Warrior princess Yohanna raised her lightning sword to the sky with her mighty right hand as high as she could. “The Light, give me strength!!”
Her powerful voice resonated with an enormous wave, as flashes of lightning, like entangled webs around a spider surrounded her sword.
At this point Carl started to feel a sense of needing to urinate, which was a huge source of irritation to him because of an over-active bladder. Finally, the annoyance was too great and he had to get his head up for a brief moment from the dream of the voluptuous Yohanna, to use the washroom.
“Don’t think, don’t think…” He kept reminding himself as he responded to nature’s urgent call.
Unfortunately this pathetic tactic, used in order to preserve his sub-conscious dream-state, caused him to start thinking.
Keeping his eyes closed, in order to not exert more energy than absolutely necessary, he even missed the hole a little bit, spraying here and there with a splash.
By now, his mind had completely started to work.
“What was the dream?! Oh no…”
It happened exactly as he had feared. The dream, like a vapor, was gone in an instant, and so was the warrior Yohanna in the midst of her fierce battle. Wide awake, horny-Carl started to flip the tabs on his PC looking for sexual stimulation. Last night’s letting go had resulted in dozens of tabs, opened like an erotic museum before his eyes.
But, the flesh-thirsty Carl, could not sense any sexual arousal. This posed a real problem for the unhappy sod which resulted in a need for a solution.
The Real Thing
Money in pocket, Carl decided to splurge & spend more than his monthly usual on the real thing.
Only a couple of hours past midnight, the night was still young. Carl let the urge of pleasure-seeking do most of the work as he walked towards that neighborhood.
A few blocks prior to his destination, passing by a small stony bridge hanging high above and crossing a raging river, Carl saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Leaning over the edge, her long black waist length hair could be seen from behind, with slight curve of her perfect body visible, with a bit of underwear seen through the white dress. Her bare arms were a delicious white color; a gemstone bracelet of Amethyst was on her left hand and the right arm had a leather-cord wrapped around it.
To top off this magnificent beauty’s attractiveness, there was a maddening yet ever so subtle fragrance, and alongside this a hint of damsel-in-distress-esque emotional desperation, which made not only Carl’s body but his whole being rise up into a mighty erection.
The fresh night-air and the soothing sound of rushing-river was like a masterpiece frame which engraved Carl’s most erotic moment into a solidified perfection.
The girl leaned forward even more; now the roundness of her buttocks and her black and very slim underwear magnified their presence in the moment. Carl’s heart trembled with the desperation of his need.
“Excuse me Miss, are you alright?!”
The girl, all of a sudden made a quick motion, announcing that only now she had felt the presence of the stranger. Turning her heard around, Carl beheld the most magnificent creature he had ever seen, whose sandal-straps Yohanna was not worthy to tie.
The girl, Izabella, with kind and sad green-eyes and a delicate nose, struck an arrow right through Carl’s heart.
“I am sorry, I…” Izabella started to cry and drew near to Carl and hugged him, putting her heard on his chest while sobbing.
“I can’t take it anymore. My husband and I are having a lot of issues. He is away for a few days at a time and I just…” At this point, from the pressure of her great pain, Izabella was unable to speak.
“It’s ok…hey…I am right here…”
Carl’s heart, having been won over already at the moment the girl bent forward a bit more over the ledge, genuinely felt compassion for this poor creature who needed comfort and kindness.
Because of the greatness of his care, Izabella now slightly relieved, separated herself and sat leaning against the side of the bridge.
“Is there anything I can do to help you miss?”
Right away a momentary twinkle went off in Izabella’s eyes. She started to blush and kept looking into Carl’s eyes and then ashamedly looking down.
“It’s ok, I am here for you…”
“You are so sweet! If only my husband was so understanding. He always just ignores my needs, being busy with work. I just feel so lonely.”
Carl by now had made his move; he quickly sat beside Izabella, putting his right arm around her left shoulder.
With a very sweet, although a bit fake-sounding voice he said:
“Believe me. I understand what it is to not have your needs met.”
“Really?! You know what I am talking about?”
Carl put his left hand over his pants to cover the now fully-enraged erection.
An hour has passed since Carl, with a lovingly orchestrated twist of fate, stumbled upon the needy Izabella; now comfortably sitting on the couch in her very neat & classy home, which made him ashamed of his messy 1-bedroom filthy apartment, he awaited; his whole existence pulsating with the joy of the incoming pleasure.
“She is so sweet; this is like something out of a dream; surely the universe loves me! I am like a magnet for this sort of thing. I just need to stay classy; we both know what we want. I will keep playing the caring father figure; I think that’s really turning her on.”
The sick-lunatic Carl, played with these thoughts in his mind, like worms squirming restlessly in a muddy broken jar, which has sharp edges and as you touch it, it gives you the perfect subtle late-acting cut, which reveals its true pain later on in the currents of time.
