She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXXI)

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

———

His vision doubled from the impact.

The pain was excruciating, but for the moment the voices in his head were silenced.  Although the pain anchored him to the moment, it felt as if he were lost inside a dream.  From somewhere far away he heard the bat-like screeches of Lucy’s voice as she cursed more about the damage to the wall than to him.

A syrupy mixture of blood and tears coated his eyes, allowing him to see the world through death’s own, and he peered through the crimson veil at the monstrosity before him.  It waved its trunk-like appendages emphatically as it advanced, alternating between gesturing at him and the wall where he had just planted his head.

A steady throbbing began to spread from his temples, reaching with its hurtful tendrils until it covered the crown of his skull.

He looked upon the hellspawn before him and lost touch with reality.

The creature before him barely passed for a female of his species.  It was nearly tall as he, but consisted of mountains upon mountains of flesh which spilled over itself from its neck to its cankles.  It was naked, except for the brassiere that covered its mountainous assets.  He looked briefly downward, praying to whatever god was listening, that he wouldn’t see its gender specific bits and found that he couldn’t even if he tried.  Its large bulbous stomach hung low, covering anything that might help him to determine whether it had an inny or an outy.

He returned his eyes to its face when it suddenly shrieked his name. For a brief moment, even in his current state, he nearly forgot where he was.  Perched atop the countless globs of unwashed skin was the face he had once grown to love.  There wasn’t time for him to reflect, however, as it suddenly lunged in attack.

It led with its right arm, leading with the same fist which had already once marked his face, but this time it wouldn’t connect. He ducked to the left and stepped underneath its arm, around its body and stopped just behind the behemoth.  

It turned to face him, sputtering words over its lips faster than he could follow.  He began to smile, and when a look of confusion came over its features, he began to laugh.  His head protested from the vibrations his throat was thrusting upon it, but it felt too good for him to stop.  Only when the creature’s expression suddenly filled with rage did he become quiet.  It swung again, and once more he side-stepped and ducked behind it.  This time he planted a foot squarely over the crack between its massive pimple-covered buttocks, (it wasn’t wearing any underwear), and shoved with every bit of strength his leg could muster.

His perception suddenly cleared and he watched, horrified, as Lucy slammed into the banister.  His right hand shot out, reaching futilely toward her as she tipped over the edge and fell from sight.

“NO,” he screamed in anguish.  “It wasn’t REAL!”

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