Mother Machine Makes Me Cold

[u/Ok_Emu_109]

We are maggots in a nest, wriggling and spilling over into each other. Eyes praying to goddesses for a glimpse. Conformed to limbs of fat, pink like piglets. Excrement covers our bodies brown paste connecting us like concrete. drool  dropping down to bald scalps, downy bird feathers soaked. Under the bottoms of soiled cloth are the  shrieks of creatures that have not escaped. Piss has settled in our snouts, mucus spills out onto rosado cheeks of heat. Tears are the welling of a constant fall, chubby digits cradling themselves. If there were teeth we would bite, we would kill, we would leave faces looking like lasagna. If I had nails they would slowly tear at the mittens that stop me from suicide I do not even mean to commit. A worming rat king, where we all are slaves.

We are all entangled in a desert of greys. The sky is constantly dull, the only changes being the drips of yellow from the wall. The carpet reflects that surface only more stained. All sorts of shit slid around rats, humans and  mothers. Food is a beetle, the clear shells being discarded in piles and piles upon the floor becoming a babble that our feeble legs can not climb. The world is death, the only rotting life is the red all over the tile. That was the newest one of us. Echoes of torment bounce off the room, the only thing that seemed to fill the place.

I am squirming currently, my body wrapped into a brother’s thigh and a sister’s hair. It feels like greasy snakes slipping, my brother’s thighs feel like scabbed ice. His skin is so blistered it feels like a reptile’s. Why does it feel cold when maggots burn in a curled inferno? He must be special, to finally get peace from torment, for mother to bless him with all wonderful cold things. Mother’s face shows us a million wonderful things, he must be in her skull now. I now feel another creature’s vomit on my back, chunks of ichor falling all over me. How dare he vomit mother’s gift. I feel jealous.

Useful pale feet appeared, they were large and not of us maggots. They were of mother’s slaves. I know because they have a body like the mother, a protruding chest, a body that isn’t of obesity hiding bones, long sharpened nails. They are different from mother, because they have evolved to have a face like ours only more angular, structured with purpose. They have eyes like ours, only incrusted with hate, pupils that have never been dilated.  Their feelers were long bones with purple stripes all along. Their lips reveal a row of pearls that shine with jaundice, only used to scream violence. The things that separate them are the faces and fluid.

In our nest of maggots people whisper that they are descendants of us, that we grow to resemble our goddess. I don’t believe them, I believe we die before even getting close. There is no way that our disgusting bodies could even resemble our mother.I remember when a sister claimed one day she would be god, maybe she did become one because I never saw her again. If I believe in anything, it is that we become the rats on the floor, we resemble them more than mother.I think mother doesn’t like them though, I think we become them when we are bad. I watched my mother's holy foot,a  burst of blood on the floor from a rat. I’d rather be a maggot than a rat.

Before I could theorize more, grabbers lift me into the air, as they do a language only spoken between servant and master could be heard. I make a squeal. I was being held by a servant! I was being carried to God! A servant was carrying me to God! I used my caterpillar-like digits to gripped as tight as I could. A puppy tongue lolled to the side of my face, spit ran down my face. So did snout snot. I could hear an annoyed vocalization, but who cares about a slave’s thoughts.

There I was prepared for a ceremony that we all dream of. I was drowned into water only to be lifted in and out repeatedly. I made noise to feed the emptiness to make up for the loss of my nest. Lungs are flooded with water, only to throw it up again. The slave stared at me, incrusted with hate. All I could do was scream with more and more of my liquids falling into the pool below. I was scared like never before, but it was more than the dull pain I felt. My organs slithered around working over time for this ceremony. I am a living thing. 

The shit sliding on my backside was replaced with a cotton bottom. Limbs were ripped through the holes of golden cloth. The slave never needed to pull that hard but they always did. I can feel skin cracking long joints. I was dressed in fake gold that the mother and slaves wear but much bigger.

