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For a moment you're not sure what's happening: whether the blu fayah just ate up the world, or juzt your eyes. The weird shidd reaches in and through your being, rearranging sumfin fundamental not just in and about you, but <span class="mu-i">under</span> you.
You don't have the words to describe it, or any approximate concept approaching it. You juzt know yer meatz n guttz n noggz n dat harsh, dark place inside that tells you what you <span class="mu-g"><span class="mu-s">a r e</span></span> are twisting sumn orfull.
You're convulsing, writhing on the ground before the blu fayah's done with you: whole pints of SKUMM KOATing comes out of you, for a start; then the Dewclaws Seafood grafted on you come out of your limbs, popping and flopping orf like rotty teefs; then the throbbing buggy glands in your armpits that's been slicking up your gear with eye watering STANKX; last, worst and most painful, your cock gives birth to a giant gray maggy worm the size of your forearm, with lotsy long thin reachy vein things everywhere.
The maggy worm actually fights to get back in and stay in, but whatever Blew Bewbz did surpasses it: the huuj maggy rotter is forced out, clutching gobbets of ripped giblets, <span class="mu-i">mewing</span> with <span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-i">rage</span></span>.
Including the veinies still blindly flopping about trying to find and reach you, this thing might be one and half of your full body length, from tippy toe to poity poit.
You know what to do with it. Instinct.
>kellert wiv faya
Once she delivered on the <span class="mu-b">{{{WEEESH}}}</span> Blew Bewbz took the minute and half you spent writhing and struggling to fugg orf, accepting that you have given your word on the traditional bargain.
She leaves her teacup behind, probably as fanks for not raepen her.
Little did she know.
Anyway: you get out some liquid flammables from Pouchy, matches, and a mallet.
You splatt the uggli muvva starting with its veinies, methodically, thoroughly, until it's a big patch of trembly gray ooz on the floor. Then you scrape it all together with a shovel head, douse it, light it up.
Then moosh it to jam again, douse again, light again. For a thing that size it takes a lot of killing. When it finally stops moving you scoop the inert mess into an empty paint can with the shovelhedd, plonk the shovelhedd and mallet in, lid it, seal the lot fikky with sheeping tar, and Pouch it.
The moment you encounter something that might do the job, maybe a Whitey Cherch Chimney or sumfin, you're going to dump it in there n purjj the Godsdamned Hells out of it.
°°°
You sit and enjoy the euphoria for a good long Time, wanking absently.
You know without any reasoning yet with absolute certainty that you will never age, never die, and whatever this shit world throws at you you will allus grow back.
After a bit, you just stop wanking. You've never realized it, but behind the Gobby Horni you always had had been a great weight: <span class="mu-s">D E A T H</span>.
<span class="mu-g">You</span> are always Horni bcuz Death is allus near, allus ready to pick orf Gobby gretchinz.
