Junji Ito
Tongue Job
__________________
“Now in the middle
of the earth lived
a demon.”—Ted Hughes
“How the Bee Became,”
“How the Whale Became
_____________________
The Tongue demon spent all its time tonguing around in dark dreams—searching for bad boys having wet-dreams in the middle of the night.
He was hunch-backed Tongue from all the years and centuries of bending over bad boys—and getting into their naughty nocturnal emission fantasies. He was knobbly-tongued from playing the boner game for such a long time—his eyes hanging down from their sockets after years of ogling much too much.
To keep itself going the Tongue demon had to feed on Pearls of adolescent hoodlums and snotty cum-drops from badboyz who played too much with themselves and couldn’t help having wetdreams either.
All kinds of scummy smegma and pubic fungus attracted the Tongue demon the most—it liked badboyz with big ones especially who really had something to give. To give the Tongue when they really lost it—from wrap-around Tongue to distant Timbuktu.
The Tongue demon was jealous about all the boyz who were making out with girlz—it preferred sex with unconscious dreaming hoodlum-types who couldn’t help it dreaming wet-dreams late every night.
A teenage wetdream was God’s workshop—and the demon Tongue loved to watch God at work. He peeped thru keyholes—hid under beds. Whenever something got hard—the Tongue demon was there. Helpless wetdreams were better—because innocent victims couldn’t play hard to get.
One day the demon thought wouldn’t it be nice to have a boy that never woke up—a kid that could cum all night long without waking up.
So the demon found a brain-dead boy—who did himself in during a skateboard routine. He ended up tragically brain-dead and nothing could be done. Perfect for a hard-up demon Tongue—into hard-ons that just wouldn’t stop.
So the demon kidnapped the kid—and whisked him all the down to demon Tongue hell where he ensconced the young Hoodlum without a brain in the most sumptuous bedroom ever dreamed possible.
So much for the cerebrum—the seat of consciousness. The demon Tongue wanted the young male medulla instead—to be all his own. It was like Don Johnson in “The Boy and His Dog”—written by Harlon Ellison about this post-apocalyptic hustler and his telepathic dog.
Except the demon Tongue ended up being the boy’s telepathic dog—seamlessly segued to the kid’s helplessly horny hormone-triggered seminal squirts. That’s how the demon became—the Tongue that wouldn’t stop. Draining dry dumb boyz down to the last drop in you know where.
__________________
“Now in the middle
of the earth lived
a demon.”—Ted Hughes
“How the Bee Became,”
“How the Whale Became
_____________________
The Tongue demon spent all its time tonguing around in dark dreams—searching for bad boys having wet-dreams in the middle of the night.
He was hunch-backed Tongue from all the years and centuries of bending over bad boys—and getting into their naughty nocturnal emission fantasies. He was knobbly-tongued from playing the boner game for such a long time—his eyes hanging down from their sockets after years of ogling much too much.
To keep itself going the Tongue demon had to feed on Pearls of adolescent hoodlums and snotty cum-drops from badboyz who played too much with themselves and couldn’t help having wetdreams either.
All kinds of scummy smegma and pubic fungus attracted the Tongue demon the most—it liked badboyz with big ones especially who really had something to give. To give the Tongue when they really lost it—from wrap-around Tongue to distant Timbuktu.
The Tongue demon was jealous about all the boyz who were making out with girlz—it preferred sex with unconscious dreaming hoodlum-types who couldn’t help it dreaming wet-dreams late every night.
A teenage wetdream was God’s workshop—and the demon Tongue loved to watch God at work. He peeped thru keyholes—hid under beds. Whenever something got hard—the Tongue demon was there. Helpless wetdreams were better—because innocent victims couldn’t play hard to get.
One day the demon thought wouldn’t it be nice to have a boy that never woke up—a kid that could cum all night long without waking up.
So the demon found a brain-dead boy—who did himself in during a skateboard routine. He ended up tragically brain-dead and nothing could be done. Perfect for a hard-up demon Tongue—into hard-ons that just wouldn’t stop.
So the demon kidnapped the kid—and whisked him all the down to demon Tongue hell where he ensconced the young Hoodlum without a brain in the most sumptuous bedroom ever dreamed possible.
So much for the cerebrum—the seat of consciousness. The demon Tongue wanted the young male medulla instead—to be all his own. It was like Don Johnson in “The Boy and His Dog”—written by Harlon Ellison about this post-apocalyptic hustler and his telepathic dog.
Except the demon Tongue ended up being the boy’s telepathic dog—seamlessly segued to the kid’s helplessly horny hormone-triggered seminal squirts. That’s how the demon became—the Tongue that wouldn’t stop. Draining dry dumb boyz down to the last drop in you know where.
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