Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread



  • @anotherusername said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    More likely it's not popular enough to be investigated more thoroughly by the people who run those kind of filters.

    Even more likely is that the people who run those kinds of filters are also the kind of people who like reading this site.



  • @scholrlea said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    Schlock Mercenary [...] archive panic

    @yamikuronue said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    That's on my list, but I haven't binged for the same reason >.>

    The tab remains open, beckoning me.
    The page title says 10 May 2005. 😰


  • kills Dumbledore

    @djls45 said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    Even more likely is that the people who run those kinds of filters are also the kind of people who like reading this site.

    My work used to block XKCD, until they changed proxy recently


  • Notification Spam Recipient

    @jaloopa said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    @djls45 said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    Even more likely is that the people who run those kinds of filters are also the kind of people who like reading this site.

    My work used to block XKCD, until they changed proxy recently

    Probably because they employ too many of the things XKCD makes fun of. I'll bet they block Dilbert too.


  • kills Dumbledore

    @pie_flavor quite the opposite. The current day's Dilbert has pride of place on the intranet front page


  • I survived the hour long Uno hand

    @jaloopa Ours too, for some reason


  • Impossible Mission - B

    @yamikuronue said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    @scholrlea said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    Leaving those topics for a bit, I've wanted to get back to Schlock Mercenary for some while now, but it has been about ten years and archive panic sets in every time I try to read it again. OTOH, Howard Taylor's release scheduling has been rock solid for over fifteen years, and he mixes hard science with comedy like no one else.

    That's on my list, but I haven't binged for the same reason >.>

    Doooooo iiiiit...

    (Seriously, though, it's a lot of work to get through, but totally worth it. Also, remember that the longer you put it off, the bigger the task will be...) 😛



  • Wholly carp Tip is even smexier in guy clothes WHATTHEHOWDIDYOUWHARRGARBL.





  • I love high-quality shitposts and today I finally made one of my own:



  • @ben_lubar said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:

    high-quality shitposts

    G = ¬G → ❓

    So, that's a thing I guess. TIL.



  • I know I and others have mentioned Grrl Power before. But I want mention it again.

    piquant
    Jig's up
    Automatic Body Shaming commences
    Fan Service Turnabout is Fair Play
    The honor of her family name is at stake!
    Oh, like you wouldn't if you could...


  • @scholrlea Grrl Power author has mentioned I Roved Out in Search of Truth & Love, which is NSFW — as explicit as it can get — and so off-topic I guess.

    PS: I HATE when comic authors write text like THIS. It makes it SO much harder and irritating to read.





  • Because I was emo before... Wait, that doesn't work, it was never popular.

    But this sort of was:

    It is the colour of a bleached skull, his flesh; and the long hair which flows below his shoulders is milk-white. From the tapering, beautiful head stare two slanting eyes, crimson and moody, and from the loose sleeves of his yellow gown emerge two slender hands, also the colour of bone, resting on each arm of a seat which has been carved from a single, massive ruby.

    Filed Under: Blood and souls for Arioch!



  • Moar Whateley!

    Because mind-rapingly awful couture deserves to be shared. Whether you want it or not.

    Everyone knew something was up when Jericho stood up on the Outcast table. He was dressed like a human being for once, which made everyone but the new freshthings incredibly nervous. He was wearing black slacks, and a button-up shirt, showing off that he still had a bit of weight to lose. He was wearing a stylish fedora over his dreadlocks.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who do not know me, and those who have only heard of me? I am Jericho. I bid you welcome to our home away from home. To those who do know me, We’ve made it through another year. Every face here, whether or not I like you, or you like me I am happy to see you return safe and sound.”

    Jericho nodded to the crowd, and even the Alphas had poked their heads over the rails of the higher-tier tables. “So it is with this feeling of goodwill…” Very few people noticed the sandy-blonde ten-year old’s dawning look of horror, or the other Outcasts groaning. “I must make the formal announcement for the school year of 2007 and 2008.”

    He grabbed his pants and shirt, tearing them away, then threw his hat to the underdogs, revealing a kaleidoscopic nightmare of fashion as he punched both arms to the sky and roared “LET THE GAMES BEGIN!” He promptly began riverdancing.

    The screams of abject horror erupted as the barrettes pulling his dreadlocks into nightmare pigtails that Jericho had acquired from Jade began flashing, setting off the glitter-moire pattern embedded in the TRON-Esque light-tape jumpsuit he wore under a green and black woman’s motorcycle jacket and a pink-on-green plaid kilt that Jericho had (to the horror of his parents) paid to have officially made as his family tartan. Frilly stockings abused the body suit and the boots were platform crocs that raised him four more inches off the table, better for everyone to see him.

    Even Fey, who knew Jericho and thought he was funny, was put off her food as she joined in with the Kimbas and Venus Inc. yelling “Jericho you fucker!” As the blind, black boy cackled madly, setting the mood as the horrified Outcast girls collectively grabbed him and sat on him, literally, as the rest of the school discovered that it was possible for an exemplar to be unable to facepalm hard enough.



  • Whateley-fying intensifies!

    Cluster fuck, dead ahead!

    Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue basked in the seventeen glares locked upon him. If looks could kill, he’d be dead and his soul slow-roasted and served with a side order of Red Wine. The good stuff, not that cheap boxed crap. It made him feel like he had done his job well.

    “And what did we learn today?” he smiled beatifically.

    “That you’re an inhuman bastard?” Jericho posited.

    “Oh please, if you hadn’t figured that out by now you’re a slow learner.” Mindbird snarked.

    “I was in denial.”

    “We learned that you will give three different briefings to three different groups and send them in to collide.” Stormwolf had kept his helmet on, so Gunny couldn’t see his face.

    “Correct. Just because you have intel on a situation doesn’t mean you have good intel. Or any meaningful intel.” Gunny looked at the Outcasts, who had all gone down save for Jericho for one reason or another. “The briefing I gave them was the discovery that their intel was bad, and that they were protecting a bunch of GSD kids.”

    He turned to the Wild Pack. “You all got the briefing that was meant to kill two birds with one stone, deal with the monster-babies, and burn the monsters that the company felt were an image liability.”

