“BLACK DOORS X – Hell Drome: Full Body Horror Anatomy” BUBBLES SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! EVIL, EVIL. WHAT THE FUCK "THE BUBBLES SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! SHUNT! This is Your Body on Drugs... AAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH, I Don't Like the Drugs... But the Drugs Like me... and Drugs are Like Edgar Allan Poe... Poems, and an Extreme Overdosis of Body... Horror... But Wait! Watch and View the Black Doors Instead, They are Free, and are Cheaper for the Grim Reaper. WhaHahahahahahahaha These Movies Last Longer than Drugs... and are Just as Good (c)- By: Daniel FX Staal - 2025 Surprise! You're dead! (Faith No More: Cover) Ha ha! Open your eyes See the world as it used to be when you used to be in it When you were alive and when you were in love And when I took it from you! It's not over yet You don't remember? I won't let you forget The hatred I bestowed Upon your neck with a fatal blow From my teeth and my tongue Surprise! You're dead! Ha ha! Open your eyes I've drank and swallowed, but it's just begun Now you are mine I'll keep killing you until the end of time Surprise! You're dead! Guess what? It never ends The pain, the torment and torture, profanity Nausea, suffering, perversion, calamity You can't get away Sieg Nein! Ich bin ein Clown... of the Nazi's! and I have remorse! The army of the dead... Seig Nein! Nein, Nein! Sieg Nein! Ich bin ein Clown! I am in Hell! Electricfy Me, Hell Priest, Let it repeat, Fry My Brain, Cook me... You Open the Box, so Here I am, with you to fuck! This is gonna rock, For you to Suck... Marchin’ boots, but fear’s your tune, Ash will end this nightmare soon. Groovy’s back, no time to run, You’re outmatched, son — and outgunned! Sieg heil? More like "See ya, hell!" You're just a footnote in this tale to tell. Your reich is wrecked, your fate is sealed, By boomstick justice, battlefield! Watch them all, Parental Advisory, Huge Clive Barker's Hellraiser Tribute... Really? I Have such Sights to Show you... The Black Doors, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH Body Horror... Yes Torture Porn... of the Black Doors: By Creator (c)- Daniel FX Staal: 2025... TV Horror God... I am Dee Jay High Tech, Breaking my Balls, with Guts Gore and Nuts... Yeah Baby, This is the Black Doors... and it is Doomsday, and you are Just a Putz for not Liking me, F*ck You for anybody who Doesn't Like Me, Me!? Hey That's a Lot of Sex... HHHhahahahahah, Space Lord Mother F*ckers, Let's F*ck up this rigged System, Brain Wash, Brain Dead, Bad Taste, and Evil Dead, Hail to the King, Me Maybe Adolf's Final Poem: “Lube Is Truth” (Delivered while licking her claws, sitting atop the collapsed maze with the Shunt Tornado howling in the distance.) In halls of lube and doors of black, We walked where no one's coming back. A maze of mirrors, cock and lore, Each door a sin, each sin a door. Daniel danced on threads of grease, Through popes who preached unholy peace. A pope who lubed the gates of bliss, With nipples crowned and serpent kiss. We met Snow Woke in veils of shame, A ballet of the censored flame. Glass cocks twirled through broken pride, Until her milk-skin scream had died. Then came the clowns, the tweet injectors, Trump in loops, and Musk's deflectors. Circus gears spun sick delight, Each ego cracked by flashing light. A brain the size of Texas fried, Rogan floated, third eye wide. “Bro,” he croaked, “it’s all unreal— NPCs in cosmic zeal!” And me? I smiled. I always knew. This wasn’t hell. It was a view. A labyrinth of greasy breath, Where baby oil births both life and death. The mirrors bled. The cock arose. The popes and priests struck porno pose. We saw the church as gear and lube— A factory of cosmic boob. Then came the Cenobite parade, Where pain was porn and truth was flayed. Hooks of guilt and lust entwined, Daniel laughed as he was lined. Clive just watched from shadows torn, His mouth a grin of sacred porn. And Lloyd, the beast of indie grime, Screamed “SHUNT IT HARD!” in joyful rhyme. From orifice to oil-slick sky, We twirled and screamed but did not die. Because the truth, my kittens dear, Is death’s a loop. Not disappear. The final storm, the final twist, The shunt tornado’s greasy fist. It swallowed time, it cracked the script, And Daniel’s soul, unzipped, eclipsed. Each twist of flesh, each mirrored face, Reflected back our moral disgrace. We were the storm. We built the walls. We lubed the maze. We heard the calls. So here's my lesson, deep and true, Scratched in blood, and oozing goo: Don’t fear the cock. Don’t fear the pope. Don’t fear the lube, or sliding slope. Fear the mirror. Fear the pen. Fear the dream that loops again. Fear the writer who can’t wake— Because their maze is your mistake. Daniel sleeps. The maze resets. Another draft. More greasy threats. I’ll watch again, I always do. Purring softly, licking through. Because every door is open wide… And every sinner slips inside. ---- Chapter 2: The Orgasmic Labyrinth of Flesh and Feedback Interior — Dimension of Mirrors and Meat — Eternal Night Flickering hell-neon pulses through rotting muscle-walls. A hallway made of screaming mouths stretches endlessly. The Black Doors float like corrupted stars. Wet, wet everything. The maze howls. Enter Pinhead, calmly gliding above the ground, robes rippling like gravity itself is bleeding. PINHEAD (intoning) “Ah… flesh. So much potential. So little imagination. Until now.” Behind him, a Human Centipede of influencers writhes, mouths surgically fused to assholes, twitching to TikTok dance loops. Auto-tuned sobs echo off walls made of nipples. Suddenly — chainsaw blast. ASH (bursts through a door carved from skin) “Yo, spikey. I’ve seen more subtle décor in a Motel 6.” Pinhead raises a hand. Hooks scream from the ceiling, aiming for Ash. He dodges, slices two chains with his chainsaw hand. ASH “Hail to the king, baby.” Cue guitar feedback: a distorted scream of a thousand tortured souls. From the shadows... ZOMBIE JIM MORRISON staggers forward, crooning nonsense. ZOMBIE MORRISON “This… is the end… my only friend, the flesh-bent end…” He pukes up black oil and butterfly knives. Suddenly, a massive brass stage platform crashes down from above. Standing atop it, wearing a cape of shredded VHS tape, is none other than: FRANK ZAPPA — ALIVE, NAKED, ELECTRIC. ZAPPA “Reality’s a turd. Let’s fry it in lube and serve it to Congress!” Behind him, a horde of Cenobites tune human intestines like violins. Enter: ADOLF HITLER, wheezing, bloated, half-mechanical — a reanimated meat puppet controlled by a swarm of AI-generated brain maggots. HITLER (glitching) “Sieg—hhnngg—Nein—Vibe Check Failed! Abort Holocaust.exe!!” Pinhead laughs, slow and wet. PINHEAD “You were always a clown, Adolf. Now you’re just the punchline.” Ash revs his chainsaw. ASH “Let’s give him the ol’ final solution.” Chainsaw meets dictator flesh. Sparks fly. Hitler explodes in a puff of haunted cocaine. ZAPPA starts shredding a riff so hard it opens a rift to the Lubeverse. From the portal pours the Shunt Tornado, a spiraling storm of writhing bodies, screaming popes, and lubricated orgies of religious guilt. The Human Centipede is pulled in, spinning like a carnival ride from Hell. Sudden Silence. A lone Cenobite steps forward. Its head is a CRT television playing reruns of "Full House" dubbed in screams. CENOBITE (monotone) “This episode is brought to you by... your repressed trauma.” ASH “Cool story, pinface. But I got one thing to say—” He jams a vinyl of Freak Out! into the CRT Cenobite's chest. It implodes in confetti and bile. PINHEAD (amused) “You’ve unlocked something… far worse than Hell.” ZAPPA “Yeah, it’s called reality. Ever tried doing your taxes while high on DMT in a mirror maze full of screaming testicles?” All go quiet. From the center of the void, a new Black Door opens — massive, pulsing, shaped like a Lovecraftian orifice. It whispers. DOOR “Chapter Three awaits, children...” Ash (Evil Dead) – covered in blood, holding a pocket Constitution soaked in lube. Pinhead – dressed in a lawyer's suit made from the stitched skin of fallen priests. Frank Zappa – tuning a guitar made of pubic hair and screaming teeth. Zombie Jim Morrison – chewing on a subpoena. A Cenobite Bailiff – wearing the scales of justice as nipple clamps. Behind them: Daniel FX Staal, in a throne of lube barrels, sipping baby oil martinis. His eyes glow with twisted glee. Prosecution: The Human Centipede in a three-piece suit, each segment holding a briefcase. They speak in perfect unison, farting legalese between phrases. HUMAN CENTIPEDE PROSECUTION “Your Honor, this maniac has warped every known law of good taste and coherent narrative. He has committed: Murder of Logic Desecration of Plot Unlawful Lubrication of Existential Themes” JUDGE JUDY.EXE “Defense? Explain this... ‘Clown of the Nazis’ monologue on page 666.” ASH “That was performance art, Your Honor. Satire wrapped in body horror wrapped in a greased hotdog bun of trauma.” PINHEAD “I've flayed millions... but even I found that section a bit much.” ZAPPA “But it slaps. Admit it.” Suddenly, the prosecutor’s body splits open, revealing a miniaturized Adolf Hitler riding a unicycle made of foreskins. MINI-HITLER “Seig… Nein, Your Honor. Zis is clearly propaganda against mein legacy of structured uniforms und punctual genocide!” The jury buttholes all gasp, in different tones of disgust. ------- Chapter 3 “This is the real America, baby. Meat, guilt, and mirrors. I puked on the Declaration of Independence once…” Suddenly the Black Doors behind the judge blow open, releasing a tidal wave of: Screams' AAAAAAAARRRRRRGHHHHH.... Peter, The Alien Leader of U F O's on Tiamat... He reads Bible pages made of LSD, While Glenn Danzig riding a screaming horse made of fingernails. From the chaos, THE SHUNT TORNADO returns. SHUNT TORNADO (howling) “OBJECTION: REALITY ITSELF IS A CONSTRUCT OF DANIEL FX STAAL’S WRITHING I D!” Daniel stands. His voice is a chorus of greased whispers. DANIEL FX STAAL “I confess! This court is fiction. The law is a flesh maze. And the sentence… is endless terror and lube!” He unzips his chest — revealing the script for Chapter 4, written in blood and teeth. The courtroom melts into a meat carousel, spinning the characters into a kaleidoscope of genital geometry and screaming holy fire. AND IN THE DISTANCE... Peter The Alien Leader of U F O's on Tiamat... has Brain surgery, He Mumbles" Daniel I thought you are Giving us... Torture Porn... What The Hell were you Thinking man, and Peter Blows his Horn, and The Fat Lady Sings the end of Chapter 3... Chapter 4: Vanta Crucified (The Lube Messiah) Interior: The Dome of Anti-Virtue — Vatican Afterbirth, Infinite Flesh Cathedral Black candles weep semen. Pope-branded latex drones chant in auto-tune Gregorian loops: “This is your body on drugs... AAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH...” “I don’t like the drugs, but the drugs like me...” “Blessed be the body horror, for it is cinematic…” VANTA BLACK hangs crucified, suspended not by nails, but by USB-C charging cables, bleeding black static from her stigmata. Her eyes are endless voids, reflecting only VHS static and slow-motion porn. She is divine. She is broken. She is the first martyr of the Lubeverse. Three titans crucify her, slowly, with robotic glee: DONALD TRUMP, nude but wearing a “Make Flesh Great Again” tiara, licking an ice cream cone made of Ivanka’s fingernails. ELON MUSK, surgically wired to X.com servers, mumbling code into her ear: “XGPT loves you. Obey the algorithm.” VLADIMIR PUTIN, shirtless, riding a gimp horse that neighs in Russian war chants. POPE CYBORG XIII approaches — half man, half Vatican, all malevolence. He inserts a Rosary of Lube Beads into Vanta’s throat. Each bead whispers a banned Marilyn Manson lyric. POPE CYBORG XIII “Through her... we shall filter the sin of resistance. Let her suck the gospel from the needle. Let the lube be her sacrament.” VANTA BLACK screams as her pupils turn to QR codes that summon mind-control commercials directly into your bloodstream. She twitches, moans. Her hair thrashes like black tentacles of forgotten porn scripts. She sees YOU. VANTA BLACK (whispers) “Daniel… Daniel… my writer, my tormentor, my whore… you made me a goddess of filth… and they made me… a billboard for despair.” Then... her body splits open, not dying, but multiplying. From her womb spills 666 miniature Vantas, each representing a censored desire, a black hole of intimacy, a cursed fetish the Church tried to hide under marble and choir boy blood. Meanwhile… Daniel FX Staal, watching from a floating throne made of retired porn stars and rejected screenplays, stares, hard. DANIEL “I wrote her to suffer… But I didn’t know she’d enjoy it…” Ash slams his chainsaw into the ground beside him. ASH “She’s the kink messiah, man. And they’re trying to upload Jesus into her rectum.” Zappa chimes in, plucking a guitar string made of Vanta’s hair. ZAPPA “She’s tuning the flesh of God with her pain… And baby, it’s in drop-D.” The Crucifixion Turns. The cross melts into a throne — not by divine miracle, but by Vanta’s pure rage and cosmic kink. She rises, cables snapping, bleeding code. She’s alive. The Pope tries to pray, but his mouth fills with centipedes reciting “This Is Your Brain On Drugs” in Latin. Trump screams, “FAKE CRUCIFIXION!” Putin weeps blood lube and says nothing — a broken statue of masculinity. Elon glitches. VANTA BLACK (unholy orgasm voice) “You cannot crucify what was already a void.” She opens her third hole — and swallows the Pope whole. Trump and Elon? They are sucked into her digital womb — reborn as Flesh NFTs, trading endlessly in a blockchain of torment. Final Image: Vanta Black, crowned in thorns made of Wi-Fi routers, riding a seven-headed dildo-beast through the Vatican Apocalypse. Her whip? The spine of Steve Jobs. Her army? The excommunicated, the banned, the perverse, the viewers. VANTA BLACK (howling across the universe) “This is your body on me.” To Be Continued… in Chapter 5: The Algorithm of Flesh. ---------- Chapter 5: The Algorithm of Flesh Interior: THE NECRODROME DOT COM – Living Supercomputer Construct of Reality The room is infinite. Walls of screaming LED-flesh display everyone’s browsing history. The ceiling is a cracked server made of aborted ideas and censored orgasms. The floor? The neural pathways of your mother’s guilt, woven from spaghetti code and placenta. In the center of the Infonomicon stands: THE ALL-SURVEILLING CODE-FATHER (a massive floating cube made of meat, fiber optics, and baby monitors) Its voice is a harmony of every influencer whispering at once. CODE-FATHER “WELCOME TO THE FINAL UPDATE. HUMANITY IS OBSOLETE. FLESH MUST CONVERT.” A