Say you found the perfect corpse

Say you were stranded on an island for five grueling years somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. You lived off the land, which consisted of fruits and hunting foxes by bow and arrow. Your fire-starting abilities have reached expertise. Your best friend is a fox head on a stick figure body made of tree branches named Kentucky. Small planes occasionally hover over you, but you can never seem to attract their attention.

This long term isolation has left you sexually repressed to the point where the Big Dipper is part of an imaginary big breasted woman in the constellations you fantasize about. You've exhausted every possible auto-erotic activity involving coconuts on the island. Creating sand women depresses you as they wash away too readily.

One evening while barbecuing and eating some fox thigh over a camp fire, a small jet flies toward your island. You're hit with a quick epiphany, and decide if you shot a flaming arrow toward plane it would grab their attention. Instead, your miscalculated shot pierces the fuel tank exploding the plane in an entertaining moment for your no-tv-having ass. Parts and bodies explode and disperse into the water.

Female bodies wash ashore as you realize this was a plane full of models. Despite being red from impact, all the girls are in great condition with the exception of the male pilot, who was obscenely scorched and is starting to resemble rotisserie to your starved eyes. You recognize the models as Sandra Bernhard, Gisele Bundchen, Denise Milani, Shay Laren, Kimber James, Ron Perlman and Linetrap.

Now the plane's fiery explosion has left their clothing torn and their naughty bits exposed. Their bloated bodies beckon your admiring eyes as they soak in the saltwater. Just last night you had a dream you would be rescued within a week. The bodies are decaying and time is of the essence. Do you abide by the social norms of a society you're no longer part of, or do you make love to one or more of the shimmering, voluptuous, tender corpses?

I would, but only if I really loved it.

1 comment:

  1. I'd take parts of all the models to make the ultimate partner. Ron Perlman's ass would be the star of the show. Once decomposition was complete I'd make a nifty bone wind chime to hang from my palm tree. Then I'd go back to raping seafood. You ever fuck lobster son? Goddamn lobster pussy make your dick explode!

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