Lunchbox and the Rape

by ClipState


Undeserving superheroes collide with each other in an epic novella. Rachel (The Rape), a single mother lives at home with her fat son, Barry (Lunchbox). Both of whom have powers and use it undeniably for the worst purposes. Throughout their journey, they encounter many dastardly foes ranging from a 'convincing' school principal to a death dodging criminal they wronged in the past. Our titular anti heroes do whatever it takes to solve their problems with absolute violence and absolute absurdity.







1 - Family Time

2 - School Beating

3 - Podium's Reign


4 - Museum Funtime


5 - Telekinetic Trail

6 - Soulshade Standoff



7 - Family Dinner

8 - Fat Kidnap


9 - Tower Rumble

10 - Showdown

"It says 'rape'". "No, it's reap, as in reaper?" "Looks like rape to me."



Rachel stared angrily at Kat. "It's supposed to be intimidating, not to make me look like some kind of child fucking predator." "I thought the whole point of your costume was that you were a predator. One that in your own words 'stalks the evil and protects the innocent', but now it just sounds like you'll stalk both" snickered Kat. "Hey!" exclaimed Rachel "who's the superhero here?" "Wow. You don't have to rub it in. Don't you have a son to take to school right now?" "Shit" uttered Rachel as she hurried upstairs. Being a single mother is hard enough. Having to deal with an entire second life as a superheroine is just the icing on the cake of shit. "Barry, come on! You're gonna be late!" Rachel stepped up to his door, tucking in that flash of purple cape into her pants. Kat leant on the staircase chewing gum. She looked bored, as always. Rachel however was only getting frustrated. "Barry, let's go! Now!" The lock squeaked open and the door slowly slid to reveal her fat little son. Tears ran down his fat little face. "Aw, what's wrong, baby?" asked an inquisitive Rachel "have you been snacking on that pig shit your father gave you, you gluttonous faggot?" Barry looked up at her with his big, wet eyes. "Aunt Chastity called me a cunt." Rachel's eyes narrowed, seemingly unsurprised at this revelation. "Look sweetie, no one gets to call you a cunt but me, okay? Now let's get to school." Barry nodded his fat little head and waddled out of his room. Kat spotted him and flashed a wave. "Sup, little dude." "Hey Ms Greenhill" replied the kid, who in turn flashed the middle finger. "Hey!" shouted Rachel "I told you that is a naughty gesture. Do it again and I'll ground you for a week!" Barry was stubborn, like his father. "Daddy taught me this. Don't tell me what to do!" he yelled as he pulled the finger at both of them. Rachel facepalmed as Barry struggled to make his way downstairs. She looked at his fat little jiggling ass, how funny it would be to just kick him down it. Kat knew what she was thinking. "Do it" she mouthed. Rachel smiled and with a slight flick of her right hand, Barry was flung forward and he smashed headfirst into the plaster wall in front of him.

Both Rachel and Kat were torn between laughing like lunatics and crying for help. They chose the former. Bursting into uncontrolled laughter, the two started a cacophony of maniacal giggles. It was by far the most hilarious thing they had ever seen, even though they knew they shouldn't. "Oh my god, Rachel!" Kat continued to burst between each word. "You just threw your son into a fucking wall!" Unable to wipe that inhumanly large smile off their faces, the two sat down and decided to laugh even more. "Okay, I think that's enough" Rachel gasped. The two were just starting to calm down when "Oh my god look at his fat fucking legs flap!" A chorus of lols soon followed and they didn't stop. Not when the school bus drove by and not when Barry pulled his pale head out of the chalky wall and charged headfirst at his loving mother. Covered in white dust, he was half blind which resulted in a hilarious collision with the wooden stairs. "Hey! That's fucking Oak!" shouted Rachel before bursting back into laughter with Kat. It wasn't until Barry smashed out of the staircase, pulled down his mother and head-butted her out the bay window that she stopped laughing. "Oh fuck..." commented Kat as she tried to fix her frizzled blond hair. On the lawn, Rachel cried in pain as she tried to remove some of the glass before her son demolishes her. She couldn't let that happen. As Barry stepped out of the shattered bay window, she moved her hand into a clutching shape and just like that, Barry was being lifted up by the neck. She uttered two single words "bad boy" before flinging him up into the air then letting go. Barry and his fat little butt lingered in the air for a mere three seconds before plummeting back down to the recently moved lawn. He collided with it and the entire house shook as if an earthquake struck. Barry struggled up and pat the dirt off him. Rachel always had a feeling that he was like her. She just didn't dare check until today. Suddenly, Kat came running out of the house with both hands clutching a Taser. She Tased the little fat fuck until his little fucking fat boy boobs gyrated emotionally. And before three seconds, the kid fell to the ground, dribbling with drool.

"He's one of you" exclaimed Kat. "Did you know?" "No, I didn't. Hopefully the shock will make him forget. Let's just get him to school." Rachel walked weakly over to her unconscious son and dragged him manually back into the house. It took two minutes. "Fuck, I'm drained. Fetch me his bag, will you?" inquired Rachel. Kat went off in search of the sack of melted chocolate bars and soft-core porn. Rachel remembered: Barry's lunchbox was still in his room. "Fuck this" she said as she held out one arm and the tin lunchbox came bashing through the wall, striking her in the shoulder and almost breaking her fingers when it arrived. "Close enough" she sighed. Kat walked back in with a large brown bag, filled to the brim with various confectionary and pornographic material. "Wow. Porn already? Isn't he like nine?" "Eight" replied Rachel. Kat turned her eyes to the recently made hole in the wall then looked back at Rachel. "You used your powers on a lunchbox?" "Yeah, damn near broke my arm too." "Like Barry" Kat giggled. She continued "well, he's gonna figure out his powers sooner or later. Might as well name him." Rachel did her squinted eye look again "you don't mean..." Kat smiled. "Oh yeah. Rapist and the Lunchbox." Rachel disapproved "that sounds fucking retarded. Now help me get this fat glob of jelly to the school." Kate was a bit confused "what, you mean like drive him there?" Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well it's not like I've been lifting him there for the past four years." Kate looked back and smiled slightly. "Gotcha." The two dragged him over to Rachel's recently bought second hand minivan and slumped him in the back. Kate found this amusing. "Now you have the name, the van and the unconscious kid in the back. You've really invested in this raping character of yours." Rachel didn't even bother. She climbed into the driver seat and started the car. Kat hopped along in the passenger seat. "He's cute when he's sleeping" she commented. This made Rachel smile. "Who's the paedophile now?" It was at this moment that Barry abruptly woke up screaming and smashed his little fat body out of the sliding side door. Rachel slammed the brakes and it was now Kate's turn to laugh. "Lunchbox and The Rape. Perfect fucking couple."



"Barry." The grimacing Year Six smirked as he stared down at the chubby little asshole. "You're a cunt." Barry, with tears starting to form in his eyes, opened his big eyes to look at his plus sized shoes. The sweet tears made a fat splash as they collided with the soft leather of his shoes. "You know it's an insult to not look at the person who's insulting you, right?" shouted the bully as he clutched the collar of Barry's shitty little polo shirt and pulled it straight off. The fabric made a sharp tearing sound as it snapped off of Barry's gyrating man-tits. A split second took its place between the time the sweaty shirt fell to the ground and the moment that the bully and his three spectators burst out in laughter. "Bro, you got bigger tits than my mum" exclaimed the bully. A member of his entourage then added "nah, man. Try Ms Hodgings." Ms Hodgings was a history teacher in the school who was well known for her massive rack and overall sluttiness towards her primary school students. "Aw yeah!" agreed the bully. Barry, now more angry than upset, looked straight at the bully and said menacingly "nobody mocks my titties but my mother" before he launched himself at the rather unfortunate bully. With one rapid sumo leap, Barry knocked the bully back so hard, his body smashed straight through the wall behind them and into the girls toilets. Broken sinks spray water out and toilets regurgitate their breakfast as Barry walks towards the very dead bully like an absolute badass. Shards of ceramic had deeply penetrated him, both exteriorly and interiorly. As the body started to bleed out of the lead pipe lodged in its rectum, the bully's entourage started to gang up on Barry, still willing to face him. Barry cared not for them, but for the bully's corpse. Water and fecal matter flooded the floors as Barry placed both hands on the lead pipe and shoved it deeper inside, until it came up the bully's throat. Not deep enough. Barry continued to thrust in pipe after pipe in his attempts to conclude his payback. The bully's gang rushed him but Barry picked up a chunk of the ceramic sink and threw it at them. It hit the leftmost one, completely taking his head off. In light of this very recent decapitation, the rest of the bullies halted dead in their tracks as they intended to avoid almost certain evisceration. It was at this point that Principal Wallace walked in only to see her favourite fat student literally fucking the shit out of her son.

"I am so, so sorry for what my fat little shit has done. I can assure you, the most severe of punishments will be done to him. For starters, he's gonna get the biggest grounding of his life." Rachel was both angry and stressed as she sat in front of Principal Polly Wallace. Rachel sat with his back straight and both hands placed formally on her lap. Principal Wallace however, didn't fall for this trick. With tears running down her face and a somewhat rectumless body lying on her desk, she cried stiffly "he killed my son." Sitting beside Rachel was Barry, who had both arms crossed and was looking down angrily. "Say sorry, Barry. Say sorry to Principal Wallace for killing her son" nudged his mother. "No!" exclaimed Barry firmly. Principal Wallace, now shaking in tears and snot, slammed her fist down on the table. "If your fucking fucktarded fat fuck doesn't confess his crappy cunt, I'll rip it out and make him do it!" yelled the Principal. Now it was Rachel's turn to yell. She stood up and put on her pissed off face. "If you ever threaten my son like that again, I'll tear off his femur and beat your saggy cunt to crumbs!" Principal Wallace was twenty-nine years old. "I shall inform you that my vagina is far from-" It was at this point that Rachel swiped her hand out and made a grabbing gesture, picking up her pudgy son and swung him at the moderately attractive principal. He made a fat thump as his fat flabs of fat mushed into the principal and swung her into the office wall. "How you like me now, bitch?" screeched Rachel at the almost unconscious principal. Wallace tried to grasp onto the table to lift herself up only to have it interrupted by Rachel's fist. "Stay the fuck down. Barry is my son, and if you ever bully him again, you'll end up just like that sack of flesh lying on your desk that you used to call a son!" Principal Wallace just lied there, taking it. The insults got worse with each second she remained alive. Rachel didn't stop. "I will open up your son just like Barry did and I'll strangle you with his intestines, then tear off what's left of his tiny cock and make you choke on it!" Principal Wallace was just as angry as she was grief stricken, but as she got back up, she knew that Rachel would do each of those horrid things she just listed, and then some. "Now I'm leaving, and you'll never come close to my son again. He may be a fat fuck, but he's my fat fuck" shouted Rachel as she kicked the principal one last time and went out the door. "Yeah! I'm her fat fuck!" yelled Barry as he kicked the principal harder and followed his mother out the door.

