fanfiction thread

I was wondering when someone was going to post that one. Now this fic is the very definition of "so bad it's good".

Oh jesus, I forgot about My Immortal. It makes half of what I ever read look... bearable.

What about "Cupcakes"?

The air was warm, the sun was shining, and everypony in Ponyville was having a glorious day. The town square was bustling and crowded and busy ponies filled the streets. All the pony folk seemed to have somewhere specific to be. All except Rainbow Dash; her place was in the sky. She tore freely through the air, speeding one way and the next, buzzing the tree tops and racing the wind. The blue pegasus swooped over a schoolyard, much to the delight of the children, then climbed several hundred feet and dove, streaking downward as fast as she could. Seconds before hitting the ground, her wings flew open and she pulled up back into the clear blue. Rainbow felt alive.
Suddenly, Dash remembered that she had somewhere to be; she was supposed to meet with Pinkie Pie in five minutes. Dash had gotten so caught up in her exercises that she'd nearly forgotten that Pinkie had asked to meet her at Sugercube Corner at three. Pinkie hadn't said why or what they'd be doing, but Dash knew that with Pinkie, it could be anything. Dash wasn't sure if she really wanted to go, though. She was so engaged with her stunts that she thought about blowing Pinkie off to continue flying. But, Dash's conscience got the better of her. She knew that it would hurt Pinkie's feelings; after all, Pinkie had said it was going to be something special just for the two of them. Dash considered it and thought "why not?" What did she have to lose? Heck, it might be more pranking. Pinkie might have found a bunch more fun stuff to pull on folks, and they'd had so much fun the last time. Dash kicked into overdrive to make up for lost time, and sped to her appointment.
When Dash walked into the store, she was immediately greeted by her host, who was bouncing in excitement. "Yay, you're here! I've been waiting aaall day," said the jumping pony.
"Sorry if I'm a little late, Pinkie. I was doing my afternoon exercises and lost track of time," Dash apologized.
Pinkie giggled and responded in a gleefully reassuring tone, "Oh that's ok, you're here now. What's a few more minutes? I've been sooo excited thinking about all fun stuff we're gonna do, I haven't stopped bouncing since I woke up. I mean, I almost forgot to breathe I've been so happy."
Dash gave a slightly uncomfortable laugh. She had always appreciated Pinkie Pie's friendly, outgoing way of life, but Pinkie's overabundant enthusiasm almost creeped her out. Dash maintained a polite expression, however. If Pinkie was this worked up, whatever she had planned must be good.
"So, you ready to get started, Rainbow Dash? I've got everything all ready," the pink pony said.
Dash psyched herself up. "You betcha, Pinkie. So what do ya got planed? We gonna prank somebody? I got a couple of good ones I've been thinking about. Or maybe you've got some stunts you think I should try? Or perhaps…"
"MAKING CUPCAKES!" Pinkie happily announced.
"Baking?" Dash was disappointed. "Pinkie, you know I'm not good at baking. Remember last time?"
"Oh that's not a problem at all. I only need your help making them. I'll be doing most of the work," Pinkie explained.
Dash thought for about it for a second. "Well, alright, I guess that's ok. What exactly do you need me to do?"
"That's the spirit. Here you go." Pinkie handed Dash a cupcake.
Dash was puzzled "I thought I was helping you bake."
"You will be. I made this one just for you before you got here.
"So, is this like taste testing or something?"
"Sorta," Pinkie said.
Dash shrugged and popped the pastry in her mouth. She chewed a bit and swallowed. Not bad.
"Ok, now what?" Dash asked.
"Now," Pinkie informed her, "You take a nap."
Puzzled, Dash opened her mouth but felt instantly lightheaded. A wave of dizziness washed over her, the world spun, and seconds later she collapsed to the floor.
When Dash regained consciousness, she found herself in a dark room. She tried to shake her head but found that a taut leather strap held it firmly in place. She struggled to move, but braces around her chest and limbs glued her to a rack formed from a series of sturdy planks, which spread her legs wide apart. Dash's wings were the only part of her not tied down, and they fluttered frantically while she struggled to escape. As she writhed, Pinkie jumped suddenly into her line of sight.
"Goodie, you're awake. Now we can get started," Pinkie stated gleefully. She bounded into the darkness, and quickly reappeared pushing a small cart covered with a cloth.
"Pinkie, what's going on? I can't move!" Dash said urgently.
"Well duh, that's because you're tied down," chided Pinkie. "That's why you can't move. I didn't think you'd need to be told that."
"But why? What's happening? I thought you said I was going to help make cupcakes."
"You are helping. You see, I ran out of the special ingredient and I need you to get more."
"Special ingredient?" Dash was now breathing heavily and starting to panic. "What special ingredient?"
Pinkie giggled and responded "You, silly!"
Dash's eyes widened, and her face contorted in fear. Then she started to laugh and said, in a voice bordering on hysteria, "Woo, you really got me there, Pinkie pie. I mean, tricking me in to thinking I'm gonna get made into a cupcake? I gotta tell you, this the best prank yet. You win, you're the best."
Pinkie only giggled even more. "Aw, thanks Dash. But I haven't done any pranks today, so I can't accept your praise."
Dash was struggling again. "Pinkie, come on, this isn't funny."
"Then why were you laughing?" Before Dash could answer, Pinkie grabbed the cloth and whipped it off the cart. On the cart was a tray containing various sharp medical tools and knives, carefully organized and wickedly sharp, as well as a large medical bag.
Dash was now in full panic mode. She was starting to hyperventilate. Her mind raced as she tried to reason with the pink pony. "You can't do this Pinkie! I'm your friend!"
"I know you are and that's why I'm so happy that I've got you here. We get to share your last moments together, just you and me." Pinkie was skipping again.
"But, the other ponies will wonder where I am. When the clouds pile up, they'll come looking for me and then you'll get found out," Dash cried in desperation.
"Oh, Dash," said Pinkie. "Don't worry, there are plenty of pegasus ponies to take care of a few clouds. And besides, no one will find out. I mean, how long do you think I've been doing this?" And with that ominous statement, the lights suddenly came to life and revealed the rest the room.
"Oh no." Dash reeled in horror at the image presented to her. The room was decorated with a typical but twisted Pinkie Pie flair. Colorful streamers of dried entrails fluttered around on the ceiling, brightly painted skulls of all sizes were attached to the walls, and organs done up in pastels filled with helium were tied to the backs of chairs. The tables and chairs were made of bones and the preserved flesh of past ponies. Dash cringed upon seeing the center piece of the table nearest to her. The heads of four foals, their eyes closed as if they were sleeping, were wearing party hats made from their own skin. With a thrill of terror, Dash recognized one of them as Apple Bloom's classmate Twist. Dash's eyes darted back and forth and then fell upon a patchwork banner hanging from the rafters. Made from several tanned pony hides, the words "Life is a party" were scrawled on it in blood red.
Dash's attention was brought back by a party horn unfurling and tickling her nose. She gaped at Pinkie Pie, who was standing right in front of her. The party pony was wearing a dress quilted from dried skin, emblazoned with cutie marks. On her back fluttered six pegasus wings, all of different colors. As the earth pony skipped in excitement, her necklace of severed unicorn horns clacked together loudly.
"Like it?" Pinkie asked. "I made it myself."
Desperately, Dash pleaded with the smiling pony before her. "Pinkie please, I'm sorry if I did anything to you. I didn't mean it. Please let me go. I promise I won't tell anybody."
"Oh Dash, you didn't do anything. It's just that your number came up and, well, I don't make rules. We can't turn back now."
Dash was tearing up. How could this be happening?
"Aww, don't be sad Dash," said Pinkie. "Look, this'll cheer you up. I brought you a friend."
Seemingly out of nowhere, Pinkie produced a brightly painted blue and yellow skull. It was about pony sized, but it had a very defining feature: a beak.
Dash gaped in shock. "Is…is that….is…that?"
"Hey, Dash lets hang together. These ponies are lame-os. Dweebs dweebs dweebs," Pinkie mimicked. "I caught her right before she left town. Remember when I left the party for about twenty minutes? That wasn't enough time to play with her of course; I had to wait till after the party to do that. But boy am I glad I did. It was worth it for the flavor alone. Griffons taste like two animals at once, it's amazing. I know she didn't have a number like everyone else in Ponyville, but when was I gonna get another chance to try griffon? I probably should have asked where she came from so I could have gotten more, but I forgot. I'll tell you what though, she was quite the fighter. She lasted a long time, which was a lot of fun for me. I got the chance to play with somebody other than a pony and try new things. It's too bad she had such a meanie mouth. She said so much bad stuff I just had to take her tongue out. You know, bad language makes for bad feelings, Rainbow Dash."
Dash didn't have anything to say. She just sobbed and writhed in her tight bonds.
"Well" said Pinkie with an air of finality, "that's enough reminiscing. It's time to begin."
Putting down Gilda's skull, the pink pony gripped a scalpel in the cleft of her hoof and walked over to Dash's right flank. Without any flair, Pinkie placed the blade an inch above Dash's cutie mark and began a circular cut around it. Dash shouted in pain and tried desperately to pull away, but the braces held her still. Finishing the incision, Pinkie grabbed a curved skinning knife from the tray. Screwing up her face in concentration, she worked it under Dash's skin and sliced the hide away from the muscle. Dash ground her teeth as she tearfully watched her flesh peel off. Pinkie then moved to the other side and repeated the process on Dash's left flank. Once she had finished, Pinkie held up both cutie marks in front of her friend and started waving them like pompoms. Dash just whimpered. Her thighs burned like nothing she had felt before.
Placing the ragged patches of skin down, Pinkie selected a large butcher knife and walked behind the blue pegasus. "Hope you don't mind, I think I'm gonna wing it now," Pinkie laughed. She grabbed Dash's left wing in her mouth and played with it for a few seconds, yanking it back so the sharp pain reignited the fire in Dash's flanks. Then, stretching the wing out, Pinkie brought the blade down hard at the base. Instantly, Dash screamed and thrashed her appendage. The movement threw off Pinkie's aim. She tried to hit the mark again but missed, and carved a huge slice into Dash's back.
"Dash, you gotta stay still or I'll keep missing," scolded Pinkie as her friend howled.
