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About Deviant Alberto BarbosaMale/Portugal Recent Activity
Deviant for 3 Years
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Tommy Dickles is a proud ISIS member :iconaids-man:AIDS-Man 2 1 Vault 7 :iconaids-man:AIDS-Man 1 0
The Lunatic
In Bellwood, Florida, in what was once Madison Elementary School, BenTheLooney covered DisneyTHX’s ass in olive oil and gave it a good slap. He rubbed some of it all over his right hand, which was covered in a latex glove while he rubbed and fondled DisneyTHX’s ass with his left. “Back in my day,” he said in a husky tone, “We never knew this kind of pleasure…”
DisneyTHX shuddered with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “This… This… This is…”
“This is what?”
“This is a sin!”
BenTheLooney leaned in close to his ear and chuckled. “Indeed it is,” he whispered as he licked the back of DisneyTHX’s neck. He was on the verge of tears; This was so sinful, but it felt so good. He never wanted to be anything more than a good boy, and BenTheLooney told him that this would make him a very good boy.
BenTheLooney pried DisneyTHX’s anus open, and then inserted a plastic ring to hold
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Red Tide
The opening theme played:
After what he doubted he could ever be able to pull off, Robbie Rotten had managed to push up the entire wheelbarrow of nickel ore up the hill to the back of the mine, “Phew, I did it! I can’t believe me, but my first day of work has been a success!”
“You said it, Robbie,”said the happy little Moleman, “want head to the Drunken Pumpkin to celebrate? Me and my mates are there every night.”
“Ah gee thanks, Atticus,” Robbie said catching his breath. “I know I just got back but,”
“Shush, Robbie,” said Atticus, “we know you had a rough patch before but now you’re back and soon you’ll be able to push a hundred carts!”
Robbie blushed and the two met up with the other molemen and went to the Drunken Pumpkin. However, when they got there they found the bar was, “Closed?” Robbie asked with disappointment, “wh
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Mature content
Sableye :iconaids-man:AIDS-Man 0 0
Mature content
Anthro Dragon :iconaids-man:AIDS-Man 3 2
Nigger fart jew pepe peepee poopoo spic kike cuck Nolan Jetstream is a shoobie
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The Dweller in Filth
Vent awoke in a dark, dusty room with a heavy, rusted iron door. The pistons and servos in his limbs creaked audibly as he rose from the floor. He had been here for a while and the grit was fouling his parts. He had a tremendous headache and his veins throbbed in his temples. It wasn’t at all unusual for him to find himself in these situations, but this was different. He had not the support of the NSGM crew, and above all he had no clue why he was in this room. It was no place he had ever seen before. ‘Who did I piss off to get put in here?’  he thought as he scanned the room.
The only sources of illumination were a small railroad lamp and the coils of an electrical heater. There was a desk with a magnifying lamp that was switched off and shelves stocked with various tools. Cobwebs covered much of the equipment. It seemed apparent to him right away that whomever threw him in that room made little use of the tools present. In spite of that, there had to be
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Wrath of the Beast Part 3
Inside the frigate, Alberto and his mysterious associate oversaw a holographic map of Detroit. Red triangles indicating Portuguese forces circled around a blue dot indicating the location of the key.
Alberto selected the dot and then viewed the street address. His eyes when he realized just what that building was.
“If that is what I think it is” his hidden friend said “Then we’re going to be here for some time.”
Portuguese soldiers then entered the war room carrying a weak little white worm and threw him to his knees. Alberto rose from his seat with a scowl. “YOU! I should have known you would be here. Are you and your pathetic hebrew shills here for the key?”
The cuck looked up at Alberto, his eyes puffy and red with tears.
“Why now? Today was supposed to be perfect!”
“Answer the fucking question!” the hidden man said.
“What’s the key? I don’t know anything! I’m just here for the Madame!”
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Wrath of the Beast Part 2
In September 2016, The Clinton Foundation launched an assault on the Neo Scary Godmother castle. A HIND-D piloted by Gibby Gibson was shot down by NSGM and an investigation was launched on the Foundation’s theft of Portuguese technology and assault on NSGM. However, the Foundation was cleared of charges after a conspicuously short investigation.
Now it was November 8th, nearly a month Tommy DIckles had died with no heirs. On the SS Lisbon,  Alberto Barbosa inserted a data drive which he had confiscated from the NSGM castle into his personal computer. Cracking the encryption would not be difficult: This device was a Nintendo product, and it was derived from one he had developed during his tenure.
The holographic display lit up, and a model of the earth appeared. A command prompt appeared beneath it with a list of commands. Alberto typed the command to list locations, the locations being the castle and the library. When he requested the coordinates of the library, an error mes
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The God of Spoofers
Ren the God of Spoofers was hard at work at the Jaden's Adventures HQ making a fine, quality spoof. Lately his career had been on a real upswing, as NSGM was disbanded and each of his latest works continued to surpass the last. His shift had ended over an hour ago but he was still hard at work editing his new spoof.
His boss, the creature Benny, placed his hand on Ren's shoulder. "Ren, I know this means a lot to you, but sooner or later you've got to go home to your family and friends!"
"I know I should sir, but this is the best one yet! It's going to surpass all of my previous work combined, or even the entire Pooh's Adventure series!"
Benny chuckled and said, "Ah, that dedication of yours is why you're the best. Carry on, son." and with that, Benny left for home.
Another hour passed as Ren saved his project and clocked out. The sun had set, the sky was overcast, and heavy fog filled the air.
Despite all this, the parking garage was only four blocks away, so a little fog wouldn't impe
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Battle for the Throne
Tommy Dickles died of AIDS which he received from Sebastian Lacroix. When he contracted HIV, he believed it was a ritual which would turn him into a vampire. He refused treatment as he believed his sickness was part of the transformation. And indeed, he had grown to hate sunlight during those last two weeks of his life, but that was because the AIDS had damaged his skin.
During his last moments alive, the NSGM crew was gathered around his deathbed.
With a gasp and a wheeze, Tommy looked around him and said “Soon… I shall ascend. My transformation shall be complete. I shall become an undead being who feeds on blood, and then I shall leave to do vampire things. In that time…” Tommy was cut off by a sharp hacking cough which sprayed dark green mucous. “I… I shall need a successor…” Tommy was cut off again when he vomited blood on himself.
“The answer is clear,” Farley took Tommy’s unused puke bowl and put in on his head,
:iconaids-man:AIDS-Man 2 1


