suddenly realized how important it was to find Ruby and Gunther before the elders did, she smiled wickedly at the excitement of leaving the lotus for this unexpected little adventure....

"Leave it to me, my dearest elders, i will bring them back and we shall feast upon his blood. I will need 4 foot soldiers, and a palanquin, as well as four dogs for my protection."

"Take what you need but bring us back that boy!"

Tallulah smiled, turned around and headed for the exit. She knew what she needed to do, but she was uncertain that she would ever return to the lotus. Maybe the goddess had a different plan for them all. Tallulah gathered her most prized possessions, placed them into a suitcase and entered her palanquin. She turned on the radio and "No Particular Place To Go" by Chuck Berry began blasting away. She smiled and with a snap of her fingers was off to find her prey.

Chief "Watch them Die" and the four horsemen

In a small swampy hideaway in po' bunk Louisiana, the four elderly police officers hung upside down tied to a long lead pipe that was mysteriously stuck in the middle

of a giant cypress tree. The sight was quite incredible as the pipe had been laid there several decades earlier and the tree had wrapped itself around it and grew 12 feet tall holding the pipe in what looked like a fist made of twisted vines. From a far the tree looked like a place to crucify the lord himself. The vultures had already begun circling the tree, waiting for the bludgeoning. The four of them had been hanging there upside down for days, there heads were wrapped in burlap potato sacks. The four of them had lost all sense of time. The Reverend enjoyed making his prey wait, and then surprising them out of the blue. He began the ceremony shortly before the dawn, in darkness. Only to be able to share the glory of the dawn with the dying, so the last light of day they would witness would be as beautiful as could be.

The four police officers that hung upside down were guilty of several hideous crimes, too many to even count on their collective hands and toes. They had all beaten several inmates to death as sport, they planted evidence on so many different people with drugs, murder weapons, you name it, many of which were executed or serving life in Angola, notoriously known as the cruelest prison in America. The four pigs loved inciting chaos, and destroying life, they used their badges not only as shields but as weapons of mass destruction. The first real crime they committed was over twenty years ago, when they had just freshly joined the force. They poisoned a small stream with strychnine for kicks and wiped out a small group of Homa Indians who lived off the fish. The newspapers were forbidden to write anything about this wicked quartet. Within the police force they were given the nickname "the four horsemen" and often when a case was brought to the attention of the cops, when the words "four horsemen" were uttered the case was immediately dismissed or filed away as unsolvable. Each of them came from a long line of psychopaths. Their fathers were all old boy police officers and held high positions as wizards of the klu klux klan in four different chapters. The tyranny caused by these four, as well as, their ancestors was immeasurable.

But somehow karma finally nipped them in the balls when the governor announced the new chief of police, who also happened to be the first native American to have ever earned such a title in this small po'bunk town. This particular native son had a personal vendetta against the four horsemen as he was the sole survivor of that small group of Indians who were poisoned by them. Chief "Watch them Die" was what the four horsemen called him behind his back, they revelled at the thought of this young child whose particular distaste for fish saved his life on that heinous day, which he would have burned into his mind for time immemorial. Chief Cloud Courteaux watched his whole family die of poisoning, watched his mother vomit blood and collapse right in front of him, he was only 9 years old but he remembered each of those four horsemen who came to "investigate" he saw the crooked smiles on their faces as they loaded up all 15 bodies and torched them on a funeral pyre. "That smell is makin' me hungry! Lets drop off that little runt at the orphanage and get some grub, shall we boys?" Cloud lost every person that was close to him on that day and vowed that he would seek revenge. The four horsemen made a strong enemy that day, one that would one day come back and slice open their bellies and watch their tripe fall to the ground and get slurped by vultures.

Little Cloud Courteaux was raised in a near by orphanage run by a particularly bizarre black man of the cloth, Rev. Sherman B. Blortz Jr., "bat boy - son of the bat man" was the name they taunted him with all his life, due to the fact that his father was known for his voracious appetite for bat blood and while he lived was one of the most terrifying Reverends to have ever roamed this holy Earth.

