The Turning Point

According to my research, this is the moment it happened. Today is the day that humanity’s fate changed. The monster was the size of a city, huge and jagged and black, the many spikes that constituted its hide reflecting the ruddy light of its devastation. The small group had torn their way right through in their quest. Its snout was ripped open, leaving a wound that gaped but was dry of blood. Their path lead inside, so I followed.

It was warm inside the beast. I could hear the walls breathing. And, deeper inside, I heard yelling and clanking, small explosions, crackling fire. I heard the sounds of a battle for the fate of an entire world, and slowly I approached. I knew how long this battle would last to the second. I was in no hurry.

As I walked into the room I stepped back rapidly as a shining silver arrow whizzed by me, slamming into the side of the great and only vaguely humanoid metallic beast before me. The beast ignored it, one tiny pinprick among many, but I could see that it was terribly wounded and losing strength quickly. Dark blood trickled down its shiny grey skin, spattering on the floor underneath it. Great patches of its strange flesh were frozen or scorched black, chunks of it fell away every time it shifted its great frame. Even though this wasn’t the true heart of the beast, this battle would have to end soon, and as that thought crossed my mind there was a flash of movement and an angry yowl as a short and muscular woman dressed in furs rushed by me and slammed one hand into the monster, nails like chipped rock digging deep into its flesh and trying to draw out its organs.

I took a deep breath. The moment of truth was approaching. With a rush, I remembered that as long as I completed my mission I would be able to do whatever I wanted. I throbbed with anticipation, the pulses of hunger and lust working their way from deep in my belly to all of my limbs, settling into a steady beat within my groin. They hadn’t noticed me yet, but years of training on cold streets on lonely nights had made me an invisible man, a demon that killed silently, like smoke in the lungs. I reached into my robes and pulled out the glittering egg, shiny with potential, and for a time I simply stared at it. I marvelled that this tiny thing could contain so much power. I wondered how with only this small act I could tear down the whole house of cards. And then I crushed it in my fist.

It was like a wintry morning. Everything was unnatural stillness. The three girls were motionless before me; one, the butch bitch that had run past me, was pulling her clenched hand free of the best, dark and slick with its blood, her mane of blonde hair spattered with red and standing out in stark contrast to her dark surroundings. Her name was Ayla. Another, an innocent looking girl with her reddish blonde hair pulled back, wearing baggy pants and sandals and worn metal bracelets, was frozen in the air, one sandaled foot hopping away from a blackened spot on a ground where a flickering beam of death had cut only moments ago. Her name was Marle, and she was a princess. I liked the sound of that word; the idea of her being the end of a royal line warmed me deep within. The last of the three stood far back from the action. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, so I stepped closer and saw her cupping a small bomb in her hand, having just lit the fuse. I smiled to myself. This one’s name was Lucca, and she had short cut purple hair, glasses, and wore a heavy coat over bicycle shorts, along with a rather strange looking helmet.

I stood and I considered this diorama for a long time (or what seemed like a long time to me. Time was, for all intents and purposes, frozen until I had completed my work). I stepped up to the princess and caressed her arm. It would be so easy to kill them all now, to simply end the world in one cruel stroke. But I had hope personified in these beautiful young girls, and something deep within me wanted to see it completely crushed. Even if no one was here to see it, I had to demonstrate once and for all that there was nothing left for this world. And, as my hand worked further up her soft fleshy arm and began to caress her small breast through the thin blue cloth, I had to admit that there were some more prurient reasons for my actions. I felt the smirk warp my scarred face as I pulled one long blackened fingernail down her arm, leaving a line of reddened skin. As the blood slowly darkened Marle’s arm, still fleshy with baby fat, I cupped my hand underneath and caught it. It flowed slowly, still influenced by the strange egg.

It seemed like it took an hour to draw the symbol with her blood, but when I looked up they hadn’t moved. I wasn’t sure if there really was anything special about royal blood which might make it more suitable for the ritual, but I figured better that than the blood of a prehistoric dyke or some nobody commoner. Away from my temporal influence, Marle’s blood had once more stopped flowing and frozen like everything else around us. I stood up, and my back popped. Sweat was dripping off my brow, running down my robes. Candles were placed around the edges of the circle, unlit. One by one I made my final adjustments, and with each little adjustment I took a liberty with a motionless heroine.

