" "But… now… wait, indeed, Roman is feminine, but you?"
"Tolek, you see…" She tried to touch his face, but he pushed her hand away with a feeling of disgust. Jesus, it's impossible to understand that he's had sex with both a woman and a man, he didn't know when he was really with whom…"
"Don't touch me…… this… this is disgusting!!!"
-Yes, I know, of course you can think about what you want...
-And what does Liboland have to do with all this?
"Liboland?" Madzia saw this part of the story as a chance to get back into his good graces. "It was like this: once that happened and the transition period, intended for getting used to this completely new situation, had passed, we started getting closer again to test the effects of the experiment. At first, we were very insecure about each other, we didn't feel comfortable with each other, we didn't know our own bodies, but later... And that's where the whole Liboland thing begins.
" "What? That you were having sex again?!
No. It's not like that. The current Roman found himself in his new incarnation immediately and perfectly. He fulfilled himself sexually in every way. There was never a moment when he failed, not a trace of impotence. He was a man in his full glory, able to come wherever and whenever he wanted and unable to avoid drawing a disgustingly immense satisfaction from it. It was different, unfortunately different, with me. Well, the two of us tried everything possible: gently, brutally, alone, and with a crowd of other people. Tolek, if you only knew how many cocks I could have inside me at once, and not just in my vagina, but everywhere. Do you understand? Everywhere. I was just vomiting with the amount of them and the amount of cum I'd ever drunk in my life, do you understand me? Tolek, do you even understand me? Answer me!! Damn it!!!" she said, shaking him from side to side, but it was to no avail. He still sat there, pale and seemingly unconscious, as if nothing was reaching him.
But he heard everything. He heard everything perfectly. He heard and digested it. That's why he didn't react. Not yet, it's too early, he can't afford to react at all right now. So Madzia continued:
"It was impossible. Reaching an orgasm, or any pleasure at all from sex, seemed utterly impossible. And then Roman came up with the idea for Liboland. He was looking for young boys who would be paid a fortune and endless amounts of alcohol just for constantly trying to satisfy me. Of course, volunteers were found pretty quickly, and then they started staying; the Sponsor took a liking to them, and besides, he could inflict various punishments on them for unsuccessful attempts. The most common punishment, of course, was sleeping with him, but the boys never caused any problems and agreed to anything, even finding, and still finding, some sick pleasure, just to have free access to everything they considered most important in life: drinking and fucking. And that was it. All this, and yet no one succeeded, and it had gone on so long that everyone had forgotten the true purpose of their participation in Liboland. They had, until you showed up. And the moment you walked into that bar, I knew it would be you: shy, anxious, but revealing signs of the animal within. That's why I wanted to succumb to you as quickly as possible, completely oblivious to your condition (you were barely standing). And so it began. And all of Liboland remembered why it was founded when they heard my screams, piercing the darkness of the night with their delight.
"Stop it... please... be silent now..." he said these words softly, barely audible. And then silence fell. He sat crumpled in his armchair, his thoughts huddled together somewhere, somewhere where nothing yet existed, and she sat on the couch, like a young and innocent schoolgirl awaiting punishment for some mischief that had just come to light. The silence was terribly painful for both parties and seemed to stretch on forever, but Madzia wouldn't dare break it. She knew she'd done everything in her power and everything she had to do to save their relationship, and now... the rest belonged to him. To Anatol, on whom rested the entire burden of the story he'd just heard. And it was clear that he was probably too weak to bear it, that he was increasingly overwhelmed by it all, and that he was probably still far too young for such stories. And suddenly, Tolek's process of collapse was unexpectedly interrupted by a question that came out of his mouth with a foolish sarcasm: "
Why Klocek?"
-……………….????????!!!!!!!!- Madzia's utter surprise prevented her from answering this question in any way.
- Klocek, why such a nickname?
- And why a nickname, right? - surprise still prevented her from thinking. - Yes, Klocek, because..., well, because... simply.
- Simply what? - Here Tolek had already lost control of his nerves and exploded with full force.
"He," Madzia said, "just has strange preferences, that's all." "
I can fucking imagine what they are!" "Now get the fuck out of this house, you cunt!"
Madzia couldn't help but scream.
