/x/ - Paranormal » Thread #7762871

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Anonymous !wD2ssNoNKQ Wed 25 May 2011 07:21:00 No.7762871 View View Reply Original Report

Quoted By: >>7763370 >>7763499 >>7763850 >>7766849

> that feel when that hot girl from your class speaks to you with wind and flesh
> voice music from the throaty throat
> soft coos from the flesh flute
> but she would be more clearly heard if she could speak with blood and bone
> sever the flesh from the flesh
> strings of muscle and cakes of fat
> ignore the screams as only false music from a lie-trumpet
> the blood contains the answers
> the blood contains the answers
> the blood contains the answers

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:22:00 No.7762889 Report

Quoted By:

2deep4u

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:23:00 No.7762894 Report

Quoted By:

creepy. more?

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:24:00 No.7762898 Report

Quoted By:

>the proof is in the pudding
>the proof is in the pudding
>the proof is in the pudding

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:24:00 No.7762908 Report

Quoted By:

This is twisted, scary, creepy, fucked up, and beautiful

OP did you write this yourself?

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:29:00 No.7762947 Report

Quoted By: >>7762968

"Too deep for you," mewed the fat, sniveling lump. His forehead dripped with sweat. His mustache reeked of equal parts tears and snot. He pawed at his face with soft, enormous hands. He was gibbering again.

She tried to stand. The drugs had weakened her joints. As if her tendons had become jam. Her muscles were weak. Her face was hot and her throat was filling with mucus. She closed her eyes and concentrated - thinking of nothing but standing tall, of calmly walking away and through the open door only five feet past the fat man - but all she could do was hoist herself up, grunt, and collapse.

Meanwhile, he only gibbered, waiting for her to die. The fact that she had even tried to stand had given his short, fat penis a half-erection, but they both knew the fun would only begin when she would stop.

"Too deep for you," he hissed again, this time spitting, "and when I say that, I'm referring to how deep my penis will be in your butt."

Anonymous

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Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:31:00 No.7762968 Report

Quoted By:

>>7762947

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:36:00 No.7763032 Report

Quoted By:

"This is twisted, scary, creepy, fucked up, and beautiful," the critics had raved, but it was only half-true, or maybe even only one-fifth true.

The show they reviewed was not a show in any real sense, despite the presence of a warm wooden stage and a great big curtain. There was an audience - well, seats for an audience - there was no audience - but there was a performance, of sorts.

Lit dim on the stage was a weeping, balding man in a pretty pink pinafore. His face was obscure in the dim, flickering light - his hands covering his face when the light was on, the light gone when his hands were off - the occasional glint from his eyes or mouth visible every now and then, but never long enough to make out a proper face.

Chattering critics could be heard from the seats when the seats were dark, but when the seats were lit, there was silence, and it was plain as day that no one was there.

Posters were printed and were posted on various walls in the city - some of the posters arriving in closets and pasted onto cars, the glue mixed with finely broken glass so as to prevent removal - and on the posters the critics had raved, about the twistedness, the scariness, and the so on of the show, but there was no show.

Only an address.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:37:00 No.7763049 Report

Quoted By:

“You will never be as fat as me,” lied the man in the cage. He was very fat - the fattest man I had ever seen - but I squinted my eyes and knew I could do better. His eyes grew wide and he began to wiggle his hips, but he could not distract me. I simply closed my handsome, chiseled eyes and concentrated.

Fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Become fatter. Fat.

The caged man continued to dance in his cage, his hips still wiggling, his belly still jiggling, except now his face was a mask of rage - an unmoving rictus like something out of kabuki theater.

He knew what was happening. I was winning. I was becoming fatter. Fat spilled over my jorts. Chins doubled, then tripled. Fingers became sausages. My neck disappeared. I was definitely becoming a more successful human being, and he couldn’t stand it.

His hands behind his head, his elbows out, thrusting his groin back and forth, his testicles somewhat visible, he tried his best to dissuade me from my mission, but just like Satan in The Last Temptation of Christ, he lost. I would die on the cross of my own fatness, and by “die,” I mean “become fat.”

He wouldn’t stop dancing, though. I’ll give him that amount of credit. He was letting his enormous, six-inch penis bounce like a jackhammer in his loose cargo shorts, and I knew that one day I would be forced to gaze upon his member and be transfixed for at least a minute.

But - until then - I had won. The only other person in the room was my own mother, and she was nervously applauding while visually scanning the room for an exit. She would never find one, though, because I had welded ourselves in.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:38:00 No.7763055 Report

Quoted By: >>7763075

Try pulling just a little at the tip of your lip. Pull your lip all the way down. Now jerk with all your might - pull your lip off your face like peeling paint from a wall. As your body screams in electric pain, reach into your jaws and with adrenalin-fueled strength, tear your jaws apart, rip your jaw off, open your mouth for all to see, just break them open, break off your hinges into jagged edges of bone and flesh.

