A fresh start cannot stop us. .... Seki stared blankly ahead, unable to avert her gaze. She couldn't explain how she got there, but she was in a room, darkened and metal paneled. A single light, recessed into the ceiling, cast a bright circle before her. A single teddy bear sized mother Jissou toddled it's way into the pool of light and gazed at her. "Ms. Lady - sister?" A vague sense of nausea swept over Seki. The thing had definitely not led a comfortable life. It's dress was frayed, it's mouth corners lined from stress, and darkened from the green of eating it's own poop,at best. The flabby, sagging Jissou stank too, the piercing reek of fecal matter clinging to it. A green trickle ran down one if it's legs, as if to testify to this. "You hate it don't you?" the oddly soft and grandfatherly voice came from nowhere. "Filthy, disgusting. Lacking all grace or care for any thing but itself." Seki could not reply, something held her, sitting, standing or whatever, she wasn't sure, it was as if she was watching it all on a TV, but was undeniably THERE. Small arcs of electricity licked the Jissou's feet. "Deee!" The arcs increased, boiling the thing's eyes. It's cries became more frantic. Pudgy useless arms tried with futility to swat away the tiny bolts paining it. "It is only born to pester it's betters, scavenge, wallow in the filth, and die." With that the lightning took a final, almost justifying crack into true incandescence towards the ceiling, and the jissou was struck dead. Seki stared, aghast despite her own helplessness. A figure, an elderly gentleman, soft featured and in long black robe, stepped into the light. "You are different though." he addressed her. "You are refined. Above them. You have dignity, bearing, an appreciation for things they will never have or comprehend. You were chosen to be better." He waved dismissively at the corpse, so baked it had not even leaked feces or maggots in it's death throes. The bottom three fingers of one hand barely moved, but the corpse flew out of the light. "You are right to feel contempt for them." Another Jissou, another squalid mother missing a tuft of hair toddled into the light and stood next to the man. "Mr. Man? Ms. Lady? I am hungry, desu." "Oh?" "Yes, please feed." "No." "Feed now! Desu!" Seki felt her blood pressure rising at the thing's insolent entitlement, it's unreasoned anger. Wanting to wring it's neck, she was surprised to see it begin to choke and clutch it's throat. Seki gasped, and the thing doubled over, breathing hard as if released from a strangle. "De...de....de...", it anted into the floor, slowly trying to recover it's feet. "Go on, continue. Listen to your anger. Crush this ... FILTH with your hatred. You are gifted, it is your right." Seki bore down again, her mind closing like vice. The Jissou never even had time to cry out. It looked up in pain, stood, and it's head exploded. It's belly churned and compulsively squeezed out several maggots before it fell. "Good, good." he kind looking old man encouraged. "Do not pity that which is beneath use." Another wave and a crackle of energy fried the maggots, still in their green birthing cauls. Eyes that hd never seen shot open, cooked eggs of red and green. A gesture more and these flew off. "You have done well, my young apprentice. You have felt the power of the Dark side. You will grow strong, and become more... artistic with it. Rest, and we will continue later." Soft warmness suddenly came into Seki's perception. The roiling moral dilemma receded and she closed her eyes. Tiredly opening them again some time later, she slowly brought a light into focus before her. Her laptop computer. She sat up slightly, letting the bleary, confused thoughts sort out. That's right, she had been playing "Knights of the Old Republic", and must have fallen asleep. Weird dream, though. Was she really so easily convinced to take pleasure in killing Jissou? Setting her laptop on the nightstand, and settling herself back under a warm feather comforter, she decided to worry about it tomorrow. (A SITH and Seki Story, by Dick the Cat)
Good, good
Remarkable. moar.
Amusing little story to start us off again. I really hope somebody archived all the stories from the original thread.
Found original thread here: http://orz.gurochan.net/lit/archive/1227136933
Reposting: - - - - - The Handbook of Raising Jissouseki By Robert E. Deeds Co Authored by Thomas Johnson Shop - - - - - NOTE! This is a How-To-Handbook dedicated to rearing the perfect, as perfect it can possibly get, pet of a species known as the Jissouseki. If you are allergic to this species and/or anything related to them, please consult your doctor and a certified veterinarian before following the instrcutions of this guidebook. If you are a member of any Animal Right Organization, please note that the authors of this book are not supporting you in any way, we are merely trying to make better of the situation inolving the jissouseki that is causing mayhem and wanton destruction to humankind. To any potential and prospect jissouseki owners or those wishing to make use of the creatures, please take caution and have patience. While this book has been scientifically proven to work well on the jissou, it will vary according to your hand. In any case, please follow the basic guidelines to the best of your ability. Best wishes to those who have supported this project and helped bring it to completion. -Chapter 1: Preparing Yourself Section 1: The Home and Mindset of the Jissou Pet Owner Hello, if you are planning to rear a jissou into a perfect pet, I'm afraid doing so is going to be a hard, but if done so correctly, but satisfying project. In order to take advantage of this book you will need several things. A small enclosed area for your new guest, which should start out small, a shoe box should do fine until the creature reaches child stage. The typical jissou beahvior appears to be mainly that of carbohydrates, though extra vitamins are largely dependent on their short-term needs, but longterm-wise it may benefit the pet's appearance and general fitness, as well as curtailing it's more distasteful body functions. Cereal such as Mini-Wheats, Cheerios, and crackers are recommended, with simple drinking water in a water drip, though fortified water is more than acceptable. In order to safeguard your time-consuming project, you must also safeguard your home from the outside jissou influence. Even a hint of influence from a jissou may lay waste to all your precious time and care on the jissou you are raising, forcing you to either start fresh or spend even more time to heal it. In order to protect your home from the pests, make sure to soundproof and add on a removable mailbox to your door or garage, so it may be emptied of any jissouseki intruders every morning. There may be as many as three to four children or a dozen maggots inside. Do not under any circumstances take in any of these jissou as pets as they may already be too late to save, either from disease or mindset. They may have orders from their mother to unlock the door to allow other jissou in or to smuggle in more jissou. If you believe some may be able to be redeemed, do so at your own risk as wild jissou tend to be cannibals and may eat the jissou you raised by hand, or kill it out of jealousy, so make sure to seperate them. Do not fall for their bits of flattery and be sure to take a strict hand as they are not human children and will act like it. Another area to safeguard is your garden. If you have a wire mesh fence protecting your backyard, it is most recommended that you add wooden planks at least four feet high to prevent jissou from squeezing through or tossed through the higher holes. If you cannot afford this, make sure to secure your backyard door from intrusion as jissou may force their way in and try to become your pet and will place children in areas around the home to secure it as their domain. Raising the jissou requires several factors that largely depend on you, and in some parts, on the type of jissouseki you have managed to acquire. You need patience, as these creatures are annoying to sometimes the extremes and emit a pheromone that brings out a primal urge of violence directed at the subject/pet when under duress or stress. Patience is largely the primary factor of raising the jissou, but money and time is also a factor because in order to make sure they are raised under your indoctrination properly, the first generation must be raised under a strict eye, so the rest of the line will be indoctrinated and remain in line as well. This may take some time as multiple generations may be induced prematurely and may cause quite a large amount of complications. In order for the jissou to be raised to your expectations, it must be raised young. The authors of this book have tried raising with all ages, with the newborn stages being the most effective. Raising a Child-Stage Jissouseki is not impossible, but requires much time and attention, which inconveniently also borders on repetitive. We do not recommend attempting to rear an immature or full grown adult jissouseki. At all. For further details please visit www.86jissou.gov or call their toll free line at 1-800-865-3772 . They regularly update and put up bulletins on Jissouseki every month or so, depending on the urgency. -Section 2: Getting the jissou Here is one of the most important part of this book which is to find the perfect jissou for your needs. Prior to this chapter, we had recommended that you take care of a newborn jissou rather than an older jissou. This is done so because of their relatively clean minds that are not yet polluted with the typical jissouseki mindset of selfishness and Ego-stroking. If adopting a jissou straight from the streets and the wild is the only option you have, do so with extreme caution. While a newborn jissou is relatively clean and disease-free, their mother and older siblings are often dirty and contain very dangerous contaminants. If you are about to adopt a jissou to rear from the streets, it would be best to take home a newborn grub. 'Maggot-Chan', 'Grub-Chan', is the larval form of the jissou. Ordinarily, the jissou is born as a creature with a small roundish head with a tuft of brown hair, the trademark red and green eyes, a small upside down 'A' shaped mouth, and a slug-like body with four stubby nubs for locomotion. It is usually encased in a silky cocoon for warmth and protection from the lighter elements of nature. At this stage, they are very insistent and are quite impressionable, which is the most important part of the rearing process. An uncommon version of the larva, known as a 'Thumb-Chan', is often born alongside their grub sisters. The Thumb-Chan is basically a tinier baby version of their mother and larger sisters. These are the best types of Jissou to take home as pets, both are about the side of your thumb, if not a little bigger and eat very little. If the mother insists you take home the rest of her children, decline, and if she continues to badger you, threaten her. If the family follows you, run to escape them as they are naturally slow and clumsy and will tire easily. If you plan to buy a jissouseki from a pet store, you should know about the following categories: Jissouseki are often sorted through manually by professionals for Pet-Grade before shipping them en masse to the store for further processing before being shown to the public for buying. The difference between the ones you'd find in the wild and these are that you'll most often find them as Child and Adult Stages and that they were raised by professionals aiming to make them more agreeable to the potential pet owner. Pet-Grades come in four categories; A, B, C, and D. Class-D are substandard jissou, very much the same ones you'd find on the streets, in the alleyways, and the parks. They cost from a standard dollar to about five to ten dollars for one or a small group depending on the store you go to. Class-Ds are mainly used as abuse-items, often coming in Maggots, Children, and Adults, so unless you wish to waste your time on rearing an unredeemable jissou or relieve some stress... Class-C are above average jissou and are the best subjects for the use of this book. They are usually sold as Child Stage Jissou, but upon request the clerk may have some Class-C Maggots or an Adult in the back. These cost about twenty dollars, but usually come with their own cage and jissou feed. The younger jissou types are often about fifteen dollars, with the adults at most twenty-five. Class-B are higher than average grade jissouseki, with a price tag of up to the hundreds range, they have better mental and physical faculties than the average jissou, and are most motherly of all. I do not recommend buying this jissou unless you are planning to indoctrinate an entire family. Class-A are high end jissou with impeccable manners and with a price tag extending all the way to the hundreds of thousands. If you are planning to buy this jissou, you may as well not read the rest of this book and take care of a jissou on your own. Then again, you'd save a lot of suffering, time, and blood pressure. Out of the four categories, Class C is the most agreeable, as they are both affordable and are well trained enough to not lose anger over. However, they are still jissou and treating them like a pet is taramount to prevent them from gaining a superiority complex, which is what gives jissouseki a bad name as a pet, especially in adult life. Another option is to go to a Jissouseki Breeder. This profession was taken up by certain individuals with less than humane tastes, and often managed to bring the best out of the families of jissou they traumatize and bully through a long course of Dwarin's natural selection of the best and the finest rather than the nurturing part of the Pet Store. Quite similar to the wild jissou, though the sadist's way of going at it is much more finer with experience and style. Breeders are far and in between, but sell good jissouseki of all ages and types for reasonable prices. Out of the three, simply picking a newborn jissou from the streets is the best bet as they are most impressionable and are free. As Jissouseki have not been classified as a domesticated animal, many veterinarians do not have the knowledge to examine or treat Jissou as well as others are unwilling. If you do have a pet Jissou, please make sure you're veterinarian is qualified with Jissou, or are willing to take Jissou into their practice. It is also advised you get the proper vaccinations and shots for your pet as well. -Section 3: Taking Care of the Jissouseki Once you have secured your jissouseki and lost any pursuers, set the creature down into it's new home, be it a shoe box or cage. The home should have two small dishes, the kind you'd use for dip, flat enough to allow the larva to climb on top. One will be it's personal shit-bowl, where it can defecate into. The other will be a water bowl, not too deep for it to drown in. A few cheerios and a cracker should satisfy it's belly. A few pieces of toilet paper and Kleenex should suffice as bedding. Tip: The typical Maggot-Chan will often ask for you to rub it's belly, an act that helps it's blood flow and digestive system. You can use this to your advantage by denying this treat unless it does as you say. Newborn jissou are smart enough to follow your instruction, though it may take a few tries to get it through their skulls. Give the maggot a belly rub after it follows your instructions to go potty into the right dish, this will provide the basis for further indoctrination. The jissouseki will be tired upon ejaculating during it's belly rub and will proceed to go to sleep in the tissues you have provided. It should be awake in an hour or two. If you can, get a hamster cage. It is the type of cage for all types of jissou of children and under. Maggots are slow and lazy, often opting to go for the fastest way possible to achieve an objective, which certainly applies to most other jissou as well. This can be partially prevented by installing a hamster wheel for it to run in. Encourage exercise for your pet jissou, as this will prevent further defecation when it grows to child stage. Reward with candy and belly rubs if they do extra workouts and tell it how good is has become...and how it isn't like the other Bad Jissou. Be sure to put emphasis on the last two words. Feeding it is not a priority as it eats very little at this stage, make sure to have it eat every little crumb of the food you have given it before you give it more. Do this repeatedly until it does so without you having to ask it to do so. Eventually this will be ingrained into it's little mind as second nature. This will eventually pass on to it's children, if you intend to have it give birth to a family, as memory genes. Teaching the maggot manners is a secondary priority, with the main priority being to teach it to go to the bathroom without you having to clean up after it. Do so by lightly tapping It on the head whenever it defecates upon the floor. Eventually it will shy away on doing so for fear of being punished. Hand out punishments fairly, as it is the only way to raise a jissouseki without having to resort to needless violence. *Chart-01* Below is a chart on the vocalizations of the typical jissou, depending on age and stage. This should help you identify their needs or current emotions. Here are a few, if not most of, the sounds they make, depending on their age: Larva (also called grub, maggot, worm): 1st Stage of life. A Baby. About the size of a human thumb. "Refu": Basic vocalization. "Refuu": Variation on basic. "Refi": Variation on basic. "Tefu": Extremely happy. "Refeee": Raspy, in pain. "Rehi": Pain. "Repyeeeen": Crying. "Repya": Shock, pain. "Repyo": Confusion. "Tettere!": Elation. "Reffun": Sigh. Usually said after defecating. "Rebya": Sudden, intense pain. (think knee-jerk reaction) "Punipuni": Japanese for squishy. Indicator that the grub wants a belly rub. "Buriburi": Variation on "punipuni" "Punifu": Variation on "punipuni" "Te?": "Huh?" "Re?": "Huh?" "Repupu": Being strangled. "Rebooooh:" Ate way too much, about to pop. Thumb-chan: Born as a humanoid. Name comes from size (similar size to grub) "Rechi": Basic vocalization. "Re~!": Elation. "Reeeeen...": Crying "Chieeeen": Crying. "Rechu~": Trying to be cute. "Rechu~n": Sigh. "Resun": Crying. "Techuwa!": Panic. Child: After metamorphosis, a grub becomes a humanoid child. "Techi": Basic vocalization. "Te!": Elation. "Te?": "Huh?" "Techa": Pain "Tepya": Pain "Ororon!": Wailing. "Tepupupu!": Mocking Laughter. "Techu~": Trying to be cute. "Techu~n": sigh of contentment (Very rarely said) "Tegyoooo!": Life-threatening injury. "Chuwa!" Pain, shock. Adult Jissou: "Desu": Basic vocalization. "Dee": Apprehension "De-": Elation. "Desuun": Crying. "Desha!": Fear, agony, psychological trauma. "ORORORO~N!": Wailing. ~ Special thanks to Doctor WD of the Smithsonian Biology Department -Chapter 2: The Jissouseki Bible -Section 1: The Ten Commandments I know, I know, this is a bit fruity. But it works. Take any religion you like and apply it to a durability test, you'll get a nine out of ten for Christianity in general. Simply put we made a list of things for Jissou to learn on what are the got do to dos and the what not to dos. To enforce this, we put the idea of a Bad Jissouseki into their minds as what not to become. The bad jissouseki is the typical goblins off the streets that eat their kin and bully humans into allowing it houseroom so it can slime the walls green and drain their owner's bank accounts dry. We want to use that image as the reason they go to jissou hell. Jissou heaven is where all the GOOD jissouseki go to, and there are so very few of them because so many are bad. Its so very lonely up there, after all. The ten commandments are thus: 1. Mister Man/Master is the Law. 2. You will not murder (unless in self-defense) 3. You will not steal (from me, or your friends and family) 4. You will not lie in any way. 5. You will always love your master, your family, and your friends. 6. Do not abuse my (owner) kindness, 7. Do not sin, or you will be punished 8. Strive to be good, so you can join your family in Heaven. 9. Strive to be good, lest you go to hell to be tortured by the Evil Jissou. 10. Listen to Mister Man, follow His instructions, and you will live a good life. Do not, and you will become a Bad Jissou and go to Hell.
>>1 Jissou + Star Wars reference. Genius! :)
Great stuff, REd! However, buriburi isn't a squishy noise- it's a fart or shitting noise in Japanese. Don't ask why I know this.
>>8 Considering where we are, I would be more surprised if you didn't know that.
Should I repost the first two chapters of my previous story?
I've been wondering.... I know that any red liquid (or light) in the green eye causes pregnancy, but what happens when you put a GREEN liquid in the RED eye? Whatever. You never heard from me. This conversation never came to pass.
> 12 I think it has a similar effect.
I think it depends on the author or artist, but most of my research shows that green eye pregnancies can only happen when a Jissou has sperm injected into her. It doesn't matter if it's from a Dick Jissou, a Human or another animal. Even flower pollen rubbed in a Jissou's vaganus can cause a green eye pregnancy, http://gurochan.net/g/src/126768613799.jpg and http://gurochan.net/g/src/12676861609.gif Also, Jissou's eyes both turn red durring labor regardless of what made a Jissou pregnant to begin with.
Does anyone know what jissou are derivatives of? I've been thinking that they might be a mix of human and insect DNA, the same way most mushrooms and fungus are neither plant nor animal. I mean, think about it, they can talk, and think, much like humans. Born with this ancestral knowledge much the same way insects are born knowing how to find mates and food, and such. If my theory is correct, than what would happen if someone deliberately bred jissou to be more and more intelligent? Or, since any intelligent jissou is highly improbable, at least ones born with more and more ancestral knowledge, besides just saying stupid words. Anyways, that was my random post for the day, lol.
If I read the origins story right, their appearance and behaviour was caused by a fault in the crystal in the original one which was then copied to all its descendants. I suppose if anyone knew how to fix the crystal, they could create what the Jissou were originally supposed to turn out like. Or if they screwed it up even worse they could create a monster! Hmm, I feel a story idea coming on...
They were meant to be like Souseki, from Rozen Maiden. The real lore is that they came about because some guy ordered a doll, and it was horribly ugly. So he drew it being tortured as if it were alive. There's more to it, but I'm feeling incredibly lazy right now, so I'm not telling you.
>>15 If you write this, make sure you kill off all the 'evolved' jissous. No need for such anticanons to spread.
Hi brothers jissoutorturers. I am a long time stalker in the past thread, so let me say I love what you have done. Please continue the awesomeness!
>>17 Technically however, jissou canon shows that they, after gargantuan and insane effort, can evolve to the point they looks sorta like Souseki. Thusly, the fabled Level 6 Jissou. Most either end up as level 4 (Adult Jissou) or Level 5 (Hideously Fat Adult Jissou).
Don't let this thread die, everyone!
>>20 I have a new story floating around in my head... it could be some weeks before my brain gives birth to it though. It'll be based around the pic that I'm about to post in /g/...
Anyone seen WitchDoctor lately? I'd love to see more from him.
Come on, people, let's see some content! It's been too long!
>>23 "Degyaaa!!! stop hurting me pleaase!!", begged the Jissouseki mother. She beat helplessly against the boot pinning her to the ground, her writhings becoming ever more frantic as the pressure on her increased. "Mama! Mama!" squeaked half a dozen maggots, cowering away from the wicked Mr Man tormenting their sobbing, shrieking mother. "Shut up, you filthy little turds!" snarled Mr Man viciously. He raised his foot and stamped down hard, crushing the mother into the ground and pulping her internal organs. "Gahhh...." wheezed the mother, and died. Then Mr Man stomped on all the maggots and killed them too. All the Jissouseki were dead. The End.
Real funny. I mean it, I'd prefer to see this thread live. Where did all the writers go?
THey are all busy with RL and other things. hopefully, once summer comes rearing it's backside, we'll have time to start posting Civilization J chapters again.
>>25 My contribution contained every element necessary for a Jissouseki story! I am deeply hurt :o(
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kdqH0ciOqE4 Someone should make a story version of this awesome short. XD
pistol, your story was succinct and pleasing. However, I love the idea of long, drawn our torture.
I just read the archived thread (well, almost all of it), and I'm glad to see there is a new one. I don't really understand why, I find most fictions boring - guro or not , but I enjoy those Jissouseki stories a lot. I 'd like to try and write one, but since english is not my mother tongue, I doubt I could write anything good, especially compared to what I have read. Here is my opinion about "Level 6" Jissouseki : It looks like they became popular since DickThecat created the character "Seki", and other people started putting them in their stories, for example the human-looking Jissouseki in the exterminator's story. In the stories, they should remain, for the most part, a phantasm. They *may* be a few of them, but at most one Jissou out of one hundred milions would become one, and I'm not really sure wether their "existance" should be considered as canon, even though the rumor about their existance is. I hope you understand what I'm trying to say. "Level 6" Jissouseki would probably be much more intelligent than others simply because they would be much older, but I can't find any reason for them to have any sign of kindness other than the fact they are less stupid. Of course, young stupid human-looking Jissouseki are not out of the question since they can simply be mutated, which is common among Jissouseki. My thought about "Level 5" Jisouseki could also interest some of the "scientists" among you : All healthy Jissouseki, with no exception, tend to become fatter as they age, so there is really not much of a reason for them to become slender and beautiful. The most "reasonnable" way would be, in my opinion, to have them be "reborn", let me explain : I have read ( I think in was in one of jessa's episodes) that if you put a Jissouseki's crystal in a water+proteins mixtures, it would create a new Jissouseki out of it (this would also explain their ability to recover from severe injuries). So there might be cases where the crystal would stop recognizing the fatass as the original Jissouseki and just create a new one inside the (dead ?) one, which would keep its memories (crystal=mind, right ?), with the kind of body Amaterasu Genetics expected. Of course, the crystal would have to be more "powerful" than normal to be able to do this. Maybe this could be related to its reaction to electricity (or electro-magnetic fields in general) mentionned in post 235 of the previous, archived thread, by Jessanonymous - which is a bit far-fetched IMO.
>>30 Might not necessarily have to be a dead one. Perhaps the reason behind the Jissou getting fatter is that the crystal makes them hungrier so they'll eat more in order to collect more organic material to work with in creating the new form within the old one. Although that might lead to an "Alien"-style birth where the new one rips its way out of the old one. hehe Just a thought.
Hello friends, it's been awhile. I know I promised a story a LONG time ago but writers block and an avalanche of school work have kept me from even thinking about Jissou for oh so long. Just wanted to touch base with everyone and maybe try to write a one-shot by the end of the week. Also, I had been trying to find a word to describe a Jissou's unitary hole for a while now. By accident I stumbled upon the word "Cloaca" which is the posterior opening that serves as the only such opening for the intestinal, reproductive, and urinary tracts of certain animal species (like birds).
>>32 Very good and thanks for that bit of information. It'll prove very useful! :)
>>32 In the old thread, someone dubbed it the "vaganus". Or you could just call it "disgusting hole", describes the body part in question perfectly well.
This post has been deleted.
The last post is excellent. It's my favorite.
bump
Hello people. I stumbled into the great archive one week ago. Found it great, especially WitchDoctor's stories (The one with the super-lamp will stay as a grand example of Humanity's talent in describing horror). So I decided to participate. What follows is kind of a followup of WitchDoctor's origin story, where the head scientist of the Living Doll Project watches helplessly his project going to utter shit. I introduce a character that could not please everyone as it breaks the canon quite a bit. Sorry about that. Oh, and I haven't read the stories past the 600 first posts of the archive, so maybe the followup of the origin story has already been made, I don't know. I'm also sorry I had to delete my post, the format was quite fucked from being written in notepad. Anyway, let's go : ---- "Okay Dad, commencing vengeance in 5,4,3,2,1...desu." Oops, I thought that out loud. I hate doing that because it makes me utter this annoying tic. This positively sucks. Anyway, the moon is bright, reflecting on the surface of the lake, the wind gently whistles in the trees, and the comfy house's garden is charming. It's a lovely night. Too bad something is ruining it. "Hungry, refu." "We'll soon be eating tons of candy, maggot-chan, techi !" "Mr.Man will love us, desu." An entire family of jissouseki, right in front of the door. They're of the mildly disgusting variety, just the run-of-the-mill type that's dumber than a bag of doorknobs but at least tries to put out a cute appearance. And right now, they plan on invading a house. How fucking typical. No respect for Mr.Men whatsoever. No wonder Dad was so sad. His story created a whole new level of disappointment, which he could happily experience every time he looked on the TV or in the streets. Yep, my Dad is the scientist who unwittingly created these disgusting little critters. He tried to correct his mistake ever since, and, well, I'm the best answer he came up with. I probably won't eradicate the jissou species. But I sure as hell am going to try. The mother jissou, a reasonably sized adult, albeit smaller than me, took her youngest maggot in her ridiculous stubby arms, and began to reach for the mail slot in the door. I walk towards them, whistling. They hear me, and interrupt their endeavor. "Huh ? What's that techi ?" "A Mrs.Lady techi ?" "Too small refu." "Who are you, desu ?" Asked the matriarch. "You're a very ugly jissou, Mr.Man won't take you as a pet, unlike us, desu." I felt my blood heating up by 4 degrees. Her, prettier than me ? The jissouseki nerve is legendary, but to this point ? I crack my knuckles, thankfully present in my fully humanoid arms. "Shut the fuck up, you unbelievable piece of dogshit, desu. All you and your hellish progeny are getting is a ticket to where you belong, desu." "Yes, that's right desu ! We're going into the house of the loving Mr.Man desu !" "Goddamit, you're so dense you can't even understand an awesome line like this, desu !" "Awesome refu ? Is it tasty refu ?" Oh, fuck that. I catch one of the maggots by the tail. "Not here refu ! Belly better, please rub, re..." It finished its "fu" inside the skull of its juvenile sister. None of them survived the incident. None of the panties present in the area remained clean. The family just turned blue from fear. A lot of Mr.Men enjoy to maim their kind, they are susceptible to die from even the common pigeon, and even fellow jissouseki are a menace. They did not seem to like the idea of discovering yet another predator. The mother quickly shifted gears though, and as it often happens to jissou when faced with immediate death... She threw a tantrum. "YOU STUPID BITCH DESU ! WHY KILLING MY BABIES ? I WILL KILL YOU DESU !" I opened my arms and sighed heavily. Why do they always do this ? Even Mr.Men, known for their irrationality, rarely provoke an immediate threat. But jissou ? They do that all the time. Well, at least I'm only two times larger than her, I'm not as obviously dangerous as a Mr.Man. She charges, head first, yelling furiously. I step aside at the last moment, and kick her stubby legs. She trips comically, showing her panties now filled to the brim with green shit. Before she can get up, I step on her. "You suck on so many frigging levels, desu." I punch her right in the mouth. She now begins wailing, and her children come rushing towards me, faces red from rage. The maggots were following them, more out of curiosity than real anger. Just what I was expecting. I take my miniature weapon Dad's friend has made for me. Well, "weapon" wouldn't normally be the proper term. It's just a lighter that was shaped like a rifle. You wouldn't believe how much damage a single flame can do to your average jissouseki. *Woosh* "TEGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" In a single sweep, I ignited three sets of fabric. jissou clothes are very thin, and burn easily. That, of course, ended the heroic charge abruptly. "I prefer jissou when they are crusty, desu." The mother was struggling under my foot, as she watched her daughters slowly becoming living torches. It was quite the spectacle, really. As their clothes were burning away, you could see their pallid skin bubbling underneath. They react to fire just as if they were plastic. As the flames reached the face of the younger child, her cry of pain, already straight out from a horror film, really began to sound otherworldly. The harelip was melting, and the tongue didn't fare any better. You couldn't even recognize the token "techi", it was just a string of unarticulated cries enhanced by a bubbling sound coming from the young jissou drowning in her own melting flesh. The other two had this dumbfounded look. You know, tongue hanging out, eyes wide open, purple-ish blue covering the upper half of their faces...They were watching a nice preview of what was going to happen to them, and they weren't sure of how to react. I swear they could have said "Am I cute techi ?" as a pathetic result of their weak brain going Blue Screen of Death. The eyes of the melting jissou popped out, making her go "Trrlleeee?" before collapsing, face first onto the gravel. Goddamn, this shitstain died in mere twenty seconds from a lighter flame, and it wasn't even a larva. "S...such cruelty desssuuuurg..." The mother went into shock. I guess she wasn't wild after all. All undomesticated jissouseki of this age have seen much, much worse than this simple immolation. She began foaming at the mouth while shivering uncontrollably and emptying what was left of her bowels. I stepped away, and she didn't even try to escape. How the fuck can such a useless creature strive, let alone infest the whole world ? Oh, right. The lightning-fast pregnancy. Her left eye was becoming red. Thank God I can't get pregnant that way. I heaved a sigh, and left her alone for the moment, going past the two other children that were just done being cooked. The maggots were still here. Most of them anyway. "Big sisters are too loud, refu. Onee chan has curled up, refu." "S...Scary, repyo..." "Hungry refu." Three of them died from sheer terror, and already their siblings were planning on eating them. A goldfish has a larger attention span. And, in this particular case, a larger lifespan as well. One particularly oblivious maggot looked at me, and rolled on its back. "Belly soft and squishy, pl..." I whacked it with the edge of my hand. "How's that for a belly rub, dumbass, desu ?" Shit, that sounded particularly silly. "Raaah fuck you Dad, why did you have to hardwire that shitty habit into me desu ?" At least, my exclamation got the attention of the remaining maggots. Green stinking shit was pouring out of the larvae's bare asses. I wanted to waste them really hard, but I had to leave some witnesses. Instead, I frightened them some more until they had the brilliant idea to actually get the fuck out. Back to the mother. A dozen of "refu", "tettere~" and "punipuni" were to be heard near the unconscious piglet. Now to have some massive fun. The mother was still going at it. I, however, didn't want to make such a mess that it would ruin the beautiful garden of Mr.Man. So I tore out the temporarily red eye. In addition of the "OROROROROOOOON" that ensued, something amusing occurred. I heard several little "bangs" inside the womb. Apparently, you shouldn't mess with the birthing process of a jissouseki. "De ? DEE ?" The little belly expanded. The interruption of the maggot-forming process seemed to have kick-started some kind of chain reaction, although I don't have the slightest idea as to which. This gave me an idea. I picked a twig nearby, and planted it right in the middle of her vagina, blocking the influx of amniotic shit that was bound to happen. "What's happening to mama, refu ?" She was becoming a ticking time-bomb of foul-smelling guacamole, that's what. In fact, she was becoming a ticking time-bomb really fast. That mysterious chain reaction seemed serious. That would stain the flowers without a doubt, so I had to do something quickly. I find that in most cases, a good kick solves everything. She burst at the impact of my foot, instantly turning into a slime rocket. She flew through the air in a high-pitched noise, leaving behind a big trail of shit garnished with dozens of gruesomely mutated maggots, surrounded by two trails of red tears. They can still cry without eyes ? Didn't know that. When she ran out of gas, she stayed in the air, wondering what had happened, and screamed a horribly deformed "DECHAAAAAAA" when she realized that gravity wasn't going to let her go just like that. With a wet "splosh", the nasty package fell into the lake, when she put up the last fight of her life, flailing what little of her was left intact outside the water. Apparently, she attracted some big fish, since she disappeared suddenly from the surface. Luckily, the trail of shit and mutants followed neatly the gravel alley, sparing all the flowers. I am awesome. That left the newborns, who didn't even move. The only ones who had were too occupied to check if fellow maggots with ten eyes taste good to escape. I crushed the red eye that I still had in hand, and poured it onto the head of those cannibals. "Mama's eye : So tasty it'll make you burst from joy, desu !" "Refu ? REFUREFUREFUREFUREFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuu" This wail is simply priceless. Quickly, I threw gently the pregnant maggots into the lot. They were twitching desperately, hoping to shake of the weird feeling that mysteriously engulfed them. Their siblings were watching innocently, having no idea of the impending danger. "Onee chan makes funny dance, refu !" The pregnant maggots began to grunt. I smiled. At 2 in the morning, the normally quiet garden went Michael Bay. One maggot burst. Then two. Then three. The explosions weren't that violent, but for a fragile newborn maggot, it was ground zero. Guernica. That chopper scene from Apocalypse now. One larva got its insides reduced into paste when the eyeball of the first happy young mother (too bad she miscarried) struck its belly. Sadly, no amount of rubbing will ever repair that. One that attempted to comfort its unfortunate sibling got projected into the air when it exploded, and landed on the head of yet another, embedding its face into the gravel. The funniest, though, definitely was that one grub that, upon impact of a severed head, vomited the integrality of its insides like a particularly susceptible tube of toothpaste. I was half laughing, and half singing Hand of Doom by Manowar. Yeah, I'm not a Mrs.Lady but I can still appreciate art, especially art that awesome and fitting to mindless jissouseki rampages. My skirt was utterly ruined, but what the hell, it was worth it. That's when the door behind me opened. Crap. "What the hell has happened here ?" Said the Mr.Man in his fifties, still in his pants. "And what the hell are you for that matter ?" "Me ? A successful experiment, Mr.Man, desu. These low-lives were planning on invading your home, desu. Don't worry, I really made sure your flowers got nothing, you'll just have to replace the gravel desu." The poor Mr.Man was flabbergasted, probably more because of seeing a beyond weird jissou like me than because of the massacre. Good thing, I didn't plan of staying too long. I can run pretty fast, and I was already in the bushes before he could answer. That was the first rampage of many more to come. I hope the various witnesses will be reporting this. It would really suck if my claim to fame was me being cute and everything that jissous were supposed to be, rather than me being fucking metal. Oh, and my name ? ...I'll have to think of that, actually. For now, I'm just Project Transcended Living Doll.
A jissou that's genetically engineered into a jissou killing machine? That is several different levels of awesome right there! :)
"...as a pathetic result of their weak brain going Blue Screen of Death" "...At 2 in the morning, the normally quiet garden went Michael Bay" My head exploded of pure awesomeness. And you successfully introduced (I think, because I read most of the old thread and don't remember this) some new concepts about Jissou's bodily processes. Although I missed something in the lines of "I'LL BE BACK (DESU)", rather than just going Lonely Ranger into the bushes
...What. The. Heck. O_o
Why, thank you, I try to take the ridiculously epic (or maybe epically ridiculous ?) shock value, I'm glad it seems to work. And yes, maybe it was lacking a badass finishing line from PTLD's part. Anyway, I went ahead while I'm motivated. Here's the second part, concentrated on pure, sadistic psychological abuse. Let's see how it comes out... ----------------- PTLD - Eugenics of fear "Is this where weird onee-san lives, techi ?" "Yes, it is, desu." I close the door behind the jissouseki nymph. I made her follow me to my hideout without violence or coercion of any kind. A simple promise of candy was all it required. The stupidity that made them so annoying was helpful sometimes. It was a regular house near the forest, far from the nearest city. The Mr.Men who were living there in the past sadly died from a plane crash one month ago. I used Dad's bank account to buy it after my escape. You wouldn't believe how awkward it is to conclude a real estate deal by phone and trying to hide the desus. The furniture was for Mr.Men, but I can handle most of it. The feral child began tugging at my skirt. "Now you give candy, techi ! You made promise, techi !" I can't believe how fast the little shit dropped the disguise. Normally it gets at least a day for jissous to go from seductively shy to aggressively demanding. Maybe she was used to this little game. "Sure, come with me in the basement, desu !" She did so, even trying to run past me to the promised pile of candy. Was she fearing I would take some ? Egoistic bag of puke. "Where is candy, techi ? You said there would be candy, techi !" "The thing is, jissou chan, you ARE the candy, desu." The kitchen knife hacked down her right arm cleanly. "Te ?" There goes the left arm. Then the two legs at once. "TECHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !" I didn't even let her spout the insipid threats that were sure to follow. I taped her mouth, carefully making sure no crap would stain my shoes, tore out her clothes and hair, and cauterized the gaping wounds with my lighter. Even through the tape, I could hear her wailing. Fortunately, the basement was quite deep into the earth, and no amount of screaming could be heard from outside. After that, I dragged her to the place where she would remain until her death. Maybe you could call it "The baby-shitting chair". Yeah, that sounds about right. It was a hollowed plastic chair surrounded by several apparatus. Most of them are means of restraining, but there was also the tube connected to a distributor of jissou shit. I seated the little monster, restrained her, and put the tube inside her mouth. Now she'll get to live, whether she likes it or not. Aaand the finishing touch. I take a pin, and prick her skin just above her left eye. An absolutely terrified look showed the gremlin finally understood just how fully fucked she was. A muffled "OROROOON" resonated into the basement as the green orb turned red. I opened the cage under the chair. It was the first element of a quite vast network of cages, which I patiently made over the last week. It could handle about 40 little jissou. And it was going to see a lot more than that over the years. I took the four limbs, and returned to the living room. I was kinda hungry. Jissouseki are a repulsive species, but for something that shits so much, it sure tastes good when roasted. As I brush my teeth, I find myself looking at my reflection, and it saddens me a bit. I'm not the perfect Suiseseki doll Dad wanted. I'm certainly better than jissouseki, of course. I am humanoid, with roughly the proportions of a 16-year old Ms.Lady, but with the size of a 10-year old one, and have a realistic set of brown hair. However, it's obvious I was made from the original flawed model, instead of started from scratch. Even with Dad's new investors, that would have been too much money and effort. My clothes are green, my ears are pointy, my lip is curved -albeit in a cute way, not unlike a cat- but it's the round, beady mismatched eyes that gives me away the most. They are almost the same as those of my horrid little prototypes. I have eyebrows though, that makes me look significantly less retarded. The other thing is that my investors convinced dad I shouldn't look like Suiseiseki too much. With the jissou infestation, the character has drawn quite a bit of scorn, which could have made me the next generation of abuse toys. So, while my clothes have the exact same tint, enough to make them look like the token green dress at first glance, their shape is that of the ever popular schoolgirl sailor uniform. It's more practical to fight anyway, and it can always be replaced. The biggest differences I have with jissouseki are psychological. I stole my project design files with me when I ran away, so I know exactly what elements of my personality was written by Dad in my genetic code. It's kinda creepy, to say the least. For now, let's just say that if external sources hadn't made me into the bashful tomboy I am, along with an goddess amongst jissou haters, I would be a lovely pet. Of course, right now I don't think many Mr.Men would want me... Ah, shit, here I go, sulking again over this. Yes, this is among my designed personality traits. Enough, let's begin my project. "Tettere~!" "Punipuni, please rub refu !" "Where is mama, rechi ?" There are many variations in Jissouseki appearance, especially since the beginning of industrial processing, but among the "normal" ones, you can observe two main extremes. At the bottom of the spectrum, you have the ugly ones, with mouths shaped like exactly like A's, not a lot of hair, tiny eyes that look awfully void of any intelligence, body larger than the deformed head, and increasingly pig-like as they grow up. And at the top, the cute ones. Their mouth is more of a triangle, with rounder angles, they have rounder faces, bigger, shinier eyes that aren't too far apart, slightly more hair, and more toddler-like proportions. They are still dumb and egoistic, but at least they weren't an eyesore. The child I caught was more of this kind of strain. The maggots and thumb-chans were honestly cute. That wouldn't save them, of course. They noticed me as soon as I came in. About thirty of them, the mother had been busy. I ignored their pleas for candy and belly rubs as I checked if everything in the cage network was ready to be Hell for the little fuckers. You see, I know I can't kill them fast enough. So I have to find a way to kill them massively without using any means that would harm Mr.Men. And I know for a fact that jissouseki can inherit acquired traits. Don't ask me how, but children of highly-trained jissou tend to be less retarded than average. And finally, maggots and sometimes thumb-chans can die out of fear. So I want to experiment if they can inherit fear. The fear of me. If this experiment succeeds, I will strive to literally breed jissou worldwide to fear me to the point of cardiac arrest. It's a shot that's longer than a lightyear, I know, but that's the only plan I have for now. And if it fails, well, at least I will have had a shitload of fun. "Hello, little ones, desu." "Hello, weird onee-san ! Do you have a nice master who can give us lots of candy, rechi ?" "No, I will give you lots of candy, desu !" "For real refu ?" "Give us, refu !" I opened the way to the other cages. They ventured curiously, little tongue hanging out. They all saw the big batch of candy, and collectively squealed. "Wait, before you go, I have to give you a special shower, desu !" I sprayed them with a solution some of the researchers developed back at my first home. They suddenly backed off a little, afraid it was poison. It wasn't...A conventional one. "What's this, repyo ?" "Just something to clean you up. Now you can go to the candy, desu !" And so they did, as soon as they were sure no unusual feelings appeared due to the unexpected shower. Fortunately, the thumb-chans went ahead, and spared the maggots of getting stepped on in the rush. They chirped at the sight of the candy bunch. There was almost a hundred in there, just imagine what they were feeling as they munched happily at the spiked balls of sugar. They cried from joy, thanking me in a torrent of "tefu"s. I waited a minute to announce them the big news. "Oh, and one more thing. Exactly one candy out of two contains a slow-acting lethal poison, desu." They extremely funnily turned blue in less that a second. I chuckled uncontrollably as they looked silently at each other, wondering which half of them had drawn the winning ticket in the unbearably painful death lottery. Useless to say that the amount of shit sprayed at that moment was nothing short of copious. Conventional torture wouldn't cut it. Just pain won't do. The level of fear I desired required extreme psychological abuse. It had to be biblical. "I don't want to die, resun !" I saw two sets of maggot eyes going grey in a sudden hiccups. "W...w...why do you do this, weird onee san, you jerk, repyeeen..." "Because I absolutely hate each and everyone of you putrid pukestains, desu." They shat some more, and I went, laughing, to the Hi-Fi system resting in the back of the basement. The unfortunate jissou had about two minutes to live now. Power metal boomed in the dim gray place, further adding to the already extreme confusion of jissou babies. The young mother was flailing her stumps frantically, shedding tears as she was trying to escape in vain, not even able to move her head. She heard what was happening to her progeny, and yet she couldn't even lower her gaze enough to see them. The death of her babies would belong to her imagination alone, no doubt magnified by screaming insanity. The belly of some maggots began to pulsate. "Re? REFEE ?" Said maggots begin wriggling on the floor, in a seizure. I fast forward the song to the best moment, the ending, and begin to sing along while playing air guitar. "Another is born, another shall fall ! This day grubs will DIIIIIE desu !!!! Come on, everybody with me, desu !" Chanted I as the poison claimed its first victim, transforming it into a living fountain of puke, streaming acrid stench all over the place. When others followed it, the cage began to seem like an incredibly fucked up rave party. The fear of being poisoned by the torrents of vomit made them run in all directions, yelling their freaking lungs out. All the little jissous were rocketed through all the nine circles of Hell every second, leaving trails of terrified shit all over Lucifer's throne. "Glory and fame, blood is our name, Souls full of thunder, hearts of steel ! Killers of men, of warriors friend, sworn to avenge our fallen brothers, desu !" As the thumb-chans fell victim to the poison, A maggot chewed its way through the candy pile. Dumbass. I walked to the mother, grasping her tear-stained, shivering head in my hands, and sang the main chorus right into her face. "Sons of the gods today we shall die Open Valhalla's door Let the battle begin with swords in the wind HAIL, GODS OF WAAAAAAAAAAR desu !!!!!" She went into emergency baby-crapping mode at "gods". I quickly took a bucket, and placed it under the chair. These would be my evening snack. The last poisoned thumb chan expelled her last bowels out as the stupid maggot began soiling the candy pile from inside. Out of the thirty babies, less than nine were still alive. If deeply psychologically scarred for life counted as alive, of course. None of them dared utter a thing. One thumb-chan was quivering in a corner, obviously into shock, sitting on her shit-filled panties, that got higher than her legs. I waited patiently. After a slaughter, all jissouseki end up doing the same thing. "Candy dangerous, refu." "Must find something safe to eat, refu." "Onee-chan not moving, refu." The shocked little thumb-chan weakly reacted as one of her sisters began to chew her arm. We got ourselves another winner. "Rebya ?" His brain exploded. I smirked. "Don't even think about surviving by cannibalism, desu. The thing I sprayed you with before hasn't killed you, but it did turn your flesh and shit into poison, and this one is fast, desu." They shivered. Now they were beginning to understand just how unlucky they were to be born in my basement. They couldn't survive without taking the risk of condemning themselves to death. Furthermore, I wouldn't even allow them to fear themselves. Only me. "There is hope for you though, desu. The last jissou standing will be healed, and given a good home, desu. But you see this video camera ? It records you permanently. If one of you hurts another, I tear her apart, desu. Win by luck, intelligence, and endurance. Goodnight. Desu." I closed the door, and put the lights off, letting them under the unblinking gaze of my video camera in night vision mode, taking their cooing brethren away to the fridge. -------------- Now I'm hesitating. Should I continue like this, giving away little pieces of information about the monstrous transcended jissouseki, or should I make a chapter dedicated to what was written on the project design files she stole, making everything clear now ?
>>43 Let it out gradually. Something this epic can only be digested in small portions. JISSOUWAR!/ BORN TO DIE/ IN SHOCK AND GORE!
More Trance-Jissou! I absolutely adore her! It's so sad how she doesn't think she's perfect enough... I just love shy tomboy-types (often found with gamer girls). Teehee, she'd probably like violent video games, too.
>>45 I love shy tomboys too :) I bet PTLD plays that version of GTA with the Jissou mod in her spare time ;)
>>43 Trance-jissou is so moe~ I could just eat her up~
>>45 Teehee, she'd probably like violent video games, too. Why, yes ! In fact, next chapter will be partially based on that.
Continued from >>39 >>43 I don't like double-posting, but oh well, here goes. Did I mention English wasn't my native language ? --- PTLD – To Hell and back, if necessary Let's make one thing perfectly clear. Creating a jissou killer wasn't the main focus of the Transcended Living Doll Project. They wanted the ultimate pet. That implies several things for me, most of which are a royal pain in the ass when it comes to leading a crusade against jissouseki. Take, for instance, being absolutely unable to harm Mr.Men, both by way of physical weakness, and by way of mental conditioning. They took into account a pretty wide definition of "harm", too. I can't hit Mr.Men with anything other than my fists and never in the fragile parts. So my assaults could potentially be lethally cute, but certainly not painful. I can't remove property from their house without permission. Finally, I can't let their property be destroyed or sullied. I can only derogate to that when it's a matter of life or death either to me or to a Mr.Man, or, in the case of the stealing and destroying, when I give something equivalent in return. And even then, I'm force-fed guilt by my A.D.N. So, knowing all these conditions, tell me : I'm in an industrial plant breeding average pet-class jissouseki. I want to kill all the broodmothers. How the fuck am I going to do that ? Well, I'm just thankful you Mr.Men have invented insurance. I may have the strength of a 10-years old, but I've been made stealthier and more agile than a cat. Why ? Well, avoiding abuse at all costs was another important focus. So entering the facility, breaking into the main office and finding the insurance documents without being noticed were easy. I smiled when I saw that the biggest guarantee was terrorism insurance. This kind of contract, which was pretty meh in the past, boomed after the jissouseki outbreak. All companies dealing with my prototypes are potentially subject to PETA activism, or more rarely, really motivated abusers. All in all, such incidents didn't occurred that much, but more than 80% of these companies contract terrorism insurance anyway. That makes it a very lucrative type of contract for insurance companies, who aren't afraid of increasing the fees -and thus guarantees- through the roof. That meant I could raise hell here : I gave them something equivalent. Indirectly. Hey, that counts ! Of course, I can't do that too much or insurance companies would begin to piss their pants. Anyway, I checked that all CCTV systems were fully functioning. They needed proof of terrorism, I needed advertisement. Everyone's happy. It was 10 in the evening, but there were still many Mr.Men working or guarding the place. I had to play it 47 style. I positioned myself on the catwalks over the main breeding warehouse. Below me was a red-eye extravaganza. All twelve of the big jissou mothers presented on the company's website were comfortably installed in birthing pans, and were attended to by Mrs.Ladies. Real intelligence shined in their eyes. They must be treated really well. The information on their website was right : They were indeed selecting the jissou larvae carefully. The few mutated maggots were put into a trash bin, likely to be shipped to food processing. The others passed through a cage which was likely to be a basic intelligence test, impossible to solve by lambda maggots. Normally this would ensure at least 19 casualties out of twenty, but I guess eugenics must be a important company creed, because a quarter of them succeeded. They worked by waves of babies, in order to decrease inconvenience and pressure for the precious mothers. So I waited for the next wave, and readied my other custom weapon made for me at the lab. A miniature, dismantlable, scoped, bolt-action flashball rifle. Oh, yeah. Even if a jissou killer wasn't the main focus of my creators, they all unanimously decided that me and my progeny should be able to defend our masters against jealous and/or feral jissouseki. Makes sense. Anyway. I stopped breathing, aimed carefully as red dye was applied to the last mother's eye... "DESHA !" "Boom eyeshot, desu." The peculiar event of my first massacre took place again in this birthing environment. I shot another foam bullet. "Hey, what's happening to Poppie and Marge ?" asked the first Mr.Ladies to notice the cries weren't because of labor pain, and that their left eyes were unusually muddy. "Something hurts in the eyes, Mr.Lady, feel weird, desuuun...", complained the first victim as the third red eye silently burst. I had to take down as many eyes as possible before being discovered, but my hands started shaking. I knew how to shoot by instinct, but my actual training was shoddy at best. My fourth shot missed, hitting the jissou in the forehead. This time, the flashball wasn't hidden by the viscous eye remains. Crap, crap, crap ! The jig was up. I ran away to hiding before they could react. Sure enough, they sounded the alarm as soon as they saw the torrent of cancer-ridden maggots that flowed into the warm water. The civilized, delicate mothers went into shock at that sight. It didn't take a supercomputer to deduce that their career, resting entirely on shitting out less shitty maggots than average, was kind of fucked. Hell, without a left eye, it would be a pain to make them give birth to anything at all. The other mothers got on their legs, now unable to give less of a shit about their children's safety. The employees began to herd them to safety. I finished putting my rifle into my backpack with a jissou head on it, an quickly made my way to the floor by jumping on several objects, including a video camera that didn't seem to happy with my weight. Pussy. Just on my left as I landed, was a fuel barrel. Oh my god, I'm sure I'm going to regret this, but I really need all the confusion I can get. I make the barrel fall, throw a regular lighter in it, and run to the group, slaloming between the cages of confused jissou children. Shortly later, another barrel explodes, kick-starting a serious fire. A cold feeling engulfs me. I grunt, without even thinking about it : "What have I done, desu ?" I hope from the bottom of my hart that this terrorism insurance is worth its salt. At least the alarm is already on, the arson won't surprise any Mr.Man. I quickly put on the green hood that was habitually resting behind my shoulders, and took my trusty little knife. Okay, it wasn't so trusty before, but it sure is now. Fortunately, the guards have arrived, and, upon seeing the fire, prevent the Mrs.Ladies from doing something stupid like trying to save the jissous. The 8 broodmothers left have trouble running, thanks to the maggots pouring out of their shithole, and littering the path, just like the little stones in this Hop-o'-My-Thumb story, only a lot more retarded. Time to go Silent Assassin on their asses. Near the exit, safe from the fire, the female employees cheer the mothers that clumsily try to escape. "You're almost there ! Don't give up girls !" "We won't, desu !" And they're right, at this pace they will make it to safety. I'll just have to block them...if these shitty childish muscles would accept to pump up a little ! Rraaaaaaaaaaaaargh ! ...Success ! The little scaffolding falls right on their paths, crushing the fastest one, apparently the elder. The Mrs.Ladies shrieked in horror the jissous called for help. Were these obese cumstains really that valuable to them ? Another pang of guilt. Yeah, fuck you too, Dad. The adult jissouseki figured they just had to find a way through the network of cages. Not all that hard, right ? Maybe not, but the hunt had begun. If I had the luxury of an mp3 walkman right now, I would most certainly listen to this shit right there : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVsjLPF5JaY . "Over here, desu !" Said the bigger jissou with a confident voice. Most would have lost their shit in this situation, not them. They were smart, no doubt about that. But enough to escape me ? You best be fucking joking. Around them, terrified cries of maggots and children resonated all over the place. What a beautiful background sound effect. Most were just fearing for their lives, but a few already had their little microcosms on fire. Clean little beds reduced to ashes. Toys slowly melting into amorphous blobs. Little books for high-class jissou children burned. And, of course, the clothes, prettier than average, turned into wicks for their unfortunate wearers. The number one creed of high-end jissou is to control their bowels. They were obviously mortified about not being able to uphold it. All the children in the warehouse couldn't expect Hell to be any worse. In this cacophony of pain, I quickly catch up to the jissou mothers. They gather their efforts to move a cage aside, halfheartedly apologizing to the crying maggots inside. Another one is scouting up the surroundings. I run behind her, place my hand over her mouth, and slit her throat in less than a second. I then drag her body out of sight of her companions. She's king size, but still a head shorter than me. Plus, jissouseki notoriously lack in density. No sweat. "The path is clear, desu !" "Jilla, come with..." She stops when she sees no one behind them. "dee ?" "What's wrong desu ?" "Jilla has disappeared, where desu ?" "We have left behind four of us already, desu. We can't abandon her, desu." I use my two hands to stop me from laughing. They already showed their lack of qualms about a survival-of-the-fittest policy, why stop now ? Are jissou programmed to become dense at the worst possible moment ? Yeah, go ahead, you rotten snotballs. Why don't you disperse while you're at it ? "Okay, but we stay together, desu." Nods of approbation. Damn, this species always manage to show a golden wisdom nugget in their ocean of cerebral shit. They begin their march. I leave "Jilla", blue from panic, flabby arms risen into the air, and foaming at the mouth, emitting nothing but bubbling sounds while trying to warn her companions, only a meter away. I pick up a small rock and throw it in another direction. Predictably, the group of the seven dwarves go toward it. From the Mr.Men's side, there was nothing but apprehension. These mothers were the ones to save. Maybe the firefighters would come soon enough to rescue most of the children, but without the big intelligent Jissou, they would lose years of work. As from the mysterious attacker, nobody claimed to have seen it. And if, amid the cages, they could sometimes catch a glimpse of me, all they could make out was a little humanoid with green clothes and a pointy hood. Strictly nothing out of the ordinary. They would see me clearly only well after I was gone, on the CCTV recordings. "Jilla ? Where are you, desu ?!" I watched the group from behind a barrel of nutritive water. Even now they kept self-control. Kind of amazing, actually. It piqued my curiosity. Thirty seconds later, one of them strayed a little from the group to search behind a scaffolding. I ran away to this place out of view from the others, and took a poisoned candy out of my pocket. I doubted she would be stupid enough to go eat it in such a critical situation. So I did the impossible. I sneaked behind her, and... I force-fed a jissouseki candy. Can you claim you did, Mr.Man ? Well ? Can you ? Tee hee hee. So anyway, I fled as the mother began screaming in agony as her insides were melting. That alerted the others, who came right away. "IT HURTS DESUUUN !" "What...what happened, Natty dee...?" "Someone made me swallow this...cradd...grarg..." She exploded. At long last, the 6 surviving elders went blue. I laughed audibly, in the most sinister way I could muster. "Wh...what should we do, desu ?" Said one in a weak voice that desperately tried to sound calm. Silence ensued, letting the cries of help of their children add to the...spice of the moment. "MUST ESCAPE, DEEESUUUU !" suddenly yelped one as she ran towards the exit. Her luck had ran out : She passed right in front of me. I caught her as she did so, letting just enough of her be visible by the other not to be seen myself. "Who are you, desu ?! Let me go, or...DEGY- !" I caught her chin by inserting my fingers into her mouth. The pointy teeth that appeared when jissouseki are in a shocked state did little to prevent me from ripping. Her goddamn. Lower jaw. Out. "HEHUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOO !!!" I pushed her back and disappeared once more into the labyrinth of cages. Spectating maggots had difficulty breathing, and the last five survivors were shaking uncontrollably. Well, no fucking shit. Their comrade was walking towards them, wailing vowels and wobbling like a miniature zombie. Jissouseki tongues really are too long for their own good, but this situation magnified this problem. The tongue that had lost all support was now hanging below the little ribbon on her bib, pathetically flapping upwards every now and then. Her panties were filling up like a green balloon, and little chunks of puke dropped from her exposed esophagus. To think that less than fifteen minutes before, she was a respected matriarch, well fed and living in comfort. Seven down. Five to go. They all fled chaotically, desperately screaming for help. Most of the cages were burning now. Many a child jissou was banging her cage's walls, screaming for help, her hair already on fire. This was the moment the firefighters came in. The Mr.Ladies begged them to save the mothers, and they ran into the increasingly hellish labyrinth. Of course, the adult jissouseki saw that, and began to run towards them. In a flash, I slit the throat of the one in front of them. They yelled even louder, and used their last strength to continue running. They evacuated the fear-shit the had held up for so many seasons. They were the queens of this place, and yet, eight of them had bitten the dust in so little time, and they didn't even got see their attacker clearly. Misfortune was to be the ninth's killer. A burning cage collapsed, making the white-hot metallic mesh fall right down on her head. She became a living waffle in a matter of seconds. "S...Scary, dessuuuuunnn !!" Wailed the oldest of the small group. Her pants-shitting terror, however, calmed down when she saw one of the firefighter kneeling down to pick her up. "Calm down, you're safe now. Jeff, Greg ! Go extinguish the flames ! Paul, pick another of the big jissouseki, the employees said they were very valuable !" "I'll escape by myself, lead the way, desu !" Said the third surviving matriarch, who indeed seemed able to run by herself. I had no choice now. I took my knife, wielded it by the tip of the blade, and ran to the level of the Mr.Man who was apparently the leader to of the squad. I let out a terrified scream. Much to my relief, he looked behind him. Maybe it was another surviving breeding jissou, after all ? That's when I outran him, and jumped between two cages that were just in front of him. He was still looking away. The jissou in his arms was not. She watched me flying briefly through the air, like an angel in this inferno. Maybe she found me to be a truly enthralling sight, because she didn't even react when I threw my knife in mid-jump, before disappearing once again among the burning jissouseki zoo. "Bah, it was nothing. Hang in there, you brave jissouseki, you'll soon be..." His protegee was squirming just moments ago, but now...He looked at her, just to be sure. It turned out his comforting words were addressed to a jissouseki looking at him with dull grey eyes, a little butterfly knife lodged in her forehead. He immediately stopped, and let out a big "WHAAAT THE FUUUUCK ?", which did absolutely nothing to calm anyone down. Not too far to the right, the jissou held by the Mr.Man named Paul panicked at the realization that even His arms weren't safe. Her struggling surprised the firefighter, and she fell on the ground, at which moment she thoughtlessly ran into the hellish maze once again. "NO ! COME BACK HERE YOU IDI..." Too late. The jissouseki was looking in disbelief at my hand piercing her chest. These little scumbags are really easy to pierce, even with your bare hands. She let out a final, agonizing wail as I tore her heart out. The two firefighters were simply stunned. At the exit, the employees figured something was going even more wrong than they feared. Suddenly, as the shining sign of hope , the last surviving Jissouseki matriarch, Bertha, arrived in the main alley, where everyone could see her. She was running as fast as she could towards the exit. "Almost there, desha !" Fuck my Silent Assassin rating. I had to finish it into the open. What happened next, recorded on a employee's, cell phone, ended up on YouTube. (Also, this was when the climax of the music mentioned earlier began. What ? This is important !) Bertha was running, curtains of flame behind her, countless cries of condemned jissou children ringing through the air. Time seemed to slow down. Then, at the top of a cage behind the crying jissouseki running for her life popped out a weird being. She seemed like a jissouseki at first. But, as she pounced on the big broodmother, the typical green hood came out, revealing beautiful brown hair, without any bald spots. Another explosion shaked the building, letting out a big set of flames in the background. The attacker was on the jissou in no more than a second, and yet, much more seemed to elapse. Bertha, curious as to why everyone was looking above her, turned her head around... And got her frail neck snapped by a punch from the mysterious being. Curioulsy, as everyone was dumbfounded by that sudden event, the attacker seemed to blush, as if fearful of this many people, and ran back into the inferno. --- And that's it. Less focused on jissou torture, but I wanted to see if just killing them could be interesting given the right context. Oh, also I can't find a satisfying name or nickname for PTLD, and probably never will. So I'm open to suggestions.
>>49 Wow... REALLY taking a liking to PTLD. I'd be happy to have her as a pet. We could play violent video games and listen to power metal while tormenting Jissou together :) As for names, the first one that came to mind for me was "Trance" (as in "Transcended"). Dunno though, should probably have something a bit more bad-ass.
...Okay, so far I've rated this new story a four out of ten, is merely for screwing up established canon to new bounds. Maggot-Chans are generally not that smart. They don't know what poison is, let alone smart enough to check for it. They just chow and don't even hope for the best. Thirdly, this new 'version' of jissou appears to be...well I don't have many words for it to tell the truth. Every time I reread the story, I cringe. Be it the apparently pointless attempt to force all jissou to fear her or some such? I personally don't like this piece, and I'll just say that this has got to be the worst bit of fiction since that astronaut mutation story and my attempt to merge Harry Potter with jissou. Quite frankly, I'm lumping this in with the shameful bits. And everyone else seems to be new to the thread, not to mention easily pleased.
>>51 Oh. You should have made your feelings more clear the first time. "What the heck" is pretty ambiguous. So of course, you are right. I didn't thought that through for the spray thing, and the character of PTLD isn't meant to fit in the canon at all. For me it's just a spin-off that isn't meant to take seriously, and merely and occasion to see jissou suffer. But I did break the canon, and I can't complain when I see long-time fans reacting violently. So, again, sorry about that, I'm the one in the wrong. However. I can't say I care for your attitude of accusing everyone else to be "new" and "easily pleased" just because they like my story. Isn't that childish of you to dismiss different opinions that way ? If you don't like my story, bash me, not the others. That was my right of reply. Now let's all chill out, shall we ? We don't need conflicts, jissouseki are the only ones to be flamed here.
>>52 Maybe he's just worried in case PTLD finds Civilisation J ;) *chuckles evilly* (Just kidding) Seriously though, I never really thought of there being a canon to this whole thing. Apart from the "Origins" story that provided a way for everything to begin. From there, Jissou spread to pretty much everywhere, so I've always thought of it as something of a "freeform" effort, where people can pick their own little place in this Jissou-infested world and make up their own story there. Doesn't have to affect everyone else's. I actually had a similar idea once. (I was the one who suggested before the scenario about someone trying to correct the faulty programming in the crystal and trying to turn the Jissou into something different. Although in my idea the experiment went wrong and created monsters). Anyway, as a separate story from the rest of the canon, I like it :)
>>51 So, if you think it's rubbish, then drown it out with your own brilliant literary effort! You're just projecting your own feelings of self-loathing and guilt at not having written anything yourself for ages and ages onto InLeaves, who is writing original pieces that people actually want to read! For shame REd, for shame :o(
>>51 Dude, I'm surprised at you. I've been here on Gurochan since before jissou started even trickling in, so don't even go there. Usually, you strike me as a pretty rational, talented guy. At least, I know your stories are the ones that I've like the most. However, this Trance jissou DOES fit in with canon, as the writer has said that it is a special case, not the rule. It was created AFTER it became clear that jissou were failure. It's a singularity, that's all. If you ask me, it fits in a little more than even Seki, as stage 6 is so rare to find. It makes sense that the corporation wouldn't stop with their research. Now, if more people start making super-smart or super-strong jissou, we will have a problem. Have Trance and Seki is fine. Also, I'm with >>54. If you don't like it, please submit some more stories. I know I will be looking forward to them! Also, to get this out of the way, yes, I would like more of the traditional jissou-torture in this thread. It seems like we haven't had enough of that lately, or it doesn't seem as cruel, or something. I would write it myself, but I have previous engagements, and barely get to read what you guys are already posting.
Oops, misspelling, I meant to say "Having Trance and Seki is fine."
