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The Foot Fetishist

 

I want to lick the yellowy stuff from under your toenails. I nibble on your nails. It tastes like old cheese. Or new bad cheese. Either way, it smears on my tongue and it is so greasy it wont come off. Now, I’m feeling the hard callused leather-meat of your heels. Its rough. There are armadillos with softer skin. I start to notice the hair on your toes. My goatee feels like velvet in comparison. Your toe hairs actually serve as velociraptor talons. You haven’t noticed, but i stabbed a thumbtack in your heel. You feel nothing. I swear this must be how rhinos feet feel. How do you walk on these things? And why buy shoes? No manmade material will last as long as your soles. NASA could use your footskin as heatshields on the bottom of Shuttle. I should call them. I notice your toes make click sounds when you flex them .I’m unnerved. I dont know what I’m doing here. Your feet remind me of my grandfather. Not his feet, his body. Just white, wrinkly, old….lived in. Something thats seen its share of life…and is weary for it. Time for your feet to be put to sleep. Put them in some pretty shoes. Do they make shoes for Hobbits? Maybe I can just wrap them in plastic. Perhaps with a dead fish to make them smell better. By the way, do you soak your feet in chum? I haven’t smelled too many things like that in my life. Wait…I worked at KFC one summer. The trash man was one week late. That dumpster in July…whew! Smelled like hot corpse. Thats’ your feet: hot corpse.
Still I lick.
Reason: I want to please you.
Sadly.

 

Leelee’s Elbow

squinty brown eyes and a mop of furious frizzy flaming curls
arms spackled with freckles
faded tattoos of lilies and lovebirds
what once was blue, now turquoise
she hops into the front seat of my car
“look at this thing!”
turning her arm awkwardly to display a knobby elbow
a huge pulsing red nipple of a cyst
the whitehead stares me down
I am hypnotized, it has me locked in mortal terror
“I woke up and there it was!” she says, innocently
“well jeez, Leelee, pop that thing”
scared, but excited to see what will happen
then regretting it because I don’t want to get sprayed with pus
she whines that it hurts too much
I goad her into it
squeezing and grimacing as her fingers work it
I flinch as it yields to her pinching
it’s not a cheezer
or a spurter
luckily, it’s an oozer
“oh gross!”
we look at each other and grin

Our First Date

Our first date will be a trip to walmart

You will be dressed like a child in a mismatched outfit from different decades
A beanie hat with propeller
The propeller is damaged and sits askew, it has a major wobble when it spins
You are wearing shorts that are pulled up too high and have a homemade slingshot in your back pocket
White athletic socks pulled up and shiny patent leather dress shoes on
You wear a sailor shirt that is too tight, with a blue bowtie
Your hair is slicked down and parted on the side a la alfalfa
One piece sticks up in the back
Sitting in the shopping cart, your legs dangle
Your weight is such that i must load the other end of the cart with cases of water bottles to stop the tipping
As I push the cart up and down the aisles you reach out and grab things yelling “mine!”
I finally learn to keep the cart in the middle of the aisle
But you still have a good reach and manage to still knock things off of shelves  other people stare, frowning
Many people just leave the store
We see an old lady in the aisle
I pass too close with the cart and you snatch her wig off of her head saying “mine!”
She cries out in shocked fury and tries to cover up her hideous balding head
Long wispy white hairs sparsely populate her brown spotted leathery dome
You proceed to gnaw on the wig with your three brownish teeth.  two on top, one on the bottom
They form a perfect clawlike chomping utensil
The old woman is so upset that she clutches her heart and falls to the linoleum floor with a squeak of her old lady sneakers
I bend down to try to help her, afraid to give her fragile body CPR
Totally grossed out at the thought of putting my lips to hers to breath life into her
Her breath is so foul that I gag
Her dentures are improperly secured and as she gasps for air like a fish her teeth flap away from her gums over and over
I stare on, unable to take action
You gnaw and gnash your claw teeth on the wig
Ripping chunks of fake brittle plastic hair out as you laugh maniacally
So pleased with the havoc that you have caused
Customers are running around not sure what to do
Some are calling for an ambulance others are just trying to escape the horrible scene as it unfolds
The shopping cart tips forward as the bottled water slides towards your end
Your feet land on the floor unsteadily
You are now standing with cart pants
You try to walk and have to take little shuffling steps as the cart scrapes along the floor behind you
Leaving gouges in the linoleum tiles
The old lady starts breathing normally again and I help her to her feet , dusting her off and apologizing profusely
I turn to you and start wrestling you for the wig
You are a strong mutherfucka and your teeth and hands have a death grip
You screech and smack at my hands
I manage to pry the wig away from you but a large chunk gets torn away and remains in your mouth
I put the wig back on the old lady’s head and try to smooth it down
She hobbles away and we can see a huge bald spot at the back of her head as she flees
You have gray tough wig hairs all stuck in your teeth and are grasping your small wig chunk as a trophy
Savoring your small victory
Finally we are asked to leave the store
You ask me for another date and i say “hell yes!” and give you a peck on the cheek