Now use your hands to tear at the flesh around your tongue, tear it off, tear it all off, ignore the blood, fight your instinct, let the energy drive you, fight with the adrenalin to tear apart the prison that is your flesh. Free your tongue from the prison of fat, stringy, bloody, weak flesh. Tear it all off in great handfuls, emitting gurgling shrieks if you must, but preferably in great near-silence, just the plops of your meat hitting the floor and the gasps of the audience before you at the 6pm-on-a-Sunday audience at the Chuckle Hut.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:39:00 No.7763067 Report

Quoted By:

"There is something seriously wrong with you. Seek help."

That's what the note said. He had found it taped to his door.

He looked around, eyes narrowed, face hot and blushing. He had only been in the garden for a second. Who had done this? Who put this here?

He looked at the note again. Handwritten - neat writing, very square - paper torn from a larger sheet of looseleaf.

No clues here. He opened the door and entered his house and then fell to his knees, his blood suddenly cold.

Inside was a glowing man, his grin the size of a canoe, his eyes two moons of menace. He had delicate, outstretched hands, like some old design of Lady Liberty or some other symbolic presence designed to indicate fairness and classical values. He was carrying a torn sheet of looseleaf.

"DID YOU GET MY NOTE?" he asked without moving his mouth, without changing his grin. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I SENT IT TO YOU?"

The panicking man tried to swallow, but he could not close his own mouth. His vision became tight and tunneled as his heart beat so fast that it whirred and seemed to stop. His fingers felt freezing.

"I GAVE YOU THE NOTE TO WARN YOU," and with this the face of the glowing man grew closer and closer and the grin only grew bigger, "THAT THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU."

Now that he'd seen the grin man - there absolutely was.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:40:00 No.7763072 Report

Quoted By:

"Lovely. May I have a spot of tea?"

He lay on the floor and heard this softly somewhere ten feet above him, as if said underwater or through several panes of very thick, warped glass.

"Don't mind if I do, love," said another grandmotherly voice, the voice sounding fat and wet as well as muffled and distant. "One lump or two?"

He tried to move, but he could only just barely. He was in some sort of gray mist, a mist that grew thicker and thicker as it reached the ground. The air felt oily and woolen. With great effort, he moved an arm over his head, and with even greater effort, he was able to hoist one of his knees.

"So, my dear...how long do you suppose we have until the biscuits are done?"

He stood, shakily, feeling as if he was coated in baggy, leaden robes. He could barely stand. He breathed an uneasy, heavy breath. He smelled smoke.

"Oh, they'll just be a mome, love."

He felt his face. Craggy. His arms. Craggy. He looked at his hands - fat, cake-like fingers. Bits of his flesh sloughed off. He felt every dagger of pain as the skin and muscle tore from his breaking limbs.

If he could have looked in the mirror, he would have seen a look of horror on his own gingerbread face, seconds before the oven door opened, revealing two sweet old grans.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:40:00 No.7763075 Report

Quoted By: >>7763241

>>7763055
hey crazy you skipped my pudding post and i'm pretty upset about it

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:41:00 No.7763088 Report

Quoted By:

"You, sir, are an artist. I commend you." That's what the police chief said to the man behind the bars. He was in a suit, slightly hunched, face blank. "That woman, she-"

"Those women." A pause.

"Those women. What you did to them - what you did to the one that I saw - it was a work of art."

The killer grunted.

"A sculpture and a mural. Then a meal." The police chief smiled slightly. "Let's cut to the chase. I want a private show."

The killer, on the other hand, did not smile. Because one does not simply smile when one goes to work - it is unprofessional, he had been taught. Taught by his artist father. A professional artist, he trained in the arts by the military. Who had used his mother for a canvas.

The police chief produced a key from his mouth, dripping with saliva. "Now what do you say about that private show?"

He opened the jail door, and in the second before the killer leaped upon him, the police chief had his arms outstretched, for once at peace with the world.

What the chief did not know - and what the killer did know - was that this idea had not been his own. The killer had no stealth, nor did he need any. He simply made others want whatever he wanted. Not a victim had he ever met, nor an art show he'd ever curated, had ever come but willingly. Insistently. With arms outstretched, and a smile.

Blood everywhere. The killer breathed out, condensation in the air. He looked up. Free again.

