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"content": "Here is the second installment of Birth. If you missed the first one, you can read it here: <a href=\"https://www.minds.com/media/1136952364757467136\" target=\"_blank\">https://www.minds.com/media/1136952364757467136</a><br /><br />THE 39 WHELPS<br /><br />The idea of fatherhood had always terrified Max. Children were loud, selfish vectors of disease. Parenting was the business of keeping a parasite alive long enough for it to move out, generate many tons of garbage, take up housing, and generally be a nuisance until something made it stop. One in a million might be entertaining. One in a billion might make a real contribution to the world. The rest of them basically existed to circulate currency. Pets were cuter, and you didn't have to worry about them launching nuclear weapons. No cat ever paid to masturbate in a stranger's septic tank. <br /><br />Misanthropy aside, how could anyone live knowing that every mistake in word or deed could cause a psychological scar in a developing mind? Giving them the wrong toy could initiate a string of perceptions resulting in a tyrant or a whiner. The wrong amount of candy might create a rapist or a crackhead? How could anyone navigate that?<br /><br />Max would have sooner teabagged a garbage disposal than reproduce, but Cakey was pretty awesome. If he was honest, Cakey was the best thing that ever happened to him. Luckily, he didn't have any friends, so nobody had to know he'd become a lame cliche. Even if he had, what was he going to do, put Cakey to sleep so he could retain his nihilism?<br /><br />His face was sore from smiling all the time. Apparently, years of being a miserable bastard had atrophied his smiling muscles so much he could barely hold a smirk for twenty seconds without getting a cramp. He'd timed it in the mirror. <br /><br />With the help of a new friend and a healthy Begr profile, he was relearning how to be happy. Cakey wormed deeper into his heart every day. He was smarter than a baby and more emotive than a pet. He immediately understood toilets and could get up and down all by himself. Max taught him to play Chess and lost their first game. <br /><br />He also lost all subsequent games. It was getting frustrating.<br /><br />\"Again? Fuck!\" Max tipped over his king for the third time in under an hour. He reached across the couch and put his finger in Cakey's sucker. \"Good game, you little bastard. I'm going to beat you one of these days.\"<br /><br />Cakey giggled.<br /><br />\"Don't laugh.\" Max grabbed Cakey's scruff and gave him a playful shake.<br /><br />Cakey moved to reset the board.<br /><br />\"Nope. That's enough for today.\" Max snatched the board and looked for a steady place to set it. <br /><br />The coffee table was a thriving ecosystem where all forms of garbage were free to return to their primordial roots and eventually re-imagine themselves as new forms of life. He transferred the set from the middle cushion to a small plateau of old magazines, which accepted its weight with minimal sliding. All the king's horsemen and all the king's men mingled happily with their new neighbors.<br /><br />Cakey surged into Max's lap, curling inside out and upside down to peer up from a position of blissful vulnerability. <br /><br />Max beamed with almost romantic love. He wondered how an animal could validate him so thoroughly. Could a human and a worm to be soulmates?<br /><br />The doorbell chimed, reminding him he had a date.<br /><br />\"Shit.\"<br /><br />He'd meant to clean, but realistically it would have taken days or weeks of hard labor to make his place presentable. He'd never worried about it before, but Diana was Klipsch. This might be her first time in a home that didn't have a housekeeping staff.<br /><br />Cakey snorted and crawled to his spot on the couch.<br /><br />\"I know. I'm sorry, but it's time for daddy to get laid.\"<br /><br />Max rushed to the door and opened it.<br /><br />\"Hey, come in.\"<br /><br />Diana's designer outfit was modeled after Sonian street clothes. They looked as inauthentic on her as they did in general, accentuating that sexy alien quality she'd gotten from growing up in Society. Every ringlet of her hair hung like polished mahogany some artist had crafted to encode ancient secrets. She was well out of his league in every way.<br /><br />A lot of People got off on screwing below their station, but her booty call seemed more pragmatic than bestial. She had noticed Cakey a few days ago in the park. After Max answered all her questions about cheekworms, she had asked him if he would like to copulate. Just like that. \"Would you like to copulate with me this weekend?\" <br /><br />He imagined she had \"casual sex\" marked on her calendar, and he was in the right place with the right worm.<br /><br />Max ushered her in and sat her next to Cakey. \"Can I get you a drink or something? I've got just about everything; beer, wine, a full bar...\"<br /><br />She frowned. \"No, thank you.\" She glanced at the strange lifeform beside her and debated petting him.<br /><br />Max took Cakey's \"Really? Her?\" expression to mean it was bathroom time. He opened the door and snapped his fingers, ignoring his friend's pleading eyes and silent promises to be good. Cakey hopped down and began his walk of shame but stopped as a second chime sounded.<br /><br />Max smiled apologetically. \"Sorry. I'll get rid of them.\" <br /><br />Max returned to the door to find Scarlet decked out in green leather and fuck-me pumps. She had little pins over her nipples. One said, \"Stop looking at me,\" the other \"Pervert.\" Her immoderate accessories sounded like jingling keys as she brushed him aside and let her steampunk handbag clatter to the floor. <br /><br />\"What's up, Maxie-pad?\" She noticed the woman on the couch and smiled. \"Ooh, somebody's been busy. I like her!\" She pressed her body against him and bit his cheek affectionately. <br /><br />Diana hovered an inch above the couch, wavering between hurt and angry. Her cold blue eyes darted between Scarlet's bountiful bouncing baubles trying to define what phylum to file her in. Her face hardened into a mask of disgust. She must have pegged her as a Savanian. <br /><br />Max panicked. Being a Sonian, he was immune to most of the tension between classes, but the Klipsch and Savanians reacted to each other like bleach and ammonia.<br /><br />\"Hi, Scarlet. What are you doing here?\"<br /><br />\"I thought I'd surprise you. I didn't know you had a guest. Fine with me, though.\" Her voice sounded even more like a phone sex worker than usual. \"Well, are ya surprised?\"<br /><br />\"Uh…yeah.\"<br /><br />\"Good.\" Scarlet strode over to Diana, pushed her back, and straddled her. \"What's your name, sweetie?\"<br /><br />Diana had a hole she'd hoped to fit a peg into, but brazen gutter-slut was the wrong shape, and the force with which Scarlet was attempting to insert herself was threatening to break the frame. She shoved Scarlet to the side, stood, and sputtered a jumble of apologies and outrage on her way to the door.<br /><br />\"Hey, I'm really sorry.\" \"Max tried to intercept her, but she shrugged him off. \"Don't go.\" <br /><br />\"Yeah, don't go.\" Scarlet's plea was slightly exaggerated.<br /><br />Diana slammed the door behind her, but the doorknob didn't catch. <br /><br />Max watched it slowly creaked open. \"Dammit.\"<br /><br />Scarlet laughed. \"That was rude as fuck. What'd a girl like that want with you, anyway?\"<br /><br />\"I think she wanted to borrow my penis.\"<br /><br />Scarlet walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. \"Sorry about that, I guess it's just you and me tonight.\"<br /><br />\"You really should call before you come.\"<br /><br />\"But you can usually tell when I'm about to cum.\" She wrapped herself around him like an octopus. \"Come on, don't be mad. Let's make the most of a sorry situation.\"<br /><br />As Scarlet peeled his clothes away, Max noticed the crowd of voyeurs gathering in the hall. Cakey slammed the door before any of them could make off with his TV. <br /><br />Max removed his tongue from her throat. \"Good boy! Now go to the bathroom.\"<br /><br />Cakey did a sarcastic little poop dance.<br /><br />\"Now!\"<br /><br />Cakey moped to the bathroom and nuzzled the door shut.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />Cakey hissed as loud as he could, then made himself comfortable in a nest of mildewing underwear. Every time a female came around, he was tossed in the bathroom faster than an inflatable party sheep. The girls made Max happy, so Cakey tried not to be offended.<br /><br />It didn't work. <br /><br />He took a deep breath of bathroom air, letting the familiar sickly-sweet chocolaty funk coat his lungs. There was nothing to do but curl up and endure the groans of the chalky usurper while she played with Max in ways he never could.<br /><br />Cakey hates sharing! Why monkeys need squishy time with other monkeys? Use Cakey to get phone numbers then lock Cakey in the bathroom. Stupid monkey! Cakey should go toss bitch-monkey like wet confetti.<br /><br />He rested his chin on a wadded-up shirt. What so special about shedding skins and writhing monkeys in the squishy place without Cakey. Why always without Cakey? Cakey squishy too. Why Cakey's fleshy squish not as good as top-heavy money-pit?<br /><br />Cakey knows how treacherous monkeys can be. Need to protect Max. He fantasized about busting through the door and eating Scarlet's face.<br /><br />Rejection sours Cakey's inner goo.<br /><br />Deep down, Cakey knew bathroom-time was his punishment for interfering. The door couldn't stop him if he decided to come out, but he was held at bay by an impenetrable barrier of shame. <br /><br />Girls rarely came around more than once. Dozens had come and gone, but none had formed a bond deeper than the length of Max's penis-- until now. This one, with her tattoos and her corsets and her ridiculous raspberry-colored hair, was here for the third time. <br /><br />Max didn't seem to mind that she showed up uninvited and chased away the sexy librarian. Very worrisome, indeed. <br /><br />When the door finally opened, he was alarmed to find the woman was still there. Instead of being gone as was right and proper, she sat defiantly in his spot, sipping beer from a green bottle and slowly dragging her fingernails across the upholstery in an insulting attempt to lure him to her.<br /><br />This was too much. A line had been crossed, and Cakey was now burdened with restoring the natural order. He made himself as large as possible, displayed his teeth prominently, and issued a warning hiss.<br /><br />Maybe Max like squishy time with Cakey more once Cakey makes head and butt warmers out of monkey chest-flaps.<br /><br />The woman laughed. \"I don't think the little guy likes me anymore.\"<br /><br />Max hum-paed and moved in to intercept him. He was blinking hard and fast, but Cakey was beyond the reach of such simple offerings. <br /><br />Cakey sprang forward, but Max's arms intercepted him. He climbed around Max's back and wrapped himself around his head. Cakey took hold of his monkey and made a clear declaration of ownership. Max yelped in pain as the suckers latched on.<br /><br />Max stroked him gently and scratched behind his ears. Cakey wanted to melt into his arms and have his belly rubbed, but he'd gone too far to turn back. <br /><br />The enemy remained seated but shifted forward, looking equally amused and horrified. She was obviously considering some sort of intervention. Cakey continued to growl at the transgressor as he rode his stumbling steed into the kitchen. <br /><br />Max's plan was obvious. Cakey is a jealous God! Cakey's altar is vast and barren, and all the snack cakes at Sav-Mart cannot fill it. No cake, no icing, no fluffy cream will satiate my wrath!