Bendy gets DaddyOfive'd :iconsikojensika:Sikojensika 36 47 Anime Ass Furry Columbine :icon14duckmin88:14duckmin88 5 5 6 Million pixar fleshlight lamps! :iconsikojensika:Sikojensika 23 41 Guns of the Trick or Treaters (Last One I Swear) :iconanimefan940:animefan940 2 2 569/999 :iconksenolog:ksenolog 117 6 Albertos Crash Corse On Curses :iconanimefan940:animefan940 2 1 Lisa fucks BART! :iconsikojensika:Sikojensika 29 56
Mature content
Dada Jew :icon567a45:567a45 2 0
Jar Jar Binks finally does something right :iconsikojensika:Sikojensika 38 35 Chara04RBLX'S DOG MURDERS A BUNCH OF PICKACHUS :iconjimmyvalmersportsfan:JimmyValmerSportsFan 5 13 Wario Samples the Scrotum Life :iconcactuspubes:CactusPubes 26 48
Mature content
AIDS LOL :icontigr3ss:tigr3ss 6 20
Sans x Tails, the Caveman fix :iconsikojensika:Sikojensika 41 80 AIDS-MAN (Alberto Barberosa) :icondabbingbulma1999:DabbingBulma1999 2 3 NGS The Phantom Stain Shakrelanthropus :iconanimefan940:animefan940 3 1 NGS V Phantom Ketchup :iconanimefan940:animefan940 3 6



Today we celebrate the birth of our saviour.
In Bellwood, Florida, in what was once Madison Elementary School, BenTheLooney covered DisneyTHX’s ass in olive oil and gave it a good slap. He rubbed some of it all over his right hand, which was covered in a latex glove while he rubbed and fondled DisneyTHX’s ass with his left. “Back in my day,” he said in a husky tone, “We never knew this kind of pleasure…”

DisneyTHX shuddered with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “This… This… This is…”

“This is what?”

“This is a sin!”

BenTheLooney leaned in close to his ear and chuckled. “Indeed it is,” he whispered as he licked the back of DisneyTHX’s neck. He was on the verge of tears; This was so sinful, but it felt so good. He never wanted to be anything more than a good boy, and BenTheLooney told him that this would make him a very good boy.

BenTheLooney pried DisneyTHX’s anus open, and then inserted a plastic ring to hold it open. A third voice in the room said, “Now DisneyTHX, are you ready to receive… The Gift?”

Then the intro played:…

A lone Portuguese shuttle descended from New Lisbon to New York City. Elite Portuguese Black Troopers from Uganda clad in all black, which made them slightly more visible than average at night, disembarked and headed out into the city. As per Kang Alberto’s instructions, they were to silently break into the old NSGM apartment and silently retrieve the second key.

The negroidic commandos ran down the streets screaming wildly and firing their rusty FN FALs into the air, flawlessly blending in with the local megafauna of the hood. At last they arrived at a rundown and decrepit tenement near a highway overpass.

They kicked down every door they saw and marched in single file line, chanting the traditional Nigerian interjection “OOGA BOOGA!” and pumping their fists in the air. Suddenly they stopped dead in their tracks and glared with hostile intent at a white man in a ski mask and two little girls with unnatural hair colors following him down the hall. Awkward silence filled the room and after both groups stared at each other for what seemed like hours, the trio continued down the hall and  downstairs. One commando tiptoed behind them the way out, then sprinted back to his squad when they left the building.

“They’re gone!”

The chanting, marching, and fist pumping continued as if it had never been interrupted until at last they came upon room 102, where the second guy was hidden. All they found however, was a pathetic white man dressed as a stereotypical stage magician lying in a bloody heap and sobbing softly as he lay dying. The Portuguese commandos then noticed that the floor all around them was littered with bullet holes, as was the pathetic white man dressed as a stereotypical stage magician, for they had been firing all of their weapons up into the air ever since they arrived in NYC.

The leader of the team, Ugandan martial artist Bruce U, said “Who de fahck are you, white boy?”

“I… I am… Ren… The God of Humor…”

“Where is meestah Dickle’s key, Ren?”

“That… That meanie… He took-”

“Wat meanie? Who ees he?”

“V-V-Ven-” Ren then sharted himself and died.

“Ven? Who ees thees ‘Ven’ mon?”

A faint crack was heard and the team all tensed up as they heard and saw more cracks forming in the floor.

“Boss, wat de fahck as that?”

“I teenk we fahcked up.”

The floor then collapsed, and then the floor beneath that level collapsed, and then gained enough momentum to crash all the way down to the basement. Several of them misfired their guns in a state of panic and hit the leaking gas line, which created a thermobaric explosion in the lowest floors. The entire apartment complex then collapsed.

Denly and Alberto watched as the live holographic feed of the raid was terminated. The two looked at each and said “We fucked up.” simultaneously.

“Why do we even care about this?” Denly said. “His ‘treasure’ is probably fucking jelly beans or something.”

“And if it ain’t jelly beans or nothin’ like that? What if it somethin’ big, and that mothafucka who planted this fake key gets to it?”

“Fake key? Are you saying-”

“Thas rite. The stupid motherfuckers thought they could play me, but I designed those Nintendo flash keys. No nigger gon’ make a fool outta me.”

“I bet it was that white bitch who took the key from Ren!”

Denly and Alberto began ooking and eeking in agreement, then jumping up and down while chanting “OOGA BOOGA!” Their enthusiastic fervor as cut short when Alberto received a call.…

The image of two men in leather jackets with huge chins and slanted eyes appeared.

“Sheeeeeeeeeit. The Bogdanoffs. You said ya ain’t never gonna call unless it was somethin’ serious.”

“You can have our assurances that this is no courtesy call.” Igor said.

“It concerns the matter of your- rather, our, technology.” Grichka said.

Alberto became cold and began to sweat. “Denly… Thi- This is private. I think-”

“I gotcha.” Denly said as he tried his best to exit casually.

“We are not here to extort you. When we granted you the materials for your fleet, we had no intention of lording the cost over you. To do so would be of no benefit to us or our plan.” When either of the Bogdanoff Brothers spoke, they seemed to be interchangeable, save for subtle little differences in timbre. Their cadence and vocabulary were the same, and while they never finished each other’s sentences, each one built off the last as though they were spoken by the same man in the same train of thought. For this, Alberto considered them to be one being.

“This is no threat. It is an offer.”

“What’s yer offer?”

“We know someone has been opposing you in your hunt for Tommy’s One Piece, which means they oppose us. If they are privy to a secret as deep as his treasure, they are at least as knowledgeable as us. What we offer you is an asset we would sooner see in your hands than theirs. You will find it, and us, at Island Seventeen. Do not rush, but do not make us wait too long.”

