… and the black dots
appeared spotted over my arms, first one, then three, started to
bulge up slightly, like spots, itching, bulging up. First I scratched
at them, at the little nodule, like a rough hair, thicker, like a
small tail, and then the itching became unbearable, creepy, like
there was something under there, under the skin on my hands, arms, so
I squeezed at it - nothing. I squeezed hard around the tickling
nodule and it started to come. I squeezed harder, opening it up into
a wound and out it popped, popped this long f*****g millipede thing,
wriggling, running up my arm, and I'm like 'What the f**k?' but
keeping it to myself. Then I go at another little hairy thick tail
lump, squeezing it hard and another one comes out, another wriggly
millipede - 'F*****g hell'. I'm murmuring now. I'm fucked, they're
all over, the black lumps, and I can feel the little monsters
wriggling under my skin. It's another world now. I'm trying to get
them all out and they're running all over my body but I can't keep
up, they keep coming, I'm full of them. The lumps keep popping up,
itching; the tails keep popping out, and I'm squeezing them and
they're squiggling out, little squealing creatures, all legs and
squeaks, black, between two and four inches long, everywhere. I'm
frantic. I'm fucked. I'm screaming. I'm thinking. I'm not really
thinking. No one's around. No one can help. It's too mad but it's
happening, and you just act. You just do. It's survival. I just have
to keep getting them out. It has to stop somewhere. They're breeding,
hatching under the skin, like something I had done had kicked off a
proliferation in me. Something must have got to me in the night,
something fucked. I can't think. Reaching for the scissors, snipping
away at the skin and they come tumbling out, hundreds of them,
spilling out from under the skin, arms, then legs, racing all over my
body, covering my arms and legs, little legs, tickling all over. I'm
screaming my head off. No one comes. No one's home. Stabbing at my
stomach. I want out now. Lumps everywhere, itching unbearably, just
want them out, for f**k's sake. Stabbing at my stomach, they're
spilling all over, the b******s. I want to die. Horrible critters,
nibbling and rummaging. Pulling them from my nostrils one by one, the
squiggling, squealing things, burning them. In minutes it's come to
this; six inch millipedes spilling from my stomach, flooding,
squealing, scattering over me, nibbling, rummaging. I can feel the
energy draining. I'm snipping away thinking 'Please, hurry up and
kill me.' These things, I'm made of them, inside, it's all there
seems to be, millions of them scuttling out of me, all over me.
Slicing across my chest, they come racing down my front, great armies
of scrimmaging, nibbling beasts; they squelch from my dick, and I'm
farting them out. I'm vomiting them, a squiggling, squabbling din,
all over my body, the floor. Spurting from my throat, and finally I
drop. From within me the last come, they smother, they devour me, and
on my multiple legs I squiggle and scuttle away.