The viscous sac beckoned with silent screams—intoxicating, irresistible. A twisted, writhing mass flailed within his skull, struggling with the unspoken siren song. Luckily he felt no pain, for how could one feel without sanity, without physical connection, without a mind?
A greasy appendage lurched forth, piercing the blistered exterior of the horrific creature in a spray of pus and black cream. With clumsy efficiency, the fleshy probe positioned itself in the lake of warm blood, sucking hungrily—as elephant’s trunk gathers water, devilish efficiency. With its task completed the limb twitched, went still, fell lifeless to the dry floor. No hole, wound, or scar marked where the appendage tore, just another blister. An abrupt buzzing began to emanate from within the vile casing, as if a thousand agitated wasps prepared for the final act.
As the humming reached a deafening climax it suddenly stopped—silence. A second elapsed, then another, another, another. As abruptly as it had quit it started again, only now a low droning. A bulge developed underneath the rotten skin—a jutting bone.
Movement from within the splayed sac, as it began to rock. From the hole it came, crawling—pale and naked. It was glad to be free of the suffocating sac, of the stinging bile. It was glad to have been born, for this was a human child.