Razor Wire Pubic Hair (6 page)

            A couple hours pass and the rumble-growling fades, but I am not quite sure why how what.  And the outside is too dark for me to see now, the light bulb in the room glaring the window when I try to look through. I’m blind to whatever it was that rumble-growled but it is not blind to me.

            Upon the wall, the wall straight ahead from where I’ve been sitting for hours at a time, I see shifting and dripping.  My head jerks to see it there -- though I am unsure whether it has just now appeared or if it has always been there and I’ve never had the chance to notice -- a giant cunt, much bigger than mine, much bigger than Celsia’s or any one of the cunts on the Sister’s flesh.  It’s as big as a doorway, just pulsating/dripping there on the wall, breathing deeply and quivering at me.

            My hands can’t stop themselves, they pull me up to its lips, go right inside.  Smooth-oozing along the inner walls and the edge of its plastic-flesh mouth, a rising of scented steam warming the space between my breasts.  It is like the giant cunt is calling me to fuck it.  My arms traveling deeper inside, up to the shoulders so that my breasts and mouth can rub against its squirmy affection. 

            And then I feel my legs go in without my permission.  Stepping inside, until my whole lower half is bathing within the giant cunt, and it begins to fuck me.  The wall begins shifting around me, fucking my body and I try to fuck back but I am so small and weak compared to it. 

            It frantic-fucks me, plunges me deeper inside of it, up to my chest to my waist, to my chest to my waist, to my face to my chest, to my face to my chest, gasping for air, rubbing my breasts and cocks against its wet sides, until the cunt swallows me whole, squeezing its lips together to suck me deep inside, cumming all around me, spastic orgasm like it is trying to break me in half, but it stops moving, breathing deeply.  Its walls still pressing me deep inside, holding me in here like a prisoner. 

            Eventually the giant vagina gets irritated and spits my body out onto the kitchen floor, my meat soggy and covered with goo-slime, and my warm sticky coating turns freezing cold once the draft hits, squatting down into a ball to warm my breasts with my knees.

            From the other room I hear a rolling sound, marbles rolling across concrete, and then I see them.  Eight or nine milk-white marbles rolling in my direction, some as large as grapefruit some as small as grapes.

            No, they are more like eyeballs.  They have pupils and veins in them.  Once they arrive to my sitting position, they move their pupils in my direction. Eyeing me up and down, eyeing my cunt, sniffing it with their nerve clusters. 

            And then most of the eyeballs move away from me, scurry across the floor and into the giant cunt on the wall, and disappearing inside.

            Two little ones have decided on staying by my feet, glancing at my vagina and then at my eyes and then at my vagina, like a puppy.

            From inside the slit on the wall, I see the eyeballs peering out at me, observing.  And then the vagina curls its lips into the shape of a mouth and begins to speak.

            "You are a dildo," says the giant cunt.

            I don’t know what to say, watching the eyeballs in the cunt stare at me spider-like.

            The giant cunt continues, "You were manufactured for sex, a fuck toy, like a dildo.  You are just a dildo that can walk and talk."

            I have a soul, I tell the giant cunt.

            "You are just a dildo that can walk and talk and possess a soul," says the giant cunt.  "But a soul is not all too significant a feature to possess."

            What is a significant feature? I ask the giant cunt.

            "A cunt," says the giant cunt.

            Who are you? I ask the giant cunt.

            "I am The Something That Lives Inside of Cunts," says the giant cunt.  "I live inside of all cunts, including yours."

            And I look down at my cunt to notice the two tiny eyeballs at my feet have managed to sneak by my legs and into my vagina, now staring out of it at me. 

            "I am the closest thing you have to a god."

            I don’t understand, I tell the giant cunt, not looking it in the eyes.

            "A dildo rarely understands," says the giant cunt.  "The only thing a dildo understands, or needs to understand, is sex."

            But what about a soul? I ask the giant cunt.

            "A soul was created to make sex more exciting," says the giant cunt. 

            When I was being manufactured, I was told that sex was invented for reproduction, I tell the giant cunt.

            "No," replies the giant cunt.  "It is backwards.  Reproduction was invented for sex, to make sex more constructive."

            What about Heaven? I ask the giant cunt.

            "Heaven is where a bunch of angels live," says the giant cunt.  "Angels are creepy old men who masturbate all day long, watching human beings have sex.  The world is their pornography."

            I thought it was paradise, I say to the giant cunt.

            "Only on orgy days," says the giant cunt.  "Or whenever God has sex with you."

            God fucks me, I say to the giant cunt.

            "It was divine, wasn’t it?" asks the giant cunt.

            I prefer Celsia, I tell the giant cunt.

            Crashing-banging breaks the quiet in halves.      

            Smashing sounds from outside trying to get in, a whole army of crashings.  They are trying to get through the barricade outside, to get to me, to fuck me.

            The rapists have come, I tell the giant cunt.

            "Oh, good-good," says the giant cunt.

            Aren’t you scared?  I ask the giant cunt.  They will rape you to death.

            "Embrace the rapists," says the giant cunt.  "They are my children."

            I don’t like them, I cry to the giant cunt.

            "They bring bliss to a dildo like you," says the giant cunt.  "A violent orgy of cunts and fucking."

            I hear the crying outside, whining for me to let them in.  The rapists growling like a metal-tornado, ripping down the barricade, ripping down the walls.

            "I am not a dildo," I tell the giant cunt.

            Rushing through the darkness of hallway, I’ve got to find Celsia and tell her about the rapists, tell her to fight them away, save me from their violent cunts and knives. 

            It takes most of the evening traveling through darkness places, only lighting comes from a paper moon dangling outside of certain windows, glowing eyes in certain twists of the hallway.