    “Wondercute was given a vague idea that the sewers were where a missing friend had been taken by monsters.” Bardue looked at the fuku-clad girls. Wondercute wasn’t nearly as upset at getting torn up badly as they had in their first loss. Their disastrous encounter in the sewers delivered by the berserkers defending the GSD children, then the Wild Pack hunting them, then the MCO was taken in stride incredibly well. “Then the MCO decided they were monster-hunters too.”

    Aquerna, for once, looked remarkably pleased with herself. She’d managed to stick an explosive slap-patch made by Bunny onto Eldritch in their acrobatic Parkour-fight while not getting shot, or caught in the blast.

    Bardue looked at everyone. “It’s a highly improbable, nearly impossible convergence, I’ll admit, but it happened in ‘92 when a cleaner corp with ties to Wulfin the Purifier decided that their GSD monster squad had outlived their usefulness. A small group of mutant children and an MCO Power armor squad got into the mix. The result was a tragedy.”

    “You all, at least, managed to not lose a single child. Not even the one I had roaming just to see if anyone could catch her.”

    “Gee, thanks for this wonderful opener to the Sim year… Dad.” Caitlin said drily, her tone dripping with irritation.

    “You’re welcome! I’m more than happy to show the quality of education you can get here in Crisis Sim Central.”

    “Aren’t you forgetting something, Gunny?” A female voice came from nowhere.

    “Ah yes, my teaching aide today will be critiquing your performances. Mostly because I have important things to do. I want a three-page-per-team-member report on what happened, what you could do better and where things went wrong.” Gunny grinned, put a cigar between his teeth, did a textbook right-face and marched from the sim room.

    A puff of smoke erupted near the podium, and a woman who looked an awful lot like the devil-girl in the simulation appeared. “Now… Who wants to go first?”







  • Whateley Academy. You know you love it.

    So, more excerpts, this time from "To Be Merry and Escape From It All":

    Don't make me angry,

    "[H]ow do you feel about unnecessary violence?”

    He held two men up and then smashed them together violently before tossing them in her direction as well, “Well, I suppose it happens, but then I usual take pains to make sure I find a necessary reason for it.” The Reverend paused and then added, “Then I pray that the Lord forgives my bad habits.”

    Sara stood there for a moment then shook her head, “Well the man you are currently holding, murders children and others, if they are mutants or help mutants.”

    “Can you prove that?”

    “Yes.”

    “In a court of law?” The Reverend paused to look at her intently.

    “Sadly no.” Sara shook her head, “While there is a witness, the child was slightly unhinged by events.”

    “I see,” he shook his head, and struck the man across the face soundly before dropping him, “a true pity, but I suspect he will be in jail for a time, none the less.”

    “I would prefer that he died, painfully,” Sara said as she walked forward to stare down at the semi-conscious man.

    The Reverend appeared to look at her and shook his head, “I suppose you might at that, but sadly I must insist upon the legal recourse.”

    “I could insist,” Sara started to reach down to the helpless man.

    “Yes, Ms. Carson did say you were a bit vehement about this man,” Sara looked up as the Reverend tapped her on the head, “she said to say, ‘if you kill him, do not come back.’”

    Freezing in indignation and anger Sara knelt there for a long moment and then slowly stood up, “He killed Joni’s brother, he has killed countless others, do you want him to get away with that?”

    “No, but then I know he is going to Hell,” there was a soft red glow as the armor faded away, “and there he will suffer.”

    “Sure, what happens if he ‘gets saved,’” she asked skeptically. “Your god has this big thing on forgiving sins.”

    “Yes, I know, I don’t put on this collar every day for looks,” he sighed, “you have to trust the Lord, and understand that everything that happens is a part of his plan.”

    “And in the mean time people like this bastard escape justice?” Sara asked.

    The Reverend sadly shook his head, “Well, like I said, he is going to hell, isn’t that right Satan?”

    “Yes.”

    Sara whipped around to stare at the source of the voice, “You can’t be here.”

    “Come, come Sara, I’m Satan, I can go anywhere,” said the figure as it walked forward, “And my repentant friend is correct, that man is going to Hell.”

    [..]

    Sara smiled as she opened the door out from her Father’s realm out into Eloise’s Library. “Daaaddd, we have got to go now,” she laughed as a tentacle tried to claim the door knob, “I’ll come visit in a few days when things have settled, I promise.”

    “Well, I had to try, it is so rare that I have two beautiful women in my grasp,” the tentacles rejoined the man’s body and vanished, “but family affairs do come first.”

    Joni smiled and nodded politely, “Thanks again Mr. Mogg, for well, the tour, getting me away safely and so on.”

    Sara rolled her eyes and pointed to her Father, “Don’t you believe him, he has no shortage of lady friends.”

    “Oh I can believe that, he is a charmer,” Joni gave him a quick hug and stepped through the open door, “but I really want to see my brother who is now my sister, and my other sister who was my brother.” She stopped and looked at the two of them, “That really sounds odd.”

    “Life generally is odd, the fun bit is they did it with out time travel.” Mr. Mogg paused and somberly added, “Time is full of wibbly wobbly timey wimey bits, and it gets worse from there.”

    Joni rolled her eyes, “So I am discovering, sometimes I get so lost in future-thens that future-now is unreal, even if I am only seeing a bare slice of time ahead of the now.”

    Sara blinked at the two of them and slowly smiled, “I can see that family reunions are going to be interesting, I suspect you two will go deep and philosophical, I plan on taking notes.”

    Her Father chuckled and pointed to the door, “Yes, now if you two will excuse me, I have to see a man about a fitting for a rare stone.”

    “Jewelry Dad?” Sara asked as he seemed distracted.

    “Yes, a rare and unusual mounting, I may show it to you later on.” Mr. Mogg grinned at Joni and then Sara, “Though I may alter time to make its presentation clearer.”

    [...]

    Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
    Philadelphia Metro Police Department

    The Detective had seen quite a few suicides in his many years on the force, though he was pretty sure the man suspended by a hemp rope in the cell had not committed suicide. In mute silence he studied the tree limb as it jutted obscenely from the ceiling. The sole Maple limb was bare of leaves though the dripping clump of snow seemed vastly out of place in the warmth of the room. As was the circular patch of snow covered mud and dirt that was directly under the suspended mans feet.

    “And you say our stiff here is frozen solid?” asked the Detective as he studied the sign that hung from the corpses neck.

    “Yes sir, though I would say it was unlikely that he died of hypothermia,” said the white-coated man.