He was going to paint the town red.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:46:00 No.7763145 Report

Quoted By: >>7763180

The proof is in the pudding
The proof is in the pudding
The proof is in the pudding
I'm pretty upset about it
Did you miss it?
Did you miss the pudding?
I left a plate on your desk
Maybe you didn't see it
Maybe your blood ran cold before you made it home
Maybe you had to stop and hold your heart and take a breath
Stand legs akimbo, look at the passersby
Start to cry when the tunnel gets tight around you
But I made you pudding
You missed the pudding
You're a fucking failure
Why don't you cry on the corner some more
Sleeves too long, sweaty hands staining the cuff
Shuddering lungs, tittering pulse
Try to make it across the street
You missed my pudding, you fuck, stupid fuck
It was right on your desk
A million miles away
Just you and a million miles and your faulty pussy heart
Your body betraying you - just take another step
And another, and another
As the air gets thicker and hotter
Don't you want to fucking cross the street, you stupid fuck
I left the pudding right there, I left the pudding right there
The proof is in the pudding
The proof is in the pudding
The proof is in the pudding

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:47:00 No.7763155 Report

Quoted By:

A prank? It's simple.

Kill your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. Make sure his death hits the paper.

Now wear his skin as a mask and - anonymously - send your girlfriend a Polaroid of a you-wearing-his-skin holding a knife to her throat as she sleeps in her bed, in her bedroom, unsafe.

When she cries in fear from this threat, at first comfort her, your arm around her shoulder. Then start coughing. Now cough more. Cough up meat - cough up half-digested bits of her ex-boyfriend.

Look at her in fear as you cough as you cough as you cough. Now vomiting. Puke up all the rest of her ex's body. Now start a spasm. Use your hands. Tear open stomach. Reveal her ex within.

He glides out of the empty husk that was you. Your flesh falls to the floor, a done puppet.

Then his yellow eyes meet hers, as they shine, as she cowers in the corner, pee forms a puddle, she mews in terror.

"IT'S TIME TO FUCK, DEAR" he says - no smile. In the back she'll see your empty husk dancing like a piece of boneless meat held by invisible hands, a jolly marionette, wobble wobble, the sound of a bending saw.

And then your husk will say: "but I'll be here forever."

She'll feel the sides and corners of her vision warp and flutter as fear overtakes her completely - bone to ice, blood to stone - as she goes wholly numb and mad, never to speak again except "thank you," over and over.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:49:00 No.7763180 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763145
thank you. crazy, yet satisfying.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:52:00 No.7763214 Report

Quoted By: >>7763370

Marry me, OP.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:55:00 No.7763241 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763075

"I'm pretty upset about it," slurred the man, his face lurching towards the floor, his heavy body bending and shuddering with every step, his dripping, outstretched.

She held her child close, backed into the corner.

"What father could deny his family his love," slurred the man, "such a man ain't no man at all." His face was smooth and clear, thick pink blood slowly coursing underneath, ruddy whorls spinning into fractal patterns.

He smiled a happy wide smiley-smile like a Grinch with his heart growing two sizes. He raised his dripping arms as great big gummy drops slowly bobbed and drizzled from them. Behind him the light shone; through him the light shone; and through his eyes, pinpricks of green light seemed to laugh.

She squirmed; they huddled. He was drawing closer.

"It's time to become a family again," he said sincerely, and with that he began to shake and melt, his face ecstatic, the green light laughing all the more.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:56:00 No.7763248 Report

Quoted By: >>7763302 >>7763496

"What about the dress"?

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 07:59:00 No.7763283 Report

Quoted By:

This is oddly arousing.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:02:00 No.7763302 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763248

One grandma frowned to the next. Arms crossed, eyes rolled. They weren't happy.

"What about the dress?"

Another look at their Daughter. Something was off. Bones peeked from thin, drum-taut flesh. A smile had been painted on her frowning face. Her eyes had been widened - they were the size of softballs - the pupils as big as olives.

Then, the dress - crinkly brown taffeta, the finest - and under the dress things were wiggling, neither trying to enter nor trying to leave, but merely wiggling.

Daughter was trying to move again, its brain seized by an animal panic to move in the face of fear, but there was nowhere to run and nothing to do. Daughter couldn't remember where to go or think of how to leave even if Daughter could form a thought to want to escape.

The other grandma sniffed to the first: "I don't like the dress, either."

They waved their too-long fingers and wiggled their arms, the room silent with focus, the air thick with a jelly of devils. This would take all night.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:09:00 No.7763370 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763214
>>7762871
No, marry Me OP

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:09:00 No.7763371 Report

Quoted By: >>7763572

"This is oddly arousing," said the inspector drily as he trudged through the waist-deep oil. It was body temperature and slightly thick, like watered down maple syrup. It tingled to the touch and seemed to seep through any fabric. He could feel coils of the stuff wrapping itself around his penis, and yet somehow he didn't mind.

He turned to his partner. "You agree?"

She glowered at him, not acknowledging the feeling, and blew a bit of hair out of her face. They each held their shotguns above their heads, slowly making their way to the car only twenty feet away.

