INSOMNICON 2009: THE PLAY STATION.

[kai]

[SlappyMcGee]

If you are unfamiliar with the concept of a HELL HOUSE, it is essentially a haunted house put on by a fundamentalist Christian church with the intent of giving children night terrors and guilt for things they haven’t even thought of doing yet all for the glory of Christ. When you’re 13 and someone says, “Hey, instead of boring old youth group, we’re going to a haunted house/ hay ride out in the middle of nowhere!” you’re typical response would be “meh.” You’re 13, so everything is pretty much, “meh.” But internally you’re all “sounds cooler than singing praise songs then talking about how we’re better than everyone else for an hour.”

When I said a Hell House is essentially a haunted house… well, it’s not. It IS NOT a haunted house! In a haunted house you pay money to walk through a maze of dark corridors while “actors” dressed as ghouls and monsters jump out and scream at you. Sometimes there’s a chainsaw. It’s fun for every one. I should know, I worked at one in high school. It was pretty much awesome. A Hell House, on the other hand is a place where you pay money to walk through a barn that has been outfitted to look like a house and in each room “actors” act out short vignettes depicting different ways one might damn oneself to Hell. It is seriously a living instruction manual on “How to Win Friends and Get Into Hell.”

Oh, also it’s fucking terrifying when you’re a kid. Also it’s ONLY for kids.

I’ll reconstruct the scenerio as best as my fragile mind can:

We entered the Hell House has a group and were greeted by our demon guide. Let me preface the rest by saying this particular church had purchased basically EVERY rubber demon mask from Spencer’s gifts. The demon guide took us through various scenes, including: a motorcycle wreck caused by awesome teenage drunk driving, a Satanic sacrifice caused by awesome teenage Satan worship (this is happening in our neighborhoods RIGHT NOW! Why don’t you care?!), an abortion caused by awesome teenage sex complete with a pan full of blood and fetus parts (no shit), a chick that OD’d due to awesome teenage drug use (needle hanging out of her arm), and a teen suicide caused by listening to awesome rock and roll (it WAS “Welcome to the Jungle”).

After all of these little one act plays were performed for us (many of the children were convulsing and in tears - PRAISE THE LORD!) we were lead into a room full of coffins and told to “get in.” (still not making any of this up). I got into a coffin with a girl that I had a crush on. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to make my move because she was too busy sobbing uncontrollably, and having a claustrophobia induced panic attack. A voice read our collective eulogy, then the back of the coffins sprang open and we were catapulted into Hell. I’m assuming dimensional gateways were involved. Demons were dancing around a pit of fire as the Prince of Lies himself stood atop an altar shooting laser beams into our eyes (still still still not making this up - all true). Satan had a giant evil goat mask, red cloak, an ample supply of smog machines and (seriously) laser pointers mounted to each finger with which he wrote his initials on our retinas.

Just beyond the eternal torment and despair there was a doorway, beaming with light (and more smog). Turns out the portal to Heaven is just behind Hell… sort of in the back-left corner. Afterward we were further indoctrinated counseled by various members of the congregation and encouraged to come back and bring our “unsaved” friends. Because, honestly, if Hell House didn’t scare the shit out of a little kid until he believed whatever the shit you told him to believe, what else could?

LATER THERE WAS A HAY RIDE!!!

In retrospect, I am deeply disturbed by the amount of fear and guilt that I was purposely saddled with as a “youth group teen.” They seemed to be intentionally molding maladjusted young adults. I suppose a guilty, fearful and confused kid is easier to brainwash teach.

Tell a similar story, either thematically or literally!

Story credit: Joel Watson, of Hijinks Ensue!
Points:

Pikman: 6
Be_Nspired: 7
UniverseZero: 5
LouDog004: 3
Jiggerjaw: 7
Studebacher Hoch: 9
Obylisk: 2
sept: 4
Kablizzy: 11
gloomp: 7
axonn: 2
maxson: 6
Luminaflare: 8
Flagmyidol: 7
Yahoozy: 2
Leaff: 7
Sucker: 7
Skyline: 5
SkyRay: 7
Izzy: 3
spudzalot: 7
Donfuy: 6
Snuggletummy: 7
Life247: 7
Riobe: 7
Paddy: 7
Rikaninja: 4
maestro: 6
esay: 5
zeph: 4
lord_day: 1
BNW: 2
tanner: 3
red13: 3
JeRK: 2
GamingWolf: 1
kai: 1

The Hoch with the sweet steal.

[esay]

All i need to say. :p

[Luminaflare]

The snow rests pale on the naked metal of the shacks around me. The pastel paint stripped away in ugly patches, the
rusted iron underneath leers orangish-red at my intrusion - like a thousand fiery eyes set in the suffocating whiteness that is all
around me. There is no one here in this deserted little village - this island in an endless sea of ice and capricious cold. There is
nothing else for miles, it seems. I am all alone here. All I can do is wait for the ceaseless wind to dismantle me, to chip away at
me until the red rust underneath my painted façade is all exposed and I become as silent as the town around me.
I press myself up against the side of a shack to get out of the wind, whose shrieks and murmurs fade ever so slightly as I
hide. I slowly ease myself onto the porcelain-white ground, and draw my knees to my chest to protect the waning heat in my core
from the lashes of the cold.
“Daniel!”
…
No louder than a whisper; I’m sure I’ve imagined it. My name called from across the village, sounding as if it was shouted.
But the wind rushing through the squat houses almost stole it away before it reached me. I stumble to my feet, heaving my body
upwards and craning my head towards the voice. I take a few steps towards it. The ice and snow forces deliberate and careful
steps; taunting me who has no energy for such things. I walk onward, and even as I approach I feel the wind rushing by my
face, taking with it bits of warmth - chips of paint.
I reach the farthest-flung house. There is no one here. Everything is silent and still besides the shuddering of my
shoulders as the cold lifts the warmth from them in sheets. The wind strips the paint from everything - I am raw, red, rusty. The
orangish-red eyes grow wider, amazed that I persist in moving amongst them.
“Daniel!”
…
Again, the voice calls. No louder than before; I might have missed it in the din of shrieks and murmurs. This time though,
the voice comes from behind me - on the other side of the village, back where I was. My eyes water as the wind tries to pry them
out. I begin trudging again towards the voice. Perhaps we passed each other. Perhaps whoever’s out there is pursuing me just
as I pursue them, and as the wind pursues us both. I march in loose, fumbling step towards the voice, back through the town,
back through all the red eyes. I fall once or twice, and it feels so good to rest that I might just fall asleep there. I rise each time,
however; the voice draws me onward. I reach the other end of the village, looking out into the stormy sea of ice on all sides of
this little island of paint and bleary, red eyes. There is no one here but me.
“Daniel!”
…
The voice calls once again with muffled insistence, no closer than ever. Somehow now from the opposite side of all the
decrepit shacks it beckons me. I’d turn to it, but I can’t face those eyes again, and I’m so very cold, and it feels so good to rest.

–
By David Feuling at http://www.ss-comic.com/fiction

[SkyRay]

esay used one of my maps, i sue for copyright infringement ;D
and buy over the insomnicon, claiming myself as winner

[乳头的早餐谷物]

The MKULTRA activity is concerned with the research and development of chemical, biological, and radiological materials capable of employment in clandestine operations to control human behavior. The end products of such research are subject to very strict controls including a requirement for the personal approval of the Deputy Directory/Plans for any operation use made of these end products.

