Hey guys. You've seen those new Happy Meal mascots, right? c: Going around tumblr and stuff? Heh. Yeah.

Who remembers that one doujinshi where Ronald McDonald and Colonel Sanders were like, super bishie and almost had sex with America... because that was some pretty weird ass shit. So consider this fanfiction sorta inspired by that doujin? Sorta kinda? Bleh whatever.

Warnings: Gang rape, detailed descriptions of gore, force feeding (there's McDonald's food in this fic, but it's GROSS), a very cringeworthy variation on male lactation, and pooping.

xXx

This was… creepy. Really creepy.

It was about 11:45, last he checked. Almost lunchtime. And America knew McDonald's should be damn packed right about now.

He thought it was just a fluke the drive-through was totally empty - kind of weird, but not completely unbelievable. But once he got inside the restaurant, there wasn't a customer in sight. Not only that, absolutely no employees on duty, either.

At first, the fast-food junkie tried to assure himself it was probably just a slow day, and a cashier would come out of the kitchen in a little bit to take his order...

But he waited, and waited, even shouting an "anyone there?" into the kitchen. Absolute nobody showed up at all. It wasn't a holiday, as far as he remembered. And if his government suddenly issued a new one that gave workers take the day off, well, he'd be one of the first - if not the first - to know about it.

Heck, he had proof it wasn't a holiday. As he drove here, America saw plenty of restaurants and businesses with people going in and out. Still, all signs pointed to this McDonald's being closed.

Maybe for renovations? But if that was the case, where were the construction workers, and why was the door still open to the public? Nothing was adding up…

The American was starting to get a bad feeling about all this.. But hey- it was kinda exciting, too! A big mystery completely overlooked by the cops, just itching to be solved. Now was his chance to be a local hero! And if there really weren't any employees on duty, that meant he had free reign to explore the kitchen, right? Right!

But his conscience was urging him not to do that, though. If this 'case of the empty McDonald's' situation ended up not that big a deal, and he was caught fiddling around in the kitchen, he'd probably get interrogated to hell and back…

Instead, he decided to investigate the restrooms first. Maybe the employees were hiding in there… Pfft, hiding... No, he wasn't shivering, he just walked under an air vent, that's all-

That's another thing that was really weird about this whole mess. The lights and air conditioning were on. They'd be turned off if McDonald's was closed, right? So maybe, that meant, before he got here, it was open. Then, something happened? Which would've caused the employees and restaurant-goers to evacuate the place…

He shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his brain. It still didn't make sense. If something like that did happen, like a kitchen fire or a shooting, the building would be surrounded by the police and fire department. He probably wouldn't have gotten entry at all, either.

I can't leave now, America thought to himself, opening the door to the men's restroom. Even if the solution to this puzzle turned out to be something really stupid and mundane, he wanted to try and solve as much of it as he could.

He checked every stall, but the men's restroom - completely devoid of people - didn't provide any clues. Likewise, he couldn't determine anything from the women's room, either. Err- other than the fact girls were really, really fucking gross. Seriously, there was damp toilet paper all over the floor of one of the stalls…

Well, maybe that could've meant something, who knows. He had abso-fucking-lutely no clue, and was starting to get a little frustrated. He wanted to solve this mystery himself, but his urge to call the cops already was growing by the minute…

The kitchen.

Throwing caution to the wind, America headed out of the women's restroom, past the dining area, and back to the counter, just about to parkour over it-

When he saw something sitting on the counter.

It wasn't there before, he was sure if it. It must've been placed there while he was checking out the restrooms.

It was a Happy Meal Box. It was completely red, too - America didn't usually order Happy Meals, unless the toy promo was something really awesome, but weren't they usually more colorful than that? Like, decorated with whatever series or movie they were promoting?

Oh god- No, it wasn't completely nondescript. He didn't look closely enough.

The box had eyes on top of it, right underneath the golden arches handle. Big, bulging, hyper-realistic eyes, with blue pupils. In the middle of its… body?... was a mouth. A huge, grinning maw. Its lips looked like real flesh, and as for its teeth, it looked like it had human teeth shoved inside its gums.

Although America's heart skipped more than a few beats, after the initial shock of seeing the… thing, he couldn't help but laugh. Laugh nervously, that is. "T-This is one fucked up promo!" he snorted, slamming his hand down on the countertop. "Okay, okay, you got me!"

He looked into the kitchen behind the counter, waiting for an employee to come out and yell 'surprise!'. Something. Anything. But they never came. Maybe they were afraid America - "Alfred", as he was known around these parts - would strangle them…? It couldn't be that there was nobody here, someone had to have put that freaky box-thing on the counter.

