Sana, sana, colita de rana (heal, heal, little frog's tail)

February 2024

For the development of the narrative structure that guided the 2024 edition of Subsuelo, and in collaboration with the artist Jaime Prada, we carried out a collective creative writing exercise with selected participants from Subsuelo 2023 with whom we wished to continue working in 2024.

The activity was based on three exquisite corpses, each created from a specific prompt: imagine foundational myths, consider a seismic event, and include one of the three kinkiest experiences previously selected by consensus among all participants.

At the end of the activity, the authors of the three kinkiest experiences (Alda, Brisa, and Salo) were invited to rewrite each exquisite corpse, with the instruction to place their stories within one of three temporalities: past, present, or future.

Below are the final myths written by Alda, Brisa, and Salo...

Pachadildo: Sinchi’s birthday

by Brisa Fernandez

This is the story of Juana.
It is said that she was born in Cusco in the year 1229. Her mother worked as a security guard for Mama Ocllo. The following year, in 1230, Mama Ocllo gave birth to her daughter, Sinchi. Juana and Sinchi grew up together and became very close friends. They lived in the royal house, surrounded by the luxuries of their time: gold ornaments, feathers of exotic birds, a silver ceiling, and floors covered with flowers. There was always abundance—of course, that’s what happens when you’re friends with the rulers of Cusco.

The years passed. It is now 1248, and Sinchi’s 18th birthday is only a couple of weeks away. Juana wanted to give her something special. Sinchi loved men—a lot. She was very passive, obsessed with big dicks, always horny, always thinking about being penetrated. Every day she was sleeping with someone different (if you feel identified, it’s okay, bbs).

It didn’t matter where; she was one of those. Although she did prefer the orchard or the lagoon.

Sinchi: “Do you remember the gangbang I had with the six guardians of the king, a week ago?”
Juana: “Yes! You were completely out of control. You finally fulfilled your fetish—being penetrated by six men from Manco Cápac’s army.”
Sinchi: “Yes, my friend. It was delicious. I ended up pregnant.”

Seeing her friend like that, Juana wanted to give her something truly useful. But what she had in mind didn’t exist yet—it hadn’t been invented. She kept thinking and thinking, until little by little the idea began to take shape.

First, she needed a corn cob. But not just any corn—it had to be a special one, rare and hard to find. After searching and asking around, she found it. Excited, she went to gather the rest of the materials: a knife made from bull horn, chicha de jora, and the stalks of a blue corn variety.

She carefully stripped the husks, cutting thin strips from the stalks to make a beautiful bow. Then she boiled spring water in a pot, and once it reached a rolling boil, she placed the corn inside and cooked it for three hours. With the bull-horn knife, she carved the cob until she obtained a perfect shape—22 cm long.

She placed it in the sun to dry for two days, until it became very hard. Then she covered it with a cream made from coconut and certain liquid substances obtained from the warriors of the king of Cusco. She left it to rest for three nights. This made the object both soft and rigid at once.

At last, Sinchi’s 18th birthday arrived. The hall was decorated with flowers from the royal garden, ostrich feathers, and gold and silver ornaments. Her friends and guests wore elegant clothing. A long carpet marked the line of guests waiting to present their gifts.

Amid surprises, laughter, applause, and endless toasts with chicha de jora, everyone gave their gifts—except Juana.

Finally, Juana stepped forward and presented the Pachadildo.

Sinchi was speechless. The guests were shocked, staring at the object in awe. Sinchi stood up, undressed, and used it right there—sitting down and moaning.

Sinchi: “Umm… aaayyy… my friend, this feels so good! This is the best gift ever! Why don’t you make more and sell them?”
Guests: “Yes! You should make more—we’ll buy them from you!”

Then Sinchi reached orgasm.
She got dressed and proclaimed:

“Let the party continue! Bring the jugs of chicha de jora—we must toast!”

And that is how Juana started the business of the Pachadildos.

End.

The world is just an invention

by La Alda

Legend has it that, for the world to exist, a transvestite had to walk the planet in high heels. From end to end, among the rubble, the only inhabitant of the earth advanced, enduring hunger, thirst, and pain. One day, her feet began to bleed, forcing her to stop in the middle of the Peruvian jungle. From the streams of that fluid, other transvestites were born, who immediately mated until they multiplied by the millions.

The most extravagant animals in the universe lived among the Amazonian forests. It is said that, at that time, some exotic mammals took the form of handsome men to seduce the lonely matriarchs. One of them —the most handsome and deceitful— began to hunt them all with tricks until they disappeared. Before killing them, the monstrous creature raped them with its twelve tongues. Days later, it extracted seeds from their butts to store in a hut and feed off their fruits. Weeks after that, the sprouts lodged in its stomach shot out from its own butt. Each viscous egg became an offspring tasked with chasing the remaining living transvestites.

What the creature and its brood did not know was that, one night during a torrential rain, dozens of transvestites had escaped, swimming through the Amazon toward Lima, the capital of Peru. It was a landlocked territory where modernity and its corruption seduced most of its inhabitants.

The only ones who would help the transvestites escape extermination were the poor, the people forgotten by progress. With their support, many managed to hide for centuries throughout the country. Concealed in misery, they gathered every weekend at the top of Cerro El Pino to plan their revenge. On that mountain, each shared fruits, culinary heritages, hidden powers, and the rage against a world that wanted to make them disappear. Without anyone else noticing, each transvestite began to build dwellings among the clouds. When they kissed, they produced an ultra-resistant saliva with which they glued the crystals formed from their tears to build rooms, plants, and even enormous mansions in the sky. That would be their refuge when the troop of hunters found them.

