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Gruesome Trevor.

Started by Glebe, June 03, 2017, 05:20:14 AM

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JoeyBananaduck

No, he can't.

Trev drinks a cold can of Tesco Economy minestrone soup then sharts it out into the bathtub.

"Looks just as good coming out as it did going in!" he squeals delightedly. "What a money saver!"

Glebe

"I've lapsed," sobs Grue. "I just don't think I can behave like a reasonably-civilized person!"

"That's alright," GT's psychiatrist reassures him, "You can't change over night, we all have lapses! Oh blast, there's my phone - please excuse me for a moment, Trevor, I'm just going to take this call outside."

On his return, the psychiatrist immediately notices the childlike, guilty look on Gruesome's face, and the orange-tinted layer atop his newly-frothed coffee. And...

"Trevor, your flies are undone."

Gregory Torso

Each morning, Trevor is awoken by his "Trev-alarm" - a mechanism of his own design which fires cold, flaky dogshit into his mouth, a sharpened pencil into one of his eyes, an oven glove full of Sriracha Thai sauce into his shaved crotch, and a single termite up his gruesome anus.
It affords him no benefits.

Glebe

Quote from: Gregory Torso on November 23, 2017, 02:30:06 PMIt affords him no benefits.

It's just shoddy workmanship. There was a time when things were built with passion and care, now it's just fired off a line by production robots!

Fishfinger

Trevor's ringtone is an excerpt from the Brady/Hindley tape.

Glebe

Trev is inspired by social media to become more politically active, and so prepares to go on a solo march with a placard emblazoned with the message 'Accrue the Grue!'

Gregory Torso

Gruesome Trevor, torn between staying gross and getting clean, seeks the wisdom of his crabs. He constructs a sensory deprivation tank in his kitchen (it's really just a big fridge with a few holes cut in it for breaths).
He floats for two weeks in a saline solution that is very soon mostly congealed gravy, crab roe and curdled diarrhoea. But he won't leave until the crabs have told him how to proceed. Crabs have hatched in his stomach, his throat; they climb over his teeth in the dark. The larval crabs colonise his nostrils and his eyes. In the foetid milky bouillobasse he marinades, a human rockpool, his flesh breaking apart like sodden tissue. but he won't leave.
He gulps from the unspeakable soup to stay conscious, his senses depleted, denied. He is going deep this time, right to the rotten core of self. His horrible past glories play out in the infinitely black screen before him. His mind lives now in the dead world of the past while his body rots and degrades unattended to in the present. Every thought of death and despair and wasted time life, a slow sticky hell spun out beyond the measurement of time. 
Fifteen days into the treatment, the fridge door opens and a sticky, blind, horrendously melted figure spews forth onto the greasy lino. He has his answer. The crabs have spoken.

JoeyBananaduck

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The sound heard around the neighbourhood as Trev's nap is interrupted by the letterbox rattling with a circular from AgeUK.

Sebastian Cobb

Gruesome Trevor has been eating the same undigested sweetcorn with every meal for 15 years.

Ray Travez

...sweetcorn that his friend Disgusting Dan stole for him from a pathology lab. It is the long-lived last meal of an octogenarian who died from internal bleeding

BlodwynPig

RIP Joey, for a moment I thought somehow he was back.

Sebastian Cobb

Gruesome Trevor shits into a bowl then fucks it.

Another valentines day we'll spent!

petril

Gruesome Trevor wears a v-neck jumper as underwear

Fishfinger

Hottest day of the year, and Trevor is walking the streets wearing the flayed skin of an abattoir worker. Dress for the job you want, he reasons.

Fishfinger

Trevor showers with 'yellow water'. It's not piss. It's decomposing slabs of butter swarming with maggots that he tosses into an overhead fan.

petril

Trev's bedroom is a shrine to Tom Pryce and THAT Marshall, FJ Van Vuuren

Glebe

He's back!

Gruesome Trevor leaves a salad in the fridge for a week to stink the place out.

Bazooka

G Trev spits chewed up cabbage at all but the dead in the hospice.

Gregory Torso

Gruesome Trevor gently tugs a length of gristle out of his gelatinous torso. "Peperami" he announces to his choir of festering duck carcasses.



Gregory Torso

Gruesome Trevor plucks his oily pubes off and then weaves them into a flatcap. "Look at me I am from Yorkshire" he whispers into the ear of a nervous child at the bus stop.

Bazooka

Gruesome Trevor manages to literally boil someone's blood, by smothering them with his blistered neck flaps, when he's discovered during a botched burglary.

Ray Travez

Gruesome Trevor experiments, wiping his arse by dragging it across the carpet like a dog. "fun and efficient" he thinks. Eventually the criss-crossed brown streaks form a picture, an uncanny representation of a carcass beetle chewing on a piece of Elvis' brain.

Bazooka

Gruesome Trevor smirks and pulsates, as he looks into the caretakers eyes, whilst using the own mans mop to jam the cleaner into the piss pit.

Fishfinger

Dinner with the Lisping Ghoul. "Broth" again, but it's always a treat. The Ghoul dons his titty apron and rummages in the freezer. "Craig, Matt or Luke thith evening?" "Bit of everything, please mate."

Fishfinger

Gruesome Trevor washes his one pair of pants in the sonic vortex of his victims' screams.

petril

Trev has never forgiven the police for not letting Gazza go and see Moaty. would've kicked off. one of them shot dead, caked in the other's viscera. Never forgotten

NJ Uncut

Trevor has pulled here, she's gagging for it!

"Momentito", he says, putting his finger on her lips. She kisses his finger seductively.

Trevor goes bogs and has a fine old slash, waggling his fingertips in the yellow stream of what was Red Bull and vodka, and leaves the bogs, kicking the door open so as not to waste any liquid.

"Now where were we?" he says to his new sweetheart, jamming three fingers in her eager, suckling mouth.

NJ Uncut

Trevor's colleague yawns and he hocks a ball of opaque phlegm right in there. Bullseye!

NJ Uncut

"If there's grass on the pitch let's play!" decrees Trev's mate Creepy Carlos down pub. They're discussing their personal mottos for dating. "What's your saying, Trevs?"

Trevor explains: "If there's no green foam, I'm going straight home."

"I use a snooker one myself. I need to sink the pink!" says Quotidian Quentin. "The pink ball is my cock and the pocket is her vagina."

"Down the brown," says Trevor, suddenly inspired and reaching into his wank bank for various memories he can turn into billiards-based epithets. "Say hello to the yellow."

"Haha they're quite good mate-"

"Knock back the black. Green is serene. Poo if it's blue, shite if she's white."

NJ Uncut

Trevor enrols in art class.

"So what brings you to the class, Trevor? Do you want to perhaps capture the majesty of the human form? Do you want to render nature in all her glory? Do you admire the masters, and wish to become the next Renoir?" asks the teacher, smiling beneath her beret.

"No no, not quite," Trevor clarifies, and seeing the teacher nodding encouragement, explains "I want to do more realistic Simpsons porn for the internet. Homer having it off with Lisa, Grampa having it off with Maggie. Barney freezing dog muck and later using it as a makeshift dildo on Milhouse. Patti pegging Selma eight ways from Sunday. The power plant lads running a train on Mr Burns. The lot, love. The. Lot."