MODS: DO NOT DELETE; NO RULE BREAKING HAPPENING HERE, thx

[Anonymous No.15682132]

Rain hitting thin panes of glass. The office is filled with an unsettling ambience that ripples silently up your arms, into the sleeves of your shirt. You can hear the doctor’s words-- can even parse some of the convoluted medical jargon-- but it all comes out muddled by the din outside. All the careful research and planning means nothing now. Something drastic has to be done. To be present in the room is to accept tacitly the horror to come, like hearing enemy bombs drop from under thick concrete ceiling.
“--dissociative coprophagia--” “--delusions of constipation--”
Professional timewasting; a dozen labcoats and thousands of dollars in philanthropy couldn’t do more than put a series of names to the condition you have come to know in person. You can sense the doctor’s concern, but it is all too late now: why else would you be sitting here, receiving this briefing?
“-- baconator fries---” “-- just can’t get her to listen--”
They need help; they always do. You wait for the cue: head-drooped, pulling glasses off with one hand to raise and reveal learned frustration: “what we’re trying to say is, we need your expertise.” He forgot to say “again.”

[Anonymous No.15682139]

A stroll down the aisle of padded cells. Deranged blubbering and passionate discussions with the imagined overtake the white noise of the rain. She’s back there waiting, probably downloading .gifs of Jitka Cerhova, finger stuck obliviously in dry cunt. Maybe she’s bathed since the last time. Maybe she’s changed into something other than pippi-longstocking footy-pajamas decorated in those murky, technicolor stains. Maybe. As you draw closer to the door, you become aware that the good doctor has left you, unable to bear what will be your sacred duty. A keyboard clacks slowly within, timidly, behind the heavy oak. She knows, but she plays coy. She let’s you knock and ask politely to be let in.
“Come in, anon…” forcing her voice into something sweet and smoky-- betrayed of course by the acrid stink somehow permeating the door.
One, shadeless fluorescent dangling from the ceiling casts a flickering stale light over the scene. Back to you, her typing has now slowed to sporadic pokes at the keyboard. She pretends not to notice you, or the gurgling soreness in her colon. Her stage is set.
“So…” she clicks ‘post.’ “you’ve come back to see me…”
She teases you, and elucidates her demented narrative (she is an internet activist of sorts, plagued endlessly by neo-fascist /pol/-tards and garden variety neoliberals-- an entirely complex lore underlies it all) and applies more foundation. Your stomach proceeds, unconsciously, to secure itself, as an erection begins to coalesce in your pants. The familiar feeling of interrupted pleasure-- a nonsexual copulation about to begin, in which no feeling will ride the nerves of your penis and spine up to the brain (god forbid…)-- of which your genitals are grimly familiar. She spies the chubby devil, and pretends she doesn’t notice yet. Clumsily she proceeds from her desk chair to her hands and knees. She is careful not to give away her hidden discomfort, the project she has been working on for almost a month now. Only a pink flush and the sweat of an upper lip betray the cool air she has been practicing.

[Anonymous No.15682146]

“I’ve needed you so bad.” She plants her bottom on the floor and a fart sneaks out. She’s thought only of you, she explains, firmly grasping her dense ankles. And of the flood to come, and the need for release. Delicately, and in one sure motion, she flings her legs up and rolls onto her back. Struck by the effort of her maneuver, it is only after a beat that you see she is, in fact, not wearing panties. Her crotch, taint and asscrack-- even the underside of her belly-- are coated in an immense and tangled pubic forest. You continue to stare, unable to pull your eyes away, and see the distinct folds of labia and angry clitoris-- erect, standing an inch tall somehow-- just barely veiled by the dark brillo-pad nap. Her splayed vagina, held tightly in wiry black hairs, conjures images of paralysis and decay: a canoe stopped by a tar pit, coxswain frozen at the bow, remaining here, lifeless, only to deliver some forgotten warning to passersby. “lasciate ogne speranza…”
“Please anon, I can’t wait anymore.” The staccato flatulence interrupting her pleas only confirms the urgency. Make no mistake: she will not shit without your penile heroics. But should you turn and run now, the putrid stink of her other ‘shit’-- the fecal remnants of virtual logorrhea-- will only drive you back, her punisher and savior, to the dragon you must slay. With closed eyes you unzip, and settle to your knees. Taking her by sweating ass cheeks, you pull her taint to rest in your lap, against a tightened scrotum.

