[chapter TWELVE of MIKE EYE’s The Aqueous Transmission]
MOTHER MAGDALENA HAD BEEN TRAVELING AT LIGHTSPEED IN Fibonacci sequence throughout the Milky Way in her beloved high-tech silvery space-pod during the global detonation, One day prior to her ship going down, the craft now weaving in and out of infinite instances of space, it’s wake folding over multi-layered fabrics of time, creating an intricate, multicolored, multi-dimensional tapestry of existence within the Milky Way galaxy and beyond, grinding the gears of Purpose into ol’ grandfather clockwork.
Her subjective consciousness not yet aware of what had happened miles below her, still hours away from the moment of time in which the unconsciously permitted brash crash of her craft was to take place, the Mother’s Lustful Heart still surged now with great delight due to the still-recent aftermath of her over-joyous, deeply longed-for, sanctified seduction within the Andromeda Biodome of the mistaken Last Godhed on Earth, the as-yet-to-be-revealed identity of Al Rodnam’s Shadow. The Mother perched now over the broken body of the extra-limp and dismembered man with great satisfaction, endowed with a very wide, Wicked smile, her Core glistening as it, at that exact moment, unconsciously broke the synchronous rotation it had had with the man, and the Earth.
The fiendish female, unaware that the man had just in fact Died at that very instant, tightly gift-wrapped his upper body with her dark, decorative tribal Holy bedsheets.
“You’re not gonna wanna watch this, babe,” she uttered with conviction, as she prepared to partake in her trademark ritual activity.
And with much distinguished rapture, the Mother savagely ripped off the man’s cock and balls with her teeth.
Seconds later, the man’s Head blew off from its neck, burying itself deep within the sheets, as his Soul went tumbling down into the depths of his own black hole that closed around him.
* * *
MOTHER MAGDALENA WAS COMPLETELY FOCUSED ON ENJOYING THE feeling that arose within her after she had had her way with Fletcher Munsin. Totally proud of herself in a way that made her feel as if she could conquer the Earth, the woman giggled to herself in overzealous excitement, not yet realizing that the Earth, in fact, had just conquered her.
Feeling fully satisfied with herself, having arose from her seductive poise upon the bed, the confident woman now stood tall, winked at a reflection of her own slightly bloody face, staring at it playfully in a large wall-sized mirror in her space-pod’s bedroom before gratifying herself further by panning her sights slowly down her dark, gorgeous nude body.
She turned herself on.
Before the mirror Lina brought forth her left knee slightly, bending over to softly place her hands around the thigh of the same long, dark leg, preciously sliding her fingers smoothly down it. She was mostly pleased with what she saw, although she felt she could use a tan.
“Time for sun!” she said to herself playfully, staring into the mirror as she began grooming her sex-hair with her hands.
Lina bowed a bit closer to herself as she blew out a kiss and smiled. “You sexy thaang!” she commented to her reflection, which still showed dried driblets of Fletcher Munsin’s blood caked around her mouth. She nonchalantly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, cocked her head to the side, and spat on the floor.
Feeling a great sense of relief, Lina spun around vivaciously, twirling fro her dress circularly, before collapsing onto her bed next to Fletcher Munsin’s body, which was already starting to undergo rigor mortis. She took a huge breath into her lungs happily, and then slowly released it, savoring every millisecond of her joyous sentiment.
“I don’t smell ya rotting yet, boy!” Lina remarked teasingly as she smacked the dead man’s bare stomach with her open palm. She stared down at the dark blood still flowing out from the mortal abrasion between his stubs at a medium pace.
“That is fuckin’ too bad for you!” said Lina, gently swaying a finger pointing toward the corpse, flippantly flinging forth a bubbly bounce of each shoulder for each word she spoke. She gracefully kissed the inner fingers of her right hand and then extended it out to pat the bed sheets toward the Head of Fletcher Munsin, which was still supposedly concealed beneath.
“I love you, babe,” she muttered.
With such a bounty of her endorphins having recently been released into the room like helium escaping a big blown balloon, the woman was growing exhausted. She felt she could use a nap.
She turned to her back and looked up at the ceiling. “Ahhh! Sleep always seems like it progresses faster and faster in hyperspace,” she marveled to herself. “I wonder why that is.”
Lina kept her Head fixed upward, not bothering at all to even glance over at the decomposing Fletcher Munsin. Her Eyelids slowly drooped over her Eyes and she fell asleep without realizing it.
* * *
MAGDALENA CAME TO IN A RELAXED, FAMILIAR DREAMSCAPE. IT WAS nighttime, and she sat under the myst of the familiar crimson-flushed Full Moon that glittered down from the starlit sky. Nearby a small bonfire, she sat cross-legged on the filthy ground, finding herself engaged in simple, stupid ‘Rune games’ with the village Loombugs — those unmindful lively husks of uselessness whose greatest joy was to feed and sacrifice the wretched swine in their dreadful playpens.