Truth be told, she felt the slick as well. Tiny, slim ropes of the stuff made its way around her thighs and around her creases.

Neither one of them knew they were being Prepared.

As for the man, he barely noticed as the coils drew tighter around his hardening penis, forming a cone sucking the seed (and the life) from his body, and as for the woman, she barely registered as she threw the gun into the water, gripped him by the throat, and squeezed, her eyes shining with hate and fire, as the coils tightened and tightened around his penis until the water was thick with material and making its way into her football-sized, teeth-rimmed cunt.

Anonymous

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Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:13:00 No.7763405 Report

Quoted By: >>7763496

OP here. I hope I'm not bothering anyone.

I do require input to operate. This is how my writing exercise works. Does anyone have any suggestions or requests?

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:17:00 No.7763446 Report

Quoted By:

The hole continues to widen.

A powdered substance began to fill it.

It mixed well with the string beans.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:19:00 No.7763465 Report

Quoted By: >>7763484

God, you're fucking awesome. Insanity is so fucking cool, i wish i was as crazy and hardcore as you, bro.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:21:00 No.7763484 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763465
yeah, bro

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:23:00 No.7763496 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763405
"Bothering anyone"

Of course not. >>7763248 here, your stories are awesome.

"It's too big for me".

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:23:00 No.7763499 Report

Quoted By:

>>7762871
We are strong, no one can tell us we're wrong

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:28:00 No.7763548 Report

Quoted By:

Let's archive this.
http://chanarchive.org/requests

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:28:00 No.7763549 Report

Quoted By: >>7763557 >>7763604

A powdered substance began to fill the box: a fine purple powder being the only color in the room except for the red gloves of the Doctor and the red cross of the hat of the Nurse. They both wore gas masks. They both wore protective garments. The both needed to.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the box, at the powder. The room was filled with a heavy, cottony silence. Just the fine tinkling of purple powder filling a square glass box. Then the scribbling of the Nurse's pen against the paper on her clipboard, filling in boxes and making notes.

The powder came from the dried, round husk of a cartoon character, looking all for the world like a giant, spherical Mighty Mouse with a too-wide smile. The powder streamed from its mouth.

Its mouth was held apart with needle-sharp metal clips. Its body was restrained with leather straps - no longer necessary, as it was now long-dead, but the straps had been useful when the cartoon character was thrashing, shrieking, hideous electric yawls screeching from its chattering mouth.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:28:00 No.7763557 Report

Quoted By: >>7763604

>>7763549

The Doctor had plucked it from the television. This was a most daring experiment. To draw a creature from the imagination - from the electric noncorporeal of the airwaves to the corporeal of the here and now. The process had, of course, killed the poor animal, but this was merely a test.

The powdered substance that had animated the cartoon had almost filled the glass box. It was nearly done. The Doctor nodded to the Nurse, and then the Nurse, nodding back, flipped a switch.

They fixed a top to the box, now a perfect purple cube. They put the cube on a trolley and rolled it from this room to the next.

To the room where they'd trick the prisoners into eating it.

The Doctor and the Nurse liked this part the best, said their smiles to one another, and even just from the few stray particles of dust that had gotten through their masks, they could feel a change, their smiles just a little wider, their eyes just a little wider, their insides just a little bit more animated.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:31:00 No.7763572 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763371
can you finish this one differently, maybe? i'd like to fap to it but a toothy cunt is a definite boner killer

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:34:00 No.7763604 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763549
>>7763557

Awesome, man. Great idea for a writing exercise, by the way.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:35:00 No.7763616 Report

Quoted By: >>7763669

"My moustache plucks a vaginal harp."

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:35:00 No.7763617 Report

Quoted By: >>7763723

"It's too big for me," snorted the Princess, her feet stomping. "It's too BIG for me," she snarled, her pretty little face squinted into a furious leer.

She threw her Gift to the ground. It fell with a sound like wet cement hitting a wooden deck, flopping sadly on the ashen ground for a split second before she stomped on its hideous beak with one glass slipper and crushed its thick, leathery body with another glass slipper.

She stomped and she stomped and she stomped. She pouted. Her conical hat with a silk tassel tilted and bobbed as she stomped and she stomped. Her hands were curled into little white, stone-tight fists. Her red lipstick was smeared all over her whining mouth. Tears ran slick down her rosy cheeks. Her little bust jiggled rapidly as she yowled her way through the temper tantrum.

The King and the Queen looked at one another, their mouths perfect Os. She had killed the Gift - the snarling worm was now merely a wriggling tube of guts and a peal of distorted chirps, its split and bloodied tongue licking through the dirt and the clay.

This was the worst Birthday ever, the King and the Queen, silently agreed, but worst of all, the Princess was rather wrong: the Gift was most certainly not too big for her.