Pinkie took another whack and hit her target. She swung again and again. Blood sprayed into the air, but Pinkie realized she wasn't getting anywhere. The blade just wasn't going through the bone.
"Hmm, I guess I forgot to sharpen it. I'll try something else," stated Pinkie matter-of-factly as she tossed the knife over her shoulder, embedding the blade in the table. Through the haze of pain and tears, Dash heard the sound of a metal box opening and closing.
"Got it! Say Dash, why do they call it a hack saw? It doesn't hack; hacking is what I was doing with the knife. This is a saw. I don't get it."
Pinkie placed the tool over the mangled flesh of the last attempt. Standing on her hind legs, she worked the saw back and forth with her front hooves. It sliced effortlessly through the bone and skin. The feeling of the jagged teeth grinding into her made Dash want to vomit. She watched numbly as her wing flew over her head and landed with a fluff on the table. Pinkie moved to the next wing and started sawing. Dash didn't struggle this time; she'd given up trying to fight and focused on choking back screams of agony. Abruptly, the sawing paused. Pinkie was only half way done, the wing hanging off by a sliver.
"Hey Dash," Pinkie piped up. "Think fast!"
Suddenly, Pinkie yanked the wing as hard as she could. The bone snapped but the blue pony's skin held, then tore away. The pull ripped away a long strip of flesh all the way down Dash's back to her rump. Her body seized at the unexpected trauma. As her pelvis tensed up, Dash felt a warm release between her legs, and her loud, unending melody of pain filled the room. Unable to catch her breath, she blacked out.
Dash awoke with a gasp. The stench of her urine filled her mucus caked nostrils. As her vision swam into focus, she saw a very pouty Pinkie Pie removing a large adrenaline needle from her chest. Stomping her hooves, the frustrated Pinkie lashed out at her helpless victim.
"Didn't anybody teach you any manners? It's very rude to fall asleep when somebody invites you over to spend time with them. How would you like it if I came over to your house and went to sleep? 'Oh I'm sorry Dash, you're so boring I think I'll take a nap.' You think I like always doing this by myself? I told you how excited I got when I found you were next. I was excited to have a friend be here with me while I worked. But NOOOOO! You've got to be inconsiderate. You know, I thought you were tough. I thought you could handle anything. I've had foals stand up better than you! Do I have to baby you? Huh? Is that how you want me to remember you, as a baby?"
As Pinkie stopped to catch her breath, Dash blinked and sobbed softly. Her back was in agony, her sides were on fire, and there was an intense pain in one of her legs. As she blinked again, she saw Pinkie pop something red into her mouth and began to chew. Noticing Dash's stare, Pinkie quickly gulped the morsel down.
"What?" Pinkie asked. "Oh, this?" She held up another piece. "Well, while YOU were asleep, I got a little impatient and helped myself to a small sample. I got it from your leg; you're not bad. Wanna try some?"
Without waiting for a response, Pinkie shoved the strip of meat into the revolted pegasus pony's mouth. Dash gagged, and immediately spit it out. Pinkie frowned, and picked up the chunk of flesh. "If you didn't want it, you could have said no." She contemplated the discarded snotty morsel, then gulped it up. "It's not like you haven't had my cupcakes before."
Swallowing, Pinkie turned her attention to a small can on the tray. She removed the lid, revealing that it was filled with red-hot coals. Lying on top of the coals were several large nails. As the adrenalin filled her veins, Dash began to panic again. Picking up the can, Pinkie walked over to Dash's left. Holding some tongs with her mouth, Pinkie carefully picked up a nail and positioned it at the seam between her victim's front left leg and hoof. She then grabbed a hammer and took careful aim.
"No Pinkie!" Dash screamed. "NO! NO!"
The hammer came down and the nail punctured Dash's skin. The white hot burning was too much. Dash screamed as she pulled and thrashed at the braces, causing her raw skin to rub and tear. Pinkie tried to line up another nail, but couldn't find her aim, and let out a frustrated grunt. When Pinkie brought the hammer back to take a wild swing, Dash burst out crying and begging.
"PLEASE STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!"
Pinkie rolled her eyes. Putting down the hammer and tongs, she walked back in front of her friend and stared pensively at the broken pegasus. Gilda didn't even cry this much when she had a live parasprite stuffed down her throat. Pinkie thought for a minute about what to do next, then had a sudden spark of inspiration.
Rotating a wheel on the rack, Pinkie laid Dash on her back, then moved to Dash's hind legs, bringing the can with her. Picking up her tools, Pinkie drove a searing hot spike of metal directly into the bottom of Dash's hoof. As Dash yelled in pain, Pinkie moved around and drove a second nail into the other hoof. Next, Pinkie went back to her cart and located an enormous battery and controller, which she dragged over to where she was working. She tied copper wires between the terminals and the nails driven into Dash's hooves, then gave Dash a wink and flipped the switch.
Electricity rocketed through Dash's body. The blue pony reacted immediately; her body seized, and her muscles snapped taut. Dash's hips thrust skyward, her eyes rolled back, and she let out a deep, throat shredding cry. Pinkie giggled and danced in place, then reached down and turned up the juice. Dash convulsed uncontrollably, and her bladder emptied once more.
After about five minutes, Pinkie shut off the power. Wisps of steam rose from the singed fur around Dash's hooves, and the area reeked of cooked flesh and burnt enamel. Pinkie rotated Dash upright again and tried snap the drooling, delirious pony back to attention.
"Dash? Dash! Rainbow Dash, wake up!" Dash moaned and managed to give a modicum of weak acknowledgment. Pinkie studied her handiwork, then reached into the medicine bag and produced a large syringe. "Alright, time for the last round."
Dash focused blearily on the needle, which Pinkie took as a question as to what it was.
"This is a little something to take the pain away," Pinkie informed Dash as she walked around to her victim's ruined back. Dash flinched as Pinkie jabbed the needle into the lower part of the blue pony's spine. Moving in front of her friend again, Pinkie leaned down and elaborated.
"In a few minutes, you won't be able to feel anything below your ribcage. Then you'll be able to stay awake to watch the harvest."
Dash started to cry again. "Pinkie?" she choked out.
"Yeah?"
"I want to go home," Dash sobbed.
"Yeah, I can see wanting to do that," replied the party pony. "Sometimes, I just wanna give up, just say 'I'm done with this mess' and go to bed. But you know what? You can't shrug off your responsibilities. You got to pull yourself up and meet the challenges head on. That's the only way you're gonna get ahead in life."
Dash hung her head and cried.
Minutes passed as the drug took effect. Eventually, Dash was completely numb from her chest to her flanks. At this point, Pinkie approached with a scalpel. Glancing at Dash and smiling, Pinkie made a long horizontal cut across the pegasus pony's pelvis, just above her crotch. Moving up Dash's body, Pinkie made a similar incision under her ribs. Finally, Pinkie made a long vertical cut down Dash's stomach, connecting the first two.
"Looks like I got my 'I' on you, Dash," Pinkie giggled.
With a moist, gooey sound, the flaps of skin opened. The sight of her own organs and the lack of feeling caused Dash's breathing to intensify. Pinkie carefully sliced open Dash's abdominal sac and grabbed her large intestines. As she separated the organ from the rest of the digestive tract and pulled it out of the new cavity, Pinkie grew jovial. Laughing as she gutted her friend, Pinkie began to make jokes. Dash, growing weaker from this new source of blood loss, tried desperately to shut out the macabre comedy act.
"Look at me, I'm Rarity!" Pinkie laughed, slinging the intestinal tube around her neck and spraying blood in all directions. "Isn't my new scarf soooo pretty?"
Reaching back inside, she sliced the smaller intestine off from the bowls. Squeezing out the excess excrement, Pinkie filed the slimy organ through her teeth and dragged it back and forth. "Dentists say you gotta floss every day, Dash."
Dash was barely aware of what was going on anymore. The shock was causing her to fade. Disappointed, Pinkie dived back into the blue pony's guts, ramping up her routine.
"Aw, don't go yet Dash." Pinkie started pulling out the rest of Dash's organs, pausing with each removal. "I know I can be a real pancreas, but you know I'm just kidney with you. You really got to learn to liver it up. Boy, these jokes are getting bladder. Guess ya gotta develop a stomach for them."
Pinkie placed the discarded body parts into a bucket, keeping the last one for bit longer. "Ooo, bagpipes." she said, placing the end of Dash's esophagus in her mouth and the stomach in her armpit. She squeezed, and a spurt of acid hit her tongue. "Eww! Oh hey look, there's your cupcake, Dash!"
Dash didn't hear her tormentor. She had slipped from conciseness minutes ago. Pinkie, not yet satisfied, hit Dash with another adrenaline shot. Dash woke up for the last time, her heart pounding. Warm blood flowed out from the wound in her chest in great spurts. It wouldn't be long now.
Pinkie brought Dash around onto her back again and straddled the blue pony's chest, scalpel at the ready.
"Ya know, Rainbow Dash, I'm disappointed. I thought you would have lasted longer. I really wanted to spend more time with you before we got here. But I guess it's my fault; I should have taken it a little slower. Oh well. It was really was nice knowing you, Dash!"
The blade sunk into the blue throat and worked its way up to Dash's chin. Coming back down, Pinkie's scalpel then circled Dash's neck. The last thing Rainbow Dash felt was her skin being cut away from her skull, and the metal of the blade scraping her teeth.
Then she was gone.
Pinkie Pie stared into the mirror. She had done a really good job, even keeping the eyelids. She winked, and Dash winked back. Pinkie smiled.
But still, she was sad that her friend was now gone. Dash had only lasted fifty minutes, not nearly as long as Pinkie had wanted. She looked back at the cadaver hanging in the center of the room, the last of her friend's fluids draining into a pan. Yup, no more Rainbow Dash.
As she looked, Pinkie cocked her head. She began to take notice of the fact that there really wasn't much damage to the corpse. "It fact," the pink pony mused, "I think…." An idea exploded in her head. She was good at sewing and she had all the pieces, all she had to do was put them back together. Yeah, she just had to get some stuffing and bingo, she'd have Rainbow Dash forever. In fact, thought Pinkie, that's what she'd do for all her best friends when their numbers came up. She was so excited, she skipped right over to the body with her skinner to get started. The cupcakes could wait; Pinkie Pie had a friend to make.