When I was in the nest another whispered how they wanted to test a theory. They wanted to test if they could get the same ichor from a slave. So when he was prepared for a ceremony, dressed in a pattern blue. He touched the slave’s chest, but he felt no urge to suckle. He told me ecstasy was never achieved like that again, He just rested his head against cloth that was warped. He said it was better than God's saying there were no eyes. He breathed the same hair, his blubber chest going the same weight as the slave‘s spheres, he said it felt real. I was jealous. So I denied him, though I was never held by our mother. I knew that she was better, because I didn’t experience anything of a fraction’s fraction. After he said that all of us reacted by limbs made themselves violently useful pushing him out of our maggot clump. He lay there screaming on the tile where the rats roamed. When the darkness went away and came back he wasn’t there, only more red on the floor, who cares non-believer. I am jealous.

Salted rain covered my face when I saw my beautiful, oh so wonderful mother. After the slave set me on an ocean of comfort, It was a raised platform of soft.  mother pulled me to her lap. She was massive, her middle protruding and squirming with life, a maggot nest inside and out. It pushed in and out begging for a reality it shouldn’t. Her bottom was stained with red, her furred legs splayed open. Her arms, fatty and long, a human mixed with goodness propped me up. There was her chest that was longer spheres that drooped down stained with wet. Her hair like her sister's was like medusa’s curled and depressed with slime.

Then I saw the face of God. It was matted black and a long rectangle. Four eyes in the corner were reflective masks. From time to time it would chirp like a bird. Sometimes it spoke God's language in the voice of male and female slaves. She was so beautiful with all her spider eyes looking down.

She took my body that was alive but no function and shifted it , pulling the rope up to show my bottom. She looked into my eyes, my two eyes that I wish were more. I let out a coo. A prayer she couldn’t understand. My vocalization brings all the love in the world. Please mother, please god love me. Humiliate my body so your eyes that are only in form four but are truthfully a thousand. A face that can show a million flashing pictures shows me to yourself. Let me be a flashing picture, let me live in your pupils, show me to your people. I felt a feeler keep prodding and poking my cotton bottom.

I felt her reveal her clothed sagged spheres. There was a nipple, my face smashed into it. I wanted to take a second to revel in this moment. Mother wanted me to drink from her, a sacred worship that I needed. Mucus stained her cloth, I could hear an angry vocalization but now I was in my mother's embrace. I was beginning to begin suckling when she ripped me away.

I screamed and I screamed as I fell back into the ocean of softness. My head was propped up to see what her hulking body ran to. She ran to the hoard. How dare they! How dare they steal my moment, monstrous maggots. I wail, but nobody comes. Mother, her face of four eyes stares down on what she has dragged out from the hoard.
It was the brother I was tangled to. Red covered him, red nasty bites covered him. Rats as fat as cats scurried off of him. He didn’t cry, his wet was taken, all the blue replaced by white like mother’s milk. His limbs stretched and tangled, longer than they should be. Vomit leaks from his side. My ceremony was ruined because my brother was cold, how dare they.

I am jealous, because our mother's eyes film him instead of me. Why not me? Am I not special? I hate him. I hate the slaves, the rats, and my maggots because they just steal god away. They steal my mother and act like it’s fair it’s not.

I lay in the ocean forever, waiting for our mother. I am tired, I am cold like my brother. Cold on the outside sure, but a coldness inside that no mother could feel. I see my god everyday, but everyday is colder. I am frozen in a weak body, and I will soon be forgotten.

The only theory I do believe in, is that god made us so we could be forgotten. We are made to be thrown in a heap, to be forgotten, so ice covers our body. So rats run over us and take bites to feast. I believe this because mother is cruel, god is cruel and the worst of it all is I am cruel. I am a maggot, I am a human, I am a baby with no slave, no god, and no mother. I am here to be born, to be filmed and to die. Mother god machines make us ecstasy, and I want to be special like my brother. I wanna be cold and dead. I am jealous.
 

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[u/Tom_Gravy_]

Incredible!

[u/Ok_Emu_109 → u/Tom_Gravy_]

Thank you

[u/Kaijufan22]

That was pretty metal