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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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"Ok Mr Doe, you've seen the facility, you know how we operate, is there a chance at all your organisation will let us continue"
John ignores eye contact with the sweaty fat man and just merely stares out of the window allowing time to pass until the atmosphere becomes awkward, in a leisurely fashion he finally makes eye contact with the fatman yet no words come from his mouth. The fatman begins to speak but the words are not heard by his ears, John can hear waves gently lapping on a white perfect beach, a clear blue sky with the odd perfectly painted cloud, as if God himself had designed this uber setting that John needs to visit before he begins.
The ocean of escape is merely a bead of sweat on the fatmans arse, a horribly scarred hairy arse that no one in their right mind would want to witness yet John sees it perfectly, the soars, ingrowing hairs, white headed spots, black headed pimples, dead and scarred sores and brand new fields of fresh zits, unwiped shit matted with course dark hair that itch's with insanity, every square inch of soiled flesh, every microscopic shit fused hair, every cancerous cell of the fatmans arse is at full HD clarity before Johns eyes.
The fatman wipes his brow with a white tissue continuing to talk crap as John prepares himself to enter his arse, a 50 year old shit stained star awaits, precisely 49768 shits of various size, shape, consistency and colour had exited this unholy hole and now Johns going in, the shitty star and the colon awaits, crap and blood stain the walls, ulcers and blood blisters swell and haemorrhage around him as he perseveres, drifting and sailing through the shit only stopping to scribe his initials in the internal anal wall of the fatmans arse, JD4EVER.
The fatman still continues to speak utter bullshit, filling the silence with nonsensical facts and figures, John is way too far up his arse now to listen nor care. He eventually arrives at his destination a gland which name he is supposed to remember from training but has long forgotten, the image from the text book is all he needs, its the images that make John so good. The gland is a shitty brown purple colour, spluttering and oozing, twitching to a random beat, John opens his black jacket and removes an over sized white maggot that resembles a horrendously deformed baby, with his black gloved hands he struggles to restrain it as the maggot works itself into a frenzied state pining manically to get to the gland.
Two strained steps forward John allows the fat greedy maggot to bury its head into the wall of the oozing gland, the fatman momentarily stops talking, holding his gut hiding the pain, a small smile appears on Johns face as he locks eyes with the fatmans discomfort. The fatman continues to talk bullshit but he's interrupted by the pain in his gut everytime John allows the wild greedy maggot to further enter the swelling gland to the point that only the maggots tail remains in Johns strong grip.
The fatman is now obviously in a lot of pain but he continues to speak shit straining on words, elongating their pronunciation, his fat fingers reach for a glass of water, hands trembling the glass touches his lip just as John clamps his arms around the maggots bulbous body and with all his strength squeezes it tight pushing all the pressure and puss into the maggots buried head causing it to explode spilling its innards into the gland, the fatman freezes locked in time, glass to his lip a slight tremor of hand causing the surface tension of the glass of water to slightly shimmer, dancing in the light, John has his return and is once again on his beach, the fatman however has shit himself, crap number 49769.
Shit is still falling out of the fat mans arse as John stands and walks to the back of him, the fatman's going nowhere as John places his black gloved hands onto his shoulders, pushing him down into his shit sandwich, he begins to rock the fatman back and forth, side to side, round and round making sure that every inch of that spotted arse is plastered in shit.
John resit's and owns the room, he lifts his legs and slams down his big black boots on the fatmans desk with no regard to what he damages, a family photo is knocked aside. John reaches into his pocket and reveals a joint which he ignites paying no attention to the no smoking sign before him. The fatman is stuck in a state of shit induced shock, as John leisurely blows cannabis smoke rings into the air, he picks up the family photo and examines it, mum, dad, kids, granfolks and others at some forgettable occasion if it wasn't for this photo.
"Fuck me your family is ugly, do the human race a favour will you and stop fucking breeding"
The fatman bizarrely nods in agreement.
"Now what the fuck were you taking about before you shit yourself? O' yeah OUR organisation, YOUR facility"
John whips his feet off the table and leans in.
"There is no organisation, there is no facility, there is only shit and your shit is ours to control, do you understand what level of game you are playing now?"
The fatman nods and a big smile paints Johns face as he extinguish's his joint and stands to his feet.
"Excellent I'm glad this makes sense to you"
John turns and readies to exit when he suddenly stops and turns back to the fatman.
"Seeing as you've been so hospitable to me I feel I should return the favour"
John reaches for the family photo with his left gloved hand and unzips his fly with his right, he then proceeds to masterbate over the family gathering right before the fatmans eyes. Within a few moments he ejactulates over the family photo and tosses the cum covered pic in the fatmans direction.
"Now when you get home before you clean your shit ridden arse I want you to wipe your fingers in this and stick them up your wives cunt so you have some half decent looking children"
The fatman nods to the order.
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