OC I made for Omni 09-18-2015, 04:46 PM
#1
Oni is gasy so I spent around 40 minutes yesterday writing this fucked up OC and sending him it but he never read the full thing so meh I figured I may as well post it in random. Enjoy I guess.
2 hours Omni.
2 hours and 10 minutes.
2 hours and 10 minutes Omni.
That's how long ago PM tracking tells me you read my message.
That's how long you've ignored it.
That's how long it's been of having you just ignore me before I started typing this.
Do you think I'm just going to let this slide, a complete lack of acknowledgement of me sending you a rapey scenario? Do you really think I'm not just going to tone it up? Do you Omni? DO YOU?
You know what's going to be the result of all this? What this new scenario is going to be? Of course you don't. Only I know, right now anyway. When you read this, you'll know too.
This rape, it isn't going to be soon. It isn't going to be quick. It's going to be rape. Physical rape. Emotional rape. Anal rape. Animal rape. It will be pure, unrestrained rape. In the final phase of rape, I shall rise, like a silverback gorilla, majestically awakening from his slumber, beating his chest as he stands high and gets ready to create anal destruction. The kind of anal destruction that makes your insides bleed.
Several years from now, you''re going to own a dog. You're going to love that dog. It's going to be a member of the family to you, you'll treat it like a son, and you'll feel it is your son too. You will be inseparable from that dog, and spend hours a day with it.
One day you'll wake up later in the morning. You'll wonder why. Why didn't your dog come into your room and stir you awake because he's hungry like he usually does early every morning? Why isn't there any barking? Why is there nothing but silence? You cautiously slip out of bed, assuming nothing too bad is happening. You walk around your house, assuming your dog must just still be asleep. You walk into your living room and you see an open window. There's a small polaroid photo taped to the inside of the window-sill. Fearful, you cautiously approach it, looking around you to make sure there's nobody still in the house. You reach over and slowly pull the photo away from the tape, bringing it to your face to look at it. That's when you see it. It's your dog. It appears to be in some kind of machine in a dark room, it's restrained, a dildo on what appears to be some kind of automatic thrusting system sits behind it. You stir with fear and panic. You call the police. They spend a few hours searching your home, but, they ultimately find no conclusive evidence.
The next day you wake up in bed, still upset from the preceding day. You turn over in bed, and something catches your eye. Placed on your bed is another photo. You jump up in your bed, extremely frightened. You quickly lift it up and cringe at what you see. It's a photo of the tip of a large penis, tickling your dogs anus. You drop the photo in horror, but a few seconds later you realise it says something on the back, "Check your mailbox." You take a cautious stroll outside, and nervously open your mailbox. Inside is a small plastic bag. You can't tell what's inside it at this point. You hold it in front of your eyes in the sunlight to get a good look, when you realise what it is. It's a pepperoni-sized slice of your dogs penis. You break down and begin to cry in the middle of the street, you will be broken soon.
You keep contacting the police but they're still unable to find evidence. They set out patrol cars in front of your house every night, but still, he goes undetected. They can't even find signs of entry anymore, somehow the photo's are still finding their way into your home and your dogs pepperoni penis is still mysteriously appearing in your mail, with no paper-trail of either to be found.
You're getting sick with worry now, you can barely get out of bed in the mornings, you feel nauseous whenever you try too get up in the mornings, your paranoia is consuming you, not knowing what this person wants, not knowing who they are, or why they're doing it, not knowing if your dog will ever be returned to your, or ever be okay. The only way you know it's alive are the daily photos, the daily slices.
This goes on for a total of 24 days without a gap. On the 25th day, something changes. There is no photo that day. There is no slice of doggo-cock left in your mailbox. There is nothing. You fear the worst. Have they killed your beloved pet? Your mind stirs like crazy all day. You don't sleep that night, you stay up, patrolling your house with a shotgun in your hands. You WILL catch him if he comes back. You spend all night entering into a state of sleep-deprivation, running from room to room everytime you hear a noise, shotgun in hand. You spend around 5 hours doing this when you hear a loud crash on the other side of the house. You run over and begin blasting rounds at where you thought the sound was, but soon realise nobody is there. You search the area, and still there is nothing to find. You head back to where you were before, and you find a small trail of blood-drops, much like a trail of bread-crumbs you'd see cartoon characters using to get out of a maze. You follow it, your gun cocked and loaded, a flashlight attached. You find a small pool of blood in the middle of your kitchen. In the centre of it, lies the rest of your dogs penis, roughly half of it, all just lying there in one piece. You call the police, but again, they find no evidence.
