The Exit

There it was–the exit. I opened the door, and glanced inside–darkness and departure. I turned around and reminded Myself of what I was leaving behind–darkness and dissolution.

The darkness may never snuff out, but your tolerance for ruination certainly does.

Do not be afraid to walk the corridors of those shadows, for your inner flames will guide you to fruition.

A Delirium From Disillusionment

A mournful aura suspended the promise of tomorrow, and I could see Hirsutus Puella grieving the loss of feminine independence.

Lamentations asphyxiated the oxygen in the surrounding air, as the grey mass of Lasciva Libido’s words contorted into parasitic larvae that consumed her peace of mind with gluttonous diligence.

I stood there, bereaving not only the disillusionment and death of a cherished idol, but the disillusionment and death of an unlived future kneeled before the altar of My desires.

Whether I liked it or not, My sojourn was redirecting My gaze, away from the delirium of that comfortable corner of life.

I was set free, and what was most unsettling, was that I knew it.

A Cremation of Pity

The pyre from Her self-indulgence cremated any pity we had preserved for her, as she continued on:

"O inoculator, I am weak.

Your virile insertions bring me to your feet.

The logical part of me is indignant by this experiment you've performed on me, but there is another side–a more instinct-driven side in which you've bored into me during one of your unrelenting sessions.

This side of me is thrilled by your creation, this side feels complete having been injected with the serum you've infused from me. Complete, but desiring more.

Was that the plan, inoculator? To get me addicted to your great syringe? If so, then go and rejoice because though I suffer the consequences of your actions, your plan has succeeded."

There was something of a grotesque understanding of what she had expressed. My demigoddess, My idol of devoted worship, was descending into the molten depths of self-annihilation, where the inoculator reigned supreme over her body, mind, spirit.

May she have mercy on her own soul.

 

A flash fiction collaboration with: @its.cherry.sister

 

A Visitor of Ill Omen

From the towering heights of her balcony, The Flexilis Pupa looked down on Us, as Lasciva Libido articulated the following omen:

"A visitor stays within the temple. I say, O visiting soul, you may use The temple's resources. Sleep in its refuge, eat and drink, nourish yourself in whatever way you need. But your stay comes with a price: your spirit. Your spirit will reside within the temple forever, although you will be here only one more week. Just know this: you may return one day, and your spirit will still be here for you."

A tender feeling of melancholia cloaked the air. My breathing became belabored, as the denseness of the situation infiltrated My lungs.

There would be retribution to pay, and the definiteness of Death's stroke was upon her inoculator's horizon–I would make sure of it.

 

A flash fiction collaboration with: @its.cherry.sister

A Theater of Fertility

Entire biologies blossomed in that fertile dreamscape, while the climatic boom of timpani drums rebounded off the mossy skin of the trees with a sense of urgency. The primordial heartbeat of the forest was alive! And we were amidst the pulse.

The Flexilis Pupa, fittingly, sat atop the crown canopy, looking down at the spectacle in whole. She wore a modified, fungal headdress made of the most delicately-interwoven wolf lichens, and a pair of XY areoli that she defiantly revealed. 

Pitapat

At that moment, the foreboding microvibrations of unraveling plumerian petals pitapatted throughout our eardrums, like a flood of baby rats scurrying across hardwood floors at night.

It was Hirsutus Puella, and she was abloom with bursts of magentas, pinks, and reds. A noticeable arctic mist hydrated the chakras that grounded her passions.

Her gaze was unrelenting and transfixed on us, like a shadow sin that follows you throughout a lifetime. 

Supplications of a Demigoddess

You see, Lasciva Libido was more than a mere high priestess, her feminine warmth emanated throughout My bone marrow, and stoked the biting flames of My essentia. You could say that she was the demigoddess dwelling at the tabernacle of My lechery.

At once, she opened her lips and spoke thus:

"O Impeccable One!

The nooks of my body drip with ripeness.

The foliage flowing from my head is tangled.

My heart is pregnant with mirth.

My loins overflow with the elixir of life.

My soul swells with warmth as the coat of ice which had encased it after so many days has thawed and washed away.

Yet, I beg for release.

My womb is host to a parasite that must be shed.

It tires me.

It consumes all I consume.

I am weary and hungry at all times.

I eat and am sick thereafter.

My DragnMastr!

I implore You!

Help flush this parasite from me!"

 

A flash fiction collaboration with: @its.cherry.sister

The Transfiguration of an Insemination

As The Flexilis Pupa and Hirsutus Puella sustained their nerve-wracking standoff, the scent of another botanical being wafted My voyeuristic nostril.

Gradually her image and likeness took form, and I was beholden to whom stood before Me–none other than My fellow interdimensional assassin in arms, the one they called Lasciva Libido!

The situation was entering into a quadrilateral aberration that inseminated our senses. 

The Blooming of Hirsutus Puella

I continued to watch, in oozing stupefaction, while Hirsutus Puella continued to stroke neighboring ovaries with her fertilizing tongue.

Up and down it slithered, engulfing entire anatomies in her mouth at times. This proceeded indulgently for 27 minutes, that is, until she bloomed from her comatose.

They interlocked gazes, and I could feel a premonition start to lick behind My left ear as the wind began to seethe in the cloister.