When I think something is funny

This was so funny that all of my bodily fluids came out all at once.  Not just pee.  My eyes started spurting salty tears four feet in the air, like cobras spitting a fine stream of venom.  My nose dribbled clear rubber cement type stuff and blew huge nose bubbles as I snorted and giggled.  The bubbles didn’t pop, they just got bigger and smaller occasionally disappearing back into my nose then peeking out like curious cave dwellers checking to see if the coast is clear.  I projectile vomited thick orange bile with enough force to erode granite in a matter of seconds.  My brains liquified and came oozing out of my ears, gray and viscous.  My breasts sprayed jets of white hot milk, molten and turning to steam before hitting anything.  My drapes are now pressed from milk steam, all the wrinkles instantly relaxing into nothingness.  My bowels contracted and my large intestines expelled soft brown sausage links of steaming shit full of grape and corn chunks.  It ripped a hole in the back of my skirt shooting out and landed in a coil on the kitchen floor with visible vapor trails rising from the stinking pile.  Cottage cheesy goo plopped out of my lady parts, dropping onto the floor with wet plops.   Oh yeah. and i peed.

Pap Smear

 

 

Billy Ocean’s “Caribbean Queen” plays softly from the speakers in the ceiling.
I haven’t washed my crotch for days.
The stink fills the room as I put my feet in stirrups.
Exposing filthy white socks, the bottoms black and full of holes.
My pussy makes velcro tearing sounds as the crust breaks open.
Pubes all matted together like dirty dreadlocks.
Dust from dried pussy juice floats to the sterile floor.
Cunt dandruff falls like snow flurries.
…”caribbean queen, now we’re sharing the same dream”…
The doctor tries not to breathe.
He tries not to look.
But he must, for it is his job.
He inserts the icy cold speculum.
I stare up at the speakers.
…”and our hearts they beat as one”…
Slurping sounds emanate from the gaping moist hole.
The speculum is cranked open, it squeaks and groans in protest.
The doctor licks his dry lips as he pulls out the spatula to scrape cells from my cervix.
As he inserts it, I begin to scream and convulse.
…”no more love on the run”…
Blood comes streaming out, with enough force to knock him back.
He projectile vomits all over my bloody hole.
Nurses rush in and clutch their breasts in horror.
I am foaming at the mouth and grinning like a madwoman.
“So, the results should be in next week?”
…”caribbean queen”…

 

Blob Eats Girl

Kelly’s orgasm leaves her twitching and shaking. Waves of relaxation wash over and she goes limp. Amy’s embrace is soothing, warm, engulfing. Becoming tighter and more intimate. There’s a point where it passes tight and becomes claustrophobic. Pleasure becomes panic. Ah, but it’s too late. Digestive fluids dissolve the mucous membranes first, Kelly’s big blue eyes going wide and looking as if about to cry, tears welling up. Instead of salty droplets falling down her cheeks her eyeballs lose their form and begin dribbling down in slow motion, deforming and liquifying. Dali would clap his hands and squeak with joy. Kelly starts to scream. Amy’s amoebic kiss muffles the screams as a fist of blob punches down the opening. Now fast and urgent and then slow and sensual. Pumping and growing. Engorging itself on the liquids just bursting from behind weak thin flesh. Squeezing a ripe tomato, the thin skin tears and retracts into wrinkled red as pulp runs and squirts. Amy quivers enjoying the taste of human cells. Licking and savoring. Copying and reshaping. Ribs snap crackle and pop. Kelly’s bowels finally release, a burst of air. Play-Doh fun factory squeezing out an endless brown tube. It does end. In prolapsed pink and pulsing veins, the inside-out sock. As elusive as it is deadly. Blobgasming, Amy swells and pulses. Kelly juice quenching the fire. Amy gathers herself. Literally. Pulling in and tightening. Pale soft skin shrinking and packing in the loose liquid, now more like a gel. Adipose moves and bulges finding the right location. Every detail, but better. From long silky hair to unblemished supple breasts to tiny pink polished toenails. Amy smiles with Kelly’s white teeth and puts on Kelly’s clothes, humming to herself.