What happened to those stories about the maze full of Jissou deathtraps? The Gauntlet I think it was called. I liked that one, was hoping for more of them. :)
A maze full of death traps ? That sounds a little like the thing PTLD made in her basement...Which is today's topic. -- PTLD – And then there were none (1/2) Goddam, goddamn, goddamn ! Since my stunt at the breeding factory, I was laying low. Of course, there's no such thing as overkill when it comes to jissouseki, but still, much of what I did back there was unnecessary. Also, insurance or not, I felt terrible for at least four days. That's not why I'm angry right now, though. No, it's because of my experiment. It's the tenth generation now, and nothing even slightly noticeable so far. Unless we're talking about the amount of tears involved, in which case I swim in the good results ! ...I need a shower. -- Ten little jissous tried their best to shine One burned too bright, and then there were nine In the dark basement, ten little green creatures were waiting silently for a solution to come all by itself. After all, there wasn't much to do. They were in almost complete darkness, save from a little red dot somewhere in the air. None of them had any idea of what that was, but they knew one thing : It didn't have candy and wasn't too much into rubbing bellies. Since the terrible event after their birth, six of them had died from the candy. The other ten got lucky. Normally, they would have eaten like pigs indiscriminately, but even a tiny maggot's brain could vaguely understand the weird jissou's warning. Mainly because they are so language-oriented. Had the warning been written up somewhere, or if they had to figure it out by seeing the others die, it would have passed right through their spongious heads. However, as dangerous as they were, these candies were particularly thick and rich. They weren't the "colaciones" jissouseki adored so much for some reason, but they were tasty enough. With such food, the jissous would soon be able to transform into their bipedal forms. In fact, they were about to, when a strange "beep" could be heard in the dark. "Refu ?" Something fell into the cage, and rolled to where the maggots were gathered. "Something's here, food refu ?" "Weird smell, refu." Their olfactory senses didn't detect any food, but still, they had to take their chances, right ? So they crawled towards the unseen visitor. One of them didn't have the -short- time of hesitation its siblings had, and was already licking the thing. It was tasteless, and felt weird on the tongue. Suddenly, a loud "pssssht" could be heard. All the maggots stopped, frowning because of the noise. "Too loud, refu !" And then, the thing began spouting what looked like the fires of hell for the infants. A fountain of red, bright sparks was flowing through one of the extremities. It lighted the place rather well, and the maggots, in safe distance from the thing, crapped themselves in pure amazement. As for the curious jissou, well, it had the misfortune to be at the wrong place. "HOT REPYAAA !" The others watched him being slowly burned by the fiery particles. Each of them tore away a little more of the maggot's green clothes, and pushed it away against the cage's mesh. Gradually, the it lost its skin, then its organs, to the flare. It was screaming beyond what a maggot normally can. When it finally ended, most of the grub was scattered out of the cage. The basement went dark and silent again. -- Nine little jissous were afraid to be late One was way too slow, and then there were eight About an hour later. The other maggots quickly forgot about the incident. While you would say that the lighting of a giant flare right before your eyes would be something to write home about, all that was in the their mind was "sleepy". Outside, the night was falling, and triggered an event in the jissou's internal clocks. They understood instinctively what was going to happen when two long, white fibers starting going out of their nostrils, and enveloping them like a cocoon. Which it was, actually. They breathed a sigh of contentment, closing their eyes as their cocoon solidified. Finally, they could experience a peaceful slumber, interrupting for a while the hell they were living. Save for one. "What's happening to onee-chan, repyo ?" The confused larva was gently headbutting its closest sister, having no idea that the same thing happened to all the others as well. Maybe it hadn't eaten enough. Maybe it was a birth defect. Maybe it was just a night overdue. Either way, this particular maggot hadn't begun its metamorphosis. So it wandered around. Its sisters didn't emit the pheromone that signaled they were shitting their pants in terror any longer, so it regain composure, and began its quest for hidden caches of food in the dark. Soon enough, an unknown fragrance came from a corner of the cage. This triggered the instincts of the little grub, which immediately crawled towards the source, all senses fired up. "Hungry, refu !" There was a very small opening. A kojissou or an adult certainly wouldn't have been able to crawl in there. The maggot didn't think twice about it, and went right trough it. It was a little tunnel, and a really sweet smell was coming from the exit. Our little hero recognized this smell by instinct : There were colaciones right ahead ! It excitedly crawled as fast as it could. It did have an unpleasant feeling, but it flat-out ignored it. Its underdeveloped nerves couldn't inform it of the full extent of what was going on. The maggot only wondered why it didn't seem to be able to keep up the speed, as if something was draining its strength. No matter. Even if it did understand, there was little to do now. A good chunk of its insides was on the floor behind him. Somewhere along the way, a blade was coming out of the floor. It had cut the maggot's belly right open, and the poor fucker didn't know it. Another thing it didn't know is that the colaciones at the end weren't only safe to eat : They contained a dose of jissouseki healing solution, this expensive thing you can import from japan...Why, you ask ? Maybe the host is into survivors of the impossible, who knows ? "Almost there, re...fu..." The maggot was quickly losing the battle, though. Its organ continued to bleed out of the cut in his belly, and so was its last strength. "Cold, re..." It finished the race a dozen of centimeters behind another maggot's desiccated corpse. -- After my shower, I yawn, and go to the kitchen. In a cage (unequipped with traps) are chirping seventeen fat maggots. I fed them especially for what's going to come. They enjoyed the last two days immensely. You could hardly say that their lives suddenly qualify as good, though. And I frown upon giving jissouseki any kind of pleasure, even if it's for seeing their face when they realize they've been betrayed. But without their days of happiness, My evening wasn't going to be so enjoyable. I've always made my own meals, so now I have quite the collection in jissouseki recipes. This one is the "Jissou-tandoori wrap-ups". Simple, but effective. Time for Cooking with Trance-chan ! First step : Relax the meat. After feeding your jissou maggots nothing but mango jelly for two days, something they won't complain about, remove their clothes, and immediately put them all in warm water. It's to bathe them, not to drown them, so don't use too much liquid. I insist on the immediately, you don't want to let them stress for now. As soon as they're in the water, they should be extremely happy and forget their clothes. Also, this will make them empty their bowels. You'll typically need to change the water three times before their insides are clean. Second step : Prepare. You should take a lot of tandoori and mango chutney. Adjust the quantities of both to suit your tastes in spicy food. Also have sets of flour tortillas. Take one for every five or six maggots you have. Spread the tandoori and the chutney on them. Third step : Cook the jissous. You'll be taking the frying pan for this. Be aware that this cooking will require your attention the whole time. Don't heat it too much, you want to brown the jissous while leaving them intact. Take extreme precaution ! These critters are very sensible to heat and will burn very fast. Don't let them : Use your tools often to prevent them to attach to the pan. Also use oil for this purpose. This is when most of you will enjoy the recipe the most, as the maggots will die after 90 seconds on average if you heat the frying pan right. Their cries of agony and despair will fire up your appetite for sure ! For added effect, store the other jissous where they can see the death of their brethren. Fourth step : Assemble and enjoy. The multicolor tears that are sure to be shed are guaranteed to make your meal colorful. Great for parties ! Take the maggots, put them in the tortillas, wrap them up like cones, in such a fashion that the maggots head will be visible around the two-thirds of the wrap-ups. Heat for one minute in the microwave, and serve ! -- Eight little jissous tried to fly to the sun One fell into it, and then there were seven The next day. The cocoons broke. The jissous had doubled in size, now being humanoid, and having about the size of a fist. They woke up one by one, rubbed their own bellies and looked around. Surprisingly, the basement wasn't pitch black anymore. None of them commented on that, but the relief could be felt in the air. Then, gasps of joy and surprise came from the eight of them. There were four energy candies in the middle of their cage. "Hope that's not poison, techi..." "So hungry, what do we do, techi ?" "Where is onee-chan, techi ?" The last question was lost in the heat of the discussion. The metamorphosis had preserved them from starvation so far, but they had to eat, and fast. And as dangerous as the candies from before were, all the jissous remembered that they were particularly nourishing. Thus, two of them went all or nothing, and munched a little of the delicious treat. Their was a petrifying silence. Then, three minutes later, one of the brave jissous fell on her back, panting heavily from relief. "It's good, techuun..." The eight jissouseki cheered and ran for the safe candies. "Wait ! There aren't enough, we must share them, techi." One wanted to protest, but when she saw her siblings staring at her, she changed her mind and nodded quietly. So they split each of the four candies in two, and they cried from this simple joy. There was a commotion, however. The smallest of the kojissous was apparently denied her part, more because of the general confusion than a particular culprit. She protested, but, well, there wasn't anything that could be done now. "Now that we are big, we must escape techi !" They all nodded, and looked around them. Aside from the door leading to the half-poisoned pile of candies, another gate was open. It seemed to lead to some sort of chimney, covered by white cloth. Of course, this looked perfect for their new endeavor. It was almost going to the ceiling. They went there. The mesh was just spaced enough to allow stubby jissou arms to take grips, and the cloth was on the exterior. They could climb to freedom ! They pitched into it right away. And how easy it was ! The thing was stable, there were no apparent threats, and if the top seemed closed at first, there was a hole in which a jissou child could easily pass through. They all began to chirp, happy that freedom was so close. "I go ahead, techi !" Declared the fastest as she entered the hole. She was now on some sort of platform, and the very top of the chimney, uncovered, was just above her head. Suddenly, she heard something clicking as said platform lowered a little. Something fell right above her. Climbing on the platform triggered a mechanism that made the chimney's lid fall into place. Furthermore, this lid had a little cylinder that plugged the hole she came through. "Te ?" Through the mesh, she could see a bright halogen lamp light up just above her. It was large, and emitted a very hot light. The other kojissou stopped climbing right away. "H...hot, techi ! Turn off, stupid lamp, techi !" The lamp, of course, proved uncooperative. She tried to push the lid open, but the mesh was already heated by the lamp. She screamed. "Help me, techaaaa !" Cried the prisoner as she laid down to escape the fiery light. The streams of red and green tears were evaporating as soon as they were out of the eyes. "N...no, we can't ! We save ourselves, techi !" Answered one, who began to climb down, quickly followed by the others. Jissouseki, after all, are never to be outdone in the selflessness department. On their way back, they heard their unfortunate sister desperately bang on the plug with increasingly weak punches. Her wails didn't falter, though. As she began to suffer from an acute hyperthermia case, her accusations made less and less sense. "Get out, you stupid plug, techa ! And you too, stupid metal thing, stupid, stupid, techi ! Shut up Mr.sun, you don't have candy, they're too hot, techa !" Their sisters safely went back on the floor, where they observed in awe the fate of their sister. She had gone silent now. Was she dead ? Will the lamp continue to shine ? All those questions were answered by a "flop". The seven sisters went "Te ?" and looked at their feet, where a piece of skin was now lying. The halogen lamp was so hot, it was peeling away its victim's skin. Up there, the victim was still alive, but resembled one of those models from biology class...minus the eyes. They were next to go redecorate the floor pop-art style. "Ma..ma...help...tegyaaa..." said she before falling face down, imprinting the hot mesh onto her whole body in a grizzling sound. Below, one kojissou received a chunk of melting skin on her hood. She felt the heat, and let out a surprised yelp, but the green cloth protected her. They promptly decided to get the hell out. -- Seven little jissous fought with stones and sticks One met divine wrath, and then there were six After that traumatizing episode, the jissouseki went back at what they do best : Searching food, consequences and family be damned. However, no new gates were opened, and soon, under the pressure, a recent grudge rose to the surface. "See what you've done, techi ?! There's no more food, and you took my part before, techi !" Barked the jissou who got unlucky in the candy sharing before. The others looked at her, silently, but in an obviously "so what ?" state of mind. "I'll starve, you idiot sisters, techi !" "You were too slow, techi", answered one laconically before returning to its habitual activities of doing nothing worthwhile whatsoever. "What ? Cruel sisters, I'll beat you, techi !" yelled the victim before rushing to the other one, "fists" shaking. Unfortunately for her... "The metal crusade will conquer all Our bonds will be stronger, see the infidels fall Surrender your soul to the gods of steel, desu ! In the blood of the fallen, the ene...What the fuck, desu ?" The figurative marks of anger you can often see in the mangas were literally showing on PTLD's face. Her smile had become a grin as the angry little jissou continued to fight, oblivious of the tormentor's sudden arrival. Several seconds later, she was up in the air, caught by the air by a giant, evil wand thoroughly weird jissouseki. "CHUWA !" yelped the kojissou as she saw the almost human-like, and very angry, face. "Why can't there be at least a generation who remembers my warning all the way ? You are so retarded, it spoils my fun, desu. More importantly, you could have made the experiment fail, desu." Ranted PTLD as her little prisoner shat all over herself and weakly apologized, a tone of anger in her voice nonetheless. "It is not fair, techi ! They are the ones who stole my candy, I'm starving, te..." "You think I give a flying fuck, you cancerous maggot, desu ?" Yelled the tormentor as she took a badminton racket resting on the wall. "You just jeopardized this generation, desu. You're a rotten enema out of a down syndrome affected rat, desu !". She threw the kojissou in the air... "WELCOME TO DIE, DESU !" ...before smashing it with the racket. The frail body didn't resist even one fraction of second, and the jissou child became french fries, which fell on the floor in a wet sound. "And tell Lucifer to give you extra treatment, desu." She left, letting the six survivors shivering, but also somehow happy that she came right before they could counter-attack. -- Expect part 2 in a little more than a week, for next week's is exam time.
Oh and also, to make it clear. I have absolutely no intention of fucking other author's shit up. I love their work, and even if I didn't, it's just something you don't do. That means I won't go ahead and make PTLD find Civilisation J or Jessa/Seki. I also no intention of making a Trance jissous invasion. PTLD is sterile and will remain that way.
>>57 Found it again :) Post #1320 on the old thread here: http://orz.gurochan.net/lit/archive/1227136933
Good job, InLeaves. For English being a second language, you're really doing great!
I'm now thinking of writing a story about a boy detective, who solves crimes with the help of his street smart, wisecracking little Jissouseki sidekick. It just feels... like the right thing to do.
>>59 Okay, you know what, I'm not going to bullshit you here. I don't like these latest stories at all. Granted, this is only my opinion, and I appear to be against the popular opinion of the rest of the board, so I'll explain my reasons why I dislike these stories. 1. Character Development Your stories have no character development, instead choosing to put everything out front and in the open before the story begins. For example, you state that the character is a shy tomboy, and yet her actions do not show this. At least in my writing classes, the teacher stressed "Show, don't tell." That is, don't tell me about a character trait, try to put the reader in the setting, let them experience the character for themselves, and then draw their own conclusions from it. Also, I noticed something, and I want a response back defending your character so I know I'm not screaming wildly into the void of the internet. Your character is probably the most recent instance of a Jissouseki Mary Sue! I only realized recently that those are even possible! Basically, a Mary Sue is, to quote Wikipedia: "A Mary Sue (sometimes just Sue), in literary criticism and particularly in fanfiction, is a fictional character with overly idealized and hackneyed mannerisms, lacking noteworthy flaws, and primarily functioning as a wish-fulfillment fantasy for the author or reader. Perhaps the single underlying feature of all characters described as 'Mary Sues' is that they are too ostentatious for the audience's taste, or that the author seems to favor the character too highly. The author may seem to push how exceptional and wonderful the 'Mary Sue' character is on his or her audience, sometimes leading the audience to dislike or even resent the character fairly quickly; such a character could be described as an 'author's pet'." That is what you've described this character so far: A shy, tomboyish not-quite-a-Jissouseki with near-human intelligence who is perfect in every way other than saying "desu" every now and then, and is capable of using weapons, bypassing security systems, and doing other things that nothing with the intelligence of a Jissou should be able to do. Also, putting the sailor fuku-like clothing on the character is the cherry on the Mary Sue sundae. 2. Unable to Sympathize with Protagonist By the time I read the third story, I didn't want to even read the forth. Why? The protagonist's actions are absolutely heinous! Granted, this could be because she is a Jissou++ *eyeroll*, but still her actions are not justified by any sort of logic. For one, she enters a facility that produces Class A Jissou. Keep in mind that previous fics have established that this classification of Jissouseki shows they possess at least a rudimentary consciousness and are possibly self-aware. In fact, from what I've read, they have about the same level of intelligence of a 3 to 5 year old with a mild case of autism. And what does your character do? She starts killing them and their babies en masse. What the hell hero? Also, from a jpg image from the Japanese community, we see that Class A Jissou can cost about $2500 a head. So to killing them adds up. For example, even killing 300 of them can be about a $750,000 loss. That's a lot in property damage, and that's not counting the damage done by the fire. Which brings me to my last point for this section. As if breaking into a facility that raised the finest examples of what Jissouseki have to offer and killing them and the subsequent generations as the employees attempt damage control wasn't bad enough, your character crosses the line by starting a fire that quickly engulfs the building. Nevermind the thousands, if not millions of dollars in property damage, as they would be paid for by an unusually generous insurance company that would go bankrupt within 10 minutes of opening in the real world. The fact that starting the fire endangered the lives of the employees working at the facility makes the act reprehensible. What makes it worse is that it's a fire caused by an exploding barrel, which aside from being unrealistic, would mean anybody standing next to it would be filled full of shrapnel and their innards liquefied by the blast wave, meaning that even the method of ignition could have fatally injured some hapless dope who is just doing their job. And instead of running for her life, your character goes out of her way to kill the remaining Jissou broodmothers as they flee the building with their caretakers. And what is her motivation for wanting to kill all these innocent creatures with the intelligence of an autistic 5-year-old and their babies? For kicks. WHAT THE FUCK, HERO? WHAT THE FLYING FUCK? 3. Overall Lack of Creativity< With the God-Emperor of Mankind as my witness, your work could not keep my interest long enough for me to read the first paragraph of each chapter. Aside from your Mary Sue character and bland backstory, you present tortures that were original back when they were first posted in 2008-2009, but have been done to death by now. In fact, the exploding maggot trick was discredited almost a year ago! 4. Impossibility of Backstory (This is me bitching about the ways the story violates the loosely established canon, so you can skip over this part if you don't want to read this section.) Even with Jissouseki, which does not have a canon back story or plotline per se, your story still was based off my origins story. This presents a problem, as your character's back story is simply incompatible with my origins story. The scientist from my origins story (which you say you wrote a continuation for) could not continue to work on the project. For one, it was a company effort, meaning as many as 100-500 people could be working on it. He could not possibly have all the notes for every single aspect of the project. Even if he did have access to them at some point, it would not matter as most of the notes were either seized in the government investigation of the project or shredded by the company to hide the evidence from said investigation. Everybody else was reassigned to other projects, and after the project's failure, would probably exclude their involvement from their resume. After all, would YOU want to be credited with creating the world's newest super-pest? Even if he did manage to evade the investigation of the government and get all the notes for the project, he would not be able to receive funding for it. Think of it this way: if a man failed at what could have been a profitable venture by accidentally creating a rapidly reproducing monster and then failed at containing and destroying said monster, would a corporation want to give him the funding to fuck up again? The answer is a resounding no. In fact, he had to make it look like he resigned right before the project went to shit so that he wouldn't be doomed to a job that involves wearing a paper hat for the rest of his life. Even so, it was an attempt to cover his paper trail, and after the release of the document, it was quite clear that it happened on his shift. So basically, he created a monster and it got loose, contaminating most of the world's fresh water supply and wiping out multiple species in the process, as well as being a potential vector for disease. So would a corporation or government risk millions or even billions of dollars by throwing funds to conduct experiments on a failed product line with the team being led by the guy who couldn't get it right the first time? No sane financier would want to do that!
Welcome back, WitchDoctor! Perhaps now you can help bring some win back to this thread with some of your works!
>>64 I hate to chime in from the peanut gallery but I'm gonna chime in and say I agree with #1 wholeheartedly it just seems like there’s way too much effort being put into making the main character seem "cool" such as the music references and the walls of descriptive text, granted I have no problems with the characters base concept (an intelligent jissu with an inbred hated of others of it's species) it seems like you ignore most of the unique ideas that could come with it and instead simply made her into a miniature human torturer. I also agree with 2-4 granted I didn't find them nearly as prevalent as #1 and I was willing to overlook them to some extent due to them being rather difficult hurdles due to the basic nature of jissou stories I still feel the narrative could benefit from improvement in the areas mentioned.
Almost all these stories have no character development, just like Lucky Star.
My first jissou story, based on a {now removed} video I saw on YouTube that really inspired me. Sorry if it's not too good, like I said, it's my first one, plus I've had horrible writer's block for a month or two. ------------------------------------------------ Jissouseki Pedestrian Crossing Tokyo, Japan Shibuya District 12:00 Midnight The night air gave Sayuri a chill as she stepped out of the convenience store. The young woman had forgotten momentarily how cold it can get on a summer night while she was in the warm shop. With her bag of food in hand, she began walking back to her apartment building. She came to the crosswalk, and while waiting for the light to change, she heard something at her feet--no, two somethings... "Mrs. Lady have food, techi!" "Give food, desu?" Sayuri looked down, and to her disgust, there were two jissouseki. Unusually clean ones, considering they were undomesticated, though there were of course dirty patches on their dresses, and their panties, as typical for jissou, were anything but clean. The pair at Sayuri's feet turned out to be an adult and her child. The child was tugging at the bag Sayuri was holding, grunting with effort. The little fucker's trying to tear it open, she realized. "Please take us home, desu!", the mama jissou said, doing the typical "cute" pose jissou are so famous for that makes most humans want to hurt them, "We don't eat very much and won't make a mess, desu!" Shaking the child off of her bag, Sayuri's face took on a look of fear. She wasn't stupid, she had heard PLENTY of horror stories about these shit-goblins, and she was not about to let them into her home. Running a shaking hand through her long raven hair and thinking fast, she decided to distract them and run a different route home. Looking in her bag, she found some candy she had bought, which happened to be the same candy that jissou instinctively love for whatever yet-to-be-conclusively-discovered reason. She quickly opened the package and took out a nice big blue one. "You want food? Go get it!", she yelled, throwing the candy into the middle of the road. Within a second of it being thrown, the hungry jissou were both waddling after it. Sayuri took this opportunity to flee. Pity, she thought as she ran, she had kinda wanted to see what happens next. But getting home was more important, she didn't want them or any other jissou following her. What Sayuri missed began with an ever-so-charming display of cruel and thoughtless behaviour from the mother. A jissouseki being a selfish bitch, what a shock. She glared viciously at her child as they ran for the candy. "My candy, desu!!", she screamed, turning and punching her own child right in the face. The little jissou went flying back onto the sidewalk, holding her face in pain as her mother kept running. "TECHA!! Why mama hurt me, techa?!", she cried, getting back onto her feet, watching her bad mama bend over to pick up the candy. "Mine, desu! All mine! First food all day, desu!", she shouted gleefully, not noticing a car coming right for her... SPLAT! The greedy mama jissou got her head flattened in an instant, too quick to even utter a death cry, thick green shit filling her panties and spilling onto the road in the blink of an eye. "Chuwa!", the shocked child whimpered, running over to her dead mother, hitting her leg to wake her. The child didn't seem to understand that her mother wasn't going to wake up. "Mama! Get up, techi! We need go back to park, techi! Dangerous out--" She got cut off as another car drove right over her mother's corpse, crushing the torso with a sickening crunch and making even more shit fly out, burying the little one. Coughing and sputtering, the child climbed out of the shitpile. On the verge of tears, she suddenly heard a little muffled noise. "Refu." She gasped, knowing this was the sound of a maggot. "Maggot-chan?", she called out, digging through the poop, "Where are you, Maggot-chan?" She soon found the maggot, covered in birth slime. It must have been born from a last-second preservation pregnancy. The child began cleaning the maggot with her tongue, dropping it carefully onto the ground once it let out a cheerful bark. She found another maggot, cleaned it, and set it down, repeating this many times. Before long, the orphaned child now had a new family, roughly a dozen maggots and five or six thumbs. "My new family, techi!", she squealed gleefully, her sisters assembled in a neat group, looking up at the child as she greeted them from atop the mountain of shit, "There bright side to everything, just like Mama told me, techi! We go back to park together and live happily! And then find humans to go home with, techi!" A flood of happy "refu" and "rechi" reached her ears as her new sisters cheered. They weren't all that certain what they were happy about. They just knew somehow that they had a good reason to smile and laugh with their-- SPLAT! A third car, and all the new babies were mangled and flattened against the pavement, their shit and multicolour blood painting the road, organs and eyeballs everywhere. The child stared at the mess in total silence for a minute or so, her face frozen in a dumb smile, but a cold sweat running down her forehead. She didn't know how to react or what to say, her tiny brain flooded with the realization that her sisters had just died right in front of her, and not even a minute after their birth and the promise of a decent home, the realization that everyone she loved was now dead, the realization that she was alone and vulnerable, and the realization that she might be the next one to die on that road. She fell to her knees and began to sob into her stubby hands as the rain came down. All she could do now was wait...
My friends, you seem to be under a fundamental misconception. PTLD and most of the story itself aren't realistic or even slightly credible ? Yes. Of course. I know that. Better yet : I assume that. You don't criticize a movie by David Lynch just because it doesn't use a conventional structure, or a Tarantino movie because it's rude and violent, yes ? Because, while it is undeniably true, it's kind of the point. Thus, disliking that can only be a matter of opinion. It's not a error in facts, it's not a breach of law. It's a choice. You can of course dislike it, but certainly not say it is wrong in such a matter-of-factly manner. Besides, I did say it was epically ridiculous. That isn't just a hollow statement of false humility : It's what the PTLD series are. A ridiculous series of literary experiments not meant to be taken seriously in any way. There are tons of things like that. And last time I checked, no artistic dogma is against that. I could present TTGL, Deadpool, Black Sheep, but I'll present Devil May Cry. PTLD is, for me, kind of the Dante of the jissou world. Way overdone, shallow, unlikeable as a character, unrealistic, but purveyor of mindless fun. Plus it's more of a pretext than anything. It's only a way to introduce new trends in jissou killing. Anyway, stop focusing about Trance so much, you are taking her and her background way, WAY more seriously than I do. And if you can't, well, let's stop arguing about it anyway because it's the very definition of a matter of taste. Know this, though : I look forward too see what you will do in reaction. I know I will enjoy it. Competition is, after all, the backbone of humanity's achievements. Everyone keep up the good work. PS : I do, however, take note of the lack of originality in killings.
Don't you dare bring Deadpool into this >:(
>>69 Well of course none of the stories are realistic. If we were going by what was realistic, none of these stories would even exist, as Jissouseki are not physically possible. I was complaining is generally considered shoddy writing practices and examples of these I found in your work. No, bringing up Quentin Tarantino and David Lynch does not shield you from criticism. I'm not saying that you can't write in your own style (if everybody wrote in the same style, it would be absolutely boring), what I am saying is that your overall writing and story-telling ability has room to improve. For example, while some writers can pull off a Mary Sue type character well enough to make the character interesting, but not many writers can get away with it, and the ones that do most certainly can't pull it off in their earliest work. PTLD (I still don't understand what the acronym represents) is epically ridiculous? It would be nice if you showed this rather than just said it. That is the heart of my criticism, in fact, it was in my first point of my critique. I am not questioning your person, I am merely telling you what I dislike about your narrative. Oh wow. You're presenting other peoples works in defense of yours? Wasn't the whole part of being a good writer producing work that even if it is panned, it can stand on its own merits? Okay, I'm going to lose the "nice author" persona and rip your argument to shreds. For one: Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagaan: So ridiculously over-the top that it was amusing. Not even the narrative itself took anything seriously. Deadpool: Not really familiar with this one (I don't read many comics), but from what I've seen its a series that makes fun of itself and has broken the fourth wall so many times that there's not really much of a wall left. Black Sheep: An horror-film (unless you're referring to 1842 novel or 1966 romance novel) that is intentionally campy. I have a better example of this if that's what your going for: The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. Devil May Cry: Not really familiar with it, but my research shows that it's your standard hack-and-slash game with a decent story and exciting gameplay. Dante struck me as a cliche badass, but by no means was he the only one who could pull it off (see Devil May Cry 4). Your story: I found the first two chapters to be the cure for insomnia and the third chapter made me so mad at the main character that I didn't bother to read the fourth. It would appear as though I have failed to make it clear to you that it's not about new ways to kill Jissou, but rather it's about new, humorous/horrific ways of exterminating them. If you can't make it funny, horrifying, or allow us to relate to the character(s) in someway, what's the point? It would mindless violence, which you could pull off more satisfactorily in just about every other thread on /lit/. That's what makes this thread different, in my opinion. I would stop focusing on Trance's background so much, but there's one problem: you're writing this as the continuation of my origins story. If you're wanting me to shut up about my opinions/thoughts on a story based upon a story I wrote, I'm afraid that is something I will not do. If you have a problem with that, then write your own origin story. The thing is that I'm not attempting to argue with you, I am trying to give you critique. Take from it what you will, but I am not trying to start a fight. I merely see what can be improved upon and point it out. If I could, I would even tell you how you could make it better, but I can't because everybody has their own style and writing is not an exact science. I really hate disappointing people, but I have to say this: THIS is my reaction. I don't try to write stories that eliminate other author's work. That sort of thing is beneath me. I'd rather help another author than discredit them. Competition? How am I competing with you? This is the second post I've made in two months and I've made a grand total of 3 posts in this thread, with this one possibly being the longest. Even then, what are we competing for? A reputation within a small community? I thought that we're here because we like to write on stuff that is really not mainstream stuff.
Let's criticize the only person posting original content: This is an open forum, but not if I think you suck. Holy shit, who called up the Jissou Nazis? Simmer down now. This isn't Shakespeare, it's fiction based on a shitty piece of anime merchandise. Some stories are better than others IMO, but I don't care if one (or many) conflict with established 'canon'. I'm a stickler for details on many things and I can relate to wanting something 'a certain way', but this critiquing is really sucking the sinister joy I used to get out of this thread. inLeaves, keep up the good work. WitchDoctor, use the time bashing a total stranger to instead write some new material like those great stories you've had in the past. There is not grading here, just open writing.
>>72 Ummm, if you haven't noticed, WD is actually posting relevant criticism. Bitingly harsh criticism, yes, but constructive nonetheless. Even open writing requires a steady hand and standard, otherwise all we'll get is trash. Haven't you noticed that /lit/s been getting a lot of trashy writing lately? All those empty threads have been getting deleted fast and hard.
Guys, Guys, JUST FUCKING WRITE. Okay, you've said your peace. Now get to doing as Witch Doctor says: Showing and not telling! Recommence Jissou torture!
I disappear for a while, come back see new jissou stories, cute, but taken lightly, yeah its somewhat of a 'god' character, the burning down the factory was a bit much, BUT, it is NEW material, and TBH I really can't remember the last time a CivJ story was written, (I like the Seki stories) but it is nice to see someone is trying to write stuff and practice at becoming a better writer, I want to write some stuff too, but not so sure I want to now. For all we know there could be some flaws and quirks that have yet to be added to Trance. Its interesting watching an evolving writer, wonder how well he will evolve , stage 2 writer heh, or will he crash and burn? Keep writing! The fact the comment means they read it, and they are very devout to the cannon so they defend their 'world', if they didn't care, it would have just been "you suck, gtfo' so imho perhaps listen to some suggestions and try new ideas Then again I don't contribute due to my firm belief I suck at writing :p
>>75 Nah, lets just bitch and bitch about whether contributions are 'canon' or not. Fuck's sake.
And so it came to be that I was on my way to the States, riding coach in an airplane full of screaming children and beached whales wearing polo shirts. I myself am a quite prominent surgeon from Heidelberg, Germany, born on a military base to American parents. Now, with my parents happily settled in a condo in Berlin, I am free to pursue my career overseas. Several hours go by and I’m in the airport at Seattle, trying to obtain a cup of coffee before heading to my new apartment. The barista behind the cash register is friendly to a fault, keeping me at the counter for what seems like an indecent amount of time. It seems that I would be in for a larger amount of culture shock than I realized. Coffee now equipped and the bad taste of airplane food rinsed out of my mouth, I roll my suitcase through the sliding doors and catch the shuttle with two seconds to spare. It takes me and an elderly couple to a stop not too far from my new home, so I decide to get off and walk the rest of the way in order to get acquainted with my new neighborhood. I’ve only got two blocks to go when some kind of rodent leaps out of the bushes to my left and stares up at me with a curious pair of red and green eyes. I quickly blink and look around to make sure that this isn’t a hallucination, and come to the conclusion that the creature is real. It is dressed in a green gown and has ears similar to a cat’s. Its hair grows in three snarled clumps, one tuft at the front and two long tails in back. The mouth hangs open with the tongue lolling crazily over yellow teeth. I can’t help but feel repulsed. “Mr. Man, take me and my babies home desu!” I leap back in alarm. It speaks! Do other people know about these? A few more creatures, some smaller versions of the first one and the rest little worm-like things that roll around on the sidewalk, come out into the open and gather around the first one. I bend down to the original creature, examining its face. “May I help you?” I ask slowly, unsure of its intelligence. “We don’t eat much, desu.” “We will be good pets, techi!” “Punipuni.” By now, a crowd of these things have gathered at my ankles, pulling poses and shouting at me. I’m fascinated by them. A man is jogging by me and I wave my arm to get his attention. He pulls out one of his headphones. “Yeah?” “Sir, I just moved here and was wondering what these animals are.” I motion to the pack of beings tugging at my pants and yelling. “Oh.” He frowns at them. “Those are jissouseki. Horrid little beasts infested our town along with the Japanese culture invasion.” The jissou take notice of him and redouble their efforts, now also trying to get the jogger to look down at them. “What are they for?” I ask. “For torturin’.” He replies nonchalantly, delivering a painful kick to one of the bigger creatures. It flies back, leaving a trail of green sludge. The others still plead and beg for us to take them home, ignoring their battered comrade. With a final warning about the jissou, the jogger replaces his headphone and runs off, leaving me with them. These humanoids, despite their obvious deformity, seem to be advanced in communication and physical dexterity to an amazing extent. I pull a plastic shopping bag out of my backpack and remove the T shirt I got for my sister, putting that in my suitcase. The monsters look up at me curiously, wondering what I’m about to do. I reach down and pick up one of the grubs, squeezing it lightly between my thumb and index finger. It releases some of the green slime and says, “Too rough refu.” “Listen.” I announce, silencing the horde. “I will take some of you home to be my pets.” A cheer rises from the group. This is too easy. I reach among them and select two plump adults, four children, five babies and about seven grubs, tossing them lightly into the bag. I believe a dissection is in order. For science. My plastic bag is full of jissou and the rest of the crowd whines annoyingly, trying to tear at the plastic. I walk away briskly; excited to see what makes these things tick. My apartment has been furnished ahead of time. Being a pretty lazy man in anything other than my work, I’m always looking for ways to get out of doing things. I had asked for one room in particular, originally a second bedroom, to be outfitted as a studio of sorts, as I was occasionally a painter. But for now, the room would serve a different purpose. I set the bag of jissou on the ground and watched them tumble out. “Give food, rechi.” “Hungry, desu.” Oh, they were hungry? This could be an opportunity to observe the effects of different food on their systems. I open my suitcase on a table and pull out a bag of chocolate candies with liquor inside, a last-minute buy at the airport. The jissou drool in anticipation as I open the bag and scatter the candies on the floor. Immediately, the beasts start shoveling the candy into their gaping mouths, their tinted saliva running down their fat chins as they push away anyone who would diminish their precious supply. The candy doesn’t contain much alcohol, but the smaller jissou are getting a bit tipsy after only having eaten a couple pieces. “Feel weird, refu.” One of the maggots says, wriggling on its belly. Soon enough, all of the jissou are laid out on the floor, hiccoughing. One of the tiny ones has died, having choked on their own vomit, but I’m surprisingly unfazed. I guess that’s what comes from having worked in a hospital so long. I have a couple dissection trays in my possession, along with the required pins and tools for examining my subjects. Having seen how messy these things are, I also snap on a pair of latex gloves. My usual victims are rats, their bodies being so similar to humans, but I am intensely interested in the jissou, and I pick up one of the adults by its waist. It doesn’t struggle, having gorged itself silly on the chocolates. I lay it in one of the metal trays and ponder what the best course of action would be in dissecting it. With great care, I take hold of the jissou’s hood and pull off its dress in one swift motion. This angers it. “Mr. Man, what you doing, desu?” It demands, its piggy face scrunched up in confused fury. “Give me my dress, desu! Give now!” I’m suddenly infuriated by this animal’s entitled behavior. I consider myself a level-headed man under more circumstances, but this thing pulls on my every nerve like that screaming baby in the airplane. I take a pin out of my toolbox and stab it through the beast’s hand. Its reaction is immensely satisfying. “DECHAA! Why you do that Mr. Man, desu?!” Red and green tears stream down its face, but I’m not moved. I take another pin and nail down its other paw, twisting it for maximum effect. These needles I had ordered specially, made with little barbs on the sides to hook my subjects securely in place. The jissou screeches in pain, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’ll have to make it shut up if I’m going to continue. I search through my coat pocket to find my sewing kit (a ripped jacket is a sad jacket) and find a needle and thread. The jissou can only watch in horror as I sew its mouth shut. By now, the other jissou have sobered up, faced with what may be their eventual fate. They huddle together, whimpering while their panties fill with green sludge. I pull out a scalpel and run it down the body of the unlucky jissou, listening to its muffled cries of protest. “MMMMPH!!! MMMMMMMHHHHFFF!!!” Carefully, I separate the skin on the sides of the cut, pinning it back to reveal the creature’s anatomy. There is a tangled mass of intestines, a rudimentary heart and lungs, and other organs that I have seen in my human patients. Interestingly enough, I also find what appears to be a little emerald inside the chest cavity. I take this out and inspect it, the mismatched eyes of my audience locked on me. I set the crystal aside and continue my analysis. The subject doesn’t appear to be dead yet, as it squirms in agony while I cut open its stomach. I recognize the chocolate candies, half-digested, amongst a copious amount of ooze. “Leave my mama alone, shit human! Techi!!” I swivel around to identify the source of the complaint. The small crowd backs away from a single child, her small fists clenched in defiance. She runs up to me and starts hitting my knees, the impact of her blows almost comically light. I pick her up by one of her ears, and her insolent shouts turn into high-pitched pleas for mercy. I’m not in much of a mood for that, though. I take the needle and thread I’d used on the first jissou and poke it through her midsection, using my recently obtained knowledge to avoid any major organs. She gasps in shock as I thread the needle through and then back into her fragile body, pulling it out the other side. Soon, I have her hanging on a string. She shrieks and kicks, her bowels releasing. I have no desire for such a disgusting creature to be in my apartment, and bring her over to the window, tying her lifeline to the balcony railing and letting her dangle over the side. I watch in amusement as her face goes blue and her panties slip off her stubby legs, filled to capacity. Some poor soul walking down the street will be surprised today. “HELP ME! TECHUWA!!!” She cries, and I close the window, eager to return to my dissection. By now, the others are horrified. The jissou in the tray is fading fast, as the blood loss taking its toll. I finish her off with a quick stab to the brain. After she dies, I spend another hour categorizing and sketching all the facets of her anatomy. Soon, the sun has set and I’m exhausted from travelling and the day’s adventures. I herd my remaining jissou into a plastic storage bin and set it on top of the fridge to discourage escaping. With all that being done, I toss the remains of my subject into the garbage disposal and chuckle silently to myself as the jissou in the bin watch in terror, squeaking fearfully. Tonight, I will dream up all kinds of fun for them.
I'm going to refrain from commenting too much on the on the ridiculous infighting going on in this thread, but I will say this: There is no Jissouseki canon. It is a collection of loosely related stories that share similarities. There is room for more than one origin, and more than one 'universe'. Also, our little fandom is small enough that we need to support each other however we can, not bicker, and argue, and snipe, and tear each other down. Criticism needs to be constructive. Honesty is deserved, but brutality is not. When you post a story here, it ceases to be just 'yours'. It is now the communal property of everyone who likes Jissou. If someone decides to base their writing off stories you created, then you should feel honored that they liked what you wrote so much that their own fantasies are derivative of it. Even if you may not agree with the direction it takes. Now, I'm glad to see new writers and new stories. Even if some may be a little rough around the edges, new blood is what keeps a fandom fresh. It's been nearly a year since I've posted or wrote a story, but I've kept an eye on the previous thread and on this new one. I'm happy to say that my (boring) real life reasons for not writing are behind me now, and I've returned bearing a story of somewhat.. different type. Many may not like it, and I wouldn't blame them if they didn't.
Jissou Begins The problem was that he was bored. Sure, he had brought some of the more popular games and simulations along with him when he slipped away from the parental entity responsible for teaching him, but they had quickly lost their appeal after several dozen standard time units. He had wanted privacy, so had traveled far enough that his parental entities wouldn't be able to find him very quickly. He set up his camp on a barren satellite of a small, rocky planet circling an unremarkable star in a unsettled galaxy. However, being so far away from home meant that he was also out of the normal communication range of his friends. It had been fine at first, but the isolation was beginning to get to him. He had chosen the satellite of this particular planet because it was the only one within quite a distance that had any indigenous 'life' on it. He thought of the things growing on the crust of planets as not quite really alive, so he always put mental quotes around the word whenever he thought of them. They were so limited, really. Most planets with 'life' had nothing more than algae, or the equivalent, growing on them. How boring. This particular planet had slightly more interesting 'life', though. It was a mature biosphere, with many different species growing and thriving on it. Some of the life had even figured out how to move under its own power, instead of just being pushed around by wind and water, or sitting rooted in one spot. He particularly enjoyed watching, between bouts of games and simulations, the moving creatures that had learned to hunt down, kill, and consume one another. It was quite the exotic thrill, observing life that was so dependent on violence for survival. It was exciting and, well, a little sad at the same time. Couldn't the life down there realize that there was plenty of energy and vital nutrients laying around already, just waiting to be collected and used? The life that rooted itself in one spot and gathered energy from the sun had figured it out, kind of, but went about it so inefficiently that it was pathetic. The only really interesting species on the planet was one that had figured out how to pick things up and make crude tools. They used these tools to hunt and harvest more efficiently, build hives, and kill each other. He thought they might even be pre-sentients, a class of 'life' with minor legal protections. His teaching parental entity had told him that their own ancestors had developed from similar creatures 10^17 standard time units and several universes ago. He wasn't sure that he believed that, though. Everyone knew that pre-sents always killed themselves off eventually. It was like a universal rule. They grew at an exponential rate, and as they neared the apex of their development, they ran out of available resources. They then fizzled out, usually turning the planet they had inhabited into a lifeless rock. The hilarious part was that they died swimming in energy and whatever necessary minerals they needed. It was all there, they just couldn't grasp how to use it. He figured that the creatures on this planet were pretty far into their growth curve already. Their hives were quickly becoming too large to support themselves through their normal means, and they were turning to more and more desperate measures to fuel themselves. He watched them as they grew and killed each other. He watched as whole overhives did battle, wasting even more of their limited resources and accomplishing nothing. It could be quite amusing, really. Much better than running his boring old simulations for yet another time. As he watched though, part of him grew frustrated, and even a little angry. They just wouldn't learn! Every new generation of the things had to make the same mistakes as the last, usually in new and even more ridiculous ways. They could perceive and reason (to a degree, anyway), but couldn't seem to make the jump to real understanding. They tried to use their tools to make the world around them into a more comfortable place, instead of remaking themselves to fit more comfortably into the world. It was like they were a twisted mockery of himself and the rest of his kind. Why, if his ancestors had behaved as the creatures below him behaved, they would have consumed the entire universe by now in an orgy to gluttony and waste. He was tempted to meddle, sorely tempted. Perhaps with a little guidance the creatures could overcome the (large) part of themselves that kept them trapped. But the laws were clear about the subject. No interaction with or modification of pre-sents was allowed. The penalty wasn't all that great for infraction, just a few hundred standard time units spent on a punishment quasar, in solitary confinement. He wasn't afraid of getting caught, but knew he would be bored bored bored if he had to sit around for that long by himself. They probably wouldn't even let him bring along any simulations to keep himself occupied. No, what he needed was something else. Something to skirt around the edges of the law. Something that would hold a mirror up to the collective face of the pre-sents and show them how they appeared to him. Something that would engender within the pre-sents the same feelings he felt towards them. Above all else, though, it had to be something funny. And he thought of an idea. Ooh, a funny idea. So he began to plan. He devoted a portion of himself to simulating several hundred thousand of the pre-sents. It took a depressingly small portion, actually. They really were quite simple creatures. He tested his idea against his simulations, refined it, and tested it again. The pre-sents had recently developed a communications network, and had rapidly begun storing a warped version of their culture, such as it was, on it. He tapped into this to observe interactions and collect data. He wanted to base his idea around something cute, something beloved, so the mockery his creation would inflict on the pre-sents would be truly, hilariously, ironic. He canvasses all parts of their culture. Religious traditions, folklore, literature, movies, and history were all sorted through as he searched for suitable attributes to appropriate for his idea. Finally, after nearly a quarter of a standard time unit, he was finished. The reactions he was getting from his simulated pre-sents was very satisfactory, very satisfactory indeed. Now he had only to choose a location on the planet to unleash his creation. Considering the appearance and some of the more advanced functions of the final iteration of his idea, he chose a fairly big island chain in the northern part of the largest ocean. He decided to deliver it in person, rather than remotely. Detaching the major portion of himself from the satellite, he approached the planet's dark side slowly and cautiously. Not that he had any reason to worry. Their primitive sensors, the ones they grew naturally or the ones they created with their tools, were not even able to perceive over ninety percent of his mass. The rest he simply camouflaged by completely absorbing all incoming radiation, visible or otherwise. He took up a geostationary orbit around the planet due south of the island chain, taking care not to disturb the bits of matter the pre-sents had scattered there to facilitate their communications. Extending a small portion of himself northward, he used it to create a modified space elevator to the largest island in the chain. The very tip of his elevator touched the ground for the briefest of instants, gently depositing an unconscious 'life'form. His creation and joke on the pre-sents was in the short grass of an open field, near the center of one of the largest hives on the planet. He lingered briefly, waiting for the creature to awaken. It stirred slightly, its skin chilled by a soft breeze that ruffled through the grass and trees. Its first sound was a quiet sleep moan followed by a large yawn that stretched its odd, harelipped mouth wide. It twitched its short, flat nose slightly, for the first time inhaling through slitted nostrils the scents of the world that would become its home. Then the large eyes above the nose opened slowly, one at a time. First the right eye, revealing a brilliant ruby red iris, then the left, revealing another of emerald green. The creature stared ahead at nothing, for a moment, then frowned slightly. It could almost, almost see something in the air in front of it, against the dark night sky. "De.. Desu?" A brilliant red beam speared out of the center of whatever it couldn't quite see, bathing its left eye in light of a certain wavelength. "De!" it squealed in surprise, and brought its green sleeved arms up to cover its face from the beam. It then rolled to the side and stood up, a little clumsily, and looked around. Whatever had shined the light in its eye was gone, and it could feel a strange sensation in its belly. It wrapped its arms around its stomach, and looked down at it curiously. He withdrew his elevator quickly, the laughter already starting in him, bubbling up. Exiting orbit of the planet, he began moving back towards the satellite, struggling to contain himself. If he let himself go, and really guffawed as loudly and as long as it felt like he needed to, then even the pre-sents would be able to detect it. The emissions would be obvious to anyone paying attention. He managed to get back to his camp without letting more than a few peeps out, thankfully. As soon as he settled in on the side facing away from the planet, he let go. All the contained mirth boiled out of him, spraying out harmlessly into space. Oh, a little bit might be reflected back by the other planets orbiting the star, but not enough to be detectable by the pre-sents. Hopefully. After composing himself, he continued his observations of the pre-sents. Their initial reaction to his creation was a mixture of curiosity, incredulity, mild disgust and beflummoxment. To his amusement, their emotions towards the new arrivals quickly turned to loathing as the joke's more disgusting characteristics became widely known. The descendants of the one he deposited quickly spread across the globe, congregating most densely where the pre-sents lived. His amusement soon turned to annoyance, however. As the infestation of the planet neared completion, he realized that the most important part of his plan was failing. He had given the pre-sents to much credit in his simulations, both overestimating and underestimating their reaction. They didn't get the joke. Instead of seeing his creations as a mirror for themselves to be reflected in, the pre-sents saw a window. And through this window they projected all of their petty hates, jealousies, and weaknesses. They abused, tortured, murdered, neglected, and ultimately, ignored their new arrivals. Rather than transform their society with the epiphany of "Wow, are we like this to the rest of the universe?", it just further cemented their own tendencies towards shortsightedness, instant gratification, and violence. Instead of taking reasonable, long term, cooperative efforts to minimize the damage being done to their society and the planet's ecosystem by his creations, they just punted them down the street when one bothered them. That is, if they even deigned to acknowledge it at all. About then, one of his parental entities showed up. "Greetings, offspring-entity. It took me awhile to find you. I sensed your laughter and followed it back to its source. What's so funny?" Thinking quickly, and hoping to avoid sounding guilty, he answered with a lie and a half-truth. "Hello, parent-entity. I have been observing these pre-sents. They've managed to learn to modify the 'life' around them, and have accidentally created something they cannot control. It is quite amusing to watch their antics." His parental entity observed the planet for a few standard time moments before responding. "Yes, they look like they're at about that stage, don't they. They won't have much longer, then." "Yeah, it's a little sad." he replied. "It's 'life'. It's what it does." his parent-entity said, dismissively. "Anyway, what are you doing way out here? Abandoning your lessons and running off like this makes us worry, you know. Several other of your parent-entities expressed concerns about you to me, and your prime parent-entity was quite fretful when I left him." "I just wanted some time alone, parent-entity. I did not intend to worry any of you, though truthfully, I do not see what reason there could possibly be to become worried." He answered, a bit defensively. "Oh, I knew there was no real reason to worry about you, offspring-entity. Though you lost some valuable study time, I know that youth must heed the impetuous call of fancy and wanderlust now and again. But, please, next time you need some time alone, at least leave a note for your poor, worry-weary parent-entities. We are not the only beings living in this universe, after all." "Y-youth? Hardly, parent-entity. I'm nearly 1.6 x 10^9 standard time units of age." he sputtered, in mock outrage. Well, mostly mock outrage. "Old enough to know better, one could hope." his parent-entity sighed. "Well, come on then, lets get back to civilization." "Alright, alright." he grumbled. "Just allow me to gather my belongings, then we can go." Under the cover of gathering up his things, he quickly set in motion another joke on the pre-sents. His first had been too complex for them. They couldn't see themselves as the butt of a joke of such proportions, their minds and egos just wouldn't allow it. Well, they may have missed the subtleties of his last prank, but even they must surely recognize one as obvious as this. Finishing, he detached himself from the lifeless satellite and joined his parent-entity. He did regret that he wouldn't get to see the reactions of the pre-sents to his parting prank. Actually, he hadn't even been able to see his first joke run its full course, now that he thought about it. Several of the advanced 'features' of his creation had not had enough time to mature yet. A pity. Oh well. He was looking forward to getting back into normal communications range. The companionship of his friends was much more appealing after having nothing but pre-sents for company. "Okay, parent-entity. I'm ready." "Good. You know, a particular one of your peer-entities was inquiring about your absence." "Really, who?" he asked. "Oh, I think you know. You should think about spending more time with him." his parent-entity answered. "Ughh! Parent-entity, that peer-entity is a total dork! My friend-entities will laugh at me for tens of standard time units if I'm seen with him." he exclaimed. "I think you should worry less about what your friends think, and more about the quality of an entity's character. Besides, you might find you have more in common with him than you think." replied his parent-entity. He groaned, and continued grumbling and complaining as he and his parent-entity exited the system, and then the galaxy. They left behind, unbeknownst to the parent-entity, a group of self replicating, autonomous and preprogrammed, busily working micro-machines. To one of the pre-sents on the planet below, they might appear to be ordinary, if oddly colored, worms of diminutive proportions. They burrowed below the satellite's surface, extracting minerals and elements necessary for their own duplication. Once they attained sufficient numbers, they were programmed to spread out over the side of the orb permanently facing the planet, still below the surface. Then a countdown would begin, lasting exactly one standard time unit, at the end of which they would execute their purpose. The satellite orbited the planet, bathing it in its reflected light, waiting. <Author's Note> Please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. It has been awhile since I last wrote, and I'm feeling a bit rusty. Yes, the ending is a bit of an enigmatic cliffhanger. I did this on purpose. Please forgive me. (If you think you can guess what might happen, please don't say. I'd like it to be a surprise in one of my next stories.) Also, damn the English language's lack of a gender neutral pronoun. Nigh-omniscient, immortal, pan-dimensional beings that 'reproduce' with multiple(many multiple) contributing parental entities don't have genders as we would understand them, or at all. So I just used 'he'. I hope it works for you. For those who might be interested, a "standard time unit" is about four or five years long. So the errant youngster had been observing the "pre-sents" for approximately the last century or so. Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism is welcomed. I'd love to know what your liked, what you didn't, and why. It helps me make better stories. -Jissoucutioner
>>79 Wow, nice new take on it :) Picturing the Jissou as some huge cosmic practical joke kinda fits with them somehow, lol. I've got a possible theory about the ending, but I won't say anything. (Probably wrong anyway) Better pull on the flame-proof armour though. You've gone quite far outside of the canon there ;) hehe
That was pretty funny. And a good point.
Like someone said, we're here to post stories, so here I am with a king-sized version. Continuation of >>58 And then there were none (part 2 of 2) ---- Six little jissous were happy to be alive One left to celebrate, and then there were five Predictably, the murder of their fourth unfortunate sister failed to make a lasting impression on the kojissou bunch. After all, compassion was pretty much a human innovation, and it wasn't even the decisive factor to mankind's success. Moreover, why bother with fraternity when your species can make ten children at a moment's notice ? For an artificially engineered creature, the jissouseki kind certainly had what it takes to make itself self-sustainable. Shortly after the Transcended Living Doll's departure, a gate opened to another part of the maze. The little gremlins, having a limited amount of options, unanimously chose to explore the new area. They weren't exactly in for a surprise, though. It just lead to another run-of-the-mill cage, and no candies were to be discovered in it. Frustrated, the juvenile jissous tried to throw a tantrum as per tradition, but their feeble minds couldn't find a culprit, a task they were very skilled at under normal circumstances. As a result, they pretty much wandered. The candies they ate before would satiate them for several hours, so they weren't all that restless. Pretty much everyone knows what Jissouseki does when they see humans, when they are in pain, or when they are fearing for their lives. But what about when they are bored ? Well, as shocking as it may sound, it's actually pretty uninteresting. When satiated, the jissouseki merely play with whatever is in range, and tend to be pretty mild...as far as property isn't concerned. You see, jissou only perceive threat when food is lacking, or danger is plentiful. When nothing's going on and they're not hungry, the jissou brain pretty much shuts down until new food, or the possibility there could be some, is perceived. Thus, if they don't actively search nutrients, they do wreck whatever they think can hold some, as they don't frown upon extras. What did you expect ? It's a species that literally relies on shitting thirteen babies before dying. There is no logical reason they would try to innovate during their free time if this basic plan works. But as there wasn't anything to wreck in the cage, the little monsters just sat and waited. As uneventful as the last hour was, a door finally opened, leading to inside a black box. No candy fragrance came out of it. The jissous reacted naturally and promptly ignored the new opportunity. Ah, how jissouseki's stupidity can save them sometimes ! Nearly three quarters of the traps mankind can think of are way too smart for your average kojissou. It normally would make the jissous fall prey to the remaining quarter, but it was more often than not a matter of pure randomness. Such was the case with the fifth sister. As soon as she entered the box, the jissou felt some kind of string come into contact of her leg. Nothing dire...just enough to make her trip. The door shut behind her, and a little lamp lit up. "Why are you here, stupid thing, techi ?!" Shouted the child, hitting the wire with her arm, convinced of its evil intent. She didn't stop before half a minute. Then, she started to search food. And in that regard, she seemed to be in luck. At the center of something that looked like a hamster wheel, lying horizontally on the floor, was a small pedestal-like thing. On it was displayed another one of these energetic candies. The kojissou hastily climbed the fence to get into the wheel, bliss gleaming in her eyes. She put the whole sweet in her mouth, and happily munched away. Then she noticed a sound. It was coming out of a big black thing. There were weird tones at the beginning, but quickly, a Mr.Man's voice could be heard. "Yeah I...I got to know your name" "My name, techuu ?" Replied the critter as she was striking the ever popular cuteness pose. "I don't have one, Mr.Man, but if you take me as a pet you can give me a cute name, techi !" In true jissouseki fashion, she ignored what the voice said while she was talking. Thus, the next verse appeared as a reply for her tapioca brain. "All I know is that to me, you look like you're lots of fun. Open up your lovin' arms, I want some, want some !" "Yes, I am a fun pet to play with, te!" The jissouseki was now in full human-seducing mode, regardless of the absence of an actual human beyond the voice. As she began to get out of the wheel, though, two things made her stop her endeavor. Firstly, the human's voice and the accompanying sounds were getting a little too loud for her fragile ears. Secondly, the wheel had imperceptibly started to move. "What's happening, te?" "Well I...I set my sights on you. And I, I've got to have my way now, baby !" "...stop it, Mr.Man, you're too loud, techi..." Weakly said the jissou while trying to cover her ears. The wheel she was in was definitely rotating now. Granted, there wasn't a giant foot descending upon her or any other kind of immediate threat, but nonetheless, she clearly could sense that shit was about to go down. She tried to flee, but as soon as she reached for the top of the wheel's side, the powerful music made her cover her ears again immediately. At this instant, she lost her only chance. "Open up your lovin' arms Watch out, here I come !" The world was moving at an increasing speed, and the sound was now at a level that would even be unpleasant for humans. For the juvenile jissou, it was just painful. It also didn't help at all that her stubby paws could not cover the entirety of her large ears. It was nothing, though, compared to the feeling of sickness that was rapidly growing inside her guts. "You spin me right round, baby right round Like a record baby, right round round round You spin me right round, baby right round Like a record baby, right round round round" "Stop it, STOP IT, TECHA !" The world was indeed spinning around her, giving her one hell of a headache. She couldn't move anymore because of the centrifugal force, and she was basically just hoping that the disembodied voice would stop being such a meanie. "It is not fun, techa ! Stop it, stupid Mr.Man, techa !" Her face turned blue, and spasms shook her. She vomited, staining the entire box with bits of green slime. She felt so sick that she removed her paws from her ears, consequently worsening her state. The unfortunate jissouseki kept on puking, letting out cries of pain every now and then. She couldn't get any grasp of what was going on anymore. Slowly, her left eye was turning red, adding fuel to the fire. After one hardly contained wail, and with the help of the centrifugal force, the jissou child quite literally threw her bowels out. In a single instant of clarity, she could see something, among the spray of red-stained green which was projected at top speed towards the walls. A little crystal. Her crystal. It shattered upon impact, and the jissouseki only had one second to review her whole -short- life... "Te ?" The sound of her exploding was lost among the beat of the song. --- Five little jissous had found wood and ore One became a smith, and then there were four Outside, the remaining half of the contestants clearly heard that something was going on. But when all the ruckus ended, none of them had even moved one inch to help their sister. Silence reigned for a while, before a door to another cage opened. They all rushed in without hesitation. Whimpers were to be heard as, yet again, no food was on the floor. Instead, there was a rather large quantity of rubble. Nothing dangerous, even for jissous : Bottle caps, plastic wraps, coins...But nothing even remotely edible either. They thought about calling the mysterious Mr.Man they could faintly hear singing through the box, when a chocolate-y fragrance taunted their hunger-driven nostrils. It was coming from above a white box. It was much too high for the jissous to reach the top. However, in all their stupidity, jissouseki never showed they lack the knowledge that shit can be stacked. Food would be all to easy to protect otherwise. And so began the heartwarming tale of the green goblins who, after forgetting half of their sister died gruesome deaths, worked together to get the chocolate. Usually, in a collective endeavor, Jissouseki follow the elder. However, they were all born at the same time, so that wasn't going to work. So, can they suddenly grow some manner of cooperative spirit in times of need ? Looks like they can, if each of them knows damn well they won't be able to get the candy alone. Partial alliances, and conquest strategy, however, does seem to fly over their heads. It's either on or off with these little bastards. Anyway, they firstly pitched into gathering everything near the box. "Candy is going to be good, techi~n" "We will be happy family, techi !" "Mr.Man will be impressed, techu !" When they were finished, there was a pile of rubble of about three quarters of their size. Sadly, it wasn't enough to reach the top. The next logical step was to help the others to climb, while staying behind. It took a while for the jissous to find such selflessness in their hearts, as you could imagine. Fortunately, one brave little soul did demonstrate it. She climbed the pile, knelt and put her hands forward, forming a rudimentary ladder. "Thank you, sis, techu~n !" Said another one as she merrily went to seize the occasion. She could successfully climb, and she saw a little basket hanging from the cage's top, containing 4 pieces of white chocolate. We will never know if the jissou was going to steal it all for herself, braving the consequences that were sure to follow, or if she was indeed set out to follow her sister's kind heart, for the top of the box was made of thin paper. In a gasp, she fell right through it. "A...Are you alright, sis, techi ?" "Yes, I am, techi. There is a weird thing here, but...Teee ?" Silence. "What is it, techi ?" "RRRRRRRRRRRNNNNMMMMNGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHHHH" This unusual wail suddenly came out of the box. The four jissouseki outside copiously shat their pants upon hearing it. They had no idea what was going on in there. All they could hear was the unintelligible plea, which strangely didn't sound muffled, like something has suddenly impaired the green goblin's ability to talk. As they got the hell out of this place, one could faintly hear the otherworldly scream cross-fading with munching noises. --- Four little jissous arrived at the sea One left to sail it, and then there were three At this point, they were hungry, scared and desperate. It's understandable that they consequently became rather agitated. They restlessly observed their surroundings, aware than anything could come up next. There were only two doors left unopened. Neither of them was revealing even a hint of what was behind it. They were like the gates of Heaven and Hell, except than, well, they probably both led straight into the very bottom of the latter. Nevertheless, all they could do was waiting for them to open. And the one on the left did, less than ten minutes later. This time, they entered carefully. A small passage led to a plain white plastic box. A very sweet odor came from it. The jissouseki chirped without even thinking about it. They forgot all their carefulness and rushed in. To their delight, there was an entire pool of red jelly with a very thick fruity odor. They instantly knelt to take as much jelly as they could. They couldn't care less if there was poison now. It's fortunate for them it wasn't. Better yet : It was solid enough for them to stand on ! The appeal was formidable : So much yummy food they could walk on it. They shat their pants in contentment, promptly soiling their new paradise. "So happy, techun !" "Weird jissou-chan didn't lie, there was hope, techi !" "We all won, Te !" "Food is so good, techun..." No dark lining came into sight. The jelly pool pretty much stayed as it was, not showing any kind of threat to the four little jissous. They all agreed to stay here : There wasn't any danger, food was plentiful, there weren't any reasons to struggle anymore. With cries of joy, they stuffed themselves to sleep. The following morning, each of them checked if their sisters were okay before engaging in another day of hedonism. A mere four hours later, they had eaten half of the fifteen centimeters of jelly, which had lost most of its solidity, and green shit was everywhere, although they did try to let out most of it in one corner of the box. All this eating was enough for them to discover something was under the thick layer of fruity goodness. It looked like a very fluid honey. It was the one who showed kindness earlier that found it while digging. "What's that, te ?" "More good food, techi !" One of them tried the substance. She emitted a loud sigh. "De...delicious, te..." They all consequently reached for the hole in the jelly to get some. It was indeed very close to honey, maybe mixed with some caramel or toffee. At any rate, it was only second to the mythical colaciones in their book. They didn't notice the slightly putrid note in the otherwise mouth-watering aroma and taste. Maybe they should have. One of the four sisters got a little too eager to get the most fluid she could on her arms, lost balance, and fell into the newly discovered feast. She let out a yelp of surprise, and casually asked for help when she noticed she didn't reach the bottom of the box with her legs. She was in the way of the honey thing, so the others agreed to help her... But as soon as one began to support the fallen's weight, the jelly began to dangerously wobble. She backed off immediately as her face turned blue. "What is going on, te ? Help me, techi !" "T...too dangerous, tee..." The other two tried as well, but with the same consequences, only worse. The weakened jelly began to roll to the bottom of the well they had made. "Fine, shit sisters, I will get out myself, techa !" This claim, however, was wishful thinking. Getting out now was like trying to climb a pit of dry sand while swimming. Her pointy teeth came out as she began to curse everything in sight. She thrust her body upwards furiously, trying to get a good grasp of the elusive walls. But the more she did that, the more bits of jelly fell down onto her face. Slowly, but surely, she depleted her stamina, and got smothered under the delicacy. Soon enough, the well was filled up. The poor jissouseki was now trapped under it, like someone under a frozen lake. "I'm sorry, help me, techaaaa !!!" Yelled she at her sisters while barely maintaining her head above the syrupy fluid. Unfortunately, they had already gotten out of the box. When she realized she was on her own, the jissou came with a cunning plan : Eating the fluid before it could drown her. Go for it, jissou-chan ! Two liters of strongly flavored water are no big deal ! I'm sure this mean PTLD will be impressed ! "Yes I -glurb- will, Mister narrator man, techi ! And then -swallow- I'll be a beloved pet, techi !" I'm sure of it ! Okay, doing good here, already five mouthfuls. You're lucky it's so delicious ! Hey, what's the matter, jissou-chan ? Why are you stopping ? "Leg felt something, tee..." Oh, that ? Don't let it bother you, it's just your aunt who lost at the exact same game you're playing right now. "TEEE ? What is go...arglbchi !" This moment of shock cost her her focus, and she swallowed a bit more than she could handle at once. She coughed, lost whatever cool she had left, and began to choke on the savory liquid, struggling with increasingly less success to stay at the surface. "HE-grblgr-CHAAaaa..." Large amounts of green slime corrupted the honey as the poor little jissou died one of the most unpleasant natural deaths known to man. She tried until the end to escape her fate, but the liquid filling her lungs wasn't the kind competitor that likes to fuck around. Searing hot pain overwhelmed her chest, and she couldn't help but do a last, deadly breath. She then took her eternal sleep, by the side of a rotting jissou head that was left here after the last generation's demise. Don't cry, jissou-chan, the most important is to participate ! --- Three little jissous became like me and you One swelled with great pride, and then there were two Well, so much for paradise. But even if the solace proved temporary and dangerous, they did, from then on, possess a safe and reasonably large source of food. They still were knee deep in shit, but it was better than neck deep : At least you can maneuver. After a long -by jissou standards- debate, they decided to go all out, and try to open the last door themselves. It was quite hard since it was a sliding one without a handle, but when they finally succeeded...Wonders were waiting for them. It was a cage for high-class pet jissous. A green carpet covered the floor, on which various toys could be seen. There were also a large bed, clean toilets, an ashtray filled with water, a bunch of candies and, most important of all, five pink jissou dresses. If you're not some kind of hermit who never leaves his cave in the Himalaya, you had the opportunity to notice that jissouseki absolutely freaking love clothes. No matter how old, a jissou who gets her clothes torn off will complain and cry about it, even if her children are being slaughtered right in front of her eyes. Conversely, give her a new dress, and she will sing from joy. It's also true to say that dresses that aren't green are the most defining feature of a high-class jissou, labeling her as a beloved pet faster than you can say "De!". The little beings ran to pick the dresses, and changed into these frantically, discarding their shit-stained dresses into the toilets. After that, they looked at each other with amazement. Their new outfits were nothing but plain jissou uniforms, save for the color, but that was sufficient. "We are so cute, techu !" "Yes, techi ! Last time was just an accident, weird jissou-chan really loves us now, techun !" They celebrated their housewarming party by eating a few candies, and merrily singing lyric-less songs. The mere idea that this place could be booby-trapped never occurred to them. The only thing they realized was that something was peculiar about their dresses. Sure, they looked normal, but they were too solid not to be manufactured by man, instead of harvested on the naturally pink jissous bred by some cosmetic companies. Secondly, there were some sort of wires inserted into the fabric. Nothing too uncomfortable though. They all decided being cute held priority over being safe, so they kept them. And it wouldn't be a problem for any of them, if the smallest of the three hadn't had her attention caught by a something in a corner of the cage. It was a white spray can. There was horrible handwriting on a label that spelled "shower". It intrigued the kojissou, who called one of her sisters. Neither of them knew what the writing meant, and they concluded that it was probably indicating that playing with the thing was fun. The discoverer pushed the pump, and was sprayed by a translucent liquid. "Tickles, te !" She gleefully declared. Her sister came to try, but was instead asked to push some more while the other submitted herself to the tickling shower. She accepted under the condition that she was up next, and did so. The showered jissouseki didn't bother removing her dress while she played in the aerosol spray. Of course, you would say that wasn't exactly wonderland, but someone who has only know terror and death since their birth tend to enjoy the simplest things. Finally, she sat on the floor, panting between two laughs. Her dress was wet all over, and was now adhering to her skin. That didn't bother her, though... Until the wires inside the fabric began their work. Something in the spray was forcing the normally flexible things to straighten. And the fabric, now glued to the jissou's skin, followed them. "Chuwa !" The exhausted jissouseki looked at her prized outfit peeling the skin off her belly. She tried to stop it, but had difficulty moving her arms. Slowly, her lower body bloomed like a mushroom, revealing her flesh underneath. "H...Help me, teecha !" The sister that helped her didn't react like the thought she would, though. Turns out in this kind of situation, jissou can get really materialistic. "Stop bleeding, stupid sister, techi ! You're dirtying weird jissou-chan's beautiful home, techi !" Indeed, a puddle of both blood and horrified shit was forming below the umbrella-jissou, and it was in fact quite dirtying. To tell the truth, the infuriated sister's accusation was probably nothing but hypocrisy, but that never stopped any jissou from doing anything. "Hurts, help close my dress, techaaa..." Her plea was met by a punch in the skinless stomach. Then two. Then three. "You are shit jissou, techi ! You do not deserve this place, techi !" Her sister was orange-red from anger, repeatedly screaming "shit sister techi !" in a high-pitched voice. The exposed flesh was oozing more blood with each passing strike, reducing to paste the organs under the large belly. Shit came out flowing from the victim's anus as she screamed for help. In the center of the room, the benevolent jissouseki was trembling from fear. She was denying the fact that one of her sister was killing another, despite everything they had gone through. Weren't they survivors ? Why kill each other when the whole world is already dead set on doing that ? The spark of intelligence that was burning within her saved her from giving in to panic, although it didn't do anything about loose bowels. All of the umbrella-jissou's bowels were now outside her body, ejected from the anus or hanging from her torn belly. Finally, her sister's assault stopped, and she tried walking away. Her last strength only carried her for three steps. After that, she fell face first. The deployed dress-trap stopped her body from falling all the way, and she found death here, standing, her insides behind her. --- Two little jissous fought a race against time One didn't see the wall, and then there was one The event went straight onto the TV's screen upstairs. I was munching away at my bag of boiled jissou maggots. Generic supermarket brand, but sometimes you have to keep it simple. The murder didn't piss me off nearly as much as the one yesterday. After all, this was kind of expected. During two minutes, I pondered. Was my little death maze that effective at frightening jissous to death ? Probably not, eh ? Well, it could do fine for the dying subjects, but for what I wanted, I needed the survivors afraid, and that didn't turn out so hot. What was I thinking by giving them hope at the end anyway ? I must surrender myself to the obvious : My hatred for jissous isn't compatible with studying them. I don't think the hypothesis was that shoddy, but the prediction certainly was. As for the experiment, well, it was like the guys at the LHC deciding to do some bobsleigh inside their giant ring somewhere along the way, and carefully storing the Higgs boson into the shit can. That's it, I'm calling off this "experiment". Starting now, the death maze is for totally unscientific purposes only. Still, I have to give a fair trial to a murderer. "Wh...why do it, techi ?" Weakly says the innocent jissou to her sister. She was both shocked by the murder and afraid she could be up next. But that's fine, jissous are nothing if not quick to calm down. "Now we have clean place for us two, techi !" Joyfully replies the lunatic, tongue hanging out and eyes shut. Her pink and clean dress was now partially green and entirely filthy. Ten seconds later, they saw me enter the basement. I'm not sure, but I don't think I saw them look afraid for even one second. "Good day, weird jissou-chan, techi !" Says the murderer. Thank you for the candies and dresses, techi !" "No need, desu. Say, didn't you, you know, just beat your sister to death, desu ?" "No, I am good jissou, techi." ...Right. I open the cage, and gently grab her by the waist, staining myself. She looks at me with the usual "cute" face, blushing, full of hopes. "Guilty, desu." Say I before casually throwing her into the wall to my left. "CHUW-*sprotch*" "Sorry Mr.Wright, but your defense was just that bad, desu." --- One little jissou, at long last, had won... And so I gaze upon our grand winner in pristine pink dress. No dirty tricks, no reprehensible behavior, just plain luck. She had developed some kind of moral conscience, too. I heard of that back at the lab, jissouseki that are selfless for no perceptible pragmatic reason. Never really believed it. Turns out it does happen sometimes. "D...Don't kill me, techi....I am cute, I did nothing, techi." "Yeah, I know, desu..." I don't really know what to do. Sure, she's the same failed experiment all jissouseki are, but this one seems redeemable, if she's preserved from the filth of her species. And after all, the three star cage was quite annoying to clean. I pick her, and silently put her in my hood. She faintly chirps, but wisely chooses to remain silent after two attempts at seducing met with the cold shoulder. I clean the mess. The rotating wheel, the chimney under the halogen lamp, the carpet, and throw all the corpses into the trash. I also feed the weasel yummier things than a rotting jissou corpse. The mother looks at me with both fear and hatred. The wounds left by her missing limbs are festering now, but she doesn't care. She had heard everything. Every scream, every body popping, every insult, every despair-filled lamentation. As I replace the jelly and honey-flavored drink, I can feel her gaze, trying to drill holes into my ruthless self. But my mind is kind of blank, I only care about the slight rummaging behind my shoulders. After replacing the candies, I turn to the mother herself. I remove the feeding tube. She's still small enough to fit within my hands. Her tongue is crushed beyond repair from the pressure by the plastic tube, and all she can emit is gibberish. I'm not in the mood for imagination. I simply crush her skull before throwing her oversized maggot's body in the trash. Then I take the winner in my hand. Her eyes shine, she smells food coming from below. No annoying attempts so far. I find myself stroking her left arm, and she coos. She's actually cute, with her above average physique, her happiness and her cute dress. Should I make the luxury cage her permanent home ? ...Nah. I crush her arm between my fingers. Blue invades her face. More than the pain, it's the despair that really makes her look like she just took a bullet. "T...tee ?" I make short work of the other limbs. I tear up the dress, then her hair. She's shitting and crying like crazy, calling her mama, unable to find the mental strength to insult me. And I'm smiling like crazy. Of course I'm not going to let her live. The less retarded ones are the worst of them all. She takes her mother's place, crushed limbs still attached this time. It's more painful when you still have nerves attached. I take a little vial of red hot chili sauce, best for making jissou understand exactly what "with pain will you give birth to children" means. "Now then, gentle one, desu. You'd better be ready to get down to business, 'cause I'm in the mood for some mass slaughter, desu." "Mmuuuuh...MMMMUUUUUUUUUUU-" One little jissou, at long last, had won She funded a family, and then there were none --- That's it for this arc. In the next one, we'll see what's up in the realm of highly trained pet-class jissouseki. Also, Dr. Baumann, Jissoucutioner, great work. Regarding the latter, I'm not all that much into sci-fi, but it was a fine read nonetheless.
