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A Mirthful Death

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A strange place, you are in a very strange place.


You chew nervously on your unlit cigarette as you observe your surroundings. A city, a troll city, but different from any city in Beforus. Everything looks weathered and sad, like its all been around for far too long in a harsh world. The trolls that pass you on the sidewalk give you an odd feeling. They look unhappy, every single one of them. You look into pairs of eyes, one after another. Not a single lowblood amongst them. Where are they all?


In slavery somewhere, you suppose. For it seems you are in an Alternia.


Hands stuffed in your pockets, you start walking. You have no destination, but that's no different from every day of your un-life. You scoff at the thought. Un-life. Pathetic.


It's times like these, when there's no one around that you care to elicit pity from, that you dwell on the tragedy that is your life. One of blood so high as yours should not have to live such a life. Pointless, powerless, and partner-less. That is the legacy of Cronus Ampora. A sharp rock jams itself into the bottom of your boot. You snarl and kick it away with perhaps a bit too much vehemence, and it skips into the crowd, followed by the snarl of whatever unfortunate troll took it to the shin. You promptly and pompously walk the other direction, hoping that whoever it was will somehow detect your blood color and leave you be. That's how it is on Alternia, right? People stay in their place.


A loud voice from an inordinate height above you makes you jump. "YOU MOTHERFUCKING DISGRACEFUL WHELP."


You steel yourself to tell the troll off, and turn around to face- a belly button. Horror seeps into your every brain cell as you drag your eyes up the giant of a troll in front of you. He must be at least sixteen feet tall, without  those horns. Sixteen feet, ripped to all hell, and shaking with fury.


"I-I-" you sputter, your cigarette falls out of your mouth as you stare up into huge, purple, rage-filled eyes. The troll grabs you roughly with one hand, and brings you up to those terrifying, bloodshot eyes.


"Give me one good reason.'" he growls. "AS TO WHY A MOTHERFUCKER SHOULDN'T JUST UP AND POP YOU LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING BALLOON RIGHT THE FUCK NOW." he screams the last bit directly in your face, and you flinch away violently, certain he would bite your head off. He seems to have actually paused for an answer, however, and you try to think as fast as you can.


"I-I- y-you w-w-w-ouldn't" you stammer, tears streaming down your face. You are absolutely certain no one else has ever been as terrified as you are right now. You wet your pants, too, it seems. His patience however, seems to run thin in spite of your panic, and he shakes you hard with a snarl. You squeeze your eyes shut and force words to come out, "You wouldn't wanna make a mess on the street!"


Why. Would you say that.


Not only does it not make any sense to you, you have no doubt it would have no effect whatsoever on what is obviously a raving lunatic. Frantically, you try to think of a convincing follow-up, but are interrupted by a low honk. You open one eye and glance at the giant.


He's smirking, and the purple fire of his eyes seems to have died down just a bit. He's still absolutely terrifying though, with his disturbing face paint and sheer tremendousness, and you shy away from his next words. "You're motherfuckin' right. HONK. I wouldn't wanna all up and waste none of that pretty violet paint, would I?" His smirk breaks into a grotesque grin and you tremble violently as you stare at his huge, incredibly sharp teeth. Pitiful gasping sounds escape your throat as you trash in his grip, trying desperately to escape. The huge troll just booms a laugh, and starts walking.


Kicking, screaming, desperately trying to bite him, nothing is helping. Hadn't you been on a busy street? Why isn't anyone coming to your aid? "HELP, SOMEONE, FOR FUCKS SAKE!" you yell into the crowd. But you look beyond the hulking mass of troll that carries you like a fragile doll, and see no one.  The crowd has dispersed, and you are left in the clutches of this horrifying behemoth without a chance of escape. He said he wasn't going to kill you, though, right? That's what he meant? You're not going to die? Mind racing and finding no solace, you stop thrashing and start hyperventilating.