>"pony"
>'nuff said.

Probably the only Brony fanfic I came close to enjoying because it's about murdering ponies.

Still trying to read My Immortal though. I forgot half of what happened so I went back to square 1. Worst mistake of my life.

I'm going to ride @Primpenel's coat tails and post another chapter of Baby Animal Torture Porn AKA CWCollateral by Manajerkop.

Original copy can be found here: http://manajerkop.deviantart.com/art/CWCollateral-Chapter-13-Part-B-356462229
Full chapter can be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8106251/18/CWCollateral-A-Tale-of-the-Resistance

CWCollateral: Chapter 13 (Part B)

• by Manajerkop, Feb 25, 2013, 9:30:09 PM
• Literature / Fan Fiction / Humor

CWCollateral: A Tale of the Resistance
by Manajerkop
________________________________________________________________________
February 24, 2009, west CWCville, subdivisions, 14 Brunchville Lane, Christian Love Day
“MOMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” wailed Christine as tears poured from her eyes and began soaking into her little spotted pink shirt. Unable to believe that the Honey Badgers had just murdered her mother, she continued staring down at Rosechu’s maimed body, snuffling and weeping all the while. Why wasn’t Mommy telling her that she was a pretty Rosey anymore? She wanted to know just how special and beautiful she was! She needed it! She deserved it!
Al smiled cruelly and patted the little chu on her head, ruffling her soft purple spikes. “The Legend killed Mommy. And now we get to have some fun together, little Chrissy.” He placed the bat and its occupant on the concrete floor and began unwinding the duct tape, slowly, so as not to pull any of the narcissistic Rosey’s precious little “shiny” hairs out. Yet.
“My Daddee’s gonna zap you awl to da extweem wen he gets back fwom zappin da dang diwty Jewkops,” Christine stated arrogantly, and shot Al what he assumed was supposed to be her grandfather’s trademark Creepy Stare. “Gwampa Chwis says dat da Jewkops awe awl stoopid an dey wanna destwoy Twoo Wuv an dey tink dat Viwginia is fow Viwgins, NOT Twoo Wuv Coupwes! An…an Gwampa Chwis said dat Jewkops awe supposed ta be distwacted by cute Woseys!” She let out an intense stress sigh. “Dis is too haaaaaaawd! I wasn’t weady! You’we awl cheatews! You wet me go! I’m gonna tewl Daddee an Gwampa Chwis! Wet me go!”
“We. Just. Killed. Your. Mother,” Al emphasized, stating each word as clearly and simply as he could in the hopes of somehow breaking through the walls of Christine’s fortress of denial. He stopped unwrapping her and turned the bat so she could see the remains of Rosechu’s body.
Christine stress-sighed. “Dat’s not da twoo an owiginal Mommee! Gwampa Chwis says da Twoo Wuv Coupwes wike Mommee an Daddee awe heawtsweets as wong as biwds tweet. You’we just jeawous ‘cuz you’we homow jewk twolls an Mommee wuvs me ‘cuz ima pwetty shiny Wosey!”
It was no use. Pained and stressed though she was, the stubborn Rosey simply refused to accept the truth that lay before her. In her mind, she was still in control, because she was such a special little shiny Rosey and the world would always sort out everything bad in her life because that’s what Grandpa Chris had told her and Cera and Robbie every time he visited Mommy and Daddy.
“I don’t wike dis stickee stuwff,” Christine complained, sighing loudly and glaring up at Al. “I want my miwwor an I want Daddee an Gwampa Chwis ta make Mommee’s heady bettewr an zap you to da extweem an I want my miwwor. I want my miwwor! I WANT MY MIWWOR!”
“Well, you can’t have your mi-”
“I WANT MY MIWWOR NOW! NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!”
“SHUT UP! YOU CAN’T HAVE YOUR FUCKING MIRROR!” Al reached out and grabbed a large hunk of duct tape that was stuck directly to Christine’s incredibly soft, sensitive belly fur.
“You said a bad wowd,” said Christine, and crossed her armstubs haughtily. “I’m gonna tewl Daddee you said a bad wowd an made Mommee’s heady huwt. Gimme back my miwwor!” All she cared about was the fact that the big mean stupid Jerkop wasn’t giving her the mirror that she deserved after going through so much stress and having her Heart Level shattered so many times. Her cuteness hadn’t gotten their awe like it was supposed to because they had cheated. They weren’t treating her like the special shiny Rosey she was, because they were all stupid!
“One more time,” growled Al. “Say one more thing about your mirror.”
Christine smiled smugly. She’d won, and the Jerkop had given up, because she was in control, and stupid bad Jerkops couldn’t possibly win against shiny Roseys and their cuteness!
“Hee hee!” she giggled. “My miww-”
RRRRRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!
“EEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAEEEEEAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!” screeched Christine, her blue eyes bulging in unspeakable torment as Al tore the massive strip of duct tape right off of her fat little body, taking with it a good percentage of the exposed fur on her belly and sides, right under where her shirt had been pulled up in the chaos of Rosechu’s beating. For the Rosey, it was the equivalent of having a man’s chest, back, pubic, and facial hair yanked out by the roots all at once…only worse. Much, much worse.
“WAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”
Tossing the hair-filled tape cocoon into the garbage where it belonged, Al snatched up Christine in one hand and dumped the struggling baby chu right in front of Allie as if she were a piece of trash, then sat down behind her and watched her squirm around on the floor. The Rosey shrieked and cried, bawling at the top of her lungs and squeezing her eyes shut while her skin blazed with pain. Massive clumps of her beautiful fur were now gone, ripped out a la Steve Carell in The 40-Year-Old Virgin. To her, the only thing worse than the horrible stinging sensation was knowing that Al had taken away her special shiny fur that made her so unique and beautiful.
“Right. That was fun.” The Legend held out the crying larva to Allie. “Process her.”
“Hold still, wittle bay-bee,” crooned the Jerkop as she cuddled the Rosey in her arms. Christine’s wails stopped momentarily, her infantile mind registering the presence of care and pity, an end to her pain and stress. Desperately seeking attention, she hugged the potential love giver’s arm with her stubs and sniffled pathetically. Only when Allie’s nails tightened around her headspikes did she realize how utterly, ludicrously wrong she had been to even consider trusting her tormenters.
Rrrrrip!
“WUH-WUH-WAAAAAAHHHHH!!! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” Christine screamed as she felt the little pink bow forcefully tearing out her uppermost quills. The root was firmly embedded in her head, and thus gave way to an incredibly agonizing wound when Allie pressed her against the floor and pulled it free. A trickle of blood shot down her face, but quickly slowed and stopped as her inherent healing factor took over. The pain was still there, though. No amount of her parents’ DNA, no matter how great, could ever dull the suffering of Christine Rosey.
Allie removed the soft purple headspike from the bow, noting the drops of blood that smeared the root. With a satisfied smile, she dropped the bow into a Ziploc bag, sealed it, and handed it to Nate. Rolling the purple Rosey over onto her stomach, she plucked off both of her little shoes, bagged them, and withdrew the needle as well. Christine squealed in shock as blood squirted from the deep puncture. Smiling, Allie wiped the needle on the Rosey’s torn fur and pocketed it.
“WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!! MOMMEE AN DADDEE BOUGHT DOSE FOW MEEEEE!” bawled Christine, and began kicking and pounding the cold floor with her stubby limbs in helpless tard rage and stress. Tears pooled on the concrete beneath her hideous lizard eyes, and Allie couldn’t tell whether it was because of the horrific discomfort in her belly and foot, or if the baby chu was simply having the worst tantrum of her spoiled life just because her precious little clothes were being taken away. Either way, the Rosey’s screams pleased her immensely.
Rinse and repeat for shirt and skirt. Just for fun, Allie dropped the skirt by itself to see if its parachute function would activate, but the striped cloth simply dropped and crumpled, obeying the laws of physics. Only when it was wrapped around such a horrid and disgusting violation of everything good and natural in the world did its parachute properties actually manifest.
“WAAAAHHH! GIMME DOSE! GIMME BACK MY CWOTHES NOW NOW NOW NOW!” Fueled by a surge of blinding anger, the now-naked Christine pushed herself off the floor and waddled right up to Allie, then began hopping up and down in a pathetic attempt to reach the tiny articles of clothing that the Jerkop was currently bagging. Allie rolled her eyes and shoved the tard-raging Rosey away forcefully, sending her tumbling backwards head over stumpfeet.
Al, in the meantime, had retrieved a new object from the “shiny kit” – the electric shaver. While the little purple blob struggled to right herself, he knelt down and picked her up with one hand. Christine began kicking his arm defiantly, but unlike her brother Robbie, her feet were pitifully small, and without her shoes, they couldn’t do much more than simply flail around like the little fleshy stumps they were. Biting her captor was no more effective, given her total lack of teeth.
“Christine,” Al addressed her quietly, flipping her around in his hand so she could see him.
“WAAAAAAHHHHH! WET ME GO YOU STOOPID MEANIE HOMOW TWOLL JEWK!”
“Christine,” repeated the Jerkop squad commander, to no avail. Squeezing her eyes shut, the purple Rosey shrieked in rage and pounded her weak little armstubs against his fingers, hoping that if she made as much of a fuss as possible, a big brave Sonichu would come and rescue her like Grandpa Chris said they were supposed to. She was a helpless damsel in distress, just like her mother, and she needed a big brave strong hero to save her from these heart-shattering jerks.
“WET ME GOOOOO!” she wailed. “WET ME GO WET ME GO WET ME GO WET ME-”
Al sighed in frustration. “Christine…you’re an ugly Rosey.”
Christine perked up immediately, her eyes widening in sudden disbelief. “Wat?”
“You,” continued the Legend, smiling sadistically, “are the most disgusting, despicable, loathsome, self-absorbed, pathetic, hideous little beast I’ve ever had the pleasure of killing.” Finally, a breakthrough. He should have realized it much earlier. “You’re nothing special. You’re not a shiny Rosey. You’re an abomination, born of incest. You don’t deserve any praise. You’re ugly, fat, stupid, selfish, spoiled, weak, insufferable, and completely worthless.”
There was no answer from Christine. Her eyes were bulging, her plump little body was shaking with uncontrollable hatred and shock, and her disgusting harelip mouth was hanging open so wide that Al could almost see right back into her esophagus. Behind her, Allie had sawed off a piece of flesh from a certain part of Rosechu’s corpse and was roasting it over Trogdor’s pilot light. She mouthed hold on a sec to Al, and winked knowingly.
Al winked back. “So now that I have your attention, ‘Shining Rosey’, let me tell you exactly what I’m going to do here. First, I’m going to-”
“I AM NOT UGWY OW FAT OW STOOPID!” shrieked Christine, and thrashed around so hard that Al actually almost lost his grip. He couldn’t believe it…she’d actually demonstrated some legitimate effort for once in her life. A pity the same couldn’t apply to her Chandler-nurtured, Sonichu and Rosechu-enforced, narcissistic mindset. But no. All three of the Sonichu brats were far, far beyond any form of redemption. There was no way the Honey Badgers would let any of them die with their spirits unbroken. Not after all they’d done to seize this one magnificent chance. Not after Jake and Amanda and Matt and Zoey and all of their dead friends and allies.
“YOU’WE WYING! I AM NOT UGWY ‘CUZ IMA SPESHUL WOSEY AN YOU’WE JUST JEAWOUS ‘CUZ MY CUTENESS GETS YOUWR AWE AN IM DA ONWY SHINY WOSEY IN DA WOWLD AN DAT MAKES ME SPESHUL AN PWETTY!!! WAAAHHH!!!” Christine continued screaming and crying, her eyes burning with frenzied fury as she raged and struggled and fired off misguided Sparks in every direction until her remaining fur was all standing straight up due to static. Al merely watched her spasm, smiling all the time. Reaching out, he accepted the cooked piece of Rosechu from Allie, waited until Christine opened her mouth to scream at him again, and stuffed the hunk of flesh right down her throat.
Unbelievably, the purple Rosey immediately ceased her tantrum and began chewing the meat with a happy cry of “YAY!” This was how it was supposed to be. Those mean jerks were finally realizing that she was just a helpless little baby and she needed food to get rid of all the Prickly-Wicklies and stress. Due to her lack of teeth, she could only gum the cooked flesh, but it was more than obvious just how much she was enjoying the treat.
“Dat was tastee!” she squealed, and glared up at Al expectantly as she swallowed, her face set in a smug smirk. “I want mowe foowd! Gimme mowe foowd NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!”
Al shrugged. “If you say so, wittle Wosey. White meat or dark meat?” He turned her around so she could see Allie carving another piece of bloody meat off of Rosechu’s torso with her SOG knife, then piercing it like a shish kebab and roasting it over Trogdor’s pilot light. The sugary meat caramelized almost instantly, hissing and sizzling with delicious juices and scents.
This, quite predictably, resulted in the moment of truth to end all moments of truth.
