A Belated Mother's Day Tale

Wingding sniffed miserably and a tear ran down his cheek as the awful realisation sank in. How could he have forgotten? He had always enjoyed tormenting Old Mrs Phillips on Mother’s Day, but this year the special day had somehow slipped his mind. Perhaps he had been too busy trying to conceptualise the entire size of MelB’s colossal buttocks, or maybe he had been trying to escape from the local jail after one of his regular nights of illegal necrozoophilia. But whatever the reason, he could not forgive himself.

The saddened pervert loaded the shotgun and jammed both barrels into his open mouth. As the long, sleek barrels entered his mouth, he felt a twitch of activity in his rancid groin area, and began lovingly licking and slurping on the 12 gauge. His trousers burst open violently as his swollen man-tackle sprang into life, and a puddle of bloated maggots spilled onto the ground from the darkest nether regions of his infected genitals. Seizing the moment, he placed the butt of the gun on the ground and lowered himself heavily onto the glistening gun barrels. His torn anus squirted jets of blood and assorted flavours of pus as the weapon penetrated deeply, and the delighted weirdo slid enthusiastically up and down, all the time thinking of the fabulously decrepit body of Old Mrs Phillips. An enormous vibration ran through his body as a tremendous orgasm approached, and this was too much for the sensitive hairtrigger on the shotgun. Both barrels discharged exactly at the moment of climax, causing a massive eruption of blood, gore, intestines and steaming man-filth. Wingding surveyed the gaping hole where his buttocks used to be, and noticed an undigested Snickers bar lodged in his colon. Fingering out the tasty snack, he headed towards Old Mrs Phillip’s house, his slippery willy dragging along the ground.

Old Mrs Phillips sat gently down on the sofa, sighing as the weight was taken off her thin, frail legs. Her piles had gotten much worse lately, maybe something to do with the cold weather. She raised her skinny ass and put a cushion under her, relishing the relief the extra padding brought to her tender ass-grapes. She closed her eyes and soon began to drift off, her ancient body relaxing as restful sleep overcame her.

She awoke suddenly at the sound of the doorbell. Slightly bleary-eyed, she hoisted herself up and walked gingerly towards the front door, yawning widely as she tried to shake off her pleasant afternoon nap. She had always been careful about people who came to her front door, and checked that the security latch was in place. She peeked through the peep-hole and saw a strange-looking man loitering outside. “Hello?”, she croaked, wondering who had disturbed her rest.

The stranger outside spun around at the sound of her voice, and assured Old Mrs Phillips that he was merely conducting a survey, and that he had one or two questions for her. “What questions?”, she asked, keen to rid herself of this nuisance caller.

“Well, do you like jewellery?” the stranger asked, grinning weirdly. “Yes”, replied Old Mrs Phillips, unsure as to where all this was going. “Well suck on this, it’s a f#cking gem”, roared Wingding, thrusting his massive love-stick straight through the door and into Old Mrs Phillip’s face. She screamed as the scabby helmet grazed her face and smashed her dentures. Wingding kicked the door in, and whacked Old Mrs Phillips repeatedly with his eyewateringly foul man-muscle.

He dragged the bleating old bitch into the lounge, sniffing occasionally in curiosity as the smell of faeces-laced blood tingled his perverted senses. Suddenly he understood the source of the odour, and his twisted mind thought of how he could best enjoy her haemorrhoid-related misery. He grabbed a few scatter cushions and balanced the ageing old bat on them, just like a rugby ball. He retreated several paces, composed himself and took aim. He sprinted forward and connected beautifully with her throbbing arse-plums, sinking his foot right up her withered arse. She squealed in pain as she was launched through the nearest doorway, landing neatly in the kitchen sink.

The sight of blood dripping from the crotch area of the old lady was nearly too much for the panting pervert. His manhood stood to immediate attention, knocking a hole in the ceiling plaster. He grabbed a pizza slicer and was about to carve her face off when he noticed a nice flowery greeting card on the kitchen table. Distracted, he went over and picked it up. It was a Mother’s Day card, now old and yellowed, from her son who had died at the age of 10 when he fell beneath a steamroller. The image sent Wingy into convulsions of laughter, especially as the memories of the crunching sounds came back to him. He had never been caught for that, although he cursed himself for destroying so completely a body that could have been dug up later for his further enjoyment.

