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 (WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+)

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City Slicker

Female Number of posts : 72
Location : Roof! Oh, roof!
Registration date : 2008-07-10

(WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+) Empty
PostSubject: (WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+)   (WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+) Icon_minitimeMon Sep 29, 2008 9:38 pm

Warning: This story contains tentacle rape. Of a minor. Also, halfway through, she starts to like it, which I know is a bad thing, but hey, she's insane, and I'm acknowledging that it's bad, so that makes it okay...?

(Don't like tentacle rape? tl;dr? Like it when authors make fun of themselves? Then you might want to read #69 Condensed.)


The plate on the door said "Failed Inventions". The door opened.

The twelve-year-old inventor-to-be, Penny, was on a visit to her grandfather, Dr. Crygor. A dream of hers, pompous as it was, was to oust him as Diamond City's definitive scientist. Is there any better way to prove your superiority over someone else than to turn their shortcomings into your successes?

"Lord, this room is a mess," she observed, wading into the sea of scrap metal. "I bet he just throws stuff in here and never bothers with it again. Tch. A good scientist learns from past mistakes."

She began to pick through the pile meticulously, looking for anything with potential. "Let's see... this one is too far gone, it's only spare parts. This one never got anywhere... This one is too rusty. Wait, what's this?"

A lone machine in the corner of the room caught her eye. The area around it was clear of the trash covering the rest of the floor. Aside from the parts hanging out of it, it seemed to be in good condition.

She made her way through the junk heap towards it. "Invention #69," she read the plate on it. "Intended purpose... looks like the letters fell off past this point." She looked the gadget over. "Why did Grandpa ditch this one? If I knew what it was for, maybe I'd know why, but..."

She reached for one of the parts, and a handcuff clamped over her wrist. "What the-? Let go!"

The cuff decided it was staying put.

Yanking didn't help any, not by pulling her arm or by moving away from the machine. She put her foot on the console to give one last effort before calling for aid. The heel of her shoe hit a red button on the device.

A tendril-like cord shot out of it without warning, coiled around her waist, and pulled her hard onto the stone floor. From the impact, her glasses flew off. Before she could recover, the other half of the handcuffs snapped over her other hand and held them both behind her back. On impulse, she screamed, but the cry was cut short as a wide metal rod shoved itself into her mouth.

The tendril lifted her backside off the ground. Another tendril wrapped around her neck and shoulders, and both held her as if she was lying stomach-down across a table. The lower half of her legs stayed on the ground. She struggled helplessly, trying at least to get that rod out of her mouth, but she was at this machine's mercy.

What is this thing supposed to be, a torture device? she thought. And if it is, then who pitches something that works?

There were still other tendrils lurking in the device. One of them snaked into her jacket and under her shirt, rubbing against her young, flat chest. Another one stroked her hair. And two of them twisted around her legs and held them apart.

She felt something tear up her pants, and the room's stale air brushed against her privates. Another rod, this one thin and icy cold, pressed itself against her leg. The tip of the tentacle around her waist began to slide down towards the hole in her pants. With a gentle sliding motion, it pulled her second mouth open.

This is gonna hurt, I know it.

The cord the rod was attached to turned out to be frayed, and it fell off her leg and collapsed across the floor. And poor Penny felt a bit of relief that only lasted five seconds before a wider rod shoved into her. It tore her up one thrust after another, virgin blood staining the grey metal.

She bit the first rod that violated her in pain, only to chip a tooth. Tears streamed in a torrent down her face. She'd felt something break when that rod penetrated her, a cut that would never heal, a piece of purity and innocence she'd never get back. There are some things you never appreciate having until you lose them, and for Penny, this was one of them.

What have I done? What in the world did I do to deserve this?

Both the rods pulled out of her suddenly, leaving spit and blood to drain out of her, and the handcuffs came off with a clack. The tentacles turned her over and began to fondle her abused body. She relaxed in their grip, finding their almost loving touch strangely comforting.

Slowly they began to feel like heaven to her, no matter where it was they touched.

One of the tentacles curled around her legs slinked up towards her torn, bloody hole. She braced herself for it to hurt, but it was as soft with her as the rod had been rough. And slowly the blood that kept her slick down there was replaced with liquid lust, arousal at the tentacles' eager caress.

Ahh, it feels so good...

No, I shouldn't be liking this!

