Goretober VIII: Worming Their Way Into Your Heart
*emerges from the other end of the weekend wearing a suit covered in blood and corn kernels* do NOT go in there have a @coyotehusk goretober blurb instead
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Ingredients: parasites (in the mouth and under the skin), gore, gross wound description (i talk about pus!)
“Why do you have a worm?”
Kuro proudly held up the glass jar she was carrying so he could see the creature inside even better. “I just want to see what it’ll do to you!”
Castys shrunk back, stopped by the chain on the collar he was wearing again. “I think it’s going to make me very miserable. The end. Nothing to investigate.”
She just laughed at that and pounced on him, pinning him down. Why did he bother, again? “I’m sure it will, but I want to know just how miserable.”
“Very.”
“Really?” Kuro unscrewed the lid of the jar and forced his mouth open before he could attempt to close it. “Show me.”
She dumped the fucking worm in his mouth.
However, she was dumb enough to just cover it so he couldn’t spit it out, which didn’t stop him from biting down and-agh it was wriggling he hated hated hated the feeling of it squirming around in his mouth why wasn’t it dead yet he’d-
“The funny thing about this kind of worm is you can cut it in two and it just makes two worms. Maybe you have a breeding pair in your mouth now. We’ll have to see if they multiply.” Castys’s eyes went wide at that. She-she’d been expecting him to do that so that he’d increase the number of-or maybe she was lying, he wasn’t sure worms even worked like that, being able to reproduce with themselves, but he didn’t really know anything about worms, just that there were two in his mouth and they were wiggling all over and he didn’t want to swallow them but he knew he was going to have to or things would get worse somehow she might stitch his mouth shut again and he really really hated the feeling of them squirming, rubbing against his tongue and wrapping around his teeth and tickling the inside of his cheeks and he couldn’t take it-
He swallowed.
His entire body shuddered reflexively, as if that could erase what he’d just done. “Good boy, Castys,” Kuro praised, getting off him. “Don’t you dare try to throw them up. I’ll just make you eat them again.” Castys glared at her as he sat up, his mouth still tingling with the ghosts of the stupid worms which were hopefully just going to die in his stomach.
“Can I have some fucking water?”
“You know what, yes. You need to stay healthy and alive for your new friends.”
So he got water, he got food, and no more torture, so the days (well, what he assumed were days) flew by sort of peacefully. Just as he’d started hoping that the worms were dead after all, he started to feel sick. It started out as a fever, then itching on his left leg, the sight of something wiggling under his skin, and soon he started to get awful, painful blisters on his lower leg. The itch faded, leaving behind an excruciating burning feeling, so intense it was nearly maddening.
Soon enough, worms started to emerge from the blisters.
All Castys did was touch one of them, try to pull the damn thing out, and moments later he found himself on the stupid table again, strapped down tight. Kuro poked at his leg, her every touch only inflaming his wounds more. He’d glanced down at his leg a few times, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. The blisters were red and angry, the hair around them matted with blood and pus, each one crowned with a little white worm wiggling its way out. The process was slow, and dying didn’t speed it up. In fact, if anything, it seemed to make things worse, the skin around the blisters gaining a weird yellow hue, barely visible around the thick crusts of dried pus surrounding them.
Even when the worms were finally gone, every moment was agony, and death didn’t change a thing.
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I’m reminded of that post about how goths and people who wear only lots of pink are actually the same because “wearing only one color” is a specific choice in opposition to just looking Normal
I’m flying to a friend’s wedding today, and I recently acquired from my neighborhood free page a very pretty vintage suitcase in like a brocade upholstery texture in all of my good colors, so of course I needed a coordinated airport outfit à la Midge Maisel. You guys don’t know me, but I usually dress very put together, in what my sister calls Outfits, with a capital O to distinguish it from just wearing clothes. And since getting a full time job I’ve been slowly adding to my collection of vintage and 50’s-vibes clothes, because I just really like that aesthetic (my bridesmaid dress for the wedding is a vintage tea dress I got from Etsy. The fabric is in great condition but I had to reinforce pretty much every seam with my sewing machine, because the structural integrity of the original thread was breaking down, so that was an interesting learning experience).
All of which is to say that I Dressed Up for the airport in a vintage-y outfit that coordinates perfectly with some of the colors of my suitcase, and my hair is curled, and I have a vintage leather purse that my grandma gave me that matches her watch that I’m wearing and the shoes she bought me last summer at the same vintage store that my skirt came from, and a teenage-ish girl with whatever you call the 2023 teenage equivalent of emo/punk vibes, like the dark maroon mullet and not a lot of makeup and dark comfy clothes but like, very on purpose, told me I look cool when I walked past on the way to security
And like, she Gets It! We have different fashion goals but I think we put a similar degree of intention into the way we look compared to just wearing regular clothes. Which is cool! It’s validating. Not that I really need validation, but it’s always nice to get compliments, of course. And the way I dress is really not terribly distinctive most of the time, other than being Outfits and a little dressier than maybe the norm is, like I think most people who see me one time in passing would see that I look Nice but not necessarily see it as a cultivated Look. But punk mullet girl gets it.
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