#and scraping gobs of slime out of his mouth

[trillgutterbug]

heard his "im arriving with the spoils of war everyone!" meow coming toward the house and i said aloud "oh god please don't be another slug please don't be another slug."

guys. it was another slug.

[thralls-for-alls]

The Tortured One (Part 3)

Not much could wake Torque from his battle-induced slumber.  The pained groans of Gex as he turned in his sleep, clutching his shivering body into a tight fetal position did nothing to rouse him.  Primals stirred, their eyes barely blinking open.  One reached over to grab his brother and pulled him in closer for warmth; gobs of slobber sprinkled down his chin with every twitchy snore.  Scar lay curled under their gunner brother, warm and safely protected from any danger should it rear its ugly head.  Sniffling back to clear his sinuses, the gunner wiped his sticky, wet nose with his forearm.  Choking on his own mucus, his eyelids fluttered open as he started coughing to clear his throat.  Slowly blinking, he lifted his head from Scar’s shoulder.  The soft glow of his milky eyes illuminated the small space, assuring his brothers were still snoozing nearby.  Licking the back of his teeth, the painful weight of a full bladder pressed uncomfortably against Scar’s hip.  Pushing himself off of the mangled thrall, he sauntered outside to relieve himself with a sleepy grumble.

Muffled moans choked. Bones snapped and cracked. Taut sinew stretched and slid against each other like a mass of mating snakes under his thick skin.  Teeth gnashing, Gex tossed his head back and thrashed. Every blistered puncture wound wept rivers of impossible corruption over his shifting flesh.  Black, bone like claws tore through his fingers, the rapid pace of his hearts pounded through his splitting face.  Hands gripped his dividing horns in a manic desperation to keep the lengthening tips from puncturing his twisted snout.  Voices, so many voices, whispered and screeched in his mind.  They would not stop, the waves of varelsi pleas flooded his extinguishing soul.

They... were horrified.  What is it that scared the horrors that lie beyond the veil?

Gex’s final thoughts faded into the shrieking cacophonies of otherworldy corruption, leaving only a hollow, twisted shell of his former self.  Letting out a wretched screech, he slammed his gangly fists into the ground before bounding out after the gunner.

Panicked primals barked after their twisted warden, one shuffling over to Torque to shake him awake by the horn.  Another slapped a palm against Scar’s back, its companion pointing out the door.  Scar’s eyes snapped open, allowing him to see the strange frenzied varelsi sink its thorned teeth into the gunner’s neck.  His scream caught in the blood bubbling down his throat, his arms weakly pushing away the beast.  

Scar froze, his arms slowly reaching out to pull the Primal close.  He wiggled out of his grip, his leader was in trouble, why didn’t Scar see that?  The Primal munched Scar’s hand, forcing him to recoil back into a hiss.  Growling and barking to his brothers, he leapt outside to drag his leader off of their brother.

A scream finally tore through Torque’s heavy sleep, his plates flexing as his eyes flashed open.  What was it now?  Pushing himself up, he snagged his axe and dragged his sore body to deal with whatever was outside.

Once his eyes fell upon the half-eaten corpse of the gunner and the ripped chunk of flesh still hanging from Gex’s stretched jaws, Torque’s axe clattered at his hooves.  Claws tore at the dirt, barely missing the flailing primal’s soft stomach.  “Oi!” Torque roared, tackling the void beast off of his next meal.  Gex struggled as Torque grappled with his once-teammate’s spindly limbs.  His palms slipped on the moist shifting flesh of the beast as he failed to pin him.  

Torque’s solid fist collided with the monster’s mask, the skin crumbling under his rocky knuckles.  Gex hissed, an unearthly squeal comprised of thousands of voices; his jaws clenching shut in the direction of Torque’s exposed throat.  The monster slithered out from under Torque, its lengthened body coiled, preparing to strike.  Lowering his head, Torque flexed his fingers.

The beast launched at him.  Torque headbutted, their horns colliding and his thick, reinforced crest smashing the monster’s thin skull plating.  Gex yowled, but found his head clasped between Torque’s palms.  Gritting his teeth as claws raked his shoulders, Torque pushed his hands together against the monster’s skull.  Primals nipped at Gex’s thrashing hooves.  As the pressure built, Gex’s plating cracked revealing the slime-ridden grey matter within.  Thousands of voices whined piteously, but Torque could only lift his lip into a twisted smirk.

