I open my eyes to a cramped washroom with moist walls wobbling like plaster flavored jello. My ass feels glued to the stained porcelain throne at the center of it all, and the unbearable stinging sensation accompanying any attempt to sit up prompts me to throw in the towel and accept the fact that, for the time being, I am to stay put. I breath in a stench that can only be described as a putrid mix of stale urine devolving into ammonia and fresh wood chips; I think I like wood chips, and for a moment or two I think deeply about how sad it is that such a wonderful thing has been perverted by the smell of piss. I don't have a chance to think long, because a man suddenly appears, naked, holding his genitals.
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'Are you a dream?' I ask him as he glances about and surveys the shit-stained shoe box we find ourselves in.
'What?' he replies, his wide eyes still spinning. 'Am I a what?'
'A dream. What I mean is, are you part of my dream?'
'I think you are mistaken, sir; you are part of my dream,' he scoffs, obviously offended by my inquiry. Apalled by his claim, I feel obligated to pursue the matter further.
'I hate to point out the obvious, but you just materialized completely out of thin air, in nothing but your birthday suit, and here you stand holding your bits and pieces with the look of a deer caught in headlights. No, I think you are the dream.'
He makes a rather throaty noise and, with a hack, deposits a wad of phlegm in the sink. 'If this is your dream, might you explain where we are, then?'
'We are, uh, in my washroom,' I say hesitantly - a poor attempt at asserting a falsified claim. Frankly the whole place seems quite alien to me.
'Bullshit, you lying bastard. This is my bathroom. And furthermore, you yourself are naked, so my clothing, or lack thereof, proves nothing. I'd also like to point out, if I may, that I am free to walk about, yet you seem stuck to that wretched contraption.'
Though the scraggly exhibitionist has a point, I dismiss his rhetoric and refuse to cave.
' I can too stand up, I just prefer not to. After all, you've accosted me while on the john. My business is pressing, and if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it greatly if you could fuck off and let me get to it. Go! Disappear!'
I begin making wild hand gestures, waving like a feral monkey and imploring him to leave me be. He shakes his head at me in disgust as he grips the door handle.
'Fine, fine, finish whatever it is you plan on doing. I'm a bit hungry, and seeing how this is my dream, and we are in my house, I think I'll grab a bite to eat.'
The second he opens the door, a giant purple frog, twice the size of both of us combined, squeezes through the doorway and inundates the washroom with its warty flesh.
'Sweet fuck!' my naked companion cries. 'What in God's name is this thing?'
Before he can comment further, the frog laps him up with its tongue and pulls him feet first into its mouth.
'Ah, shit! I can't wake up! I can't wake up!' he moans as he desperately pinches himself. 'Do something, you sick bastard!'
'I told you it was my dream. You should have been kinder to me and let me excrete in peace!'
I watch with a sort of perverse satisfaction as the giant frog devours him, until finally the man's fingertips disappear into its gaping cavity. It burps cheerfully, and I raise one arm victoriously.
'Yes! A giant purple frog, how creative! What a marvel the imagination is! Well, Mr.Frog, if you don't mind, I have work to do. It was nice of you to drop by and, ahem, rid me of that annoying creature, but rest assured that your presence is no longer needed. Go, shoo. Off you go.'
But the frog does not move, electing instead to smack its lips with its prickly pink tongue. I catch a hint of depravity in the thing's eye, and my first reaction is to stand up and scuttle away. I give my cheeks a tug, but they don't so much as budge an inch. I begin frantically pinching myself, stamping on my feet, biting my tongue, all in an attempt to wake up, but nothing seems to have any effect. Soon the slippery creature is upon me, and I am sucked at once into its mouth and I fight hard not to drown in its saliva.
I find the naked man dissolving in the frog's stomach, his upper body still visible from its intestinal tract. He still very much alive.
'Ah, God, help me,' he says as he reaches for my foot. I kick his hand away and he sinks deeper into the acidic goo. One of my toes catches a droplet splashing up and begins to bubble over. In no time the naked man is completely dissolved; with a croak the frog's throat muscles contract, and I am forced into the stomach. My feet are the first to touch, followed by my lower extremities. I try to claw back up its throat, but its long tongue bats my hands away. My whole body is engulfed by a sensation like no other, and I scream.
Having no energy left to shout, I mutter a silent prayer for strength and wonder when the fuck the damned thing is going to wake up.
"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen... there you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me as I am, for I shall not change."
From his Last Will & Testament, Marquis de Sade