[Anonymous No.15682147]

>>15682132
Jannies fucking suck dude let OP have his masterpiece judged

[Anonymous No.15682156]

“I’m too dry anon, I need your tongue,” she whimpers through tightly closed eyes. A resounding belch from below, as if confirming this to be the case. Screaming will not help, you remind yourself as you lower your opened mouth. Pubic vegetation must be parted, and watering eyes must be shut tight. This will take over a minute as the sprawling weave absorbs drool nearly as fast as it is applied. Soon: breakthrough. Tongue caresses and soothes puckered anal lips, rose-red, quivering in desperation. Pungent, brie cheese-- but is it flavor or scent? You suppress the urge to vomit with expert skill.
With more saliva the maw cracks open, releasing tainted fumes into your eyes. Whipping your head back, aware now of the dripping sweat of manual labor collected on your shoulders and forehead. You try scattering your thoughts, returning to the requisite mindlessness of the task-- it will only be open for so long. Luckily your hand is somehow already preparing, vigorously jerking your dry cock until it stands up straight.
“Anon, p-pleease…. oh, oh god, oh…” giving little angry infant kicks in the air, she needs you in her asshole. You grab her haunches and plunge-- spear in the belly of the beast.
So used to clenching, holding back, her sphincter fights you, squeezes hard on your swollen helmet. Drive returning and eyes on your prize, you push through and enter her rectum.
Indescribable sensations: soupy, gritty-- the feeling of fillia and colonic ribbing-- hot as fresh stew, but, wait, what was that so cold and syrupy? A pained silence on her flustered face, broken sporadically by tiny yelps and the unwilled trembling of the lower jaw, it is unclear whether she is working with or against you. You want to strike her-- and she may even let you-- but the job isn’t finished. There is no time for indulgence. The sensations align and agree; soon it is all hot, all spicy, and your urethra begins to sting. Impossible to tell if this is a good or bad sign, but some chemical reaction is taking place inside butterflies anal petri-dish. The task just became about your own safety.

[Anonymous No.15682161]

With a dancer’s elegance, the tightly wound prolapse dilates: goopy waves of brown, yellow and green fly out-- crash into stinking mist on your cheeks. Hard pellets, some as big as thumbs, pummell your open eyes and mouth and a select few, like victorious sperm, manage to lodge themselves in your throat. Your open eye is bathed in some acrid tangerine oil, and one prophetic red pepper flake, as big in your vision as a falling comet, smolders in your cornea. The peculiar alchemical properties of this fecal stew become clear through the smells and flavors leaching into your skin. Mushy peas have become hard as bullets and shards of chicken bone (chicken bone??) are spongy and limp. The otherworldly phenomenon responsible for this change in state still hidden away in the recesses of intestine.
Heels planted, letting the gallons of oily shit pool around her ass and back, butterfly whimpers and paws at her sagging asshole, still yet to retain its shape. Her pussy, now glistening with a thin coat of slime, visible even from under pubes, she ignores. You pity her cunt, but understand that her deep psychological distress forbids her from achieving orgasm vaginally. Only this purge of excrement will settle her fetid libido. She is a levee, lasciviously craving her own destruction. Her deflated-balloon farts have ceased, yet her belly clenches in attempts to force out more. You haven’t yet taken a breath in, afraid of aspirating more fluid shit.
She’s thanking you, but the furrowed brow tells you she is already thinking about your next visit. She’s thinking about your swell new move that she will need to see again, and about the drive-thru at burger king, and a new double-patty hamburger with pickled jalapenos smothered in pepperjack cheese. She’s thinking about a dream she had in which you were tied down, blindfolded, and jaws wired open as she lowered her big white ass over you and poured a gallon of nacho cheese out from her shitbox. You are thinking about screaming now, but a green fiber of broccolini has you too choked up. There is no more din outside, and no more tumult in the distance. It’s all inside you now, and the calm of absolute terror and shame consumes you.

THE END

[Anonymous No.15682171]

YOU'RE DOING GOD'S WORK OP THANK YOU JANNIES GO AWAY

[Anonymous No.15682173]

>>15682147
>>15682171
thank you guys
don't know why jannies are targeting me so hard, I'm writing on the literature board, whats the problem?

