Maxwell's Maggots

One day, Arthur Maxwell slit his cock from tip to root, slicing down the shaft with a boxcutter knife, and out the maggots poured, a glistening, squirming mass of fat white grubs falling on the bathroom tiles. He crushed them underfoot, feeling them pop and squish between his toes. Their guts were a milky yellow, like pus.

His dingus hung between his legs, a dead piece of meat with an empty core. The maggots had eaten it hollow, starting from within, eating and replicating until the whole of his penis was nothing but wriggling larvae with a thin shell of veiny, withered tissue to hide them. Only when they began spilling out his urethra when he pissed or jacked off had Arthur realized the true extent of the infestation and made the decision to take action.

He first had tried burning them out. He straightened a wire coat hanger, heated the end of it with a lighter until it was red hot, and plunged it straight into his dickhole, searing the tender inner flesh until he passed out from the pain. When he woke up, the coat hanger was fused to the inside of his cock.

Pulling it out was out of the question; it had become a part of him. He snipped it off just above his penis glans with a pair of wire cutters and used a leather awl to drill out a new pee-hole lower down on his shaft. Immediately, a hot gush of piss and blood spurted from the wound and sprayed his apartment, followed by at least a dozen grubs.

Arthur's next attempt was luring the little buggers out with an appetizing snack. He found a dead cat in an alleyway, cooking in the summer sun, and took it home in his Power Rangers lunch box. Holding his dick over the festering treat as it lay spread out on the kitchen table, he cooed to the maggots, singing a cat food jingle and forgetting half the words. To his frustration, none of his little friends emerged. To his horror, an army of maggots exploded from the feline carcass, climbing on top of each other to bridge the gap between the pussy and the cock in second's time, swarming over his crotch before disappearing within the small, ragged hole in Arthur's member.

Arthur's dick had swollen to twice its original size, engorged as it was with parasites. He could see them squirming around in there as he held his dick up to a pocket mirror, could feel them eating the spongy erectile tissue, chewing the veins with their microscopic teeth.

He tried to think, straining the burned out cinder of his mind for solutions. After a few hours of deliberation, he got out the boxcutter and a bottle of antiseptic.

Now he stood barefoot in the bathroom, overwhelmed with relief, ankle deep in vermin, blood running down his spindly legs. He could finally relax. He idly scratched his balls with his dirty fingernails as he savored his victory over the writhing masses.

The feeling was short-lived. His stomach cramped and his breath got short as his fingertips brushed against a lump, then another and another. Lots and lots of lumps. He carefully palpated his distended sac as it throbbed and pulsed like a misshapen heart. There was no doubt about it; the uninvited guests who had so rudely colonized his urinary tract had now moved into the testicular condominium and were busy wrecking the place. Gorging on the protein-rich nut meat, they multiplied out of control, and before Arthur's bloodshot eyes, the diameter of his scrotum went first from that of a tangerine to an orange, and then a basketball.

Hoisting his still-expanding maggot satchel in both arms to keep from tripping himself, Arthur shuffled to the kitchen as quickly as he could. Now that they were migrating to other body parts, it was only a matter of time before he was nothing but a bag of bugs. He grabbed a crusty spoon from the kitchen sink. His options were clear: he would eat, or be eaten.

Later, seated comfortably on his scrotal beanbag in front of the burned-out television, Arthur shoveled one squirming spoonfull after another into his mouth. The supply of maggots seemingly couldn't be depleted, but at least the infestation wasn't growing as long as he continued to eat. All things considered, this wasn't too bad. At least he'd save money on groceries.