No one understood his father like Jr. did, his disfigured face and coke bottle glasses never scared little Sherman Jr. they were endearing to him, especially because his father was always gentle with his youngin in hopes that he too would follow in the footsteps of his old man and preach the word of God one day. Rev. Sherman Sr. had seen the hell fire, as a child his family were poor slaves who had to hide young Sherman Sr. in a cave, so that their masters wouldn't kill such a disfigured freak of nature. Sherman Sr. was born hidden from the world, the truth of his parents union was the shame of the plantation.

No one ever spoke of him, or his parents, a pair of twins, boy and girl, who were forced by two drunken slave owners to make the unholiest of embraces only to produce a boy that would grow into the most god fearing of preachers who would inseminate a long line of preachers from his unholy seed.

Sherman Sr.s blindness made his others senses as sharp as a sling blade which also could describe his incredible wit. He would be left alone for days inside the cave, where he taught himself how to hunt bats. He survived by eating bats and drinking their blood. His fever brought on by rabies made him hallucinate the most hideous things, lucky for him that his grand mother would come by every few days to hold him in her arms, and sing religious songs to him with her eyes closed squirting out tears, wishing only for her grandson to repent his entire existence. She would bring him herbal remedies that her homa indian friends would make for her to cure her parasite ridden grandson. "My little Sherman, they can't stand to see you now, but just you wait, when you will grow up to be a man, they will cower in fear. My son you were born like lucifer, a fallen angel who had no choice but to be hated and feared by the common folk. Rise my child, one day you will and may God give you the strength of ten men, and may he give you the intellect of twenty men and a voice like thunder.... you were born to bring justice to this here land.... now hush my little baby... i will see you in a few days. Drink this here potion and may god bless you and protect you while i am away."

Sherman's feral upbringing made him a master of the forest, he knew how to talk to animals, he learned how to make small holes in the grounds of the cotton field where the rats would collect grain for him, which he thrived upon. The slaves feared him, his disfigured face, his sordid birth and his appetite for rats and bats made them very uncomfortable, they thought he was the devil's spawn. But his Grandmother defended him to no end and was ready to beat anyone with her broom stick if they said any thing insulting to her beloved grandson.

When the time was right Sherman Sr. was sent to an orphanage, where he spent all his time locked in the basement studying the bible.

When he would crawl onto the soapbox, people watched him with great compassion, how could God create such a heinous creation, blind as bat, but as soon as he opened his mouth gossamer spread its golden wings and flew out from his big black tongue.

When Sherman Sr. was old enough he sure enough became a Reverend and took over the orphanage that once took care of him. He even fell in love with a blind woman no less, who had nothing but love to offer him even after being told about his hurtful past. Jezebel Bliss married Rev. Sherman Sr. and gave him his only begotten son, Sherman Jr. who would proudly take over his fathers church and teachings.

When Sherman Jr, was only 13 years old he met a young silent little indian named Cloud Courteaux. Cloud was brought to the orphange by the police who informed the reverend about the untimely demise of his entire family. Rev. Sherman could smell injustice in this poor boys story.

His ears twitched as the police man told him pure lies. He accepted young Cloud into the orphanage and it took years of unconditional love to wrangle free whatever it was that tied his tongue up in knots. Cloud and Sherman Jr. were inseparable, and Jezebel and Sherman Sr. were proud to raise him as their own kin.

When the boys were about 18 and 15 years old, Rev. Sherman Sr. took them both on a long walk. Both boys were amazed at how he needed no map or any assistance to take them to this very special place.... he knew by heart where it was and what he wanted to show them.

"This here cave is where i spent most of my early life, boys. I was born an untouchable, the only person who gave me love was my grandmother, i survived by hunting bats and letting rats collect grain for me, it was these creatures of the night that gave your father life. Now follow me."

He walked them twenty steps away in front of a huge cypress tree with a huge six foot long lead pipe that was grown into the wood and stood twelve feet high in the air.

"I put that lead pipe there when i was a child when this here tree was young and frail, I knew that like this tree i would one day grow to be strong, and learn to adapt to what handicap God gave me. It was a miracle that this tree became strong enough to bare the burden of this pipe which i bestowed upon it so early in its life. This here tree is where I want you to bring down the hammer of justice. We all know that the lawmen in this here justice department are as crooked as can be. Cloud, my dear son, i want you to learn the ways of the white man's justice and be the best damn police officer they have ever seen and one day you will right the wrongs of this cruel world. Show no mercy to the damned. Junior, I want you to be the best damn preacher this world has ever seen, you have both the compassion of a saint and the fiery tongue of your father... you will lead the pious of our community and show them the holy path, but you will also help your brother avenge the righteous and bring justice to our name. Now hang down your heads and let us pray."