<br /><br />While groping the countertop, Max accidentally slapped the box, scattering his last resort amongst the garbage and groceries at his feet. He stumbled under Cakey's shifting weight. Packaging popped, and icing squished between his toes as he danced awkwardly in the pastries. The room was filling with the dizzying bouquet of Polysorbate 60, diglycerides, and whey. <br /><br />Scarlet's laughter was almost as loud as Cakey growl as she snatched the last untrampled cake and offered it up in all its artificial glory. <br /><br />Cakey's jaw, which had been dropped in a gesture of aggression, gently masticated the air as he chewed over his options. The subtle aromas of intertwined chemicals sang with a sophisticated harmony more beautiful and overwhelming than any composer's dream. <br /><br />The red velvet Tookie bar was far and away the most splendid of its kind. In all the world of chemically modified FÜD products, nothing was so like reading a poem in God's own language. The synthetic lard reached out for him, beckoning, caressing his nasal cavities with lascivious precision. It called to him incessantly as though it were in heat, coiling around his brain, tightening its grip, refusing to be ignored. <br /><br />Powerless, he folded. Bitterly snatching the peace offering, he tore into it the way he wished he could the redhead and fantasized it was her tasty white goo trickling down his esophagus.<br /><br />Cakey swallowed the last of his bribe and loosened his grip, only then noticing the warm tack of blood on his suckers. He slithered around to get a better look and began to cry. Max's face was now covered in oozing hickeys the color and shape of large rotten grapes. It was the first time he'd seen Max angry.<br /><br />Max carried him to the bathroom and hurled him into the tub. Cakey was so ashamed the impact felt good. He wanted Max to give him the beating he deserved. <br /><br />Instead, he stepped away. <br /><br />The click of the lock once again rattled his dank prison. <br /><br />*****<br /><br />Scarlet gave Max a much-needed hug. \"What the fuck was that all about?\" She playfully licked a drop of blood from his chin.<br /><br />\"I don't know. You were in his spot on the couch? He's never done that before.\" Max walked to the mirror to see how bad it was. \"Holy fuck, I look like an alien.\"<br /><br />Scarlet laughed. \"You totally do.\"<br /><br />\"That sucked!\"<br /><br />\"Aww, don't be a pussy. It's only meat. You still wanna go out?\"<br /><br />\"I look like I have the plague, like an alien with the plague.\"<br /><br />\"It's not that bad. You're just a little polka-dotted. It's kind of cute in a pitiful way.\" She slowly and lovingly kissed each sore starting with his neck and working around to the top of his head, ending at his mouth. <br /><br />The metallic tinge of blood on her lips was like MDMA. Soon they were naked on the floor, and she was making the rest of his body match his face.<br /><br />At first, Cakey's whimpering was drowned out by the panting thump of flesh on flesh. As their energy waned, the pathetic sounds of self-abomination became more and more audible. Eventually, the wailing of his wounded friend was all he could hear. The mood was lost. <br /><br />He rolled off of her and rested his face in his hands. \"I'm sorry. I just can't ignore him while he's making that noise. All I can think about is how hard I threw him. Do you think he's okay?\"<br /><br />\"Does he have bones?\"<br /><br />\"I don't think so.\"<br /><br />\"He'll be fine. Finish fuckin' me.\" She grabbed his cock, but he jerked away.<br /><br />\"I'm not in the mood anymore.\" <br /><br />\"Don't beat yourself up. He deserved it. I'm all for the ethical treatment of animals, but you got to let them know who's in charge.\"<br /><br />\"I know, but I still feel like a bastard. I'm going to go check on him.\" He walked to the bathroom.<br /><br />\"You're really not going to finish fucking me?\"<br /><br />\"I can't concentrate while he's whining like that. Did you not get off?\"<br /><br />\"I'm starting to go numb down there. I just thought you might want to cum before I go. I have to work tomorrow, so I don't have all night to make your worm happy.\"<br /><br />\"I'll be fine. My worm is quite happy. I think I'm still depleted from last time.\"<br /><br />\"Suit yourself. I'll just find my clothes and get out of your hair.\" She got up and gathered her things.<br />\"Don't be like that. You understand, don't you?\" he asked, not really caring.<br /><br />She did a lousy job of pretending to shrug it off. \"Yeah, I'm just giving you shit. Fair warning, he ever does something like that to me, I'll do more than throw his ass in the bathroom.\"<br /><br />Max laughed and felt a little better about his reaction. She had a point. Cakey had to learn about boundaries, and this was as good a time as any. <br /><br />When Scarlet had finished buckling on her various garments, he escorted her to the door and kissed her goodbye. He shut the door behind her, confident she would return despite Cakey's temper tantrum. If she didn't, that was okay, too. <br /><br />He retrieved his emergency snack cake and approached the bathroom door cautiously. He took a deep breath and collected himself before opening it.<br /><br />Cakey was puffy-eyed and pitiful, shivering in the corner of the ceiling. Instead of the usual two black marbles, his friend stared through darkened slits set like scars in the swollen tear-stained flubber of his face. A steady stream of sorrow dripped down his forehead, pooling on the counter around the sink. <br />Max raised his hands to help his friend down. \"It's okay. Come here.\"<br /><br />Cakey squirmed away in shame, crawling in irregular circles to communicate his sorrow.<br /><br />\"Really, I'm not mad anymore. You can come down now. Come on.\" He pulled the snack cake from his pocket and peeled the wrapper back. \"See, it's cool. Come on down.\"<br /><br />Cakey forced his eyes open. Their gazes collided like atomic subs, exploding in the water of their faces. Cakey read like the thesaurus entry for regret. Unable to bear being away from him any longer, he gently dropped into Max's hands, careful not to use his suckers.<br /><br />Max snuggled him gently, running his lips over the poofy folds of his head. He promised himself that he would never again use violence when Cakey got out of hand. They spent the rest of the night cuddling under a blanket and watching TV, secure in the knowledge that nothing could ever come between them.<br /><br /><br />",
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"content": "Here is the second installment of Birth. If you missed the first one, you can read it here: https://www.minds.com/media/1136952364757467136\n\nTHE 39 WHELPS\n\nThe idea of fatherhood had always terrified Max. Children were loud, selfish vectors of disease. Parenting was the business of keeping a parasite alive long enough for it to move out, generate many tons of garbage, take up housing, and generally be a nuisance until something made it stop. One in a million might be entertaining. One in a billion might make a real contribution to the world. The rest of them basically existed to circulate currency. Pets were cuter, and you didn't have to worry about them launching nuclear weapons. No cat ever paid to masturbate in a stranger's septic tank. \n\nMisanthropy aside, how could anyone live knowing that every mistake in word or deed could cause a psychological scar in a developing mind? Giving them the wrong toy could initiate a string of perceptions resulting in a tyrant or a whiner. The wrong amount of candy might create a rapist or a crackhead? How could anyone navigate that?\n\nMax would have sooner teabagged a garbage disposal than reproduce, but Cakey was pretty awesome. If he was honest, Cakey was the best thing that ever happened to him. Luckily, he didn't have any friends, so nobody had to know he'd become a lame cliche. Even if he had, what was he going to do, put Cakey to sleep so he could retain his nihilism?\n\nHis face was sore from smiling all the time. Apparently, years of being a miserable bastard had atrophied his smiling muscles so much he could barely hold a smirk for twenty seconds without getting a cramp. He'd timed it in the mirror. \n\nWith the help of a new friend and a healthy Begr profile, he was relearning how to be happy. Cakey wormed deeper into his heart every day. He was smarter than a baby and more emotive than a pet. He immediately understood toilets and could get up and down all by himself. Max taught him to play Chess and lost their first game. \n\nHe also lost all subsequent games. It was getting frustrating.\n\n\"Again? Fuck!\" Max tipped over his king for the third time in under an hour. He reached across the couch and put his finger in Cakey's sucker. \"Good game, you little bastard. I'm going to beat you one of these days.\"\n\nCakey giggled.\n\n\"Don't laugh.\" Max grabbed Cakey's scruff and gave him a playful shake.\n\nCakey moved to reset the board.\n\n\"Nope. That's enough for today.\" Max snatched the board and looked for a steady place to set it. \n\nThe coffee table was a thriving ecosystem where all forms of garbage were free to return to their primordial roots and eventually re-imagine themselves as new forms of life. He transferred the set from the middle cushion to a small plateau of old magazines, which accepted its weight with minimal sliding. All the king's horsemen and all the king's men mingled happily with their new neighbors.\n\nCakey surged into Max's lap, curling inside out and upside down to peer up from a position of blissful vulnerability. \n\nMax beamed with almost romantic love. He wondered how an animal could validate him so thoroughly. Could a human and a worm to be soulmates?\n\nThe doorbell chimed, reminding him he had a date.\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\nHe'd meant to clean, but realistically it would have taken days or weeks of hard labor to make his place presentable. He'd never worried about it before, but Diana was Klipsch. This might be her first time in a home that didn't have a housekeeping staff.\n\nCakey snorted and crawled to his spot on the couch.\n\n\"I know. I'm sorry, but it's time for daddy to get laid.\"\n\nMax rushed to the door and opened it.\n\n\"Hey, come in.\"\n\nDiana's designer outfit was modeled after Sonian street clothes. They looked as inauthentic on her as they did in general, accentuating that sexy alien quality she'd gotten from growing up in Society. Every ringlet of her hair hung like polished mahogany some artist had crafted to encode ancient secrets. She was well out of his league in every way.\n\nA lot of People got off on screwing below their station, but her booty call seemed more pragmatic than bestial. She had noticed Cakey a few days ago in the park. After Max answered all her questions about cheekworms, she had asked him if he would like to copulate. Just like that. \"Would you like to copulate with me this weekend?\" \n\nHe imagined she had \"casual sex\" marked on her calendar, and he was in the right place with the right worm.\n\nMax ushered her in and sat her next to Cakey. \"Can I get you a drink or something? I've got just about everything; beer, wine, a full bar...\"\n\nShe frowned. \"No, thank you.\" She glanced at the strange lifeform beside her and debated petting him.\n\nMax took Cakey's \"Really? Her?\" expression to mean it was bathroom time. He opened the door and snapped his fingers, ignoring his friend's pleading eyes and silent promises to be good. Cakey hopped down and began his walk of shame but stopped as a second chime sounded.\n\nMax smiled apologetically. \"Sorry. I'll get rid of them.\" \n\nMax returned to the door to find Scarlet decked out in green leather and fuck-me pumps. She had little pins over her nipples. One said, \"Stop looking at me,\" the other \"Pervert.