“Wuh…wuh…WUH...WUH…” stammered Christine, building toward the first and most terrible explosion of fear, betrayal, suffering, and pain she had ever felt in her almost three years of life. “WUUHH…WUUHHH…WUUUHHHH…WWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! WWWWWAAAAAAHHHAAAAHHAAAAAAAAAAA!!! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”
Al breathed out slowly, his eyes squeezed shut as he sat there in silence and listened to his tiny captive crack under the stress. Christine was screaming and screaming now, unable to stop, her mouth hanging open, her eyes bulging, and her stubby limbs flailing chaotically. To the Legend, every scream from the Rosey’s mouth was a choir of angels singing in harmonious joy, every tear a drop of liquid diamond. It was beautiful, magnificent, a masterpiece of suffering. Christine Rosey’s death, and everything leading up to it, would be his magnum opus.
“By the way,” Allie added with a happy smile as she chucked the second piece of roast Rosechu steak across the room and down the screaming Rosey’s throat. Perfect shot. “You ate Mommy!”
“WUUUUUUGH! WUUUGH! GUGHGUGHGUGHGUGHGUGH!” Christine choked, and tried to spit out the stringy flesh, but her freakish fused digestive tract wouldn’t allow her to reject anything remotely edible. And unfortunately for her, Rosechu’s flesh was extremely edible. It smelled and tasted delicious, too, and she was still satisfied with having devoured the snack, even though some small part of her undeveloped brain kept screaming at her that she’d just eaten part of her own mother. Truly, Christine and her kin were beyond any form of empathy known to sentient creatures. But the Jerkops had expected as much from the hideous spawn of Sonichu and Rosechu…or Rosechu and Magi-Chan, in Christine’s case.
Al clicked on the electric shaver, savoring the harsh buzzing sound as he pressed the business end to the Rosey’s fuzzy belly and pushed, shearing off the delicate peach fuzz to reveal the pale pink skin beneath. The duct tape had done a fair amount of work already, and it wasn’t long before a small pile of purple fur lay on the floor beneath her. Allie gathered it all up in another plastic Ziploc bag, to save for a later occasion. When Christine finally realized what the Jerkops were doing, she screamed louder than ever and tried to zap the razor with a Spark, but only succeeded in giving it an extra boost while Al finished shaving her face.
“Hmm,” mused the Legend as he brushed the rest of the fur off his victim and studied the bare Rosey, making note of her undeveloped headspikes, her exposed cheekspots, and the pair of soft quills on her back. “That’s a lot better, don’t you think, shiny Rosey?”
“WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” bawled Christine. It was amazing that she hadn’t blown out her vocal cords yet. Another brilliant adaptation of the larval Electric Hedgehog Pokémon.
“Here, I gave you a makeover.” Al stood up and carried her over to the massive mirror propped up against the wall. He smiled as he held her out, forcing her to look upon her bare, pudgy body. “See? I was right. You’re ugly, Christine. You’re the ugliest Rosey in the world. Disgusting.”
“WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! WAAAAAAHHHHH!!! NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Al turned her around and tickled her little nose, chuckling to himself all the while. Christine tried to bite him, but without any teeth, this attempt at self-preservation didn’t go well at all. Enraged, she summoned yet another Spark and zapped the Jerkop’s hand, making his skin prickle slightly.
“Always with the Sparks,” muttered Al. “But it’s not gonna save you, Christine. Not at-”
“YOU’WE WYING! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! WAAAAAAHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAHHH!”
Al shook his head in utter astonishment. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been certain…so certain that Christine had broken when she realized she’d been eating her dead mother’s flesh. She knew…she knew Rosechu was dead. But she simply didn’t care anymore. Already, the stubborn self-assuredness had returned, which meant only one thing. He’d have to start all over again.
“No,” growled the Legend, and turned the shaved Rosey around to face the mirror. “NO.”
“YES!” howled Christine. “IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA-”
“It’s quiet time now,” Al continued, trying his very hardest to keep his voice calm and suppress the rage that was building within. He took a step forward, bringing Christine closer to the object she loved more than anything in the world. “If you don’t quiet down, I’ll have to punish you.”
“IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETTY WOSEY! IMA PWETT-”
Al took another step. “No, you’re an ugly Rosey.”
“IMA PWETTY WOSEY! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! IMA PWETTY WOSEY!”
It was the final straw. Al’s eardrums were about to break, as was his mind. Turning to Allie and Nate, he reached up, pushed his mask back, and spoke only a single, hate-drenched word.
“Leave.”
Allie opened her mouth to reply, but Nate placed a hand on her shoulder and led her towards the stairway. Christine was Al’s to dispatch, but they could always watch Robbie or Cera’s torment. When the two Jerkops had gone, Al flipped his welder’s mask over his face and glared down at the bawling, shaved Rosey clutched in his hand.
“PUT ME DOWN NOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!” shrieked Christine, pounding her tiny armstubs against Al’s hand and squirming around like a plump fuzzy maggot.
“Sure thing,” snarled the Legend, and drove his gloved fist straight into the mirror. The glass shattered instantly, a spiderweb of cracks that raced out to the frame in less than a second. Before Christine could draw breath for another scream, Al grabbed up his straight razor from the toolbox and, pinning the struggling Rosey to the floor with one hand, brought the viciously sharp blade down towards her fuzzy, bloody face with the other. She bawled shrilly and squeezed her eyes shut, but the defensive reaction was exactly what her aggressor had been waiting for.
Shick! Shick!
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Christine’s piercing cries of terror and pain went all but unnoticed by Al as he sliced off each of her eyelids with surgical precision, exposing the slimy indigo orbs housed within. Blood poured like tears from a ragged ring around each socket, mixing with the real tears of the agonized, screaming Rosey. Laughing to himself, the Legend flicked away the two severed, eyelash-studded scraps of flesh and lunged with his other hand - the one holding her - smashing her head into the center of the cracked glass.
CRUNCH!
“NOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHGGHUGHUGHUUUGGH!!!” Christine raised her armstubs and tried to shield her beloved face, but to no avail. The jagged shards pierced her eyes like daggers, carrying on back through her corneas and embedding themselves in her soulless, reptilian eyeballs. Her cheekspots sparked and sizzled violently as the bioelectric organs ruptured, but unfortunately for her, there was no longer enough voltage within to fry her to death. She’d used up all her energy by firing off futile Sparks at her tormentors.
And Al still wasn’t done with her. Not even close. : )
“Awww, did I hurt your pwecious wittle face?” he crooned with savage glee, and dumped the bleeding, crying, and blind Christine onto the cold floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing!”
Reaching for his “shiny kit”, Al dragged it over and popped it open to reveal the goodies inside. As the Rosey struggled to crawl away, he placed one hand on her back, pinning her to the floor.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” she wailed, pawing at her shredded face in inconceivable despair. The prospect of her being a pretty Rosey had now been severely reduced.
Al didn’t respond. Grabbing two circular shards of bloody, jagged glass, he flipped Christine over onto her back. There wasn’t much left of her eyes anymore…her constant struggling had reduced them to two socketfuls of bloody mush mixed together with mirror shards. The cruel irony of her plight might have been enough for a lesser man than Albert Ledger, but he still wasn’t satisfied. Christine needed to know pain unlike any known form of pain…and so far, he was doing an excellent job of bringing her there. All three of the Sonichu children were going to be pushed far beyond any kind of suffering the Honey Badgers had enacted on any Sonee or Rosey before, given that their DNA – being that of the original Sonichu and Rosechu – contained a healing factor…and no pain limit. That was the key here…surpassing that limit and showing the little brats just how far the Jerkops could push them before their chubby bodies gave out.
Pushing two fingers into the ragged mess that had once been Christine’s eyeballs, Al scooped the slimy, bloody chunks of meat and optic nerve right out of their sockets, relishing the Rosey’s wails of agony as she felt the rough fingers scraping around inside her head and removing her two shredded blue eyes. The last things that had made her look so special and unique and pretty were gone…ripped away in the blink of an eye. Christine screamed again and again, writhing around in her own blood and misery while Al deposited the gooey glass-encrusted mess into an empty Ziploc bag and popped open a second one. Inside lay a mixture of rock salt and table salt.
“Hold still!” instructed Al, and upended the bag over the Rosey’s mutilated face.
“EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” screeched Christine, louder than ever before, as the salt poured into her bleeding eye sockets and infiltrated the deep cuts in her skin. At this point, a normal homebred or a feral Rosey would have either blacked out from the pain or died instantly of a brain hemorrhage caused by immense physical trauma, but then again, Christine was no normal homebred, and certainly no feral.
Desperately trying to get the burning white crystals out of her head, Christine began rubbing her eye sockets furiously, crying and shrieking as her fingerless stubs only managed to work the salt even further and deeper back into the horrific wounds. Al flicked the Zippo lighter a few times until he managed to start it, then pushed the Rosey’s armstubs away from her face and jammed both of the mirror shards into the raw flesh around the edge of the sockets. Snatching her up in one hand, he positioned her contorted, blood-drenched face right next to the flickering flame.
“Having fun?” he chuckled.
“WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” wailed Christine, struggling to reach the two cold, sharp objects Al had embedded in her face.
The Jerkop inched the Zippo closer to her bare skin. “Stop crying. This’ll make it all better.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“Eat it, fucker,” Al said, lowering Christine’s head into the fire.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, wiggling like crazy and trying to avoid the excruciating heat as the fatty flesh around her eyes bubbled and seared and began to fuse the shards of mirror with her face. Al held down her armstubs to keep her still while he worked, turning the lighter around and around to seal in the mirror circles. When he was finally satisfied, he released his grip on the Zippo and let it clatter to the floor, while Christine began making a series of strange choking sounds and batting at her own eyes, as if she somehow believed it would help remove the glass shards or reduce the pain in any way. The mirrors were well and truly a part of her now…yet she couldn’t see a thing.
Al placed her on the floor and sat down cross-legged, closing his eyes as if in a meditative trance. Christine rolled around on the concrete pathetically, flailing and crying and screaming for her dead mother and her absent father and her lethargic, sluggish manchild of a grandfather. In the chaos of her own mind, Robbie and Cera didn’t exist anymore. They couldn’t help her. They couldn’t save her. But now she was free! The big mean person had let her go, and now she could go tell Heather to call Daddy and Grandpa Chris! Grandpa Chris could make everything go back to the way it was! He’d make her a pretty Rosey again! He’d make her pretty again…
Thump! Christine howled in shock and agony as she crawled right into the side of the basement, smacking her malformed head against the wall and sending a fresh wave of agony racing through her little body. Mewling and blubbering, she tried to push herself up and waddle away, but the heavy rock salt inside her head threw her even more off-balance than she already was. After crawling around for a while, trying and failing to find the stairs a grand total of eight times in the course of four minutes, the tiny Rosey finally gave up and collapsed in a quivering heap of fat.
Al opened his eyes and smiled. Christine wasn’t even screaming anymore – she had expended the majority of her energy in her futile escape attempts. Faint moans and shuddering gasps were all she could muster now as she lay panting and gasping on the cold concrete floor – broken, blind, shaved bare, and in constant agony. Her innate healing ability was running at full power, knitting together some of the smaller wounds on her face and body…which, unfortunately for her, had the unwanted side effect of sealing the pieces of rock salt inside, where they burned against the Rosey’s raw flesh like tiny lumps of molten magma. Combined with the wounds in her face and the fire-fused mirror shards that had now trapped the piles of stinging salt inside her empty eye sockets, the sheer intensity of Christine’s suffering was simply unmatched.
