Drip drip drip.
The constant resonance of the spillage from his bladder down the tube roughly shoved up his length resounded through the small concrete cellar. With no lubrication he had screamed and squirmed as the catheter was inserted but the dull throb of his privates was nothing to compare with the icy pain of chest.
Every movement tugged at bruised and violated muscle. When he would drift off he would shock himself awake screaming as he strained the hooks cutting deep into his flesh. The warm trickle of his life blood pattered on his thighs even still, the wounds refusing to knit.
How long had it been, he wondered. Hours? Days? He was weak, thirsty and exhausted. Had he been forgotten? Is that why he still lingered here? The man had been to calculating and prepared to have simply forgotten him.
And yet … the thought gnawed at his mind. Was this how it was going to end? That was what really terrified him - to die here, a meaningless, unnoticed death.
“Oh god! Come back! Don’t leave me here, please! I’ll do anything you want!” He cries carried far above the drip.
***
There are a couple pictures I’ve skipped along the way posting old stuff. Some of these I can’t in good conscience show off. They’re pretty awful.
PS, its a catheter in his penis, not a worm. >_>