\" Her immoderate accessories sounded like jingling keys as she brushed him aside and let her steampunk handbag clatter to the floor. \n\n\"What's up, Maxie-pad?\" She noticed the woman on the couch and smiled. \"Ooh, somebody's been busy. I like her!\" She pressed her body against him and bit his cheek affectionately. \n\nDiana hovered an inch above the couch, wavering between hurt and angry. Her cold blue eyes darted between Scarlet's bountiful bouncing baubles trying to define what phylum to file her in. Her face hardened into a mask of disgust. She must have pegged her as a Savanian. \n\nMax panicked. Being a Sonian, he was immune to most of the tension between classes, but the Klipsch and Savanians reacted to each other like bleach and ammonia.\n\n\"Hi, Scarlet. What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I thought I'd surprise you. I didn't know you had a guest. Fine with me, though.\" Her voice sounded even more like a phone sex worker than usual. \"Well, are ya surprised?\"\n\n\"Uh…yeah.\"\n\n\"Good.\" Scarlet strode over to Diana, pushed her back, and straddled her. \"What's your name, sweetie?\"\n\nDiana had a hole she'd hoped to fit a peg into, but brazen gutter-slut was the wrong shape, and the force with which Scarlet was attempting to insert herself was threatening to break the frame. She shoved Scarlet to the side, stood, and sputtered a jumble of apologies and outrage on her way to the door.\n\n\"Hey, I'm really sorry.\" \"Max tried to intercept her, but she shrugged him off. \"Don't go.\" \n\n\"Yeah, don't go.\" Scarlet's plea was slightly exaggerated.\n\nDiana slammed the door behind her, but the doorknob didn't catch. \n\nMax watched it slowly creaked open. \"Dammit.\"\n\nScarlet laughed. \"That was rude as fuck. What'd a girl like that want with you, anyway?\"\n\n\"I think she wanted to borrow my penis.\"\n\nScarlet walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. \"Sorry about that, I guess it's just you and me tonight.\"\n\n\"You really should call before you come.\"\n\n\"But you can usually tell when I'm about to cum.\" She wrapped herself around him like an octopus. \"Come on, don't be mad. Let's make the most of a sorry situation.\"\n\nAs Scarlet peeled his clothes away, Max noticed the crowd of voyeurs gathering in the hall. Cakey slammed the door before any of them could make off with his TV. \n\nMax removed his tongue from her throat. \"Good boy! Now go to the bathroom.\"\n\nCakey did a sarcastic little poop dance.\n\n\"Now!\"\n\nCakey moped to the bathroom and nuzzled the door shut.\n\n*****\n\nCakey hissed as loud as he could, then made himself comfortable in a nest of mildewing underwear. Every time a female came around, he was tossed in the bathroom faster than an inflatable party sheep. The girls made Max happy, so Cakey tried not to be offended.\n\nIt didn't work. \n\nHe took a deep breath of bathroom air, letting the familiar sickly-sweet chocolaty funk coat his lungs. There was nothing to do but curl up and endure the groans of the chalky usurper while she played with Max in ways he never could.\n\nCakey hates sharing! Why monkeys need squishy time with other monkeys? Use Cakey to get phone numbers then lock Cakey in the bathroom. Stupid monkey! Cakey should go toss bitch-monkey like wet confetti.\n\nHe rested his chin on a wadded-up shirt. What so special about shedding skins and writhing monkeys in the squishy place without Cakey. Why always without Cakey? Cakey squishy too. Why Cakey's fleshy squish not as good as top-heavy money-pit?\n\nCakey knows how treacherous monkeys can be. Need to protect Max. He fantasized about busting through the door and eating Scarlet's face.\n\nRejection sours Cakey's inner goo.\n\nDeep down, Cakey knew bathroom-time was his punishment for interfering. The door couldn't stop him if he decided to come out, but he was held at bay by an impenetrable barrier of shame. \n\nGirls rarely came around more than once. Dozens had come and gone, but none had formed a bond deeper than the length of Max's penis-- until now. This one, with her tattoos and her corsets and her ridiculous raspberry-colored hair, was here for the third time. \n\nMax didn't seem to mind that she showed up uninvited and chased away the sexy librarian. Very worrisome, indeed. \n\nWhen the door finally opened, he was alarmed to find the woman was still there. Instead of being gone as was right and proper, she sat defiantly in his spot, sipping beer from a green bottle and slowly dragging her fingernails across the upholstery in an insulting attempt to lure him to her.\n\nThis was too much. A line had been crossed, and Cakey was now burdened with restoring the natural order. He made himself as large as possible, displayed his teeth prominently, and issued a warning hiss.\n\nMaybe Max like squishy time with Cakey more once Cakey makes head and butt warmers out of monkey chest-flaps.\n\nThe woman laughed. \"I don't think the little guy likes me anymore.\"\n\nMax hum-paed and moved in to intercept him. He was blinking hard and fast, but Cakey was beyond the reach of such simple offerings. \n\nCakey sprang forward, but Max's arms intercepted him. He climbed around Max's back and wrapped himself around his head. Cakey took hold of his monkey and made a clear declaration of ownership. Max yelped in pain as the suckers latched on.\n\nMax stroked him gently and scratched behind his ears. Cakey wanted to melt into his arms and have his belly rubbed, but he'd gone too far to turn back. \n\nThe enemy remained seated but shifted forward, looking equally amused and horrified. She was obviously considering some sort of intervention. Cakey continued to growl at the transgressor as he rode his stumbling steed into the kitchen. \n\nMax's plan was obvious. Cakey is a jealous God! Cakey's altar is vast and barren, and all the snack cakes at Sav-Mart cannot fill it. No cake, no icing, no fluffy cream will satiate my wrath!\n\nWhile groping the countertop, Max accidentally slapped the box, scattering his last resort amongst the garbage and groceries at his feet. He stumbled under Cakey's shifting weight. Packaging popped, and icing squished between his toes as he danced awkwardly in the pastries. The room was filling with the dizzying bouquet of Polysorbate 60, diglycerides, and whey. \n\nScarlet's laughter was almost as loud as Cakey growl as she snatched the last untrampled cake and offered it up in all its artificial glory. \n\nCakey's jaw, which had been dropped in a gesture of aggression, gently masticated the air as he chewed over his options. The subtle aromas of intertwined chemicals sang with a sophisticated harmony more beautiful and overwhelming than any composer's dream. \n\nThe red velvet Tookie bar was far and away the most splendid of its kind. In all the world of chemically modified FÜD products, nothing was so like reading a poem in God's own language. The synthetic lard reached out for him, beckoning, caressing his nasal cavities with lascivious precision. It called to him incessantly as though it were in heat, coiling around his brain, tightening its grip, refusing to be ignored. \n\nPowerless, he folded. Bitterly snatching the peace offering, he tore into it the way he wished he could the redhead and fantasized it was her tasty white goo trickling down his esophagus.\n\nCakey swallowed the last of his bribe and loosened his grip, only then noticing the warm tack of blood on his suckers. He slithered around to get a better look and began to cry. Max's face was now covered in oozing hickeys the color and shape of large rotten grapes. It was the first time he'd seen Max angry.\n\nMax carried him to the bathroom and hurled him into the tub. Cakey was so ashamed the impact felt good. He wanted Max to give him the beating he deserved. \n\nInstead, he stepped away. \n\nThe click of the lock once again rattled his dank prison. \n\n*****\n\nScarlet gave Max a much-needed hug. \"What the fuck was that all about?\" She playfully licked a drop of blood from his chin.\n\n\"I don't know. You were in his spot on the couch? He's never done that before.\" Max walked to the mirror to see how bad it was. \"Holy fuck, I look like an alien.\"\n\nScarlet laughed. \"You totally do.\"\n\n\"That sucked!\"\n\n\"Aww, don't be a pussy. It's only meat. You still wanna go out?\"\n\n\"I look like I have the plague, like an alien with the plague.\"\n\n\"It's not that bad. You're just a little polka-dotted. It's kind of cute in a pitiful way.\" She slowly and lovingly kissed each sore starting with his neck and working around to the top of his head, ending at his mouth. \n\nThe metallic tinge of blood on her lips was like MDMA. Soon they were naked on the floor, and she was making the rest of his body match his face.\n\nAt first, Cakey's whimpering was drowned out by the panting thump of flesh on flesh. As their energy waned, the pathetic sounds of self-abomination became more and more audible. Eventually, the wailing of his wounded friend was all he could hear. The mood was lost. \n\nHe rolled off of her and rested his face in his hands. \"I'm sorry. I just can't ignore him while he's making that noise. All I can think about is how hard I threw him. Do you think he's okay?\"\n\n\"Does he have bones?\"\n\n\"I don't think so.\"\n\n\"He'll be fine. Finish fuckin' me.\" She grabbed his cock, but he jerked away.\n\n\"I'm not in the mood anymore.\" \n\n\"Don't beat yourself up. He deserved it. I'm all for the ethical treatment of animals, but you got to let them know who's in charge.\"\n\n\"I know, but I still feel like a bastard. I'm going to go check on him.\" He walked to the bathroom.\n\n\"You're really not going to finish fucking me?\"\n\n\"I can't concentrate while he's whining like that. Did you not get off?\"\n\n\"I'm starting to go numb down there. I just thought you might want to cum before I go. I have to work tomorrow, so I don't have all night to make your worm happy.\"\n\n\"I'll be fine. My worm is quite happy. I think I'm still depleted from last time.\"\n\n\"Suit yourself. I'll just find my clothes and get out of your hair.\" She got up and gathered her things.\n\"Don't be like that. You understand, don't you?\" he asked, not really caring.\n\nShe did a lousy job of pretending to shrug it off. \"Yeah, I'm just giving you shit. Fair warning, he ever does something like that to me, I'll do more than throw his ass in the bathroom.\"\n\nMax laughed and felt a little better about his reaction. She had a point. Cakey had to learn about boundaries, and this was as good a time as any. \n\nWhen Scarlet had finished buckling on her various garments, he escorted her to the door and kissed her goodbye. He shut the door behind her, confident she would return despite Cakey's temper tantrum. If she didn't, that was okay, too. \n\nHe retrieved his emergency snack cake and approached the bathroom door cautiously. He took a deep breath and collected himself before opening it.\n\nCakey was puffy-eyed and pitiful, shivering in the corner of the ceiling. Instead of the usual two black marbles, his friend stared through darkened slits set like scars in the swollen tear-stained flubber of his face. A steady stream of sorrow dripped down his forehead, pooling on the counter around the sink. \nMax raised his hands to help his friend down. \"It's okay. Come here.\"\n\nCakey squirmed away in shame, crawling in irregular circles to communicate his sorrow.\n\n\"Really, I'm not mad anymore. You can come down now. Come on.\" He pulled the snack cake from his pocket and peeled the wrapper back. \"See, it's cool. Come on down.\"\n\nCakey forced his eyes open. Their gazes collided like atomic subs, exploding in the water of their faces. Cakey read like the thesaurus entry for regret. Unable to bear being away from him any longer, he gently dropped into Max's hands, careful not to use his suckers.\n\nMax snuggled him gently, running his lips over the poofy folds of his head. He promised himself that he would never again use violence when Cakey got out of hand. They spent the rest of the night cuddling under a blanket and watching TV, secure in the knowledge that nothing could ever come between them.\n\n\n",