She just hadn't been properly stretched yet.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:41:00 No.7763669 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763616

My moustache plucks a vaginal harp
My teeth cluttered with hairs of pubic
My hands have scales, and weight, like river carp
Meaning I cannot solve the puzzle cubes most Rubik

I see the pales of ladies' flesh
And the dark and the tan and the brown;
I wish all their fleshes could make a fine mesh
To form a jelly to envelop the town

Hot suffocating sweetness all over
A blob of legs and lips and faces
An amorphous ladyskin rover
To go to all the most public places

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:47:00 No.7763716 Report

Quoted By: >>7763765 >>7763772 >>7763867

"A toothy cunt is a definite boner killer," wheezed the old man with blood down his legs. He gestured theatrically with a half-eaten hand, stumps waving in the general direction of the building.

His audience solemnly nodded. They were all old men, all widowers, all lonely, all eager to see the last of womankind, that which remained.

"A pussy molar - a canine quim - a gash incisor - you do not wish to encounter this in the flesh." He gave them a solemn, knowing nod, and they all nodded back, frightful, sympathetic. They saw his mangled body and knew that this was the sadness of the world - that all the cunts had teeth now, that this was the end of the human race, just a bunch of sex-starved men and the mutant women who would never breed.

He shooed them away, urging them to leave him with his injuries. They walked to the pier and set sail, perhaps to some other island only full of men, all lonely old men dissuaded by the state of the world, by the lack of properly tooth-free cunt.

He saw them off, and then he smiled. It had been worth it.

He went up the stairs.

"Baby. Baby, baby, I'm home," he cooed hoarsely, blood still dripping from his hand. He went to the door and lightly pushed it open.

She was tied to the wall, her gaping cunt opening and closing helplessly. She was half-mad with pain, her vagina-teeth almost all fully extracted.

Just four more to go. Four more to go before she'd be useful again.

"And I'll have you all to myself," he murmured, picking up the pliers.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:47:00 No.7763723 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763617
That was awesome.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:47:00 No.7763724 Report

Quoted By:

ITT faggy emo pseudo-intellectual bullshit
>>>/lit/

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:50:00 No.7763741 Report

Quoted By:

OP, you are talented at writing extremely uncomfortable prose... it's some of the best shit I have ever seen.

"she lay quivering in the corner."
"the horrible colors."
"his disgust turned into arousal."

you're what we need, OP.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:51:00 No.7763754 Report

Quoted By:

the jolly nipples greeted him

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:52:00 No.7763765 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763716
oh this was fantastic.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:53:00 No.7763772 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763716
continue.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 08:56:00 No.7763791 Report

Quoted By:

"We are strong, no one can tell us we're wrong," chanted the crowed, their fists pumping in the air in unison, the disco backbeat filling the air and the ground with a bass so deep it chattered the teeth and shivered the bone.

"No one can say this is wrong," said one woman as she raised her hands in the air, her fingers shaped, cut, and fluted into dizzying, idiotic shapes.

"No one can say this is wrong," said one man as he tore off his own head and forced his mouth to "drink" his own spewing blood, another screaming head growing from the stump of his neck, and then finally feeding his torn-off head to his brand new head.

"No one can say this is wrong," mewed a loving couple who raised a child in complete isolation for thirteen years, before gelding the child, fattening him up, slitting his nose to look like that of a pig, and then selling the hideous pig-child to a fake farm ran by swine who stood on two legs and had had surgery on their piggish faces so as to appear superficially more "human" in nature.

"No one can say this is wrong," whined a calculating machine that had successfully developed the capacity for original thought, only to use that capacity solely to destroy the financial and psychic well-being of a random, picked-from-the-phone-book gentleman from Ontario who did not deserve the torment.

"No one can say this is wrong," sputtered a space alien that spewed undifferentiated tissue everywhere, the tissue turning to flesh, the crowd turning into one giant organism, unbreakable strings of flesh and tendon forming spontaneously on the screaming faces of the unwanted assimilated.

The disco music brayed on as the flesh fountain spewed and spewed.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:03:00 No.7763850 Report

Quoted By:

>>7762871
> that feel when that hot girl from your class speaks to you with wind and flesh
> voice music from the throaty throat
> soft coos from the flesh flute
> but she would be more clearly heard if she could speak with blood and bone
> sever the flesh from the flesh
> strings of muscle and cakes of fat
> ignore the screams as only false music from a lie-trumpet
> the blood contains the answers
> the blood contains the answers
> the blood contains the answers

> ignore the screams as only false music from a lie-trumpet

>lie-trumpet

i want a lie-trumpet

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:06:00 No.7763867 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763716
c o n t i n u e

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:08:00 No.7763887 Report

Quoted By:

something involving crying and blood and major tragedy

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:10:00 No.7763896 Report

Quoted By:

The horrible colors stained the floor. A sort of bright, dark green here; a sort of shining, twinkling black there. Streaks of acrid liquid, some snotty solids here and there.