The call ended and Alberto opened the door. Denly returned to the war room and said, “I honestly don’t want to know what that was about. Let’s just find the fucker who took our key.”

Lacroix rubbed DisneyTHX’s shoulder and ran his fingers through his hair. “How does it feel… to have the gift?”

“I feel like…”

“Like what?”

“Like now I need to… Give the gift.”

“Indeed you do. I can say quite safely that the only experience greater than being pozzed, iz pozzing a neg.”

“You’re right. I want it so badly. I want to- NEED to poz every neg!”

Lacroix chuckled and said, “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. As per our agreement, I have given you the key to the greatest pleasure man can ever know, but now, I expect a key from you.”

“What kinda key?”

“A very special key. One that once belonged to a mister Tommy Dickles.”

DisneyTHX scowled. “Oh I hate that meanie so much! He said I was a bad pirate because real pirates steal! So I showed him when I took his key!”

“And where is the key?”

“A meanie clown took it from me! He said he was a real pirate, and that he’d take my stuff to prove it!”

Meanwhile in Georgia, Farley Sweet, Shakre Kanf, and Peridot stood at the end of a bridge on a highway that would take them to Florida. The Clowns from Akira and Portuguese Tactical Armors painted in garish circus colors held them at gunpoint. A tiny Volkswagen rolled up and out stepped a clown with blue hair who is also a pirate.

“Well, well, well, Farley Sweet! Sweet is your name, and sweet you must be, as I long for the taste of your sweet twink asspussy! Come to finally surrender yourself at last? You must still be reeling from our fun at the castle!”

Farley did that thing you see in Chinese cartoons where he takes a short step back, lowers his head and seethes angrily. “Listen here you degenerate fruit! I’m on a mission of divine importance! I want no trouble so I suggest you and your literal assclowns get the fuck out of my or else you’re gonna get fucked in the ass!”

“We like it in the ass!” said a random clown.

“Well then you’re gonna get something you don’t like!”

Buggy scowled at the severity of Farley’s threat. “You’re in no position to be making threats, my little piece of androgynous fuck-meat!”

Shakre growled and Buggy said “I see your pink breeder bitch! I salvaged these tin cans just to whack her!”

Farley did that thing again and motioned to Shakre to do something, and she then stepped forward slowly. One of the tactical armors raised its gun, which was a 105 millimeter howitzer scavenged from the battle of the castle.

“Don’t try it.” Buggy said.

Peridot’s gem began to glow as she received a vision of the future. “Farley, he’s right. Don’t do it!”

Farley ignored her and stepped forward. “We kicked your ass more times than we count!”

“Only when you had your bitchy friends, fuckboy! Where are they now?”

“Farley, stop!”

“Try me.” Farley said.

Shakre stepped forward and the clown in the tactical armor panicked, firing off a high explosive shell directly into Shakre’s abdomen. Everyone’s ears were ringing from the weapon firing and the shell exploding. Shakre took one look down and saw a gaping hole in her stomach, and her organs began to spill out. Peridot was screaming incoherently in terror.

When the smoke cleared, Farley’s jaw dropped. He could not utter a single sound. Shakre’s body turned red and she melted into a pool of blood. Buggy laughed with genuine glee and shouted “I told you, faggot! Take these losers back to the love tent!”

In a squalid, moldy, unlit house, IGPH put on his mother’s tattered and dingy blouse and stuffed two volleyballs under the chest. He grabbed the handle of a broom and snapped off a portion roughly nine inches in length. His intestines churned and his penis began to stiffen. He farted loudly and inhaled the the fumes, making him even more erect.

He began to rub his taint, which had a deep abscess, and pretended it was a vagina. Touching it brought him a sharp, stinging pain, but to him, this only enhanced his experience. His clown shoes squeaked loudly as he made his way to the bedroom, here his mother’s now skeletal corpse still hung from the ceiling, and admired himself in the few relatively clean parts of the mirror. “Heh… Heh… Boob…” he said as he fondled one of the volleyballs under his blouse. His crooked three-inch long penius was now extremely erect.

With an eager grin, IGPH shoved the piece of broom handle up his ass. It took a little bit of forcing, but the brief pain was nothing compared to the pleasure he would experience. His intestines gurgled audibly as began thrusting his makeshift dildo. “Booob! BOOOOOOOOOOOOB!” he shouted with ecstasy as he rammed his ass with as much force as his flabby arms could deliver. The broom handle left some splinters on his anus, but he did not care at all. The joy he felt was much greater than any of that pain.

Suddenly, the dildo became stuck, pressed firmly against his prostate. The pressure in his bowels increased and he was near climax. IGPH groaned and strained to hold it in, but the pressure would not let up. The liquid fecal matter pressed the dildo even hard against his prostate, driving him mad with pleasure. He grabbed the volleyballs in his blouse and squeezed them to his chest.

The pressure and the stimulation was too great. He sharted with enough force to blow the wooden dildo out of his ass and ejaculated just as hard. Weak, limp-tailed sperm flopped in the puddle of shit and semen like dying goldfish. IGPH scooped some of the santorum off the floor and raised it to his face. He licked his lips as he heard the doorbell ring.

“This place reeks.” Moppy said.

“Shush! Mister Fishboy says we can’t insult recruits.” OTFree said.

The door opened and the pair were introduced to the site of a IGPH in a shitstained pink blouse with two volleyballs on his chest and his hands crusted in santorum. OTFree sighed and muttered “Oh why did it have to be you…” under his breath.

IGPH scowled and said “Wah da you want?”

“I am… Oh, lord...” OTFree said in a monotone voice. “OOOOOOOTFree, with… Correct The Re- I mean Shareblue. I can’t do this. Moppy?”

“Uhm, yeah.” Moppy added. “So, we’re here to inform you that you have been offered a position at Venture Palace, former site of the NSGM castle, to work under George Soros.”

IGPH slowly began to smile and chuckle as he processed this information. “I git to live in you house… heh heh… An’ you git to clean my poo. I’ll do eet.”

“We will expect you to arrive next tuesday.” OTFree said.
The pair walked back to the company car, which was some kind of toyota clown car, dragging their feet in a tired slump.

“Six months ago we’d be kickin’ his feckin’ teeth in! Now we gotta line up and lick his arse clean when he shits himself!” Moppy said.

“Now look. It’s bad that we ain’t what we used to be, but I’m sure there’s some way this could be worse.”

As Moppy buckled his seatbelt, IGPH shrieked in the distance and a wad of santorum splattered against the passenger window.

“There’s no way this could be worse.” OTFree said.

