DR. BENWAY, I PRESUME
lately my dreams have taken a frightening bent toward the biologically perverse.
the constant theme of the rather conspiratorial nature of the human body seems to have picked up a notch or two, to expand outwards, to include not only the body itself, but those who work on it.
an unholy alliance of skin merchants and the unruly flesh.
the first was from a few weeks ago.
i was headed to a rather drab and unassuming brick building, under the subtext of either doing an interview, getting a job, or finding a lost object.
as i made my way from room to room, searching for whatever it was, i kept bumbling into one erotic mid afternoon coupling after the next.
each room would have a man and woman, grasping desperately at their tailored clothes, trying to cover up their heaving and sweaty flesh.
trousers rapidly pulled up, skirts deftly yanked down, shirts closed and hastily buttoned.
one room i would find people on a desk, a couch, even on a working copy machine.
until i found a rather impatient doctor. to complete my task, i needed a physical. post haste.
i sat on a table, and suddenly my hands were duct taped to it.
the doctor emerged with the standard sanitary white mask used during operations, but with large green rubber gloves, worn when cleaning sinks and unclogging toilets.
"let us begin" he says, and large instrument whirrs and clicks into view, and makes its way slowly towards my rectum.
i struggled and squirmed, but to no avail. my legs kicking out from me like strands of wet spaghetti.
a third person point of view shot showed the instrument getting closer and closer to me, and for entry, they had to make me laugh, causing my asshole to quiver, before the metal point found its home.
to do this, they had the rock chase around a secretary, while engaging in witty banter.
there was a loud pop, and i realized the instrument had pulled out a large, intestine looking sack from me, which lay in a wet pile on the floor.
"shit. this is really not good."
was all i could get out.
"don't worry" the doctor told me, "that is a typical reaction. the body will fix itself in due time."
and as if on cue, my innards made their slow, slurping march back to whence they came.
the constant theme of the rather conspiratorial nature of the human body seems to have picked up a notch or two, to expand outwards, to include not only the body itself, but those who work on it.
an unholy alliance of skin merchants and the unruly flesh.
the first was from a few weeks ago.
i was headed to a rather drab and unassuming brick building, under the subtext of either doing an interview, getting a job, or finding a lost object.
as i made my way from room to room, searching for whatever it was, i kept bumbling into one erotic mid afternoon coupling after the next.
each room would have a man and woman, grasping desperately at their tailored clothes, trying to cover up their heaving and sweaty flesh.
trousers rapidly pulled up, skirts deftly yanked down, shirts closed and hastily buttoned.
one room i would find people on a desk, a couch, even on a working copy machine.
until i found a rather impatient doctor. to complete my task, i needed a physical. post haste.
i sat on a table, and suddenly my hands were duct taped to it.
the doctor emerged with the standard sanitary white mask used during operations, but with large green rubber gloves, worn when cleaning sinks and unclogging toilets.
"let us begin" he says, and large instrument whirrs and clicks into view, and makes its way slowly towards my rectum.
i struggled and squirmed, but to no avail. my legs kicking out from me like strands of wet spaghetti.
a third person point of view shot showed the instrument getting closer and closer to me, and for entry, they had to make me laugh, causing my asshole to quiver, before the metal point found its home.
to do this, they had the rock chase around a secretary, while engaging in witty banter.
there was a loud pop, and i realized the instrument had pulled out a large, intestine looking sack from me, which lay in a wet pile on the floor.
"shit. this is really not good."
was all i could get out.
"don't worry" the doctor told me, "that is a typical reaction. the body will fix itself in due time."
and as if on cue, my innards made their slow, slurping march back to whence they came.