The scope of MKULTRA is comprehensive and ranges from the search for and procurement of botanical and chemical substances, through programs for their analysis in scientific laboratories, to progressive testing for effect on animals and human beings. The testing on individuals begins under laboratory conditions employing every safeguard and progresses gradually to more and more realistic operational simulations. The program requires and obtains the services of a number of highly specialized authorities in many fields of the natural sciences.

The concepts involved in manipulating human behavior are found by many people both within and outside the Agency to be distasteful and unethical. There is considerable evidence that opposition intelligence services are active and highly proficient in this field. The experience of TSD to date indicates that both the research and employment of the materials are expensive and often unpredictable in results. Nevertheless, there have been major accomplishments both in research and operational employment.

[kai]

Then the pain. My body is wracked by it, tearing me apart from the inside. Is this it? Is this what I'm supposed to feel? Maybe the end finally comes. Looking at my wound is almost scary. Is the loss of blood causing me to see things? Something under my skin pulsates, and... almost grows. My eyes roll back as I feel the pain take over

The next few minutes last a lifetime as I begin my decent into death and rebirth.

I see the whole process as a witness to my demise... and I'm horrified and aroused at the same time.

My arms are the first to change, most likely because the wounds are the cause of the metamorphisis. Elongating, growing to pure muscle. Sloughing off dead skin, my hands tipped in black razor sharped claws. Talons sharper than the razor used to make the initial cut.

My chest surges forward and I see two mounds pushing to break through. Almost like breasts, I laugh thinking that in my final days I am starting to develop the body I've always wanted. I watch somewhat jealously as my new claws fondle the meat on my chest made of pure sinew and muscle.

In a moment I'm back in my body as it's changing and my eyes roll forward. Instinctively I look into the mirror and see the white starting to fill in red, darker and darker as it settle on cold black with no sense of humanity left. My tongue, longer and pointing, licking my lips as my face stretches and pulls back tight. Horns sprout, as the change no longer brings agony but ecstasy with each changed feature. Curving over my ears my hair blackens and becomes thicker and fuller, without changing style

I'm not suprised that I'm touching myself as the changes happen, and I hope the change brings true womanhood. Half saddened and half exasperated, my genitalia becomes bigger, and harder, keeping myself with my my birth gender somewhat.

Finally my legs, I notice I'm much taller than usual, standing almost eight feet. My legs look tiny in comparison to my tall, muscled form. The skins slides off like a moist pair of panties, collecting at my new... hooves? I snarl in confusion, licking my teeth, fangs pricking my new tongue. I feel a crack and my knees bend inward no longer feeling pain but ecstasy. Somewhere in my psyche, I know I'll have plenty of fun sharing this new pain with others. Knowing that what they will see as agony, I felt as true pleasure. The last cracks are the only sound in the blood splattered bathroom before dead silence. I stop to catch my breath, knowing that I just achieved the greatest orgasm I ever felt. I walk around with my new goat legs, listening to the click clack as make a few rounds around the bathroom.

My old body is now somehow whole, less like what I thought was just skin, and more just a bleeding corpse. The sounds of my roomates shifting in the other room startles me, but I know now they'll never see. Very few were ever able to open their eyes and see what I saw. I look down, and I see a corpse, whole, bled out from what was supposed to be suicide.

My death. The beginning of my true life. True purpose. Watching the ones I love. A beast of pure emotion, genderless while still having male and female traits.

The window opens, and I feel the cool breeze on my new, pale skin. So many new experiances, bringing pleasure and pain all at once. Pure ecstasy.

This is my true form.

My next stage of evolution

This is Vanessa the Heartless

But when I do this.... all you will find is a lifeless husk.

All you will drink is my death

[esay]

esay used one of my maps, i sue for copyright infringement ;D
and buy over the insomnicon, claiming myself as winner

Copyright infringement isn't a link.
You claim yourself winner then :) Have fun.

[Rikaninja]

Are you unfamiliar with reading? Well it's kind of like sexing a piece of paper,
well no, not really. Well I'll let you on in a little story of mine. When I was
really young I read a story, oh and man did it feel nice, really nice. Now, please
let me tell you about such a wonderful act in my life.

Infront of me sat a book, oh the horror, oh the pain. It was not just a book,
it was THE book! And boy was it a book! Bloody sexy it is! Yet for a moment,
my mind wandered, should I open it, should I not? I reached out with trembling
hands, all other matter of life dissapeared. Including the matter of when I smooched
the toilet seat at the age of 4, yes, as horrifying as it sounds, I forgot about it!

NO WAY! You say? Yes way. My hand closed around the forsaken object; the book
of thy sexual intercourse. And I opened it, and after 3 hours straight, I heard a popping
noise. I started down in horror as I saw a baby rolling on the floor throwing the most
ferocious tantrum in the world.

I had, had sex. As horrifying as it sounds, I had, had sex!



...I woke up to a sound of soulja boy on the radio. Sitting on my chest, was a toad.
My lips moved out, so did the toads. And in a moment, they touched, and in a moment
i was torn from this galaxy, spiralling into the void, the deepest, darkest void of all, one
that they call...


...SEX

THE END

[SkyRay]

i are winner ;D

[esay]

i are winner ;D

In your eyes :P

[Snuggletummy]

Click me!

Krystal hopped out of the Cornerian fighter that Lucy Hare had been kind enough to obtain for her. As she scanned the empty hangar, the Cerinian vixen let out a heavy sigh as she reminisced about how she came to this position. After Fox had forced her to leave the Star Fox team, Krystal had wandered the Lylat System in solitude. Peppy Hare's daughter, Lucy, was one of the few friends the Cerinian vixen had outside of the Star Fox team; with Peppy's new position as General of the Cornerian Army, Lucy was able to acquire a fighter for Krystal to use since the Arwings were only allowed to current members of Star Fox. After spending a few days with Peppy's daughter, Krystal left in search of a new way of life; one that would prove that she did not need Fox McCloud to look out for her well-being.

After a few standard weeks of roaming the galaxy, Krystal came across a transmission detailing an attack on the Lylat System by an unknown race called the Anglars. Apparently, the Anglar Empire was based in the acidic oceans of Venom; where Andross was banished. It was clear that an all out assault on their home world would've had been fruitless since the oceans were highly acidic; but one day, Krystal managed to pick up a stray transmission from the Star Wolf team concerning a new device that would protect any ship from highly corrosive chemicals. Even though she was no longer a member of Star Fox, Krystal could not sit idly by while the galaxy was destroyed; the blue vixen punched in the coordinates of the origin of the transmission and speed at an incredible speed through space.

Krystal shook her head, clearing her mind of her past memories and cautiously walked down the dimly lit hallway, gun in hand and at the ready. When she approached the vector where the transmission originated from, a small, derelict ship came into view. Initial scans revealed no crew on board, yet life support was still active. When she was nearing the hangar, a message came through. Krystal immediately identified the voice as Wolf O'Donnell's, the leader of Star Wolf. He demanded her to identify herself. Fearing that the ruthless vulpine would attack her on sight if he knew who she was, Krystal quickly responded with a fake name and ID number, posing as a Cornerian pilot since both her attire and ship matched the description perfectly. After Krystal asked to meet with the team and bargain for the toxic neutralization device, there was a long pause before Wolf agreed and opened the hangar doors, revealing the three Wolfen starships of the Star Wolf team.

