|
|
Post by Chris on Feb 16, 2014 14:50:43 GMT
|
|
|
|
Post by NaughtyBiker on Feb 20, 2014 7:06:44 GMT
Harder and rasher becomes the push on his body to move faster, only just allowing it breath. He is just a little bigger now, but still running on the wretched treadmill, heading nowhere. Finally, his heart bursts outwards, landing on the rolling mill, which reels the burst organ away, leaving it sitting, oozing, on the bottom edge of the mill. The mill, an automated contrivance, perpetually turns with irrelevance to the discarded organ which now rests just beyond its manipulation. What is he now?
|
|
|
|
Post by Chris on Oct 16, 2014 17:09:51 GMT
Ew..
|
|
