Excerpt for Lunchbox and The Cape by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Prologue - 3

1 - Family Time - 4

2 - School Beating - 7

3 - Podium’s Reign - 11


4 - Museum Funtime - 16


5 - Telekinetic Trail - 24

6 - Soulshade Standoff - 28



7 - Family Dinner - 36

8 - Fat Kidnap - 40


9 - Tower Rumble - 48

10 - Showdown - 52


“Barry, you privileged blob! Get your fat fucking ass in here!” Mrs Jenkinson yelled at the little fatass of a human being. Eight years old, and already outweighing the average adult, Barry waddled across the floor. Mrs Jenkinson had a penchant for harassing the overweight. Her own let-down of a husband couldn’t get it up at night. He was fat too. And bullying Barry the fat retard was just as good as doing it to her own fatty. “This is a pair of my husband’s undergarments” she said to Barry, presenting a brown soaked piece of cloth. “I want to watch you eat it” she sneered. Barry looked back up at her with contempt. “We talked about this, Barry you little shit, if you disobey me, I’m gonna have to tell your mommy, that you’ve been a naughty little cunt bastard, and that you tried to touch my lady parts. “Dead lady can’t complain” replied Barry quietly. “What?!” snapped the teacher before Barry grabbed her by the ankles and threw her to the ground. “What the fucking kind of dickless cuntshit do you think you’re doing, maggot-face?” she yelled before Barry pulled down his shorts and revealed his tight G-string. “You fucking wouldn’t…” gasped Mrs Jenkinson before Barry sat his fat ass over her face. “You fuc-” The teacher started to suffocate underneath the abundance of rectal-air. Barry felt her cheekbones crack under his ass, and he sat back, enjoying the moment. “Bitch teacher…” he said to himself, satisfied.



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 Cape. 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 Cape.”



“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 Cape 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 Cape” 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.

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