Krystal continued down the eerie hallway, using her telepathic abilities to try and locate the Star Wolf team and avoid any "unpleasant" surprises. The lone vixen stepped into what appeared to be the ships audience room, where the ships commander and crew met to discuss missions. Suddenly, Krystal felt a sharp point press into her back. "That's far enough...Krystal." Krystal stood still, shocked that she was discovered so easily; she remembered that even though she was wearing a helmet, her blue tail still stuck out and mentally berated herself for forgetting that small detail. Krystal slowly turned her head around and glanced back behind her.

Wolf O'Donnell had a gun pointed her back, a long curved blade protruding from the barrel of the blaster and poking into her back. Wolf looked exactly as he always did; full flight suit with spiked shoulder armor, gray fur with a white Mohawk, and one violet eye with the other eye covered by a cybernetic eye patch. Behind him, with rifles at the ready, were his two subordinates; Leon Powalski and Panther Caroso. Leon was a lean chameleon with an itchy trigger finger and a psychotic disposition, a very dangerous combination. Panther was a black panther with a single white line traveling down one of his eyes and was known to be a ladies cat, something both Wolf and Leon found irritating.

"Well, well," cackled Leon, aim at the vixen's head, "Look what we've got here...Drop your gun, Star Fox scum!"

"I'm not a member of Star Fox anymore," Krystal said coldly, tossing her gun to the side.

The three mercenaries laughed at Krystal's remark. "As much as I doubt that, I still want to hear why you're no longer with Fox and his pathetic team mates," said Wolf with a toothy grin.

Krystal turned around to face the Star Wolf team. "Fox kicked me off the team because he didn't think I could take care of myself," she almost yelled.

"My poor darling," spoke Panther in his smooth romantic voice, "how horrible that this has happened to you."

"Shut it, Panther," hissed Krystal. Panther had always tried to romance Krystal and she never really pushed him away because they were just compliments, not proposals; but after being cast out by Fox, she was in no mood for anyone to try and be romantic with her. "I've come for the device."

Wolf took a step towards her, his smirk slowly turning into a scowl. "What makes you think we'd let you have it?"

"In case you didn't realize," Krystal said with a mock sweet voice, "the Lylat system is under attack by the Anglar Empire; the fate of the galaxy rests with that device. With it, we can attack the Anglar home world and end this bloodshed."

Leon scoffed at Krystal's cheekiness. "What's in it for us, Star Slut?"

Using all the control she had not to blast the lizard, Krystal simply glared at him. "Aside from staying alive?" she said in a cold tone, "Well, I may not be a member of Star Fox, but I'm still in touch with General Hare. I could ask him to remove the bounties on your heads."

"What good would that do?" growled Wolf. "We're not going to change our ways just because you came in here and tried to convince us to play the role of saviors of the galaxy; if you want a hero, go talk to that worthless pup, McCloud."

"You must really feel inadequate to Fox, huh?" Krystal said in a teasingly. "Honestly, don't the three of you have anything better to do than sit around and wait to mess with a pilot who's bested you every time you meet?"

All three of the Star Wolf pilots glared at her. "I suggest you stop being so smug, bitch," snarled Wolf, "You don't have your fearless leader to protect you anymore."

Krystal could see that this was going nowhere, so she decided to leave before things got worse. "Fine, have it your way," she shouted as she started to circle around them to get to the door.

"Don't you want the device?" hissed Wolf, "What about saving the Lylat System from certain doom?" Panther and Leon snickered at their boss's remark.

"It's obvious you're not going to give it to me, so I'm not going to stay here with you any longer." As Krystal turned to leave, she felt Wolf grab onto her arm.

"You're not going anywhere," growled Wolf.

Krystal whirled around and kicked Wolf in the gut, causing him to double over. As she tried to run, Panther and Leon dashed out in front of her, rifles trained at her head. "Where do you think you're going?" Leon yelled, "We're not going to let some helpless little girl just waltz out of here!"

"You're even more foolish than I thought if you think I'm helpless just because I'm not with Star Fox anymore!" Krystal thrust out her arms and a brilliant blue light shot out of her hands and knocked Panther and Leon away from the door, an attack she had not used since her adventures on Sauria. Before she could escape, Wolf grabbed her around her waist and flung her to the side. Krystal slammed into the wall and fell to the ground in a daze while the Star Wolf team huddled around her.

"You're going to pay for that," muttered Wolf, removing her helmet, grabbing a handful of her hair, and dragging her up on her feet. "You also owe us for the Sargasso base you attacked and for saving your hide on the Aparoid home world." Wolf leaned in close, his tongue sliding out of his mouth to lick Krystal's cheek. "And you are going to pick up the tab."

Wolf flung her to the ground and gave her a kick to her side. Krystal wheezed as Wolf's boot slammed into her side. Panther stood in front of Wolf, blocking him from Krystal. "Wolf, stop! Leave her be!"

Wolf grabbed Panther by the throat and pulled him close. "Listen up, Caroso. I've put up with your romantic way of life because you're the only pilot decent enough to join Leon and me; but I won't have you stopping us from exacting revenge. You have a choice," Wolf snarled as he put his blaster to Panther's face, the blade inches from his eye, "You can either join in the fun, sit in the corner, or get a matching scar for your other eye. Your call!" Even though Panther cared about Krystal, his loyalty was to Wolf. When he thought about what exactly they would do to her, Panther decided he would rather join in than sit quietly in the corner of the room. Panther nodded and Wolf released his grip, turning his attention the vixen on the floor.

Krystal tried to crawl to the door, but Wolf grabbed onto her tail and dragged her back to him. Wolf and Panther stepped in front of the Cerinian vixen with lust in their eyes. "Since you're possibly the last of your kind, I won't be the one to kill you. However," Wolf said as he and Panther dragged her over to a small table by her arms, "we can still have some fun with you. Just think of it as a way to repopulate your race."
With that the three of them tore into Krystal's uniform, shredding the jacket, tearing the pants and removing her boots. "No, stop!" Krystal cried in fear. All of them stopped, leaving the vixen in nothing but a tattered shirt and panties. Wolf stepped up to her and grabbed her muzzle.

"One way or another, we're going to get what we want. You, however, can decide whether it's rough or smooth. Now, dance for us!" Realizing there was no chance for her to escape, Krystal started to slowly and nervously dance, shaking her hips as she slowly undressed herself with tears streaming down her face. Krystal slowly removed her torn shirt and her black bra, revealing her white furred bosoms. Star Wolf wasn't making this any easier for her as they whistled and began to slowly massage the groin region of the pants. Krystal's fingers trembled as she slid of her panties, giving the three mercs a clear view of her white pussy and tail hole. As soon she stepped out of her panties, Panther and Wolf stood up, grabbed her by the arms and flung her onto the table on her stomach.

Wolf and Panther stood in front of her while Leon approached her rear; carrying a small box he had left near the wall when they first came to this ship in search of valuable parts. Both Panther and Wolf unbuckled their belts and pulled down their pants, revealing their massive, erect cocks. Krystal cringed as the two members drifted towards her face. Wolf grabbed onto one of her ears and yanked it. "Get to work, slut!"

