Buckle up, chum! We're going for a *coughsnerk* RIDE back to weepingcock town.
Mari, never one to be separated from her bad porn for more than a day, creeps nervously back into weepingcock town. She can't quite make out the words on the updates billboard at the center of town as she tiptoes past the drugstore (sponsored by Brain Bleach), but from the dates she can tell that there are new items up. Her friends, gathered at the gate, roll their eyes as they watch her continue her walk into perdition; for the life of them, they can't understand why she does this to herself, but it should be an amusing spectacle so they've come to watch.
One of them pulls out a walkie talkie. "Mari? Mari, do you copy?"
"Affirmative," she answers, swallowing hard as the letters on the board begin to take on definition. "Oh... oh god, it says 'lots of incest'. And 'they had sex about 15 or 16 times.'" Involuntarily, her hand moves up to open up the LJ cut.
“Ariel, are you listening to me?”
He was so awfully big, that was all. Muscular all over, and so powerful and in control. He slid his hand up the large staff he was clutching, and she imagined how he would touch his cock. She bet he did it a lot, since Mom was gone, and as she thought about it, she could feel the split in her tail begin to emerge. She quickly flipped over to lie on her stomach to hide it.
"Wait," Mari whispers, "Is that... it's a Little Mermaid fanfic! And that's her father she's talking about!"
Adrina was rubbing her father’s lap with fast strokes, and her father was massaging Adella’s breasts through the white fabric.
[...]
The shells were swept off her breasts, which were left to bounce free. They were quickly grasped in Saptule’s big, fat fingers. He squeezed them, jiggled them, pushed them together and nuzzled his face in them.
“Yeah, that’s it, bitch, keep that. Oh yeah, oh, I’m fucking your mouth, you big-titted princess bitch, I’m fucking it. Ohohoh, yeah.”
Mari stares in dismay. "Oh, sweet Krishna..."
"Mari...?" her friend asks uncertainly, exchanging looks with the rest of the group. "What is it?"
"Your untainted eyes have no reason to know," she replies, unaware that the entire atrocity has already found its way onto the internet for all of them to see. Turning to look at another piece, she feels her stomach drop to her feet when she reads the line...
human in lion king world
Back by the gates of weepingcock town, which, incidentally, have giant metal weeping cock statues instead of fence posts, Mari's friends let out a collective gasp as she suddenly collapses into a shivering heap on the ground.
"Mari?!" the friend with the walkie talkie demands, voice just shaking with alarm, "Do you copy me? Listen, have you got your emergency Bleeprin?"
"Yeah... thanks," Mari chokes out as she pops several pills with trembling hands. "I... oh, god..."
"Get yourself together," the friend orders. "What is it you're seeing?"
"...It... god, I can't even describe it."
Nala couldn't see anything to please herself with, so she pushed 2 claws into her pussy
The friend purses her lips sympathetically. "Ow."
Mari just shudders and crosses her legs.
"Ooh, that's what I need!" Nala purred, pleasing herself even more. Pushing her claws deeper into her pussy.
Nala roared in pleasure, speeding her claws in her pussy, adding a third claw in her pussy.
"Maybe I can get mother to play some naughty games with me." Nala giggled.
"Well, it could be worse, right?" The friend asks, trailing off when she sees that Mari has turned around to face her. Even at this distance, the glare is easily visible. She gulped. "Okay, that is a bit disturbing, but..."
"Don't belittle me," Mari snaps. "That's not the worst part. This, my friend, is perhaps the most horrifying exchange I have ever seen in a work of fanfiction..."
Mufasa had to do one thing, handing over the crown as King.
"Simba, you have to mate me to show dominance." Mufasa said smirking, lifting his tail.
"FUCKING HELL!" her friend screams, clawing at her ears. "Why did you have to repeat that to me?!"
"You were questioning my sensibilities," Mari retorts. "What was I supposed to do?"