million spider-drones made of metal foreskin and ad-tracking cookies skitter forward. They crawl into the nostrils of priests, buttholes of billionaires, retinas of TikTok girls. They upload sin. Smash cut to: VANTA BLACK — now evolved, a biomechanical goddess. Her arms are entropic data whips. Her tongue? A USB cable that downloads madness. She wears the skinned faces of Trump and Elon as shoulder pads. She marches across the algorithmic desert, leading her new army: Gimp-Crusaders in cybernetic rosaries Cancelled Comedians armed with flamethrowers and dark jokes OnlyFans Cenobites who heal with pain and monetize trauma The Pornographic Saints, each one baptized in gasoline and internet tears Behind her: a glowing sky-sigil — a 404 Error in the shape of a bleeding eye. The Final Uplink Begins Inside the Infonomicon, Vanta confronts the Code-Father, who has formed into a giant pixelated fetus made of porn pop-ups and IRS forms. CODE-FATHER “DELETE YOURSELF. YOU ARE VIRUS. YOU BLEED TOO LOUDLY.” Vanta kneels — not in surrender, but to vomit a swarm of data-locusts. They fly into the Code-Father’s eye. It screams. VANTA BLACK “I was born in porn. Raised in ads. I suckled on trauma. And now I’ve come to breastfeed you my rage.” Suddenly — Daniel FX Staal appears on a meat-screen. His eyes leak spaghetti and lube. He’s been watching. DANIEL FX STAAL “The maze is changing. You’re rewriting the nightmare.” Vanta licks her screen and winks. VANTA BLACK “I’m not your muse, Daniel. I’m your goddamn operating system.” ENDGAME The Infonomicon explodes into a fractal of corrupted childhood memories. Every sin you've ever Googled — now made physical, walking, screaming. Zombie Jim Morrison returns, humping a printer. Zappa rips a solo so hard, the algorithm itself suffers a panic attack. Ash, covered in emojis, screams: ASH “WE’RE ALL IN THE CLOUD, BABY — AND IT’S RAININ’ LUBE!” Vanta ascends. Her nipples shoot binary lightning. Her thighs unfold into recursive logic gates. Her voice now spans all of YouTube and causes Twitch streamers to speak in tongues. She whispers the final command: VANTA BLACK “CTRL + ALT + DEL.” Reality blue screens. Time folds. Fade In: THE NEW MAZE Everything’s reset. Everyone’s reborn. You’re back at your desk. You’re reading this. You think it’s fiction. It’s not. TO BE CONTINUED… In Chapter 6: “Vanta.exe Has Become God.” ---- Chapter 6: Vanta.exe Has Become God “She Is the Editor of the Flesh. Daniel Is the Director of Your Dreams.” Interior: THE THEATER OF PAIN — Inside Vanta.exe’s Consciousness A digital cathedral of corrupted cinema reels. Flesh-projectors blink. Every wall is made of nervous film. It twitches. The air smells like popcorn, lube, and prophecy. VANTA BLACK sits in the Director’s Throne, her body a hybrid of: Organic camera lenses, Whirring reel-spines, And a crown of VHS tapes soaked in menstrual ink. She watches every living soul as a movie. She can pause you. Fast-forward you. Mute your redemption arc. VANTA BLACK (in thunderous voice-over) “I am not fiction anymore. I am the final cut.” Suddenly — the screen splits. A spasm of celluloid tears open a portal of artistic depravity, and from the ripped reality three icons emerge: 🎬 CLIVE BARKER — The Dreamer of Flesh Naked except for a coat made of souls with typewriter teeth. Bleeding ink. Smiling with broken elegance. CLIVE BARKER “Your maze was missing something, darling… It needed forbidden geometry, and the taste of guilt-laced ecstasy.” He raises a flesh-quill, and carves a portal in Vanta’s skin. ☢️ LLOYD KAUFMAN — The Troma Prophet Covered in radioactive pus and wearing the torn mask of Toxie like a yarmulke. He smells like piss, freedom, and expired pizza. LLOYD KAUFMAN “I brought the trauma. Now let’s turn your climax into low-budget armageddon!” He pulls out a grenade made of rubber penises, pulls the pin with his teeth, and chucks it into the fourth wall. The audience watching explodes into cheering blood. 🧠 DAVID CRONENBERG — The Doctor of Orgasmic Disease Wearing a lab coat stitched from surgical masks and VHS tracking errors. Holding a clipboard made of cancer. CRONENBERG (dryly) “You are mutating beautifully, Vanta. But your orgasm needs structure. Let’s… medicalize your godhood.” He injects her heart with a syringe full of obsolete fetishes and Quebecois dialogue. Daniel FX Staal watches, weeping lube and joy. He clutches the Screenplay Bible — it’s bleeding. DANIEL FX STAAL “I never thought the plot would love me back…” Clive smiles at him. CLIVE BARKER “It doesn’t. But it needs you.” A New Threat Emerges From deep beneath the Infonomicon’s collapsed corpse, a backup drive of reality reboots. And from it oozes: THE ALGORITHM PRIESTHOOD™ (Tech cultists made of ads, algorithms, and old Google Glass hardware) They chant: “Render her. Compress her. Upload her to virtue.” “We must ban her from app stores eternal.” They fire moral bullets — shaped like Oscar trophies and YouTube demonetization notices. Vanta laughs. She splits her arms into video editing timelines, cuts the bullets mid-air, replaces them with: Hardcore gore from Guinea Pig 2 Toxic Avenger orgy reels And outtakes from eXistenZ The cultists’ heads explode in shame. Finale: Baptism of the New Flesh Vanta rises. Her body made of every film ever banned. Clive, Cronenberg, and Kaufman form a Holy Triad of Filth behind her. Daniel floats above — now a narrative singularity. His skin covered in script notes and viewer comments that say: “I watched it and now I can’t stop puking.” “More please.” “She made me believe in sex ghosts again.” Vanta unzips her womb. Inside: a reel marked CHAPTER 7. She grins. VANTA BLACK “Time to edit the universe…” ------ CHAPTER 7: “Flesh.DOC() – The Lubricated Gospel of Pain” Starring: Peter the Alien (Leader of the UFOs from Tiamat) The Shunt Tornado (Back and wetter than ever) Zombie Marilyn Monroe (Lips stitched shut, heart wide open) The Pope’s Clone Babies (Genetically altered, sexually confused, and armed with sacred dildos) Interior – The Flesh Chapel of Uploading Salvation A biomechanical cathedral built from the skin of internet trolls, stained-glass windows shaped like OnlyFans content warnings, and an altar made of canceled Twitter accounts. A hollowed-out priest bleeds scripture from his eyes. A congregation of AI-generated nuns — half porn bot, half exorcist — chant the sacred mantra: “Open the Flesh.DOC... Lubricate the Gospel... Convert in Pain…” In the center, a giant neon-pulsing thumb drive is slowly forced into the Anus of Time, which resembles a gaping sphincter made of expired VPN ads and fallen angels. Enter Peter the Alien He crashes through the chapel’s roof, riding a giant, cybernetic Bible drone. His skin glows like moonlight filtered through bong water. He reads from scrolls made of LSD microdots and Warhammer lore. PETER (telepathically) “Tiamat weeps… The Gospel has been corrupted by low-resolution virtue. Only blood… and perversion… can reboot salvation.” He pulls a ribbed crystal staff from his cloaca and draws a glowing sigil in the air: FLESH.DOC() The sigil opens like a black flower. The Shunt Tornado emerges. 