Osama's Love Cave

The day was fast dwindling into nightfall, and already the sky was littered with many a bright star that lit the horizon like the jeweled eyes of providence. A short scientist with large breasts leaned heavily upon the laboratory counter and looked longingly towards the west. The golden sun was sinking quickly into the great beyond, yet before it did, it seemed to rest its heavy head upon the brink of the horizon for but a moment before it gave a sigh and dwindled into dusk like the mists before dawn. It was beautiful, and the scientist, breathless for so long, gave a sigh of infinite sadness and turned around. "Lovely, Gustave." she said, "Simply, lovely.

The man she was talking to was none other than Dr. Gustave Panopolis, a heavyset Grecian scientist with bushy eyebrows and large exuberant liver lips. With a growl, the man turned away from his computer to give his comrade a look of grave disapproval.

"Dr. Megeneric, this is hardly the time to be frolicking amidst the daisies." He said with a sarcastic grin. "There is work to do."

"Yes, yes, yes." She said with a tired voice. "There is always WORK to be done and I'm sick of it. The Taliban do not pay me enough to put up with this monkey shit.

"Hey listen you mouthy bitch," said the Greek removing his glasses, "I don't like this shit either ok? But I put up with it because they'll kill me if I don't. Now if you know what's good for you, you will pipe down and get to work!"

With a grimace, he shoved his glasses back on his head and turned again to his computer. Dr. Megeneric gave the obese man a dirty glare and reluctantly walked towards her worktable. Stopping by a cage marked, EXTREMELY FRAGILE SPECIMEN! TOP SECRET! The doctor peered in at the thing behind bars. Although it was dark inside of the cage, a white crumpled body could be seen in the far corner. Smiling, the scientist made soft cooing noises, reached in through the steel bars and tried to pet the animal within. However, before Dr. Megeneric could touch the specimen, it reared up on its hind legs, gave an evil hiss and tried to bite at the scientists' hand. Dr. Megeneric, startled, gave a small scream and in reflex, bitch slapped the pale white figure within. A pregnant silence ensued until very faintly, though distinctly, a quiet sobbing could be heard inside the cage.

"You hurt me you Taliban whore." The figure in the cage simpered pitifully, "You hurt me, and one day soon I will have my vengeance."

Dr. Gustave disturbed by the commotion, rose from his seat, grabbed a flashlight and headed over to the scene. Turning the flashlight on, the scientist gave a sigh of infinitesimal patience and pointed the strobe of light into the darkness of the cave. The beam broke the cloud of darkness to reveal a young teenaged boy, very lithe, svelte and apparently very naked.

"Yangil Kim…" The Greek said slowly as the boy began to squirm under the light, "You are in no position to pose threats. You are a top secret Taliban government prototype, and that is all. You will never see the light of day. In fact, tomorrow this project ends and you will be put to death. Now shape up or I will be forced to dissect you early."

"Bright light! Bright light!" Was all that the boy, who was Yangil Kim, would say, as he tried to dodge the beam of light that burned his bone white skin. Then realizing finally that he had nowhere to go, he quietly tried to adjust his large doe-like eyes to the change in ambiance. Thus staring directly into the light, his eyes began to water and as it did he blinked slowly and daintily, like a newborn babe. And truth be told, he was decidedly very, very pretty.

"Oh, look at the little darling." Dr. Megeneric said as she knelt down to look closer. Dr. Gustave, who stood above her, caught a glimpse of her firm white breasts as she knelt and had to stifle a groan of pleasure as his large cock unraveled, stiffened, and gave a wonted Grecian salute.

Dr. Megeneric, looking very intently at the white boy Yangil Kim, suddenly gave a little shriek of horror as she witnessed the obscenity that unfolded before her. Yangil Kim had noticed the erect penis of the Grecian scientist and his body was automatically adjusting itself for battle. The specimen that was Yangil kim began to rock back and forth and as he did, drastic bodily changes were in effect. The boy's large breasts began lactating and large droplets of milk began to form upon the tips of his aureoles and brimming, came to fall upon the cage floor. Where the droplets fell, they began to steam and eat away at the stainless steel floorboard. The scientists, Megeneric and Gustave, exchanged unbelieving glances.