I slapped Marle’s unflinching face once, hard, before reaching down her pants and sliding my fingers up into her, sneering as I felt her hymen. That would have to go. I stabbed my fingers up through the wall of flesh, feeling it rip, and pulled out my hand as her pants slowly stained red. I licked a little of her blood from my hand, savoring the coppery taste, then smeared the rest of the royal cunt blood around her lips for her to enjoy the taste once time resumed its duties. Then I pushed Marle’s bow a little bit to the side, just enough so her next shot would no longer hit the beast, and nudged a rock just a few inches closer.

I felt Lucca’s small breasts through the heavy coat, pulling and twisting her nipples as hard as I could as I slipped my tongue into her warm mouth, gazing constantly into the unreacting eyes so full of concentration. My hands wandered lower, and I hooked my thumbs through the waistband of her shorts. With regret, I ended our kiss and pulled her pants down around her ankles, exposing her purple haired cunt. I ran my fingers over her lips slowly, savoring the feel of them, pulling at them gently. Slowly I started to laugh, a high pitched insane giggle, and my hand punched into her mound. Frozen in time she didn’t even flinch but oh she would. The barks of laughter ripped out of my chest, and I groped at her bush with both hands, ripping out clumps of Lucca’s pubic hair. I stood up, body still wracked with the occasional giggle, and pushed the clumps of purple hair into her slack mouth. I adjusted her hand ever so slightly, moved the burning wand she would light the bomb with ever so slightly lower.

Ayla’s body was hard with muscle and slick with sweat. Her smell was overpowering, earthy and moist, and she tasted salty as I bit deep into the flesh of her shoulder, groping at her muscular ass. My teeth dug in deeper and deeper as my hand worked up and down her ass, working the loose flesh over the hard muscle around as my fingers dug into her crack. I worked deeper into her flesh and her ass and my other hand played up her sweaty muscled belly and under her furry top, groping at one large breast. It seemed like her breasts were the only fat on Ayla’s strong frame. I grunted into the shredded meat of her shoulder as I dug my fingers in, raping her unfeeling asshole with them, digging deep into her rectum. With a sigh I pulled away from her; it was too soon. I wanted to wait until they could truly feel it before I began violate them in earnest. I smiled, tasting Ayla’s blood and sweat, as I forced my fingers, still wet with her shit, past her teeth, rubbing her rancid filth off on her sandy wet tongue until I was satisfied that my hand was clean. All three of my little playthings would wake up with an unpleasant taste in their mouths, I thought. I was almost unbearably stiff. I turned Ayla a little bit in one direction, her body resisting stiffly but unthinkingly under my firm grip.

I stood in the center of the circle and took a deep breath. I closed my eye. This would be the last moment of peace I would ever know. From this moment forth it was all mayhem and destruction, and just thinking of the death that would follow I grew even stiffer. I exhaled. I snapped my fingers. One by one, in rapid succession, the candles around the circle leapt to life with quiet exhalations of their own and burned with an eerie white flame. And all of a sudden time remembered itself, and it was all happening at once.

Marle’s bowstring twanged as her feet touched the ground. The arrow whizzed by too quickly for my eye to follow, but I already knew where it was going. Ayla grunted as the arrow ripped into her belly, tearing its way in under her navel and gouging a bloody path through her reproductive organs. Marle sensed something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure what, and before she realized that she’d spayed her comrade her sandaled foot turned on a rock and she stumbled and fell, her head hitting the ground hard with a sickening wet crack. Lucca stood there in shock, knowing that now she was alone on the battlefield but unable to comprehend why, and suddenly aware that her pants were down around her ankles and her crotch, which ached horribly for some reason, was completely exposed. She shrieked in embarrassment and tried to cover herself with a hand only to realize that she still held the lighting stick. The look of realization and horror in her face was amazing, and my cock gave a little twitch. The bomb tore her arm off at the elbow and would have sent her flying across the room except she bounced off of the magic circle like a rag doll. Lucca slid across the floor leaving a slick streak of blood behind, red bleeding from her arm stump in a gruesome fountain in time with her heartbeat. Her helmet rolled away, despite the massive dent caving it in. Like that, the last hope of the world disappeared. The world was dead like I was dead, rotting away like my parents’ corpses in the earth, murdered by me just as he murdered them and as I murdered him.

