Peridot readjusted the position of the soap bottle and then sighed. Lurking in the bathroom for hours on end allotted her much downtime—whether or not Peridot enjoyed it, she couldn't decide. She closed her eyes and sunk to the floor in a drowsy heap. If only there was something to do, something to fill the boredom that flowed through the room as apparent as her green skin.
Just as she was about to get back up, the door suddenly splintered into a cloud of wooden shrapnel. The timber fragments were made out of miniature figures of a mapped version of the USA.
Peridot froze in shock and excitement as the figure behind the door became apparent.
A tall, thirty-year-old man dressed in a cap and a black coat stood in the doorframe. He had a faint hint of a goatee.
He fixed the position of the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose—which casted a mysterious white glint to them—and gave a nefarious grin.
"Peridot." He smiled, holding up a potted cactus. It was adorned with a crimson ribbon on its left arm. "It's time."
"T-T-T-Time for w-w-what?" she stammered, trembling in fear.
The critic took a step forward and brandished the cactus.
"I'M GOING TO SHOVE THIS UP YOUR ASS" he yelled. The green gem tried to scamper away in fear, but the Nostalgia Critic, using his lightspeed strength, shot his arm forward and restrained the tiny being in a chokehold. He laughed and then tossed her to the ground. Peridot landed on the ground, supported by her two hands, but then collapsed, her legs naturally folding and inadvertently showing her rounded ass.
"Oh, you tease! I'm going to thrust this up your ass with the fury of a thousand Nazis forced to watch Eight Crazy Nights for eight crazy nights!" he grinned.
He gripped her ass and viciously tore off her panties. Peridot had no education on sex or knew how the digestive system worked, so she didn't know what was currently happening.
"You…you clod! Stop this right now or I'll contact Yellow Dia—"
"SHUT UP YOU LITTLE GREEN BITCH! I'MMA DO THIS SO FAST THAT YOU'LL HAVE ANAL WHIPLASH FOR A MONTH!"
He positioned the cactus's head near the entrance of Peridot's ass and prepared to shove it in. He slowly advanced, allowing time for Peridot to be caught in suspense. The tips of the spines finally began pressing subtly against her ass.
"WHAT'RE YOU DOING!? IS THAT A—"
Before she could speak, the Nostalgia Critic pushed the cactus an inch forward, causing several spikes to puncture the green gems rotund ass. She howled in pain and tears began accumulating in the corner of her eyes as the spines swiveled in her ass-cheeks.
The Nostalgia Critic only grinned further at her cries, and pushed even harder. A particularly conveniently placed spine happened to pierce Peridot's anal ring. The resulting pain made Peridot convulse in anguish— thanks to natural nervous reflexes—and the Critic forced her head harder into the ground. Tears now freely streamed down her verdant cheeks and flowed down her neck. Her ass leaked a deluge of blood and stained the flooring beneath, decorating it with chunks of sliced flesh. Her ass was demolished but still semi-wholesome.
"Oh, what a tough one!" he remarked. His arm strained as he pressed against the bottom of the pot stronger, the crown of the plant now slightly enveloped by her ass. The spines inside ravaged her anal walls and ferociously perforated it, causing a build-up of dark red blood to conglomerate in her rectum. It was nearly finished.
"Whugh…why-hy-hy-hyyy?" she bawled, stings flaring in her insides as the cactus pushed inside of her further.
The Critic ignored her and thrust the cactus further within Peridot's bottom. It was now halfway enveloped, and it was soon to be fully absorbed by her shapely, pale-green ass.
With one, anger-fueled asspunch, he thrusted the cactus into her ass, right to the lip of the pot. It was finally complete. He released Peridot, who immediately curled up on the ground in the fetal position and quivered in fear and humiliation. Her ass was still pumping out a thick stream of blood.
"P-Please…don't…" she shook in horror.
"Do not fret, child." he said. "This was for the best."
A glowing spear of light bursted out from Peridot's chest. The line began expanding and it circulated around the room, until Peridot's body morphed and contorted into a small, circular object. It was pale white, with a reflective surface and seemed to almost glow with power.
Donald Trump strode in. His motions were quiet and he walked in a respectable manner, his expression halfway between sorrow and relief.
"Did it hurt her, Doug?" he asked apprehensively.
He gave a demure, down cast look to the blood-stained floor. He sighed and his expression seemed doubly saddened.
"I'm…afraid it did, Lord Trump."
He furrowed his brow in sadness and held his hands together. He knelt down to the shiny ball and bowed his head, eyes closed and mouth flat with an emotionless look.
"Forgive me, child Peridot. You were claimed before your prime. I wish for your acceptance of my apology in the future." A faint trail of tears clambered down his tanned cheeks and he exhaled dejectedly. He grabbed the orb in a genteel manner and fondled it deftly in his hands. The orb began shooting rivulets of electricity up and down Trump's arms, caressing him and surround him in a glowing radius.
"Thank you, Doug and Peridot. You've saved this world."
Trump fully absorbed the Sphere of Election, assimilated into his spirit and soul.
In the receded depths of space lies a stony satellite, circulating around a barren planet, which was rounding a star, which was orbiting around an enormous black hole, accompanied by an infinite twist of galactic tendrils that spiraled in the blackness of the cosmos. Even in the farthest reaches of outer space, the Election shook the fabrication of Time itself. The largest face stretched around reality, shading it. Defining it. Pastel, breathing colors inhaled the scent of creation and exhaled the odor of destruction. Lives were materialized, and then disappeared. Saviors emerged then died. Messiahs arrived and then departed. In the end, the Trumpmass floated in space, remaining. Existing.
Dreamless…