            The living dead have done well turning Celsia’s fortress into their home.  Every room I come upon in search for Her is a scene of necro-eroticism, living dead women touching each other ripping each other’s meat apart.

            In one room I find a giant moon-glistening spiderweb with several zombies trapped on it like flies, and from the ceiling there is the Sister playing black tarantula hanging from a shiny string to catch the undead ones curl them into her breast to suck crispy blood from them.  And I notice that the web is not made like a spider’s.  It is made of razor wire, the shiny metal ripping through zombie flesh, the web attached to her like it is an extension of her razor wire pubic hair, and the strands are emerging out of the Sister’s cunt like it would a spider’s lower abdomen cutting the vaginal lips on the way out, wrapping around a zombie to cocoon it in her pubic hair. 

            I find Celsia cradling Herself in the darkest corner of the fortress, on the darkest floor, I had to crawl under a bed through an air vent over a mountain of broken tables and chairs to get to Her.  She’s sitting here staring at the blankest wall she could find, naked cold flesh.

            The rapists are here, I tell Her.

            She nods and chews a finger.

            I sit next to her, shivering, hoping she will lean against me to warm us but she shows no sign of movement.  Our child, the bag of soggy meat, is over there in a pile of dead blankets and rats, I’m staring at it in disgust and scratching a nipple.  It has been tossed aside like an old ugly purse, lying there in sickly breaths.

            "I’ve been waiting for it to die," Celsia tells me, glances cold fish at me.  "I haven’t fed it for days, hoping it will die, but it keeps breathing and crying."

            The rapists are coming, I tell Celsia and She nods.

            "I knew the baby would die.  Babies always die.  I just wanted to have a child for a while, a beautiful child.  Just to see what a baby of my flesh would look like."

            We need to fight them off, I tell Celsia and She nods.

            "But the child came out a freak.  My flesh must be sick to produce such a monster.  I want it to die so I never have to look at it again."

            I don’t want to get raped. I tell Celsia and She smirks.

            She stands and stretches her icy white skin.

            "You were born to get raped," She tells me, her teeth sharp and leering. 

            We can hear the rapists breaking indoors, flooding in soupy screaming and fucking everything in the kitchen, finding zombies and beating them to the ground with their fierce cunts, pubic hair grinding undead lips off their faces.

            Celsia does not want to hide.  She takes me out of the dark side of the fortress and tells me to wait in the middle of the hallway for them.  She has me stand there naked, rubbing my cocks until they are ready for the rapist’s drooling holes.  And She crude-chuckles at me, a whimper under Her breath, razor teeth biting Her lip bloody.

            "You were born to be raped," She says, locking herself inside a nearby bedroom.

Quality Time with Rapists and Zombies

            The rapists are full of sex and lazing about the fortress, not planning on killing us or leaving us or fucking us at this moment, just resting on us in tatters.  Our blood mixing with their diseases, their scabby cunts, scabby cum.  And the zombies have been torn to shreds, their flesh-pieces scattered throughout the home, parts/limbs have torn off inside of cunts inside of buttholes, mouths, teeth marks all over my body, bites taken out of me.

            The slime lady’s head is deep in a meaty hole in the wall, sinking.  Her expressions slightly disappointed as she blinks, slips down farther, farther, farther.

             One of my cocks has been ripped off of me, from my chest, ripped off when being fucked by some steam engine cunt, her razor wire slicing it free as she went thunder-cumming, blood oozing from her mouth my mouth pooling onto both our bellies, onto our brains, smearing sticky flavor between us.  The penis flopping onto the floor, discarded. 

            But I don’t feel pain, as if the penis were made of toenail or wartskin.  The hole where it had been no longer bleeds, the scab almost invisible, healed up easier than a nosebleed. 

            I step through the collapsed sleeping rapists covered in glory, sometimes waking up to pull me to the ground for a quick screw then back to sleep, searching for Celsia but finding only fuck after fuck.

            Getting to the stairs and climbing above the mob-painted room, to the hallways which are now lit by glowing snakes from the underground, twisting and curling cocks of light.

            The Sister is in a back room raping the rapists. 

            She has them in her web, her razor wire pubic hair.  A long cord from her central vagina encases one of them, holding it from movement.

            Then she starts reeling it to her, pulling the wire back inside her cunt like she is no longer a spider but a frog with a long razor wire tongue, cunt now a frog mouth.  And the fly is still a fly, now waiting to be swallowed rather than sucked on, the Sister’s lips stretching six times their width, wrapping around the rapist, gulping it slowly inside of her.

            She spots me in the doorway, a seductive stare at me, black smiles as she takes the rapist inside up to its waist legs dangling cutting against the razor wire.  Her eyes now glossy and colorless, gleaming at me trying to trance me.  And I see into the cunt on her forehead, see into her mind, she is imagining that I am entering her cunt/mouth instead of the rapist, swallowing me whole.  As soon as the prey has been squeezed completely within tight, the Sister licking her facial lips with a black snake tongue, licking her vaginal lips with a razor wire tongue.

            A giant bulge in her belly, the rapist curled up inside, quickly dissolving.  The mound making the Sister’s body twice its size, but soon it sinks, soon it is a much smaller bulge, soon back to a flat metal-scaled stomach.  And the Sister continues her seductive trance on me, slithering to me with her legs spread apart, razor wire emerging from the crotch, smiling zombie-eyed at me.

            But I am not hard for her.  I am looking for Celsia. She is the only one allowed to swallow me whole with her cunt.

            My body away from the Sister, into the sex-scented darkness, hearing the Sister enter the hallway much more metal-scaled, hunting for someone else to feed her cunt.