Two of them lay motionless on the floor. Ayla was on her knees, hands wrapped around the arrow shaft spearing her uterus. Blood ran thick from the wound, staining her crotch red and dripping quietly onto the ground. Her face was even more beautiful contorted in animalistic agony and rage. She tried to pull the arrow free, but as the cold steel scraped across her mutilated ovary Ayla let out a gurgling yowl and collapsed. Next to this agony even the taste of her shit barely registered. Still, even like this, the dyke was unnaturally strong, and the only one of the three still conscious enough to fight back. But as she inhaled the smoke of my candles I saw her jaw drop slackly open, spittle dripping out thick and silvery upon the ground as she curled up in agony.

I inhaled the smoke too, and even as I awakened more I descended deeper into a kind of trance, into the heart of my depraved lust. This was the final suicide song of the world. The smoke was a stimulant and an aphrodisiac. I knew that the more Ayla inhaled the smoke the more unbearable the stabbing pain in her gut, the agony of her ruined reproductive organs, must become. So I waited and watched her, as the screams tore her throat. Her eyes were wild and white, and her spit thickened into foam which dripped from her mouth as her eyes twitched wildly and her muscles spasmed.

Finally I approached her. She looked at me with fear widened eyes. She had forgotten what it was to be strong, or to be a hero, or to even be human. All that was left within her was fear and pain. I’m not sure why I was so happy, or why I was so sad, but my face hurt from the grin as I grabbed the end of the shaft protruding from her. She let out a long keening groan as it shifted inside her, and the volume increased as I twisted the arrow, as the steel shredded her womb and cut small holes into her intestines. With a brutal jerk I pulled the arrow free, and her inhuman shriek echoed in the cavern. Marle groaned and stirred slightly behind us, but I ignored her.
Ayla tried to fight me away, but with the smoke’s effects and her pain and the substantial blood loss even her monstrous strength faded into a child’s feeble struggles. She quietly mewled as I peeled the sticky and blood soaked fur away from her cunt; she was wet with arousal, but I think that was mostly the effect of the drugs in the smoke and raging instinctive hormones of an animal on the verge of death. She should still have one working ovary, so maybe she would have still been capable of natural lust someday, but now her juices reeked of agonized insanity.

As I dug my face into Ayla’s blood slick cunt I reached up to slip her fat breasts out of the furry enclosure. She tasted of copper and sour terror sweat, and I think that she must have pissed herself in agony. I nibbled lightly at her bloody cunt lips and clit, I played with her tits, and despite or perhaps because of the mind numbing agony she responded, her hips thrusting insistently and lustily against my face. She was panting. Her eyes were rolled back in her skull. She was a creature entirely of pain and of lust now, and the difference between them blurred. I felt the orgasm grow within her, and felt a brief burst of seething hatred that anyone should be allowed pleasure on the dawn of the end, even if I had given it to her, even if pleasure was the worst torture and the most final humiliation I could inflict. It couldn’t be mine.

So I bit her clitoris off.

She just flopped there like a fish on dry ground. The last light of pleasure in her world had just winked out, and she had nothing, but the drugs wouldn’t let her pass out. And I pounced, and I was in her, my robes soaked with her blood as I spat the severed clit into her pain-twisted face, as I pulled at her tits and chewed at them, ripping off chunks of fatty meat and shredded skin, groping at her muscular ass and legs, biting away her nipples and chunks of her chest until all that was left of her beautiful tits was an expanse of bloody wasted flesh. And I grabbed a rock with one hand while the other dug up into her asshole, and as I raped her I slammed the rock into her face, shattering her nose into fragments of bloody cartilage and bone, then smashing through her skull leaving streamers of ripped skin and red-stained hair, then crushing her fragile brain into sticky clumps of jellied meat as I slammed it into her again and again. Her dying cunt clutched at me, milking me, as sticky clumps of brain and skull stuck to the rock, as one eye fell out of a collapsed eye socket and drooped wetly from her skull.

