RAT FICTION

The colors currently divided themselves somewhere around 60/40. Darkness was winning the match over light. Never the less the rat was awake to witness the pale ends stragulation by blackened hands. It was closer to 70/30 now and ever changing as the creatures tiny feet carried it onward into some sort of abyss. Questions like what and where found themselves overtaken by a putrescence that tickled Ben the rat's nostrils with the charm akin to freshly baked pie smell to a hungry child. 

Must keep going his feet seemed to be telling him. Onward bound and forward march. Straight into the bung of where the stench originated itself. With each step came darkness in greater quantities. In only a few moments came an unwelcomed journies end. This sucks thought the rat with exclamation as it bumped it's nose into a spongy wall. Where am I supposed to go now? His thoughts continued.

A most pleasing aroma caused flickering of the tongue and a taste sensation bringing forth query. Hmm. Now wait a minute. What is this? Thought the rat named Ben. The wall was coated with residue and emitted a most succulently foul taste. With no choice but to continue onward through the darkness Ben the rat sunk his teeth into the wall and was overjoyed to discover such chewy goodness. Each bite produced a sort of rocking about but through the advantage of razor sharp fangs Ben was able to cling to the tissue of the wall and remain stationary. As the rocking intensified so would Ben's chewing speed and with several deep nips and gouges he found himself in another sort of tunnel gazing at blips of light only a few mere steps away.

Ben tried to race towards the blips of light but his feet became lodged in some sort of gooey substance. From the substance arose a stench that was curiously strong but far from the pleasant sweetness that had once been at the wall before his teeth tore a hole through it. As Ben examined the mess that trapped his feet in place the shadows upon him increased and this caused him to look up. He was there greeted by what best resembled a zeppelin. Only this was no zeppelin for it was far from led made. Some kind of flesh he thought. It's underside boasted rods of purple coated lightning and blushing red tissue sponges.

As Ben tried to scramble from the path of this enormous invader he realized there was nowhere left to run with exception of where he had been. This was by no means pleasing and he slashed at the great beast with his claws and found himself drenched in gobs of thickened salt flavored raindrops. With the giant monster throbbing inside of the cavern it seemed wedged within the walls that were now shrinking from the tightening of muscles. Ben raged furiously through the gushing of fluid clawing and shredding with all of his might. With his feet still suctioned to the flooring he felt as if he were drowning in an ocean made from the down pouring flood.

The darkened room began to spin out of control and with Ben upended he then landed with a thud and his feet thus releasing themselves from their crusted trapping. Dizziness corroded his head with snatches of light and swirling aromas that were putrid in both good and not so good ways. Though for a moment he thought he was free he now realized that his fur had become crusted with whatever had drenched him from the un-ledded once throbbing not a zeppelin beast. As he lay with his back and side stuck onto what may or may not have been the floor again he realized that being a rat sucked sometimes. But he wouldn't have it any other way because a filthy vermin was the only way to be. 

Outside of the tunnel where Ben was now trapped a man cried tears of agony and clutched at his groin. Though he used to be a porno king he was now demoted uncomfortably to the role of soprano singing peasant. The director of the film they were making that was going to be called  "Rat's day in paradise" came running over. He looked at his two stars and scratched his chin. 

Traci lords had once been crowned goddess of goo by eager fuck fans who slobbered joy at her decision to become an underaged sperm receptiple for the vilest sake of art. Now as she lay screaming in a pool of her own gore with her anal walls chewed straight through to her coochie oven she hovered painfully somewhere over shock and death. The stunt had gone wrong and though an ambulance was on it's way she would never work in this town again. Meanwhile John Holmes nursed the gashes on his massive shlong and silently blessed the plastic surgery gods.


*****Blog reposted from Bentherat blog page. Original post date 2/12/2012*****