Cloning Blues:

Author's notes: This is the absolute stupidest thing I wrote but I literally had no fucks to give when I wrote this so I'm going to send this thing out into the wild to see what happens.

Summary: AU where Kars defeats Joseph and has a little too much fun after trying to clone himself. The ratio of actual plot to confusing mindfuckery is about 1:10. Moderate violence, language, and sexual content, so this is rated M to be safe.

After Kars defeated that annoying human Joseph Joestar, humankind was unable to resist him.

So he ended up doing whatever his fabulous ultimate lifeform self wanted, including living in a strange white building somewhere on the North American continent because it looked fancy. It was all great fun (for him, not for anyone else) but over time, he got bored and decided he needed some company.

Of course, everyone else was beneath him and therefore unsuitable, but one day, he had an idea. So he put together some dirt, rocks, sand, clay, branches, and leaves and doused it with a copious amount of his own blood, and voila, there it was.

Kars looked upon his creation. It lied on the floor in a cold, clammy, unresponsive heap, but it had one redeeming feature that inspired Kars not to toss it into the sea: the booty.

"Alright, well, I can fix this shit." Kars thought to himself. And fix it he did, or tried to, at least. After taking some time to sift through some thoughts and half-baked memories in his head, an idea occurred to him. The kiss of life. That would work, he thought. Well, maybe.

When Kars kissed his clone, it opened its eyes but they were a dull, muted blue like a stormy sea instead of red like his own. Not sexy at all.

This would never do, Kars thought. If his clone didn't have the exact same level of sex appeal he had, what was the point? An insufficiently sexy clone was worse than no clone at all.

So Kars tore its eyes out and it screamed the whole time he did it.

"Eh, I'll figure out a way to fix this." Kars thought, lacking a single fuck to give while he smeared the blood from its eye sockets all over its face and licked some of it off his fingers. Hell, if he could turn his hand into a squirrel, how hard could solving this be? Out of curiosity, Kars kissed it again. This time, its mouth moved along with his own. Odd, but pleasant, Kars decided.

A few minutes later, Kars and his clone were pressed up against each other like frozen waffles with freezer burn while they were engrossed in a fucked-up game of tongue hockey. They bit and bruised each other's lips, exchanging blood and saliva in a disgusting hedonistic haze of pleasure and also bit, scratched, and groped each other wherever, making revoltingly sexual noises the entire time, completely oblivious to anything going on outside their nightmare disaster shack. If the building had feelings, it would have tried to obliterate itself from existence after finding out what it was being used for instead of its original noble purpose.

Babies around the world wailed and wept in fear, cats yowled in anguish, pregnant women miscarried and subsequently became infertile, and men experienced sudden, irreversible shrinkage. Bodices ripped against their owner's wishes and vanished into thin air, birds flew away en masse, covering the sky like something out of Alfred Hitchcock's worst nightmares, locusts swarmed the land and destroyed all plant life in a matter of minutes, nuclear reactors went off and released mushroom clouds of toxic gas everywhere, turning the sky as gray as a rainy day but no rain fell from the sky. Great balls of fire descended on the earth in apocalyptic madness, the wind howling in anguish and the sea drying up like someone was drinking it out of a Slurpee cup.

The agonizing, tortured shrieks of all the damned souls living at that particular moment in the space time continuum filled the earth like so many balls in the Dashcon ball pit. Kars, however, noticed exactly none of this, being too preoccupied with his clone. Lost in a strange, unknowable feeling, Kars decided that he would keep this thing around permanently, hell, he might even cook up a few more. Maybe about 35 more. He had time to think it over.

In that moment, he grabbed something: the handful of perfection that was a perfect copy of his own sweet, sweet booty. The world around them was enveloped in chaos and destruction as everything was being destroyed and the planet itself threated to collapse like a dying star but Kars didn't have a single solitary fuck to give. As the earth began to shake and crumble around them, Kars looked his clone dead in the eyes it no longer had and informed it that the two of them were going to take a very special trip to a very special place: Mars, and that Kars would cook up some more "friends" for them out of good old fashioned Martian space dust.

The resulting sandwich of twisted yet arousing sexiness would then implode the universe, but that didn't matter because Kars already found a way to whip up a new universe with a quarter, a block of swiss cheese, and a lightbulb. It was totally worth it.