Body Horror
Mictoboy writes, "I once picked a spot on my cheek only for a half-inch long ingrown hair to coil out covered in pus."
How has your own body made you recoil in disgust?
( , Thu 11 Jul 2013, 14:02)
Mictoboy writes, "I once picked a spot on my cheek only for a half-inch long ingrown hair to coil out covered in pus."
How has your own body made you recoil in disgust?
( , Thu 11 Jul 2013, 14:02)
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Talkin' 'bout my regeneration
OK, a proper story now.
As I am a Time Lord - well, not technically; the High Council kicked me out after all that bother with - bah, that's another story! I'm a Gallifreyan, at least. Anyway, Time Lord, Gallifreyan, whatever, my body is rather more advanced than yours (two hearts, respiratory bypass system, etc) and I also have the wonderful gift of regeneration. If I am very badly injured, I simply regenerate into a whole new, healthy, uninjured body! It's mint. Got me out of a few scrapes I can tell you!
But when it goes wrong - boy, does it go wrong.
There was this time after the Magnallavax-Urgfiend war. I'd been contracted by Magnallavaxian Military Command to devise a bio-weapon to help them win the war, and so had developed a particularly vile bacterium which caused incurable, explosive diarrhoea, which only affected the Urgfiend metabolism. The unfortunate victim would defecate violently almost continually, and die of dehydration within a matter of hours. Once unleashed on the Urgfiend Throneworld, it completely decimated the population, and the Urgfiends surrendered within a day of the first reported case.
The Magnallavaxians were overjoyed with this success, and rewarded me with ten million grotzits, some of which I planned to spend on the pleasure world of Florana. So I left Magnallavax with a light heart - but, a few light years into my journey, my ship was set upon by Oabex mercenaries (contracted by the Urgfiends, I suspect) and it sustained substantial damage to its engines. I was forced to crashland on a nearby planetoid, and due to the damage, the landing was a bad one and there was an explosion which sent shards of hot metal and plastic flying through my body, lacerating my internal organs.
No worries, I remember thinking as I lay there in agony - I'll just regenerate. And so I did - but what I didn't know at the time that this planetoid was orbiting too close to its sun, and bathed in all sorts of nasty radiation: Z-Rays, Q-Rays, M-Rays, Bhoov's Radiation, the lot. All this shit seriously interfered with the regenerative process, and it went, well, all wrong.
When I came round I knew it was bad. For a start, I could not feel anything at all with my hands! That's because I didn't have any - or arms. I staggered to my feet, noticing that my left leg was a mass of suppurating, stinking sores oozing pus, and limped to the ship's bathroom, where I surveyed my new body in utter dismay.
It was a complete mess, a useless biological disaster, fit only for a freakshow. No arms, as I've said. Left leg a weeping mess. Right leg, thankfully, normal - apart from the seventeen ears which sprouted from my knee. Genitals - horrendous. Tiny cock and about thirty testicles (I lost count). What with this and the gammy leg, walking was difficult. Torso that of a Birastrop - good lung capacity, I suppose, but horrible and hairy and smelly. Face - this was the worst off all - I looked like Jim Davidson. Well, sort of - a nose had developed on top of my existing nose, and I sported a superb but totally unnecessary pair of stag's antlers.
The lack of arms made my next course of action difficult, but I was able to use my mouth and the antlers to manipulate the ship's controls and - once the engines had repaired themselves - set course for Karn, where I was able to buy a tiny amount of elixir from the Sisterhood with the grotzits the Magnallavaxians had given me. Bitches took it all - but it was worth it, and, easy come, easy go! The elixir fixed the regeneration, antlers, ears, testicles and all, and even sorted out the Jim Davidson resemblance. My body stabilised into a lean, dark, handsome form - this was several incarnations ago, I've changed a lot since then - with excellent eyesight and a pleasantly substantial penis.
I tell you, it's not all fun being a (disgraced) Time Lord!
( , Sun 14 Jul 2013, 19:21, 19 replies)
OK, a proper story now.
As I am a Time Lord - well, not technically; the High Council kicked me out after all that bother with - bah, that's another story! I'm a Gallifreyan, at least. Anyway, Time Lord, Gallifreyan, whatever, my body is rather more advanced than yours (two hearts, respiratory bypass system, etc) and I also have the wonderful gift of regeneration. If I am very badly injured, I simply regenerate into a whole new, healthy, uninjured body! It's mint. Got me out of a few scrapes I can tell you!
But when it goes wrong - boy, does it go wrong.
There was this time after the Magnallavax-Urgfiend war. I'd been contracted by Magnallavaxian Military Command to devise a bio-weapon to help them win the war, and so had developed a particularly vile bacterium which caused incurable, explosive diarrhoea, which only affected the Urgfiend metabolism. The unfortunate victim would defecate violently almost continually, and die of dehydration within a matter of hours. Once unleashed on the Urgfiend Throneworld, it completely decimated the population, and the Urgfiends surrendered within a day of the first reported case.