"JUST LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING FISH OUT OF WATER AREN'T YOU, FIN-BOY?" he chuckles, and its gravely and hurts your ears. "Gasping for air. JUST LIKE THE BIG ONE. Honk." Oh god, oh god, he already killed the other you. There's no way he was going to let you off if he killed that legend of a mariner. You hang your head and more violet-tinged tears drip from your face. This isn't how you wanted to go. Not that you wanted to go at all. You were already dead and that sucked enough as is. And yet, you had always imagined you would double-die in some awesome, flashy way befitting someone of your royal stature. A volcano eruption dousing you in lava as you planted a suave, manly kiss on some hot dame for example. Hell, suffocating in genetic material would be better than being squished to death by some massive psycho troll. Not that you would know, really, as you have yet to experience any sort of relations involving genetic material with another troll.


You come out of your somber contemplation to notice that your surroundings have changed. You are no longer on a city street, but are now in a dark room painted in a wide spectrum of colors. A hemospectrum. The walls are soaked in blood. With that realization, the smell hits you. Stale, yet pungent rot surrounds you, and brings up bile in your throat. You choke it down with a sob. Frantically, you look up at the huge troll in hopes that he would think of something better to do with you than splatter your insides on his wall. He looked to be contemplating that very wall intently, probably choosing the most aesthetic position for the placement of a paste of your internal organs.


"P-please.." you whimper, not knowing what you were asking for. At this point it was clear you were going to die, so maybe you were asking for a swift death? A painless one? Maybe he might take pity and not slowly turn you inside-out from the waste chute. "Please!" you cry, and he looks down at you. You hold his gaze, lip trembling as you consider what to ask for. Your life was so short, and so empty. Why would you want to live? There was nothing you cared for-


"I don't want to die a virgin!" you yell, voice hoarse and pitiful.


He blinks, then grins, and your tremors are renewed. Why would you say something so pathetic? Why would you say anything? Now he was going to laugh at you AND turn you inside-out.


"THAT." he booms, you cringe. "Can be taken care of, pretty fish." he strides towards the middle of the room, and you take a moment to think. What was he going to do? Was he.. actually going to rape you? If you had any blood still left in your face, it had certainly drained now. But wait, maybe that was a good thing? Maybe he would have his way with you, and then get bored and let you leave? Or maybe he would fall asleep and you could escape! A glimmer of hope fluttered in your chest as the giant sat down in a huge purple armchair. You looked up into his face expectantly, while still retaining a healthy amount of fear.


He set you down in his lap and gestured to the front of his pants. It seems he wanted you to get things started. Escape in the forefront of your mind, you readily went to his fly, undoing his pants with what could be construed as excitement. A bit of his bulge was poking out of its sheath, about the length of your thumb, and a good indicator of his own readiness to get on with things.


"LOOKS LIKE THIS LITTLE FUCKER HAS A HANKERING FOR A NOOK-THRASHING!" he said, smirking. You twitch a small smile up at him, little fucker indeed. Was this all of it? Or near it? There was no way that this impossibly huge troll wouldn't have more to offer. You reach down and start tugging on his bulge, purple quickly staining your palm. "Right, little fucker?" he crooned softly, petting your hair with one huge hand. Focused and yet not focused, it took you a bit to realize that more of his bulge was sliding out of his sheath and past your hand. Now that looked more like a normal bulge. It was about the length of your forearm, and waving lazily. A bit big, but you could handle it. Probably. You shuffled back and prepared to take off your pants.


"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, HONK." he yells, causing you to squeak and jump. "It's not very gentleman-like to leave a motherfucker hangin' without lettin' him all out." You swallow hard and stare down at his bulge, where he wraps one of his huge hands around the base, squeezing and tugging much harder than you had dared. Fear creeps up into you again as you watch his length emerge, foot by slick, shining foot, to its full length. He finally lets go and you stare at the impossibility of nature curling and un-curling in front of you. It was longer than your entire torso. It would break you in half without a doubt.


You snap out of your stupor and fall back, scrambling to get away, and you almost make it off of the massive armchair before he grabs you and picks you up by the horns. You scream in pain, tears now gushing from your eyes as you claw at his hand, kicking your legs desperately in the air, fighting as hard as you can to get away from the monster. He roars at you and you begin to sob, clutching his wrist and trying to ignore the pain. He rips your pants from your body and tears your shirt to shreds, his claws leaving long cuts along your torso. You scream again.