Right away the tentacles turned it against her when she began to struggle again, tightening their grip on her and rubbing against the motions. It was too much for someone who yesterday couldn't even begin to imagine how good someone or something's touch could feel. She lost herself in the pleasure and surrendered to the cords again, mock-fighting it only to keep them touching her the way they'd just been doing.

By then she was as wet as she could possibly be, desire flowing out of her onto the floor and along the tentacle inside her like water. The one on her other leg took this as its cue to slip into her as well.

One of the two brushed up against a spot in her that sent a warm, damp, tingly sensation somehow better than any other so far up her spine like a shiver. She went limp for a moment, from the shock of something feeling that good. It did it again, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming. And by the fifth time she didn't care anymore if anyone heard her moaning echoing in the room. There was nothing else in the world right then besides her and those tentacles.

"Mmm-nnhh... aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAH!"

That last rub ignited a little tingle in her crotch that spread warmly through and over her and left her shivering in its wake, lasting twenty seconds and feeling like twenty minutes to her.

And just like that, she felt the cold floor at her back and heard the cords retract into where they came from. It was over.

Half-blindly, she peeked about the room. Everything was fuzzy, especially without her now-broken glasses, but nobody was in the room with her. No yellow jumpsuits. No blue turntables.

She rubbed her hand on the floor between her legs and held it up close to her eyes. The sticky fluid there was an uneven mix, colored red and white with a bit of pink where the two decided to blend. She licked some of it off without thinking, and couldn't taste any of it. The only thing she could feel right then was remnants of her orgasm, the floor being the only exception because it insisted on being icy cold.

The thought came to her that she was sick for liking what had happened to her, but she got rid of it immediately. Who wouldn't like it? she reasoned.

The fading pleasure began to turn to guilt anyway.

She rubbed her fingers together, spreading the fluid all over her hand. She let her arm drop, and the tip of her finger happened to tap this spot on her second mouth that felt just as good as the one the tentacles found in it.

For a moment, she just let her hand rest there, and with another once-over of the room...

She slid her hand in between her legs, rubbing that one spot and flaring the tingle up again. She laid her other arm across her eyes, not wanting to know if someone walked in on her.

"Ohhhh, I'm so dirty, I'm so dirty. Don't let Grandpa see me like this, please. Or Mike. I'm a bad girl. Very, very bad. I shouldn't like this. But I do. I-I love iiiit. Aaaaa-I'm such a naughty little girl!"

This one spread hard and sharply through her like a lightning bolt, and for a minute, she even thought it was better than the first one...

Last edited by Jackalope on Thu Oct 30, 2008 5:56 pm; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : Plum forgot to slap a warning on this sucker! - Shorter version posted.)
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City Slicker

Female Number of posts : 72
Location : Roof! Oh, roof!
Registration date : 2008-07-10

(WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+) Empty
PostSubject: Re: (WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+)   (WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+) Icon_minitimeMon Sep 29, 2008 9:43 pm

"My life is trash."

"Now, what makes you say that?"

Wrench in hand, the old doctor stared forlornly at a hoverbike. "I've lost my touch, Mike. I've been working on this thing for weeks, and always, something's been wrong with it. I'd checked my calculations nearly one-hundred times, and I'd never found anything off.

So then, Penny just waltzes in here, barely even glances at the specs, and tells me that 'This eight should be a seven.' And now that I've recalculated everything and fixed it as such, it finally works." Bitterly, he threw the wrench to the ground. "It's enough to make me wish the little runt had never been born!"

The robot picked up the wrench and tossed it into a nearby toolbox. "A few days ago, that 'little runt' was your favorite grandchild, and you wanted her to be your protegé."

The doc sighed. "You don't get it, Mike. There's a fine line. Of course I want her to be as great a scientist as I am, but I don't want her to actually be a better one until after I'm dead."

"You really should be proud of her."

"Mike. Look at me. For years, I've been the only one to turn to for modern scientific innovations and day-to-day machinery. If I can't do that properly anymore for even a day, and there's someone who can do a better job at it, I'll forever be old hat. Nothing more than a crazy old man living off the coast of Diamond City for the rest of my life. And that'd be especially bad because I don't plan on dying in the next four centuries. So excuse me if I'm not ready yet to pass my torch to, of all people, my twelve-year-old granddaughter!"

"Which you should have done by now," Mike muttered under whatever passes for robot breath.

"What was that?"

"Face it, Scienstein. You're over the hill, she's just starting up it. There's literally a new kid in town. It's about time you quit running from death like you've been doing since the eighties, and fork over the torch already."