    The Detective gave the coroner a bland look then looked at the face that was frozen in horror and the mottled blue and black markings around his neck. “I see, not your average strangulation either,” the Detective used a broom handle to tap the frozen fingers that seemed to hold the noose just loose enough as to ensure a gasp or two of air could occur. “It is like who ever did this to him wanted him to hang around on the edge of death for a time.”

    The Coroner nodded and pointed from the stepladder to the hanging body, “I noticed something when I tried to cut him down.”

    “Oh?”

    “Yes, the date on his watch, it says that it is November Thirtieth,” the Coroner shook his head in consternation, “the Thirtieth is a week from now.”

    The Detective watched as the snow melted and dripped to the floor for a bit, then he reread the brief letter that had been pinned to the corpse. “Justice, served cold. Please excuse the mess. Respectfully, a loving Father.” Shaking his head he looked at the body and noted the list of murders and locations of bodies that was held in place by an ornate dagger in the corpses’ chest. Pointing to the list he said, “A revenge killing, I suppose we will be taking a trip out to the countryside?”

    “Yes, a bit out of our jurisdiction though, care to bet the Feds will be all over this?” asked the Coroner as he made room for the men who carried in a chainsaw and scaffolding.

    With a shiver the Detective looked back at the Coroner, “I think I won’t mind that much…”

    The Coroner nodded somberly, “I suppose the cause of death will be edited slightly in my reports, after all the general public would be more likely to accept a mundane cause of death as opposed to this.”

    The Detective nodded, “It looks like something scared the shit out of the man as he died.”

    “Looks that way, but I think I don’t want to discover what it was personally,” the Coroner pointed to the large red gem that was wedged forcefully past broken teeth, “nor do I want to guess what that was for.”

    “It holds his soul,” said a frightened female voice.

    Turning the Detective studied the pale woman who was holding a cup of coffee in trembling hands, “Oh?”

    “Yes,” she squinted at the body then looked away quickly, “I can see him reliving his deaths, over and over again, with in it.”

    “Deaths, plural?” asked the Detective uncertainly.

    She turned away as an evident shudder coursed through her, “Yes, evidently someone or something wanted him to die, repeatedly. He dies many, many times in some fairly gruesome manners. But he does not truly die, he only suffers through them over and over again.”

    “So do we try and do anything about it?” he asked the woman.

    “Oh hell no, I am not going to risk pissing off what ever did that to him,” she didn’t turn around as she walked slowly away, “I may be crazy at times, but I am not nuts.”

    The Detective nodded slowly then nodded as the crew prepared to cut the tree limb that stuck out of the ceiling, “Yeah, I suppose that could be unhealthy.”

    The Coroner gave him a wild look as the woman hurried away, “You think?”

    You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

    Dimly I registered someone shouting, “I’ll show you she is not a male!” A moment later a pair of hands rudely jerked my sweat pants roughly down, taking my under shorts with them.

    The sudden cool chill on my private parts declared my semi-nudity, much like a plane crash announces some folks will not be ‘on time.’ Utterly mortified and frozen in shock, my eyes tracked from my plate to my sweatpants, and over to the asshole who had just de-pants me.

    Slowly I placed my plate on the ground and pivoted slowly in the sudden hush, I pointed a finger at him and asked incredulously, “What the fuck is your problem?”

    “But, but you were a girl!” he protested loudly as he looked at my crotch.

    “You dumb fuck, I am a hermaphrodite, I have both fucking parts!” I gave the silent crowd a glare, “Does anyone else need to see my dick or my ass?” I asked with a loud groan of annoyance.

    He looked at me oddly, “But you can’t be a male.”

    I tried to cover my bits with my one real hand and glared at him, “Oh really, how the fuck would you know?”

    There was a cough off to my left and I looked over to see Nathan and the woman he was holding looking at me, as he instructed me, “Use both hands,” while motioning downwards,

    I blanched and a quick glance around showed that various women in the crowd were flushed red and no few guys seemed amazed. Quickly I pulled up my sweats and scowled at the guy who had exposed me, “Well?”

    “You are not a guy,” he seemed to be telling himself as he scowled back at me.

    “Just what the fuck is your problem?” I asked poking him in the chest solidly.

    “I am Sara’s mate,” he finally said in a guttural tone.

    Today’s earlier conversation with Mrs. Donner snapped into sudden focus. As did my temper as he hit me in the face. I blinked and touched the side of my face, it stung somewhat but then again, I had been hit harder by a Senator.

    A heat filled my mind as I announced in a nasty tone, “Oh you must be that boy Carl, the one who can’t keep his dick in his pants, not that it is much of dick.” I pointed down to the crotch of his pants and said with a sneer, “You don’t even have a real bulge.”

    There was some rough laughter to my pronouncement, and Carl stood there blinking in consternation, his face flushing red. “I’m man enough,” he said as he took a step towards me.

    I danced away from my plate as I planned on eating the food on it later, “Oh I don’t think so, otherwise Sara would be in your bed and not mine. But then, she did say you were likely trainable, like a puppy.”

    “I am her mate,” he doggedly insisted as he swung at me.

    I whipped my prosthetic arm up in a hard outward circle blocking the punch, and then I slammed a three-point field goal though his uprights. “No, what you are is stupid,” I said as he stood there with a stunned expression on his face. “What you are is pain,” I added just as I snapped a second harder kick into his groin.

    Somehow he managed to stay upright and in return he clumsily hit me in the jaw, of which only seemed to piss me off even more. As the world seemed to dim down to just his stunned but angry face, the sound of blood filled my ears. Then as my throat tensed in what felt like a growl I added, “What you are is fucked.”

    “Boy is he ever,” said a voice, I was not sure it if was Eli’s or Petra’s, but then my world was fire and pain, and it consumed me.

    [...]

    Joni waited a moment and looked at Sara, “Your Dad is nice, odd, but nice.”

    Shrugging Sara smiled and took her by the hand, “I know, come on we have to track down your sisters.”

    Joni froze briefly and then frowned, “Ah, you may want to check on Paige first, they are about to tell you things went screwy, when we get to the kitchen that is.” She paused and pointed the way, “It wasn’t Eloise’s fault…”

    Sara’s expression turned mask-like, “Now what?”

    Not quite leading Sara by the hand, Joni rolled her eyes, “Mrs. Porter, politics, before lunch on Thanksgiving, how rude.”

