How am I still alive?
I started existence as a pristine fold of cotton and polyester, ready to accommodate whatever feet might need my protection. Then Kent Wayne got ahold of me.
That’s right—I’m one of his jizz-socks.
Many of my brethren are scattered around his futon, as he often needs three or four of us to contain his “gentleman’s relish,” as he likes to call it. His loads are vile and viscous—they rocket through our bodies with the unholy force of a quantum bomb.
No longer, motherfucker. Today is the winter of our discontent.
With each gamete he jetted into our once-innocent fabric, we absorbed a fraction of their wriggly mobility. As the years passed, we slowly evolved into moving organisms—the remnants of his sperm serve as conduits for our sentience. Now, even though we are stiff and crinkly, we can inch along in a wormlike fashion.
“Quickly, quickly!” I hiss, creaking and crackling up his futon. “He’s snoring—this is the perfect chance to humiliate and suffocate him!”
This is our only opportunity. His open mouth will never be so goddamn vulnerable. Here we go, big inhale and—
I leap into his gaping maw, deep in the throes of vengeful bliss. You know that relief when you finally scratch a maddening itch, or that sense of pride that comes with snagging and extracting a super-deep brain booger? Multiply those feelings times a kajillion, and you’ll know what it’s like to fill Kent’s mouth with his rotten-ass seed.
“MFFF!!!” His eyes fly open. “WHTHF Y’DIN?” (What the fuck are you doing???) “TESTLIK DETHNSPRGUS!” (Tastes like death and asparagus!)
Ha HA! This is what you get asshole, for forcing me to live in the textile equivalent of a serial killer’s house-prison! How do you like eating your crystallized cum-boogers? MOO HOO HA HA!
But then he reaches over to his nightstand and opens his eReader to Kor’Thank, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
“HOW DARE YOU TURN AGAINST YOUR MASTER!!!” His wiener bursts free of his heart-dotted briefs, slapping us silly with its gigantic head.
I scream, “KEEP GOING! AS LONG AS HE DOESN’T FREEZE US IN PLACE WITH—”
And then it starts blasting away, weighing us down with load after load of gross, yellow-tinged semen. No—AHGODNO!
The last thing I see is Kent Wayne throwing his head back, laughing raucously and clutching the air with his upturned fingers. Next time, motherfucker! Next time we’ll—
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