America looked at the anthropomorphic Happy Meal Box again, barely resisting the urge to vomit. Seriously, it looked like its eyes and mouth were made of real human parts… He wanted to touch it, to prove himself wrong. But, every time he reached his hand towards it, he pussied out at the last second.

Whoa- Wait a minute.

Did the thing just get closer to him, when he wasn't looking? No, no way- it was probably just anxiety getting to him, this was all a practical joke, if he stuck around for a while longer an employee would come out and give him a free Big Mac or something as part of their new marketing scheme-

Oh, fuck that.

America turned on his heels and ran to the door. But just before he could exit, something jumped from the ceiling, kicking him to the ground. His glasses were shattered. Fuck. He barely caught a glance of the thing that got him, before a hamburger wrapper was forcibly pressed against his nose and mouth.

It didn't smell like hamburger. Judging by the way his arms and legs suddenly felt like they were made out of putty, it must've been some kind of… rape drug.

Mmkay, alright. This was a SERIOUSLY fucked up McDonald's promo.

Weakly, he rolled over onto his back. It was all he could do, with his strength totally sapped. His vision was suddenly filled with... red blobbish things. Blood? Was there broken glass in his eye? Sure, he was a nation and could take a few more hits than a human, but even then, something like that would still hurt like a bitch-

That's when he realized it. Them. They were surrounding him.

Happy Meals. Everywhere. Just like the one he saw on the counter. Each anthropomorphic box which gathered around his body had the same eyes, same mouth, same teeth. Only difference from the one he saw first, was that these boxes had arms and legs. Capable of movement. Capable of harm.

He could only conclude one thing. These Happy Meal boxes were alive.

Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up, America chanted to himself, his nails clawing at the ground. If this wasn't real, he could fall through the ground, and escape, and wake up in his bed, and everything would be alright. Please god, no. Don't do this to me. He could feel the sensations of his nails chipping. This wasn't a nightmare.

One of the Happy Meals stepped towards him. Its eyes would occasionally blink; although that disgusting grin on its mug never changed to anything else. It didn't even twitch.

It climbed onto America's stomach, walking up to his chest. Sweet baby Jesus, it felt like a bowling ball was rolling on his body. Despite looking like it was made from cardboard - like a real Happy Meal box - the creature was undeniably biotic.

Or was it? Before America's eyes, it opened itself. Just like one would open a real Happy Meal box, yet autonomously. He peered inside. Instead of emptiness, or perhaps a small hamburger, fries, and a toy, within the Happy Meal's body was a pulsating, bleeding glob of intestine-like organs.

America didn't know what else he expected.

But he definitely wasn't expecting the Happy Meal to reach inside its body, and with a disgustingly wet squelch, retrieve a large box of fries.

America assumed the red liquid coating the fries wasn't ketchup.

Before America could do anything - yell for help, try to sit up, punch the Happy Meal on his chest, anything - it shoved the box of fries into his mouth.

The entire box of fries. Box included.

"Mmnfgh?!" America's heart felt like it totally stopped, and nope, it wasn't because of the 500 calories. Did they… seriously just… "Mnnghhh!"

He looked at the Happy Meal with pleading, tearful eyes. It hurt. The salt was burning his throat and he felt like he was going to fucking cry. A living Happy Meal was forcing him to fucking blowjob a fucking large fry.

Kill me. Please.

Maybe he could scare them off? With a deep inhale through his nostrils, he forced out the most wretched, muffled shriek he possibly could, vibrating the box of fries.

Didn't do jack.

Well, other than give the Happy Meals an amusing little sight to smirk at. The Happy Meal box holding the fries started to push it further down America's gullet, stretching the man's lips to the point where tears of agony dribbled down his chubby freckled cheeks. Was it possible for lips to stretch so much, they snap...?

With his sexual partners, he'd often joke about his lack of gag reflex thanks to his eating contest-tier fry-nomming skills. But he never thought it'd be so…literal.

He was actually at the point where he struggled to breathe around the box stuffed in his throat. "Please take it out!" he begged, but it sounded more like "Hrrngfhg!" He could feel some of the fries start to tip out of the box, and slide down his throat. Itburned.

And then - oh god - the Happy Meal box had the nerve to pinch his nose, completely cutting off his oxygen supply. Did they want him to spit or swallow? Spit or swallow?!

With a weak cry, desperate to breathe again, America let his skull conk against the floor and swallowed the box of fries.

