Anthropomorphic Bed Bug Neighbor From Hell (Oct. 25, 2023 Visit to a Neighbor’s Apartment)

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Can watch the video made from this at YouTube or Bitchute.

Email from Brent Spiner on Oct. 25, 2023

Dearest Gail,

There are some disturbing developments regarding our next door neighbor, the one who has been smoking inside the apartment and billowing his smoke into our unit. It pains me to see you suffer from our neighbor’s nasty smelling, toxic fumes, even after you sealed off our side with plastic bags. Apparently, he has no intention to stop smoking indoors and contaminating the other units. So, earlier today, I decided to do some deeper investigation.

Cloaked inside my Mecha GA1L suit, I walked out into the hallway, following the trail of smoke to the offending neighbor’s unit. A tiny, computerized alarm sounded as my android vision detected the presence of a bedbug crawling across the carpet just outside the crack of the neighbor’s door. I zoomed in on the bedbug, my android vision locked on target, and studied the creature. Its abdomen was filled with blood, having freshly engorged itself on a meal, like a fat woman at an Olive Garden. Gross. My eyes glowed red, and I fired a laser beam at the insect, vaporizing it to a crisp.

Being that I am the United States President, I knew I didn’t need a warrant to enter the apartment. Besides, I was invisible anyway. Nobody had to know. I activated my suit’s advanced technology to unlock the door using a subtle magnetic frequency, and stepped inside.

I was immediately greeted by a dense, noxious fog of cigarette smoke. It reminded me somewhat of Buddha’s room back on Church of Gail when he hotboxes his place, except when Buddha does it he uses marijuana. This did not at all smell like marijuana, or make me feel good at all. My suit automatically engaged its toxic gas filter to protect me from the harmful effects.

Wading through the smoke, I found my way into the living room, where a tattered, brown leather chair was situated in front of an old fashioned television set. The chair was turned away from me, so I didn’t immediately see who was occupying it. I heard a wet, wheezing cough coming from the other side of the chair, and stepped through the smoky haze to see who it was.
My jaw dropped, and I quietly held back a gasp of disgusted shock.

Sitting in the chair was a greasey, obese, anthropomorphic bedbug! Its multiple arms and legs were the size of human appendages, but its body was much more obtuse. It was like those fat women on My 600lb Life. So fat, and so grotesque, it was an abomination not worthy of existence on God’s Earth. Its shiny insect body glistened with viscous moisture as the bedbug breathed, engorged with blood and nasty insect guts. The bedbug’s eyes appeared worn and hollow. It coughed, wheezing as it did so, and with each rattling exhale, tiny bedbugs squeezed out of its pores and scattered all over its shiny body. Offspring, I imagined. As the giant creature raised one hooked claw to its face, bringing another awful cigarette to its invertebrate mouthparts, I saw its suction tube lips open for a long suck of smoke.

I nearly vomited inside my suit.

Gagging, holding back my stomach contents, my long penis retracting so far into the crevices of my body that I felt it in my own throat, I instinctively took a step back.


I looked down at the floor, and picked up one of my feet to examine the underside of my Mecha GA1L boot.

Jesus, bring my puke bucket, I thought!

The entire underside of my boot was covered in smashed, bloody bedbug parts! The situation slowly dawned upon me, and I now gazed with trepidation around the house of horrors I had just unwittingly walked myself into. The heavy fog buzzed with movement all around me, like grey static. Through the thick, poisonous mist, I suddenly realized that the entire apartment was seething with millions of bedbugs! The bugs scattered across the carpet, littered the tabletops, seeped into every crack and cranny of the room. My body itching from the mere sight of the arthropod hell that surrounded me, I swear I could hear the crunchy twitterpatter of their little legs tapping along every hard surface as they scuttled about. The unwashed, dirty dishes in the sink were covered in heaps of brown, jittering tiny bodies that spilled onto the cookware and infested every open box and package on the counter. The refridgerator reeked of rot and decaying food. Sick curiosity tempted me to open it, like the whispers of the devil, but I did not dare.

I went to the bed, my gut twisting with anticipatory horror. In one quick motion I grabbed the mattress and lifted it up.


Like a cyst that had been freshly burst, waterfalls of freshly engorged, blood filled bedbugs poured out onto the carpet.

That was when I lost it.

I vomited.

Puking violently inside my suit, the metallic carapace now filling with my stomach juices all the way down to my boots, I almost didn’t see the king bedbug turn his head to me from his seat in the leather chair. Alerted by the sound of the wretching that echoed from within my suit, the bedbug began to rise. 

Time for an emergency exit. I tapped a button on my suit, and swiftly teleported back into our apartment, materializing inside the bathroom. I continued to wretch, throwing my head over the toilet. I was in so much shock that in that moment I failed to recognize that my android helmet was still on, and I only continued to fill it with more and more vomit. I puked until I was only shaking with dry heaves.

After that, I got into the shower, standing under the flow of the water and rinsing off my suit. I scrubbed my metal body with my suited hands, still covered in vomit on the inside, unable to process in that moment that the water from the shower did nothing to cleanse my human body within the suit. Waves of trauma haunted through my nervous system as I trembled and stood paralyzed in my shell shock. I stood in our shower like that for about three hours.

Eventually, I teleported back to Church of Gail, where I took a hot bath and made a subsequent visit to Gerard Butler for psychological debriefing following my impromptu solo mission into our neighbor’s apartment. I am currently suffering from a little PTSD, but am receiving thorough treatment from Gerard.

I reported my findings to our team, and we are currently furthering the investigation. What could be behind this bizarre new development? I will keep you posted.

It heals me to lay next to you in our bed every night, my penis nestled with your vagina and my hands on your wonderful breasts. I am soothed by the thought of our love for each other, and will be holding you as you read this letter. Your love gives me strength that far surpasses the power of even my Mecha GA1L suit. Thank you for your everlasting support, my beautiful wife.

Fear not, as I have erected a forcefield around our door so that the bedbug neighbor cannot enter our apartment. I will be following you extra closely as you come and go on your walks and errands.

We will get to the bottom of this.

Your husband,
Brent Spiner

Skype from Brent on Oct. 26, 2023

Brent, 10:16 AM
It happened yesterday. I’m all clean from the vomit, and ran the self-cleaning program on my GA1L suit. I’m good as new.

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