I was searching the internets for information on the heiman, since I've never been too familiar with its actual function or identity,and I found this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do:
ON MONSTERS THAT HAVE COME FORTH FROM WOMEN'S WOMBS
It is true that men, upon occasion, generate wild beasts within their bodies. Count Percival of Dingleberry assures me that he ejected through his rod, after a battle with the gripes, a live animal, not unlike a centipede in form but scab-red in color and smelling of fresh butter, which animal, after a great deal of lashing, leapt from the chamber pot and slithered under the bed, whereupon the Count's cat, a fat old one-eyed mouser with shredded ears, devoured the worm and fell instantly dead.
As Monsieur Joubert writes (in his book On the Innate Sinfullness of Man, His Corruption in the Wombe from Whenceforthe he Comes between Urinne and Feces, a Squalling Beaste Bearing in his Tissewes the Mortall Tainte of Eve), although men have been known to discharge animal creatures from their rods, ears, mouths, noses, eyes, and bungholes, such productions are no match for the infinite corruption and monstrous fertility of the womb, that sink of the body, that sewer of the microcosm wherein all filth clots, that animal who becomes spiteful if thwarted and often rises up to smother the heart, that lecherous beast who rushes down to suck up the seed of poor bewitched Man. Spurred on by the excitement of coitus, Man thrashes in a pit, loses himself in a filthy and treacherous labyrinth full of who-knows-what manner of slime-mired Minotaurs, pokes a cesspool with his noble rod, spits from his scepter a spirituous seed into the gross and clammy seed of Woman to ignite life, casts his sacred fire into cold humors oozed forth from her inferior and shriveled stones, for she hath not the natural heat sufficient to inspirit life. Nay, her vagina is like unto the eye of the mole that hath all the proper parts but no heat sufficient for the faculty of sight, so that her rod remains inverted, hidden, shrouded in darkness, and doth not thrust itself forth into the Light of God as doth Man's Aspiring Member which erects itself toward Heaven. Because of the corruption of certain excrements that molder in the wombs of women, as oft occurs in the bowels and other chambers of the body, women have been known to expel from their wombs (sometimes with normal fetuses, other times as sole issue), insects, worms, oysters, frogs, toads, snakes, lizards, newts, horn-owls, monsters, harpies, & C., which false births our learned men call moles or wild beasts. Even virgins, who turn green pining for a husband, and who retain seed in their bodies until it becomes venomous and emits a stinksome vapor, can produce such vermin of the womb without the inspiritous substance of the Masculine seed.
As the learned Parey scornfully writes, the ignorant among us claim that such births derive from the spawn of water serpents who happen to spurt their seed into the pool some unfortunate draws for a bath, and that in the heat of such a bath the woman's open pores suck in this reptile seed. The ignorant know not, however, that this is impossible, unaware that a woman cannot conceive save when, in the excitement of coitus, her lickerish womb opens up and sucks in the seed it so desireth.
But I, like Theseus, have momentarily put down my thread, have risked losing my way in that treacherous and beslimed labyrinth into which men befuddle themselves in pleasures so bewitching that they would sell their souls to the Devil rather than withdraw their pizzles from that frog-pit which breeds monsters no less hideous than Minotaurs.
Due to the putrefaction of female seed, the corruptive forces of unnatural foods, the monstrous desires of wombs so greedy they must cast forth creatures with or without the sublime seed of Man, all manner of beasts may spring from the rank and darkling slimes of the womb.
Monsieur Bourgeois, a learned French physician and distant cousin of mine, delivered the monstrous birth of a tripe-monger's wife well past age of child-bearing: a bladder-dugged hag with oysters for eyes and a black tongue, a scab-pated witch in a greasy kerchief whose ankles hung over her shoes. The local midwife, diagnosing an apostema, called in my cousin the surgeon. And the hag, insisting that she felt a child quick within her, begged Bourgeois to feel how the wee jester cut a caper in her belly. Not a drop of sap left in her, but this rancid old tripe-wife, this scrap of maggoty bacon, this roasted pig's ear must spread her legs for the gentleman my cousin and scream like a sow in farrow. She showed him her privates, he gasped from the stench, and out popped a fat hairless cat, horned like the devil and mustachioed like a rake. Round and round the bed the creature scampered, whistling and crying, pattering and skittering, until it climbed up the bedpost and thereupon began licking the slime from its skin. My cousin caught it in a hempen sack, and as it died shortly thereafter, he anatomized the beast and found a litter of bee-sized kittens in its belly.
No need to thank me, because there's more.
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