The Magnallavaxians were overjoyed with this success, and rewarded me with ten million grotzits, some of which I planned to spend on the pleasure world of Florana. So I left Magnallavax with a light heart - but, a few light years into my journey, my ship was set upon by Oabex mercenaries (contracted by the Urgfiends, I suspect) and it sustained substantial damage to its engines. I was forced to crashland on a nearby planetoid, and due to the damage, the landing was a bad one and there was an explosion which sent shards of hot metal and plastic flying through my body, lacerating my internal organs.
No worries, I remember thinking as I lay there in agony - I'll just regenerate. And so I did - but what I didn't know at the time that this planetoid was orbiting too close to its sun, and bathed in all sorts of nasty radiation: Z-Rays, Q-Rays, M-Rays, Bhoov's Radiation, the lot. All this shit seriously interfered with the regenerative process, and it went, well, all wrong.
When I came round I knew it was bad. For a start, I could not feel anything at all with my hands! That's because I didn't have any - or arms. I staggered to my feet, noticing that my left leg was a mass of suppurating, stinking sores oozing pus, and limped to the ship's bathroom, where I surveyed my new body in utter dismay.
It was a complete mess, a useless biological disaster, fit only for a freakshow. No arms, as I've said. Left leg a weeping mess. Right leg, thankfully, normal - apart from the seventeen ears which sprouted from my knee. Genitals - horrendous. Tiny cock and about thirty testicles (I lost count). What with this and the gammy leg, walking was difficult. Torso that of a Birastrop - good lung capacity, I suppose, but horrible and hairy and smelly. Face - this was the worst off all - I looked like Jim Davidson. Well, sort of - a nose had developed on top of my existing nose, and I sported a superb but totally unnecessary pair of stag's antlers.
The lack of arms made my next course of action difficult, but I was able to use my mouth and the antlers to manipulate the ship's controls and - once the engines had repaired themselves - set course for Karn, where I was able to buy a tiny amount of elixir from the Sisterhood with the grotzits the Magnallavaxians had given me. Bitches took it all - but it was worth it, and, easy come, easy go! The elixir fixed the regeneration, antlers, ears, testicles and all, and even sorted out the Jim Davidson resemblance. My body stabilised into a lean, dark, handsome form - this was several incarnations ago, I've changed a lot since then - with excellent eyesight and a pleasantly substantial penis.
I tell you, it's not all fun being a (disgraced) Time Lord!
( , Sun 14 Jul 2013, 19:21, 19 replies)
Surely not even the primest bell ends of Club Dreary are actually reading them.
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 8:24, closed)
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 8:24, closed)
The only thing this utter tosh has going for it is that at least this knobend hasn't decided to turn it into a poorly-structured 'poem'.
Dr Who, I dun a poo
LOLOLOL, sausages are lol
etc
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 8:36, closed)
Dr Who, I dun a poo
LOLOLOL, sausages are lol
etc
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 8:36, closed)
Given that -ly is generally not hyphenated, "poorly-structured" is rather poorly structured.
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 14:56, closed)
I have plenty more
where this comes from.
Poems too!
Ha ha.
I look forward to posting them knowing how much it upsets certain posters here!
Upset on the internet - cos of my shite!
Ha!
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 19:41, closed)
where this comes from.
Poems too!
Ha ha.
I look forward to posting them knowing how much it upsets certain posters here!
Upset on the internet - cos of my shite!
Ha!
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 19:41, closed)
I didn't mean you
Dr Shambolic; the world doesn't revolve around you, you know!
I meant Monty who seems to be suffering real pain.
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 21:11, closed)
Dr Shambolic; the world doesn't revolve around you, you know!
I meant Monty who seems to be suffering real pain.
( , Mon 15 Jul 2013, 21:11, closed)
I like Dr Who
and I like the fact that you're actually putting in the effort to write a story. If you could introduce more humour into your stories I would like them even more. Thank you and have a good day.
( , Tue 16 Jul 2013, 0:04, closed)
and I like the fact that you're actually putting in the effort to write a story. If you could introduce more humour into your stories I would like them even more. Thank you and have a good day.
( , Tue 16 Jul 2013, 0:04, closed)
Story?
It actually happened... Thanks anyway!
Humour is a relatively new concept to me (and, it seems, others on this forum) so please bear with me on that front.
As for Dr Who, or, to use his real name, Betty Swollocks, he's an utter PITA always interfering with my plans. I love him really though, the cunt.
( , Tue 16 Jul 2013, 0:16, closed)
It actually happened... Thanks anyway!
Humour is a relatively new concept to me (and, it seems, others on this forum) so please bear with me on that front.
As for Dr Who, or, to use his real name, Betty Swollocks, he's an utter PITA always interfering with my plans. I love him really though, the cunt.
( , Tue 16 Jul 2013, 0:16, closed)
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