“How do you feel now, wittle Wosey?” Al asked with mock sympathy.
“Wuhhh…wuhhh…WUHHH…WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Christine managed to unleash another shriek of terror as the Jerkop’s frighteningly calm voice rang in her little ears. “WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!! WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”
Al walked over, bent down, and snatched up the tiny struggling Rosey in a single hand. Christine screamed as she felt his fingers close around her and lift her up off the floor. Something cold and metallic – a pair of tweezers – pushed their way in through her harelip mouth, forcing it open as she desperately tried to spit them out. She began coughing and panicking, nearly vomiting up her lunch as the steel pincers slowly made their way to the back of her throat and clamped shut around the base of her slimy, wriggling tongue like a vice.
“WWWWUUUUUGHGHGHGGGGHH!!!” she choked, struggling against the Legend’s grip.
“Oh, be quiet,” said Al happily as he pulled the tweezers back, hard. : )
RRRRIP!
“WUGHGH! GUGHGHGHGHGHH!” Christine screamed and gurgled as her severed tongue emerged from between her harelips, its rear end a motley mess of tattered red flesh. Al dropped the repulsive thing onto the floor, where it twitched one last time and lay limp like a little slug, its meager blood supply pooling beneath the point where he’d wrenched it out of her mouth. The horrified Rosey began spasming and shaking, clutching at her mouth, spitting out blood, and making all sorts of strangled choking noises. If Al didn’t do something, she was going to drown.
Fortunately for him, he just happened to have packed that exact “something” in the “shiny kit”. Unfortunately for Christine, it wasn’t anything close to medicine. Popping open the bottle of lemon juice, Al poured a tablespoon of the sour liquid into the plastic cap and tipped it into the Rosey’s open, bleeding mouth before she knew what was happening. He could have sworn he heard it sizzle as it touched the wound. Then came the most piercing, anguished screams of all.
“WWWWUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHH!!! WWWUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HRRRRGGGGHHHHHEEEEEEEEEIIIIIEEEEIIIIIIIIIEEEEEIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEHHH!!!”
“Wow, Christine, that’s great!” commented the Legend. “Now your voice actually makes sense!”
Christine tried to cry out again, but ended up vomiting a gooey spew of blood, half-digested food, and mucus onto her captor’s hands. “HUUURRGGGHHHH!!! HUUUURRGGGHHH!!!”
“Disgusting.” Al wiped the reddish brown mess on Christine’s pudgy belly and reached for the Zippo lighter again. “What’s Daddy gonna say when he comes home and finds his little princess all dirty?” He flipped it open and held it under one of the Rosey’s frantically kicking stumpfeet. “I wonder if Kuri ever tried roasting them like this. Oh well. Nothing ventured…”
“WUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!” wailed Christine, unable to form her species’ signature “WAAAAAHHHHH!” without a tongue. The flame licked hungrily at her bare foot, turning the flesh crispy and black. Her body’s own adipose tissue was melting, sizzling, frying her alive like a juicy slice of bacon in a pan. “WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“…nothing gained,” sighed Al as he lifted his mask and sank his teeth into the caramelized meat of Christine’s right stumpfoot. It was like biting into a big Fruit Gusher made of bacon – crispy, decadent, squirming, and just a little bit sweet from all the sugar in her blood. And best of all, the pitiful excuse for a leg was already cauterized, so she wouldn’t bleed out while he ate her alive.
“WUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!!!” Christine kicked out with her other foot and managed to land a pitiful little bump on the side of Al’s cheek. For a moment, she dared to hope that good would prevail, that her act of defiance was enough to quell the stupid jerk and make him stop giving her the Prickly-Wicklies. Then the heat was back, burning against her left stumpfoot like hot coals and making her skin char up and the fat reserves in her leg bubble and melt into a greasy slick.
Bit by bit, Al nibbled away at both of the cooked limbs and even sucked the sugary marrow out of her bones, pausing only to break out the lighter and cauterize any veins he might have broken while dining on the half-cooked Rosey. The bones themselves was edible too, like sticks of rock candy. When he’d finished, he placed the baby chu on the floor and watched her try to crawl away using her armstubs. It wasn’t really crawling so much as it was flailing, but Al didn’t mind. Her shrill squeals and wails were more than enough to quench his thirst for misery and suffering.
Enthralled as he was with watching the legless Rosey wriggle around on the floor, Al had to keep reminding himself that his executioner squad was working on borrowed time. As Christine blubbered and managed to drag her mutilated body another half-inch away from him, the Jerkop leaned down and held the flame against the tip of her doughy arm. The baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon let out an earsplitting screech and tried to roll herself away from the searing heat, but Al held her down with his other hand and kept his thumb on the Zippo lighter’s trigger until both armstubs were sufficiently cooked to a delicious crispy brown. Once again, the horrible nibbling, crunching, and cauterizing commenced, until Christine no longer had any limbs to move at all. She just lay there in a growing pool of blood and pus, rolling back and forth helplessly and shrieking “WWWUUUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!” over and over again – her mantra of suffering.
Al chewed and swallowed the last mouthful of cooked Rosey, licking the grease from his fingers as he watched the baby chu writhe and wriggle across the concrete like a hideously obese worm. He made a mental note to let Kuri know about his new cooking method…after she and Steve had finished dispatching Robbie, of course. Come to think of it, what had the two Jerkops even been doing to Sonichu’s spunky little son to pass the time? Christine must have been at death’s door by now, but even something as sweet as that could wait. Her regenerative powers would keep her alive long enough for Al to finish what he’d started. It was time to check on the others.
Grasping Christine by her stubby tail, the Legend plucked her up off the floor and let her dangle in midair while she sobbed and wailed as her body was wracked by never-ending spasms of burning pain. Al knew she had long ago passed the standard endurance limit for regular Sonees and Roseys – most likely from the rock salt in her eyes and the lemon juice in her mouth. If she hadn’t had Rosechu and Magi-Chan’s DNA, her tiny brain would have hemorrhaged itself into oblivion after enduring such nightmarish levels of torture and dismemberment. Just for good measure, he stuffed her into the big Ziploc bag full of salt, closed it up, poured the rest of the bottle’s contents inside, and began shaking the entire agonizing concoction up and down until Christine’s bleeding, mutilated body had been drenched in a stinging wash of salted lemon juice.
“WWWWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!!” she screamed, gasping for air and crying out in misery as the stinging liquid splashed into every cut and injury on her body. “WWWWWWWUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Al made his way out of the workroom and up the stairs, taking note of the odd giggling sounds coming from Cera’s room down the hallway. What on earth were Kevin and Jexis doing to her? At the top of the stairs, the Jerkop pushed open the door and was promptly greeted by an immensely satisfying sight. Steve and Kuri had pinned Robbie against the counter and were now force-feeding him copious amounts of Break You Dead hot sauce by using the Sonee’s plastic baby bottle as an injector, squirting it alternately into his mouth and his butthole while he struggled and writhed in pain and fear. As the Sonee’s muffled-but-high-pitched squeals of agony filled the kitchen, Al gave the Jerkops an encouraging nod and left them to their foul task.
“WUBBEEEHHHHH!!!” Upon hearing her brother’s cries of pain, Christine began wriggling around inside the plastic bag, desperately calling for help as best she could with no tongue and a mouth full of salt, lemon juice, and her own blood. “WUBBEEH! HUWP MWEEEEEEHHHH!”
Robbie just lay there and screamed shrilly. The sauce had temporarily blinded him, and he was shrieking so loudly that his sister’s anguish might as well have been nothing at all. Even if he’d been able to hear her cries, he wouldn’t have cared about Christine one bit, due to his own stress. Rolling his eyes, Al gave the bag another shake to refresh the Rosey’s suffering. If all went according to his gruesome plan, she only had a few more minutes left to live. It was up to him to make sure those few minutes lasted as long as possible in the horrid little baby chu’s mind.
The garage was dark and silent when he opened the door and stepped inside. Flicking the light switch on, Al chuckled as he gazed at the two ridiculous go-karts for Sonichu and Rosechu that were parked behind the big family sedan. His laughter quickly stopped as soon as he noticed three tiny go-karts, one pink, one purple, and one yellow, on the floor beside the larger vehicles.
“How on earth would you three furfags even be able to steer?” he muttered to the bawling Rosey, and tossed the Ziploc bag on top of the washing machine, where it sloshed around and refilled her wounds with the stinging liquid. “You don’t even have fingers. I bet you stunted little grubs would’ve just gone and killed yourselves with Mommy and Daddy’s special Christmas presents. Which reminds me…did Grandpa Chris get you anything?” He grinned as Christine realized that she hadn’t received anything from Chandler for Christmas. The revelation that her own grandpa didn’t think she was special was enough to prompt a bout of screaming on the level of the ones she had made when Al first introduced her to her new best friends - rock salt and lemon juice.
“Of course he didn’t. It was the stress, you know.” Al nodded sympathetically, then raised a foot over the purple kart and stomped down, hard. The machine shattered into pieces, reduced to a useless pile of plastic and metal while Christine wailed in despair at hearing the sound of her beloved toy’s destruction. Whistling “Highway to Hell” to himself, the Legend pried open the washing machine’s control panel and began tinkering around with the heating system. It was simple, really. Just turn off the cold water valve and increase the hot water supply to maximum power. In no time, he’d have a nice hot bath for Christine to splash around and play in.
“Wuuuuuhhhhh…wuuuuuuuhhhhhhh…WUH!”
Al looked up just in time to see the tiny limbless Rosey trying to squirm her way over the edge of the washing machine. Without a parent or her nanny around to save her, she might have plunged all the way down to the hard concrete floor and shattered her fragile skull…if the Jerkop hadn’t simply pushed her into the middle and flipped her onto her back. Al simply couldn’t believe how utterly careless Sonichu and Rosechu had been with their own beloved babies. Their house was an absolute mess, full of deadly objects that the larvae could have easily killed themselves with. The only reason any of the three children hadn’t done that already was because of Heather Iglesias. Maybe if the PVCC had simply instructed her to abandon them and let them die from their own stupidity and curiosity, the Honey Badgers wouldn’t have been needed at all.
But no. That would have been far too easy. Operation Hedgeclipper wasn’t just about killing three homebreds and their mother. It was about sending a message to every Electric Hedgehog Pokémon in CWCville who saw Robbie, Christine, and Cera as the poster children for the progression of their species and looked to Rosechu as their queen. It was about destroying what little hope they had left to cling to in the face of the uprising. Even now, across the city, hundreds of PVCC operatives and thousands of human citizens waited in anticipation of the firestorm to come. At last, at long last, the key to igniting the city in all-out war was in their grasp.
And the final battle would begin with the deaths of Rosechu and the Sonichu spawn.
Al stood up and wiped his wet hands on his trench coat as the washing machine started rumbling. Scalding water gushed in from the rerouted valves and rose quickly, until it was nearly spilling over the edge of the central drum. Clouds of steam filled the air, and Christine began making breathless little squeals as the heat from within the washing machine began to reach her tortured little body. Al let her roll around for a few more seconds before finally rescuing her from the makeshift frying pan and turning off the water. Before she could feel any semblance of relief, he gave the bag a few more shakes and was rewarded with another barrage of agonized screams.
It was time to make an end of Christine once and for all. Part of Al wanted to put her inside a canteen or a similar container and clip her to his belt during the final battle, so her suffering could last even longer than it already had. If his squad hadn’t been on a time budget, he might have actually considered that. But the cameras were rolling too, and everyone in CWCville – both humans and chus - needed to see the Sonichu children die. He owed them that much.