Half of the others back away nervously, not wanting to leave but not wanting to become the next victims of Mari's badfic-reading. The other half moves forward, morbidly curious about what she was reading that could possibly have such an effect on a person. Unfortunately or fortunately, Mari has already finished the story and moved on.
"Wow," she remarks to herself, tilting her head quizzically, "Did a twelve year old write this or something?"
Kaa then took a white sheet and black leather straps and proceeded to wrap Mowgli's upper half with to prevent any resistance, and also because Kaa was into S&M.
"On second thought... you know what, let's just not think about that," she mutters in response to her own question.
Perhaps the worst is over, she thinks as she turns away. After all, she's almost to the end of the recent updates; how much worse can it get?
Of course, this is Weepingcock Town, so it always gets worse just when you think it's going to get better. And so it does.
"Good god... Caligula? Published... history? What?" Mari grumbled to herself.
Then...
"....HISTORY?!?!?!?!"
But on most occasions, the crowd would roar with uncontainable ecstacy as Caligula rammed his foot-long rod of imperial mortadella into Drusilla's initially resistant, then deeply welcoming anus; simultaneously, Caligula's favourite gladiator, Superbus, from the mountains of eastern Tingitana, would brandish his rigid packet of fourteen-inch merguez between both fists and then for it into the emperor's excruciatingly pulsing rectum.
"HIS SISTER?!"
The doctors diagnosed "a surfeit of buggery". She had just concluded a non-stop twenty-hour session with her brother and seven outrageously well-endowed studs who had recently arrived from the province of western Caesariensis, the conclusion of which had been a near-apocalyptic collective orgasm whose devastating celebro-neural implications had sadly proven terminal for Drusilla.
"WHAT?! THAT HAS NO BASIS IN MEDICAL SCIENCE!!!"
Even those in the crowd without the luxury of a facilitating prostitute or sexual partner were expected to include themselves in that fluidic outburst. They would unleash fountains of urine at that moment of mass ejaculation, so that a gathering wall of semen and urine would descend, in monsoon-like showers, from the top to the bottom of the arena's levels.
"WHAT?!?!?!"
Armies of slaves were expended to capture those majestic beasts. They were impervious to tranquilizer arrows, and the only way to subdue them was for a particularly handsome slave to present his shapely, exposed posterior to the lion's mighty sexual apparatus; then, once the act of copulation (which invariably proved terminal for the unfortunate slave, due to unsustainable blood loss) reached its critical point and the lion was momentarily distracted, a gang of a hundred or more whooping slaves would wrestle the lion to the ground and throw a net over it.
"SWEET BUDDHA, MOHAMMED, AND BABY JESUS, WHAT THE EVERLOVING CRAP ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!?!?!?!?!?
THIS HAS BEEN PUBLISHED?!
IT'S SOLD AS BEING HISTORICALLY ACCURATE?!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
With that last, terrified scream, Mari whips around and begins to run from the billboard, sobbing. "Oh, god... oh, god... Oh, may the generous spirits of my ancestors look down kindly upon me. May Kwannon's mercy shine on me. Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name-"
But merciful deities have no place in Weepingcock Town, unless it is in badly written Jesus/Mohammed or Jesus/Judas slash. So it is written, so it shall be. Just as Mari is about to make her escape through the weeping cock gates, she throws a glance over her shoulder, paranoid that someone might be launching a pursuit. No one is, but they don't need to. Looming up over Mari's shoulder, in a bolded 1,000,000,000 point font, are a set of words. She freezes for a moment, blinded by the horror, before letting out a choked cry and stumbling away.
Three of Mari's friends, the ones who didn't turn away fast enough when the words appeared, have gone into convulsions when she gets outside. Most of the other ones are hovering worriedly, but some turn when their friend staggers through the gates, tears streaming down her face.
