Walking Tall Among the Dead

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The man who raped women now rapes the dead.

He goes through all the cadavers inserting fingers. He loves their tightness so. He is the last to taste them, he boasts, even those who seemed untouchable in their life.

The man debuted in his career after the home he lived ostracized him. Kith and kin slaughtered bulls and chicken for his getting job at the morgue. With the dead he couldn’t hurt anyone, they said. He had raped and sodomized way too much.

He was in primary school when he raped his seat mate, an autistic girl he found himself smitten with. He was barely circumcised when he raped the village’s oldest woman. The granny died of heart palpitations.

The man now challenges all those who have evidence to bring it forward. The people want him dead and gone, perhaps a cadaver himself he won’t hurt anyone.

“I will wash your defied corpse and gurney it to court to testify,” he boldly says. “And if I get acquitted, leave town.”

He walks tall, free, in the streets. 

Confessions of a Sexprenuer

Maisha Raha aims to create sex robots as much of a physical likeness to actual women but with more intelligence (albeit artificial) as technologically possible. My bots feel human to the touch; they mimic the movement of a real body, get real wet, and can talk to you more nicely than women nowadays. The good thing is that they cannot break up with you or walk out; no independence or anything that may disrupt the fantasy of total servitude. 

Visitors of Warmth

This night, Pope John XII the Young shagged me rhythmically as if having sex with an African was a mystical ecstasy. When he looked into my eyes, I wondered what it really felt to listen to people’s sins, and no one listened to yours. When he emptied his holy seed in me, he rolled onto his side panting. I almost called his personal doctor, afraid his heart was attacking him.

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