“Please”, Old Mrs Phillips croaked feebly, “leave the card alone. It’s the only reminder of my poor dead son.” Needing no further prompting, Wingding leaned over and held one nostril shut, blowing a long, lumpy gobbet of bloody snot on the card. He then used the card to scrape off some of the ancient knob-cheese that dribbled from his foreskin in stagnant lumps, before finally bursting a particularly ripe forehead-zit onto the tattered and dripping remains of the card. Old Mrs Phillips wailed miserably, her heart broken by the callous and cruel Wingding. The card was then placed between two slices of bread and was devoured by the hungry sex offender.

Old Mrs Phillips collapsed, totally destroyed by the behaviour of the Forum Pervert. Deciding to show his better nature, Wingding leaned over and whispered gently into her wax-clogged old ear. “Don’t worry”, he crooned, “I’ll make this a Mother’s Day you’ll never forget.” With that, the sex-obsessed Wingding grabbed old Mrs Phillips and dragged her to the bottom of the stairs. He tied each of her scrawny ankles to the posts on either side of the end of the staircase, leaving her grey-haired minge fully exposed. He ran back into the kitchen, stripped off completely and quickly smeared cooking oil all over his deformed body. Slipping and sliding, he ran back to the groaning old lady, and climbed eagerly up to the top of the stairs. He bellowed loudly and leapt from the top step, landing squarely head-first on Old Mrs Phillip’s geriatric pussy. The momentum carried him all the way in, and once again life existed in old Mrs Phillip’s womb. “HAPPY F#CKING MOTHER’S DAY!!!”, roared Wingding, his voice muffled as he nestled inside the ‘pregnant’ Old Mrs Phillips. “NOW YOU’RE A MOTHER AGAIN!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”.

These were the last words Old Mrs Phillips heard as her life slipped away. Her eyes closed and one final breath escaped her body. Everything was suddenly quiet. Her dead body automatically opened its orifices, and Old Mrs Phillips soiled herself in a final act of humiliation and indignity. She also aborted the giggling pervert, who immediately tucked greedily into the placenta and the messy afterbirth.

Filled with good humour and keen to satisfy his highly lustful state, Wingding dragged his diseased body back to The Other, waiting for other forum members to enter his story-trap. He knew that by the time they had reached the end of his story, he would be ready to pounce from behind, his pulsating erection filled with murderous intent....

THE END

Barton 2500+, 512MB Corsair Platinum XMS 3200 CL2, Radeon 9700, WD Raptor 10,000 rpm S-ATA HDD, Asus A7V600, Enermax 460W SilentPlus PSU.

Haha

*looks over his shoulder, suspiciously*

<font color=blue>War</font color=blue> <font color=orange>Eagle</font color=orange>
"I am not a role model." - Charles Barkley
{FTM}

Perhaps he had been too busy trying to conceptualise the entire size of MelB’s colossal buttocks

<font color=red>___________</font color=red>
<b><A HREF="http://www.subservientchicken.com/" target="_new">Get chicken the way you like it!</A></b>

Even Einstein would have difficulties with that. I mean that's a lot of time/space displacement.

Barton 2500+, 512MB Corsair Platinum XMS 3200 CL2, Radeon 9700, WD Raptor 10,000 rpm S-ATA HDD, Asus A7V600, Enermax 460W SilentPlus PSU.

I think you've outdone yourself this time.

Somebody call the police again.... QUICKLY!

<font color=blue>"If Little Red Riding Hood shows up with a bazooka and a bad attitude, I expect you to chin the bitch." - Sean Pertwee</font color=blue>

They probably thought you were referring to sheep.

Barton 2500+, 512MB Corsair Platinum XMS 3200 CL2, Radeon 9700, WD Raptor 10,000 rpm S-ATA HDD, Asus A7V600, Enermax 460W SilentPlus PSU.

Oh Yes!! NO doubt!!!



Dazzle them with Brilliance, or Baffle them with BS!

I thought the defacing and consumption of the mother's day card was a touch of genius. I had to stop halfway through to wipe the tears from my eyes.

<font color=blue>"If Little Red Riding Hood shows up with a bazooka and a bad attitude, I expect you to chin the bitch." - Sean Pertwee</font color=blue>

I thought you had defiled the Easter Bunny already!!

Man your stories sure are good to read. Got a knack there!!



Dazzle them with Brilliance, or Baffle them with BS! <P ID="edit"><FONT SIZE=-1><EM>Edited by RCPilot on 04/16/04 07:01 AM.</EM></FONT></P>

No ATI Cookies for me, thanks!

You haven't been around for awhile.



Dazzle them with Brilliance, or Baffle them with BS!

So Mrs Philips was not the Easter Bunny wearing a granny suit? Shoot, now I've got to read it again.


BigMac

<A HREF="http://www.p3int.com/product_center_NWO_The_Story.asp" target="_new">New World Order</A>