A trail of blood led from Principal Wallace's shitty hybrid to her more than decent sized home. Inside was the woman herself, holding a tissue to her nose with her head back. Blood covered her ex-white couch. Principal Wallace sighed deeply, only this was not a sigh of defeat. It was a sigh of vengeance. The bleeding became mere drips instead of the waterfall earlier as she stood up and limped over to her room. She turned the lights on and went to her dresser. On top of it were five large dildos in a line. She pulled on the second one, tugged the third one up and shook the last. Suddenly, a click was heard, then a foosh as her wardrobe opened up to reveal a secret room. It was a square room brightly lit with many white light tiles. It was littered with various microphones and amplifying equipment. At the centre of the room was a white suit with an emblem etched in the middle. A red 'P' against a zigzagging red trapezoid. The P had holes in it, resembling a microphone. Principal Wallace stepped up to it and smiled, but before putting it on, she grabbed two syringes off of one of the shelves. One was labelled epinephrine and the other was some rather long, rather boring science jargon. She stuck herself with both and threw the empty needles down with force. Bits of glass littered her room, but that didn't matter. She took out the suit and fitted it on. It still fits. She smirked confidently further as she reached for the final touch. The simple but sleek white mask. She too it off of its hook and slipped it on. Sharp angles decorated the suit with aggressive white stripes. Red lines drawn across the sleeves looked like blood, although some of it was. Principal Wallace took out her qPhone 8X and dialled Rachel's number. "Hi, this is Rachel. Please leave a message unless you're my shitfuck of an ex-husband, in which case go rape yourself!" After enduring that moderately entertaining voicemail, Principal Wallace left one of her own. "Rachel," she said into the phone "you were a good person once. Your son was brilliant once, but now it's all changed. I'm coming for you, and you will lose everything. My name is Podium, and I am going to spread your son's legs so far up your cunt, you'll rip in half before you orgasm."



"Kill yourself." A man, suddenly bursting with energy raised both hands and wrapped them around his neck, tight. His dirty cheap teal suit wasn't going to save him now. His grip tightened and his face started to change colour. "I don't have all day" said the deep, mysterious voice. The man hastened, with incredible force. A hint of purple started to show and he fell to his knees. The voice moved closer, then stepped in front of him. A pair of shiny white heels presented themselves before him. It wasn't until the man looked up that he realised that it was a woman and not some kind of creepy transvestite. Getting only a glimpse of her for a mere second, he collapsed to the concrete below, dead. The woman towered over him, took out his wallet and kept the cash. "Next time someone thinks I'm a whore, I'll do it twice as slow." The woman turned around and made her way out of the alley. It was midday and there were few pedestrians about as Principal Polly Wallace AKA Podium walked like some posh bitch down the streets. Sure, there were many hookers out, but Podium was not one of them. She adjusted her modified matte white headset microphone to maximum volume then said "ladies of the night, you are to stab the living shit out of your next clients!" Hopefully this would make the papers tomorrow. A definitely non-lady of the night came walking pass her, thinking she was just another crazy cunt. Podium looked back and whispered "whatever genitals you've got down there, I want them in a box tomorrow." With a half shocked look on his face, the passer-by suddenly got on his knees, spread his legs and took out the pocket knife he carried so often. As he pulled off his pants, Podium walked away, saying "don't forget to cauterise it!" This was fun, but taking down that bitch Rachel would be even more so. One of her students suddenly appeared around the corner and asked "hey, aren't you principal W-" Podium quickly interrupted with a stern "no! But next time you get to class, be sure to have done your homework." The student nodded slowly and awkwardly. As he walked off, Podium saw a fancy ride drive towards her. She yelled "stop the car!" And the driver slammed the brakes. "Now get out and give me your ride." He agreed and did as he was told. The Indian driver just stood there, looking confused as he did nothing but let the costumed woman take off with his $140,000 ride.

"Green peas or mint peas?" Rachel thought as she looked at the two sacks of frozen peas in her hands. The supermarket was no place for a superheroine, especially not one that could just manipulate the peas into flying home. She was trying to be normal, she really was, but every now and then, something absolutely shitty would happen. "Hey lady, could you move your cart please?" inquired a redheaded woman in her forties. She was fat, and ugly, but not as bad as Rachel's son. "Lady, could you move your damn trolley?" Rachel was not a big fan of harsh words but still tried to defuse the situation. Not by moving her trolley, but by suggesting some brilliant advice: "why don't you ask a bit nicer, maybe I'll do it next time." This seemed to piss off the woman. "Look, I did ask nicely, but I think that might just stop now. Move the trolley." Rachel smiled. "Okay bitch, I'll move. Maybe you could do the same for your husband. He's obviously losing interest in you." The red haired lady gasped, then clenched her hand into a fist. This made Rachel smile patronisingly, until she was hit by the fist of an ex-female wrestler. "That's right lady, you just pissed off the wrong national female boxing champion!" "A real fight. Maybe this could prove slightly more interesting than the last forty" exclaimed Rachel, whose smile returned. Other onlookers stepped back as the supermarket staff rushed to the scene. Rachel was still undecided between the green peas and mint peas. Ultimately she chose both as she raised her hands and made a ripping motion. The plastic bags tore open and with a swift upwards tilt of her wrists, the peas became bullets, repeatedly striking the ex-boxer with the power of an air rifle. They didn't stop until her whole body was covered with bruises and blisters. The woman screamed in agony and rage. The peas didn't stop her, not even when Rachel threw a punch of her own, as powerful as it was. Unable to get another hook in, Rachel was tackled down by the woman who started to repeatedly strike her in the face, loosening some teeth and almost breaking her nose. Rachel, now with her angry face on, head-butted the woman then kneed her in the tits, giving her enough time to 'grab' a 2 litre container of Ice Cream out of the freezer section and toss it at the tit-hurt lady. It struck her in the head, but she was not down. Not yet. Rachel saw some blueberries on a shelf, motioned for them then made a scooping motion with her arm, aiming for the woman's crotch. The blueberries shot themselves straight up the ex-boxer's vagina and spread their gooey goodness all around. "You should thank me. That's probably the most action you'll get in the years to come. No wonder your husbands going to leave you. I mean look at that blue waffle of yours, you whore." Rachel stepped up closer to her and taunted "next time you finger yourself to sleep, you remember it was me who gave you the one true fucking of your lifetime." Rachel then took a bag of green peas to the checkout and paid for them, like a normal person.

Barry sat waiting the still-under-repair bay window, waiting for his beloved mother. It was getting dark. The clock almost reached six. She doesn't usually come home this late. What could possibly be happening? Suddenly, headlights flashed outside and a car pulled into the driveway. Flushed with excitement, Barry ran to the door, eager to munch on the frozen green peas he likes to play with so much. The door didn't open, but rather a voice appeared. "Open the door, please" Barry heard, and so he did. When he unlocked the front door, he was bluntly shocked by the person standing there. "Hello, Barry." A slightly intimidated Barry turned and began to run upstairs before he heard the words "stop please. I don't want you getting hurt on those stairs now, would I?" Barry remained silent. "Answer me!" yelled the voice. "No, Principal Wallace." Podium smiled, her sharp teeth grinning through her overly bright lipstick. "Now Barry, you have been a naughty boy these past couple of days, and naughty boys deserve punishments. Pull down your pants." Barry, with no other choice was compelled to loosen his shorts, as difficult as it was when they squeezed over his inflated ass. "Good boy, Barry. Now come over here." Barry, with his pants down and a mere tear flowing down his cheek, waddled over to the sinister looking woman. "Bend over" she squeaked in delight, and Barry did so. With an inhumanly large grin oh her evil face, Podium slapped Barry's hot air balloon of an ass, repeatedly. "Well, that was satisfying" she grinned. "Now comes the fun part. Barry, go fuck yourself!" More of those salty tears came jerking their way out of his eyes as Barry took firm hold of the near invisible pecker he held down under and hit it against his butt. Podium smiled. "Oh, no Barry. That's not how you do it. Let me help you." Podium put her arm over Barry, caressing him. She put her hands over his and stroked them. Barry, now noticeably weeping tried to resist, but some unknown entity stopped him. "Now here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna rip off your tiny cock then jam it so far up your asshole you'll be choking it up the next day." She gave a quick smile. "Got it?" "Yeah." Only this reply wasn't from Barry nor Podium. It came from behind her. As soon as Podium swept her head around to command the voice, Rachel emerged from the darkness and punched Podium right in her face, smashing her mic right along with it. "Tell me again, what was it you were going to do to my son?" inquired a rather pissed off Rachel. Podium, now angry and desperate continued to taunt in the face of death "I'm gonna violate his innards with his own puny dick until he vomits it out!" Podium swung a swift punch to Rachel's face, and then another, and another. Rachel flung her arms out to grab onto something, anything, but it was hopeless. All she saw were the fists coming down on her vision. Blood spattered across her face as she tried ineffectively to stop the beatings. And all of a sudden, with a swift thump and cry, Podium was gone. And so was Barry.

Rachel coughed, blood spattered the floor and dripped from her nose. She never used to be this weak. As soon as she caught sight of a useful object, she 'grabbed' it. This time it was a stick of splintered wood, sharp at the edge. She heard screams out in the front yard. Female screams. It was Podium, getting the shit beat out of her by a ten year old. A fat ten year old who had the strength of an Icelandic bodybuilder. Barry clutched Podium's right leg, then snapped it, making the bones inside come splintering outside. Podium screamed in absolute agony. Barry then grabbed the broken bone, then tore it right out of the leg. Cries of pain filled the dark streets, even more so when Barry took the almost boneless leg and lifted Podium up by it. She screamed uncontrollably as torrents of blood drenched the lawn. Barry, grabbing Podium by the leg, flung her into the side of the house, making a loud crash, and then a loud crunch. Rachel and her son headed inside. In the middle of the completely wrecked stairs sat Podium, who had one leg missing bones and the other having splinters of wood stuck right through it. The same could be said for her arms, both of which were heavily broken. As for her chest, the broken ribs were the least of her problems. The piece of wood sticking into her lung however might prove a tad bit more fatal. One of the edges of the staircase was lodged in her spine, almost snapping it in half. Barry, still outraged by the violation he had endured stepped up the dying Podium and punched her as hard as he could in her cunt. She gave a small grunt but nothing more as blood poured out of her vagina. This would break her monthly cycle. Rachel, feeling sorry for the brutalised Podium, decided to be merciful. "Look Polly, I'm sorry it had to come to this, but when you mess with my family, you're the one that's going to lose. Your magic mic won't save you now." Rachel raised her splinter-spear and thrust it down, right onto Podium's left breast and puncturing her heart. Podium gave a weak, strained expression before becoming very still. Dead still. Rachel gave a bleak smile, turned to her son and hugged him. "You're my Lunchbox, Barry. And I will rape any other man or woman that tries to harm you. I am The Rape."