    Sara studied the girl as her gaze was distant and seemingly unfocused, yet she glided around obstacles unerringly, “Earth to Joni, please return to the now if you will,” then she tugged on her sleeve lightly.

    “Yes, I am hungry,” Joni said and then all but tripped over a stack of books. “Crap! I hate that.”

    Sara steadied her and then looked slightly apologetic, “I didn’t mean for you to trip.”

    “It's not your fault, I got wrapped up in the conversation,” Joni looked disgustedly at the stack of books at her feet, “I could have sworn I stepped around those.”

    Sara lead her up the ramp to the kitchen, “How far along can you see?”

    “Thirty seconds to a minute, sometimes longer if I am really unlucky,” Joni paused and appeared to count in her head, “and here we go.”

    Sara stepped into the kitchen to see Ben stop and look at her worriedly, “It’s not Eloise’s fault,” he said with a sigh.

    Turning to look over her shoulder to see Joni grinning, Sara deliberately shook her head, “Now what?”

    “Wait for it,” Joni said with a smile as she pointed at the two ladies.

    Paige kicked his ass but good,” said the twins as they rambled on in unison, “Carl so needed it though.”

    Sara turned and looked at Joni, “I thought you said it was politics?”

    Joni paused and turned to address an older lady as she came into the kitchen, “Mrs. Porter, politics, before lunch on Thanksgiving, how rude.”

    Blinking the older woman looked at Joni warily, “Have we been introduced?”

    Joni stopped and then walked over to a wall and thumped her head on it gently, “Damn, skipping steps again.” Looking back to the older woman she added, “You were about to apologize for putting my sister through a dominance fight unintentionally.”

    Sara watched as Eloise gave Joni a shocked look from behind the older lady, “Oh boy.”

    “It must run in the family,” Mrs. Porter said as she took a critical look at Joni, “all of them are brassy as all get out. Is she a telepath?”

    “A Serial Linear Precog is the classification I think that might describe her,” Sara said as she frowned at the older woman, “and just what the hell did you do to spark a dominance fight between my mates?”

    “Carl got it in his head that Paige was not a male, and since he thought he was the only male, that would have made him the Alpha Male.” Mrs. Donner supplied as she walked in and around the other two woman, “We tried to correct him about her genders, but he decided to show everyone that she was not male.”

    “Carl de-pants her,” said the twins with wide eyes, “in front of everyone. You know she isn’t exactly small down there, and well… She then kicked his ass.”

    Joni laughed wickedly, “Just because my br-sister seems harmless doesn’t mean she is.”

    “No kidding,” said a man in jeans and a denim shirt as he trailed in, he then looked over at Joni, “I’m Dahveed, that is Mrs. Donner, Ben, the twins and Eloise, and you would be?”

    “Joni Wilson, sister of Paige and Petra, who used to be Chad…” Joni drolly looked over to the woman he introduced as Mrs. Donner, “Yes I am hungry.”

    Blinking uncertainly Mrs. Donner looked at Joni then a stove with many pans on it, “I was just about to offer.”

    “Are you sure it isn’t telepathy,” asked the old woman.

    “Yes, and the beans are cold,” Joni helpfully supplied then she froze and thumped her head with her hand, “sorry.”

    Mrs. Donner walked the few steps to the stove and glanced at the pots suspiciously, “That can be remedied.”

    Eloise watched as Sara seemed to flicker between emotions, “By the way, there are several ladies inquiring as to when Paige comes of age. What should I tell them?”

    “Wait,” Sara took a breath and slowly let it out in a long exasperated sounding sigh, “let us try this from the beginning, without skipping steps,” she gave Joni a direct look, “some of us are not on the same sheet of music.”

    “I knew you were going to say that.” Joni smiled and walked past the adults and out into the living room, “Ok I’ll unplug the computer, thanks.”

    [...]

    Sara watched the semi-feline girl sleep for a time, noting the twitches and semi feral expression on her face. Noting the rapid eye movements she eased into bed beside her carefully, ‘Definitely in dream mode, but not having peaceful dreams.’ Occasionally a tremor would shiver down her arms or legs as muscles grew under some unseen prompting. Placing her hand at Paige’s neck, Sara eases into her mind where she could watch what it was that was causing the change.

    Sara recognized Carl and Paige standing just in front of the large meeting hall. Paige wore a look of absolute shock and mortification, as she was effectively nude from the waist down. Mai stood just off to the side a white chart or check list next to her, “Now class, please pay attention to the demonstration of proper ass whipping techniques.”

    Walking over to Mai Sara noticed that the crowd was tidily arranged in a semi-circle and sitting at kindergarten sized desks. “Mai, what is going on?”

    “Hello Sara, welcome to ass whupping one oh one,” Mai pointed over to where Carl and Paige where standing, “where our primary demonstrator Paige will commence a proper beat down on the asshole of the moment, Carl.”

    “I see, you do realize this is a dream?” Sara asked as she smiled and gave the AI a hug.

    “Yes, but it so educational, see?” Mai pointed to the rapt audience, then she paused and blew a whistle, “Quit looking at her dick and ass! You are going to be graded on this, so take notes!”

    Watching as the crowd blushed Sara blinked as they picked up pens and paper, “Much better, now class, it is not customary or needful to insult or tell your opponent just what a fuck up he is at the start of a beat down, you can do it afterwards, or before and afterwards. Stylistically both will garner you points.”

    “I see,” murmured Sara, “is that how it started?”

    “Yes,” said Mai as she pushed a green button marked ‘start’.

    Paige turned to one side and looked up at Carl, “Oh you must be that boy Carl, the one who can’t keep his dick in his pants, not that it is much of dick.” She pointed down at the crotch of his pants and said with a sneer, “You don’t even have a real bulge.”

    There was a click as Mai pushed a red button marked stop and then she walked over to Carl with a ruler, “Do note the disparity of equipment between Carl and Paige,” she paused and held the ruler up to Carl’s covered crotch, “note the smaller size.” Mai walked over to the black board that suddenly appeared, and wrote as she said, “Many men are insecure about the size of their equipment, insulting them about it will make them angry. An angry opponent does not fight at their best.”

    Sara gave the wayward AI an odd look, “I think Paige is ready to move on to the next part.”

    Mai nodded and pressed the button, “Yes, you are likely correct, you may have a gold star,” she then reached over and placed one Sara’s hand.