Farley sat motionless in Buggy’s “love tent”, which seemed to be an old NATO tent. He put up so little resistance that The Clowns did not even tie him to his chair. Buggy walked in slowly behind Farley and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Ya know why they call me ‘Buggy’, boy?”

Buggy expected a snappy retort, but Farley said nothing.

“Ever since I was a boy, I never liked girls. Back in those days I was just called ‘The Clown’. My teenage years came and I truly discovered myself then. It wasn’t easy for a ‘fag’ like me then. Folks like me kept it secret, but we always knew one of our own when we see one.”

Buggy moved his hand down Farley’s shirt.

“A man came along who understood me. He said he had so much to show me. He said I’d enter a whole new world once he gave me something called ‘the gift’. You see, those who ain’t got it are called ‘negs’. Those who do are called ‘poz’. When a poz gives a neg the gift… That’s called ‘bugging’ him.”

Buggy began to unbutton Farley’s pants.

“I’m gonna bug you, Farley Sweet. I’m going to give you… the gift.”

Buggy received a message on his phone. “Oh who the fuck could it- OH FUCK NO.” He said as he dropped his phone. “You wait here fuckboy.”

Buggy ran out to the head tent of his camp to find none other than Strongarm waiting for him. “You too! Fuck, who let this asshole in?”

“I’m here on behalf of Sebastian Lacroix.” Strongarm said.

Buggy broke into a cold sweat. “Oh-ho-hooooooh, no. I’m not his fucktoy anymore. I’m my own clown now. If he expects me to bend over backwards to whatever demand he makes-”

“You’re in no position to be making threats, Buggy.” Strongarm said. “You WILL bend over to his demands. We can force you if we must.”

“As fucking if! I don’t see any army with you! You couldn’t take us all on alone. You couldn’t take me on alone!”

“Oh, I’m not going to fight you. But they might.”

Clowns walked into the tent and pointed their guns at Buggy.

“Mister Lacroix is very generous. He just paid each of them individually more than they all make together in a year under you.”

“Oh Jesus…”

“Now we heard you got a little key.”

Peridot was released from her captivity inside of a beer cooler and made her way to Buggy’s ‘love tent’. Farley was whispering something to himself inaudibly.



“It was a…”

“Are you okay?”

Farley turned to face Peridot. His eyes were bloodshot and wide.

“What are we gonna do without her?”

“It was a necessary sacrifice. Gods demand blood.”

The Portuguese Caliphate in collaboration with the Trump administration established a series of checkpoints between New York and Bellwood. In New Jersey, an RV driven by a mysterious man in a Balaclava with two little girls who had unnatural hair colors was stopped by ICE. A Portuguese mobile suit loomed over the highway, surrounded by a squad of tactical armors. If Vent still had skin, he would be sweating. In his half-repaired state, a young vampire was a challenge. One tactical armor would be too much, but there were at least four backed up by that mobile suit.

Two Portuguese black troopers were sitting on top of an empty watermelon crate.

“Dawg, it’s hot as hell out here. We need some serious refreshment.” Tyrone said.

“You just hol’ up. Imma see what we got.” Jay-quon said.

He opened the cooler and dug around for something that could truly sate their scorching thirst. Jay-Quon tossed aside several bottles of inferior brands before setting his eyes on the prize.

“Aaaaaaaawwwww yyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaa!” Tyrone said as Jay-Quon brought a six-pack of Menstrualola. The two cracked open twelve ounce cans and said “Bottoms up!” in unison. The RV rolled up to the checkpoint as they finished their drinks. “Aw shit nigga, we’s supposed to be workin’!” Tyrone said.

The pair marched to the RV and pointed their guns inside. “Ay yo white boi, open up!”Jay-quon said. “It’s time fo’ yo inspection!”

Vent knew better than to resist at this moment, even if it meant the loss of the key. Tyrone and Jay-Quon marched into the RV and began digging around haphazardly, tossing clothes, snacks garbage, as well as Pale-Tuna and Aoi. After digging through the mattress in the back, they found the key under Pale-Tuna’s pillow.

“A SHIT NIGGA YA KNOW WHAT DIS MEANS!? WE’S GETTIN A PROMOTION!” Jay-Quon shouted. He and Tyrone then fired their guns into the air, perforating the roof of the RV. They stepped out of the RV and pointed their guns Vent and the girls. “Alright niggas, listen up!” Tyrone said. “You’s under the custody of Alberto Barbosa, kang of the Portuguese Caliphate!”

“I see,” said Vent.

The ending theme played:…
The opening theme played:…

After what he doubted he could ever be able to pull off, Robbie Rotten had managed to push up the entire wheelbarrow of nickel ore up the hill to the back of the mine, “Phew, I did it! I can’t believe me, but my first day of work has been a success!”

“You said it, Robbie,”said the happy little Moleman, “want head to the Drunken Pumpkin to celebrate? Me and my mates are there every night.”

“Ah gee thanks, Atticus,” Robbie said catching his breath. “I know I just got back but,”

“Shush, Robbie,” said Atticus, “we know you had a rough patch before but now you’re back and soon you’ll be able to push a hundred carts!”

Robbie blushed and the two met up with the other molemen and went to the Drunken Pumpkin. However, when they got there they found the bar was, “Closed?” Robbie asked with disappointment, “what rotten luck!”

“Hmm,” Atticus put his little mole finger to his little mole chin, “since the bar’s closed for the evening we could head back to my place and drink, you cool Robbie?”

“Yeah, I’m cool,” Robbie said eager to please, “way cool.”

“Cool enough to drink some refreshing cans of Menstrualola?” Atticus asked.

Robbie’s eyes lit up and he began to shake with anticipation. This was his chance to prove himself to be truly hardcore. “You bet I’m cool enough, Atticus! You know what’s cooler than being cool?”

“ICE COLD!” the molemen shouted in unison.

Around the corner in the Molemen Ghetto Alley, Robbie situated himself inside a warmer Mole Hut with the other molemen reading up their gaming council for a night of fun. Atticus returned with a red cardboard box, “Whoooose thirsty?”

“Awwww yeeeeah,” said one of the molemen.

“Wait!” said another. “Robbie goes first.”

The molemen began pumping their fists and chanting “FIRST BLOOD! FIRST BLOOD! FIRST BLOOD!”

“Haha, c’mon guys,” Robbie scratched the back of his head, “why do I go first?”

Atticus cracked open a twenty-two ounce can. A puff of carbon dioxide wisped out of the tab and swirled around his fingers. The can glistened with condensation. “It’s all yours, my friend.”

“Thanks, Atticus,” Robbie said.