"Alright children, off the bus" said Ms Hodgings as she gracefully walked over to the bus doors. She thanked the slightly uncomfortable bus driver before leading the kids out in single file. Mr Kennold the science teacher and student intern Wallace lead from the back just to get a longer look at the history teacher's ass. As they walked up to the doors, they both paused momentarily by the driver, who also was in a mild erection induced trance. They smiled and nodded ever so slightly without ever breaking sight of those extraordinary buttocks. Just before they got off to catch up with her however, they heard a thump in the back. "Noo faggot potatoes, stop molesting me!!!" cried a distraught snoring Barry. The science teacher and intern rushed to help Barry but were halted abruptly by the overwhelming amounts of snot and piss drenching the floor. There lied an unconscious Barry, who had seemingly removed his shorts and undergarments. He was splashing around in a puddle of his own making wearing nothing but an exercise singlet. "Please rape cows, stop! I'll give you anything! Even the naughty mags in my bag if you stop touching me!" Barry was touching himself. Student intern Wallace turned away to puke a little while Mr Kennold went to wake Barry up. But before interrupting his imaginary rape cycle, the science teacher looked over to his bag and peered inside. Sure enough, there were several pornographic magazines resting in there, right beside the five blocks of chocolate and ten bags of assorted candy. He even had half of a half thawed frozen pizza in there. Mr Kennold was afraid to look any further. He 'skimmed' through the pages only to find holes cut in certain areas of the portrayed females. The names were crossed out and all replaced with "Ms Hodgings". As Barry continued to struggle with the rapist donkeys, a brilliant plan formed in Mr Kennold's head. Kemai Palendison, the new school bully had left his bag on the bus. Kemai had tormented Mr Kennold for years and he could do nothing about it. This was the perfect opportunity to get sweet revenge. "Umm... Mr Kennold?" asked the intern. The science teacher ignored him and walked over to the idle bag. He unzipped it and as a shock to him, the very same magazine was already in there. Still, the moment remained. Mr Kennold rushed away from the cries of "stop raping me, Mr Gorilla!" to catch up with the sexy as teacher.

"...and here you can see the famous unilateral dodecahedron of the localised vale of Johlantis" droned the tour guide in front of Ms Hodgings. The latter of whom was surprised the children were keeping such keen attention on the tour. Every time she turned around to check on them they were always seeming engaged by the various paintings and sculptures hanging on the walls. Little did she know that the only thing of interest to them were the twin sculptures below her back. Suddenly an out of breath Mr Kennold hurried to the oblivious History teacher. "Jeff, what's the matter?" she inquired. Mr Kennold replied by saying "You need to come see this." He then turned to the group of elementary school students and said "don't worry, Mr Wallace here will accompany you for now." The student intern jogged over. "Hey kids." Half of them groaned. The student intern was known for being both unbearably boring and lacking in the ass region. "Sorry kids, I'll be right back" smiled Ms Hodgings as the science teacher lead her back to the bus. Silence fell upon the group of kids. Some black kid raised his hand. "Yes, Michael?" "Is Mr Kennold having sex with our teacher?" Now it was Wallace's turn to be silent. In the bus, the science teacher rushed to the incriminating bag. "Right here, in Kemai's bag" he said as he opened it, but when he did, he couldn't see the magazines. He looked around frantically and saw no porn, and now no Barry. The driver must have gone for a toilet break and now the two were alone. "Jeff, what did you bring me here for?" asked the history teacher. "umm, I, err... there was... um... I love you?" Pushing his chips all in, the fifty year old science teacher hoped for the worst. Instead, what he got was even direr. "I'm sorry, but after what happened with my husband, I don't think I'm ready for another relationship." This soft reply hurt him the most because it signified that he actually had a chance if he wasn't so openly gay. "I'm sorry" he said awkwardly and he turned to walk back out the bus. Suddenly, something caught his eye as he passed the empty driver's seat. Lying by the pedals were several semen covered magazines. Mr Kennold had to think fast to make the most of the situation. "Those were from Kemai's bag" he said calmly. Ms Hodgings uttered nothing but a disappointed "oh..." Mr Kennold knew she tried to help Kemai's learning as much as she could, but something like this requires parental intervention. She picked up the sticky magazines and flipped the gooey pages. She uttered a disgusted "oh!" before dropping them. "Where's Kemai?"

The porta-potty stank of rotten shit of all flavours. The chipotle burrito flavour was the most common, and the most disgusting. Barry woke up in the stall completely naked, sitting on the seat. What he didn't expect however was the similarly naked forty year old man crouched below him giggling and playing with his parts. The horny raping elephant from his dreams. Barry screamed, and a suddenly alert bus driver screamed as well. They yelled simultaneously for a split second before Barry's foot thrust itself into the man's jaw. It shattered his mandible and sent him flying out of the porta-loo. As the naked paedophile bus driver flew through the air, the recoil from the kick sent Barry staggering back into the shit-hole. He fat ass broke through the seat and sent him tumbling into the faeces below. He was too short to reach the floor above but not short enough to drown the poop-pool. And so he stood there, covered in shit. Back in the museum, Ms Hodgings strode up to confront Kemai. He wore a torn brown jacket and ripped jeans. He though they made him look cool. "Mr Kemai, care to explain these items in your bag?" asked a steaming Ms Hodgings. Kemai was a cunt. "They're not mind. Besides, you're not hot enough for me. I'd rather fuck Mrs Jenkins." Mrs Jenkins was the tour guide. She was also forty-one. She was also standing right next to him. "See this tight-as cunt?" Kemai shouted as he grabbed the tour guides crotch, who in turn slapped him in the face with a clipboard. "Stop it!" yelled Ms Hodgings, but it was not enough. The kids started fighting back. Twenty children versus a tour guide. "STOP IT!!!" echoed Ms Hodgings, but her words were lost among the crowd. This was her tipping point. She started to glow a bright orange and her feet lifted off the ground. The children only got to stop for a single second before the once mildly hot teacher became boiling hot. She screamed as she lashed out with orange beams, decorating the arthouse with fire and blood. When it was all over, only ashes remained. It had been almost a hundred years since she was driven to this point. The history teacher fell to the ground in horror and screamed. She knew that she had to run again.

Four Hours Later

Rachel pulled up to the smoking museum. She was scared. Not for her son (she knew he'd be alright) but for the cost of the repair bill. She was so relieved to discover that it wasn't Barry who did it. Several firefighters surrounded a disassemble porta-potty. They had harnesses and straps set up all around it. Rachel ran up to it only to see her shitty son sitting in an empty hole. "I'm sorry, mummy. I know you told me not to, but I was hungry." Rachel didn't care about that. "It's alright, honeybumkins, all that matters is that you're safe. Now who was the stupid fucking teacher looking after you?!" An innocent looking Barry replied "the same one that burnt down the museum. Ms Hodgings." An angry grim swept across Rachel's face. She knew what to do next.



White shoes echoed their hollow footsteps across the linoleum floor. Caged criminals yelled in futility across the endless halls. A crooked man, unwillingly dressed in a white outfit, walks down the less than innocent chamber. Guards in grey surrounded either side of him. Hands on their weapons, ready for the defining move. The handcuffs on the prisoner rattled as the chains scraped across each other. The metal clinked for the last time as the man reached his final destination. To the guards, it was just another white room, not unlike the maze like labyrinth they just stepped out of. They led the man to his penultimate bed and strapped him down. Now another man in white took over. The armed men walked away in silence and the standing figure brought out death itself. With the alcohol swabbed, and IVs inserted, the figure said the meaningless routine words, and when it was the prisoner's turn to speak, he uttered the crowd stilling speech: "when this body falls, and I burn you all, think not of my sins, but of all of yours, and when you finally realise the truth, you will finally accept your deaths." The needle plunged into his arm and the Sodium thiopental contaminated his system, dragging the world around him to a peaceful black. Then came the paralysis drug, then came the death drug. Neither of those mattered. When the heart monitor flatlined, and the body lay still, the 'doomed' audience behind the thick one way glass stood up for the last time. The exit doors opened, and standing in the way was one of the guards that lead the prisoner in. The other was lying beside him, dead in a pool of crimson. The one still standing dropped the bloody confiscated shiv and drew his sidearm. He raised it to the shocked crowd and opened relentless fire. As the 18-round magazine drew to a close, he grabbed the gasoline canister by his side, threw it into the cowering crowd and closed the double doors once again, this time for good. As the survivors banged hopelessly on the barred double doors the gasoline dripped across the floor, the guard retreated back to the chamber where the body lied. As he unlocked the door, he bumped into the doctor that killed him. He avenged the lifeless body with a bang and permanently shut the door. Walking past the brains of the dead doctor, the guard turned to face the one way mirror. It was strong, but not bullet resistant. He fired the final three shots into it and it shattered wide open, revealing the brutalised bloody bodies inside.

The few survivors crawled in the opposite direction at this sudden change in dynamic but were hopeless in the effort. The guard vaulted over the shards and grabbed a crawling woman by her legs, pulled her towards him before he grabbed her throat and tore it straight out. As he lied bleeding, a medium built ushered the remaining wounded to crawl out the newly made hole. The guard advanced towards him. The man was ready. He threw a fist at the guard, knocking him down. This figure of absolute terror was shown to be human after all. Just a very dangerous one. The guard blocked the next two and caught the final one in his fist. With his free hand, the guard slammed his fist into the man's head. Two survivors had already made their way out, but the guard knew that this didn't matter. He threw the man down to the gasoline soaked ground then flicked his lighter. They both knew how this would end. As the fire cloaked the mid built man, the guard turned to his fleeing victims, once again pounding on a door. He took them one by one and dragged them screaming into the flames. As their bodies burnt and boiled, frantic arms flailed for any salvation in a hopeless world. The guard took the needles of Sodium thiopental and gave them to anyone that proved to be trouble. It was a mercy, knocking them out before an agonising death. He broke the lock once before to keep them in, now he'll do it once more to let him out. With a swift swing of his leg, the heavy door gave way. Maybe human was too meagre a term for him. He walked calmly out the burning room and strode along the walkways, back where he came. He picked up the shiv he threw down and heard the shouting that came from ahead, where the hall splits into a prison row. Inmates rioted from inside their cells, and at the very end, twenty guards were stuck and screaming from beyond a single steel door. They drew their weapons, knowing that this guard was all but innocent. "Stand down!" they yelled in futility. The lone guard continued to walk. They saw the blood smeared across his clothes, the outfit that screamed "I'm a bloody psychopath", and it was only when he drew his bloody shiv that the guards opened fire. Five handguns and fifty bullets made their mark on the guard, who fell to his knees and greeted the floor with a bloody welcome.

The blood pool grew, all the way to the cells resting on the sides. Inmates groaned but it was otherwise dead silent. The locked guard at the front of the squashed club reloaded, ready for whatever was going to happen. He looked to the man beside him and inquired for his weapon. "Give me your sidearm. I know what to do." He checked his sides and knew what to do. The locked guard lowered his weapon and made his way to the back of the crowd. The other guards payed no attention to him, especially not when the fire started to seep into sight, crawling like spiders across the walls. Smoke started to fill the prison hall, and the guards knew they had to retreat. Only they didn't get a chance to. Especially not when the sound of gunfire echoed the chamber. This time from behind. The guard and his dual wielded handguns made short work of the better half of the sandwich of guards. Red painted the stone walls as thirty five bullets penetrated the party. Thanks to the element of surprise and immense firepower in an enclosed area, most of the guards slumped lifeless to the floor. The ones that remained standing shot back immediately, now with no concern for loyalty or morality. The rogue guard walked behind the corner and reloaded his guns. His cover would last, but going back for the guards was pointless. The fire will finish them all anyway. As the rogue guard walked calmly away from the madness, he noticed that he was being hunted. Five wounded guards flanked him and two members of gate security closed in from the front. Two shots were fired and two men fell. The five guards opened fire and the rogue guard dropped both his pistols in favour of a human shield. He picked up the body of a deceased gate security member with one hand and his assault carbine in the other. Unleashing automatic hell upon the remaining guards, they had no choice but to retreat or die. The rogue guard walked out of the front entrance without a scratch. Snipers littered the balconies above, but soon they would become bodies too. High calibre bullets penetrated the handheld corpse, drawing blood from the man of walking death. He counteracted, but the automatic weapon was not enough. Sniper rounds penetrated his legs, shattering his left kneecap and forced him to the ground. More rounds shredded through his arms, and the corpse fell to the ground. It wasn't until three rounds ripped open his heart that the man finally stopped moving. All was silent yet again. All until the sound of a sniper rifle rippled through the air. Five shots, and the quiet came for the last time. A lone sniper climbed down the prison ladder to the ground. He looked for a second at the bullet riddle body of the prison guard before advancing out the gates. This time, there was no more combat. The sniper looked across the vast streets of Gladestown and smelled freedom for the first time in months, but there was only one thing he wanted to do.



