Spatterday, Ulia 16, 2079
So, here I am, in my room, doing nothing, when all of a sudden I look at my window for no reason. I have curtains, but they're slightly transparent, so you can see through them, kind of. There was a face, a fucking face. I thought maybe it was something else, since you can only kind of see through my curtains, but after staring at it for five minutes I'm pretty sure its a face. I looked away to check my other window(nothing was there), looked back, and it was still there. Figured I was just crazy now, but then it moved away from my window.
As it was walking away I opened up my curtains and shoved my face onto the window, so I could see what it was(and maybe to scare it by being a reverse-window-peeker, give it a taste of its own medicine) and boy, was it a sight to see. It was a lady, a lady with some nice TNA(shut up, she was probably perving on me first). Of course, my eyes were glued to her bodacious booty, so I didn't care for what she was doing, but I should've cared. She was walking backwards, towards the window again. I finally snapped out of my badonkadonk-induced trance, but it was too late. Her face slams into the window and I made some sort of inhuman screech because her lips were gone(like, rotted away looking) and her eyes were wide open.
I assume she was attempting to smile. Anyways, I shut my curtains, turn my light off, and go to hide in the closet like a pussy. I opened up my closet and hopped inside. Then I hear glass shattering. MY WINDOW NO. I burst out of my closet, flailing my arms in the vain hope that I have hidden tard strength that could take her down. But my window wasn't broken. whatthefuckisgoingon
I head back to the closet to await morning's arrival, but my closet wasn't having that. The closet door slams shut and the closet calls me a fag. I wasn't aware my closet was capable of speech, so I was shocked. Then my bed got up and pushed me over. He called me "sweet lips" and did mentally scarring things to me. I passed out from shock, I assume. I awake in a magical, possibly drug fueled, fantasy world, with TNA Rottylips by my side. She whistles without lips, and a majestic Dr. Ozasaraus decends from the sky. She ushers me onto its back, and soon we're airborne. TNA Rottylips says we're going to the crossdressing pleasure palace, which makes the strange rod in my sports shorts feel funny.
Once there, I ask for an ailment to the pain my fleshy rod is causing me. She suggest putting on a skirt and women's underwear, then letting the Dr. Ozasaraus mount me like my bed did. I oblige, because Dr. Ozasaraus is apparently a trained medical professional, and would never hurt me. I slip on a frilly skirt, panties, and bend over to present myself to the Ozasaraus. His arms shoot out to his sides, and he begins to stomp his feet. TNA Rottylips said it was his mating dance. I was scared, but my body was ready.
He lunges towards me, inserting his laminated medical ID into my tight butthole. I let a grunt of pain and a small, silent fart. He knows I farted, and is furious because of it. Dr. Ozasaraus refused to fornicate with me, and flew off. TNA Rottylips helps me up, and informs me that Dr. Ozasaraus doesn't like it when someone toots in his vacinity, and slaps the black off of me. This knocks me unconscious again. I faded into consciousness, and saw I was back in my room.
I was wearing my daughter's underwear, and the bed was on top of me. My heterosexual life partner told me it was all just a dream, but I know better; there was white, ectoplasmic goo on my fleshy rod, something paranormal was afoot.