Krystal reached out and grabbed on to their lengths with each hand, slowly stroking up and down their shafts. Wolf and Panther laughed as she started to slowly jack them off. "Use your mouth," Wolf growled, "and we had better not feel any teeth, or else." Krystal timidly stuck out her tongue and gave Wolf's cock a few small licks on the tip, causing the lupine to growl in pleasure. Krystal couldn't believe what was happening to her; she was being forced into sex by a group of mercenaries that had an undying grudge against her. The vixen did her best to please Wolf without having to taste the disgusting liquid that was starting to form at the tip of the head. Panther grabbed onto Krystal's other ear and gave it a good yank, irritated that Wolf was getting all the attention. Krystal quickly shifted her mouth over to Panther's member and gave him a good long lick from base to tip, shivering as her tongue scraped across the small barbs along his length. Both males started to groan as Krystal flicked her tongue across their tips, down their shafts, and over their balls.

Leon knelt down behind the vixen, eyeing her two holes. Leon never had any desire to mate with a mammal, but he did love to torture them; especially a member of Star Fox. Leon grabbed onto the vixen's butt cheeks, causing her to yelp and almost bite down on Panther's cock, resulting in a smack to the side of her head from the irritated feline. "Heh, this little slut seems to be enjoying this more than she'll admit," Leon said, gazing at her slightly moist cunt. Leon raised his hand up and spanked her hard on the ass. Krystal cried out, earning her a smack to the face from Wolf. The psychotic lizard spanked her as hard as he could, relishing her pained cries. Krystal stifled her screams in order to prevent any further assaults from Panther and Wolf, her breasts swinging underneath her from the force of Leon's smacks. Once the skin underneath her fur was red, Lean shifted his attention back on her pussy. Extending his long tongue, Leon teasing licked at Krystal's swollen lips. Krystal moaned as the lizards tongue began to push into her pussy and flail about inside. Leon began to piston his tongue deep into Krystal's cunt as he pinched her clit and fingered her tail hole. "Ya lak tha, don'tha?" he mumbled around his tongue.

Panther and Wolf were enjoying Krystal's licks, but were eager for more. Wolf nodded towards Leon, and he nodded back. Leon opened the small box he had brought with him; inside were numerous gun attachments and other technological devices, but he was looking for something else. While he pushed his tongue so deep he was licking her cervix, he removed the bottom of the box, revealing a number of piercings he kept for occasions such as this. Leon found a small ring piercing that he liked to use to yank on with his finger and placed it in the piercing gun. Slowly, he positioned it so the needle was aimed at Krystal's clit; Leon pressed his tongue into her cervix so hard it passed through it and began to lap at her ovaries. Krystal screamed as Leon's tongue passed through her cervix only to scream even louder when she felt a stinging pain in her clit as Leon pierced it. Panther and Wolf used Krystal's pain to their advantage and shoved their cocks into her open mouth, muffling her cries.

Krystal's world seemed to melt away as Leon continued to lick her untouched depths while he fingered her tail hole mercilessly and yanked on her new clit piercing. Wolf and Panther humped into her mouth, placing her hands on their balls. "You know, I used to think of you as such a noble vixen," laughed Panther as he yanked on her ear, "but know you're nothing but a whore!" Krystal was stunned to hear him say that; she had always figured Panther would keep her safe from Wolf and Leon, but now she had no hope of any mercy from any of them. Krystal had truly lost everything.

To make matters worse, Wolf and Panther grunted as they suddenly came without warning; their cocks spewing their putrid cum down her throat. After the first few volleys of jiz, they removed their cocks from Krystal's mouth and fired their last loads into her face. Leon pulled his tongue from the vixen's quivering pussy, laughing at her expense. Krystal reached down and grabbed her tattered jacket, using it to wipe away the cum and tears off her face. Before she could react, Wolf picked her up off the table and laid down on the ground with her on top. "Time for the main event," he said with a cruel smile. Wolf reached down and, with his still stiff cock in his hand, placed the tip against her folds. "Panther! Leon! Get in formation," Wolf joked. Panther circled behind Krystal and aimed his length at her tail hole while grabbing a firm hold on her tail. Leon walked around to Krystal's face and pulled down his pants, revealing his incredibly long dick. Wolf and Panther were as long as they were wide, but Leon was all length and was by far the longest of the three. Krystal kept her mouth shut as he rubbed his reptilian length over her face. Finally, Leon became so irritated that he pulled out two more ring piercings and his piercing gun, grabbed her right breast, and pierced her nipple. Krystal yelped as the needle lanced through her flesh; while the vixen was distracted, Leon grabbed her other breast and skewered her nipple. As Krystal cried in pain, Leon took this opportunity to cram his cock into her mouth. Krystal gagged and coughed around the long, rough rod as it forced its way to the back of her throat.

Wolf pushed up inside of Krystal's cunt, taking her virtue with a single thrust; Krystal arched her back and moaned, surprised that the lupine's forceful thrust made her feel so good. Panther pressed his cock deep into her ass, the only lubrication was the cum and saliva from before. Although it was not as pleasant as Wolf's penetration, it was arousing as the tiny barbs tickled the inside of her ass. Leon looped his fingers into Krystal's nipple rings and gave them a twist, causing Krystal to cringe in pain. Krystal received the message and began to slide her tongue all over the incredible length inside her mouth, using her hands to stroke the length of the shaft that wasn't in her mouth and caress his scaly sac. Wolf began to thrust into Krystal like a wild animal, reaching down to grab a hold of her clit piercing and give it a light pull. The vixen's ass was being brutally pummeled by Panther's impressive length, the small barbs scratching her anal walls and driving the helpless Krystal crazy. Leon had managed to feed his length down Krystal throat and began to fuck her esophagus as he twisted yanked on her nipple rings.

As much as Krystal hated to admit it, she was enjoying every moment of this second round. Even though all three mercs were being as rough and brutal as possible, they were giving her a newfound pleasure she had never felt before. Sure, a little respect and romance would've made it more magical, but the sensation of Wolf's cock filling her needy pussy, Panther pounding away at her tight ass, and even Leon's hose-like cock slithering down her throat was more than enough to get her blood pumping. Krystal began to eagerly buck back against Wolf and Panther's thrusts, her hips smacking into their balls. Krystal bobbed her head on Leon's dick as she roughly jacked him off with one of her hands while the other squeezed his nuts in retaliation for the piercings. Soon, she succeeded in making all three of them moan audibly, while she herself was on the verge of climax. Wolf cursed as he hilted himself into her pussy and came violently inside her, his creamy seed shooting into her eager depths. Krystal moaned around Leon's cock as the feeling of Wolf's hot cum sent her over the edge, her pussy and ass clamping down on Wolf and Panther's cock as she hungrily sucked on the reptilian member in her mouth. Panther tensed up and shot his load into Krystal's ass, the excess bubbling out around his cock. Leon groaned he spilled his seed into Krystal's gullet, her throat muscles massaging the elongated length. Once all four had climaxed, the Star Wolf team slid out of Krystal's orifices and fell to the ground, totally spent thanks to the Cerinian's enthusiasm.

"Well, I think...ha...that's enough for today," panted Wolf, giving Krystal's ass a swat.

"I always knew she would be a good fuck," coughed Panther as he slowly rose to his feet.

"Eh...I've had better," scoffed Leon as he reached for his pants.

It was at that point that something changed inside Krystal, something that had never existed before this day. The Cerinian vixen felt more self-centered, more arrogant, and possibly a little meaner. After what the lizard had done to her, she wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily. "I'll bet...seeing as though you'd probably be Wolf and Panther's little ass slave!" she said coldly.