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"content": "Want a break from all the stupid? I'm celebrating the upcoming release of \"Birth\" (second edition) by sharing it with you for free! It's a true story that hasn't happened yet. Enjoy!<br /><br />WHAT’S UP, OCTOPUSSY?<br /><br />When Max was eleven, the government collapsed. <br /><br />It started with a fistfight during a State of the Union. The opposition leader sucker-punched the president mid-speech, and it quickly escalated into a full-scale riot. Right, left, politician, press, everyone joined in. It was a national catharsis long overdue.<br /><br />Everyone hated politics. They bitched about being overtaxed and overregulated. They joked about how nothing got done and ranted when something did. It was bad reality television targeted at masochists and rage addicts. So when it was canceled, the only real surprise was that they’d been doing an okay job.<br /><br />Historically, governments fell because revolutionaries overthrew them. This was more like a breakup. Everyone agreed it wasn’t working and they didn’t want to see each other anymore. The two major parties dissolved into hundreds of factions, each with their own manifesto and charismatic podium-thumper. None were moderate enough to secure more than a tiny fraction of the vote. People had been settling for years. Now everybody wanted it their way.<br /><br />While the politicians were slap-fighting for votes, society came apart in their hands like overcooked salmon. The problems weren’t that serious at first. With the right solutions, they could have made a tasty croquette. Instead, they tried to put it back together with glue and nails, making the product unpalatable.<br /><br />The police stopped coming to work because nobody paid them. Crime spiked until the mutants pouring from the sewers made it too dangerous to leave the house. Their wrath was justified. Max would have cheered them on if not for his legitimate fear of dismemberment. <br /> <br />Several generations ago, a popular video game console dubbed the Iii used radioactive materials in the batteries for their nunchuck-style controllers. The batteries leaked, causing a lot of cancer and death, but also a genetic mutation known as Iiitis (pronounced E-Itis), which caused the muscles of the right arm to create mass at several times the standard rate. Those afflicted looked like they spent all their time lifting weights, but only with one arm. They were frequently referred to as lobsters until the word was deemed hate-speech and replaced with Iiite. <br /><br />The Iiite’s superior strength made them popular for a little while. They were a symbol of strength and human adaptability. Within a generation, they were dominant in every sport, the military, and every other industry where muscle was a factor. Before long, they got paid more than regular folks. That caused resentment, which developed into racism, oppression, and violence. Eventually, it got so bad Iiites had to go underground, literally. <br /><br />They created new towns in abandoned sewer systems. Unable to earn money or grow food, they had to raid for the things they needed. The military tried to take them out, but the Iiites always managed to survive. Over time, the war petered out. Raids grew infrequent. It became one of those things that happened to other people.<br /><br />This was all way before Max was born. When he was a kid, Iiites were assumed to be a few stragglers of a dying species eking out a sorry existence in the shadows. They were more pitied than hated. A few groups even attempted reconciliation, but their ambassadors rarely returned.<br /><br />When the cops disappeared, Iiites reappeared everywhere. Angsty teens came up in groups of eight to ten and roamed the streets, ripping the right arms off everyone they encountered. They laid the arms out to spell messages, usually short ones like “Retribution.”<br /><br />That seemed like a big deal until God manifested in Bryant Park. It turned out, thirty years ago, he’d split himself into four humans and started a shitty metal band called Poison Candy. Since everyone was worried about dying, Poison Candy’s big reunion tour wasn’t selling many tickets. Not wanting to be upstaged, they stopped pretending to be awful crotch-rockers and merged into a single divine being, breaking reality in the process. All kinds of shit went haywire after that. It was like living in a comic book.<br /><br />That got old fast.<br /><br />A few corporations saw opportunities in new markets and stepped in to provide missing essentials. Rather than taxing for things like schools and police, subscriptions popped up at various price points. Instead of toll-roads, they paved McRoads with mandatory drive-throughs. The result was horrible traffic, a spike in diabetes, and three distinct classes living side by side but divided by a cultural gulf so broad the passage from one street to the next sometimes felt like time-travel.<br /><br />The most forward-thinking corporations created synergistic systems with other companies that catered to clientele in specific income brackets. Eventually, three conglomerates managed everything. K. Co. managed middle-class areas known as K-Districts and provided security through their world-famous K-Squad. Security for high-end I-Districts was seen to by I-Force (a division of IMD, a.k.a. International Monetary Divestitures, a.k.a. The Bank). Low-end S-Districts were stuck with Sav-Cops (a division of Sav-Mart). A Savanian could hire I-Force if they had the money, but if they had that kind of money, they’d be Klipsch.<br /><br />S-districts had service-based economies and provided unskilled labor to the other districts. Most Savanians live in Smart Homes, large tenements designed to house as many people as possible without creating a health risk. The Valucational school system has six grades focused on vocational training and sales tactics.<br /><br />Sonyans were middle class and generally had fourteen years of liberal arts education. They lived comfortably and enjoyed access to quality healthcare. <br /><br />Inhabitants of I-Districts were called Klipsch. Unlike Savanians and Sonians, that name was foisted upon them by the lower classes. They refer to themselves simply as People. <br /><br />People are the economy. They own all the businesses and make all the decisions. Instead of going to school, Klipsch kids have a small army of tutors to groom them for their roles as world leaders.<br /><br />Things went right back to normal, proving once and for all that humans can’t resist organizing into arbitrary casts with no concept of merit or empathy.<br /><br />Max grew up Sonyan, but never applied himself. He’d been managing Savanians at shitty jobs since high school. Some of his employees were smarter than him, but they couldn’t afford a real diploma, so they would always be poor. He saw what their life was like and always felt guilty for how much easier he had it. Over the years, the steady drip of guilt, tragedy, and disappointment in humanity eroded Max’s soul. Reality became a disease he treated with a variety of over and under the counter medications, some with unfortunate side effects.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />Max gasped and flailed, splashing icy water over the edge of the tub. The black flame of freezer-burn played around his every cell. Trembling, he pulled himself over the edge and landed hard on his side. <br />It felt like he landed on a hunting knife.<br /><br />“Fuck!” He growled through chattering teeth. <br /><br />Reaching back, he found crude stitches running from his ass to the center of his spine in the shape of a heart. They tingled and drooled thick rivulets of various hues as he ran his fingers over them. <br /><br />“Is that dental floss?” He swatted away the clinging ice then grabbed the splotchy old robe he used for a bathmat. It smelled like mildew and feet, but it was warm. <br /><br />Max curled up in a ball and cocooned himself in dirty laundry until the shivering subsided. His heart was racing, pumping his remaining blood so fast he could feel ice crystals scratching up his veins. <br /><br />The room went black then snapped back into focus. <br /><br />His mouth felt like rotten leather. His eyelids stuck to his corneas as his gaze shifted to the sink. <br /><br />It was far away. Looking at it made him want to go to sleep. His eyes slowly rolled to the ice cubes that lay melting on the tile. It took every speck of his remaining energy to lean over, but that moisture on his tongue was glorious. He sucked that puddle dry then wiggled a few inches to the next. Several pools later, he crawled back to the vent.<br /><br />Max liked his little cocoon. When he was a kid, his parents kept their dirty laundry on the floor of a small closet in the hall. Tiny Max liked to go inside, close the door, bury himself in it, and toss it around. All those exciting textures, its weight, and the smell of his parents were all so comforting.<br /><br />He hoped the heat would kick on soon. The thermostat was on 67, so it never stayed on for long.<br /><br />As his mind cleared, a few blurry images flitted around the corners of his memory: hands in the air, people in ugly suits, chanting, a drag queen putting a little pink pill in his hand.<br /><br />“Damn it! I knew there was something off about that guy.”<br /><br />Rage gave him the boost he needed to reach for the sink. “Fucking turtle dick cunt swapping son of a whore!”<br /><br />It felt like somebody replaced his kidneys with hungry rats. The room went monochrome, and the pitch of the ringing in his ears felt like it might shatter his skull. Luckily, his many overdoses had made him good at powering through.<br /><br />He held onto the counter with one hand and used the other to drag his foot into a position where he could rock onto it. He did the same on the other side, then grabbed the counter with both hands and used every muscle in his body to lunge. He hit his head on the faucet but didn’t fall over.<br /><br />“I’m going to kill everyone for this.”<br /><br />He turned on the faucet and filled his toothbrush cup with water, chugging glass after glass until he noticed the black crud floating up from the bottom. He realized he was drinking five years of congealed toothbrush water.<br /><br />“Oh, God.” Feeling like he was going to hurl, he turned to the little green trashcan and found two glistening lumps that smelled like Freon.<br /><br />Max laughed and sprayed his kidneys with minty scum-water. “Joke’s on you, asshole.”<br /><br />He stuck his head in the sink and sucked fresh water directly from the stream. With his mouth rinsed and his belly full, he returned to the can and fished out one of the kidneys.<br /><br />It was black and covered in little ridges that looked like ears. Imagining the look on the harvester’s face made Max feel a bit better. The more he stared at them, the more he wondered if the thief had done him a favor.<br /><br />The first time he should have died, he’d drank an embarrassment of liquor and taken a header down a flight of stairs. His skull cracked in seven places, and his head swole up so big it looked like a rubber mask. He never figured out how he made it to that Savanian ER.<br /><br />When he woke up, the doctors told him he was more or less dead; not quite as dead as the living dead but in that general vicinity. It was shortly after the “Divine Disturbance,” so doctors were still trying to figure out why and how things had changed. <br /><br />His doctor had said, “It’s like Poison Candy tied Death’s shoelaces together. Anything beyond that is speculation.”