Lovely. Continue.
>>80 Reminds me of the futurama entity that captured the star trek crew.
Bravo, me dear. Bravo.
>>82 Quite entertaining, definitly the best you've done, Jissu death set to catchy dance music was quite amusing.
It's been a week already ? Man. Thanks to all of you. My best one ? I guess taking your time can only be effective. Without further ado, here's the new one, which is taking yet another take on jissou stories. --- PTLD - Good Morning I am what you could call a Jissouseki lover. Sure, I am kind of biased...It became my business six months after the arrival of these little creatures in the western world. I am a pet retailer, now specialized in them. I don't professionally breed them, nor do I train them, but I do take care of all kinds of jissouseki. My daughter has fallen in love with them at around the same time, so now, I see Jissouseki pretty much all the time, at work and at home. Of course I know why most people are disgusted. But I assure you, behind their selfishness and lack of moral ethics, they are living beings that deserve our love, should we be able to reveal the good side present in all of them. "Good morning, Stella." "*Yaaawn* Good morning master, desu !" Today is the second birthday of her adoption into our home. She stretches before getting out of her bed. Morphologically, she's a regular adult jissou, but we really spoiled her. Her hair is tinted black, her pinkish-red dress is adorned with a richly laced bib, some blue silk ribbons, and even a blue flower attached to her left ear. The best thing ? She deserved every bit of it. She gets up, rearranges her clothes, and proceeds to wake her four children up. A big girl of nine months, two twins of four, and the youngest, unfortunately stuck at the maggot stage, despite being two months of age. They're not as bright as their mother, but well-behaved and educated away from selfishness. My eight year old daughter Samantha comes at this moment. Stella's eyes shine. She really likes my daughter. Together, over the months spent playing together, they forged an unbreakable alliance. I expected no less, to be honest. Stella cost us 5000 dollars. She was born from a regular broodmother, but was carefully selected and educated to be the best of the best, intelligent and entirely devoted to her masters. And while five grand seems a bit overkill, I have trouble finding a single reason to hate Stella. "Happy birthday, Stella !" Says my little girl to the high-end jissou, who thanks her, letting out tears of joy. Behind her, the children dance, audibly wondering if the birthday cake their mother talked so much about last night would taste good. "Come on, children, desu ! Masters make a party for all of us, that's enough to be thankful, desu !". The children don't understand her point all that much, but copiously thank us nonetheless. "Ah but you're right" I say, as I give them the signal to follow me. "Good jissouseki like you deserve a big cake. Make sure you share equally." "Of course !" Answers Stella. She picks her jissou grub-shaped purse and goes with me into the living room. The twins, Mimy and Nana, follow suit, holding hands, as well as the eldest child, carrying the maggot. Awestruck gasps are heard as they bear witness to the majesty. Pure bliss in cake form. They do their best to control their bowels before the tower, as big as Stella herself, of frosted chocolate with streaks of caramel I give her the knife. She sniffles from emotion, but does her best nonetheless. She succeeds to cut the cake into seven even parts. One for her, four for her family, and two for us. That's how you know you're dealing with a high-class jissou : She never even thought of forgetting us. She even serves us first, then her children, then herself. Samantha catches on this kind gesture, and hugs her pet. "Thank you, Stella, you're a wonderful Jissouseki. Today we play together all day long !" Cheers among the jissous. Samantha is their main master, but she has school and everything, so she's not as present as they wish her to be. Of course they would be overjoyed that they get to have their master's full attention for the whole day. While they eat the delicious cake, they have a brainstorm concerning today's schedule. Most people believe the foul behavior of feral jissouseki is the nature of the species. That they are rotten down to the very core, and exist solely to piss us off. Well, I have to disagree with that. Are we, humans, any different when not socialized and educated to fit among our kind ? Are we paragons of virtue from the moment we are born, or are we egoistic little pricks throwing tantrums over the simplest of things ? No, of course. Well, Jissouseki aren't any different. Unfortunately, their overwhelming population prevent anyone to provide them with a mass education system. A high-end jissou is just one that had been socialized as successfully as any average adult. "And then we'll play hide and seek, techi !" "It's not fair, Mimy. Your baby sister will just keep asking for belly rubs, I'll find her without any trouble !" "Belly rubs, refu ? Yes, tummy soft, please rub, refu !" "Ah ah ah, alright you little scoundrel, here you go !" No, you won't make me believe jissous are a pest. They are the best pet human ever discovered. They talk, they're reasonably intelligent, and they're cute. Just give them the chance to learn. Suddenly, my watch beeps. Drat, it's time for work. "Well, Stella, have a good time with Sammie, I'm off to work. Oh and Sammie, don't forget the present !" "Of course I won't, daddy !" The jissou family's eyes shine at the news, but they know better than to ask for it. Stella disposes of the tissue she used to contain the belly rubbed maggot's shit, and bids me goodbye. --- I open my shop. As usual, I have no need for a background music, since the jissous do all the work for me. I have, on average, One or two high-end jissous, with a minimum price of two grand. I always take good care of them, and place them in individual, well equipped cages, as they must be in top condition at all times. Then there are the above average ones. Completed training, usually gifted with pretty dresses or hair, but with some defects that prevent them to be high-class jissous. Count between 500-800 dollars for those. They're the ones I recommend for a first pet jissou, having the best quality-price ratio. You're sure they will be good pets without having to pay a fortune. I usually keep around six of those in the shop. Then the average, twenty of forty individuals, placed in collective but spacious cages. Just educated enough to be obedient and respectful of their masters, but not much else. No more than 150 dollars. And then...You have the ones I feel pity for, but must be selling if I want to feed my family. The usual term is "for abuse". I call them the peons. Officially, they're just labeled "common jissouseki", but it's obvious that people who buy jissous for no more than 10 bucks each wish to unwind their stress of them. The only other type of customer for those are scientists, professional or wannabe. I just provide them with the minimum care : I clean the shit, give them clean food and water, and leave them alone in big common cages. It's saddening, really. If at this low level of education, they weren't acting so carefree all the time, it would feel like a crowded train going straight to Auschwitz. Of course, this is the corner of my shop that's the most noisy. And it could be worse...as a rule of thumb I only have maggots (or thumb-chans) and children, separated in two distinct cages. Adults would be entirely too troublesome. Needless to say, "manly" jissous are an absolute no-no as well. "Hello, David Kellan, how are you doing today ?" Oh, Mrs.Fey ! A sweet hold lady, and a regular. I'm always thankful when my first customer of the day is a jissou lover instead of an abuser. "Wonderful, it's my Stella's birthday today ! My daughter is with her as we speak." "Oh, I sure hope she'll enjoy herself ! She's such a good girl." "I do too. So, will you buy the usual ?" "Yes, plus a purse. Kristy's is beginning to wear out." "Sure thing." I turn around, where I store all the accessories, toys and food for Jissouseki. Mrs.Fey always sticks to Desties®, cereals for jissouseki coated with sugar. As they're meant to be sort of semi-treat, she probably buys more generic stuff at the supermarket. Of course, technically, both run of the mill jissou food and Desties® are just ground and dried jissou meat, but she doesn't need to know that. Anyway, four boxes. Then comes shampoo. Jissouseki are fragile creatures, and human shampoo can sometimes hurt their eyes really bad. Then, hair dye. Plus the purse... "Alright, that will be $53.50." "Gladly...Oh, mister Kellan, the other day, my son showed me a horrible video on this Internet thing..." "Another of those maniacs posting videos of Jissouseki abuse ?" "Oh, no, no...It was far more heartrending than that...On it, a mother Jissouseki -you could see she was smart, the poor girl- was killed in the middle of a conflagration. Just like a murder, in cold blood..." "In a fire ? How on earth was it caught on tape ?" "From my understanding, it was arson on a breeding facility. But the worst thing is the murderer...It looked like a small child, only with Jissouseki traits. How someone so young and pretty can do something like that...? It's terrible, Mr.Kellan, I tell you." "No kidding...Wait...This facility, could it have been The Jissou Garden ?" "W...why, yes, it was the name written on the video..." "Damn, I know this company, it's in this town ! No wonder they had trouble supplying me last month..." At this moment, another customer entered. Mrs.Fey politely said goodbye and left. The man had everything of the young, ambitious executive. Exactly the kind of people you don't imagine taking care a pet. Still, I had a business to run. "Hello...I'll take five common jissous. Two children and three maggots, please." "Of course sir...Can I interest you with food as well ?" "No, that's alright, I already have some." Right. --- 18:30, time to close shop. Saturday evening, time to do...that. I sigh. It's painful, but I have to. The peons grow fast, and their frequent quarrels often leave them in an ugly state. Even if they're almost exclusively for abuse, I refuse to have bald-naked jissous in my shop, so every week, I clean up the population. And yes, that means killing all the black sheep. I open the cages. I only feed them -shit disposal will be for Tuesday morning- and take the oldest, filthiest and most aggressive ones in a cloth bag. As usual, I can hear their complaints. No pleas. Just threats and insults. If only they didn't reproduce so fast, there wouldn't be that many feral ones. But what is done is done, nobody can take care of these now. Not that anybody would want to. I fill the cheap bathtub in the back shop with water, and begin my ugly duty. I always drown them. That way I don't hear their cries much. I know it's long and painful for them, but if I watched them in the eyes while killing them, I think I would soon give in to the hate provoked by their pheromones. I don't like to do this. Really, I don't. But I make up for that by loving Stella and taking care of the better ones. Green seeps through the bag like a filthy tea bag. Nothing surprising here. Their struggle for survival can only be guessed when I watch the cloth move, increasingly less bubbles reaching the surface as time goes on. Come on, die already... My heart leaps when I see an arm coming through a hole in the cloth. But fortunately, it just flaps harmlessly without succeeding at going any further, and stops after ten seconds. Soon, bubbles stop coming out. I take a big breath, and go empty the bag into the trash outside, looking away from the bluish faces and gray eyes. Sorry, but I had to. --- When I get home, my smile returns. My daughter and our jissous are waiting for me, and cheer when I open the door. "Welcome back, Master, desu !" She's blushing, and looks away. Perplexed, I look at Samantha. "Her and the children made presents for us two, dad, but she's too shy to give yours !" My heart melts, and I kneel before Stella, stroking her hair. "Aw, you didn't have to, it's your birthday after all..." "B...but I want to, dechun !" Says she, tears of emotion running down her cheeks. "Mistress and you are always so kind to us, dechun ! Other jissous in the street are sad, we're so lucky, so take this, desuuuun !". She looks at her feet while giving me something round, very roughly packaged into some red paper she must have found in my drawers. It looks nothing like a proper present box, but no matter. Right now, it's beautiful. "Thank you, Stella." I open the package. It's a round, shiny and colorful rock. It's not transcendent, but it's pretty enough. "Mimy found this, desu." Behind her leg, the little jissou is blushing. It's obvious she isn't moved as much as her mother, but what the hell. I hug her together with Stella. "You're the best pets I ever had. Thank you." I get up. "Come on, it's time for bath now." They all explode into chants of joy. For them, it's the best time of the day. Well, after all, I haven't been a cheapskate here either. In the bathroom, near the tub, lies the jissou family jacuzzi I bought for the twin's birth. Manufactured by a company specialized in high-end items for high-end jissouseki. Quite expensive, as you can guess. It's a green box, with smiling jissouseki faces painted on the sides, powered with electricity and connected to the water distribution system. It has several levels of depths, so that jissouseki of all ages can sit in and relax like in a real jacuzzi. If it was human-sized, it would already be one hell of a thing to have in your house. Our pets have only one desire : Savor the bath. But like the well-behaved jissous they are, they change into their swimsuits first, carefully fold their clothes and put them on the shelves. Only then do they rush into their pool like cats on a laser dot. As I make the last preparations for the next day, I can hear them playing. She's helping the twins swim as usual. Fiona, the eldest child, knows how, but they aren't quite enough developed yet. As for Bibbie, the maggot, she's always in her floater when she ventures into the deeper areas. Thin bubbles are flowing into the warm water, tickling them without being big enough to put them into any danger. Various plastic items are at their disposition to play with, and they're just so damn cute in their little colored swimsuits, we can only forget the occasional leak of excrement that comes out when in their delight. And the filter system evacuates it quickly anyway. When I go back into the bathroom to announce lights out, the twins are riding a plastic duck, laughing. One falls, but is rescued by her mother without any problems. She laughs some more, and asks to ride the duck one more time. "No, Mimy-chan, desu. Master has said it's time to go to bed, desu." The little one wants to protest, but she knew mommy wouldn't tolerate any disobedience to us. So she whimpered slightly and got off. Thirty minutes later, they're back in their room. "Okay girls, you know Sammie and me are going to my mother's place for tomorrow. We leave at 3 am and return Monday morning. Until then, you have the house for yourselves. It's not the first time, so I'm sure you'll do just fine." "Yes, master, desu !" Chants Stella, followed by her daughters. Well, except Bibbie, who lies on her back into her little bed. "Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu !". Stella sighs, and indulges her baby one last time. "You all go to sleep now, desu. Don't bother masters this night and I will give you candy tomorrow, desu." They collectively shut up less than one second later, Fiona even going as far as to fake snoring. With this, we bid them goodbye and go claim our short night. 3 am, we get up, and take our luggage. Stella apparently couldn't get any sleep, worried to see us leaving. Apparently, she was cleaning the house all night, all the while being very careful about not waking us up. Silently, we kiss her, and quietly leave the house, into the cold winter night. --- Stella sighs. She knows she shouldn't be such a worrywart. Masters are smart and strong, they will surely return. All she can do is make sure their beautiful home stays nice and clean. She smells a slight odor. She decides to climb a chair and open a window. The air is fresh and reinvigorating. Much better. She will let it that way for a little while, Master's home must not become cold. Then, she goes looking at her beautiful present, again. A piano with large keys made to fit jissou arms. Her Master is so generous and thoughtful ! She is so happy ! Outside, Master's big fast machine roars, before fading into the night. That's it, she is alone. She opens the piano's lid, gazing upon the shiny white keys again. Tomorrow morning she will play, and when Masters come back, she will give them a beautiful music as thanks ! Joyful anticipation in her heart, she closes the lid, and turns around to go to her bed... Her heart stops. Someone is in the room. Is it Mistress Samantha ? No, that is not her odor. And she didn't hear the door open, how...? The window. Blue invades Stella's face. Foolish ! Bad Jissou ! She threatened Master house's safety ! The stranger takes a step forward, getting into the moonlight bathing the living room. She has a face like a jissouseki, and yet looks like a Mrs.Lady. She's smiling. But not like master's warm smile. It is full of madness and evil. "Oooh sweet lords of metal, this is gonna be fun, desu."
I like where this is going.
A silence creeps through the grave yard. A mid the rows and rows of mossed over grave markers sits an unremarkable stone guarding and unremarkable grave. Written across the tombstone's face is the inscription: Here lies El Cid, who fell off the face of the Earth and landed on its ass. Suddenly a hand busts from the Earth at the foot of the miniature monolith. "I live..." And I do live, it's good to finally have all my crap out of the way. But first, I'm going to make some comments and criticisms. InLeaves: Sorry, but I'm just going to lump everything together here. Loved parts 1,2,3 and 6. Parts 4 and 5 not so much, just couldn't grab my attention. The character is interesting and deep. Is she really the creation of the original Jissou creator, or is that what she was told and believes. She thinks she is superior to Jissou, and yet exhibits their same behavior. Violent, hateful, and while light years ahead of even the best Jissou in thought process, still retarded. I mean, breed Jissou to be afraid of her so she can kill them easier? If she wants to kill the children of a Jissou, why doesn't she just kill the mother before the next generation is born? It's a plan only a Jissou would think of, and that's what makes the story brillent. Also, David Kellan is a Jissoufucker if I've ever seen one. Jissoucutioner: Entertaining, could be the start of an Ultimate Jissou universe (you can have that one for free). I like the whole "Jissou as a mirror to the human soul" thing and I look forward to where you could be going with this. However I don't think I want to be using your new origin anytime soon. But the possibilities... Dr. Baumann: Paging Dr. Baumann. Lol. Anyway, it ain't the most original setup, "scientist experimenting on Jissou". Nor are the tortures too original either. However it is well written and gets straight to the point: Jissou killing. Admittingly, I'm not very good at that. So, I hope to be reading lots of good stories this summer and will do my best to make sure I actually contribute. Good night and death to Jissouseki.
>>87 Hi guise im back, I was in hospital, believe it or not, for 5 months. Car accident. (inb4 attention whoring, it is NOT) Then I had to catch up with studies, so, here I am. My arms are weaker so I wont write much. Good thing none of my memories are vanished, I still feel mentally orking.
Green Snow Word of advice: when your company asks you if you are willing to relocate for your job, say no. Long story short is I said yes and now every winter I have to deal with over 9000 tons of snow. I hate snow. Which is why I am in a bad mood this morning. You see, last night was the first snow fall of the season. Nothing horrible, about a foot or so, but enough so that I'm going to have to shovel my driveway if I expect to drive anywhere. And so, on with the damn snow pants and boots and the lot and out the front door. I will say that shoveling snow is a good exercise. It doesn't take me long to clear my short walkway, but now comes the tedious work of clearing the damn driveway. As I begin to take the first shovel fulls, I see something out of place out of the corner of my eye. In the barren waste of white and gray I spot a mass of green, as though some patch of grass has managed to survive this cold. And its moving. That's odd, grass doesn't move. I stop shoveling long enough to get a good look. To my astonishment, I see two or three dozen teddy bear size creatures wearing bland green dresses and green bonnets. Jissouseki, the horrible results of science gone wrong. Despite their diminutive size and notorious reputation for being weak, stupid and lazy, the gaggle of Jissou seem to be managing to dig their way through the foot deep snow. I become memorized by their progress, like watching ants carrying leaves. However, it soon dawns on me that they are coming right in my direction, meaning I'm going to have to deal with these little shits. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. “HEY MR. MAN, DESU!” FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUU~ No sooner did one spot me then the whole lot of them began clambering for my attention. I do not need this right now. All I want to do is shovel my drive way and go back inside where it is warm. Now I have to dispose of these pests, because now they will just try to dig their way through the snow to my...front...door... I am a genius. “Hey Jissou,” I call out to them, wading my way through the snow. “Stay right there.” I tower over the lot of them, like the statue of Zeus. As if sensing my godly stature, the Jissou begain beg and plead at my feet like devoted worshipers. Take me as your pet, give me food and candy, I'm cold, I'm tiered, etc. I remain stoic until they relax. “Now then, I would like to...” “Mr. Man, desu.” Damn it. I look down to see who had the gal to interrupt me. It's a young Jissou, about the size of a 20oz soda bottle. She says nothing more, just stands there holding what looks to be a pea pod in her outstretched paws. Gingerly, I reach down and pick it up. Holding it as close to my face as I can, I can see that it is a maggot, cold and stiff as ice. Her face is literally frozen in an expression of blissful slumber. It is now that I realize that the crowd of Jisosu in front of me is completely made up of adults, the 20oz Jissou is one of the smallest ones there. No maggots, no thumbs, no kojissou of any sort. The scenario plays out in my mind: all these Jissou must have been living together or at least in close proximity in one of those Jissou shanty towns. The green dresses are not the most thermally insulated articals of clothing in the world. Last nights snowfall must have been too cold, all the Jissou children must have frozen solid. The adults probably survived due to their larger body mass and thicker layer of fat insulating them. Even so, most of the Jissou in the crowd are shivering and many show signs of frost bite. I almost feel sorry for the little bastards. The feeling quickly passes. I've learned the hard way that feral Jissouseki can not be domesticated. It simply can not be done, it just can't. Let's just say I'm once bitten, twice shy. Even so, this maggot ice cube in my hand was still someone's (something's?) child. I assume because of her small size, this maggot must be one of the Jissouseki's first children, and hence why she would carry it with her despite it obviously being dead. I need to break the bad news to her with the care and sensitivity of a doctor in a trauma ward. "She's dead." Ok, care and sensitivity of Dr. House in a trauma ward. "Maggot-chan is..." I can barely see her small face in the crowd. Despite being already blue with cold, it still somehow managed to turn a darker shade of blue. As I understand it, this is a common reason for a Jissou who is afraid or manically depressed. I even can hear her faintly crying "Dee...dee...dee...". This is breaking my heart, not because I feel sorry for her or feel her sadness is disingenuous. It's mainly sad because I know Jissou's short attention span will make her get over her child's death in less then an hour. Unless she's one of those million in one Jissouseki loses the will to live when their child dies. Whatever. "Listen to me Jissouseki." Aside from the 20oz Jissou, I have the gaggles full and undivided attention. Each looked up at me as though I were specifically talking to her. "Over there is my house, where you shall all live." A cheer arose from the Jissou. I am a preacher and had just shown my flock the promised land. Once their enthusiasm died down, I continued. "Only it is blocked by a blanket of snow..." "What snow, desu?" Don't get mad, stay cool and remain patient. "This," I scooped up a ball of snow off the ground, "is snow." I could hear the gears turning in their heads and see the lightbulbs poping on one by one. Dimmist light bulbs since Edison, but they seemed to comprehend. "Oh, white stuff is snow desu." "Snow is cold stuff too desu." "Shit snow, get out of my way to Mr. Man's house desu." "I kill snow, Mr. Man make me his favorite pet desu." "I kill more snow then you, Mr. Man like me better desu." Actually that worked out better then expected. I won't have to go through a long explanation, telling them to clear all the snow away from my driveway. Some how their mixed up logic actually took the little information I gave them and spit out what I wanted. A million to one accident most likely, it couldn't be duplicated. But there they go, busy bee's following the hive mind. They attack the snow coating my drive way with gusto. Their stubby arms fling wads of snow left and right so enthusiastic that I have a hard time believing they are the same Jissou who just moments before stood huddling half to death. It's actually incredible, like watching ants carrying leaves (did I make that analogy already?). First I need to take a moment to make sure they aren't paying attention to me. Good, it looks like all of them are to busy "killing" the snow to notice me head back into the house. All except the 20oz Jissou, she's still in shock, curled up fetal style on the sidewalk. Whatever. Back inside, I congratulate myself on tricking the Jissou to do my dirty work for me. Once they are done they'll just stand around like idiots waiting for me to let them inside. They'll probably be thinking "Oh no, Mr. Man is late. But he'll come for us, we're his beloved pets." I wonder if I can find some more Jissou for the next snowfall...what's this in my hand? Oh, it's the frozen maggot. I cast off my heavy snow clothing and make my way to the kitchen. On my counter I leave a cutting board for, well, cutting things. I set the maggot on the board and just look at it for a while. When you see a Jissouseki not moving, it doesn't look real. It looks like some ugly plastic doll. I've gotten use to seeing them moving around, creeped me out the first time I saw one. However looking at this frozen maggot once again reminds me of how unnatural they look. It's actually kind of cut in a way, with its eyes closed blissfully and it's tongue hanging out like a dog. In fact, I think it actually is smiling. I wonder what will happen if I hit it with this meat tenderizer. CRACK! TINGLE TINGLE TINGLE! As my hammer connects, I notice it really is quite solid. Normally a maggot would splatter it's guts everywhere with the lightest of touches. This son bitch was barely damaged. Partially, maybe, because I hit it off center, smashing off it's tail and sending frozen chunks of maggot meat across my kitchen counter. Her stocking has even frozen to her skin, coming off just like it was part of her body. But even then, most of it's lower torso is still attached. Damaged beyond recognition, but not entirely severed. It's head and chest haven't even been damaged at all. While I'm not a habitual abuser, I do enjoy ending a Jissou's worthless life every now and whenever. This however was not satisfying at all. Maybe because it's already dead. Maybe because it didn't scream or splatter. Maybe because it didn't drive me into a murderous rage before I smashed it. Meh I'll clean it up latter. I wonder how the Jissou are doing with my driveway. I peak through my blinds, just in case they might catch a glimpse of me and lose focus. All of them seem to be working hard as bees, except 20oz still. Get over it, I just smashed your maggot to bits. Ok, only a few bits, but she's not in one piece any more. It seems that some of the Jissou are experimenting with different ways to remove the snow. One of them seems to have got the bright idea (sarcasm) of eating the snow. Although she seems really determined, she's already turning dark blue from the cold. Without her hood she looks like the retarded cross between a cat and a smurf, I wonder if that's where James Cameron got the idea for Avatar. Elsewhere, three Jissouseki are displaying something rare for their species: teamwork and co-operation. And by that I mean that two of them have picked up a third (most likely unwilling) Jissou and have begun to use her as a shovel. I don't know if I should laugh or cry. Another Jissou is showing uncharacteristic ingenuity as well. She seems to have figured out that her internal temperature is higher then the melting point of snow. Actually I take that back, she probably doesn't understand that. But she has figured out that her warm, foul bowel movements can melt snow. This is disgusting. What's she doing now...gross. She's eating the green snow melt shit combo, most likely to reload. Ugg, at this rate my driveway will be snow free, but covered in Jissou shit. Wonderful, maybe this wasn't such a great idea. I think I'll just let it pan out. Enough watching those fraggles play in the snow. I wonder what's on TV. Oooo, a documentary on mollusks. This should be fun-ducational. I'll check back on the Jissou at the commercial break. To be concluded.
>>89 Dude, I was intending to put emphasis on PTLD's dumb side in the upcoming conclusion of this arc, but you saw it already. Good job. So yeah, as she was made from the jissouseki model, she has a lot of their traits, her mind being no exception. You were also spot on for David. While I'm at it, I want to take my time on this conclusion but I can already say it will be centered on several kinds of mindfuck. As for you story, well, it's ongoing but I already like the protagonist. Simple yet effective. I'll look forward to part 2. >>90 Welcome back. I sure hope you'll be able to write despite your convalescence.
Keep it up! I haven't visited in days, and was pleasantly surprised by the progress this thread has made.
Just a short one for now, until I flesh out a better large story. Home, finally. After 2 long weeks on the road, a delayed flight, a delayed flight that hit turbulance nonetheless, my taxi getting stuck in traffic, and the heavens opening up as soon as I got out of the cab, finally I am home. I took off my coat and jacket, cursed the cold Chicago temperature of November, and started toweling myself down. Then I heard it. You know what I'm talking about. The phone started ringing. I really need to just get rid of this damn land line, and only use my cellphone, I hear people are doing that these days. Do I bother to answer? Damn might be the job. "Hello, Joseph speaking" "SHIT JOE HOLY SHIT!" It was Chait, my college room mate and occasional bowling partner. He was riled as usual "Calm down Chait, what is going on?" "I uh, I need your help!" "With?" "Just get over here! I've been calling for the past 3 hours where have you been?!" "I've been in Houston for the past 2 weeks damnit! I just got home, can't this wait?" "Oh, oh I see" "Nothing that important?" "It's just, Helen, she, she found something" "Found what?" "Some kind of animal, I've never seen it before" "An animal?" I was intrigued. I may work in insurance, but Biology was always a favorite subject of mine. "It talks" "..." "I um, could use a fresh pair of eyes" "You've found an animal that talks?" "It's kind of humanoid" "Oh really?" My skepticism must have been obvious by now, "How is it humanoid? Does it have two arms and legs?" "Well not exactly" "Uh huh" "It came with clothes" "With clothes?" "With clothes" "... Ok Chait, I tell you what, you give me Dave's number right now, because whatever drugs he hooked you up with have got to be fucking amazing and I could use some" "Please Joe, I'm serious, I need help with this, thing" I could sense he was serious. Either one of my closest friends had utterly lost his mind, or humanity had stumbled upon a new species. Either way, it looks like my hot shower would have to wait. I changed my clothes at least, called another cab and met Chait in front of his house. At least the rain had let up, and he seemed genuinely shaken. "So where is it?" "Inside. But let me warn you, this is bizarre" "Oh I'm sure", I said as I followed him in. I looked around. I noticed his terranium was out on his coffee table. "I hope you haven't bought another monitor lizard" "Look inside" And so I did. I saw a moving specimen that looked like a fat green snake with a human face. I had read about a Japanese fish that had a human looking face design on it's back, and that's what I initially thought of. Until it "noticed" me. The fact that it looked up at me and reacted to me, scared me, and I took a few steps back, which were hastened by what sounded like baby noises saying "puni" and "refu". I kept backing up until I reached the wall, feeling one of Chait's paintings dig into my back. But I didn't avert my gaze, and I didn't move forward, I followed the wall until I was out the door. It was just then I noticed Chait was talking to me. "Joe! Joe can you hear me!" "Y-yeah, I can hear you" "You were spacing out there" "Can you blame me, what is that..." I couldn't even get the word "thing" out of my mouth. To acknowledge it as a an object and not an illusion frightened me. Even though I knew that this was what he was talking about when he called me. "Pretty bizarre huh? Actually I've called up Dave to come over and have a look at this" "What's he going to do? Smoke it?" "He says he's heard of it. Want to go see it again?" "No thanks I've seen enough, I'm going home" "But Joe come on, I need someone to watch it while I go out" he said in a slightly less imperative tone than before, but I was already sprinting down the street. I was back at my place soon enough. And doing my best to forget about the bizarre abomination I saw over at Chait's. I wondered if someone had screwed a snake and the DNA had somehow miraculously combined. Heh, now that's pretty damn stupid. I sat up watching my tv in bed. Boring news, boring reruns. I switched over to Cartoon Network. If it's not something I can wrap my mind around at least it's something I can ignore. I couldn't believe I was still up 1am, I thought to myself as I looked over at the clock. I looked back to the television but another show was on. There was some strange looking cartoon character on the screen just looking forward. It was a fat little hominid with a harelip, and small tufts of hair sticking out of it's green hoodie. "Man the Japanese dream up some cr-" "Hello Mr Man, please let me live here desu" Suddenly I felt acutely aware of my situation. My television is on a timer and had gone off 30 minutes ago even though I had fallen asleep with the lights on. "I'm very small and I don't eat much desu" it said. I must be still dreaming, something like this shouldn't exist. It was like a teddy bear but was clearly alive. What was it doing in my room? Then I became aware of it's smell. It smelled like trash. Oh you don't smell things in a dream. I shook myself fully awake and flung myself out of bed. I could feel resistance on the covers as I pulled them down on my way off the bed. "DESUU!" I heard it cry followed by a small thump when it hit the floor. It was on the other side of the bed. Then I remembered, my bat was right next the dressed. I reached for it, but I could find it. I dared not turn my head to look for it, as my eyes were darting around the room searching around for the little goblin that was just talking to me. And presumably also stinking up the room. "Where is it?" I thought to myself as I reached around. I heard footsteps, circling the bed. I suddenly had flashbacks to watching Child's Play on VHS after my parents had gone to sleep. My only light coming from the hall made this scarier. Then it appeared around the corner, in it's hand was "TAKE THAT SHIT HUMAN DESU!", it yelled as it flung a wad of green mud right in face. Instinctively I lunged back, expecting acid or blades or something. "Stupid shit human, making me fall off bed" it said mockingly. Suddenly I realized something. "That's not mud", I said, wiping the green excrement from my face. The creature then began to taunt me with laughter. "Tepupupu you stinky Mr Man now". I'm not an angry man. In fact I'm generally a calm guy. I work with emotional and sometimes downright histrionic people, and have learned how to keep my cool. But that's in an office setting. When faced with something that's against the laws of nature my insouciance becomes panic. And when covered in poop it becomes anger. I lunged at the taunting creature and smashed it with my fist. "DESHAAGHNnnn!" And other strange noises emitted from it's feeble form as I mashed it's face into the floor. Suddenly I felt a twinge of guilt. I had just killed another living creature. And not just an animal for food, but a conscious life form, for no reason other than anger. Had I committed murder? "Could I get into trouble for this? I must get rid of the body somehow" I said to myself. I must not get caught, I wish I could take back the last 5 minutes and just take the creature and leave it outside. I made a vow right then and there that I would not let something like this happen again. I must have been pondering this for a while, because out of the corner of my eye I saw movement of the body. But wait, movement on the body, not of the body. "Hello Mr Man rechi" said a miniature shit covered version of the thing I had just killed. "My sister and I would be honored if you would let us stay here rechi, we're very small and don't eat very much" it said, in a squeaky child's voice. And then it held up it's "sister" "Belly squishy, rub puni, refu!" said and even squeakier voice. You know, I never very good at keeping vows.
I always liked stories which dealt with someone discovering the jissouseki. And this one deals especially well with a regular citizen's confrontation to the impossibility of a Jissou's existence. It may be short, but I enjoyed it a lot. My turn ! Continued from >87 : ------------------ PTLD - Good Night Everything was quiet in the jissou family's room. A whole room all for themselves. There were four green little futons, each tailored for its designated owner's size. Every single furniture here is jissouseki-shaped. The little desk and chair, the lamp, the toilets, the tissue dispenser...even the damn wallpaper. As expected from pets, they all have colors different from green The grown child sleeps with her head covered by the blanket. The twin kojissous, sleeping together, are a little rowdier according to their messed-up blanket. As for the maggot, which had roughly the size of a potato, it was gently squirming in its bed, letting out cute little sighs every now and then. 3:30 AM. Time for the wake up call. "WARSAW, RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE ! desu." They obviously weren't used to hear someone yelling at the top of their lungs this early in the morning. I heard some "sprrts" meaning that their pet-class bowels didn't resist. "What's happening, techi ?" "Mama refu ?" They get up, and get the first bluish tint they had in a long time. I stand in front of the door, a knife under the throat of their mother. "Hey, that's a damn fine room you have there, you pukebag, desu. How naive is that poor Mr.Man for you to have coaxed him into spoiling you like that, desu ?" "No, I am good Jissou, I do as I was taught, desu !" Answers she with a surprising amount of self-control. "Me and my children love Master, desu !" I raise my right eyebrow in disbelief. I never heard this kind of defense before, but...She seriously expects me to believe that ? Love isn't something a Jissouseki is capable of, period. Plus, this house has everything of the crazy jissou Mrs.Lady's den. Also, urgh ! Look at that mother's outfit. It's so cutesy it's disgusting. I don't answer to her statement, and look at the children. So...where do I begin ? "Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu !" I grin. Jissou abuse is and art where inspiration never runs dry. I make the mother fall on her knees, and rummage through the utility belt I just recently finished while moving to the maggot. That makes it very happy, and it wags its little tail in expectation, panting. However, it only utters a "te?" when I put my hand on its head. I'm no specialist in jissou morphology, but I know oversized maggots like this have a peculiar trait : Their brain never grows as complex as other jissous of the same size, but evolved. That means they are the most suited to certain tricks involving long, pointy things, and a special kind of sadism. The poor little fucker was too busy wondering if a head grabbing can be considered a good step towards the belly rubbing delight to realize that a beading needle was swiftly going through its skull. The same couldn't be said for the mother. "MAGGOT-CHAN ! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER DESUUU- "Continue shitting through your mouth and I eat you baby alive, desu." She instantly shuts up. Weird, normally I use this kind of threat when I want to blame a maggot's death on a dumb matriarch. That Jissouseki seems dangerously crafty. I then tie a knot with the two ends of the synthetic thread. The maggot still hasn't understand what was happening, just perplexed at my weird actions and upset about them not resulting in a delicious belly rub. Finally, I take a bit of tape, and cover its anus with it. Done ! I put on my fashionable new necklace, and turn around to display it to the whole family. The children shit themselves. The mother does not, and charges towards me. "Please desuun ! Release Bibbie-chan, she didn't do anything to you desuuun !" She's way shorter than me, and barely manages to touch her baby with her paws by jumping. She doesn't even try to strike me, she just wants her maggot back. How touching. The result is rather pitiful, though : A mother jissouseki, jumping in place and trying to grab the grub hanging from my neck. All it does is making the maggot swing from side to side, giving him the bluish tint I find so hilarious. Even worse, she's making it crap, something she doesn't want to happen since there's the tape on its ass. "Tummy hurts, rehi ! Mama save, repyeeeeen !" "Hey, stop stupiding you cunt, desu. You're only hurting him by doing that, desu. So wise up and realize the only way is to not piss me off, desu." Of course, that's wishful thinking, there's no way a Jissouseki would let reason come before emotions, so... What the hell ? She stands back, a fire in her eyes, saying to the maggot she will save it. Okay, I stand corrected. This one is one tough cookie. It's difficult enough for me to thoroughly kick a Jissouseki's ass inside a Mr.Man's house as it is. If I have a overly sophisticated Jissou on my back, It's gonna be even more of a pain in the ass. I'm gonna need some time to find a good plan. ---- The dangerous weird jissou had ordered Stella and her children to do as usual and pretend she was not here. But that is impossible, it is too early, it is forbidden by Master. But weird jissou keeps poking Bibbie-chan. She always has this evil stare. Stella is afraid, but she must stay calm for maggot-chan. No use running away, the outside is dangerous, and maggot-chan would be killed. But Stella is good, smart jissouseki, she will find something. For now, they make breakfast. The dangerous weird jissou sits on a chair away from them. She is the wrong way, her head is over the back, half buried in her arms. She is staring at Stella. The gaze is terrifying, it feels like she could leap at them now and tear them apart like a wild beast. Stella tries to ignore it, but maggot-chan is still hanging from the evil jissou's neck. She's crying. The thing in her head hurts, and she wants to poo. "Refeeee, want not thing in the way of poo...Belly hurts, repyeeeen...Want mama, repyeeeeen..." Stella is sure Maggot-chan is bigger than usual. Poo stays inside, it makes her swell and hurts her. Her yellow clothes are stretched. She tries to escape, wriggling her cute little arms, but it is useless. And the evil jissou still stares. She completely ignores Bibbie's pain. Why is she so evil ? Come back, Master... No ! Stella is alone, she must find a way. "Where do you come from, desu ?" Asks Stella in the most confident way she can muster. "Oh, I live in the neighborhood, desu. Usually I don't go making a mess this close to my house, but the invitation was just too endearing this time, desu." "Do you have a Master, desu ?" The evil jissou laughs. "...Well, do you, desu ?" "Yes, de ! Master David is our Master, desu ! I am a good Jissou so I do anything for Master, de !" Silence. "Don't give me that crap, desu. You Jissouseki can say "Master" all you want, you just don't have it in you. You're failures who do everything out of egoism, desu. The loyalty trait was put in the prototypes way after your birth, desu." Stella doesn't understand what the evil jissou said, but she's sure Master will. She takes the cookie jar, and goes to the cupboard. She puts it right beside the thing Master told her to activate if there's trouble, and pushes the button. "Wh...What do you mean, de?" "Of course I can't expect a failure like you to understand, desu...Look, I'm the evolved version of you, better in every way, made to be the best pet there is for Mr.Men, desu. They wrote loyalty in my genetic code." The evil jissou's face lit up even more. "If I live with a Mr.Man, after a while he becomes my Master and I can't ever ever betray him until one of us dies; Mr.Men at the lab called that "bonding", desu. " Stella tried to follow, but it was really complicated, and the twins were calling for more chocolate. "So don't you fucking dare boasting to know what having a Master is, desu." "So, who is he, desu ?" She knew she probably didn't give a question that followed up the evil jissou's rant, but it's her fault for talking too much ! "...What ? You mean if I had one, desu ? Only my Dad, and when he died, I escaped, desu." She could understand this time, but it did not seem all that useful to her. But Master will. He is a genius ! "There were no Mr.Man who wanted you next, desu ?" The evil jissou seems surprised, and looks innocently into the air. "Well since my birth I was meant to be eventually sold to a powerful Mr.Man in Japan, desu. I think it was a general, so they put military stuff in my room, along with failed prototypes, desu." Mmh...Didn't understand. Next question ! "But won't your Master be upset you hurt cute and good jissous like us, dechun ?" This time, her eyes grew wide. "BWAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAdesu" She was laughing so hard that maggot-chan got shaken up, worsening her sickness. "You are so friggin' hilarious, desu ! Of course Mr.Men won't be upset, nobody loves Jissouseki, desu !" "It...It is not true, Master David loves us, de..." "Oh, gimme a break, desu. Only crazy jissou-Mrs.Ladies love you, desu. Mr.Men as far too gallant and courageous to like such a pitiful species, desu ! Take 1944 for instance, there were guys in some town named Poland overrun with Nazis, but they never surrendered, desu !" "Stella knows about that, desu !" Said the pet Jissou, extremely proud to catch on with the evil Jissou's speech, although she could feel something was off about said speech. "But those would have loved cute Jissouseki like us, dechun ! The Nazis would have been abusers, desu !" "Wha..? You're insulting, desu ! There's no way evil things like Nazis were Mr.Men, They must have been some kind of giant space jissous or something, desu." Weird, Stella did remember something different from the books. She wanted to protest, but the evil jissou was back at giving her hateful stare. During all this time, Mimy, Nana and Fiona had all been quietly eating their early breakfast, making just enough fuss to look like messy children during a birthday. They never were very aware of their surroundings, but right now it was a blessing. Stella is thankful they, at least, don't feel the anguish her and Bibbie are going through. "Sleepy, Mama, techi. We go to bed, techi." "And then we play with birthday present from Master, techi !" "No, Nana-chan, desu. We still have to save maggot-chan, desu." "How we do that, techi ?" "I do not know, I will think of something, desu." Stella looks back to Bibbie-chan. She has calmed down a bit, more from exhaustion than relief. Still, it's good enough to lighten her mother's burden. Which gets increased sharply when she sees the newly lit fire in the evil jissou's eyes. She's grinning again. Time is up. --- So she really is effectively house-trained, huh ? Guess the owner of this house really is functionally retarded. Pity, but even Mr.Ladies have their jissouseki-loving black sheep. Still, I absolutely cannot let any property of hers be damaged. Last time at the factory was painful enough. "Alright retards, go back to your room, desu." They don't make me repeat myself and go right away. I get up and follow them, giving a push to my grub-lace. That fires up her whining factory, making the mother whimper. Good, I always feel better with cries of distress within earshot. So anyway, there was something odd on the ugly little piano in the living room. "Stella" was engraved on the right side. Of course, that raised some red flags, but it's only when the palish pink-dressed little shit talked about birthday that it became a certitude. The crazy Jissou-Mrs.Lady had actually given things to that jissou. Meaning, that's property I can ruin without any backfire. That will prove useful in a pinch. "Hey, fatass" say I to this Stella. "Where's the most expensive birthday gift you got, desu ?" "Expensive, de ?" She went slightly blue when she saw that her answer irritated me. "It...it must be the ja-kou-zi Master gave us, decha !" What the fuck ? A jacuzzi for herself ? Well, that does qualify as expensive, kudos for guessing the meaning. I make them guide me to the bathroom, and, in-fucking-deed, there was a miniature green pool with complex electric devices, and little holes on the inner sides. That Mrs.Lady must be half Jissou, there's no other explication. "Get that ready, desu." All the children are overjoyed, including the fucking maggot. Well of course, what can you expect ? Jissouseki remain jissouseki, even when they're spoiled like that. The mother is happy too, but at least shows some restraint. She knows something is up, not that it requires a PhD in rocket science. The three juvenile jissous begin to carefully remove their dresses while the mother prepares the bath. I kneel over the two little kojissous... "Chuwa !" In mere seconds, they become unable to move their arms anymore. Elastics are tying up their bodies. Fortunately for the kojissous, They are weak enough to neutralize them without putting their bodies at risk. The eldest child looks at me with a baffled look, her left boot in her paws. "There's only one suitable way for Jissouseki to undress, desu." I grab the bottom of her blue dress. This time, she understands instantly. "N...no, teee..." And I rip it apart. It's already terrible for all jissouseki, but for one who never experienced cruelty, it's like a nuclear warhead just hit your hometown before your eyes. "OROROROROOOOON !" I can't help but grin hearing her anguished wail, as I mercilessly, yet slowly, finish the work. She's copiously crying, yelling like a damned soul, trying, to no avail, to protect her treasured dress, her stubby arms flailing pathetically in the air. Her panties are, even now, reasonably clean. They will stay in that state, now that they're four meters away from their owner. I briefly let her run to the scattered pieces of fabric, wailing as she puts them together. Around her, the twins stop struggling against the elastics, awestruck by the fate of their big sis, losing her so carefully maintained grace. As for the mother, she's frozen in place, moving her eyes back and forth between the humiliation of her eldest child, and the pain of her youngest, madly swung around by my quick movements. The two of them form a hellish cacophony, overlapping each other's wails, one of distress and sorrow, the other of pain and extreme confusion. When she has put together on the floor the pieces of cloth, wearing herself a half-torn dress revealing her oversized belly and bald spots of her skull, the eldest dares, while wiping the sweat off her forehead, utter a relieved "Techiii...". Which quickly transforms into a "TE ?" when she sees me gathering the fruit of her pursuit into my hands, and into a "NOOO TECHAAAAA" when she sees me flushing it down the toilet. I may have unconsciously made the famed troll-face at that moment. She rushes to the jissou dress disposal unit. Red and green tears fall into the water as she tries hopelessly to recover her outfit. Her bare ass, stained green, is showing to her entire family, who prudely looked away. Apparently they held cleanliness and decency in high esteem, making this humiliation all the more horrible for the little pig. "Weird Jissou-chan, you jerk, teeen...Why do this to a cute little Jissou like me, teeeen..." Undeterred by that plea, I pull her off the toilet, and hold her into the air. She looks absolutely terrified, and little nuggets of shit drops on the floor. I restrain myself from punching her into paste, and get rid of the last remnant of clothing instead. When it's done, I put her back on the floor, grab each one of her strands of blonde hair, and tear them off in a single pull. The sudden pain makes her emit a stream of shit out of her ass. You didn't know what pain feels like, little girl ? As she's almost choking on her saliva trying to catch her breath, I grab the frontal hair, and tear it in a large motion, sending her flying into a corner. "And here you go, desu. No tricks, no illusions, just the plain naked truth of a species of obese, deformed piglets, desu." Usually, this is where the complaining comes in. But not this time. Around me, all I can see is paralyzing terror. The child is now completely bald-naked, looking exactly like the lowest of the low. She doesn't even try to get up. She's fainted from shock, but her bowels continue to empty themselves, as she's shaken by spasms. She's so humiliated, she can't even find solace in unconsciousness. Anybody walking in there would have taken her for a filthy feral Jissouseki just one molecule of pheromone away from sending someone into a blind rage. Their perfect little world has been dealt a devastating blow. And it's just the beginning. I point a class 1 (not dangerous) laser towards Stella's left eye. "In the jacuzzi. Now, desu." She hesitates. She's terrified, as well as shaken up by the very disturbing natural process that fires up in her body. Plus, she seems reluctant to go into the jacuzzi with her clothes on. But doesn't really have a choice, as my hand is still threatening the maggot, which really begins to get bloated from shit. "D...Dee...Feels very weird, dee..." "Quit whining, that's pregnancy, and you obviously experienced this before, desu." "N...No ! My cute children were all born naturally, desu !" "What in the name of fuck could you possibly mean, desu ?" "W...Well, it was M...Master, he...", she stammers, blushing. ...Sanctified stepmother of shit. Ever read Gintama ? You should. Anyway, the face I made at this moment could only be described as the Gintama Shocked Face. This batshit insane jissou-Mrs.Lady has knocked that monster up. So, yeah, I guess in this case it's the first time she got a red-eye pregnancy. When impregnated by...that, the right eye turns green for a while, and one or two weeks later, pops out a single Jissou, usually a thumb-chan. But that's one piece of information I carefully locked away in my mind. There are some things that aren't meant to be believed, and the ability for jissous to be fathered by Mr.Men are one of them. It's my face's turn to turn blue. It...just cannot fucking be. This Mrs.Lady is three quarters Jissou. There's no other way. I'm too shocked to make a single move. It...can't be. It just can't. What the fuck. A Mr.Man...with a Jissouseki. No way. For thirty seconds, the room turns silent, save from the gentle bubbling of the jacuzzi. Then, the mother begins panting, pawing at her growing belly. "I...I don't want more children, dee...Master won't be pleased, desuun..." She's torn between her duty as a pet, and her instincts as a mother. She's a good jissou, she can't let them die...But they will be too many, this will empty her Master's fridge...But then again, it's not her fault if she's making children...But a mother must take care of her babies... In her inner turmoil, she forgets about her tormentor, and even about her other children's state. I haphazardly move to the jacuzzi, my mind blank. Stella is too focused on her pregnancy to notice me. The complex device fills my vision, and my head is moving on its own. "D...Decha !" A maggot, coated in transparent green slime, pops out to the water's surface. The mother catches it, and instinctively licks it before putting it in the shallowest area. Then another comes. Then another. "Stop coming out, dee...It can't convince Master to take care of too many, desu..." What's this ? There's a little toothed wheel surrounded by symbols. There's a jissou family comprising individuals from all ages, then only the adult, thumb-chans and kojissous, then only adults and kojissous, then only the adult. The wheel is pointing at the entire family. This restarts my mind. I smirk and turn the wheel. I hear little squeals. The bubbles got slightly stronger. When a maggot pops out, it's shaken up by the trembling water. The coating slime protects it from spilled droplets, though. There are already five maggots in the maggot-safe part of the jacuzzi, where there isn't any bubbles. The mother didn't noticed anything, focused as she is on her new offspring. I crank it up another notch. The waters gets a little hotter, and bigger bubbles come bursting to the surface. "De ?" At last, she notices me, and tilts her head to the right, holding her seventh maggot. "Don't do this, desu." She says casually. "Master only does that when I'm alone, think of the maggot-chans, desu." I look at her, still a little dazed, and let my eyes drift to the bunch of maggots wriggling in the shallow part. "Whaddya talking about, desu ? You're giving birth into a fucking jacuzzi, you're the one at fault, desu." She looks at me with a dumb look on her face. Slowly, but faster than average, she understands what I mean. "But...You said to go in it, desu !" "Yeah, in order to save a maggot...By killing a lot more, desu." She gasps as the eighth grub pops out, its older brother still coated in slime in their mother's paws. "Yeah, that's right, you're a retard and a mass murderer, just like every jissou in the wild, desu." Something blows up inside her mind, just like something blew up in mine not three minutes ago. I think I found her weakness. A mixture of anger and terror invades her face as she tries to get out of the jacuzzi. Unfortunately, she's far too weakened by her pregnancy, and her dress, now gorged with water, only weighs her down. She could hardly get out of a classical birthing toilet, but certainly not something which is almost as tall as she is. "N..No ! Maggot-chans, run !" She yells to her newborns, weakly pushing one of them with her paw to make it go down the little slide, especially made for maggots the be able to get out themselves should they become weary. And their answer... "Tettere~! Water feels good, refu !" "Punipuni !" "Hungry, refu !" Is to remain right where they are. But, hey, what's wrong with this indicator, it's cranked to the point where it should be dangerous to thumb-chans, and yet... "Recha !" Ah, of course, security warnings appear as soon as there's a risk, not when there's a 100% mortality rate. Although if I were a politician, I would make a bill like that : "Dangerous for jissous" can only be applied when every single test subject die in a satisfactorily horrendous manner. Yeah, that would be nice. At any rate, a big bubble bursts in the kojissou's part of the jacuzzi, creating a ripple that pulls one of the maggots in the drawback. It's surprised, and swallows a good mouthful of water. "Rehi !" It wriggles, only making itself turn on its belly, face under the water. It wriggles some more, trying its best to jump out of the water. "Repupu !" It tries to cough water out. Stella, of course, sees this, but she has her hands busy. She tries to push back her maggot onto the safe platform, only to punch its malleable head into flatness. "DECHA !" She tilts her body to the right to catch the maggot with both hands, but forgot she was holding one already, and that two were on the waiting list, floating to the surface, the protective coating slowly disintegrating. She gets back to the one she let go. Her sudden movements make another maggot drift into the deeper parts. The first one is about to lose to the water. The tenth maggot pops out. She panics. Not enough. Sometimes, you have to push it to the limit... "De...DEE ?" ...And walk along the razor's edge. "NOOOO DECHAAAAAAA !" And suddenly, the biggest bubbles the jacuzzi can muster break loose. The first maggot to have fallen victim to the waters is sent flying to the side of the jacuzzi by a jumbo bubble, finishing its already weakened skull. Stella does the mistake of flailing her arms madly, trying to gather as much maggots as possible against her body. But the maggots are shaken by the bubbles way too much, and she can't get a hold of any. Instead, she messes with the water more than necessary, pulling no less than three maggots into the fiery liquid. "STOP MOVING STUPID BABIES, DECHA !" At the same time, the temperature rises slowly but surely. "Refu ? REFU ?" The surviving maggot's skin turns reddish, and they flail their bodies even more, but it soon becomes suffocating because of the vapor. "Mama refeeeee". Stella wails in panic as a twelfth maggot is born. There are more than ten little grubs drowning, cooking, and headbutting plastic around her, and she can't seem to save even one. Her face is a delicious mix of every strong emotion a Jissouseki can experience : Fear, Anger, Despair and Excitement. Fear is the bluish tint, Anger is the throbbing veins and pointy teeth, Despair is the abundant red tears, and Excitement is her panting and tongue sticking out (and bitten by her own fangs) due to labor. Everything a PTLD can ask for in one single picture. Magnificent. "Too...hot, repyeeen !" "Garglfu !" "Save us rep..ark..pu !" One brain pops out due to confusion and boiling. Woah. These things are supernaturally fragile. And sure enough, they all die within one minute, half of them indirectly because of their own mother. I turn the jacuzzi down, cackling like a lunatic. A bunch of grub corpses, with gray eyes and reddish bodies, are floating. "Aah, there's nothing like a good bubble bath, is it desu ?" Stella finally gets up, her left eye returning to normal. She looks at me with an intensity I never saw in a jissou before. She talks in a raspy voice. "I...Will...KILL YOU DECHA !" She gets out with the grace of a legless ox, and punches me in the guts. She's screaming with a hatred I know all too well. And yet, all she can get out of me is uncontrollable laughter. On my chest, the big maggot wriggles. Its yellow dress as begun to tear apart in some places. "Stop screaming, mama, repyo ! Too loud rehi !" This, somehow, seems to reach her. "Look at what you fucking did, you whore, desu." Say I to her utterly confused self. " They all died, and yet you don't even try to bury them ? What a disgrace, desu." She's shocked by this confrontation to the bestiality she showed in the jacuzzi. Still, her make-believe education kicks in, and she complies, turning her back on me. "S...Sorry, maggot-chans, I will help you go to heaven, desuun !" Okay, this way I have enough time to... "Refu !" What ? Oh my. One single maggot has made it down the slide to safety. The mother hasn't noticed its presence though, the jacuzzi blocking her view. I pick it. It's in good shape, it must have escaped through sheer luck just before the Bubble Rampage. I hear a whimper to my right. The bald-naked child has waken up. I take a bottle out my utility belt, unscrew it, and pour its content on the lucky maggot's head. It smells yummy food, and stretches its little tongue upwards. "Hungry refu !" The bottle happens to contain the honey/toffee mixture I use in the death maze. I go to the humiliated jissouseki, and present the maggot, its body hidden by my hand, showing just the skull coated in the delicacy. "Hey, I'm sorry for earlier, here, have this candy, desu." I say with my best puppy-eyed face. She seems wary, but a drop of saliva betrays her. The mother is busy collecting the dead maggots, and the twins are comically rolling on the floor trying to get rid of the elastics. It seems to her that the storm is over, and eventually accepts my gift. She closes her eyes, and munches away. "Thank you, techi...You are nice after all, it is delicious, tech..." I smirk, and shout at the top of my lungs : "OH MY GOD SHE'S EATING THE LAST MAGGOT DESU !" The mother turns around. The daughter open her eyes. The maggot, half of its head eaten, is satisfied with just dying silently, its shit dripping to the floor. Time stops. "N...No mama it is not like th-" A punch right into her mouth stops her. "YOU ARE SHIT JISSOU, YOU JUST MURDERED YOUR SISTER DECHA !" God, is she gonna keep screaming all evening ? Grow some self control. Her return to pretend kingdom was only temporary. She's completely out of it now, only white hot anger on her face, mercilessly hitting her daughter with the obvious intent to kill. I told ya, all jissous are the same, unable to keep control of themselves at even the slightest incident. Good grief. "You call that a slightest incident, you PSYCHOTIC BITCH, DECHA ?!!" Oh shut up, Jissouseki don't know about the fourth wall. Anyway, while she's busy, I go to the twins. "Hey girls, I tried to stop your mother, but obviously she's gone crazy and wants all of you dead, desu." "Te ? No way, techi ! Mama is the best, techi !" This answer wasn't as assured as the kojissou in palish-green dress had hoped. After all, this fabulous mother was pounding their big sis into submission with the subtlety of Zangief. As a gesture of goodwill, I remove their elastics. Then I take out another item from my belt, and give it to them. "What is this, techu ?" "It's a magic wand that calms down bad jissous, desu ! Your mother will be herself in no time, desu ! To make it work, you pull here, desu" They say "okay techu !" and chirp. Surely I wasn't that bad ! Quick, little kojissous, go calm down mother ! They run towards her, and call for her attention. Her face is still throbbing from anger, but at least she stops ravaging her child's head... Her eyes become bloodshot when she sees her twins holding a gun, and pointing it at her. "Pull the thing, Nana-chan, techi !" "Yes, te !" A squirt is heard. Yeah, it's only a water gun, there's no way two kojissous could hold a real gun, even together. It doesn't carry water though, but vinegar. I found that, for some reason, Jissouseki are really irritated by the acrid smell. And they hit right in the middle of her face. The children look at her, panting, tongues sticking out, eyes shining in joyful expectation. They get a kick. "Y...you...YOU are ALL SHIT dauGHTERS DEEESHAAAA !" She catches one of the twins, and shakes her vertically as hard as she can. Her scream is worthy of a berserk. The kojissou is shaken up so badly, I can see her intestines come out of her mouth. Meanwhile, the other kojissou cries all the tears in her body while trying to hit her with the "magic wand" again. I can't help but laugh. It's just too much ! So how do you like your cute little Stella-chan now, you crazy jissou-Mrs.Lady ? After Mimy is thoroughly relieved of her insides, Stella turns around to Nana, a dark aura surrounding her, while little streams of vinegar hit her soaked boots. "You dare to dirty me, desu ?" "No mama, stop it, I just want you normal, tee..." "THEN YOU DARE TO DIE, DESU !" Holy shit. Was that a Jissou pulling off a good quote ? She whacks the poor little bastard with her paws in a warrior's scream. Okay, maybe I'm a little bigot-y about all this jissou business, but I know a good opportunity for a power metal background music when I see one. "There is a force, a power within, within the immortal soul, desu bright as the sun, stronger than all the power is in control desu until the end we will defend our brothers and their very land moving straight ahead Condition Red Desuuuu Condition Reeeeeed desu" The badass music encourages her to whack harder. During a fraction of second, she makes me think of me when I was younger. Ah, good times. Although I totally wasn't a jissou before, don't you mistake me ! Her metal moment, however, quickly fades away when there's nothing left solid enough to hit. She looks around her, panting heavily. The twins are deader than disco, and the eldest, skull crushed, tongue cut in half and shaken by spasms, is halfway into the Great Common Septic Tank, aka jissou paradise. She shivers. Denial would serve no purpose. Tears come flowing from her eyes, and she falls on her knees. The despaired cry of her crushed soul echoes through the night. "Ororororooooooon..." She whimpers after fifty good seconds of screaming. "I...I am shit jissou, desuuuuun !" "Damn right you are, desu. But, hey, at least you still have Bibbie-chan, right desu ?" She looks up. The necklace is still alive, albeit in serious trouble. It's twice as large as before, and has gained so much weight, blood could be seen trickling where the thread passes through its skull. It also doesn't wriggle nearly as much as before. I think it's time. I remove it, and show it to Stella. "Mama close, reffeee...Save, repyeeen" Stella sniffles, wipes her tears off, and slowly reaches to her maggot. If at least Bibbie is saved, she can be fine in the end. "Yes, Mama is here, everything will be fine, desu..." She takes the bloated maggot between her paws... A maggot's fragility cannot be overstated : In a "REBO-" It straight up explodes because of the pressure, smearing her face -and part of my dress, dammit- with blood and shit. --- The fallen mother can't even muster a wail. She snorts, and falls on the floor, in a fetal position. Spasms shake her, her eyes are dead, drool comes out of her perpetually open mouth. Bibbie has burst like a balloon. Nana is nothing but paste. Mimy has vomited her organs out. Fiona can't be saved anymore. All her new children died within less than three minutes after their birth. And even if her hearts yells it is all because of the evil jissou, her heart knows that she was weak, and has caused all of their deaths. "What's this, desu ?" Asks the evil jissou. Stella weakly turns around. The monster is looking at the cupboard of clear wood next to the bathtub. The colored stone, her family's gift to Mistress Samantha and Master David proudly lies on it. "Our present...to Masters, desu...We love them...it is the truth, desu. That is proof, desu." "Proof of your love, desu ?" She raises an eyebrow. Destroy it, evil jissou. It is fine. Even if everything disappears, her love for Master will remain. But she turns away. Then she says, boredom in her voice... "It's such a shitty present, I don't even have the heart to throw it away, desu" Finally, after two wonderful years, she can't hold it anymore. She craps all over herself. It feels good. --- Later, we're in the living room. The piglet has silently left the bathroom, leaving a trail of shit dripping out of her filled panties. The house was dead silent. I follow her, intrigued about what's going on in this empty head of hers. One thing is sure, she's devastated beyond my wildest dreams. Even the stupidest jissou couldn't recover from that, and Jissouseki are known for their poor memory. She goes to the cupboard, opens it, and takes a knife. I back off a little, taking a guarding position. Surprisingly, she doesn't even looks at me. She proceeds to cut of her clothes and hair. "Holy...shit...desu." I mutter. I couldn't even fathom a jissouseki doing such a thing spontaneously. Yet here she was, willingly turning herself into an ugly pig out of guilt. She shivers because of the cold, but carries on with strong resolve. Her adult body, full of wrinkles and cellulite, is as ugly as they come, Yet, even with her body naked and her soul crushed, she still carries a certain nobility. She's too much, such humanity pisses me off. I close my fist, and I'm about to smash her, when I realize she's now pointing the knife against her throat. "Sorry, Fiona-chan, Mimy-chan, Nana-chan, Bibbie-chan, all my other children, desu. I will go with you in heaven, I will make up for what I did, desu." She says in a calm, solemn manner. Oh well, If she's willing to do all the work for me... Suddenly, I hear a car roaring into the distance, getting closer at an alarming rate, then a screeching sound. My heart leaps. No way, could it be...? I look at the cupboard where she got the knife. There's a radio transmitter next to the cutlery. "FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" The front door opens. A Mr.Man stands here, a shocked look on his face. Although he only looks like a Mr.Man, because he can only be a three-quarters jissouseki crazy Mrs.Lady in disguise. "STELLA, NO !" The little shit looks at him, and drops the knife. Tears come out flowing from her eyes, and she runs towards him, wailing, shit freely pouring out of her ass. Panicked, I swiftly jump to the still opened window. While I'm running, into the cold night, I remember that this putrid cumstain did, at one point, go to this cupboard. And that she got suspiciously curious after that. Congratulations, PTLD, you just said to the devoted mistress of your latest victim you were living right in her fucking neighborhood. I have two hours to clean up everything of importance and get the hell out of this town. --- What a cruel twist of fate. Stella told me everything, obviously afraid she wouldn't believe me. But of course I did, after all I couldn't turn off the recording during my fevered drive back to the house. But God did I wanted to. I heard everything that crazy mutant said, an even when they were in the bathroom, I could hear my sweet little pet's cries of pain. And the song. Oh god the song, filled with madness...Yet, I never could stop myself from listening. Why did that cop's patrol car happened to drive by when I bolted back to our home ? I could have make it in time, but...! No use blaming anyone. Stella is shell-shocked, refuses our treats, and keeps saying she's shit all the time. It's heart-rending, for me and for my daughter. Maybe she'll never recover, but we have to try. Now, more than ever, she needs our love. The assailant...I'm sure she's the one Mrs.Fey mentioned, the one that ravaged The Jissou Garden's breeding facility. I've seen many abusers, but she is beyond the cruelty that normal citizens inflict upon Jissouseki. She doesn't do that for relief. Rather, it's her main activity, as a one meter-high serial killer. How unfortunate we were to be in her path. ...Still, something's been bothering me with her. What she said to Stella... If I live with a Mr.Man, after a while he becomes my Master and I can't ever ever betray him until one of us dies; Mr.Men at the lab called that "bonding", desu. Well since my birth I was meant to be eventually sold to a powerful Mr.Man in Japan, desu. I think it was a general, so they put military stuff in my room, along with failed prototypes, desu. She was meant to be a pet, and yet they chose to raise her to be like that. Born to love, educated to kill. You know I consider feral jissous victim of lack of education. It's the same problem for that little one. Maybe she's a crazed killer, but at the core, she's just a young girl who never knew innocence. Thus, revenge is not what's needed. Quite the opposite, in fact... It's decided. Starting tomorrow, I'll search for her, and one day, we will stop her from killing ever again. ------------------ Phew, that was a long one. I didn't got to the level of mindfuck I saw in some stories in the archive, but oh well. I'm hesitating as to what to do next. I though of a one-shot story where PTLD witnesses life in a large jissou colony through a sniper's scope, but I'm unsure if it can really work. So I'm open to any suggestions you might have.
Okay, It's been way too long since I've been on Gurochan. Personally speaking I like the PTLD stories. Working with the established canon for so long meant that a lot of the stories were just carbon-copies of a few basic ideas; Jissou-care guides, Infestation clones or Tales of breeding Jissou for torture. There were some notable exceptions to this and some of the big collabs/projects (for Example Civ J and the Exterminator series) were brilliant for that reason. After a while though, everything just sort of got same-y, the only variance really coming from people's writing styles. This brings me to why I quite like PTLD. Sorry REd, but canon or not it's a great read. A nice mix of humour, top-notch geek references and awesome writing and pacing. I don't honestly think I've been as engaged by a /lit/ piece since the best days of the first thread; it's the same high quality of writing coupled with the fact that it's an original concept. I can understand REd's frustration, to a degree. Writing within the canon was restrictive at best, repetitive at worst. To see someone new come in and fire off such excellent work purely because they don't use the canon can seem like cheating. The stories I attempted (intended as series, ended up as one-shots due to Uni/Work/being a lazy fucker) were within the canon but attempting a different angle to the traditional-style of Jissou torture that was flooding the board back then. For this reason I still have fond memories of Buni-chan; at the time I don't think anyone had tried to write a first-person narrative about a thumb-chan in a 'pure' environment (i.e. solely Jissou environment, no mr-mens). I digress, InLeaves' stories are well written and enjoyable to even the oldest of hands. Keep up the good work. Also, since I'm almost chronically bored at the moment, I might pull my finger out and write a few more 'Gauntlet' stories. Seeing some decent new work has stirred something in me...