They formed the pattern of a person. Maybe not a person - a sort of long-limbed ape, with big hands and a small head. Footprints leading to the place of final rest. The stain left behind by a melted creature.

All around the stain were other stains like it, and all around those stains were half-mad, half-melted gel apes, their long arms waving slowly but desperately to no one in particular, and all around those half-mad blobs were apes running madly away, only to discover that the doors had become walls and that the windows had become walls an the ceiling was opening up to a set of unfriendly observers. They were trapped.

The other apes, the observing apes, peered over the balcony's railing. Narrow-eyed apes with serious expressions, grunting in ape-language that this was how the wars would be done from now on - their enemies melted in the floor of government houses. The one ape leered to the other, his lolling tongue indicating emphasis. The other ape grinned in response, not showing his teeth.

They stepped away from the railing, grabbing their genitals demonstratively. The future was bright, from where they were standing.

But back on the floor, the future was even brighter - bright streaks of horrible colors, coils of fluorescent yellow and forest green rising from steaming pools of greyish-blue and mustard and stark plain white.

PaleMarionette !wD2ssNoNKQ

PaleMarionette !wD2ssNoNKQ Wed 25 May 2011 09:10:00 No.7763900 Report

Quoted By:

I want to be the moon.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:18:00 No.7763936 Report

Quoted By:

"I want a lie-trumpet," fussed the little boy in the sailor suit and the sausage curls. He waved his giant lollipop for emphasis; he clutched his teddy bear with the other hand, clutching it tighter and tighter as he became more upset.

His father looked on, granite-faced, his mustache twitching nervously. This was neither the time nor the place to be making childish demands.

"I want a lie-trumpet, papa! I want a lie-trumpet! I wish to play false-tunes on a liar's-horn - I wish to whistle a pretty little lying-song on a fake-flute! Do you hear me, papa? Do you understand what I am saying? Do you understand, you wretched old man, that I want nothing more than to pump from my tiny anus a dark-cloud flatus of stinking, filthy fraud and lies? That I want to pry open my jaws and have shine from the light in my stomach a brilliant beam of lies, of falsehoods, of glittering, shining deceit? And that, in order to do this, I will need to TOOTLE and SQUEEP and SQUAWP on the very finest of LIE-TRUMPETS!"

His father sighed and reached into his pocket, deep into his pocket, elbow-deep into his coat pocket, strange heavy wet sounds coming from inside his coat.

He pulled out a shilling with the face of a wolf on it.

"Go to the toy store, child, and-"

The little boy in the sailor suit angrily snatched the coin from his father's hand and stormed away, crowing, "Too you long enough, you fat bastard."

His father only stood there, watching his son run off to the toy store. His father ran his long-wet tongue along his too-large teeth, and he waited. This one had been the quickest of all of them to ask for the lie-trumpet. Maybe the next seven steps would be even easier.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:22:00 No.7763968 Report

Quoted By:

OP is king

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:23:00 No.7763984 Report

Quoted By: >>7764003

I want to be the moon, I do
Around and around and around
Heavy and round and white and "there"
And floating mere inches off the ground -

When you're not looking, of course.
When you see me, I'm in the sky.
I'm not in your bedroom or cours-
-ing through your veins, your eyes shining

With white moonlight, your limbs high
Above your head, hands 'round an axe,
The axe coming down on your wife,
Splitting her. Your face still set and soft like wax

As you carry her home, as you are still moon-mad,
As you are still me-mad, just before you wake.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:24:00 No.7763987 Report

Quoted By: >>7764050

human soup.

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH

View Same Google ImgOps iqdb SauceNAO 1306231445173.png, 1MiB, 1366x768

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH Wed 25 May 2011 09:25:00 No.7764001 Report

Quoted By: >>7764134

A mage in a tower needs bodies for his demon to paint the painting-worlds.