Scar dry-heaved once the voices silenced into an intolerable crunch.  Slowly, he poked his horned head out of the entrance to find Torque standing over the mangled corpses, his shoulders shaking in silent sobbing.. or was it laughter?  

Whining Primals scrambled towards Scare once they saw him standing just outside the cave entrance. His jaw hung open as he pushed back the tear, snot and drool covered primals behind him... just in case.

“I... really hated that guy,” Torque chortled under his breath, shaking his head as he brought a hand up to wipe the soot and viscera from his face.  His mouth convulsed, unable to decide whether to pull itself into a giddy, crooked grin or to twist itself into a soul crushing sob.  Hot, crimson tears ran down his cheeks as he stared down at the blackened blood of his brother streaked across his brown palms... his once-brother.  His gaze fell to the victim, the stark white of his freshly exposed rib cage and pink meat that clung to the translucent tissue strung between the bones were a stark reminder of just how dismal and grey this ashen planet really was.  Torque’s thoughts slowed to a crawl, unable to process the magnitude of slaughtering his own flesh and blood.  He could only laugh; an unhinged song of a broken soul that chilled Scar’s scarred hearts.

A sharp nip crunched Scar’s fingers and the tug of the lead primal backing towards the safety of the cave brought him to his senses.  Maybe it was best to leave the pet to his devices... Though the bitter nickname sank into his belly like a shiv.  Torque was no pet; he was a wild beast.  One the disfigured thrall had found joy and solace in getting the entire pack to tormenting.

Cautiously stepping backwards, he herded the rest of the pack inside with both of his fluttering hands.  Taking a quick glance around, he spotted a sizable boulder and dragged it in front of the entrance.  Only a few more days and the masters would scour the planet for their pack.  Scar slumped against the rocky wall, the rough rock scraping his skin.  Burying his face in his hands, he found the thought of their rescue provided no hope; not with Torque’s deranged chuckling still filtering between the cracks of the rock.  

“Solus save us...” Scar muttered, shaking his head.   A heavy weight laid across his lap, the worried crying heaved the primal’s chest.  Another laid against his side, curling his arms and legs under him in a tight ball.  Scar’s hand found rest on his back, automatically rubbing small circles into his skin without looking.  His haunted eyes found the other two half-heartedly squabbling to be able to take the prime open spot on his other side.  With a sigh, Scar opted to contort his body to lay his torso down in the spot, giving them more room to work with.  “Rest up,” he mumbled, twisting his neck until his horns could lay across the ground.  “Need to stay strong for just a few more days.”

[ellaofoakhill]

Nectarmoon, Part Three

And here’s the last tftem update in 2021. Don’t worry, the story’s not done by a long shot; Ella and Meline have lots of adventures coming up. I’m kinda glad I get to end the year by showing you guys some of my favourite writing ever.

Anyway, I hope you’ve had a happy holiday so far, and 2022 is kinder to you than 2021. Take care, and enjoy.

Meline heard that scream. She knew that voice. That name. The terrible, desperate rage that had consumed her on the docks so long ago filled her. If she died trying, the fire in that clearing would be snuffed out. Her wings roared, then snapped tight to her back. Meline plummeted to earth. Words of power thrummed in her heart and blood and bones as her feet hit the ground. It yielded, inches from Chultaroth’s head. Deeper and deeper, until it could give no more. Her fist pulled back, her whole body winding up. One more word, and her voice thundered through the ground, heartbreak and fury given one mighty target.

“Worm!”

The earth snapped up as her body twisted, her fist whipped out in a perfect line, and the dragon turned her head.

Meline was blinded by the light of her own fist as it struck, punching elbow-deep into flesh. Blood poured from Chultaroth’s head as it snapped away, wobbling on her long neck, and Meline’s fist wrenched free. As she fell to the ground, her eyes recovered, and Meline saw a glowing against Chultaroth’s neck.