Green Snow (conclusion) What is that infernal noise? Uhhh, I guess I fell asleep. "Oooo, a documentary on mollusk." "This should be fun-ducational." God what was I thinking. And what is that fucking noise? Did I leave a tea kettle on or something? It's like there is an air raid siren going off in my kitchen. As I stumble into the kitchen, still half asleep from watching a show about the life cycle of escargot, I recall the events earlier in the day. Lets see: try to shovel driveway, trick half dead from exposure Jissouseki into doing it for me, smash a frozen Jissou maggot... oh, that can't be the what's making the noise, but here I am looking at 2/3's a maggot bleeding and screaming on my cutting board. Her tail having been smashed off when it was frozen is obviously very painful now that the creature is aware that it's been amputated. I could have sworn it was frozen to death. Who would have thought that would happen. My mind begins to ponder why this is so. I know some animals hibernate by letting themselves become frozen, but those are frogs and lizards and other coldblooded animals. Jissous are mammals so that means they are warm bl...wait a minute, are they mammals? I mean they got hair, but it doesn't really grow, and they have nipples but they don't milk. Or do they? Is it safe to drink? Would I even want to drink Jissou milk? I can't think with all that screaming. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Ah, that's better. Now where was I? Oh yes. These stupid things, I have no idea what kind of animals they are, if they're warmblooded or coldblooded or what? All that stupid genetic tampering. ... *Sigh* Duh, Jissou are the result of science playing God. The ultimate pet, a living doll, what better way to store and distribute it peacefully then by being able to cryogenically freeze it. Actually this means that the Jissouseki children are better equipped for cold weather then their mothers. I had originally believed that adults large size and high body fat protected them from the cold, but in reality they are more substitutable. Because they freeze at a much, much slower rate then their offspring, the mama Jissou can't enter the state of suspended animation. As I clean up the splattered remains of the reanimated maggot, I'm suddenly struck with a horrific image: Jissouseki popping out of the spring snow melt like crocus flowers. This must be how the Jissouseki species survives through the winter. The adults die of exposure and the children hibernate in a frozen state through winter to begin the cycle again in spring. Looks like I'm going to have to get those Jissou mothers to lead me back to their nesting site, someone needs to eliminate the children before they thaw. That's right, I left the adults outside to work themselves to death clearing my driveway. Ironically, now I hope that at least one of them survived. Luckally my home's entry is sort of a mud room, I can use it as an air lock to keep the bastards out of my household proper. As I expected, as I open my front door about half a dozen Jissou scramble past my feet. I ignore them for now, first I'd like to determine how they did with my driveway. I'm not sure if it looks better or worse then this morning. They did a surprisingly thorough job, about 98% of the driveway looks clear. Good enough for government work at least. However its now littered with puddles of Jissou shit and Jissou corpses, dead from exhaustion or hypothermia or some combination of the two. I guess in the long run it's easier to toss a bunch of bodies in the trash then shovel a ton of snow. Shit though might stain. I turn back to the Jissou trapped in my entry. There are five of em that survived, all about knee high. I had hoped they would think the small room was the entire house, but no luck. They paw at the inner door (locked of course, I ain't stupid) that separates them from ruining my home, bitching that they are cold and hungry and what not. I make them promise to be good (not going to hold my breath on it though) while I get some warm food. After locking them inside, I decide to go through my garage rather then running through the snow to my back door. After all, I'm not wearing my snow gear right now. I take my time to get properly geared and prepare them something cheap to eat, no sense in spending good money on them. When I return, it's through the garage and front door again, I'm not taking any chances. As expected, they've been causing mischief in my absence. Two of 'em are showing some team work trying to open the door to the inside of my house. One of them is on her hands (paws?) and knees, her friend is standing on her back, trying in vain to twist the door knob between her arm stumps. Two of the other ones have decided to pick on the fifth. While one holds down their victim and the other is attempting to shit on her face. I say attempting because, and you might not believe this, she looks to be out of fecal matter. Never thought I'd say that about a Jissou. Course when they realize I'm back, all attention is on me. Give me food, give me a bath, give me love, she was mean to me, she's no good to be a pet, I fell down and hurt my paw, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, desu. I distribute food to them, each gets nice hot (cheap) cup-a-noodles soup. It's interesting to see how they react to their meal, as though some part of them recognizes instant ramen as coming from their ancestor's home land. They immediately dig in to what seems to them a feast. Needless to say, there is much gulping and slurping and spilling involved. I'm glad the linoleum won't be too hard to clean after this. One of the Jissou is getting a little too zealous with her food and ends up spilling all over herself. Did I mention the soup was hot? "DEGYAAAA! SO HOT DEEEEEE~!" Her soup drenched dress clings to her body, beginning to cook her alive. Already her face and arms have blistered with second degree burns. In a panic she flops on the floor, thrashing about like a fish on a dock. It only makes matters worse, since she's in a puddle of the still boiling lava hot broth. Not long ago she was probably close to freezing to death outside, now she's being scalded to death. She's dead meat. I'm about to put her out of her misery, and mine, when one of her fellow Jissou approaches her. The Jissou grabs the now red and puffy arm of the dieing Jissou. Is this a last minute show of compassion? A way to help easy the pain of an old friend in her death throes? If you know anything about Jissouseki then you already know the answer. "He...l...p...mmm...eeeee...deeeeee..." The plea falls on deaf ears. Ignorant or indifferent to the pain of her peer, the Jissou sniffs the cooked paw she holds in hers. An audible growl emanates from what I geuss is the little monsters gut. That's all the motivation she needs to see the fellow Jissouseki as nothing more then food. She bites down on the paw, easily ripping a chunk of flesh into her drooling maw. "Delicious, desu." With that the feeding frenzy begins. The remaining four descend upon their new meal like wild dogs, ripping and tearing their damned comrade into bite sized bits. They rip off her dress and tear open her already sired flesh underneath. Into the new wound they dump what remains of their own ramen cups, now causing the doomed Jissouseki to cook from the inside out. Not long ago I heard a guy on one of those crackpot late night radio shows. You know the ones about UFOs, Bigfoot and Elvis. They had a guy on with a lot of crank theories about angels and divine intervention and what not. Anyway, getting to the point, he started talking about Jissouseki, saying they were created by a higher being (God, an Angel, something we can't understand or whatever) as a mockery of humanity. It was that entities way of showing us the error of our ways. Now I can follow that a bit, since I've caught myself a few times acting selfishly or with poor manners and thought "Wow, I'm behaving like a Jissou. I'd better stop." But then I see things like I'm witnessing right now. I can think of some horrible things that a person would do to another person who just spilled soup on themselves, but they are an exception not a rule. Most people would do something to help, even if it's just to show a little empathy at their situation. However I don't think I've ever heard of someone cannibalizing another human being because the got burned with hot soup. And if this is supposed to be some big, complex metaphor then God really needs to make things easier to understand, because I don't fucking get it. "BURAP! Today's meal was luxurious, desuu." Where once were five half frozen Jissou now only remain four grotesquely fat Jissou and some scraps of clothing. At least they licked the floor clean, save me the time moping it up. I get to work explaining that I can revive their children and that I need them to take me back to their old homes so I can find them. It takes a while though, they don't want to leave my nice warm home and seem to not give a rat's ass about their offspring. I ultimately convince them to do it by promising to cook all the children that aren't theirs and the Jissou still in the driveway. They just ate their friend and all they can still think about is eating more of their kind. I reiterate: God, I don't understand the message. I grab my shovel and off we march. For most of the way we are able to follow the trail they were making this morning, but must have been still snowing when the first started out because we soon run out of clear path. Going is slow, we have to keep stopping for them to empty themselves of what remains of ramen noodles and their former friend. Every time I think we are lost and they don't know where they are going, a Jissou half barred in snow confirms we are on the right trail. "I'll pick her up on the way back and put her in the soup pot at home." It's a lie but it motivates them to keep going. Now I'm pissed. I got scared about the Jissou resurrecting this spring for no reason. I put up with these four bitches only to find that they built their little town in the middle of a drainage ditch. How stupid are they? I'm surprised they haven't all been washed away already. The snow melt is going to take care of the hibernating Kojissou for me. Damn it all, time to let off some steam. "Okay girls, go get your kids first." The four of them waddle off in different directions, each looking for her own house (aka: whatever garbage they could use to construct a death trap dwelling for themselves and their litter of packaged retards). I follow one to a large cardboard box half buried in snow. She digs a couple of scoops away to expose a hole cut at the base. "Babies? Are you still dead, desu? We go live with Mr. Man and he make you alive again, desu." As she crawls inside, I quietly start shoveling snow back over the entrance with plenty extra to make sure she can't dig herself out on her own. What's this tugging at my pants. "I found babies, we go home now desu." It's not a question, its a command, arrogant prick. She holds up a shoebox filled with maggots and thumbs. Somehow I seem to know that they aren't her children, she just grabbed the first bunch she could find. Not far away another Jissou is wandering around calling her children names, all named Jissou-chan apparently. They are frozen, they can't hear you. And even if they could, they can't come to you because they are frozen. Vaguely I remember her as the Jissou that was getting bullied when I came back with the cup-a-noodles, and the one tugging at my pant legs as the one attempting to defecate on her. "Hey, see her?" I point to the stupid Jissou who thinks her kids will come to her calls. "She's no good. Kill her and we can make her soup first." The bully Jissou understands and heads off to do the dead. As much as I'd enjoy watching, I've got to take care of Jissou four first. I find her carefully putting her children in a little basket. I wonder where she stole the basket from, though it looks like it might have been thrown away. She seems smarter then the others, having made her home out of a pile of stones. It's still built in the middle of an artificial river, but it is better then the average Jissou hovel. She's singing a little song as she uses her own bib as a blanket to tuck them into the basket. How heart warming, I'd almost feel bad about what I was about to do if I didn't know that she was the first to take a bite out of the scalded Jissou's cooked flesh. "Here my children, Mr. Man, desu. Are they not cute as I, desu." Without a word, I pick up the basket and set it on the large flat rock that forms the roof of her house. She watches with curiosity as I lift my shovel high into the air. Just as I start to bring it down, the truth dawns on her. "NOOOO! WHAT YOU DO DESSSAAAAAAA!" SWACK! CLANGK! Nothing but pebbles of frozen Jissou and splinters of wicker remain when lift my shovel back up. A timely gust of wind picks up the Jissou's bib. She clumsy tries to grab it, but in her grief she falls face first in the snow. Slowly she picks herself up. Her face is twisted in rage, the characteristic red and green tears flowing like waterfalls. "DE-DEEEEEEE! YOU ARE SO AWFUL, DESUU. WHAT DID WE DO TO YOU, DESU!? YOU ARE A WICKED MR. MAN, DESUU!" Coldly, I stare down my nose at the creature. "You ate your friend. ... You ate her when she was still alive. You poured soup on her so she would taste better. And you'd do the same to all the Jissou in my drive way and their children here in this camp. You'd eat those ones over there..." I point to the one Jissou now successfully suffocating her rival death with her own dysentery. "...and their children as well. And your babies I just smashed, you didn't even want to come get them. Tell me, what redeeming values do you have? Why should I even think about making you my pet?" As quickly as they had come, her tears dried up. Gone was the grotesque snarl. In it's place was as close to a genuinely cute smile that a Jissou could ever manage. She placed her paw on her check and cocked her head ever so slightly to one side. "Because I am little and don't eat much, desu?" Not good enough. I swing my shovel like an axe, it's edge catching her in the center of her skull. It's weight and velocity combined with the frailty of a Jissouseki allow it to neatly bifurcate her from head to crotch. For a moment, both halfs of her body act independently of each other, each trying to determine what had just transpired and where the other half had gone. They collapsed in opposite directions, red blood and green bile leaking into the snow. If they weren't dead yet, they soon would be. I go to the Jissouseki I had sent off to kill. Her enemy, I don't think this one ever had friends at all, is half smothered in Jissou shit. As I approach, she comes running to me, unaware of what I'd been doing since we got here. In one hand is a squirming maggot. Since it's alive I can only assume that the now dead Jissou under the shit had just given birth postmortem. With no hesitation, she pops it in her mouth and chews the screaming baby to mush. "I wanna go back to my home desu." Not my home, her home. As she talk I can see scraps of green cloth stuck in her teeth. "I hungry and cold, desu. I wanna go home NOW desu!" She reaches her arms up like she wants me to pick her up. I oblige, but not in the way she wants. I grab her by the roots of her hair and lift. Despite her considerable weight, her hair manages to hold her. With great pain, I'm please to say. "PUT DOWN, SHIT HUMAN DESUU! THIS NO WAY TREAT YOUR BELOVED PET, DESSU!" Shit leeks out her overflowing panties and down her legs. I step back as to make sure none get on me. Then I pitch her as high in the air as I can manage. "DEEEEEEE..." comes the now familiar scream. I swing my shovel, baseball style this time. With great effort and luck I manage to catch her with the flat side. Upon contact she bursts like an overripe melon. A medley of Jissou goo and gibbets is sprayed everywhere, thankfully not me. The first Jissou has failed to tunnel her way back out of her prison. It's time to end this. From inside the box I hear her crying for me, begging for help. Shovel by shovel, I'm piling snow onto her cardboard roof. She's still calling out for me, confused and scared at the sound of snow being dumped on the ceiling above her. This box is stronger then I thought, its managing to hold much more snow then I imagined it would be able to. However I can already see it starting to weaken and buckle. Inside she is now frantic, her cries for help going unanswered as I silently continue to shovel snow on top of her tomb. Without warning, the box finally collapses. Even as the avalanche breaks through the roof and buries her alive, she is still calling me for help. Finally silence. If she hasn't been crushed to death, she'll either suffocate or freeze. My work here is done, I deserve a good nights rest.
Ironic. He still ended up shovelling snow. Sounds like it was a lot more fun, though!
Green Snow: Epilogue What a day. I'm glad to be home after all that crap. I mean, it's not like I asked to deal with a bunch of Jissouseki today. Well, maybe it is kind of my fault that my property now looks like a Jissou boot hill. I can wait for tomorrow to clean up this mess. Right now, I don't even want to the little mutants. "deeeee..." ... That was...the wind! Ya, ya, the wind. "deeeee..." Flatulence. I need to stop eating so much fiber. "deeeee..." A bird. A weird bird that sounds like a... "deeeee..." There's a Jissou that's still alive. *sigh* Well, might as well put it out of it's misery. Here it is. She's so small, no larger then a 12oz bottle of soda. Wait a minute, she looks familure. She can't be the young mother of the frozen maggot, can she? Has she been laying here the whole time, crying over the death of her child? Well, technically it wasn't dead, I just thought it was and told her that. Although, it isn't alive anymore either, that's sort of my fault. I...I feel sorry for her. But she's a Jissouseki. It's not like she's any different then the four Jissou that cannibalized their dieing friend. Every Jissou I've ever given the benefit of the doubt to has turned into the ugly, spoiled creature that mankind despises. This one is the same as all of them. All I have to do is put my hand around her tiny neck. All I have to do is squeeze and it will be all over. "Mmmm...maaa...maaaggoo...oott...tt...cha...chaa..." ... ... ... DAMN IT ALL! "Fine, lets go inside and get you warm. I don't care if you die. If you want to live it's up to you to make it happen." I don't think she can hear my. She doesn't seem aware of anything going on around her. Her body is shutting down from exposure and she's lost the will to live. One in ten thousand Jissouseki actually cares. Just my luck to find the one. "From now on your name is...12oz. Don't make me regret believing in you."
nice story, yay i'm number 100
El Cid, that was wonderful.
kudos El Cid
12 oz, great :D
Experiments in shitting Mr. Man pulled the squirming Jissou out of the cage with a pair of tongs. Having been kept in isolation, fed regularly, and propped in front of a computer constantly refreshing Brazzerz alone with a Hitachi wand this thing had no idea what was in store for her. "Refu" the vile smelling shit stained monstrosity garbled out of its puke hole, "Can I have more candy Desu?" Remaining silent the guy placed the thing in a deep bin, its sides smeared with petroleum jelly. Licking the jelly the sad excuse for a mail order snuff pet asked "Are you going to feed me Refu? I am very hungry Desu." Tight lipped the man squatted over the bucket and pulled his pants down. Having been out with a few collegues last night and drinking pitcher after pitcher of Schlitz at Cheapo Pizza Pete's he knew his stool would be particularly explosive this morning. It was all he could do to suppress the urge to pinch one while waiting for his buddy, Tim to get up off his couch and leave. Now that he was alone... "Oh you're hungry are you?" said the man, pants around his ankles and clutching his gut. "I hope you're also thirsty! Try THIS on for size!" On "THIS" he let out a wet spray of diarrhea with such a magnitude of force that the green braided, Bowie eyed thing at the bottom of some walruses treasure was knocked back on the floor and pinned there. Unable to rise it's arms it instead opened its mouth to protest. "DE-Blarrrrglewarrglewarrgle, Blargglewarglewarrgglegle" was all that it managed to get out. Its tiny mouth had been filled with shit and ass piss yet remained open. The hungry Jissou gobbled down as much of that vile digested Schlitz and pepperoni concoction as she could, as fast as she could. A new sense of closeness was forming between Mr. Man and her. It was kinda turning her on. Unable to stand the burning sensation around his sphincter any longer our heroes butthole tightened up as he literally felt himself lighter. As if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "wahh" the now soaked creature muttered as it brought itself up on two legs. Sensing what was happening the dude relaxed his ass mussel once more and let out another, much more powerful gush. This time the spray hit with such velocity that the Jessu's head was smacked against the wall of the container. It then slid to the floor trailing a mix of green blood, shit, and Vaseline behind. It's final thoughts were of how much Mr. Man must like her to be feeding her so much.
I'm sorry, I had trouble telling what stage this jissou even was. It alternated between saying "refu" as only maggots do and "desu" as only adults do.
Not again... >>104 please read >>6 It helps. A lot.
Same criticism as 105. Other then that, the story was textbook Jissouseki and well worth the read. It might have been better suited to the medium of a 4-koma comic rather then a written story, but it's still good none the less. Thank you REd, horney-helthrow, The Doctor, Benji Z-Man, InLeaves, and Anon. I appreciate your comments, they really mean a lot to me. Sorry if my commentary on PTLD exposed some of your plot twists, I'll use spoiler tags in the future. You should go ahead with the sniper story, I'm sure your writing style could make it work. As for your request for suggestions, I think it would suck for David if "someone" were to tell all his neighbors exactly how much he loves his pet Jissouseki.
>>105 >>106 My intentions were to write something short, gross, and funny. I believe that an overabundance of rules has turned the Jissouseki thread from something fun to something sad along the lines of Comic Con kids arguing about superheros. Or writing Star Trek fan fiction. Yeesh.
...You're comparing having the jissou actually say the correct words, as adhered to by EVERY SINGLE JISSOU ARTIST EVER SINCE THE BEGINNING, to geeks arguing about which superhero would win. Wow. Buddy, it's not that huge a rule to follow, it's not even so much a rule as it is a casual fact.
>>108 You indeed wrote something short, gross, and funny. We aren't complaining about that. The fact is that since the first Jissouseki comics showed up on 2ch in Japan, adult Jissou say desu, kojissou say techi, and maggots say refu. This is something from the Japanese language and culture that has become a defining characteristic of the character. English speaking fans have preserved this aspect in their translations and new works. You can't blame us for expecting to hear "desu" from an adult and "refu" from a baby and then being confused when we hear both words used interchangeably. Keep up the good work, be creative, but don't forget the basic fundamentals of the character you are writing.
>>107 YVW. One of my own pieces is up soon - had a lot to deal with IRL though to slow my writing down, however.
Reposting my story because I updated it. Jissouseki Pedestrian Crossing Tokyo, Japan Shibuya District 12:00 Midnight The night air gave Sayuri a slight pleasant chill as she stepped out of the convenience store. With her bag of food in hand, she began walking back to her apartment building. She came to the crosswalk, and while waiting for the light to change, she heard something at her feet--no, two somethings... "Mrs. Lady have food, techi!" "Give food, desu?" Sayuri looked down, and to her disgust, there were two jissouseki. Unusually clean ones, considering they were undomesticated, though there were of course dirty patches on their dresses, and their panties, as typical for jissou, were anything but clean and looked like they were made of cheesecloth. The pair at Sayuri's feet turned out to be an adult and her child. They looked rather starved, not that Sayuri cared. The child began tugging at the bag Sayuri was holding, grunting with effort. The little fucker's trying to tear it open, she realized. "Please take us home, Mrs. Lady, desu!", the mama jissou said, doing the typical "cute" pose jissou are so famous for that makes most humans want to hurt them, "We're little and don't eat much, desu!" Shaking the child away from her bag, Sayuri's face took on a look of fear. She wasn't stupid, she had heard PLENTY of horror stories about these horrible shit-goblins, and she was not about to let them into her home. Running a shaking hand through her long raven hair and thinking fast, she decided to distract them and run a different route home. Looking in her bag, she found some candy she had bought, which happened to be the same candy that jissou instinctively love for whatever yet-to-be-discovered reason. She quickly opened the package and took out a large pink one. "You want food? Go get it!", she yelled, throwing the candy into the middle of the road. Within a second of it being thrown, the hungry jissou were both waddling after it. "Whoever gets it first is my new pet!" Sayuri took this opportunity to flee. Rather unfortunate, she thought as she ran, she had kinda wanted to see what happens next. But getting home was far more important. She didn't want them or any other jissou following her. What Sayuri missed began with an ever-so-charming display of cruel and thoughtless behaviour from the mother. She glared viciously at her child as they ran for the candy. Sayuri's distraction of food and false promise of a good home had made her want nothing more than the disappearance of the little jissou running alongside her. "My candy, desu!!", she screamed, turning and kicking her own child right in the stomach. "Stay away, greedy shit jissou, desu!!" The little jissou went flying back onto the sidewalk, holding her belly in pain as her mother kept running, now apparently completely forgetting she ever had a child. "TECHA!! Why mama hurt me, techa?!", she cried, getting back onto her feet, watching her bad mama kneel down to pick up the candy. "Mine, desu! All mine! First food all day, desu!", she shouted gleefully, "Now I get nice home, de--" SPLAT! The greedy mama jissou got her head and stubby right hand flattened in an instant by a passing car, too fast for her to even klet out a final death scream, thick green shit filling her panties and spilling onto the road, the candy she and her daughter wanted so badly now crushed as well. "Chuwa!", the shocked child whimpered, running over to her dead mother, crying and tugging on her shit-bloated panties to try and wake her. The child knew that her mother was hurt, but was in too much terror and grief to understand that she wasn't going to wake up. "Mama! Get up, techi! We need go back to park, techi! Dangerous out--" She got cut off as another car drove right over her mother's corpse, crushing the torso with a sickening crunch and making even more shit fly out, the mother jissou's panties snapping, burying the little one. Coughing up some shit, the child climbed out of the pile. While sobbing over the loss of her only family, she suddenly heard a little muffled noise. "Refu." She gasped, knowing by instinct that this was the sound of a maggot and that her job as a good sister jissou was to keep Maggot-chan from dying. "Maggot-chan?", she called out, digging through the poop, "Where are you, Maggot-chan?" She soon found the maggot, covered in birth slime. It must have been born from a last-second preservation pregnancy. The child began cleaning the maggot with her tongue, dropping it carefully onto the ground once it let out a cheerful bark. She found another maggot, cleaned it, and set it down, repeating this many times. Before long, the orphaned child now had a new family, three maggots and six thumbs. "My new family, techi!", she squealed gleefully, her sisters assembled in a neat group, happily staring up at the child as she greeted them from atop the mountain of shit, "There bright side to everything, just like Mama told me, techi! We go back to park together and live happily! And then find Mr. Mans and Mrs. Ladies to go home with, techi!" A flood of happy "refu" and "rechi" reached her ears as her new sisters cheered. They weren't all that certain what they were happy about. They just knew somehow that they had a good reason to celebrate with their-- SPLAT! A third car, and the babies were mangled and flattened against the pavement faster than the eye could even detect, their guacamole shit and multicolour blood painting the road. A thumb and the maggot she was holding, their faces intact, stared out at their older sister with lifeless eyes, their tongues and intestines hanging from their gaping mouths, looks of sudden pain frozen on their pale blue faces. The rest of the unfortunate thumbs and maggots had been crushed into paste. The child stared at the gruesome mess in total silence for a moment, her face stuck in a dumb smile and a cold sweat running down her forehead. She didn't know how to react or what to say, her tiny brain flooded with the realization that her brand new baby sisters had just died right in front of her, not even two minutes after their birth, the realization that everyone she loved was now dead, the realzation that she was a bad sister jissou for not protecting Maggot-chan and Thumb-chan, the realization that she was alone and vulnerable, and the realization that she might be the next one to die on that road. And if she didn't die there, she'd certainly die on her way back to or in the park. Left without anyone to call family and retaining absolutely no hope of survival, she fell to her knees on the pile, now filling her own panties, and began to sob into her tiny hands as the rain came down. In the middle of the blood-and-shit-stained road, all the shattered jissou could do now was wait...
I'm finally getting started on The Jissou City Chronicles that I teased about at the end of my story "Canvas". No Jissou killing in this first part, got to get some back story out of the way. I promises more to come soon. The Jissou City Chronicals, Vol 1: Summer Job part 1 Ka-Chunk. "Christian, Paul Edger, Quality Control Department, now signed in at 9:02 AM, Monday, March 2, 20..." the automated time card machine droned. Paul didn't wait for the rest of the time/date identification, notifications of when his first break would be, designations of company policy this and that. To him, it was just a summer job (part time during the school year). He never really took any pride in it, it's not like he planed to keep doing this after high school. Then again, he didn't really have any plans for the future. Truth be told though, deep down it really was a dream job for him; and any other young adult for that matter. How many other people can say they get payed to dissect Jissouseki. Hanging around in the locker room was Chuck, one of the people Paul's co-workers. "Morning Pauline, getting dressed on company time as usual." Paul finished zipping up his fresh clean room suit over his street clothes. "I'm sorry that you do not find me to be a model of employment." Over the white disposable jumper, Paul put on his company issued smock. The heavy linen apron was the same kind used by butchers or in slaughter houses. "Perhaps I shall emulate your selfless habit of working through our designated morning coffee break." His regulation kit would be waiting at his work station, sans the assortment of gloves and polycarbonate face shield. He needed to get those out of his locker. "However, I believe I shall pass on mimicking your personal preference for giving Futanari-Jissou 'detailed' inspections." As Paul opened his locker, Chuck's hand reached out and slammed it shut. The two of them gave each other a stare down, anger flickering between the two. Sure, company policy said get dressed before punching in and Chuck did have a habit not taking his breaks off the clock. However, Paul had taking the joke too far, or at least that's what it would appear to any casual observer. "As if I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH JISSOU to deal with. ALL I NEED IS for you to be behaving like one as well. A BETA has more brains then you do Pauline. Don't fuck with me, or you'll be needing STITCHES. ARE you clear? OKAY!" With that, Chuck stormed out of the room. Unfazed, Paul re-opened his locker. They had put on a little show for the security system that monitors them and for any passerby who might rat them out. Several employees in QC had little side enterprises going. Baker-Watanabe, the company that employed them, Jissouseki were a hot commodity. Jissou that go through QC are officially to be destroyed, but many make it into the hands of consumer through "alternative sales". Chuck's message was clear to Paul, "I don't have enough Jissou. All I need is a beta. Stitches are okay." That meant that if Paul could get his hands on a beta grade Jissou, even one that had to be patched up a bit, to get it to Chuck for an "unscheduled bonus paycheck". Latter on, Paul was finally on his way to his work station. Like all work stations, it was an isolated room, 8x8x8 cube. The wall facing the corridor was a one way mirror, you could see into the room but not out. In the center was an examining table, with many pull out drawers featuring many tools. The table also featured several buttons, ranging from controlling a voice recorder to document the procedure, to call buttons to summon a supervisor or another Jissou to test, to a panic button that would flood the room with a gas lethal to Jissou but not humans. At least, Paul hoped was not lethal. "Mornin' Paul." Outside his work station, Paul ran into Dr. Robert Baker. He was somehow related to the Bakers of Baker-Watanabe, a nephew or cousin or something like that. And he defiantly deserved to be called Doctor. It was he who suggested to his uncle or whatever that Jissouseki be used as human analogs for medical teaching. This concept eventually evolved into Baker-Watanabe, after bringing in a Japanese company as a partner due to their longer experience with Jissou. Dr. Baker was in charge of R&D and QC here in the main North America plant. He had always had an interest in Paul. The two met when Paul's biology class came on a field trip. It's why he had a job chopping up Jissou. Whenever Dr. Baker showed up, it was important. "Good morning Doctor. Pardon my tardiness." "Ya don't have to be so polite and fancy when ya talk to me now. How many time's must I tell you this." "My apologies. I shall attempt to modify my diction to better qualify for your request." "Ya'll still doing it boy. Now, listen up son, 'cuz this here's important. I've got a special specimen for you today to start out with, and I'd like to get your opinion on it." "Will there be additional compensation for completing this task?" The Doctor scratched his head for a moment. "No, there ain't extra money in this. I'm paying you to do what I tell you. Which means if I tell you to examine a subject, it doesn't mater if its Joe Nobody or the King of England, I pay you the say because it's what I told you to do." "Yes sir." "Now get in there and get to work boy. I want to see this done by the book, ya here. I want to know what this thing is." Paul nodded to his benefactor and entered into his work station.
No offense taken, El Cid. Alson, I'm looking forward to the followup of this new story. Time to continue myself. I planned to make a one-shot, but it turned out way too long, so here's the first part for some storying. I'll focus on pure massacre in the second part. Continued from >>95 ------ PTLD – In the sniper's sight (1/2) Fuck fuck fuckitty-fuck fuck fuck. I won't soon forget just how retarded I was when I gave away my hideout to that jissou-fucker. I left a shit-ton of important things behind before leaving to another part of the town. The abandoned house was a once-in-a-lifetime chance at having my own home, so I pretty much had to improvise. Something you don't want to when it's near the end of December. I made my camp at the top of an unused water tower near a park. There were fences around it, and signs saying it was scheduled to be demolished in February. So I figured I had myself a new hideout until then. Nothing terrific though...I barely had enough stuff to resist the weather, and if I was protected from the wind in that small, dusty stock-room, it certainly wasn't so for the bone-chilling cold. I wrapped myself up in my blanket and some other stuff I found here, and stayed on a small cabinet, just before a window. Which had a fucking hole on it, of course. Naturally, I tried at first to cover it up, but then I saw the panorama. I could see a good part of the suburbs from there, as well as a rather large park, and some less remarkable places.. And then, another idea popped into my mind. After all, I still have my flashball sniper rifle. There are several windows -all with a goddamn hole in them- in the room I'm in, so by moving, I can see a sizable portion of the city at the low cost of letting cold air enter my blanket. It's in the middle of the afternoon, and yet there's surprisingly few people in the streets. Looks like Mr.Men have little adventurous spirit when it snows. I do, however, see one of them braving the weather to inflict pain upon some jissouseki. There are already two corpses around him, and he's holding a big jissou mother by the hair, a shovel in the other hand. Is he going to...? Yeah, he flings her into the air and goes for the home-run ! Unfortunately, the ball explodes and doesn't go very far. Still, nice shot, Mr.Man ! I feel uncomfortable just pointing my scope to him, so I quickly go to the right. About 200 meters further, I see a mother jissou leading her shivering offspring down a street... For style's sake, let's say I can read jissou lips. "Faster, jissou-chan, de ! We're almost there, desu !" A concert of "techi" soon followed. There were about eight kojissous of the same age, and one slightly bigger, holding a maggot. It was obvious they were freezing, and yet they apparently made a point of cheering up. All but the maggot-holding one were grouped together behind their mom, chanting something and almost keeping each other warm. The mother had a dirty outfit, indicating she definitely wasn't house-trained. In all probability, she had already devoured the oldest child's sisters. Still, that probably was the cutest family of feral jissous I had ever seen. The little procession was calmly marching through the snow, the mother doing the shoveling, and the others chirping behind her, swinging their heads from left to right according to the beat. "Techi, techi, techi, te ! Mama will find warm house, te !" They are beaming with hope and happiness. Some even close their eyes. "Techi, techi, techi, te ! Mr.Man will love us, te !" You poor bastards, you don't even want to know what she's going to do to you once she finds a shelter. She stops a moment, looks at the other side of the street, and sees some kind of big box, with a yellow light coming from inside. It looks like a jissou head with square angles...Is that a Mr.Man-made jissou shelter ? Oh, come on, are crazy jissou-Mrs.Ladies really that malignant a tumor ? Anyway, the family has decided to enjoy this gift from the heavens. The mother checks out if any cars are coming, and raises her paw towards the other side. "Jissou-chans, home is here, desu !" And off they go. The road had mostly been cleared off, so they won't have any trouble crossing it in time. Heh. Not if I can help it. The sniping requires me to shut up and control my heartbeat as much as I can, but nonetheless, my head with filled with one particular, very on-topic chorus. "You're in the sniper's sight The first kill tonight Time to die !" The snowflakes are falling straight, meaning no pesky wind. Visibility is sufficient. Target moves at a normal pace. Agent PTLD, take the shot. "You're in the bullet's way The White Death prey Say Goodbye !" The foam bullet flies true. One second after I pull the trigger, the Jissouseki's tender skull is pierced right between her frontal hair and her right temple. Even as an adult, she's so fragile even a foam bullet, meant to be stopped by fucking human skin, goes all the way through, and bounces on the concrete below. "DEG-" She falls on her left side, failing, by a very close call, to crush two of her daughters as collateral. The stupid midgets do, however, comically bump into their unfortunate mom. I reload. Click, clack. The downside of clean, stealthy assassination is that you don't get much lasting fun off of it. But don't you worry. This is jissouseki we're talking about. They don't quite grasp the meaning of that big, fleshy hole in the back of her green hood, and continue to chirp as they gently paw at her. "Wake up mama, techi !" "Home is almost here, techi !" Through the blanket of falling snowflakes, a snowplow appears down the street, shoveling all the snow on the road to the sides. After all, snow is beginning to pile up again since this morning, this does warrant another ride. Its rotating light is on, and it does enough noise for anyone to be able to tell it's coming. And yet... "Come on mama, we sleep in home, te !" "Hungry, refu." I zoom on the guy holding the steering wheel. There's no way he doesn't see the jissous. Green on white is usually pretty noticeable. Yet, the only response the jissou family's presence elicits from him is a nose-picking. I knew I could trust Mr.Men ! "Why is red on Mama's head, techi ?" "Big thing coming, techi ! Must be rescue for mama, techi !" "Yes, Mama needs waking up, Mr.Man will help, te !" They all proceed to joyously jump in place, flailing their arms in the air to grab the driver's attention. And apparently it does. Just not the way they were expecting : The Mr.Man accelerates. By the time the nanoscopic nuggets in their brain in charge of common sense fire up, it's too late to run. The mother goes first. She gets pushed by the giant shovel-thing at first, before her dress, and part of her belly's flabby skin gets caught under it and the ground. There's only a tiny opening, but it's sufficient for tender jissou flesh. Her legs, then her arms get caught, and she's silently crushed right before her daughter's eyes. Too bad she can't scream anymore, but I bet there will be more of that in a moment. The dead mother is grotesquely deformed, her belly halfway, and her limbs entirely under the snowplow. Her back rapidly begins to swell as her organs are pushed back like toothpaste in a tube. The children look at the phenomenon, without any idea of what's happening. They don't even have the time to complain before their mama's back explodes, coating all of them in green slime. And the snowplow continues. At last, they realize they have to get out of here. Ten trails of shit form on the snow as they run down the street, just like a looney tune character running forward when a tree falls on them, instead of just stepping aside. Tears fly through the air, terrified "teeeeeeen"s are covered by the engine's sound. For now they manage to outrun the slow vehicle, but the slime coating them is quickly wearing them down. You know, sometimes I wonder if there's not a chicken and egg conundrum going on. One one hand you have jissou's utter stupidity. On the other hand, you have this explosive reproduction rate. The big question is : Which one was made to offset the other ? You'd say I would be able to know that, since my Dad created them, but...not really. Jissouseki are a pure product of bad luck and carefully planned projects gone awry. Even he probably hadn't any idea why any of those traits decided to get there. The biggest child looks at the maggot in her hands, seems to wonder why the fuck she's still holding it, and...throws it right into the shovel. Shit, I understand the rationale behind that, but did you really have to be so cruel, you dingleberry ? I shoot her leg. Click, clack. She yelps, and falls on the ground. Her younger sisters run past her. She tries to call them for help, but even if they could hear, they wouldn't give it any consideration. "Leg hurts, techi ! Help, techi ! I will give you lots of...CHUWA !" The shovel caught her. She tries to pull her leg out. "IT HURTS, TEGYA ! LET ME GO, TE..." She stops yelling when her organs are expelled through her mouth. Quite a sight to behold. It's a shame I'm not near her, to fully enjoy the performance. Soon enough, everything but her face is gone under the metallic shovel. Her skull is deformed, and she lets out one last silent scream, her eyes pulled upwards, her skin tearing off near the nose. Skinned alive, she flails her arms one last time before completely disappearing in a crushing sound. The children are still running forward, panting heavily, and obviously about to give up, even if they only had ran about 20 meters. The snowplow catches up dangerously quickly. "Please stop, Mr.Man, te...chi ! We are down here, you know, techi ?!" "Mr.Man is blind, teeeeen !" "Hel...Help us, teeCHUWA !" The snowplow claims its fourth victim. That fires up the survivor's bowels, and as they run, the stream of shit propels them upward every now and then, resulting in a cute little synchronized ballet of jissous with invisible jetpacks. With a horrible demise waiting for those who screw up. They run, they levitate, they cry...and in the end, they all die. The relentless snowplow then goes away, leaving behind a road free of snow, but smeared by blood and shit. I look at the jissou shelter the little shits were trying to go to. A bald-naked jissou was taking a look outside, no doubt to see why there was screams from kindred beings. "Serves you right, desu !" She says, giggling, her paw on the chin, her eyes forming a smug inverted U. "This warm house is all mine, de ! It was given to me because I ha-" ...ve a bullet in the brain. Click, clack. Next. Several minutes fly by without me finding any noteworthy places. That is, until I see a disgusting scene at the top of a skyscraper. An old Mrs.Lady holds an adult Jissou in her arms. The problem is that the goblin is uniquely hideous. It has been spoiled to the point of sickening cuteness. It is morbidly obese, and yet had somehow been changed into a smooth, loveable ball of fat you would want to hug just because it reminds you of a pillow. Plus she's wearing a pink padded jacket that was hiding a good part of her face. She wears a neat pink purse which screams "newly purchased'. And yet, she remains ugly. But, most insulting of all, she's happy. Her owner puts her on the balustrade, and firmly keeps her in place. The obese jissouseki shivers at first, but then her eyes begin to glitter at the sight in front of her. "There is nothing to fear, Kristy !" "Building is still high, Mrs.Lady, deee..." "Just relax, pudding ! You have nothing to fear while I am here !" To prove her point, she removes her hands from her jissouseki's belly. Since there's no wind, the huge ball of crap does stay in place rather easily. Plus, a balustrade is easily broad enough for a jissou to stand on. "Y...Yeah ! Kristy-chan is the queen of the world, te !" Oh, give me a break. Titanic was bad enough, don't show it to jissous ! I reload. I maintain my breath again. I aim above the leg due to the angle... "I am so happy ! I love you, mistress ! I will always be your beloveDEGYA !" Seconds later, Kristy-chan's right leg is pierced by a foam bullet. The spoiled jissou loses balance. Click, clack. "Kristy ? What's going on ?!" "Hurts, deeeen ! Help, deeeen !" She flails her arms wildly, turns around to call her elderly mistress for help, but ultimately falls over. I smile. The old Mrs.Lady is fully aware of the situation. She quickly goes over the balustrade to try and catch her pet, but all she sees is the empty stare of a piece of coyote enema who's just about to experience a 200-meter freefall. Her eyes are colorless in the middle. Her hair flies upwards, hiding part of her face. The owner can see her usually pristine silky panties, getting greener and greener, and soon enough, rounder and rounder. Little droplets of tears can be seen in the air as gravity accelerates the packaged retard's way to her doom. "Mrs...La...Dy ?" Was the last thing the retarded cray jissou mrs-lady ever heard. Her beloved pet, who she treated as her own child, became a mere point getting steadily smaller. Then, the impact. You drop a jissou, you get paste. You drop a jissou from the top of a fucking skyscraper, you get an olympic record in liver-flying. The padded coat didn't help one bit. A twenty-meter radius green circle can be seen on the street. The owner wouldn't even be able to gather enough shit to fill a shooter glass. Moving on. --- David Kellan The first thing I did was to warn my local jissou-loving internet community. A killer was on the run, and it was after our pets. I linked to the youtube video of the assassination and factory's arson as evidence. The second thing I did was to check the neighborhood. After twenty tries, I finally located a deserted house. The doors were carefully locked, but I was determined. I crowbarred my way inside. And boy, did I get a first-hand look into a jissou-abuser's den. The fridge was full of edible jissou products. Bags of fried babies, entire, vacuum sealed children, and even some adult's ears. The other part of the fridge contained lots of candies, and tupperwares full of sweet fluids such as jelly and something that smelled like honey. I always carry my poison-testing fluid with me. A lot of people put jissou poison into conditioned food at the supermarket for shits and giggles, so a Jissou owner cannot take any chances. The tupperwares were clean, oddly, but a lot of the candies were poisoned. In the cupboards, were tools and condiments for jissou cuisine. Did the crazy girl eat nothing but what she hates ? Talk about a fucked-up diet, at least Lecter enjoyed fava beans and excellent chiantis. Sure enough, somewhere in the room, I found a cage full of baby jissous. Alas, they were all dead, faces entirely blue and tongues sticking out. A basic poison spray was used. Obviously, Stella's torturer left without any intention of looking back. Another noteworthy thing was a cupboard near the plasma TV. It was mostly empty, but some things remained. Namely, weird blue, long cylinders made out of foam. One of the ends were slightly broader, making the stuff reminiscent of shotgun shells, but longer and narrower. They didn't bear any identification. I took one and left. On my way to the exit, I thought I could hear jissouseki yelling angrily and banging against something metallic. Jissouseki poltergeists ? Christ, I had to get out of here right away, and this I did. Back home, I asked on the net if anyone had seen these peculiar foam objects. It's as good a lead as anything... --- PTLD The rest of the town was quiet. So I came back to the area where I was. After all, parks are known to shelter many Jissouseki. And as luck would have it, I could clearly see in the snow-clad park some obvious signs of a large jissouseki gathering nearby. Through the scope, I saw, for the first time, what a large jissou shanty town looks like. Though this one was probably a special case. To fight against the snow, they had combined the usual cardboard box shelters with a bigger one, a shrubbery. The plant successfully protected the critters from the snow, providing some 200m² of habitable terrain. In a fabulous example of why "symbiosis" never goes hand in hand with jissous, they had torn out all the branches at their level in order to have more space. Little did they know, those branches would have been a magnificent cover against my rifle. I don't know about karma, but jissous' stupidity definitely always comes back to bite them in the ass. As for the shanty town itself, it was striving. They obviously have been here for a long time, and the freakishly fast population growth rate had been contained into that relatively small area. From the looks of it, there was easily 200 individuals, excluding the maggots. Some effort have been put into the cardboard boxes. Most were covered with random junk to improve insulation, some were adorned with random but somehow pretty junk, and I even saw a three-story building of sorts. There were two notable places which testified for a certain level of organization going on. First, there was a large pile of things gathered by scouts who boldly went into the unforgiving snow and safely return with dubious treasures. Three matriarchs then dealt with the pile to sort out useful things into several categories. According to the four piles, jissouseki can at least identify potential makeshift weapons, food, building material and toys. The second place was...Huh...The community's kitchen ? You can probably guess what was on the menu. And here I thought cannibalism wasn't all that popular in civilized groups. Suddenly, something comes into sight from behind a carboard box. A big, naked jissou, with a flesh both obese and wrinkled, holding something in its arms. A large, throbbing, fleshy thing that seemed to come out of...her...crotch ? ...Fuck me running. The legends were true. At last, mine eyes bear witness to the fabled penis jissous. I nearly threw up, and had to look away from the scope for a minute. This shanty town had to be sterilized even more thoroughly than usual. Back to the penis jissou...It had picked up a child, and was proceeding to impale her on its giant wee. She screamed, flailing her arms to no avail, begging for help. None of her brethren did so much as batting an eye. But me...I couldn't look away. It had this hypnotizing-because-it's-horrible virtue. A mere ten seconds later, a white milky thing flew through the child's mouth, tearing off her tongue in the process. She stopped moving soon after that, and the penis jissou just...walked away. He didn't seemed concerned that there was someone on its member. Shit Mr.Man, I know jissous are disgusting but that's just too much. Have a bullet in the head. The monstrosity dies without uttering a word. It falls forward, squeezing its wee between he and the ground. The dying child spews milk through her mouth again, this time hitting a regular clothed adult. Who didn't seem to appreciate it. See turns to the impaled child. "Who do you think you are, shit jissou, desu ?" She stomps on her, slowly crushing her head. The action had a weird tone of cold ruthlessness in it, where an angry jissou usually just throws a tantrum. I look at the killer. She has sunglasses, and an unlit cigarette in her mouth. I blink. She still has sunglasses and an unlit cigarette in her mouth. What ? Her clothes are of the regular, if a little worn-out, kind, she's morphologically perfectly average, but she has a goddamn cigarette and goddamn shades. "Let's go, anego, techi. Shit jissou has made us late, techi." Says some child with her frontal hair sticking forward. The jissou spits on her victim, and proceeds. Okay, so Jissouseki have their yakuzas. Somehow, it strikes me as a positive thing. That doesn't makes it any less unbelievable, though. Sure, Jissou hierarchy is based on age and law of the strongest, but why imitate Mr.Men ? The boss and her underling go where the old jissouseki are sorting out stuff into stacks. "So" says the boss to one of them. "Where is that wonderful thing, desu ?" "Wait here, Ya-sama, desu." Respectfully answered the matriarch before going into a nearby group of boxes. She reappeared several moments later, pulling something heavy. The yakuzas didn't even consider helping her. I guess this eccentric young'un held more power than even the matriarchs. She came out with a big, green gas cylinder. What a coincidence, I know exactly what it is. It's from a pesticide factory I raided some time ago. Some new chemical with an effect as unusual as it is funny. I left one slightly open in the basement. I wouldn't want the little shits in the death maze getting rescued, after all. I guess the breach into the fence went unnoticed by Mr.Men. The colony had stumbled upon the wrong treasure...
This definitely needs more. i had ideas but it wouldn't be fair to the original author if i hijacked the story. (or i'm just too lazy :p)
Nice stories all around, guys!
>>116 Absolutely terrible. I just.....ugh. It gave me cancer.
>>116 Loving the sniper action :) Can't wait for part 2. Curious to see if David manages to track her down too, and what he's got in mind if he does... Intriguing little plotline going on in the background there :)
>>119 Good. You'll die and thus not threadshit. If you don't like something, give critique, don't just be a dick.
The notion of David catching PTLD is scary. She wouldn't be able to harm him. He already knows if he kept her captive long enough, she would become subservient to him. He would end up fucking her and she'd be forced to like it. Her only hope would be if he got killed. Maybe if he got framed as a child molester because someone saw them together, but didn't see her face or ears, or even better, they did see and thought he mutilated her to look like a jissou. I don't think that describing what they did to him would be fitting for as civilized a board as this.
... You don't think description of a potential mob slaying would be fitting on a guro /lit/ board?
>>122 Assuming Stella or the rest of David's family didn't end up abusing her behind his back in revenge. With Stella being a pile of post-traumatic stress, she would probably just completely insanely freak out if she saw her beloved master keeping her torturer as a pet. Keeping my fingers crossed for Trance. I think she's cool. I'd keep her as a pet, and have hours of fun wiping out the local Jissou population with her, hehe.
What if Stella killed him, after realizing that he's a sick fuck who doesn't actually care about anything except having a servant he can screw, without those worrisome human rights? He'd forget about her pretty fast if he got a jissou with a sexier body.
Currently working on a new story based loosely on a real experience I had recently involving extermination of fly maggots in my trash can. I swear, I only see jissou maggots when I look at those things now, so I just had to start writing. Warning: It will contain cheesy attempts at something resembling gonzo journalism, and plugs for jlist.com. Stay tuned.
>>127 Not being mean to you or anything, but what is people with that gonzo crap? Seriously, I have a friend who loves it.
>>128 Gonzo journalism is amateur journalism written in a manner that seems very unprofessional, often containing alot of cursing, crude remarks, and references to personal experiences related or unrelated to the story. It was created and popularized by Hunter S. Thompson, who has a bit of a cult following these days.
>>129 I knew what it was. I was asking what's up with people liking it so fucking much. I honestly don't like Hunter S. Thompson very much. He's a unique guy, all right, and people always point out how he changed things, but I don't like the guy. *shrug* So what's the big draw?
>>130 I'm not certain exactly. Perhaps it's simply the personalized feel of it, how much more human it seems than typical news reports. Perhaps it's just the fact that people sometimes want to hear the truth slanted, even if it isn't the way they lean. It's easier to complain about if the journalist doesn't claim to be impartial. And we all know how much people like complaining. That said, favorite journalist has to be Spider Jerusalem from Transmetropolitan. I don't know if it would be your kind of comic book, but it wouldn't hurt to read it I suppose. Might help explain the journalistic style's attractiveness to people. Not sure.
>>131 I actually really like Spider; I read Transmet before even hearing of Hunter S. Thompson. I think it's his drugginess that turns me off, honestly. I don't really care much for the 60s-70s drug culture, you see.
Back on topic ; And now for something completely different. “In the sniper's sight”'s part 2 is ongoing, but I had an idea for a one-shot and I just had to write it. In some ways, it's more classical than PTLD. In some others, it's even more daring. One thing is for sure, leave behind disbelief and admiration of “canon” before reading this, or be slapped by Rod Serling's zombie. Also, I'm crediting the author whose name eludes me in the archive who wrote about a Jissou-booze factory. ----- The feelings of a mother You unlock this door with the key of imagination and morbid curiosity. Beyond, your find another dimension: a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of abuse. You're moving into a land without empathy nor intelligence, of feelings and cries of pain. A land where unspeakably aggravating beings tear apart all sense of reason, making only imagination rule; you've just crossed over...into the Packaged Zone. In a jissouseki breeding factory, employees are starting their shift. Power is turned on, the adult jissous in the glass cages yawn as they wake up. The man in charge is visiting all of them, announcing to them how many litters -usually within two and four- they will have to lay down this day. They have red dye at their disposal, and are free to chose when they will have these litters. Meanwhile, they can enjoy a variety of services at their leisure. He finishes his task, and goes back to his desk on the first floor. Already, through the glass, he can see several mothers getting to work in the warehouse below. This is routine for them. They know full well they will never see those children again, but in their feeble minds, the payoff is more than satisfactory. The employees check the cages, and go to their offices for morning paperwork. Between the scaffoldings, a man in a tuxedo comes to face the camera. Picture if you will, Jana ; a Jissouseki like so many others, though bestowed with a fate many of those others strive for. She is given food, comfort, care, all for the small price of giving up her children as pets for anonymous humans. In a moment, Jana will cross over to a metaphorical plane where her happiness can lead to the strongest anguish. A plane wherein you will follow her, as she deals with these changes. Welcome in the Packaged Zone. Jana is thus seen, frolicking in her cage, pouring herself a warm bath by pushing a single button slightly above a sink. She has only two litters to give today. As common as it is, this event can prove quite tiresome, and she is content to have so few scheduled. No concept of foreseeing enters her mind, though. An hour ? Two hours ? This is too foreign for her. She simply will take the dye when she feels like it. Of course, such a method can prove ineffective when you have a quota to meet. The Mr.Men realize that, and each cage is equipped with a device that provides reminders throughout the day according to said quotas. That way, maggot production rarely sways, and employees further down the line seldom run out of material. "Aaah, bathing is the best, de~" Later, she enjoyed some candies full of nutrients, and somewhat fattening. It's amazing how the diet of a Jissouseki affects her offspring. Fill her up with water just before childbirth, and you'll have barely solid maggots. Give her a precise kind of food, and a green-eye pregnancy can be postponed by several days, creating an oversized maggot. Give her luxury food, and she will give birth to litters with up to six thumb-chans for every five maggots, along with the occasional colored jissou. And as luck would have it, this particular facility dealt quite a lot with thumb children. Finally, when she was content with eating, which came faster than usual because the candies tasted a little odd, Jenna decided it was time to work. She took the little bottle and squirted some drops into her eye. It went just as it went yesterday, and the day before that. She saw her belly expand, her breath getting heavier, and eventually tiny things sliding out of her. The instinct to lick them, to get rid off the coating slime, was always present at these occasions, but the Mr.Men had ordered her not to do it, and instead just gently put them on the slide on one side of her cage. She did that casually, giving no time to the maggots and thumb-chans to utter their first word. She did not think one way of the other about this. In fact, as the deed was done, she went to take a nap as the children were pushed down the slide by a light influx of liquid, towards their future, far away from their mother. Later... Jana wakes up. Something feels different. But what ? Every day is the same. There should be the same cage, the same food, the same red plastic bottle...And there is. What is wrong with her ? Everything is just as usual, and yet nothing feels the same. Jana waggles out of her bed. She puts cold water on her face. In the mirror, her face is the same. The monochrome albeit mismatched eyes, the misshapen mouth, the pallid skin, all that surrounded by a make-believe silky pink laced hood. All of it, the same. And yet, all she sees seems more clear. More purposeful. New ideas assault her mind. Why does the food seem too sweet ? Why does the bed seem too small ? Why is she trapped inside glass walls ? Why is she alone ? She becomes dizzy, and falls on her back. Excrement is leaked in her pants. Why is panic grasping her heart ? Why does her cheeks feel so warm ? She rushes to the toilet, more relieved than ever to feel the plastic ring beneath her legs. "Pfiuuu, I'd better calm down, and fast, desu..." Why did she contract the "I would" ? It's usually so hard to speak like humans, it's... Humans ? Not Mr.Men ? Jana gets up after cleaning her panties. She waggles to the glass walls. And what she sees...seems like a whole new world. So many like her, caged and content with their pitiful lives, sending their children, the flesh of their flesh, just to get one more day in these golden prisons. Jana puts her paw on her forehead. The lack of dignity in this place is almost blinding. What on earth happened ? She feels like she's gotten out of a haze... "It is 17:30. I repeat, it is 17:30. You still have one litter to produce." Says a mechanical voice in the loudspeaker. How much time has she slept ? Why does she even wonder about that ? Everything is disorientating, but somehow, Jana knows. She's not stupid anymore. Something gave human intelligence. Human feelings. Something hurts in her chest as she thinks about getting pregnant again. She's expected to do it but...it's humiliating. It's her babies she's giving away. Babies who, given even the slightest speck of consideration, will open their eyes, smell her scent, and call her mama. A single tear flows out of her green eye. Nevertheless, she goes mechanically, by force of habit, to the red bottle, and begins the process. The sensations are identical, but when the first child pops out, falling on the floor in a wet sound, Jana can't help but reach her arms forward. It's a thumb-child. It's her, but twenty times smaller. Her eyes are closed, and she has yet to breathe. She looks so cute...so fragile... Jana licks the smile as the others pop out. She will tend to them later. For now, the little thumb child takes her first breath. Then, she yawns and openx her eyes. She is so beautiful. She looks at her mother with simple, dumb reliance. Her instincts tell her she's safe. Jana knows this child could eat her without a second thought should the need arise, but right now, she's her baby girl, and the love is reciprocated. One by one, she cleans everyone of her babies. She gets up, freed from the nauseous feelings. A dozen babies are at her feet, chirping, begging to be fed, belly-rubbed, loved. She looks at the slide. Then at the babies. Then at the slide again. "I...I can't. I CAN'T, DESUUUNNN !" Falling on her knees, her cries aren't left unheard in the facility. Soon, a male employee comes, concerned. "Hey, what's wrong, Jana ? Are you sick ?" "Maybe, mister...I don't know how, but I have human intelligence now, desu. And...I can't bring myself to giving away my babies. I...forgive me, desshuun..." She cries as she takes five of them in her arms, hugging them tight. The human has to quickly dismiss the possibility she's making shit up. Her sentences are just too well constructed for a normal Jissouseki, even one that is well cared for. Plus, why on earth would she start refusing to give her babies now ? "This is troubling...hold on, I'll tell that to the boss." She doesn't move. She's too shaken for that. She only hears the coos of her babies. Some of them smell the candies, and forget her, setting off to indulge in the first feast of their lives. No big deal, she thinks. Her food is her babies' food. She smiles, although it's hard with such a mouth. They are so cute, with their tiny legs and little wagging of the tails. At her feet, the three remaining larvae beg for a belly rub. "Yes, of course my dear children, desu." She reaches her paws. Their bellies are so springy and warm, just like water balloons. Up, down, up, down. The soft cloth feels nice against her naked stump. Her heart leaps from joy at each "Tettere !", and ignores the little sprays of excrement. She shares her rubbing time between her three babies, who are nowhere if not in paradise. Meanwhile, the four thumb-chans who didn't rush off to the food are hugging her legs, and attempting to rub their simpler sister's on their own. And all this time, I was sending them off, never to be seen again, thinks Jana. Never... Suddenly, the ceiling of the cage opens. The face of the head manager, who they only see in Christmas during the great celebration feast, smiles at her. He's a round but rather young man, known among the employees as a serious professional who never gets angry without a good reason. Somebody you're able to trust at the first meeting. He gently picks her up and lets her go on the facility's cold, concrete ground. She looks at them with the posture of an awestruck, dumb jissou, but with an unmistakable intelligence in her expression. "So, he says you...changed ?" "Yes, mister, desu. I couldn't say how, but when I woke up several minutes ago, it was like I woke up for a dream that lasted my whole life. What's going on, mister, desu ?" "No idea. No idea at all. But you do seem in good mental shape, and that can only be something we can rejoice over, yes ?" "I...suppose, de..." Answers Jana, blushing. "Ah, my baby girls are still in the cage, desu..." "Are they...changed too ?" "No, I don't think so, but...Suddenly, I care for them, desu." The humans looked at each other, nodded, and then proceeded to take every child out of the cage, gently putting them at their mother's feet. She utters a relieved "thank you, dee..." and pets them. "Tell you what", says the manager. "A Jissou is one thing you can find everywhere, but a Jissou with a true human mind is unheard of. It's something you, as a human being, must treasure. So, If you'd like, you can quit, and become my pet. Your children can come, although I'd appreciate if they didn't reproduce like rabbits behind my..." Jana cries. Though those tears don't do any justice to her feelings. The warm glow in her heart calls for a subtle stream on her cheek, yet is only answered by the usual multicolored symphony. The longing, the need to become a beloved pet is hardwired into every single Jissouseki, even those who can't be called unfortunate. Every fiber of her being is thus singing with the angels. Her children are just becoming able to speak, yet are set to party mode at the sole mention of the word “pet”. They loudly rejoice, those able to jump jumping all over the place, and the others contorting their bodies to look like they are jumping. There is as much rejoicing as there is soiling. Fortunately, this company knows well the iron rule of Jissou-related businesses. Never, under any circumstances, use carpets on the floor. Jana hasn't noticed this shameful behavior, delighted as she is. “Th...Thank you so much mister manager, desuuuuun !” “No need”, he answers as he pets her head. “Plus you already delivered quite a lot of litters, you helped us and many lonely humans a lot, you deserve this.” The praise doesn't go unnoticed, and Jana suddenly feels a wave of pride. Yes, as stupid as she was before, she was good at her job, she always respected schedule, obeyed the employees, and she only gave birth to mutant maggots twice. Jana was a good jissou, yes sir ! But it's over now, she'll never have to relinquish her cherished offspring again. From now on, she's a pet. A pet ! The manager leaves, indicating her and her babies to follow him. They are simply overjoyed, and all run -or crawl- as fast as they can. She herself takes the first step towards her new life, head held up high. Around her, she sees all her colleagues, which she gets to meet outside of glass walls only on weekends. All of them share the same empty gaze, the same sighs of mindless contentment. They are wrapping up today's production. “Well, so long, desu.” ---- What a night. The manager really is nice. Her and her family got sausages. As far as she could remember, they never had any human food outside of Christmas. They had a warm bath. They got cute ribbons to wrap around their necks. There wasn't ribbons for everyone though, so one of her mag...larvae (God, how could she find it normal to call her babies like they are vermin ?) began to cry, but she consoled the unfortunate one and offered her her ear clip. The plastic flower looked too big for the baby, but she could wear it nonetheless. Everything was fine. Until bedtime. She dreamt of one of her children from before, happily frolicking with a young human boy. They were best friends. She was wearing pretty dresses and had wonderful meals every day. She was the only Jissou of the household, and every day was a day in paradise. When she woke up, she saw the squad of children snoring around her. The manager is a busy man, and lives alone, he won't be able to satisfy them all. Plus, even if she was a Jissouseki, Jana had a mind now. Free people aren't pets. The path was clear. She knew what had to be done. “You're sure about this, Jana ?” “Yes, mister, desu. I want to be useful. You cared for me my whole life, and I know my babies are sold to kind masters, desu. I want to work again, de !” “Mmh, I guess I see your point. You will get one of the king-sized cages we are building for high class Jissouseki though. I insist.” Of course, she could never have asked for that much. They also agreed the children will get shipped as usual. After all, having normal, stupid children no doubt would have been problematic in the long run. Three hours later, they're back in the facility. She's the center of the attention, all the crew from the “maternity ward” is around her, praising her for her abnegation. “Farewell, Jissou-chan” says she to the last of her babies, the one with the hair clip, as she's lifting her towards the tube. “Promise me you will be a good pet to your master, desu” “Yes I will, refu !” “I love you, desu.” And off she goes, to the other part of the factory. She's singing. “Refufufufu-refufu !” Everything's okay, she will have a good home. Besides she likes the feeling of water pushing her down the slide. Then, Jana is introduced to her new home, and she's all but unable to hide her awe. The thing is five times bigger than the usual cages. There are books and a TV, as well as thrice the amount of toys. Even with her newfound intelligence, she knows she will enjoy them a lot. “And you've got to see this” says the technician who accompanied her here. “No more red drops, the process is fully automated here. There are red lamps who can trigger pregnancy without inconvenience for the eye, and a tube with automated targeting suck the babies, you won't have anything to do !” Jana finds the concept weird, and the amount of technology kind of wasteful, but it's true she will have better to do than just fooling around now. She lets the employee lift her and put her into the deluxe terrarium. It's located in some kind of small room with a big window on one side. A shutter covers said window for the moment; She notices a tube passing near one of the glass walls. “Mister, is that tube...” “Yeah, it comes from the maternity ward. Your first baby should be coming from cleaning in a few minutes. Well anyway, I'm off. Have fun !” The human leaves. She goes to the books. “Encyclopedia of philosophy”, “Gone with the wind”, “History of the 20th century”. Everything looks interesting... “Hey, it's mama, rechi !” She turns her head. The employee was right, here is the first child she put in. She waves at her, and cheers her up. “Do your best, Jissou-chan, de !” The wave child assures she will. Suddenly, a mechanical noise. The shutter over the big window is rising. Jana is intrigued. Could it be this cage was built near the part where they prepare the baby jissouseki to become pets ? She looks, curious. Soon enough, the shutter is gone. She sees her child gently falling on a conveyor belt. Her dear baby looks around her, amazed. Jana smiles and looks at what's ahead of her... She gasps. ---- “Boy, they sure took their time to put this employee incentive thing into action !” “Yeah, looks terrific though, I already feel motivated. Look at the poor fucker, it's completely baffled. Anyway, brace for the first incision of the day...” “...Wow man ! You fucked it up pretty badly. Not that it matters, I don't need a straight cut to remove the digestive track...And voilà !” “Sorry bro, I'm busy looking at the mother with my left eye. Hey, you fancy some Desutaurant this evening ?” “Yeah, they sure know how to make real food out of these fuckers. I mean, basically all we're doing is gutting them and throwing them alive...Or rather half alive into a boiling pit of seasoning.” “With the brand new mother who does give two shits right in front of us. Hey, shitbag ! Should I cut the throat of your babies so they stop screaming from fear ?” “Brad Brad Brad, you know it's the best part when they try to crawl against the conveyor belt while screaming their lungs off.” “True that. Come here little maggot...jissoujissoujissou-tan ! C'mere, girl...aaand FATALITY !” “Heeelll yeah, this one was sweet ! I'm sure glad they allow us to kill one of them every hour any way we please.” “I know, right ? Shit bro, look at the look on her face. Jissouseki languishing in terrariums are really the best. Anyway, brofist !” Jana is still in shock. She wants to save her babies, but she knows she can't. She's completely paralyzed. Hair Clip-chan gets her belly cut open. Like every one of her sisters, save for one, who got impaled on a knife. And when the red light goes off, triggering the pregnancy before she's able to react... “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-” They say that, where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise. But in Jana's case, enlightenment perhaps could never have been a miracle nor a gift. Or perhaps her prison is less physical than it appears. Because you can criticize her choice, but in the end, was there ever any good choice for this Jissouseki ? Or did all the threads of fate lead to the same dramatic outcome ? Whether these creatures can cope with the price of knowledge or must treasure the shroud over their minds as their most valuable treasure can only be answered...in the Packaged Zone.
Devious. I like it.
InLeaves, you're getting much better. Your Jissou mindfuck stories rock. I especially loved the one with Stella (which had some gore too :D). The Sniper episode was like a patchwork though.
>>135 I consider Good Night to be my best work here yet. It took its time, it did mindfuck and was significant storywise. I don't think I'll try to top it yet, I want to focus on pure gore again. That said, you're absolutely right regarding the Sniper episode, I think it just had to be a patchwork, due to a sniper only seeing small scenes instead of the whole picture. Although part 2 should be more wholesome, as it is focused on the shanty town.