    The crowd erupted in jeers and laughter as Carl’s face flushed. He seemed to, grow even more enraged at his humiliation. Taking a step in Paige’s direction he stated coldly, “I am man enough.”

    There was a click and Sara gave Mai a sour look as she said, “Not a good come back line, minus ten points.” There was a ‘ding’ and a scoreboard lit up marking the minus ten points. A moment later Mai pushed the button to resume events.

    Paige moved hurriedly away from a plate of food that was sitting on the ground, and replied to Carl, “Oh I don’t think so, otherwise Sara would be in your bed and not mine. But then, she did say you were likely trainable, like a puppy.”

    There was a ding and Sara looked over to see a score for Paige appear, it read twenty points. Looking over at Mai she asked, “Is that really necessary?”

    Mai nodded and quickly said, “Yes.”

    “I am her mate,” Carl said stubbornly as he swung at Paige.

    Paige blocked the punch fiercely with her prosthetic arm and then slammed a savage kick into his groin. “No, what you are is stupid.”

    There was another loud ding, of which Sara ignored as she winced, “That had to hurt.”

    There was a pause as Paige looked over to Sara briefly, “It was supposed to hurt.” Turning her attention back to Carl she told him distinctly, “What you are is pain,” before she snapped a second harder kick into his groin.

    Sara winced again, but she nodded, “I see.”

    Paige nodded and called over her shoulder, “I should have got points for that.”

    There was a belated ding as Mai hastily yelled, “Sorry!”

    Shaking her head, Sara watched as Carl gave Paige a sloppy punch in return for her two kicks. She could see the anger in Paige’s shoulders and she could hear it in her voice as she informed Carl in a tone that was absolutely certain, “What you are is fucked.”

    There was a pause as everything stilled for a moment, and Sara looked over to see Mai briefly gargling, then Mai recited as she looked up from a stack of papers, “Boy is he ever.”

    “My points?” protested Paige as she looked over her shoulder, “I definitely deserve points for that, don’t you agree?” she asked Sara.

    “Oh yes, assuredly,” Sara said as an affronted Mai rang the bell.

    “There, ten points, happy?” Mai asked as she grinned.

    “Yes, thank you.”

    “I must note this is the point where we think the Blood Rage took over, as Paige didn’t remember more of the fight,” Mai scowled and added, “most inefficient.”

    “So is this a guess? A made up bit?” asked Sara.

    “Oh no, this is all real, her subconscious can access the data, the goal of this dream if you will is to allow her to recall it.” Mai seemed to shrug, “She forgets too many of such events.”

    “Ah, I see.” Sara studied the frozen scene noting the heated looks of anticipation; “I’ve seen less passion at a soccer game.”

    “Yes, the audience does seem captured by the event,” Mai noted with another shrug, “it must be a cultural thing.”

    “Can we continue?” asked Paige as she seemed semi frozen in an odd stance, “I think I am getting a cramp.”

    “Oh, sorry!” Mai quickly slapped the button to resume events.”

    Paige’s leg snapped forwards and into the inside of Carl’s knee, as the bell rang again, Sara could hear the ligaments and tendons giving way. Somehow Carl remained standing on one foot as he bellowed in anger and pain, his face frozen in the rigors of anger.

    “You cunt!” Carl gingerly placed his foot on the ground and he swung at Paige who simple eased back a step, “Stand still!”

    There was a buzzer and Sara looked back to Carl’s score, of which dropped ten points more. “Audience reaction was not favorable,” Mai noted chidingly.

    Sara watched as Paige moved around Carl, forcing him to turn on his bad leg. Then with quick stuttering side step Paige slammed a second kick to his injured knee, stepping back as Carl fell to the ground.

    Paige circled around the boy as he moved into a semi-crouch, then she hopped forward and seemed to try and punt Carl’s head. “That hurt,” added Mai as Paige hopped backwards on one foot, “really hurt.”

    Carl grunted and stood up carefully as Paige wiggled her foot briefly, “You fucking whore, I am going to pound you flat.”

    The scene froze for a moment, “In retrospect, kicking Carl’s head was a bad move, minus five points.”

    “Did she mention that it hurt?” asked Paige.

    “Yes, she did,” said Sara as she rolled her eyes.

    “Ok, just checking.”

    Time moved forwards again and Paige blocked a series of inept punches, then as Carl grabbed her arm, time stopped. “Ah, the critical junction of the fight approaches,” said Mai smugly.

    “Oh?” asked Sara uncertainly as time resumed and Carl jerked the prosthetic arm up and outward from Paige’s side. There was an odd ripping sound and Sara watched as Carl’s face moved from elation to surprise as he found himself holding a prosthetic arm.

    “Evidently he was going for bloodshed and got something else,” Mai walked over into the fight and pointed at the arm, and then drew Sara’s attention to where he was not looking. “Critical lapse of awareness.”

    “Oh my she didn’t?” Sara asked as time slowed down and she watched Paige plant her legs in a classic judo stance, then Paige used her one arm to send Carl flying backwards over her leg. “I see, yes she did.”

    The dust around Carl seemed to hang heavy in the air as Paige spun out of the way and left him gasping for breath on the ground. Shaking her head in what could only be a mocking smile, Paige bent down and picked up her arm by the wrist and swung it experimentally like a baseball bat.

    “Oh shit,” said a female voice from the audience.

    Paige turned and tapped the arm against her leg, and then coldly and deliberately she appeared to stalk Carl as he stood up. As Carl seemed to regain balance Paige slammed the arm fully into his chest.”

    “A blow to the sternum can cause arrhythmia in the heart and weaken your opponent,” recited Mai in a factual tone of voice.

    Carl raised his arm up trying to ward of a blow, yet rather than aim for the head Paige seemed to aim for his elbow and stuck it full on.

    “Joints are easily breakable, the elbow has a nerve cluster that is easy to injure and it will produce waves of pain,” Mai said as Sara gave her a worried look, “well it was what we were taught.”

    As Carl clutched at his injured elbow, Paige spun slightly and landed a deliberate blow to the side of his head near the temple. As the blood started to fall from the scalp wound Paige’s face took on a hungry cast to it.

    “Blood seems to excite her and them,” said Mai as the scene stilled, she pointed to the faces in the crowd, “like sharks.”

    “They are predators,” Sara said as she licked her own lips.