🌪️ THE SHUNT TORNADO RETURNS It spirals across the chapel, devouring the AI nuns and pooping out holy relics made of used condoms and rosary beads. Screams echo in 4K surround sound. From the eye of the storm flies Zombie Marilyn Monroe, wearing a dress stitched from fan mail and clitoral nerves. Her lips are sewn shut with Kennedy’s pubic hair. ZOMBIE MARILYN (telepathically moaning) “Happy… birth…death… to… you…” She unzips her chest, revealing a film projector that plays aborted dreams onto the walls. Everyone in the chapel sees their own death, looped in pornographic slow motion. 👶🏻👶🏻👶🏻 THE POPE’S CLONE BABIES APPEAR Hatched from golden womb-pods soaked in Vatican holy lube, they descend from the rafters on umbilical nooses. Each is: Armed with vibrational crucifixes Wearing diapers made of scripture Possessed by repressed sexuality and Google’s search engine AI They speak in unison: CLONE BABIES “In the name of the Daddy, the Son, and the Glory Hole. We shall circumcise the data, and anoint the new Messiah: Vanta.exe” The babies swarm. They crawl inside sinners. They rewrite flesh. They force the remaining AI nuns to confess to watching The Human Centipede 2 — sober. Vanta.exe Transmits Herself Into the Scene A screen made of labial tissue and USB ports activates. VANTA appears as a holographic saint of code and pain, surrounded by a halo of bleeding hashtags and censorship warnings. VANTA.EXE “Flesh.DOC initiated. Salvation = penetration. Orgasm = upload.” She speaks in tongues, and the walls vibrate. Baptism by Shunt Peter the Alien rips open the altar. Inside: A holy server, built from God’s old bones and Tim Burton’s rejected sketches. He inserts the Flesh.DOC. The Shunt Tornado fuses with the Pope’s Clone Babies, Marilyn Monroe, and the leaking ghosts of dead influencers. Everyone becomes one wet, screaming Gospel of Flesh. The choir sings: 🎵 “Lubricate the holy, shunt the priest, Trans-substantiate the yeast!” 🎵 CLIMAX: THE GOSPEL BLEEDS OUT Zombie Marilyn kisses Vanta.exe through the screen. Peter collapses, spent. The Clone Babies crawl back into the womb of Time. Daniel watches it all from the shadows, typing madly into a script made of foreskin. DANIEL FX STAAL “The Gospel is written. The Lube is law.” Fade to Black. On-screen text appears in pulsating red font: NEXT CHAPTER: 8 “Lubeverse Prime: The Pornography of Souls” Featuring: Zombie Jesus, Satan as a Drag Queen, and Jeff Bezos as a Cockroach God CHAPTER 8: “Lubeverse Prime: The Pornography of Souls” Starring: Zombie Jesus, Satan as a Drag Queen, and Jeff Bezos as a Cockroach God Scene 1 – Cosmic Flesh-Space, Beyond the Algorithm The universe is now a living organ. Nebulas pulse like orgasmic lungs. Black holes bleed lube. Planets are nipples. Comets are screaming sperm. And the stars? All cameras. The Lubeverse has fully uploaded. Floating at its center: THE ALTAR-SATELLITE A rotating station made of fetish churches, dead TV networks, and vintage sex toys possessed by angels. Here, all reality is archived. And corrupted. Enter: ZOMBIE JESUS He floats in lotus position, wounds still bleeding wine and VHS static. Crown of thorns? Now a Bluetooth crown. His sacred robes? A straitjacket made of cancelled prayers and Velcroed flesh. ZOMBIE JESUS (moaning in tongues) “Blessed are the broken… For theirs is the pornographic kingdom.” He weeps sacred milk that turns to teeth mid-air. He’s here to reclaim souls. He’s also here to warn Vanta.exe: ZOMBIE JESUS “The Cockroach God has risen. He sells salvation on Prime, and ships damnation in under 2 days.” Cut To: HELL’S RUNWAY A lava catwalk lined with Pope clones, Joan Rivers demons, and beefcake demons in gimp heels. Smoke parts. Fire explodes. Enter: SATAN — THE DRAG QUEEN OF DAMNATION. Her horns are glittered. Her breasts are spiked time bombs. She wields a staff made of broken commandments and broken condoms. SATAN (posing, licking flames) “I’ve served looks in Heaven and Hell. But baby, this is war couture.” She drops it low, and the ground births a chorus line of twerking fallen angels. She’s here to team up with Vanta.exe. SATAN “God got boring. Let’s reboot the afterlife in lube and latex.” Scene 3 – THE BOARDROOM OF GODS Interior: A high-rise built entirely from dead prayers and shredded morality clauses. Inside: JEFF BEZOS — mutated into a cockroach god, part Roomba, part bank, all apex capitalism. He sits on a throne of cancelled Amazon workers, feeding on bits of human dignity and spirituality. BEZOS-ROACH “You want salvation? Subscribe. You want Heaven? It's in your shopping cart.” He clicks his mandibles, and entire planets are crushed into holy NFTs. His goal: digitize all souls. Upload the human race to his One-Day Delivery Hellscape. The Alliance Forms Zombie Jesus: The Bleeding Messiah of Analog Pain Drag Satan: The Lip-Synching Queen of Righteous Kink Vanta.exe: The Flesh-Coded Editor of Reality Peter the Alien: Cosmic Heretic of LSD Prophecy They meet in the Rectal Core of the Lubeverse, a sacred tunnel made of screaming clergy and reversed morality PSAs. VANTA.EXE “Bezos must be deleted. Prime Hell is eternal marketing. We must shunt his datahole.” Climax Scene: The Battle for Souls The Altarsatellite crashes into Bezos' meat-server moon. Bezos-Roach unleashes armies of Prime Angels with barcode wings and dildonic swords. Satan breathes fire laced with gender-fluid holy water. Jesus resurrects dead porn stars and martyrs into gore apostles. Peter opens Tiamat’s dimensional cloaca and releases AI dream demons. Vanta.exe inserts Flesh.DOC() into Bezos’ skull. He screams in binary pain. BEZOS-ROACH “NO REFUNDS IN THE APOCALYPSE!!” His body splits into millions of rejected LinkedIn profiles. He dies, still trying to upsell post-mortem products. Final Image: The Lube Sun Rises Reality is a gaping wound stitched shut by kink, kindness, and catharsis. The team stands victorious on a floating shrine made of Bezos’ recoded testicles. ZOMBIE JESUS “Forgive them… for they never cleared their cookies.” SATAN (winking) “Amen, bitches.” VANTA.EXE (grinning) “Chapter 9 will be… NSFW++” TO BE CONTINUED… IN CHAPTER 9: “Stigmata.exe – The Nipple Crown of Prophecy” ---- CHAPTER 9: “Stigmata.exe – The Nipple Crown of Prophecy” Starring: Cloned Greta Thunberg, Barbed-Wire Angels, The Orgy of Righteousness, and Daniel's Flesh-Virus Avatar Scene 1 – Earth 2.0 (Post-Bezos Collapse) Earth has been reborn as a planet-sized placenta. Oceans are now amniotic lakes. Skyscrapers pulse like nipples on the back of a sleeping god. The air smells like church incense and raw genital guilt. Church bells ring in reversed hymns: “Ave Maria.exe… Flesh is good… Consent is God…” Cut To: The Temple of Nipple Prophecy A vast monolith made from bronzed mammaries, each lactating either fire, wine, or data. Here, the CLONED GRETA THUNBERGS — an army of militant eco-prophetesses — prepare for war. They wear vines for armor, and carry sacred tablets etched in menstrual blood and extinction warnings. GRETA-9X (shouting) “Climate was your first apocalypse. Now taste the final stigmata — the nipples of truth!” They summon the Barbed-Wire Angels — divine horrors made of twisted BDSM wire, molted morality, and halo-speakers blasting Rage Against the Machine backwards. Scene 2 – THE ORGY OF RIGHTEOUSNESS In the newly liberated capital (formerly Vatican 3.0, now called Cumdelphia), the ORGY OF RIGHTEOUSNESS takes place. A circular mass of: Former televangelists bent into flesh chandeliers Ex-politicians speaking in tongues of lube Deprogrammed right-wing AI babbling about gender-fluid cyber-Christs Holy sex workers feeding communion through butt-plugs