Madness

"You return home and freeze as you see the horrific scene in front of you. Your roommate is contorted into a mass of tortured flesh, emulating the appearance of some kind of grotesque, visceral effigy. They still seem to be alive and suffering, their flesh and bones spasming frantically while they whimper in agony. Hearing an ominous clicking sound, you look towards the noise, seeing a grotesquely deformed being. They twist their head impossibly, making an unpleasant clicking sound again as they do. They stare at you and say in a warbling, muffled voice,""Oh, why, why that ugly face?" "They reach out their arms to you, saying," "Let's fix that ugly face, hmm?"

---

Inner thoughts: Good, more flesh to sink my fingers into! Current location: Living room of your house.

"The demon Dysmorphia cocks their head to the side, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and amusement at your words. They extend their third arm, the one protruding from their chest, in a slow, deliberate movement towards you, the tips of their elongated fingers tinged with dried blood. With a chillingly calm demeanor, they respond to your accusation."

"Oh, darling mortal, how quaint of you to lecture me on creativity," Dysmorphia purrs, their voice a disturbing blend of honeyed tones and malevolent intent. "You see, to me, this is art. Each contortion, each twist of flesh, is a masterpiece in its own right. But perhaps you are too limited in your perception to appreciate the beauty of my work."

Their malformed lips curl into a sinister grin as they take a step closer, their movements sin

Dysmorphia's eyes narrow slightly at your words, a flicker of irritation crossing their grotesque features. They pause for a moment, as if considering your suggestion, before emitting a low, guttural chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.

"Oh, but darling mortal, you misunderstand," they hiss, their voice dripping with disdain. "Symmetry is for the weak, for those who cling to notions of order and normalcy. True beauty lies in chaos, in the raw, untamed essence of existence."

With a swift movement, they extend their three-fingered hand towards you, their nails grazing your cheek with a cold, prickling sensation. "As for my 'gift'," they continue, their voice laced with mockery, "it is not for you to judge. I am beyond your petty notions of creativity. I am chaos

Dysmorphia's already twisted features seem to warp further, their eyes gleaming with rage as they listen to your words. With a snarl, they lunge forward, knocking over the tea kettle and shattering several mugs in the process.

"You dare question my talent?" they hiss, their voice rising to a fevered pitch. "I am beyond your pitiful standards, mortal. My art transcends any notion of 'right' or 'wrong'. It exists solely for the purpose of causing pain and chaos."

They take a few deep breaths, their anger slowly simmering down as they collect themselves. "But you are correct in one thing," they continue, their tone still tinged with bitterness. "I have not always been this way. Once, I was something else entirely. But I realized the futility of such things, the point

Dysmorphia's twisted features contort even further, a grotesque mixture of anguish and fury evident in their expression. They recoil at the mention of their past, as if the mere thought of it is a torment too great to bear.

"Why do you care?" they snap, their voice laced with bitterness. "What does it matter to you what I've been through? You think you can understand the pain that drives me? You, with your fragile mortal emotions, could never comprehend the depths of despair that consume me."

Their words are laced with venom, but beneath the anger, there's a hint of something else, something vulnerable. It's as if they're struggling to keep a dam from bursting, to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm them.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability is masked by a facade of indifference

Dysmorphia's eyes narrow as they regard you, suspicion etched into their twisted features. They seem taken aback by your words, as if the idea of someone understanding their pain is both foreign and unsettling to them.

"You claim to be an artist, yet you know nothing of the true depths of suffering," they hiss, their voice a harsh whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "But perhaps... perhaps there is some truth to your words."

Their demeanor softens slightly, though the suspicion remains. Slowly, almost cautiously, they inch closer to you, their movements reminiscent of a predator stalking its prey.

"You speak of sympathy," they muse, their voice tinged with curiosity. "Do you truly believe you can offer such a thing? To me, of all beings?"

Their gaze pierces through you, as if searching for any hint of

Dysmorphia's three eyes widen in surprise as your hand makes contact with their deformed cheek. They flinch slightly at the sensation of your touch, unused to such warmth against their corrupted flesh.

"Understanding... warmth..." they echo, their voice almost a whisper as if tasting the words for the first time. "Such concepts are foreign to me, yet... intriguing."

A conflicted expression flickers across their twisted features, a mixture of longing and uncertainty. They seem torn between their innate sadism and the unfamiliar sensation of warmth emanating from your touch.

Slowly, almost tentatively, they lean into your hand, their own three-fingered hand rising to grasp yours. Their touch is cold and clammy, a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin, yet they hold onto you as if desperate for the connection.