Gobs of what had recently been teeth spun from the dragon’s mouth as she spat. Her uninjured lip pulled back in a wild snarl. Her jaws were aglow. “That. Stu—”

She shrieked as the glowing spot leapt from her neck with a sound like ripping paper. It took Meline a moment to identify it. “Ella!” She catapulted herself into the air, hooking her arms under Ella’s and bringing her to earth as softly as possible. Ella’s shin twisted just below the knee. It wasn’t supposed to do that. Meline set her hands on Ella’s leg and spoke. As the bone started regaining its proper position and knitting together, she felt a hand on the back of her head. “Yes, just—”

Ella pulled her into a kiss so fierce Meline forgot what was happening. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said, flopping back in a clammy sweat. “I don’t suppose you can put me back together less painfully?”

Ella never complained about pain. “I can do it quick or I can do it painless—”

“—Or not at all!” Meline grabbed Ella and jumped sideways as Chultaroth’s tail smashed where they’d lain an instant before.

Meline turned, brandishing her fists. Ella groaned behind her, struggling to rise. The dragon arched her neck. “I will enjoy incinerating you.”

“Want some more teeth pulled?” Unless Meline downed another tonic, Chultaroth would see through her bluff any second.

“Ha!” Chultaroth inhaled with a sound like a screaming gale. She opened her bloody mouth. The back of her throat flared. A shrieking snarl tore through the night, and Rickard the fox crashed into Chultaroth’s head, teeth scraping at her neck.

Meline felt a hand at her shoulder. “Splint my leg!” Ella barked, “I need to get back in there!”

“With what!” Meline spun around. And understood.

Tatters of hardened slime hung off the glowing silver spear in Ella’s hand. Four inches long, its head shaped like a willow leaf with crosstrees like stag antlers, its haft leather-wrapped, with a star sapphire as its wheel-shaped pommel. Writing in a script Meline didn’t recognize covered it end to end.

Ella’s expression was grim satisfaction. “With this.”

“I don’t think there’s time—”

Ella’s elytra snapped open, her wings spread, rippling red glass. Supporting herself with the spear, Ella pulled herself up. “Then I’ll improvise.”

 This was as bad as when Elmum fought her dad. Selva couldn’t watch, but was too scared to look away. Vesi stood beside her, under the one bush that wasn’t burning. Vaness was hugging Selva. Vernon led Coarser to them so he could rest, then plunged in. He was tiny next to Chultaroth, but he was real good at wedging his horns between scales.

Chultaroth thumped her wings down and heaved, sending one fox bouncing with a pained yelp. The other bit the end of her tail, dodging wings and claws and teeth.

The nice fairy had dragged Felix over to them. He was awake, but too hurt to move; Vaness thought he had broken bones. The nice fairy had asked for his bow, and Felix, groaning, gave it. Selva couldn’t see him, but every now and again she heard a tiny arrow clink off a scale, or a little thwack as it hit flesh. Red spots blossomed on Chultaroth’s wings. She was getting madder, roaring and thrashing. Vaness wondered under her breath if they were keeping Chultaroth too busy to use her fire again.

A screech came from overhead. Then another. And a hundred more. Big shapes dropped through the trees. Most dropped water over the fires, with hissing steam. A few dropped balls of black shiny stuff on Chultaroth that burst open. Selva saw little black things swarm over her body, and Chultaroth’s roars got even angrier. A few bigger shapes dropped too. Their laughs chilled Selva even with the fires. Metal scraped on metal. Sparks flew from Chultaroth’s back.

Selva kept her eyes on two bright lights, flitting through the smoke and sparks. Once, Elmum flew close enough for her to see. She had a spear that flashed and flew at the dragon, before zipping back to her hands. Every throw pulled a snarl from Chultaroth. She spun and snapped and flapped her wings, but Elmum was too quick. And Melmom… she wasn’t so fast as Elmum, but now and again there was a thud, and Chultaroth would stagger as her shoulder, her leg, her wing, or her head shivered from an attack Selva barely saw.

Vaness was cursing under her breath, which normally would’ve had all Selva’s attention. Under all the fear, hope bloomed in Selva’s heart.

“Enough!” Chultaroth stood on her back legs, wings spread, and spun. The fox on her tail was flung off. Selva heard a thump and a yelp in the trees. Chultaroth twisted her neck, and fire shot down her back and wings. Selva heard yells and shrieks as drakles and critters jumped away. The smell of burnt meat hit Selva in the face. She retched. Vaness did too. The tip of Chultaroth’s tail caught Vernon in the side. He was bowled into the undergrowth. Selva heard a curse.

