1. |
Flux Fluid Fixation
02:44
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Arriving early, the opening hour. Raiding straws from the condiment station. I disappear into the bathroom stall. My handwritten sign taped to the door. This one reserved for me. Door is locked. Alone for hours, waiting, fixating. The first arrives, I listen close as my ear is pressed to the wall. Dripping fluids, passing gas, solids fill the bowl. I hope and pray, after they spray, they don’t flush it away. And with my wish awaits my dish as they leave me my gourmet. I sneak on out, hit my knees, my straws firm in hand. A glorious pile for me to feast, I slurp all that I can. Back to my stall, I sit and wait for my next meal left unflushed. Imagining flavor and textures formed as my meal leaves their butts.
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2. |
Anal Nodule Combustion
02:01
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Pulsating and throbbing veins. Overtaking surrounding tissue. Purple growth protruding from the rectum. Sensitive to wipe, ghastly appearance. Cannot sit. Cannot shit. Heat rises along with its mass. This beast is bound to bust. Mutating into an unknown host. Is this a part of me? Something dwelling inside. Controlling. Wanting to escape. Straining for hours, spitting blood of brown and red. Combustion is imminent. I feel it trying to escape. Sheer terror captivates my senses. Separating my flesh, I feel it crawling out. A trail of blood as it slips through the door. Alone I sit, bleeding out. Laughing maniacally at my unfortunate fate.
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3. |
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An ordinary visit. A simple check up. A turn for the worst. I sit in the room, awaiting the doctor. Waiting and waiting. A gentle knock, the door creaks open. He's tall, his voice is firm. Asking questions, getting acquainted. Clipboard, checking off. Hemorrhoids I suspect, tender to touch. Just wanted to be sure. He asks me to stand, to drop my pants, bend over and turn around. Facing the wall, something inserts. A finger, maybe a pen? As I begin to question, my speech falls short as a clipboard cracks my skull. Still fully conscious, I hear him laughing as he digs through his medical drawer. Out comes a saw, I try to scream as the pain shoots through my body. A pool of blood surrounds my knees as he clips some skin for keeps. Painting the walls, laughing till tears, his art is his macabre. The wrong day to call, the wrong day to see, to give my mind some peace. Entrails exposed, I hang on the wall, I've become his masterpiece.
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4. |
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Defecation of digested flesh. Straight from the bowl, hot and fresh. Putrid and sweltering with odious fumes. The smell of death fills the room. No eye has seen, no ear has heard the sounds of passing this hideous turd. Baking in the heat of dysfunctional bowels. Two long weeks of painful sounds. Such long duration, preserved by constipation, rotting in gestation, for your own mastication. I will watch as your forced to suck it down. You will eat it slowly. Slimy, slick and brown. Sick obsessions become reality. Fixations, urges, actuality. These visions witnessed cannot be forgotten. Involuntary feasting on the rotten. Choking, gaging, spitting up. Acid burning, puke erupts. Cracking through the solid shell, chunks and liquids gushing smell. Chewy textures, nutty filling. Watching this can be so thrilling.
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5. |
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Saturday night, staying with friends, gathered in somebody’s den. Pizza, comics, video games. Meat lovers combo, straight to the gut, passing gas from our butts. Crying, laughing all night long. Parents asleep, movie ends, something more to show my friends. This will be a night to remember. Digging in drawers, an idea sparks. Like this lighter with my farts, a token flame with gas to spare. I call their attention, showing out, bending over as they shout. Make sure you get this on camera. I feel the flame warm my pants, with one small push I have a chance. So eager and ready to explode. As the gas swiftly passed, a fireball from my ass. Oh dear God I never saw this coming. Straight to carpet, straight to the drapes, screaming, terror, panic breaks as the flames engulf the flesh of friends. So much for comics and games, incinerated by flatulence flames, as the flesh is charred from the bone. Burned alive in their beds, parents, friends and their pets, this surely was my last mistake. As I burn, I squirm and churn, a lesson passed, too late to learn, the smell of wood and burning skin. My last account crying in pain, I myself am the one to blame. Incinerated by flatulence flames.
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6. |
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Deceptive beings from an unspoken dimension. Carried through time to learn of our kind. Experiments conducted on human digestion. Seeking out the feeble and frail. Captivated into their vessels. Held captive against their will. Removing their pants, injected with goop, insertion of the drill. Collecting tissue from various subjects. Fully conscious through every experiment. Exploring the anus and all within. Liquids and solids reveal wisdom to them. Analyzing textures, colors and shapes from the bowels of these earthly apes. Hovering over these beings in pain, speaking a language unknown to their kind. Ravishing victims one by one, invading each anus until their done. Screams of pain and torment resume. The abhorrent probing, this could be you. Samples collected, concluding their search. Naked and scared, return them to earth. One last dose to make them forget, the abominations performed with their shit. Dropping them off in search for more, each victim abducted will soon be sore.