It's sometimes funny how fate works. Sometimes the things you hate the most, you become, and sometimes the things you hate the most, may turn your life around for the better. I was just thinking over that as I stood in the doorway, awaiting the social worker to finish typing out a few things on his computer, I try to maintain my composure and wait patiently for him to be done. I glance over at the nameplate on his desk. "Mr. Haroldson" I cough a little to get his attention which finally causes him to look up and away from his screen. He's an older man, with thinning greyish hair and peering at me thru some coke bottle glasses which cause his eyes to seem larger than normal. He smiles at me and gestures for me to take a seat. I gladly help myself and I sit down, straightening out the new pants and shirt I got for this interview. He quickly taps a few keys on his keyboard before looking up at me again. "Mr. Samuel, I apologize. I didn't see you walk in." "Just call me Sam and it's alright, you seemed busy." With a quick smile, he glances back at his screen reading something, which I assume was my file, "I see you need some help finding a job Sam." He taps on a couple of another keys and one of his eyebrows raises up inquisitively "According to record, you were homless but have sought help on your own initiative and have recently broken your drug addictions and been 'clean' for the past several months. Other than that, I need to interview you to know what skill sets you may have and to understand your personality/character to find jobs that you'd be sutaible for." My eye twitches a little at the mention of my past. "Well what would you like to know?" He adjusts those thick glasses before he asks, "Well tell me about yourself first, such as, do you have any family?" I frown at the mention of "family" but try not to spit out my reply "I have a father, I think, but I'm not sure if he's still around." "Oh?" He says, "When was the last time you saw your father?" Recalling some distasteful memories, I reply, "Probably about several years ago when the drunkard nearly beat me to death and then kicked me out of his house because I was 'good for nothing sick fuck who wastes time jacking off to porn from the internet'." Apologetically, he says, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up such bad memories for you Sam." Closing my eyes helps calm me a little, I regret answering in such a tone but, "No harm done, it's just not something I like to recall." I take a deep breath, trying to suppress all the memories when that son of bitch beat me during one of his drunken rampages. "It's kind of ironic though..." Mr. Haroldson simply said, "Hmmm?" I continued, "For most of my life, I hated my father because he was a stupid drunk who took out his 'issues' on me. When I was kicked out, I was left with no one to turn too. I didn't have any friends because I did spend all my time on the computer. I wasn't particularly gifted mentally or physically, so I did what I could. I wasn't old enough, educated enough, or 'qualified' enough to get a steady job, and those jobs that I could get were shadey or down right dangerous. I ended up being homeless and became a beggar. Living out in the streets for a few, basically turns life into a creul game of survival. I thought I could use my youth to garner sympathy from passerby's, but most just told me to 'get a job you bum' or worst yet, down right attack me. There were always a few nice people who gave me their pocket change or even a couple of bucks to buy food, but most of it was spent on drugs or alcohol. I became an addict of all sorts of substances. Ironic no? I became like my father, a useless addict..." There was a brief pause after my little rant. Mr. Haroldson smiled and said, "But you didn't stay that way..." "No, I didn't want to stay like that." I said flatly. "What made you change your mind?" he asked. "Well, you know about the vermin problem the city has been having recently? Whatchamacallit, you know, those annoying green-" "Ah, Jissouseki." He interrupted. "Yah, those things," I agreed in reply, "My first encounter with them talking horrors was last year, in a homeless camp at the outskirts of the city." With a little surprise in his voice, "And meeting one made you want to turn your life around?" "Why, Yes! I mean, just look at those things. Dirty, unwanted, self-entitled, little bastards always in your ear about 'Give us food, Desu!' or 'Take us home! Desu'" I say while mocking their annoying high-pitched antics. Mr. Haroldson only quirks that one eyebrow up in my impersonation of Jissouseki sounds, "I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me Sam..." I continue, "Well, when I was homeless, a few of the other homeless bums who weren't super crazy or hermits thought it'd be a good idea to band together and rig up a shanty town at the outskirts of the city. That place was sorta my home, but it really was more of a safe place I could sleep and zone out on booze or any other drug I could get my hands on. Most of the homeless community that setup there respected each other enough to not to invade each other's space and to not steal from each other. The large cardboard box I salvaged from the back of some furniture store did very well to mark my spot and to keep the rain off, but it did very little to keep those Jissouseki out." I remember some of the things that night, I was just getting off a buzz from some rotgut I downed earlier with some 'happy pills'. It was a little cool that evening when I thought I was hallucinating and hearing things when I heard this little high pitched 'Refu!' noise from the outside of my box. I ignored it at first but then more noises started coming from outside and then I started hearing something like a child on helium ask "Will this be our home Mama, Techi?" "Yes my babies, this box looks big, Desu!" I wasn't thinking clearly mind you, I thought it was some homless kid and her mom trying to move into my box. With that thought, though, I got out with the intent to shoo the newcomers away. I wasn't prepared for what greeted me outside the box. At first, I thought the drugs I took earlier were still messing with my head when I spotted this large green gremlin thing with beady mis-matched red & green eyes. It was about the size of large coffee can and shaped like one too. That oversized head with pointy ears covered in a tattered green hood with some ridiculous patches of tangled hair coming out the back and a wispy tuft of it in the front. It had this amazed but stupid expression with that A shaped mouth which was filled with some pretty gnarly and yellow teeth. The green clothes it was wearing looked like it was stolen from some old and dirty doll til I realized it had miniature versions of itself surrounding it, all in various states of filth or disarray, some missing their clothes, hair, or both, but more or less, resembled their 'mother'. "Mister Man? It's a Mister Man mama! Techi!" one of the smaller ones said while it tried to look cute for me, tilting it's head one way while putting one of those stubby excuses for an arm against it's cheek. "What. The. Fuck?" Was all I could say. The 'mama' came foward and holding what looked like to be a little green worm, but when I got a closer look, saw that it had a minature head that resembled hers, but with a little wiggly maggot body. She then said "Mister man, are we cute, Desu?" The others started to chorus, "Take us home, Techi!" "We don't eat much, Rechi!" "Will you make us your pets? Techi!" "Give us candy, Techi!" "Refu!" "Punipuni!" "Rub belly please! Refu!" I really thought at this point, that the drugs and alcohol were messing with my mind, but I looked directly at the 'mama' and replied, "No, I think you're all ugly and this box," which I gestured to, "Is my fucking house." and with that I crawled back inside into my box to lay down. I was only able to close my eyes for a few seconds til the lot of them came into my box. I thought, this had to be a dream, a really bad fucked up crazy dream. I rolled over and asked "Didn't I say this was my house?" "Mister man lives in a Jissou house, Techi?" "Refu!" "Mister man smells funny, Refu!" "Where is food, Techi?" "What's this, Rechi?" The smaller ones were crawling all over the inside of my box now. "Hey! Get out of there!" I grabbed and shook one of the thumb sized ones out of a small box that I used to stash my meager supply of pot. She fell out with an excited "Rechiii!" before landing ontop of her head. I didn't realize though, how fragile these things were til it tried to right itself up but now with part of her noggin caved in, it started crying... "Reeeeen!" That's when the mother got up to my face, or at least she tried, but at that time, I was kneeling and she still only stood up to about my waist. She pointed her stubby paw at me and bared those ugly yellow teeth and I got a whiff of her breath and phew! it smelled like the ass end of an alley cat with dhiarrea. "Why you hurt thumb-chan, Desu! What did my child do to you, Desu!" "Your kid, was in my stash you, what- whatever the fuck you are!" I shouted right back. A maggot piped in "Stash? Is it tasty, Refu?" "Reeeeen! It hurts! Techi..." the little one said, as the injury on her head swelled to a lump about half the size of her own head, it had this sick blue-ish purple palor to it and the lump looked threatening to burst. I also noticed that it pooped it's pants and this weird green slimey shit started oozing out of it. God, it smelled awful. The mother began stomping her stumpy little legs and shouting at me with that annoying high pitched squeal, "You're shit Mister Man, Desu! Get out of our house, Desu!" Wait, did it just proclaim that my box was theirs? Of all the unbelievable things, I've had some pretty fucked up hallucinations, but now I began to think I wasn't hallucinating. I slammed my hands down which immediately got the attention of the intruders. Some of them, unfortunately, shat their panties when they felt and heard my hands slamming to the ground. I confirmed that by hearing more of that foul liquid green slimey shit ooze out of their asses. I was furious at this point, even the other bums in the homeless camp respected each other enough to not steal or invade each other's spot no matter how much of a shithole it is. "Now you listen here you green slimey little fucktards!" I grab the Mamma by the two tangles of hair and lifted her up to my eye level. "Desha! Let me go!" she squirmed in the air. "This is MY box. Not YOURS!" I jab her in her fat little belly which only elicted her to shit her panties even more, ugh. "Now get out!" And with that, I pitched her out with an underarm throw and watched her go tumbling out like a lumpy bowling ball before she slowed down, unconscious, near an flaming oil drum that we used to light fires to keep ourselves warm at night. Unfortunately, I thought the other little ones would run away in fear, but to my surprise, they all started running up to me and kicking and punching me with their little stubby paws and stumpy little legs and biting me with those little A shaped mouths. Their whiney voices were so aggravating. "Ree! You hurt mama! I kill you!" "Techi! How could you! Hate you mean Mister Man!" "You are so creul! Techi! Go Die!" "Mister Man taste bad, Refu!" Their retaliation really didn't do any harm, no more bothersome than a small rat crawling on me or biting me. But their antics only served to infuriate me more. My focus suddenly landed on the one with the swollen head. It was still sitting there, crying "Reeen!" and it's red and green eyes were leaking tears of the same color. I aimed for it's swollen head and flicked it as hard as could, in the direction that would send it flying out of my box. To my surprise, it's head exploded instead, coating my hand with red and green gore and it's now headless body slumping over, twitching for a couple of seconds before finally relaxing from it's death throes. I was a little grossed out, but at least it silenced one of them. "Gaaah! Thumb-chan! Techi!" "Sister! Rechi!" "Hungry, Refu." "Oh No! Techi!" What happened next grossed me out. I thought the little bastards were going to run out of my box after I slaughtered their 'thumb-chan' but instead, they ran to the body and began to eat it, tearing it apart. They fought over it like little savages. I saw a feeding frenzy where they were ripping the limbs off, going after the guts, etc. Some of the unfortunate maggots got kicked or stepped on during the frenzy. It turned my stomach to see the now freshly dead maggots being gobbled up by their bigger brethren. I had to get these things out. Something snapped in me, I don't know whether it was the drugs or from watching these selfish, self-entitled little bastards running amock in my box. I pulled out a small knife I kept hidden on me, just incase some thugs wanted to play "Hobo, the punching bag" and slashed at the green mass. I managed to slice the ear off one of the bigger ones which caused her to let out an eardrum shattering scream. It caught the attentions of the others too. "GET OUT!" I said, threatening the group with my now bloody knife. "GET OUT!" The one who got cut was the quickest to comply, running out as fast as she could on those stumpy legs. "Teee! You're so mean! Techi!" and I felt something hit my right cheek. I wiped it away to find a green smelly smear on my fingers. It threw it's shit at me. Next thing I know, the knife in my hand found it's way stabbed into the ground so hard, it only stopped when the hilt reached the floor. In the path of the blade was the little green monster, now a little green mess of gore. That was apparently enough to send the others running. But I wasn't satified. No. I got out of my box to chase after them. The smaller ones and the maggots didn't stand a chance as I stomped on them, ignoring their pleas. I only gained a tinge of satisfaction from feeling them being squashed underfoot. How dare these little shits claim my space, my box, as their own. How dare they have the nerve to stick there noses where they don't belong. How dare they they accuse me of being mean when they themselves, don't know how to behave. I was going to holocaust these things so hard, even Nostradamus would have predicted it. The commotion I caused, woke the other sleeping bums at the camp to come out their corners. They thought I was going psycho what with the knife in my hand and me being covered in red & green gore. But that quickly changed when they noticed the little green shits I was exterminating. Some of them also, unfortunately, noticed a few of those little green shits raiding their stashes for food or what not, and leaving little shit piles in their wake. "Wat da Fuck man!" "Aren't I cute, Techi?" "Aaahh! Fuggin Martians are taking my dope!" "Desu! Hello Mister Man!" "Aaaah! Don't probe me bro!" "Refu? Probe? Is it tasty?" One of the more sensible bums, hollared at me "Jeebuz! Sam! Sam! What's wrong Sam?" I don't know why I suddenly paused as I was grinding a half-stomped 'thumb-chan' into the dirt. I looked up at the direction of my name being called and said "These little green fuckers are here to take our camp and steal what little we have." I raised my foot again and stomped down hard with my heel, on the remainder of the one I was crushing. I grabbed the unconscious 'mama' I met earlier by the hair and raised her up, "This one just told me to get out of my box because she said it was theirs." And I toss her into the burning oil drum which wakes her up right quick with another ear piercing scream "ORORORORORO~N! It burns! IT BURNS!" The other bums look at me like I'm crazy as they watch me in the glow of the fire with the screaming Jissouseki burning alive in the oil drum. I concluded by announcing, "Fuck that shit. This camp is ours." "Yo! listen up everyone" the earlier voice announced loudly, "Sam says these green fucks are trying to take our camp and our stuff!" "Well fuck that shit!" "What are these fucking things?" "Don't care, let's get 'em..." "Desu?" Within moments, the homeless camp was up and killing the green menance left and right. Jissouseki were stabbed, slashed, bashed, burned in the oil drum, stomped on, thrown hard to splatter or impale on something, crushed, squashed, and torn apart. The wails of these things were heard beyond the camp. What I didn't realize earlier was that the first group that invaded my box was just a scouting party, but there were nearly a hundred more coming from the surrounding hills. While their brethen were getting killed, I couldn't believe that a few of them were stupid enough to still approach us and ask us "Mister Man, won't you make me a pet, Desu?" or "Mister man, aren't I cute, Desu?" That only feuled our bum rage as we sent those stupid fucktards into oblivion. It was probably a half an hour after the carnage started. The place smelled and looked like shit from all the loosened bowels of these things being crushed, smashed, slashed, etc. There were a few stragglers, most of the maggot things and a few of those 'thumb-chans'. The little shits also did their fair of share of damage to our camp. Some of the shacks were knocked over as a flying 'mama' met her end by being splattered against one of the walls. The oil drum we used to burn stuff was knocked over by a bum who took a load of flying shit to the face, he stumbled backward, apparently, knocking the oil drum over with it's firey contents rolling into a couple of more sheds setting them ablaze, and a few of the green fuckers along with it. As I went back to my box, I found that it didn't survive the encounter either, there was a jissou shaped hole on the top, apparently from one that was thrown high up into the air, to only crash land into my box and splattering all over the inside. As I rummaged to salvage what I could, one of those maggot things crawled out of a pile of shit that it's dead mom apparently released as she died from impact. "Refu! Belly rub please!" I placed the toe edge of my shoe on it's belly and begin to press down slowly while 'rubbing'. "No NO! Rebya! Not like th-" POP! I smile as I watch the thing squish like a over ripe grape. It's little tiny red & green eyeballs shooting out of it's head followed by similar colored streamers of gore. With what little belongings I have, I decided that I need get away from the camp. In fact, I decided that I needed to head down a better path for me. I continue, "It's ironic too, how those Jissouseki are very much like us, especially the homeless. I later learned that the homeless Jissouseki live out of cardboard boxes, they scavenge and constantly fight amongst themselves for what little resources they can get. They beg people for food, constantly pestering good, honest, hard working folk. Very few people want them, and the only thing they seem to be good for is to take out some agression by attacking them. And any bleeding-heart fool enough to take one or more of them home learns to regret it. Almost any place they move into, they literally leave their shit everywhere and my God, that stuff reeks. They also breed irresponsibly and numerously and don't contribute anything much to themselves or to civilization." "I realized that after I left the camp, I no longer wanted to be like my father. And to a more horrific realization, I wanted to be even less like these jissouseki, which are a bane to humanity. That's when I sought the shelter and the Narcotics Anonymous group. I got off the street, and got off the drugs. After several months of getting things back together, I came here, to you Mr. Haroldson" Mr. Haroldson only continues to look at me as I finish my story. He then looks at his monitor and taps on his keyboard for a couple more moments before smiling. He looks back at me and says "I think I have the perfect job for you, Sam." "Really? But you haven't even asked me for what skills I have" I say in surprise. "No need, Sam." He smiles "You're correct that the city has a problem with these Jissouseki, they are over running the public parks and filling the alleyways, their corpses line the streets and gutters along with their progeny and piles of their feces clog water ways. The city has a high demand for new public workers to help 'clean' them up and what I mean by that is basically exterminating them." "Exterminating them..." I repeat, recalling how enraged I was back at the homeless camp, but I also realized I was a bit more relaxed after punching the tickets for a bunch of those green fuckers. "The pay is actually pretty good. And it's pretty simple job, see a wild Jissouseki, kill, bag, and on to the next one. You'll get some training to understand the critters better and how to tell the wild ones from the domesticated ones. You get full Health and Dental and a great retirement package to boot." I smile at the enticing offer and reply, "So where do I sign up?" ~JissouJoker
Really good, please continue! However, please format your posts differently, as it was making the story irritating to read.
Thank you for the positive response Anonymous. I apologize for the bad formatting as I did a direct copy and paste and somehow, main bodies of text were double spaced and thus, made irritating to read. I plan to write more short stories about Sam's adventurers with Jissouseki. After all, he's going to have his first day on the job. Maybe he'll find some unusual Jissouseki. And you never know what you'll learn when you do a bit more research about these critters. For instance, I see that a few writers use the term "canon" to describe the current facts about Jissouseki. One bit that they keep using over and over again is their love for this candy called Colaciones. I believe Colaciones ARE NOT the candy that Jissouseki like (though, they'll just eat about anything that's edible). If you retain the idea that Jissouseki are a Japanese invention, they will obviously like something made in or from Japan... Do a search on a Japanese candy called "Konpeito" and you will definitely see a better resemblence (according the various illustrations) of the candies that Jissouseki love beyond reasonable passion. And for those of you too lazy to look: hxxp://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/Bag_of_konpeito_kompeito.jpg hxxp://www.candyaddict.com/blog/uploads/konpeito.jpg hxxp://www.asianfoodgrocer.com/product/16090-kasugai-konpeito Konpeito, according to the last link, is a Japanese derivative of a Portuguese candy that was introduced to the land of the Rising Sun sometime during the 15th or 16th century. In Portuguese, it was called "Conpeito" (which mean Confection). Colaciones sounds and look like something from Spanish speaking countries. After doing a little research on it, it seems to originate from Mexico. Umm...that, in my personal opinion, doesn't exactly fit well with the idea of Japanese origins of the Jissouseki. It seemed like someone was looking up "spikey ball candy" and the first hit they came up with Colaciones. I'll probably incorporate Konpeito in my version of Jissouseki stories. I invite other fans of Jissouseki to verify or disprove that Jissouseki love Konpeito.
>>139 It does looks a lot like it, with sharper spikes and uniform colors. Sure, it's a trivial point, but a point nonetheless. Also, your story's good, no doubt about that. However, I think Jissouseki research has been covered pretty well already, maybe you wouldn't want to focus too heavily on it.
Thank you InLeaves. I just thought I'd bring up Konpeito since most of the Japanese illustrations of Jissouseki do illustrate a "spikey ball candy" which they never named. I thought it would make more sense they'd use something native to them. Given that the Japanese are very patriotic and I doubt they'd use a Mexican import. But as you said, it's a trivial point. Like Apples and Oranges, but a Jissouseki doesn't care as long as it's sweet and edible. As for the research on Jissouseki, I've been lurking on this site and others for a long time. But I decided I'd take a chance and post a short story that I wrote in a few days. I love some of the cute Jissouseki illustrations along with the ones where they are being tortured or killed. I don't actually speak or read a lick of Japanese, but a lot of the twisted humor is easy to follow. I just want to accurately portray any knowledge of the Jissouseki in my stories. Thus, why I made a point about Konpeito vs. Colaciones. I was inspired to create Sam due to the environment I live in. Yes, I do live near a big city where the homeless are ever present. I got to thinking how the homeless and Jissouseki are very similar in regards to how they behave and to how normal people treat them. I took the idea that if Jissouseki did exist, how'd one homeless man might feel if he suddenly realized that there was something worse, yet, similar to his existence. Thus, Sam was born.
Im an spanish talker and i can say that the word "colasiones" has nothing to do with a particular food. Instead "colaciones" refers to a light meal than can be eaten at school, work or anywhere else where you can´t eat a bigger or more produced food, like can be just an apple with a box of milk, or a sandwich with a can of coke. Konpeito in other side make reference to a candy or cande making process, but mainly consist on cover something with caramel and let it harden, so that way will they spiky appearance. Around here we call it confeti or if is something covered with confeti we call it "... confitado" like "mani confitado"
Thanks for that bit of info spanish talking Anonymous person. When I did a search for "colaciones candy" I found out that there are some candies that originate from Mexico, sold in small bags with labels stating that they were "colaciones". They very much resemble the small "spikey ball candy" in some Jissouseki illustrations, but... What I didn't agree on was that the "spikey ball candy" in the Jissouseki illustrations was deemed to be "colaciones" without any real thought to as why. "Konpeito" (NOT Conpeito or Confitado) made more sense since Jissouseki originated from a Japanese concept and the links I provided ARE actually a candy sold in Japan under the label "Konpeito". I mean, it's not rocket science folks. A good majority of illustrated Jissouseki suffering, torture, and killing usually involve Japanese cultural references, themes, and backdrops. For example, one of my favorite Jissouseki Flashes is that little game where you prepare maggot-chans into tempura, deep-fried maggots, or boiled maggots, to serve to patrons of a Jissouseki restaurant.
>>143 could I have a source for said flash?
>>144 http://jissou.sytes.net/upload_b/src//bin0038.swf
This picture seems to confirm your theory about konpeitos : http://i38.tinypic.com/vfghl.jpg
>>145 This needs to be done as a "virtual pet" scenario. Collect wild or tame jissou maggots, raise them to adulthood, temperament changing depending on their upbringing/etc. And it should have the option in it's start screen to react to things as though real-time had passed - a maggot not seen to in a while should be upset, an adult pissy... all the more reason to smash their little faces in with one of the "toys".
PTLD – In the sniper's sight (2/2) Continued from >>116 In the center of my scope, I could see the yakuza jissou inspecting the gas cylinder. Clearly, they knew it wasn't just your average gizmo. But just as clearly, its exact use was flying way over their heads. The matriarch who brought the cylinder was panting in anticipation of an undeserved approval. The yakuza took her unlit cigarette in her left paw -I never understood how the fuck they manage that- and puffed a non-existent cloud of smoke. Then, she threw the fag away and put another one into her mouth. Sigh. "Yes, we will have a doomsday device to frighten all our enemies, desu" says the yakuza after the supposedly cool gesture, as if you need a doomsday device to frighten jissouseki. Bah, whatever. I aim at the cylinder. Given the toxin's effect, punching a hole in it should be enough to seal the shanty town's fate. "I'm gonna get chemical on your ass, desu !" I shoot. Click, clack. And... … Nothing ? Hey ! Why isn't there any hole in the... ...oh, right. Foam bullets. Well fuck. I settle for shooting away the safety pin, before realizing I had to bring back "impossible" into my vocabulary. I guess I will have to bet on the Jissouseki's stupidity to open the valve. I can wait all winter anyway. And I have an interesting sight which should nurture my hatred nicely. They must have been there for quite some time, the town isn't just a bunch of cardboard boxes. Remember when I mentioned their uncanny tendency to emulate human behavior ? Well, nothing illustrates that better than this gathering. On top of a cardboard tower, a Jissou with blonde hair was being praised by a regular one, playing guitar with a comb. Somewhere the place most densely filled with cardboard boxes, an old, maimed Jissou preaches the dangers of cannibalism, which angers Mr.Men. In the kitchen, metal cages, obviously stolen from Mr.Men, are filled with unfortunate kojissous, waiting to be chosen and eaten. Some have been there for so long, they became adults. All are begging to be released, and all they get is to be struck by the warden's stick. Sure, it's a ghetto, but there is some sense to it. Law of the strongest and very strong survival instincts bind the otherwise grossly retarded individuals into a somewhat viable community. It's not something as perceptible as survival of the fittest, as they are all equally worthless. It's just that, given enough numbers, a Jissouseki community can climb up pretty high just by stacking enough bodies under them. Shit, they are self-sustainable just by crapping out enough shit and devouring it. No wonder even Antarctica can't take them out. Although that only solves one part of the problem, will you object. In winter, you need both food and warmth. Don't worry, they got that covered too. "Refu !" On the edge of the town, snow gently piles up on the foot of an adult Jissou, lying on her back. She's almost naked, save for her boots and hood. She stares at the leaves above her, mouth foaming and what's left of her arms shaken up by nervous spasms. "Mama is good and warm, refu !" A maggot rolls on its back, its little arms wriggling in the air. It's happy. It just had the greatest feast of its short life, and now it can enjoy a rest in a warm liquid. Like a dozen of its siblings, all getting comfortable in their mother's open belly, like real, actual maggots. "S...top it, jissou-chans...cold, des..." Pleads the mother. Who knows what caused her own children to maul her like that...Probably just a broken leg. Her crystal is exposed, and one of the maggots, tainted red, gums on it a little. The gem won't shatter that easily, but the unlucky mom is still doomed : Another one of her babies is crawling into her mouth, causing her to slowly suffocate. A family passes by. The mother lets out a mocking laugh, and is promptly mimicked by her offspring. "Ha, what a shit jissou mama, desu ! She was so bad, her babies eat her now, depupupu !" The victim gargles, makes her last struggle attempt, and dies as shittily as she lived. The other gets all the more smug, confident that would never happen to her. Wanna bet, shitbag ? "DEGYA !" Click, clack. She falls, her leg crushed by the bullet. She looks baffled, and tries to get up as if she merely tripped. That's not going to happen though, the limb is pierced in the middle. Blood flows on the frozen soil. "Is Mama all right, techi ?" Ask five separate children, cooing and gathering around their mother. She weakly answers that she's fine, and send them fetch some leaves to cover the wound. The children go, leaving only the maggots with her. In no time, the scent of blood entered the larvae's nostrils. In the tiny brain of these living beans, and regardless of how recent their last meal was, that translated into one of the three feelings they were capable of : Hunger. Like guided flesh missiles, they all crawled towards the wound, panting. When the older sisters came back, the maggots were all around the wound, gumming at the screaming mother's leg. "Help me, jissou-chans, desha ! Bad maggot-chans are eating me, desha !" They drop the leaves, seemingly worried. And they do try to get the maggots off her. Alas... "Hey, Mama does smell good, techi..." Drool was leaked. One wail later, another living heater was created in the town. I go back to the place where they gather junk. The Yakuza jissou was eating a rotten sandwich, looking away from the canister. Behind her, an obviously starving Jissou adult was sneaking. Her dress was utterly wasted, and her left orbit was empty. Possibly because of the wannabe Yakuza, because she was looking at her with both fear and anger. Demonstrating why the Japanese army had to quickly give up its project to train and weaponize Jissous, the waste of space muttered to itself. "Depupupu ! Ya-sama's new toy will be broken, de !" Says she before not-so-stealthily trying to break the cylinder. Fortunately for her, her nemesis was too busy eating to notice her. After three attempts to kick it open, the one-eyed Jissou finally got to the valve. Attagirl. The yakuza finally turns her head when she hears the sound of metallic friction. She rushes forward, but is too late, the gas has begun to leak in a high-pitched whistling sound. The burglar gets a mouthful, and she coughs, staggering backwards. Ya-sama immediately backs up. Ah, good old survival instinct. "Hanta-chan ! We get out of here, desu !" Her underling appears from behind a box, jumping, panties down. She doesn't demand explanations and follows her boss as fast as she can. I follow them as they rush through the kitchen, pushing aside a screaming adult with three hungry children biting her arms. The bystanders look at them, baffled. "Is there danger, techi ?" The yakuza-jissous don't answer, and quickly arrive at the edge of the town. "Anego, must we really go through the snow, techi ?" "The weapon has been released, all of Jissou-town is in danger, desu. Let's hide in that big building over there." She points at the tower where I am myself hiding. Bah, let them come. I have a sight to behold. As they begin their journey through the snow, a thick mist created by the aerosol is invading the town. A large part of it is preventd by the foliage from going up. It obviously has a foul smell. Jissous, surprisingly, hate when something that isn't their shit stinks. They quit whatever activity they were engaged on, and try to evade the mist. Sadly, the cylinder continues to leak, sending more and more droplets into the air. Soon, all the town is covered. The matriarchs begin to scream orders before a riot breaks out. Panicked, the jissous follow them, trampling the layer of maggots. Most children survive, some with their favorite maggot sisters in their arms. A few minutes later, most of the town is gathered in an improvised central plaza, at the expense of a dozen makeshift homes. There is a cacophony of questions, all revolving around the subject of "what the fuck is happening". Well, except from the "Belly soft and springy, please rub, refu !" and "Hungry, techi" which can pretty much be considered as the jissou civilization's official soundtrack. "Please, listen to us, desu ! There is no reason for panic, nobody is harmed, desu !" "But Mama stepped on my favorite maggot-chan, techi !" "Listen, we must wait together, if anyone tries to attack us in the fog, we will defeat them, de !" Cheers in the crowd. They're right, in a way. Given enough numbers, few predators can take out a jissou herd. Because their anger fangs can prove quite sharp, of course, but it's more thanks to sheer numbers and an unlimited supply of throwable shit, really. Soon after, a child utters a "Tee ?". The apprehension in this vocalization lowered the ruckus a little, many jissous turning their heads toward the event. "Maggot-chan is weird, teee..." In her arms, the little green slug is jerking around, all fangs bare, barking and spitting in a high-pitch tone that doesn't make the scene any less creepy. Its eyes are both red, but of an unusual, very dark shade. It jerks around so well, the kojissou lets it drop on the floor. "Maggot-chan, what is wrong, desu ?" It doesn't answer. Instead, it barks some more and crawls hastily towards her sister. So hastily, in fact, that I think its primitive bone structure is threatening to snap under the pressure. The concerned kojissou reaches her arm toward it, and, unsurprisingly, gets bitten. "Chuwa ! Maggot-chan does not let go, techa !" Few, if not none, go to her rescue as she flails her arm around. Indeed, they noticed what was going on. Around the circle of juveniles and adults, all the maggots that hadn't been crushed were crawling toward them, angrily barking louder than their lungs can usually muster. It was a sea of little slugs gathering everything around them with a cacophony of pure rage. The group was surrounded. Even the matriarch's orders couldn't be heard anymore. The maggots' tiny size did nothing to comfort the Jissouseki. Obvious physical disadvantage or not, the maggot army was just pants-shittingly creepy. None were talking, but if they were, it would probably had gone something like this : "Belly soft and squishy, please rub it FROM THE INSIDE refu !" Jissouseki maggots are three words away from being awesome. As the brilliant problem solvers they are, the Jissouseki ask the incoming maggots what's wrong. It took a dozen of bites for them to finally begin the stomping any Mr.Man would have thought of at this point. The fight is quite unilateral. A maggot, no matter how mad he is, is still the larva of the shittiest creature to ever walk the Earth. Only the kojissous occasionally get bitten, by misplaced empathy and lack of strength. "They are all ill, desu, we must send them to paradise, de !" Were chanting the matriarchs. "Be brave, they are almost cleansed, de !" Bravery or not, the numbers were clearly failing, until it reached the point where all the maggots would have been stomped to death if the crowd had dispersed. They were already celebrating their victory over their shit babies... When another bark, stronger and lower pitched, interrupted them. Of course, a toxic gas that only affects maggots isn't any fun. "What's happening, Jissou-chan, de ? Evil maggot-chan teeth hurt, de ?" "Tech...grrrAARGH !" "What, desu ? Do not look at me like...DEGYA !" I guess she must be quite surprised to feel her daughter's teeth plunged into her throat. Around her, more and more kojissous are engulfed by the same rage that drove the maggots to their poorly thought assault. No words could be heard from them, just the feral growl. The mothers can't believe their eyes. Their so, so cute jissou-chans, attacking them before they themselves had the chance to eat them ? "Let me go, you shit jissou, desu !" "MY DAUGHTERS ARE EATING ME, DECHA, I" The kojissous are three to five times smaller than their mothers, but still greatly outnumber them. This time, among the crowd, I can see several Jissouseki with bitten-off faces falling to the ground, shit bubbling out of their panties. One of the matriarchs was guarding her family and now lacks part of her left leg. At the edge of the town, the two dead mothers are being torn to pieces by juvenile jissous coated in blood. Cardboard boxes are being crushed by kojissous, alive ones unleashing their rage, or dead ones thrown away by their mothers. Regardless, the shanty town is quickly falling apart. Most of the adults are in a state of panic, trying to both calm down their offspring and chase them away. Some are already enraged at the familial treason, tearing apart twitching bodies. Some are just scared shitless and try to hide. In the kitchen, the few adults trapped in cages scream for help, covered in bloodthirsty younger cellmates. They are hitting the bars, but they are too solid, and they only manage to crush their paws into a pulp, attracting even more children. A male Jissou runs frantically, five kojissous eating its dick as if it was made from konpeitos that magically grants a good house and an army of devoted Mr.Men to the one that eats the fastest. The member has holes so big, blood and semen leaks from them, causing the abomination to lose its boner for the first time since it was born. Somehow, it seems the Jissouseki is more frightened by this that everything else, and ignores the cannibalistic kojissous, rather stroking its dick with the energy of despair, tears flowing and mouth left wide open by a silent wail. Alas, it fails, and the enormous cock, now halfway eaten, is deflating like a pierced balloon. Looking beaten and desperate, getting increasingly bluish, the male jissou falls on the ground. "Please, jissou-chans, lick my dick, deee..." Its ple -fortunately- is not answered. The aberration lets out a soul-tearing wail. As its eyes become dull, as its purpose in life is getting away, it makes a last, heroic attempt at recovering its sex drive. It tries to reach the receding member with its mouth... The bullet literally fired itself. I missed a good deal of the show as I was busy puking on the floor. God, I don't think I will ever be able to get used to those monstrosities among monstrosities. Five minutes have passed, and I re-adjust my scope before getting back to the shanty town. I can see three mister men walking up the hill. They wear hazmat suits, and carry some sort of fire extinguishers. Exterminators. If I ever have a Master, I want one like that. They haven't put on their hood yet, and thus I can see their faces. They seem to know there's a jissou town up ahead, and seem thrilled at that prospect. In a transparent bag are already some bodies, one of which I recognize as the bald-naked one I headshotted when it ventured its head outside of the shelter. "Okay, they said it was under that big shrubbery, we're almost there...Ah, I can already see some." "Yeah, they're rushing towards us. No, you rotten bollocks, we won't take you home !" "They never understand...Bah, we like them that way, so..." "Wait a second...Why are they screaming like that ? Be ready boys." The first adult to get within range gets a healthy cloud of fast-acting poison. It falls face first on the snow, quickly suffocating in an awful concert of whistling death throes. That doesn't deter the other three, that continue running at full speed, yelling at the top of their lungs without asking anything about a home. Sure enough, they all die within ten seconds. "That was weird. Better be careful when we hit the town, we..." One of the exterminators points a finger towards the shrubbery. They look, and see adults pouring out of it. Dozens of them. Some with their paws, legs and mouth covered in blood. All yelling in a mindless rage. The ground is trembling, the snowy white hill is turning green, the air fills with the stench of shit. "WHAT THE FUCK MAN ?!" 28 seconds later, the wave is upon the exterminators, who are spreading poison gas like crazy. Right now they wonder if aren't against the Jissou equivalent of the Thermopylae, enhanced by a delightful Left4Dead flavor. But soon they will discover a shanty town devoid of life, but filled with the acrid smell of a dangerous chemical. And after that, the city hall will be informed of this unusual event. They will investigate. And I'll be forced to leave this place, all because of one stupid Jissou with ideas of vengeance. Okay, I wished for it. But when I have to leave some place hastily, at least let it be my fault ! As I finish packing up my stuff, the exterminators are leaving, not even bothering to clean the hill from all the asphyxiated corpses. Suddenly, someone enters the room. "Who are you, desu ?" Oh, it's only the yakuza Jissou and her underling. "Answer, techi ! You are in the territory of the powerful Ya-sama, te !" Screeches the kojissou. *sigh* "You know, you're kinda cool for Jissous, so I'm going to give you something I never offered to any jissou before, desu." "And what would that be, desu ?" Says, defiantly, the shanty town's only surviving adult. I grin. "A headstart, desu." -------------------- The night falls. Two more corpses are lying in the snow. Quietly, PTLD leaves the water tower. Where to go ? It's still winter, and she can't find a suitable shelter at a moment's notice. Plus, there's no telling if this crazy Jissou-Mrs.Lady is tracking her down or not. As she's lost in her thoughts, she doesn't see the lights when she crosses the street. The loud screeching of car brakes can be heard. ------------- Look forward to PTLD's final act in next month's story, No country for Jissous !
> 145 Thanks! ... now all I need is a translator, and we're in business...although, really, only TWO flashes? you'd think there'd be more...
Further adventures of Sam. It's his first real day of work. What kinds of Jissouseki will Sam encounter? How will he exterminate them? Good thing he has a mentor with him to help him along the way. "I hate my job..." "What?! How can you hate this kind of work?" I say with honest surprise in my voice. "Sam, no offense to you, but why did sign up for this?" I stare back at Paul. He's my trainer and for the past week, he has given me a crash course on Jissouseki. I learned a lot about their origins, their biology & life cycle, and some of their behavioral quirks. This was necessary for me to learn the difference between the wild ones and the domesticated ones and how to bait, lure, and kill or capture Jissouseki. From what I deduced of Paul, he was a fairly intelligent and hard working man. He's 10+ years my senior and apparently, he's been spending the past several years traveling from city to city, training new recruits like me. When I initally met him, I was so impressed with his amount of knowledge on the Jissouseki, I swear if there was a college degree on Jissouseki extermination, Paul should receive a honorary doctorate. I paused for a long moment. My relationship with Paul was that of a professional one. I only came to realize at his question, Paul and I had discussed very little about our personal lives in the past week we've been working together. I related to him the cliff notes edition about my previous life that I had told Mr. Haroldson, the social worker who helped me get this job. How I was once homeless and addicted to various drugs. How my life was pretty much one big pile of Jissouseki shit til I actually met one on that fateful night. How that encounter with my first band of wild Jissouseki made me want to turn my life around. Paul chuckles to himself a little when I made the comparison between wild Jissouseki and homeless humans. "Ahhh, I hear you Sam. I can respect that you want to better yourself after hitting rock bottom." Paul says, with a bit more encouragement in his tone. "So I answered your question, Paul. What about mine?" Paul leans back into the driver's seat of the van. He turns his head to look outside the front windshield and I follow suit from the passenger seat. He takes a long moment as we both stare out at the park we were assigned to "clean up" today. "I hate killing anything." Paul utters with a flat tone. "That's funny coming from a man who seems to be very good at exterminating Jissouseki." I reply. "That's true, but just because I'm good at it doesn't mean I actually like doing it." Paul says, defensively. "So why continue doing this? You seem like a really smart guy Paul..." I say, confusingly. "I continue to do so because I love helping people out more than I hate killing anything. I derive great personal satisfaction in helping people. Whether it be helping the public in general or teaching people something in order to better themselves. Even if that means teaching them the skills and knowledge they'll need to exterminate Jissouseki. I understand that Jissouseki have ruined entire ecological systems and will outnumber us if we don't control their population. Thus, if we let them get out of control, people will suffer." I nod and smile before saying, "Yes, you taught me a lot Paul. I didn't know much about Jissouseki before you explained to me about their origins and how they live. You're a great teacher Paul." My compliment elicits a smile from him. "Good to hear it from you Sam." He says with a little sigh, "That makes me feel better, even though I still hate my job." "Well how about I make you feel better by showing you the skills and knowledge I've learned from you?" I say encouragingly. Paul, with a little satisfied smile on his face, opens the van's door and hops on out, motioning for me to get out too and gear up. "All right Sam, show me what you learned." As I hop out of the government owned van, I walk to the back where all our equipment is stored. The van is a simple number, colored white and featureless like many fleet vehicles owned by large corporations. I was told that we use unmarked, featureless vans as to not attract the attention of some extreme animal rights activists who believe Jissouseki are worthy of their "protection." Some of these "protection" stories I've heard include the activists attacking exterminating crews, slashing their vehicles tires, to burning or blowing up their vehicles. Ironic though, sometimes they destroy a van full of captured Jissouseki, killing all of them in the process. Nutjobs, I tell you. I knew homeless men who were more sane and respectable than them. Anyway... The government issued Jissouseki Exterminator uniform is a military green one piece jumpsuit made out of materials that resists being stained by Jissouseki gore or shit. It's arm sleeves and pant legs come with drawstrings to prevent smaller Jissouseki from crawling into your jumpsuit. This feature is really handy if you have to get down on all fours to remove the vermin from smaller cavities such as sewer pipes or small caves. Last thing any of us need is some little toothy Jissouseki chomping down on any sensitive bits if they happen to get into our clothing. The jumpsuit zips up in the front, closing off as a turtle neck, another smart design so any smalller Jissouseki can't crawl down your neck. All the jumpsuit's pockets (total of 4, 2 to the side and 2 on the chest) are made of a fine, yet strong mesh like material. It's see through so it'll be easy to spot any "stowaways." Accessories that come along with the jumpsuit are water-proofed, steel-toed boots for many a Maggot Smooshing, Thumb-Jissou Squashing, Child-Jissou Crushing, Adult-Jissou Ass-stomping good time. A simple cloth belt to buckle at the waist. Heavy duty latex gloves with non-slip grip pads at the finger tips. A small gas mask to filter out the smell of dead or dying Jissouseki along with the piles of crap they create. And some safety goggles with built in LED lights used to illuminate the darker hiding holes that a wild Jissouseki may reside in. The next and most important piece of equipment in my arsenal of Jissouseki extermination is my JPD, or Jissouseki Poison Dispenser. It's essentially the same piece of equipment you see gardeners use to spray weed killer or fertilizer. Except mine is filled with a special formulated poison that only kills Jissouseki almost instantly. Thankfully, the poison is harmless to anything else. It's fast acting and after witnessing a demonstration of how this stuff works on Jissouseki, sometimes with explosive results, I'm glad the poison in my JPD is no more bothersome to a human than getting sprayed with water. Along my main JPD, I also have a small bag of poisoned foodstuff that Jissouseki devour on sight. These spikey ball candies are apparently Jissouseki's favorite food. I believe the Japanese call these candies "Konpeito" but these special made ones are dosed with a concentrated version of the poison stored in the JPD. Once ingested, these are guarenteed to kill a Jissouseki, sometimes turning them into vile little green shit rockets once the poison wrecks their internals. What's also great about this poison is it lingers in the body of poisoned Jissouseki so any of their cannibalistic brethen will die if they consume any part of a dead and poisoned Jissouseki. I've also acquired a couple of other non-standard pieces of equipment to help me in my job. A strong, extendable metal rod with a spear point on one end and a hook on the other. It's useful for dragging out any Jissouseki, dead or alive, from any place where I can't fit or where my arm can't reach them. This little baby helps extend my reach by another 5 feet. It's also good when I feel like making a few Jissouseki shish-kabobs or when any old and fat Jissouseki would look great doing an impersonation of a harpooned whale. This particular piece of equipment may get some odd looks by onlookers, but hey, I'm here to get rid of the Jissouseki. What do they expect? A large feather to tickle them to death? The next piece of non-standard equipment is a utility belt I wear across my chest like a bandolier. I have all sorts of odds and ends in it from a push pins, miniature rolls of duct tape, tweezers, etc. I have to remember to check the belt's pockets after I'm done with this first run, to make sure I don't get any "stowaways." The last thing I think I'd need is a Maggot or Thumb Jissou hitching a ride into my new apartment and infesting the place. The landlord of my new home decided to give me a break on my down payment when I told him I was going to be a Jissouseki Exterminator. We agreed that I wouldn't need to pay the down payment on the condition that I help keep the building and surrounding lot free of wild Jissouseki. By the time I had everything ready and buckled, tied, and clipped on, Paul was waiting for me to double check my gear. I primed the JPD by giving the handle a few pumps. I sling my spear & hook rod across my back. I double checked my boot laces and with a smile, walked to stand next to Paul. "What's this 'Ahab'?" Paul says, tapping the extendable rod with a spear & hook. I reluctantly tell him a little lie, "That's...umm...a new piece of gear I was told to try out...umm...to retrive Jissouseki bodies from drainage ditches and other hard to reach places." Paul eyes me suspiciously, "Well, you better make sure you don't hurt yourself or me with that thing." "OK Paul," I said a bit nervously. I didn't exactly want to lie to Paul. He's a good guy, but I don't like making him feel weird about me using a such a primative tool to exterminate Jissouseki. Unlike the poison which killed quickly, the few physical methods we were provided to end a Jissouseki's life were a bit 'slower' if we missed a vital area. Not that I cared how quickly or slowly a Jissouseki died, but since just learning today that Paul doesn't like killing anything unless he has to, I think it be best I just satisfy his curiousity with a little lie and have my fun torturing Jissou with "stabby-stabby" fun time when Paul isn't looking. I take a step foward, walking towards the public park and with Paul along my side. A few minutes didn't even pass when we were accosted by a wild adult Jissou with a Thumb Jissou in tow. They appeared suddenly from around a small shrub along the pathway and I was greeted with the typical high-pitched squeaky voice of a Jissouseki. "Rechi! Hello Mister Man!" the Thumb said and I was a little surprised when the 'mother' Jissouseki bonked the head of her child, right after she greeted us. "Stupid Desu! It's Mister MEN! There are more than one of them, Desu!" the mother said annoyed. "Reeeeen..." the little Thumb cried. It almost made me feel sorry for it...almost... I look at the mother and accuse it, "Well, that's not very nice of you. You must be a bad Jissou and bad Jissou don't make good pets." I look at Paul and ask him "Don't you agree? This Jissou is mean!" The adult mother Jissouseki looks at me in shock, fearing that I just labeled her not worthy of being pet material. She then looks at Paul, hoping that he'll disagree with me. Paul just rolls his eyes. From the expression on his face, I can tell he doesn't like me playing on these creatures' simple minds. The Thumb continues to cry, "Chieeeen..." I nudge Paul with my elbow and whisper "Just play a long, Paul..." Paul reluctantly agrees and says in a flat, droll tone, "Yes, she's a bad mother." The adult Jissou is shocked again. She recovers quickly though, picking up her daughter and licking the spot where she bonked her head. This soothes the little one quickly and soon, I hear the Thumb sigh, "Rechu~n" "See! See! Desu! I am not a bad mama!" She proclaims quickly once the Thumb is set down, smiling again. "We'll make good pets! Desu!" I kneel down a little and got a closer look. Just to make sure, I was told to check Jissouseki for signs of domestication such as license tags, human made clothing, clean teeth, above average intelligence, etc. But this one had all the signs of a wild Jissouseki, dirty tattered clothing, scars on her face from being abused or having fights with other wild jissouseki, bad breath and teeth to boot. Her child didn't fair any better under my examination. This check is necessary because many a lawsuit has been filed against people who've killed an expensive domesticated pet Jissouseki. Don't ask me why someone would want something like these things for a pet, but the last thing I need is to exterminate someone's expensive pet and then be hit with a lawsuit that would put me back on the streets. "I'm not convinced," I tell the mother "But if you give this to your daughter..." I take out one of the poisoned Konpeito candies from my little bag and hold it before them. Their little beady red & green eyes got wide at the sight of it. For some reason, they instinctually favor these candies over all other food. I place the Konpeito into the stubby paws of the mother Jissouseki awaiting her response. She eyes it, greedily, with a little bit of drool dribbling out of her mouth. The Thumb starts jumping up and down, clinging to the edge of her mother's tattered dress shouting and reaching for the little treasure in her mother's stubby paws,"Re~! Re~! Let me have mama! Mister Man said to give to me! Re~!" I can tell the mama's simple mind is struggling with the choices. Does she take and eat all of the candy, disobeying Mister Man? Or does she do as she's told in order to impress Mister Man? "Dee..." the mother whines, but she reluctantly hands it to her daughter who greedily licks and munches the candy as soon as her mouth is able to touch it. "Rechi! This is good! *lick lick* It is...It...I...Re?" After seeing the thumbs little pink tongue lash at the candy for no more than a few seconds and hearing her agreeing with the treat, the poison goes to work fast, coursing through the tiny Jissou body, causing massive hemmoraging of her internal organs. Her little face turns a bluish purple and her expression of elation turns into pained horror. "Re?! Re?! Mama! It hurts! It hu..." The little Jissou never got to finish her sentence as the poison's secondary known effect kicks in. This volatile effect causes the green shit stored in a Jissouseki's body, to expand rapidly, thus causing it to exit the Jissouseki under incredible pressure. The path of least resistance for all that expanding shit is usually through the Jissouseki's bottom. The fun visual I got was watching the little Jissou shooting off like a little bottle rocket, fueled by it's own green shit. "Desha! My baby!" the mother screams at the sight of her daughter launching into the air. The remains of the Thumb's shit filled panties lies in tatters from the launch site and I can say, she probably flew up a good 10 or 12 feet upwards before finally coming down again and landing on the pavement with a wet sounding "SPLAT!" All that remained of the her was a terrible dark green and bright red gorey mess. Paul looks at me annoyed, but pulls out a small plastic bag used to retrieve and clean up Jissouseki remains. He began the least favorable part of this job, "clean up," not only is it unprofessional to leave the corpses out to rot, but we need a body count before we get paid. As Paul is scraping the little bits of leftover Thumb Jissou, the mother angrily turns to me. "Desha! Mister Man gave my baby bad candy!" she says angrily as she punches my leg with one of those stupid stubby arms. It doesn't hurt, but I felt a rage building within me to immediatley teach this Jissou a lesson in who's boss. She continues to berate me with her simple insults, "You are shit human! Desu!" "What? You're the one who gave your baby that bad candy, not I!" I mock the Jissou. I'm so glad that a majority of the wild Jissou are dumb as rocks. Otherwise, I'd have to think too hard to get a laugh out of them. My rebuttal stops her pathetic assault when my words dawn on her. She did technically give her daughter the candy, even though I provided her with said candy and told her to give it. "No! Desu! What have I done! Desuuun..." She begins to cry, ugh. Red and Green tears begin to flow out of each respective eye. It's bad enough to hear these things repeat their canned phrases over and over, but their crying is an entirely different entity all together. The combination of their high pitched voices and the wailing sounds of crying causes my eardrums much discomfort. As I place my hands over my ears to muffle out the sounds of this Jissou's lament, I see Paul returning from the spot where the thumb finished it's interpretation of "Jissou Rocket" "Desuuuun. Desuuuu-ack? Gah!" the adult cries out as I jam the long, metal nozzle of my JPD into her mouth. Having primed my JPD unit earlier, I simple depress the switch to start the flow of the poisoned contents of my JPD. With that nozzle thourughly jammed into the gaping mouth of the crying Jissou, she ends up swallowing all of the dispensed poison. Normally, I don't have to force a Jissou to ingest the poison from my JPD, but I tired quickly of this Jissou's crying. Plus, Paul was only a few feet away and I didn't want to trouble him anymore with the games I enjoy playing on these little freaks. The adult Jissou's pathetic attempt to remove the offending metal nozzle from it's mouth leaves me chuckling. It flailed its stubby arms and legs about as it realizes that it was forced to ingest something. As I yank the JPD's nozzle out, she falls flat onto her back and gasps for air. She then glares up at me, pointing that stubby paw while saying in her shrill little voice. "Desu! You are shi-" And before she could finish her sentence, I see her face turn blue as she realizes something is horribly wrong with her. I can see her belly expand a little which gave me enough warning to step aside and out of the way of what was about to happen next. "De? Desha! Des-" She popped like a balloon. Not quite the explosive shit rocket I was expecting, but the force of her expanding crap forced out her hemorraged internals to exit her body from any available orifice. I guess the poison in the JPD unit was diluted enough to kill the Jissou less violently, unlike the poisoned Konpeitos which were more often left for Jissousekis to find. Regardless, she was stone dead after a couple more seconds and her liquified internals leak out of her. I put on my gas mask to reduce the smell and take a little plastic bag Paul hands to me. I dump her remains unceremoniously into the bag and tie it shut. I hand it to Paul who frowns at me a little. "Sam, why didn't you just do that in the first place?" Paul asks me with a serious tone in his voice. "What? Just kill them on 1st contact? Oh come on Paul, I was just having a little fun on the job. And you saw me, I examined them to make sure they weren't anyone's pets." I complain. "Sam, I understand a man should enjoy his work, but you shouldn't tortue these things like that." "Tortue? I just messed with their heads a little. It's not like I plan to capture them alive and put them into a Jissouseki torture chamber. Besides Paul, I think you'll like this job more if you learn to have fun with it." I retort. Paul sighs, "Well Sam, I'll give you credit when you remembered to check them for signs of domestication, but you should just spray'em with your JPD and move on. Kill them quickly, it's more humane and professional that way." I roll my eyes a little. I like Paul, and I can respect that he doesn't like killing anything unless he has too. But the old coot is cramping my style. "Fine, let me just check the shrub where these two popped out of. There may be more." I say to Paul. "Good idea Sam, check for any cardboard boxes or any other Jissouseki dwellings." Paul says, offering his sagely advice. "I'm gonna dump these two into the back of the van." I nod at Paul as he walks off to store our first two kills of the day. As he heads towards the van, I walk around the shrub where the now two dead Jissou's approached us from, I saw the flap of a cardboard box sticking out a little from the greenery. The cardboard box is set in and under the shrub so I have to get onto all fours to examine it for Jissouseki habitation. I put on my safety goggles and gas mask to protect my face incase any defending Jissou's decide to start flinging their crap or or other small objects at me. I flip the little LED lights built into my safety goggles to illuminate the insides of the cardboard box. I take my extendable spear & hook rod and using the hook end, I prod into the box. "Te?!" I was greeted by the squeal of a suprised child Jissouseki. As I turn my head to aim the lights at the source of the sound, I'm surprised to see what I found. "Techa! It's too bright! Please don't hurt me!" It was child Jissouseki all right, but this one had on a slightly dirty, yet fancy dress. Her hair was missing in small patches and her face was covered in small bruises. Her face also looked a little different than previous Jissouseki I've encountered. She still had the red and green mismatched eyes and the A shaped mouth but her features seemed a bit more, dare I say, cute. Almost human like. She huddles in the far corner of the box, which is lined with filth, scraps of food, and bits of random knick knacks the previous Jissouseki owners must have gathered. I put away the spear & hook rod to show her I don't mean her any harm. "Hello there little Jissou." I say in a friendly manner. "Techi?" She blinks a little at me, the bright lights on my safety goggles blinding her. I turn them off and let her eyes readjust. She looks at me a little suspiciously, "Te? Te! Mister Man is not going to hurt me?" "Why would I hurt a cute Jissou like you?" "Teeeee..." She came running at me, tears flowing from her eyes. I backed my face out of the way and felt her run into my leg as she held onto it tight. "Techi! Please don't let the bad Jissou hurt me! Please Mister Man! Help me find my master!" Well now. I obviously have a case of a lost Jissouseki pet here. She was a bit more intelligent than your average Jissou, dressed in human provided clothing and admitted to me she had a master. The wild Jissousekis apparently have bullied her, yet, why she wasn't already bald, naked, killed and eaten by her wild brethen is beyond me. "Little Jissou, do you have a name?" I ask the soda can sized Jissou at my leg. "Techi, my name is Ayu!" she looks up at me, tears drying on her face. I pick her up into my hand. She's fairly light, barely weighing anything. She squeaks a bit in surprise but I bring her up to the level of my face. I quickly examine her for a collar or a license tag but don't see any immediate signs of one. With my free hand, I remove my gas mask and safety goggles. I next ask Ayu, "Who's your master?" "Techi! He's my Master! a Mister Man with glasses and a big white coat!" she proclaims delightfully. I sigh, forgetting that Jissouseki intelligence is still limited, even if this one is a little better than the average wild Jissouseki. "What is your Master's name, Ayu?" I ask more specifically. "Te? He's just my Master. Master is his name!" She again proclaims in delight. My eye twitches at her response. Okay. I think it'd be best if I put her into the pet carrier in the van that we use for lost pet Jissouseki. "Would you like to come with me Ayu? I'll help you find your Master." Her eyes brighten, "Te! Yes please! Thank you Mister Man!" "Please call me Sam, Ayu." "Techi, Yes Mister Man!" she exclaims with glee. I sigh again, remembering that Jissouseki usually have a difficult time remembering names of humans they meet. I place her into my front pocket of my jumpsuit so I can use both my hands to rip the former Jissouseki cardboard box out from under the shrub. Using the hook end of my extendable rod, I make short work of the Jissou dwelling. I look down at her as I dispose of the torn cardboard into a nearby trashbin. "Ayu, how did you avoid getting eaten by the bad Jissou?" I ask her. She looks up at me and answers "Techi, Master taught me to be a smart Jissou! I told the bad Jissou, if they don't hurt me and when my Master come for me, he'll make them his pets!" "And that worked?" I ask suspiciously. "Techi, well, not all the bad Jissou believed Ayu, some wanted to take my clothes and eat me..." She places one of her stubby paws on her head, feeling the small patches of missing hair. She looked like she was about to cry at the memory of being abused at the hands of her less intelligent and wild brethen. "Techi! But Master made Ayu smart! I made the other Bad Jissou fight each other. I told them I get to keep dress so Master will know it is Ayu! And when the really Bad Jissou still tried to hurt me, the other Bad Jissou who believe Ayu fight each other. They did not notice Ayu ran away, Techi." "And you ended up in that cardboard box?" I ask while heading towards the van. "Teee...yes, the mama Jissou and her baby inside were not very nice Jissou either, but they believed me when I said my Master would come for me. And then they heard Mister Men outside the box, thinking one of the Mister Men was my Master. They told me to stay in the box while they go see who the Mister Men were. I was afraid of of the other bad Jissou finding me so I stayed inside to hide, Techi." "Oh...I guess that was me." I say as the irony dawns on me that I, a Jissou Exterminator, may have just saved this little Jissouseki's life. "Techi! What happened to bad mama Jissou and baby?" she asked. "Ummm, they won't be bothering you anymore Ayu." I reply, hoping she doesn't ask for the gorey details. "Good! Techi!" she exclaims with a little smile on her face. As I finally approach the last few feet to the van, I notice Paul dumping at least another 10 Jissouseki body bags into the back. He sees me approaching with Ayu sticking out of my jumpsuit's front pocket. "Well, what do we have hear?" Paul ask, pointing at the child like Jissouseki in my front pocket. "Paul, this is a lost domesticated Jissouseki. Her name is Ayu." I answer. "Hello Mister Man! It is a pleasure to meet you, Techi!" Ayu cheerfully says while waving a stubby paw at him. Paul returns a small smile to her. I glance and nod towards the pile of additional full Jissou body bags that Paul somehow acquired in the last few minutes I was gone. "I see you've been keeping busy, Paul." Paul only smirks at me, "Like I said, just do them quickly with no fuss." He begins to explain, "As I was walking back to the van, I heard a bunch of wild Jissouseki in the middle of a fight. I inspected the source of the commotion which was close by. After I located them, I took a look and the whole lot of them were dirty, wearing tattered clothing or lacking hair or were naked or any combination of the three. The additional sight of them biting, eating, and tearing each other apart told me that none were domesticated. They were so busy fighting each other, they almost didn't notice when I doused them with a good dose from my JPD. A few seconds later, I just had to bag the bodies. Half of them, though, were already dead before I got to them, probably killed during the fight." "For someone who doesn't like killing anything, Paul, you sure do make short work of bad Jissouseki." I tease him. Paul only glares at me in response. "Techi! That’s what those Bad Jissou deserve!" Ayu proclaims. Paul stares at Ayu for a second and pointing his finger at her, "So what are you going to do with Ayu?" I take her out of my shirt pocket which elicits another squeal of delight from her. "She has no identifiable tags but she shows all the classic signs of a domesticated Jissou. I was thinking of putting her into the pet carrier for now until we locate her owner." "Sounds like a plan to me" Paul says approvingly. I reach into the back of van and pull out the pet carrier. I place Ayu on the floor of the van momentarily as I unlock the door of the carrier. I place Ayu in and arrange some accomadations for her. A small pile of clean tissue paper for her to make into bedding, some torn newspaper for her to poop on, part of my turkey sandwhich I packed as my lunch and some water in the lid of my thermos for her to drink. Her eyes widen at the sandwhich which she eagerly eats. "Te-Delicious! Thank you Mister Man!" I know Jissouseki can devour quite a bit of food, but she behaved as if she hasn't eaten for a while. I continue to smile as I lock her in. For a domesticated Jissou, she's not bad. I might not even mind having such a well mannered Jissouseki pet such as her. "You're welcome Ayu. Now behave and stay out of trouble. The Bad Jissou shouldn't be able to get to you in here." Ayu just nods happily with her mouth full of turkey sandwhich. I close the door to the van and head back to Paul, who's putting his gear back on. I make sure to grab a few of the plastic bags he's been using to dispose of dead Jissouseki and I place them into my jumpsuit's pant's pocket. Paul looks at me smiling this little silly smile. "What?!" after I tire of him smirking at me. "Oh, I just think it's cute that you seem to have taken a liking to little Ayu in there." He chuckles. "She's just a lost pet." I say defensively, "I know she'd probably be just like the rest of them if she wasn't domesticated and just as capable of being obnoxious and self-entitled as the rest of the horde." Paul only laughs, "Well, for a Jissouseki that's 'just a lost pet' why'd you give her part of your lunch?" I turn a little red, "OK Paul, that's enough. I just felt sorry for the little thing." Paul realizes that I was getting upset, but I probably deserved it for teasing him earlier about killing a bunch of Jissouseki when he admitted to not enjoying the task. "All right, Sam. I'm sorry. We'll deal with Ayu a little later after we bag a few more wild ones. We've almost met our first quota for the day." I raise my eyebrows, "What? So quickly? But there are probably literally dozens of those things crawling around in that park." "Hundreds actually," Paul corrects me. "Right now, you're still new to this and I'm making sure you have the proper skills and knowledge to do the job." Paul takes a deep breath before continuing, "The Jissouseki is a pervasive and invasive species. Right now, we're just controlling the wild ones' population. Some cities are literally overrun with hundreds of thousands of them, forcing us human beings to quarentine the area before sending in advanced extermination corps." My eyes widen at the thought of a whole city over run with hundreds of thousands of Jissouseki. I can only imagine a disasterous scenario where everything would be covered in their green filth and them harassing any humans surviving in the area. I shudder at the horrible thought of being swarmed by countless Jissouseki demanding me to feed them, rub Maggot bellies, give them homes, etc. The fighting amongst the Jissou would be horrible as humans would be driven away to less Jissou infested areas. "Sam. Sam! Anyone home inside?" Paul gently taps my head which causes me to jerk in reaction. "Sorry Paul, you were saying hundreds of thousands?" I say nervously, with the nightmarish image of cities over run with Jissouseki still fresh in my mind. "Yes, but thankfully, that's only happened with a few smaller cities. Usually where there is a lot of human traffic due to trade, commerce, or tourism. Those over run cities don't have the man power or resources to keep their local wild Jissouseki populations in check. And with the exponential birthrate of Jissouseki, a defenseless human population center is over run within a matter of weeks." "My Gawd?!" I exclaim, "Then why aren't we taking out more of them right now?" "Sam, you have to learn how to walk before you can run. Like I said, you're new at this. Once you grasp the basics, the work will find you. Pace yourself Sam, you'll have your oppurtunity to help contribute to humanity's well-being." "OK Paul." I say, even though I am eager now to take out as many of those little bastards as I can. "Let's roll" and Sam takes off striding off to another part of the park we have yet to cover. I can tell you that I really began thinking over being efficient with taking out those wild Jissouseki after Paul's tale of Jissouseki over running us humans. I still remember that night I met my first one, how it demanded that I get out of “its” house (which was the large cardboard box I found and used as shelter when I was homeless). Ironic when I think that that particular Jissouseki was probably more truthful than most of her kind. Most of the wild Jissouseki seem hellbent in making Mister Man's home into their own dream dwelling, where they can eat, sleep, shit, breed and do whatever else that wild Jissouseki like to do. "Take us home, Desu!" should really be "We'll take your home, Desu!" With those thoughts swimming through my head, it wasn't long before we came upon another dozen Jissouseki. We encountered another Mama Jissou with a handful of Thumb Jissou, each holding a Maggot Jissou. All of them were filthy and wearing dirty and tattered clothing. Some of them bald, some of them naked, some of them both. The fat, wrinkly mama Jissouseki came up to me and Paul and placed her grime covered stubby paw to her wrinkly cheek, tilting her head and smiling, revealing some missing blackened teeth. "Aren't we cute Mister Me-" I just hosed her face with my JPD. Paul followed suit and we just held our JPD's over the small bunch til our JPD's required us to prime them again. I did catch the mama midway through her canned phrased, which caused a good amount of the poison to spray into her mouth. Her surrounding children also got sprayed. Within seconds, their cries of anguish fall on my ears. "Desha! De-" "Techuwa! Gah-" "Rebya! Re-"" As if they were one sickening and cataphonic chorus of wailing Jissou, they all popped like shit filled balloons. The sounds of dying Jissou attracted a large penis Jissouseki. My Gawd, the thing was the size of a large dog, and it wasn't the Jissou's body I was talking about. "Desuuu!" I heard it's roar, like a low pitched Jissou, and saw it come charging at me and Paul, right out of the bushes. It's monster member came at us like a phallic ram. Paul was pumping his JPD to prime it again for another spray. But I don't think he'd have enough time before the Penis Jissou would have reached us. I deftly reach around my back, slinging off my extendable spear & hook rod. With the momentum of withdrawing my weapon, It extends to it's full 5 feet and I aim the tip of the spear point right at the fleshy midsection of the monstorous penis. SHANK. "Desha! ORORORORO~N! It hurts!" With the momentum it gained from charging at us, the penis Jissou only managed to impale it's over sized member onto the spear point like a giant, grossly phallic, sausage on a stick. "Desha! You stupid shit human! De-" With most of it's mass impaled on the spear, I twist it before it can finish it's sentence. This shuts it up quick from the jolt of pain and a blue palor begins to show over the unfortunate penis Jissou's face. I look at Paul who has finished priming his JPD. "No! Desu! Don't k-" Paul jams the long metal nozzle of his JPD into it's mouth, releasing another full dose of poison. Within seconds, it thrashes on both my spear and on the JPD's nozzle before it's insides liquify. To my disgust, that giant Jissou Sausage impaled on my spear deflates like a sick, leathery balloon. Unfortunately for me, some of it's dissolved innards escape through the tip of it's enormous member, splashing down at my feet and getting some on my boots. "Awww...gross" I wipe my boots in some nearby grass. Paul just simply pulls the nozzle of his JPD out of the now dead penis Jissou. He takes an extra large bag and puts the corpse inside, then double bagging it, tying off the whole thing. "God, Those ones with the monster cocks always bug the shit out of me." Paul says. "No kidding, I hope that kind of 'work' doesn't find me often." I say as I bag the corpses of the dead wild Jissou family. "I have to admit Sam, that spear thing you got there was a good idea, kept it at bay to give me time enough to prime my JPD again." "Yah, I don't know what I would have done if that thing got any closer." I say while wiping the spear & hook device clean and then compressing it again into compact form. "Probably recieve an undeserving load of Jissou Jizz to your face or worse" Paul says. I shudder at the thought. Just. Ew. My initial shock of meeting the penis Jissou finally gives way at the horrible image my mind conjures. That was the first time I encountered one of those monster cock monstronsities in person. I will never forget my new anti-penis Jissou device on a job from this day foward. "Let's get out of here, Paul." We haul the last of our quota back to our van. As I open the back door and start placing the dead Jissouseki in, Ayu stirs from her carrier. "Hello Mister Men! It is good to see you again, Techi!" Paul smiles and says, "And it's good to see you too, Ayu." Paul then motions for me to go check on our little lost Jissouseki. I carefully take her pet carrier out, making sure to keep it level. I don't know why, but I didn't want to upset this little Jissou by knocking her around in the carrier. As I stare into her temporary domacile, I can see she's eaten all of the turkey sandwhich I gave her. Her belly looks a bit round, probably full from all that food. I double check her eyes, to make sure she isn't going through a Jissou pregnancy, but thankfully, the red and green pupils are where they are supposed to be. I don't see any Jissou poop on the little newspaper pile. A little water has been splashed out of the lid of my thermos but I realize she must have washed her face with the water instead of drinking it. She looked a little cleaner, even though some sad patches of hair that will always be missing from her forehead. "Techi, Mister Man, have you found my master yet?" Ayu asks me hopefully. "I'm sorry Ayu, I did not see you Mister Man with glasses and a big white coat." I say apologetically to her. "Teee..." She cries a little, with tears threatening to flow from her eyes again. "Don't cry Ayu, I'll take care of you til we find your Master." I say, not really knowing why I said it. I mean, she's just a pet Jissou after all, but her pathetic expression made me want to comfort her. "Te! Really?!" She excitedly asks. "For now, Ayu. For now." "Techi! I promise to be a good Jissou while in your care Mister Man!" "I'm sure you will be Ayu." I smile. "Well if you two love birds are done, we should start heading back to HQ." Paul interrupts. I sneer at Paul, "Hey, I'm just trying to keep our little guest happy. No need to imply anything else." Paul only smirks at me, "Don't worry Sam, I won't tell anyone about your little friend. Besides, HQ doesn't deal with lost pets, you'll have to bring her to the Animal Shelter." For some odd reason, the thought of leaving Ayu at the Animal Shelter doesn't agree with me. "Do I have to leave her there?" I say. Paul smirks again and says "What's this now? I thought you were just keeping her happy, now you want to take her home?" He laughs at the thought. I flush red, with a little anger and embaressment. "It's not that!" I say defensively "It's just you know how the Animal Shelter people can be sometime, and we're all paid by the same government. I wouldn't want something to happen to Ayu and have a lawsuit filed on us." Paul just laughs again, "It's OK Sam, I'm just tugging your chain. I'm sure her owner will eventually show up at the Animal Shelter. I'll have my contacts over there get in touch with me or you if her Master ends up searching for her over there." I'm still a little mad at Paul, but then, I wonder why do I feel like keeping Ayu? She's just some overpriced pet Jissouseki who happens to be cute and have better intelligence than the rest of her brethen. Yet, something is special about her, though I can't figure it out. I set Ayu back down and take off my gear, placing my JPD and poisoned Konpeito candies far away from Ayu. I put away my spear & hook rod which has proven it's worth today by impaling that enormous penis Jissou. I hang up my utility belt on a spare hook and then I place my goggles, mask, and boots in a duffle bag after cleaning them of any grime or filth. Next, the jumpsuit comes off and I'm back in my T-shirt and jeans. I hang the jumpsuit up. Paul is in the driver seat as I just finish gearing down. He says "You ready, Sam?" "Just a moment," I say as I grab the pet carrier with Ayu in it. She let's out a little shout of glee as I sit down in the passenger seat, buckling myself in before setting the carrier down in my lap. Paul was about to open his mouth before I interrupted him, "Don't start please..." He closes his mouth, smiling, and shaking his head. I try to ignore him. I ask him "Can you just drop me off at my apartment? I'll take care of the paperwork tomorrow." Paul sighs, "All right, this was your first real day on the job so I'll give you a break." The ride back to my apartment was uneventful. As I grab my stuff from the back of the van, I search for my landlord to make sure he doesn't see me sneaking Ayu into my apartment. I take a clean plastic bag and cut it open to cover the pet carrier. I ask Ayu to be quiet until I say it's OK. With my gear slung over my shoulder and Ayu's pet carrier, wrapped in a plastic tarp to disguise it, I quickly hurry to my apartment. Thankfully I didn't encounter my landlord nor any of my neighbors as I quickly unlock the front door and walk inside, shutting the door immediately once I and all my stuff were in. I quickly remove the plastic from the pet carrier and tell Ayu, "OK Ayu, you're in my home." "Techi! I want to see Mister Man's home!" she asks energetically. "All right Ayu, you can see my home if you promise me that you'll be a good Jissou and to make sure no one else sees you." "I promise Mister Man I'll be a good Jissou and I won't let anyone else see me, Techi." I set her pet carrier on the kitchen counter along with my gear laid out besides it. My apartment is a studio and it's apparent that a bachelor lives here, but then, what were you expecting from a guy who was homeless for several years and addicted to almost every kind of mind altering substance known to man? I did my best to keep the place clean and neat, not only to be healthy and hygenic, but also to not remind how I onced live in squalor while stoned on anything I can get my hands on. It's a good reminder how I've changed to better myself. As I finish setting everything down, I open the door to Ayu's pet carrier. She slowly exits, looking around the apartment. Her eyes get big as she takes in her new surroundings. "Teee! It's so different that Master's house." Ayu proclaims. "How so, Ayu?" "Mister Man's house is smaller and not all white, Techi." Hmmm...really? "What did your Master's house look like, Ayu?" "Teee...I was only allowed in one part of his house. It was all white and there was a lot of glass and metal everywhere, Techi. Lots of yummy stuff in bottles Techi. There were other Jissou, Techi. But I wasn't allowed to be with my sisters, Techi. because Master was afraid we'd fight." She sounds a little sad about talking about her sisters, "I could see them and they could see me, but we each had our own box, Techi." I think to myself, what a strange setup for her Master to have. Was she actually an escapee from a Jissou Restaurant? Master with glasses & a big white coat, bottles filled with yummy stuff? Or was she part of a Jissouseki research facility? On my first few days of training, I've heard rumors of secret government experiments being conducted on Jissouseki in order to learn better ways to control or exterminate them. But she couldn't possibly be one of those test subject Jissous. I clear my mind of those thoughts for the moment and tell Ayu "I need to wash my face, would you like a warm bath Ayu?" Her eyes immediately gleam with delight at the mention of a warm bath. "Te! Yes, please Mister Man! Ayu would love a warm bath, Techi!" I pick her up and carry her to the sink. I turn on the faucet and test the temperature to make sure it's not too cold or too hot for Ayu. Once the temperature is perfect, I plug the sink and fill it with nice warm water, just high enough so Ayu can sit in it without having her head submerged. I take some of the running warm water in a hand towel and wash my face with it. While I clean the sweat and grime from my skin, Ayu undresses, folding her clothes in neat little piles. As I let my face dry off, I grab a new clean hand towel and soak it in the bath water. I place Ayu gently into the water which elicits a pleasant sounding sigh from her. I can't help but smile as she eases in, letting the stresses of her ordeal flow out of her. I lather a little soap onto the clean hand towel and begin to gently clean the dirty spots off Ayu. She squeals, claiming I'm tickling her but in actuality, she is enjoying the bath immensely. As I turn her over to clean her backside I notice something odd... "What's this?" I say to myself. There's a bar code on Ayu's back. I pick her up and look at it closely, but I can't read bar code. "Techi! Mister Man, you're embaressing Ayu! Stop looking at me naked!" She squeals. I pretend to smile, but now I wonder what this could mean? I gently set Ayu back down in the bath. "Stay her Ayu, I need to get something." "Techi! OK Mister Man." I walk away, leaving Ayu splashing happily in the warm bubbly bath. I go to a small desk in the opposite corner of the studio apartment. I search for something to take a picture of the barcode on Ayu's back. I remember obtaining one of those disposable cameras after I went through Narcotics Anonymous. It was a small prize incentive to stay off the drugs, but I never had any real need to use it til now. I finally locate the camera in the last drawer, but as I do, I hear a commotion from the corner of the apartment where Ayu is bathing. "Techaaa!!! Help me Mister Man!" "You're shit Jissou! Tepupupu! You tricked mama and sisters to fight each other, Techi!" "Nooo! Tepya, help me!" I hurry back to Ayu to find a filthy wild Child Jissou in the bath with Ayu. She was trying to strangle and drown Ayu in the bath water. "Techi, Once you dead, I'll be Mister Man's favorite pet!" the wild Child Jissouseki boasts. "Not if I can help it..." I say over the wild child Jissouseki. My anger surged as I saw what this incredulous Jissou was trying to do to the cute and polite Ayu. I had to hold myself back as my hand gripped the camera, threatening to break it as my fist clenched it. "Ah! Techi! Hello Miste-" "Save it..." I plucked the wild child off Ayu. I clenched her tightly in my free hand as I look at Ayu, who is recovering from the choke hold the wild child had her in earlier. Thankfully, Ayu looks alright, the blue palor of her skin fading back to pink as she is able to breath again. "Te!, Shit Human...Let...me go! Te-?" I stare at the wild child angrily. If I wasn't holding myself back, I almost wouldn't have noticed the little filthy shit covered paw prints leading out from my pile of equipment. My mind tells this wild one must have stowed away in one of my pockets or bags. Not that it mattered now. I was furious at it. That this thing was presumptuous enough to believe that I'd fall for it's delusions of replacing the cute and well mannered Ayu. I tightened my grip. Her face takes on a bluish purple color. "Tepya! No! Hu-hurts! Te-!" I crush the insolent child in my grip. I didn't even care that the gore and the shit oozed between my fingers as I squeezed all the life out of this little monster. Once it's squealing stopped and the shade of its eyes faded to nothingness, I dump its remains into the trash bin. Once the dead Jissou is out of my sight, I begin to calm down and I quickly go to check on Ayu. "Te!? Te!? Some...something is wrong with Ayu! Chuwa!" I look at Ayu carefully and can see that both her eyes have turned red. "Oh shit..." Ayu's belly was already a little swollen before, but was she pregnant? No, usually pregnant Jissou have two green eyes. Maybe it was the stress of the ordeal of Ayu having survived an attack from a wild Jissou that brought on this survival pregnancy. I learned early on that Jissouseki are capable of giving birth to a litter when faced with death. It's a survival mechanism to keep the species going. "Techa-! It's coming out!" I didn't know what to do for poor Ayu. I was trained to exterminate Jissou, not help them give birth. I just watched Ayu in fascination and horror as I saw the green birthing fluid flood the bath water. What I didn't expect to see was the lack of any Maggots or Thumbs. What I even expected less was spotting the glint of several small objects amongst all the greenish water. "Te-...Te-...so tired..." Ayu utters before fainting. I quickly pick her up out of the bath water before she drowns herself. I place her on a dry towel and cover her with it so she doesn't catch cold. Once I was sure she was still breathing and simply just exhausted from the ordeal, I go back to the bath water. I fish out one of the several shiney little objects which was almost no bigger than a grain of rice. Upon closer examination, it was shaped like a little Maggot. I wiped away the green fluid that stuck to it to reveal that it indeed, was a made of of shiney metal. Shiney yellow metal... "Oh. My. God." After a second, my brain kicked in and realized that Ayu just gave birth to several solid...gold...Maggots. I squeeze it, to test it. I wanted make sure I didn't have a live maggot that happened to have golden skin. It proved to be firm like the real stuff. It wasn't alive at all, but my soapy and shaking fingers almost dropped it in surprise and elation. GOLD. I found a Jissouseki that gives birth to Solid Gold Maggots. Holy Shit. "To be continued" ~JissouJoker
>>150 I have...mixed feelings about this one. Your portrayal of feral Jissous is as good as in the first, but the scenario is... Well, let's just say a person who dislikes killing Jissouseki while not being an antagonist is of dubious value. As for the obvious issue of the gold maggots, you do whatever you want, it's your story and it's your choice. It's fine as long as it gives the story potential. Just keep in mind most of people here are more interested in Jissou death than human success stories. Of course, I'm probably worrying for no reason here. Oh, and I assume Sam not knowing about the red-eye pregnancy is a willful mistake ? Because that's pretty much an universally accepted "canon", even if this word is pretty meaningless in the world of Jissouseki.