Crazy-Carl watched with lustful eyes as the bewitching almost completely naked black-haired beauty, the delicate Izabella, emerged from the bedroom.
Like a master artist, casting away the cloth from his magnum opus, with one proudful swoop, the universe bloomed this erotic flower in the famished-eyes of our loonie fun-loving sucker-boy.
Like sheep going to the slaughter, with no resistance, no spark of wisdom salting his meat, giving him gentle hints to not enter the path of the wicked, no sharp & discerning eye watching for signs and Freuidian-slip, no careful heart guarding himself as the temple of the well of living-life water of the ancients; NONE was there to help the seduced seductrash cow-poop crazy LunaCarl.
His erection, like a murderous horned goat-altar, raised to a demonic deity, sacrificed the baby-child of his heart.
“Burn Baby…BURN!! Yeehaaahaha!! Yeeeeeehaaaaa!” Cried the Lil Demon in the cellar.
“Burn Baby…BBBBBBBURNN AHAHAHA. Sucker Carl! Sucker Carl! Sucker Carl!”
Lil Demon and Gig Demon were merrily dancing shoulder to shoulder in the basement.
Lil: “There is such a thing as too perfect!”
Gig: “Aw yes…there is my beautiful bro-joy; those garden-lunatics cannot respect even their own too good to be true.”
Lil: “Penis is the God of this world.”
Gig: “Burn Burn Burn!”
Lil: “Burn Baby Burn!”
Holding Carl’s hand who was in another paradisian place in space & time and other dimensions, the perky-breasted, skinny & delicate Izabella, sweetly giving erotic looks behind every second or so, dragged him to her, and her husband’s bedroom.
The door of the bedroom, beautifully engraved on dark oak, opened with an oddly eerie creak.
Carl, for a moment came out of his trance-like state with the awkward out of place creak, which prompted Izabella to bend forward a little bit, bending her bountiful behind towards the flesh-hungry cattleman, which immediately brought Carl back into the fool’s sheepish fold.
With the creak only 3 seconds behind now, we have arrived inside the bedroom; Carl has just taken a nano-milli-centi second break from Izabella’s rear, to ascertain into which physical point of the cosmos he has entered.
A perfect, majestic bed of red roses, with crimson, white & purple sheets, 12 cushions, a red Persian rug, fireplace with soothing sound of crackle, gentle flute music, pillars of ivory and even a slightly predictable and odd wooden bowl of perfectly shaped grapes, which caused another creakian conspiracy-genesis go off in Carl’s head, which once again mistress Izabella, the grand sorceress, was able to fix as she put the mask back on, this time for good, before it had a chance to fully slip.
This was actually not the first time the fruit bowl, which was filled with perfectly golden apricots the last time, caused a spark of Freuidian-slip which caught fire and burnt down the tribal mask of Jezebel’s deceit.
“This is a joke, right?!”
Was the famous first and last words that come out of the green-haired, spiky, leather-armoured punk-rocker, who was jolted out with the apricot bowl’s shock therapy.
“Damn that Gig! I told him to stop making everything perfect. So he put that out of place creak, contrasting it right after with the out of place but perfect bowl. Sadist spawn of hell! I have a plan for you Gig and that whore of a brother of yours. I will show you the meaning of perfect pain…”
Back perfectly inside the downward spiralling vortex of darkness, vegetable-carl went, with the spider’s hole going very deep indeed.
Izabella: “I say yes to you the night!”
Carl: “O my God, I am in paradise!”
Izabella: “I say yes to you father Satan!”
Carl: “This can’t be real…”
Izabella: “I open up my body to you, the deepest part of me; I welcome you & invite you with me, o great grand Prince of Darkness. I offer to you, your favorite meal my Lord…pain!”
2.5 seconds have passed since the decrepit witch-devil, 15,879-year-old Jezebel, the queen of the chambers of death, stung sucker-carl into unconsciousness.
Carl was dead instantly.
Of course, this was not the scene our plucky hero Carl was witnessing. Having conquered and overcome the greatest obstacles, the victorious Duke Carl was enjoying his nightly pleasure, after a bloody-day of battle.
Carl the Great the warrior hero-king, was a muscular master swordsman, who from peasantry, had risen up to dominate an impressive empire.
The greatest quality of the sword-expert was that during the battle, to the astonishment of not only the other kings who were his peers, but even the cleaning servants at home, he went to the hottest, most forward, deepest murdering tipping point-core of the battle.
Moving swiftly like a drunken wild horse, he let lose his sub-conscious driven swording techniques. His most used tactic was to keep taking it, giving the opponent the illusion that he is winning, before in an unguarded moment, displaying his mastery in one perfect killer-lightning strike.
