Scythe and SelphieT's Sexual Run
Deep in the void, an eternal struggle has unfolded to regain consciousness after night after night of starved, horrible sex. The drapes and the carpet, stained with blood and other substances. The poorly lit room howls with the echoes of a woman’s scream. The hotel’s customers pause in confusion. SelphieT prepares for the inevitable, Scythe lights a fart, and the miracle of life begins.
A scream. A gag. Breathing becomes faster and more chaotic. Curse words flow through SelphieT’s mouth. All of them directed at Scythe. A giggle turns into a smile, as Scythe hold his beloved’s hand. The placenta splurges outward, nullifying the entire planet with a calm. And in the midst of all the pain, a baby girl lies in wait for her parents to hold her.
“Her name will be, Looloo.”
One month later, Scythe’s eternal struggle to become king of the mole woman draws to an end as he collapses to the floor with a loud thud. His pulsating vagina emanates a feeling of sharp pain and warmth. The ground becomes filthy with splooge, and the onlookers head for the hills. The skin tight shaft unfold to form a makeshift funnel for the spoiled brat to swing it’s way out. With a loud plop, the miracle of birth leaves Scythe gasping for air.
“I shall name him, Scooter.”