Leon whirled around with an outraged look on his scaly face. "Why you little..." he mumbled as he reached for his gun. But before he could reach it, Krystal leapt off of Wolf, dashed over to Leon, and grabbed his testicles in her hand, crushing them in her grip, digging her nails into the scaly scrotum. Leon winced as Krystal held him by the balls, the pain paralyzing him completely. As she held the lizard by the nuts, Krystal's eyes strayed towards the piercing gun and a ring piercing that Leon had intended to use on her naval resting on the table. With a dark smile, Krystal reached over and grabbed the piercing gun, placed the ring piercing on the needle, and aimed it at the chameleon's limp dick. Before Leon realized what was going on, he let out a shrill scream as Krystal pierced the head of his cock.

"Maybe now you can satisfy a woman with that disgusting thing, or a man in your case," laughed Krystal cruelly.

Krystal had feared that Wolf and Panther would stop her, but surprisingly they didn't. The two of them just stood there and laughed at the scene before them. "Well, well...it seems as though our little sex slave has a little fight in her. I admire that," Wolf said with a chuckle. "So, are you going to try and "persuade" us into giving you the device and help your beloved Fox?"

"No," Krystal spat at Wolf, "I'm done with trying to help Fox. If he wanted my help, then he shouldn't have cast me out of the team." All three of the mercs were shocked by Krystal's remark.

A smile started to form on Wolf's muzzle. "Since you don't care for Fox anymore, and since you're going to be our little slut from now on, how would you like to join the Star Wolf team?"

It took less than ten seconds for Krystal to come to a decision. "As long as you treat me with some respect, I'll join you. After all, my telepathic abilities would be a great asset to your team." Krystal's eyes darkened as she stared into Wolf's one good eye. "Fox won't stand a chance."

That was all Wolf needed to hear. "Welcome to the Star Wolf team." Wolf held out his hand and Krystal, after releasing Leon's nuts, grasped it and gave it a good shake.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fox gasped as he woke up from the nightmare in a cold sweat. The fox glanced all about him; he was in his room on the Great Fox, clothes scattered about the room, Krystal sleeping peacefully beside him. As he calmed down, he remembered what had transpired the previous day; the Star Fox team had defeated the Anglar Empire and saved the Lylat System once again. Afterwards, Fox had finally apologized to Krystal for being so selfish and forcing her off the team. Once the two were alone, Krystal pounced on Fox and kissed him deeply, dragging him into his room and spending the evening together as they explored their passion for one another. It was truly the most romantic evening either of them ever had.

Fox wiped the sweat from his brow as he sat upright in his bed, trying to shake off the horrible nightmare he had just experienced. The dream was so real, it seemed to express all of the doubts and fears he had about allowing Krystal to rejoin the team. Fox knew Krystal could take care of herself, but now he was worried that she had some loyalty to Star Wolf. That fear was quickly forgotten; completely overshadowed by the true fear he had.

If Star Wolf truly hated the Star Fox team, then how did Krystal join them? Could they have really ravaged her and turn her to their side so easily? No, if she really was loyal to them she wouldn't have rejoined him and spent the night with him. From the outside people could easily think she was using him, but Fox knew her, and last night was so special to him...it just couldn't be right. After all, she had said she was a virgin; her tightness, her shyness, and her inexperience in bed was clear evidence to that. But still...

Fox gazed down upon the sleeping vixen, watching her chest slowly rise and fall. With great care, he lifted the sheets, exposing her beautiful naked body. Fox leaned in towards her perfect breasts, focusing on the nipples to see if there were any indications of previous piercings; he found none. Next, he slid his hands down to her thighs and gently pried her legs apart, revealing her once virgin sex. With two fingers, Fox spread Krystal's nether lips wide, using his free hand to softly grab onto her clit. Krystal giggled in her sleep as Fox scanned over her sex; there were no piercing marks here, either.

Satisfied with his search, Fox replaced the sheets on Krystal and himself and laid on his back. Even if none of what transpired in his dream had happened, it could have. Fox began to doubt himself; could he manage a relationship with Krystal? Or would he somehow manage to ruin both their chances at happiness and end up traveling the galaxy alone?
Before Fox could slip any further into his depression, Krystal rolled over and draped an arm across his chest.

"Mmm...Fox...," Krystal murred in her sleep as she nuzzled into his neck with a smile on her face.

"Krystal?" Fox whispered. Krystal didn't respond. Fox smiled down at the beautiful blue vixen, trying his best not to cry. Casting away all his fears, Fox wrapped his arms around his beloved Krystal and closed his eyes. Fox made a promise to himself that night; he would always be there for Krystal, and if the galaxy became too dangerous of a place then he would just have to do his best to keep her safe, even though she could look after herself. With that thought echoing in his mind, Fox hugged Krystal tightly and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of a wonderful life with Krystal and their future son, Marcus
McCloud.

[JeRK]

Topic today is Finnish childrens' TV programs in the 90's.

First of all, every day when it was winter, every year of my childhood in the end of the most popular childrens' show there was this clip. It STILL scares the shit out of me, so as a kid I was absolutely TERRIFIED of going out on icy lakes, no matter how much my parents showed there was like 20cm of ice. The creepy music AND voice in the clip are the most horror-inducing ever. They could make this shit into a full length movie and there wouldn't be a teenager in the country who would have the balls to go watch it. The ones who did would end up in a vegetative state in a hospital.

Oh yeah, and then there was this clown fucker. Not mind fuck enough? HE HAD A FUCKING WALKING STICK THAT FLEW AROUND ON ITS OWN AT HIGH SPEEDS, LAUGHING IN A HIGH PITCHED VOICE AND BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THE CLOWN.

Kids still not scared enough? Great, just have them sit down and watch some Moomin, known to be one of the happiest and cheeriest animated Finnish series. UNTIL THE GROKE APPEARS THAT IS. THIS DUDE WILL MAKE THE SUN HIDE AND MAKE THE GROUND FREEZE OVER IN THE SUMMER. He turns a happy TV evening into you cowering under the nearest bed. And when he turns to look at the camera in one of the few episodes they ever dared to air, your parents will have some laundry to do.

And thank god I don't remember anything from ages 3 to 6.

[Kablizzy]

There once was a man from Nantucket.
Whose wife's maiden name was Pawtuckett.
They bumped uglies one day
And then nine months away,
She shat out a baby named Bucket.

[GamingWolf]

God is tired, worn out. So he speaks to St. Peter, "You know, I need a vacation. Got any suggestions where I should go?"

St. Peter, thinking, nods his head, then says, "How about Jupiter? It's nice and warm there this time of the year."

God shakes His head before saying, "No. Too much gravity. You know how that hurts my back."

"Hmmm," St. Peter reflects. "Well, how about Mercury?"

"No way!" God mutters, "It's way too hot for me there!"

"I've got it," St. Peter says, his face lighting up. "How about going Down to Earth for your vacation?"

Chuckling, God remarks, "Are you kidding? Two thousand years ago I went there, had an affair with some nice Jewish girl, and they're STILL talking about it!"

[Rikaninja]

Once upon a time,
A raging rhino sang,
"Oh he, Oh he" he sang upon his steed
He ricled and he roiled
For a jolly song sang he!

But one day came the evil hunter
A rifle and his side!
With a bicket and a blow
A turtle and a gloa
He killed the rhino lightheaded!

Te hunter rejoiced as proud he was!
Yet that nigh he was dead
A heard of rhino singing with their bakokass!
Full of triumph with the dead hunter!

