Warnings: The only warning is for TRUE LOVE (which includes but is not limited to graphic sex, death, violence, incest, blood, gore, rape, beastiality, mechanophilia, steaming entrails, food-fucking etc)
It was a typical evening in some small town in America somewhere. Earlier that day, two people had been brutally murdered and decapitated, had all their organs cut out and smeared on their front lawns, strange Satanic writings painted all over their walls in blood, their pets mercilessly slaughtered, all their valuables stolen, and their genitals cut off and shoved in their mouths. Sam and Dean had come to investigate. However, after seeing the gory scene, they had declared they had done enough for that day in the way of investigation and gone back to their motel room to "research".
In reality, Sam actually was doing some supernatural-related research (and masturbating violently to it), and Dean was stuffing his fat face with pie. However, seeing his younger brother beating off was making him very horny. He got up to leave.
"Hey, uh, Sam, I'm going to go...umm...I've got a date with a chick. Yeah. She's really hot and...and...I met her at that gas station when you were, uhm, you were, somewhere else-," Dean started, but Sam cut him off.
"Dean, I don't fucking care. Go do whatever. I'm trying to get off here," Sam snapped.
"Well, uh, her name's...um...Georg- No, I mean, Stev- No, um...Randy. That's it. Wait, can Randy be a girl's name?"
"Dean, please, just fuck off. I'm trying to whack off. And why am I trying to whack off? Because you're being a dick and withholding sex from me. So just fuck off already!" Sam was annoyed.
"Well, Sam, remember why I'm withholding sex from you? Because, Sam, last time we fucked, you kept crying out 'Buddy'! That was the name of the family's dog in the last town!"
"C'mon, Dean. That was just a one-night stand. But even so, Buddy was an awesome lay," Sam smiled, reminiscing about the times he and Buddy shared.
"Eew. Well, I'm going to go and see Melinda and she'll fuck me, and there's nothing you can do about it!"
"Whatever," Sam said, clicking on a banner ad about vampire sex chatrooms, barely registering the door slamming.
Outside in the parking lot, the '67 Chevy Impala was enjoying a few moments to itself. Which are few and far between, it mused, somewhat bitterly,having to lug those two fatass bastards around constantly. It shook in rage, thinking of all the injustices it had suffered. Now, now, none of that, it chided itself gently, this is me-time, I should make use of it! It sighed and let its mind wander to one of its greatest fantasies. It took place in the desert, free of salt or anything to rust its delicate body, and the two jackasses it catered to, day in and day out. The only other being there was a mint condition '71 Dodge Challenger, maybe the one from Vanishing Point. The Impala had a bit of a thing for white cars, but only ones built like a true sistah.
Just as it was really getting into the thought, it heard the motel door slam. Oh dear God, no, it thought, not this.
"Hey, baby!" Dean said, his tensions and insecurities immediately dissipating at the sight of his beloved car. He caressed its sleek hood lovingly, and pressed a kiss to its windshield. The car shuddered with disgust.
"I think it's time we had a little 'alone-time', don't you, sweetie?" Dean asked it. No, please, anything but this, the Impala thought in terror.
"Oh, you do? Well, I've been thinking about this all day," Dean smiled at the Impala, rubbing his crotch on the front bumper, "C'mere, fuckmuffin.."
He strode around behind the car, the Impala's engine clenched in horror at what it knew was about to happen. It heard the telltale zip sound, and, soon, began to feel the all-too-familiar feeling of its exhaust pipe being violated. All it could do was buckle down and take it. It had spent many hours like this, staying stoic while inwardly praying for the sweet release of death from this horrible living nightmare it found itself in.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, but was about five minutes, Dean collapsed over the back of the car. He quickly gathered himself up and went to sit in the driver's seat.
"Was it good for you?" he asked his car, affectionately stroking the dashboard. Thank God that's finally over, the poor abused vehicle thought. But luck wasn't on its side tonight.
"What's that, baby? You want to try something new?" Dean smiled, eyeing the handbrake lasciviously, "I think that can be arranged..."
Right, that's it, thought the Impala, as it felt some very disconcerting things occuring inside of itself, I'm not going to take any more of this. It gathered up all of its willpower, and decided, Tomorrow, I'm going to do something about this!
To be continued...