"Dear Allah, Gustave! The poison milk release mechanisms of his mammary glands are finally working!"

The Grecian scientist nodded and wiped a tear away from his eye. The two of them had worked long nights in order to perfect this particular body function, yet it had never worked before today. The Taliban government had given them strict orders to create a prototype that would be able to carry strong poison within its body for spy missions abroad. At last they had succeeded.

"Come to me Megeneric. We have completed our mission. Let us begin our victory dance!" he said and took the lady scientist in his arms. However, as they danced around the laboratory in great joy, an extraordinary thing began to happen within the cage. Yangil Kim was not done changing.

As the boy's mammary glands continued to lactate poison, his body seized upon another aspect of change. The thick slabs of flesh that were Yangil Kim's Gluteus Maximi began to flap slowly at first, and then faster and with greater rhythm. Soon it was as if his ass cheeks were the wings of some preternatural butterfly that lifted his entire body into the air until it hit the top of the cage. Yangil Kim smiled. At last the time had come for revenge. Unbeknownst to the scientists, he had slyly been studying the screen of the main computer that was pointed at an angle towards him. For months now, he had been secretly reading top-secret information upon the usage of his aphrodisiastic anus, yet he did not understand it. Only today as his senses prickled at the sight of the erect Grecian penis, did he fully understand at last.

Suspended in mid-air, Yangil Kim repositioned his anus until it pointed at the dancing pair of scientists. Then without warning, Yangil closed his eyes and pushed, using the Force of the Gayside. Suddenly from out the boy wonder's sphincter, shot a long and thick protuberance that was none other than the boy's Master Retractable Colon. The colon proved to be very long indeed, and powerful as well. Shooting from a distance of 12 feet, the anal umbilical cord wrapped itself around the necks of both Dr. Megeneric and Dr. Gustave, killing them by strangulation before even they hit the linoleum. Yangil Kim screed with delight.

"Vengeance is mine!" he shrieked and with a flick of his anal clitoris, he brought his colon speedily home to rest among the polyps of his bowel. Then grabbing his fleshy mammaries, he squeezed them and sprayed poison milk upon the bars of his cage. When the poison milk had eaten away at the bars, Yangil Kim stepped out into the laboratory, free at last from bondage. As he looked upon the havoc that he had single colonly caused, he began to clap slowly at first and then quickly with conviction and rhythm, all the while shrieking, "Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!"

As Yangil kim made his way to the exit of the laboratory that had served as his hell for so many years, he stopped by a cage near the refrigerator. Squinting his eyes, he read the sign that was propped upon the roof of the impound, it read: PROJECT CAMEL TOE SPECIMEN FAILURES, AMERIKO/PLAID SHIRT BRAD. Yangil Kim heard a series of grunts and peered within darkness. What he saw made even his small testicles rise in his throat. A wrinkled old man with a sign around his neck that said, AMERIKO, was literally eating out the anus of the prostrate form of a younger male specimen. Ameriko's lips were splattered with blood and feces and by the look of things; he had devoured all of his cage partner's genitalia and anal cavity. And though face of he who was being eaten could not be seen, the blood smeared discarded name placard at the corner of the cage told all. Looking closely, Yangil kim saw that it read, PLAID SHIRT BRAD.

In an adjacent cage a young American soldier, mortally wounded by a Taliban experiment, lay gasping for breath. His body stiffened in preparation for his death throe, when Yangil appeared. He was holding something in his hand... it was his colon. Yangil's face was ashen.