[Studebacher Hoch]

First, let me tell you about my father. He wasn't exactly what you'd call a 'Communist sympathizer'; we're talking about a man bought a house and than tore it down when he found out it had originally been painted red. He grew up with the Cold War. It made him paranoid, distant and, let's face it, crazy. He was also a olympic medalist speed sailer; but more on that later.

So anyway, I grew up in a large house decked out entirely in the colour most diametrically opposed to red known to man - beige. It was a big house, with a basement that had a lot of cement-floored rooms with lights that didn't quite work and the perfect assortment of things for a little kid to put in his mouth. My dad believed that a kid's got to learn about the world by making a few mistakes - "Got to, y'know, break a few whatsits to make a beef stew," he'd always said. Point being, I only drank WD-40 once, so he must have done something right.

Now, there was one room that he, under no circumstances, would let me go in. The door was unassuming - beige, wooden, and friendly, like the rest of the house. "Alexander," he'd warned, "if you go in that room I'm gonna cut your balls off." He'd made the same threat to my dog a few days before getting him neutered; I was not going to make the same mistake my dog had.

This brings me back to the sailing. My dad made a habit of sailing across the Atlantic ocean with a few friends, a couple cases of beer, and guns. Where too? Why, Soviet Russia, of course. Usually they just traded the guns to the locals for vodka and headed for Portugal to get wasted; this time, however, they felt more adventerous than usual. In what I can only assume was a daring midnight raid, he and his friends stormed a Russian town, looted it, and sailed away. Mostly, they sold this swag in Portugal so they could get more loaded than ever. But, as I'd soon learn, they didn't hock everything.

I didn't really intend to go in; I'd assumed it was locked, really. But when I reached for the door handle and it slid open smoothly, I felt compelled. I'd come this far, afterall. I stepped inside and tried to feel for a lightswitch. As I flicked it, the door slammed shut behind me and locked with an audible thud. There was a sickening moment where it was just me and the darkness.

After a moment, I started to hear something feint. It was laughter, getting slowly louder and more rowdy until I couldn't hear anything over it; then, suddenly, it cut off. A few feet in front of my face, two bright red LEDs came to life. "There is no laughing," a voice said slowly, "in Soviet Russia." Red light poured into the room from all directions, illuminating the scowling metal visage of Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, Comrade Lenin himself, on an iron pedastel a few feet from me. His eyes were gouged out; in their place were the two red LEDs I'd seen before.

Than darkness again.

[SkyRay]

A young, curious, and adolescent boy walked into a haunted house..
(since this is told in 3rd person, there is nothing more to tell, as we can't tell what happened to him after that.. as we are standing outside the house..) as as as

[unoriginal name]

Fischer set down the empty cup and covered his eyes with his left hand, mind a jumble of confusions. The unlocked door that had been locked by the time they'd reached the house. The restored electrical system that had failed to work. Florence's inability to to enter the chapel. The record playing by itself. The cold breeze on the stairs. The tinkling chandelier. The pounding noises during the séance; Florence suddenly, inexplicably, becoming a physical medium. The figure at the sánce; its hysterical warning to them. The poltergeist attack. Mrs. Barrett being lead to the tarn in her sleep. The bites on Florence's breasts. The body on the wall; the ring. The attack on Florence by the cat. Now the attack on Barrett in the stem room.
He slumped back in the chair. Nothing fitted, he thought. Nothing added up.

[Sucker]

A highly interesting story about a dream.

It started off as a dream. Just normal. I was in a school bus driven by an old teacher of mine, and she insulted me in some way, so I told her off. She left the bus, and wrote me a letter about something completely different. I ended up at a house my stepdad was building for my family to live in. it wasn't finished at this point.

Then it skipped ahead to the house being finished, and my fiancee being in it with me. His grandfather was there, and he said something about alcohol poisoning, then the grandfather left and he showed me a newspaper clipping with stories about said grandfather.

There was another skip, and I was in some sort of weird futuristic society. I was inside a big house, watching the events unseen by those others in the house. A girl was having a sleepover. Her little brothers and sister had already gone to bed. Her mom and dad were still up. She was maybe fifteen, young but mature. I never saw the other people she was having over. The thing got them before I came in. She thought they were sleeping.

The mother and father disappeared for some reason, and the girl was left with her "sleeping" friends and her siblings. I moved to the other room to check on them, I seem to recall. The little sister was obviously dead in bed, eye glassed over and face contorted, a little bit of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. She struck me as looking like the girl in The Exorcist, but only around the eyes.

Then, she started moving. It was almost disjointed, and she moved quickly. She leaped onto her brother's bed and strangled him. I moved back to the room with the older girl. Maybe I was hoping to warn her. But I left soon, heading back to the room with two of her siblings. The sister was laying her brother down and covering him up. They smiled at each other and giggled. Their smiles revealed fangs.

I left the room again to see the teenager picking up her youngest brother (Maybe five or six?) and running. Her father's voice echoed from the open basement door, "Keep running! Go toward daylight! I'll meet you at the bus station! Don't stop!" The two ran towards a pier, the ship being the only way to travel in the direction of the sun (which was rising in the West for some odd reason). Some girls from the teen's school started bullying her, but then the thing from the house (more detail on it later) came and started mutilating them.

The girl dove for the water, her brother disappearing entirely. When she woke, she was in some weird cartoony place, on a toon version of the boat she was heading towards. They were moving in the direction of the sun.

She said, "Is that...?"
The boast answered, "Yes. Hell."

The girl barely had time to jump aside, and found herself watching in horror as the boat and all its occupants rushed through the gate to Hell.

Hell wasn't so bad, but was more of just that place you go when you're dead. I distinctly remember there being imps playing volleyball with little old men. It was green, with ice-blue ponds. The nonhuman occupants actually reminded me rather much of Megaman enemies.

I was suddenly back watching the girl again, but this time I was visible. Apparently she'd been telling me about this. My fiancee and I were in her kitchen. She left the room, and my fiancee gave me a kiss and told me he was going to work. I heard the doors slam as he left, and I realized I didn't know where he worked.

The window near me slid open, and a rottweiler jumped in and turned into a man. Young, slightly reckless-looking. Long almost-black hair back in a ponytail. He grabbed a pan and started fixing me breakfast, talking to me. There was a news broadcast on about the girl's father and several others going to a facility for testing. There was this horrible screeching cry from the area of the basement door, and the girl rushed in and grabbed a knife from the rottweiler man.

"It's not her. He's not here. Ignore her. Go to sleep. Don't get scared. Don't give it to him."

She ran out, closing the door behind her. A few seconds later, there was a scratching at the door, and the screeching was coming from behind the wall. The rottweiler man growled and grabbed a skillet, saying "I'll give you something, you bastard!" before leaping out the door and letting it slam closed.

And then I knew I was completely alone in the world. And there was something out there that had meant the death of a bunch of people.

I got flashes of the thing, throughout the dream. Its head was slightly elongated, with antlers like the twisted limbs of a dead tree, and probably about as frail. It was mostly human, closest thing I can compare it to would be a faun, with its lower half terminating in goat-like legs. Its arms ended in clawlike hands that (despite the dorkery that's gonna be evident in this) reminded me of the hands of a certain popular beastman from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. Its skin was horribly burnt, and, as if to drive home the point that it needed fear to exist, it seemed to have the charred remains of a green and red sweater (Go ahead and poke fun at me for my movie dorkery here) melted to its skin.