<br /><br />They didn’t even know if his face would heal. Thankfully it did. He later learned that his body repaired itself extremely fast. <br /><br />Max was one of the lucky few to get the “alive-plus” upgrade when Poison Candy momentarily expanded the chemical world, stretching the fabric of reality. Now, instead of being either alive or dead, people could also be zombies or alive-plus. “God” said that alive-plus was “a special gift so partiers of a certain caliber could keep rocking forever.”<br /><br />Max hated parties. The prospect of immortality was horrifying, but he could do all the Krokodil he wanted, so yay?<br /><br />At least real zombies weren’t hungry like in the movies. They mostly just moped around smelling bad until they either crumbled or gelled, depending on the weather. Max preferred them to the zealous idiots who migrated to Bryant Park to make offerings of cocaine and cheap liquor.<br /><br />Max waddled to the hallway and cranked his thermostat to 73, then returned to the bathroom. <br /><br />He frowned at his reflection. “What the fuck, Max? You know better than to go around other people.”<br /><br />Morbid curiosity had driven him to the Baptastic Revivalicious Cavalcade of Christianity. He could never resist a good freak show. Ironically, in that sea of fundamentalist sociopaths, it was the friendly drag queen who did him in.<br /><br />“Who knew free pills from a stranger could be a bad thing?” He wanted to slap himself, but he didn’t feel up to it.<br /><br />The air hung like green-gray mold, couching everything in a sticky film. The seeping humidity was making the wallpaper sweat and squirm like a fat boy on a blind date. Outside his bathroom window, the sky had been turned a hideous plaid of greens and browns to warn of potential terrorist activity. Even the zombies looked depressed.<br /><br />His stomach gurgled. The only solid food he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours was the breading of a burnt corndog.<br /><br />“God, I feel like shit.”<br /><br />He scoured the bathroom for narcotics but couldn’t find so much as a headache powder. <br /><br />He’d been living off his savings for the last several weeks, ever since the zoo fired him over an incident that led to the zombification of three turtles, two penguins, one debutante, and a small group of Klipsch perverts. Now he was broke and out of everything. Even if he got a job today, he didn’t know how he’d afford food to last until his first check.<br /><br />In no condition to go on interviews, Max put the thought out of his mind and shuffled to the kitchen. He guzzled the last of his herbally fortified juice-drink on the way to his liquor cabinet. <br /><br />“Goddammit!”<br /><br />His urinary jowls weren’t the only things the paunchy poacher had plundered. Max kicked the door shut.<br /><br /> “Fuck!” He braced himself against the wall until his toes stopped throbbing. His wounds would heal, but now he would have to spend the rest of his money restocking his bar, which meant he would have to find a job. Then it dawned on him.<br /><br />“Shit! It’s Sunday. I can’t even buy booze. Fucking Baptastics ruin everything!”<br /><br />“Mroowr?” Spooky meowed inquisitively.<br /><br />Max walked to the bedroom, where his Bio-Bed nestled in several inches of dirty laundry. She liked it that way. Every time he washed clothes, she acted like he was destroying her natural habitat. He used that as an excuse to buy new clothes every time he found something cheap and cool.<br /><br />“Hi, Spooky.” Max ran his fingers through her soft, black-and-grey striped cheek. “I bet you’re wondering what was going on last night. Just a little organ theft. Nothing to worry your big squishy head about.”<br /><br />Spooky purred and rubbed against his hand.<br /><br />He glanced at the lines pumping the sedatives in and the waste out to make sure everything was normal. He took good care of Spooky. Being genetically engineered as an immobile blob of fat for humans to sleep on was indignity enough for one lifetime. She was the nicest thing he had and the only living being that loved him.<br /><br />Max was morally opposed to Bio-Beds, but she’d come with the apartment. His options were to maintain her or put her down. She was way too sweet and comfortable to kill. Whoever came up with the idea of harnessing the oozy squish of cat-fat for furniture was an evil genius.<br /><br />He plopped onto Spooky’s belly and burst a stitch.<br /><br />“Ahh!” The pain triggered a coughing fit that triggered more pain. He rolled onto his belly and screamed into her fat.<br /><br />“Mroooww?”<br /><br />Max wanted to cry, but he was too dehydrated. It was all getting too vivid. With nothing to dull his senses, he couldn’t help but notice the filth. The glassware on his nightstand was stuck in a mass of tissues and allergy medicine that had gotten wet and dried out so many times it turned into paper-mâché.<br /><br />He thought of the sign by the kitchen door. ‘Abandon soap all ye who enter here.’ It was cute when he got it, but less so in light of his having run out of soap weeks ago. How had he let it get this bad?<br /><br />“I gotta get some fresh air.”<br /><br />He snatched a T-shirt out of the closet, found his pants, and made sure his phone, keys, and hammer were still in them. He hadn’t left the house without a hammer since a brief but unpleasant encounter with a feisty undead lady. He was pretty sure a couple of whacks to the head would put anybody down, but he’d never tried it. The National Association for the Advancement of Dead People paid the cops to arrest zombie bashers.<br /><br />When the dead first woke up, there were a lot of hate crimes against them. People expected them to be like they were in the movies, so every jackass with a shotgun decided they were going to save the world. A few people who were too sentimental to splatter grandma’s skull discovered zombies were mostly harmless. They just moped around, looking confused. Every so often, one would flip out. Nobody knew why.<br /><br />He opened the door and scanned the hallway for crackheads. Seeing none, he hurried down the stairs to the street. He stopped to stare at a zombie who was hunched over with his forehead pressed against the bricks of the complex adjacent. Black saliva dripped from his dangling jaw to pool in front of his mildewed oxfords.<br /><br />“What’s up with you?”<br /><br />A passing woman mistook his words for a quasi-friendly salutation. She forced a weak smile, shrugged, and quickened her pace.<br /><br />Max blushed. He hated it when strangers talked to him.<br /><br />What kind of creep goes around talking to random people? She probably thought I was hitting on her, and homeless. Fuck, I look like I just crawled out of a grave.<br /><br />Max made a mental note that he was no longer at home and walked briskly towards S-District. He’d chosen an apartment at the edge of a K-district so he could have middle-class amenities while still within walking distance of slum pricing. The previous tenant as murdered, so he’d gotten a great deal.<br /><br />His heart palpitated as he remembered rent was due in a week. He pulled out his phone and checked his balance, sixty-three dollars and fourteen cents left. If he didn’t find some money soon, he’d lose his place, and Spooky. That couldn’t happen.<br /><br />Maybe he’d check out the gr app. He’d heard a lot of Klipsch hipsters were collecting Savainians like trading cards. All he needed was a tragic story to get their attention. That bubble was due to burst, but it might get him through the end of the month. <br /><br />Neo-Catholistics were handing out pamphlets up ahead, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the street. Organized panhandling pissed him off on a good day, and he was more than usually in the mood to curb someone. His aptitude for repression had kept him from killing anyone so far, but it was an inevitability he preferred to avoid as long as possible. <br /><br />Two blocks from the Mega Sav-mart, he noticed an unusual movement out of the corner of his eye. His eyes darted reflexively after it just in time to catch a glimpse of something pink and lumpy slithering behind a snack-cake display. It looked like an amputee had dragged his boneless stump out of view, but there wasn’t room for a person back there. <br /><br />The display was in front of a small market, the kind where the register is outside so the proprietor could bark deals at people as they passed. Max respected Savanian hutzpa but hated their pushy bullshit. They all reminded him of W.C. Fields. <br /><br />Still, it would haunt him for days if he didn’t find out what that was.<br /><br />He forced a smile and walked over to the produce table to get a better view without being rude. The barrel-chested merchant smirked beneath a thick walrus mustache. <br /><br />“Can I help you with anything, sir? We have a special on porcupine kabobs, only $7.99 a pound.” <br /><br />“Nah, just browsing. I’ll let you know.”<br /><br />Max snuck around the display for a closer look. A sliver of something fleshy peeked out from behind the box. Before Max could come any closer, a giant worm-like thing scuttled toward the merchant, clambered up his leg, and wrapped around his head.<br /><br />Max jumped back and grabbed a handful of snack cakes to defend himself. “What the fuck is that?”<br /><br />The worm was about the size of a large man’s arm and covered in little fleshy lumps. Its head looked kind of like a hairless beaver with big black eyes and a mouthful of long needle-like teeth.<br /><br />The merchant was off-kilter, his curses muffled by the creature’s midsection.<br /><br />Max hurled cakes at it, wincing as the floss chomped his side.<br /><br />The creature caught one of the snack cakes in its mouth and unwrapped it with its nubby under-thingies. It made a cute nom-nom noise as it chomped through the cake and relaxed around the merchant’s head like a scarf. <br /><br />The man smiled and scratched the sucker marks on his face. <br /><br />There was a conspicuous absence of blood and screaming.<br /><br />“No need to be frightened, sir. This is my cheekworm, Cat.” He unwrapped another cake and handed it to Cat.<br /><br />The worm was horrifically cute, adorably monstrous. It nibbled the little bar like a contented toddler with long pointy fangs.<br /><br />“I named her Cat because I had a cat named Cat when I was a kid. He was a good cat. I’ve named every pet that came after in honor of him. My name, incidentally, is Cecil.” <br /><br />“It certainly is different.” Max’s eyebrow twitched. <br /><br />“They’re something new. My brother discovered them a few short weeks ago. He was on an expedition to a sunken city off the coast of Cobya. He went under, and they came up. The whole area was crawling with them.”<br /><br />Max stepped forward to examine the creature.<br /><br />Cat was hairless and ruddy. It looked like somebody sewed a bunch of baby cheeks onto a fat snake. Her underside had lines of little plungers that could protrude on stalks like fingers or contract to barely perceptible ridges. Her feline mouth and the big black eyes near the top of her face gave her a cute, cartoonish quality.<br /><br />Max reached out his hand but quickly jerked it back when she dropped the cake and hissed, propelling sticky saliva in and around his eyes. A guttural howl swelled in her throat as she bared six rows of teeth.<br /><br />Max stepped back, and the growling slowly subsided.<br /><br />The merchant gained Cat’s attention by humming what sounded like polka. Cecil locked eyes with her and blinked until she smiled and licked his face. <br /><br />He wiped a smear of icing drool from his cheek. “Unfortunately, they tend to be a touch territorial. They bond instantly with the first human they see and protect them from anything they perceive as dangerous. My brother learned that the hard way.” He pulled the thing down and cradled it in his arms like a baby. <br /><br />“The first mate tried to pick one up that had already bonded. The little guy felt threatened. Took his head clean off like he was a chocolate bunny.” <br /><br />Max looked skeptically at the creature. “Shouldn’t it be on a leash or something?”