"You know I hate being called 'Scienstein'. And you're not helping."

"You didn't program me to help, sir," Mike replied sardonically. "You programmed me to clean the house and rock out."

"Then let's rock out. I'll show you. I'm not anywhere near death, and that torch is still mine."

He slapped Mike's side, starting Apollo 440's "Can't Stop the Rock" playing. With that, he went as if to jam on an air guitar, and...


"Owwwww, my hip!"

Mike didn't try to hold back his raucous chuckling.

"Oh, shut up!" the doctor whined, limping off. "I'll show him," he muttered to himself as he shuffled across the lab. "I'll show him and Penny and all of the Gooms in the audience who are laughing amongst themselves at my expense. That's right, I mean you, the one with the acne."

A very spent-looking Penny stumbled into the room and nearly slammed into him. "Uh... Hi, Grandpa," she said weakly.

"I'll die when I'm good and ready, and nobody- Er, hello..." he hesitated. "Penny. What happened to you?"

"Ehh, w-what do you mean, Grandpa?"

"Your glasses... and your pants are torn, and... you..." Slowly he turned to the door she came out of. Its plate read "Failed Inventions".

"Penny, tell me you didn't touch number sixty-nine!"


"Oh, I knew it!" he lamented. "I knew I should have dismantled that horrible contraption! But no, I just couldn't throw it away! And now you had to pay for it! Oh, it's all my fault-"

"Grandpa!" she interrupted. "I... I didn't touch that whatsis. I swear."

"Y-you didn't?" The doctor relaxed visibly. "Oh, thank goodness! If you had, I'd never forgive myself."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Well... It was supposed to be a massager, but... it just didn't go well." He shivered in painful memory. "I'd rather not talk about it."

She recognized the implication. So, it did that to Grandpa, too? No wonder he hid it away like that...

"So, then, if it wasn't number sixty-nine, what happened to you?"

"Oh..." She groped for a plausible lie. "I... tripped and fell into a pile of junk, you see. Almost poked my eye out. It's a good thing I just got my tetanus shots."

"Yes. Very lucky."

One guilty part of her mind wanted to come out and tell the truth about what happened, and she could hardly hold it back any longer. There was only one thing for it. "Well, Grandpa, it's been fun," she said as she turned to the front door of the lab, "but I should be going..."

He caught her by the shoulder. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

"Uh, home?"

"Not with that hole in your pants, you're not. It says things happened here that didn't. Very bad things. And guess who they'll blame for doing them to you?"


He fought back a chuckle. "No, me. A few of them are convinced I've been doing those things already, and if they have any sort of evidence, circumstancial as it may be, they'll lock me up and throw away the key. And we don't want that, now do we? So, give me those pants and I'll mend them."

She stayed quiet at this. How would she explain those spiral-shaped bruises running up her legs?

"Of course, you don't have to take them off in front of me," the Doc added quickly. "Go into the bathroom if you'd rather."

She grinned sheepishly, and dashed towards the bathroom. Once in, she threw her pants in the hallway and slammed the door.

When she turned around, there was a mirror over the sink. Her reflection shocked her; with her clothes wrinkled, her hair wet and tangled, and a pair of cuff-shaped marks on her wrists, she clearly looked like she'd been raped. She could hardly believe she'd gotten away with lying about what had happened.

Look at yourself, she thought as she stared at her reflection. Look at what that machine did to you. Forcing itself into you, touching your insides... Lord knows what it did to Grandpa. It hurt you, it tore you open, it took something precious from you, and you have the nerve, the gall to have liked it. You think it was the best you've ever felt! You filthy, rotten little girl...

"Oh... Ohhhhh..."

She looked down. Her hand was between her legs, stroking the sore lips of her second mouth. Feeling terribly guilty, she sunk to the floor. "Ohh, what's wrong with me?" she asked the air, still fondling herself. "Why do I like this? Why does it feel good?"

She felt another orgasm coming on and forced herself to stop masturbating, halting it in its tracks. Her hand came away coated in sticky fluid like before, except it was all white. Also like before, she spread it over her hand, but this time she rinsed it off in the sink.

"Hey," a voice asked. She turned sharply, thinking it was her grandfather, but no one was in the room with her. "Over here," the voice said again. She turned back to the sink, and her reflection waved at her.

She blinked twice. Her reflection leaned on the sill. She took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and put them back. Her reflection waggled her eyebrows.

Okay, she thought, now I know I've gone crazy...er.