Source/Credit

[_red___xiii_]

Today in class we had to make a rythming poem about curiosity between 8-10 lines. I hated the topic (hard to write poems about) so I didn't really try. Anyways she told me to stop slacking and write a poem. I said give me a more specific topic then. She said Curious George. I told her to come back in 3 minutes. Now I couldn't think of anything thing that rhymed with George except storage. I hastily made a poem which became progressively more violent. I didn't really care, she was a sub anyways. I'm only submitting this because it features a hellish setting and a randomly chosen partly religious theme (Which only happened because nothing else rythemd with pope).

Curious George
Was locked into Storage
As a Bloody old Beaten old Pulp

The man outside George's cell
laughed at his Hell
and George knew that there was no hope

George cried out in vain
Teeth gritted with pain
He shouldn't have pissed off the pope.

And then I made the title "Don't Ask Controversial Religious Questions in Sunday School" lol. I might submit an actual entry later but for now this is it.

[Paddy]

One day Francis and I walked around armed with shotguns in search of more infected. "FFFFFFFFF.", I screamed. "WTF. You are full of bile.", Francis said. He didn't notice that a boomer stood behind him, but I saw him and shot. "What the hell are you doing. You missed me closely." "There was a Boomer. Watch out.". I washed the bile off and we moved on. "What's that?", I shouted, "An earthquake?" "I hate earthquakes.", answered Francis. But it was not an earthquake, it was a tank. "TANK! TANK!", Francis shouted. We ran. Faster than anyone else ran before. Our hearts beated faster. We noticed that it wasn't a normal Tank. His cry was like a cry of a child. Like a child that was scared by an actor in a haunted house. But it was still a Tank. So we killed him. We found a little wobbly, slimy boomer baby on the street a few moments later. We decided to take him with us and to treat him like a son. With his help we killed all infected but him and the world was rescued by Francis and me.
The End.

[Tanner]

A group of wicker mariachis stand on the stage before me. They hold cardboard instruments propelled only by the crackling of the tiny speakers hidden inside their cheap, wooden bodies. To my left are laughing children tossing water balloons to one another, trying not to let them break. To my right is Spiderman, crying uncontrollably while his younger sister sucks the ice cream cone he has just spilled from the front of his costume. It is Hallowe'en '95 and I've just turned seven three days ago.

The air force base that we live on does this every year. Even at this age, I know that it sucks. The only reason I look forward to it is the grocery bag full of candy at the end of the night. No wandering down dark streets. No scary, drunken teenagers. I have to abide by a night of face painting and shitty clowns and, at the end, I get my reward. This is how the evening works. This is how it has always worked since I can remember. The system is a wonderful nougat-driven cogwork of screaming children and parents thankful that this goddamn night only lasts for four hours.

Still, this is my night and I deny myself no small pleasure. I wait for a break in my mother's careful gaze and then, when the timing is just right, slip noiselessly into the crowd like the ninja (turtle) I am attired as. At the far end there's a little bitch who's scored some caramels off her old man. I tell her she looks lovely and that we should find a place to ourselves but the dame is wise to me and I leave empty-handed. April O'Neil this girl ain't but I'm far from discouraged.

At the far end of the common room there are a number of side rooms that are being used for games. I skulk around these for a while until I find an abandoned one. There's an empty cardboard box and about three hundred elastic bands. Needless to say, I shut the door behind me (the chick with the caramels was nosy, I could tell, and I didn't want her getting her sticky paws on my elastics). I stood the box with its open end pointing upwards at one end of the room and took my rubber bands over to the opposite wall. I had been practicing my shot with the missus at home and wouldn't she be pleased to see how my aim hand improved. Time blurred as I focused entirely on hitting that sweet spot just on the inside back edge of the box so that every elastic plunked satisfyingly into a pile at the bottom.

My concentration was broken by a shrill whistle announcing that it was time to dish out the candy. Though muffled, I heard a male voice telling us that we could each go through once until everyone had had a turn. "Fuckin' Commies," I chuckled as I adjusted the three other costumes I wore under the green, cotton turtle skin. "Betch'ya ain't ever had this petard foisted on ya." I mostly ran for the door to the common room and pulled on the knob with my whole body. Nothing. Wouldn't budge. I tried pulling it the other direction. I tried pulling and turning the knob at the same time. I tried jiggling the knob. I tried yelling at it. I tried pulling the door while calling the knob various names. No luck.

This was not a proud moment for me, I'll admit. I screamed. There were tears. I made promises to god that I fully had no intention of keeping. But I knew that the chorus of increasingly sugar-filled children was going to keep anyone from hearing my cries. It was only after the rush for the candy died down and the lines began to disperse that my mom came calling. She opened the door too find a red-eyed young boy and she, bless her, opened her arms to give me a reassuring hug. I pushed her aside and ran as fast as my little legs would take me toward the candy table.

I can't recount what happened next because it just causes me too much emotion. Suffice it to say that there was no candy for me that night. I had missed the window and the greedy hoard had swallowed my hazelnut-filled dreams. As I walked out the door, I saw her. The caramel bitch, now with milk chocolate smeared from her chin to her nose. As I trod, sullenly, to the car, she smirked after me as she sucked on a lollipop the size of her fist. Fuckin' worst Hallowe'en ever.

[_red___xiii_]

K here's the real one.

I’m not dead.

A dim realization but an important one, because I should have died. The shoCk of whatever just ripped through me was strong enough tO do it -- some kind of electrical overload lighting me up from head to toe like a fireworks display. But my brain kept repeating the mantra: “not dead, not dead, not dead,” and pretty soon I had to believe it. One eye Popped open and then the other, and consciousness (if you can call it that) slowlY returned.

Cold and dark. Orange. Harvest. A damp, musty smell; sound of crickets; the bite of a monster headache. Yes, I was trapped in a pumpkin patch, twisted and tensed, taking shallow breaths like a newborn kitten.

Clarity did not follow consciousness. My mind felt sluggish, and all attempts at coherent thought made my temples ache Worse. Why? What had happened to me?

I remember the shock and...

...and nothing. Just the shock. DistuRbIng doesn’t even beGin to cover it.

Sitting up seemed like a bad idea, so I tried to grab my Hornet’s nest of a head. Simple. Left hand, up. Right hand, up. BuT nothing happened. My arms won’t move, I realized.

I tried to wiggle my legs, fingers, hips, toes, nose, ears and neck. They didn’t answer the bell. I’m paralyzed.

I could feel my pulse coming faster now and I wondered what would happen if my breathing stopped. No mystery there, eh? My brain would atrophy like a wilting flower and the consciousness I’d fought for would be hideous as I spiraled down the path of no return. Panic hit me hard. I started making desperate deals with phantom deities I invented on the spot. Please, I thought, don’t let me die. Whoever you are, if you can hear me, get me up on my feet. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything...well...

Well, what? What did I have to offer?

Nothing. I know nothing, and thus I have nothing. I don’t even know my own name. Puzzles have pieces, don’t they, so why can’t I remember?

A new theory came to me: brain damage.

Two words I didn’t want to consider, but they made frightening sense. The paralysis didn’t need to stem from a broken vertebra, after all -- I could have simply forgotten how to move, the way I’d forgotten everything else.

Let’s not jump off that bridge just yet. If you forget something, surely you can remember it, given enough time. That’s me -- looking on the bright side, like always.