Now with his neu-found love, princess Izabella, one hand on her breast and one hand inside a perfect bowl of grapes, trying to pluck both his catches, Carl was enjoying the times of his fleshly-life.
As Izabella laid back on the bed and Carl bent forward, accidentally at the same angle that pre-Izabella had bent-over for pre-Carl, the beautiful figurine of tender Izabella started to turn, slowly but with evermore luminosity, into a pair of brown decaying maggots.
The right maggot which Carl was about to give his right-leg blessing to with an unholy kiss and the left-leg maggot revealed themselves to him exactly at the moment the needle stung our forever-gone sucker-boy.
Travelling through the black hole of the cosmos, Mr. Carl, the maggot-kissing erecto-maniac, entered the lower chamber, the cellar of the whore.
Hands stuck in sticky webs, his body vibrating as mother-spider queen, with bright orange intelligent looking eyes, inched towards him; Carl Deadflesh opened the one eye not blocked by webs, leaning on his left side, with only the aforementioned part of his anatomy free; he stared back in horror at the dark magnum opus of the mad anti-artist & anti-creator.
A giant fluffy red and black spider looking straight at him, with perfect stillness, with laser-beam focus, inched towards him with impeccable machine-grade movement.
This was the rhythm of the movement but every few bars she would do an odd awkward twitch:
“What the actual hell….” Thought Carl.
“Ah yes, this is not actually hell, but you are awfully close friend!”
Said Lil as he stretched out after climbing up from behind, over Carl’s body. Lil, who was small as the palm of the sick palm-readeress, yawned as he raised his stinky hands up towards the white ceiling webs.
The webs on top were more fallen apart than the centre; anyway…with that useless description, we will traverse deeper into the rabbitian black-widowesque holy chambers of death.
Sucker-Carl, now twisted up in a tightening web, with organic, yet cybernetic looking mama-predator moving towards him in torturous rhythmic increments, with 2 bat-winged, Stratocaster-horned black demons dancing on his body and screaming “burn…ooooo, burn baby burn,” opened his spiritual eyes; now perfectly anti-dulled from his foolish lifelong stupor, he was forced to swallow the truth of his eternal condition, in absolute pain, awaiting the inevitable sting of the pain-inducing needle of his enemy spidress.
Carl, AKA Baby Carl, the prophet of pedophilia as they called him, was the head of an underground Tor-centred pedophilia ring.
The night’s money was not for a prostitute as we had previously thought; rather it was for caramel banana ice-cream at the corner convenience store. He was on the way to his sister’s house to spend the night, most of it in his little niece, Lara’s room.
Taking photos at every damned opportunity and spreading them all over the earth like a master-puker, this puking vomit-whore was a slave of Satan himself.
With 74 trips into Thailand, India & other poor countries under his belly, he had mastered the art of exploiting the weak and then profiting from it.
Having worked up his ranks in the domains of darkness, he had caught the eye of the ancient She-Devil Jezebel; wanting toys for her sub-chambers to play with and desiring to be fed by the reservoir of darkness of the pervy perv, she scooped up the penis-slaved monstrosity in one unguarded & strolling bridge-walking moment.
Now, at this moment held down by the sticky immortal webs, the fang of the feminine grand-mama was ready to enter into both eyes of the lustful never-satisfied maggot-boy.
With no sense of distance in the left eye, using his right eye he could see slowly, and now with a masterfully rhythmic “1…1…1…1…1…” the left fang of the spider, on its journey to gore.
At this point, Gig & Lil were done using a large black syringe together to drug our anti-holy, anti-everything, anti-this & that anti-hero.
“NO…NO…NO…NO…” Said the dancing Gig as Lil was busy kicking the syringe, making the empty unit break the needle off, leaving it in Pedo-Carl’s putrid arm.
“What did you give me?!”
“Dindu Nuffin…” Said Lil with Gig giving a malevolent nod.
Now time slowed down to a slow crawl, as the satanic painting revealed more of its true colors.
40 days, that is how long it took for the fang to reach Carl’s eyes, during which he was periodically shut up with liquids, resulting in random releases of urine and excrement, attracting a swarm of cute-brown baby spiders.
Finally, after 40 day, plus 1.5 days of agonizing fang entering in both eyes, the Aw-Aw-Awing eerie-awry Carl, embraced the second death in excruciating punishment for his forever-sealing sins, one alone of which would be enough to seal you shut for all eternity.
Pouring acid on the hearts & souls of many young girls and boys, bound up by the lust of his own penis-loving soul, Loonie-Carl did the Lunar Dance of the Macabre, descending lower into the second chamber of death.