Cardboard and all.

Felt like a knife getting shoved down his esophagus. Once it landed in his stomach, the heartburn immediately kicked in. "P.. Please," he panted out, weakly reaching a hand out to the Happy Meal sitting on his chest. "Y'guys… had enough already, right?" He knew they could hear, he knew they were sentient.

He prayed they had a sense of morality.

In that moment, all his hopes were snatched out of his hands, shat on, and tossed down the shitter. The Happy Meals were upon him.

The garments of America were cancelled equally. _TRANSLATION ERROR_ said the America in the surprised.

And there he was.

He was almost completely nude, his clothing torn apart. He was forced to position himself ass up, face down, on the McDonald's floor. The Happy Meals surrounded him. Staring. Thinking of what to do next.

But did they even have the capability to think? Or were they acting upon pure instinct?

He heard footsteps behind him. Twisting his neck, he looked behind himself, catching a glance of a Happy Meal box holding a cup of coffee in its white, glovelike hand.

It removed the lid, and slowly began to tilt the cup towards his ass.

America wasn't gonna lie here and take it. With a shaky grunt, he got up on his knee, just about to make a mad dash outta here. Totally not giving a shit if he was stripped bare. He needed to get out of here. Now.

Well, he would've done that, if a pair of Happy Meals didn't grab his wrists and fucking snap his bones like they were a pair of pretzels. "AUUGHHGH!" Until the pain died down - and god knows how long that'd take - he was going nowhere fast.

Like a dollop of vomit atop a shit sundae, America's agony was perfectly complimented by the sensation of steaming-hot coffee (with whipped cream!) getting poured down his asscheeks.

"HYAAAAUGHHHH!"

His cheek collapsed against the cold tiled floor, giving him just a moment's relief from the burning pain searing throughout his nervous system. Especially in his ass.

He's never going to McDonald's ever again.

America suddenly felt something pushing at his lips.

Ooohhh no, not this shit again- But this time, it was a penis. A real, fleshy, human penis.

It was attached to the Happy Meal box's… crotch? Yeah. Let's go with that. America looked around - all the Happy Meals had spontaneously sprouted gigantic, veiny dongs.

He was as good as fucked.

"Gawd, no…" If he could move his arms, he would've buried his face into them. So, all he could do now was feel their hungry eyes upon him, creeping closer and closer, their weiners dangling disgustingly as they stepped towards his nude, helpless body.

He was their Happy Meal.

"Mmmngh-" It was a little easier for him to take a supersized dingaling, after swallowing an entire large box of fries, but his throat still felt like it was all scraped up from the outside in. "Mmmhnnh…"

Two dicks. Two gigantic dicks, were stuffed up his poophole. He was actually getting gang raped by fucking Happy Meal boxes.

As a nation, America's been through a load of shit he simply can't move past. Revolutions, rebellions, crimes, wars… But this? Ohhh man, this had to be the worst shit he's ever dealt with. Hands down.

"Nnnfghm-!" He could feel something leaking into his ass, coming from the pair of sex-sausages ravaging his slutty boycunt. Pre-cum…? Sure, fine, okay. Not like he had anything to lose by assuming the Happy Meal Boxes could ejaculate.

Eugh, every time they pulled out, and then thrusted back in, it sounded like he was farting… Squelch squelch squelch.

He could feel their hands upon his trembling, heated body. Rubbing, squeezing, groping. Especially down around his scalded ass and his pulsating, baby-pink Florida.

America the Beautiful was reduced to a sobbing, trembling mess, gazing upon the featureless McDonald's ceiling and praying with all his might, that some all-powerful deity out there would have mercy on him.

Despite the pain that plagued him - his burns, his broken wrists, his torn asshole, his cramping stomach trying to digest a glob of fries and cardboard - the pressure of the two McDicks upon his prostate were simply too much to bear, and it wasn't long before the pair of Happy Meal boxes dp'ing him brought him to orgasm, his strands of cum mixing in with the lukewarm coffee pooled around his legs.

"Mnnhhm!" He let out a pathetic wail around the phallus he was blowjobbing, his cheeks practically stained with his own tears. If the Happy Meal hadn't pulled out right then, America likely would've passed out from hyperventilation, it was SO INTENSE.

Then he felt it.

As soon as the Happy Meal climaxed on his face, America could taste something… strange. Strong, salty. Kinda tasted like relish. He brought up a limp-wristed hand towards his cheeks, wanting to confirm his suspicions.

Just as he feared. Special sauce.

