I would think you guys would learn not to bitch when I pitch you fan fiction softballs like the tender love story between Riddick and a Necromonger that ran last week. Because when you complain the story wasn’t painful enough, I make it my mission to make the next one burn, and leave a scar. TR reader Nick J. actually lent me a terrible hand by suggesting this tale, which I’d seen but hadn’t read; I like it because involves the tenderness of the Riddick story with something the author calls “morally justified rape.” Let’s take a trip down the warp pipe, shall we?
A red koopa sat alone in his home, anxiously awaiting his lover’s return from the castle. He stared at the tired reflection in his cup of coffee and wondered why the enlistment process was lasting into the AM. …
The green soldier stood silent in the doorway for a moment, a letter clutched tightly in hand. Slowly and dragging his feet as he did, the koopa made his way from the door to the bed, climbing in and falling asleep without a word to his red partner. … Frustrated, the red koopa resigned to simply wretch the letter from his lover’s hands. He took his seat once again and began to smooth out the sheet, noting the bright red Bowser insignia before turning it over to the side written on. With bags heavy under his eyes, the crimson turtle began to read the letter to himself.
It was a formal letter at least by the Koopa Army’s standards. First and foremost, it congratulated the green koopa for accepting enlistment in the largely volunteer Dry Bones troops. Secondly, it informed him of his new living quarters deep in a submerged castle outpost. Finally, it commended his bravery in accepting death to enter the troop be it by suicide or standard procedure.
You guys remember what a Dry Bones is, right?
Yep. Obviously, no Koopa is ever really ready for his Koopa lover to join the Dry Bones corps.
The red koopa’s stomach churned the coffee that threatened to come back up. The thought of his lover dying by any means was enough to chill him, but to know it was willingly done threatened psychosomatic illness. … As his stomach finally began to settle, the red turtle made his way back to the shared bed. He huddled up close to his lover, wrapped his arms around his waist, and fell into uneasy slumber as dawn came.
I strongly recommend not reading more, as this is going to hurt you in ways “Reward of Little Girls” never did. I absolutely promise. For those brave/foolish souls who are intent on pressing on, I suggest singing the World 1-2 music to yourself…. now.
It wasn’t until late midday that one of the two began to wake up. The green soldier’s eyes opened slowly and with a long yawn, he climbed out of the bed. He took a seat opposite from where the red koopa sat before and looked around their living space with new eyes. Everything in the room could kill him if he wished. The sink could be filled and drowned in, chemical cleaners underneath it gorged on to the point of a fatal poisoning, burn alive in the oven, or cut himself in a variety of ways with a variety of knives. He found it all not nearly dramatic enough until a look at his lover inspired him. A hanging with the bed cloth would proceed nicely with him taking the sheet, forming a noose to tie around the overhead lamp and having his corpse greet his soon to be cold lover. Wasting no time with an excitement not felt since he first entered Bowser’s castle to enlist, the green soldier took the sheet from the bed and began to work.
The plan fell apart within moments, the red koopa’s eyes snapping open as soon as the sheet was pulled from him. … His lover was suddenly sad enough to die and needed an emotional boost now. He pulled the green soldier’s shoulder to bring him face to face and quickly sputtered what he wanted to save for later.
“W-we have to fuck, now!”
Remember! World 1-2 music!
Using natural strength superior to his partner’s, the red koopa quickly pinned the other’s hands down against the sink cabinet, ready to do anything needed to save his boyfriend.
The throe of desperate passion gave the red turtle to strength for morally justified rape.?
OF COURSE IT DID.
His heart raced as his free hand began to furiously pump at his own soft penis, panting from effort and emotional pressure. The green koopa could only watch on, a hint of anger slowly building on his face, as waves of musk from the other began to waft toward him. It was almost sickening. The green solder’s gag warning of incoming bile did nothing to avert the red koopa from his frenzied approach, as his flushed face and drop of precum from his erect penis indicated. He was a ready as he’d be for this until the green koopa began to scream.
“Stop!” And the red koopa was shaken just enough to not force his way into the resisting soldier.
“I should,” The crimson turtle began. “but this is for your own good.”
You’d probably think that I should have warned you to stop previously, but no. Here’s the point you need to stop lest you grab an icepick and begin giving yourself a home-made lobotomy.
With his eyes shut tight and his lover’s screams beginning to shrill, the red koopa shoved little more than half his cock into an unwilling and ill-fitting hole. He repressed a moan with grit jaw as he tried to fit more of it in, all the while hoping they would both have pleasure from this in time. Yellow thighs clashed into each other as the turtle thrust himself in and out of his victim. The red koopa tried not to show his enjoyment, instead favoring an expression torn between guilt and fear. Not a moment later, the red koopa’s face contorted into a look of physical pain, the green koopa finally resisting with a free knee cap and a harsh blow to the other’s crotch. The pain momentary subsiding, the green soldier began to yell again.
