As you will come to know I am but one of a collective and as such I have many colleagues that you will all be introduced to in time. One of which is my good friend T. Legend (@SixIIAK) who has an unhealthy obsession with the female specie...all of it.
Any who, we were out on the town one eve and were approached by one of his vaginal fans. And before we could avoid her like the plague that she would come to be known as...the she beast opened her jowls to speak - "Hey guys!!! You like my stockings? I wore them instead of underwear but I didn't realize they are see through."
It was then that my friend's disease took hold, compelling him to ask, "whatsoever do you mean broad?" In hindsight this is when the authorities should have been contacted.
It was then that the dreaded Beast of a Thousand Pounds raised her dress in the middle of the street revealing her pit of despair...
There it was... mashed and crammed in sideways. I had a firsthand see through view of a woman trying to kill her own savagely abused vagina. It haunts me.
At the end of long days when I close my eyes and pray for peace, I can still picture her bloated rash ridden and razor torn vagina - resembling a partially opened can of biscuits bursting unevenly through the mesh seams.
I begged my subconscious to stop! But all that did was make me feel sorry for the unheard cries, shutters and pleadings of death that that vagina oozes out daily. Cursed to constantly leak the sole wish to die instead of living the life assigned to it.
Sure. She tries. Yeah, I'm sure she tries to console it... but how do you teach an abused vagina to trust again? To love again? To not shutter every time it feels the outside air caress its dank interiors? ... Shutters brought on by every memory of being left exposed and alone just to be misused by Taco Bell stained fingers.
I can't. I just can't go on...
My friends... my fellow Tullians - all I ask is that you pause for a moment of silence. Just a moment. One moment for all of the billions of genitalia abuse cases that go unreported by a society too busy to care.
So mote it be,
Marc Tullius @MarcTullius
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