InLeaves, I know you're no stranger to harsh criticism as I have read how some people don't like "Trance" or your PTLD series. I for one, LOVE your series. But just because I like what you write doesn't mean you have to like what I write and I understand that. We each want to take the established Jissouseki "canon" and have fun with it. Despite the criticism we may face, from others and each other, we continue to write because we enjoy it. In defense of your mixed feelings, Paul is a character I plan to flesh out later. You've only seen part of his picture. And since you haven't read anything else that I've written before, this is typically my style as I bring in character(s) with little shown except some quirky traits. I'll try to include something in my next rendition to explain really why Paul does what he does with a more indepth explaination. I really didn't want Paul to detract from Sam. But I thought about what you said and I really do need to add more to him to make sense. As for the gold maggots, that's just a benefit or consequence of Ayu. I took the idea from the classic tale of "The Goose that laid the Golden Egg" but that's about it. After all, a cute Jissou child that's somewhat intelligent with a barcode on her back could only mean a couple of things. You'll have to wait for that later. And Sam is aware of the two red-eye pregnancy, I'm sorry I didn't make that more apparent. I could have ended this rendition at that point, leaving people thinking that he's going to have Ayu and a bunch of Jissou babies to take care off, but I thought it'd be more interesting if I included the little gold maggots. I pretty much have a dozen ideas running around my head to how I want this series to progress. The problem I will have as I write more and more is keeping things consistent and keeping true to what I intend rather than being influenced heavily by any critcism. Until next time, enjoy. ~JissouJoker
Make no mistake, I'm not telling you what to do or anything, and I'm certainly not saying this story was anything less than good tier. That was just me worrying about where it might go. But even if there's less raw jissou abuse and more story, that is of course absolutely fine because it's your story, and the important thing is that you have fun writing it. So do keep up the good work.
Thanks InLeaves, I like raw Jissouseki abuse as much as anyone, but the frequency and variation in which it occurs, needs to be broken up between each event, to keep the overall story from getting dull. As they say, being constantly exposed to the same thing over and over again becomes boring. It's like eating your favorite food every meal. At some point, it'll stop being enjoyable or your favorite.
Funny how the Jissouseki threads ALWAYS get the highest number of posts :p
>>155 hehe... funny story there...
>>156 Thanks, glad you liked it! :o)
The next installment of my story. This is more story than Jissou Abuse, but I'll try to provide more for the next posting. ================================================================ Where was I? Oh yes. Holy Jissouseki shit on a stick! I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Ow. OK, confirmed I'm not dreaming. I look at the little solid gold maggot in the palm of my hand before I pocket it for safe keeping. And then look at Ayu again. She's sound asleep, breathing a bit deeply and with a slight tinge of pain and discomfort expressed on her cute little face. It almost made me forget that I just discovered a little goldmine in her. OK, breathe. Calm down Sam. Think... 'Check on Ayu.' My brain tells me. "I already did." 'Is she alright?' "She's alive." 'Get a picture of that barcode on her back?' "Oh, right." I go to Ayu and carefully flip her onto her stomach, exposing her backside with the barcode. The poor thing whines in discomfort as I shift her unconscious form. I gently rub her head to soothe her, which helps placate her and some of the discomfort expressed on her cute little face goes away. I quietly focus my disposable camera and proceed to snap a couple of shots of the barcode on her back. Once I'm satisfied I have enough close up shots, I carefully flip Ayu over and then cover her up with the towel again. 'OK, you got the pictures, now make sure your goldmine is safe. Go check for more wild Jissou.' "Shut up brain, I'm the one in charge!" 'Whatever.' I retrieve Ayu's pet carrier and inspect it to make sure there weren't any surprises waiting inside of it. Thankfully I found nothing. I take Ayu's clothes and Ayu and place them inside, locking the carrier's cage door. She tosses a little in her sleep, but otherwise, doesn't wake up from being put back in the pet carrier. Once I'm satisfied she's secure for now, I go back to inspect the little paw print and shit trail left by the wild Child Jissou I crushed earlier. But my eye is caught by the glint of the several shiney gold maggots I left at the bottom of the sink. I better not leave these out so I gather them up quickly and place them into a disposable towel and put them into my pocket with the other one for safe keeping. Once I'm assured I didn't miss a single ounce of treasure, I return my attention back to the little filthy trail. It leads right up to my duffle bag and as I open it up to inspect it for any more stowaways, I'm greeted to the dismal sight of my boots, glasses, gas mask, and gloves all covered in green slimey crap. Wonderful. How does a thing about the size of a soda can make enough crap to fill a 1 liter bottle in such a short time? Regardless, I zip the bag close and dump it onto the ground where I'll have to clean the contents later. I quickly inspect my uniform and my other gear and there doesn't seem to be any other apparent signs of wild Jissouseki stowaways hiding amongst my other stuff. I set my other gear down on the ground and proceed with cleaning up. I take a damp wash cloth and a sprayer filled with some strong ammonia cleaner and begin wiping up the little filth trail. As I'm cleaning, my hand accidently knocks into a small metal bread box which causes a sudden a loud clang. "Refu! Too loud!" the bread box utters. I carefully set my cleaning rag and spray bottle down before I carefully open the bread box. What greets me is a slightly developed, wild maggot, that waddles out on those four little stumpy limbs. It's clothing, or as some call it a body sock, is dirty and it has a small hole at the tail end. I look at it disapprovingly. "Refu! Belly is full! Please rub!" as it flips over, awaiting for me to fufill it's request. I ignore it's request as I look at the loaf of bread in the bread box. My eye twitches as I notice a chunk of bread the size of a golf ball missing from a corner, which wouldn't be so bad if the little wild Maggot didn't crawl all over the loaf first, leaving a thin, meandering, slimey shit trail all over the rest of the loaf. "Refu! Belly is soft and springy! Rub please!" "But you're all dirty little Maggot, you need to be cleaned up..." I say with a hint of malice in my tone. "Refu? Mister Man give bath?" "I got something better..." as I grab the spray bottle full of ammonia cleaner. "Re-?" And I douse the maggot with a couple squirts from the spray bottle filled with ammonia cleaning solution. "Rebya!!" It screams as the ammonia seeps into it's beady red & green eyes, causing red & green tears to burst forth. The maggot tries to cry out in more pain, but begins to choke on the ammonia fumes. The colors of it's eyes begin to fade a bit as the ammonia burns them. "Now you're all clean Maggot, time for your Belly Rub..." The maggot can only respond by twitching and thrashing in pain as the ammonia continues to burn it's eyes and sensitive skin. It curls up like a cooked shrimp to only arch back as it tries to rub off the torturous substance that's coating it's body. It's little anal slit begins to spew forth a thin stream of green crap as a reflexive action. The sight of more Jissouseki crap covering the area I just cleaned up only infuriates me further. I was planning to just squash the Maggot's belly with my thumb, but I decided that now, the little wild Maggot needs another lesson. "Oh, you're dirty again Maggot. Let's clean you up again..." Apparently, the Maggot was still able to hear me as it flipped back onto it's stubby little limbs and waddled desperately away from me. Though, I think the ammonia did it's job in blinding it as it didn't really seem to know where it was going. I took my time as I turned the faucet back on, letting only the hot water run. Once the running water was sufficiently hot, hot enough to make it uncomfortable for my hand to be under it for more than a second, I plugged the sink and filled it halfway with hot water. The little wild Maggot didn't get far. All it managed to do was to blindly waddled around in a circle. I plucked it up and off the trail by it's tail which only elicited a yelp of pain. "Rebya! No! No! Not like that!" I then toss it into the sink full of hot water. I watch it make a splash and sink to the bottom at first, but as it twitches from the shock of suddenly being immersed in the uncomfortably hot water, it starts to rise to the surface. Also, I don't know how, but the Maggot had more shit to expel as I watch a green cloud spurt from it's tail end as it desperately tries to swim to the top. "Repya~!" it says with a gasp as it reaches the surface. "Hel-blub Me-blub! Too-blub Hot-blub!" "Oh, poor little Maggot, too hot for you? Let's cool you off..." I get a dirty coffee mug and scoop the thrashing Maggot into it. It continually shits in the small pool of water, turning it into a greenish sludge. I try to ignore the slightly unpleasant stench of hot water mixed with Maggot turds as I walk to the bathroom. Unceremoniously, I dump the crap covered Maggot into the toilet. It lands in the cold water with a splash, sinking at first but still manages itself to the surface. "Refeee...help...Re-blub..." "Bye Bye little Maggot" and I flush the toilet. The sudden motion and water draining away gets the Maggot's attention. "Repyeeeen!" It screams. It cries uselessly as the water drains, the current now forming a little whirl pool. The maggot uselessly struggles against the current and it swirls about on the leading edge of the vortex before it is drawn towards the middle and finally sucked under, spinning at an incredible rate, spewing the last bits of Jissou crap before dissapearing into the city sewer system. I return to cleaning the counter top and with no more interruptions, I'm done in a few minutes. I drain the kitchen sink and clean up the mug and small mess the flushed Maggot left in my bread box. And After dumping the now greenish wash cloth ontop of my shit-covered gear in the my duffle bag, I wash my hands before attending to Ayu... She's still asleep in her carrier. I open the cage door and gently take her out and gingerly cup her into my hands. "Ayu." "Te...zzz...Te...zzz" I tap her gently while saying, "Ayu!" "Te...zzz...Te...zzz" I tap her again and shout, "AYU!" "Te...zzz...Te...zzz" Wow, talk about being out cold. I wanted to see if I can make Ayu give more births to solid gold maggots but before going through a plan to induce a forced pregnancy on Ayu while she slept, my brain warned me. 'Don't over do it moron, she's the goose that lays golden eggs.' "That's the Jissouseki that births solid gold maggots" I correct my brain. 'Whatever, just don't kill her.' "I know that, you Stupid Brain." 'Whatever Asshole.' I shake my head. Hey, when you've done almost every mind altering chemical and drug known to man for several years, you don't just leave that kind of lifestyle without a few scars. I want to cash in on this gold. I have an old contact back in the part of the city where a good portion of the city's homeless, junkies, gangs, and other unsavory characters live and hang about. I hope he's still there after a year, because I've had no real need to see him when I was in rehab. But I doubt that he's moved his prefered location to conduct his business. Hey, don't look at me like that. I was homeless for a good portion of my life. Where did you think I got the money to obtain drugs? Wait, it's better that I don't answer that. I clean up the little solid gold maggots, counting about a dozen, and put them into a tiny ziplock bag before putting the bag into the center of a wadded up paper towel. I also take the camera with me to drop off at a nearby 24 hour photo development kiosk. Before leaving and locking my apartment, I leave some food and some fresh water for Ayu. I again, look at the sleeping Ayu, and I feel a slight compulsion to take her with me, but decide against the risk. I draw the blinds to all the windows to keep out any nosey neighbors. I've pretty much memorized most public transit routes and walking shortcuts in the city. Helps to know how to get somewhere quick when you don't have other means of transportation like a car. I plan a route out in my head to get to my contact. But before doing so, there is a few blocks to walk to get to the bus stop and I stop by the local mega-mart where I also drop off my camera for photo development. When I reach the bus stop, I double check the bus line on where I want to go. It's mid afternoon so I take a seat on the bench and wait patiently. "Desu! Hello Mister Man!" Groan. I turn around to the source of the noise and I spy myself another wild Jissouseki waddling its way right beside me. But this one I'd just call "ugly" as I spy it is missing its hood which just emphasizes how bulbous and mishappen it's head is. Her ears show nicks and cuts, her face show many fresh and healing bruises. Her attempt at a smile only bear a disgusting rainbow of yellows, browns, and blacks of various boney protrusions that could barely be called teeth. Her dress was in tatters and stained badly with something resembling tar. The filth on her was nauseating, emitting a faint aroma somewhere between urine and rotting fish. "Desu! Do you have a pet Mister Man?" As she ask the question, the only other source of noise in the area is the occasional car driving down the road. Hmm...I laugh silently to myself as I devise a plan to have some fun. "Yes I do" I reply back to the ugly Jissouseki. "Desu! I will make a better pet! Take me home! Desu!" she boast without any attempt to hide her anger and jealousy. "Hmm, maybe you will be, but you have to prove it to me." I tell her. "Desu! What must I do?" I dig through my pockets and I find an old pink rubber band. I hold it up before the ugly Jissou and say "This is a magic bracelet" The ugly Jissou's eyes widen in amazement at the sight of the "magic bracelet." I hand it to her as her filthy paws accept it. It's great how stupid wild Jissouseki are, they'll just about believe anything "Mister Man" tells them. I tell her "Put on the magic bracelet and use your new magic powers to stop one of those nice cars by standing in front of it." "Desu? But...but scary desu!" "Well I guess you're not worth taking home then." At my proclaimation, she quickly puts on the rubberband onto one of her grubby mitts. She then waddles out into the street and stands in the path of on coming traffic. "Desu! I say stop!" she says with her arms held out wide. I eye the car the ugly Jissouseki is trying to stop. It's an older American, large 4 door Sedan and the driver behind the wheel doesn't even look like they notice the ugly Jissouseki. In fact, the driver is on their cellphone, typically distracted...which is perfect. "Desu! Scary!" and the ugly Jissou tries to dive out of the way. THUMP-SPLAT. I burst out laughing as the ugly Jissou makes a dive towards me to be only caught by the oncoming car as it speeds past, the driver completely unaware of the ugly Jissouseki splatter on the bumper. It was beautiful, watching her actually making a good sideways dive right up to where the edge of the bumper clips her body, completely severing it from the ugly Jissouseki's head. The decapitated body then gets caught under the wheels to only be smeared all over the pavement in dark green and bright red. The head rolled a good ways down the street before finally coming to a stop in the middle of the road. A few more wild Jissouseki come out of hiding to swarm over it, coming from the gutters, bushes, and one from behind a trashbin to devour the ugly Jissouseki remains. When I finally catch my breath, the bus I want rounds the corner. I stand up and fetch some change for the fare and hop aboard, pay the fare and take a seat near the front. As the driver closes the doors he spots the crowd of wild Jissouseki fighting over the last of the reamins of the previous one I tricked into getting splattered. He speeds up and I'm greeted to some satisfying Jissouseki-being-squashed-undertire noises. I give the driver a thumbs up along with some other passengers giving him some applause. Sadly, the rest of the bus ride didn't have any further voluntary vehicular Jissouseki-slaughter. I reach my destination which is near the seedier part of the city. I hop off and start walking briskly to my destination. It's not a far walk, if you don't mind ignoring the junkies on the street and avoiding the smaller groups of thugs on the corners. I'm careful to not attract attention and I arrive shortly to where my old contact should be. It's located in a back lot, a metal fire door propped open by a cinder block. The doorway leads into a small dingy room with barely enough light illuminating the faded green and peeling paint on the walls. Off to the side is a window cut out in the wall, but instead of clear glass, there's a large and thick piece of plexi reinforced with steel mesh grating. There's a metal shelf with no handle installed on the bottom of the security window. This is generally how this guy likes how to do business. I rap on the window, creating some noise and shouting... "Hello? Anyone home?" And within seconds, a middle-aged, fat, balding, dark skinned man with glasses so big, they make his eyes look like they were peering out from fish bowls. "What the fuck do you want?" "Don't you recognize me Chuck?" Chuck squints at me, which looks ridiculous when looking back at his eyes. After a couple of seconds, recognition shows on his face. "Sam?" "In the flesh." I smile He frowns slightly, "So what are you doing crawling back here? Last I heard, you cleaned up and got yourself a job and moved to someplace where you can't piss on the street." Ah yes, Chuck isn't exactly a friendly fellow, but he does have the necessary contacts and ability to buy and sell all sorts of goods who's origins are questionable or dubious at best. "I came to sell you something, Chuck" "Well, let me see what you got." he says in a more no nonsense business manner. I withdrew the wad of paper towel holding the little baggie of golden maggots in them. I hold them up before Chuck. He squints at them, instantly recognizing something made with precious metals. "Well Sam, you know my rules, I gotta check the goods to make sure it's the real thing or no deal." "Fine," I say, as I fish out a little gold maggot from the bag. Chuck pushes out the metal shelf in which I place the gold maggot in. He retrieves it quickly and holds it up between his fat fingers, rolling it and squeezing it. "Odd looking little nugget..." "Gold nugget," I say, silently thanking whatever powers may be, that Chuck doesn't have the greatest eyesight and can't see that it resembles a tiny Jissouseki Maggot. "That has yet to be seen..." and he places it down before withdrawing a box from the side. The first thing he does is he takes out a little electronic scale and weighs the individual gold maggot. He curls his bottom lip as he writes the number down on a little notepad. He then places a small piece of glass, flat on the counter top and then takes the gold maggot and starts rubbing it into the glass. "No scratches, so that's 1 out of 3" He then takes a little magnet from the box and places it on the solid gold maggot, but the magnet doesn't pick it up. "No ferrous metal mixed in either so 2 out of 3." The last, and third test he takes out is a small bottle which is labeled "acid" and filled with some viscious looking yellowish fuild in it. He places the gold maggot on the piece of glass. He pours a couple of tiny drops of the acid on the maggot and nothing happens, other than it resembling a dead maggot that just got pissed on. "Acid says OK, so 3 out of 3" "So can I get my money now?" I ask. "Tell me where you got these, they look a little weird." "I'm surprised Chuck, after all these times I've dealed with you, you know it's probably best if you didn't know." He stares at me through those fishbowl glasses, which is a little disconcerting. But he just sighs and mutters something to himself, while writing some calculations on his notepad. He reaches around his back and pulls out a fat wallet. He thumbs out a large stack of bills and counts them before me before holding the wad of cash up. "The rest first." suggesting I place the rest of the little bag full of gold maggots in the metal shelf, which, of course, I comply. "Pleasure doing business with you Chuck." I say in thanks. "Whatever," Chuck mumbles, as he places the money in the shelf and pushes it back my way. I take the bills out and double check and count them, folding them up neatly and securing them inside my coat pocket. I hurry back to the bus stop. Thankfully with no further interruptions from wild Jissouseki. The last thing I would want is to be stalled from getting home with a large chunk of change in my pocket in this bad part of town. While waiting for the bus, I'm tapping my foot nervously. I just wanted to get out of here. Minutes seem like hours and I'm finally relieved when the bus arrives. I hop on, pay the fare, and take another front seat as I ride back to my neighborhood. The ride back was rather uneventful except when passing by downtown where a Pro-Jissouseki rally was being held by some animal rights activists. Several of them were picketing on a corner and I could clearly hear one of them with a bull horn spouting off some crap about how culling the wild Jissouseki exploding population is inhumane and they should just be allowed to live. Most of activists looked very young, barely out on their own. Little did they know, despite all facts thrown at their face, that exploding wild Jissouseki population are a threat to human civilization. I sigh at their ignorance, but am relieved when the bus finally pulls away from the crowd and their ranting fades away. When I arrive at the the stop I started at, the sun was beginning to set. I then realized that I was starving from not having eaten anything since breakfast. Since I had some extra money and then some, I decided to treat myself and I stop by the mega-mart on the way back to my apartment. I got myself a double cheeseburger and large soda with fries at their food court. As I was eating my heavenly meal of salty grease, I thought of Ayu back at home and decided to pick her up some Jissou food and treats, a couple of Jissou toys, and some new and fancy Jissou clothes, and a book on proper Jissou pet care. With the potential wealth that Ayu could provide for me, I thought it'd be best I learn how to take care of her. Which also reminded me to buy a red laser pointer and some red food coloring. With my shopping bags in one hand and after another short walk, I arrive back at my apartment when it's nearly dusk. When I unlock the door to my apartment and walk in, I hear a surprised "Te?" as I turn on the lights. "Techiii...Why did Mister Man leave Ayu alone in the dark? Ayu was so scared." the frightened Ayu complained. I close the door behind me, locking it. I go over to Ayu's carrier and peer inside, her cute little paws pressed agaisnt the bars of the cage door. She's dressed again in her clothes and there are little red and green tears formed at the edges of her eyes. Her expression reminds me of a frightened puppy. A bit of guilt hits me as I forgot to leave a light on for Ayu. I open the cage door for Ayu but she doesn't come out. "Why did Mister Man abandon Ayu?" she cries. "I'm sorry Ayu, I went shopping to get you a few things." I told her, "It took me longer than I thought." "Te?" she says. As I empty the shopping bag with the things I bought for her. "Here you go, Ayu." I smile. "Te!" she squeals as I reveal to her the food, toys, and nice new Jissou dresses. "Techi! Thank you! Techi! Thank you Mister Man!" she says as she holds one of the new dresses before her. Ayu continues examining all the goods I bought her. She seems so delighted and energetic now that I almost couldn't believe she was out cold only a few hours ago. I can't help but smile at her antics, content just to watch her try on her new dresses and play with her new toys and nibble on the sweet treats. After Ayu settles down a bit, munching on a Jissou treat, I ask Ayu, "How do you feel, Ayu?" "Techi! Ayu is very happy! Thank you Mister Man! Techi!" she exclaims. Which is a relief, as I remember the guilt I felt when a wild child Jissouseki nearly killed her. "I'm glad Ayu. I'm...I'm sorry about that wild child Jissou attack earlier." "Te?" she says looking up at me confused. "Umm..." I say just as confused, "don't your remember Ayu? I was so worried." "Techi, Ayu remembers having a bath, but no other Jissou..." she says even more confused. OK, maybe the shock of being nearly strangled and drowned to death erased some of the events from her memory. It's probably best I don't remind her. "Nevermind Ayu, I'm just joking with you." I say with a fake nervous laugh. "Mister Man has weird sense of humor, Techi." she says while finishing the last of her Jissou treat. Despite how cute, adorable and naive Ayu was, I felt guilty for what I was about to do, but my desire for more solid gold maggots was overpowering. I took the red laser pointer out... "Ayu, would you like to play a game with me?" I ask her. "Techi? What kind of game?" she questions. "It's called 'Doctor'" I answer as I shine the red laser beam directly into her green eye. "Techuwa!" she squeaks and she falls onto her back from the bright red beam. I watch and wait. Rubbing my hands in anticipation. "Techa!" Ayu gets back up rubbing her eyes, and blinking. I see that both her eyes are red, but as she blinks, the one I shined the red laser into slowly fades back to green. Umm...OK...that's not what normally happens. Where are my gold maggots? "Techi! Ayu doesn't like this game!" she looks at me annoyed. "Ayu doesn't want to play anymore! Techi!" "I'm sorry Ayu" I say, feeling suddenly guilty and regretful for shocking Ayu with the red laser. She was obviously upset and I lied to her telling her, "I thought it'd be fun, but if you don't like it, I won't force you to play." "Tee..." she says apprehensively. I felt bad now. But I'm also weirded out by the fact she didn't have a lightning fast pregnancy from having her green eye turned red by the red laser beam. I have the red food coloring, but she seems wary of further tricks. I can wait for another oppurtunity to test to see if a red liquid will induce her to give birth to more solid gold maggots for me. I reach over to try to comfort Ayu, but she withdraws a little, afraid. I try to comfort her by saying "I'm sorry Ayu, no more playing 'Doctor' OK?" "Teee..." she shivers a little. I gently place my hand on her, gently stroking her head with my fingers. After gently caressing her with a few strokes, she relaxes a little. "Let's play with your new toys instead." I say "Techi!" she happily agrees. For a good majority of the rest of the evening, I play with Ayu, using the new toys I bought for her which include a foam ball she can easily move and catch, some foam building blocks, and basically many toys meant for human toddlers but built with forethought of Jissouseki fragility in mind. Somehow, the nagging guilt of shocking Ayu with the red laser beam doesn't leave me for a long time. I played with her to build her trust back, and thankfully, she just seemed happy to have a Mister Man pay attention to her and play with her till she fell asleep from exhaustion. I carefully place her back into her pet carrier onto the bedding pile of tissue paper. I think I'll get her a Jissou bed next time. I lock the cage door before attending to a few more things before I can ready myself for bed. As I begin to wash my gear the wild child Jissou soiled earlier, I began to think over my head of today's events. But most of my thoughts are occupied with how I was going to keep my new little pet and goldmine if her Master came looking for her. Another conundrum was how am I going to have her give me more solid gold maggots. The red laser light failed. Red liquid had yet to be tested. But she did have an emergency pregnancy when she was nearly choked to death, but the thought of letting her be subjected again to such trauma and risk was the last thing I'd try with her. Other thoughts that plagued my evening was who was her Master? All she ever mentioned was that he had glasses and a big white coat. A image of a crazy scientist experimenting on Ayu came to my mind. I tell myself it's only speculation for now til proven otherwise. And the barcode on her back. What does it mean? I know animal shelters use tags and even microchips to keep track of domestic animals but I have yet to hear of them using barcodes. I'm rather reluctant to bring Ayu to a shelter to see if the barcode is a owner tag, for fear of them informing the owner that I've found their lost pet. 'Hey stupid, get some sleep so you won't be late for work tomorrow' my brain told me. "I know, I know and this time, dream up some naked chicks for me tonight" 'You wish' my brain replied. I sigh to myself, thinking over a few more things as I ready myself for bed. Paul is the only other person who knows of Ayu, besides his contacts at the animal shelter. I decide to play it safe for now and stay on the job instead of fleeing the area with Ayu. I don't want to act too suspicious. Paul is a good guy in my opinion, though he has some odd thoughts and ideas. He's really knowledgable with his understanding of Jissouseki and maybe he can give me some insight, if I ask him the right questions. As I lay in bed, drifting off to sleep, I don't know how long I was unconscios before I began dreaming. The image is a bit fuzzy, but my brain pulled through this time as I am treated to a view of nude female, though, something is odd about her because she seems familiar. She's on her knees and her eyes are closed with her hands laced onto the sides of her head. Her arms are covering her breasts and her fingers mingled into her long auburn hair. Before I could ask her for her name, my alarm clock goes off... ~JissouJoker
I actually like this plot-filled change of pace. I mean, yeah Jissou are hilarious when they're being tortured, but I'm not three years old, and I like to see some complexity being thrown in there. Keep up the good work, Joker.
Yeah, I'm actually interested in how this is going to pan out!
This is good. I like this.
I'm glad some of you guys like my stories. I'll try to keep the jissou torture and killings fresh. ~Thank you, JissouJoker
Alright, it is time. The last arc of PTLD's adventure. A king-sized, three-part conclusion with as much of the good old ultra-violence as backstory. Part 2 is coming before the end of the week. Sit back, and enjoy. --------------------- No Country for Jissous (1/3 : There's no Place Like Home) David Kellan My investigation was completing itself : The girl wasn't exactly discreet. The little blue cylinders were actually bullets, unable to kill a human but perfectly able to wreak havoc on any Jissouseki's fragile body. It didn't take me very long to discover it. Remember Mrs. Fey ? Fortune -or rather misfortune- put her in the way of the one-meter tall psychopath, when playing with her Jissouseki on a building's rooftop. God rest Kristy's soul. And as luck would have it, the day after her assassination, I saw in the news that the same cylinders were found on the location of an unexplained event. A Jissouseki town entirely afflicted with mass hysteria. Analysis (assisted by common sense) proved the bullets weren't the culprits, but that didn't stop me from doing some investigation myself. It turned out the team of exterminators missed two frozen jissou corpses, some 100 meters away from the shanty town. An adult and a child, both with their legs crushed by foam bullets. Judging from the trails of fecal matter, the abuser didn't even have the decency to kill them quickly. A simple comparison of the three events later, I knew Bibbie, Nana, Mimy and Fiona's killer had been firing some kind of sniper rifle from inside the park's water tower. A good start. Unfortunately, the trail ended here. She didn't leave anything at the water tower, and the snow covered her footprints. The best I could to was going back home. "Ah, Stella, did you sleep well ?" "Yes, the floor is perfect for a shit jissou like me, desu." Based on that simple answer, you can guess what home is like since the...happening. My daughter and I are very sympathetic, but Stella is in severe PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder, not project transcended sadistic doll). We can't get her to enjoy any perks of a pet jissou's life. She's adamant about wearing tattered old green dresses and soiled panties, eating only her own dejections, and sleeping in the most uncomfortable place available. Fortunately, inside, she's still our $5000 pet. Despite all these antics, she always clean after herself and never goes beyond her panties' critical capacity. Over time, she'll heal. I leave her, and go to my computer. No news among the little group I managed to bring together for the hunt. I guess everything can't fall right into your hands when your life isn't written by a scenarist. PTLD "Heya girl, how are you doing today ?" ...What in the name of... "Get up, you little scoundrel, it's already 9 am !" I open my eyes. Behind the glass stands a familiar figure. Nick. One of the scientists who created me. Shit. I'm back at the lab. "Come on, your Dad is waiting." Dad ?! I get up instantly. He's alive ? Where is he ? How could this happen ? Questions flood my mind, but my confused mouth only stammers. Nick winks, and opens my cell's door. I run into the corridor. I turn my head around. And finally I see him. His wrinkled, asian face is not exactly sparkling with energy, but to me, right now, he looks so radiant. My light body bumps into his. "Daad ! I'm so g...glad you're here, desuuuuuuuuuu !" "Dear, dear, you sure seem happy to see me today. Something the matter ?" "Of...of course there's matter, desu ! You were d..d..d..deee~..." I can only sigh as I feel his hand stroking my hair. Tears are dripping from my chin. It's always like this. I can hate him all I want about him making me say this shit at the ends of my sentences, but when he's here, I'm just a maggot that's getting its belly rub. It's the Bonding at work. And right now, it feels fucking wonderful. "Rechi !" What ? All the light is gone. I'm in my old cell alright. But someone made a serious makeover of the place. Back in the day, it was a white, sterilized room with all the comfort a human child can ask for. (You'd best like watering cans and beds shaped like suitcases though. Dad never really let go of that Suiseiseki thing.) Now, it's kind of like...an altar ? "The goddess is awake, rechi !" It's dark. The only source of light is the dancing flames of a bunch of candles on my left. I'm on some kind of gurney. There is food on my right. Mostly half-rotten fruits, energetic bars, and loads of konpeitos. For obvious reasons, I'd rather die than admitting it out loud, but I fucking love these weird little candies. I try to reach for one, when a sharp pain suddenly radiates in my lower chest. "Do not move, goddess, rechi ! You are hurt, rechi !" Alright, what's this fucking noi... Oh. Just behind the food, a healthy contingent of thumb-chans are kneeling before me. Somehow, they immediately strike me as civilized. Their eyes don't reflect anything usually related to feral jissous. They are bowing in respect. They're probably not aware I'm a blight to their kind. "You are finally awake, just as Mama told, rechun !" "Mama found you on the street, badly hurt. What she said ? Un-con...scient, re ?" "Unconscious, re !" "Food is for you, Goddess, rechi !" You know what, Mr.Man ? For all the hate I have for Jissouseki, I always had a soft spot towards thumb-chans. I don't know, they're too immature to have the irritating primitive Jissou cunning, but smart enough to talk and act somewhat normally, unlike their maggot counterparts. Add the cute clumsiness of a baby, and among all the Jissou kingdom, thumb-chans are universally the most likeable. Too bad they don't last more than one week before turning into regular kojissous. "Very sweet of you, little ones, but it really hurts, desu. Could you bring the food to my mouth, desu ?" For once, this isn't a scheme. I'm really starving, and the pain is paralyzing me. Guess I'll have to rely on the thumb-chans. Fortunately, they accept diligently, and begin to feed me. Their little procession is really funny. They trip, struggle to carry even the smallest konpeito, but manage to succeed without any casualties. Of course, I can't tell them my favorite food is Jissouseki, so this will have to do for the moment. "I...can't remember, desu. How was I hurt, desu ?" "We do not know, resun..." "But you have mean thing near heart, reeen !" What ? I look down. ...Thrice blessed grandmother of fuck. There's an iron bar sticking out of my chest, just below my left breast. No wonder it hurts. Ten centimeters higher, and my heart was toast. Whatever happened had left me in poor shape. I was probably out could for a while. I feel lightheaded... --------------------------- David Kellan More than a week later, I saw something in the newspaper. "Body of child victim of a hit-and run-incident still not found" It happened the night after the shanty town incident. Someone saw a car hit a child as he was closing the shutters. By the time he ran down the building, both the car and the body had disappeared. According to his testimony, the child was wearing green clothes, had brown hair, and was carrying a backpack and a heavy belt. I didn't hesitate long before going to the reported location : It was near the park when I knew "she" had been. It was a residential area, with some shops here and there. I searched for one hour, finding nothing but feral jissouseki asking for, no, demanding a home. I give them candy, and I'm already far away by the time they're finished. Of course, I shouldn't expect things to run right in front of me. "Courage, jissou-chans, de !" Ah. Something IS running in front of me. An entire family of Jissousekis. Although, statistically speaking, that must happen quite a lot. The Mama, sporting a huge scar on her face and a missing arm, is ordering her daughters around. They are carrying a toy, one of these water rifles that were all the rage back in the 90's. Its tank has crackles in it, probably because the water in it turned to ice. They notice me just before they run into my leg. The Mama takes a defiant pose. "Leave us alone, Mr.Man, desu ! We are just peacefully gathering things for our home, de !" "Don't worry" I say as I step aside. "I'm no abuser. Carry on !" They do without further ado. Quite evidently, the Mama is abuse-hardened, and learned that harassing humans almost always result in tears. Sound knowledge, unfortunately pretty rare among her kind. She and her children go to the nearest park. Good luck finding any use for that broken toy...Ah, feral Jissous and their urge to collect junk. Hey, they could be terrific street cleaners if someone got rid of the excessive defecating. … ...Wait a goddamn second here. ----------------------------- PTLD I'm no longer in my old room. The thumb-chans are slowly pushing the gurney, grunting from the effort. Unlit neon bars are running before my eyes. Now that I'm aware of it, the thing lodged under my chest emits waves of pain at the slightest movement. In the distance, I think I can hear the screeching voices of jissou children. As the noise closes in, I can hear a thundering wave of high-pitched chants of joy. Obviously, the building when I spent most of my days is now utterly invaded by these disgusting critters. The joy of having my childhood crapped over worse than the time where you saw Calvin being buttraped by Hobbes on the net notwithstanding, this situation completely boggles my mind. I didn't exactly count the days, but when I was in the water tower, it couldn't have been more than three months since I escaped. They were doing fine then. How could this happen ? "Because you're trying too damn hard !" "What do you mean, Mister Nick, desu ?" He's behind the glass. They're always behind the glass. They don't want the Bonding to Dad to be fucked up by the promiscuity of other Mr.Men. Plus, when I'm in the arena, you generally want to be out of reach from the shit and the blood. "I mean, your punches are strong, you really put your heart into this, but you're straining yourself in the long run. Plus they are less solid than styrofoam ! Don't overdo it, that's all." As always, I wear a white blouse, or else my dress would get so wasted, no amount of washing could recover it. People can whine all they want about the staining abilities of jissou shit, but generally, when they abuse, it's from a safe distance given their height and tools. I, on the other hand, am punching, wrestling and mauling the shit out of the green goblins from an entirely privacy-invading distance. "DeDEdededeDEdededeDEdede..." Another mutant wobbles haphazardly into the room. It was born two hours ago, given growth serum while being propped and scanned from every conceivable angle by the scientists, and released into my office, where I'm holding the proud occupation of living slaughtering machine. It was created by a machine scrambling jissou genotype and spewed into the world just to see if this random mutation could be used as a step towards the initially intended Living Doll. The hopeless bastard has its mouth bent towards the left, and obviously has trouble articulating. Which would be a problem if it had a functional brain, which was all but improbable seeing how its cranium was flat. Its long, thin arms are wobbling and jerking all around the place. And, best of all, even its clothes had been improperly delivered, its panties proudly decorating its head. Such a specimen was already hard to come by, but there was no way in hell it could have survived until adulthood in the wild. My job is like being a critique for mutants so horrible, they are rejected by the universe itself. None ever got past one star out of five. I use the console embedded in the wall to resume the Hammerfall soundtrack, and I pounce at the stammering horror. "And here is the Goddess, desu !" The arena, too, is black, lit only by a couple of candles. More than a hundred jissous are looking at me. Their eyes, they're almost glowing in the dark. Above the crowd, standing on a cardboard box, is an old Jissou in a white, plain dress. "Rescued from the streets where the infernal machines of Mr.Man had left her to die, we true believers brought her holy avatar to safety and she is now awakened desuuuu !" She was talking like a religious leader, looking mystically into the air. The crowd, evidently, was completely under her influence. Gasps of awe ran through it, back and forth, each time she accentuated her words. "Thus sayeth the tentacle, "Verily, thou shalt rejoice in the house of the tentacle." Desu." Tentacle ? This turd must be saying movie quotes now. "Speak, oh, Goddess, techi !" Says a kojissou. Despite her mother grounding her for interrupting the old coot, her suggestion is approved by everyone. "Yes, she must speak, de !" "We want to know how to have more candy, te !" "Punipuni, please rub, refu !" Soon, the entire crowd is calling for a speech. The leader, however, stays silent. "All right, all right, shut up, desu !" The clutter falls down. "I'm hurt all over, but I guess I should thank you for saving my ass, desu." They all tilt their heads. Dumbasses. I hear the thumb-chans mumbling about how I'm hurt, and give me one more konpeito. Hey, they are actually useful. "When I'm completely recovered, I promise I will help you believers, desu. But right now I want to know something. How did you get into this building, desu ?" "It was open, desu !" Says the leader in a penetrated tone. About as useful as I should have expected. The next five minutes were wasted trying to get the one question that would yield the answer I was looking for. Meanwhile, I can hear some in the crowd saying that I was pretty disappointing as an all-powerful Goddess. Other than that, they were showing remarkable self-control, sitting here quietly without leaving to get some food. Two thumb-chans are massaging my temples. Not useful, but thoughtful of them. "Listen, old one, when you entered, what was inside, desu ?" "Not much, desu ! There were not any Mr.Men so I and my followers chose this as our home. It was big, but no food was inside aside from a dry stuff that did not taste good, desu. So we gathered everything we could near there, desu." "Yeah, I bet, desu...What was the dry stuff ?" "I do not know, desu. It was grey, in a jar on the top of a big brown wood thing. As the leader, I ate it all. But it..." I give no attention to the rest of her ramblings. My eyes have widened so fast I must have strained a muscle. All the furniture in the facility was white. Except for one place. "You...you...desu." I force myself to get up. The pain in my chest gets stronger, and I feel the metal grinding my internal organs. This hurts. This fucking hurts ! "Dee ? What is the goddess doing, desu ?" "Stop, Goddess, you will be hurt, techi !" "Please rub belly, soft, refu !" "Do you want us to get you something, rechi ?" I trip, and fall on my knees near the wall. I grunt when I reach my arm forward to the cabinet. Fortunately, the lock prevented them from messing with it. "The Goddess was moved by the Priestess's story and wants to give us the candy inside, de !" Cheers are resonating, pulsing through my body, adding fuel to the fire in my chest. The most searing flames, however, are not due to pain. They were the children of pure, all-consuming fury. The one room in the entire building with brown wooden furniture is Dad's apartment. They broke into it. They put their paws on his belongings. They messed with the delicate order of his stuff, probably breaking his collection of porcelain dolls. They spread their shit on his Persian mat. And they. "What's this noise, desu ? Candy does not click like that, desuu..." Fucking. "Hey, Goddess, what are you doing, techi ?" Ate. "G...Goddess, why lock the door, dee ?" HIS ASHES. "D...Dechaaaaaaaaaaaa !" The shotgun blast sends the priestess flying to the wall, and I hear the sharp sound of a spine cracking. Blue invades the whole crowd, tongue hang out, the scent of shit fills the air. After an endless silence, the ominous sound of a firearm rearming resonates in the room, but they stay still. I limp slowly towards the back of the room, stomping maggots on my way. The priestess is letting out a muffled wail, paralyzed by the impact. I stand silently over her, staring, the back of my mind trying to think of something to say. Of a punishment suitable for her crime. But nothing comes. Her wrinkled forehead meets the cannon of the shotgun. There is another blast. And another. And another. Each booming noise hurt the Jissouseki's frail ears, and some maggots die in a hiccups. And I shoot again. My entire being is in the finger pulling the trigger as fast as it can. This focus eases the pain. I pull and I pull and I pull. Her body is nothing but paste. But her soul is still wailing. BANG. BANG. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. I see Dad in my mind's eye. His soothing smile, his melancholic eyes. I want to feel his hand in my hair. I want to tell him how many Jissouseki I've killed. To finally be able to heal his soul from the guilt of having created them. Click. Click. Click...Click.........Click..............................Click. I drop the empty gun. "This dry stuff...was your actual God, desu." Their eyes reflect nothing but fear. "You blasphemed just by existing, but you shits will never be satisfied until you have ruined every last piece of what is sacred in this world, desu." The red hot pain only grows stronger. "Die, desu." Finally, they panic. Mamas trample their children. Children throw away the maggots. The maggots die either by heart failure or being trampled. I go to the console. I select the music menu. Manowar. Warriors of the World. Track #9. In a corner, the thumb-chans are trembling, crying all the tears in their bodies. I ignore them. When the first riff breaks out, I scream. --------------------------------------------- David Kellan Why hadn't I thought of that earlier ? The article said there wasn't anyone present during the hit-and-run incident. Of course, that only applied to people. At any place, at any time, there are Jissouseki. And this night, those present found an unconscious girl that somewhat looked like them. Either they ate her, or brought her back to their colony. No corpse was found, so only one possibility remained. The rest was just figuring out which colony. ...Courage, David. There are only 6% of Jissou-infested buildings. --------------------------------------------- It was a massacre. The poor Jissouseki had nowhere to run from the fist of an angry Goddess. The loud music was too much for their ears, and they were running in circles, trapped into the arena, pressing their ears against their skulls. Hands of doom are reaching out, to crush all infidels who stray Time to know the pain, no time to run within And these hands you see before you will end the light of day Your ashes will be cast into the wind "Mama, mama, why does the door not open, teeeeen ?" "Mean Goddess has put a spell on it, desu. But Mama has a plan, de !" The children chant from joy, and they follow their mother. They run past three maimed children, five crushed maggot-chans still puking out their last organs, and one freshly decapitated mama whose belly was beginning to swell up. The severed head flies over them, and mows down a crying kojissou trying to wake her baby sister up. The little group has only walked 10 meters, but had to swerve through the bodies of their friends, their cousins, all dead without being able to resist. Some do, though. Another mama and her three children are biting the Goddess's legs. She doesn't care. In her fury, she shrugs off even the bar impaling her. It's only when her gaze meets the resisting mama's that she turns her attention to them. Your blood's upon the soil, your body fed to wolves Not one of you will be left alive Hear the sound, pounding, and the army of the night By the hammer of Thor you now shall die ! "R...run daughters, I will protect your esDEGYAA LET ME GO DEG-" The kojissous are too shocked to move, their fight or flight mechanism just plain shutting down before the sight of their beloved mama being ripped in two, vertically, starting from her crotch. The goddess lets out an ear-shattering scream, wordless but full of meaning. She holds one half of the jissou in each hand, and sends the three kojissous flying in one single sweep. Their last sight before everything went to black was the dull eyes of their mother, her mouth twisted in a silent scream. Tonight we strike, there is thunder in the sky ! Together we'll strike...and some of us will die They'll always remember that we made a stand And many will die by my hand ! The stench of horrified shit was thickening the air, and the sounds weren't anything less than the new hit in Hell. There was the song, powerful, nauseating in its intensity. There was the scream, so full of hatred that it drained the wills of the Jissouseki, pinning in place every attempt at struggling. Each second, another jissou gave up, just standing in place, panting, shitting maggots out, looking upwards in a silent prayer to a non-existent benevolent God. It was the scream that extinguished all hope. There was the wailing of the damned, of their sisters, mothers and daughters maimed beyond repair, yet unlucky enough to still be alive. The cries of despair of those without limbs, those with a huge hole in their chest, those whose crystal had fallen off and was slowly shattering before their very eyes. There were, finally, the calls of the newborn, expelled from dying mothers, full of hope, joy, that sounded like a cruel joke in a place where the only thing alive was Death itself. "Quick children, deee..." Our heroes are in a corner, hastily working, but unable to completely detach their eyes from the Angel of Death. They gathered bodies and piled them together. Not one second did they stop shitting, aware that if the Goddess's eyes fell upon them, she would tear them apart instantly. The number of alive jissous drop dangerously, soon they will be the last alive. Even her maidens...The Priestess said, those who are born looking like Mr.Men are fated to serve Her. Yet she didn't even show mercy to them. "Goddess is so mean, teeeen !" Cried a child with a keen sense for euphemisms. "Quiet, it is ready, desu !" Quickly, the little family bury themselves under the pile of bodies. It's suffocating, but it's their only hope. They stay here, silent but shivering, and only one of the children had a slight opening to see the slaughter from. They had dodged a bullet. It was done. All the others were dead or on their way. The Goddess was now silent. Blood trickled from her wound, but she continued to walk. Newborn maggots hadn't yet learned how to speak, and let out cute little sighs, gazing at the tall figure in joyful expectation. Nothing was wrong in the world. There was plenty of food around them, they were in a big house, and soon the big Mother would reach for them, and in a warm, friendly smile, she would rub their bellies. Oh, how good that will feel ! They already know what it would be like. A warmth, powerful, soothing, peeling away the slight but ever present sensation of pressure in their tummies, making them, for a few divine seconds, the center of the universe. Yes, that would feel good. That would...feel... So.....cold. Coldly, methodically, the Goddess stepped on the maggots. It didn't take very long, the ignorant babies crawling towards her in complete confidence. "Wh...What is happening, te ?" Whispered the beholder's sister. "Everyone dead, teeen...Must be silent, teeeen..." The Goddess inspected the room, finishing whoever hadn't crossed the pearly gates yet. But it is fine, the child thought. Their hiding place was perfect. She would never notice. Never. Mama's plan is flawless, everything is... No, Goddess-sama, not this way ! You are going to mama's perfect hiding place ! Jissou-chan put her stumps on her mouth when she realized she was panting. Her heart was racing, it was getting painful. Dizzy... I see the fear you have inside, you can run but never hide I will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb Teee ? Was it the Goddess, or the invisible Mr.Man ? It...it is not true ! Jissou-chan and her family are safe ! She could only see her feet. She was just over them. She could hear the Goddess’s breath, heavy, full of pain. Go away, Goddess-sama ! You must leave Jissou-chan cute family alone ! The heartbeats grow faster. The child felt nauseous. Can she really kill them ? Would she really be this cruel ? Nothing shall remain, not your memory or name It will be as though you never, ever lived Just as her heart is about to go over the edge, the feet limp away. "Techuuuuuun..." They are saved. The Goddess unlocks the door. Pheeeeew... Just before leaving, the Goddess opens one pocket of her weird belt, and takes a box. A scratch his heard. She flicks a little thing over her shoulder before disappearing in the corridor. "What is happening, Jissou-chans, desuuu ?" The match hits the ground soiled with shit. What did Mama say about their shit ? In-fla-ma-bel ? The child's face goes entirely blue. Once again, Hell takes hold of the place. ------------------------------------------- PTLD Damn. My best score yet, and I wasn't even conscious enough to enjoy it. I guess berserkergang isn't a myth. I grunt. The painkilling effect of my rage fades away, and my dress is tainted brown by the blood. Shit, shit, shit ! My first true injury and I have no idea how to fix it. The heartache about Dad's undeserved fate does not help at all. I guess I'll have to rely on what they left of this place. There has to be some kind of medical bay. A shame I was never allowed to go anywhere by myself. Plus, this wasn't a public place, so there wasn't a lot of directions on the wall. So I wander. Everything has been shut down. Most of the equipment has been destroyed. Worse, the damage is too great for Jissouseki to be the cause. Speaking of which, the cult I just wasted wasn't the full extent of the colony. Far from it. A jissou with a missing eye asks if I have a pet. I don't answer, pick her up and devour her alive. Her wail comforts me somehow, as does the peculiar taste of raw jissou. Mr.Men find it revolting when there's still shit inside but, I don't know, I find it gives a flavor that's kind of not so bad, as long as you don't go bite into the digestive track. After some time, and a set of stairs that put my body on fire, I'm in some kind of hall. Plenty of jissous there. And even if I can't distinguish everything, I can tell there are a some mutants into the lot. Maybe they were confined here by the cult ? Anyway, I'm not in good enough shape for another rampage, so I take the stealth route. I'm covered in jissou shit, that should hide the scent of my blood. I run past the herd enjoying a jissou-based feast. Apparently, there's also some fucking involved. How disgusting. From behind a desk, I can only see so much of the place, but so far, nothing medically related. The only thing of value is a big reinforced metal door labed "Emergency vault". No use trying to get into that now, though, let's contin... I bump into some kind of pillar. It's weird. Big, round, made of some kind of springy matter, kind of warm. I poke it, no answer. "SUUUuUUuuuuUUUuuu" ...Apart from that. It came from above, what's... … I fall backwards and let out a terrified squeal. This a jissou. An enormous jissou. Bigger than a Mr.Man. With its dressed knitted where its head should be. What in the name of... No time to wonder. The thing growls again, and attempts to grab me. I clumsily dive between its legs, treating myself to another wave of pain, only this one pins me down. Come on, PTLD, get up, get up, get...GYAH ! With a single kick, that thing sends me flying. I hit the wall. I yell. Blood flows out of my mouth. And my body still won't respond. "WaaAAnt TOOoooYYY DSUuuUUU" Fuck fuck fuck fuck MOVE ! I can only crawl. I hear the herd mocking me. "Depupupupu !" You pieces of shit, you won't be laughing when I... "GoOOOt tOOOyyYYyiiiii DuuuUUU" ...What ? No. NO ! The behemoth takes the bar...and pulls it out. I nearly faint from the pain, squealing like a tortured kojissou. The monster laughs. Apparently it got what it wanted. Good, because the regular jissous are closing in on me, and I'm nowhere near recovering from the shock. "Trance !" Now's not the time for an hallucination, brain ! I... To my right, the vault opens. Behind it, I can see Nick. That's not an hallucination. I gather my last strength, and run into it. I wake up God knows how much time later. Nick is still behind the glass. I still have a hole in my chest. But he got me somewhat patched up. Meaning a bandage, and that's it. I still won't make it without true medical attention. Yet, he is still behind the glass. Come on, would it hurt you to stay by my side for a while ? "Hello, girl." The young scientist looks at me with a sad, tired eye. "I saw you on the CCTV system when they first took you here. I'm the only one left in this god-forsaken place." No time for formalities, hey ? Fine by me. "What happened here ? We had security systems, desu ! Where is everybody ? Did that monstrosity kill them, desu ?" "Oh no", he says, weakly chuckling. "They just offed themselves. As for the invasion, it's because they cut off our electricity. This place is run by a generator. I have to pedal ten minutes every four hours. It's pretty nerve-wracking at night." Power shut down ? By who, the jissous, the scientists, or the authorities ? What on earth happened to this place ? "But how did this happen ? There wasn't anything illegal going on, was there, desu ? Plus, with me, you were well on your way to become filthy rich, desu." "You ran away." "B...but, desu !" I blush. "No big deal, you got all the process covered, desu ! I was just a prototype, you just had to run the machine again and there was another me, desu !" "PTLD." Says he in a dead serious voice. "You were in your cell, listening to power metal, only getting out to hold company for a sick scientist or for slaughtering Jissouseki. You wouldn't be surprised if there was some...discrepancies between your point of view and the reality, right ?" "I...guess, desu..." "I waited for you to recover and maybe get past that thing, because I believe you don't deserve to be held in darkness." I gulp. The pain in my chest suddenly gets sharper. "We weren't able to make the Jissouseki evolve, Trance. Not even close." To be continued.
Wow. Trance is still able to kick Jissouseki ass while seriously injured. I'll be waiting for your next segment anxiously.
I seriously hope she survives to kick more and more shit-goblin ass.
And here's the second part. I pretty much had to finish it before going to sleep. -------------------- No Country for Jissous (2/3 : The Nightside of Eden) PTLD "What...do you mean, desu ?" "Exactly what I said. Our research in the field of Jissouseki controlled mutation have been entirely inconclusive." "You're...shitting me, desu." "I'm afraid I'm not." "B...But I'm the living proof your results were through the roof, desu ! I'm evolved, I have constraints, I have the Bonding, desu ! So, sorry Mr.Nick, but I'm not buying it, desu." He serves himself a shooter of Gin, and gulps it down. "Make no mistake, we did make some significant progress. And in time, I'm sure we could have reached something big." "You make no sense, desu !" "From your perspective, I guess not...Look, I'll tell you what we did discover. Most of it revolves around the Jissouseki crystals." "Ah, you found how it mysteriously kills its Jissou when it's shattered, desu ?" "Yeah, some kind of reaction started by the fact it's the crystal that manages to hold together such a mess in the first place. But that's not the point...A lot of scientists where theorizing that this gem was in fact some kind of computer. With Katô-sensei's help, we knew it to be the case. And we managed pretty quickly to find a way to hack it." "That...that's groundbreaking, is it not, desu ?" "Not that much as it turned out. Sure, we were able to reprogram a Jissou somewhat, but there was still a lot of things processed by the brain which we couldn't reach. Plus the hacking could only be made directly. This "computer" of sorts doesn't have wifi, is what I'm saying. Worse, modifying the crystal properties strangely didn't do squat for the Jissou's body. Even if we coated a reprogrammed gem into jissou shit. Only a regular thumb-chan comes out." Didn't heard of that ability. Anyway, he's talking about Dad's work, so it's interesting in its own right. Makes me forget the pain. "Other than that, Katô-sensei was never able to pinpoint what went wrong in his process. I was his main assistant, so I know a bit on the matter. It's...very weird. The genome map shouldn't produce anything like the Jissouseki. Human genes, hell, entire chromosomes are present, and we should have full limbs and a normal anatomy, only smaller. It's as if the Jissouseki catastrophe hides itself into an invisible corner and overrides everything each time we launch the birthing machine. Which makes no sense at all of course. It's like we follow scrupulously a recipe for a strawberry cake and end with a failed chocolate cake with the consistence of an eraser." "Didn't you have any theories for this anomaly, desu ?" "None confirmed by experience. Our genome scrambling program was meant to help us uncover that mystery, but...every time we rollback to the previous genotypes, where they still gave recognizable -albeit unsuitable for life- living dolls, the specimen only live when it comes close to the Jissou model. And we mean, only from the right side. Impossible to make "better" jissous, but a shitload of jissou-looking freaks are at least capable of reaching your arena when they shouldn't. It's as if...something was preventing the Living Dolls from existing." "What ? Like...God, desu ?" "God, the great universe's balance, our own subconsciousness, we don't know. Of course, there were also plenty of good theories about what was fucking up our model. The biologically grown dresses, the ability to learn any language, the unmovable phenotype for any future Living Dolls, all strictly identical to their mothers...All of those were completely unnatural traits, which would be likely to have unpredictable results. Nonetheless, the "superior force" theory was conquering our minds." "Don't tell me you gave up ! You don't find something groundbreaking this fast, desu !" "Oh, I know that !" He laughs. "We were disappointed, yes, but realistic : Our quest would probably outlive our careers. We were trying to transform the blight of humanity into perfection, for God's sake...No. The real problem lied elsewhere." "Your investors were losing patience, desu ?" "Hm ? Oh, no no no no no, they were already plenty satisfied with the hacking thing. That cut the costs for high-grade pet Jissouseki like you wouldn't believe. As a matter of fact, we sold them for a very high price your set of constraints one month after your birth. No training necessary, you can sell mongrels more than 4 grand and no jissou-loving sucker will notice. There will also probably be military applications, although your sniper training won't do any good for jissou paws." "What ? Then you are fucking rich, right, desu ?" "Right desu, as you put it. I have enough in my bank account to live until 100 years old without working an hour for the rest of my life. As for the others." His expression isn't the one for someone who got early retirement. There's a mix of feelings. All of them heavy. "So...What was the problem...desu ?" "Katô Hajime himself." "Right...Dad was sick, desu." "Yes. He wasn't exactly old, but his sickness was wearing his body down very fast. He became a total shut-in. He never came into sight of the jissou we bred. Even a goddamn picture could send him into a rage." "They had destroyed his whole career, desu. He had to go to the Western world, far from everything he ever knew to continue his quest, desu..." "And he came to consider himself guilty of what mankind was going through. We made extra sure the rumor about cities destroyed by Jissous never reached his ears." He looks at me. His eyes are so intense, I can't look elsewhere. "He was dying, Trance. We could live with the few results we got. We could wait. Not him." "So...for him, you made me, desu ?" "Yes." "But...how, desu ? Everything in the files I stole was bullshit...right, desu ?" "All bullshit. It was prepared especially for you, for when you would want to escape from your prison after Katô's death." He looks at his hands, obviously nervous. He gulps, then says : "...Therein hangs the tale." "What tale, desu ?" "Everything. How you could escape, how we got shut down, how the Jissous invaded, how we all blew our heads off." "D..Don't screw with me, desu. There's no way it could be that bad, desu." He put his forehead on the table, and his hands into his hair. "Oh God...Trance I.. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." This idiot is seriously giving me the creeps. Plus I was beginning to feel cold because of the blood loss. I saw tears dripping on his table. I'm shivering now. "Jissouseki are one thing. They are a botched experiment, something good turned awful by a cruel twist of fate. You aren't anything like that, girl. You are one hundred percent mad science." -------- David Kellan Fourth jissou colony in two days. I'm going to need a new pair of nostrils sometime soon. Each visit also cost me a full bag of konpeitos and a set of clothes. It's pretty easy to bribe them when they're alone in a park or in the street, but put a bunch of them together, let them grow confidence and a sense of territory, and man, your ass was in for a wild ride. This time, it was into an abandoned building, apparently related to a business of some kind, hard to tell which given the level of degradation. The place was so ruined, you could tell Jissous had invested the place just by the busted door. The reek of excrement was another viable indicator. I enter. All windows have been condemned with planks, so it's dark even in the hall. I can nonetheless see some green silhouettes into the darkness. God does it stink. "Hellooo !" Yelps of surprise, and the sound of little legs running. That's it, they went tribal, now there's zero chance I could interrogate them easily. It's a phenomenon I saw in my first year of business. By the time I was putting all the peons in the same big cage. In the beginning, they acted normally. Irritating, stupid, but open to human interaction, begging for homes. One month later, some kojissous had grown into adults. They took control as the eldest. A social circle was forming around them. It was fine, I thought. Organized or not, their ass was going to abuse as soon as a sadist wanted some fun with big specimens. Plus they were quieter, they didn't assault verbally their higher class sisters. But a Monday morning, some uptight mother accompanied by her son, a spoiled little brat with shirts and shining shoes, came to buy some high-class. Naturally, I went all business mode, sweet-talking them into buying the first high-class I had since I got my license for them one week before. The kid went to bother the peons, apparently used to the jissou mindfuck routine. "Oh nooo madam, I assure you these ones ab-so-lu-te-ly never soil anything. They have strict norms now, you know ? Even one behavioral or morphological that's not outstanding, and the price is cut to less than $900. If you go for this price, you get perfection, guaranteed or your money back." "Well, she does seem sweet. That shiny silver hair, is it natural ?" "Absolutely. Hey, girl, can you show to the nice lady your hair roots ?" "Of course, de !" The pet removed her hood, and approached her potential purchaser with perfect protocol, showing her skull. It was clear the hair wasn't dyed. "You do seem nice, little Jissou, what's your..." "NOW ! ATTACK, DESU !" Behind us, the spoiled brat, still sticking a stick into a maggot, was stricken with approximately five pounds of shit in a split second. Never. In my entire life. Had I heard such a deadly silence. "I'm sorry, mister shopkeeper, but I think I'll settle for the whole bunch of commoners." "...Certainly madam. That will be 0 dollars, and the baseball bat is included." Yeah, well, I have the right to do stupid things when $5200 flies right under my nose. Still, I have an investigation. I venture further into the Jissou's den. It's getting darker and darker. I hope they don't have Israel's foreign policy. "What on earth are you doing here ?" The voice behind me makes me jump. It's a man. No way, this building IS Jissou ridden, how... Oh. Behind me, at the hall's entrance, stand two exterminators. "Uh...Hello." "You know, pal" Says the older one, "If you're looking for Jissouseki to abuse, you'll be safer searching in a park." "I know", I sigh. "I'm not an abuser. I'm investigating." "...Investigating what ?" He answers, obviously not convinced. "Someo...Something disappeared in the neighborhood, and I have good reasons to think Jissous from a colony picked it up. Besides I'm unarmed, see ?" The pair was sporting the whole government-issued outfit, with spray cans and some other tools I'd rather not think too long about. Judging from the position of the younger one, standing back slightly, I'd wager the guess he was his subordinate. What, you need hierarchy to kill innocent Jissous now ? "Yeah, I guess some of their scavenging does result in thievery. I have to talk to my friend about the basic methods of indoors exterminating, and we won't go too far from now. So we go with you, make sure you aren't hurt, you do whatever it is your supposed to do, and then we get to it, right ?" "You got a deal, as long as you do it humanely." "Oh we will. Here, grab this torchlight !" I try, but I always sucked at playing ball. Fortunately, the torchlight isn't broken when falling. "Erm, sorry. Anyway, off we go." I venture into the staircase, leading the march. I guess they have some interest in letting a "civilian" be seen first by the Jissous. They draw less suspicion. Behind me, the old one has begun to make his speech. Don't want to hear stuff like this, so I focus on my mission. The stench only grows stronger as I walk up the stairs. Still, I hear jissou light squeals, but they're very elusive. Exceptionally even, given that I've opened my bag of konpeitos. There must have been a strong leader here. First level. A distinctively different smell floats here. "Hey", I ask. "Do you smell something like...burnt stuff ?" "Let me see that...Yeah, you're right. Burnt Jissou feces." "Shit" says the other. "You think we should call the firemen ?" "Nah, it's too old, smoke has dissipated. Their shit and themselves burn too fast for even a log to catch on fire." While they chat, I look around. No Jissouseki here. Let's... FUCK ! There's blood on the floor. Pure, red blood. No traces of Jissou shit in it. It's a human. Or... Stella's aggressor. Goddammit, I absolutely can't let exterminators know about her existence ! "He's right, I say, directing the beam of my torchlight anywhere but where the blood is. "I think they went to the second level, let's go." Indeed, high-pitched voices become apparent now. Another flight of stairs. Whoever was bleeding went up there. "Yeah, so like I was saying" Continues the eldest exterminator, "Hiding jissous is already a problem in the wild, it's even more of a pain indoors. They're programmed to feel at home in a building, so they'll check openings and whatnot as soon as they take over. So you really have to check every nook and cranny." "Make some vinegar boil, when the room's not too large, the acrid vapor will make any jissou cough and try to get out, they hate that stuff." The civil servants look at me silently. "Uh, sorry. I'm a Jissouseki retailer, clients often have to deal with hiding maggots and...force of habit, you know. I guess boiling takes too much time for your kind of job, forget I said that." "Bah, at least vinegar is cheap." I don't have to face the awkward situation for long. We arrive at the second level. And as soon as I light up what seems to be a hall, we all stop right where we are. "That...wasn't in my job description." Says the youngest. "Mine neither" Answers his boss. "That means you...don't have the tools for this ?" The...thing turns its...eyes ? At us, swings something thin and long and... "Pretty much." "Mr.MEEeeeN DUUuuSSSUuuAAA" We all run back down the stairs, with only our male pride preventing us from screaming like schoolgirls. Later, we're back in the streets, hungrily breathing some fresh air. "Fuck ! We're getting back to HQ, tomorrow we come back with the entire squad !" "Whatever you want, you're the only qualified professionals on this one. That thing is unsellable. They leave. Shit, and my target is probably inside, wounded, maybe dead ! I don't know, but whatever it is, I have to make sure of it. I'll have to think of something by the end of the day. Meanwhile, I think I'll just... Take a walk in the streets. The outside is so cold at this time of the year. There's still snow, although all of it will thaw soon enough, revealing god knows how many frozen Jissouseki corpses. Bah, that makes it a great period for youth employment. Still, all this Jissou business makes us forget the misfortune of our fellow humans. Winter is a harsh mistress for them. Poor souls, shivering in the snow, with no home to go back to. That, perhaps, is the saddest thing in the world. After a while of letting my mind drifting, I can hear a very faint "teeeeen..." accompanied with munching sounds. In a small alley, a little girl, buried in a dirty blanket, snow piling on her mid-length brown hair, is eating a kojissou. Well, step aside, saddest thing in the world, there's a new chief in town. "What are you doing here, all alone ?" "Ah, hello mister. Well, my parents gave me to a school. Our house has jissouseki in it." Her voice is delicate, but full of melancholy. Her parents probably had further problems if they couldn't keep her with them. "And then the people were nice, but I want my mama and papa so I look for them. But they aren't when they said they would..." "I...see" Crap, this line of questioning probably didn't need further scrutiny. "You know eating raw jissou is dangerous, right ?" "Yeah but...It's all their fault, and it's the only food I have..." "Oh come on, come with me, at least have a good meal and bath, we'll search for your parents later." "R...really ?" "Yeah. What's your name ?" "Sylvia." The others are out for the moment. They went to see the Doctor. I'm taking care of Sylvia in the meantime. She's cute without those rags, I'm sure they will be happy to see her. She gets out of the bath, all clean. She's smiling, for the first time in a who knows how long. Obviously, she's strong. She went through a lot, and set off to a journey she probably lost before it began. And still, she's finding the strength to smile and laugh...She's trusting, too. Kind. She followed me, and never asked me anything, she just took what I offered her, and was grateful for it. She's too kind. And too trusting, as what I'm thinking about her is dark. A pitch-black darkness that is threatening to consume me whole. But I have to do this. It's already decided. "And voilà ! Hot milk, pancakes and honey. Would you like some chocolate, too ?" "No, thank you mister, but...that's more than enough." Yeah, right. "You're the nicest. What did you say your name was ?" "Nick. Nick Howell." "It's a funny name !" "Thanks." I'm sitting in the sofa, my head into my hands. The others enter. "It's done. The sedative in the milk made short work of her. Now come on, let's get this over with." You, have got. To be fucking kidding. Later, we're all behind the glass of the main laboratory. Sylvia is lying, unconscious, in the exit slide of our generating machine. She has the clothes we made for her. The others have been disposed of. The scar in her back is hard to spot, he shouldn't be able to discover the trick. She wakes up. "M...Mister Nick ? Wh...Where are you ? Where am I ?" "Don't try to talk, Sylvia, relax." "Re...lax ? B...But...I feel weird..." "I'm sorry, I wish it could have happened during your global anesthesia, but the thing inside you can't work on your central nervous system and morphology if you're not fully conscious." You can't be serious ! YOU CAN'T ! "Wh...What ? What thing inside me ? I'm...scared, I just wanted to see mama and papa again, I..." "You'll have one. I promise." "Mama, it hurts, I'm so s-s-s-cared, help mAAIIIIIIEEE" "Oh, God help us, I can't watch this shit." "MY EEEYYYYYES, SOMEONE HELP ME D-D-DDDEEEE" SHUT UP ! YOU'RE LYING ! I'm crying, face against the wall. The cries are piercing my soul. Poor Sylvia. What have we done ? What have I done ? Oh, God. I'm sorry Sylvia. No, not Sylvia... --------------------------------------- PTLD "SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuup...de...ssuuu..." "I'm sorry, but it's true. You aren't the revolutionary model. You aren't even a step forward. You're just a human girl infected with a Jissou crystal." "Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up desu" "The transformation was painful. Excruciating even. It changed your face, made it more Asiatic. It made you experience forced, lightning-fast puberty, which explains your greater muscle efficiency. It rewrote your brain, burning Jissou traits into it, wiped out your memory, and part of your mind. We believe you lost at least 33% of your IQ, starting from the intelligence of a 10 years-old. Had you any interest in politics, you would probably be in favor of the tea party. And, of course, it implanted all the programming we had prepared in the crystal" "Shut the fuck up, Nick. Please shut the fuck uuuuuuup...desu..." I fall on the floor and curl up. I can't describe you how it feels. I hate Jissouseki. They're the lowest of the low. I was the hope, the miracle, the cure. And now I'm just a freak. Hammerfall, Manowar, Iron Savior, Sabaton, Rhapsody...All the awesome bands the Nick Howell I thought I knew introduced me to...please look away for a moment. My arms can't stop shaking. Later... I get up. Nick is behind reinforced glass with most of the equipment, but I still have some stuff to collect in this part of the vault. Guns. Real and with foam bullets. Flares. Incendiary grenades. Painkillers. I take the whole bottle. "Trance..." I wait for them to take effect. This burning pain in my chest can go right the fuck to hell. "Sylvia..." Thirteen magazines. Good. I'll need all I can get. "Forgive me..." "Go fuck yourself, asshole, desu." I can hear him bang his head on his desk. "You know you can't shoot through the glass." "Don't care, desu. The others have done the right thing. You're up next, and you know it, desu." "You plan on killing the Jissouseki outside ? That's mad..." "Maybe I don't have the legitimacy to kill them anymore. Maybe I should switch sides. But I know one thing for sure, desu." I arm the guns. "This is no country for Jissous. Not for regular ones, not for fucked-up ones created by madmen, desu." "Don't be an idiot ! You can live through this ! The Jissou miracle healing solution...I'm pretty sure it works on you !" "Right now, the least fucking thing I want to do is living, desu." "Trance, please..." "Don't even think about reviving me, desu. Constraints or not, I'll blow your fucking brains out, desu." I activate the console that opens the vault. I'm still bleeding, still weak. But I'm ready. And I know where I'm going. Across the bridge of Death, beyond the gates of light, Into the heart of darkness, into the black of night. No road back, I never will return. Into the fires of hell, I will burn And die. To be ended.