Slowly, Robbie wrapped his long, thin, fingers around the can. He brought it to his nose and inhaled slowly. A cool scent like that of raspberries and iron tickled his nostrils. This made him salivate.

“Hurry, before it gets flat!”

Robbie took a deep breath and raised the can to his lips. He took a gentle sip and a bitter, cool stream washed over his tongue. It was like two nickels dancing on his tongue. He resisted at first, but then there was another flavor. It was a rich flavor, comparable to tomatoes. The interplay of strong and bitter flavors was pierced by a sweet taste like cherries.

Robbie’s breathing became more ragged and intense as he tilted his head back and began to chug heavily. When the last drop had fallen, Robbie dropped the can and panted. The molemen spectated with jaws dropped and leaned forward in silent anticipation.

“I…” Robbie said. “I… Must… Have… MORE!”

The molemen raised their fists and cheered. Atticus hit the stereo and this song played:… Two molemen hauled out large wooden crates of forty ounce Menstrualola. Atticus attached a plastic funnel to a short tube and Robbie stuck it in his mouth. The molemen unpacked several bottles of Menstrualola and began pouring it down the beer bong. Like an angry bull he began to hyperventilate through his nose as he swallowed every last drop. Atticus dropped the beer bong and Robbie fell on his back, dazed and lethargic.

Robbie lingered on the edge of sleep for the next hour, never fully passing out. Suddenly he sharted and felt an itching sensation his scalp. He raised his hands to scratch it, but then saw that his fingernails were now long, dark and pointed. He scrambled to the mirror and saw this skin was grey and ashy, the whites of his eyes yellow, and his hair dry and stringy. “Wh-What’s happening to me?”

“Oh shit dawg! You just need some more Menstrualola!” Atticus said.

“Y-Yes… My god, I need it!”

Atticus handed Robbie a six-pack of Menstrualola. Robbie bit into each can and sucked out the rich nectar within.

“You feelin’ better, bro?”

“A little bit, but- I still need more!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but that’s all we have!”

“That’s not true! That’s impossible!”

“Listen, sometimes we all crash. You just need to sleep it off!”

‘I don’t know if I can!”

“Just trust me, Robbie!”

The next morning, Robbie, enduring a wild heachache, returned to work at the mine. His limbs shook and his vision was blurry. He had nowhere near the strength needed to push the wheelbarrow as he did yesterday, but still he pressed on. Deep in the mine, he smelled a familiar scent. His fingernails began to grow again, so he panicked and followed the scent.

Robbie found a locked door with a small glass window on it. He peered through and saw laboratory equipment and a small refrigerator filled with various flavors of Menstrualola. Robbie grabbed a stone and broke the window open so he could unlock the door from the other side. The fridge was also locked, so he busted it open and began stuffing the cans and bottles into his knapsack.

There it was again. Bitter like coins. Rich like tomatoes. Sweet like cherries. Robbie felt uplifted by Menstrualola. He never wanted to come down. Nervously, he carried back the his prize and returned to work. He felt even stronger than he did the day before. He was easily making up for his morning slack. The final push for the evening came and once more, Robbie was beginning to feel it wear off.

To retain his strength, he had no choice but to down another can. However, his sack burst open and the contents spilled out in front of the mine’s administrator, Shekel Iceberg.

“You! You’re the one who stole our product!”

“Why is there even a lab full of Menstrualola here in the first place?”

“Never mind that! I don’t pay you to think! You’re fired!”

Robbie sharted and began to cry, but not before scooping up all the Menstrualola back into his bag and running away. He returned home to his hovel where he drowned his sorrows in more Menstrualola and applied for welfare the next day. Ninety percent of every check was spent on Menstrualola. As long as he drank it, he was never hungry or thirsty and he felt like a stallion. However, as time passed, he needed to consume more and more to get the feeling that just one would have given him when he started.

One morning a young woman with rounded glasses, red hair, and a school uniform walked past Robbie’s house. He leered out his window and then hid back inside when she turned to go to his doorstep. She rang the doorbell, and Robbie opened the door just enough for his eye to peer through. Robbie could smell a familiar scent emanating from her.

“Mr. Rotten? You haven’t left your house in almost two weeks! Are you okay in there?”

Robbie could barely speak. His mouth was dry and parched despite the fact that he had just chugged another can of Menstrualola.

“I- I’m fine. I don’t need anything.”

“But Mr. Rotten-”

“I SAID I’M FINE!” Robbie shouted as he slammed the door. The knob broke on his side from hidden strength. He fell to the floor and cried like Markiplier.

The young woman with rounded glasses, red hair, and a school uniform continued to walk down the street when she bumped into Sportacus.

“You look pretty down. What’s wrong young woman with rounded glasses, red hair, and a school uniform?” Asked Sportacus.

“It-” She said as tears welled up in her eyes and her voice began to break. “It’s Mr. Rotten! He won’t come outside anymore! He doesn’t talk to us!”

“Oh no. I know what this is!” said Sportacus.

The following afternoon, Sportacus, Stingy, Swedish Black Metal Legend Varg Vikernes, Farley Sweet, Stephanie, and Alberto Barbosa showed up on Robbie’s doorstep.

“D’oh shit!” Robbie said, wiping the blood from his sore lips.

Sportacus did triple sideswipe 360 backflip with appropriate rock sound effects to each flip and pinned Robbie to the ground.

“Bwagh! Leahg, let me go! Yarg asshooole!” Robbie cried.

“Robbie! This is an intervention! I’ve heard all about your addiction to Mentrualola!”

Varg stepped forward and stared into Robbie’s eyes. “Stop drinking menstrual blood.” he said, followed by an awkward silence.

“That’s it?” Asked Sportacus.

“Yes.” Varg said petulantly.

“WHY ARE THE OTHERS HERE!?” Robbie asked like a hot Anakin Skywalker.

“I was paid to be here.” Stingy said.

“I’m legally required to be here.” Farley said, checking his broken phone for the time of which it broke.

“I’m here cause he’s here and I got nothing better to do.” Alberto said as he pointed at Farley.

Stephanie was the most genuinely upset looking in the group, “Robbie, we’re ALL here because there’s something wrong with what you’re-”

“NO! THere’s nothing wrong with me! Give me that nectar! I can’t live without it!” Robbie shouted as he flailed his limbs. In this state his enhanced strength required the entire crew to hold him down and tie him to a chair.

Once again Varg glared at Robbie and said “Stop drinking menstrual blood.”

“God dammit Varg!” Sportacus said. ” Aren’t you ever going to say anything else!”

“Stop berating me.” Varg said.

