DNA
the smell of burning candle wax greeted his nostrils
as he walked into the old house, gently festooned
with holly wreathes and lit candles everywhere
he looked. he had been invited for a gathering
of friends. the owners of the house knew
he didn't get out much. the other guests
knew he didn't get out much. they liked him
anyway, because he was attractive, quiet,
and harmless. he never said anything
aggressive, offensive, or even the
slightest bit annoying. plus, he
was just so darn cute, sweet, good-looking,
and well, let's just say it: he was
sexy as heck, and nobody at all understood
his affinity for being alone so much, and
for politely shrugging off most advances
of friendship, socializing, or sexual adventure.
tonite, though, the hosts were pleased
when he walked into their home, as were
the other guests. he stood there
nervously smelling the burning candle wax;
it smelled good. he stood there
nervously looking at the holly wreathes,
which seemed to be literally everywhere.
oh it seemed like a very festive occasion, indeed;
and he chatted and made the smallest talk possible,
everyone looked him over, and he felt he
was being assessed for possible conquest.
he knew he was physically attractive. he
knew he inspired lustful sexual thoughts in those
around him. he stayed a while, had some
punch, cookies, endured some more small
talk. then he politely thanked his
hosts, and went out to his car.
he opened the door, climbed into his car,
and started it up. and then he
drove home, to the little one-bedroom apartment
where he lived alone. he'd painted
the walls with dabs of his own blood, and
blotches of his own cum spotted everything.
he took off all his clothes and ate
a can of tuna fish. then he went into
the bathroom and stuck a
q-tip way up his nose, until it bled.
he smeared some of the blood around
on the walls, and waited for his nose
to stop bleeding. then he
walked into his bedroom and jerked
off into a corner. he watched
his cum dribble down the seam
where the two walls met. then, once
more, he gave up and went to sleep.
his dreams were always so pretty, mostly
flowers and cotton candy, and pink, so pink,
always extremely, warmly, pink.
the smell of burning candle wax greeted his nostrils
as he walked into the old house, gently festooned
with holly wreathes and lit candles everywhere
he looked. he had been invited for a gathering
of friends. the owners of the house knew
he didn't get out much. the other guests
knew he didn't get out much. they liked him
anyway, because he was attractive, quiet,
and harmless. he never said anything
aggressive, offensive, or even the
slightest bit annoying. plus, he
was just so darn cute, sweet, good-looking,
and well, let's just say it: he was
sexy as heck, and nobody at all understood
his affinity for being alone so much, and
for politely shrugging off most advances
of friendship, socializing, or sexual adventure.
tonite, though, the hosts were pleased
when he walked into their home, as were
the other guests. he stood there
nervously smelling the burning candle wax;
it smelled good. he stood there
nervously looking at the holly wreathes,
which seemed to be literally everywhere.
oh it seemed like a very festive occasion, indeed;
and he chatted and made the smallest talk possible,
everyone looked him over, and he felt he
was being assessed for possible conquest.
he knew he was physically attractive. he
knew he inspired lustful sexual thoughts in those
around him. he stayed a while, had some
punch, cookies, endured some more small
talk. then he politely thanked his
hosts, and went out to his car.
he opened the door, climbed into his car,
and started it up. and then he
drove home, to the little one-bedroom apartment
where he lived alone. he'd painted
the walls with dabs of his own blood, and
blotches of his own cum spotted everything.
he took off all his clothes and ate
a can of tuna fish. then he went into
the bathroom and stuck a
q-tip way up his nose, until it bled.
he smeared some of the blood around
on the walls, and waited for his nose
to stop bleeding. then he
walked into his bedroom and jerked
off into a corner. he watched
his cum dribble down the seam
where the two walls met. then, once
more, he gave up and went to sleep.
his dreams were always so pretty, mostly
flowers and cotton candy, and pink, so pink,
always extremely, warmly, pink.