Anatol was left alone. Perhaps this was exactly what he needed now. To be alone. To think. To consider what to do. To make some decisions. To untie the knots tied by fate. To walk around his own apartment, hand in hand with his own thoughts. So he heaved a heavy, yet palpable sigh of relief when the door slammed behind Madzia. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, opening himself to all sorts of good ideas. But then, completely unexpectedly, a realization struck him with lightning speed and exploded painfully: alone with myself! I can't do it alone!!!!!" I can't sit here, this is all so terrible. How could I have gotten myself into this!!!!!!!! I can't bear it myself, but what can I do?????
Run!!!!!!!!!!
On a sudden impulse, he reached the window to catch Madzia, even if it was just in time. He saw her: she was running, her legs spread out crookedly, visibly staggering. Anatol tried to picture her face: she looked like a pane of glass, raindrops streaming down it, blue and black with makeup, and the grimace that had gripped her was about to fall off, so contorted was he with the feeling of his own shitty life. He wanted to shout after her, "Madzia, please don't go," but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He only thought that she was running so she wouldn't cry any harder, and if she stopped, the sadness and despair that would be released as tears would cover the entire earth. And no one would ever laugh or smile again.
And it was all his fault. He was the culprit. It's him! Oh, there! You can see him at the window – thousands of voices shouted in his tired head, which was finally slowly starting to rise and fight. Her first idea, completely spontaneous, was to run, that wild run like Madzia's. A run that effectively killed all thoughts that would otherwise have accompanied him on the path he had just taken. Running took him to the Sponsor's residence. Why, Tolek didn't know, and besides, he didn't care at all; he didn't think about what he would say or do once he entered. He simply blindly trusted his intuition, which he used to somehow remedy the situation. That's why he practically ran into the palace, not even stopping to catch his breath. Inside, his intuition was also choosing his path through the complex and tangled corridors that could lead him either to his destination or nowhere. But he had trusted her from the beginning, and now he had to stick to it – it was the only thing he knew and whose validity he had no doubts.
And… And I guess I was right. That's what he thought when he suddenly saw a door he'd seemingly never seen before, or perhaps it simply hadn't been there before… In any case, it was also interesting for another reason: it had a sign in gold calligraphy: "DO NOT ENTER!
DON'T DISTURB!" For Anatole, however, it sounded like the warmest of invitations.
But first, he needed to catch his breath, get rid of the unbearable pain in his left side, and mentally prepare himself, because he didn't know what to expect there. So he stood for a while in front of the mysterious door, leaning forward, his hands on his knees, slowly but surely calming his breathing, and at the same time, trying hard to deduce what was on the other side based on the sounds coming from behind the door. Unfortunately, despite his concentration and strenuous efforts, not a sound reached him. A soft rustle… Nothing. Not even a rustle or a murmur. They must be very airtight, or... it's simply empty. Such considerations, however, are completely pointless; one simply has to go in. And that's it. This was his decision when he realized his breathing had already been steady for some time, and the colic was simply an excuse for the fear that had poured a considerable amount of cement into his shoes.
He tried the doorknob...
The door wasn't locked... it gave way. It was opening outward...
Through the gap he saw, no, he didn't see. The first sense to receive any stimulus from this room was smell. A stench so foul had escaped through the gap between door and frame that words are utterly useless in conveying any, even the slightest, impression of it. In any case, it bore all the hallmarks of a stench cultivated for at least two years and certainly betrayed an organic origin—despite its disgust, it was somehow associated with humans, or at least with a specific sphere of human activity. Anatole's growing urge to vomit out these abominations was, however, overcome by his desire to know the whole story. So, clenching his fists and entrails with all his strength, Anatole peered inside.
It turned out to be a bathroom. A very tasteful, opulent, and quite long bathroom. Its crowning glory was a very generous bathtub… filled to the brim with… shit(?!). If only that… In the bathtub, in that disgusting vessel full of human shit… No… no, it's too impossible… no… no… impossible. A longer observation, resulting from Anatol's utter stupor, which had immobilized him for good, had to force him to admit the truth to his eyes. And the truth was this: in a bathtub filled to the brim with human shit (who knows, maybe it was their own), two figures well known to Anatol were wallowing in each other: Roman and Klocek; like two female dogs wrestling naked in a pool of mud… The worst part was that their movements left no doubt: they were having sexual intercourse. In a bathtub full of human shit. They were fucking in their own excrement. In a bathtub. In a large bathtub. "He just has strange preferences"…. Really, it's no wonder Anatol's stupor, which immediately began to turn into terror the moment he was noticed. Klocek saw him first, and to hide his confusion, he tried to pretend it was nothing, that it was just a game.