<br /><br />“No. I believe we’ve learned enough about them to avoid further incidents.”<br /><br />Max arched an eyebrow.<br /><br />“Pretty soon, they’ll be as common as cats or dogs. In many ways, they’re superior to both. They are sweeter, smarter, and more loyal than any other household pet. One hundred times more effective than guard dogs. They don’t claw the furniture. They eat almost anything, but nothing they’re not supposed to, and you don’t even have to worry about having them fixed. Watch this.” <br /><br />He placed Cat on the table, pulled a butcher’s knife out of his apron, and placed it about six inches from her tail. Cat coiled in ecstasy as he sawed through her with smooth, even strokes. She trilled as though in the throes of passion. When the blade hit the cutting board, Cat curled away from it, giggling and oozing thick yellow goo.<br /><br />The merchant slid the blade under the segment and flung it like a teppanyaki chef. <br /><br />Max was too shocked to do anything but catch it. <br /><br />Its jiggly warmth spread through his hand, tingling up his arm and throughout his body, filling him with peace. It felt like falling into a hot tub. <br /><br />Taking hold with all its suckers, the peppy lump squirmed and dripped yellow custard onto his shoes. He tried to drop it, to shake it off, but the suckers had fused to his flesh. <br /><br />It was growing about a centimeter every second, winding around his arm until a head bloomed cooing on Max’s shoulder. It opened its big black eyes, and all the shock and disgust melted into fatherly pride. It wasn’t long before Max was cooing back.<br /><br />“Amazing, isn’t it?” the merchant asked proudly. “You now have a friend who would kill or die for you. He’s a part of you, built from your own DNA. That’s why he looks like you. He’s your son.”<br /><br />“Did you just rape me?”<br /><br />“I did nothing of the sort. If you don’t want it, just put it on the ground and stomp its head. It’ll let you. They’re that sweet.”<br /><br />“Right.”<br /><br />The cheekworm snuffled around Max’s ear. <br /><br />“I guess this is where you tell me how much he costs.”<br /><br />“Oh, no. I couldn’t take him away from you now if I wanted to. He’s yours for life. If you’d like to show your gratitude by purchasing something from my store, that’s up to you. They love snack cakes. How about a treat for your new friend?”<br /><br />The creature rested its head on top of Max’s.<br /><br />“Sure, why not? Do you carry Juicetastic XXX by any chance?”<br /><br />“What flavor?”<br /><br />“Mango ecstasy?”<br /><br />“I’ll just go get it for you.” The merchant waddled through the doorway. <br /><br />Cat poured off the table and followed close behind.<br /><br />Max tossed a few snack cakes on the counter and called after him, “Two gallons.”<br /><br />The merchant came back and bagged everything up. “What do you think you’ll call him?”<br /><br />“I don’t know. Cakey?”<br /><br />The worm trilled in his ear.<br /><br />“That’s just adorable. I think he likes it.”<br /><br />Max didn’t care that Cecil was patronizing him. He placed his phone near the sensor and watched his funds roll back to forty-nine dollars and fifteen cents. “Is it a he?”<br /><br />“Call it whatever you want, but it’s neither. No genitalia, you see? These little guys just latch onto the first DNA they come into contact with. You might say you played the role of the father, making Cat here the mother, so I suppose they’re metaphorically female. I don’t see what it matters, though. You aren’t going to fuck it, are you?” <br /><br />“Eww, no. Of course not. I was just curious.”<br /><br />“Only joking, sir, only joking. Be good to the little guy, and he’ll be good to you. Now, if his feathers get ruffled, and you need to calm him down, do as I did earlier. They seem to enjoy polka the most. Blinking at them conveys love and trust and puts them at ease. If you have any problems or questions, feel free to come back any time.” <br /><br />The merchant handed him his bags with a big smile that said Max was free to fuck off. “You have a nice day now.”<br /><br />Max smiled politely, “You too.” Not quite sure what had just transpired, he quickly returned home before anything else could mate with him. <br /><br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />I'm unstuck in time, so there's no telling when I'll post chapter two. Follow me so you won't miss it. If you'd like to get it all at once, you can preorder it here: <a href=\"https://amzn.to/2EKAGw6\" target=\"_blank\">https://amzn.to/2EKAGw6</a><br /><br />",
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"content": "Want a break from all the stupid? I'm celebrating the upcoming release of \"Birth\" (second edition) by sharing it with you for free! It's a true story that hasn't happened yet. Enjoy!\n\nWHAT’S UP, OCTOPUSSY?\n\nWhen Max was eleven, the government collapsed. \n\nIt started with a fistfight during a State of the Union. The opposition leader sucker-punched the president mid-speech, and it quickly escalated into a full-scale riot. Right, left, politician, press, everyone joined in. It was a national catharsis long overdue.\n\nEveryone hated politics. They bitched about being overtaxed and overregulated. They joked about how nothing got done and ranted when something did. It was bad reality television targeted at masochists and rage addicts. So when it was canceled, the only real surprise was that they’d been doing an okay job.\n\nHistorically, governments fell because revolutionaries overthrew them. This was more like a breakup. Everyone agreed it wasn’t working and they didn’t want to see each other anymore. The two major parties dissolved into hundreds of factions, each with their own manifesto and charismatic podium-thumper. None were moderate enough to secure more than a tiny fraction of the vote. People had been settling for years. Now everybody wanted it their way.\n\nWhile the politicians were slap-fighting for votes, society came apart in their hands like overcooked salmon. The problems weren’t that serious at first. With the right solutions, they could have made a tasty croquette. Instead, they tried to put it back together with glue and nails, making the product unpalatable.\n\nThe police stopped coming to work because nobody paid them. Crime spiked until the mutants pouring from the sewers made it too dangerous to leave the house. Their wrath was justified. Max would have cheered them on if not for his legitimate fear of dismemberment. \n \nSeveral generations ago, a popular video game console dubbed the Iii used radioactive materials in the batteries for their nunchuck-style controllers. The batteries leaked, causing a lot of cancer and death, but also a genetic mutation known as Iiitis (pronounced E-Itis), which caused the muscles of the right arm to create mass at several times the standard rate. Those afflicted looked like they spent all their time lifting weights, but only with one arm. They were frequently referred to as lobsters until the word was deemed hate-speech and replaced with Iiite. \n\nThe Iiite’s superior strength made them popular for a little while. They were a symbol of strength and human adaptability. Within a generation, they were dominant in every sport, the military, and every other industry where muscle was a factor. Before long, they got paid more than regular folks. That caused resentment, which developed into racism, oppression, and violence. Eventually, it got so bad Iiites had to go underground, literally. \n\nThey created new towns in abandoned sewer systems. Unable to earn money or grow food, they had to raid for the things they needed. The military tried to take them out, but the Iiites always managed to survive. Over time, the war petered out. Raids grew infrequent. It became one of those things that happened to other people.\n\nThis was all way before Max was born. When he was a kid, Iiites were assumed to be a few stragglers of a dying species eking out a sorry existence in the shadows. They were more pitied than hated. A few groups even attempted reconciliation, but their ambassadors rarely returned.\n\nWhen the cops disappeared, Iiites reappeared everywhere. Angsty teens came up in groups of eight to ten and roamed the streets, ripping the right arms off everyone they encountered. They laid the arms out to spell messages, usually short ones like “Retribution.”\n\nThat seemed like a big deal until God manifested in Bryant Park. It turned out, thirty years ago, he’d split himself into four humans and started a shitty metal band called Poison Candy. Since everyone was worried about dying, Poison Candy’s big reunion tour wasn’t selling many tickets. Not wanting to be upstaged, they stopped pretending to be awful crotch-rockers and merged into a single divine being, breaking reality in the process. All kinds of shit went haywire after that. It was like living in a comic book.\n\nThat got old fast.\n\nA few corporations saw opportunities in new markets and stepped in to provide missing essentials. Rather than taxing for things like schools and police, subscriptions popped up at various price points. Instead of toll-roads, they paved McRoads with mandatory drive-throughs. The result was horrible traffic, a spike in diabetes, and three distinct classes living side by side but divided by a cultural gulf so broad the passage from one street to the next sometimes felt like time-travel.\n\nThe most forward-thinking corporations created synergistic systems with other companies that catered to clientele in specific income brackets. Eventually, three conglomerates managed everything. K. Co. managed middle-class areas known as K-Districts and provided security through their world-famous K-Squad. Security for high-end I-Districts was seen to by I-Force (a division of IMD, a.k.a. International Monetary Divestitures, a.k.a. The Bank). Low-end S-Districts were stuck with Sav-Cops (a division of Sav-Mart). A Savanian could hire I-Force if they had the money, but if they had that kind of money, they’d be Klipsch.\n\nS-districts had service-based economies and provided unskilled labor to the other districts. Most Savanians live in Smart Homes, large tenements designed to house as many people as possible without creating a health risk. The Valucational school system has six grades focused on vocational training and sales tactics.\n\nSonyans were middle class and generally had fourteen years of liberal arts education. They lived comfortably and enjoyed access to quality healthcare. \n\nInhabitants of I-Districts were called Klipsch. Unlike Savanians and Sonians, that name was foisted upon them by the lower classes. They refer to themselves simply as People. \n\nPeople are the economy. They own all the businesses and make all the decisions. Instead of going to school, Klipsch kids have a small army of tutors to groom them for their roles as world leaders.\n\nThings went right back to normal, proving once and for all that humans can’t resist organizing into arbitrary casts with no concept of merit or empathy.\n\nMax grew up Sonyan, but never applied himself. He’d been managing Savanians at shitty jobs since high school. Some of his employees were smarter than him, but they couldn’t afford a real diploma, so they would always be poor. He saw what their life was like and always felt guilty for how much easier he had it. Over the years, the steady drip of guilt, tragedy, and disappointment in humanity eroded Max’s soul. Reality became a disease he treated with a variety of over and under the counter medications, some with unfortunate side effects.\n\n*****\n\nMax gasped and flailed, splashing icy water over the edge of the tub. The black flame of freezer-burn played around his every cell. Trembling, he pulled himself over the edge and landed hard on his side. \nIt felt like he landed on a hunting knife.