An Award for Dr. Rohr

The Gala was in a few hours, Dr. Rohr sipped champagne in his loft, nurse Bettina lay naked in the bed. "I could never have done any of this if I didn't have you staring at me while doing it. The transfusions, the ejaculations, they come with the job if you know what i mean."

"of course, Doctor.... its all in that hippocratic oath." She smiled and stood up searching for her pearls.

"If only they knew what perversion went into it all, I would have all of them rich motherfuckers blushing and passing out. I had no idea that my eight fold path was going to be so sinister, and so hyper sexual. But my therapist knew that even the elders needed to be entertained sometimes. A doctor can spend his whole life in service to others, but i didn't want that.... i wanted more.... i wanted sexual immortality. I wanted to feel the lives escape from my fingertips, from the tip of my rod, ahhhh the taste of your pussy on my fingers still drives me batty."

Dr. Rohr was one of the first to try the "Termination Therapy", it was released very timely, on the day that Dr. Rohr had a nervous breakdown, possibly induced by a bad reaction to the tainted cocaine he was given by the hospital pharmacist. When Dr. Rohr hit rock bottom so to speak, he called the hotline and made an appointment with a therapist post haste.

The therapist was very amused by the incredibly bizarre sex acts that he was performing on top of his patients. The therapist wrote down all lurid details and when he reported to the elders, he was given a hefty bonus for finding such an intriguing subject. The Elders followed his progress very closely. His eight fold path was indeed incredibly sinister. It looked more like a checklist of insane sex acts, the next always trumping the previous.

The award he was to receive was for successfully completing his eight fold path in record time. Not only did the elders grant him longer life, but they looked forwards to seeing what his next 8 acts were going to be about.

Bettina put on her silver dress, Dr. Rohr buttoned her up.

"Lets get a move on, I don't want to disappoint the natives."

"Do you know what its like living everyday with your finger on the trigger? A common dog has the choice between the bone and the bowl, both nourishing and satisfying. But I never had a choice, i needed to save the lives that were in front of me.... By any means necessary!"

A roar of applause followed, some wiped their eyes, some screamed with joy, all of it was as fake as the frozen botox face of the host of the evening.

"I thank God, for instilling fear in me, for giving my childhood a very necessary shock treatment, for allowing my soul to reach new depths of depravity, the pantheon of pain from which I rose above. Being a doctor and seeing all the decrepit genitals that I have seen in my time, its a wonder how i can still maintain an erection,"

a roar of laughter rose and fell like a wave smashing onto the shore.

"I will leave that to my dearest Bettina, she keeps my ticker tockin, and my knickers boppin'! Thanks again and have a great night!"

Another round of roaring laughter and applause. Dr. Rohr came off the stage and grabbed Bettina and gave her a big wet kiss. His mind was racing, the last bump of cocaine he did before giving his speech was hitting his receptors hard. As he sat down at the table he was going thru each of his eight actions that brought him to this joyous occasion.

The first was making love while delivering a child, though the baby was a still born, he smirked at the memory of dropping his pants right next to the anesthesiologist and fucking Bettina doggy style, one hand firmly holding the patient's face and the other on the ECG. He remembered the shock on the faces of the other doctors in the room, and how it transformed into admiration and elation quite spontaneously. "Who knew that giving birth to a still born could be this fun?" Dr. Rohr blurted that statement as he came inside Bettina.

"Dr. Rohr, you have single handedly changed the way doctors look at life! I raise my glass in honour of you, a true medical pioneer, making our jobs ecstatic putting our pleasure right above the patients well being, turning the drab and dull into rituals of pure ecstasy. Thank you for your work!"

"It was my pleasure!" responded Dr. Rohr followed by a giggle attack. The audience admired his every word, his every fart. The Elders watched the gala and were delighted to see the "Termination Therapy" working so superbly. They realized that the time had come for Dr. Rohr to meet Bognor and Stern. The hive needed some close attention, the day of reckoning was soon at hand.

