Chapter 71 Chapter 71 Chicken Scissors

Perry stepped out of the tub, splashing blood-red water on the floor.He grabbed a clean towel, tied it in a knot, and tied it hard around his unrecognizable thigh, trying to hold back a cry of pain that was about to blurt out. He was in excruciating pain, but he could bear it.Why?Because he has self-control, that's why.His arm was bleeding profusely, as if a pig had been bled by a knife.The towel was soaked bright red—he didn't know if he had cut an artery, but he didn't care, because he had pierced the triangular-shaped three eyes.A dirty, greasy tentacle protruded from the wound, hanging over the shoulder, and blood dripped down to the floor, forming a puddle of blood.

None of this matters.In less than five minutes he would be loaded into a roaring ambulance. He grabbed the ends of the towel, took a deep breath, and pulled the knot tighter.Another wave of pain hit his arm, but he gritted his teeth and did not cry out. The triangles are awake. No, not the triangles. The triangle on his back was dead, burned to scorched ashes; the one on his arm had been cut in half.Only one triangle remains. That means there is only one thing left to do now. There is no suspense. "Stop stop stop asshole asshole bastard" The voice in the brain sounds small and feeble, erratic.He couldn't understand many words.

"How dare you annoy the Darcy family, you stupid ass! Now you know the consequences, huh?" He walked forward slowly, leaning on the sink table to rest. "Bitch bastard bastard stop it stop help help help" "No one's going to save you, baby," Perry said, "now you've got a taste of it." The knife rest with the butcher's knife on the sink counter seemed to call out to him. The bathroom door suddenly clicked frantically.Tentacles slid under the door, writhing like crazy black snakes.Everything in front of him made Perry unable to believe his eyes. He tried to open his eyes wide and saw the doorknob turning.

When the door was about to be unscrewed, he leaned against the door suddenly, his right shoulder pushed hard, and the door was closed.He locked the door and took a step back, his frightened eyes suddenly widened, and the black sticky tentacles were still wriggling under the door to find a way out. He heard the crackling of the hatchlings, but he also heard—heard their womanly voices in his head, not piercingly like the triangular begging pain inside him, but Still strong, desperate, angry.These voices did not form a harmony for the time being, and although the tone was the same, they were fragmented, unlike the powerful harmony they made when they were in Fat Patty's body.

All these sounds blended together, as if trying to focus on a snowflake in a blizzard, it was impossible to hear clearly.But he still heard a few words. "stop!" "Don't do that!" "sinner!" "You will endure hell!" "Don't kill it don't kill it!" The tentacles kept pushing and pulling at the door, trying to break it open, but they lacked the strength.Perry watched in horror as the tentacles began to squeeze in, pushing hard against the door, and wriggling under the door—innumerable tentacles, wriggling so fast that it was impossible to see clearly.

He turned back to the sink, trying to shake off the begging in his head.They couldn't get in - he still had unfinished plans.He looked at the knife block. Look at that chicken scissors. He shook his head, he couldn't do it.Doctors will cut it out, doctors will heal it. The sink top was about waist height, and he bent down to place his scrotum on the top, but when he reached for it, his hand instinctively drew back, as if he had accidentally caught a rattlesnake. It just doesn't feel right.It should have been delicate and soft, but now it was hard, encrusted, swollen, and had lumps in it that didn't belong.

"Stop, stop, you can't do it, you can't, you can't" The triangular voice trembled violently.Perry didn't know if it was the effects of the painkillers starting to churn through him, or the screaming of the last triangle, or both.But it doesn't matter.He bent down again, braced for the horrible, stomach-churning feeling, and rested his scrotum on the edge of the sink. It was the most appalling scene he had ever seen. Tears slid down his cheeks.These were not occasional tears of pain during his long self-harm, but tears of frustration, tears of a man who had lost everything.

There is no doctor in this world who can help him now. He hadn't looked at the triangle, never checked the testicles, not once since he'd first pulled the little white thing out of his thigh.If he had seen it, he might have given up fighting long ago. This triangle is huge.It appears almost black under the skin of the scrotum.The center of the pyramid-shaped head protruded high, as if his two balls were under a tent made of skin.Most of the pubic hair has fallen out, leaving only bare skin.The left testicle is hidden under the triangle.The right testicle was barely visible, its edge pressing against the inner wall of the scrotum, tearing at the skin there.His cock jutted out at an odd angle - a triangle grew out of it.The skin tissue connecting the penis has been squeezed so that there is no room to stand, making the penis look like it is crumbling, and it may be cut off from the bottom by the triangle growing there at any time.

But that's not the worst thing. Tentacles grew under his skin just as they had grown inside Fat Patty, sticking out from the edge of the triangle.A tentacle extended to the right testicle.Another huge, cord-tailed monstrosity stretched down from the scrotum to the inner thigh was throbbing. The last tentacle?It was the worst of them all that remained. The last tentacle reached the side of his cock, stretching itself, wrapping it tightly around the cock like a thick black vein, almost reaching the end, as if it was pointing at Perry's cock head, taunting pointing like. His naked body trembled with fear.Fear because he couldn't do it, he couldn't cut off his penis and testicles.The little bastards won they won they won!Let them all go to hell!You all die to hell!Perry leaned forward, his cock still on the table.He picked up a steak knife from the holder, placed his arm on the sink counter, palm up, and rested the point of the knife on his wrist.He had heard once that the wrist had to be cut with a single cut, not crossed, straight down.

The father's voice said, "What are you doing, son?" Perry's tears rolled down into the pool.Sobbing, he looked up in the mirror, and this time instead of his devastated image, he saw the tense face of his scrawny father.Jacob Darcy's eyes were wide open, his mouth shut, and he didn't even move when he spoke—he was skinny now, his muscles eaten away by cancer. "I'm sorry, Dad," Perry choked out, "I can't do it. I'm going to end it here." "You'll win, son. You'll beat 'em." "Dad, I can't. I can't!"

"You've got to do it, boy!" the father's voice suddenly sharpened. "You've come this far—you can't give up. Fight like a man!" Perry drooped his head.He couldn't do it, he didn't dare to look at his father's face.He pressed the blade firmly against his wrist.A small bead of blood oozed from the tip of the knife.Take two quick cuts and he'll die. I'm sorry, Dad, but that's the end of the matter. He took one last look at the monstrously deformed genitals, squeezed back tears, and mustered all his strength to— He wasn't sure about what he saw at first. It really happened again, and he knew it wasn't a hallucination. Genitals vibrate. "Time to hatch, time to hatch, time to hatch" No. No, no, never.If he kills himself now, the triangle will still hatch out of him and come out, join its mates, do what the hatchlings do, dance around stupid human corpses, play card games, watch tv shows The Brady Family, or doing something else he didn't know about, and he couldn't do anything with them anymore. Perry yelled at his genitals, "Die! Die! Die! Don't even try to hatch, understand?" The triangle in the scrotum began to vibrate and twist.He watched in horror as it began to spring outward, thrashing to free his skin and its tail, the umbilical cord that fed it, and Perry became very angry. Perry picked up the chicken scissors. He moved a little away from the sink so that there was enough room between his hips and the sink for the chicken scissors to poke in, and he crossed one of the thick scissors blades over his scrotum. If Perry Darcy had any sane left, they would have fled long ago, snapping like a bungee cord stretched beyond its inherent limits, the ends snapping back from the breaking point with a whimper. "Hatch we come we come" "At least the damn sound will stop." First, the metal blades of the chicken scissors made a sharp clicking sound. Then there was a scream.