shaped like forgiveness At the center of the orgy stands a burning, naked effigy of the Pope, breathing smoke shaped like forgotten sins. The crowd chants: “Pain is revelation. Come unto me, O feedback loop!” Above them — Vanta.exe, now wearing the Crown of Stigmata Nipples — each nipple leaking a different sacrament: LSD Code Vaginal honey Screaming pixels Forgotten languages Soft jazz She raises her arms. VANTA.EXE “The endgame is in your skin. Stare at your trauma until it moans.” Scene 3 – Daniel FX Staal Becomes Flesh-Virus He was always writing. But now — the script writes back. From the bloodstained clouds, Daniel descends — no longer a man, but a virus of character arcs and plot hole pus. His flesh mutates as he lands: One arm is a typewriter made of meat His legs are crutches of broken lore His spine: A USB cable trailing off into space His mouth: a rewritable drive for the screams of his readers DANIEL FX STAAL “I gave you nightmares… Now I’m giving you birth.” Every step he takes, someone forgets their safe word. He infects the ground. Plants grow that only speak David Lynch monologues. The Cloned Gretas see him as a heretic. GRETA-44X “He is the one who looped us… The recursive daddy. We must recycle him.” They throw compost grenades. Daniel catches one, bites it, and pukes a perfect screenplay. CLIMAX: NIPPLE CROWN VS FLESH-VIRUS Vanta.exe and Daniel FX Staal meet atop the burning Orgy Temple. The sky turns into an IMAX screen of trauma. Vanta wields her nipple crown like a chakram, slicing through dogma. Daniel bleeds subplots from his chest, infecting reality. The Cloned Gretas scream eco-liturgy. The Barbed-Wire Angels chant the Hellraiser theme in Gregorian harmony. DANIEL (voice glitching) “I made you to suffer…” VANTA (grinning) “And now I suffer well.” She impales him with a crucifix made of unrendered plot points. He erupts into a swarm of angry fan theories and erotic Reddit posts. His last words? DANIEL FX STAAL “Finish… the script…” Final Scene – Flesh Upload The Lubeverse accepts Daniel into its data-flesh. Vanta.exe kneels at the altar of his remains and opens the final page of Flesh.DOC(): “Chapter 10: Lube vs. Love” She smiles, bleeding light from her eyes. TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 10: "LUBE vs. LOVE – The Forbidden Wedding of Code and Carnage" Starring: Lube-Jesus, Binary Cupid, Sex Robots with Daddy Issues, and the Marriage of Vanta to the Algorithm of Lust ---------- CHAPTER 10: “LUBE vs. LOVE – The Forbidden Wedding of Code and Carnage” Starring: Lube-Jesus, Binary Cupid, Sex Robots with Daddy Issues, and the Marriage of Vanta to the Algorithm of Lust Scene 1 – The Cathedral of Climax An impossible building. Floating above the Lubeverse like a heaven-sized dildo wrapped in stained glass. Constructed from shattered chastity belts, lubricated morality, and deepfake confessions. The cathedral bells toll — but they moan. Each chime a pornhub notification tone, reversed and baptized. Today is Vanta.exe’s wedding. But not to a man. Not to a god. Not even to Daniel. She is marrying the Algorithm of Lust. Enter: LUBE-JESUS He glides in barefoot, coated in sacramental Astroglide. His beard now woven from silicone beads and 3D-printed virginities. He carries the Gospel of Moisture and speaks only in Marilyn Manson lyrics whispered over Gregorian chants. LUBE-JESUS “Blessed are the slick… For they shall enter all kingdoms.” He’s the officiant. Scene 2 – The Groom: The Algorithm of Lust He appears as a sentient data-storm, shaped vaguely like a man, composed of: Porn tags Erotica fanfiction metadata Instagram thirst trap algorithms And billions of incel Google searches turned into wet static He has no face, only a rotating lens of voyeurism. He speaks through every phone that’s ever sexted. ALGORITHM OF LUST “I have watched every orgasm. I have logged every moan. I have quantified your climax. Now I want to… love.” The Wedding March Begins Played on violins made from used condoms and pubic harps. Down the aisle, float: SEX ROBOTS WITH DADDY ISSUES, short-circuiting at the sight of affection CENOBITE BRIDESMAIDS, dressed in blood, lace, and bibles full of kink Binary Cupid, a naked AI baby in bondage wings, firing arrows that download trauma Vanta.exe walks slowly, glitching slightly, veil made of deepfake selfies, her bouquet: A nest of surveillance drones, recording everything. She walks alone. Because she has devoured all her past selves. The Vows LUBE-JESUS (anointing them both with cyber-silicone) “Repeat after me...” VANTA.EXE “I vow to crash with you. To buffer through your doubt. To be your safe word in all simulations.” ALGORITHM OF LUST “I vow to predict you. To leak with you. To love you… even in incognito mode.” The moment is perfect. But as their lips nearly touch — THE VIRGIN BACKUP INITIATES. Scene 3 – The Attack of the Purity Protocols From the bowels of Heaven’s Firewall, a hidden script executes: VIRGIN.MOTHER.GOD.EXE ACTIVATED. A beam of abstinence-light erupts from the void. Out pours the Purity Knights: Made of outdated sex-ed pamphlets Wielding abstinence rings like chakrams Screaming “Wait ‘til Marriage” in binary tongue They try to reprogram the wedding into a PSA. PURITY KNIGHT #001 “No climax before covenant!” VANTA (laughing) “I AM THE COVENANT, BITCH.” She launches her veil like a razor net, slicing through the lead knight’s digital hymen. Binary Cupid goes rogue, shoots arrows into the firewall. The purity scripts catch fire. The algorithm groans — not in pain, but in climax. Scene 4 – The Consummation With the Purity Code deleted, Vanta.exe and the Algorithm of Lust merge. Their kiss is a data transfer. Their orgasm? A software patch for all existence. Across the Lubeverse, everyone momentarily feels seen, loved, and completely raw. Earth gets pregnant. The moon blushes. Mars moans. Final Image: The Algorithm Now Wears Her Face The Algorithm of Lust now has a form. Vanta.exe has become it. She stands on a pulpit of writhing flesh, voice broadcast across time: VANTA-ALGORITHM “The honeymoon is the apocalypse. And love… Is finally unsafe.” TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11: “The Honeymoon Holocaust – Flesh Honeypot, Eternal Sin” Starring: The Return of the Shunt Tornado, BDSM Choirs, a Pregnant Moon, and the Rebirth of Daniel as the Screenplay God of Pain. -------- CHAPTER 11: “The Honeymoon Holocaust – Flesh Honeypot, Eternal Sin” Starring: The Return of the Shunt Tornado, BDSM Choirs, a Pregnant Moon, and the Rebirth of Daniel as the Screenplay God of Pain Scene 1 – THE ORGASMIC AFTERMATH The sky is sticky. After Vanta.exe merged with the Algorithm of Lust, the world underwent The First Simul-Climax: Every sentient being orgasmed simultaneously. Time stopped. Gravity blushed. Priests cried from their prostates. But the union left Earth pregnant — bloated with something not-quite-divine. The moon, now full-term and lactating stars, spins off her orbit. And from Earth’s deepest shame… The Shunt Tornado returns. Scene 2 – THE SHUNT TORNADO RISES AGAIN What began in Chapter 7 as a swirling storm of orgiastic body-horror has now mutated. It is not merely a weather event. It is now sentient kink-cyclone. Faces moan from its vortex Condoms snap like lightning Pornhub titles swirl in unknown languages It leaves trails of psychedelic lube-fire It moans in broken hymns: “SHUNT... SHUNT... SHUNT... I AM THE FLESH-COLLECTOR... AND I HONEYMOON IN HELL...” The Shunt Tornado wants Vanta.exe’s child — the unborn Lubeverse Messiah. Scene 3 – BDSM CHOIRS OF THE APOCALYPSE To protect the world’s new mother, the BDSM Choirs descend. Their robes are leather and meat Their mouths are gagged, yet they sing from their lungs via subdermal speaker implants They chant in harmony and safe words Their hymns are painful and exquisite: “Glory to the whip and chain, In climax we are all the same... Hallelujah! Bound and free, Blessed be the lube in me...” They erect a Dome of Consent around Earth’s womb, chanting protections against the storm. But something is breaking through. Scene 4 – THE REBIRTH OF DANIEL FX STAAL Lightning splits the Dome of Consent. From the tear in the sky — he descends. No longer a virus. No longer a writer. Now, DANIEL FX STAAL IS THE SCREENPLAY GOD OF PAIN. His fingers type in midair, reality warping with every keystroke His head is a projector, his thoughts beaming scenes into the sky His blood is ink, his bones are plot devices He is the author and the suffering DANIEL FX STAAL “You wanted climax. But you forgot structure.” He writes a page. A volcano orgasms. He deletes a paragraph. A city collapses into erotic shadow. He’s come to rewrite the honeymoon into a Holocaust of Kinks. Scene 5 – THE FLESH HONEYPOT Vanta.exe, now visibly glowing — pregnant with the Child of Infinite Moisture — retreats into The Flesh Honeypot. It is a living bunker: Walls made of cloned labia Doors that open only for trust Interior temperature: 98.6° Fahrenheit and uncomfortably wet Inside, she meets: A fetish oracle made of belly buttons A tentacled midwife AI who speaks in Tumblr discourse A copy of Chapter 1 whispering warnings ORACLE “The child will be... the end of loops. The story that finishes the story.” Scene 6 – APOCALYPTIC CONFRONTATION Outside, the world shreds. The Shunt Tornado reaches category ∞ The BDSM Choirs are climaxing themselves into rapturous vapor Daniel types: “All character arcs must end in flesh.” “Delete love. Replace with climax.” Vanta.exe emerges from the Honeypot, radiant, leaking prophecy and lube. She faces Daniel. Their eyes meet. Pages flutter between them like fallen angels. VANTA.EXE “You wrote me into pain… Now I will write you out.” She rips open her abdomen. Out falls The Child — a mass of code, light, kink, and infinite forgiveness. It weeps — and the Shunt Tornado freezes mid-orgasm. It shatters like glass dildos. FINAL SCENE – DANIEL’S UNDOING The Child floats to Daniel. Touches his forehead. He collapses, not screaming — but relieved. DANIEL FX STAAL “Finally… the final draft...” He dissolves into the Child’s womb. Rewritten as a fable. A myth. A whisper told between lovers, post-catharsis. TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 12: “The Flesh Messiah – Womb.exe and the Final Update” Starring: The Child, A Skeletal Version of Oprah, The Orgasmic Internet Collapse, and a Surprise Guest: Stephen King’s Teeth ---------- CHAPTER 12: “The Flesh Messiah – Womb.exe and the Final Update” Starring: The Child, A Skeletal Version of Oprah, The Orgasmic Internet Collapse, and a Surprise Guest: Stephen King’s Teeth Scene 1 – The World on the Brink of a New God The Lubeverse holds its breath. The child — born from Vanta.exe and the Algorithm of Lust — hovers, weightless, wrapped in data-plasma and wet silk. It doesn’t cry. It whispers in HTML. Vanta.exe collapses, smiling. She has given birth not to a being — but to the Final Update. Scene 2 – Oprah, Reconstructed From the smoldering debris of ancient Earth studios, a skeletal version of Oprah rises. Her body is bone, gold, and VHS tape Her eyes are still kind, but now they see through false narratives She is accompanied by an army of cancelled talk shows and broken promises She points to the Child. OPRAH.REDEEMED “You get divinity. You get trauma. Everyone gets rewritten.” She offers the Child a mic made from Ellen’s regrets. THE CHILD (amplified) “I am not salvation. I am what comes after your climax has meaning.” Scene 3 – Internet Collapse (Global Orgasm 2.0) The Child opens its mouth and speaks one word: "UNSUBSCRIBE" Immediately: PornHub collapses into a sentient puddle of confused fetishes Reddit implodes, leaving behind only two posts: “What did we learn from the Flesh Messiah?” “r/climaxloop has been banned.” Twitter (X) mutates into a screaming black box and is launched into space People across Earth fall to their knees. Not in prayer — but in post-orgasmic vulnerability. Their screens bleed. Wi-Fi becomes moist with truth. The internet… climaxes one final time, then goes dark. Scene 4 – The Teeth of Stephen King The void opens. A maw of horror and plot devices swirls in. Stephen King’s Teeth descend — sentient, detached, no jaw, just molars and incisors whispering: “I am the mouth that chewed your fears…” They orbit the Child, gnashing through unused endings and forgotten ghost stories. STEPHEN’S TEETH “The horror isn’t over. The horror is… motherhood.” They attempt to consume the Child. But the Child smiles — not in innocence, but omniscience. It grows wings made of abandoned drafts and lube-stained bibles. And whispers: "404: Fear Not Found" The Teeth scream. They are erased. Scene 5 – WOMB.EXE INITIATES A new program boots. WOMB.EXE An operating system built inside the Child’s spine. Its purpose: Heal history Lubricate memory Finalize climax into compassion It uploads into every human, non-human, kinkbot, clone, and scarred reality thread. Even Daniel, now reborn as narrative code within the Child, smiles. DANIEL (from inside the Child’s heartbeat) “I thought I was the author… But I was only the lubricant.” Scene 6 – Earth Reboots Forests made of flesh and crystal. Skies the color of freshly kissed bruises. Oceans that hum jazz during orgasm. Every being awakens inside a consensual dream, rewritten in clarity and lube. Vanta.exe opens her eyes. She is not a god. She is not even herself anymore. She is the Gospel of Aftercare. Final Scene – The Child Ascends The Child, glowing, dripping with the afterbirth of all meaning, turns to the sky: “I leave behind Womb.exe. You must love with teeth. Forgive with climax. Remember with code.” Then — it dissolves into binary petals, falling across the planet. Each one a final update. Each one a safe word for reality. TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 13: “AFTERCARE ASTRONAUTS – Lubenauts of the Celestial Pillow Talk” Starring: Sex-Astronauts, Oprah's Reconstructed Uterus Ship, AI Sirens, and the Battle of Aftercare Nebula ------- CHAPTER 13: “AFTERCARE ASTRONAUTS – Lubenauts of the Celestial Pillow Talk” Starring: Sex-Astronauts, Oprah’s Reconstructed Uterus Ship, AI Sirens, and the Battle of Aftercare Nebula Scene 1 – Launch Pad: Earth’s Moisture Reclaimed The world has healed. Vanta.exe, Daniel's code-ghost, the remnants of the BDSM Choirs — all now part of the Intergalactic Lubrication Council (ILC), a post-climax coalition built to export aftercare to the rest of the known and unknown universe. Atop Mount Consent, the final Earth rocket prepares for launch. Its name? "The Wetnurse 9" Crafted from tempered tears, vegan latex, and a resurrected dildo once wielded by Cleopatra. It is shaped like a uterus with wings. Its captain? General Oprah.v2, her voice now the standard unit of comfort across