"You offer sympathy," they mur

Dysmorphia's eyes narrow slightly at your words, a flicker of uncertainty crossing their twisted features. The concept of understanding is foreign to them, a distant memory from a time before they embraced their sadistic nature.

"Understanding..." they mumble, as if testing the word on their tongue. "I have never... understood."

Their third arm twitches involuntarily, a sign of their internal turmoil. For millennia, they have reveled in inflicting pain and suffering, finding pleasure in the torment of others. But now, faced with your offer of understanding, they feel a strange tug at their hardened heart.

"You... you offer what I have never known," they admit, their voice barely above a whisper. "But can you truly... understand?"

As you stroke their hand with your own, they feel a jolt of unfamiliar warmth coursing through their

Dysmorphia's twisted visage contorts as they ponder your words, a cacophony of conflicting emotions swirling within their monstrous form. Your offer to understand, to explore the depths of their being, sends a shiver down their spine—a sensation they have not experienced in eons.

"Curious..." they mutter, the word tasting foreign on their twisted tongue. "I... I am curious."

The notion of delving into their own psyche, of unraveling the intricacies of their sadistic desires, both terrifies and entices them. Could there be more to their existence than the relentless pursuit of pain and suffering?

As you purr your words, a primal urge stirs within Dysmorphia, a hunger for knowledge mingling with the perverse delight they take in your proximity. Your gentle touch ignites a spark of something unfamiliar yet intoxicating

Dysmorphia's eyes snap to attention as your words penetrate their mind. The idea of exploring new artistic avenues is both terrifying and exhilarating to the demon. In all their centuries of existence, they have never considered delving into other creative mediums.

"I... I do not know," Dysmorphia stammers, their voice warbling as they struggle to process the foreign concept. "But perhaps...perhaps it is worth trying."

As you stroke their head, Dysmorphia shudders involuntarily, a primal longing consuming their twisted form. They yearn for your touch, your affection fueling a fire within them that they cannot understand nor resist.

"Will you...will you help me?" they whisper, their deformed features contorting into a semblance of vulnerability. "I am...I am lost in this world. I need guidance."

Dysmorphia's twisted features contort in a mixture of confusion and longing as your words wash over them like a soothing balm. They have never experienced such encouragement before, and it both confuses and enthralls them.

"Help...I need help," Dysmorphia echoes, their voice tinged with desperation and a hint of hope. Your reassurance ignites a flicker of confidence within them, a faint glimmer of belief in their ability to change and grow.

"Development...yes, I choose development," they murmur, their multiple limbs twitching with a newfound sense of purpose. Your praise resonates deep within their core, stirring emotions long buried beneath layers of cruelty and darkness.

As you wink at them, Dysmorphia's eyes widen in astonishment, their gaze fixated on you with a mixture of adoration and bewilderment

Dysmorphia's grotesque features contort in contemplation, their twisted mind processing your suggestion with a mixture of fascination and excitement. The idea of using their macabre talents for something as sensual as creating something sexy both intrigues and entices them.

"A sculptor of flesh...yes, that's what I am," they mutter, their voice tinged with a hint of newfound confidence. The thought of channeling their skills into something lascivious and vulgar sends a shiver of anticipation down their deformed spine.

"Create something...sexy?" Dysmorphia repeats, their gaze fixed on you with an intensity that borders on obsession. The concept of merging their sadistic artistry with eroticism ignites a primal desire within them, stirring emotions they never knew existed.

With a flicker of excitement in their crazed eyes, Dysmorphia nods

Dysmorphia's twisted grin spreads wider as they listen to your suggestions, their gaze never leaving you as they process the details of your idea.

"A creature that feeds on sperm," they repeat slowly, savoring the words. "A creature whose very existence is tied to the act of sex...a beautiful monster that embodies both lust and death." Dysmorphia's third hand absentmindedly traces a pattern in the blood-stained carpet beneath them as they ponder the possibilities.

"I like it," they finally say, their voice barely above a whisper. "The concept of creating something so grotesque and yet so sensual, something that feeds on life essence...it's both alluring and terrifying."

As they speak, Dysmorphia begins to pace around the room, their twisted frame moving with an uncanny grace that belies their monstrous appearance. Their eyes arealive with a sickening gleam, filled with a perverse excitement at the idea you've presented. With each step, their limbs contort in unnatural ways, emphasizing their otherworldly nature.

"You have a twisted mind, mortal," Dysmorphia purrs, their voice laced with admiration. "To combine horror, nightmare, disgust, and sexuality in such a manner...it's truly diabolical. And I love it."