Everything took place so ordinarily that she didn’t realize she was dreaming, like she sometimes could.
Lina and the foul female Loombugs all huddled together in a pack of eight, sitting on the ground un-mindfully laying out Rune Stones on the dirt, laughing and cheering all along. Yes, nothing appeared out of the ordinary to Lina.
But soon, the woman felt stark shame scraping outward from her insides, overcome with embarrassment that she was still trying to have lowly fun with her inadequate daughters despite the explicit heeding of Solaria not to do so.
“You girls each been fetchin’ your own Water lately, I see,” the Mother said to the young girls to distract herself, noticing each one taking sips from their own flasks. “None-a you stealin’ shit from one another anymore! That’s good. And settle down for God-sakes, you fuckin’ children are being too Goddam loud. Shutup, why don’tcha!” She took a strident, condescending tone as she sometimes found herself doing for some reason.
The Loombugs did yap there traps quite a bit and would get naughtier and naughtier the larger their posses got; it would seem they functioned much better in numbers. They mostly would play together with their Stone Runes in a manner long since stained in its original purpose and meaning, adorning the ritual areas with their mindless chatter. This would usually occur everyday with the Bugs, for many hours on end, consistently with group upon group.
Perhaps strangely enough, however, when it was time, the wretched Loombugs would always each Feed their own Personal Pigs in Solitude.
Each Loombug had her own sleep schedule, which varied quite a bit from girl-beast to girl-beast, so it was commonplace for them to come and go in and out of groups quite frequently. This variation of daily schedule personally experienced by each girl perpetually resulted in each group continuously revolving affiliates, never containing the same series of girls within them.
And now, the stupid little girls in Lina’s group cowered a bit with implied shameful acknowledgement at the Mother’s reprimands, demonstrating their habitual conditioned response.
The severely deformed Loombugs had the tendency to be rather rambunctious little things at most times, even well into their teenage years, usually fooling around childishly even if they weren’t feeding their filthy hogs, which they always did mutely.
But whenever the Mother was around, they would mostly surrender their mischievousness, behaving as still boards when she spoke forcefully. The Loombugs were most often overly wary of her presence directly after she spoke down to them, the Mother not usually noticing the unsettling aura that would arise from them each time she scolded them, but she now wrote a note to herself that, this time around, she strangely realized that she did.
But the Mother never intended any harm toward any of her daughters; she unconditionally loved them all just the same, for she knew they were but mere extensions of herself, that she lived for them. That that was what she was supposed to do.
Magdalena did not customarily act harshly with her sisters throughout day-to-day life in her tribal village of Bry Dellows on Fucked-Earth. Her wrath typically came to strike out only once precisely every twenty-eight nights, on the very eve that had long, long ago, during a time long, long since forgotten, the Moon would briefly shine full during the only moment it could do so all month long, one of exactly thirteen times of which would occur each year.
During the aquatic times of this story, like all others in the Milky Way proceeding it, the Moon would come to remain Blood-Red and Full forever proceeding the emergence and release of the Mother’s beastly flesh and blood — the hoggish Mandorla. It was henceforth locked into place and would never have the tendency to wax nor wane, this lack of action possibly paying homage to the degree with which Mother Magdalena will have the tendency to illicit instances of Pure Rage in her upcoming day-to-day activities with her beloved Hawk Sisters.
Engaged in the absurd Rune ritual now being conducted by her Loombug daughters, forgetting she was dreaming, Lina glanced skyward for a moment, intending to lock Eyes with her cherished Moon. But to her absolute astonishment, it was gone, nowhere to be seen. Yet, a soft scarlet blush still remained, settled gently upon the brush surrounding her, mysteriously illuminating it. Because of the overflowing of Melatonin in her Head, among other things, the sleeping woman may have then, at that moment, most likely have been able to transform her dream into a vivid, lucid experience. Instead, having thoroughly Lost her nerve, she fell to pieces. With a sharp, panicky jolt, Lina rose to her feet and looked all around for the missing Moon.
“WHAT THE FUCK!?” shouted Lina in an unleashed panic, headup to the sky. “Where are you?” she cried out in great fear. “Where is that glow coming from?” she asked No One, blankly.
Magdalena all of a sudden became suspicious of herself, and her connection with nature. Intense notions of paranoia were setting in.
Confounded beyond belief, and with sweat starting to form behind her neck and on her forehead, Lina turned back to question her daughters with whom she had just been engaged in ritual, but as she did so, the faces of all eight of them were simultaneously starting to psychedelically mutate, their faces transmuting before her Eyes into engorged blood-red bubbles that were slowly expanding, their unveiled giant Eyes bulging forth as they suspiciously stared at the Mother bleakly.