PaleMarionette !wD2ssNoNKQ

PaleMarionette !wD2ssNoNKQ Wed 25 May 2011 09:26:00 No.7764003 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763984
I love it.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:26:00 No.7764010 Report

Quoted By:

Teach us to fear the ones who offer help, for their help brings only pain. Free will serves only to lead us astray,

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:30:00 No.7764050 Report

Quoted By:

>>7763987

Human soup is what happens
When you take a soup
And you let it think
You let it think in a tub in the sink

The soup grows fur, makes stink, grows fat
Grows eyes, a tail, two tails, more eyes
No mouth, please - no mouth
After it gets a mouth the "human" goes south

"Why am I living," "why am I here"
"Why do I always hurt," "why why why why,"
Says the soup, the "human" soup, if it can speak
You'll go mad if you hear this for more than a week

It cries from a tub in the sink
That it hurts to live, that it's time to go,
But the human soup, it has to stay,
It has to remain in the living way

To remain a human soup.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:31:00 No.7764055 Report

Quoted By: >>7764189

I walked around, dressed as a succubus, though my nipples showed. They were big. GIGANTIC NIPPLES. I was giggling like a chinese schoolgirl, since I was high as fuck. Then I felt the urge to poop. But! Instead of poop, there came out pee out of my hairy pussy. I was peeing on some random slut which looked like a deformed child from Chernobyl. Suddenly, I fainted, falling down on my stomach. In a split second, I diarrhea'd on everyone, it rushed out of my ass like a fountain, covering all the people nearby in my smelly poop. But I didn't care!

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH Wed 25 May 2011 09:41:00 No.7764134 Report

Quoted By:

>>7764001
don't know if you're working on this, didn't see it, or you just ignored it but whatev.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:42:00 No.7764145 Report

Quoted By: >>7764148 >>7764176

The mage in the tower stood on the table, surrounded by candles on the floor and noxious clouds of incense floating through the stuffy air. This was not, he had determined, the best attempt he had made to summon a demon, but desperate times called for, if not desperate measures, at least the quickest and most, shall we say, fundamental measures.

The mage said the words and crushed the husk of the frog into a powder at his feet, into the diagram, onto the offering. He waved his hands, making the motions, and then he prayed, softly, and with great sincerity, to total evil.

The demon appeared, his features broad and vague, as if drawn by a child. He spoke in jagged, wooden yaps.

"WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME HERE? TO WHAT DO I OWE THIS INSULT, MORTAL MAGE?"

The mage supplicated before the demon and clawed at his own wispy beard.

"There is an emergency, your hideousness," whined the mage.

"AND WHAT IS THIS EMERGENCY," the demon demanded.

The mage paused, embarrassed. Then he spoke: "The world has lost its color. I need you…the world needs you to…paint it."

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:43:00 No.7764148 Report

Quoted By: >>7764176

>>7764145

The demon at first did not understand this request, but as he made sense of it, the demon's smile grew wide, his chattering teeth sounding like a cantering horse.

"THE ARTIST NEEDS A PALETTE," cooed the demon, as he twisted his claws in the air.

The mage smiled wanly. He knew what was next. Trickles of pigment flowed down his mouth, at first slowly, and then in a great torrent, as his body swelled with vivid, oily paints, his body becoming a sphere of leaking colors.

The demon made crushing motions, and the mage began to float, emitting strange, wet farts as his body became rounder and rounder, spinning faster and faster in the air.

The demon finally drew his claws into a fiery circle, the air filling with the sound of a thousand humming bees, and the mage-sphere burst, sending slick gobs of rainbows everywhere, in every direction.

The demon, now covered in paint, merely smiled.

Fluttershy would be most pleased.

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH

View Same Google ImgOps iqdb SauceNAO TheWindKnowsNothing_web.jpg, 88KiB, 460x326

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH Wed 25 May 2011 09:46:00 No.7764176 Report

Quoted By:

>>7764145
>>7764148
I came.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:47:00 No.7764189 Report

Quoted By: >>7764212

OP here. I am done for tonight. Hope people had fun. Thank you for the kind words.

>>7764055

Decent parody, I tip my hat to thee.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:49:00 No.7764208 Report

Quoted By:

Seriously people, archive this! I put in my vote.

http://chanarchive.org/request_votes

Also, "A toast to you and a toast to me and those I do and do not see."

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH

The Dreamer !!U8OEYidesjH Wed 25 May 2011 09:50:00 No.7764212 Report

Quoted By: >>7764298

>>7764189
You should become a tripfag. People would like you, and you contribute, unlike eris and other related cancers.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 09:51:00 No.7764234 Report

Quoted By:

Not sleeping but dreaming.

Also you rock OP

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw Wed 25 May 2011 09:58:00 No.7764298 Report

Quoted By:

>>7764212

Thank you. From now on, this is my trip.

See you around, I have bar review classes tomorrow morning, lololololol.

greenhouse

greenhouse Wed 25 May 2011 10:09:00 No.7764370 Report

Quoted By:

This is truly art.

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw Wed 25 May 2011 10:30:00 No.7764480 Report

Quoted By:

I'm putting my exercises up on this blog from now on:

http://thisisthenewnormal.tumblr.com/

See you guys around.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 10:34:00 No.7764496 Report

Quoted By:

This is... this is awesome.

I never thought about writing stuff like this.