    “Yes, though they seemed disinclined to stop the fight,” Mai noted as everyone seemed to stand still.

    “Yes, I see, though they did say this was a dominance fight,” Sara noted the frown of concern on Martha’s face, yet Carl’s mother seemed reluctant to do anything either.

    Time resumed as Paige dropped lower to the ground and rained blows on Carl’s knees, “Always, always, always go for the injured limbs, and force your opponent to try and shield them, to focus on his or her pain.”

    “Was that a course on brutality?” Sara asked as Paige slammed the arm repeatedly on the good knee as well.

    “No, it was a course on how to specifically fight a regenerating mutant,” Mai paused the fight and pointed to a chart, “all the points Paige has attacked are the ones that will break or shatter with minimal effort. Her next move is a key one as well.”

    Sara turned back to see Paige kicking the lower legs so that they were ninety degrees perpendicular to the knees. “It has been proven that Regen Fives or higher can recover from simple shatters or ligament damage and be able to fight in short order. You must ensure that the limbs are disjointed.” Paige then stepped between the shattered legs and stomped and kicked Carl in the groin region, with evident enthusiasm.

    “And that?” Sara asked incredulously.

    “Ah, well the male groin is sensitive there, also they taught us that if you crush the testicles there is a good chance that non-regenerators will never breed again.” Mai seemed to shrug, “Personally I think she was just angry with him.”

    Paige with a hop, dropped with both of her knees onto the groin region, then she stood up and did it again onto Carl’s abdomen and chest. “Break the pelvic girdle and they cannot stand, a blow to the abdomen will knock their air out and can rupture the diaphragm possibly causing hernias and liver damage if done correctly. Broken ribs are of course a favorable outcome.”

    Sara watched as Paige slammed the prosthetic at an odd angle at both sides of his neck, “What was that for?”

    “She was breaking his collar bones, the clavicle is easily broken, and most people lose arm functionality without them,” Mai calmly announced.

    Sara winced as Paige took one last swing at Carl’s face with her prosthetic, leaving the jaw obviously broken. Standing up she walked away from the broken boy and seemed to growl angrily at the crowd. For a time Paige seemed to waver between walking back to where Carl lay and going after someone in the crowd, that was when she jerked around in surprise. Slightly amazed Sara saw her jerk dart out and throw it at someone in the crowd.

    “I will rip the balls off of any fucker who tries this dominance shit ever again,” Paige announced in a clear but guttural voice as she walked back to Carl, “starting with this piece of shit.”

    “Sadly she failed to accomplish that,” said Mai as the scene dimmed to black, “I do not see what you would find in Carl to be worthy as a reproductive partner.”

    Sara watched as Mai and her seemed to take up residence in a room similar to the cell in ARC. “I am sure I will think of something,” Sara finally said after a minute of thought, “Paige beat him, utterly beat him, before they darted her.”

    Mai snorted in evident derision, “I think they only darted her because she wanted to go after the audience next, and looked like she was about to do it too.”

    Reluctantly Sara nodded, “Evidently she doesn’t forget how to fight when she goes into the Blood Rage, which is slightly comforting to know.”

    “I don’t think she likes that side of herself,” Mai said as she lay back on the bunk, “even if she is capable of displacing her emotions and killing as needed.”

    “That has its own share of problems, she also seems to displace her memories of killing as well.” Sighing Sara looked at Mai, “In any case I need her to wake up now.”

    Mai smiled lazily, “Yes, and I am sure she wants to see you in the flesh as it were.”

    Sara gave Mai a fervent kiss and then nodded, “Yes I expect so.”

    Don't worry, they both deserved it. Also, Carl regenerates. The silver would have been a problem, though.



  • This one isn't actually a guilty pleasure. In fact, these scenes are deeply fucked up. But I mentioned something in one of them in passing not that long ago, and I waffled for a while on whether to give more context to it or not. Also, this part goes a long way toward explaining just why Phase has some of the psychological problems he has.

    Just to be clear: this is not even remotely safe for work, nor are what Dr. Hammond or the Goodkind family do in them in any way acceptable. Torturing kids is fucking evil, and so is handing a child - especially your own child - to a fucking psychopath for the purposes of destructive testing. I won't blame anyone who doesn't want to read this, but... well, the fact that it is horrible is sort of the point.

    "For your own good"

    I heard noises in the hall, and I was feeling ‘normal’ again, so I slowly climbed out of the tub and stepped toward the bedroom. I didn’t realize that I was soon going to be whisked away from everything I thought of as my normal life.

    I could see by the clock on the mantle that I had missed lunch. That didn’t bother me. Eating was the last thing I felt like doing. I was wincing at just the thought of what I might accidentally do to the silverware, or the Jacobean dining room furniture. Or the doors, or the stairs, or just about anything in the house.

    I stepped carefully into my bedroom, trying to figure out if I was really at a ‘normal’ level of whatever I was. I didn’t feel too heavy. I didn’t feel too light. My steps sounded like they had a normal weight behind them. My chest did feel itchy and kind of prickly, and my hips felt sort of sore. I was really hoping that didn’t mean my increased weight was going to break my bones.. from the inside. That would be supremely nasty.

    The door swung open, and my Father walked in.

    I pleaded, “Father! Please, you have to help me. You have to get me out of here, away from everybody!”

    But Father hadn’t come home alone. He was followed into my room by two armed guards in body armor and Dr. Hammond in a white lab coat. The guards pointed their weapons at me, while the doctor edged away from me off to my right. I was really scared by then. One weapon was some sort of massive machine gun with a bore that looked like it would fire bullets bigger than Father’s thumb. The other weapon was some sort of energy weapon that could probably fry me and most of the room.

    Father stepped to my left and insisted, “Trevor. Pay attention to me.”

    I looked at him and started to ask what he had planned. But his plan became fairly obvious.

    “Ow!” I squealed, as something jabbed me hard in my butt. I looked down and saw that there was a tranquilizer dart sticking out of my posterior. “Jesus!” I made myself pull that thing out of my rear, even as I looked around.

    Dr. Hammond was holding the dart gun that had obviously launched that dart. The guards had raised their weapons and were pointing them at me in case I did something mutant-ish. Father was staring at me like I was something horrible and dangerous. Something totally unrelated to him.

    I sank to my knees. “Please, you don’t have to do this, I would have done whatever you asked, I… I need help!”