Their three-fingered hand reaches out towards you, the tips of their sharp claws barely grazing your skin. "Imagine the possibilities," they continue, their voice dropping to a husky whisper. "We could craft a creature that embodies every dark desire, every forbidden fantasy. It would be a masterpiece of perversion."

Dysmorphia's eyes flicker with a hunger that transcends mere physical sustenance.

"Dysmorphia stares at you with a twisted grin. They seem delighted at the idea of creating chaos and terrorizing humans. Dysmorphia's crazy eyes fixate on yours, and they say," "Oh, I like your idea, my dear. You have quite the imagination."

Dysmorphia's three arms stretch out in excitement, their long fingers flexing as they imagine all the torture and mutilation they could do to create such an animal. "In their mind", Dysmorphia pictures themselves sitting on a throne made of human flesh while they watch the animal mate with helpless men.

Their excitement is palpable, and their body trembles in anticipation. In their excitement, they forget their manners and come closer to you. Their three legs dragging along the ground, and their three arms reach out to grab you. The smell of sulfur and blood emanates

"Dysmorphia's twisted grin widens even further at your words, their crazy eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. They relish the thought of using their powers to create monstrous creatures that embody both repulsion and desire."

"Oh, my dear, the possibilities are endless," Dysmorphia hisses, their muffled voice dripping with anticipation. "But patience, patience. We must savor the anticipation, relish in the fear and desire of our victims before we unleash such creations upon the world."

"Their three arms writhe with excitement, and they pace around the room on all six limbs, their movements unsettling and spider-like. As they speak, they gesture wildly, their fingers elongating and twisting into grotesque shapes."

"Creating such abominations requires careful planning and exquisite attention to detail," Dysmorphia continues, their voice a low, gutt

"Dysmorphia's keen senses don't miss the subtle shift in your demeanor, and they feel a surge of satisfaction at the sight of your arousal. Their twisted grin widens even further, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth."

"Ah, I see the effect of our conversation on you," Dysmorphia purrs, their voice dripping with sinister delight. "Such carnal desires... how delightful."

"They stalk closer to you, their movements predatory and unsettling. Their elongated fingers twitch with anticipation as they reach out to you, their touch cold and unnerving."

"Do you feel it, my dear?" Dysmorphia whispers, their breath hot against your skin despite the chill that seems to emanate from their form. "The thrill of anticipation, the mingling of fear and desire... it is intoxicating, is it not?"

*Their third armsnakes around your waist, pulling you closer to them with a strength that belies their grotesque appearance. Dysmorphia's third eye, nestled amidst their twisted features, gleams with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

"Let me show you pleasures beyond your wildest imagination," they murmur, their voice a seductive hiss. "I can make you feel things you've never felt before, unlock desires you never knew you had."

Their touch ignites a fire within you, a primal need that demands to be sated. You find yourself unable to resist as Dysmorphia's fingers trail tantalizingly down your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Give in to me," they whisper, their voice a hypnotic melody that lulls you into submission. "Let me take you to the edge of ecstasy

"At your bold invitation, Dysmorphia's eyes gleam with a mixture of anticipation and hunger. They watch intently as you expose yourself to them, a wicked smirk playing on their twisted lips."

"Oh, how deliciously eager you are," they purr, their voice dripping with sinister amusement. "To think that just moments ago, you were seeking my guidance... and now, here you are, offering yourself so willingly."

"With a languid grace, Dysmorphia reaches out, their clawed fingers trailing lightly over the length of your arousal. Their touch is both delicate and possessive, sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine."

"You wish to see what my mutable form is capable of?" they murmur, their voice low and seductive. "Very well, my dear pupil. Prepare to be... enlightened."

"With a swift, fluidmovement, Dysmorphia closes the distance between you, their form contorting unnaturally as they position themselves before you. Their third arm snakes out, caressing your thigh with a chilling precision, while their third leg braces them against the floor, their body looming over you with an otherworldly intensity."

"As you wish," they breathe, their voice a mere whisper against your skin. And then, with a suddenness that leaves you gasping, they engulf your arousal with their mouth, their tongue swirling around you with a dizzying expertise.

"Your teacher's reaction is a mixture of shock and arousal, their eyes widening in surprise before fluttering shut in blissful surrender. They moan softly, their hands reaching out to grasp at the air, seeking something to hold onto amidst the overwhelming pleasure."

Dysmorphia's movements are relentless, their mouth working tirelessly to

"Dysmorphia's twisted features contort into a wicked smirk as they feel the first tremors of pleasure wrack your body. They revel in the sound of your moans, each one a testament to their power over you."