The young man reluctantly grabbed hold of Yangil's colon and bolted upright as if a million volts of hot electricity was running through his veins. The lights in the laboratory flickered brightly and then shattered in a great shower of sparks. The American soldier gasped for breath, searched his body and found himself intact. Yangil had saved him. Returning to the cage with Ameriko and Brad, Yangil booted the former to the skull, and repeated the refrain "take mah colon boss, take mah colon."

Brad, semi-conscious, did just that, and though his lower half remained lost forever, he regained his strength, and walking on two hands made his way out of the cage. He was well enough to give Yang oral gratitude, and Yang, being gay could not deny himself.

Hours later, with a small sigh, the Taliban's secret weapon shook his head and opened the door. Before Yangil left the laboratory, however, he stopped by the strangled body of Dr. Megeneric. He eyed her purse, grabbed it and fumbled through it, taking out her make-up bag. Deftly he applied her lipstick, and looking out into the cold hall of the secret laboratory, the imbecile heaved a cry of relief. And as he sweetly smacked his freshly painted ruby lips, he said...

A hail of American missiles pounded into the remote mountainside on the Afghanistan border that night. Deep inside, dust fell onto Osama's head from the jolt of the explosions. Cowering now, it was time to reflect on his life until then. Was it misspent? was the slaughter of innocents the only way to heaven? or redemption?

Osama's fear complete, urine ran down a bony thigh as his life played before his eyes with every explosion. He recalled that fateful day when as a child he was abducted by a pack of leather-studded Islamic geese that trained him in terrorist fundamentals and homo-erotic misogyny inside a remote Libyan barnyard. Indeed, by the age of five Osama could operate a machine gun and plant land mines while kissing the ground for birdseed, feigning reverent Taliban prayer.

Now near deaf from the unending explosions, he heard only a voice from a forgotten past. He recalled the advanced suicide training in Alaska, when fanatical Islamic lemmings lined up to jump off a cliff; the eager rodents awaiting heaven and martyrdom.

"The lemming is a holy animal," his instructor said before leaping off a cliff to his death. "It is the only animal besides man that understands the concept of martyrdom. Oh, yeah, eh...and they are also good for felching."

Stroking his beard, he recalled the fifth grade. Osama first distinguished himself in a biology class when he dissected the teacher, a heretic non-Muslim. Fellow students recall Osama skipping rope with her intestines in glee, all the while singing:

That day he was immediately taken to higher authorities (a palsied village idiot) and proclaimed a god...

As suddenly as it began, the bombing stopped. Osama emptied the cave for privacy, save for one young American whom had been hiding there already for many weeks. The Taliban needed him to guide them around the cave...and moreover, his knitting skills were in high demand. Though American, his life was spared as a professed Muslim convert. Soon, he became a favorite of Osama. And now here he was, alone with his new pupil, the young cult leader Yangil Kim, founder of Yang's Temple of Self-Idolatry and arguably the most conceited man alive before his fall from grace; before his transformation into a cruel Taliban experiment. Yang sat at Osama's feet quietly, attentively. His familiar backwards cap was now a turban, his baggy jeans, shirt and sneakers now full-fledged Talibanimal garb.

Osama realized he had to escape now; he had to change clothes. His disguise at the ready, Osama unwound his dusty turban gingerly, and began disrobing. As he did so, he looked at Yang, and it occurred to him that he would find at least one promised virgin here on earth. Soon the lanky terrorist's engorged penis slipped through his pink lace panties. Batting his eyes, he gazed lustfully upon his young American pupil. Yangil watched in awe, his anal clitoris throbbing with anticipation. Indeed, his droopy ass labia, though surgically attached, felt magically alive now...and swollen with unholy pleasure.

"Foolish infidel, capitalist pork assassin, I shall have my way with you" said Osama breathlessly.

Making airplane noises, Osama rushed into the waiting buttocks of Yangil Kim's twin towers of love. By the next morning, Yang was still alone with Osama, lying in a crumpled ball, his colon hanging out of his sphincter like a pink sock in the ground. Osama was quiet and facing the cave wall in the back...thinking.

