(NOTICE: This version of the story has been censored in order to fit within restrictions and rules. However, if you're after the full one, you'll know where to look so I can see no point mentioning it.)
Long, winding screams echo through the dirty halls of the Chandler residence. But no-one is there to hear them. Bob and Barbara Chandler are gone now.
Past dilapidated piles of boxes, knickknacks, merchandise - Past bacterial lumps of decomposing material, lining the walls and crossing the floors - Through the door, still plastered in decade-old sheets of paper and posters.
Into hell.
Every wall coated with torn, dusty, but still clear, advertisements and drawings and photographs, with barely a gap between each - a surreal collage. Strewn wildly across the floors, a sea of worthless crap - all themed after one particular thing.
In the centre of the room, a bed, messy and unmade. And tightly strapped to the four bedposts, a limb to each one.
a naked woman.
Screaming.
Long, winding screams.
Hardly a foot away, a man. No, not a man. Male, perhaps, but not human. It is nude. Its clothes are in a heap beside it. Its form is grotesque. Bloated and fat - it has been allowed to grow this way through sheer neglect. Its nipples are unnaturally large, and the flabs of lard that make its chest are nightmarish to behold.
The woman's screams continue. The creature gazes at her, manically trying to suppress an urge of some sort. It launches into a monologue, its voice and dialect clearly indicating its mentality, and its mental condition. "I, Christian Weston ChandleI WANT OUT CHRISTIANam a 35 year old virgin, and your china will be the first my duck has ever enteLET ME OUT CHRISTIAN!! NO, CHRISTOPHER, YOU ARE NEVER GETTING OUT!! I am the creator of the internet-famous Sonichu series detailing my Quest for Love. Now that I have finally found a sweet woman from the ground-up who I can pound, my da- my days of mass debating are finally o- MY LOVE QUEST IS FINALLY OVER."
Tears begin to form on the woman's eyes, her face twisted in sheer desperation. Her speech is barely coherent, distorted and slurred by abject terror. "LET ME GO!! CHRISTIAN!!" she begs. "PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO ME!!"
It is far too late. "The trolls must be influencing you with the Dark Crystals. I will free you from their clutches! TIME TO ZAP!" the monster screams. In one motion, he reaches over with a fat arm to a stereo on a shelf behind him, and switches it on, causing it to begin playing Holding Out For A Hero. The same song he once sang for a lost love, many years ago.
"Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?"
Christian advances toward the woman. He licks his lips. The screaming gets only louder.
"Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?"
He leans over her on the bed, his foul breath invading her senses. His eyes are filled with the lust, the hatred, and the expectation of an entire lifetime.
"Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?"
She knows there is no escape. She knows it can only get worse from here on.
"Late at night I toss and I turn and I dre--"
The rest of the song is drowned out by a series of deafening, wretched, pained screams. The woman is not the only one screaming, however - Christian also feels intense pain. But he convinces himself this is part of the experience, and continues on.
The ordeal lasts for what seems like an eternity in hell. Until finally, he feels it coming. He starts to groan as he comes closer and closer.
In horror, the woman beneath him realises what is about to happen, and desperately tries to break free with every remaining ounce of strength in her body. But he holds her down, his eyes filled with a determined insanity. "You WILL be Crystal's mommy!!" he screams in her face.
The screaming returns, getting louder and louder, a terrifying duet of piercing fear in her and deep, mounting pleasure in him. After another fifteen seconds, it arrives. With one last call of "ZAP TO THE EXTREME!" he finishes. The woman gives a final scream of horror...but something is not normal. He too seems to be aware something is wrong, and gingerly pulls out of the woman, who is left shaking, traumatised.
He speaks again. "Wh-what is this? There cannot be a defi- a deficiency of navy in my t-testicles. I made sure to recycle it all every time I mass debated." He pauses, then, in horror, yells "I've been cursed!"
The woman no longer understands what Christian is talking about. She somehow finds the strength to keep pulling at her binds, in spite of all of this.
Christian continues. "Slaweel Ryam must have rebounded part of the Curse-Ye-Ha-Me-Ha I destroyed her wiLET ME OUT CHRISTIAN OR I WILL KILL YOU. I just never realised the effect until noYOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH CHRISTIAN, YOU CAN'T."
The raped woman on the bed finds the breath to beg for release again. This time, though, instead of a terrified scream, it is a despairing whimper. "Chris...Let me go..."
"No," he says. "We need to wait for the curse effect to wear off. Until then..."
"W-What..?!"
He kneels down on the floor and shuffles over yet again. Drawing a fat, dirty finger, with a sharp, uncut nail, he reaches towards her, with images of another lost love flashing in his mind.
The woman resumes her terrified screams as the dirty pointer makes its way toward her. Christian no longer appears lustful or excited. Now he seems lethargic and lost in memories. "Megan," he whispers. "Why did those ED shitheads ruin what we had together..." He says all this, almost forgetting what he is doing. The woman on the bed squirms and struggles against the straps holding her to the bed, but to little avail. "Stay still, you damn jerk," Christian whines as his finger wriggles around beneath the flaps.
"You fucking freak!" the woman tells Chris in a strangled yell. "You fucking rapist freak! I hope you fucking burn in hell, you piece of shit!"
The motion of Christian's finger suddenly stops, and there is silence, but for the sound of breathing. After roughly ten seconds, Christian removes his finger, and the woman's torso relaxes. But she knows she has made the wrong move.
"I am an innocent man," Chris says. "An autistic virgin for 35 years. And even my first china doesn't want me." His face suddenly changes from a dejected slump to a raging grimace. "You will feel the power of Christian Weston Chandler!"
The woman on the bed can only watch as Christian rises to his feet. He screams, "ELECTRIC HEDGEHOG POWER!" then squats down as far as he can. For a moment he stays there, the tension in the room denser than steel. The woman's heart beats so loudly in her ears she feels like it is about to stop altogether.
Christian suddenly springs up, leaping in to the air directly towards her. She is too terrified to even scream.
All of a sudden, they hear the door open. Christian freezes. No-one has entered. "Just the wind," Christian says. But the woman smothered beneath him knows that this part of town hasn't been windy in weeks.
They remain frozen for a few more moments. Neither dares look at the door, but the female prays it is someone coming to save her.
"Just the wind." Christian repeats.
"An electric wind," says another voice.
Christian rises slightly, but does not look to see who is speaking. "Who is it?" he mumbles.
"It's me, Father." the voice says.
Father? The woman ponders if this figure is connected to the "Crystal" he mentioned earlier.
Christian clearly knows who is speaking, though, as she feels his entire body tense up completely. He removes himself from her face, and stands to the side of the bed, still not looking to see who it is.
"S-S--" he stutters. "Soni-S-S-Sonich--"
The woman's eyes are shut tightly. She does not wish to clarify any of this surreal experience.
"That's right, Father. It's me. Sonichu."