Nice InLeaves. This latest chapter is particularly shocking! And maybe it's just my human mind doing it's thing where it tries to correlate information, but I swear if the exterminators are a reference to Sam and Paul, I'm flattered. ~JissouJoker
Thanks. And it is indeed a reference. You can of course use this guest appearance in your story if you so desire. Oh, and for everyone reading, I'm interested in knowing : at which moment of the story did PTLD's real origin became clear to you ?
Thanks InLeaves, I'll leave that option open.
Here's that story I mentioned awhile back. Takin' Out the Trash Thorold, Ontario, Canada Sometime in August 5:50 AM "GARBAGE DAY!" Yes, I do exclaim that every garbage day thanks to that campy movie scene that's been spreading across YouTube. So yeah, it was Friday morning, garbage day. The sun was finally out, the microwave clock reading 5:50. This is why I love summer--way more sunlight hours to enjoy. After finishing my breakfast of omelet rice, canned bread and specially-ordered Pocari Sweat, I threw on my sandals and went outside to take the garbage and recycling to the curb. As I breathed the fresh morning air and let the cool breeze bathe my bare chest, I suddenly gagged as I smelled something far worse than the garbage. "Good fucketty God!", I exclaimed, looking for the source of the smell. It smelled like shit. Literally, I could only smell the overpowering stench of shit. Coming from the garbage can. Which seemed to be making alot of tiny noises of the "refu" and "rechi" variety. ... FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-- Okay, in all seriousness, I went over to the can and tore off the lid. Yeah, sure enough, I saw well over 50 maggots and thumbs, eating the garbage and shitting all over the goddamn place. They were all wearing tattered clothing heavily stained with mud and shit. It was likely they were thrown in by some neglectful mother jissou who decided she'd rather dump her assload of kids into a random human's garbage can, not even waiting to see if they'd survive. A number of them had dragged an old unused chunk of salmon from my sushi party two nights ago to the surface and were pigging out on the rotting meat. They finally noticed me glaring down at them when I kicked the garbage can. Not hard enough to knock it over, of course, that'd be stupid. Just enough to make them clue in. "Hello, Mr. Man!", a thumb squeaked, trying and failing to look cute, "Thank you for all this free food, rechi! May we come inside?" "We're little and don't eat much, rechi!", another one promises. Bullshit, I thought, you fuckers are eating machines, and then you'll leave impossibly huge amounts of shit all throughout my house. Soon they were all bombarding me with their selfish demands. "Bring inside, rechi! Is too hot, rechi!" "Hungry, rechi! Bring fresh food, rechi!" "Belly soft and springy! Rub, refu!" "Give candy, refu!" "Big metal things on road too loud, rechi! Shut them up, rechi!" "Bring me into my home right now, rechi!" Oh, that last one was where I drew the line. That fucking shit-goblin had the nerve to call my home hers, and demand that I bring her inside? I swallowed my growing rage and managed to smile a dark smile. "Wait here.", I said in a downright evil tone, my voice shaking, "I've got something for you..." With that, I left them cheering in the garbage can as I tried to think of something. I paced around my mudroom before walking into the main house and looking for the supplies I had in mind. Time to get these disgusting little shit-filled pests out of the way and get that garbage to the curb before the truck comes. First, I grabbed my electric kettle and filled it up with water. I plugged it in and turned it on, letting the water heat up. While that was being done, I looked around for my insect spray. Dammit, I can't find it anywhere, I must've misplaced it again. I instead picked up some of my MAX deodorant, that should work just as well. Latex gloves so my hands don't make contact with these filthy sins against nature, medical mask and sunglasses for facial protection, a hat to protect my freshly-waxed hair in case of shit-throwing, a box of table salt... And now the water was ready, boiling hot. I was ready to kick jissou ass. I went back outside with my gear, the packaged retards looking up at me again. They acted like I couldn't see that they had been cannibalizing each other in my absence. Probably fighting over who gets to be Mr. Man's pet. There were about a dozen fewer than there had been not even 10 minutes ago. I held the MAX up to the face of an eager thumb. She looked very happy. "What is this, Mr. Man? Yummy food, re--" SPRITZ. "CHAAAAAAAAA!!", she shrieked, her face burning and swelling from the chemicals in the deodorant, especially her tongue and eyes. Yeah, one quick spray of a mild Axe knockoff messed this thing's face up beyond recognition. I began to laugh hysterically, it was that funny how weak these things are. She began running around blindly, her eyes watering and going white, her loose-tongued screaming and flailing and my laughter scaring her sisters. "CAN'T SEE, RECHA!! FOOD BAD, RECHA!! MR. MAN IS SHIT HUMAN, RECHAAAA!!" At least, I think that's what she was trying to say. Her tongue was flopping around like a fucking dead monkey the whole time. She starts doing this flailing death dance like a fly doing Get Down, and she finally collapses, stone dead, mouth foaming, eyes dull grey. Her sisters began picking up huge wads of their own shit and tossing them at me. That wasn't a good idea--with each ball of crap that hit me, I just got more pissed off. "So that's how you wanna play it?", I asked out loud, spraying some more thumbs and watching them freak out and dance before moving to my next weapon. I poured some salt onto a little cluster of terrified maggots. Ever seen what happens to a slug when you pour salt onto it? What happens to a jissou maggot is even funnier, and you'll feel less guilty for doing it. I swear to God above, their faces all went blue as the sky, and they began puking and shitting like crazy, moaning and gurgling in agony. Imagine the sight, about a friggin' dozen jissou maggots covered in salt, blue in the face, puking and shitting endless jets of what looks like spoiled guacamole. Soon enough, they began literally puking their guts out, eventually turning into little brown husks of their former selves. See? Comedy gold, all for just $2.50 at the local grocery store! Now there were about 20 jissou remaining, 15 thumbs and 5 maggots, all shitting and crying endlessly. Seriously, do these fuckers ever run out of shit? Now that I knew they wouldn't dare try attacking me, I removed my hat, sunglasses and mask. I grabbed a thumb with one of my large gloved hands, delighting in hearing her squeal to her sisters for help. "Where is your god now?", I chuckle, adding a mocking "rechi" after a second of thought. In a feeble attempt to save herself, she whimpered and did that stupid "cute" pose, tilting her head and putting her stumpy hand to her chin. "A-Am I not cute, r-rechi...?" I toss her back into the can, grinning down at all of them as I get an idea. "No", I answer truthfully, "You're all disgusting." Here's where I began to really have fun. "I only like bald-naked jissou. And I especially can't stand maggots, I want 'em all to just die." Okay, that last bit about the maggots was truthful too. They creep me right the fuck out. After staring at me as though trying to process this information without their brains exploding, they begin frantically tearing off their dresses, ripping their hair out, and killing the maggots. Two maggots got eaten alive, one was stomped into paste, and two were simply thrown unceremoniously from the edge of the can to the driveway. Also, let me just say that I think I know now why jissou hate being bald-naked--it strips them of their vaguely human appearance and reveals their true nature, disgusting monsters that no sane human being could ever love. "Okay, Mr. Man! We are bald-naked, rechi! And all the Maggot-chans are gone, rechi!", the one I had picked up announces once the madness concludes, "Please make us your pets! Please, Mr. Man, rechi!" "Hm?", I reply, looking puzzled, "Who are you filthy little things? Who gave you permission to be here?" They looked shocked as I said this. "D-Don't you remember, rechi?! You told us we had to kill Maggot-chans and be bald-naked, rechi! Mama left us here and then you found us and killed many sisters, rechi!" Oh hey, I was right about the neglectful mother hypothesis. Go me. "I said nothing of the sort, stranger. Now, accept your punishment..." With that, I lifted my kettle above them and poured the water onto them. They screamed as the boiling hot water cooked them alive, their skin turning bright red. "TOO HOT, RECHI!!" "WATER BAD, RECHI!!" I pick up the one from before. She's sniffling and panting, her flesh swollen and practically glowing red. I was running out of ideas, so I decided to finish the fun with a simpler slaughter method. "Hey, wanna learn how to fly?" Before she can answer, I throw her as hard as I can towards the road. "RECHIEEEEEEEEEN!!", she shrieks, red and green tears streaming behind her, the sound of a high-pitched fart accompanying her screams as she attempts to shit {Oh, so I guess they can run out of shit after all!}, before landing with a huge splat on the pavement. Woah, with a pitch like that, I could become a baseball star! Okay, to be fair, they don't exactly take much effort to throw helluva far. After getting over my brief self-image of me as a white Mr. T, I do the same to nine other thumbs, leaving five traumatized ones remaining, surrounded by the corpses of their sisters. The partially-cooked bald-naked jissou babies are too scared to even shit. I put the lid back on the can and leave them there while I clean up and check my email and stuff. To my surprise, they're still there an hour later when I check on them, still standing in horrified silence. I carry the can to the curb, seeing the garbage truck at the end of the road. I quickly set the can down and bring the rest of the trash and the recycling up. "Bye bye.", I say to the thumbs with a cruel smile, waving cutely as a funny contrast to my face. They cluelessly wave, the truck arriving at last. I happily greet the workers and watch as the trash can's contents are emptied into the truck. The thumbs cry and shriek as the crushing thing comes down and smooshes the garbage back. The garbage dudes laugh with me, glad to meet a fellow jissou hater. They make their way down the rest of their route as I walk back to the house, shaking my head and sighing in both annoyance and relief. Maybe the next thing I order from J-List should be a jissou death house--I need better defense against jissou infestations more than I need another case of Pocari Sweat mix and a Fullmetal Alchemist buttscratcher. Speaking of J-List, just as I was heading inside, I got a delivery from the postman. He sympathized with me about my brief jissou problem, noticing the mess, before having me sign for the package and going on his merry way. I opened up the package, and made the mistake of announcing what was inside. "Sweet! My konpeito is here!" And from the bushes next door, I heard a timid, tiny, annoying-as-hell voice. "Candy, techi?" The phrase was quickly repeated by what had to be at least two dozen other near-identical voices. ...Well, fuck. EPILOGUE Two weeks later, I finally had no more jissou problems. My house was now seen by local jissou as a place of gruesome, painful death at the hands of a very evil shit Mr. Man, and those who were still stupid enough to go anywhere near my house fell victim to one of my several jissou death houses. I could once again enjoy Friday morning, knowing I wouldn't find, hear, or smell anymore nasty surprises from now on. I made and ate my delicious breakfast. I stepped outside at 6:00 in just my pajama pants and sandals. I breathed the fresh early morning air. And I let the increasingly famous line out gleefully. "GARBAGE DAY!"
170 wins
Garbage Day is a classic tale and example of Jissouseki torture and slaughter. I wish some of the other story writers would come back and start adding to their series like Civilization J. I want to know what happens to Kai, the genius Maggot. And there was the other one with the family of Jissou. It was nice to see a more positive spin on Jissouseki, despite the violence that happened at the end with the two wild Jissou's killing off part of the family.
Can't wait for the last bit of PTLD's story :) Was a nice twist there at the end. I like the "Nightside of Eden" title too. Love that song :)
Maybe some of the folks here can help me with my question. Approximately, how long does it take for a Jissouseki to go through it's various stages of life? Maggot -> Thumb -> Child -> Adult? I know they can reproduce at an explosive rate, but I was never sure on how long did it take for each step of their life cycle. And how long can they live if they don't meet an untimely end? 5 years? 10 years? more? I'm also curious about the rare Human Jissouseki. Aren't they considered like Stage 5 or something? What's stage 4? Some weird prepubescent Jissou/Human hybrid? I also wonder if they possess a gem somewhere in their bodies like other Jissou do. And do they live their days out longer with their new humanoid bodies?
From a picture in the great archive : Maggot/Thumb : From birth, thumbs aren't an evolution of the maggot but an alternative. Five cm. They grow to kojissous, roughly 4 times their sizes, within a month. And then it's a progressive growth until they reach adulthood (40-50 cm) within three or six months. Full size (up to 70cm) is reached by the first birthday. Pic is here : http://i53.tinypic.com/24cur9t.jpg As for the famed human jissous, as far as I'm concerned it's to be ignored. They are the fruit of japanese artists desiring Ecchi everywhere and anywhere. The most prolific jissou-comic artists include them very rarely, if ever. They just break too much with the idea of Jissouseki. The idea of these things naturally evolving into angels kind of defeats the point. Of course, there's no such thing as a canon in Jissouseki, and you're free to include them. I'm just saying if you look at the /g/ archive you'll see they are drawn by different artists than those who draw regular jissous. As such, there is little info about them, for they are little else than softcore porn subjects.
Thanks InLeaves for the pic. There are a couple of stories posted here about a Human Jissouseki. I found those stories quite entertaining. And also, there is one website that specializes with Human Jissouseki that capture, torture, eat/kill regular Jissouseki so I don't find any problem with them being in the Jissouseki universe.
Here's a quick story I wrote. Not related to my main one, but one I thought I'd have fun doing, seeing how quickly I can write something in a day. ================================= It was a lovely day for a barbeque, with the bright sun and cool breeze. Nothing makes me feel better than grilling some meat over the fire. Yes, a man's domain is using fire to cook meat, since the day cavemen discovered how to make fire and discovered that meat taste much better cooked over it. Nothing can make a man feel more manly than controlling fire to do his bidding and cooking some dead animal's flesh for his consumption and enjoyment. I was way out here, in my private cabin in the woods, which takes about 6 hours to drive from the closest city, but that doesn't mean I can't still enjoy myself. With an ice cold beer in one hand, a whole chicken spit roasting on my new propane grill, almost nothing could ruin this day. Except, I forgot the barbeque sauce. I know, I know, some of you self-made barbeque "masters" say that good barbequed meat doesn't need any sauce, but hey, this ain't your kitchen and this is the way I like my barbeque so you can take your ideas and eat 'em when you're cooking for yourself. I set my beer back into a clump of ice in my ice chest to keep it nice and cool. I fetch the well cooked chicken off the grill and place it onto a plate, leaving it on the patio table to rest. I didn't want to leave it on the hot grill to overcook and get dried out while I go fetch some barbeque sauce. It didn't take long, and I swore I was only gone for 3 minutes when I went back into the cabin to rummage through the cabinets to find a bottle of the sweet and spicy bliss. But when I came back out, my chicken was gone. Just GONE. I was a little upset, because I didn't know what could have taken my food. The area I used for grilling is fenced off and I didn't think any wild animals would be able to get in here. I looked at the plate again, and I noticed the chicken juices mingled with something that looked green and unappetizing. There was a trail of the same green stuff leading to and then off the plate. upon closer inspection, the green stuff smelled like crap. "Fuck." I knew this smell. Even way out here, those buggers managed to survive somehow and now they had the audacity to invade my cabin to steal my food. The surging irritiation nearly caused me to break the bottle of barbeque sauce in my hand. I closed my eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths to calm down. They couldn't have gotten too far and I looked at the plate again. The green trail lead up to my chair, which they climbed up to get to the table. I followed the trail and eventually saw where the trail leading off lead to. I saw where some of the chicken juices were seeped out, mingled with the green crap which caused me to lose hope that my meal would be edible after I found it. It lead off to some tall grasses. I scanned ahead and could see some movement just ahead about a few yards away from my fence. I quickly walked to the spot and slowed down when I heard them. "Techi! Hurry!" "Push sister! Push! Techi!" "Te! There is so much food! Mama and sisters will be happy!" As I approached more slowly, sneaking up behind them, I noticed three child Jissou were actually collaborating together. The beer-can sized Jissous were pushing and rolling my chicken through a trail of crap they made, which probably lead to their 'mama' and 'sisters'. And to my dismay, I was right that the chicken was filthy, covered in dirt, twigs, leaves, bugs, and Jissou crap. "Techi! We're almost there!" "Push! Push! Techi!" "So heavy! Techi" I followed them up to the point where I saw a gap in my fence. The Jissousekis apparently dug a fresh hole underneath it and I could see the Mama Jissou peering through it, a stubby arm reaching through to wave at them, squeaking out chants of encouragement. "That's it my babies! Desu! You're almost here! Desu! We'll feast soon! Desu!" This mama apparently had her children well trained to do her bidding. Given the self-serving and greedy nature of Jissouseki, this one actually managed to teach her children well enough to work together to get food for their family. I was actually impressed, but too bad for them, it didn't last too long as I still remembered that it was my food that they stole. "Techi! It's stuck!" "Te? Hole is too small!" "Mama! Techi! Food is too big!" My barbecued chicken was now plugging their only escape route. I saw how desperately the three Child Jissous tried to force the chicken through the hole. Apparently, they didn't realize they dug a hole only big enough for them to fit thru and not a whole chicken. Perfect. I came up right behind them, with my shadow looming over them which evidently got their attention. "Techi! Hello Mister Man!" "Can you help us? Techi?" "Food is too big! Techi." I felt my blood boil a bit. I could see that something was trying to pull the chicken through the hole they made and these three had the nerve to ask me to help them. The chicken wasn't worth saving, but there was something I thought I should try. It was too far for me to go into town to get another chicken to cook, but I thought maybe I should open up my culinary index and try something new tonight. I grab the chicken pulling it away from the hole. Small chunks were taken out of it already and I noticed the grubby paw of the 'Mama' Jissou was waving frantically through the hole, reaching for more chicken with her grease covered paw. They obviously protested. "Desu! Give it back!" "Techi! No! Give it back!" "Mister Man is taking our food! Techi!" "Teee! We are hungry!" Suddenly, a few Thumb Jissous with Maggots in their arms appeared out of the hole. "Rechi! Maggot chan needs food!" "Refu! Food smells good!" "Please Mister Man! Give us back food! Rechu!" "Belly is Soft and Springy! Refu!" "We need food Mister Man! Rechi!" "Refu! Belly Rub please!" I counted, nine young Jissous of various stages of growth now on my side of the fence. I had the filth encrusted chicken in my hands now, far too high and out of reach for any of these young Jissou to grab. They all begged and pleaded me to give it back to them as if they somehow earned the right to eat it. I felt my blood pressure rise, but I continued with my plan. "Did any of you get to taste this food?" I ask them. That suddenly quieted them down except their 'Mama' who was on the other side of the fence. "Desu! Do not listen to Mister Man! He is evil shit human!" They all looked back at their mama and then to me. Answering almost simultaneously. "Techi. Mama told us not to eat until she eat first." "No, Mama always eats before me and sisters do. Techi." "Rechi, Mama would not let me and Maggot-chan eat." "Refu! Food smells good, Refu!" "No Mister Man, Techi" "Punipuni!" "Please Mister Man, we are so hungry, Rechi." "Refu! Food! Refu!" "Rechi, We are starving." Ah, so I was right about the mother Jissou. This will make it easier. I yell back at the mama Jissou "You're a bad mama Jissou letting your babies starve! You should be ashamed of yourself! I'm taking all your children to make them into my beloved pets where I'll feed them, give them candy, and a nice place to live!" With each promise that the young Jissous heard me utter, I could swear their eyes doubled in size at the prospect of becoming beloved pets. There was a collective cheer from the small band of Jissou as the mama Jissou cried out in anguish on the other side. "Deshaaa! Nooo! My babies! Do not go with Mister Man! He is evil! He is shit human!" Her children ignored her as they all clamoured for joy around my feet. I was careful to not crush any underfoot as I started heading back to my house, telling the young Jissous. "Now follow me back my pets and I'll cut up this food so you can all have some!" There was much rejoicing amongst the small crowd. I could see the mama Jissou digging frantically with her stubby paws, trying to enlarge the hole. Too bad that having arms with the same durability and shape of a Teddy Bear doesn't lend itself to digging through mud. I leave her be as I head back to my cabin. The Child Jissous reach my cabin first, they being the biggest out of the crowd, followed by the Thumbs with Maggots in their arms. I set the ruined chicken down, and rinse off as much of the dirt, leaves, and crap before placing it onto a cutting board. I butcher it, as my hungry guests await. I clear off the patio table and layer an old newspaper for a table cloth. I set the plate of chopped up chicken down and pick up the young Jissous to place onto the table. Once set down, they eagerly head towards the plate and start devouring whatever pieces they can get their grubby paws onto, save the Maggots, which are fed by their Thumb sisters. "Teee! Mmm! This is so good!" "Tasty Food! Rechi!" "Refu! Belly full! Please Rub!" "Food is better than bugs or worms! Techi!" "Food is tasty! Refu!" "Rechi! Thank you Mister Man for food!" "Techi! So much good food!" "Very Yummy! Rechi!" "Reboooh!" The Jissous stuff themselves. It was a good idea to layer the table top with newspaper too as the maggots began to shit allover the place with their bellies so full of chicken. Their older sisters didn't have any problem following suit as they simply dropped their dirty panties and made a few steaming piles of Jissou crap. It probably wasn't more than 15 minutes till nothing was left of the chicken but bones, picked clean by the tiny A shaped mouths. All of the young Jissou were now on their backs rubbing their fully bellies in happy contentment. Now that I had the young Jissousekis stuffed, I moved onto the next phase of my plan. They were all taking little naps as I got out a plastic kiddie pool I kept around for my young neices or nephews whenever they visited. I proceeded to fill it with warm water and added a little soap and voila. "All right everyone, how does a warm bath sound?" I announce loudly to the sleeping Jissous. I was greeted with a chorus of agreement. They all started taking off their dirty clothes, which were tattered, stained with mud, chicken grease, crap, and goodness knows what else. As they each undress, I place them into the kiddie pool. The Child Jissous were in no danger of drowning, but I placed the Thumbs and Maggots on the elvated portions to keep their heads above the waterline. Being stuffed with good food and now taking a warm bath, they did what most Jissouseki's do. Crap like the dickens which quickly turned the clean soapy water in the kiddie pool, green. Thankfully, there wasn't much left in them and the soap help cut down some of the smell. I retrieved a nice large and tall cardboard box and lined the bottom with an old towel. As they each were done with their bath, I dried them off and placed them in. Once I had all of them in the box, they all began to pester me for clothes. "Techi! Give us back our cute dresses!" "Refu! Cold. No like!" "Rechi! it is cold. Need clothes!" "Where is my dress Mister Man? Techi!" "Please give our clothes back Mister Man. Rechi." "Too cold. Refu!" "Techa! I am freezing!" "We are your pets! Where are our clothes? Rechi!" "No like naked! Refu!" I ignored their chatter. starting up the propane grill again, letting it warm up. I got some metal BBQ skewers and proceeded to them with a malicious smile. I then pluck each of Maggots out of the arms of their Thumb sisters before I impale all the Maggots, right before them, onto one skewer. Their little muffled screams were delicious as I put the sharp point into their mouths and aim for it to exit through those little anal slits. Thankfully, they didn't have any more crap to shit out. Their little beady red & green eyes flowed tears of the same color. Their sisters were distraught at the sight of their youngest being skewered like sausages. "Techuwa! What is Mister Man doing with cute Maggot-chans!" "Resuuun! Nooo! You're hurting Maggot-chans!" "Chieeeen! Nooo! Sisters!" "Techi! You are evil shit human!" "Ororon! Mama! I want Mama!" "Help Mama! Techa!" I place the maggots onto the hot grill and I was a little surprised at how good it actually smelled. It could have been the fact I was really hungry and I'm glad the Maggots didn't take too long to cook. They're little stubby arms flailed a bit when I put them near the flames, which caused the small tufts of hair on their head to burn away into ash. Their faces immediately turned blue and then their eyes gray as they died quickly over the flames. I had to be careful because I heard Jissou meat is very delicate and can burn quickly if not watched. The Jissou Maggots took about 2 minutes to cook, turning from pale pink into a delicious golden brown. I dribbled a little of my barbeque sauce onto a maggot and bit into it, sliding it off the skewer. Chewing slowly, I discovered their bones were very soft and edible and it didn't taste bad at all, and they were right, Jissouseki tasted like chicken. I ate another maggot, in full view of the Jissous trapped in the cardboard box. They all cowered and cried as they watch me sadistically enjoy the meat of their youngest sisters. The last maggot, I offered to one of the Thumbs, to see if their cannibalistic tendencies would kick in. "Resuuun...Maggot-chan..." she cried as she pulled it off the end of the skewer, cradling the cooked maggot in her arms. I was a little surprised at that one. She didn't so much as nibble on the cooked maggot and just cried over it. I remember one of the Thumbs was exceedingly polite for her kind actually saying "please" and "thank you," despite her wild upbringing. But my thoughts were interrupted when one of the other Thumbs tossed something at me that hit my nose. I wiped it off and found a little splatter of green poo. "Rechi! Shit human! Give back my Maggot-chan!" "Oh, you can meet your Maggot-chan...in my stomach..." as I drove the skewer in my hand right through the offending Thumb Jissou's belly. This caused all the other Jissous to duck out of the way as I lifted the poo-tossing Thumb Jissou out of the box, her eyes now streaming tears of pain and her face becoming blue. "Techuwa!" she cried. I pinched both of her pathetic pony tails in my fingers and yanked hard, ripping them out. She squealed in even more pain. I then followed by ripping out the small tuft of hair on her forehead which caused her mouth to open in another tiny scream. She doesn't even get a chance to catch her breath as I toss the bald and naked Jissou onto the grill, hearing her sizzle over the flames. She doesn't take long to cook either, about a couple of minutes, before her pale little body turns a crispy golden brown. I began to eat her, in front of her sisters which only causes them to cringe in more fear. Thumb Jissou's are a bit chewier but their more developed arms and legs have more flavor. As I finish up the flame-broiled Thumb Jissou, I want to start cooking something a bit meatier. Maggot and Thumb Jissous, as tasty as they are, aren't very filling when they are about the size of a chicken nugget. I reach in and grab a Child Jissou. "Techi! No! I am not food shit human!" she protests as she flails uselessly in my grasp. I yank out her hair which causes her much distress and pain. "Chuwa! My beautiful hair! I then drop her face first onto the hot grill and press her down onto it which causes her to sizzle and scream. "Tegyoooooo!" She manages to keep up the racket for an impressive minute till she's silent and still. I flip her over and the grill marks are deep on the front of her body. Child Jissou's are a little bigger but they cook fairly quickly too. I twist off a well cooked Child Jissou leg and take a bite, finding the flavor to be more gamey. She was still very tender, but not very filling. So, delving into my experiences of creative cooking, I made plans for the last of the Jissous in the box. I got a stock pot and planned to boil one of the Child Jissou into stew. Given the gamey taste, I think one would make excellent stew. She was a bit catatonic as I ripped out her hair, probably from the shock of witnessing all her beloved sisters getting cooked and eaten by 'evil Mister Man.' I've heard that sometimes Jissouseki go off into some la-la land where they dream of some happier place, but that didn't stop me in the slightest bit. She woke up rather quickly when the water began to boil and I tossed in some diced vegetables and some seasonings. The other Child Jissou, I decided to try a variation of 'Turducken'. Basically my variation had a Maggot stuffed into a Thumb Jissou that was stuffed into a Child Jissou. The left over cooked maggot I took from the one 'polite' Thumb who just remained crying in one corner of the box. The other Thumb put up a struggle as I ripped off her hair. I had to be careful as I gutted her, making sure I didn't cleave her in half. But as soon as my knife cut her open, it was easy to stuff the cooked maggot inside of her, making her look ridiculously swollen. She fainted from the ordeal which was perfect as the last Child Jissou struggled but stopped quickly as she felt my knife gut her. I ripped out her hair, cleaned out her guts, stuffed the stuffed Thumb into her, and then sewed up the whole thing. Tied to a spit, I let the whole thing cook over the flames. I looked at the last Thumb Jissou in the box. She was curled up into a fetal position, crying to herself, mumbling how much she missed her Maggot-chan. She didn't even take notice of me as I picked her up by the two pony tails. I tap her a couple of times which causes her to flinch a little. Pity. This one had potential, but the psychological damage was too much. I decided to try something new. I pour a little barbecue sauce into a bowl and dunk her into it, feet first, to about her neck. I then ate her raw, biting off her body, leaving her head. She didn't make a sound as she died. I chewed slowly and found the flavor unique but a little too sour to taste so I spat it out. I will never understand how people can eat meat raw. I grab my beer back out from the ice box, sipping it to wash the sour taste out of my mouth. Dusk started settling in on the skyline and I cleaned up the area a little, clearing the patio table of the filthy newspaper. As I sat back down, I heard something come my way. As I squinted to let my eyes adjust to the dimming light of the evening, I saw a fat Jissou, angry, gasping for breath, and waddling her way towards me. She was about the size and shape of a soccer ball and her dress was torn and absolutely filthy as it was covered in mud and her own filth. "Desu! Where are my babies! Where is our food!" Ah. That's pretty impressive for a mother Jissouseki to actually take all that time to remember her babies and the time to dig a hole under my fence to get to them. She was so tired from trying to dig that hole to fit her bulbous body thru, she collapsed onto her stubby paws and knees breathing heavily. Gawd, she was fat, and probably got that way due to all the times she made her children work for her, eating all the choice stuff first before letting her children having the scraps. I got up and opened the propane grill, letting the smell of roasted meat waft out. That apparently got her attention. "Desu! Food!" She found some reserved strength somewhere and got back onto her feet. As the smoke cleared from the grill, she saw, to her horror, the last of her remaining children roasting on the spit in the Jissou 'Turducken' I made. "Desuuun! Nooo! My babies! You shit evil human!" she cried. "Your babies ate my food so they became food for me." I stated matter-of-factly. And with as much anger her little flabby body could muster, she proclaimed, "Desu! You're so evil! I'll kill you shit human!" She tried to attack me, charging at me and flailing her arms as if threatening to break my legs with them. I kicked her, hard, like a soccer ball her body resembled. I aimed for over my fence and even in the dimming light, I saw the shadow of her flying body soar through the air before I heard a nasty wet splat and a crack as she must have landed against a tree trunk, stump, or a rock. The Jissou 'Turducken' is about ready and so is the stew. The Jissouseki boiled alive in the pot almost dissolved, the tender meat falling right off the bones. I ladel up a cup of stew with some shredded bits of Jissou meat and set it down next to my plate of Jissou 'Turducken'. Carving into the roast and taking a bite, it tasted like gamey chicken on young chicken on even younger chicken. It wasn't bad and the soup was pretty tasty too. After eating my fill. I thought it'd be wise I do something about the hole underneath my fence. I smile to myself as I dig through a box I use for storage and remove a few cage traps. I set them all around the hole, baiting each trap with some left overs of Jissouseki meat. Maybe if I get lucky, I'll have fresh Jissouseki meat in the morning too.
Great as always Joker. You really have a flair for depicting feral jissous at their most annoying. I wanted to reach into my screen and strangle their dialogue lines. As for me, time to finish this. ------------------------- No Country for Jissous (3/3 : The Little Girl in Death's Garden) Continued from >>166 ------------------------- The thick metal door slides to the right, for the second time in a single day, after weeks of complete silence. The jissou behemoth is distracted from its favorite toy a moment. Could there be another fun toy behind this shiny thing ? Food maybe ? Intrigued, it approaches the growing opening. Suddenly, the door stops moving. Something tickles. "DaAAaaaAAAA ?" Its dress is on fire. A weird red light is coming from behind the door. Thankfully its skin is tough enough to resist the flames, but its treasured dress is gone ! Shit light must pay ! The thing charges, and tries to pry the door open. Nothing, shit door is heavy ! Huh ? "I knew your eyes were behind that bib of yours, desu." BANG ! BANG ! "DoOOoGYAAaaAARRRrrrrRHhhhH" When you're a worse freak than me, you super-don't deserve to live. Blinded and shot in the chest at the same time, the thing staggers back. I shoot again in the legs. Its scream is ear-shattering, and the ground trembles when hit by its enormous body. Stay right where you are, I'm coming to g... "DeEEEEEeeeEEESHhhhhhHH..." Goddammit ! Even full of lead, it still got up. It does not hesitate one moment before charging towards me. I only manage to dodge at the last second. Does it have another set of eyes somewhere ? Or does it analyzes its surroundings by scent ? ...Yeah, because the fact it was living with its face covered didn't clue me in enough. I guess I AM retarded. Around us, the colony of feral jissous are watching. All rooting for the behemoth, of course. Can't say I blame them, I'm only standing because I'm pumped full of painkillers. Although I don't quite understand what is it they're finding funny. "Depupupu" yeah, and your mom is a whore ! The thing whacks the air and manages to throw me around twice, although not against a wall. Less painful. It's obviously in pain from the bullets, but damn is it resilient ! To think that in the movies, they make bullets magical instant-killing machines... No choice. I can't withstand too much punishment, so I'll have to hide until that fucker bleeds to death. Luckily, there's a room in a state of total mess right behind me. I run, and dive under the junk just in the nick of time. "MeAN JissOu Don'T HidE DESgUUuuu..." I crawl under a pile of broken lab equipment, putting aside a lot of stuff while emptying the rest of my clip in suppressive fire. The monster screams and tries to dig me out. But some sort of improvised tunnel runs under the rubbish, and I'm soon too far for it to reach me. In the darkness, I bump into something. "Techa !" ...I seriously believed it was another headless giant for a moment. "Mama, something is here, techi ! Help, techi !" Before me, a lamp is turned on. A bunch of kojissous are shivering at their mother's feet, obviously afraid someone has infiltrated their burrow. The mama, her right hand still on the switch, is boldly holding a broken fork. All of them have clean clothes. "Leave this place, desu ! This is our home and we do not want bad jissous here, de !" "Yes, mama, show the stranger, te !" Their noise does nothing for discouraging the monster. Is this pile of horseshit immortal or what ? I put my finger before my mouth. They seem to understand, and shut up. "What's after me is the patron saint of all bad jissous, desu" I whisper to them. "So keep quiet if you don't want it to demolish everything, desu." I light another flare. The children's faces turn blue, but the mother fortunately tells them to calm down. I throw the burning flare as much behind me as I can in this small gallery, and kick it back to the monster. We hear a roar, and several hits against the ground. "We can only wait for it to lose all its stamina, desu. Plus we can hope the smoke scrambles its sense of smell and make it forget us, desu." "Weird onee-chan is fighting the Scourge, techi, she is so courageous, te !" Whispers one of the children, light in her eyes. "The...Scourge, desu ?" "Yes, desu", answers the mother. The enemy of the Priestess. We wanted to escape her dumb cult, and ended up with worse here, desu." I frown, curious. While the children are now excited about me, the mother is looking at me with an inquisitive look. Something's up about this family. "So, when did you come here, desu ?" "We were always here, techi !" "It's the other mean jissous who destroyed our cage, techi !" "Your cage, des..." "Are you Master Douglas "big thing" desu ?" Suddenly says the mama. She's squinting. "Uh...Douglas ? You mean Douglas McLinn, desu ?" I get it. Mister Douglas was another one of the scientists in this place. A gigantic nerd. I guess he must have been involved in the crystal hacking, and thus needed to have several jissous to experiment on. And, who knows, maybe harvest a certain crystal from. "Yeah. Guess we are colleagues of sorts then, desu." Some smoke enters the tunnel, making the jissous cough. I open my ears wide to hear any signs of weakening from Goliath. It still whacks the flare, but its horrible voice is getting raspy. Thank God you can still expect 10 bullets to kill something that doesn't have any access to medical care. Unfortunately, I can only backtrack, and get out of the tunnel feet first. The more I hear the heavy breathing drawing near, the more I hold mine. There isn't any way he doesn't see my feet when they get out, so either he's too weak to move or my legs are going to be ripped out any second now. The tension is...quite unbearable. For me, at least. Almost there... Come oooon... "FOuND yOU DESuuUUUUu" GODMOTHERFUCKDAMMIT ! I'm pulled with incredible force before I can even react and catch something to hold on to. Soon, I'm up in the air, and I can see with uncomfortable detail why its dress was knit over its headless neck. That's where its mouth is. ------------------------------------------------ "Depupupupu !" "Scourge-sama has won again, de !" "Shit human never had a chance, depupupupu !" The towering champion of the second floor's tribe burps loudly. It's in bad shape, but is still able to walk. Sleepy, though. Its followers are scurrying around its feet, offering it moldy konpeitos and useless albeit pretty junk. Not that the Scourge cares. Since it was born from the machine, it was radically different from the other members of the legion. Powerful, resistant, but also indifferent to comfort and good food. Still, there was something in its heart that was leaping when seeing its cousins praising it for its strength. So it backed up a little bit, raised its arms, and let out a triumphant roar. The crowd exploded from joy. Long live the Scourge tribe ! *Sprotch* Nani ? An arm was reaching out of its belly. No, two. Two and a head ? It must be exhaustion from the fight. Feel dizzy... ---------------------------- That's it, take a nap, asshole. I struggle my way out of the monster's body, all the jissouseki around looking at me in awe. "Hey, God, desu !" I shout while looking at the ceiling. "Thanks for small miracles and all that, but next time, think big, will ya, desu ?" Yeah, thank Him jissous are too fragile to have gastric acids, a trait that is found in even the biggest mutants. I'm as the jissou that was just born : coated in shit. There's even some in my belt's compartments. Bah, as long as the guns work... The shitdolls aren't quite depupuing anymore. First it was the Priestess's clan that was paralyzed after seeing their leader fall. Now it's their turn. But this time, I know I'm one of them. "Okay, now that yours is out of the way, can I be your pet, desu ? I'm very big, and I eat a crazy lot, desu !" A maggot is trembling at my feet. I take it, throw it in the air, and catch it into my mouth. They catch my drift, and begin to scream while shitting themselves. "This is OUR home, shit jissou, decha !" Says one as she collects her shit in her paw. "You have killed Scourge-sama, we will kill you, desu !" They fling their shit at me. Apparently they don't take it any more kindly than Mr.Men when a shitty creature invades their home. Of course, they can't very well dirty me more than they already have. And I mean that in all the ways possible. Fifty, maybe sixty jissous are throwing crap at me, and I don't feel bad in the slightest. Weird. Learning I'm not a success but the result of an unfathomably evil experiment that degraded my Mrs.Lady self into a half-jissou aberration...Has freed me. With my body, my mind, and my current lifestyle, it's clear I don't belong to Mr.Men's world anymore. I won't buy cute clothes and swoon over pop idols. I won't grow up into a woman, get married, seek money and fame and only stop when I'm old and decrepit. I don't owe anything to anyone, especially not to Katô Hajime, who wasn't my father at all, just a broken man in need of relief and redemption. There's just me, the Legion of my sisters, and an insane amount of blood that will make all the flowers in Death's garden turn red. . Five minutes later, they stop. "Depupupupu!". Of all their vocalizations, this one has to be the most cringe-inducing. I sweep the shit surrounding my feet calmly, ignoring their taunts. Once it's done, I open one of my belt's compartments, and take one of the anti-jissou incendiary grenades. I pull the pin out, and throw it into the crowd. They scream, panic, trip and scatter. Useless. A burst of fire in the center of the hall. There isn't any napalm or any other chemical that would make the fire last. Mr.Men caught in its wake would have little more than the tip of their hair burn. It's just a big, fleeting lighter. But to Jissouseki, it's a doomsday device. All the shit they laid on the floor, today and all the time they were here, catches on fire as easily as fuel. In the blink of an eye, the flames catches the ring of fleeing jissous, lighting up dozens of little torches. The dark building turns bright. The maggots didn't even had the time to finish saying "Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu !" to the flying ball before the boiling shit in them made them go "pop !". Bam. No cry, no tears, only the end of their lives, just like that, in one extremely plain sound. Some of them were in the arms of their caring thumb-chan sisters, splattering their boiling insides all over their faces. "Rechyaaaa !" After a few instants of feeling their skin melting, they themselves pop. And the flames kept running. None of the older gremlins could escape, its own shit guiding the fire right to their just-as-flammable clothes. Like a bouquet of fireworks, the thin lines of flames burst into torches once they reached their situation. No "BANG"s to shake the night's sky, but a concert of "TEGYAAA"s. It was terrible. It was beautiful. I stand here, surrounded by a lake of fire, my arms open, tears of joy flowing from my closed eyes. I thought I was killing them for the sake of Mr.Men. For the greater good. Bullshit. The only thing there is is this symphony of pain. No matter who I am, no matter what I am, as long as Jissous cry, I am at home. Soon, the shit completely burns out. There is only ashes and the smell of burnt meat. Some "panic maggots" can be seen, but they are deader than disco. I pick up the least blackened jissou mother I see, and bite into it. Wow ! The skin tastes bad of course, but the sudden burst of extreme heat made the inside cook in a peculiar manner, very different from a slow cooking. It retains the special taste of raw jissou, without the fishy consistence of raw flesh. I crack open some other burnt husks, and eat the insides. Damn I love eating these fuckers. But now it's time to finish this. Everything must die. I go back into the vault. Behind the glass, Nick is nowhere to be found. Maybe he escaped, maybe he's just lying on the floor dead. Either way, I know there is an ultrasound system here, in case of a mutant escape. That will make maggots die from a heart attack as soon as they're born, ensuring nothing survives. I activate the system, and I can hear the high-pitched sound. Damn, I wish the crystal hadn't transformed that... Back into the hall, I can see dozens of jissouseki running around, blocking the horrible sound with their stumps. "Mama, make sound stop, techaaa !" "Where are you, shit sound ? I will kill you, decha !" "Mama, maggot-chan is blue and is not moving, teeeen !" I spin my two guns, real and foam-bullety, and aim at them. Let the bodies hit the floor. ------------------------------- The sound stopped. Her babies wanted to run, get away from that noise, but she held them tight. There were loud sounds, a lot of other jissous crying. But never did they heard the Scourge's cry again. Timidly, she called. "W...Weird Onee-chan, desu ?" Silence. Then a tired voice. "Wha ? Oh, yeah, I forgot about you, desu." "Are all the bad jissous gone, desu ?" "Yeah, all of them. I checked the three levels twice, desu." "So...We can come out and escape, de ?" "...Yeah, but first I got a present for you. Wait here, desu." "O...Okay, desu..." So she did. She was still a little in shock anyway, just the time to catch her breath and she will finally lead her beloved daughters to the open world, to freedom. "Just wait, jissou-chan, jissou-chan, desu. Come on jissou-chan, stop crying, you will see the beautiful world, de !" "F...For real, te ?" "Yeah, it is great, desu ! Plenty of loving Mr.Men and big, warm houses, desu !" "No more of the junk and stealing bad jissous shit, techi !" "So happy, techi !" "Hurray for Mama, techun !" Something round rolls through the tunnel, and ends its course touching the mama's feet. ---- PTLD You shouldn't have called me, girl. The painkillers wear off. I could use some rest... I fall on the floor, and put my back on a wall. Behind the blood and shit, my hands are blemish. Just how much blood did I lose ? Outside, I can hear a church sounding the bell. Twelve gongs. It's midnight. "Guess it's your last day of having your body being desecrated by a jissou hybrid, Sylvia, desu..." Around me, the silence. Every jissou is dead. Burnt to a crisp, trampled, skulls pierced by bullets...The next Mr.Men who will come here will probably shit bricks. They don't usually send the IRA to kill Jissouseki. It's so cold... *Driiiiiiiiiing* Whoa, what ? Something is ringing in one of the pockets in my shirt. How did it landed there of all places ? I take it. It's a little alarm clock with a small present box attached to it. Nick. He must have put it there when I was out cold. I unwrap the present. It's difficult when my fingers are shivering so much. It's a bottle. One of those bottles. The stuff from japan that can revive jissous even when one of its foot is in its grave. Also, a little note. "I know you can't forgive me, but still, when you'll be reading this, your "birth" will be precisely one year ago. Happy birthday, Sylvia. Never forget how freaking metal Manowar is. I'll be going first, Nick." Not far away, I hear a "BANG !". Bastard. You planned everything for your big exit. ...Fuck. For all his mistakes, he always was a pretty cool dude. "B...Baka, de...ssuu..." As I cry, I can feel a little scurrying in my hood. A thumb-chan. Probably one of those who tended to me. She's in no mood for talking, and clumsily gets out, falling on the floor in a little "techuwa !". Then she runs away, arms first, never looking back. Sorry, no survivors. *Click* Great, I forgot I was out of real bullets. I take the flash-ball gun, aim... And my arm falls of its own. The thumb-chan gets to the staircase, and disappears. Now I know. The crystal in my spine, my second heart...It belonged to a thumb-chan. I contemplate the cure bottle. One gulp of the stuff, and I would in all probability be back in business. I let it roll on the floor. Sorry, but I, too, want my big exit. One year of spitting at nature in its face is plenty enough. Come on, Sylvia. Time to sleep. "I finally found you." I open my eyes. The crazy three-quarters Jissou Mrs.Lady. His face is neutral, maybe kind of sad. In his hand, some sort of gun with a screen. Where did I saw that ? Ah, before Katô died. They used it to... ...Oh my god. OH MY FUCKING GOD. The pain gets washed away by pure pants-shitting fear. I must run away, but as soon as I get up, I stumble and fall. I crawl for the cure bottle. Come on, PTLD, come on ! No, not PTLD, I'm Sylvia ! I'm Sylvia and I want to get the fuck out of here and LIVE ! "This note says "Sylvia." Is that your name ? Mmmh, pretty cute. I was thinking another thing but I admit it suits you." My strength drains more and more but I'm almost there...He's walking toward me. I finally catch the bottle. My hands are shaking. I unscrew the cap. Fasterfasterfasterfasterfaster It falls. His hand have caught both my arms. "Do you know what it is ?" He says, showing the device. "Yes it's a memory wiper they use it for a range of purposes none of which are very ethical don't do that to me please don't do that to me, desu." "Calm down, I want you no harm, and I promise you'll be happy as my pet." "I'M NOT A PET DESU ! I'm a human girl infected with a jissou crystal, I'm not a slave to Mr.Men, desu !" He obviously doesn't believe my origin story, probably because of the red and green tears flowing out of my eyes in a perfect jissou impression. "Why the fuck would I make that up ? This is why "birth" in the note is in parentheses, desu ! Please, I beg you, free me, desu ! I already lost my life once, desu ! I DON'T WANT TO BE A SLAVE DESUUUUU" Without saying a word, he lowers the screen against my eyes. I'm too weak to struggle. "You're an asshole...desu." "He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword." *FLASH* PTLD – Fin. ------------------------- The reason I wanted to end the series is because I'm on programming a flash game in which you're a professional Jissouseki breeder, and will be able both to treat jissous kindly or abuse them, with a special attention to mindfuck potential. It's going pretty well for now but I got to lower my number of ongoing novels if I want to make a significant progress, at least for a while. As for the reason I ended the series THIS way, well, I just like unhappy ends. I find makes the character more dignified by removing the plot armor, this kind of thing. Of course, since she's not technically dead, the story can go on. With me, in a second season or in a crossover with another series, or maybe with YOU ! Yes, I'm not copyrighting anything, so if you're inspired to write about this trainwreck of a character, by all means do. I also AM interested for any opinion about the series as a whole, even a bashing. 'till next time !
InLeaves, Wonderful story. I really mean it. I also hope your flash game on Jissouseki breeding comes to bear fruit. I'd be very interested in playing a game like that just for kicks. The only other Jissouseki flash game I enjoyed playing was the restaurant one where you turned Maggot-chans into Tempura. Good luck on your project, I hope to see it soon.
I expected David kellan to be a nice jissou-fucking guy... Of course, things can't end well for ANY jissou. I 'll miss PTLD though. And good luck with your Flash game. "with a special attention to mindfuck potential" ? This could be awesome. Don't rush it, take your time.
>>178 Nice :) Was kind of hoping she'd survive. I'd really grown attached to her. If David is keeping her as a pet now, I can imagine a few ways that could potentially backfire on him, hehe. Looking forward to the flash game for now :)
She deserved better than that.
Actually, let me comment a bit about this unhappy end. The most observant of you could have guessed I'm French. For example, I gave myself away when I used "A.D.N" in place of "D.N.A" in "To hell and back, if necessary". You see, Napoleon, France's most controversial hero, died in a really shitty way in the prison-island of St.Helena. I once read a book that asked the question "would Napoleon be this famous, had he been just exiled in America and allowed to walk the street but forced to open a pastry shop in order to eat ?" From this day on, I was convinced that unhappy ends made heroes what they are. Of course, Sylvia's story is quite short, but as I said, no one is stopping you from giving her better justice.
I never thought of her as a hero though. IMO what makes an hero is what he/she achieved, not how he/she died. And I didn't notice anythin that made me think English isn't your first language (not saying I didn't notice any spelling error), and I hadn't guessed she was a human either... My suspension of disbelief is too effective. Tu as mis la barre un peu haut pour une éventuelle suite par contre. By the way, how long does it take to write a story ? I'd like to contribute... once I'll have a decent idea. I still doubt my english is good enough.
I just realized that I inadvertently used the names Paul and Chuck in my stories when El Cid had used the same names in one of his previous stories. Sorry El Cid.
Poor Sylvia. I feel so bad for here. Good job, my leafy comrade!
>>183 I dunno, I still think she deserved an end less shitty than having her mind wiped and apparently becoming the retarded slave of a jissou fucker.
>>187 I'd like to see where it goes, though... What's he do with her???
>>188 Nobody but the next one to write the story knows ! >>187 On the other hand she could have been far more fucked. Imagine if David captured her and held her captive until the bonding took place without wiping her memory beforehand, for instance. Now, sure, she's gonna be a oblivious pet as opposed to a badass abuser, but if you give Good Morning another read, you'll see her fate isn't likely to be particularly painful. News from the flash game...I'm working on the complete mechanics of the interface, and damn, I graduated from computer engineering (albeit I went for law after that) but actionscript can really be a treacherous bitch sometimes. It's fortunate we aren't looking for optimization in a flash game.
I gave up on Flash... It's supposed to be easy to use but I had less problems with BlitzMax. And I knew David wasnt such a bad jissou-fucker :)
Flash being my specialty, I tell you, Flash is everything but easy to use. Or rather, it's an entirely different learning curve than in other languages. In most languages, you learn a programming language in its purest form. In actionscript, you learn a programming language that's deeply linked with the objets you created with the flash interface. It's really another world entirely. But once you understood what the hell is going on, it's a blast from a OOP perspective. Just don't ever expect constructing an object from a class with a single function.
Series was pretty cool inleaves it's not everyday someone tries something that big with jissu stories also good luck with the game.
>>192 Oh come on, you're making Object Oriented Programming and libraries sound like rocket science. :)
Just a start: I hate Jissous. If there is anything more I hate than a Jissou, it is two Jissous. It is late summer, early fall. The air is finally cool enough to open the windows and air out the house. I’ve checked all the screens and made sure the jissou wire is in place to keep out any unwanted pests. I can hear the lawn mower next door, grinding away at the grass. That man needs to sharpen his blades. Occasionally I hear a deshi, techi, or orororno… as he runs over a yard invader. I fix myself a drink. Time to check the traps. I have several traps laying about the yard. Some are designed to catch jissou, some are designed to keep jissou away. The first ones are the sticky traps. A larger version of the roach motel. They have to be checked everyday. Otherwise other jissou will come in get caught, and cover all the glue, then it becomes an all you can cannibalize buffet for later jissous. The box itself is a foot and a half on a side, and about 8 inches high. The glue has been treated to smell like the candy the jissous love. The jissous smell the glue and thinking it is candy approach the box. Two small flaps allow the jissou to enter, but not see what is inside. As the jissou enter, the edges of the floor do not have glue, to allow the jissou to fully enter the box before becoming trapped. Other jissou will enter the box, and climb over their sisters,(Relatives, litter mates, fellow scum parasites) to find the candy. They then get caught on the glue and so forth. Good thing about the glue traps, is that it is not seen as a danger by the jissou, and there is no spontaneous birth explosions, or endless shit streams. Just every day check the box, and if relatively full of stuck jissou, close and tape the flaps shut, bag it in a plastic bag, seal the bag, and in the trash it goes. In some areas of town, disposal bins are set out because the number of boxes gets to be too great to await garbage day. These disposal sites are becoming more numerous than recycling bins. One company is making a killing by combining both. The boxes are sent to a factory for grinding, and converting jissou into fertilizer. The first box has a jissou standing outside. “Techi, Mr. Man, my mother has gone inside to get candy, but won’t give me any. Do you have candy, desu?” My first impulse is to step on it, but that would cause a mess, and a vile smell. I’ve read about jissou induced rage. Pheromones released by an injuried or dead jissou, are to warn other jissou of danger or harm. This also fires the aggression centers of the human brain and sends the person into a rage. The more pheromone released the greater rage. There was a scandal in the news not long ago. A family of jissous entered into a retirement home, and where killed. The resulting JIR,(Jissou Induced Rage) caused several elderly to have heart attacks. “No, not on me, but there is something in the box. Why don’t I open the box, to see if there is anything left for you. If not then we can see what we can find for you.” I answered. “Techi, thank-you Mr. Man. Will you take me home and make me your pet?” I say nothing, and open the box. There are several Jissou, thumbs, and maggots stuck to the floor. There is so movement, but no shit flying, so the panis is at a low level. One Jissou looks up, and sees me. “Mr. Man, I can not find the candy, and my arm is stuck. Please help me, techi” The jissou are stuck to floor, and the one talking is stuck only by one arm. She is stepping and rolling on the others who cover the floor. The others hear her, and start to ask, demand candy, help, and be made my pets. I reach over and pick the other jissou standing out side the box. “Just a minute. I can’t help you out here let me get you inside, so we can get you all out, and you can get what’s coming to you.” The squirming pile is mollified somewhat. Cries of te, techi and mild chirping greet my announcement. The jissou I am holding chirps a small song to herself. I place the jissou on a small clear spot making sure she is adhered to the glue. I then take the box into the garage, and close the flaps. “Techi, why is it dark.” Working quickly I tape the top and the flaps shut, and tip the box in the form fitted plastic bag, and tie it off sealing the air out. They should suffocate within about 15 minutes. I then toss the bag into the trash bin. Muted cries of thecha, depu and ti, reach my ears. I reach over to get a new glue trap. The box is empty. I’ll need to go to the hardware store to buy more. As a back up, I roll out the old sound machine. As I roll it to the middle of the yard, I remember an old joke. Two guys in a dorm, barracks, or other communal living situation are talking. One says to the other, “Did your hear about Herbie? He turned his Black Sabbath album up to eleven, and killed all the roaches.” It made me laugh. A Black Sabbath Concert to kill jissou? I wonder if Ozzy would bite the head off a jissou on stage? The machine I am wheeling out was a version of the old propane mosquito repellent. It produced an odor of vinegar. The vinegar has a tendency to cause jissou to cough, wheeze, and become very uncomfortable. In fact maggots and some thumbs would die from these coughing spasms. The machine was very effective at keeping jissou away from the yard. In warmer weather, the whole neighborhood would smell like a pickle factory.
I love reading these home defense stories. People keep coming up with great ideas to fend of jissou invasion.
Thoughts continued: from 196 In addition to the vinegar odor, the machine also emits a high frequency pitch at low volume. The smell will cause Jissou to choke and cough. Hopefully this will cause them to fall where they are. The high pitched noise is designed to shake and eventually shatter the jissou crystal. Generally these only work in low areas, with high humidity. But this noise can also cause dogs to howl, and set too high, it can damage human hearing. To avoid damage, the noise maker is set on an interval timer. It will run for 5 to 15 minutes, then stop for 10 to 35 minutes. Usually jissou will die within a 7 minute span. But this does allow for non targeted animals, dogs, cats, hamsters and the like to recover or taken out of range. I have to set the range down to 25 feet. This keeps jissou out of my yard, and the neighbors off my case. As I am doing this, the neighbor who was mowing his lawn walks over to the fence. “Hey guy? Could set your machine a little higher and move it closer to the fence line? I’d really appreciate it.” Normally I don’t talk with the neighbors. The jissou infestation has moved people out of their own back yards to avoid them. This has cut down on neighbor interaction. “Sure I could but why?” I ask. “My jissou disposal isn’t working, and until I can get the repair guy out here, I got nothing to keep the pests away.” “Let me look at your disposal, maybe I can see what’s up with it.” “Sure come on over. I’ll get us a couple of beers while you check it out” He says. The disposal is an interesting piece of lawn gear. I got one for the front yard and it seems to work. His is in the back yard. I take a look at it, and while I am doing this he brings the safety key out. “I turned the power off at the breaker” he says. The jissou disposal is a metal cup and look like a salad keeper. In the middle is a post that reaches about half way up from the bottom. On top of the post is a ceramic copy of the candy that jissou chase after. His is one of the larger ones. About a foot and a half across, and 12 inches deep. There is a panel set in the ground which opens with the key reveling the control panel. I can see the power light is off. I look into the bowl. There are the remains of a jissou. Broken sliced and diced scattered about. I take a stick and start to stir the remains around. There is the problem. A small stone had caught on one of the blades and caused the disposal to stick, and shut down. The disposals all work along the same line. The jissou walks along and sees the ceramic candy, and tries to reach, and falls in. A pressure switch detects the weight of the jissou, and turns the machine on. As the inner cup starts to spin, it throws the jissou around the cup. Most models have alternating layers, or sections. One section will spin clock-wise, and the next section will spin counter-clock wise. This gives the jissou a rough and tumble ride. The disposal part is when the spinning reaches full velocity, blades will appear between the sections and slice the jissou into smaller pieces. After a minute or so, a water jet will come one, and wash the jissou remains into either a holding tank for disposal, or into the sewer main. “Here’s the problem. See that stone? It got stuck and jammed the spinner section.” I work the stone loose and pull it out. I reach over and hit the reset switch, and close the panel. It should work fine now. I take the beer from the guy and we both step back. “Go hit the power. Let’s see if that does the trick.” He goes to the main breaker and throws the switch. I hear a hum, and then the spinner starts to work. There is a small splash of water as the disposal washes jissou chum down the drain. “Thanks guy, you saved me a service charge.” “No problem. If we aren’t careful, we could lose the whole neighborhood. Remember the East Bend Issue?” I said. He nodded, “yeah, I don’t want that here.” East Bend was a small area up river from us. Because of the yousees.com video site where people were posting jissou kills, East Bend trying to be enlightened, set up a Jissou Haven in their town center park. Eventually jissou had taken it over, and were not only a menace but now it was a health hazard. The town was spending more on keeping jissou and the park clean then what they had spent on jissou removal. As we were talking I heard a Te’ from the bushes. The jissou were coming to ask us for food, homes, and anything they could get. I walked back to my yard and turned on the machine. I can’t hear the noise the machine makes, but it does set my teeth on edge when I am close to it. My neighbor came over and we chatted about the local sports teams and compared notes on our lives. Of all the things the jissou have ruined, this is the one thing I miss. Spending time in my yard, drinking a beer, and just talking everything about nothing. We say our good-byes, and as I walk back to the house I can hear coughing and choking in the bushes.
>>198 Nice short story. Not much happens but I like the descriptions of the traps. Too bad the only one we get to "see" in action is not really painful, but actual violence might break the mood of the story.And it really shows the Jissou invasion is a serious problem, not only a source of free playthings. Jissou torture became a necessity in everyday life. I liked the heart attacks in the retirement house part. >>195 OOP and librairies are simple enough, but Flash's interface is just more complicated than just writing code in a text file. I'm getting used to that sort of interface though : I'm currently learning to use Unity3D, wich looks awesome.
I have to say, I like reading these story's. you guys describe everything so well that pictures are not needed.
>>200 Pity you can't add pictures at key points along the stories. Would be the perfect mix of illustrations and words.
