I am a great soft jelly thing. Smoothly rounded, with no mouth, with pulsing white holes filled by fog
where my eyes used to be. Rubbery appendages that were once my arms; bulks rounding down into
legless humps of soft slippery matter. I leave a moist trail when I move. Blotches of diseased, evil
gray come and go on my surface, as though light is being beamed from within.
Outwardly: dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that could never have been known as human, a thing
whose shape is so alien a travesty that humanity becomes more obscene for the vague resemblance.
It's me, Doug!
I am a great soft jelly thing. Smoothly rounded, with no mouth, with pulsing white holes filled by fog
where my eyes used to be. Rubbery appendages that were once my arms; bulks rounding down into
legless humps of soft slippery matter. I leave a moist trail when I move. Blotches of diseased, evil
gray come and go on my surface, as though light is being beamed from within.
Outwardly: dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that could never have been known as human, a thing
whose shape is so alien a travesty that humanity becomes more obscene for the vague resemblance.
I have no mouth. And I must scream.
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