Ms Hodgings ran though the pouring rain. It was already dark but she made it to her apartment unfound. She walked up to her door and took off her drenched raincoat. The keys fumbled in her hand as she tried to unlock her door. The police would be there soon. Ms Hodgings knew that. She just needed to grab a few fundamental items. As she unlocked the door, she was met by a dark, empty living space. Something was different. "Hello, Anna" said a voice in the dark. The (former) history teacher had never heard that voice before but she knew who it was immediately. "Get the fuck out of my apartment before I burn your dick off like I did last time!" she said, trying to act calm. "Okay, that was my fault, but I promise you. I've changed." Ms Hodgings, now aggravated, raised her glowing arm and said "unless you want to eat your own roasted nuts for dinner, I suggest you go fuck yourself out of my window and never show your face again." The man laughed. "Look Anna, you know that's not going to happen. Besides, how would you even know what I look like?" Anna Hodgings was now almost as pissed as she was at the museum. "Brandon, I can tell you apart a mile away. Why? Because you are the single most vile, despicable fucking ass-shit of a person I have ever known and ever will know." Brandon laughed. "You still sound the same. But no, I haven't come back to resume our relationship. I've come to end it. For good." Anna was mildly surprised. "I never thought you had the guts to." As Brandon raised his handgun, Anna unleashed hell upon him, engulfing his in a concentrated fireball. Brandon was scorched inside out into a black carcass, while at the same time ruining Anna's second favourite chair. "Oh baby..." uttered a voice from behind her. "You know it's never that easy with me." A shocked Anna turned to face her opponent only for her neighbour to hit her in the face with a fire extinguisher. The ensuing fight was relentless. By the time it was over, almost the entire population of the apartment was in ashes or badly burnt. A teenage girl stood in the doorway looking over a bruised and beaten Ms Hodgings. She would surely bleed out soon enough. The teenager said to Anna "You put up a good fight. Too bad there's only children left and this flimsy Briebar loving chick otherwise I would have given you the fuck of your life. Doesn't matter. Looks like you're fucked anyway." The teenager looked over Anna's broken body, the bones protruding out of her limbs and teeth scattered across the floor. "Say my name, and I'll make it quick. I'll end it right here. Just say my name." Anna remained silent. The teenager grimaced and said "fine, maybe you can fuck yourself before you finally bleed out" and walked out.

"Excuse me" Rachel said as she strode past a teenage girl and headed up the apartment stairs. Her fist was clenched and shaking, ready to beat the literal guts out of the irresponsible slut that left her son in a hole of shit. When she made it to Ms Hodgings room, she realised that somebody had beat her to it. "What's the matter with you? Leave someone else's son to rot in a dungeon?" Ms Hodgings was barely grasping on to her life. Her flame has almost died. "Help me or die" she spat through her lack of teeth. Rachel walked up closer to her. "Then tell me why the fuck you left my son to die in a FUCKING HOLE!" Anna looked up to her and said "I didn't. I know nothing about what happened to Barry." Enraged, Rachel knelt down onto Anna's open leg wound and shouted "liar! Tell me why or else I'll bring the fatty in and smash your tits in with him!" Barry, who was sitting outside the apartment room liked that idea, but as much as he wanted to be nose deep in Ms Hodgings tits, he knew that she was innocent. And as Rachel lifted her son up with nothing more than a gesture, Barry remembered the time Ms Hodgings gave him a cookie, much to the dismay of his mother. "Mom, Ms Hodgings didn't molest me. The bus driver did. He was the one that put me in the toilet" exclaimed Barry. This stopped Rachel just before she was going to telepathically smash him into his teacher. "Then let's get this dick nicker" said Rachel as she turned around. "Wait!" yelled Anna in a weak voice. "You have abilities. You have to stop him." Rachel looked back to her and said "I know. It's what I'm going to do right now." "No, not the paedophile. The man who did this to me. He'll know you spoke to me. He'll come for you next." An ignorant Rachel couldn't care less about this potentially critically important warning and walked off, saying "then let him come. The Rape fears no man!" "Wait!" interrupted Barry. He turned to his mother and asked "can I make juicy time with Ms Hodgings before we go?" Rachel smiled and looked back at him. "Of course you can. Anything for my little boy. Just don't take too long. We have an evil wiener snatcher to catch." Rachel took out her smartphone to play Dappy-Goose as Barry pulled down his pants and started fapping off in front of the dying former teacher.

"Here it is, 43 Puntingdon Street. This is where the man that touched you lives. Rachel, now on full rampage mode, got out of her shitty little station wagon and force lifted the mailbox only to thrust it through the window of the house a second later. "Hey, you kid touching bus driver! Come the fuck out!" Rachel forced pressure onto the locked door and it blew open, shattering into a thousand splinters. "I'll stick this splinter so far up the dick you used to slap my son you'll be pissing cum and cumming piss!!!" Rachel stormed through the house, shattering picture frames and force tearing paintings. Photos of a loving family did little to hinder her journey for destruction and retribution. She saw drop of blood on the floor. A trail of it. Grabbing a blender off the kitchen counter, she followed the trail. It lead to a bloody table and a man with half a jaw. The right side was torn straight open, exposing everything inside. "Holy fuck! Ew!" cried Rachel as she turned away. The man mumbled but Rachel was still able to make out his words - "what do you want?" Rachel, still angry said "did you molest my son?" The jawless man laughed, as much as he could and replied "that fat wittle kunt? Yuh, I waped him, schucked him and focked him, all in one! Definitely not wurff the truble." As Barry played with his man-tits in the corner, Rachel hovered the blender in the air then threw it right into the paedophile's face, tearing off what was left of his jaw. The glass ripped across his face and blood gushed out. "You hucking dich!" he cried before Rachel summoned the various dinner utensils and fired them at his body. Knives stuck themselves into his arms and legs, spoons slapped the shit out of his fat face and forks stabbed him in the gut. Rachel was a woman of her word. She summoned the doorway splinters and lifted the man onto the bloody table. Rachel ripped off the man's pants and proceeded to carry out her threat.

"Well Barry, nobody's gonna be touching you no more. Except for me... and Kat and maybe Uncle Stevens." Rachel walked Barry back to the car. It was almost midnight. Way past Barry's bedtime, but this time, she'll allow it. As Rachel started the engine, a voice came from the backseat. "You talked to Anna." Rachel stopped in her seat. "You" she said. "I bet she didn't mention my name. Well, they call me Soulshade, and I'm going to kill both of you."



'Slurp' 'Slurp' went Barry as he went down on himself. Even Rachel was surprised that the kid was so flexible for his girth. "Don't worry, my son always does that when he's scared" said Rachel to the man with the shitty as villain name behind her. "Now get the fuck out of my station wagon before I make you get out!" Soulshade was unimpressed. "Look lady, you probably don't know who I am, or what I can do, but if you did, I guarantee that you would be a teensy bit more respectful to me." Rachel was just annoyed now. "I don't care what your shitty faeces lifting tricks you can do, but I can guarantee you I can do better" smiled Rachel as she peered back to look at him. He was a tough looking man, heavy build. But that didn't matter, she can take them all the same. As Barry continued to smell himself, Soulshade moved into the light. "You see lady, my mind can transport itself into another's whenever death is impending. That means I can never die. Can you never die?" he smirked. Rachel smirked back. "I can do you one better" as she force pushed the driver's seat back into Soulshade so hard that he smashed out the back window. Rachel got out of the car and telekinetically grabbed on to the man, then flung him into the paedophile house. Rachel walked over to the trunk of her shitty station wagon and opened it. She unzipped a duffle bag and took out a large yellow onesie. It was bright, shiny and looked like a fucking banana flavoured condom, and she threw it to Barry through the window. "Got you a present. You like it? It's your own superhero costume." This was enough to stop Barry's violent fapping, but making the smile on his face all the wider. Rachel herself unzipped her jacket, revealing a pale purple combat suit and cape. She tore off Velcro strips from her jeans, revealing shiny purple stripes. "The Rape" they spelled. Finally, as Soulshade pushed the debris off himself, Rachel put on her dark purple mask. They were small, looking almost like goggles, but enough to make her look like a cheap superhero rip-off. "You're lucky this body is tough, else I would have taken your son and raped you!" yelled Soulshade, who was advancing quickly towards the two. Rachel readied herself while Barry was still struggling to put on his latex.

Soulshade was charging awfully fast. The Rape force grabbed her station wagon still with Barry inside, and threw it at the man. He dodged out of the way and continued his charge. The Rape thrusted mailboxes and wooden fences at him, only managing to slow him down for a few seconds. She backed up more, but it was not enough. Soulshade rammed into her and tackled her to the ground, knocking the air out of her. "Should have chosen a less stinking guy to take" coughed The Rape as the big man's odour got close enough to her. Soulshade smiled and raised his fist to punch her down but was tackled himself by the one and only Lunchbox, in all his banana condom glory. "Nobody gets off on my mommy but me!" he yelled as he pulled Soulshade through layers and layers of housing and construction, interrupting a wide variety of family friendly activities with something not so family friendly. Having a fat kid in a bright yellow condom force himself onto a bigger man isn't exactly the sort of thing that entertains average households, especially not when it happens live in front of you. "FUKYOUFUKFYOUFUKYOU!!!" cried the condom as he repeatedly smashed Soulshade's pelvis. This was a win-win for both. Soulshade could feel the end coming, and soon he'll be able to control the fattie. The Rape knew this however, and force lifted Barry off of him, throwing her beloved son into a nearby lake. She force lifted Soulshade and kept him suspended in the air to give herself enough time to think of a plan. "You can't hold this forever" choked an injured Soulshade. "Fuck me, cunt!" yelled Lunchbox from afar. Soulshade was right. The Rape couldn't keep this up forever. She knew that. And so she slammed the man right down to the ground, shattering both his legs. Soulshade groaned in agony, agony that he was still not in immediate threat of death. The Rape dragged over what was left of her station wagon and gently placed it on top of his legs, pinning him to the ground. Soulshade yelled out "when I get out of this, your own son's fat little dick will be so far up your ass, you'll feel it wiggle around each time you take a shit! How you like that, huh? Wiggly shit, you fucking slut faced fuck-whore. Either your son kills you, or you kill your son!" Soulshade's cries were futile against The Rape's cold, demeaning look. She smiled, knowing that this eventful day would almost be over.

