The Captain of the Venereal Guard looked at me, his face stony. “How could you? How could you insult our illustrious Queen like that?”

I ignored him, looking down at my bound hands, ashamed, because there was nothing I could say in my defense.

I was kidding? I didn’t mean it? I’m…sorry?

Well, that last was certainly true. I had meant my comment to be a witticism, vying with the other courtiers to compliment the Queen. But no sooner it escaped my mouth on impulse than I knew I had fucked up badly – very badly.

“Your Majesty’s quim is the most beautiful and of the most heavenly fragrance!” I had called, the laugh dying on my lips as I saw her face go from glowing at the compliments thrown her, to cold fear. Clearly, the supper, the wine, and the company had gone to my head, and I would now pay for it. How could I possibly know the appearance and aroma of the Queen’s quim unless I had examined and inhaled it from close proximity.

Which I had.

But if the Queen was unhappy with me, the King was…well, let’s just say that adjectives failed both him and the author.

He stood up from his place at table, quivering with rage, giving venomous looks first at me, and then at the Queen, who gazed fixedly at her feet.

“I will deal with you later,” the King said to her, then turned to me, and my guts turned to glue. “And as for you – take him to the Fuckholes of the Worm Monsters!”

A gasp rose up from the dinner guests, but not from me. I had ceased breathing. A woman cried – and fainted. A man followed her. Suddenly, there was a hubbub in the crowd, but the King wasn’t having it.

“Enough! Guards – seize him!”

Which was how I wound up, battered and bruised, in the troop transport surrounded by the King’s Own Guards on my way…

…to the Fuckholes of the Worm Monsters of Venus. (Dramatic music plays here.)

Shortly thereafter, I was bound to a slender steel pole, arms fixed at my sides, on the Great Offal Plain. I was the only thing taller than about six inches, and thus highly visible.

The Captain looked at me, a nasty smirk on his vicious face, leaned forward and gave my cheek a hard tweak, then stood back. “Give my love to Gonorrhea!”

Nodding, he held out his hand. One of his men handed him the Fuckhorn Leghorn. He held it to his mouth, balancing the bell on his toe, inhaled deeply, grimaced, then blew a long, fruity, ethereal fart.

The troop stood, anxiously silent – then we all heard a deep, ground-shaking thump. The guards scrambled into the transport, which sped away towards the palace.

I was about to see something few humans had ever seen, and none ever found adequate adjectives to describe: Gonorrhea, the Queen of the Worm Monsters of Venus. (More dramatic music.)

I spied her at a distance, her enormous snakey body rolling up and down like a gigantic, breakdancing inchworm.

As she got closer, I saw her three eyes focus on me, and her nostrils twitch. “AAHHHHH…” she rumbled. She stood up on her tail, and her vagina dilated until it was almost two feet across. She measured the distance flawlessly, and her sex descended on me, slime sluicing over my body, fetid, oozing, pink walls engulfing me, the stench overpowering.

Finally, when I was entirely gripped inside her, I felt her body lift off again, stripping me from the steel post and carrying me away, trapped inside the monster, galumphing off to the gods alone knew where.

I was jostled and battered as she moved – shaken, not stirred – while goo oozed around and over me, my nose pressed flat to her vaginal walls. I felt like I was being battered from the inside and my guts run through a blender.

Then everything stopped. Gonorrhea’s body reared up, and I heard her terrible cry, like rabbits being rent from limb to limb. Shortly thereafter, I heard a distant reply, even more indescribable than before.

Shortly thereafter, I felt my body being squeezed out of her fuckhole like toothpaste – but only half-way. My legs were wriggling outside her body while my upper body was gripped tight.

Then I felt something – a mouth, I guess – slurp me in, coating me with something gooey, and I felt my body go rigid.

Shortly thereafter, I felt my legs being pushed into another hole, perhaps another Venereal Monster. My legs cramped and my entire body felt crushed. Next, the two monsters moved apart – then back together – apart – together – apart –

Then the walls around me, gripping both my upper and lower body, constricted in waves, and there was a terrible wailing on both sides. I was hurled downwards, and lay winded, on my side, held fast in the fetid darkness.

Slowly my body started to ooze free – only this time, it was my upper body that was released while my lower body was held tight, crunching my legs painfully together.

My head emerged into the air, and I shook it to clear the scum off, gasping and blinking. Looking outward, I saw Gonorrhea, eyes glassy, lying on the ground, breathing hard, a cigarette dangling from her maw. Twisting to look upwards, I saw that another Venereal monster now had my body sticking from its orifice. It reared up and gave another terrible cry – and, to my horror, heard it answered.

How much more of this could I take? I was evidently going to be passed from Monster to Monster.

It gave a hole new meaning to the term “Fuck you!”

How long could I hold out? How many Venereal Monsters were there? And how many more times would I be abused in this way?

Fortunately, I blacked out. Either I had lost consciousness, or the author had run short of adjectives again.

Either way, it was done.