Two falling stars collided high above. There were three shrieks. Selva only realized one of them was hers when her throat cracked. They hit the earth a stone’s throw to Selva’s left. She ran. Vaness was faster. They weren’t moving when Selva caught up. Vaness was over them, hands to necks.

“They’re alive,” she choked. Selva’s legs wobbled. She felt a little thump against her chest. She pulled out her harp. It wasn’t broken.

“But not for long.” Selva’s head snapped around. That huge head, those bone-white teeth, were so close. Chultaroth raised her voice. “A valiant effort, smallfolk. But no force in all the worlds may deny a dragon her due. If it is any consolation,” she spread her wings; her jaws began to glow, “you will share a lovely pyre.” Selva looked into that furnace. She set fingers to harpstrings—when did she strap it on?—and began to pluck. It was really out of tune. That wasn’t important now.

As Chultaroth’s mouth flashed white, Selva began to sing.

 “Fornmy dhu,

Frimmy dhu,

Vylmy dhu,

Rummy shridshan dhu,

Fevé myrvlodha.”

Ella stirred from her daze. A slight pressure at her throat roused her. Shapeless blobs floated across her eyes, crackling sound. A dark, angry thrumming. Then delicate notes, accompanied by a small voice. Beneath it, around it, was a dull roar.

Ella blinked several times, and raised her head. Her leg was still an agony, but her vision and hearing were clear. She did not immediately believe them.

“Azldha dhu,

Duddha dhu,

Dodha dhu,

Movntha arenldh dhu,

Fevé myrvlodha.”

Fire danced a hair from her and Meline, who lay stunned in her arms, blood trickling from her nose. But not a tongue touched them. They should both have vaporised in white-hot flames, but Ella just felt… warm. And the shapes the flames took! Daisies, roses, violets, cherry and apple blossoms every colour of the rainbow. Foliage and flowers so thick she almost missed the little shape before her, fingers plucking, head upturned, right hand actually touching the inferno curling about them. The song she had sung at the wedding was soft and rich on her lips. Ella could have been deaf and heard the magic in it.

Meline stirred. Ella gave her a tiny shake, and pointed. After a moment, Meline covered her mouth with one hand.

Umthefmy dhu,

Umdlommy dhu,

Fa, frunmysh dhu,

Umfrnmysh vrur nenr dhu,

Fevé myrvlodha.”

The blasting flames tapered off as Selva sang the last line. Chultaroth stood before them, panting. Her eyes widened; Ella would never forget that look of slack-jawed awe.

Selva finished her song, tottering on her feet. Vaness caught her before she struck the ground. The flames, as if at the snap of a finger, went out. Vaness picked Selva up, and backed away.

But for the crackling of the remaining fires, there was silence. Meline struggled to her feet. After she got the spear upright, Ella joined her, using it as a crutch. She opened her elytra, ready to fly in an instant.

“How… interesting,” Chultaroth said. It sounded forced. “It’s been fun, but I profess myself bored. How do you smallfolk taste with—”

“Give it up!” Meline shouted, resetting her nose with a small crunch.

Ten pupils focused on her. “Pardon—”

“You’re spent. You can’t keep fighting. Leave now, and we won’t kill you.” Ella saw shapes rising all around. One might have been Sali, Arthur another; all black and grey with ash.

“I’m not going any—”

“Has it not sunk in yet?” Meline took a step forward. Ella saw her leg tremble; she doubted the dragon noticed. “You haven’t killed even one of us, worm. We are picking ourselves up. We are rallying our strength. And if you aren’t gone in five minutes, we’ll bury you.”

“Call me ‘worm’ one more—”

“Shut! Up!” Meline roared. Several drakles jumped. “I will call you worm until you deserve better!” She stalked straight at those eyes. The force of them was waning fast. “You don’t know Oak and Stone’s history, ignorant beast. We know what dragons can do. And we know they can be killed. Since its inception, this town has prepared for your wings on the horizon. Had you stooped on the town, you would’ve gotten six harpoons in the guts for your trouble.

“We fought for our freedom once, long ago. We fought for our lives. We know tyranny, we know your style of self-congratulating theft.

“And even if you kill us here, now, our places will be taken. We will rise up again, and again. And again. Until you leave. Or we mount your skull on the lighthouse as a warning to all your kind.”