Lunchbox's fat titties gyrated profusely as he stroked his nipple running back from the shore. The wet yellow condom jiggled around before falling face-first into the asphalt. "Fuck, lady. Your son's a retard" coughed Soulshade. "Shut up" replied The Rape, kicking him in the face. He coughed up blood and a few teeth, still smiling. "Barry, get the fuck up and come here!" yelled The Rape to her condom. The walking tub of fat waddled over to his mother. "What do we do, mom?" asked Lunchbox. "Kill him when he's not expecting it" replied Rachel. Barry waddled over to the trapped man and pulled down his pants once again. "What the fuck this this shit? You gonna get your son to cum on me?!" "Not exactly" Rachel smiled. Lunchbox squatted over Soulshade and his miniature testicles hung over his mouth. The dangle for a second before the condom tea-bagged the shit out of Soulshade. "I'll-bite-your-fuckin'-ball-off!" he yelled after each teabag. Soulshade tried, but they were like rubber. Tough rubber. Finally, Lunchbox shoved his tiny prick inside Soulshade's mouth and started to relieve himself of what he built up in the car. Yellow and white filled up the man's mouth. This was perfect. He was going to drown. Finally, a mercy albeit how terrible it had to be. Soulshade was going to die. He was going to possess the fattie. But all his hopes and dreams were abruptly crushed when The Rape thrust a steel pole right through his head. And suddenly, Soulshade became very still. "Barry. Are you alright?" asked Rachel. "Yeah mom, I'm still me." "Oh!" Rachel exclaimed gleefully as she hugged her pant-less son. "He didn't see it coming" he said. "That's right, Barry. That's right" reassured Rachel. She took off her mask and finished off Soulshade for good by decapitating him with a lawnmower blade. "You wanna get some ice cream, mommy? All that tea-bagging made me hungry." Rachel was more than eager to get out of this dump and relax with some frozen dessert. "Of course, Barry. Anything for my fat little shit."

Slurp, slurp, slurp went Barry as he finished off his quadruple scoop titan-x ice cream cone. Rachel aimlessly stirred her serving, which had melted. She had suddenly lost her appetite. Suddenly, a man approached the two and sat opposite them in their booth. As soon as Rachel saw his face, she gasped in shock, dropping her ice cream all over her jeans. Overwhelmed by his urges, Barry went down on her mother's crotch, getting as much of the ice cream goop as he could. The man smiled. "I see our son hasn't changed. Why's he wearing a condom?" Rachel stayed in silent shock but the man could already feel the force building up inside her. He could feel her rage, her anger, her power. "Easy now, girl. I just want to talk." Rachel breathed heavily as her son finished up. "Then talk."


"Storm's riding north" said the Englishman. "Aye" replied his partner. "We sail back tonight, let the Ravagers deal with the winds." "Aye." The Englishman stepped back from the bow of the ship and stepped back to the cabin while his partner remained. "We'll be back soon" he said to the wind. The Englishman rummaged through the drawers and folders in the cabin. Rain struck the glass, trying to break in. The Englishman cared little for that, his mate even less so. He laid his eyes upon a battered clipboard on the ground and picked it up immediately. "There you are, matey." The Englishman then called to his partner "Harkins, I got the manifest! Get the crew together. Tell 'em we're goin' home!" Harkins looked back solemnly "you got it, boss." He took the metal stairs down and walked along the side of the ship, past the hundreds of dully coloured containers. The Englishman then sat back in his second favourite chair and put his feet up. He glanced at the GPS. Wrong as always. The radar he installed showed multiple vessels gaining proximity to their ship. It's been known for his GPS to fuck up, but the radar? Never. The Englishman sighed and he picked up the radio. "To you fucktards coming towards us, turn around now or get washed up on shore in pieces." The man on the other end of the radio replied "that's out loot mate, we're just here to get it back. You've got what, ten men? We've got three times that. Get your skeleton crew to surrender. This is your only warning." The Englishman scoffed and hung up the radio. He switched to the crew intercom and said to them "we got six boats coming to take our shit. For each man you kill, I'll add a thousand bucks to your pay!" He could hear the cheering from the cabin. The Englishman smiled and felt under his desk for his flare gun. He grabbed it and tilted its barrel down onto his desk. Out fell a key. The key to his armoury. The Englishman walked to the back of his cabin as he heard the battle cries echo across the ship. The shipping manifest mattered little compared to this. He unlocked the locker to reveal several handguns, two assault rifles, numerous grenades and a rocket launcher. He took two of the pistols, a rifle and the RPG as well as stocking up on all his explosive needs. The Englishman opened the cabin door and stepped out into the wet. Rain poured from above and lightning crackled as he strode to meet up with his crew. "Where are the men surrounding us? Let's go kill them."

Silhouettes flashed in the distance as the lighting struck. The crew readied their weapons on the deck and aimed downrange at the ocean. The silhouettes grew closer, and an orange burst of light came shooting upwards from leading boat. The flare illuminated the seas. It lit up both the crew and their targets. "The storm is here, and it will consume you!" cried a voice from the not so distant boats. The Englishman readied his RPG and replied "bitch, I am the storm!" before firing the rocket into the nearest hostile boat. It lit up in a fiery explosion, raining wet wood everywhere. And that's when the shooting began. Muzzle flashes coated both sides as bullets littered the sea and riddled the vessels. The Englishman reloaded his RPG with one last shot and peeked over the edge. "They're getting closer!" yelled one of his men. Unfazed, the Englishmen advanced with his relentless slaughter. He fired again, blowing up another ship but this time, the men on it were prepared. They jumped out of the soon-to-be-a-flaming-wreckage boat and continued the assault in water. Two boats remained facing the ship, turning sideways for maximum firepower, but also a bigger target. As the crew of the ship continued to unleash hell, the two other boats flanked other side of the ship. "Don't let them board my Annabelle!" cried the Englishman. His partner in crime, or second in command rather led the charge against the dirty flankers, taking half the men with him. The Englishman threw down his RPG and took full control of the assault rifle on his sling. Aiming down the wet iron sights, he picked off two more attackers, but not without them slaughtering three of the men on his side. One fell off the side of the ship while the other two laid dying on the floor. The Englishman and the remaining guard at his side took cover at opposite corners, peeking every other moment. It was too much. The two still boats and the seven men between them unleashed relentless fire on the two. "Here!" yelled the Englishman as he rolled a grenade to his mate. "On three!" The man nodded and readied himself. "One!" They both pulled the pins, starting the five-second timer. "Two!" Bullets riddled the crates behind them, prophesying their fate were they to fail. "Three!" The two peeked over and started to throw their grenades. The Englishman made a good throw, it was going to land near the left boat but the guard was dropped instantly. Tens of bullets made their way through his body and he dropped the grenade at his side. Knowing he won't be able to reach it in time, the Englishman took cover.

The grenades exploded at the same time, obliterating the left attacking boat but also destroying a small portion of the side of Annabelle as well as the containers close to it. The Englishman heard gunfire behind him. The attackers had made it on to the ship. "Hold them back!" he yelled as he turned his back to the remaining ship. With the assault rifle in hand, the Englishman advanced towards the gunfire and yelling. Muzzle flashes surrounded him but he kept his cool. The Englishman took quick cover, fast peeks and short bursts. He rushed from corner to corner, giving each and every hostile he saw a quick burst to the face. They dropped like flies, and one by one, the Englishman made it to the rest of his men. There were only three left. Harkins lied dead on the floor in front of him. The Englishman took a moment to gaze at the body before turning back to the remaining men and saying "finish them", and they advanced out. Each man spread across the ship, holding each corner. The flare dipped beyond the bow and once again it was dark. Nothing more than the crackle of lightning or the week, seeping moonlight cracked the barrier of black. Tossing away his empty assault rifle, the Englishman took out his handgun and headed back to the cabin. His wet boots squeaked against the metal stairs. Peeking through the window into his cabin, he saw a suddenly alert invader and immediately fired through the glass. Shards flew everywhere, but the invader was dead. A clean headshot. The Englishman took the door back into his quarters and went through the drawers. Nothing important had been taken. He peered out into the deep darkness and as the lightning flashed, he saw that the remaining boat on the right was now gone. Did they flee or did they flank? The Englishman assumed it was the former. He climbed back down the stairs and saw the rest of his men, and at their feet were the bodies of the remaining attackers. "We got 'em, boss. They're all dead." As the Englishman reached the bottom of the stairs, he smiled and said "well done, lads. You'll all get what you're owed. I thank you for defending this ship. Now we head home. I believe it's time we all go back to the special ladies in our lives, and my wife must be so very lonely."

The Englishman walked over to the bow and looked over it. Dawn approached and the rain thinned. A slight smile spread across his face as he started to see land. All the death, all the murder, it had not been for nothing. Finally he will be able to reach what was once lost. "Rachel, I'm coming home.



The luscious English accent helped little in the soothing of Rachel's shock. The man tilted his head up to face her, lifting the shadow from his face and into the light. The face of a man she had once loved. But not anymore. The constant background slurps did little to elevate the mood, and Rachel's tense stare grew into an angry fury. After an almost awkward silence, the man finally spoke. "It's great to se-" "Shut the fuck up and tell me why you're here!" interrupted Rachel. The man turned his face and gave that smile she knew all too well. "Look, I can't very well shut the fuck up if you want me to te-" "Fuck your mind games! Tell me now!" Rachel yelled as she stood up. The man knew he was nearing her limits, and so he told her the truth. "I've come to start our family again. To be whole again." Rachel shook her head fiercely. Even as Barry crawled on top of his biological father like a tortoise on a humping rock or a dog on some dude's pant leg. Legs spread across his father's lap, Barry asked "Can you tell me that story about the man who touches everything again?" His father replied "Of course, but I've told you that it wasn't a story." Barry nodded while Rachel looked down in horror. "I could make the chairs assault your face in a second, so either you leave me alone or ill..." "You'll what? Hurt an innocent, harmless man using your powers in front of everybody? Ha! I don't think so. Rachel's fist was clenched tight. She had violent intentions. The man started to stand up but was interrupted by another one of Rachel's amusing threats. "Stay put like the dog you are or I swear to god I will snap your cock in two!" The grandparents in the booth behind them drew the line at superhero cock snapping and the started to get up. The situation was getting out of control. Rachel knew she had to act, and fast. "No! Stay!" she cried in frustration as she levitated a coffee jar and smashed it across the old lady's forehead. "Oh no, Martha!" cried her husband as he slowly knelt down to tend to his wife. "Great, now you just beat up an old woman, so what say we get out of here and-" "Stay the fuck put unless you want your booth to snap you inside it!" The man smiled yet again. "Oh Rachel, you haven't changed a bit." It was at this moment that Rachel force-smashed the side of the booth she was just in and sandwiched her husband along with her son.