The next day you're on edge, waiting, waiting, waiting...For something, anything, to happen. The day is uneventful. You go out and check your mailbox just in case, and sure enough, there is one final picture in there. Your dog, restrained, missing it's penis, a giant, fleshy cock throbbing inside it as cum from an earlier session leaks out. You've seen it too much now, you're desensitized, dead inside, completely detached from what you see.
Days 26 and 27 are the first days where absolutely nothing has happened. There is nothing in your mailbox or home.
Day 28 is where it gets interesting. You start to believe you're safe now. You lie in your bed, your eyes struggling to stay open as you daze off into your slumber. You're lying on your side. Suddenly you decide it isn't comfortable like that, and you turn onto your back. Your eyes still closed, you begin to hear it. "Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!" the sound of a dogs bark stirs you into action, your eyes jump open and you see the most twisted and horrifying sight ever to be seen in the 21st century. A naked man's back is attached to your ceiling, his large erection glistening in the moonlight. He's not fully naked though. In true Hannibal Lecter style, he is wearing that dog you loved so much as a mask. He's wearing it as body armor. He is completely encased in the skin of your beloved companion, all exact his huge throbbing erection. You scream out in terror as the man drops from the roof and lands directly on top of you. You try to push him off but it's no use, he overpowers you and pins you down on your stomach. You stop fighting, you realise you're defeated. You can feel his unrelenting cock penetrating your insides, damaging your intestines and destroying the very fabric of your anus, splitting it into sizes no anus should ever be, causing blood to pour out as far as the eye can see. You sob quietly to yourself as you stay there and let the dog-man fuck you, tears streaming down your face. He cums inside you, at this point, with a dong so big, and with your insides damaged so much, it begins to seep out of your mouth within moments of him filling up your ass. He pulls himself down close to your eye, and he whispers to you..."This is what happens when you don't reply to PM's you gasy nigger." He jumps up, and into the night he dissapears, just like your former self, just like your emotions, your dog, and everything that made you, you.
You think the final statement proofs it's me. You report me the police. They find out I'm completely clean, it was all Bluescreen, who whispered that to you at my request.
#PlotTwist.
2 hours Omni.
2 hours and 10 minutes.
2 hours and 10 minutes Omni.
That's how long ago PM tracking tells me you read my message.
That's how long you've ignored it.
That's how long it's been of having you just ignore me before I started typing this.
Do you think I'm just going to let this slide, a complete lack of acknowledgement of me sending you a rapey scenario? Do you really think I'm not just going to tone it up? Do you Omni? DO YOU?
You know what's going to be the result of all this? What this new scenario is going to be? Of course you don't. Only I know, right now anyway. When you read this, you'll know too.
This rape, it isn't going to be soon. It isn't going to be quick. It's going to be rape. Physical rape. Emotional rape. Anal rape. Animal rape. It will be pure, unrestrained rape. In the final phase of rape, I shall rise, like a silverback gorilla, majestically awakening from his slumber, beating his chest as he stands high and gets ready to create anal destruction. The kind of anal destruction that makes your insides bleed.
Several years from now, you''re going to own a dog. You're going to love that dog. It's going to be a member of the family to you, you'll treat it like a son, and you'll feel it is your son too. You will be inseparable from that dog, and spend hours a day with it.
One day you'll wake up later in the morning. You'll wonder why. Why didn't your dog come into your room and stir you awake because he's hungry like he usually does early every morning? Why isn't there any barking? Why is there nothing but silence? You cautiously slip out of bed, assuming nothing too bad is happening. You walk around your house, assuming your dog must just still be asleep. You walk into your living room and you see an open window. There's a small polaroid photo taped to the inside of the window-sill. Fearful, you cautiously approach it, looking around you to make sure there's nobody still in the house. You reach over and slowly pull the photo away from the tape, bringing it to your face to look at it. That's when you see it. It's your dog. It appears to be in some kind of machine in a dark room, it's restrained, a dildo on what appears to be some kind of automatic thrusting system sits behind it. You stir with fear and panic. You call the police. They spend a few hours searching your home, but, they ultimately find no conclusive evidence.