I was soaked in Ayla’s blood now. I stood. Thick clumps of my seed dripped from the violated cunt of her corpse. I still held the rock that had murdered her, and I licked a chunk of brain from it. I tasted the wet and ruined piece of meat that was all that remained of one of the strongest fighters to ever exist, and I smelled the fetid stench of the contents of Ayla’s bowels as the spilled from her dead and slackened sphincter.

I moved on to the girl with her pants down around her ankles, glasses shattered by the shockwave of the bomb that had blown her arm to shreds and tatters; perhaps she was already bleeding to death. I stood and looked down at Lucca, at her pale bare ass, at the bloody scrapes that ran across her legs and the strips of ragged skin that ended the stump of her right arm. Her left was mostly intact, but her index and middle fingers had been twisted around, dark and purple and swollen. Tendrils of bruise marked their way down her hand. Fragments of her shattered glassed had dug their way into her left eye; it remained hideously open even though the girl was obviously unconscious, dripping blood and ocular fluids, deflated and unfocussed. For a moment she reminded me of my daughter, and the pity and love almost rent me apart. I remembered her blood, on her bed, on his blades and his cock, and I remembered the glassy eyes that used to contain her and her joy and her love and now contained nothing but suffering, and even that muted by death. She was gone now. And the closest I could ever be to her again would be to see that same suffering in the eyes of another.

Ayla’s blood smeared on Lucca’s lips as I slowly pushed my cock into her mouth. She groaned and flailed her slender ruined arms against my side, but they felt weak like the wings of a moth flying into the flame. Her mouth was hot and wet and with each gentle thrust I pushed in a little deeper. I was in her throat and she was coughing around me, throat spasming with each thrust. The strands of saliva fell from her slack jaw and onto the ground beneath us. I felt a surging spasm work up from her belly to her throat, and stood back as with a grunt she vomited on the ground. I could see dark streaks of red laced into her puke; even without my interference Lucca probably wouldn’t survive the night. She looked up at me, awake once more, and I could see in the one eye she had left that she knew it too. Smart girl; or she had been anyway, one side of her head was matted and soaked with blood. It seemed likely that there had been some brain damage.

I walked around her and grabbed at her shorts, roughly yanking them away from her along with her shoes. She was naked from the waist down now, white legs beautiful and vulnerable and covered in bruises and scrapes. I wrapped my arms under hers and lifted her, feeling her pale ass, chilled with blood loss, against my prick. Slowly I dropped her weight upon myself, impaling her, using her own weight against her. She squealed quietly as I ripped her asshole open, tears running down her face and spit and vomit running down her chin. My hands reached up under her coat and under her gray shirt and played with her small breasts. Through them I felt her heart beat erratically, struggling for survival when her blood was gushing out with each desperate pump. I ripped my way into Lucca’s asshole over and over again, blackened stool blood dripping down my crotch and onto the floor.

She groaned quietly, sobbing in despair, and jerked to the side trying to escape the anal intrusion. I wrapped one hand around her small chest to keep her on me and reached behind myself to keep from falling over, then hissed as I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I jerked my head angrily to the side to see what had caused me pain, then grinned when I saw. It was the lighting stick that she had used, still lit and sizzling quietly with chemical heat. As I raped her pale ass I reached for the stick, and lifting it for her to see. I waited just a moment. She made a quiet whimpering groan which I think was begging for mercy, but I’m not sure she was able to talk any more. The tip burned right through her shirt, and I smelled sizzling flesh as her breasts burned. I played it over her tits, making a charred mess of her shirt and eliciting groans and jerks from her whenever it touched a nipple. The smell of cooking flesh made my mouth water. And the pressure within me built and built and built as my cock ravaged her bowels but something inside said no. Said, wait. Said that it’s not yet time.

