WARNING: The following short story contains graphic depictions of scat play, grotesque violence, and non-consensual sex. It is not intended for minors or easily offended adults.
***I am officially an Award-Winning Author™! Woot woot! The award I won, as I described in Wednesday's post, was the 2016 World Horror Convention Gross-Out Contest. This was a contest by writers of extreme horror for writers of extreme horror, so as stated above, please do not read anything below the photo if you are not accustomed to and do not consent to reading something deliberately, offensively grotesque. The actual award consisted of copies of GHOUL by Brian Keene, HYDE by Vince Churchill, and HUSK by Rachel Autumn Deering. Special thanks go out to beta readers Christine Morgan, Nikki Howard, Trista M. Borgwardt, Meghan Shena Hyden, and Gino Alfonso.***
|If you read past this point...it's your own fault.|
“Dildoey McDildoface: A Poop Dildo’s Odyssey”
by Stephen Kozeniewski
Neil was not allowed to use his actual penis in Holly, so he kept it stapled through the foreskin to his taint with a heavy-duty industrial staple.
Neil then used Dildoey McDildoface - the name they had agreed upon for their frozen poop dildo - to ream Holly until the condom burst and semi-frozen shit the consistency of Hawaiian Shave Ice filled her vaginal orifice.
"Squish squish," Holly said, contracting her kegels so that the brown, corny slush squeezed out of her pussyhole as though it were a Slurpee dispenser.
Streaks of red cherry flavoring flowed through the dookie sorbet, hinting at Holly’s period.
"My turn!" Neil said, eagerly yanking the industrial staple out of his grundle.
Holly took Neil's thick, throbbing penis into her mouth. Scarcely had she begun to prod it with her tongue when an eruption of warm, sticky liquid sprayed the back of her throat. Neil's uncircumcised cock deflated like a balloon and slipped, flaccid, out of her facehole.
"Wow, you were eager," she said, swallowing what little salty fluid didn't flood out of her mouth and dribble down her chin.
"What do you mean?" Neil asked. "I'm not even hard yet."
With a second glance at his no longer turgid member, she realized Neil's cock hadn't been thick with erection. It had been thick with a huge, pulsating boil.
Choking, she stared down at the crustifying yellow pus that she had mistaken for jizz running down her blouse. Bile boiled up from her spleen. Warm, liquidy puke sprayed out of her mouth, staining the backs of her teeth a putrescent green.
She rose, shaking, from her knees, blouse and shirt now covered with a congealing mix of her own vomit and the purulent discharge from Neil's diseased cock.
"Son of a bitch!" she shrieked.
"Hey, hey," he said in a soothing tone, "How about if I return the favor? Will that make you feel better?"
She took his head in her hands like a basketball and slid his face the whole length down her dripping blouse so that it was coated with yellowish green grue and speckled with chunks of partially masticated carrot. She shoved his head under her blouse and pressed his nose to her clitoris.
Plunged in darkness, nostrils recoiling at the fishy stench of uncleaned vagina commingled with drying vomit, pus, menstrual blood, and turd Slush Puppy, Neil started licking. He had just made his way through the congealing crust of semi-gelatinous fluids and was about to hit skin when Holly came for the first time. He almost instantly felt a tingle in his cheeks. Then the tingle became a burn and he felt dozens of red-hot stabs of pain, like someone putting out a whole pack of cigarettes on his face at once.
As he felt the slimy undulations of dozens of tiny, vermian bodies pioneering a webway of furrows through his face, he realized that Holly’s whole crotch was riddled with worms. And now his face was, too. He tried to scream out, but Holly repeatedly slapped the back of his head with one hand and pressed his face against the city of parasites that was her genitals with the other.
The first batch of worms quickly grew bored nesting in his cheeks and began to spread down into his throat, up into his scalp, and back into sinuses. Then a new wave of immigrants, pilgrims fleeing Holly’s vomity, shit-filled, still menstruating cooter landed on the Plymouth Rock the first wormgasm had made of Neil’s cheeks. Each time Neil stopped licking, a flurry of blows rained down on his head, and each time he succeeded in his appointed task, the spasming of Holly’s orgasms flooded his face with new parasites.
Soon his nose and ears were packed with intrepid worms. His eyes disappeared with alarming speed, as the worms seemed to favor the delicate visual flesh over his other parts. And once they had made haste of his eyeballs, they began to munch on his optic nerve and from there slipped into his brainpan.
His attempts at cunnilingus became erratic, then spastic, then finally stopped altogether. When she could slap no more orgasms out of him, she dropped the eyeless corpse to the ground, watching in charmed fascination as the thousands of worms burrowed through his flesh, leaving trails like a colony of prairie dogs.
As Neil voided his bowels one last time, Holly went to fetch a condom. After a few hours in the freezer, Dildoey McDildoface would be ready for tomorrow night.