Red seeped from the gaps in the collage of ice cream diner booths. Infuriated and shocked at the same time, Rachel turned away only to see the waitresses and customers calling for help. "My my, you've gotten stronger" came a voice from the broken mess of stools and tables. "Barry, punch the table would you?" Punch the table that mummy crushed on us." As Barry struck his way out of the mess, Rachel finally sighed and turned back to face her work. The remains of a strawberry and cherry triple sundae dripped from the seats. "I see you still haven't lost your sense of humour" said the man as he crawled his way out. Sirens filled the distance and the two former lovebirds turned. As the man dusted himself off he commented "you had to take him to a sodding diner, didn't you?" Barry seemed to ignore his parents fighting for the two hundred and ninetieth time. He found the melting puddle of strawberry on the floor much more interesting. And so as his tongue lapped the floor, the police closed in on the troubled trio. "Great, now the cops are right outside. Get us outta here, would you?" kindly asked the man. Rachel sighed with fury knowing that she had no choice. She elevated Barry and threw him out the window. As Barry burst through "Jolly Jimmy's Ice Cream and Barber shop", Rachel force lifted a table top. "Sadly, this is just a table for one" she said before taking cover away from the police. Unamused, the man replied "are you proud of yourself? Do you think that was a good fucking pun?" Because it was not a good fucking pun! It's not very fucking funny!" As he lost his temper, Barry dusted himself off from the hood of one of the police sedans. A cop reported in "one lethal wrecking ball of fat" as they opened fire on the kid. "The man cried out "don't you dare shoot my fat fucking son!" as he pulled out his own weapon. The Englishman and his dual machine pistols might as well have opened the damn portal to hell as glorious guts rained from the sky. Bullets ricocheted off Barry on into other policemen while the man advanced through the smashed glass pane and onto the road. Rachel was long gone. It wasn't like her to just abandon her son like that but she knew his powers a lot better now. As the Englishman hole-punched the rest of the officers, he ushered for Barry to follow him. Barry did, but that was all that he followed of him. He raised his leg and gave his father a brutal slow-motion kick to the nuts.

As the man gasped in pain, Barry added "that'll teach you from having to raise another fucker like me!" A red faced Englishman replied "you kiss your mother with that mouth?" "Not with this mouth" replied Barry, pointing to his lips. "I guess you guys really went downhill when I left" said the man as he struggled to breathe on the ground. "Your mother tell you kick my balls?" he added. Barry nodded. "Fucking wh- She's right behind me, isn't she?" Barry nodded yet again. He kept nodding as Rachel lifted him up by his still sore balls. "Give me a damn break, woman! I try to fucking help you and you repay me by fucking castrating me?" Now it was Rachel's turn to smile. "No... castration is the complete removal of your testicles." "Same fucking thing! They're both useless now! Why did our son have to be so fucking gullible?" Rachel walked and the man 'followed'. "The same reason he exists. Because of you and how you dropped him into the fucking toilet!" "That was fucking ages ago!" "Exactly! He was two! And now he's turned out into this retard, but he's my retard!" The Englishman had enough. The same argument for five long years. "I'm sorry, but I tried to play nice" he said before whipping out one of his engraved throwing knives and tossing it at his wife. Only it didn't hit her. It struck Barry right in one of his fat flabs. "You missed, asshole!" yelled Rachel. The Englishman laughed "You're not the only one that can get through that thick skull of his!" and as soon as Rachel realised, it was too late. Barry thrusted his dad's knife right into her mother's urethra. She cried out and dropped her husband. "I never wanted it to be like this, Rachel" he said as he advanced towards her. "Now let me take you to the hospital. They'll patch you up and we'll be together again. As a true, happy family." Rachel's pain numbed her emotions, all of them but anger. And it only sharpened her spite for her husband. With a quick flick of her hand, the bloody knife flew out of her torso and went flying towards her husband. He raised his hand to defend himself and the tip of the blade stopped centimetres from his eye. Stopped by his hand thanks to his above average reflexes. He breathed heavily. "That. Fucking. Hur-" He was interrupted by a flying stool, then several more. As he was buried under numerous pieces of ice cream parlour furniture, the man knew what he had to do. What he must do to win his wife back. "You're making a serious mistake, Rachel! A fucking serious mistake! You know what they called me back on the islands? Cutshot! Because I will cut every shot you fire at me!" His voices were drowned out by the chairs as Rachel and her son walked away.



The tricycle rolled contently down the asphalt. Some retard was riding it, or was it the other way 'round?" Barry's fat fucking sandal covered feet pressed down on the red pedals. He thought he was the fucking man. Suddenly, a siren blarted from behind and the all too familiar red and blue waved around him. The anger still fuelled Barry. He kept riding. The police car continued to follow him and the officer inside it spoke over the PA "Hey retard, get your pig ass off the fuckin' road!" Barry continued to pedal furiously, and so the officer had no choice but to take physical action. He sped up and rammed the back of Barry's trike. "Aah!" cried Barry as he and his fat behind lurched forward onto the road in front of him. "Focking donut licking cunts!" he cried as the officer slowed to a stop and opened his door. The police officer was in his forties and Australian. He wore dark shades and carried a baton. Strolling towards the fat fuck, Barry tried to crawl away but his fat flabs kept clinging on to the gravel. Finally, using all his fat strength, he pushed himself back up. The only thing that didn't come back up were his shorts. Dangling around his ankles along with his undergarments, Barry penguin walked forward, desperate to evade the police like he did on Grand Theft Cupcake. He was using all his energy to run forward while the officer kept behind him at walking pace. As Barry 'ran', he shouted back to his pursuer "fuck off, cow licker!" This pissed the cop off, and so he advanced. Within a few steps, the officer grabbed Barry's sweaty shirt and swung his fat ass to some rich dude's lawn. Now they were both tired. Barry, gasping, tried to crawl away. "what're you gonna do? Molest me?!" he cried as he struggled to escape. "Yeah, something like that" said the officer as he pulled out his Taser and unleashed 1200 volts onto the poor pig. Further conducted by the excessive sweat, Barry lit up with electricity. He gave a bear scream before collapsing onto the grass. If it weren't for the fact that the officer was a tough Australian, we would never have been able to lift Barry into the trunk of his patrol car. The sweat didn't help however. The rear of the vehicle's chassis sunk so low that it almost started to scrape the tyres. And so the police officer kidnapped Barry to potentially butt-rape him.

Barry finally awoke. After fourteen hours and in a state of undress. The officer had almost fallen asleep himself at the time. He had tried prodding him, Tasing him, and even 'generously touching' him to get Barry to wake up. He must have really needed to sleep. The Australian loomed over the short fat blob who was tied to a slab on the ground. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? The pig that isn't a pig has finally woken up. Barry was flooding with sweat, and soon the duct tape over his mouth loosened and fell. "Help me, mommy!" he cried. But there was no mommy here. The cop smiled and stepped closer. His accent was strong but his coffee breath was stronger. "Now you've been a very naughty boy" he said, "and guess what we do to naughty boys that resist arrest?" The officer took off his belt. "My mistake. I mean resist molest !" He chuckled evilly and proceeded to perform his ritualistic whipping of the boy-pig. Barry's sweat gobbled up his juicy tears and became a salty soup. Just how the Australian liked it. He raised his belt and swung it down. Hard. The belt collided with the salty skin and sweat droplets flung into the air whilst leaving a brutal red lash below. Barry cried in agony as the officer continued to whip his fat ass and other... regions. It reminded him of his childhood, how his mother did the same to him. These memories fuelled him. Barry suddenly stopped sweating, turning his fear into anger and breaking out of the ropes that bound him down for so long. His eyes became those of the devils and the officer knew at this moment that he was in trouble. He whipped out his non-standard issue sidearm and emptied his magazine into the raging cow. Five of his six shots hugged fat blubber and bounced right off while the sixth and final round found a new home with Barry's right eye. The bullet squeezed itself into the eyeball and messed up everything inside. Optic goo shot out of Barry's face as he fell backwards onto the floor. And despite the awesome power of the Australian's massive revolver, the bullet still couldn't penetrate Barry's thick fucking skull, at least not into his brain. The round became lodged in Barry's head. Blood gushed from the seemingly dark, empty and scary hole, much like his teacher's vagina. Only for Barry, it wasn't his time of the month yet. He struggled on the floor, barely able to make out a single word. He stuttered massively "f- f- f- fag- faggot crotch!" The officer smiled yet again and as he leant down, Barry could see his own mutilated face in the shiny shades. "And that's exactly what you're gonna get, matey" said the officer as he dropped his shorts.

"We're gonna be havin' one hell of a wallopin', son" said the Australian as he leant over Barry's body, but as soon as he was about to start, the concrete wall beside him shattered, and a bulldozer flew in. Then Rachel came in with the wrecking ball. "Looks like the construction sites gonna need an expansion!" she yelled as the black ball of death flew down. The officer leapt out of its path, leaving Barry to be crushed by half a tonne of steel. "Aww fuck!" cried Rachel as she ran to lift the wrecking ball off his son. It levitated by a few centimetres before flying right out the roof. Straight up. But that was a problem for another time. Rachel ran towards the crater her son was stuck in and when she saw the horrific sight, she collapsed. Knowing not if it was the ball that did that or the officer, Rachel burst into tears. "Nooo! Barry! My sweet doughnut!" Her screams echoed the remaining walls. "Did someone say doughnut?" inquired the officer as he aimed his recently loaded firearm. Rachel's teeth clenched, and as the first bullet fired, the shards of concrete around them levitated. Chunks of the floor were lifted from the crater and ate the high calibre hand cannon bullets. A furious Rachel rose back up, carrying with her her concrete tornado. Five, four... The bullets kept coming, and kept missing. Three, two... Concrete rocks shattered before Rachel, but it was not enough to hurt her. One. The final shot collided with Rachel's shoulder, and ripped open a great, bloody hole. It tore right through her and she screamed. Agony and rage were never a good combination. The concrete stones flew off around her like a shotgun with a hundred barrels and the velocity of a railgun. Crimson holes decorated the veteran officer a million times over before he fell to the ground. He looked less like Swiss Cheese and more like a bloody cheese grater. Rachel, weak, limped back to her son, ignoring her shoulder. She fell down beside Barry and hugged him. Not even the torrential amounts of sweat could detract from this moment. But maybe the snot bubble that started to casually inflate. Rachel started to inch away a little. She knew what happened last time Barry drew a snot bubble this big. It was not pretty. Obviously. Carelessly putting pressure on her shoulder, she turned away as the sound of a cannon shook the warehouse. "Aw motherfucker!" cried a voice from the distance. Rachel looked up. He was back. The Englishman. Cutshot. "Look Rach, if you're going to have bonding moments with OUR son behind my back, at least have the courage to call first, or organise visiting days. Ouch. That looks painful. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?" For once, Rachel couldn't afford to reject her husband. Especially not while bleeding out with her son. And so she carefully force lifted her son and walked slowly to her snot covered husband.