So I pulled the wand away from her sizzling breasts and held it over her cunt. Her pubic hair burned up in a flash, and she moaned in wordless terror. I spread her open with one hand while the other held the rod of burning metal, and all the while I raped her pasty ass, something monstrous and wondrous buried in my gut and waiting to get out. And as it forced its way past that bottleneck, as it felt like my guts would rip themselves out in ecstatic pleasure, I thrust the rod with malicious precision up through her urethra.
Her screams were painful, even to me. Just hearing that kind of pain hurts more than what most people feel in their lifetimes. I didn’t know she even had the life left in her to make that kind of noise, with everything she’d been through. She was bucking wildly against me, trying to push through me, trying to escape the awful agony cauterizing her piss hole. It was incredible, and as Lucca went insane with pain I went mad with pleasure, emptying myself into her torn open rectum. It felt like it lasted an hour, but I know it was only a matter of moments; not that time matters any more.
When it was over, she lay back on me whimpering. Her cunt still sizzled, but the nerves were dead now, dead forever, not that that was likely to be much longer. I pushed her off of me, and she fell to the floor like a sack of meat. Her breathing wheezed. Blood and shit and cum dripped from her ass in thick gobbets of filth and ran down her pale cold legs onto the floor.

I walked away from her, but I stopped when I heard it. She was crying, blubbering into the cold earth of the floor. Almost numb with blood loss, the most sensitive nerve clusters in her body burned away, Lucca sobbed like a child who’d lost her favorite toy. And suddenly I was something different, something more vicious but sub-sentient, something I’d barely known but had been lurking on the periphery all along just waiting to take control. I think it might have taken control before it ever got to this point. Perhaps it had been in control from the beginning. I kicked her, even though she was as good as dead already, and heard a rib snap. But she barely reacted as I kicked her over and over again, rupturing internal organs and breaking ribs. I lifted one pale cold bruised shit-stained leg and stomped on her cunt, heard the satisfying sound of her pubic bone shattering, but it still wasn’t enough. She cried in exactly the same way. I broke her nose, I pulled on her hair, and still nothing. Maybe I couldn’t reach her, maybe she really was already dead, but she kept on sobbing and it was driving me insane.
More so.

I dragged her across the room by the hair, over to Ayla’s now cold corpse, and forced her face into the fetid pile of shit. I could still hear the gurgling sobs, even as she drowned in filth! But I saw the crack in her skull, the pulsing damaged brain matter underneath, and in a moment I was there, forcing my cock through the crack and into her mind.

The jagged edges of her broken skull cut me as I raped her mind into oblivion, as she drowned in shit even as everything that made Lucca herself was raped into jelly. That hurt, but even agony felt like pleasure to me now, as her jagged bone cut my cock in long ragged scrapes along its length, as I pounded into her destroyed brain over and over again. I was beyond anything the world could do to me, any pain or suffering or even any joy. He who lives entirely in destruction cannot be destroyed. I was free from everything but myself.

I pulled out of Lucca’s skull, dripping chunks of gray matter and gobs of semen as I went. She lay silently there atop Ayla’s corpse, facedown in a pile of shit. Just like everyone else in the world, they were rotting piles of meat coated in their own filth. I had just brought it to the surface.

The little princess lay, still unconscious, on the floor. I wondered if she’d been dreaming about her friends’ destruction while she was unable to help them, if their screams and groans of agony had provided the soundtrack to her fever dream. Even with the long gashes running down my penis my lust had not abated. I was still hard, soaked in Ayla’s and Lucca’s blood and now my own as well, chunks of their ruined brains stuck to my robe and my crotch, gobbets of Lucca’s shit-blood running down my waist. I was a piece of filth-soaked rotting meat just like the rest of them.

But Marle… She looked pristine, laying there, almost untouched but for the red bloodstain spread from her crotch. She still looked like a princess. A construct of power maintained over time by blood and sex, which are pretty much the same thing anyway. Take that mantle of power, the royal blood, and drape it over a girl, and she became a princess. It wouldn’t matter any if you gave the name to a dog or a damaged imbecile in the streets. The title supplants the person.

But today she would be naked. I would strip the name princess from her and expose her as what she really was. One of us; a thinking shambling heap of meat and mold and disease; a terrified child with claws to rend; a sadistic grudge trapped in a frail and powerless body.