The next day you wake up in bed, still upset from the preceding day. You turn over in bed, and something catches your eye. Placed on your bed is another photo. You jump up in your bed, extremely frightened. You quickly lift it up and cringe at what you see. It's a photo of the tip of a large penis, tickling your dogs anus. You drop the photo in horror, but a few seconds later you realise it says something on the back, "Check your mailbox." You take a cautious stroll outside, and nervously open your mailbox. Inside is a small plastic bag. You can't tell what's inside it at this point. You hold it in front of your eyes in the sunlight to get a good look, when you realise what it is. It's a pepperoni-sized slice of your dogs penis. You break down and begin to cry in the middle of the street, you will be broken soon.
You keep contacting the police but they're still unable to find evidence. They set out patrol cars in front of your house every night, but still, he goes undetected. They can't even find signs of entry anymore, somehow the photo's are still finding their way into your home and your dogs pepperoni penis is still mysteriously appearing in your mail, with no paper-trail of either to be found.
You're getting sick with worry now, you can barely get out of bed in the mornings, you feel nauseous whenever you try too get up in the mornings, your paranoia is consuming you, not knowing what this person wants, not knowing who they are, or why they're doing it, not knowing if your dog will ever be returned to your, or ever be okay. The only way you know it's alive are the daily photos, the daily slices.
This goes on for a total of 24 days without a gap. On the 25th day, something changes. There is no photo that day. There is no slice of doggo-cock left in your mailbox. There is nothing. You fear the worst. Have they killed your beloved pet? Your mind stirs like crazy all day. You don't sleep that night, you stay up, patrolling your house with a shotgun in your hands. You WILL catch him if he comes back. You spend all night entering into a state of sleep-deprivation, running from room to room everytime you hear a noise, shotgun in hand. You spend around 5 hours doing this when you hear a loud crash on the other side of the house. You run over and begin blasting rounds at where you thought the sound was, but soon realise nobody is there. You search the area, and still there is nothing to find. You head back to where you were before, and you find a small trail of blood-drops, much like a trail of bread-crumbs you'd see cartoon characters using to get out of a maze. You follow it, your gun cocked and loaded, a flashlight attached. You find a small pool of blood in the middle of your kitchen. In the centre of it, lies the rest of your dogs penis, roughly half of it, all just lying there in one piece. You call the police, but again, they find no evidence.
The next day you're on edge, waiting, waiting, waiting...For something, anything, to happen. The day is uneventful. You go out and check your mailbox just in case, and sure enough, there is one final picture in there. Your dog, restrained, missing it's penis, a giant, fleshy cock throbbing inside it as cum from an earlier session leaks out. You've seen it too much now, you're desensitized, dead inside, completely detached from what you see.
Days 26 and 27 are the first days where absolutely nothing has happened. There is nothing in your mailbox or home.
Day 28 is where it gets interesting. You start to believe you're safe now. You lie in your bed, your eyes struggling to stay open as you daze off into your slumber. You're lying on your side. Suddenly you decide it isn't comfortable like that, and you turn onto your back. Your eyes still closed, you begin to hear it. "Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!" the sound of a dogs bark stirs you into action, your eyes jump open and you see the most twisted and horrifying sight ever to be seen in the 21st century. A naked man's back is attached to your ceiling, his large erection glistening in the moonlight. He's not fully naked though. In true Hannibal Lecter style, he is wearing that dog you loved so much as a mask. He's wearing it as body armor. He is completely encased in the skin of your beloved companion, all exact his huge throbbing erection. You scream out in terror as the man drops from the roof and lands directly on top of you. You try to push him off but it's no use, he overpowers you and pins you down on your stomach. You stop fighting, you realise you're defeated. You can feel his unrelenting cock penetrating your insides, damaging your intestines and destroying the very fabric of your anus, splitting it into sizes no anus should ever be, causing blood to pour out as far as the eye can see. You sob quietly to yourself as you stay there and let the dog-man fuck you, tears streaming down your face. He cums inside you, at this point, with a dong so big, and with your insides damaged so much, it begins to seep out of your mouth within moments of him filling up your ass. He pulls himself down close to your eye, and he whispers to you..."This is what happens when you don't reply to PM's you gasy nigger." He jumps up, and into the night he dissapears, just like your former self, just like your emotions, your dog, and everything that made you, you.
You think the final statement proofs it's me. You report me the police. They find out I'm completely clean, it was all Bluescreen, who whispered that to you at my request.
#PlotTwist.
Proud Member of the BPSG.
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I couldn't bring myself to remove the hood classic above, enjoy it as a time capsule.
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