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Pussy on the Mark - Short Story by Jeff Bagato

Notes of a Cunt

I never tire of killing cocks, but I take my breaks because cocks never tire of dying. These cocks live to die.


Realizing I fulfill my mission in immediate, functional, physical language, and that my best spells are written without words. Any kind of masturbation especially forms this language. Playing with my nipples, rubbing finger on lips, licking my own teeth, rubbing my pussy, fingering my asshole, massaging my legs or belly, choking my cock, kneading my pussy...

Program to follow this language wherever it leads.


I find myself to be real only in the context of killing cocks. The state of war. I would prefer to define myself some other way than as their antithesis. For cocks mean nothing to me. Impossible to terminate cock culture, but the effort of moving against it counts. I could stop today—no change—but I won’t.


What difference do I make? I remain the model of pussy values. I am pussy.


Knowledge of Today’s War

Hearing a tremendous explosion both supports all life and causes catastrophes moving like a wall across the plain, toward the city.

The first major shock did most of the damage when everyone was asleep.

Coal mining equipment destroyed, facilities for manufacture of railroad engines and heavy machinery completely destroyed, extensive damage to property, twenty-three apartment buildings collapsed, heavy structure damage to other factories.


Time is the dimension of death.


Business, financial and government districts virtually destroyed. Oil tanks at the naval base burst open, spilling thousands of gallons of burning oil into the streets, creating general conflagration.


My signs are magical acts.


Sign Language

Tué les hommes

immediatement


Kill the cocks immediately. I can’t speak more directly than to go out and strangle one myself with bare hands—sign language silent except for the gasp of last breath—my first victim.


I am armed to the death

in a state of longing—my cunt

needs the pleasure of a final

breath sucked in...

I think my cunt eats the dead

breath of her victims

at her mercy.

One breath doesn’t last long

and my pussy is soon hungry

for another.

I am armed to provide her

with her meat.


Death Is My Co-Pilot

Each cock has been spoken for by his own death. There is a longing to meet this master. This master of cocks is too lenient; he waits too long to call home each cock waiting to die.

I simply transpose myself into the master’s place. Announce myself as death to cocks and watch them come running—they tell themselves to eradicate me, but truly they each hope to be first victim. Somewhere in cock guts lies an eagerness to burst forth with death. I provide the time for that flowering of death. That time is now.

I tell the cocks—I am the death for which you have waited to flower. I call you now. There must be no hesitation. Bring yourselves to me now.

I am prepared to destroy as many as will come.

My weapons are ready. My arms are ready.

I have given the call.

I have provided the time.

Cocks, your last hour in me.

Step—forward—immediately—to me.

It is necessary that you do this—you want it so badly.

I am here to serve you your own death.


I have given the call.

I am here to serve you.


THAT TIME IS NOW


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