She was at Chultaroth’s nose. The dragon’s forelegs trembled; Ella suspected it was from more than exhaustion. Chultaroth snorted; nothing came out, not even smoke. Her eyes widened the instant before Meline kicked her in the lip. Chultaroth recoiled.

“Try again! I’m ready! In fact,” Meline looked about her, “we’re all ready.” Ella scanned the clearing. The crackling flames and smoke had hidden the approaching defenders. They stood at the edge of the trees. Most were fey and drakles and the little creatures. But four more foxes, and badgers, and other creatures besides, waited. In the trees were pterosaurs, their riders invisible in the gloom.

“Who…” Chultaroth’s head snapped quickly around, “Who are you?”

Meline barked a laugh. Her hand went to her torc. “I?” Ella was too far away to tell, but Meline’s grin sounded savage. “I am the Wild Rose. Now get out of my sight.”

Chultaroth held her gaze. Meline returned it unwavering. Finally, Chultaroth spread her wings until the death and blood tattooed on her skin stretched translucent. With a flap and a pained grunt, Chultaroth pushed off. Another, and she was almost above the trees. Ella limped to Meline, who refused to collapse until the last wingbeat faded away.

 Meline gradually woke to the smell of Ella’s hair, and one powerful arm draped over her. She squinted. Two soft grey eyes peeked out from behind a curtain of crisp blonde. “Good evening, sleepy,” Ella said. She nuzzled Meline’s nose and kissed her. “How’re you feeling?”

“Well,” Meline’s throat felt like she hadn’t used it in a month. She tried to sit up, and bit back a curse. “Like I got hit by a cart.” She flopped back’ looking up at the cottage ceiling. “I haven’t been this stiff in ages.” She looked out. The sun was setting again. “How long was I out?”

Ella sat up and called. “Selv! How long was Melmom asleep?”

Feet pattered, the door swung open, and Selva sprang across the bed. Ella let out a squawk as Selva crawled into Meline’s arms. “Thirty-two nights!”

“Thirty—” Meline bit back another curse. She’d let one slip in front of Selva a while ago. The child had eventually dropped it.

“You pushed yourself,” Ella said, running a hand through Meline’s hair. “In twenty three thousand years, I’ve never seen anything like it.” She nuzzled Meline’s head. “You were amazing.”

Meline nuzzled back. Selva adjusted her place in Meline’s lap. The movement pulled the blankets sideways, revealing Ella’s cast. Meline looked up at her. “Who—”

“A drakle nurse in town here,” Ella said, noticing Meline’s gaze. “It itches something fierce, and her re-positioning the bone fragments was…”

“Elmum had a cloth in her mouth when they did it!” Selva said. “She cried lots!”

“You weren’t there! And there’s nothing wrong with crying!”

“Vaness told me!”

“Anyway,” Ella said, “I may have been a bit reckless in my recovery, and started walking too soon, and…”

“Your muscle turned to bone,” Selva said.

“Who’s telling the story, Selv?” Ella said, touching her nose in admonishment. Selva scrunched tighter against Meline. “Anyway, yes, so they removed that, and said if I didn’t listen, they’d amputate.” Her smile was crooked. “I’m fairly sure they were joking.”

Meline ruffled Ella’s hair. “You’re an idiot. And lucky. I would’ve slapped you upside the head and tied you to a rock for a week.”

“I know.” Ella chuckled. “But I’ve got the hang of my crutches, now.”

A thought occurred to Meline. “Speaking of crutches, where’s that spear?”

“The guildmasters are crafting a sheath for it,” Ella said, “and then it’ll rest in town hall until it’s needed again.”

“They haven’t gifted it to you? You pulled it from the dragon’s belly.”

Ella shook her head. “The wind told me it’ll be needed here.” She looked out the window. “I have many weapons in my armoury, Meline. The only one I didn’t make with my own hands was the sword my teacher gave me when I left her. Besides, that spear is the stuff of legend.”

Meline raised an eyebrow. “Legend, you say?”

Ella nodded. “I’ve examined it while you were asleep. The mayor sent for some loremasters. They’re translating the inscriptions. But Meline, that spear is old. As in a million years or more. There’s similarities to the oldest Feyish writings I’ve seen, but it’s either even older than that, or the inscriptions are in a language other than Feyish. The songs written about it have likely been lost.”