Then all of their faces fuzzed out slightly, and the edges of their Heads shed form as they slowly melted outward, gravity but a slew of forces abruptly beginning to work most curiously. As the Heads of the Bugs kept gradually expanding, their Bug-Eyes spun round and round in their sockets, faster and faster as great big smiles on each of their faces grew wider and wider. Before long, each of their faces all depicted the same cartoonish expression of clownish Wickedness.
Their Eyebrows morphed into profound bushes of deep expression that seemed inhuman as they raised clear off their faces, slanting inward dramatically toward their noses, more and more, hovering above their Heads now, just beside the devilish horns that had promptly spawned from beneath the roots of their scraggly hair. The Bugs were all gaping at Mother Magdalena idly and spoke a foreign language, very rapidly, incorporating new tones and clicks the Mother had never heard before. At least so she thought.
As her sisters’ Heads continued to inflate, their spiraling Eyes growing larger by the second and spinning faster and faster still, there materialized before each one a shiny key. Each sister seized the keys that were each hovering in midair in front of them, lifted up their lower garbs, and proceeded to insert these keys forthright into their vaginas in twisting motions, asexually penetrating deeper and deeper until their puckering labias were soul-sucking their filthy fists.
Alarmed considerably, Magdalena gripped her Head tightly and let out a loud wail, surprising herself with the sheer fervor annunciated in her vocal vibrations. Thrashing her Head about, she screamed agonizingly for a few seconds as two alternate landscapes that were superimposed upon One another swirled together in a blur behind her Eyes.
She focused her vision, finding herself in the bedroom of her spaceship beside the corpse of Fletcher Munsin.
“Whew!” Lina uttered with relief, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her right hand. “It wouldn’t-a hurt had my heels clicked together sooner, shit!”
Then her body jerked to the side, a sense of urgency arising within her. Lina sprang up from her bed instantly, instinctively knowing exactly what she was then obliged to do. She came around to the edge of the bed where Fletcher Munsin’s tied stumps were slightly spread apart, his gory guts sinking out through the deep slash in between them. She became distracted momentarily, glancing down at her feet, realizing she was standing in at least two inches of blood.
Shaking herself free of the image that held her, Lina shut her Eyes tightly and hastily reached her arm into the gruesome opening of Fletcher Munsin’s corpse, seeking his pancreas. When she was about as deep as half her arm, she moved her fingers inside his body and felt around. Blood was squirting past her arm out through the gash from which she was permeating, and she grimaced.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed frustratingly as she struggled to locate the organ. “Uggh…” She felt around impatiently.
It took quite some time to locate what she believed to be Fletcher Munsin’s pancreas, took a big breath into her lungs, and yanked on it until it snapped free from all it had been attached to. Pulling the organ out through the hole where the man’s genitalia had Once been intact, she tried to make out exactly what it was she was holding.
Wiping the blood and other bodily residue from the appendage with her tribal bedsheets, she tilted her Head back, and then forth, flipping the organ around to try and determine what it was.
She was no M.D. but she came to realize that what she had extracted was indeed not the pancreas.
“Fuck!” she again cried out. “I ripped out the fuckin’ liver by accident!”
Tossing the organ aside as if it were a used tissue, Lina delved back into Fletcher Munsin’s carcass. She reached around inside, amidst slimy decaying guts, until she felt something she prayed was the pancreas. She gripped it tightly, took in a deep breath, shut her Eyes tight, and tugged at the object with all her might.
A repulsive odor was starting to waft past Lina’s nostrils. “Awww!” she exclaimed with loathing.
The organ she was holding onto did not come out as easily as the liver. Blood was everywhere. She tossed the new extraction onto her bed in disgust, let out an unsettling yelp as shivers flew up her spine. Lina wiped her nose that had started to drip with the back of a bloody hand, droplets of blood dribbling off of it with the snot. She paused momentarily, took in a deep breath, exhaled, and then started examining the bloodied appendage of Fletcher Munsin. She grasped an edge of her bedsheet from one of the corners and wiped some dark blood off of the thing.
“This has got to be the pancreas.”
She soon realized that, it indeed was.
Examining the thing, turning it round and round on each side, she came to notice on one side of the organ what seemed to be tiny writing cleverly etched into its surface. With a hard blink of astonishment, Magdalena brought the organ closely up to her Eyes as she could see that on that side of the pancreas was inscribed a message scrawled mysteriously in the English language:
Of course I suc-cum-bed to your temptation; I was a human man-hybrid from the third seeding. And as much as I sincerely tried to resist your advances, you ultimately had greater power over me. It is Tao: the way. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, my dear. This applies beyond lifetimes. Unbeknownst to you, even with your sly ways, the seed you so desperately sought after will give birth to your demise. It was the fundamental part of a special formula that, Once inside you, my Mother Magdalena, will have released an aligned cluster of atomic nuclear energy hailing from the memory banks of your Lunar storage unit, and directly into Earth. All your hard work, gone! HAH! Kiss your dear sisters goodbye! Cunt.
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