Sportacus and Varg immediately broke into a heated argument while Stingy and Farley played rock paper scissors. Farley lost so he punched Stingy in the face which launched his puppet like body across the room. Stephanie cried like PewDiePie.

Robbie’s eyes were fixed on Alberto, who withdrew a cold, fresh can of Menstrualola from his spacesuit.

“Is… Is that Menstrualola?” Robbie said, licking his dry lips and trying to quell his rapid eye blinking.

“Hmm? What, this?” Alberto said. “Yeeeaaah, I wanted Dr. Pepper but I pressed the wrong button on the vending machine. This shit’s nasty, but I don’t wanna waste it.”

Robbie began salivating intensely. “I- I love Menstrualola!”

“Well you can have it if you want it!” Alberto said as he opened the can and handed it Robbie. “Oh wait, yo hands are tied. Open wide, white boy. Imma feed you like a little baby bird.”

Sportacus continued yelling at Varg while Farley picked his nose. Stingy was still reeling from the punch and Stephanie was still crying.

“Whatever, just give it to me!”
Robbie tilted his head back and Alberto poured the creamy Menstrualola down his throat.

“Mmmmm, you suck dat down, white boi.”

Ordinarily, Robbie would be annoyed by this, but he was too enamored by the unnatural pleasure of Menstrualola.

He knew this would not settle his craving. One can would never sate his thirst now. His fingernails continued to grow once again into long, sharp claws. The whites of his eyes turned a pale yellow. His skin was ashen and grey. His hair was dry and stringy, and now his teeth fell out, replaced by sharper rodent-like teeth.


Robbie stood breaking free and tore off his vest so that his burning chest could better breathe. Where his ribs met was now a caving in canyon of flesh. His right torso, ever so slightly, protruded out further than the left half. Yet still the body was bulky and meatier than one what have expected of the rotten fellow.

“Uh,” Farley uh’d.

“D’oh shit!” Sportacus said. Thinking quickly, he raised a six pack of “sports candy”. “Look what I got!”

Robbie hissed and growled like a crocodile, then jumped out the window. For a moment they could see Robbie leaping from parked car hood to car hood like they were stepping stones for his escape.

Everyone looked at Alberto. “I dindu nuffin.” he said smugly.

In his mindless rage Robbie bolted down the street, cracking cement with each step, knocking over and breaking the bones of the useless cuntless men, until he sniffed out his prey.


A young woman with rounded glasses, red hair, and a school uniform dropped her books at the sudden sight of the rabid charging Robbie, “Wha, what do you-”

Before she could finish the now foaming Robbie had already leapt for her. Paneling away from his eager sustenance ritual both of their shadows were clear and large on the nearby building wall for all to see from the end of the street.

With one grunt the girl echoed out the end of her life has Robbie’s great, menacing shadow bent the girl’s shadow back the wrong way--snapping her spine. Robbie’s shadow then lifted up his prey above his head and crushed her torso to generate a gushing fall of what he had sniffed out--her raw and active menstrual cycle.

Robbie’s shadow tossed its prey aside and as he continued off into the shadows letting the terrified bystanders see the beige, dry, and shriveled up corpse of the girl lying on the ground--bloodless.

“We have to do something--I guess,” Farley said, further self inserting himself.

Sportacus nodded, “I’ll try to cut him off!” He declared before running down a nearby alleyway.

“Wait,” Alberto stepped forward, “don’t go down that alley!”

Shortly after Sportacus turned the corner out of sight, a gunshot could be heard.

“Shiiieeet,” Alberto said cleverly.

For a moment the dark clouds above blew by shining a temporary light of hope on the town.

Igor Bogdanoff walked up behind the group. Everyone stood mesmerized by the sight of his godlike appearance, with a chin that harkened to the visage of Akhenaten. His eyes fixed with determination, Igor raised a phone to his ear and said, “I know someone who can help.”

Back in the molemen ghetto within the Fright Side alleyways, Atticus heard high pitched shrieking coming from around the corner. Hesitantly, he peeked around to see one of his twelve sisters pinned against a wall with a long tentacle-like tongue in her cunt, pulsating as it drained her of menstrual blood.

Her body shriveled like a prune and shattered into dust as it fell to the ground. Atticus pissed as her attacker turned to face him. “Atticus… I’m so glad to see you.” Robbie said.

“R-Robbie!” Atticus stammered. “Oh my god!”
“Atticus, you gotta hook me up.” Robbie, much taller, wobbled to and fro towards Atticus.

“Robbie, what the FUCK?” Atticus cried.

Robbie moved into the light and Atticus saw his new face. His lips were now much wider and thinner, most of his hair had fallen out, his skin was a dark grey, and his nose and ears had shrunken.

“Come on, Atticus…” Robbie said with a scratchy throat. “Aren’t you cooooooool?”

Atticus sharted and turned to run, but Robbie knocked him into a wall with a backhand.

“W-We’re all out! It’s all at the mine!” Atticus said.

“Really?” Robbie said in an accusing tone. “And why might it be at the mine?”

“That’s where it’s made! What do you think the nickel we mine is for!?” Atticus said as he began to cry from both the pain of his injuries and his shame. “We mined the nickel for flavor, and it’s right next to the plant!”

“Thanks, Atticus…” Robbie said as he licked Atticus with his heavy, muscular proboscis. “You’re a true friend.” Robbie left Atticus crying like Jacksepticeye.

Stephanie found Atticus lying on the ground, breathing heavily and coughing up blood. “You’re the guy who worked with Robbie!” she said. “What happened here?”  

“He- GHack-” Atticus said as he coughed up more blood. “He ran to the mine… It’s where we make it…”

“Is that how he got hooked?” Stephanie said. “Did you and your friends get him addicted?”

“It was just one can!” Atticus groaned in pain.

“This is your fault!” Stephanie said. She ran off for the mine and Atticus began to choke on his own blood, suffocating and dying painfully.

On the gravel road up the hill, Stephanie found signs of Robbie’s rampage. Male corpses were strewn about like broken toys and some dust-covered skeletons- presumably female- were lying about in erotic poses.

At the entrance to the mine, the entire ground was red with still wet blood. A moleman torso was impaled to the supervisor’s office, his entrails dangling from his severed hips. From a blood splashed radio this played faintly off in the background:
Stephanie opened the door inside and found a the body of a very fat Jewish man with a gaping, pulpy hole where his ass would be. The hole was stuffed with dollar bills and coins.

Robbie had torn the elevator shaft to shreds, so Stephanie had to use a ladder to climb down into the mine. One fluorescent lantern was still functional, though Stephanie had to wipe blood and shit off of it. As she expected more molemen parts were laying all around the mine, but not one was attached to a wholly intact corpse.

