Tuesday, September 19, 2017

No. You're torturing yourself, George. It isn't want you think it is. It can't be. IT CAN'T BE.

Stephen King's "The Sticky"...

George felt his blood run cold, like a thousand cold needles raked lightly down his back, His beautiful wife Barbara was motionless on their bed. Motionless, and covered by hundreds of gallons of a sticky white substance. A sticky white substance that reminded him of...

No. You're torturing yourself, George. It isn't want you think it is. It can't be. IT CAN'T BE.

But what if it was? What if the sticky white substance that smothered his wife was... semen? 

Stop it, George. There is no way that sticky white substance is semen. Sure, it certainly smells like semen, but it would take a thousand men to produce the amount that glazed his wife like a cinnamon roll...

A thousand men -- or, perhaps, one Monster. A Monster of horrendous appetites and an unending supply of jism...



I am Laslo.


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