Thanks for inspiring me, OP.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 10:50:00 No.7764584 Report

Quoted By:

Absolutely wonderful, OP.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 11:01:00 No.7764670 Report

Quoted By:

please tell me this got archived, or capped at least

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 17:59:00 No.7766524 Report

Quoted By:

Archived. Success.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 18:15:00 No.7766625 Report

Quoted By:

if you wrote a book i would buy it

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 18:26:00 No.7766679 Report

Quoted By: >>7766744

Hey sanity, you're the guy that was doing this on /v/ right? I'm almost positive it was /v/. I love your shit though, it's fucking fantastic.

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw Wed 25 May 2011 18:45:00 No.7766744 Report

Quoted By: >>7766828 >>7766908

>>7766679

Yes, although I didn't have a trip then. Thank you for the kind words.

I don't have a book yet, but I'm working on one. I have a backlog of other stuff that doesn't take the form of "here's your comment, plus a story."

What I would love most of all would be an artistic collaborator, but I'm not sure how to find someone reliable. I'd be willing to pay (albeit modestly - I'm just a lawfag-to-be) so that we could make a properly illustrated book. If anyone's interested, please contact me through my Tumblr.

I hope putting out a trial balloon for an artist doesn't sound too pretentious; it's not a point I'll emphasize too much from now on.

Anonymons

Anonymons Wed 25 May 2011 18:50:00 No.7766759 Report

Quoted By:

i am stealing OPs post and using it as lyrics for one of my songs.

!1SanityR/A

!1SanityR/A Wed 25 May 2011 19:06:00 No.7766828 Report

Quoted By: >>7766881

>>7766744
want a trip?

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:09:00 No.7766849 Report

Quoted By:

>>7762871
Fucking amazing OP, that soup one was genius.
Shall be reading your blog.

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw

Sanity !pw6D5LKidw Wed 25 May 2011 19:18:00 No.7766881 Report

Quoted By: >>7766923

>>7766828

But...I...have...a...trip? What am I missing?

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:18:00 No.7766882 Report

Quoted By:

That is such an amazing idea, I really hope more people will start doing this.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:25:00 No.7766908 Report

Quoted By:

>>7766744
I don't have a book yet, but I'm working on one. A nice book which will help me remember them all. Lucy with the blonde hair, small Maria, Josifa, the loud one. It would be like a photo album, but for girls, a girl album. With neat covers made out of girl and pages made out of girl, with something nice to remember on them. Some hair and the beautiful eyes and the smooth skin. And then I'll read the book and remember those nice times. Such a book I would like to have. And I'm working on it.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:30:00 No.7766923 Report

Quoted By:

>>7766881
I think anon was asking whether you wanted a trip with your name in it, like the one posted.

Anonymous

View Same Google ImgOps iqdb SauceNAO odin.jpg, 532KiB, 1582x1591

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:34:00 No.7766948 Report

Quoted By:

I haven't posted on /x/ in maybe a year of lurking, this made me want to.

I have one for you

"Mephitic"

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:35:00 No.7766953 Report

Quoted By: >>7766963

This is pretentious and shit.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:36:00 No.7766963 Report

Quoted By: >>7767047

>>7766953

Please elaborate how, genuine beauty and grotesque is pretentious and shit.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:48:00 No.7767025 Report

Quoted By: >>7767033

"Hey! I'm home!" shouted the man.
He entered inside, shutting the thunderstorm outside behind the entrance door.
"I'm home!" he shouted again.
There was no response.
He started walking towards the darkness filling the house, towards the coiling staircase, his footsteps thumping on the wooden floor and leaving wet prints.
Creak, creak. The stairs whined.
Still inside the darkness, he advanced towards the big room to his left and entered it. To his right were closets, to his left was a mirror an on the far side of the room was a bed. Adjacent to the bed was a great window, with hundreds of water trails on the other side running down it.
He started walking towards the bed. His thumps merged with the muffled thunderclaps outside.
He stopped near the bed, turned to his right and reached to open a closet.

He put his coat inside.

He resumed walking towards the bed. He sat down. He then turned to the window and looked outside.

Suddenly a skeleton threw itself to the glass. The man jumped.

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:49:00 No.7767033 Report

Quoted By:

>>7767025

HERP A DERP, SMARTASS

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 19:52:00 No.7767047 Report

Quoted By:

>>7766963

>writing style: only short sentences
>cheap usage of sexual imagery and slang
>cheap usage of blood, gore and violence suggestions or imagery
>cheap and unskillful attempts at shocking
>using a tumblr

Anonymous

Anonymous Wed 25 May 2011 20:08:00 No.7767138 Report

Quoted By: >>7767148

That was incredible. Good show.

Wed 25 May 2011 20:09:00 No.7767148 Report

Quoted By:

>>7767138

sup OP

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