By 2024, the sky had ceased to be blue. It was dyed a somber orange. All of this in a colonized country marked by car bombings, forced disappearances, dictatorships, femicides, hate crimes, pardons, mafias, racism, corruption, sensationalism, pollution, poverty, and oblivion.

One afternoon during an infernal summer, while “Aguita de Coco” played on all the country’s radios, the news, social media, and newspapers announced the massive arrival of the killers. The first phase of the collective revenge was about to begin when the headlines confirmed the death of the smallest transvestites. Eight girls had been coming down from Cerro El Pino, returning to their hideouts scattered throughout the city. They had just finished building the last glass mansion when the watchful hunters broke in and pulled out their long, sharp tongues to stab them as many times as they wished. The images of the massacre were horrifying but generated ratings and fed the morbid curiosity of the powerful.

The videos of their corpses filled their sisters with immeasurable rage and pain. They organized, and in one of their meetings, decided to take the girls, adolescents, and elderly to the newly built mansions. The poor hideouts were no longer an option; the second phase of the plan had begun. In their sky-quarters, each learned from the other to defend themselves with sorcerous screams, use their innocent looks as weapons, and protect the seeds that many still carried in their wombs until these turned into long vines filled with deadly flowers.

The transvestites had been born with survival as their only religion. After so much loss and extermination, the time to reclaim what had been taken from them had arrived. The news and digital media began to spread rumors about the appearance of groups of dead hunters: with red eyes and flower remains covering their noses and throats. Thus began a war that would keep the entire country on alert.

One night, the earth trembled so violently that Cerro El Pino opened with unimaginable fury. Its roaring cracks expelled infinite tongues that eagerly swallowed all the hunters. When the last of them died, the fire in the sky descended into the depths of the underground. With this, the glass homes emerged from darkness and began to illuminate their surroundings with the bright blue of the firmament —now dominated by the transvestites and the poor who, without owning power, invented another possible world.

What was left after the last day?

by Salo Tomoe

They often say that, many centuries ago, there existed a race of beautiful and wild animals. They say they walked on two feet, that they built weapons, that they occupied half of each village. They say they hunted, they gathered, they made fire from two stones. They say they had clear and simple ideas. They say they were the world.
But the world eventually ended them.

They say so many things about them. Yet one great doubt remained forever unanswered:

Did man ever fall in love?

With stones and rubble, those of the New Era built the universe from scratch. Sky to sky, sea to sea, cloud after cloud, these new beings loved to dwell inside the planet they called Love, the only word they managed to recover from the language of the Old Beings.

Curiously, and by divine command, none of them had learned to love, nor did they know passion or desire for another. Every fifty years, when someone died, an angel brought a new baby and placed it in the arms of their chosen family.

Every seven days, God would pass by, transformed into a new animal, to contemplate the life of His second creation. And then, someone dared to ask Him how the Great Collapse came to be. God, transformed into a silver deer, answered:

On that day —the Last Day— I opened a crack in the middle of Everything. The angels call it the Great Mouth. At that moment, Earth began to spin with unprecedented force, destroying itself like a colossal earthquake. Almost the entire planet was consumed by the Great Mouth. In the few fragments that remained, I planted seeds of light. And from those seeds, you sprouted —the Children of the New Era.

The one who asked this, whom we shall call Dasein, thanked Him for His immense wisdom. Little by little, by asking the angels, she managed to learn more about the Old Beings, though she never knew whether any of them had survived. They named her then Dasein the Daring, for she wished to understand God’s failed creation.

One day, when she wanted to go out to the surfaces of Love, she saw a great comet approaching the sky above her. Very close to where she stood, the celestial object crashed and opened like an egg. Out of it came a tall, burly being, full of hair and breathing deeply. He wore a uniform she had never seen, and at his belt hung a large shotgun.

Dasein ran to greet him, and when she asked who he was, he replied:

“I am the last man on Earth.”

At that moment, Dasein sobbed with joy, for she had always dreamed of knowing more about the Ancient Beings. She asked him about life before the Last Day. Seeing the angels approaching, the Man lifted her with one arm and ran. Through craters, bluish stones, and streams, he carried her tirelessly until they reached the shadow of a giant tree —for it is well known that angels cannot see through shadows. Setting her on the ground, he managed only to say:

“Today I have come to tell my truth.”

Seeing the light emanating from Dasein’s eyes, the Man felt a deep emotion. By mutual agreement, they began to meet every week, always after God’s usual visit. And the Man hunted and reinvented fire, and had ideas that were clear and simple. And at each meeting, he told her his truth. And Dasein learned to love the shotgun he carried on his belt.

One day, Dasein came to know the Man’s body. After all, it was not so different from her own. Listening to the Man’s tender heartbeat —as soft as a song— she understood why God had destroyed the Old Beings: they were too strong and too fragile at the same time.

And then, one day, the Man did not return. Apparently, God learned of their meetings and cast him into the Great Mouth forever. Dasein wept beneath the tree from which God had taken the shadow. In His immense mercy, an angel rescued the Man’s shotgun and, with a snap, transformed it into a flower that would never die. The angel placed the flower in Dasein’s hair, not without saying:

“In Love, Daring one, you have known love.”

And she, with her eyes full of tears, finally understood what God had long denied them:
that love had existed long before Love.