Marle’s flesh was firm with youth, but soft with baby fat. Her hands were surprisingly rough, presumably from handling the heavy wooden crossbow that lay on the ground beside her, string tension-snapped by its hard collision with the earth. I groped her breasts once more through the blue cloth, caressed them as the lover she’d never have would have. I pulled the cloth down to expose them. Her nipples were pink and hard in the cold. Her hair was silky and fine as I wrapped it between my fingers, lifting her body up into a half sitting position. Her mouth felt exactly the same as Lucca’s had, hot and wet, except for the sleeping princess was cleaning her dead friend’s shit and blood from me. She gagged as I thrust deeper, but nothing came up. I pulled Marle’s face back my crotch. Her mouth stained with blood and cum and shit.

“Where humanity is going,” I said, and spat on her face, “They won’t need royalty.”

Her eyes flickered open and met mine for a moment. Then she doubled over, retching, as the taste in her mouth reached her brain. The little princess emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor but kept retching in sharp dry heaves, thick strings of drool falling from her mouth. She looked across the room at her friends’ corpses, and her face contorted in sorrow.

“Why?” She whined, looking up at me. “Why did you kill them? We were trying to save the world–“

“And what made you think we wanted to be saved?” I screamed. My fist slammed into Marle’s mouth, cutting my hand and her lips to bloody shreds on her teeth. “What’s so special about existing?” I grabbed her hair again and pulled her face into my knee, her teeth exploding inwards, knocked out of her jaw.

I lowered my face to hers, and hissed “The world is better off ending. All that’s gained by being alive is what your friends got from me. Pain and death and sorrow”

“Mbut–“ I cut her off by kicking her between the legs, in her already sore cunt. She fell onto her back and groaned, turned her head to the side, coughed up red spit and teeth. The thin cloth covering her genitals, still wet with her virgin blood, ripped away easily. She tried to cover herself with her soft arms, but I had already seen her exposed. No one who had seen this would call this a princess. This was just another sad sack of shit like the rest of us.

She was lying on the ground, one hand covering her cunt and the other over her eyes. And I froze as I heard it. That sobbing noise, that horrible childish sobbing noise. I felt a horrible tingling down my spine. Spit dribbled down my chin. My lip curled and I growled like a wolf maddened by poison and disease.

Marle screamed as I grabbed the hand cupping her crotch and twisted. Desperately she tried to pull it away, but one by one I felt the bones in her hand twist and snap, the damage work its way upwards until even her shoulder twisted wetly in its socket, her bones scraping agonizingly against each other. When I let her go, jagged white knives of bone had forced their way out of the mangled remains of her right arm, dripping thick dark blood even as the skin darkened with internal bleeding. She cradled her ruined right arm in the left, and started sobbing again.

The howl ripped out of me, drowned out her sobbing. It was unbearable, that sound. I lashed out with my fist, digging my knuckles in through her vaginal entrance and into her innards. It was nothing like sex. It wasn’t even like rape. I simply punched my way up into her, each vicious blow driving my hand a little deeper into her now gaping and bloody cunt. Harsh animal screeches ripped their way from her throat as I beat her to death from the inside out. Blood slicked down my arm, dripping from my elbow, and in her agony the princess’s piss dripped freely down my arm as well. With a sick squelching noise my hand tore apart her cervix and entered her womb. I slammed my fist into her depths over and over again as she shrieked and sobbed beneath me, then opened my hand and jabbed upwards once more. My knife sharp fingernails ripped through the walls of her uterus, and I yanked at it. I felt resistance, heard her maddened screams, saw the inhuman pain on her face. Bit by bit I felt tiny shocks as connecting tissue snapped, as the little bits of gristle that made up her royal insides gave way. And with a wet sound of parting flesh it came out.

Princess Marle had just given birth to the ruined remains of her reproductive organs.

As her vaginal corridor was inverted, I saw glistening trails of intestine through the holes ravaged through her cunt. Her shrieks had devolved into bloody breaths of agony, her throat ruined from screaming. And with a last tug her genitals came away completely into my hands.