You know, I can’t help wonder if the Red Koopa is sort of missing the point. Perhaps my critical analysis skills are failing me here, but I’m not sure what the benefit of this rape is — it’s certainly not saving the Green Koopa from its fate — and thus, it kind of loses its moral justification. And just ends up being “regular” rape.?
Which possibly explains why the brutality starts coming into play (but probably not).
With that, the green turtle bought just enough time in shocking his lover again to painfully stretch his leg between their bodies, knee pressed into his stomach and clawed foot into the other’s chest, and push off his oppressor. The green turtle got up with all speed and readied himself for a fight hoped to be personally destructive. The red koopa slowly got to his feet as well, wincing from fresh claw marks his lover’s foot had put into his chest, erection still hard and ready to continue once his partner was under control. The crimson turtle wasted no time in tweaking and retrying his plan, charging the other at full force from where he had been pushed to. The green turtle put down his fists, attempting a new approach to suicide, ready to be knocked to the ground by his furious partner. Both plans began as intended, the red koopa immediately knocking down the other with a blow to one eye strong enough to blacken it. Without a cry of pain, the green koopa let himself hit the ground once again and be dominated by the red one, welcoming all violence that was in store.
The red koopa pounded at the other’s face with all his might, hoping to knock him unconscious long enough to properly plan another step. However, even as bruises were formed and bones barely dented, the green koopa began to laugh softly. Smiling as best he could with a bloody and swollen mouth, he began to speak as he was pounded on.
I hate to say it, since a videogame turtle just tried to rape another videogame turtle, but here’s where the story gets fucked up:
“It’s almost done. I can’t feel anything.”
The green koopa brought a hand to his face, gripped the freshly bruised eye through engorged eyelid, and pulled it from its socket with an audible rip and a visible gush of fluids. The red turtle backed away in shock and fear, his eyes transfixed upon the gaping hole that had been a left eye. His will to fight had died along with his lover’s body. Entranced by terror to the point of losing bladder control, the turtle watched his partner slowly tear himself apart. Muscle tissue littered the ground as the green koopa bared every part of himself. His every vital organ he revealed and then spilled out onto the floor slowly working from the top down. His other eye was tossed to join the other, his esophagus was torn with lungs in tow to be thrown just over the red koopa’s head, his barely beating heart crushed between his fingers and let slide down to rest on his intestines, the intestines themselves allowed to be pulled like a scarf out from their original position down to the floor, and testicles with the other sexual organs violently ripped off and presented as a cruelly made gift to his lover before dropping those to the floor too.?
The other koopa had long since spewed his coffee-blackened bile onto the floor, gripping his wounds and crying in failure and grieving as he did.
After discarding much of the flesh on his feet, the new and bloody Dry Bones approached the sickened survivor.
A skull began to speak from atop the skeleton.>
And that’s how you make a Dry Bones! Just try not to think of this during every future Mario game you play; you know you won’t be able to resist, especially since I just said not to. Of course, astute FFF readers know that there’s a plot thread left dangling — what to do about the Red Koopa’s erection?
The red koopa only sobbed to himself, surrounded by biological filth as he did.
“Come now,” the Dry Bones said with as close a sneer as he could manage “this is for your own good.”
He pushed on the koopa’s shoulder to meet him face to face. Bloodshot and teary eyes watched as what was his lover use a bloody hand of bone to wet and slick the still erect penis being sported. The koopa hated it, but was all too tired to resist the hand that slowly pumped at his penis. He could not scream, he could not push away, and he could not enjoy the masturbation he was given. The red koopa nearly vomited again as he felt a blood slicked finger bone worm in under the foreskin and gently massage the crown. Despite the growing unease in his stomach, his body reacted where his emotions and mind wouldn’t and ejaculated onto the recently deceased after a few more seconds of pumping.
“There,” Dry Bones whispered into the koopa’s ear “now you’re ready.”
Dragging a foot behind him, Dry Bones pulled the resigned koopa from one home to another, tugging the deathly depressed turtle into the ocean.
And… fin. If you find yourself questioning how a loving god could allow stories like this to be written, I don’t blame you. But I can tell you as horrific as it was, it still doesn’t hold a rape-candle to that story I mentioned a few weeks ago. So you shut your mouths and kiss my clown feet that I haven’t posted it yet.