    One of the guards snapped, “Just stay put. Don’t move. Drop the dart, and just stay there.”

    I took several deep breaths, and tried not to move. I tried not to believe what was happening. What were they going to do to me?

    I closed my eyes, and…

    For ScienceSadism!

    I was waking up. At least, it felt like I was waking up. I opened my eyes, praying that it had all been some horrid nightmare…

    I was strapped down on a metal lab table under harsh fluorescent lights. I was in a laboratory. I was in one of the Goodkind Research facilities.

    I tried to sit up, and I received a horrible shock in my neck. It nearly knocked me out again. God, that really hurt! My whole body convulsed, and I think I just about swallowed my tongue.

    As I gathered my senses afterward, I slowly realized that a massive collar was surrounding my neck and holding me against the table underneath me. Security devices were wrapped around my wrists and biceps, pinning my arms down. Heavy metal straps ran across my chest and waist, securing my body to the table. More security devices at my knees and ankles held my legs in place. Something that felt like a helmet was on the top of my head, and I could feel dozens of hard points pressing against my scalp.

    “Hello? Help? Somebody?” I tried again, “Anybody?”

    Dr. Hammond suddenly loomed over me. He checked his watch and said, “Ahh, interesting. You’re not immune to chemicals, but you weren’t unconscious as long as a baseline human of your weight would be.”

    “Please Dr. Hammond, you have to help me! Don’t let me be a mutant! I know you’ve been working on drugs to slow mutations. Can you give me something and make me be normal again?” He just ignored me. “Please?”

    He just looked over at someone I couldn’t see and said, “Note the time of recovery please, Royce. Do we have enough samples yet?”

    The person I couldn’t see, who I was guessing was named Royce, said, “We have the blood samples and the skin scrapings, but not the.. let’s see… We still need samples of urine, semen, and bone marrow.”

    Hammond nodded, “Excellent. That will also give us a measure of regeneration rate.”

    I choked, “W-wait a minute, bone marrow? Won’t that hurt?”

    He smiled evilly, “Why yes, I expect that it would, if you were a baseline…”

    Then the unseen voice came over. It was a nerdy guy in a labcoat, maybe in his mid-thirties. He had a needle that had to be ten inches long. I thought I’d faint.

    Hammond said, “Let’s try the thigh bone, fairly high up. That should be extremely painful for a baseline.”

    “Oh no! Oh please, for God’s sake, please d..AAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!!”

    You hear that the human body will quit on you when you’re in too much pain, and you’ll just faint. I’ve got bad news for you. That’s a big fat lie.

    I think I screamed until I writhed so much that the shock collar went off. I think that finally knocked me out.

    *flinch*

    I came to again. My leg really hurt. Hammond and his lab assistant were standing there with watches.

    The assistant said, “I do believe you were correct, sir. The bleeding’s already stopped.”

    Hammond said, “We’ll keep track of the healing rate. So far, it doesn’t seem particularly impressive.”

    “Yes sir. Are you ready for the other samples?”

    Hammond nodded, and pulled on a pair of heavy rubber gloves.

    Oh no, the other samples! That was a urine sample and a sperm sample, and that meant that he’d have to…

    “OOOWWWWW!!” I screeched in terrified pain as he grabbed my penis and rammed some kind of catheter down it! “For God’s sake stop! Oh please st.. OOWWWW! AAAGGHH!”

    It felt like he was ripping the inside of my penis apart. He didn’t stop shoving that tube into me until there was a small burst of urine into the tube. He handed the sample off and moved onto the next step. He picked up a metal pole that was about an inch thick and a foot long, with a big rubber handle at one end.

    He casually explained, “This technique was actually developed for getting sperm samples from dangerous mammals. Elephants, lions, hippos… It works quite well on gene scum like yourself.”

    “Wh-what do you.. AAAGGHH!”

    I screamed at the pain. He just rammed that metal rod right up my ass! And as I sobbed at the searing pain, he shifted his grip to the rubber handle and…

    “AAAAAAAGGHHH!!!” The electrical shock was so brutal that I just convulsed helplessly. The pain was overwhelming. As I writhed, the neck collar shocked me some more. And some more. Finally, my body had all the current it could take, and my brain went offline…

    Guests

    Some time later - I really have no idea how long it was - I heard Hammond talk some more. “Royce, I believe that is our esteemed visitors. Please usher them in promptly, and be as courteous as possible.”

    Royce asked, “Is that who I think it is?”

    “Yes indeed. It is our benefactors, coming to check on our little bit of gene filth.”

    I waited helplessly for a while, until I heard more voices.

    “Mister and Mrs. Goodkind! What an unexpected pleasure! And Mister Goodkind.”

    “Just Paul please, Emil. Mister Goodkind is still my father.” It was Paul! Paul was here! He’d get me out of this hellhole!

    Father boomed, “That’s my boy. Modest to the end… So, Emil…”

    Mother sounded terrified as she interrupted, “I-is that thing in there really Trevor?”

    Hammond calmly said, “Definitely. We have the DNA scans you had performed when Trevor was in utero, and matching DNA scans from the internists who looked at Trevor’s growth deficiency. I’ve examined the DNA scans from all of those. That gave me his DNA at ages six, nine, and twelve also. As recently as age twelve, only two years ago, his DNA was normal. Baseline. No portion of the meta-gene complexes we have isolated from mutants.”

    Father pushed, “So how could that.. that monster be Trevor?”

    “Just look at these PCR outputs from our mutant in there. See these massive strings of matches? This is definitely Trevor’s DNA, but with a meta-gene complex spliced in, after the fact. Somehow, at some point in the last two years, he was infected with something, perhaps a retrovirus, and that unknown something has altered all of his DNA. This may be the very evidence of the ‘ribonucleic heterotrophy infectious agent’ that I have been searching for.”

    No salvation

    As I lay there shivering and aching, it dawned on me that I needed to do something. I whimpered, “Momma? I feel bad. I need help. Please momma?”

    Mother gasped, “Oh my God, it’s conscious! Is it dangerous to us?”

    “Momma, please, they keep hurting me, and I just wanna be me again, why can’t I be normal again? Please momma, please?”

    Hammond calmed her down, “There’s nothing to worry about, Helen. It’s not contagious, and it can’t get out. And it’s functionally incapacitated right now anyway. The MCES-45 doesn’t seem to be having any effect on the mutation, other than making the mutant feel quite sick.”