"Mari? Holy shit, are you all right?" one of them asks. Mari, however, has lost all coherence. All her anyone can hear as she sinks to the ground, hugging herself tightly and rocking back and forth, is this:
"My Little Pony. MY LITTLE PONY. Oh, oh, help me, please, he wants to breathe the gas of his very bowels... help. Somebody... And W-... Winnie. Winnie, the... the Poo."
One of them pulls out a walkie talkie. "Mari? Mari, do you copy?"
"Affirmative," she answers, swallowing hard as the letters on the board begin to take on definition. "Oh... oh god, it says 'lots of incest'. And 'they had sex about 15 or 16 times.'" Involuntarily, her hand moves up to open up the LJ cut.
“Ariel, are you listening to me?”
He was so awfully big, that was all. Muscular all over, and so powerful and in control. He slid his hand up the large staff he was clutching, and she imagined how he would touch his cock. She bet he did it a lot, since Mom was gone, and as she thought about it, she could feel the split in her tail begin to emerge. She quickly flipped over to lie on her stomach to hide it.
"Wait," Mari whispers, "Is that... it's a Little Mermaid fanfic! And that's her father she's talking about!"
Adrina was rubbing her father’s lap with fast strokes, and her father was massaging Adella’s breasts through the white fabric.
[...]
The shells were swept off her breasts, which were left to bounce free. They were quickly grasped in Saptule’s big, fat fingers. He squeezed them, jiggled them, pushed them together and nuzzled his face in them.
“Yeah, that’s it, bitch, keep that. Oh yeah, oh, I’m fucking your mouth, you big-titted princess bitch, I’m fucking it. Ohohoh, yeah.”
Mari stares in dismay. "Oh, sweet Krishna..."
"Mari...?" her friend asks uncertainly, exchanging looks with the rest of the group. "What is it?"
"Your untainted eyes have no reason to know," she replies, unaware that the entire atrocity has already found its way onto the internet for all of them to see. Turning to look at another piece, she feels her stomach drop to her feet when she reads the line...
human in lion king world
Back by the gates of weepingcock town, which, incidentally, have giant metal weeping cock statues instead of fence posts, Mari's friends let out a collective gasp as she suddenly collapses into a shivering heap on the ground.
"Mari?!" the friend with the walkie talkie demands, voice just shaking with alarm, "Do you copy me? Listen, have you got your emergency Bleeprin?"
"Yeah... thanks," Mari chokes out as she pops several pills with trembling hands. "I... oh, god..."
"Get yourself together," the friend orders. "What is it you're seeing?"
"...It... god, I can't even describe it."
Nala couldn't see anything to please herself with, so she pushed 2 claws into her pussy
The friend purses her lips sympathetically. "Ow."
Mari just shudders and crosses her legs.
"Ooh, that's what I need!" Nala purred, pleasing herself even more. Pushing her claws deeper into her pussy.
Nala roared in pleasure, speeding her claws in her pussy, adding a third claw in her pussy.
"Maybe I can get mother to play some naughty games with me." Nala giggled.
"Well, it could be worse, right?" The friend asks, trailing off when she sees that Mari has turned around to face her. Even at this distance, the glare is easily visible. She gulped. "Okay, that is a bit disturbing, but..."
"Don't belittle me," Mari snaps. "That's not the worst part. This, my friend, is perhaps the most horrifying exchange I have ever seen in a work of fanfiction..."
Mufasa had to do one thing, handing over the crown as King.
"Simba, you have to mate me to show dominance." Mufasa said smirking, lifting his tail.
"FUCKING HELL!" her friend screams, clawing at her ears. "Why did you have to repeat that to me?!"
"You were questioning my sensibilities," Mari retorts. "What was I supposed to do?"
Half of the others back away nervously, not wanting to leave but not wanting to become the next victims of Mari's badfic-reading. The other half moves forward, morbidly curious about what she was reading that could possibly have such an effect on a person. Unfortunately or fortunately, Mari has already finished the story and moved on.
