Shrexistential Angst (feat. Pinkie Pie of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic)
By N.J. Dolinger of 405 Messages
The door to my cage opened slowly, allowing just a hopeless modicum of light to creep through. How ironic it was that light should find itself in my presence in these darkest of days. It was as though God himself was playing a cruel joke on me. God: what a piece of shit. He was just a big bully in the sky, the true cause of my existential angst. I hated him.
My tormenter stepped through the door, into my cage. Shutting the rusty iron door behind her, she left a grating sound of metal friction. It was like the darkest chambers of my soul crashing in on the reality she had so carefully constructed. She was my master, and I was her slave, her lover. From my essence, she leeched boundless longevity and pleasure.
“Shrekky-Wekkyyyyyyyyyyy, can I poke your testicles with a flaming metal torch?” she asked, her voice so alive with anticipation that I would forever remain her bitch, her perfect whore.
“Yes, Pinkie Pie. Anything to feel again.” I managed to stand in an upright position, though my scrawny, malnourished frame could barely support the weight of my torso. She handcuffed me to the doorknob, but I found no will to resist the icy grasp of her steel handcuffs. She lit a flame on her metal torch, a flame that flickered with sadistic excitement and expectation. I felt it press slowly into my testes, burning its way through the thick skin and instantly caulderizing the semen secreted from each testicle. A searing pain made its way to my head, but I would not be so foolish as to say it hurt—nothing hurts after eighteen years of dating Pinkie Pie.
“Boo, do you like the way feels???” Her tone was whiny yet euphoric, and I could not discern whether she was sincerely oblivious to my depression or just making a mockery of the emptiness.
“What is this ‘feel’ you speak of?” I managed to respond in spite of the agonizing effort.
“Shreeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhkkkkkkyyyyy, I want to try a new game! Can we? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssseee???”
I offered no response. How could I? Resistance was futile, and I would offer no such existential imperative to augment my own patheticness.
“Ohhh yayyy!!!! I can’t wait to play with you! This game is called, ‘eat my dick!’ Here, let me show you!!!!!!!!!!!”
She drew a shining metal knife from its sheath on her belt, which glistened in the dark like a black diamond. Pinning me down, she chopped off my penis with one swift blow. In a strange way it was rather liberating. With the blood flowing from my open crotch, I felt the last bit of tolerance escape with it. I had succumbed to total nihilism years ago, but I would now allow this to go any further. My dignity was being compromised, and I wouldn’t let this go any further.
“Open up, Boo-Boo! Here comes the train!!!!!!” She stuck a fork through my impaled dick and raised it to my open mouth. I bit off the tip, and in that moment I knew just what to do. I couldn’t let this go further: the pain I would feel fighting back would pale in comparison to the emptiness I faced in that moment.
“Fuuuuuuck… you…” I managed to utter with my remaining strength. With that, I spit out the bloody tip of my dick at Pinkie Pie’s face. It hit her cheek, leaving a crimson streak across her face.
“OHHH MY GOD SHREKKY WEKKY WHY ARE YOU SO ABUSIVE I FUKING HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’LL SHOW YOU WHO’S IN CONTROL!!!!!!!”
She left for a moment without disclosing her intent. I took brief satisfaction in my act of defiance. For the first time in years, I was truly happy. When Pinkie Pie returned, she brought with her a cart full of various instruments of torture.
“You HURT ME, Shrek. Now you’re gonna pay!” She strapped me facing down to an operating table and bound my limbs with leather straps. From her cart she took out a large, spiky mace. She thrust it as far up my anus as she could. When she pulled it out, it took out my anal cavity, the skin hanging limp and bloody from the spikes of her mace. In its absence there lied a gaping hole of blood and loose flesh. She pulled out a flamethrower and thrust it into the cavity, caulderizing the bloody flesh when she pulled the trigger and letting loose a stream of napalm into my body. I felt the urine in my bladder raise to an intense boil. In just a few seconds of exposure, my bladder exploded from internal heat and pressure, spewing hot urine throughout my body and burning like nothing I’d felt before. My charred stomach fell apart, letting loose stomach acid in my lower torso which clashed with the boiling urine and set off a chemical reaction that burned my kidneys.