The 2nd Chamber
By the edge of a fog-induced fog-loving foggy forest, the drunk feeling, teetering and tottering scum-Carl wobbled around on the tall grass, with blue florescent night-flies galore, before throwing up a worm-dominated baby spider liquid, splashing it not only on the grass, but also on the notorious hell-bros.
Lil & Gig did not give a damn of course; both of their tongues every second, like a priceless quartz master-clock of a chief sadist, licked their lips, expressing their inner-joy at the drunken pain of the lunatic pedo-boy.
“MY STOMACH, AW AW AW… PLEASE… HELP ME!!!”
Carl wanted to fall down and sob but a wooden & metal barricade, held his body up.
Looking down at below his waist, NoCarl realized he was cast-iron chained to a wooden cart, being dragged by the merry-hearted celebrating lil-devils.
The pain in his belly was the result of the now activating golden liquid, dripped into Carl’s fiber of being, perfectly dosed and justly prescribed by Doctor Universe with the pharmaceutical power of all authority in heaven & hell, to this lurking creature of the night.
Licking and finger-sticking and sniffing trash, having scarred an eternity’s worth of lives, came slowly to the edge of the pond.
“Oh…what do we have here Gig?!”
Said the pink mermaid as she swiftly crawled towards Carl.
“What the hell is going on? Hey man, this must be a mistake!”
The two brothers & the bubbly mermaid started to burst out laughing which made the mermaid’s skin rotate in rainbow-like colors; even the whore Jezebel, who was laying down without her disguise, being a wilting greyskinned-teethless witch in her serpentine lair feeding herself on Carl’s pain, looking through a crystal-ball, relaxing leisurely on a spider’s web shaped like a hammock, laughed; which once again gave a creakian moment of taking the confused toilet-man out of the moment in this moment in time.
We wish we could tell you of the juicy torture the cheeky mermaid patiently & spontaneously anti-blessed Carly the Loser with; unfortunately, Gig had decided to do another one of his creakian conspiracies, by filling to the max of the black syringe.
At twice the potency, the Golden Shiraz had not only succeeded in maximizing the pain, drunken-confusion & lunacy, but actually in giving Carl a heart attack.
Disappointed at the disappointing debacle she witnessed, merm-whore twisted back with a disapproving sniff of the nose into the cesspool-pit of the pond she crawled out of.
Sensing the angry-eye of Jezebel, Gigantic giga gig gave a subtle arrogant-victory smile, as the anti-master flesh-whore Carly the snakian pit-loser, woefully & ever-so slowly creepily descended, sliding down below under the lower Canian levels, of torture, rape & murder, where Sadist anti-lights of old their black heart-paint fully manifested, into the final chamber of death.
The Final Chamber
Having now entered the house of the whore-mother, laying a trap for the master-trapper, Jezebel, in her deceitful form awaited the pedo-lord with a giant gold-engraved key for an ancient-door besides her, which glowed around the door frame with an orange hot glow from the dark-side reverse of the forbidden gateway.
Perfectly sober, awake, sharp as the sharpest Katana blade, well-dressed & well-fed, lucky-Carl walked down the corridor to witch-seductress’s crimson stony bed.
Jezebella spread her sweet naked legs open to whore-carl as the abominable snake walk-crawled swiftly towards her.
Now his anatomy in full erection, Carl, sealed for all eternity by damnation, got close to Jezzie the Izzie to penetrate her with his love.
This of course, was her favorite moment, as the poor soul would go willingly to enter the ancient door with his stick, he would be awakened to the truth of this drooping stinky vomit-covered stink-whore, with balding white hair & raging murderous eyes; she would then transmogrify one last time into the blade-octopus she really was & swallow Carl into the eternal lake.
Unbeknownst to our planning Octo-Jezzibella, Master Gig, as a final Sade arrow, making the spirit of Marquis proud, had exchanged the second syringe, rather than stupefying, into an intelligent one.
This meant brother-Carl was awakened in the final chamber with luminous Luciferian intelligence, with wisdom from below, perfect in beauty, the dark perv-overlord had made a decision in those few seconds of the corridor to the crimson whore’s laser blade-bed.
Since this dog of blackness was himself descending into the chambers of hell, he decided to take as many down with him as he could, in this case only one.
Using the black syringe’s deep-treasured sunken needle, pedo-Carl, on passing the gateway to Sheol, stabbed 587 times the unmasked puddle of skin Jezebel, as she screamed with perfect “1. 1. 1. 1. 1.” rhythm:
“No. No. No. No. No.”
At the last few seconds, right before the gateway to hell busted open, Carl joined in:
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Like a foul slimy spawn-urine, the two lovers, Carl and Izabella, married themselves together into an eternal wedding, marching hopelessly to a doom filled with nothing but pain & regret, descending in the never-ending chambers of death...
By Ashkan Jafarpisheh – June 2020