It's church o' clock

I suddenly realized I was awake, not sure when or how it happened. I lay spread eagle on the floor, my limbs still twitching.

I lay there as a sweat, drenched, stinking rune of a bestial tongue, a testament to everything I stood against.

The anic sank in before the soreness, I jumped up and ran to the clock. I was late. I could barely make it to church if my legs held up. So I ran.

The way there was automatic, that is what I attributed the record skip in my brain to. I suddenly stood in front of the church, watching from the other side of the road as the last of the goers trickled in.

I took a step forward but stopped immediately, my knee buckled. I straightened myself out and felt a deep, sickening, sinking feeling in my gut and cheast.

My clothes were drenched and smelled of sin, large wet patches formed on my chest, back, hips and under my armpits. In fact I was still sweating – and not just from running. Rivers of sweat ran down my skin from top to bottom, my hair, my whole body was sticky with it. My thtoat was so dry I thought it would close up forever – my other lips though...

The carefully protected sanctuary of the sacred, final place of showing my eternal love the conclusive way to accept Jack as my eternal partne – it was now engorged and sensitive like some horrible tumor. I felt my panties riding up into it tightly, so soaked through I wondered how they haven’t dissolved. My breasts felt tight and swollen too. As I felt my dress drag over my now spear-like nipples – hard and painful – I realised I was not wearing a bra. I had it on when I got going, didn’t I? Drool was spilling out my mouth but I couldn’t close it probarly.

’Oh God no’ I tried to say but it only came out as a distorted whimper.

My mind was stretched over and under all these bodily sensations, all this information that crashed and crawled and bubbled into my consciousness. It made no sense at first but then it dawned on me – there was a rythm to it.

Thrumming.

Beating.

Pulsing.

Vibrating.

I could feel it now, it was still inside me, smaller, more disintegrated bouncing around in my womb sputtering that pink liquid that... oh no...

I wiped a hand a cross my face, skin sizzling from my own touch. My sweat, my saliva, that disgusting puddle between my ankles all had that cursed pink tint to it.

’Jesus it’s good you asked me to come, you like pretty tired girl!’ came Betty’s voice from just beside me.

’I called you... what?’ I tried to say but again I only mumbled incomprehensibly through the lake of drool in my mouth.

’You are welcome’ she said and started to guide me away by my shoulders to her car.

I didn’t understand anything, I was terrified, but as soon as her hands confidently took control of me, my brain blanked and I followed by instinct.