JimmyJohnJohnson tale

I don’t remember how I got here, just the serums and syringes. They were all of various shapes and sizes, all painted with different color. Every liquid was different, some were viscous, some were thin. But all were vile.

I am in a jail full of creatures made for sexual indulgence. The guard holding me captive asks the man with the white coat.
“Is he a defect?” The man says disappointingly at him. “Yea another one, you would think we could easily make a goddamn “scalie” by now, but it seems it’s harder than we thought.”

“Termination?”

“No, put him in a cell, we could use him for testing, we surprisingly made some progress with him.”

“What cell?”

“Cell #1747, next to that tentacle thing.”

The guard looks at me pitifully then pushes me along. As I am escorted through the jail I see the creatures I’ll share a roof with. Women with mouths like fleshlights. Men with genitalia for tongues. Things that could barely keep their bodies together. As I walk through desolate dungeon, I could only think, how could God let these abominations exist, let these mistakes slip through his divine hands? Then it struck me. God doesn’t make mistakes, and doesn’t create sin to bask in it, but man does.

The guard stops and pushes me into a cell. There’s nothing but a toilet in it. I sit in the corner in a fetal position, covering my eyes, trying not to look at the creatures.


Days pass. The monotony of each day still hasn’t killed me, they haven’t even done tests yet, and I still don’t look at the creatures among me and my cell. I am whole for the time being, until I notice something strange…
“THERE ARE SCALES ON MY ARM!” I shout in horror. The scales are a patch on my forearm, I stare at them insanely for a few seconds and ask myself. “Have I lost my humanity?” For a reason I cannot describe I finally find the courage to look at the creature across my cell. It’s a mass of putrid flesh, with lips and genitalia all across it. “Am I no different then it, a man made mistake, the quintessence of sin?” I ask in horror. “Am I still a man?” I ask myself this question several times over.

“Am I still a man?”
“Am I still a man?”
“Am I still a man?”
“Am I still a man?”
“Am I still a man?!”

Even after asking so many times I still don’t know the answer. I sit in silence to ponder the question, afraid of the worst. Hoping I have not lost my humanity, or at least not yet.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Then I come to the conclusion. I stand proudly and yell. “YES! I have not lost my humanity! As long as I still have my mind and soul, no matter what happens to my body I am still human! STILL A MAN!”

The beasts in the cells around me let out animalistic cries and shouts. As if they are in a state of infinite glee. I do not now if this is because my public declaration of humanity, or if it is because they see the scales growing out of my very skin. I smile because I do not know, I don’t understand them. As I am still human.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License