Big Mama

My breathing is slow and even.  Eyes scanning for the slightest movement or crunch of leaves.  Sitting indian style with a thirty pound compound bow on my lap, I finger my arrow tip and let my eyes go unfocused.  Sharp pain stabs through my insides.  My breathing stops but I keep still.  Anger wells up and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.  A little laugh makes me shake but doesn’t come out of my mouth. The pain subsides and my mind drifts off again.  I remember to keep my back straight , shoulders relaxed.  I could sit up here all fucking day.  Next time I’ll bring a cushion, my ass is starting to go numb.

One bird is making the same irritating sound over and over.  It sounds like it’s saying “this is my tree this is my tree”.  That’s what you think.  It’s MY tree and I have a weapon to back that up.  I carved my initials into it.  I even built a nest.  Well, a plywood blind.  Maybe I should add on to it.  Make it more homey.  Different levels would be cool.  A roof with shingles.  Windows.  Shit, I should live up here, a tree house with curtains.  I could have pulleys and a water system.  All I would need is a bestest buddy, Friday.  That strikes a nerve.  I change my line of thinking quickly to avoid opening up the floodgates.  Yes, I should live in a treehouse, but I would need to make a toilet of some sort.  Of course the smell would keep the pray away so I couldn’t hunt here, which means I would have to make another blind somewhere else.  Unless I could find a way to mask or contain any human smells.  Inhaling through my nose, smelling the musky stink of deer urine in my hair.  I haven’t brushed it in weeks.  There are leaves and twigs stuck in the tangles.  I am a wood nymph.  Dangerous and feral.  And I have to pee now.  Fuck, don’t think about it.  Wood nymphs don’t need to pee.  I start thinking about the climb down and having to walk far away.  What a pain in the ass.  Now all I can think about is how bad I need to pee, bladder painfully full.  I can barely stay still.  A sound whips me back to stillness.  My eyes lock on to it.  A big mama followed by two fawn.  She stops to look around.  My bow is already up, arrow nocked.  Pulling back, the cams silently spinning, string hitting my cheek.  Aiming at the deer’s heart.  No rush.  I breath in through my diaphragm, slowly letting my breath out.  I still have to pee. My fingers release.  There’s barely any recoil.  The doe leaps into the air, fawns scattering.  There was no sound.

I watch it die.  Hoping it takes a few minutes.  It happens fast. I owned that bitch.  Twitching and shuddering, eyes confused and wide.  Sighing, I toss my bag to the ground and climb down the tree, my bare feet finding the two by fours I nailed to the tree.  the ground is so cold it could be damp but I can’t tell.  Feels nice.  Walking over to the carcass, I admire mama.  I pet her neck, it’s still warm.  the hair is soft as my hand goes with the direction of growth.  I lay down on top of her, hugging her and enjoying the full body contact.  I grind my hips into her, and hump her a bit. I’m probably going to get all ticky. Rolling off her, I grab the arrow shaft and jiggle it, blood seeps out.  I dip my finger in and lick it clean.  I dip again and smear some blood on my cheeks.  I begin painting my body with blood.  First just finger painting then rubbing it into the dirt.  My bloody hands knead my breasts through my tank top, making my nipples harden.  I giggle. The blood actually cleans off some of the ground in dirt on my hands.  A blood bath!  Giggles turning to snorting and laughing.  I stop, having startled myself with the sound. Now my bladder reminds me that I really need to pee.  NOW! I sprint off in search of a good spot.  Fuck it, can’t wait.  Pulling my grimy panties down to my knees, I squat.  It takes a few seconds and I relish the pain that comes just before letting loose.  A hot jet of urine smacks into the ground.  I push hard forcing it out. I feel some splash against my ankles but I don’t care.  My mouth opens and I sigh quietly in relief, pee shivers.  Duckwalking a few feet away, drip drying before pulling up my panties.  Grabbing my panties and standing in one motion to pull them up.  I walk lazily back to mama, picking my wedgie.

Working quickly, I make a slit and shove a large round rock under her hide.  I tie a rope around this and let it hang.  Next, using a small hacksaw to de-leg and tying ropes around the deer’s neck, I manage to string her up nice and high from a thick arm of a huge tree.  I climb up there, and crawl out onto the branch.  Legs holding on, thighs getting all scraped up.  I reach down and grab the loose end of the rope, looping it under my armpits.  I take a deep breath and jump out of the tree.  My fall is slowed by the skin unzipping from the body.  I stop mid air with a bouncy painful tug.  Fuck.  I look up then down.  The skin is only half way off and I am three feet from the ground.  Hanging like an idiot. I was sure my body weight would be enough, but this bitch has some toughass skin.  I kick my legs.  Trying to get it to pull loose, making myself heavier with my mind.  Slow tears as I go lower.  This is getting ridiculous.  I pull the slipknot and drop to the ground.  Rubbing at the rope burns on my underarms.  Fists resting on hips, I shake my head at the half skinned doe hanging from the tree.