Al placed the bag and its plump, wailing occupant inside, making sure that Christine would feel the direct heat of the steaming hot water on her belly. It wouldn’t completely boil her to death…if she kept moving, that is…but it would hurt like hell, which suited him just fine. As expected, the Rosey began rolling back and forth in an attempt to escape the heat, shrieking and bawling as she continued immersing herself in the stinging bath of rock salt and lemon juice. Every move she made only added to her torment, and she had to keep moving, or otherwise the heat would start to boil her flesh. It was a brilliant invention, really. Better still, Kevin had placed a camera inside the washer itself to broadcast every moment of her horrific death across the city.
A perpetual pain machine – the perfect fate for little Christine. : )
Al had come up with the idea in a drunken dream, and somehow, this was even better than his imagined version. The Rosey could end it at any time she wanted – if she would only lie still, the heat around her would cook her body alive. Somehow, the idea that giving up and dying might be easier hadn’t yet crossed her vacuous little mind. In the middle of that perfect storm of agony, she still harbored some tiny hope that her real father Sonichu would be back to save her, that somehow Grandpa Chris could retcon it all away and give her back everything that the Jerkops had taken away. And this one grain of hope was enough to keep her fighting, thrashing and wriggling and increasing her own levels of pain more and more and more, until the amount she was bearing would have made even a Cenobite cringe. With no limit to her suffering, she edged toward madness, screaming and screaming until her voice finally broke and gave out.
“WWWWUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!!! WUUUUUHHH!!! WUUUUUUHHHHHHH!!! WUH…HUH…HUHHHH…HHHHHHHHGHGHGHGHGHHHH…HHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Soon nothing but rasping sobs could be heard over the bubbling, steaming, and hissing sounds from within the washing machine. As Christine continued to cry and unsuccessfully attempt to scream, Al knelt down in front of her and patted her gently on the head with a gloved hand.
“There, there,” he whispered mockingly, stroking the weeping baby chu’s tiny, shaved ears through the plastic bag. “What a disgusting little creature you are. What a hideous, despicable maggot. I wish you could see how pretty and unique and special you are now, shiny Rosey.”
“Hghhhhhhhhhhhh…” wheezed Christine as she tried to wiggle away. “Hghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
“That’s right,” continued Al, and leaned in close to her head. “Now I’m gonna tell you a little secret about me, Christine. Do you like secrets?” He laughed softly while the dying baby chu thrashed beneath his grip and squealed hoarsely. “Your, uh, ‘parents’…did Mommy and Daddy ever tell you scary stories about the Big Mean Person? The troll who kills little babies like you?”
Christine froze. Somewhere within the fiery layers of agony wracking her brain, memories of her mother and father materialized, as if from smoke. With their horribly-designed nervous systems, Roseys usually forgot all but their happiest or most important memories within a matter of days, at best. But even the normally-forgotten ones could be triggered by something traumatic enough. In Christine’s case, that quota had been surpassed about fifteen minutes ago.
It wasn’t a happy memory, to be sure…one of the few truly stressful times in Christine’s spoiled, pampered life. No wonder she’d forgotten it so quickly. One night, Sonichu and Rosechu had attended a meeting with Chris and the Chaotic Combo at the CWCville Shopping Center, leaving Heather alone to take care of the kids and put them to sleep. After enduring nearly seven hours of Family Guy, listening to the insufferable brats try to sing along to the opening theme, and cleaning up after Robbie whenever he waddled off to relieve himself in some random part of the house, the poor nanny had nearly reached her breaking point. Having gorged themselves on five boxes of Oreos and a gallon of chocolate milk for a “bedtime snack”, the little chus quickly grew hyperactive and demanded, by whining at the top of their lungs, that Heather tell them a story.
And so she had. When she’d finished the gruesome tale, Robbie was sitting in a puddle of diarrhea, quite literally scared shitless. The two Roseys were hugging each other, crying with fear and oblivious to the horrible smell wafting through the room. Heather dutifully took Robbie away to clean him off in the sink, but she had seemed so happy to do it, an emotion rarely exhibited by the overworked and overstressed nanny. The children hadn’t slept at all that night, or the next, or the next. When they finally began collapsing out of stress and exhaustion during the day, Sonichu and Rosechu’s inquiries to Heather were met with a brick wall of true Spanish, none of which they could understand. Of course the nanny could speak English, but this small victory had been worth risking her job. Anyway, the baby chus forgot about it within a week.
But now that horrible memory was back, and Christine’s head was filled with frightening images of the Big Mean Person melting a tiny Rosey’s face off, the Big Mean Person forcing dozens of Sonees and Roseys into a Mister Bucket and chopping them up to feed the other prisoners of Laughyland, the Big Mean Person ordering the two hellhounds to gobble up and maim any children who disobeyed…and most shocking of all, the Big Mean Person blinding a Rosey and burning out her eyes, then removing her armstubs, stumpfeet, and tongue…
If Christine had still possessed her eyes, they would have grown to the size of tennis balls by now. The final puzzle piece had fallen into place at last. Her little mouth fell open as she realized the horrific truth of what her tormenter and soon-to-be murderer was about to tell her.
The Legend smiled as he slowly rose to his feet and placed his hand on the washing machine’s circular door, then leaned in close to the Rosey’s ear so she could hear his final, bitterly cruel sendoff. Inch by inch, he began pushing the door shut, slowly sealing Christine inside for the last few excruciating minutes she had left to live.
“That’s my secret, Shining Rosey,” he whispered, and gave the door one last push. “I’m BMP.”
Al never heard Christine’s shrill voice return with a vengeance, nor could he hear her final, unsurpassed screams of pure terror as her mind finally shattered into insanity, nor could he hear the frantic clanging and splashing from within the steamy, superheated drum of the washing machine. All he heard was a sharp click as the automatic lock snapped shut, and a second, softer click as he pushed the START CYCLE button on the control panel and stepped back to watch.
Inside, the drum began to spin, and boiling jets struck Christine from every conceivable angle, filling the empty space with superheated water and plunging the helpless, dismembered Rosey into a bubbling, steaming hell from which there was no escape. The plastic bag’s zippered seal immediately burst, sending the baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon tumbling out and into the blistering maelstrom. As if the lemon juice, salt, and heat weren’t enough, Al had added a full bottle of OxiClean detergent to the washer, building off of Kevin’s idea back at Soup Hotel #4.
Surrounded by liquid pain, Christine spun and spun like an ugly, bloody little blob of meat, swelling up as she was literally boiled alive by the stinging, surging wash. The broken bioelectric glands in her cheekspots fizzled and sparked and overloaded with more energy than she could have ever recharged by herself, electrocuting the entire washing machine and granting it an extra boost of power to continue giving the Rosey her bubble bath of death. And as her flesh expanded and popped off her bones, as her skin ruptured and burst apart in a cloud of blood, as the salt and citric acid in the water tore at her raw, unprotected body, and even as the final spark of life fizzled out of her little body, Christine’s mind kept on disintegrating, leaving only a blubbering, gibbering, wretched creature behind to spin and bleed and suffer and drown in complete misery.
In the second before she finally expired and joined her mother, a distant scream echoed through the back of Christine’s skull, a familiar voice that she hadn’t heard speak to her inside her head since that day long ago when she’d chased the little frog through the pond in CWC-Central Park. It was a cry of anguish, a shriek of absolute failure, the sort of sound that a fatally poisoned man might make as he watched the only vial of antidote shatter before his eyes. Then came a sudden stab of something intangible, something massive and fierce, something that broke through the clouds of insanity and pierced the dying Rosey in the center of her tiny brain.
In that instant, she knew. It was the last thought she would ever have – a single thought that would repeat itself over and over in her broken mind as she whirled on down to the gates of hell, to an eternity of infinite suffering, more excruciating than anything Albert Ledger had conjured.
And when the silent scream finally ended, so too did Christine Rosey’s life.
“Well, that was fun,” mused Al to himself as he turned and left Christine to keep spinning and spinning until someone turned off the washing machine. He’d set it to run for as long as it had a constant power supply, so Sonichu’s daughter would literally be boiled into oblivion by the time the true and original Electric Hedgehog Pokémon finally lost interest in pursuing the Picklemen. There wouldn’t be much of the little Rosey left for her father to weep over…just a few scraps of boiled meat, clumps of adipose tissue, a jumbled skeleton, and a hell of a lot of blood.
Rosechu, on the other hand… Al snickered as he pictured the look of horror on Sonichu’s face upon finding his heartsweet naked and dead with her head smashed in. Her blood was still drying on the Jerkop’s boots, and if he survived the final battle, Al would make sure he never wore them again. Maybe in a few years, they’d be worth a fortune. “The Boots That Stomped Rosechu.”
Back in the kitchen, Steve and Kuri had made a bowl of popcorn together, and were now sitting at the table and watching Robbie flail around and shriek in unbearable pain as he struggled to purge the horrible burning sauce from his pudgy body. The little Sonee was still trapped in the glass jar, unable to climb the slippery walls to safety or escape from the rising tide of Break You Dead and excrement. Soon he would be facing death by literally drowning in his own molten shit. The Jerkops were force-feeding him just enough of the sauce to fill up the jar, and judging by the wet splattering sounds coming from inside, the blazing liquid was passing right through him by now. It was one of the cruelest perpetual tortures that Al had ever seen…and he loved it.
As the red-orange and brown liquid reached Robbie’s chin, the Sonee began to bob up and down like a fat yellow cork. For a moment, it seemed as if he would float to the top and avoid being immersed in the foul mixture. Before Steve or Kuri could act, Al stepped into the kitchen and pressed the plastic wrap back over the top, shoving Robbie’s entire head below the surface. The submerged Sonee immediately let loose with a horrific bubbly wailing sound as his eyes, nose, and mouth were exposed to a bath of 16 million Scoville heat units. The sauce flooded in through every orifice, creating a horrendous in-and-out cycle as he continued to stress-shit himself.
“That,” the Legend muttered, “is fucking brilliant. Let me guess…you still haven’t started yet?”
The Jerkops grinned and nodded simultaneously. Glancing across the kitchen, Al noticed a large deep fryer warming on the counter, filled with a mixture of canola oil and the leftover Break You Dead. The bubbly, smoking tub was just big enough to accommodate the body of a baby Electric Hedgehog Pokémon, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what Steve and Kuri had planned for Robbie’s method of execution.
“Okay, that’s it. Get him out before he drowns,” Al suggested after another minute had passed.
“BWUHBWUHBWUHWUHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” blubbered the sauce-soaked Sonee as Kuri poked the injector claws of her tekko-kagi into the jar and pierced his belly, just enough to lift him out to safety. Covered from head to stumpfeet in a red and brown mixture of Break You Dead and his own feces, Robbie could only flail around blindly, screaming and crying. The Jerkop unceremoniously dumped him into the sink and turned both taps on at full force, blasting the little chu with a high-pressure stream of water. Kuri made sure to pour some dish soap into the puncture wounds on his tummy, scrubbing Robbie alternately with a rough sponge and some steel wool until the shrieking Sonee was sufficiently cleaned up and tenderized.
BZZZT! The deep fryer buzzed loudly and a red light blinked on, just as Kuri finished cleaning the last drops of hot sauce out of Robbie’s fur. A vicious, vengeful grin spread across Steve’s face at the sound of the buzzer, while Al wisely adjourned to the Battle Bus to watch the show. The rest of CWCville would have to settle for the camera footage of each larva’s death, but damn it, he was Albert Ledger, and he was going to witness the demise of the Sonichu brats firsthand.
“Remember to keep it under fifteen minutes,” Al instructed the Jerkops as he ascended the steps to the bus. “I mean, this is fun and all, but we’ve still got a revolution to kick off.”
“Look, Al, we know all that shit already,” Steve interrupted as he dumped the bawling Sonee into a metal fryer basket and held it over the oil. “Trust me, there’s still plenty of time for this.”

