Stanky Leg Novels & Stories

The one white barber in Lonesome Dove, a fellow Tennessean named Dillard Brawley, had to do his barbering on one leg because he had not been cautious enough about centipedes. Two of the vicious red-legged variety had crawled into his pants one night and Dillard had got up in a hurry and had neglected to shake out the pants. The leg hadn’t totally rotted off, but it had rotted sufficiently that the family got nervous about blood poisoning and persuaded he and Call to saw it off.

Human, naked, and sick to our stomachs. Sacred shitsticks, indeed.

Olivia The stink of the prison tickles my nostrils. This place is filthy; every surface I touch feels grimy and sticks to my skin and clothing like glue. The smell is the most unbearable part. It's the kind of smell that can't be identified. It's a sickly sweet rotten smell. The kind of smell that can only be associated with places of misery like this. It reeks of death.

Scarlett I attempted to move, to stretch, to find a little comfort on the damp floor, but every single position proved to be too much for my rigid muscles. The little space was pervaded with repugnant stench of stale urine and rotten meat. My nose wrinkled, attempting to control the amount of the foul air that seeped into my lungs.

I should be gloating. A stench… never-ending sulphuric stench of this shithole mixed with the reeking foul odour of cadavers of fallen demons who started the rotting process. It consumes all the senses, lingering its putrid odour deeply into our skin. The mixture of ashes, mud, debris and black dust rose thick in the air, creating foggy clouds, almost like a cloud curtain that stuck its ugliness in our eyes, provoking eye-watering and gagging reflexes. Inhaling this necrotic air irritates the nose, provokes tears and clogs our lungs.

Derek Stygian’s stripper's club was bathed in a deep red light. The kind that makes everything look darker than it really was. Shadows moved along the walls as slow music played through hidden speakers, the bass low and steady like a heartbeat. The air felt hot with sin, heavy with smokes of their cigarettes, filled with sweat of the male strippers and the tables were filled with expensive alcohol. Not everyone in the city was allowed into Stygian's secret cult. Only those who are ready to sell their soul for discretion are allowed in.

He took a step back, watching her stricken face. Her legs shook as she struggled to stand on her own, her knees felt weak, her hands weakly tried to hold on to the slippery wall, failing. But more prominently, she realised, the throb in between her legs was most weakening, distracting.

An odor coming from accumulated fecals, dirt, and mud. “Call Alpha Kaylon. Clearly I didn't know what to do with this strange creature. It's the weirdest being I've ever seen my whole dämn life.” The man's brows furrowed as he was trying to figure out what he was looking at. He was looking at her full of disgust.

Samuel finally got a clear look behind the bushes. Brandon came close to him and saw it too, "L— Legs? Are those legs ?" "What? whose legs?" Bonnie asked in utter confusion. Suddenly a pair of legs jumped out of the bushes in light. Everybody felt intense goosebumps on their spine when they saw a pair of body-less hideous legs standing in front of them. The situation creeped them out. The pair of legs looked like a human's but the hair on it was like of an animal's, the nails on the legs had grown over 4 cm and they were covered in mud and blood. The creepy legs were still moving as if they had a life inside them, which by the looks, they did.

“Oh yeah? It sure doesn’t seem like it. I just wanted to say ‘Hi’ and you suddenly started getting up.” “It’s not you.” I shook my head. “Well yeah, it’s you. More significantly, it’s your legs.” He looked down at his legs. “My legs?” “You just came and stuck them in the water. It’s unsanitary.” “Lady, people stick their legs in water all the time.” I shook my head. “Sorry, I have to leave.”