\n\n“Fuck!” He growled through chattering teeth. \n\nReaching back, he found crude stitches running from his ass to the center of his spine in the shape of a heart. They tingled and drooled thick rivulets of various hues as he ran his fingers over them. \n\n“Is that dental floss?” He swatted away the clinging ice then grabbed the splotchy old robe he used for a bathmat. It smelled like mildew and feet, but it was warm. \n\nMax curled up in a ball and cocooned himself in dirty laundry until the shivering subsided. His heart was racing, pumping his remaining blood so fast he could feel ice crystals scratching up his veins. \n\nThe room went black then snapped back into focus. \n\nHis mouth felt like rotten leather. His eyelids stuck to his corneas as his gaze shifted to the sink. \n\nIt was far away. Looking at it made him want to go to sleep. His eyes slowly rolled to the ice cubes that lay melting on the tile. It took every speck of his remaining energy to lean over, but that moisture on his tongue was glorious. He sucked that puddle dry then wiggled a few inches to the next. Several pools later, he crawled back to the vent.\n\nMax liked his little cocoon. When he was a kid, his parents kept their dirty laundry on the floor of a small closet in the hall. Tiny Max liked to go inside, close the door, bury himself in it, and toss it around. All those exciting textures, its weight, and the smell of his parents were all so comforting.\n\nHe hoped the heat would kick on soon. The thermostat was on 67, so it never stayed on for long.\n\nAs his mind cleared, a few blurry images flitted around the corners of his memory: hands in the air, people in ugly suits, chanting, a drag queen putting a little pink pill in his hand.\n\n“Damn it! I knew there was something off about that guy.”\n\nRage gave him the boost he needed to reach for the sink. “Fucking turtle dick cunt swapping son of a whore!”\n\nIt felt like somebody replaced his kidneys with hungry rats. The room went monochrome, and the pitch of the ringing in his ears felt like it might shatter his skull. Luckily, his many overdoses had made him good at powering through.\n\nHe held onto the counter with one hand and used the other to drag his foot into a position where he could rock onto it. He did the same on the other side, then grabbed the counter with both hands and used every muscle in his body to lunge. He hit his head on the faucet but didn’t fall over.\n\n“I’m going to kill everyone for this.”\n\nHe turned on the faucet and filled his toothbrush cup with water, chugging glass after glass until he noticed the black crud floating up from the bottom. He realized he was drinking five years of congealed toothbrush water.\n\n“Oh, God.” Feeling like he was going to hurl, he turned to the little green trashcan and found two glistening lumps that smelled like Freon.\n\nMax laughed and sprayed his kidneys with minty scum-water. “Joke’s on you, asshole.”\n\nHe stuck his head in the sink and sucked fresh water directly from the stream. With his mouth rinsed and his belly full, he returned to the can and fished out one of the kidneys.\n\nIt was black and covered in little ridges that looked like ears. Imagining the look on the harvester’s face made Max feel a bit better. The more he stared at them, the more he wondered if the thief had done him a favor.\n\nThe first time he should have died, he’d drank an embarrassment of liquor and taken a header down a flight of stairs. His skull cracked in seven places, and his head swole up so big it looked like a rubber mask. He never figured out how he made it to that Savanian ER.\n\nWhen he woke up, the doctors told him he was more or less dead; not quite as dead as the living dead but in that general vicinity. It was shortly after the “Divine Disturbance,” so doctors were still trying to figure out why and how things had changed. \n\nHis doctor had said, “It’s like Poison Candy tied Death’s shoelaces together. Anything beyond that is speculation.”\n\nThey didn’t even know if his face would heal. Thankfully it did. He later learned that his body repaired itself extremely fast. \n\nMax was one of the lucky few to get the “alive-plus” upgrade when Poison Candy momentarily expanded the chemical world, stretching the fabric of reality. Now, instead of being either alive or dead, people could also be zombies or alive-plus. “God” said that alive-plus was “a special gift so partiers of a certain caliber could keep rocking forever.”\n\nMax hated parties. The prospect of immortality was horrifying, but he could do all the Krokodil he wanted, so yay?\n\nAt least real zombies weren’t hungry like in the movies. They mostly just moped around smelling bad until they either crumbled or gelled, depending on the weather. Max preferred them to the zealous idiots who migrated to Bryant Park to make offerings of cocaine and cheap liquor.\n\nMax waddled to the hallway and cranked his thermostat to 73, then returned to the bathroom. \n\nHe frowned at his reflection. “What the fuck, Max? You know better than to go around other people.”\n\nMorbid curiosity had driven him to the Baptastic Revivalicious Cavalcade of Christianity. He could never resist a good freak show. Ironically, in that sea of fundamentalist sociopaths, it was the friendly drag queen who did him in.\n\n“Who knew free pills from a stranger could be a bad thing?” He wanted to slap himself, but he didn’t feel up to it.\n\nThe air hung like green-gray mold, couching everything in a sticky film. The seeping humidity was making the wallpaper sweat and squirm like a fat boy on a blind date. Outside his bathroom window, the sky had been turned a hideous plaid of greens and browns to warn of potential terrorist activity. Even the zombies looked depressed.\n\nHis stomach gurgled. The only solid food he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours was the breading of a burnt corndog.\n\n“God, I feel like shit.”\n\nHe scoured the bathroom for narcotics but couldn’t find so much as a headache powder. \n\nHe’d been living off his savings for the last several weeks, ever since the zoo fired him over an incident that led to the zombification of three turtles, two penguins, one debutante, and a small group of Klipsch perverts. Now he was broke and out of everything. Even if he got a job today, he didn’t know how he’d afford food to last until his first check.\n\nIn no condition to go on interviews, Max put the thought out of his mind and shuffled to the kitchen. He guzzled the last of his herbally fortified juice-drink on the way to his liquor cabinet. \n\n“Goddammit!”\n\nHis urinary jowls weren’t the only things the paunchy poacher had plundered. Max kicked the door shut.\n\n “Fuck!” He braced himself against the wall until his toes stopped throbbing. His wounds would heal, but now he would have to spend the rest of his money restocking his bar, which meant he would have to find a job. Then it dawned on him.\n\n“Shit! It’s Sunday. I can’t even buy booze. Fucking Baptastics ruin everything!”\n\n“Mroowr?” Spooky meowed inquisitively.\n\nMax walked to the bedroom, where his Bio-Bed nestled in several inches of dirty laundry. She liked it that way. Every time he washed clothes, she acted like he was destroying her natural habitat. He used that as an excuse to buy new clothes every time he found something cheap and cool.\n\n“Hi, Spooky.” Max ran his fingers through her soft, black-and-grey striped cheek. “I bet you’re wondering what was going on last night. Just a little organ theft. Nothing to worry your big squishy head about.”\n\nSpooky purred and rubbed against his hand.\n\nHe glanced at the lines pumping the sedatives in and the waste out to make sure everything was normal. He took good care of Spooky. Being genetically engineered as an immobile blob of fat for humans to sleep on was indignity enough for one lifetime. She was the nicest thing he had and the only living being that loved him.\n\nMax was morally opposed to Bio-Beds, but she’d come with the apartment. His options were to maintain her or put her down. She was way too sweet and comfortable to kill. Whoever came up with the idea of harnessing the oozy squish of cat-fat for furniture was an evil genius.\n\nHe plopped onto Spooky’s belly and burst a stitch.\n\n“Ahh!” The pain triggered a coughing fit that triggered more pain. He rolled onto his belly and screamed into her fat.\n\n“Mroooww?”\n\nMax wanted to cry, but he was too dehydrated. It was all getting too vivid. With nothing to dull his senses, he couldn’t help but notice the filth. The glassware on his nightstand was stuck in a mass of tissues and allergy medicine that had gotten wet and dried out so many times it turned into paper-mâché.\n\nHe thought of the sign by the kitchen door. ‘Abandon soap all ye who enter here.’ It was cute when he got it, but less so in light of his having run out of soap weeks ago. How had he let it get this bad?\n\n“I gotta get some fresh air.”\n\nHe snatched a T-shirt out of the closet, found his pants, and made sure his phone, keys, and hammer were still in them. He hadn’t left the house without a hammer since a brief but unpleasant encounter with a feisty undead lady. He was pretty sure a couple of whacks to the head would put anybody down, but he’d never tried it. The National Association for the Advancement of Dead People paid the cops to arrest zombie bashers.\n\nWhen the dead first woke up, there were a lot of hate crimes against them. People expected them to be like they were in the movies, so every jackass with a shotgun decided they were going to save the world. A few people who were too sentimental to splatter grandma’s skull discovered zombies were mostly harmless. They just moped around, looking confused. Every so often, one would flip out. Nobody knew why.\n\nHe opened the door and scanned the hallway for crackheads. Seeing none, he hurried down the stairs to the street. He stopped to stare at a zombie who was hunched over with his forehead pressed against the bricks of the complex adjacent. Black saliva dripped from his dangling jaw to pool in front of his mildewed oxfords.\n\n“What’s up with you?”\n\nA passing woman mistook his words for a quasi-friendly salutation. She forced a weak smile, shrugged, and quickened her pace.\n\nMax blushed. He hated it when strangers talked to him.\n\nWhat kind of creep goes around talking to random people? She probably thought I was hitting on her, and homeless. Fuck, I look like I just crawled out of a grave.\n\nMax made a mental note that he was no longer at home and walked briskly towards S-District. He’d chosen an apartment at the edge of a K-district so he could have middle-class amenities while still within walking distance of slum pricing. The previous tenant as murdered, so he’d gotten a great deal.\n\nHis heart palpitated as he remembered rent was due in a week. He pulled out his phone and checked his balance, sixty-three dollars and fourteen cents left. If he didn’t find some money soon, he’d lose his place, and Spooky. That couldn’t happen.\n\nMaybe he’d check out the gr app. He’d heard a lot of Klipsch hipsters were collecting Savainians like trading cards. All he needed was a tragic story to get their attention. That bubble was due to burst, but it might get him through the end of the month. \n\nNeo-Catholistics were handing out pamphlets up ahead, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the street. Organized panhandling pissed him off on a good day, and he was more than usually in the mood to curb someone. His aptitude for repression had kept him from killing anyone so far, but it was an inevitability he preferred to avoid as long as possible. \n\nTwo blocks from the Mega Sav-mart, he noticed an unusual movement out of the corner of his eye. His eyes darted reflexively after it just in time to catch a glimpse of something pink and lumpy slithering behind a snack-cake display. It looked like an amputee had dragged his boneless stump out of view, but there wasn’t room for a person back there. \n\nThe display was in front of a small market, the kind where the register is outside so the proprietor could bark deals at people as they passed. Max respected Savanian hutzpa but hated their pushy bullshit. They all reminded him of W.C. Fields. \n\nStill, it would haunt him for days if he didn’t find out what that was.