"I was rough with you for a reason. Allah has told me in a dream that you were unfaithful." By now tears were streaming down Osama's cheeks. "You must tell me who it is, or I will slaughter all my men, one by one."

Yangil gasped, then finally whispered "It was Akmed. Please, please...I beg of you! don't hurt him!"

"Shut up, you fairy whore!" Osama thundered. The cave shook once more with the pimp slap that followed.

Osama called in the guard and told him to find Akmed the perpetrator. Moments later, the guards dragged in the general, kicking and screaming. But Akmed took one look at Yang's crumpled heap and the fresh red imprint of Osama's bitch slap on Yang's face, and Akmed knew it was over. The general fell limp in their arms.

"Why, Akmed? why? how could you betray me like this after all these years? You were one of my best men!"
"Osama, my friend, Yangil Kim is a spy, I swear! I meant to warn you but..."

"I was intoxicated, smitten senseless by his anus, which smells of an ambrosia that cannot be resisted by neither man or beast"

Osama cupped his hands to his ears and shook his head in angry denial. "Liar!" he bellowed. "Men, execute this traitor immediately!"

"Osama", said Akmed "I die willingly, I have disgraced my people and leader. Yang's crabs have devoured my testicles anyways...life is not worth living."

Akmed was dragged outside, bound and gagged. A sign was written in Arabic that said "THINKS OSAMA IS GAY" and it was placed around his neck. Then he was taken to nearby Kabul and tied to a post. One look at the words on the sign and angry townspeople

immediately descended, beating him to death.

Nevertheless, Osama lovingly took Yang into his arms and tenderly tucked his colon back into his rectum. He kissed him and left him lying on the makeshift bed. Osama then exited the cave to give orders to his men.

In the darkness, Yang at first laughed quietly to himself and then suddenly, he squealed with girlish delight....

Later during that day as Yangil sat in the darkness of the cave knitting afghan socks for his master Osama, he heard a knock on the weather beaten slab of wood that served as a door. Although it was a slight sound, the young bare-chested American gave a great yelp and jumped two feet into the air. Great tears of distress rolled down the infidel's face and his mascara ran.

"Oh!" he stammered as he fumbled for his make-up bag, "Whooooo isss it?"

A deep voice called from the other side of the door.

"It is I, Naji Abifadel of the third regiment. May I come in?"

Yang squealed loudly and then clamped his hand over his mouth. He said quietly to himself, "Quiet preciousss. We wants not to attract any attentiooonsss from the masterses."

With a deft and well-practiced hand, the American quickly reapplied his eye shadow and put a fresh coat of blood red lipstick on his chapped and well-used lips. Then readjusting his bustier to cover his still pink aureoles, he struck a feminine pose and answered sweetly,

"Please come in Naji."

The small door creaked open and bright sunlight burst in from the world outside and the Yangil almost fainted in fright.

"Bright light! Bright light!" The infidel oinked aloud, his arm striving to shield his prettily painted eyes but in vain.

"Dear Allah!" Naji bellowed and shut the door behind him so vehemently that small particles of dust billowed out and around him. "Princess, are you hurt?" he asked with concern.

Once again, tears of distress filled the eyes of Yangilkim and he trembled in fright.

"It is nothing dear Naji," he whimpered, "I am not hurt."

Naji's heart relaxed when he saw that the infidel American was not mortally wounded and he moved to sit down beside him. Before he sat down, he saw that a puddle of warm urine was forming around Yangilkim's ass, and he gasped in horror.

"My dear senator of anal delight! Have I frightened you so?"

At first, Yangil shook his head in girlish denial, but as the memory of the hellish light refreshed in his minds eye, he began to whimper and then to cry once again. As fresh tears rolled down his face, he pouted and weakly pounded his fists into the great barrel chest of the Afghani.