"Tolek?! Come, join us." With these words, he began to rise until he finally stood on straight legs. And he stood there, emaciated, dripping with shit from head to toe, with a smile on his lips (where even the whiteness of his teeth had vanished, defeated by the omnipresent brown) and an outstretched hand, making an inviting gesture. Yes, that was the truth: standing before him was a naked man, dripping with shit, happy, and wanting to share this happiness with Anatol.
Oh Jesus, ... Vomit.
Confusion, a real mess in his head. Dizziness, oh how bad, oh Jesus, puking again, some strange fog before his eyes, hazy, very hazy vision, Jesus, and that stench, suddenly Tolek began to smell it more and more distinctly, and it kept growing and growing, and it wouldn't leave him alone, as if it were getting closer to his nostrils...
Until finally he saw it. He realized that Klocek had gotten out of the bathtub and was now walking towards him at an incredibly slow pace. And he still had that outstretched hand, which... which... which... which was getting closer and closer...
RUEE ...
Now there was no intuition anymore, and even if there was, Anatol didn't think about it at all, just to run, just to be able to run hard and with all his might against the wind because only then he wouldn't cry and he didn't want his face to look like Madzia's face. Besides, who knows if it wasn't her in that bathtub at all, or if she and Roman are not the same person at all. How do we know anything, and who Klocek really is? Maybe it's also Sponsor. Jesus, I don't know anything, everything's happening so fast, everything's so disgusting, and I'm right in the middle of it, Jesus, I can't even think about it anymore, Jesus, about absolutely nothing. Jesus, forget it, please, erase it all, I can't anymore. My head is pounding, what high blood pressure is really pounding, something is growing and growing upwards. Jesus, they're probably chasing me, nooooo ... 3,r023n –yn0tui wbiyqiouf ii mqopURB IOYV QOPU BPOWEGUFER0NIP08JKOI7UOU90bg789689nh!!!!!!!!!!1
All of this was interrupted by the violent collision of his face with the pavement. He lay sprawled, whimpering inwardly in pain. He raised his head to look around at the completely new situation and pressed his hand to the sore spot, which gave it some of its blood. FFFFFF… A grimace of pain pierced his face. And he saw the bum next to him, sitting against the wall:
"At least ten cents… nooooo?!
It's him. He was definitely the one who tripped him. He'd been hoping to kill him and take it all. The thought slowly germinating in his aching skull. Slowly, but inexorably, she began to reveal to him all the perfidy of this event, compounded by the perfidy of previous events, until wet traces of hatred for the vile injustice that governed everything around him appeared in his eyes. And he heaved himself up, along with his hatred. And slowly, carefully, precisely, faster and faster, faster and faster, he began to dig. The tramp responded with complete incomprehension and a scream. But he saw nothing. There was only him and the scum he was kicking, the scum who was nothing, yet belonged to those who had ruined his life, to those who had no right, none… To those damned simpletons who were unworthy… He stood there and kicked. Harder, harder, harder. Blood. There was blood everywhere. And it only incited him, so he kicked even harder, and still kicked the corpse, which, despite being dead, was still bleeding. He was bleeding and inciting, and Anatol was as bloodthirsty as anyone. And he kept kicking until two officers ran up behind him, and he felt a tug, like someone wanted to grab him, to yank him out of this frenzy, and he wanted to keep kicking, until he finally started screaming.
And suddenly he looked at one of the officers…
Imagine his surprise when he saw a face looming over him, no, not a uniformed officer's, but God's, casting a concerned gaze over him and seeming to whisper in his ear:
"It's okay, it's okay, it was just a bad dream, but it's okay now…"
"Zosia?
" "Honey, are you okay...
" "Zosia, it's so good it's you..." Phew.
"Well, it's late, I mean, early, and my parents will be here soon. You have to go now.
" "Oh, yes. Yes. Of course, I got some sleep." With that, he stole a glance out the window and sighed with relief when he saw the familiar streets of Szczecin.
Zosia continued to bid him farewell for a long time, waving through the window and giving him a worried expression. "I hope nothing bad happens to him," she thought, watching her lover's back disappear around the corner.
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