Free Sloppy Seconds by Wrath James White Page B

That, and the fear that my own obsessive adoration of the female form might lead me to similar excesses of lust and perversion. Though, I honestly can't imagine being obsessed enough with anyone to try sucking their soul out of a dead dog's ass.
    Still, you get my point. Or maybe you don't yet, but you will. What follows are some of the sickest, most vile, most despicable acts ever put into print.
    Have fun!
----
----
    Morbid Obesity
    Second Place - 2002 Gross-Out Contest, Chicago
----
----
    Mary was a 500-lb contortionist who'd died with her titanic legs still wrapped around the back of her neck. Her legs were like two pale, bloated logs crosshatched with varicose veins. Even in death, her face was pinched and creased with the exertion of maintaining such an uncomfortable position. Her skin was now loose, slack, nearly sliding off of her from the buildup of necrotic fluids as she decomposed, adding yet more ripples to the rolls and rolls of billowy fat suspended from her chin in successive rows of increasing girth. Her engorged breasts and stomach were but more layers in a cascade of flesh that hung all the way down to the cavernous orifice yawning between her mammoth thighs.
    Her vagina had been turned inside out as if a grenade had gone off in her uterus. The labia were red and swollen like a baboon's ass and glistened with a virulent unctuousness as a steady stream of dank liquid dribbled out of her raw and bleeding snatch. It looked like an infected hatchet wound - more the symbol of man's fury than his lust. A gangrenous stench wafted from her syphilitic cooze as I knelt between her thighs and licked my lips appreciatively.
    "Scrumptious." I dipped a finger into that frothing maw, stirring a creamy soup composed of what I could only guess was the semen of perhaps a dozen men, mixed with the discharge of an advanced yeast infection, and tinged pink with menstrual fluids. I licked my fingers clean and winced at the taste - which resembled spoiled caviar - as I prepared to gobble the fat woman's vandalized pussy. I lapped at it tentatively and then sucked on those bloated cunt lips; my face covered in the cocktail of rotting fluids, eagerly ingesting whatever disease had killed her.
    "Delicious." I shivered as illness and death bathed my stupefied taste buds.
    I pulled out my knife and sawed at her cunt with the dull blade. Cutting off a choice piece that suppurated from bleeding sores and looked sort of like a barbecued pork skin, I bit into it and felt the blisters and corpuscles rupture in my mouth, splashing across my tongue and churning the bile in my stomach into a tidal wave. My eyes rolled back in my head as I shuddered with ecstasy.
    "Scrumptious!" I repeated, delirious with rapture.
    Just then, the fat woman's body convulsed.
    "Is this fat bitch still alive?" It seemed an absurd question, but no more absurd than my own cannibalistic, necrophilic fat fetish.
    A superstitious guilt made me wonder if perhaps my postmortem perversities had somehow reawakened her desire and in doing so, reawakened her from death as well. I stepped back as the corpse undulated. Her huge, gelatinous stomach looked like a sack of cats heading for the river as something within it struggled its way toward freedom. Impossibly, her thighs spread even wider and the gases of decay belched from her fetid, half-eaten twat in a stifling cloud, causing me to gag and cough but curiously adding steel to my erection.
    Another great burping noise emitted from between her thighs followed by sticky-wet, squishy sounds as her cunt regurgitated a full-grown woman of pornographic proportions onto the floor at my feet.
    She had perfect breasts like flesh-coated cantaloupes, the waist of a twelve-year-old, a tight little ass that wobbled gently high on her back, blonde hair down to her waist, a clean-shaved pussy, and big blue eyes like an Irish Setter. She slid out of that grotesque blob of putrescent fat in a stream of pus and goo, followed immediately by a