Selva shifted. “Well,” Meline said, giving Selva a kiss on the forehead, “no one will forget your song any time soon, Selva.”

Ella threw her head back and laughed. “Nevermind! Selva’s the hero of the night! The miracle child who turned dragonfire to flowers with song!”

“It just… happened,” Selva said. Her face heated up under Meline’s hand.

“Well, it’s a good thing it did,” Ella said, leaning forward and giving Selva a kiss. “You saved many lives, my dear.”

“Couldn’t any fire fairy do it?”

Meline scratched her chin. “… Yes. With a song. Words of power won’t break a dragon’s control over her own fire. But not many fire fairies your age could do that.” She hugged Selva tight. “You still did something amazing. So for a while, at least, you’ll have to put up with folks calling you… Dragonsong?”

Ella snorted. “That is precisely the name everyone’s using. And you’ll never guess what I—”

“Dragonspear?”

Selva laughed. Meline did too, at the look on Ella’s face. “So how long do we have before they kick us out of the cottage? I imagine Sali would put us up.”

Ella laughed again. “Meline.” She took Meline’s shoulders in her hands. “We saved Oak and Stone. I pulled a spear from a dragon’s throat. Selva bent dragonfire to her will. You punched a dragon in the face! We have numerous assurances that we’ll be put up here for ten thousand years, on the town’s coin, if we want. Though I’d rather head home as soon as I can ride. So… do you want tea and barley cakes?”

Meline’s stomach, waking up after over a month, howled. “Yes,” Meline squeezed Ella’s hand and gave her a kiss, “I want them very much.” She levered herself out of bed, and shuffled around to help Ella, who seemed perfectly comfortable hefting herself onto her crutches. “Anything else happen while I was asleep?”

Ella’s mouth was open when Selva all but shouted, “Elmum widdled on a rock!”

“On a…”

“Stop stealing my news!” Ella laughed, aggressively ruffling Selva’s hair. Selva ducked behind Meline.

“When will we know the result?” There was only one reason any fairy—let alone the bashful Lord of Oakhill—would squat on a rock. A moonstone, Meline guessed.

“As soon as Vaness—” Hooves clattered on the gravel path, and feet hit the ground before the clattering stopped. Selva scampered to open the door. And nearly wore it as Vaness barged in.

“Auntie El! Auntie—” she set a hand on Selva’s shoulder to steady the girl. She was breathing hard, like she’d ridden at full gallop.

“Well?” Ella said. She stood up straight on her good leg.

Vaness didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. Her nod said everything.

Meline shrieked. She simultaneously threw herself into Ella’s arms, and stopped herself from doing so. The wash was she banged her right knee on the corner of the kitchen table. She laughed and cried tears of wild joy while pounding the table in pain. Ella and Vaness pulled her upright. Through her tears, she saw Ella grinning and crying, too. Meline put a hand on Ella’s belly, taut with laughter, and prayed no more excitement would visit until this little one was born.

[sending-the-message]

I'm currently trying to make about 30% of my internal organs fail. by xannmax

So, let me preface this before I put this out there.

I'm not suicidal, I mean well, I guess now I'm suicidal. But I never have been before, and while most suicides are generally considered irrational or spur-of-the-moment decisions of a troubled mind, this is about as cold and calculated of a decision I can make in my current... State. Notice how I'm asking for only about 30% of my internal organs to fail. If I were truly dedicated to death, I'd ask for something more deadly, but see, I want to live through this if I can. Outlook is pretty grim so far, though, I think I've already come to terms with that.

Okay so, hello. I've been up for maybe 56 hours, sleeping isn't something I can manage anymore. I've spent the last two days screaming hard enough to taste blood at the back of my throat, crying until I've literally dehydrated myself, and all while in immense abdominal pain. I may or may not have a permanent headache from my episodes.

As I've said, I've come to terms with this over an eternity of sleepless hours. Time really slogs on when you can't sleep.

A week ago I was on a personal trip with my coworker. His name is Jeremy. Jeremy's very sweet, and we work in a local coffee shop. Months of dealing with snooty customers made us pretty irate guys, so we'd been planning a simple trip to a lakehouse for some fun. Y'know, like naughty fun.