[Anonymous No.15682181]

>>15682132
Carmella was too good for Tony, she should have been with Furio

[Anonymous No.15682195]

>>15682173
OP I was in the deleted one, what kind of lit inspires your writing? Rec some books like this. Already have the Consumer.

[Anonymous No.15682239]

>>15682195
Pierre Guyotat
Ryu Murakami
Dennis Cooper
and Pynchon, desu

[Anonymous No.15682242]

>>15682181
She was so hot. I remember dreaming about being her personal slave who gets to fuck her while Tony is out of the house. I don't know why this isn't a bigger fetish. Like reverse-cuckoldry. Instead of being the submissive guy while someone else fucks your wife, you're a household slave who gets to fuck your mistress when her husband, your master whom you rarely interact with and are scared of, is out.

[Anonymous No.15682258]

>>15682132
Reposting mandatory semi related proof pasta here

Proof Butterfly is a Jannie/Jezebel spammer:

>Anon writes a scathing post in a thread about moth
>Post gets removed
>Anon retypes his post and archives the thread
https://archive.md/e3k8A

>Post gets removed again
>Anon gets a temporary ban while mods review janitor's report
>Anon archives thread again
https://archive.md/fxnQ3

>Anon in another thread tries using butterfly symbol in his name
>He gets banned
https://archive.is/GP0Ku
>Another anon tries and also gets banned
>both threads are suddenly removed

>Butterfly admits to Jezebel posting in the first thread which gets removed
https://archive.md/94gNb


The Next day:
>Anon posts evidence of all this
>Post gets removed
>Anon reposts evidence and archives again
https://archive.md/nE9n5

[Anonymous No.15682268]

>>15682239
Any specific works I should look out for? Also posting the part 1.

[Anonymous No.15682282]

>>15682258
Pathetiq

[Anonymous No.15682284]

>>15682268
Whoops wrong screencap

[Anonymous No.15682290]

Is this from the James Joyce archives?

[Anonymous No.15682348]

Not bad kid. You might have what it takes to get to my level.

[Anonymous No.15682355]

>>15682268
Tomb for 500000 soldiers is great, honestly never actually got my hands on Murakami (other than coin locker babies which was kinda meh) but I hear his shit is the best

As for Pynchon there is basically one famous coprphagia scene in GR that’s pretty good

[Anonymous No.15682370]

posting in a based literature thread before treacherous mods do butterfly’s dirty work

[Anonymous No.15682483]

>>15682355
People always say Ulysses is sick but is it really? I was thinking about giving it a read but I don't want my expectations too high. I just want to read something fucking rancid.

[Anonymous No.15682567]

>>15682483
Ulysses is not sick— there are maybe two or three parts that’ll make a normie blush but that’s it

Still a damn good book tho

[Anonymous No.15682779]

>>15682284
Anyone have the archive link?

[Anonymous No.15682791]

>>15682779
>>/lit/thread/S15638921

[Anonymous No.15682799]

>>15682791
Fuck, it was that thread? Wish I'd stuck around longer.

[Anonymous No.15682805]

OP, where does the story go from here?
Does butterfly get out of the asylum? Do I(?) go and fuck her poophole again?
I need more. Asking for a friend.

[Anonymous No.15683042]

>giving little angry infant kicks in the air, she needs you in her asshole
jesus fuck, I’m going outside

[Anonymous No.15683417]

Ay Furio

[Anonymous No.15683440]

>>15682132
this isnt literature so its off topic
that means its rule breaking

[Anonymous No.15683471]

>>15683440
someone wrote it for the purposes of art, how the fuck is this not literature?

[Anonymous No.15683484]

>>15683440
>literature isn't literature
What the fuck are you talking about you fucking inbred retard?

[Anonymous No.15684145]

heh heh, yes, heh heh... YES...

[Anonymous No.15684186]

Very nice tribute anon

[Anonymous No.15684417]

>>15682132
You have a gift. The logorrhea pun and the vagina description are fucking brilliant. Maybe a bit too overwrought at parts, though. The first one was great because of how direct it was.

[Anonymous No.15684910]

that was disgusting but it has lightened my day.

[Anonymous No.15684938]

>>15684910
If this can lighten your day you should probably dedicate a little more time to actual reading.

[Anonymous No.15684952]

>>15684938
i hardly ever want to read.