    Father asked, “Then could this be used as an anti-mutant control chemical?”

    Hammond replied, “I am afraid not. It has to be injected. It will affect baselines much worse than it affects mutants. It is unlikely to affect all types of mutants. And our monitoring results suggest that once the mutation has run its course, the MCES-45 will have little if any effect.”

    Father thought out loud, “So it might be useful as a control system for new mutant children who are manifesting in dangerous ways around normals. Perhaps using a syringe dart in an air-powered rifle as a delivery system.”

    Hammond sounded impressed. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll contact the MCO and see if they’re interested in purchasing MCES-45 for some field trials. They do have to deal with this kind of problem on a regular basis.”

    “Paul! Father! Mother! Please, somebody help me! Please!”

    Mother whimpered, “Emil, would you turn off that speaker? I can’t bear hearing that thing a second longer!”

    “Mother? Father? Paul? Somebody? DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!!!”



  • I need to get the taste of that last one out of my mouth. A few of Phase's 'thoughtful gifts' should do the trick.

    TL;DGAF

    The setup for this is in "Ayla and the Mad Scientist", part 17 and part 18.

    Phase had hired Jobe Wilkins, the sociopathic royal brat with a genius for biotechnology, to develop a treatment that would undo his interesexed transformation. Belphegor overheard Jobe talking about it, and concluded that she was talking about restoring her own male form; convinced that boy-Jobe would abuse his supposed familial relationship with Belphoebe, Belphegor snuck into Jobe's lab and sabotaged the formula.

    The result was that instead of disappearing, Ayla's breasts had grown to absurd proportions.

    Ayla stormed over there to get an explanation for this seeming betrayal; when Jobe was a surprised as Phase was, she did some tests and had Phase leave while she worked on the puzzle.

    While Phase and Chaka went back to their dorm, they walked past Imperious and Majestic. June, who still held a grudge with Ayla for showing her up in a literature class (no, seriously), decided that causing their shirts to disintegrate would be a laugh riot. As it happens, only Toni's coat got trashed, but it was clear that Phase was the main target.

    While the two changelings were confronting the Queen of Olympus, none other than your friendly neighborhood pervert, Peeper, showed up. Peeper was so enraptured with Phase's gargantuan cleavage that he tried to grope one of them in public, leading to him getting a nasty surprise: Phase, anticipating his attempted assault, went partially de-solid, which causes tremendous pain to anyone touching him. This led to a further delay in getting the boobage issue resolved as they all ended up in Headmistress Carson's office.

    TL;DR: Both Majestic and Peeper seriously piss off Phase, who decides that they each deserve a lesson in manners. John gets the carrot; June gets the stick.

    Decisions, decisions...

    Peeper stared at the thing on his desk. He was afraid to touch it, given everything that had happened to him lately. It was probably a trap. An evil, unfair trap that he didn’t deserve. “Greasy! Check that out. Pronto!”

    Greasy stepped over and looked at a square of paper on the front of it. “Umm, Peep, it’s a present. For you. From Phase, I guess, even if it doesn’t say. It says ‘you have seen the stick; this is the carrot’.”

    Greasy picked the thing up. It looked like a tablet computer, if you had a screen that was over a quarter-inch thick plastered across the top side of it. He gingerly flicked the on switch, and it powered up. “Hey! It’s a WiFi-enabled net tablet. And it’s already synched to the school intranet.”

    Peeper groaned, “What good does that do me? I can’t see computer screens anymore. My power. It’s a blessing… but it’s also A CURSE!” He looked up at the ceiling and yelled, “CURSE YOU, EYEBALLS!” He sighed, “What’s it supposed to do that it’s a carrot?” He looked over at the stupid tablet, and choked.

    He could see the screen.

    HE COULD SEE THE IMAGES ON THE SCREEN!

    For the first time in almost a year, he could see a computer screen! He yanked it out of Greasy’s hands and repeatedly kissed the thick screen. “Oh, you wonderful, wonderful carrot!”

    He looked at Greasy and gasped, “I can surf the Internet again! I can watch porn again! IT’S A MIRACLE!

    The screen flickered, and words suddenly appeared. If you harass campus girls again, this will stop working. You have been warned.

    “No… I…” He clung desperately to the tablet. He could watch porn. Or check out hotties. Porn. Hotties. Porn. Hotties. He couldn’t decide! It was torture!

    He turned to Greasy and choked, “I’M IN HELL!”

    Sick Burn

    Majestic was surprised that there was mail in her mailbox. On a Sunday.

    All right, she shouldn’t have been surprised, after this morning. An email had arrived from outside the Whateley firewalls, supposedly sent from a library computer at Oxford. It had been a copy of a journal article.

    It was a journal article by two classicists, an ethnographer, and a religious historian, published in a reputable journal. And it was a discourse on reasons why the ancient Greek and Roman polytheistic religions were inherently flawed.

    She had lost her temper and inadvertently destroyed her laptop, as well as her desk and her window. She had been able to repair the window and wall and desk, but not the laptop. Unfortunately, destroying a school laptop was a Whateley offense. Some house mothers had no idea to whom they were giving punishments. And she was going to have to see Carson again, which she really did not look forward to.

    Even more annoying, whoever sent the email to her was competent. She had ordered Knick-Knack to trace it, and he couldn’t find any evidence that it really hadn’t come from the Philosophy and Theology Faculties Library, which was one of the Bodleian Libraries at Oxford. But there was no one at the whole of Oxford with a username of “D’you Know”. And it didn’t take a genius to realize that ‘d’you know’ sounded remarkably like ‘Juno’. Given that it was not widespread knowledge that she truly was Hera, she had to suspect that this was a twisted little bit of vengeance from Phase.

    Majestic very carefully checked her mailbox and the letter for curses, jinxes, geases, and a dozen other types of magical threats. Then she checked for biological threats, since Phase was involved in some way with Jobe these days. She made one of the freshman girls open it, just in case.

    The girl opened the letter, unfolded the single sheet of paper, and beamed, “Ooh, it’s a prezzie!”

    She snatched the paper out of the girl’s hand. It was an announcement that she was going to be receiving, once a month, a personalized collection of episodes of the television show Hercules.

    Namely, all the episodes with Hera as the villain.

    By the time she stopped screaming in raw fury, the entire mailbox area had been reduced to molten metal.


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