\n\nHe forced a smile and walked over to the produce table to get a better view without being rude. The barrel-chested merchant smirked beneath a thick walrus mustache. \n\n“Can I help you with anything, sir? We have a special on porcupine kabobs, only $7.99 a pound.” \n\n“Nah, just browsing. I’ll let you know.”\n\nMax snuck around the display for a closer look. A sliver of something fleshy peeked out from behind the box. Before Max could come any closer, a giant worm-like thing scuttled toward the merchant, clambered up his leg, and wrapped around his head.\n\nMax jumped back and grabbed a handful of snack cakes to defend himself. “What the fuck is that?”\n\nThe worm was about the size of a large man’s arm and covered in little fleshy lumps. Its head looked kind of like a hairless beaver with big black eyes and a mouthful of long needle-like teeth.\n\nThe merchant was off-kilter, his curses muffled by the creature’s midsection.\n\nMax hurled cakes at it, wincing as the floss chomped his side.\n\nThe creature caught one of the snack cakes in its mouth and unwrapped it with its nubby under-thingies. It made a cute nom-nom noise as it chomped through the cake and relaxed around the merchant’s head like a scarf. \n\nThe man smiled and scratched the sucker marks on his face. \n\nThere was a conspicuous absence of blood and screaming.\n\n“No need to be frightened, sir. This is my cheekworm, Cat.” He unwrapped another cake and handed it to Cat.\n\nThe worm was horrifically cute, adorably monstrous. It nibbled the little bar like a contented toddler with long pointy fangs.\n\n“I named her Cat because I had a cat named Cat when I was a kid. He was a good cat. I’ve named every pet that came after in honor of him. My name, incidentally, is Cecil.” \n\n“It certainly is different.” Max’s eyebrow twitched. \n\n“They’re something new. My brother discovered them a few short weeks ago. He was on an expedition to a sunken city off the coast of Cobya. He went under, and they came up. The whole area was crawling with them.”\n\nMax stepped forward to examine the creature.\n\nCat was hairless and ruddy. It looked like somebody sewed a bunch of baby cheeks onto a fat snake. Her underside had lines of little plungers that could protrude on stalks like fingers or contract to barely perceptible ridges. Her feline mouth and the big black eyes near the top of her face gave her a cute, cartoonish quality.\n\nMax reached out his hand but quickly jerked it back when she dropped the cake and hissed, propelling sticky saliva in and around his eyes. A guttural howl swelled in her throat as she bared six rows of teeth.\n\nMax stepped back, and the growling slowly subsided.\n\nThe merchant gained Cat’s attention by humming what sounded like polka. Cecil locked eyes with her and blinked until she smiled and licked his face. \n\nHe wiped a smear of icing drool from his cheek. “Unfortunately, they tend to be a touch territorial. They bond instantly with the first human they see and protect them from anything they perceive as dangerous. My brother learned that the hard way.” He pulled the thing down and cradled it in his arms like a baby. \n\n“The first mate tried to pick one up that had already bonded. The little guy felt threatened. Took his head clean off like he was a chocolate bunny.” \n\nMax looked skeptically at the creature. “Shouldn’t it be on a leash or something?”\n\n“No. I believe we’ve learned enough about them to avoid further incidents.”\n\nMax arched an eyebrow.\n\n“Pretty soon, they’ll be as common as cats or dogs. In many ways, they’re superior to both. They are sweeter, smarter, and more loyal than any other household pet. One hundred times more effective than guard dogs. They don’t claw the furniture. They eat almost anything, but nothing they’re not supposed to, and you don’t even have to worry about having them fixed. Watch this.” \n\nHe placed Cat on the table, pulled a butcher’s knife out of his apron, and placed it about six inches from her tail. Cat coiled in ecstasy as he sawed through her with smooth, even strokes. She trilled as though in the throes of passion. When the blade hit the cutting board, Cat curled away from it, giggling and oozing thick yellow goo.\n\nThe merchant slid the blade under the segment and flung it like a teppanyaki chef. \n\nMax was too shocked to do anything but catch it. \n\nIts jiggly warmth spread through his hand, tingling up his arm and throughout his body, filling him with peace. It felt like falling into a hot tub. \n\nTaking hold with all its suckers, the peppy lump squirmed and dripped yellow custard onto his shoes. He tried to drop it, to shake it off, but the suckers had fused to his flesh. \n\nIt was growing about a centimeter every second, winding around his arm until a head bloomed cooing on Max’s shoulder. It opened its big black eyes, and all the shock and disgust melted into fatherly pride. It wasn’t long before Max was cooing back.\n\n“Amazing, isn’t it?” the merchant asked proudly. “You now have a friend who would kill or die for you. He’s a part of you, built from your own DNA. That’s why he looks like you. He’s your son.”\n\n“Did you just rape me?”\n\n“I did nothing of the sort. If you don’t want it, just put it on the ground and stomp its head. It’ll let you. They’re that sweet.”\n\n“Right.”\n\nThe cheekworm snuffled around Max’s ear. \n\n“I guess this is where you tell me how much he costs.”\n\n“Oh, no. I couldn’t take him away from you now if I wanted to. He’s yours for life. If you’d like to show your gratitude by purchasing something from my store, that’s up to you. They love snack cakes. How about a treat for your new friend?”\n\nThe creature rested its head on top of Max’s.\n\n“Sure, why not? Do you carry Juicetastic XXX by any chance?”\n\n“What flavor?”\n\n“Mango ecstasy?”\n\n“I’ll just go get it for you.” The merchant waddled through the doorway. \n\nCat poured off the table and followed close behind.\n\nMax tossed a few snack cakes on the counter and called after him, “Two gallons.”\n\nThe merchant came back and bagged everything up. “What do you think you’ll call him?”\n\n“I don’t know. Cakey?”\n\nThe worm trilled in his ear.\n\n“That’s just adorable. I think he likes it.”\n\nMax didn’t care that Cecil was patronizing him. He placed his phone near the sensor and watched his funds roll back to forty-nine dollars and fifteen cents. “Is it a he?”\n\n“Call it whatever you want, but it’s neither. No genitalia, you see? These little guys just latch onto the first DNA they come into contact with. You might say you played the role of the father, making Cat here the mother, so I suppose they’re metaphorically female. I don’t see what it matters, though. You aren’t going to fuck it, are you?” \n\n“Eww, no. Of course not. I was just curious.”\n\n“Only joking, sir, only joking. Be good to the little guy, and he’ll be good to you. Now, if his feathers get ruffled, and you need to calm him down, do as I did earlier. They seem to enjoy polka the most. Blinking at them conveys love and trust and puts them at ease. If you have any problems or questions, feel free to come back any time.” \n\nThe merchant handed him his bags with a big smile that said Max was free to fuck off. “You have a nice day now.”\n\nMax smiled politely, “You too.” Not quite sure what had just transpired, he quickly returned home before anything else could mate with him. \n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI'm unstuck in time, so there's no telling when I'll post chapter two. Follow me so you won't miss it. If you'd like to get it all at once, you can preorder it here: https://amzn.to/2EKAGw6\n\n",
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"content": "Until midnight, you can use coupon code Blackfriday at Redbubble.com to get 25% off all apparel and 20% off everything else, including our \"Don't Fuck Children\" charity products. 100% of the profits from DFC goes to justiceforchildren.org, a group providing abused kids with legal help to get them out of shitty situations. Great Christmas gifts. You get 25% off a cool shirt and some kid gets a little closer to not being smacked with a beer bottle and raped on camera. Everybody wins.<br />Lots of other designs available too. This literally is the best deal of the year there. I'm using it for my own products.<br /><a href=\"https://www.redbubble.com/\" target=\"_blank\">https://www.redbubble.com/</a>…/fnord…/works/27461932-porkcicle…",
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"content": "For the next four days, signing up for my email list will earn you a chance to win a Kindle Paperwhite and weird stories. The emails you'll get are infrequent and full of cool free stuff like wallpapers, short stories, and links to new content on the Sausage Press site. Click, tap, or rub your junk on the link below to improve your life. <a href=\"https://reignofreads.com/giveaways/win-a-kindle-paperwhite-ebooks-or-signed-paperback-copies-from-s-t-gulik/?lucky=158878\" target=\"_blank\">https://reignofreads.com/giveaways/win-a-kindle-paperwhite-ebooks-or-signed-paperback-copies-from-s-t-gulik/?lucky=158878</a>",
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"content": "For the next four days, signing up for my email list will earn you a chance to win a Kindle Paperwhite and weird stories. The emails you'll get are infrequent and full of cool free stuff like wallpapers, short stories, and links to new content on the Sausage Press site. Click, tap, or rub your junk on the link below to improve your life. https://reignofreads.com/giveaways/win-a-kindle-paperwhite-ebooks-or-signed-paperback-copies-from-s-t-gulik/?lucky=158878",
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"content": "Enter to win a Kindle Paperwhite and or my new sci-fi/bizarro/dystopian novel, Birth or The Exquisite Sound of One Hand Falling Off a Turnip Truck.<br /><a href=\"https://authorplatformrocket.com/s-t-gulik\" target=\"_blank\">https://authorplatformrocket.com/s-t-gulik</a>",
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"content": "I'm doing a series of fun, flash pieces using Superfight as a writing prompt. Here's the first entry.<br /> <br /><a href=\"http://sausage-press.com/fight-1-an-ultimate-fighting-champion-whos-trying-to-live-tweet-the-fight-to-his-one-million-followers-vs-a-pterodactyl-who-controls-magnetism-and-is-armed-with-an-orgasm-ray-in-a-gun-store/\" target=\"_blank\">http://sausage-press.com/fight-1-an-ultimate-fighting-champion-whos-trying-to-live-tweet-the-fight-to-his-one-million-followers-vs-a-pterodactyl-who-controls-magnetism-and-is-armed-with-an-orgasm-ray-in-a-gun-store/</a>",
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"content": "I'm doing a series of fun, flash pieces using Superfight as a writing prompt. Here's the first entry.\n \nhttp://sausage-press.com/fight-1-an-ultimate-fighting-champion-whos-trying-to-live-tweet-the-fight-to-his-one-million-followers-vs-a-pterodactyl-who-controls-magnetism-and-is-armed-with-an-orgasm-ray-in-a-gun-store/",
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"content": "<br /><a href=\"https://seriousreading.com/blog/15845-how-to-be-a-master-of-reality-s-t-gulik.html\" target=\"_blank\">https://seriousreading.com/blog/15845-how-to-be-a-master-of-reality-s-t-gulik.html</a>",
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"content": "Check out this piece on the downfall of democracy. <br /><br /><a href=\"http://sausage-press.com/dead-canaries-2/\" target=\"_blank\">http://sausage-press.com/dead-canaries-2/</a> ",
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