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Subject: {ASSM} "Mr BadManners", The anal raping of Mr Smith. (MMM+, NC, Rape, Anal, Fisting, CBT, Satire)
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Date: Sat, 18 Dec 1999 03:10:02 -0500
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"Mr BadManners", The anal raping of Mr Smith.
(MMM+, NC, Rape, Anal, Fisting, CBT, Satire)
The following is probably fiction. Any resemblence to people living
or dead is either entirely coincidental or due to the fact that the shoe
fits.
Warning: The following story is very violent and should not be read by
minors. Mr. Smith is raped and his genitals are maligned and eventually
fall off. Do not read any further if you are under 18 years of age
(that means you, Mr. Smith).
_________________________
Mr. BadManners By Annon
Mr. Smith surfed the news groups on company time, looking for someone
to provoke. In passing he noticed a post for a 'rave' in his hometown.
"Cool," he thought, jotting down the address.
He had been a professional writer for over 25 years. The fortune cookie
factory that he worked at did not trust him with the fortunes, but he felt
that
writing lucky numbers was both challenging and rewarding. He knew that
he was in for another hefty raise this year, just as soon as the minimum
wage increase kicked-in.
Sadly, his boss was also waiting for the increase. He had decided that
Mr. Smith was not worth that much money and was going to have to let
him go.
That evening, Mr. Smith got dressed up in his nicest leasure suit and
headed out to the 'rave'. Unfortunately, he had literacy problems and he
ended up at the wrong address. He ended up walking into a place called
the LoneStar. As he walked up to the bar, the stench of man-funk and
spad --correction -- spag filled the air. Men in g-strings and chaps eyed
him with disgust. Mr. Smith said, "What are you guys, a bunch of fags?"
Instantly he was surrounded by a pack of the toughest looking rawhide
fellas west of the roarin' Mississippi. They stripped him naked where he
stood and looked him up and down. His overweight, pear-shaped body
evoked a seemingly endless uproar of laughter.
The toughest guy in the group was still pissed of by Mr. Smith's rude
remarks, so he grabbed the fat-boy by the hair with one hand, by the balls
with the other hand, lifting Mr. BadManners into the air and slamming him
down on top of the bar.
He yelled to the bartender, "Larry, gimme a hammer and some nails".
Larry went into the back room and returned with the tools. While a group
of guys gathered around, Larry and the tough guy proceeded to nail
Mr. Smith's penis directly to the bar top.
The victim howled in pain. "Let's get him to lay on his stomach," said
Larry.
So, they forced him, legs dangling over the edge of the bar, face down and
nailed his lower lip to the other side of the bar. Mr. Smith held on for
dear
life, trying not to move and do more damage to his already horribly abused
body.
Patrons in the bar started taking turns fisting Mr. Smith. One guy forced
a
pool cue nearly halfway into Mr. BadManner's ass. This went on all night.
Nobody fucked his ass, because he was too damn ugly and it was obvious
to everyone that Mr. Smith had a full-blown case of anal herpes. As Larry
closed up the bar that night he belched, "Don't go anywhere while I'm gone."
Mr. Smith passed-out, feeling certain that he would never awaken.
Unfortunately, for Mr. Smith, he was awakened the following evening by the
bartender opening up for another night's business.
Once again people lined up to torture Mr. BadManners. On guy tied a string
around Mr. Smith's testicals so tightly that by closing time the whole scrotal
sack was a dark blue-grey.
The third day went much the same. By closing time Mr. BadManner's
testicals had fallen off and someone threw them in the garbage along
with beer bottles and used condoms. As he was left alone again that night,
Mr. Smith wondered how long this could go on. He had been nailed to a bar
for three days with nothing to eat or drink, other than the occasional cum-
shot
into his gapping mouth.
The following night, as the crowd took turns fisting him, he had a glimmer
of
hope. In the mirror behind the bar he could see the reflection of the entrance
to the bar and walking-in was a police officer. "Saved at last," he thought.
The police officer saw the victim and yelled into his radio, "All units...there
is
a two-niner in progress at the LoneStar, I say again, a two-niner in progress
at the LoneStar." Sirens and flashing lights filled the room as the place
was
surrounded and at least 35 cops entered the bar, rolling up their sleaves
and
pulling out their night-sticks. One cop walked up to the bar, right next
to
Mr. Smith's barely alive body and said, "Next round is on me, Larry." There
was a roar of cheers and then the cops lined up to fist and probe Mr. Smith's
ass.
That night as the bar closed. Mr. Smith knew he had to do something or
die where he lay. So he ripped his lip from the nail and jumped down from
the bar, ripping his penis completely off. He then escaped into the night.
Years later, he lives alone, horrible scarred with the high-pitched voice
and
whispy beard of a eunoch. Unemployed, pointed-at by children, shunned
by others, ugly, dickless and alone, it is little wonder why Mr. Smith
is so ill mannered.
Get HushMail. The world's first free, fully encrypted, web-based email system.
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.
--
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