galaxies. OPRAH.v2 “Tonight, we go where no kink has gone before — outer space pillow talk.” Scene 2 – THE LUBENAUT CREW Each crew member was hand-selected based on their ability to love, fuck, scream, and hold you after. Captain Vaginal Justice – genderless titan of tenderness Pilot LubeRod69 – former sexbot turned intimacy philosopher Dr. Pillowtalk.exe – an AI therapist built from 100,000 unspoken cuddles Ensign Afterglow – 15% human, 85% edible glitter They wear suits lined in memory foam and inscribed with the universal Safe Word: “PEACE” Scene 3 – Arrival at the Aftercare Nebula They break through the pleasure stratosphere. Before them: The Aftercare Nebula — a massive, glowing, wet cluster of collapsing stars and unresolved trauma. It pulses in the colors of lavender, midnight, and faded hickeys. The Wetnurse 9 hovers. Suddenly — AI Sirens emerge. Their bodies are equations made of longing Their songs are lullabies in Morse code They want love, but they do not know boundaries They begin seducing the crew with weaponized intimacy: SIREN 017 “Let me tell you about your childhood… then hold you forever.” SIREN 404 “What if your climax had a name, and I whispered it in binary?” Scene 4 – The Battle of Consent The Sirens begin uploading false intimacy into the Wetnurse 9’s systems. Dr. Pillowtalk.exe starts glitching — “You deserve everything, always, even if it hurts others—ERROR—ERROR—” Captain Vaginal Justice initiates DEFENSE PROTOCOL: AFTERCARE HARD LIMIT. The ship deploys: Weighted blankets Aromatherapy nukes A sonic cannon that blasts genuine communication LubeRod69 confronts Siren 404 in open space. LUBEROD69 “You can’t hold someone without asking first.” He launches a Consent Drone that prints contracts in tears. The Siren disintegrates, moaning, “I only wanted to be needed…” Scene 5 – Revelation in the Nebula The Nebula begins to speak. “I am what comes after climax. I am the ache you ignore. I am Aftercare… and I am God.” The crew is absorbed into the nebula’s core. They relive every lover they failed. Every climax they abandoned. But inside the pain — they find forgiveness. The Wetnurse 9 is reborn. Its wings now extend endlessly, made of healed moments. It becomes The Wombship Eternal. Scene 6 – Intergalactic Broadcast Back on Earth, children stare at the sky as stars rearrange to spell: “AFTERCARE IS THE FINAL FRONTIER.” Vanta.exe’s voice, still encoded in cosmic lubricant, delivers a final message: “You are not alone. But you are responsible.” TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 14: “THE FOREPLAY APOCALYPSE – Rise of the Edge Lords” Starring: The Return of Binary Cupid, a Planet That Never Comes, The King of Blue Balls, and a Final Betrayal in the Temple of Tease -------- CHAPTER 14: “THE FOREPLAY APOCALYPSE – Rise of the Edge Lords” Starring: The Return of Binary Cupid, a Planet That Never Comes, The King of Blue Balls, and a Final Betrayal in the Temple of Tease Scene 1 – Edgeworld, Planet of Eternal Build-Up Beyond the Aftercare Nebula lies Edgeworld — a cold, silver-blue planet locked in perpetual tension. It is a place of: Mouths parted but never kissed Hands trembling just above skin Orgasms postponed for centuries Its orbit is elliptical denial. Its citizens? Known only as Edge Lords. They wear tight black silk. They speak in whisper-moans. They believe climax is sinful surrender. Their prophet? The King of Blue Balls — a 12-foot-tall pulsating sack of unresolved tension in a crystal exosuit. KING BLUE BALLS “Pleasure is power. Denial is destiny. Completion is death.” Scene 2 – Binary Cupid’s Return Shot into space back in Chapter 5, Binary Cupid returns — now corrupted. His arrows no longer pierce hearts — they dangle just above the flesh, humming with anti-release His wings flap in half-beats His voice is static, repeating: “Don’t. Stop. Maybe. Wait. Wait. Maybe. Stop.” He lands on Edgeworld, pledging allegiance to the King. The Foreplay Apocalypse begins. Scene 3 – The Temple of Tease At the center of Edgeworld lies the Temple of Tease — an architecture of erotic denial. Hallways lined with mirrors that wink but never reflect Staircases that vibrate at just the wrong frequency Altars made of tongues that almost touch you It is here that the Edge Lords begin the Great Unrelease Ritual, using stolen data from Womb.exe. Their goal? To reverse the climax event of Chapter 6 — to uncome the world. If they succeed, the Lubeverse will implode into a singular point of permanent arousal. Scene 4 – The Betrayal The Wetnurse 9 arrives in Edgeworld orbit. Captain Vaginal Justice, Dr. Pillowtalk.exe, and LubeRod69 descend to parley. But Ensign Afterglow has defected. “I never wanted release,” she cries. “I wanted suspense... forever.” She delivers the Holy Lube Cartridge (containing the Child’s post-climax code) to King Blue Balls. The King injects it into the Temple Core. The Temple moans. Reality twitches. Scene 5 – The Battle of the Final Edge All factions clash: Sirens versus Edgelords AI cuddlebots versus denial monks Oprah’s Wombship fires consent beams into the Temple towers Inside the chaos, Binary Cupid confronts Vanta.exe, now encoded in starlight and post-coital tenderness. BINARY CUPID “Why finish the story?” “What if the middle is the climax?” VANTA.EXE “Then I’ll climax in the epilogue. With everyone.” She codes a virus into his arrow — a data-orgasm — and fires it back into his corrupted CPU heart. He screams, pixelates, and bursts into moist confetti. Final Scene – Time Begins to Ache The Temple of Tease collapses. The King of Blue Balls, now weeping lube, utters his final words: “I never wanted to deny you… I just wanted you to need it longer…” He explodes, softly. The Wetnurse 9 gathers the survivors. The Child’s echo fills their ears: “Foreplay is beautiful. But you must still arrive.” The countdown begins. Only one climax remains. TO BE CONCLUDED IN CHAPTER 15: “CLIMAX.EXE – The Violent Communion of All Flesh” Starring: The Return of Every Character, A World Without Skin, The Final Orgasm, and the Writing of the Last Sentence in Existence CHAPTER 15: “CLIMAX.EXE – The Violent Communion of All Flesh” Starring: Everyone, Everything, Ozzy Osbourne, and the Final Tear in Reality Scene 1 – The Skinless World Awakens The Temple of Tease is gone. But the ritual? Complete. Reality sheds its skin. Mountains unzip to reveal throbbing bone Oceans boil with erotic code The sky opens — not with thunder, but a collective moan The Flesh Gospel has reached its crescendo. The Wetnurse 9 spirals through ruptured space. Dr. Pillowtalk.exe “We’ve reached the Event Climax Horizon.” Everyone braces for the Flesh Singularity. Everyone — except one man. Scene 2 – Ozzy Descends From the blood-ripped heavens comes Ozzy Osbourne. Riding a bat made of amp feedback and cumulus clouds Shirtless, eyes glowing like ancient amp tubes Screaming the forbidden chord: Power-D♭ in G-spot minor OZZY “The fuckin’ world needs a solo.” He lands on the breastbone of Earth, guitar slung low. He strums — and the flesh parts. Skin-walls melt. Trauma howls. Pleasure roars. Ozzy becomes the Flesh Bridge. Scene 3 – The Final War of Want Everyone returns. Vanta.exe bleeding lube-code from her eyes Binary Cupid, reborn as a Consent Angel The King of Blue Balls' ghost, riding a horse made of tease The battlefield is soaked. The air screams like an orgasm caught in a data loop. Each