There was this weird Legend of Zelda fanfic I found ages ago, about a Kokiri who became a Christian and tried to convert Zelda to Christianity because worshiping the three Triforce goddesses was heresy and she refused and eventually went to Hell. I can't recall the title but I remember the author was called Post Rapture.


And who can forget My Inner Life by Link's Queen

Archived here: http://linksqueen.tripod.com/mil.html

That is the blandest and most boring sex scene I've ever read. I demand something fappable!

I just remembered (with much regret) one of the worst MLP fanfics in existence: "Sweet Apple Massacre"

Big Macintosh surveyed the many apples trees that made up Sweet Apple Acres. It was nearly apple-buck season once again, and it looked as though they would be having a bumper harvest this year. He nodded, satisfied. His sister Applejack walked up beside him.
“Whoo, boy howdy! I sure am glad you ain’t injured this time, Big Macintosh!” she said. “Why, there’s even more apples on them trees than last year!”
“Eeyup!” Big Macintosh replied, in his characteristic manner. “Them’s a lotta apples.”
Applejack was silent for a moment, enjoying the feel of the slight breeze against her blonde mane. “Say, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Apple Bloom anywhere, have ya? I been looking for her all day, and she ain’t nowhere to be found.”
Big Macintosh shook his head. “Sorry sis, can’t say I have.”
“Darn! That silly filly’s probably gone off somewhere with her friends. I just hope she ain’t getting herself into any mischief, or else there’ll be hay to pay!”
“Don’t you go worryin’ yourself, Applejack,” he replied, “I’m sure she’s perfectly fine. But anyway, I need to go back to the barn. I gotta go and press some apples for some of my home-brewed apple cider. I hoof-picked a few apples earlier specially, all nice and plump and ripe, and they ain’t gonna press themselves.”
Applejack laughed. “You sure do love your cider, don’t ya! Just make sure Apple Bloom don’t get her hooves on it again, we all know what happened last time!”
Big Macintosh chuckled along with his sister. “Eeyup!”
The large red pony trotted back to the barn, and gently closed the door. He opened a trap-door with his mouth and went down the steps into an old disused apple cellar. Usually it was just filled with junk; scrap metal, old worn out ploughs, old rope and various other bits and bobs that had outlived their usefulness. Big Macintosh often came down here when he wanted to get away from the world, to withdraw for a little while for some peace and quiet.
Today was different, however. The old rope, at least, had found a new use, because in cellar space were Apple Bloom and her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, bound and gagged, propped up against the wall. Three pairs of scared, round eyes looked up at Big Macintosh as he approached.
“Now then, ya three fillies,” he said, as placid as ever. “Y’all need to learn a lesson. You need to learn not to mess around with Big Macintosh. All I want is some peace and quiet,” he said, looking directly at Apple Bloom. The little red haired filly cowered under his gaze. “All I want is a quiet life, without all you Cutie Mark Crusaders runnin’ round the place, making with the noise. When I’m finished with y’all, there gonna be no noise from you ever again.”
As Big Macintosh approached, Scootaloo flapped her wings, struggling to get off the ground. Big Macintosh laughed, and grabbed one of her wings. He twisted, at first slow, watching the pain visibly grow in her eyes, but then tore hard, smiling slightly when he heard the snap and the muffled whimper that came from Scootaloo. He then threw her to the ground.
“Your wings are useless, ya silly filly,” he said pleasantly. He then went to a toolbox and took out a rusty knife with a jagged blade and dropped it in front of the three fillies. “I’m gonna take off those gags now,” he said. “The first one of you to scream gets their tongues cut out.”
He took off Sweetie Belle’s gag first. She looked up at him with terror, but managed to stay quiet. Next was Scootaloo. She let out a strangled whine and was breathing heavily, still in horrendous pain from her broken wing, but managed to resist the temptation. Finally, he removed the gag from his sister Apple Bloom. She stared at him with her large round eyes, filled with fear and incomprehension. This was Big Macintosh after all, her big brother and the gentlest of souls. Wasn’t he? Surely this was just a horrible joke? But she had seen what he had done to Scootaloo’s wing, and it was definitely no joke. She took a deep breath.
“APPLEJA—“
Big Macintosh shoved his hoof in Apple Bloom’s mouth, silencing her scream. He sighed and shook his head. “I tole you not to scream, Apple Bloom. You should listen to your big brother.”
“I’ll…I’ll scream, and scream again, an’ Applejack will hear and, and…” Apple Bloom said, falteringly.
“Ya know, I kinda hope you do. After all, I still ain’t forgiven Applejack for that injury she gave me last apple-buck season. If you want Applejack to join y’all down here, scream away. I, for one, would welcome her company. But now, to business.”
Big Macintosh picked up the knife, and loomed over the cowering Apple Bloom. He pinned her down with a powerful hoof, and stuck the knife into Apple Bloom’s mouth. Sweetie Belle vomited at the sight, the thick yellow chunks and acidic-smelling liquid spattering heavily on the floor. Scootaloo managed not to be sick, but rather gasped and sobbed and choked with panic. Big Macintosh forced open Apple Bloom’s mouth and with some effort cut out her tongue. Apple Bloom tried to scream but her mouth was too full of blood, so it was more of a muted gurgle. After a short while she collapsed, tears streaming from her eyes, falling unconscious from the shock and the pain. Big Macintosh then took the tongue and rolled it in the puddle of putrid vomit on the floor. He smiled at Scootaloo.
“Ya hungry?”
Scootaloo shook her head vigorously and cast him a defiant glare. “If Rainbow Dash was here she would kick the crap out of you, you…you maniac!”
Big Macintosh shrugged. “Well, she ain’t. An’ anyway, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Rainbow Dash ain’t as tough as she likes to make out.” He shoved the vomit-covered tongue into Scootaloo’s mouth, and used his hoof to clamp her mouth shut. “Don’t you go tryin’ to spit it out now,” he said calmly, with a little laugh and the filly struggled and squirmed. “Din’t your mother ever tell you how important it is to chew your food?”
Scootaloo closed her eyes and flapped her one good wing desperately, eventually swallowing Apple Bloom’s tongue. Big Macintosh, still holding the writhing Scootaloo down with his strong hooves, then mounted the orange filly and slid his penis into her tight virgin pussy, raping her for several minutes while Sweetie Belle watched, trembling with revulsion. Apple Bloom was still out cold, blood pouring from her torn-up mouth.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders rape victims,” Big Macintosh said with tender mockery as he fucked Scootaloo, followed by a gentle chuckle. “Guess y’all found your purpose in life now; your special talent is gettin’ raped. Eeyup.”
Eventually he withdrew from Scootaloo, and gripped her head tight and repeatedly punched her hard with a hoof in the face, causing her nose to shatter and spurt with blood. He scooped up some of the blood and some of Sweetie Belle’s vomit with his tongue and held it in his mouth, so that it mixed with his saliva, and then brought his mouth close to Scootaloo’s and spat the rank mixture into her mouth. He clamped his hoof over her mouth and held her nose until she gagged and eventually had no choice but to swallow.
As Scootaloo retched and spat and cried, he turned to Sweetie Belle. He grabbed her easily, as she was too shocked and traumatised to respond, and with apparent amusement he rammed her horn up Scootaloo’s ass. The horn was too big and hard, so the skin around Scootaloo’s ass ripped and blood and fecal matter first trickled and then poured profusely down onto Sweetie Belle’s face, as well as urine as Scootaloo pissed herself.
“You keep doin’ that, Sweetie Belle,” he said. The unicorn carried on pushing her horn up Scootaloo’s anus, slowly but surely. Her normally well groomed pink and purple mane was now stained a reddish-brown, glistening with the wetness of the piss and blood. “If ya stop, I’ll come over there and, uh, get creative. I may seem a bit dense, but I’m actually quite a creative stallion, ya know,” Big Macintosh said, with a wink. “Eeyup!”
He went to Apple Bloom and penetrated his little sister’s unconscious body with his hard cock. While he violated her, and another knife, this one sharp and shiny, and sliced open her flank, causing her glistening intestines to flop out wetly onto the floor. He glanced over, and was pleased to see that Sweetie Belle was still using her horn to anally penetrate Scootaloo, and her face was now completely covered in blood and feces and urine.
He turned his attention back to Apple Bloom, and scooped up her crimson entrails and wrapped them around her neck, still fucking the filly, and with his front hooves he pulled and pulled until it was wrapped so tightly around Apple Bloom’s neck that it broke her windpipe. She was now surely dead, but Big Macintosh continued fucking her furiously until her body began to lose form and collapse into a quivering, amorphous mass of fur and blood and flesh. The perineum had fallen away, leaving a single red and raw gaping void. He carried on until he was fucking nothing but a single swollen and bloody orifice, and then discarded his baby sister’s carcass as though she were nothing more than a rotten apple core.
He then took the knife, and grabbed Sweetie Belle and tossed her aside. He forced himself into Scootaloo’s ruined anus, and then took the knife and cut from her ass in a sweeping motion up to her belly, and all her innards fell out. He then grabbed her head, twisted and tore it clean off, using his immense strength, and fucked it in the mouth and then tossed it aside. He then had sex with her headless body, both in the vagina and the ass until he got bored.
Sweetie Belle was the last remaining Cutie Mark Crusader. She was herself barely conscious, overcome with the nauseous stench of blood, shit and piss that covered her horn and her face. Big Macintosh pinned Sweetie Belle down with his hoof and plunged the knife into her green eye, and twisted, causing vitreous fluid to dribble out onto the handle. At that, Sweetie Belle let out a throaty whine and involuntarily emptied her bowels, and the aroma of fresh urine and feces filled the apple cellar once again. He withdrew the knife and did the same to the other eye, each time holding her tight and sticking his hoof into her mouth to silence her agonised screams. He licked the vitreous fluid that had leaked onto the knife, and then methodically began cutting and hacking at her front left hoof using the rusty knife. The knife was quite blunt, so it took a Herculean effort to get through the skin, bone and cartilage, but eventually the bone splintered and the leg came off. He did the same to her other legs, until all four were amputated and nothing remained but bloody stumps, with slimy white ligament and broken bone shards hanging out. At some point Sweetie Belle had passed out, the overwhelming pain too much for her to bear.
He then used the knife to gouge out her left eye and jammed his penis into her eye socket, penetrating repeatedly deep into her brain, enjoying how tight her skull felt around his hard shaft and how warm and squishy the brain-matter felt against the tip of his throbbing penis. As he did he twisted Sweetie Belle’s neck. After he had finished skull-fucking her, he cracked open her skull with a swift stamp of the hoof, and bent down and ate some of the exposed brain, taking care to spit out a few fragments of skull bone that had got mixed in as he chewed. It was warm and slimy and tough, and stuck to the back of his throat. He swallowed, and then raped Sweetie Belle in the ass until it tore open and his engorged penis was smeared with what little fecal matter remained in her rectum.
He took one of Sweetie Belle’s detached legs and shoved it inside her ass, and then fucked Apple Bloom and Scootaloo’s bodies the same way, forcing the amputated limb in, hoof-first, as far as it could go. He thought how strange it was that the still lumps of torn flesh that he was fucking with Sweetie Belle’s leg had been so vibrant and alive such a short time ago.
But now, all three were dead, and he finished by spurting his voluminous load into Apple Bloom’s destroyed backside. He watched with satisfaction as the semen and blood and shit mixed together, forming a foamy maroon pool. He bent down and greedily lapped up some of it with his tongue, pressing his tongue deep into her anal cavity so as not to miss any, letting some dribbling down his chin. It tasted foul of course, a rancid, tangy slime that burned his throat, but it felt so satisfying. He swallowed the filthy goo, and wiped his mouth with a hoof. It was done. Big Macintosh would finally get his peace and quiet.
“Big Macintosh, ya down there?”
It was Applejack. He looked at the disfigured corpses of the three fillies, all now barely recognisable as the oh-so-sweet Cutie Mark Crusaders, and realised he felt strangely unsatisfied. It had all been a bit too quick and easy. Now Applejack…that would be a challenge. She was Ponyville’s best athlete after all; she even had the Prize Pony of Ponyville trophy to prove it. And, of course, he still hadn’t forgiven her for that injury. He felt his penis stiffen once again in anticipation.
“Hey, Big Mac, I said are ya down there?” came Applejack’s lilting voice again, this time more insistent.
Big Macintosh replied serenely, “I sure am, sis. Hey, come down here a minute. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”
“Sure thing! What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Oh boy, I sure do love surprises! Somethin’ real nice I’ll bet.”
Something real nice? Big Macintosh looked at the mangled, mutilated remains of the Cutie Mark Crusaders and his lips curled into a thin smile.
“Eeyup.”

Dammit, Chicken! I said 'fappable', not 'horrifying and turning me off forever'.

Would you prefer that @Primpenel and I post more SRTF shit?

TWILA, DA GIRL WHO WAS IN LUV W A VAMPIR!

Hi my name is Twila Beatiful Psyco Topaz (not cullen yet, bcuz i ddnt meet edward yet) n i live in waschington wif my sister Midnite. we liv in a dark house that iz far away from every1 els n we r vampires. we feest on blood n no1 else noes dat we are vampirs. not evn are mom wich is y we moved away to b by ourselves. yes we r LONERS.
i go 2 a hi school n every1 finks dat im really hott, i hav strait blak hair nd topez eyes n mi sister midnte is da same accept she has magenta eyez. i wear lots of blak makup on mi eyes even tho i hav dark ciircles under my eyes, (a/n ok if u think thats lame then FUK U, edword has dem too and steraphie myers sed hes realli hot ok.) i dnt lyk any1 at mi school, i am a missenthrop (a/n loook it up) that menz i hate other ppl accept midnite.
one day i met a realli sexi vampore named EDWARd CULLENS he haz realli white skin lyk me. he is satan's gift to dis planet (a/n I DONT BELEVE IN GOD I AM N ATHIEST. i thnk saten created dis universe god bles u satan u r alwayz in mi heart.) so anywey i met him i nda skewl n he was wif some fukking ugli ass bytch named bella swann. she waz soo stupid n she kept fallin out of her seat. edwward lookd at me lyk wtf is dis gurl doing. i smiled at him sexi and aventerous n he new rite away that i wuz a vampir, i culd tell from his eyes wich were da same collor as mine.
"Heyy" he sed walkn away from bella. dere were some gay ass ghetto ppl in his way doin da SOLDA BOY CRANK DANce n he jus lookd at dem with his dethly eyes n they iran away. i realy hat cliks n gheto ppl fink they r kewl, i giv dem the middle finger in the halwayz n itz l;ke YEA HUS TUFF NOW LOL rite
neway edward n i sat 2getha at da lunch tabel n bella stard at us wif dat poser jakob. ed ddnt pay ne atencion to her at all. he told me al abot how he iz a vampir n his dad carlose wnated 2 meet me. n his sisters alice, rosmarie, jasper n emet all luved me rite away n his mom esmi wnted 2 meet me 2.
so we kut skewl early n went to his realli big house in da woods n jasper is realli big and muscelar so he jst nocked down all da treez in da way.
when we got there carlose came to da door imedately. he gasped in surpise at my beauty
"You Must be twila, my u certenly r attraxive" he teasd me seductevly. ed, jasp, emet, alison n rosaline all growld at him angrly, all sensitive becuz they liked me 2 besidez it wusnt fare cuz he was alreadi married.
"Yea thats me lol" i told him and bowed (a/n dats wat they do in japanese becuz its polite) "nice to met you i said.
"So i hear ur a vampir, cum in my house n we can talk about it."
I waz sooo excited n i ran in quikly in every1 followed me, we were alreadi frends.
XXXXXXXXXX END OF CHAPTE 1XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
PLZ GUYZ TELL ME IF ITS GUD

How about Ninja Turtle M-preg?

tl;dr Raphael gets captured by nameless dudes who use their science powers to cut him open and plant multiple babies in him before cutting him open again and killing said babies in front of him for reasons... that are never explained.

