The Squiggling Beasts

… 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.

Reviews

[Anubis]

Love the way this builds up!
Reading this actually made my skin feel weird, horrible thought to have creatures under your skin. Going to be paranoid now.

Great little story though, got a really good image from it!

[Beau-dee-loot]

Thanks Anubis. It wasn't nice writing it