"You scared me Naji! Damn you. Damn you!" he cried feebly.

The Afghani pressed Yangil to his chest and held him like a newborn child against his manly pectorals. When Yangil had stopped his crying, Naji took the American's face into his callused hands and looked into his eyes. Yangil shyly tried to look away but could not.

"My love." Naji whispered, "It is right that you should hate me. I only ask that you allow me to love you as I have always and will always."

Yangil quietly met the Afghani's gaze and nodded with the perfect frailty only a well-trained geisha could possess. The infidel's vulnerability excited Naji and he found it hard to contain his lust for the svelte American. With trembling hands, the soldier of Allah laid Yangil down and undressed him with his teeth. Yangil did not have to be told what to do. As the Afghani ripped his own robe off to reveal his throbbing scimitar of Arabian pride, Yangil oinked in delight and as his legs opened and flew into the air, he caught them and pulled them back until his ankles touched his ears.

"Rip my colon out soldier of Allah!" he cried.

Yet before the Afghani could lance the glistening sphincter of the American, the door to the cave burst asunder. It was Osama bin Laden, and he was not pleased.

"Allah chingatha!" Naji yelped as he turned to face his leader.

"Right!" Osama yelled. "It's Allah chingatha motherfucker!"

Osama rushed in and grabbed the Afghani soldier by his erect cock and with the other hand he brought out a hand grenade which he force-fed the soldier. Then with a swift kick to the ass, Osama ejected the soldier from his quarters and shut the door. A few moments passed until a muffled explosion could be heard and Osama grinned, knowing that Naji Abifadel was no more. At the sound of the explosion, Yangil began to scream in such a high-pitched squeal that the dogs outside began to howl along with him. Osama walked quietly towards the American and slapped him like the bitch he was. Yangil dropped to his knees and crying so passionately that no sound could be heard from his lips. Osama grimaced and turned away from the pathetic sight. He crossed his arms and stared at the far wall until Yangil's fierce bawling subsided into sniffles and an occasional sneeze.

"Are you finished?" Osama asked coldly.

Yangil crawled towards the Afghani leader and wrapped both his white arms around Osama's legs. With tears anew, he pressed his face, which was smeared with greasy mascara, red lipstick and blue eye shadow that made his features look more like an artists palette than anything human, against the man's calves.

"Master, please love Me." Yangil said.

Osama was stern and pulled roughly away from the infidel American.

"You are filth and a traitor to me. Do not touch me."

Yang forsaken, slyly chaffed his butt cheeks together like the wings of some primeval locust and a smell arose into the air. It was likened to the smell of sizzling bacon and chocolate cookies. Osama's voice faltered.

"Dear Allah, what is that lovely smell?" He asked out loud. "Yangil, is that you?"

Yangil did not answer. It was as if he were in a trance. His lithe body swayed to and fro like that of a serpent and his eyes rolled back to their whites. His voice was like gravel.

"Call me by my dream name." He rasped. Osama hands instinctively flew to his face as he witnessed the undulating horror that kneeled at his feet. Such was the surprise and alarm of the sight that he blasphemed against his religion.

"Sweet mother of Jesus!" he screamed as curry colored urine ran down his hairy legs and collected in a puddle at his feet. "Fuck this shit." He stammered and quickly exited the cave.

Yangil Kim, left alone in the dark cave began to laugh. It started out slow and soft but grew until it became a torrent of evil. It was a dark laugh. It was a feral laugh. It was a demonic laugh. And it scared the shit out of Yangil as well. The nude American let out a blood curdling bark and ran for the far end of the cave in fright. In his panic, the infidel crashed headlong into an overhanging stalagmite and swooned to the floor. Great colors came in a flood to cloud his perception and brightly flavored hues of every spectrum racked his minds eye. It was as if he had fallen headlong into a valley of rainbows. As the afternoon turned quickly into evening, the homosexual that was Yangil Kim began to dream.