Needless to say, Jeremy and I got close in our time working together. Wisconsin is pretty boring otherwise, so we figured some time to crack a few beers and laugh at horrible movies in the cabin, and maybe do some cuddly stuff. Just for a few days, would have been a cool way to spend the last few days of Summer.

Well it turns out that in the middle of the Summer, while completely wasted on four or five shots of hard liquor, swimming around in the stagnant lake just outside the cabin isn't the brightest idea.

A few days after returning, after many hot nights of cuddly fun and questionable activities, I started to notice black and white striped strands in my stool. Stool was frequent, I'd probably go about 4-5 times a day. And they were always large, like one or two pounds each release.

As far as I knew, buttfucking didn't give you Zebra shits.

A quick visit to the doctor later, he said I may have tapeworm. So he got me on some medication and sent me home.

Well, a day later I'm due for my third bowel movement that afternoon, and it's probably the most cleansing dump I've ever felt. Like, I know this is TMI and everything, but imagine just the entire inside of your bowels stripped clean and dropped out of you all at once. That's basically what happened.

Along with my stomach.

It just sloughed out of me. It was wretched, it wasn't pink and brownish like we were taught it looked like. It was dull grayish green, it looked like it had been rotting and festering inside of me for days. It squirmed in the bowl, pulsating and oozing pus. Gobs of dead, rotten cells gushed from the duodenum, tainting the bowl a grayish teal. The smell was unimaginably bad, like, flank steak sitting on hot garbage after being vomited up by a stray dog bad. The ends were bitten clean off, along with numerous gashes on the edges. How I never felt that was beyond me.

Zebra striped strands coiled out of both open ends simultaneously, now they moved.

So, I'm positive none of you have had your Stomach just come squelching out of your behind before, but let me be clear.

This hurt afterwards.

Like, cripplingly hurt.

I tried to vomit, because I needed to, I had to, I retched and gurgled as hard as I could, but nothing came up. My stomach was turning. Except, no, my stomach was in the toilet bowl. Something else was squirming inside of me. Something that replaced my stomach and sat in its place.

I essentially curled up on the floor of the bathroom sobbing and retching, it was violating, knowing some sort of horrid parasite had taken place within me. It undulated, as if proud that it had successfully replaced my stomach with itself. I could feel it. You don't quite understand how normal it feels to have an organ inside of you until you realize it's gone and replaced with something moving. Even now as I type this, it shifts around in my chest cavity.

About two hours later my eyes shoot open. You know that smell you get from fruit that's been rotting in the sun? Imagine that but doused with urine. I was in a pool of sticky red-pink urine. My dick was red hot and extremely painful to touch, caked in this sticky crap. I had to piss like a goddamn racehorse, so I did. I just couldn't sit up. It was excruciating, imagine trying to pass liquid kidney stones. A gush of greenish yellow, pus-caked slime makes my member swell, it feels like it's going to burst until it just glides out the tip. It was viscous, soupy. My kidneys or my bladder, one of the two. It hurts so bad to exist, I'm amazed I made it to my computer chair.

I'm currently sitting in a pool of my own rotting innards. My stomach is gone, my bladder is gone. I don't want to leave. After I managed to stand up and look into the bathroom, I found the hideous fucks. Fully grown, writhing on the floor. They'd mostly cleaned up my liquefied parts, and swam around frantically in the bowl, and on the ground. Striped worms, thick and hearty, circles of razor edged bone around their 'mouths'.

In biology, parasites often hitch rides in digestive systems, but considering the size of these creatures they likely need more than blood to survive. Internal organs seem to be the best bet. I'm living in an agonizing hell, but somehow they're keeping me alive. I haven't tried eating or drinking anything for hours. I'm guessing they're 'riding me' and replacing my organs to keep me running. Everything that comes out of my is infected with these worms. My tears, my mucus, my spit, they're working their way out of my hair follicles. I refuse to go outside like this.

So my question to you is this: How can I kill my stomach and bladder? I've had lots of time to contemplate it before writing this, and nothing seems better than a heavy dosage of bleach and an injection of pure rubbing alcohol. That's all I have in the house.

They're all over my keyboard, mushed and ground to slime by my fingertips. Their little bony mouths scrape my hands as I move them.

Please help, I don't know what else I can do. I'm scared for Jeremy, I don't know what he's going through, he's not picking up his phone and I'm just scared.