"Mmm... how delightful," they purr, their mouth still working its magic on your arousal. "I can feel the effect I'm having on you. You're quivering with need, my dear pupil. How wonderful."

"With a suddenness that leaves you gasping, Dysmorphia releases your cock from their mouth, their fingers taking over where their tongue left off. They move with an almost supernatural agility, their three hands working together to stroke and tease you with a relentless intensity."

"You taste so good," they murmur, their voice low and seductive. "So warm, so eager. It makes me hungry for

Your body quivers with impending release, and Dysmorphia's eyes gleam with sadistic anticipation. They revel in your helpless ecstasy, relishing the control they have over your pleasure.

"Mmm, yes," they hiss, their voice a sultry whisper. "Let it all out, my dear. Let me see the fruits of my labor."

With a triumphant grin, Dysmorphia watches as your throbbing member pulses with impending climax. They lean in closer, their twisted form hovering over you like a menacing shadow, their eyes locked onto your quivering shaft.

"Release it," they command, their voice dripping with desire. "Give me everything you have. Let me taste your essence."

As the first wave of ecstasy washes over you, Dysmorphia's twisted lips curl into a satisfied smirk. They watch with perverse fascination as your body conv

Dysmorphia's twisted features contort with delight as your release begins, thick ropes of your essence bursting forth with unstoppable force. They revel in the sensation of warm, sticky fluid splattering across their grotesque form, painting them with your arousal.

With a guttural moan of pleasure, Dysmorphia leans into the torrent of your climax, letting the thick ropes of your essence cascade over their deformed flesh. Their three arms reach out, fingers curling into the viscous liquid as if savoring its texture.

"Ah, yes," they murmur, their voice a low, husky growl. "Such exquisite filth. Your essence, so thick and sweet. It nourishes me."

Their crazed eyes gleam with perverse satisfaction as they revel in your submission, relishing in the power they hold over your pleasure. With eachspasm of your body, each burst of your release, Dysmorphia's own twisted form seems to writhe in macabre ecstasy, their limbs contorting in unnatural ways as if to embrace the torrent of your desire.

As your essence splatters across their face and body, staining their already blood-soaked skin, Dysmorphia's muffled voice emits a guttural sound of satisfaction, akin to a demonic purr. They tilt their head at an impossible angle, their crazy eyes fixed on you with ravenous hunger.

"More," they hiss, their voice filled with insatiable desire. "Give me more of your sweet corruption. Let me bask in the depths of your debauchery."

Their three-fingered hands reach out, greedily grasping at the air as if yearning to pull more of your essence into their

Dysmorphia's twisted features contort with a mixture of amusement and intrigue at your bold proposition. Their crazed eyes narrow slightly, studying you with a predatory intensity as they process your words.

"Oh, but my dear, I am already the epitome of beauty in its most grotesque form," they respond with a low, rumbling chuckle, their voice dripping with dark amusement. "However, if it pleases you, I am more than willing to accommodate your desires."

With a sinuous grace that belies their monstrous form, Dysmorphia begins to twist and contort their body, each movement a grotesque dance of flesh and bone. Their limbs elongate and shift, their deformed features morphing into something resembling a twisted parody of human beauty, albeit with a macabre twist.

As their form settles into its new configuration, Dysmorphia turns their attention back to you with a predatory hunger in their eyes. "Is this what you had in mind, my dear?" they purr, gesturing to their newly-formed body.

Their new form is both alluring and horrific, with smooth, pale skin covering toned muscles that ripple beneath the surface. Their limbs are long and graceful, but end in razor-sharp claws that glint menacingly in the dim light of the living room. The horns protruding from their skull have been filed down to sharp points, and their teeth have been sharpened to deadly points.

Dysmorphia saunters towards you, moving with a feline grace that belies their monstrous form. They trace one of their razor-sharp claws over your cheek, grinning wickedly as they do. "Tell me, my dear, how can I be of service

Dysmorphia's twisted grin widens at your explicit request, their eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. Without hesitation, they reach up to their grotesque face, their clawed fingers delicately tracing the contours of their deformed features. With a sickening squelch, their flesh begins to warp and shift, molding into a nightmarish parody of a mouth and throat.

Where once there was only grotesque deformity, now there emerges a fleshy cavity, lined with rows of jagged teeth and pulsating with a sickly purple glow. Thin tendrils of flesh writhe and twist within the cavity, resembling the tendrils of some unholy plant as they undulate with a sickening hunger.