Pinkie Pie leaned in closer, having turned off the flamethrower but leaving it stuck up as far up my ass as it ever was. She forced my head to the side, staring straight into my eyes. “Are you enjoying this game Shrekky-Wekky?” I was too weak to respond. “Now we can play a new game! It’s called ‘Michael Jackson’!”
She pulled a small but powerful chainsaw out of her mystery murder cart. With the grace and precision of a Renaissance sculptor she removed my nose. Blood splattered in my eyes as I felt the cartilage detach itself from my face. When the process was complete, she held my nose proudly in the air.
“Tee-hee!!! Billie Jean!!! Shammon-a!!!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie. She then took out an enormous bottle of Seckin’s disgusting Turkish tzaziki yogurt water and forced it down my naked nasal cavity.
“AGHGAGHAGHAAAAAGHAGHAHHHJESUSFUCKINGCHRISTAHHHGHAGHAAAGHMAKEITSTOPAHHH!!!!!!!!!” I responded.
Pinkie-Pie, having emptied a gallon of Seckin’s disgusting Turkish tzaziki yogurt water, climbed atop the table to which I was bound. She started jumping up and down on my testicles, stomping and kicking with all her might.
By the end of the process, she had reduced my balls to a mashed pudding stemming from my now-empty crotch. She dipped a large spoon into what was once my balls and force fed a heaping spoonful to me. It tasted kind of like chicken. Not bad, I must admit.
But I couldn’t just allow her to humiliate me like this! I spit it out onto her face.
“AAAAAGGHAGAHGAHAAAAGAJD!I!H!G!W!E!I!(!HJGI!W1NH!H!WGJOIGRJWGV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AGTHGAHGAHGAHGAHGAGHAGAA!!!!!!!!!!!1111!!!!!” said Pinkie Pie. “You don’t like it? WELL I BET YOU’LL LIKE THIS BETTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” With that, she gouged out my eyes and shoved them down my throat. It hurt. I resisted the urge to swallow, but she plunged her arm deep into my throat, forcing me to comply. I bit her hand as she withdrew. She got mad and broke off all my teeth with a hammer. Then she cut off my nose. My one and only nose that I’ve had my whole life and never even came close to losing. If you don’t understand surrealism in literature, that’s your problem, not mine.
“TEE HEE!!! MICHAEL JACKSON!!! I HAVE A STRANGE SINCE OF DÉJÀ VU!!! YOU LOOK LIKE MICHAEL JACKSON WITH NO NOSE!!! It’s a good style, you should totally keep it.”
She pulled out her enormous veiny black dick and thrust it deep into my nasal cavity. As she raped my face, her dick penetrated the soft grey matter of my brain. With every fuck I was being lobotomized. It was beautiful—at last I should fall into the abyss; I shall go gently into that sweet goodnight of death; I shall find my destiny! I could feel my mind fading. “Here’s a TIP for all your hard work and dedication!” said Pinkie, plunging her forty-inch cock depper into my brain. But by that point I had been reduced to a drooling idiot. With a few more thrusts, I was finally dead.
When I awoke, I was surrounded by badass flaming mountains and tormented sinners.
“Damn, I must be in hell. What a relief, as opposed to being with that crazy bitch Pinkie Pie for twenty years.” Then Satan walked up behind me and shoved his fiery cock up my ass. It still felt good because I knew I wouldn’t have to see Pinkie Pie again. Yet, just as I was embracing my fate, I heard Satan utter the truly profound words that filled me with greater dread than I ever deemed possible. “OH SHREKKY-WEKKY, I CAN’T WAIT TO PLAY MORE FUN GAMES WITH YOU NOW THAT WE’RE TOGETHER FOREVER!!!!!!!”