"Don't think so poorly of yourself," her reflection advised. "Did you ever consider that you're supposed to like it?"

"But..." she replied. "It hurt so much at first... and Grandpa, he..."

"If you'd liked it when it hurt, yes, that would be bad. But after a while, it felt good, right? I should know." The reflection chuckled and held up her hand, covered in the same white stuff Penny had just rinsed down the sink. "I've felt that way five times already: once with the machine, twice with myself, and twice during that dream you had when you fell asleep after it."

"But... I... Even if it does feel good, it's still wrong..."

"Who said? Hmm?" The reflection spread her arms to make a point. "Who said it was wrong? Nobody did, because it's not. If it were wrong, then why did you like it? Why did the pleasure mount and mount until it felt so great, it made your whole body shiver? If it were wrong, why did it feel right?"

She didn't have an answer to that. The logic made sense. Maybe she wasn't so dirty after all.

"So, don't be ashamed," the reflection told her, leaning forward. "Go ahead. Touch yourself. Love the way it makes you feel. It's a good thing."

Timidly, Penny let her hand slide down between her legs again. That tickle that undeniably felt fantastic warmed the spot her fingers brushed. She rubbed the spot gently, and then a little harder, on until she was lost in it and her hand rubbed of its own accord.

"That's right," her reflection purred, masturbating with her. "Just like that. As long as you need to, as much as you want to. Whenever the desire strikes. And take that machine with you. When your own hand isn't enough, it will satisfy you."

"Ahhh... I can't do that..."

"There's no reason not to. Grandpa won't miss it. You have a hundred places to hide it. Think about it, remember how good those tentacles felt, how they stroked you and brought you to the height of pleasure..."

She remembered it vividly. And her whole body tingled with the recall, every cell on the brink of climax.

And then, when it was too late to stop it, someone knocked on the door.

"Oh, Penny!" her grandfather called. "I'm respecting your privacy by knocking, but asserting my authority as your grandfather by coming in anyway!"

No... Not now... was the last thing she thought before that almost-seizure took over and left no room for anything other than its consuming ecstasy, just as the door burst open...

 | \  <== fin
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City Slicker

Female Number of posts : 72
Location : Roof! Oh, roof!
Registration date : 2008-07-10

(WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+) Empty
PostSubject: Re: (WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+)   (WarioWare, Inc.) #69 (18+) Icon_minitimeThu Oct 30, 2008 5:52 pm

#69 Condensed - For those who don't like graphic descriptions of rape and/or enjoy scathing self-satire.

First part

Penny: Ahh, what a fine day for science and making my grandfather cry! I'll fix up one of his hunks o' junk and flaunt my superior youthfulness.

...Man, all of these things are really, really ruined. Hey, here's one that isn't. Strange, it's the only one that doesn't say what it's for.

Hey! Let go of me! Aaaaaaaa--mmmph!

Ah, it hurts, it hurts... so good. I like it... but I shouldn't like it...

*Orgasmic scream*

Gahh! I'm such a horrible person. But... I need this... Please, please, don't let anyone walk in on me while I touch myself. Impossible to hope for, but I have no choice!

Second part

Doc: I'm so old and inadequate!

Mike: Then go buy your casket already.

Doc: Never!

Penny: Hi, Grandpa.

Doc: Oh good lord, child, look at you! That's a "just-got-raped" look if I ever saw one! It's because I couldn't get rid of my most spectacular failure, isn't it?

Penny: Well, I know it looks like that happened, but it didn't.

Doc: So, what did?

Penny: Uhhhhh.... I fell.

Doc: I want to believe that... so I do.

Penny: So, what was wrong with that thing that didn't rape me?

Doc: Well, I was trying to build a massager, but it decided it wanted the "happy end" right away. So it touched me. In a bad place.

Penny: ...ew.

Doc: By the way, give me your pants. I don't want people to think I did that thing that didn't happen to you.

Penny: Suuure. *Goes into the bathroom* Oh, god! Why can't I stop touching myself? It's bad!

Penny's reflection in the bathroom mirror: Hey, me. There's nothing wrong with liking being raped.

Penny: Really? Well, if my subconscious says it, it must be true! Umph! Umph! Ohhhhhh....

Doc: Oh, Penny! I'm respecting your privacy by knocking, but asserting my authority as your grandfather by coming in anyway!

Penny: Oh, shoot, Grandpa's gonna see me coming and there's nothing I can do!

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