THE CATERPILLAR POSES A QUESTION

Their teeth microscopically sharpened by a voracious hunger for justice, the caterpillars began eating through the concrete, the wood, the metal. The acidic tunnels that awaited each breathless bite gyrated in silent blissful peace. The adaptation was a success and the time for silent destruction came as furiously as a fever. Slowly the people began looking left and right, the structures had softened, they began to slowly sag in different directions, the subtle popping sounds softly filled the air as all the bulbs were deprived of their sweet juices. No one had expected the caterpillars to plan such a coo.

If you starve a creature long enough its metabolism begins to crave bigger and stranger things. It shuts off all rationality, all reality because it is not being offered the same plate to devour as the the others. The need to replenish itself becomes dire and so the eyes that were once fixated on the prize begin to look at the entire structure that is holding it up, salivating at the thought of its demise.

The first bite of that structure, inspired by the notion that justice was so close at hand, begins the fuelling process. Revelations come in chemical reactions. Once the structures are devoured the prize has no place to go but to fall into the belly of the beast. Waves of toxic juices coarsed through the sickened caterpillars, what once made them ill spontaneously combusted into the vital serum that would bring forth revolutions, transformations, integration of the needy and the wealthy, the virtual collapse of humanity all by the infinite mouths of the sick little caterpillars trying to fill themselves up with something, tired of being starved of nature’s finest milk, the most golden of sap, and that sweet sweet crystallized ooze that could freeze time immemorial.

The starving larvae commence life by eating their way through the lifeless husk, lacking nutrients, lacking love, lacking air, water, earth…. their bellies filled with fire, ready to deconstruct reality, to eat around their masters plate, to start with the table, the core of the building, to devour the wiring and bring darkness to all lights, to cause a static buzz that singes slowly as the walls cave in on themselves, trapping the souls and forcing them to face the wrath.

As petrified screams escape collapsed buildings the caterpillars feel the crushing weight of the entire structure, surrounding its body, squeezing its green juices, making each bite of concrete, each copper shard more delicious than the first…..

From starvation they crawled through the underbelly of the streets, through mud, sticks and bone. Saved by their own bile, whose chemistry began working for the grain instead of against it. The eater of the rats began hungering for the radios, the smell of burning metal, rings salivation bells as holy as the ropes that ring them. There will be no hands left to ring these bells, because the caterpillars would chew the bells and disintegrate them, turn each bronze bite into a fiery acidic contortion of the thorax, every millisecond into deconstruction leading to the abdomen, which bilked the remains atom by atom, all in the name of the butterfly, whose wings would explode after the transformation, whose glorious minute would be to have revolved around a newborn sun, a new prey that could only be dreamed of. No matter how hard they flew, no matter how high they reached, the sun played its eternal game of hide and seek. No memories exist in this fraction of time, only the celebration of losing patience crawling on the floor for so long. But what is long, who is long? No time for questions, no memory of even being a caterpillar exists, only love and splendid vibrant colour, a new gyration inducing hallucinogenic flight, conquering new realms, new sensations.

“And what is it that spans lifetimes?” ponders the silly caterpillar painfully rubbing its way through the nooks and crannies sealing its cocoon. “The wings, goddamit, the wings!"

Sherman Jr. and his Sling Blade of Justice

The dawn was as colorful as it could get, the purple clouds cascading against deep red glow of the sun. It looked like the sky had been slashed and was pissing blood out of its gash. Sherman had tied a string to all of the burlap sacks that covered the faces of each of the four horsemen. He tugged on it hard and their faces instantly were exposed to the bloodletting at hand.

"Now then shall we proceed with the ritual. Do you four horsemen realize that your day of reckoning has arrived?

Perhaps you will remember my brother, you exterminated his whole family when he was nine years old. He has come to release you of your guilty burdens. Cheif Cloud stood up and had a dousing feather in one hand and a bowl of white sage burning in the other. He approached the cypress tree and whispered a prayer under his breathe. He put down the feather and smoking bowl, and reached into his pocket and pulled out a box cutter. He approached the four horsemen, hung up like pigs in a butcher shop. He sliced there bellies and watched them disembowelled within seconds. Their shrieks of terror made all the birds fly out of the tree in fear. The vultures quickly caught wind of the stench from their bowels and swoop down and began slurping up their entrails like lady and the tramp.