"Wow," she remarks to herself, tilting her head quizzically, "Did a twelve year old write this or something?"
Kaa then took a white sheet and black leather straps and proceeded to wrap Mowgli's upper half with to prevent any resistance, and also because Kaa was into S&M.
"On second thought... you know what, let's just not think about that," she mutters in response to her own question.
Perhaps the worst is over, she thinks as she turns away. After all, she's almost to the end of the recent updates; how much worse can it get?
Of course, this is Weepingcock Town, so it always gets worse just when you think it's going to get better. And so it does.
"Good god... Caligula? Published... history? What?" Mari grumbled to herself.
Then...
"....HISTORY?!?!?!?!"
But on most occasions, the crowd would roar with uncontainable ecstacy as Caligula rammed his foot-long rod of imperial mortadella into Drusilla's initially resistant, then deeply welcoming anus; simultaneously, Caligula's favourite gladiator, Superbus, from the mountains of eastern Tingitana, would brandish his rigid packet of fourteen-inch merguez between both fists and then for it into the emperor's excruciatingly pulsing rectum.
"HIS SISTER?!"
The doctors diagnosed "a surfeit of buggery". She had just concluded a non-stop twenty-hour session with her brother and seven outrageously well-endowed studs who had recently arrived from the province of western Caesariensis, the conclusion of which had been a near-apocalyptic collective orgasm whose devastating celebro-neural implications had sadly proven terminal for Drusilla.
"WHAT?! THAT HAS NO BASIS IN MEDICAL SCIENCE!!!"
Even those in the crowd without the luxury of a facilitating prostitute or sexual partner were expected to include themselves in that fluidic outburst. They would unleash fountains of urine at that moment of mass ejaculation, so that a gathering wall of semen and urine would descend, in monsoon-like showers, from the top to the bottom of the arena's levels.
"WHAT?!?!?!"
Armies of slaves were expended to capture those majestic beasts. They were impervious to tranquilizer arrows, and the only way to subdue them was for a particularly handsome slave to present his shapely, exposed posterior to the lion's mighty sexual apparatus; then, once the act of copulation (which invariably proved terminal for the unfortunate slave, due to unsustainable blood loss) reached its critical point and the lion was momentarily distracted, a gang of a hundred or more whooping slaves would wrestle the lion to the ground and throw a net over it.
"SWEET BUDDHA, MOHAMMED, AND BABY JESUS, WHAT THE EVERLOVING CRAP ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!?!?!?!?!?
THIS HAS BEEN PUBLISHED?!
IT'S SOLD AS BEING HISTORICALLY ACCURATE?!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
With that last, terrified scream, Mari whips around and begins to run from the billboard, sobbing. "Oh, god... oh, god... Oh, may the generous spirits of my ancestors look down kindly upon me. May Kwannon's mercy shine on me. Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name-"
But merciful deities have no place in Weepingcock Town, unless it is in badly written Jesus/Mohammed or Jesus/Judas slash. So it is written, so it shall be. Just as Mari is about to make her escape through the weeping cock gates, she throws a glance over her shoulder, paranoid that someone might be launching a pursuit. No one is, but they don't need to. Looming up over Mari's shoulder, in a bolded 1,000,000,000 point font, are a set of words. She freezes for a moment, blinded by the horror, before letting out a choked cry and stumbling away.
Three of Mari's friends, the ones who didn't turn away fast enough when the words appeared, have gone into convulsions when she gets outside. Most of the other ones are hovering worriedly, but some turn when their friend staggers through the gates, tears streaming down her face.
"Mari? Holy shit, are you all right?" one of them asks. Mari, however, has lost all coherence. All her anyone can hear as she sinks to the ground, hugging herself tightly and rocking back and forth, is this:
"My Little Pony. MY LITTLE PONY. Oh, oh, help me, please, he wants to breathe the gas of his very bowels... help. Somebody... And W-... Winnie. Winnie, the... the Poo."