He brings you up to his face and runs his tongue along your wounds, and sighs to himself as if he were appreciating a fine wine. "Such a nice color, this motherfucker is real glad to finally get another bit in to match. NOW TELL ME." he brings you down lower, towards his massive, writhing bulge. "When you go into the water, pretty fish. DOES A MOTHERFUCKER GO IN NICE AND SLOW OR DOES HE JUMP RIGHT IN?" his booming laughter echoes throughout the room, and your extremities go cold. He keeps calling you pretty. Maybe if you hadn't worked so hard to perfect your image, he would have never taken you home. Who would have known that in the end, it would be your fault that you were going to die a very painful death from the inside- because you would have had literally anyone to bed with you. The giant leaned in next to your face. "Hmm? What say you, fish hole?"


You look away and spread your legs a little. Best to get it over with. But not with too much pain all at once. "Slow." you say quietly, barely more than a cracked whisper. You swallow hard and brace for contact with your nook.


Instead, you find that his warm bulge is poking at your other entrance. Your waste chute. You panic again and look up at him. He smirks. "THERE'S A LOT LESS ROOM IN A MOTHERFUCKER'S REPRODUCTIVE PARTS THAN HIS DIGESTIVE PARTS." Oh fuck, oh shit-


He pushes up into you and it burns already. He's no more than two inches in and its like he's splitting you in half. The terrifying clown just keeps going, though, and you know there's much, much more. You're writhing on him and now he's a foot in, far more than would have fit in your nook. He pauses to watch you as you wriggle on his bulge, panting and sweating, trying so hard to get past the pain. A chuckle rumbles through him and his bulge thrashes inside you, causing you to cry out. It hurts so bad. Everything is on fire, and you're sure you're bleeding, but your pitiful violet is lost along his monstrosity of purple. He start pushing in again.


You can feel his bulge go past where it should, and its definitely in your intestines now. You vomit off the edge of his chair. He keeps going, now making soft pleased noises. A heavy hand starts petting your hair roughly as he takes a couple moments to move you up and down on him. Licking his lips, he regards your shaking body with hooded eyes. You look down at yourself and see a small bump on your abdomen. You would have vomited again if you had anything left in you but him. He starts pulling you down again.


Now he's in your stomach and you're past pain. Everything is numb and all you know is that you're dying. Your chute is destroyed beyond comprehension and your insides are definitely ruptured, as you're begun to drool blood. You cough a few times as the tip of him tickles your esophagus. Your gills take over your breathing, and yet you gasp and choke as he slowly creeps up your throat. You look down again, and regard what you see with a sense of surreality. A perfect outline of your insides is bulging out of your skin, grotesquely displaying his bulge's path inside you. You cough again and violet stains your stomach. You look farther and see that he only has a few more inches to go. A smile spreads across your face, as you see the light at the end of the tunnel. With a grunt, he shoves the rest into you, jerking you up violently and you marvel at the solid four inches of bulge that pokes out of your mouth. With it comes blood, and lots of it. He's really busted you up in there, hasn't he?


You're glad that it's finally over, that it's all in. You can be done now, even if that just means dying. You're glad until he starts moving you again, up and down on him. He pulls in and out slowly at first, but quickly upping the pace. Why aren't you dead yet? He fucks your entire body with increasing force until you're certain that you've died already (again) and are having some sort of horrible death dream inside your lifeless body. He's growling and grunting and you're gagging and sputtering. Your bottom half keeps making horrible squelching noises at the same time as his bulge pops out of your mouth with little spurts of blood, and you're sure this can't be real. There's no way that such a horrible thing could happen to anyone. Your eyes roll back into your head and you can feel your death coming quickly. He fucks your limp, nearly destroyed body mercilessly, with snarls and honks and a pure ravenous insanity unmatched by anyone.


"Listen to you, fish hole." he speaks, but you are hardly aware. "GASPING FOR AIR LIKE ITS WHAT YOU NEED. Well I'll tell you somethin' motherfuckin' miraculous. YOU'RE DROWNING ON AIR AND THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT."


With that, you do drown. You drown in your own blood and his impossible bulge. A death befitting no one.