"Euuhhh-" He could feel them ejaculate the sauce into his asshole. "T-That's fucking disgusting, noo…"

The pulled out, and America looked behind himself at his ruined ass. It was leaking a mix of blood and orangey-pink sauce, with little chunks of green relish, and was blending with the coffee, to create a most ungodly sight to behold.

And then - Jesus fucking Christ - he could feel their tongues lapping up the mess splurting from his ass. The coffee, the sauce, his cum- America crashed his face against the ground, breaking his nose, but he didn't care. Their tongues- those Happy Meals- they felt so warm, so wet, so… hyper-realistic.

"Uuuhn, n-nooo-!"

Could it get any worse? Really? Honestly- Oh. Wait a gosh danged second.

America released a startled squeal, feeling a sudden pang coursing through his chest. It was different than the heartburn. More concentrated in his nipples…

"Oh god oh god oh god motherfuck-" It was starting to really, really hurt now.

The Happy Meals were staring at him. They knew. They knew he wanted to grab at his chest area, rub it, anything, to quell the pang. They knew he couldn't do that with his broken wrists.

So, in a show of mercy, they decided to do the massaging for him.

The pair of Happy Meals behind him grabbed onto America's hips and pulled him up, into a kneeling position. The movement was so sudden, America was immediately hit by a surge of nausea - but, fortunately, he was able to swallow his vomit. Still burned his throat, anyways.

They started to grope his pectorals.

America glanced down at his chest, unable to do anything but let the Happy Meals tweak his nipples. Ohhh lordy, lordy, lordy… When did his pecs get so swollen? Like- a pair of motherfucking C-cups? And they felt cold…?

Did the special sauce-jizz do that?

He remembered how everyone would bitch at him. Constantly. Stop eating McDonald's! I thought you wanted to lose weight, Amerique! Do you realize how many hormones are in that shet, you bleeding wanker? Amerika, you grow knockers bigger than Ukraine if you not stop.

"F-Fuck you RussiaaaAAUGHHHH-!"

He could feel things bouncing around inside his breasts. The Happy Meals had been massaging him - milking him - and coaxing clumpy white liquid to dribble from his nipples.

It smelled like melted vanilla ice cream…

But something was blocking the flow.

"Puh… Please-!" America gasped, grabbing onto one of the Happy Meals, with as much strength as his injured hand would allow. "I-It hurts- N-Not so hard, please-!"

His nipple slits dilated, desperately trying to force out whatever was stuck inside his mammary glands. The Happy Meals simply ignored America's pleas, eerily silent as ever. They kept rubbing, squeezing, grinning. Seeing how much their cow could squart out.

Splurt.

America screamed as somethingsolid came out. He was so distracted by that surge of relief, he didn't even bother to see what it was. But, eventually, he glanced down at his lap- and nearly had a heart attack.

It was a blue M&M.

He could feel them now. M&M's were inside his breasts.

So, it wasn't milk his breasts were squirting out. It was an M&M McFlurry.

Nice!

"Auughhh…" America couldn't take it anymore- He wanted to claw off his nipples, his breast tissue, bleed it all out, everything. Just to escape the agony. "I-I can't take it- I wanna dieee…"

A Happy Meal walked up behind him, knocking him onto his knees again.

But that wasn't enough for 'em, ohhh no! Together, they cooperated- manhandling the poor, abused nation, rolling him onto his back.

Completely exposing his everything to them.

Especially his erection. And he couldn't do anything to stop them. Nothing.

"P-Please… i-it still hurts… don't stop…" With his weakened arm, he covered his pair of McFlurry-filled breasts. The pressure ached, but he wanted to preserve whatever crumb of modesty he still had.

A Happy Meal was pushing something into his asshole.

America immediately glanced down at his loins- It wasn't a dick, he was sure of that. Way too small, and those McDong's were anything but.

Chicken nuggets.

It was shoving chicken nuggets into his anus.

"OHHH PLEASE, GOD!"

America lost it…

Nugget after nugget, the Happy Meal picked them out of a box and shoved them into America's forbidden caverns. He was all nice and loosened up from taking a pair of big red cocks, and the secret sauce was still nice and moist, for a good lubricant. Didn't even need any Honey Mustard!

America nearly choked, as another Happy Meal stuffed a Big Mac down his throat, silencing the whore. Again…? Well, on the bright side, it wasn't in its fucking box.

"Mmfngh-!" he pleaded, roughly translated to "Take 'em out!". What a horrible, depressing waste of McNuggets… It wasn't like he was ever gonna eat them after getting them stuffed up his anal cavity, right?