The groceries jiggled in the plastic bag. Various fruits, vegetables and a pack of condoms. Large. The bag rippled through the wind and snow as Kat carried it to her station wagon. She dumped the bag on the backseat and started the engine in a rush to meet her boyfriend. The hotel was a long way off, but she was sure she would make it. It was her boyfriend's 'preparedness' that worried her. Her phone/ vibrator vibrated. It was Rachel. Something about being in the hospital, but Kat didn't care. She wanted to enjoy her night, not spend it looking at her friend sleeping. Actually, her situation was pretty similar. It wasn't until the she heard the meteor that she noticed that something was off. The sky lit up. Burning rocks closed in on the earth. Kat knew that she was in no hurry but she sped up anyway, desperate for her meet up. The tinker of what sounded like hailstones surrounded her. Only these didn't behave like hailstones, at least not after the first couple of seconds. She didn't even realise it when a 4-metre-tall meteor struck the car. The station wagon flipped and Kat was caught by complete surprise. She gasped sharply as the car revolved in mid-air before letting off a relentless scream. The car collided with the ground and the world cut to black.

Fire. Gas. Not two things that should be mixed. Kat saw and smelled both. Small rock fragments were embedded in her skin. No more than ten pieces. She crawled to the door and unlocked it. With a swift push, it flung open. She was glad not to be a cliché crash victim. It was at this moment that the car exploded. Kat was flung into the air yet again. Metal shards and meteor fragments dug deep into her backside. She landed on the snow outside, feeling a lot less pain than she should have. No way an explosion like that would have left her alive. "Why the fuck does this shit always happen to me but not Rachel?!" cried Kat. "Fucking fuckshit! Are you really gonna make me miss my fuck-sesh?" She grunted as she made her way to the nearest truck stop. Its lights shone bright in the distance. Maybe she could seduce her way out of this, but she didn't want to have two boyfriends at the same time, so crime it is. Injured and bleeding, she walked for a good fifteen minutes through the deep snow before finally being in the warm gaze of the station lights. A good seven people populated the diner. A few rednecks, a couple and a 'special' couple while some lonely guys filled the gaps. Kat entered the diner. Funny, there was no pain at all. Maybe it damaged some nerves. Either way she needed a hospital. She sat down at one of the stool in front of the counter and asked the waitress "hey, could you maybe call an ambulance for me? My fucking station wagon kinda blew up on me." Before the waitress could respond though, the one of the two women (forming that 'special' couple) cut her off. "Ha! You'd have better luck tryin to get man in a lesbo bar! No service out here, bitch!" Kat, who was more stressed than horny, stood up and replied "fine, but you don't have to be a cunt about it." The lesbian smiled. She was a large woman but had little problem getting out of her booth. "Jan, don't" said her partner. As always, Jan ignored her. "You think your tits are gonna help you in this world, slut? Not in mine!" she yelled at Kat. "Your tits can't help you. Period" she responded. Jan grabbed both of Kat's hands and slammed them down on the countertop. The waitress backed away. She knew what was about to go down. "Lizzie, I think tonight we may be havin ourselves a threesome." Jan smiled at her partner then back at Kat. The normal couple started to leave. A few rednecks too and soon the whole diner started to empty. "Those people know what's gonna go down now. I might just do it right here. You're more than enough to get me and Lizzie started." Kat did not enjoy being threatened of rape. "Jan. 'Jan'. Hm, what's that short for? January? A pretty nice time of the year to get fucked aye?" That comeback was fun for Jan to hear. She slapped Kat with her own hand, and that's when she noticed the rocks. "What the bloody fucks this? A tattoo gone wrong? Hahahahaha! You try to act tough girl, try to look tough. I'm gonna strip you down to the little girl you are." Jan chuckled as she drew her face closer to Kat. She spat right in her fat face. "Oh I was hopin' you'd do that" said Jan as she raised her fist. Kat was almost certain that she was going to get hit. The last customer however stopped that from happening. The last redneck standing. He closed his bigger hand over Jan's. Jan gave him a death stare. "Back away hillbilly, before this gets real fuckin' ugly." The redneck stared at her ugly face and replied "It's already ugly. You're in it." And so Jan head-butted the redneck before crudely snapping the arm that once touched her. The redneck yelled and took a wild swing at her head, striking the fat boar right in the nose. A trickle of blood dripped from the recently misshapen odour detector. She grabbed the redneck by his torso and swung him right out the glass window.

"That's not even five percent of what I'm gonna do to you" stated Jan as she started to tear off Kat's shirt. "Better learn your maths" Kat grunted as she thrusted her fist right where the redneck punched. It collided with a sharp crack, permanently striking the nose sideways. Blood gushed from a tear on the side as Jan remarked in pain. "Looks like your pussy sniffing days are over" shouted Kat. Now Jan was pissed. Her yell shook the room as her massive fist flew through the air. Kat, cornered, raised her arm to defend herself. More loud cracks followed. The loud cracks of Jan's knuckles being broken against what might as well be a rock itself. The force also pushed Kat back against the counter, breaking the wood as she dug her back deep into it. Jan cried out as she retracted her bloody, broken hand. "Ouch. That looks like it hurts" commented a smug and also mildly surprised Kat. Lizzie on the other hand was still crying for her partner to retreat and stop. "Never" replied Jan. "This bitch dies tonight." Using her good hand, she grabbed Kat's shirt and tossed her across the room. She flew into the booth below the broken window. The broken redneck outside cheered for her. "What the bloody monster-fucker are ya, you cunt sharing rat whore?!" exclaimed Jan as she stared almost shockingly at Kat. Kat looked down at her torn shirt. Meteorite rock had started protruding out. Even glowing a bit. Likewise for the rest of her arms and legs. Now this was going to have an adverse effect on her beauty. Still ready to fight, Jan stood her ground as Kat stood back up. Jan channelled the rest of her anger and rage into one last scrap. The two ran at each other. Jan's larger mass allowed her to tackle Kat and knock her to the floor. "I would have settled for this much earlier. You should have mention it sooner!" This time however it didn't come out as a laugh, but as spite. Kat responded "You like it rough, big girl? I can do rough" as she punched Jan's tits. Over and over. She punched the fat flabs of jelly repeatedly until Jan fell back onto the floor. "Now's the real fucking" said Kat as she raised her leg for a good swing at Jan's crotch. "Go on, you who- AAARGH!!!" Kat slammed her foot right into the dark regions. It might as well have been as sledgehammer. Jan cried in complete agony as she clutched her shattered pelvis. In tears, she shouted "go on, keep your stone tits! I don't fuck golems anyway!" She continued to cry, especially when Lizzie stood up, paid for her food and left. Kat gave that smug smile again. Maybe beauty isn't everything. Maybe a good hard fist is all you need. Kat stepped out of the diner, leaving the cow to either try a dead phone line or a redneck for help.



The table stood empty. Nothing but cellophane and dildos covered it. Rachel lied in the hospital bed, intimately stroking his son while he was suckling at her breasts. She stared at the cold emptiness of the table. She suddenly felt a warm sensation reminiscent of the times her husband reached immense levels of excitement whilst around her. The warmth crept down her belly and towards her own warm areas. And the two warmths became one. Barry moaned as his yellow piss dripped down his mother's legs. And Rachel moaned harmoniously as the vibrator stuck within her reached its maximum potential. The two gripped onto each other tight and suddenly, Barry let go and fell asleep. He was on the edge of the hospital bed so he fell headfirst onto the floor. With a wood-splintering crack, his skull left a permanent dent on the floor. It wasn't until the rest of his body followed that the floor finally gave way. Asleep, he fell through plumbing and asbestos before landing in some old lady's broccoli soup and giving her cancer. "Are you okay?" cried Rachel to the floor beneath her. The old lady replied "oh no dear, I am not okay. Some fat fucker is trying to steal my teeth!" Annoyed, Rachel yelled back down "I'm not fucking talking to you, you old, paedophile wrinkle cunted hag!" This pissed off the eighty-year-old lady. "That's it, girl! I'm comin' for ya!" she cried as she took out her switchblade and got out of bed. She grunted as she touched the cold linoleum for the first time in two months. "You and your slutty cunt's gonna get it now!" she yelled just before she slipped on her broccoli soup and smacked the floor with a back-breaking crack. "Ooh!" remarked Rachel "Was the floor to cold or the soup too hot? Can never tell with you bitches!" As Rachel laughed at her own joke, her son awoke from his micronap only to be tackled by four security guards. A hospital orderly walked up to her room and knocked. In his hand was a letter. Must be a get well card. At least that's what it looked like when Rachel opened it. GET WELL SOON said the speech bubble above the green cliché alien on the cover. The orderly left as Rachel took her vibrator out of her body and placed its gooey head back with the others. She opened the card and immediately she knew who it was from. Only Kat would send an obscene photo of public masturbation. Only this one was rather obscure. The only message it had was 'come to the Janton Spire at 9'. Rachel had been waiting for an intimate reunion ever since.

Her wounds had healed dramatically over the two weeks she spent in that god forsaken place. She was glad that she left, even gladder that her husband just so happened to be at 'work' that day too so she wouldn't have any nagging British chats. The elevator dinged the doors opened, revealing the top floor of the most brilliant tower in the area. Rachel walked around. She and Barry hadn't been there ever since that time they got banned for testing how shock absorbent Barry was. 'Very' was the answer, accompanied by a 6.4 magnitude earthquake. The little fat devil held her mother's hand even though she was expecting a strictly adults only reunion. Men and women, couples and a redneck populated the circular floor. Eating high class meals and thirty-dollar ice cream. Rachel wasn't in the mood for twenty-dollar toast right now. She was in the very centre of the floor, surrounded by the expensive restaurant, and the layer around that were the VIP suites. She didn't know which one Kat wanted to fuck in but it better be the 'Orgy' suite. Rachel walked around, and a hooded figure appeared instantly in front of her. Rachel could tell that gorgeous red hair from anywhere. Kat stared back at her. The rest of her face was covered in shadow, but everywhere else was seemingly normal. "I can't wait" she said. "Neither" replied Rachel. And the three headed off. Off for the 'Russian Bridesmaid" suite. "You cheap slut!" cried Rachel as Kat closed the door on them, leaving Barry's enjoyment to his imagination. "Take it off" said Rachel as she sucked on her lip. And so Kat did. But she was too slow. That damn hoodie couldn't take itself off fast enough. Rachel 'assisted'. With one quick flick, the clothes teared right off her friend turned lover and unveiled the menace below. The tear revealed everything. From the glowing stone ore feet to the rock encrusted breasts. Actually, Rachel couldn't even tell what was what anymore. Only Kat's face was unaffected. She was as dark as that one black guy she slept with two years ago. Kat was stone cold. Tiny shards of orange glowing alien material appeared over her. Like a meteor. "I was hoping you would do that" said Kat as she advanced towards Rachel who in turn raised her right hand in an attempt to stop her in her tracks. It usually worked. This time it didn't. Whatever the meteor contained, it cut off Rachel's ability to force manipulate Kat. It really turned her off. "You left me for weeks, months! Fortnights I had to go without your touch! And when I needed you most, you were lying in a pathetic hospital bed, too weak to help your best friend!" Kat's anger and lack of judgement got the best of her, and whatever that mango goop was inside of her, it was messing with her head big time. Rachel replied in anger "I truly though that this was going to be a reunion fuck, where you would apologize for not visiting me once in hospital!" Kat screamed as she started to leap while Rachel lifted the bed beside her right up, slamming her former best friend right into the closet.

