Improvisational story

[BlueGasMask]

You are free to write around 250 words of anything you want as long as it links to the last user's part of the story.

And here we go...

Darkness. Darkness everywhere. Even when you open your eyes you can’t see a damn thing. You feel like you’re floating. What is this place? Are you dreaming? Why do you not need to breathe?

All around you is nothingness. You can grab and pull how much or where ever you want but you can’t feel a thing. You let out a scream in hope that someone will hear you. Are you sure you are you? It doesn’t sound like you. You wish for a sign that you are dreaming, hell, having gone mad would even be a good option.

After what feels like days of floating you decide to give up. You close your eyes. Suddenly you can see everything. Every little detail of life held on this earth. How the universe came to be and how it will come to end. You focus your mind. You are now determined to find what everything happened about you leading up to you. You are trying, trying, trying. You are so close. Here it comes. You are…

Suddenly everything around you goes fuzzy. You feel a sharp pain coarsing through you. You hear a faint voice. From what you can make out it looks as if this guy is some kind of paramedic. The first, last and only thing you hear from him shocks you. It causes you to black out.

The first, last and only thing you can make out is...

“We’re too late. This man is dead.”

[communist mango clock]

the end.

[FLOUNDERMAN_CLOCK]

The door crashed open and in strode FloundermanClock, his golden hair dancing in the wind, leaving a trail of sparkles in his wake. His skin was smooth alabaster and his eyes like twin jewels. Three tremendous penises emerged from between his legs and tasted the air with their lamprey eel mouths.

"VILE SLAG" he screams.

"THOU HATH CHEATETH ON ME FOR THE LASTH THIME!"

You squealed and hid under the covers as Flounderman approached, brandishing a gigantic trapezoid-shaped sword.

[Silly Putty Clock]

Yea, a trapezoid, for the noble trapezoid is the mightiest of the quadrilaterals, even as Flounderman was and remains to this day the mightiest of the Clocks. Upon the magnificent blade's hilt there gleamed the moist eye-balls of a dozen virgin maidens, each of which had fallen to this most terrifying of swords. The orbs whirled wildly about to look at you, and in each of them you could see your own face reflected in the very gaze of death.
But this was not the true horror of the sword. With every sweeping motion, the blade cut a tiny nick into the world beyond, and from this hideous abyss one could hear the whispers of all who had died before at the hands of the fiend who wielded it, for that is what the Flounder-man truly was: a fiend, a messenger of death. His beauty was a twisted sort, the sort that one knew for the reward of demonic bargains and a life of repugnant depravity. But somehow, despite his unhealthy pallor, despite his sneer, despite the unholy glow of his eyes, one felt compelled to draw near him. This attraction was all gone now, though. Now, there was only rage.
The nearest of his penises tore through the air, teeth bared.

[Loki Clock]

You action roll out from under the covers, and sigh with relief as you see your mother's face. "SYKE," says Flounderman, pulling your mother's face off his, and then shredding your taint with one of the trifurcated razorglans.

[DiscoBallClock]

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO" you cried in desperation as you watched that wretched scene. You fought the tears coming to your eyes. Then, the penises turned to you again.

[Loki Clock]

The screaming of a thousand horses rendered your flesh, and the souls of your ancestors were obliterated.

[OnionClock]

tl;dr

[Silly Putty Clock]

too short; please add more

fixed

[Loki Clock]

But then you started to like it.

[DiscoBallClock]

You feel your member slowly increasing its volume, and you recognize you are actually sexually aroused by this macabre scene.

[Loki Clock]

You orgasm so hard you have an out-of-body experience.

[DiscoBallClock]

You see your passed-out body from above, with a stain of dry semen all around your legs. You find this arousing as well, and wish to experience another orgasm.

[Silly Putty Clock]

You ghost-mouth-fuck Flounderman and ghost-jizz in his mouth, turning you into another flounderman, only you're a ghost, which is cooler.