They were heavier than I’d thought they would be, I guess. She had calmed down some now that the nerves were severed, now that her reproductive system was merely gone instead of in unbearable agony. Because of this, I think she knew why I wanted to end it all. It’s easier to simply have nothing than to love something that’s damaged beyond repair. Marle reached up with her undamaged left arm, and I gave her the pile of her mangled organ meat. She held it to her young breasts like it was her child. She kissed the bald head of her prolapsed uterus. I hugged the young girl to me, barely more than a child. I kissed her forehead as her eyes blurred in and out of focus. I stood up, bringing her with me, her sandaled toes dragging limply across the floor. She would be in shock now if not for the chemical candles which were now just flickering stubs of wax. I looped an arm under one of her legs, lifting it, and pushed up against her ass. Marle was patient with me, gazing at me with some feeling I couldn’t recognize, some emotion that no one but her would ever feel. It wasn’t hate, which terrified me. If she didn’t hate me after what I’d done, what kind of monster could I be? If it was still possible to see me as a human then it was still possible for me to be responsible for my actions.

I sighed, pushing insistently into her asshole as she gazed into my eye. It didn’t matter. It was all over anyway. Whether I had been an evil human or a misunderstood monster, there was no one to say. No god to judge me. But those eyes, they made me doubt myself. My vision was blurred by tears. I howled at her, and she just smiled. Like a mother. Like a goddess mother of a devastated world. Which I suppose she was, in a way. But her eyes peeled me bare, and I swear that those more than anything else, more than the knives he’d used to carve my eye away, the hot steel pincers that had torn my flesh, and even more than when he’d done the same to everyone I’d ever known. It hurt even worse than the empty feeling that came from his severed head and mangled body, so distant from the satisfaction I’d sought.

I cried in agony. We fell to the ground, me on top of her, her mutilated genitals held between us like our child. I cried and I raped her ass and with both hands I reached up and dug my thumbs into her eyes. And even as I spilled my seed into her bowels she smiled that same horrible toothless smile, wore that benevolent expression.

But her body was cold. I only realized then that she was already dead.

One morning, almost a thousand years ago, Lucca’s mother called up to her daughter, telling her breakfast was ready, telling her to come downstairs, and got no response. On that day hundreds of years ago she climbed the stairs, step by step, and each step she took she felt a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. She would tell her friends it was an awful intuition, but in reality particular fragments of shit and blood and death had already wafted down the stairs and told her her daughter was dead. But that didn’t make the sight of Lucca’s hideous, staring, mutilated eyes any easier, the smell of her daughter’s shit, the sight of her cunt and tits burned to blackened ruined meat, and the disconcertingly delicious smell of her cooked flesh.. She screamed and cried and ranted, and though her husband tried to comfort her one night she took a walk and never came back and no one but the seagulls know what happened to her.

But don’t feel bad. That never actually happened. In fact, the woman who had been Lucca’s mother never existed, because her great great great… grandfather dying in the terrible civil war that tore the kingdom to pieces hundreds of years before that. The day the search for Queen Leene was called off, the day they found her nailed to a tree in the forest, her intestines trailing 20 feet away through the hole where her genitals had been. Her womb ripped out and stuffed in her mouth, her eyes pushed out of her skull, dripping reeking waste onto the earth as ants and mice chewed away at her toes.

That never happened either, though. When the prehistoric village found their leader in the center of town, the corpse was unrecognizable, the face smashed in and gnawed away by tiny reptile scavengers, barely any of the muscular beautiful body left intact, the flesh of the hands and feet and head and crotch chewed into bloody strands. Only shreds of red-streaked-blonde hair and the absence of their leader told the people who the rotting corpse had once been. There was fighting within the tribe as to who would succeed her, but in the end no one did as they were massacred by the reptite forces while they fought amongst themselves. Fragments of humanity survived, even after the falling of the great red star I stood in now, but the face of the world was warped beyond belief.

Me, I just sit here in the year 1999 and I wait. I’m waiting for the sky to turn red. I’m waiting for the punchline to this sad joke of a world.

It’s just another hour or two, according to my research.