Stephanie heard a deep roar bellow out from the caves. “Come to save me, Stephanie?” Robbie’s voice echoed. A moleman head went flying down the shaft and over Stephanie’s shoulders. A faint scuffling was heard moving through the tunnels. The echoes made its origin impossible to trace.

A shadow appeared out of the corner of Stephanie’s eyes and vanished just as quickly as it appeared. Suddenly Stephanie felt something stiff rubbing against her ass. She could not even scream as the lantern was swiped out of her hand and shattered on the ground. Long muscular arms whipped her body around and pressed her against the walls of the cave.

Robbie wrapped his elongated hands around Stephanie's wrists and squeezed until he heard them snap. The blood that leaked from them only fueled his tenacity to drink in what his nose knew what was coming. At the worst possible time Stephanie felt her second lips pool our her monthly flow.

Robbie exhaled his foul breath out towards Stephanie's ear, “Suuuch, Rotten timing,” he could barely contain a wicked cackle from the anticipation of the deed he was about to commit.

“Robbie,” Stephanie was nearing petrification from the sheer aura of horror coming from Robbie, “please--please don’t…” her legs became weak and shook beyond her control.

“Oh,” Robbie gently leaned in his lanky body into Stephanie’s, “I’m sorry, Stephanie, but I...I simply cannot cah, caghh…”

Without warning Robbie violently plunged Stephanie’s body into the ground and spread his legs out far with his rear in the air like a hungry spider. He guided his sharpened hands from Stephanie’s ruined wrists to her shoulders and neck, keeping his knife-like thumbs pinched outside her mouth.

Stephanie cried, “RAHHH! RABAHH DON’T!”

Robbie could only groan with the displeasure of abandoning his humanity. But if that meant he would be able to suck on the wonders of Stephanie’s redtide then he accepted his actions. Crouching backwards and tightening his grip, Robbie lowered his mouth to Stephanie’s tense vagina. His chin first touching her nether regions he flattened out his face and bit off her pants with such perfect precision he did not harm Stephanie’s now exposed pooling slit.

Robbie’s drool mixed with Stephanie’s vaginal blood for only a moment. The changed man then plummeted his grey face into her defenseless cooch and shot his lizard’s tongue as deep inside. His tongue navigated directly to the source of the blood and locked on in order to milk Stephanie like a Menstrual cow.

The cries Stephanie let out haunted Robbie even his post-human form yet they only encouraged him. Suck Robbie. Suck harder! Robbie demanded of himself to suck her cunt dry. Making a mess with his fervorous slurping the menstrual blood not only scattered across his face and the ground around them but it also trickled down Stephanie’s thighs adding the gruesome sensation the girl could never hope of forgetting.

Robbie lifted his head off of Stephanie’s cunt and slathered over her hips. “You don’t know how long I’ve craved your taste, Stephanie…” Robbie growled. “I’d love to savor it as long as I can, but I’m afraid I’m just too THIRSTY!” Robbie’s tongue lashed about when suddenly a flying batarang cut it in half.

Robbie howled in pain and Batman, aka Terry McGinnis, appeared and said “If you liked that, you’ll love the new and improved flavor.” Batman armed an explosive Batarang and threw it Robbie’s way. The batarang blew up a portion of the cave, cutting off Robbie’s exit.

Robbie grabbed a chunk of moleman meat and attached to the stump of his tongue. The flesh twisted and convulsed, reshaping itself into a new tongue. “You don’t know what it’s like to be this thirsty, Batman!” Robbie shouted ruefully.  

Robbie turned to face Batman but saw he was gone. “Every time I drink more,” Robbie looked around for his target, “IT ONLY MAKES ME THIRST--” Robbie’s vision flashed to a sight of white for an instance when Batman swung around from the shadows and delivered a kick to Robbie’s temple. This played in the background:…

Batman attempted to strike another kick onto the off guard Robbie but it was blocked by Robbie’s hardened, lumpy arm. Robbie stood while flicking Batman off of his arm and delivered a punch to Batman’s face. Robbie swung again and again landing more strikes onto Batman until Batman pulled out a shock mine and attached it to Robbie’s incoming arm. Although Robbie was again able to punch Batman the mine locked onto him and sent him back in a shock.

Again moving in for his own chance to do damage, Batman delivered several quick hits to Robbie’s swollen abs. His changed flesh softened the damage so Robbie was able to grab Batman’s shoulders and headbutt him. Batman was indeed sent back but Robbie underestimated the armor of the mask and tripped over his own feet.  

Robbie stumbled in the darkness until he saw a familiar fluorescent light from a door with a broken window. “NECTAR!” Robbie shouted. To his delight, the refrigerator was restocked with Menstrualola. In the light, Batman could see Robbie’s full form. His body was now completely hairless and his nose had withered down to the bone, as had his ears. His skin was a dark stone grey and his lizard like lips encircled his entire jaw. Most apparent of all were his apelike arms that reached past his knees. His chin kept its absurd length yet had no doubt sharpened with this new form.

Robbie ripped the door of the mini fridge open with his scythe shaped claws and dumped the contents down his throat, swallowing the cans whole. Batman threw another explosive batarang into the mix, and it was swallowed along with the cans. Robbie’s stomach gurgled and briefly expanded when the batarang exploded, causing him to vomit shards of aluminum at Batman.

One of the shards pierced Batman’s shoulder and forced him to take cover around a concrete corner. Batman ripped out the shrapnel from his shoulder and prepared to throw another batarang. When he stepped out into the opening he saw Robbie’s legs entering up through an air vent in the ceiling.

Cautiously Batman stepped out of the laboratory and into the main production facility, where menstrual blood was collected into a large vat to be processed and canned. Robbie could be heard clunking around in the vents, but rather than dropping directly down on him as he expected, Robbie made his way to the far end of the room and dropped down in front of an electrical panel.

Senselessly, Robbie slashed the panel, causing the machinery to power down and the lights to flicker. Batman would not be fooled by this trick so he activated his night vision. He could see perfectly in the dark, but now he was blinded when the lights flickered on. Batman switched off his night vision and instead listened closely for the sounds of footsteps.

Just when he thought he had pinned Robbie’s signature down, a similar sound came from a different direction. Batman was now twitching at every sound, for he could be struck at any moment by the deadly claws of Robbie Rotten.

In the brief moments of light, a purple blur could be seen, as well as an unfamiliar pink blur. He wasn’t aware that this monster had backup. Terry felt a mighty shove from behind and went flying across the room. Before he could try to open up his wings or fire his rocket boots, something caught him and set his down easy on the rafters.