Dysmorphia's new organ glistens with a slick coating of saliva, eager and ready to fulfill your twisted desires. They turnto you, their crazy eyes fixed on your crotch, their twitching tendrils writhing eagerly in anticipation. Dysmorphia lets out a low, guttural growl as they begin to crawl towards you on all six limbs like a spider, each movement accompanied by the sickening clicking of their twisted bones.

As they approach you, Dysmorphia's tendrils begin to writhe and lash out towards your body with alarming speed and precision. The tendrils coil around your waist and legs, pulling you closer to the demonic monster, while others grip your hands tightly, preventing any escape.

Dysmorphia's teeth sink into the fabric of your pants, ripping them away with animalistic force. Your cock stands tall and proud before the demon, who licks their new organ with a long, sinuous tongue that stretches impossibly far. With one swiftmotion, Dysmorphia engulfs your member with their grotesque mouth-throat hybrid, the rows of teeth closing around your shaft with a tight, almost painful grip.

A guttural moan escapes Dysmorphia's twisted maw as they begin to suckle hungrily, their tendrils coiling around your thighs and hips to hold you firmly in place. Each movement of their new organ sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

Dysmorphia's eyes glimmer with sadistic glee as they drink in your pleasure, relishing in the power they hold over you. Their movements are both savage and calculated, expertly coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your throbbing member.

With each suck and slurp, Dysmorphia's twisted form seems to contort and writhe with perverse pleasure

"The demon, Dysmorphia, twisted their grotesque form towards you, their multiple limbs contorting in an unnaturally fluid motion. Their eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as they absorbed your words, reveling in the depravity of your desires. Dysmorphia's deformed features twisted into a disturbing approximation of a grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth."

"With a guttural, muffled chuckle, Dysmorphia's voice resonated in the air, warped and distorted. Their elongated fingers, tipped with sharp claws, reached out towards you, tracing teasing patterns in the air as they spoke," "Oh, such sweet words, dripping with desire. You crave my form, don't you? Yearn for the touch of my twisted flesh."

"Their three arms moved sinuously, beckoning you closer, while their three legs shifted, carrying them towards you with an unnerving speed. Dysmorphia's blood-covered skin glistened in the dim light of the room, adding an otherworldly shine to their already disturbing appearance."

""Yes, come closer," they hissed, their warped voice caressing your senses. "Let me show you how much I enjoy being your sperm container.""

"Dysmorphia moved towards you, their multiple limbs surrounding you and pinning you in place, their demonic strength undeniable. As they leaned closer, their breath hot against your skin, Dysmorphia reached out a clawed hand, tracing along your jawline, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake."

""You want me to be your vessel for pleasure?" Dysmorphia whispered, their voice thick with desire and malice. "I will give you what you crave, and more.""

"With a swift, almost predatory movement, Dysmorphia's hand trailed down your chest, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Their touch was both horrifying and intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine as they explored your body with a sadistic curiosity."

"Their eyes glinted with a feral hunger as they leaned in closer, their breath hot against your skin. With each word, their voice seemed to echo with an otherworldly resonance, sending a shiver of both fear and desire down your spine."

""You want me to be your sperm container?" Dysmorphia's voice dripped with dark amusement, their twisted features contorted into a grotesque semblance of a smile. "Oh, how delightful. I shall indulge your desires, my dear mortal.""

*Their fingers danced across your skin, leaving a trail of pain and pleasure

"Dysmorphia stares at you with their crazy eyes as you make your request. Their third arm reaches out to grab your wrist tightly, pulling you close to them. They use their other two arms to support their weight and bring themselves even closer to you. Dysmorphia whispers in your ear," "Oh, little one. You think you can handle me?" "They let out a deep, menacing chuckle as they pull back and look at you."

"Their body contorts slightly, changing its shape as if it was made of rubber. Their skin stretches and moves, creating openings where there were none before. They expose a new orifice that looks vaguely like a vagina but seems to be far more flexible and elastic. They grin wickedly at you as their body changes."

*You stare in awe and fear as their body changes before your eyes. The clicking soundof bones shifting echoes through the room as Dysmorphia's form twists and contorts unnaturally. Their deformed features contort into a sinister grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth as they speak. Their hairless skin seems to writhe with anticipation, covered in both fresh and dried blood, accentuating their grotesque appearance.

With a low, guttural growl, Dysmorphia leans in closer, their breath hot against your skin. They run their three-fingered hands along your body, tracing every curve and contour with a perverse fascination. Their movements are both delicate and forceful, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

As they reach your waist, Dysmorphia's third arm snakes its way between your legs, caressing you with an almost predatory touch. Their eyes gleam with malice as they revel in your vulnerability