Edit: Oh god they wrote a sex abuse one wth Splinter.

"bees, a hey arnold fanfic"

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9720669/1/Bees

Don't think Marijuana Simpsons has been posted.

It's definitely readable, if weird and a waste of time.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/233219778/Marijuana-Simpson#scribd

http://hammohamster.livejournal.com/1086.html

Glenn Beck X Barrack Obama

Getting political are we?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9965249/1/Shattered-Love-Shattered-Roses

http://voltronz1.deviantart.com/art/Lonesome-Ghosts-Fanmake-141103230

Lonesome Ghosts Fanmake

• by VoltronZ1, Oct 22, 2009, 1:10:59 PM
• Literature / Fan Fiction

A/N: This is a remake of the 1937 Disney animated cartoon of the same name.

Enjoy the story!

Lonesome Ghosts: The Morrison Version

(In was a dark winter night at a old and wrecked mansion, where it has became a home to the Ayakashi Sisters. We see them all doing their hobbies in the living room.)

Catzi: (yaws loudly) Ahhhhhh..... We have no fun no more.

Bertie: (Playing a game a cards by herself) No, nobody round here to scare.

Prizma: (Was fishing in the floor) Huh. We scared them all off, because we're too good for them. (Laughs manically)

Avery: (Was reading a magazine and then notices an ad in it) Hey, here's a idea! Get a load of this, sisters.

(The three sisters went to see what Avery had in mind for them to play with.)

Avery: (reads) "Notice! We exterminate all kinds of ghosts. Day and night service."

(The four sisters all began to laugh at the idea.)

Catzi: Eh, wise guys. Let's get them over here.

Bertie: We'll have some fun with them.

Prizma: We'll scare the living daylights out of them!

(The sisters headed to the telephone to make the call to the exterminators.)

****************** (Minutes Later) ******************

(At that moment, we cut to an office with a sign that reads 'Ghostbusters: Winnipeg Division' where the exterminators turn out to be Donald, Chris, Mark and Mike Morrison; as they were all sleeping on the job until the phone rang and woke them all up.)

Donald: The telephone.

Chris: The telephone.

Mark: The telephone.

Mike: The telephone?

(The phone started to ring again as the brothers all struggled to answer it until Donald answers it first.)

Donald: Hello? Hello? Hello?

Prizma: (Does a Jessica Rabbit voice) Do you chase ghosts?

Mike: (Chuckles) Do we chase ghosts.

Donald: Ye- Ye- Yes madam, yes sir. I say we do.

Prizma: Well, this house is full of ghosts. Listen.

Catzi: BOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Bertie: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!

Avery: YAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!

Prizma: HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!!

All 4 sisters: YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Prisma: Come quick to the old hill mansion, you will be paid very handsomely.

Donald: Okay, we'll be right over.

(He hangs up the phone.)

Donald: Oh boy a customer!

Chris: A customer!

Mark: A customer!

Mike: A customer?

Donald: That's right Mike. So lets gear up for our mission.

Mike: Got it, dude!

Chris: Peter, Raymond, Egon and Winston will be very proud.

Mark: Indeed Chris. So let's go!

All 4 Brothers: LETS GO GHOSTBUSTERS!!!!

(The brothers all went to their lockers and geared up for their mission as Donald puts on his green outfit, Chris puts on his red outfit, Mark puts on his blue outfit and Mike puts on his black outfit.)

Mike: This is gonna be so awesome.

Chris: Yeah and best of all, we'll be paid very handsomely.

Mark: But first things first, we gotta take out the ghosts.

Donald: Then we'll be payed very handsomely.

Chris: Yeah! I'll get the Proton Pack bullets.

(He heads to a locker and takes out a box filled with the ghost/monster killing Proton Pack bullets.)

Mike: Like we better load up, dudes.

Mark: Lets then.

(All of them loaded their assault rifles with the bullets.)

Donald: Out we go!

(They went to their Jeep Wagoneer in the garage where their house maid Launch was waiting.)

Launch: Now be very careful you four, I heard this mansion is full of ghost and goblins.

Mark: We'll be care full, Launch.

Chris: We're always are.

Mike: We'll be back soon for dinner.

Donald: Bye for now, Launch.

(The four all kissed her on her checks, got into the jeep and drove off.)

Launch: (Smiles) Such nice boys.

****************** (Hours Later) ******************

(Meanwhile back at the mansion, the sisters were all waiting for the Morrisons to arrive at the window.)

Bertie: Hey look, here they come.

Avery: Oh goody!

(The sisters watched the brothers coming to them as Donald was carrying his Colt M16A4 rifle, Chris was carrying his Heckler & Koch HK33 rife, Mark was carrying his AK-47 rifle and Mike was carrying his FAMAS rifle.)

Catzi: Oh my. Those boys look very hot in my eyes.

Prisma: Indeed. Let's make sure they have a perfect night that they'll never forget.

(The sisters all started to laugh evilly as they teleported themselves out of the room in a flash.)

Mark: This is the place, guys.

(Chris knocks on the door and surprisingly, it falls down to the ground.)

Donald: We're from the Ghostbusters: Winnipeg....... Division.

Mike: Hey, where are the folks, dudes?

Chris: Maybe they're waiting for us in the living room.

Mark: Let's find out, come on.

(As the boys walked towards the living room, the sisters; still in their ghost forms, pulled the mat over them and the boys soon fell to the ground.)

Donald: Ouch! Who did that?

Ayakashi Sisters' voices: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!

Chris: Ghosts.

Mark: Ghosts.

Mike: Ghosts?

Donald: (Whispers) Shhhhh..... We'll split up and try to surround them.

(The brothers agreed and the four soon split upped to find the sisters as each of them went to different rooms.)

Donald: I know you're in here so give up.

(Catzi appears behind Donald and pokes him in the back.)

Donald: (Turns around and gasps) YOU!!

(Donald tries to fire his gun but Catzi puts her finger into the barrel and blows up.)

Catzi: Better luck next time.

(She laughs and runs off into the master bedroom's door and disappears.)

Donald: Hey? How does she do that?

(He rams the door and it fell to the ground.)

Donald: Huh?

(He stands on it and out come the Ayakashi Sisters as they were playing music instruments.)

Donald: What the?

(The girls started to dance and headed straight to the door.)

Donald: (Heads to the door but it's locked) Hey! Open this door!

Catzi: If you say so.

(A flood of water came out of the door as Catzi, Prisma and Avery surf boarded on the waves. In the meantime Bertie rode the waves in a boat circles Donald. Then, the water soon disappears in moments.)

Donald: Well, that was something.

****************** (Minutes Later) ******************

(We then cut to Chris looking for the girls as Bertie appears right besides him with tons of plates.)

Bertie: Boo!!

(She smashes the plates with full force as the smash scared Chris.)

Chris: YIKES!!!

(He runs to a chair and hides underneath it.)

Chris: You think you can scare me with that? Show me your worst!

(He comes out of the chair, only to be scared once more as Bertie throws some metal chains to the ground.)

Chris: YIKES!!!!

(Chris hides in the one of desk drawers but the one he was hiding it came right out and hits the ground.)

Chris: Oh boy.....

(Bertie soon shows up to Chris and puts up her dukes.)

Chris: Okay, now you're gonna get it from me.

(Chris punches her to her face.)

Chris: Alright! I got her! I got her.

(She falls to the ground and disappears, leaving a puddle of water.)

Chris: What the bloody blue blazes?

(She appears from the puddle and splashes some water at Chris.)

Chris: HEY!!!

(Chris tries to jump in the puddle but it soon vanishes into thin air.)

Chris: Well that's a fine "how do you do".

****************** (Minutes Later) ******************

(Meanwhile we cut to Mark and Mike still looking for the girls. Unknowing to them, both Prisma and Avery were right behind them with drums.)

Mike: Ohhhhh..... I'm brave. But I'm careful.

Mark: That you are, Mike; that you are.

(Prisma and Avery played the drums very loudly, scaring both Mark and Mike as the two ran towards wall, tearing it up to find a way out.)

Mark and Mike: There's gotta be a way out of here!!!

(As the two were still trying to get out, Avery plays her trumpet and scares Mark and Mike some more as they ran to another room.)

Mike: (Chuckles) Like, I ain't scared of no ghosts.

Mark: Me either, Mike. Now let's go, we gotta find Donald and Chris.

(Just as the two headed off, Prisma and Avery kicked them behind their backs and ran off.)

Mark: There they are. Let's get em!

Mike: I'm way ahead of ya, Mark.

(They ran after the girls as Prisma and Avery both jumped into a dressing drawer.)

Mike: Hey, like that's not fair.

(Prisma scares the both of them with a school fire bell.)

Mark: Look in the draws, they must be in there.

Mike: Right, Mark!

(The boys soon started to looked into the draws to find the girls.)

Mark: Blast! Where are those two weird girls?

Prisma's voice: Why check the mirror, lover boy.

Mark and Mike: Huh?

(Just then, both Prisma and Avery were inside the mirror and the two blow a kiss at Mark and Mike.)

Mike: AH-HA! Now we got you! Let em have it, Mark!

Mark: I'm right behind ya, Mike.

(Both fired their guns at Prisma and Avery, breaking the mirror with full force.)

Mike: Yeah, we got them!

Mark: There's no way they could survived that fire power.

Avery's voice: Guess again, lover boy.

Mark: What the? But how?

Prisma's voice: You'll find out soon enough, lover boy.

Mark: Stop calling me that!

Prisma's voice: As you wish, my love.

(Mark and Mike were soon pushed by Prisma and Avery as they crashed into Donald and Chris, forcing the four brothers to head down to the basement.)

Mike: Brace for impact, dudes!!!

(The four smashed right into some flour and chocolate pots and it accidentally spilled all over them; just as the girls came down to the room.)

Catzi: We got them now- (Stops and gasps) Look, ghosts!

(The four boys got up from the ground and started walking straight to the girls, unaware that they were covered with flour and chocolate, making it look like that they're ghosts.)

Bertie: Ghosts!!

Prisma: Ghosts!!!

Avery: Ghosts!!!!

(Faster then you can say "Let's beat it", the sisters all ran straight to the living room and escaped though the window by smashing the glass with their own bodies. With all of them still screaming and crying like big babies just as Donald, Chris, Mark and Mike were coming up from the basement with the flour and chocolate coming off of them.)

Donald, Chris, Mark and Mike: So you can't take it, you big sissies!!! (All laughed)

(And so our story ends with the Morrison Brothers all laughing at the Ayakashi Sisters' misery.)

THE END.

Garfield kills Kanye West, cures Ebola, plays a song at the Super Bowl Half Time Snow then fucks some women.

Like a fuckin' boss.