"You're gonna get it now, syphilis sucker!" cried Rachel as she force threw more chair and dressers into the hole Kat just made. This was done to no avail as Kat climbed out. She was glowing now, and a radiant warmth circulated the air around her. She swung her fist and took off the better part of the wall. "You're about as good a friend as my first boyfriend!" she cried as she punched more useless shit "and my first boyfriend left me for a car! A fucking car! He fucked the fucking car right in front of me!" Kat glowed in furiousness while Rachel made a pushing motion with her hand at the door, knocking the "Russian Bridesmaid" suite door right off its hinges. She ran out, back to her son who was licking 'ice cream' off of some guy's lap. It was all over Barry's face. He licked his lips then slurped it all down. The man sighed in pleasure as everyone else looked on. Kat was still momentarily disturbed by this, giving the desensitized Rachel to force lift the metal counter. Using all her strength, she hurled it right at Kat. It collided with her and thrust her to the window. The heavy duty glass was knocked right out of its frame. The entire pane came loose and Kat went out the window. Rachel breathed heavily as Barry ran to her side. Still licking the white cream off of himself, Barry happily pointed "look!" towards the window as Kat crawled up from the ledge she hung on. It was not over yet. She rushed at the fatigued Rachel, knocking away all the tables and chairs in her path. Wood broke and splintered across the room as family dinners were interrupted. Rachel lifted a steel table and threw it at Kat from the side. It knocked her off balance and down to the ground. Getting back on her feet, Kat cried with rage. Breaking off pipes, she lunged at Rachel only to be stopped by the one thing stronger than she was. Barry the Lunchbox. "Stop! You're fucking my mommy too hard!" he cried as he tackled Kat down to the ground and punched her right in the tits. But Kat and her rock hard regions were too hard for Barry and they rocked his world. With a train stopping left hook, Barry went flying out the window. This diversion was enough for Rachel to catch her breath, but apparently not enough. Kat picked up her pipes again and once more she lunged at her ex-fuckbuddy. She leapt as Rachel force-lifted the assorted cutlery and utensils from the buffet and launched them at her. Lead pipes smashed against a hurricane of forks and knives. Rachel screamed as Kat pinned her down with a single lead pipe dug deep through her shoulder and into the ground. Various metal objects however were lodged in her cracks and crevasses. This Rachel could use. Using all her energy, she channelled her forces to the metal objects, propelling Kat out the window to follow Barry. Rachel knew that this fight was over but the worst was yet to come. She had to act fast, and so she clutched the pipe holding her down and pulled it.



Rachel sped up. Her mid-tier vehicle was being pushed to the limit. Dusk was here, and she knew what came with it. Kat was unconscious and tied up behind her. The motorway was relatively empty. Good. She pushed the accelerator down harder as she neared her final destination. Barry was chomping away at yet another chocolate block. Thankfully he never cared about the quality. He would slurp just about anything. Suddenly the streetlights shut off and the traffic lights went black. It wasn't until the roadblock was twenty metres away that Rachel slammed the brakes. It was beyond late. With a bone-shattering crunch, Rachel's slammed down on her lack of airbags while Barry flew out the passenger window. Kat was tossed after him. Blood dripped from Rachel's forehead as her vision blurred out.Voices echoed in the distance. "This is it, Rach! You are mine now and forever! That's the last time you check out of a hospital without me! Well no more. We're going home!" Cutshot danced around as he waltzed closer and closer towards Rachel's fading body. She wasn't going to let herself go back. One way or another. This ends tonight. She flipped open the glove compartment and out rolled five shots of epinephrine. She had prepared for this moment. Rachel grabbed two of the adrenaline sticks and slammed them down into herself. She tore off her shirt, unveiling the old purple costume. The Rape's final confrontation. "Barry!" she yelled "Code Pink!" On the other side of the motorway, Barry struggled to put on his now yellow and green costume. The latex was not enough. Rachel always knew that it would prove to be a problem eventually. But maybe there was still time. Kat rose up from the crater in which she created and stared at Cutshot. "You. You're back?" Cutshot recognised her instantly. "Kathrine, what a pleasant surprise! You've grown... stonier. I'll admit it's a nice change. Maybe overdid it with the makeup though, I dunno. So, are you here to die with your fuckbuddy?" This drove the already angry Kat to her tipping point. She yelled and charged at him. "I prepared a surprise in case another super tried to take me" commented Cutshot as he took out some kind of sniper rifle. With a single boom, Kat flew backwards. The projectile collided with her shoulder and blew up; shrapnel went flying. "This here is an anti-material rifle. Manufacture right back home from the UK. It was designed to stop trucks, and on top of that, I loaded it with some of my special recipe. My boom bullets!" Cutshot cheered as he swung his rifle around in the air. It was almost his height. "He must have taken something, a strength enhancer maybe?" Rachel thought as she spectated the brutal brawl. Kat screamed from the ground as she clutched her shattered shoulder. The meteor formation softened and the wound was deep, right into the flesh and bone. Now Kat knew the danger. She stood up once more, and charged once more.

As soon as Cutshot fired once again, Kat flew into the air. Only this wasn't his doing. She had jumped, and damn did she jump high. Luckily for Cutshot, his rifle was a semi-automatic. No more of that bullshit cliché bolt action priming. Kat landed square in front of him but wasn't fast enough to tough him, or his massive rifle. The shot was even louder between them. The explosion propelled Kat backwards but also threw shrapnel across them both. Cutshot cried out as sharp shards of metal stuck into his arms and legs. Luckily his Kevlar suit and padding blunted most of the damage. Two shots were left in his magazine. Two before that crucial reload time. Like many other times, Cutshot was too overconfident and had opted for a 5 round magazine instead of the 10. He wasn't expecting his wife to have brought along another enhanced being. Kat coughed loudly from the asphalt and got up once again. A rip or two may be showing but that was okay. Cutshot deserved to die. Probably many, many times. But Kat only needed to kill him once. She sprinted once again and Cutshot fired once more. The round headed straight for her right arm. Fortunately for her, this was where her 'meteor amour' was strongest. It deflected the bullet off and probably killed some fat guy in his apartment a thousand metres away. Kat gained ground as Cutshot prepared his final shot. He was done fooling around. This one he actually tried for. He pulled the trigger and the explosive round flew straight at Kat's head. It penetrated her left eye and exploded inside her skull. Her head blew apart into pieces as cranial confetti sprayed across the road. The rest of Kat's body fell with it lifelessly. A roar of laughter came from Cutshot as he walked across her remains. "Now that... that was bloody amazing! A spectacular show once more from Kat the gifted entertainer! What act will she perform next?!" he cheered as he reloaded his rifle. Rachel stared in horror as Cutshot continued "maybe a transforming act? I know! How 'bout transformin' into some mincemeat?!" as he emptied his newly loaded clip right into her semi-decapitated body. Blood and guts sprayed out and painted the streets as Cutshot brutally eviscerated her. This was the time. Right now, and Rachel had to act fast. She stabbed herself with the last three shots of adrenaline. Her abilities were amped up the maximum and her other sense of pain was dulled. Rachel rushed out her car and force lifted it with ease. As it flew towards Cutshot, Barry cried out in the distance. Now he had to face the duo. After the last bullet went off, Cutshot noticed the mid-range automobile hurtling towards him and ducked away. It smashed against the fleshy remains of Kat's corpse. Cutshot reloaded his anti-material rifle as Lunchbox and The Rape stood at opposite side of him. This ends now.

"Yaargh!" cried Lunchbox as he charged at Cutshot much lick the recently deceased Kat. "Too easy..." Cutshot chuckled as he fired a shot square in the middle of his forehead, knocking him down. By now however, The Rape had already started her hail-fire of street cones. A mere distraction. As Cutshot tensed up looking at the sky, a concrete barrier was launched at him. It just barely missed him at the last second. Lunchbox sat back up as he gathered his senses. He was a different kind of hard headed when compared to Kat. Lunchbox started raging as The Rape fell back to scavenge for more debris. Once Lunchbox started raging, you couldn't stop him. He ran with all his energy at Cutshot one more desperate time. Cutshot's next projectile struck Lunchbox right in his chest and exploded. The rifle was designed against trucks, not tanks. Lunchbox recoiled but headed straight back for him. Another shot. This time right in his jewels. It sent Lunchbox flying head over heels and as he clutched his testicles in mid-air, The Rape lifted the road right up from under him. A five metre square block levitated into the air. Bits of gravel and asphalt fell down as The Rape folded her husband in like a sandwich, but before she could create bloody paste out of him, a high-pitched noise ripped through the air and the road crumbled into millions of pieces. All the bits fell along with a debris covered Cutshot. As soon as he landed, he threw out several objects in all directions. Seconds later, explosions and smoke filled the motorway. He looked down at his bent rifle that he sacrificed to save himself from being squished. Sticking it between the pieces of road gave him enough time to activate his sonic-shatterer. As the smoke began to clear, it revealed a badly wounded anti-heroine. Shrapnel and rocks had chopped up The Rape's legs. She tried to crawl away as Cutshot advanced towards her with a knife. She stood no chance and sat helplessly as he slammed the blade right down on her leg, pinning her to the ground. Cutshot heard thumping behind him. That could only mean one thing. However, he and his Taser were too late for when he turned around, Lunchbox already had him in a bear hug. He tackled him to the ground and started pounding at him, punching almost every area, limb or region he could find. As Lunchbox started to break all of Cutshot's bones, the Englishman finally slammed his Taser right into Lunchbox's sweaty belly, electrocuting the shit out of that tit-jiggling fucker of fat. Lunchbox fell down in smoke. Cutshot grabbed onto a rebar and weakly stood himself back up. He lifted it above Lunchbox and was ready to bring it down on him. But before he could thrust his stick into the kid, his stick jerked itself right out of his hands. Now the woman had her hands on the stick. This was questionable in terms of gender roles. That very thought was the last thing to go through Cutshot's mind before The Rape thrusted the rebar right through his head, taking no chances. Mutilation can wait. The Rape needed her son. She ran towards the jiggling fatty to caress him. It was finally over. Her volatile husband finally dead and what's left of her family was safe. The only thing she had to worry about were the divorce papers.

Epilogue - Two Months Later

"Say hi to granddaddy!" exclaimed Rachel as the seventy-year-old walked into the room. Barry was on the other side of ecstatic. "Hey there, little fella" the old man said as he waved to the fat boy. He pinched his oversized cheeks which reminded him of his first wife's tits. That was fifty years ago. The grandfather got back up and said to Rachel "He's a fat little shit, that one. How many buckets of ice cream do you feed him?" Rachel laughed and ignored the comment but Grandad kept going. "The kid's got bigger tits than that girly friend of yours. Speaking of which, is she still single?" Obviously oblivious to Kat's demise, the old man continued to make awkward sex jokes before Rachel finally cut him off. "It's time I get going" she said. "Take care of Barry now, I'll be back from work at five." Rachel opened the front door and left. The old man peered through the curtains and watched her drive away. When she was out of sight, he turned back to Barry. "Who the fuck are you?" asked Barry "You're not my granddaddy!" The old man replied "No, I'm someone better. I'm you from the future" he said as he whipped off his dusty brown coat, revealing his magic surprise down under. "And I'm a paedophile" he said before advancing towards the cowering child.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story was written over the period between 31/05/16 and 2/11/16

This is a ClipState Original Story

Thanks to my school and peers for the inspiration to write such a messed up funny story and you, the reader, for making it through this journey.

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