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7. |
Human Fecal Fountain
01:22
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Twisting limbs and shaping flesh. Anus pointed in the air. My obsession with flowing feces, I sit amazed and stare. A structure made by my hands, a custom fountain pump. Constant cycle, flowing fluids from the shit I dump. Mutilate, cadaver draped, plug it in and celebrate. Seepage drips, lovely stench, cannot get enough of it. Come and drink, come and eat. Look how I arranged the feet. Notice the heads, they are gone. I moved it out into the pond. Invite your friends, come and stay. Bring your trunks and let’s get sprayed. Bring some meat, come and eat. Need a good time that needs to be filled? Take it from me, it’s how I feel. The human fecal fountain will.
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8. |
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Slithering liquids run down the legs. No sense in containing anymore. Devastation has been unleashed. The weight of crushing remorse. Decisions failed to be made. Should have gone before I left. Now I stand, passing gas, shitting on my guests. Their faces describe the disgrace I am, screaming and running away from me. My fecal matter spraying fierce causing them to run and flee. Ashamed in terror, I try to speak, a reason to explain, but diarrhea never forgives as it begins to reign. Dominating celebration meant for my success, britches burst spewing forth all of it’s excess. Anus turned inside out as I run to the pot. But I passed out and hit my head from the stench of fecal rot. Walls are covered in brown and red, nothing more that needs to be said. Never more to speak again, I have lost all my friends. Excretions sprayed them all away, an unfortunate result of my dismay. Intractable bowels spewing out, assuring stains will not come out. Now I know the fatal flaw that dwells so deep in us, that any moment can be ruined by our selfish butts.
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9. |
Rectal Suction Hose
01:36
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Tight squeeze, stretched orifice, fluids seeping slowly. Agonizing pain, rectal bleeding, bloody fecal splatters. How my victims scream at the flick of the switch. Only one setting. Extraordinary pressure, rectal suction hose. This is no ordinary enema of sorts. It’s a drop-dead nightmare of fluid sucking torque. One thousand air wattage shoved right up the chute. Guzzling all the feces. Intestines swallowed up. Sucking dry, every organ will exit. Making you a hollow shell. Bare, stiff and dry. Sewage bag full of sludge. Sloshing until full. I keep on sucking one by one until an immense eruption. Sick fantasies becoming reality of pure anal torment. Another victim hollowed out by my sadistic madness. This is no ordinary enema of sorts. It’s a drop-dead nightmare of fluid sucking torque. Rectal suction hose.
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10. |
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This must be fixed, it burrows inside. Several years, failing to drop. My manhood in question. Will I ever be the same? No one can know, I’ll conduct this myself. A hanging tater and it’s lonely tot, surgically cut so it will drop. Incisions and scraping tissue away. Devouring the scrotum, my fork separates. Self experiment, have I gone mad? A fork and a spoon were all that I had. With my spoon, an agonizing scoop. Digging and tugging to force it down. A criminal act upon myself, hideous ideas reveal the horror. A mangled mess before my eyes, the ghastly terror reveals my demise. Burdened by guilt, an impatient will, I hope a man will soon be revealed. A hanging tater and it’s lonely tot, surgically cut so it will drop. Incisions and scraping tissue away. Devouring the scrotum, my fork separates. Self experiment, have I gone mad? A fork and a spoon were all that I had.
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11. |
Found In A Septic Tank
02:09
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There is a problem that must be addressed. Something is not quite right. A maintenance call to dig in the ground and resolve this flood of shit. I watch from the window as they back away. The horror on their faces. A dismembered corpse sits in the tank, dismantled beyond belief. Buried in feces, pale grey skin. Twisted to fit, rearranged limbs. The smell erupts throughout the block. How could I forget? The police arrive upon the scene as reporters storm the porch. Pondering in thought, expressions run blank. What will I say to mask past deeds as I sit hand cuffed in the back.
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12. |
The Porta Potty Predator
02:22
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A savage hunt, a summer day. Seeking out unusual prey. A roadside stop every hour, looking for shit to devour. Sweltering heat in the summer sun, hunting feces, so much fun. Ungodly stench, cooked in the heat. Salivation fills, I begin to eat. I am the porta potty predator. Digesting putrid anal terror. I will seek and masticate, with every stop I navigate. Porta potty predator. Nothing of the regular. Roadside fecal settler of the most irregular.
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