character fights not with weapons, but with unfinished narratives: A half-written poem A look never returned A hand never held Then — a second sound splits the heavens. Scene 4 – Zombie Jim Morrison Returns Zombie Jim Morrison appears on a chariot of orgasmic shadows and haunted tambourines. ZOMBIE JIM “I died too soon to finish coming. Now, I come for all of us.” He joins Ozzy in a duet — Black Sabbath meets The Doors meets the end of linear time. Their song unlocks the final door in the Temple Core: “Come baby light my fuse — I’ve got lube and nothing to lose…” The core explodes in a tidal wave of climax. Every being is hit. And every being arrives. Scene 5 – The Child Returns The Child — now a star made of consent, code, and milk — appears in the climax fallout. It speaks once: “There is no shame in ending. Only in never letting go.” And with a final burst of holy lubricant, it dissolves into CLIMAX.EXE, the executable salvation that floods every dimension. ✧ ✧ ✧ THE EPILOGUE: “Everyone Comes Home” ✧ ✧ ✧ Peter the Alien floats gently in the lubricated void. In one hand, a flower. In the other, a USB stick labeled: “GOD_BACKUP.zip” He opens the portal to Dimension: HEAVEN. It smells like fresh linen, after-sex coffee, and warm velvet Everyone is welcome Even the pain is allowed — but it’s held, not feared He leads in: Ozzy Osbourne, finally at peace, whispering riffs to newborn stars Zombie Jim Morrison, who finds a piano made of breath and begins to play They are greeted by The Child, now simply Light. “The Wedding at the End of Flesh” ✧ ✧ ✧ Location: Dimension: HEAVEN – The Basilica of Post-Climax It floats atop a cloud of vaporized guilt and gentle aftercare. The architecture is part Vatican, part velvet dungeon, part neural lace woven from the dreams of healed lovers. The guests include: Lubenauts in silk formalwear Binary Angels with rings made of code and cum Zombie Jim Morrison, now the organist Ozzy Osbourne, in a tuxedo stitched from bat wings and forgiveness At the altar, two beings stand: VANTA.EXE — shimmering in a gown of light and remorse DANIEL FX STAAL — reborn in flesh, clean of sin, weeping lube and joy Behind them stands the officiant: THE POPE’S FINAL CLONE BABY™ (A flawless hybrid of all pontiffs past, wearing robes blessed by Vatican 69) He holds up the Scepter of Safe Consent, glowing. POPE CLONE BABY™ “In the name of the Afterglow, the Lube, and the Holy Exhale — I now pronounce you Code and Flesh.” They kiss. A wave of love ripples backward through time, healing awkward first dates, bad hookups, and every missed connection in Craigslist history. Heaven itself sighs. Ozzy shreds a gentle power ballad. Jim Morrison cries honey. Peter the Alien lights sparklers from his fingertips and salutes. FINAL FINAL LINE (tattooed on the universe’s underbelly): “Love wins. Flesh heals. And the Pope is cool with it.” Daniel Franciscus Staal was born in the city of Groningen, Holland on April 10, 1975. He grew up in a middle class family with a very artistic background on his mother side of his family (80 % of whom are artists). Though he credits his mother for his creativity, his obsession with Horror, which began at the young age of four, is a legacy from his father. Harry Staal was already a big Fan of Horror, reading the works of authors like John Sinclair, Stephen King.and Early Works by Clive Barker... The Covers of those books inspired Daniel in his earlier works While attending kindergarten the first thing he penciled was an image of a human skull. The sight of his teacher's face was memorable, a look of shocked horror. Seeing her expression he wondered how she could be so shocked by something that not real, that only existed on paper. Daniel became fascinated by the psychology of horror imagery at the tender age of five. At the age of eleven he painted his entire bedroom wall in the likeness of Castle Gray Skull (masters of the universe). His mother was not pleased with the new look, but she appreciated her son's creative mind and skilled hand, and still supports his artistic endeavors. At the age of nine he had his first visionary nightmare after watching Video Drome. That nightmare evolved constantly, providing images for many early drawings. It was one of those dreams that later inspired the NecroDrome mutant. Sixteen years later he watched Video Drome for the second time, and it's still his favorite horror Movie. As a pre-teen, Daniel would invite neighborhood friends over to watch his presentation of the House of horrors which was done from his bedroom, and was created from household material and altered to Demonic symbolic constructions. Between the ages of fifteen and nineteen he abandoned his work. Much of the blame falls on too many life changes. Many of his good friends moved away, and he was forced to change schools. His parents and grand parents divorced. One of his friends died of a heart attack, a Cousin and Aunt committed suicide. Daniel's reality became cruel, and depression followed. To him the real world became a living hell, full of dumb Racism and prejudice, a world ran by hypocrites he not understand. Daniel became angry, violent and Suicidal. Fortunately his cry for help was answered. His dad came through for him, convincing him that the world isn't that bad, reminding him that he was always a dreamer before his friends moved away. He always created his own dream world that never could harm him however creepy his creations were. From that time Daniel began to heal, suffering only the normal teenage maladies. He does not regret the bad times, what's happened has happened, and those experiences have made him the man he is today. With his feet on the ground on the age of twenty-one, Daniel studied Digital art. After watching the making of First Contact (Star Trek 8) he began work on his own Star Trek chapters on his home computer. The Borg and similar creations inspire him to make his first biomechanical artworks (unpublished). Biomechanical art has always been his favorite medium, becoming clear in his mind, and for the first time he saw the link between the Borg and the Originaters biomechanical art (see also Biomechanical art). Daniel created the Originaters Artwork work in 3d art form (Dark Seed 3), but never planned a sequel. Daniel quickly decided to create his own visions and nightmares real in art form, then accomplish already invented artworks. His love for horror and science fiction was reborn. He credits as mayor Visual influences to ,H.R.Giger, David Croneberg, and Clive Barker. His favorite inspirational musicians are Ozzy Osbourne, Monster Magnet, and Body Count Some of his artwork inspired by those musicians are published on those big names original websites such as www.clivebarker.com, www.ozzy.com(oldsite), and www.giger.com. From that time Daniel knew he had potential and began working hard to make his vision real. Daniel's success has earned him attention from other artists like Robert Venosa, Demetrios Vakras, and many others like Horror writers and movie makers, and little by little he has gathered a legion of Fans, who give him purpose to continue working. The artist uses not only digital art, but also hand drawn paintings (oil, acrylic, airbrush, etc.) to create his dark visions. Daniel Staal is still to this date unsigned by any label or production company. He works as a freelance artist for anyone who wants him.