I clung to hope and faulty logic and waited to remember. And waited. And waited some more. Words came to me in my senselessness, another mantra from the dim recesses of my jigsaw mind: “There is no pain. Keep control. No pain in the house, just keep control.” But I didn’t have control, damn it, it hurt like fire and I just stayed sprawled there, useless and pathetic, for who knows how long. I’m not a control freak, mind you -- not perse -- but deprive me of something basic and I begin to go stark raving mad. The possibility dawned on me as I lay there. Stark, yes. Mad, possibly. But raving? Was I raving?

Hysterical paralysis, they used to call it. Hysteria: a psychoneurotic condition characterized by violent emotional and sensory disturbances, by paroxysms in the motor functions, and by changes in consciousness that are symbolically or psychically determined. Hysterical, sure, but somehow I didn’t feel like laughing.

Could I be dreaming, I wondered? Half awake, eyes open, body still asleep, dreaming my paralysis -- a hypnogogic state? I was, perhaps, a prisoner of my unconscious mind...

Friction of the forewings; the crickets kept pissing me off. There’s a formula for crickets, just like there’s a formula for everything. I don’t mean their genetic formula, but rather their thermometric formula. Crickets chirp less often as the temperature drops, so you can estimate heat by timing the chirps: (chirps per minute / 4) + 40 = # of degrees Fahrenheit. I counted a chirp per second, making it a slightly nippy fifty-five degrees.

I could remember that, but not my own identity? Or how to move?

A strange organ, the brain.

As the crickets mocked me with their love songs, I began to hear another sound -- a distant whine -- faint but getting clearer. And then, like a thunderbolt, the rules suddenly changed.

I heard a loud toc and my body could move again, just like flipping a switch -- or having a base-two zero snap over to a one. I jumped to my feet. My body wasn’t stiff. There was no soreness. My nerve endings felt alive and open. Little flowers of pins and needles bloomed along my spine and down my arms and legs, but the pain was already beginning to fade.

***

[_red___xiii_]

And here is the rest:

Confusion set in. I imagined a thought bubble floating up from my head with a question mark on display. In actuality, a meter above my head, a rapidly blinking light hovered in place. It flipped back and forth between two colors -- red-green-red-green-red-green, bright like a fantastically annoying firefly. Was it a firefly? I couldn’t see any wings. I took a step back. It floated forward.

I thought: I am on some terrible drug.

“Go away,” I said and my voice sounded strange to me. I cleared my throat and took another step. “Go away,” I repeated. The twinkling sprite didn’t respond, but it moved forward again, recovering the lost ground. I took my jacket off, rolled it up, and lashed out, but it passed through the light without affecting it at all. Red-green-red-green-red-green, over and over, an optical siren. And then another popped into existence next to it, this one yellow-blue-yellow-blue-yellow-blue.

I ran for it.

The lights matched my speed.

A hollow voice billowed up from all around me at once...what little I heard, I couldn’t understand. It kept fading in and out, loud-soft-loud-soft-loud-soft. It sounded like: “EX...EE...ERE SEE...UNCT...URGE...RE SKREEEEEE!”

Nonsense, I thought.

I don’t know how far I ran. Half a mile, maybe. I tried not to look back. When I did, the sprites were gone. I stood there, panting, trying to catch my breath.

“This stops right here,” I warned whoever was listening -- Providence, the crickets, the phantom deities who had given me back the use of my limbs. No one answered. Worse, with the sprites gone, it was dark again. The bad, inky kind of dark -- the dark that makes you think you’re about to be surrounded. The moon was all but eaten by gathering clouds. Storm on the way.

Cursing, I fished through my pockets. I came up with a stainless-steel lighter and a half-empty packet of clove cigarettes. The smokes seemed awful familiar, so I shook one out and tasted the end. Sweet. Spicy. A good thing. A piece of sanity. I lit up and took a few puffs, forcing myself to relax. I like cloves, my brain managed to assert. Okay, that’s something I know about myself, something real that can’t be taken away. A few more epiphanies like this and I might have something to go on.

When I felt calmer, I tried sifting through the rest of my thoughts, but no memories rose to the surface. So what did I know? I knew (1) I was young. Just shy of or just past eighteen years old. And (2) I was a student—or something like a student. I had to know things, important things, and I had to know them by rote. What was I doing here? So murky. So much lost to me.

Stubbing the smoke, I wiped my hands on my pants and started moving again. Past a cornfield, through the woods, down a desolate road. I used the lighter as a torch. The rain finally came, gently at first, then like drops of falling steel. It made me think of baptisms. And then a flapping sound made me think of leather. I whirled round, but I could only see the lighter’s glint.

“Who’s there?” I called, straining my eyes.

Again, no response. No one here but us paranoid amnesiacs.

I hurried off in the other direction. Cold, wet, looking over my shoulders -- what a miserable picture I made. I followed the road down a slope to a cul de sac. Lightning flashed and Gothic cathedrals came to mind. But by the time the thunder hit, I realized I was looking at a mansion wrought from stone and stained glass, magnificent and dreadful and yet somehow...familiar.

I know this house, I thought. I don’t know how I know it, but I know this house.

Impish gargoyles sneered down at me like I owed them money. I didn’t have any on me, so I focused my attention on the heavy wooden door. It was a thick block of oak with a colony of locks running up the side. Upon it, dead center, a tiny relief -- an anthropomorphic sun chased an anthropomorphic moon: Helios and Selene. Ornamental or functional? I noticed there was no keyhole, which didn’t stop me from looking under the mat.

I could burn the door down, I thought. (A testament to my befuddlement. You try burning a wet door with a pocket lighter.)

I touched the moon along the side, and pushed it nice and gentle. Gentle didn’t cut it, so I pushed a little harder. It slid counterclockwise on a thin circular track, swiveling up to cover the sun, where it settled neatly into place. An eclipse. The door unlocked with nine hollow clicks.

Nine locks. Nine, for a reason.

I grabbed the doorknob. Halfway inside, I wondered if I should’ve knocked.

The ashlar exterior gave way to a soft, comfortable interior. Plush couches; tapestries, paintings, a rocking chair. The ominous façade had been just that, designed strictly for show. I felt my teeth itch. I thought of turtles. Chelydra serpentina. Penetrate the shell and you get to the meat, but most turtles are defensive creatures, prone to snapping off fingers at the slightest provocation. I succumbed to a morbid daydream, seeing myself running blind through this mansion, trying to open doors with ten bloody stumps.

Seeing myself, eh? The hell do I look like?

I needed a mirror.

Room by room I went, looking for lights to flip on. Switches flipped, but light didn’t follow. An electrical system seemed in place. Someone needed to change the fuse.

My lighter was sputtering; I clicked it off. Pitch black. I tried not to bump into things, or at least not bump into things with pointy edges. One coffee table later, I was clutching my knee and biting my lip. And in the kitchen, I stumbled. Grabbing the counter saved me from a nasty fall.

I righted myself and took my bearings. Then I fished. Rifling through drawers: no, no, no, yes. A knife. Serrated. I gripped it hard. I jabbed the air. It felt good in my hand, but I still didn’t feel safe.

A spiral staircase corkscrewed up to the top floor. I took it and peered down the hallway. Now where would the master bedroom be?

A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead and trickled into my eye. My stomach flip-flopped. If I had no choice -- if it meant my survival -- could I kill?