Batman pulled the emergency power switch and dim lights came on while the last of the original lights popped and blew out. Now he could fully see Robbie’s hideous form leaping about. Robbie could now see Terry fully as well and lunged at him, swiping the rafters with claws and swinging about them like an ape.

Terry tried to fire his rocket boots and fly to another end of the room, but Robbie tore his wings with one swipe and Terry fell to the ground. Terry thought he would splatter but then he was caught once again by the mysterious force from earlier, which was none other than Stephanie.

Stephanie’s skin was now white as paper and her fingernails had grown into claws. Her eyes were yellow with slitted pupils and her messy bangs covered her eyes. Without so much as a word, Stephanie glared at Robbie and lunged at him with great speed, tearing into his legs.

The two tumbled down onto the floor below and Batman used his grappling hook to safely rappel down. Robbie was lying in a broken heap on the ground as Stephanie stood on his throat, ready to crush the bones beneath her.

“Wait!” Batman said, trying to catch up. “Look!”

Robbie’s claws were slowly beginning to shrink and his skin lightened.

“It doesn’t have to end like this.” Batman said. “You lived a life before this stuff. You can live after it.”

Robbie could see and feel his power slipping, though in this state he still stood a very good chance. “I feel so…” Robbie said, “ROTTEN!” and then jizzed in Batman’s eyes, blinding him.

Without the element of surprise on her side, Robbie tossed Stephanie off of him and jumped for the vat of Menstrualola. Batman activated the anti-jizz shield within his suit and burned the jizz off of his mask. “Robbie, no!” Batman said, but it was too late, and Robbie dived into the vat.

There was a brief moment of silence before a loud thump came from within the vat and Robbie busted it open. The inside was completely dry, every last drop of menstrual blood within absorbed by Robbie. Now he stood twelve feet tall, and with no skin leaving his dark grey muscles and sinew exposed. His body was slick and with a black sheen as though he had tar for blood, his eyes were tiny red dots within cavernous pits on a skull-like face, and where his hands would be, a muscular tentacle extended from each wrist.

From a side corridor a surviving moleman peeked out to see what Robbie had become. The moleman nearly suffered a heart attack when Robbie let out an airy whisper that echoed in all the ears of everyone in the room, “I am...the beast.” The moleman fled and Terry retook a fighting stance despite his own fear.

Robbie admired his powerful new form and crushed a nearby pillar to test his strength. Pleased with what he saw, he dashed forward at blinding, inhuman speeds, leaving a gust of wind in his wake and rammed Stephanie with the force of a truck. The impact left a crater in the cave wall.

“Good show, Batman…” Robbie said, “But it wasn’t good enough.” He extended a tentacle and hardened it, thrusting it at Batman like a lance. The rigid tentacle penetrated the same wound Robbie had inflicted earlier when he spewed shrapnel at Batman.

“Does it hurt?” Robbie hissed. “It’s not even a fraction of the pain I feel when I can’t get my... neeeeectar.”

Robbie slowly drove his tentacle in further to illustrate his point. “Now is the worst it’s ever been.” Robbie said as Batman cried out in pain. Robbie withdrew his tentacle and calmly walked over to the assembly line where he began shovelling cans of Menstrualola into his mouth. When the last can was swallowed, Robbie sighed and said, “I guess I’ll have to make a trip to town… But first..” He walked back to Batman, “I need to take care of a pest.” Robbie hardened his tentacle again, but when he thrusted it at Batman, he missed and the tip shattered against the wall.

“What…” Robbie looked at his other tentacle and saw it go stiff, “What is happening to me?” He said as he noticed that his body was drying and flaking away.

“Substance withdrawal,” Batman rushed over to the now kneeling Robbie, “we need to get you out of here for treatment.”

“Treatment…” Robbie groaned. “I don’t want your treatment. This power is-” Robbie was interrupted by a hacking cough. His chin deflated and flaked away from his face.

“Robbie!” Batman cried out.

“It hurts, Batman.” Robbie said, “It hurts so much.”

Robbie fell onto his back and his body shattered into dust. Underneath it was Robbie’s true form, but weak and pale. Batman rushed to his side and tried to hold Robbie upright, but he was stone cold dead. Stephanie came up to Terry from behind and placed her hand gently on Terry’s hurt shoulder.

Terry and Igor stood on the Weirdcreek bridge with Fright Side in the distance.

“What’s going to happen to Stephanie now?” Terry asked.

“Nothing like her has ever existed before.” Igor said. “Vampires are nothing new, but a living vampire has never been seen before on this planet. My brother is looking into the matter as we speak.”

“And what about the people of Fright Side?” Terry said.

“Here’s the quick rundown,” Igor said, “The reported casualties are estimated to be at least two hundred.” He looked over his shoulder at the city of Weirdcreek. “It would have been tens of thousands without you.”

“I just wish it would have never happened at all.” Terry said. “Who evens own that factory? Who owns that mine? Who makes that- awful drink?”

“It would be unwise of me to just spill it to you,” Igor said. “But if you must know, you’ll want to investigate Venture Capital.”

Terry saw Igor looking off in the opposite direction of Fright Side. The twinkle he noted from the horizon was no doubt Chicago’s Venture Tower. When Terry looked back, Igor was already entering his armored sportscar. “Oh, and Terry.” Igor said. “The night is scary, but you should worry about the sky more.”

The ending theme played:…
Well, it actually happened. He's gone. :icontommydickles: is dead. It may be easy to read, but it took a lot of will for me to type that sentence. It's not any easier than trying to say it out loud. It's difficult to so much as think that someone you've known and loved is no longer among the living. I had taken him for granted for so long. I've mocked him. Belittled him. Now no one can mock him anymore. It's no use wishing I didn't. There was plenty about him that was worthy of praise. I'll choose to talk more about that instead from now on.


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Alberto Barbosa
I do my part for social justice.


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vaporwavy Featured By Owner Mar 31, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
DabbingBulma1999 Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2017  New Deviant Professional Digital Artist
Can I use your name for my OC superhero?
AIDS-Man Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2017
Go for it.
DabbingBulma1999 Featured By Owner Mar 11, 2017  New Deviant Professional Digital Artist
Hiccaries Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
What the fuck is this
AIDS-Man Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2017
Would you like to receive... the gift?
Hiccaries Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Uh Noooooooo
AIDS-Man Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2017
Fucking typical. A chance to be enlightened. A chance to see the world as it was meant to be seen. You choose instead to adhere to your prejudices and wallow in your bigotry. I can't even pretend to be surprised.
(1 Reply)
AcidSerum Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
ItFeelzGood Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2016  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
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