>Infinite uyghurs. You lay on the table to give birth, but the dusky niglets begin crawling out uncontrollably. After ten uyghurs you start to worry. Your crotch is sticky and it reeks of monkey musk. You desperately clamp your legs together, but that only makes your womb hurt. The uyghurs accelerate. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop birthing. The hospital room floor is covered in crawling, crying niglets. You try to birth into the nearest trash can but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The uyghurs are too numerous to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the uyghurs from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the uyghurs. The uyghurs accelerate. You slip and fall in your own swarthy spawn. The uyghurs are now a foot deep, almost as long as your still-erect bvll's bbc. Sprawled on your back, you begin to birth all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky black uyghurs begin to fall like raindrops, burying you in writhing baby uyghurs. The uyghurs accelerate. You struggle to stand as the force of the uyghurs begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a uyghur themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the uyghurs are now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of uyghurs reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with uyghurs instead of molasses. The uyghurs accelerate. It’s been two hours. The doctors and midwife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the coal-black swarm. The shortest doctor goes under, with a hand reaching out in vain and muffled cries rising from the mass. You plead to God to end your suffering. The uyghurs accelerate. You squeeze your pussy to stop the uyghurs, but they begin to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the uyghurs tear your canal open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews uyghurs. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the niglets. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see the hospital is completely black. A passerby calls the cops. The uyghurs accelerate. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards the hospital. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of niglets smack them in the eyes, blinding them. The uyghurs accelerate. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your ovaries have now grown into a substitute brain. The uyghurs accelerate. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the uyghurs begin to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your niglets sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your womb start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new African crew as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The uyghurs accelerate. The uyghurs begin to gravitate towards themselves, forming a comet trail of uyghurs. Astronomers begin calling you the “Kemet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of spawning swarthoids. Eventually, you stop thinking.