Special Little Bugs

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Trigger warning: This story has graphic depictions of gore and insects, if these things upset or disgust you in any way i strongly urge you to click away.

At a young age I became enamoured with bugs. It was always recognized as odd by the other kids when I would pick up a spider or a roach and enthusiastically show it to them. Despite the judgment I never grew out of my fascination with the creepy crawlies. At the age of, maybe, ten my mother let me get my first ant farm. A simple little thing, similar to something you would see in a kids show, but to me it was like a pot of gold. I could watch my ants for hours sifting through the sand, rearranging it into intricate tunnels and chambers. I was very diligent about keeping them safe and happy but one night my cat knocked over the ant farm and they all got free. I cried for days after that and whenever someone brought the ant farm up I would immediately become sullen. A month after this incident my mom got me a new present, a praying mantis.
I was even more excited with this, I had read up on praying mantis's not to long ago and had fallen in love. I vowed to protect this new pet better than the last ones, and I did. My praying Mantis lived it's full life and died happily. This interest only grew as I got older, when I was able to leave the house I immediately filled my studio apartment with bugs.
I became the father to a wide variety of bugs, both common and uncommon. Cockroaches roamed around in a terriam, Dragonflies flew haphasarly inside a hanging setup, ants tunneled threw the dirt in the their tropical homes. My apartment was a sanctuary for these outcast critters. A problem arose though, I was running out of space. See early on I decided that I would sacrafice some basic niceties for the good of my pets. Who really needed a tv or fridge when you could in stead fill that space with lady bugs or green lace wings. Even with the sacrafice of some of my personal comforts there really was not enough room.
This fact ate away at me one night when I laid down to sleep. I
had a restless night full of tossing and turning and nightmares. This didn't last very long for I eventually woke up to a tickling sensation on my arms and face. Bugs. My bugs were crawling all over me.
Most people would scream or thrash about but I was calm. I was as much theres as they were mine. I was however slightly worried when i felt a small beetle testing the entrance to my ear canal. It was poking and prodding the skin cautiosly. To my surprise it didn't take the beetle long to decide he was going to take up residency.
Now I am not a particularly weak person. My pain tolerance was nothing to behold but it was also nothing to cast aside. I was above average when it came to withstanding pain. The feeling I felt however when the bettle nestled into my ear canal and firmly sank it's pinchers into my ear drum was unbearable.
Immediatly a deafening ringing took ahold of me. It was like standing next to a speaker in a concert but instead of instruments a loop of nails dragging down a chalk board was being played. I would have screamed but the shock was so fast that I was simply paralyzed in pain. After what seemed like hours the beetle loosened the grip then finally let go.
It took more than 15 minutes for the pain to subside to somethimg bearable. I wasn't mad at the beetle, infact after the pain had passed I was ecstatic; my bugs had chosen me to be their home. It didn't take me very long to right myself in bed and gently remove the bugs from my body. I was dead set on my small kitchen, in there was what I needed. A knife.
It was a long thin blade that I used for cutting the food for my bugs. It was deathly sharp and ended in a small tip. I poised the knife over my wrist and made a small gash through the skin. Pain coursed through my arm but it was nothing compared to what i had experienced earlier. Even so i kept carving away at my skin. Lines of blood covered my body and from there I built. I created alcoves in my skin and muscle, cutting down to bone sometimes. My cheeks were carved away showing the muscles that were strained in pain. There was still work that I could have performed to turn my body into a sanctuary, sadly however I was quite confident that taking anymore more skin from my body would result in my untimely demise.
I returned to my bed and I was unsurprised that the bugs had not moved from it.Some had wandered to the floor or my bedside table but none strayed to far. I was to afraid to lay on the bed so instead I scooped up a handfull of ants and and placed them gently on my arm. At first they scurried across the bloody surface of my muscles, confused. However it did not take long for one particularly brave soul to start burrowing into the soft tissue underneath my bone. It was a sharp stinging pain, almost pleasurable.
With this the other ants followed suit creating a small cavity under my bone. I started picking up more of my bugs. A tarantula here a cockroach there. Eventually my body was both covered and filled with bugs. I felt them squirming underneath my skin, some of them gently nibbling away on my fatty tissue. Others were carving away homes in my muscles. It was pure bliss, the type of pleasurable pain you feel when having particularly rough sex.
My body now belonged to to my bugs and I could hope for nothing else in life. I knew that they would be able to live off of and in me. I was their home, their saftey, their nourishment. I could finally mean as much to my bugs as they meant to me. I could finally be one with my special little bugs.

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