...right?

He bit down on the Big Mac. Swallowed half. "Augfghh!" Swallowed the other half. His esophagus was cleared up just in time for him to scream, as the Happy Meal shoved its porker into his cavernous boycunt.

How many McNuggets was that? Felt like a ten piece…

"TELL ME!"

America screeched, gazing into his rapist's ocean-tinted hues. Although the Happy Meal kept thrusting, pounding the stuffed nuggets until they were nothing more than mush, it seemed to be listening to the poor, forsaken nation's monologue.

"I… I am a loyal customer, n-not just at this Mick D's, but around my country- around the world! And you- you do this to me?! What the ever-loving fuck did I do to get this treatment?! N-Noo, seriously, tell me-" He would've grabbed onto the Happy Meal box, if he could.

Unfortunately, he was splayed out on the floor, like a lab specimen. "What have I done- Did I piss off some employee? Something like that?! I-I'm sorry, and I'll atone for it any way I can- JUST NOT LIKE THIS! PLEASE!"

The Happy Meal box kept thrusting, and eventually, reached its grubby hand around to fondle America's weenie. The others kept squeezing at his swollen, irritated breasts.

But with America on his back, they were essentially fighting against gravity- every time an M&M was almost completely squeezed out, it'd get sucked right back into his nipple.

America was completely out of breath - he'd said all he wanted to say, all he could say, and that was that. Didn't accomplish anything. But that's how life worked, sometimes.

"Hnnhhh-" He bucked his hips upwards, completely unable to stop himself from giving into the Happy Meal's pleasures. It wasn't long before he squarted out his man-mayonnaise, feeling a painful, pleasurable tingle throughout his body.

Shortly thereafter, the Happy Meal box filled his innards with that deliciously tangy special sauce, completely coating the mashed-up chicken nuggets.

As soon as the box pulled out, America let out a shaky grunt, his anus completely evacuating its contents.

A flood of special sauce-flavored McMush splurted out, splattering all over the floor and nearby walls. It was brown-tinted, too - making way for a flood of rich, frothy diarrhea. It was salty, it was stinky, it was beautiful.

"Nnhm… ooohhh… t-that felt… good…"

His head conked against the floor. He was completely exhausted.

It wasn't long before his vision faded to black.

The Happy Meals gathered around. One of them grinned at the others, and started to chuckle, prodding at America's juicy, McFlurry-stuffed breasts.

"It is time."

With their glove-like paws, a couple boxes grabbed onto America's ankles, while another group divided itself into two, and held onto his broken wrists. They carried him away, leaving his mess to stain the floor.

"Mmnfgh…"

America awoke quite some time later. His skin was hot, clammy, his head was pounding, and-

He was on the floor in some kind of kitchen? No, hold on, it looked way too familiar… Was this the McDonald's kitchen?

What.

"Nngh-" America tried to sit up, but it felt like his body was pinned to the floor. As if there was something seated upon his chest weighing him down. "Nn… Auugh-!"

It was squirming. It felt like a square block. A square block lodged inside his fucking chest.

Before he could tilt his head, to get a closer look at the source of his pain, his body began to spasm. And something shattered his ribcage, erupting from his heart in a gore-geous shower of blood and plasma.

"EUUUAAGHHGHGH!"

Splutter.

. . .

His exposed innards were already starting to attract flies.

America could feel his life slipping away. His vision was clouded with white. He knew it was the end of the line for him. He knew. The last thing he ever saw? The thing he gave 'birth' to, who stole his life from him?

A motherfucking Happy Meal box.

"Police are completely stumped over what they can only assume to be a bizarre mass murder at a local McDonald's…" Photographs of the fast-food joint flashed onscreen for a few moments, before returning to the blonde, big-bosomed newscaster. "A total of eight bodies were discovered, three of which were identified as employees at that particular restaurant."

She continued. "Four of the victims were male, three female, and one of... indeterminate sex. The causes of death are unknown, but each body shared one trait in common- a gaping hole in the middle of their torso. It's still a mystery, but for now, the-"

Just then, an older man walked on-screen, interrupting the female newscaster's report. His face was flushed with tears.

He whispered something into her ear- and, whatever he said, she began to have a panic attack over it. Viewers were forced to watch this scene, for a good minute and a half.

When she finally calmed down - but only slightly - she spoke up. Her voice was so different now. Weary. Shaky. "W-We've just received news, th-that a sudden, unforeseen fire has completely destroyed the White House, and surrounding areas…"

THE END