Hi. I'll be your nameless narrator this evening. Reading about Jissouseki, whether it be about them growing, invading your houses, eating peacefully or getting killed violently, is all well and good. And I'm sure you, at some point, wondered what it could be like to actually live in a world where they exist. What it would mean besides the occasional encounter. And, probably, what it meant for the future. How much what we usually think would probably happen would change. How many futures foretold by science-fiction would be compromised by the existence of a species more fit than us to survive and strive in any given environment. Not even thinking too much ahead, no. A couple of years, maybe three, give or take the number of years required for a scientific breakthrough convenient for the plot to be believable. At best, the Jissouseki will still be there, one hopeful mama waiting on our doorsteps for our nefarious minds to decide her fate. Let's face it, complete extermination wouldn't only be impossible, but undesirable. After all, who in their right mind would destroy humanity's unlimited food supply ? At worst though, they will begin to go out of hand. Not by much – if the sheer numbers could overwhelm us, they would have done so withing two years of them appearing. Let's say a number of subtle, imperceptible factors are slowly giving them an edge, and the few who notice would shrug it off, or be marginalized. After all, come on dude, it's fucking Jissouseki, how bad can it be ? Well, let's say this future is this worst case scenario, and that, fortunately, some people aren't going to stand for that. Spring 201x, Annecy, France. The cultural center is under pressure. In less than one week begins the world's foremost Animated Film Festival. I used to go there as a volunteer because I had shit else to do. Now I'm here as an official from the City Hall. Not that most people would notice at first glance. "Hellooo" I say to the receptionist, flowers in my voice. "Thierry Genestar. I'm the D.A.R.J, you asked me yesterday to come for a briefing." "Ah, yeah, the boss told me you'd come. It's scheduled in the small amphitheater, take those stairs in the back." "Oh, you dirty boy." I leave before he has the time to think of a snappy comeback. DARJ stands for Directeur des Affaires Relatives aux Jissouseki, or Head of Jissouseki Affairs. Which is an overly rad title for a newly recruited civil servant like me. But Jissou exterminators aren't the only jobs the infestation created. Far from it. In France, whenever there are people getting low-wage jobs, there are a bunch of guys keeping track of all the ways and reasons their situation should be improved. Then they report it to elected people who are just skimming through all the reports in the sole objective of finding the best clusterfuck to improve with as little effort as possible while harvesting as much votes are possible in the next election. Democracy rocks. Anyway, my job consists of several things : Doing what most employees in the public administration do -the mess above- but also managing and ordering around pretty much all the extermination corps in the city. Which sounds awesome for a newly-recruited guy, until you know that I graduated from the Regional Institute of Administration, which is a pretty big deal, and second, that exterminators are little more than weaponized garbage men who hunt talking and shit-flinging trash cans. Of course, at first they made ambitious laws that involved several dudes in every city thinking only about the best Jissou-sweeping strategies all the time, and that kept many Crétins en Boîte at bay. But then, after several years, the panic began to slow down, and fucking Americanomics came back into the fray, prompting the next government to discreetly cut the personnel by 75% at best, figuring one low-paid executive was as good as five better paid ones when it came to this kind of stuff. Which would have been all well and good, to be honest, as it was a manageable task for one motivated man, even in big cities. It would have, if they didn't freeze exterminator recruitments at the same time. And now I have two hours to brief the greenest executives and volunteers involved in the festival to the task of keeping jissous at bay for an event that was going to receive tens of thousands of visitors and several world-famous VIPs. Yeah, standard procedure doesn't cut it in those circumstances. You want to dissuade the fuckers, not get the highest body count. Two hours. That may seem like a fleeting moment. Yet, all I have to say to them is to use specific poisons, good pairs of running shoes, not wasting time fucking with them, and refraining the fuck out of giving them any food, even poisoned. Also, that pet Jissous are considered an acceptable casualty. Okay, that much went smooth. I heard from colleagues from other towns that some had to deal with moral-ridden goody-two-shoes, unable to understand just how much a threat they were. Of course, nobody knows in the general public. Or rather, nobody wants to know. Let's face it : Humanity is dramatically outgunned on this one. We can't even put a dent on their population for more than one day. And if it seems like they are too weak to do shit against us, well, you're free to dream. You don't have access to increasingly worrying government orders. I open the front door of the nice house given to me as incentive when I was recruited. A remnant of the former legislation. It's a small house, about the size of your average flat, but it's near the lake, and you have no idea what that means in terms of real estate. As usual, my cat is waiting, staring at me with her eyes half closed. I put down my stuff, and go straight to powering the computer up, a bunch of geeky goodness awaiting me for the night. Then, I go fetch myself some ice-cold water, and... Crap, the computer is still off, I must have missed the button. *Click* Nothing. *Click* I catch my cat and take it in my arms, facing her. "Casca, my dear, you wouldn't happen to have messed with the wiring, would you ?" No answer as she merely looks around like a retard. Oh, well, surely it's the circuit breaker or someth... "Techi !" … … "Casca, you lazy cunt." "Meow !" "Teeeeeen !" The water is neither too cold or too hot. Nevertheless, the quantity of it exceeds the average recommendations for jissou swimming. "Don't drop me in the water, Mr.Man, techi ! I can't swim, techa ! You don't do that to cute Jissous like me, techa !" "You know what else you don't do ? Fucking with a man's computer. You don't do it." Splash ! "That's against the rules !" The water around her almost immediately takes a pale greenish tint. I kneel against the bathtub, letting my head rest on my arms, sipping on a glass of Viogner. Always, always put the alcohol at the highest point available. My jissou-indifferent cat also comes to see the little doll screaming. "You...glurb ! You are a hateful abuser, shit Mr.Man, techa !" "Well no shit, I'm the official chief abuser in town. Now, if you don't want to drown, start talking." "A...bout what, tepya !" "How you entered, and why did you bite the fuck out of my motherboard." "I am not telling you, techa !" She was trying to escape the water, but the bathtub, while admittedly a little greasy, was every bit as slippery as it is customary among its peers. "I can wait all evening now that my machine is down." "No ! Mama will be in danger, techi !" "Yes. Incidentally, you are in danger now." "Tegya !" She yelped, as if she didn't realize it until now. "We entered by the vents, techa ! Mama is smart ! Then we ate good food !" "No, I just forgot to put a flame pit in there. And I don't give a shit about the food. Carry on, why the computer ?" "Mama thought all those boxes were treasure, so we tried but it tasted bad, techa ! Argbl ! Please Mr.Man, I am going to die, pull me out so you can feed me and love me, techu !" "Sure." I pick her up, much to her relief. She's dripping with water, shit, and a combination of the two. "Thank you Mr.Man, techu~n...I knew you were good Mr.Man, techu~n..." Whatever. I pull out my hair-dryer, plug it, and proceed to dry the jissou while holding her by the hood. She immediately begins to flutter in the air. "Te ?!" "So, where is the rest of you family ? They forgot you there ?" "Wind is too strong, techa !" I crank up the power. "Tegya ! They are in the woods not far ! Mama said I must open the door when you take me as pet !" "Your mama's all kinds of retarded." I turn the air dryer off. I can't count on Madame Casca for taking care of the shitdoll. Fortunately, a Head of Jissou Affairs always haves another trick up his sleeve. I unceremoniously carry the mole to my small basement, and open the terrarium stored there. "Hello ladies, room service for the room "Holy fuck I'm starving desu"" Feral roars at my feet. Pacman and Chomp weren't exactly raised for their conversational skills. "TEE ?!" I let her fall. I'm not even back to the lobby that she's already into two separate stomachs. Outside the glass doors to my small garden, stands the rest of the family. Their A-shaped mouths are open as wide as possible, and their cheeks glow with a disgusting pink. They stare at me, immobile, paws on their chins. I stare back at them. For twelve seconds, I spin my mental wheel of fortune. "Okay, dick-jutsu it is." As DARJ, I have free access to a shitload of things from the police station. Believe it or not, pet-jissou product smuggling is on the rise these years. Since the explosion in high-end jissou production and the subsequent boom in the market, contraband had gotten very lucrative for how easy it was. So I have taken a few smuggled jissou dresses and gifts for when the wheel-o'abuse hits the pink. When the setup is complete, I open the door. -------------------------------- http://i55.tinypic.com/20sc01z.jpg A jissou mama in tattered rags blushes, both paws on her cheek, tongue hanging out. Before her, her three kojissous are cooing. How lucky they were to find this house ! The youngest clumsily removes her clothes. She can't wait to put this new, shiny dress on. Another has seen the bunch of konpeitos and finds it takes priority over the dress. Such isn't the case with the oldest sister, already in her fancy new dress, a cute flower clipped on her right ear, joyously rising her stumps into the air while the Mr.Man pets her head. "This is where it all began." "You found a nice pond of airy massacre ? Attagirl." "Ignoring the brainless blurting of what pretentiously dubbed himself her colleague, our heroine set up to save the day." "Host : Thierry Genestar. Occupation : Local head of Jissouseki management. Genuine attachment : Highly Unlikely." "Of course, it didn't matter ! Behind what seemed to be a routine field test was in fact the first strike...of many." Behind, the young man told the jissous he was going to fix them a royal meal. "Leeet me think here C-o, but I ain't so sure that's what he meant." "The time for talking...was over." The Mr.Man gone, the mama looked around to appraise her home. Little, but not bad ! Of course, they already had searched the place thoroughly, and apart from a mean cat that climbed to the mezzanine before they could reach it, everything was fine. The Mr.Man would discard the cat anyway, after seeing how cute they are. "Jissou-chan !" Said the mama to the one that was just finished putting her dress on, drooling in pure joy. "Go check if he has any other pet, desu !" "Yes, te !" She got up, and joyously wobbled towards the place they saw Mr.Man enter from. Suddenly, she froze silently into place. The mama, who was beginning to put her new dress on herself, saw that. "Are you alright, Jissou-chan, de ?" The kojissou assumed a plain standing position. The rest of the family couldn't see her face. She turned her head around, then waved her arms left to right. "Jissou...chan ?" As the mother began to feel some concern, her baby finally talked. "The test was an astounding success. The control...was flawless." It was Jissou-chan's usual voice. Yet, there was something terribly wrong with it. She was so cute when she said her little "techi"s, why omitting them ? "D...Do what I said, Jissou-chan, deee...." "Okay mama, techi !" Answered she in her usual tone of voice. Nevertheless, the family, despite not being familiar with horror movies, knew this was something to shit their pants over. Hearing the silence, the Mr.Man came over, a spatula still in his hand. "Something wrong ?" "Ah ! No, no Mr.Man, it is nothing, desu ! Thank you for the dresses and candy, desu !" "You're welcome, I guess..." Said he before returning to the kitchen. "So, did you show this son of a mother what's what in the West ?" "Not only did she send the subject to a gruesome death, but she quickly took care of the other two in the basement." "Next test : Secondary mode." The mama finished adjusting the ribbon to her ear. She was so cute now ! No mean Mr.Man would ever dare pick on her anymore ! While her hungry kojissou rolled on her back, sighing in contentment and rubbing her full belly, the other tried a small xylophone. *Ding * *Ding * "Techi, what fun ! Techi-techi-techi te !" *Ding * *Ding * "Yes, it seems fun. Mama wants to try it ! Step aside, desu !" The child tried to protest, but obeyed Mama, whimpering. The mother took the sticks in her paws, closed her eyes as a true musician before composing a master piece, and...Ouch ! The child was biting her leg. Really hard, too ! "Do not be selfish, shit jissou, it is mama's turn, desu !" She whacked the unruly child on the head until she let go. She was bleeding, and had her cranium deformed. Serves you right ! Yet, she got up like it was nothing. "S...Stay down, decha ! Do not dare attack your Mama, desu !" The wounded child began to walk slowly toward her. She was chuckling. --------------------------- Thierry Genestar Already on with the infanticide ? Man, I hope there are enough survivors for my pommes dauphines spiked with slow-acting poison. I mean, most of the poisons, even those loosely controlled, are very rarely harmful to humans, but still, eating poison is just not what I'd like to do with my life. Still, I don't bother watching over them. Even if a child wandered into the basement, there's a one-way trapdoor, so she won't spill the beans, and probably die of a heart attack after seeing Pacman and Chomp anyway. I give Casca her pellets, and I fix myself some tuna sandwich. I put my homemade tuna-mayonnaise-vinegar mix in sealed containers with a mechanical opening too complex for a jissou. Always have a backup plan. Finally, the dauphines are nicely browned. I put them in the freezer for a bit so that they're mild enough for Jissouseki. "Alright you lucky pets, here is your...di........nner..." In front of me, I see two kojissous crushed to death. The mama has ripped a part of her dress apart, and even if I can't see her belly, the pool of blood beneath her indicates she probably has her belly just as open. She looks at me... "Help...me...Mr.Man....I...cannot...control myself, de...gyaaa..." She's livid. Obviously weakened to the point of collapsing. Yet, she does something with the energy of a healthy jissou. Her paw is drenched in her own blood. Every so often, she dips it into her gaping wound with a squishy sound. And then touches the glass. She's writing something. "I am in horrible...pain...desu..." Yeah, I can see that. Her voice is horribly raspy. "Kill...me...decha..." What happened next is something you'd half want to see, and half wish to never see in your entire goddamn life. The Mama stands up, her intestines rolling out of her belly. She lifts her paws, and grabs her head. "DEGYA ! NO ! N...AAAARRGUUUUU" Slowly, but surely, she twists her neck. As her face begins to face me, I can see absolute terror in her face. This jissou isn't concerned over getting candy or a house. She does not wish a mean Mr.Man to stop abusing her babies. She isn't even afraid of death. She is afraid of living for another second. Her voice is a mere death rattle. Know Ju-On/The Grudge ? That. Exactly that. Frighteningly exactly that. A snap is heard. Her head is facing toward me. She falls on her knees, but something prevents her from falling any further. And then, above a Jissou with her head facing the same direction than her ass, I can see the message, written in blood letters which are slowly beginning to drip down the glass... ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY I remain perfectly silent for a while. Casca exits the kitchen, goes on my bed, stretches, and curls up. The mama's body finally falls down. "Hey, Cthulhu ! While you're here, why don't you stay for dinner ?" ------- What has Thierry witnessed ? I'll only submit that for your appreciation for the moment. For the first voice was right : It was the first strike of many. Many strikes I respectfully submit for your perusal, in this new story that is.... SUPREME ABUSER. 1 : Operation First Strike – End.
Someone figured out how to hack the fake stone wirelessly?
bumping
Where did you disappear to, JissouJoker ? I was anticipating Sam adventure's next installment. -------------------------- Supreme Abuser 2 – Operation Screech Hum. So, okay, I guess they had suffered enough for breaking my computer. And more that I had intended, at that. Still, revenge isn't as sweet when you're not the one doing the honors. Seeing a jissou twist her own neck is awesome, but I like the old-fashioned despair that grips them when they're announced they will die in ten minutes. Plus, why the fuck kill my two Jissouseki disposal units ? Whatever did that should learn some finesse. Still, we are now four days later, Monday morning, 6 AM. I know I should be more concerned about what in the holy fuck happened in the first place, but not right now. The festival begins today. Me and my boys are standing on the Champs de Mars, a grass field near the lake. We finish connecting poison tanks to the water pumps meant to water the grass. A mandatory step for dealing with any unexpected wave. We also put poison in the sprinklers of the two main buildings housing the festival. Mandatory, but far from satisfactory. "Okay, next is setting up traps all around the field and Gardens of Europe, we got one hour. Waste every Jissou you see on your way. Don't worry about the bodies for once, the volunteers will take care of that." "Okay boss !" I can see the sparks in their eyes. Exterminator isn't all that bad a job, especially if you like killing Jissouseki. The only thing that makes it, well, work, is the obligation to remove the bodies afterward. So tell them it's an all-you-can-abuse buffet with no strings attached, and their job becomes a Saturday Party Hard for which you get paid. "Go, fellow underpaid but proud slaves of the people, and tickle my retinas with wonder !" They leave, very energetic for a Monday evening. And thus, I'm left without any Jissous to kill myself. So I light a cigarette, and take a stroll by the lake's border. All this part of the shore is riddled with boat rental shops on landing stages. After eight months of inactivity, they are beginning to wake up, as summer is closing in.. Hey, wait a minute. "Hi !" Say I to the first early-worker I see. "I'm from the city hall. Is this your first day this year ?" "Huh...yeah, I'm taking advantage of the Festival, why, is there a problem, mister ?" He said, obviously worried. "Oh, no, no, this opening is perfectly legal. At least I think. I'm the city's DARJ. Mind if I take a look at your stuff ?" "Huh...Sure, you think some are hiding around ? Just above the water ?" "You have no idea how bold they're growing." One perk of the job is that Jissouseki extermination and disposal is one of the most popular aspects of the Public Service. Few refuse to let us inspect stuff. We're like tax collectors who, instead of taking your money, bring you hygiene and awesome for free. "I don't understand" Says the boat renter. "Usually there's no goddamn problem in spotting them, with their "tetchi" thing." "Usually, yeah, but according to a number of reports from my team, it looks like they understood there would be a festival here this week. Jissou adults are able to read, and ask what's a festival after all. Plus there's bound to be survivors from the previous years, telling everyone how many humans there were. They aren't as stupid as we make them out to be, they can understand the upside of hiding from us until there's too many tourists around for us to waste them in time." "And of course, fucking strangers don't care about consequences when they feed jissosequiz on our soil..." "Pretty much, yeah. Plus there are reported cases of young people luring Jissousekis to vandalize things. Both foreign and local, though..." There's a faint smell of shit in the air. Nothing too shocking though, when we're this close to a field. No high-pitch voice either. The guy opens the big locker storing safety floaters and life jackets. Nothing. The contrary would have been surprising, though, since the lock was intact. The boats themselves, either motor or pedal-powered, are pretty simple and don't offer many places to hide. Still, I know there are jissous around. I can feel them. "By the way, can I have some fire over there ?" I give the renter my lighter. I watch my surroundings for possible clues. Where are they hiding ? What kind of idea would be stupid enough for them ? Think... Huh ? There's a wooden pole lying on the grass. There's no mistake that it was intended as a sign, but someone unearthed it and removed the plank. Bah, probably some kids. What use Jissouseki could have of a plank ? Unless... I lie face down on the landing stage, and look under it. Three planks with posters for the festival float right under the stages, one jissou family on each of them. Beneath them, some drowned maggots rest on the sand, feeding a bunch of little fish. Groups of three children hold onto the stilts to prevent the rafts from drifting into our view. They are dead silent, and probably got rid of the maggots for added stealth. Shit, only a jissou -or a Hollywood scenarist- could think of something this brilliant and stupid at the same time. I clear my throat. "Gentlemen !" Yelps of surprise. Shit is leaked. "He is with the shit Mr.Men, desu !" "Quick, jissou-chans, paddle to the shore, desha !" "Protect us, mama, techi !" The three makeshift embarkations quit their cover. All the kojissous are clumsily paddling, while the mamas are content with just bossing around, as usual in these kinds of situations. They're lucky the lake is calm as a Buddhist monk. The planks are quite slim, and they could capsize at the slightest wave. "Damn !" Says the boat renter. "What do we do now ?" "They won't go very far. My men are all over the place, they'd get killed as soon as they land. They'll probably try to go to the Swan's Island." The Swan's Island is a very tiny island near the shore. Pretty, but reportedly full of snakes. Probably just a story to scare off children from going into a small patch of land full of bird shit, though. I'll take care of the Jissouseki before they can get there. "Woah there, mister, I didn't know exterminators had the right to hold a gun !" "It's only a flashball gun. Kills Jissous dead, but right now I think we can have more fun than just shooting them down or drowning them. Of all the possible locations in this town, the lake is the worst possible choice for them." Coincidentally, near the Swan's Island, a swan is sleeping. What a beautiful bird. Snow white plumage, gracious stature, and the mind of an angry redneck. Yeah, seriously, swans are assholes. The jissous are ten meters from the bird now. I take aim, hold my breath, and shoot in the swan's left wing. The bird wakes up, and quacks angrily. He'll only have a bruise, but that probably won't stop him from being very pissed-off for a while. "QUAAAACK quack quack quaaaaack !" The powerful wings shake the waters. The three rafts wobble dangerously, and two kojissous fall. The goblins didn't expect that at all, and turn blue from fear. The swan stares at them angrily, its wings puffed up in a threatening pose. Fact alert, jissou-chans : One stupid move, and Mr.Swan will fuck up your shit. The weak kojissous attempt to climb back on the rafts, which upsets their balance. The mothers unceremoniously whack on their heads, crushing the little faces that are crying and begging them for help, asking why mama does this to them. It may seem cruel, but for all their lack of empathy, you can't criticize Jissousekis for not being rational. At least when it comes to natural selection. 'cause they pretty much suck in all other subjects. "Shit bird blocks the way, desu !" Says boldly one of the mamas, believing herself to be some kind of badass captain. "Jissou-chans, fire at will, de !" "Jissou-san is right !" Says another adult. "Release the poo missiles, de !" "They're really going to do it, aren't they ?" Asks the boat renter. "Yep. It's amazing how identical feral jissous are from each other. When they know it won't take them home, they fling shit and expect that will kill it. Never fails." The swan hisses. The kojissous are finished smearing their stumps with shit. The adults scream "fire, desu !", and a volley of semi-liquid green orbs of stinking goo fly to the majestic bird. Only about 20% hit. That's enough. "QUAAAAAAAAAAAACK" Fucking up of shit is engaged. The swan charges towards the first raft, wings wide open. The mama's utters a miserable, frightened hiccup, and picks up her daughter in front of her before throwing her at the enraged bird. "CHUWA !" She's caught in the swan's beak, and is promptly shaken around, slapped on the water, and generally getting its ass kicked. "WHY MAMA WHYYYYY TEGYAAA?" She's quickly torn in half. Panicked, the cruel mother dives into the water, and clumsily tries to swim. The swan charges towards her, wrecking havoc in its wake. The raft capsizes, and all the kojissous fall into the lake. They probably could get up on the plank again, but one of them is suddenly caught and dragged beneath the surface by some big fish that got attracted by the ruckus. What's more, a familiar laughter can be heard in the air. Seagulls want in on this too. The two remaining families cheer on the swimming mama, despite the great distance separating her from the shore. Their optimism is really heartwarming. They believe in their friend even when the beak furiously strikes her cranium, piercing it. "DEGYO-" "You can do it, Jissou-chan, it's just a shit bird, desu !" She doesn't answer. She can't, the green-speckled wings snapped her neck. She's getting her ass kicked so thoroughly that she hasn't the time to drown. And since her lungs don't get filled with water, she stills floats, allowing the swan to waste her long after she's gone. When the bird stops and switches its attention to the other rafts, already assaulted by the seagulls, it only leaves a floating mess of maimed flesh which her mother wouldn't recognize. "Good thing the animal reign is with us on this one, eh ?" "I guess so", Answers the boat renter. "Well, I'm done here. Best of luck for your business today. And don't worry about the corpses, they will be devoured in less than an hour." Less than a minute later, as I check under the other landing stages, I'm called by one of the exterminators somewhere in the field. Apparently he's talking to a child. This early in the morning ? As I get close, stepping over several corpses along the way, I can see the child -a little girl- is accompanied by a pet jissou. What in the name of...? "Desuuuuuuuuu~n..." The crying jissou sports an elegant black dress and a pearl necklace. She protectively squeezes something against her chest. I can't see it at first, but there's no doubt what it is. "Please, mister !" Pleads the girl, sobbing. "Jeanette is so sad that my parents forbid her to have babies ! She just wants one, that's all !" "I'm telling you" Answers Yann, the exterminator, obviously irritated and very tempted to pull the trigger of his poison spray. "You can't do that, it's illegal to pick up feral jissouseki. Now come on and hand it over !" "No, desha ! I love her, I have named her Suzie, she is my sweet daughter, desha !" "Okay, I see the problem. Everyone calm down." I say in my most professional tone. I kneel in front of the girl. "Your parents must call off the interdiction. Jissouseki are very egoistic, but even then lowest have an insanely strong family instinct. In the wild, making babies is the only shot at survival they have. It's so strongly engraved in their brain, they will need to have babies no matter how well-treated they are. If she doesn't get at least one daughter soon, she'll become a complete mess. And judging from her appearance, I think she cost enough for you to want avoiding that. However..." I point to the little thumb-chan looking at her domesticated protector, tongue out. "Adopting isn't an option. First, it won't quench the instinct as much as a biological daughter. Second, like Yann said, the mayor issued a bill forbidding to pick up any feral jissou, and it's for a damn good reason. This child may seem nice now, but in two weeks tops, she starts making a mess" "Then...What do we do ?" "Well, a green eye pregnancy, of c...Shit, wait a second. You know how babies are made ?" "N...No, mister. My mommy says I'm too young for that." Yann and me look at each other in the eyes. "Oooh boy." I take a notepad in my bag, and begin writing on it. "Dear citizen, Your daughter has been seen by the city hall's Jissouseki removal services on the Champs de Mars early in the morning, accompanied by your family's pet Jissouseki. They were out to adopt a feral Jissouseki humanoid infant. Such acts have been banned by municipal bill n°2547-18 issued January the 30th, 2009. However, we didn't deem any punishment necessary. Indeed, this quest was motivated by your Jissouseki's natural and imperious need to have a daughter. Denying her that need will eventually lead to grievous and permanent psychological scarring. And while it is understandable you would refrain from triggering the usual pregnancy, I feel I must inform you that a pregnancy much closer to a human's is possible, to get only one or two children. This is achieved by usual fecundation, be it by a human or a male Jissouseki. If such an action isn't an option, any pet jissou retailer will do it artificially, and under general anesthesia, between 10 and 15€. Best Regards, Thierry Genestar, Directeur aux Affaires Relatives aux Jissouseki d'Annecy." I then give the note to the girl. "Here, show this to your parents, they'll understand." "Okay, Mister. Thank you." "Now" Say I to Jeanette. "Be a good jissou, hand over the thumb-chan. Your masters will give you a real, intelligent daughter soon." "Huuuh..." Cries the jissou, staring at the thumb-chan as she slowly puts her in my hand. "You will not hurt her, right, desu ? She is so cute, desuuuun..." "Hello Mr.Man, do you have a pet, rechi !" "Yes, very cute. Don't worry, we have a big home when we pamper and cherish the most beautiful ferals in the town. Okay, time to go home now, your parents will worry about you." They leave, the jissou peeking over her shoulder regularly. The thumb-chan went haywire as soon as she heard about the home. We wait for the girl and her pet to get out of our sight. "Do you really find me most beautiful, rechun ? Thank you ! I will grow even cuter, I will be the most wonderful pet for Mr.Man, rechun !" "Do we really have a big home, Thierry ?" "How is it ? How is it, rechi ?" "Nope." "High five, then ?" "I cannot wait to see the big home ! The big Jissou seemed nice but you are way nicer, I love you, rechun !" "High five." As part of our routine, we face each other. I throw the parasite into the air... "TECHUWA !" ...And we clap our hands together when she falls down. As usual, totally worth the stained hand. My cell phone rings. "Thierry Genestar." "Robert here. I'm in the gardens. I believe we have a situation." "Okay, I'll be right over." "Thanks." I go meet Robert, one of the senior exterminators, in the Gardens of Europe. As a general rule, parks have become less contemplative places and more sadism HQ's. But Annecy is the third most expensive city in France. It's the jewel of the french alps, a prime tourism destination. We can be proud of both a magnificent old town complete with a medieval castle, and a very extensive aesthetic urbanization policy. So when it comes to parks, we don't fuck around. Especially not when said park is by far the most frequented AND right behind the city hall. Of course, it's not 100% devoid of Jissouseki all the time. (For one, pet Jissous are allowed when on leashes). But compared to most parks in the world, it's a goddamn fortress. Electric fences going 50 centimeters under the ground. Entrances protected by deep cattle grids. (You know, those pits covered by metal tubes which prevent cattle from going through. Very effective on Jissouseki too.) Poisoned sprinklers activated every night. Security cameras, complete with two guards alternatively watching over the place 16 hours a day. So when there's a "situation" there, you'd better believe I'll come right over. I cross the bridge linking the Champs de Mars to the Gardens. And, already from here, I can see exactly what's wrong. Merde. I knew I had to deal with this kind of bullshit eventually. "Jissouseki are intelligent creatures ! This is discrimination ! This is apartheid !" "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity for every sentient being !" A bunch of people past their forties are gathered in the gardens, near the big fountain. They are barking pro-jissou crap at Robert and two other exterminators. Some are holding signs, caricaturing our mayor as the devil. Most definitely a group of bible-thumpers from the town's east side. I know the type, a good chunk of my family are like that. They never pushed it as far as protecting the shitdolls, though. There must be ten of them. And every single one are covering an adult feral jissou with their legs. Already, I can see that shit has been sprayed around. Now, I usually am taking the whole Public Service thing pretty seriously. That includes public relations, which we are legally obligated to uphold. However, those retards have illegally helped jissous go into a forbidden area. Already, the adults are looking around to see if there's a good spot where they could build a camp. Everyone has the right to protest according to their beliefs. But they have crossed the fucking line. "Ladies and gentlemen" Say I without bothering to introduce myself, but assuming a perfectly neutral position. You never know. In case they bring my ass to the court, it will be far more helpful to appear calm and composed on the CCTV recordings than angry and thrashing about. "You are making yourselves guilty of jeopardizing public property and troubling public order, particularly public tranquility and public salubrity. All of this, as a critical event is about to start in this town and thousands of tourists are going to expect this park to be in pristine condition. Cease all your activities and step aside as we terminate those parasites." "Ha !" Reacts a woman, as if I just told them Hitler was a bro of mythological proportions. "Is this your boss ?" She points at me while looking at Robert. "A young delinquent with only jeans and a white shirt, an unsightly stubble and...smoking ?! Is this the kind of man our mayor hires ?" "Yes it is, you degenerated old coot." I reply bluntly. "I'm a laureate of region-wide competitive exam and graduate of a prestigious regional institute. I spend one year learning about jissouseki alone, and five times this amount studying public law and everything needed to be efficient in an administration. I am twice as qualified and thrice as intelligent as you are. Plus my criminal record is clean, something you won't be able to boast once the cops get their asses here. You are acting like assholes to your fellow citizen and are plain and simple breaking the goddamn law." ----------------------- "The debate was heating up...And didn't show any sign of calming down." "That guy's damn wild compared to the first time we saw his buttocks ! Hey, by the way, that's right ! We SAW him before ! Save me a pound of lottery tickets !" "Profession : Head of Jissouseki Affairs. Likeliness of encounter during missions : Very high. Only cause for wonder : Involvement in first mission." "Still, he's got the mouth of a twenty-thousand feet tall mosquito, but with those numbers he's gonna get his ankles handed to him wholesale !" "Assistance : Within the parameters of our objective." Meanwhile, as the young civil servant was dialing up the police HQ's number, the dozen of adult jissou who very luckily encountered those nice Mr.Men and Mrs.Ladies were devouring their surroundings with their eyes. The garden was gorgeous. No tall grass or bushes where they could conveniently hide, but plenty of nice flowers. Young Mrs.Ladies loved when cute Jissous gave them flowers ! And they could always ask the nice people to build them homes here ! "Look at these pretty creatures, you young insolent ! They are gifted by God with intelligence and a taste for pretty things ! Denying them access to the Gardens is unnecessary cruelty !" "Cruelty ? They've been here for less than ten minutes and there's already shit everywhere. Look at this one, she wonders if the tulips are edible. Jissouseki bred and educated for domestication are the only ones even remotely deserving to have rights." One of the men picks up his jissou, and gives her to Thierry.. "Feel this living being, mister. She breathes, she perceives, she thinks and reacts accordingly to complex situations." "Hello, Mr.Man" says joyfully the goblin in his arms. "You really let us should live here, it is a beautiful park and we will entertain many Mr.Men, desu !" "See ? She's not a wild animal. She's an intelligent individual." He looks at the creature and sighs. "Let's have an experiment, shall we ?" Says he, taking the jissou's arm in his hand. "You are dead wrong. They aren't individuals. They are carbon copies of each other. They don't need socialization unlike us humans. They automatically grow into the same mold. Even animals have personalities. Jissous are just robots in flesh disguise. Watch." A crack is heard. The religious crowd gasps. The jissou doesn't understand at first. She just stares at Genestar, expecting the rest of his speech to end with him awarding her a home. Strange though, something hurts. She looks at her arm, and sees it twisted. Only then does she begin to tremble, crossing her legs while her panties begin to fill up. Before she says anything, the abuser puts his hand on her mouth. Before anyone can react, he mimics, in a high-pitched voice : "Why hurt a cute jissou like me ? I won't forgive you, shit Mr.Man ! You are such a hateful abuser ! I will kill you, shit Mr.Man ! One or several of these sentences, word for fucking word. Naturally, in this situation, anything intelligent wouldn't dream of proving my point. Yet..." He removes his hand. "Desha ! Why hurt a cute jissou like me ? I will kill you, shit Mr.Man, desha !" He then lifts the jissou into the air, and lets her drop. Both her legs are crushed by the impact.* "Huuuh...Huuuh...The...THE PAIN DEGYAAAA" "The prosecution rests." Casually concludes Genestar The crowd is outraged, and begins to copiously insult the young professional. "Execution : Now." As the ambiance really begins to worsen between the humans, one of the Jissous puts her paw on her chin and squints. "The Mr.Men and Mrs.Ladies did not convince the shit exterminators, desu !" "What does Jissou-san mean, de ?" "They are useless, we must seize the garden ourselves !" "Jissou-san is right ! Jissou-san is hurt because of all of them !" Says a third one, showing the usual incapacity to give different names to different Jissouseki. "Yes, that is right, de ! We are many, we are strong, de !" "I thought of this plan first, desu !" One of the younger exterminators tap on Thierry's shoulder. "Yeah, what ? I'm a little busy with shutting up some retards." "Look at the real retards, boss. The packaged ones." He looks past the angry crowd, and sees the jissous dipping their stumps into their panties. "Holy shit !" He shouts, drawing his gun. "Watch out, everyone, they're going to attack !" "Just how stupid do you think we are, whippersnapper ?" "Now, attack, desu !" Shit flies into the air. The jissous being among the protesters, they are the first ones to be hit. "Wh...What in the name of God ?" "Look what you've done, you idiots ! Everyone, fire at will don't let them throw too much crap !" "Yes, boss !" ----------------------------- Thierry Genestar The exterminators rush towards the shit-flinging battalion, shoving the protesters aside. Two jissouseki are sprayed from 20 centimeters away. One is sprayed directly in the mouth. "Desha ! They are too strong !" "No, keep attacking, they will fall, de !" What ? I could have sworn the one who said that had just been poisoned ! No, there's no way. If it takes roughly one minute to kill, it's so painful it incapacitates a Jissou almost instantly. I aim at one who's beginning to panic, and flees towards the flowers to hide. My girlfriend loves those petunias, stay the fuck away from them ! I aim at her head, but with all the ruckus, I hit the back instead. Bah, close enough... What ? In a thoroughly eerie scene, when people are trying to no avail to dodge jissou crap, and jissous are slaloming between the legs to avoid the poison with equally bad results, I can see the wounded jissou in the background, pierced all the way by a foam bullet, not only getting back on her feet, but actually getting back into the battle. A completely panicked look is drawing on her face as she's collecting more throw-able shit. She's yelling something. Red and green tears flow on her cheeks. Her lower lip is twisted upward. I know this face. It's the one the Mama who wasted my computer had before ended up twisting her own neck. ...I thought this spontaneous attack was suspicious. Jissous wait at least several hours before coming up with this kind of shit towards sympathetic humans. Whatever was at my house four days ago is back, and it gets up early. Plus, if my experience was any indication, it wouldn't stop until the jissous are deader than dead. "Crush the fuckers on the ground ! Poison is too slow !" I shout. "What do you mean ?" "Just do it !" I run towards the fence. The Jissouseki are controlled from a distance...There must be some device, maybe a military van, I don't know ! Nothing. Just a few Asians walking toward the cultural center. Apart from some cameras gently resting on their bellies, they carry nothing unusual. I look pretty much everywhere. The trees, the guard's shack, the river bank, even the city hall's rooftop. Whoever was doing that awesome trick was a ghost. Finally, the police car arrives. "Ah, it's time you arrived, guys ! The culprits have been attacked by the Jissouseki, I fear they may run." "We're on it. You just take care of the paquerette's crap, okay ?" Bad pun advisory : Paquerette is the French name for the daisy, and also sort of an acronym for PACKaged RETard. Don't sue me, I didn't invent it. "Okay, I'm calling the festival's executives to tell them their volunteers will have to go to work early" One hour later, crisis has been adverted. We could clean the gardens before too much people arrived, and we completed our trap setting. As for the protesters, they docilely followed the police. During two horrifying minutes, the controlled jissous kept flinging shit at them -and only them- even when their mouths were full of foam and their eyes devoid of any life. Even the ones who were crushed were still crawling towards them. And during the entire duration of the assault, all of them kept crying for help, with voices increasingly filled with pain and anguish I won't dare to imagine. I heard one of the bigots say "The devil. The devil was there."
Interesting story, I'm sorry I've been a bit busy with Real Life. I'll try ot provide something for my fans out there, but I can't make any promises as to when. ~JissouJoker
Hehe, this story is getting good. Happy birthday to me!
interesting setting.
>>198 Image inspiration for jissou disposal: http://nijibox.dynup.net/jissou/hokan/src/1253058965168.jpg
From 198: And Now a word from our New Sponsor: Ever see a jissou walking across the road? Ever try to run over it? Ever have a close call and almost hit a parked car? Everyday we see this. Some one tries to run over a jissou and cause an accident. Well here is our answer to these close calls, and helping keep the jissou population in check. The New Jissou Slicing Frame. We attach a metal frame to the under side of your car. Hanging from the frame is a series of piano wires weighted down to hang below the car. Even at speeds of up to 45 MPH, the wires will still reach to within 2 inches of the road’s surface. As you drive down the road and see a jissou just drive over the jissou, without having to swerve and jink, you get the jissou. The wires will catch on the jissou, and cleanly slice through it killing the jissou. No need to swerve and end up in oncoming traffic, or going up on the curb. The frame can be set to any width car, and several frames can be attached in any pattern you choose. Our most popular pattern is two sets of frames in a diagonal pattern. And for you motorcycle riders, don’t feel left out. We can attaché frames to either side of your ride, which stick out no further than the width of your handle bars. And best of all, no jissou splatter on your car, or in your face. The wires slice cleanly and quickly. Leaving little time for jissou splash, or explosive birth plumes. Get our frames on your ride, and slice the jissou away. Pat. Pend. Go to Jissou Wire.com to see our video demonstrations and a list of installers near you.
Currently working on a new story in the same continuity as Taking Out the Trash. Stay tuned.
>>211 Wouldn't that kill people too?
>>213 Not unless they're hiding under your car. (In which case, they're probably up to no good and deserve all they get!)
>>214 Like children? Oh dear, that thing's company gonna get sued in no time. XD
>>215 You could have a button on the car dashbord, like in a James Bond film. See a Jissou, press the button and the wire drops into place. Simple.
>>216 I like it. Next upgrade, I'll incorporate it.
Continued from >>206 Supreme Abuser 3 – Operation Bloodsport "You fucked up for the last time, Kubo-kun." "Nooo, please I will never forget to include her again, please ! Desu ! Is it good, Mr.Man ?" "Yeah, yeah, just read the goddamn script." "Yes, desu !" "I'm afraid this won't be so simple. You see, your failure is so resounding, it ripped reality a new asshole. You literally made the world shittier by sticking to your faggoty-ass protagonist." "Ichigo may have become a little irritating but that's all the fault of weekly shônen jump, they made me do it ! Desu !" "Silence, fool ! Strawberry was a failure from the get go. Being a total ponce notwithstanding, there simply is no way he could be stronger than his female friend who's a fucking 2nd grade black belt at age 15, given that, unlike her, we never see him taking a karate lesson after getting his ass handed to him by said friend at age 4. Chapter eighteen, page four." "Huh...well his giant sword could be explained by the fact he has to compensate for being pussywhipped all the time ? Desu !" "That's a given, but your flashback chapter when Tatsuki states he became stronger than her is just uncalled for. You, sir, set new heights for Shonen mediocrity." "Please ! Desu. I told you I would make her the protagonist ! Desu !" "Unfortunately, your ineptitude is such that you would actually be able to make such awesome in tomboy form suck. I must prevent that to happen. Case in point : Long, polished fingernails. On a karateka. Seriously, it's like you want me to hurt you. You can run now." "Yes, desu !" The jissou who agreed to participate in this reenactment of a recurring dream of mine in exchange for pet status then ran away as planned. "De ! This game is fun, Mr.Man, I love you, desu !" The picture of Tite Kubo flutters in the wind, taped on the back of her hood, his smug smile and douchey sunglasses eerily matching his carrier. Someday I will prove to the world Japan based the Jissouseki on his DNA. The jissou runs towards the oak thirty meters from my house. She genuinely likes it. Well, I can't say I ever expected Jissous to be nerds. I draw my handgun, and take aim. *BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG* I then walk to the tree. The jissouseki died painfully but quickly. I check the mangaka's portrait. Eight hits out of ten. Shit, I'm losing my edge. I didn't read Winged Eagles enough times lately, my hatred is getting dull. When I get back to the house, the five children of my target practice assistant are crapping themselves from shock. I walk right past them and close the door. "Meow..." "No you fatty, dinner's at 10PM." "Meoooow...!" "Shut up and eat Jissouseki if you're hungry." I check the alarm clock. 13:30. Gotta be at the cultural center in 30 minutes. I'll be there on time if I walk. Ah, walking. Even this basic occurrence has been completely overhauled by the appearance of the Jissouseki. I mean the invasion has gotten to a point where you can step on the fuckers without noticing. On the upside, there's no more problems of dog crap littering the street : They get eaten by the most starving feral jissous. On the downside, stepping on them isn't really better than stepping on a turd. And that's when the problem of halting the recruitment for exterminators becomes apparent. We are no fewer than 51 in Annecy, not counting the whole agglomeration. And that's not even close to enough. We take care of the touristic areas, and the rest is pretty much fucked. People have to get the street cleaned themselves. There are some private companies who offer extermination service, but Jissouseki keep coming back the day after an extermination, making a sustained hiring in the whole city impossible. Only the richest suburbs can afford that. Of course, filthy streets are hardly the worst consequence... I take my fanny pack, and exit the house, closing my front door quickly, in fear some may sneak in. I can already see more than ten in my line of sight. Six of them are bald-naked, two are trying to break into a shop and one is sitting against a wall, freakishly thinned by starvation, her eyes almost gray. Most of them notice me instantly. "Hello Mr.Man, techi !" "A mean Mr.Man took away the clothes of my children, desu ! Please, help us, desuuun..." "Yes, we are poor little creatures that do not deserve such cruel treatment, dechi !" "I am so hungry, Mr.Man...Please, give me some food or I'll die, techi..." "Hey Mr.Man ! Help us get to the nice food behind the glass while the mean Mr.Man is away, techi !" On average, in residential areas, you hear this kind of bullshit roughly every 50 seconds. And you wonder why the demand for mp3 players has skyrocketed. I kick the mother of the naked kojissous into a tree. She bounces off the trunk and begins to whimper, holding her stumps over the dent in her soft cranium. Fortunately for us, most of street Jissous have learned to recognize lost causes. They only ones who get aggressive when meeting a "shit Mr.Man" are those who grew up in tribes, hidden in parks or forests, far away from the reality of human behavior. Thus, I don't finish the mama off. Her adult skull will go back to normal with no lasting consequences. She'll live. Yeah, despite overwhelming evidence of the contrary, I wouldn't categorize myself as an abuser. And even if I'm not against the occasional unwinding session, as long as the Jissous leave me alone, I'm cool with them. On an emotional level, anyway. You see, a part of me is sorry for them. They didn't ask to be born that way. Statistically, there's even a good chunk of them who can grow into something comparable to a real human intelligence. I'm the boss of dozens of exterminators, I know what the motives of abusers are. In order of popularity : They are way too disgusting with their near endless supply of shit ; They are dumber than a bag or doorknobs and one hundred times more annoying ; They are just plain ugly ; Nobody can enjoy a walk anymore because of them. But in the end, it all boils down to one thing. The Jissouseki's greatest boon and greatest curse at the same time. Their ability to reproduce so fast and so easily. Just imagine : Jissouseki have been introduced to our world, but they are only able to reproduce via classical fecundation, giving birth to only children. This completely annihilates the "infestation" aspect, and instead, you have the second most intelligent species on the fucking planet. Sure, they stink, but holy shit ! We humans always secretly thought we were the only sentient beings in the whole goddamn universe. And another appears, right on our own planet. They're intelligent, but are instinctively drawn to charming us. We would have employed them as stupid, dependent maids without any ounce of remorse, and they would have been unable to annoy us, stripped of their ability to flood a house with babies when punished. Everyone would have been happy, really. But no, the red-eye pregnancy just had to exist and fuck up everyone's shit. Seriously, if I find the japanese fuck who created them, he's in trouble. Ignoring the pleas of the most desperate kojissou – the starving one – I begin my stroll towards Bonlieu, the cultural center, where the bulk of the festival takes place. The whole path is on the lake's bank, so I get to enjoy both the beauty of the lake and half as much Jissou annoyance as usual. Which is, unfortunately, still a lot. In front of me, I see a little boy giving a piece of his sandwich to an orphaned, bald-naked, battered kojissou. The little doll cries from joy, too happy to finally eat to begin bothering him. It's amazing how the population has been divided between the lovers, the indifferent, and the abusers. While the middle demographic is pretty homogeneous, the two others are far from being united factions. Take the lovers. Sure, there are nutjobs who think every jissou deserves human rights. But most of them are just individuals with a big heart and just unable to stand for countless little children being tortured for fun at worst, and ignored at best. Frankly, I can't blame these people. They help a blight live, but only because of basic human compassion. They see a talking creature begging for food, tears in its eyes, genuinely on the verge to die from starvation, so they help it live. Nothing more, nothing less. On the other end of the spectrum, the abusers. Here too, you have very different policies, although this time around the two main demographics are far more evenly distributed. You have the people who plain just hate the jissous and either want to kill them all or killing them as sadistically as they can – for the record, there's a scientific study stating that torturing jissouseki improves you brain activity – and then you have the ones who just look around, see the damage they cause, and kill them out of principle. This, of course, is the group my profession places me into. Which doesn't mean I'm as zealous in my spare time. But back to the story, shall we ? My phone just rang. "Thierry Genestar" "Hello, Michel Lagardère here." Ah, Lagardère. Some high-ranked in the local police. I asked him to investigate into all the cases involving jissouseki, in case there was one case weird enough for me to be sure our mysterious remote-controller was involved. "So, anything juicy for me ?" "Well, you're the expert on Jissouseki here, there's probably a number of cases which you will find mundane." "I don't think I'll ever be bored of hearing about them. You can take that as a challenge. Hit me." "Well, we got two houses overrun by Jissouseki during the last week, for one." "No, you're cheating there. Your boys call me directly when they receive calls about that, remember ? Both have been cleansed, but the material damage is high." "Ah, true, true. Okay, next I got three cases of murdered pet jissous." "What are the circumstances ?" "Rather boring, I'm afraid. One crushed to death by the boyfriend when the owner was away, one killed by a plastic sphere in the head. Culprit unknown but the murder weapon is most probably an airsoft gun. And, finally, one killed by feral jissous who broke into a house." "Damn, I feel sorry for that last one's owner." "Oh, don't start pretending. Anyway...oh, yeah ! You're going to love this one. Unexplained mass slaughter in an abandoned house." ... "Come again ?" "Somewhere in the town's outskirts. A house overrun long ago has been reported to be full of Jissou corpses. But the fun part is in the traces left on the bodies. A good chunk had marks of being beaten by jissou stumps. The rest have large cuts, as if they have been hit by a small sword. However, the angle rules out the possibility of the onslaught being led by humans. They have been cut by something that's the size of a jissou adult." "You aren't going to believe me, Michel, but that's exactly what I was looking for. Thanks." "What ? What do you m..." I hang up. I knew the mysterious merchant of death was going to get into the wholesale market at some point. What I didn't expect, however, was that he was jissou-sized. Most interesting. That could explain why I didn't see anything Monday morning. A small thing is much easier to hide. Maybe it was a modified Jissouseki ? Or possibly some kind of mutant worthy of the X-men ? Even, I don't know, some kind of imp, or angel ? Reality isn't all that consistent these days. "Orororoooooooon..." Of course, it's not like I could -or event want to- do much about his actions, but he's got my interest hooked. "Mr.Man, help me desuuuuuuun..." I mean, his methods are extreme, but he's working for the good side. He's killing Jissous, traumatizing Jissou-lovers in the process...No, really, I can resp... "Please Mr.Man, I beg you desuuuuun..." "OH FUCK, WHAT AGAIN ?" The Jissou mama falls on her ass, her face blue with fear. She's sporting a clean yellow dress. Some low-cost pet. Her vagrancy could indicate she has just been abandoned. She weakly points her stump towards the lake. "I-I-I-I am sorry for bothering you Mr.Man but a mean Mrs.L-L-Lady has trapped my cute baby daughter, desuuuuu...." I look. There's a plastic bag floating on the surface of the lake, prevented by rocks from drifting away. A small, yellow kojissou is trapped inside, crying, totally panicked. Green goo agglomerates at the bottom, slowly weighing the bag down. "Was it your owner ?" "No ! It was a weird Mrs.Lady with black and white hair, desu ! Please save Yaya-chan, desuuun !" "Come on, the water is pretty shallow. Can't you do it yourself ?" "Master didn't want me to go to the beach, I can't, desuun..." "Well I'm not wetting my jeans for the sake of some random Jissou. Go ask your Master." "But the weird Mrs.Lady has closed the fence behind us and Master is not home in the morning, desuuun ! Please, four Mr.Men have already said no, desuun !" "Look. Keep asking to others, but I'm not saving Jissouseki." I leave. The lowly pet is dumbfounded. Maybe she didn't know about mankind's hatred of her species. She just stands there, burying her eyes in her paws. "SUCH A CRUEL WORLD, OROROROOOOOOOON !!" A woman with black and white hair, hum ? It's a small world. -------------- She's sitting on the steps. Around her, the festival is thriving. A lot of people wear badges of different colors, proof they participate in the event. You've got journalists, executives, volunteers, VIP's and people who just bought their entry to the many world premieres shown in the theaters this week. I'm sporting a "VIP" badge, even if in my case it's probably a miscasting of a mere "MIP", Moderately Important Person. Still, they wanted to show me their gratitude for successfully warding the Jissous off the Champs de Mars. Bah, with the insanely loud music they're broadcasting now, they would, at worst, only have had to deal with corpses anyway. She, on the other hand, had to buy her badge. "Hey, Steph" I say to the young woman focused on her laptop. "You're abusing pet Jissous now ?" She smirks and rises her head, showing the colorful tattoo on her neck. "They were playing in the garden. No apparent misconduct, but for fuck's sake, when the little shit stated she wanted candy when there were three at her feet, I just had to teach her a lesson. Why, mister Genestar, is it illegal ?" "Nope, but immoral. If the child dies, the owner's in for a wild ride on at least two accounts." "Yet I see you kept out of the water yourself." "Well, no shit." I smile "I'm just the wiser version of the abuser you are." "Attaboy." Stéphanie closes her notebook, bats her eyelashes, and passes her hand, fitted with pink fingernails, in the black hair with peroxided parts. Her black, frilly outfit reveals seven tattoos on several parts of her body, tramp stamp included. For a brilliant scientist, she certainly does everything in her power to look like a complete skank. Yeah, despite being only one year older than me, she's already part of a well-respected regional laboratory doing some serious science on Jissouseki. Although, Jissouseki being a field only several years old, it's not all that hard to master it quickly... Anyway, she was one of the people called to teach the DARJes far and wide about these little goblins. When we learned we were both from Annecy, we pretty much just went together and stayed that way ever since. Now we're both back in our hometown, and...that's that. We agreed to go together see the world premiere of the next movie by Tim Burton. A genuine Tim Burton, this time, not Coraline (which deserved its first place ex-aequo in 2009's festival nonetheless). It was bound to be overcrowded, so we came 30 minutes early. Maybe I should ask her about the mysterious remote-controller. After all, it could be some kind of ultra rare but natural occurrence...On the other hand, if it turns out she has no idea what's causing this, she's going to pester me all day for information...Better err on the side of caution. "So, any progress at the lab ?" "Mmmm yeah, sorta. We have a serious lead for a constipating somatic mutation, that is, somehow, transmitted to the children." "Wow, awesome ! If you can create a bloodline of reasonably-shitting jissous, you're gonna be messiahs." "Yeah, but the maggots born from mutated parents kind of explode within 24 hours, begging their lungs off during 75% of that time, and straining themselves for the other 25%. By the 23th hour they are too exhausted to utter their catchphrase, so they desperately try to rub themselves with their tongues. Hilarious ! Infantile death isn't too hot as an evolutionary trait, though. And even adults are, within a week, pouring goo out of every orifice but the ass, and that kills them. Then, the emergency pregnancy kicks in, and the maggots make the belly explode, killing them some more. Kind of ebola, but with shit. So, kind of a super-ebola, really." "So you know how to prevent crap from going out, but the problem in the first place was the overwhelming production." "Yep. Even if we alleviate the constipation we're fairly sure they would die from blood poisoning or internal damage in the long run, so no application for pets either. Although I'll keep working on an easy way to induce our mutation, especially on adults. Taping the ass only works on maggots, so from an abuse point of view, it's wicked awesome." As she says that, she puts her pinky into her lasciviously open mouth. Sometimes, this girl frightens me. Ten minutes later, the officials are about to open the doors to the theater. My phone rings. "Aaah goddamit, not now ! I'm gonna tell them to go fuck themselves." "Yeah, I'm not watching this movie without you." "Thierry Genestar..." … ...Oh fuck. "Oh, good day, Mister how are you ? Yes, yes...Sure, tell away..." "Come on Thierry, you said you would" "Shut up Steph" I whisper to her "It's the fucking Prefect !" Okay, now what's this weird beast ? Well, it's an occupation foreign to federal states. They are the government's representatives in the country's administrative subdivisions. In our case, the departments. Since those don't have the Constitutional right to hold real executive power -even though it does evolves this way- the Prefects are here to edict rules, authorize a lot of things in the name of the state, and generally be the head honchos. Tough luck for the movie, but if he says he needs me for the next few hours, there's no way I can decline. Well, actually there could be, but, you know, I don't want to risk it. "Okay, I'll send my boys right away, the festival is almost completely clear at the moment, so that won't be a problem...Well, with all due respect, I've already booked a world premiere in twenty minutes, you see...Ah ah ? No, I'm with my significant other. Jissouseki researcher. Oh you think so ? Well, okay, I'll be right over." "What the hell is it about ?" Asks Steph, pretty angry as I hang up. "He said that the situation at the prefecture would definitely be more interesting for the both of us than any movie in the world." She paused for a second. "Are prefects known for telling bullshit ?" "When the government orders them so, yes. Otherwise..." "Okay, he wins. Let's go." The prefecture is only three minutes away from the cultural center, so by the time I call the exterminators and tell them to go there, I'm already in the place. Busy letting my eyes blink repeatedly. Holy shit. Just... Holy shit. "So, mademoiselle Stéphanie Philippe, have you got any valuable information to shed over this situation ?" "I...am afraid not. I never saw a peaceful, united gathering of this scale before." I step towards the Prefect, and shake his hand. "It doesn't appear they have caused any damage to the building. Did they go inside ?" "No, Mister Genestar. I admit I was concerned at first, but they seem to be content with just protesting." "I'll be frank with you, Sir. I'm not sure whether that's good news or not." I look at the situation. Sitting on the parking in front of the prefecture are sitting what appears at a glance to be several hundreds of Jissouseki. Holding signs. "Food faur everi cyoute Jissou !" "Give the pwetty hauses to us !" "Ten belli rubs per haur !" Shouting slogans. "Mean Mr.Men are shit desu ! They must feed us and that's it desu !" "Look at us, we are cute, techi ! All the abusers are brutes, techi !" "All together all together YEAH ! YEAH ! DESU :" Jissouseki. On. Strike. Beatified organic waste. Jissouseki are demonstrating. Protesting against starvation and bad treatments. This is all manners of unsettling. And if that wasn't enough, only them could fuck up slogans this bad. "I must admit, I'm at a loss here, Mr.Genestar" Says the prefect. "We all know our duty commends us to exterminate these beings. But...this is no ordinary Jissouseki group." "I am gonna speak as a common professional belonging to the administration here. Regardless of what this mess may mean on any level, it is something that, quite simply, could put our entire country to shame. You know, Sir, that most countries simply do not share our culture and deem our people oblivious and frivolous every time they go on strike. As a member of the people who serve the state, I'm convinced this situation can be internationally dangerous. French Jissouseki going on strike, less than three hundred meters away from a festival frequented by people and journalists from all around the world. If we show even the slightest indulgence, we're going to be the laughingstock of the foreign press, and, other countless issues notwithstanding, that is going to be detrimental for the festival itself." "I certainly concur, but you do realize this many individuals will not be easy to quickly dispose of, yes ?." "From a geographical point of view, it will be difficult. From a biological one, easy as pie. When they're packed together like that, numbers are not an issue. We'll just need extra hands to clean up the bodies." "Very well, I'll make a few calls. Just don't jeopardize anything or anyone." Well, I'm certainly glad he won't be there to enjoy the show, because it will certainly look like jeopardizing everything around like my life depends on it. "Boys, surround them, they must stay in this place ! Steph, will you please do the honors ?" "What honors ?" "Look, one of the Jissous is eager to find someone important to talk to." At one of the crowd's edges, stands a rare specimen of jissou. Not a pet, not a mutant, just an old one. Which is impressive in itself. Her hair is turning white, her face is full of wrinkles, her dress is an absolute mess, clumsily tinted red. Probably by the blood of her followers. All matriarchs end up doing this to confirm their position of power. She holds a sign with horrible handwriting but flawless grammar. "Mr.Men, Jissous, all together, we must put an end to the hatred". I'm almost sorry for you, committed one. I'm all kinds of okay with strikes and demonstrations, but we just can't compromise in your favor when your mere existence puts ours in danger. "Please, listen to us, desu." She says to Stephanie. "You know it is under Mr.Men to show such an evil nature. Another world is possible, desu." "I see" Answers the scientist in a falsely kind voice "Do you have any ideas to help you achieve that ?" "Yes, de ! I have seen this strange box everyone looks at, desu. Bring us into it so we can charm many Mr.Men ! But first, you bring me home, I cannot change the world when I am hungry" We look at each other. Jissous will be jissous. "Weeeell I think I can do something about that" Says Steph. "Hop on into my arms !" "Yes, Mrs.Lady, desu !" I wonder what she's thinking about. All I know is, the elderly jissou is in for it. For the moment, though, the jissou crowd bursts into cheers. "The Mrs.Lady has understood, desu !" "No more abuse, techi !" "F...Finally, jissou-chans, this mean world has come to an end, desu..." "We love you, Mrs.Lady, rechi !" "Candy for everyone, techi !" "Punipuni, refu !" The exterminators are finished getting into place. Ten of them, surrounding the crowd, ready to shove them back at the first escape attempt. Stéphanie goes around the gathering, the old jissou in her arms. The decrepit doll keeps a relative amount of calm. She stills talks about dreams of a world when Jissouseki can happily leave in peace. ...But somehow, it's impossible to shake off the feeling that all this shit was only an incredibly convoluted plan for getting a home. Not that it matters. "And then we could give jobs to good jissous, de ! Most Mr.Men don't know this, but a lot of smart jissous run shops, desu !" "Oh, is that right ? You reaaally have to tell me about that this evening, after a good bubbly bath." "...De ? Bath ?" Uttered the Jissouseki, incredulous about having such luck. "De ! Don't forget the good meal !" "Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me ! You're a very intelligent jissou, probably more than me ! No kidding, you think of everything. And you're soooo cute, I must prepare you a meal so good I'll have to eat pasta until the end of the month. You're just so...so totally wonderful, you know ! Tee-hee ! Oh, that's right ! I need your help..." The wrinkled living doll was overloading from all the praise. Her eyes weren't just watery, they were water, and you could almost see the steam above her head. She wasn't able to articulate any sort of response, merely squeaking from unhealthy -and very naive- amounts of pride. Steph whispered something to her ear. The Jissouseki seemed to agree, so she lifted her up in the air. "Fellow jissou-chans of the Ball tribe ! The Mrs.Lady has agreed to our cause, and promises us to help ! She will now demonstrate what all cute Jissous in the world will experience, now that our revolution is successful !" The crowd is watching in awe, glitter in their eyes, as if they were witnessing a mix between Jesus, Theodore Roosevelt and Indiana Jones holding a candy the size of the moon. Her leader raises her stumps into the air, triumphant. "Okay, you cuties !" Merrily says Steph. "I'll show you the best a Jissou can experience in her life..." She brings the jissou elder down. "The afterlife." ...Impaling her right on one of the metal spikes on top of the Prefecture's fence. For one, silent second, the eyes of the elder reflect nothing but absolute disbelief. No. She can't have been betrayed. She is good, smart jissou. She survived all this time. Stop joking and let's go home already. But in the end, only the youngest didn't understand the clear message sent by the slutty-looking woman. ... *POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTT* "Shit hit the fan ! Everybody watch out !" I take a short-burst incendiary grenade -a must-have in case of massive invasion- from my fanny pack. The crowd is trying to run away, but is contained by our efforts. More than anger, it's sadness and despair that had taken over them. Steph has drawn her weapon of choice, a powerful laser, about the size of a torchlight, able to cut through frail matter such as paper, butter and Jissou flesh, and is cutting through the creatures she coaxed into confidence just one minute earlier. The dumb girl disguise has been dropped, and she shows her true colors, cackling like a madman, fires of delight in her eyes, surgically dismembering mamas and children alike. "Oh no techaaa ! Such cruelty in this world, teeeeeeen !" "Decha ! Stop hurting me, Mr.Man, I must lead my babies away from the cruel, mean Mrs.Lady, de...DEE ? What are you doing, give me back my baby daughter, dechaa ! No please Mr.Man, please no-ACK !" "Mama, rechi ! Stop kicking her so she can save me, chieeen..." "Go ! Run, maggot-chan, go call for help, we trust yo...DECHA ! DO NOT STEP ON MAGGOT-CHAN SHIT MR.MAN I WILL KILL Y...Ack ! G-g-g-uuI am so...do not...ll me...DEG-" "MY ARM TECHAAAAAA" "Yes mama I do want some more candy, techi. Life is so happy techi. Mr.Man is kind, techi. Yes...yes, it is delicious, I love you mama. More candy please mama, techi...Yes mama I do want some more..." Slowly, but surely, the asphalt below the jissous is getting smeared in shit. Like a bunch of genocide victims trying to escape the grasp of their captors, they are all pushing in a frenzy of terror, stepping over family members without even noticing it. The makeshift signs have all been abandoned along with the hopes of reasoning with the humans. Some shit is thrown, but more from panic than spite. Most of them don't even see what's happening, drowned amid hundreds of their kind. They just want to be able to try something. Surely their lives are not so meaningless that anything they'd do would be to no avail ? Surely a better world IS possible, right ? I throw the grenade. I'd like that, at least, before dying, their dim thoughts could understand. That humans have their hands just as tied as theirs.
from 211: The next morning I got up. As I puttered around the house, I remembered I was out of sticky traps. I walk outside to check the machine levels. The sound machine was still going strong; the smell of vinegar is strong. I look around ands see a medium jissou with its off spring laying on the ground the smaller jissous are dead, foaming at the mouth. Apparently they aspirated their own spit and mucus and drowned. The mother is still alive weakly trying to get the off spring to get up. I walk back to the garage, and get the jissou hook. It is a 2 meter wooden pole with two hooks at one end. The other end has a small hammer head. You use the hammer to hit the jissou from the far range of their shit stream, and use the hook end like a rake. Also it can be used to pull jissou from under cars, bushes, and other cover. I also get a jissou bag. It’s just a garbage bag that’s a little thicker, and keeps jissou from chewing through it. I use the hammer to knock the mother unconscious. And gather the bodies up into the bag. As I do this, I hear a squeak. Apparently the jissou are not all dead. Refu, Mr. Man. Help sisters. They hurt. Mother wake up. Mr. Man is picking sisters up. Help. I turn around. There is the offending goblin, hiding behind a bush. Using the rake end, I grab the little brat, and drag it to the bag. It struggles to get away, but in the bag it goes. I dump the unconscious mother on top. The mother stirred it self and tried to climb out of the bag. As I shake the bag to knock it down, it pleads for life. Mr. Man, let me go. I am cute jissou. Desu. I do nothing wrong. Let me out. Desu. As the mother tries to get up again, it steps on the living offspring. Momma, no get off me techi, I can’t get up. I seal the bag and toss it in the dumpster. I hear a muffled gurgle as the jissou suffocates in the bag, and some thumps as the jissou tries to escape its fate. I drive to the hardware store, and look for new sticky traps. The clerk points me to a display at the end of the extermination aisles. As I walk by several traps some look new. Others are just repackaged traps with new colors, and lures. I stop at one: Try the new jissou jug. Bury one in your yard, and connect to the sewer pipe. Trap the jissou underground, and when the jug is full, just lower our Jissou Whizzo-matic in and flush the jissou down the drain. Rinse and re-bait, and your ready to go again. I call the clerk over and ask how it works. Oh it’s simple. A jug about the size of a 5 gallon water jug is buried in your yard and connected to the sewer system. The mouth of the jar is 8 inches across the top. 6 inches below that is a trap door, which will hold several maggots or about 3-4 ko-jissou, or one mother. When there is enough weight, the trap door opens, and dumps the jissou into the jug. Then the jissou land on a grate that keeps the jissou, even the maggots from falling through. When the trap is full, or about 3 times a week, you open the trap door, and lower a wizzo-matic, really just an oversized kitchen whizzer in. The blades are nylon, and hang down until the power switch is turned on. The blades then chop the jissou into a purée or slurry. Then just use a water hose to flush the jissou through the grate, and into the sewer system. Afterwards just re-spray with cooking oil, or the bait spray that smells like the candy jissou are always looking for, and wait till its full again. Interesting I said. How is this better than the jissou disposal I already have? The clerk answered, “Some people want the jissou disposal discontinued. Seems reports of small pets, dogs and cats, and even some children have been hurt. Already the disposal company won’t install them in front yards any more.” How long before one can be installed? Buy one today, and we can have it in before the weekend. Let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you. No problem. It is a little pricey, but we’ve heard no complaints. Oh by the way we do have a new candy for jissou in stock. Why would I want jissou candy? I asked. Oh this stuff is new. It’s based on old style wolf baits. Inside each candy is a curled up sick made of a very pliable wood. Once the jissou swallows it, the candy dissolves releasing an anti-clotting factor for jissou blood. Then the spike uncurls, and tears the jissou stomach. The digestive juices of the jissou then spreads through the body, and the jissou dies within a few hours. Okay I said. I’ll take 2 boxes of sticky traps and bags. And 3 bags of the candy. I left the store thinking about next month’s bills, and having the jissou jug installed as soon as I could afford it. As I drove home, the radio played a commercial about the new jissou frame for my car. Maybe next month when I can get the bills down a bit. I just hoped I didn’t have to have my jissou disposal pulled out.
from 219 Arriving home, I saw there was a message on the machine: Hey Steve, we got the permit approved. Get your kit together. The team is going to meet at the ranger station. Call me and I’ll get you the details. The caller was Jackson. He was the self appointed leader of our hunting group. He had been angling for a jissou hunting permit. It seems he got one. I punched up his number. Okay Jackson, what’s up? Here’s the deal. We got a hunting permit for a wilderness area. We got a 3 day pass. All we have to do is get a group together about 5 to 10 people, and we get a 3 day kill permit, no limits. You in? I thought about it. Who is going to join us? You, me, and Jackie. Also 2 ex-military types I know. Deal. We gonna do a base camp, or running camp? We’ll see. We gotta know who’s got what equipment to bring, and the requirements the Wilderness Management Office has. We have to attend a jissou hunting course before the permit is actually issued. All right then. When and Where? Jackson gave me the time and directions. I spent the rest of the time getting the kit together, and camping gear. This was going to be fun. The class was being held at a local junior college. I met Jackson at the front door, and he introduced me the rest of the gang. The first was Jackie. A beautiful young lady. She had been studying dance and was on her way to joining the local ballet company until her accident. A car had hit a family of jissou, and the resulting gore sent the car out of control. It only clipped her, but damaged her knee and ankle. She would never be able to perform ballet again. She was the only person I knew who had pure hate and venom for jissou. The next person was Billy Simmons. Ex-army. He had been in the desert war, but had been medically retired due to back injuries. Phillip was the last. He too was ex-military. Supply sergeant. Retired. He informed that he could still get certain items that would help us out. I laughed and said great 3 old farts, and 2 cripples. The Jissou must be shaking. Jackie smiled. I bet I can make you forget my handicap, and still beat you. I nodded. That’s why I am standing out of arms reach Jackie. She smiled back. Too bad you will never know what my hidden talents are. Phillip then said, Don’t worry about me. I wasn’t always a supply puke. I did 15 years combat arms, before transferring to supply. So I might be old, but I got skills. We had a little chit chat, discussed what equipment we had, or could get. Then Jackson noticed the time and we entered to lecture hall. There were about 75 people in there to hear the lecture. A man walked out to the stage center and spoke: Good afternoon everyone. My name is Richard Walker, the head ranger for the wilderness area. And yes people call me Ranger Rick. If anyone has any questions please hold them till after the lecture, and then we’ll have a general Q&A session. Ranger Rick clicked a switch and a slide appeared on the screen in the background it showed a Jissou Mother, a few ko-Jissous, and maggots. When discussing Jissou most people are used to seeing what are referred to as feral jissou seen in and around parks, food stands, and home invasions. These are usally controlled through poisons, traps, and stick style weapons, baseball bats, rakes, sticks and such. Most of the time there is no social development, or skills building. However they do place a great deal of emphasis on social appearances. Clothing, hair, possessions such as toys, plastic bags for storage of these items, small things and shiny things. Click click, next slide: From time to time a jissou appears that has a penis, and is referred to as the penis chan. These creatures develop into a larger form and can grow to 3 feet tall if left unchecked. Because their development leads to an uncontrolled demand and seeking of food and sex, they have even less intellectual development than normal jissou. In fact they do not have the social status seeking behavior, gathering skills or desire to even maintain clothing, shelter or toys as most jissou have. All they do is eat rape and attack anything that wanders into “Their Area”. Click Click, Next Slide: This slide is the larval stage or maggot Jissou. These are born when the mother has one eye colored to match the other, becomes impregnated by flower pollen, mammalian sperm, or when the mother starts to die as a survival technique. At this stage the creature has a very limited vocabulary and seeks attention, food, and physical contact and comfort. Click click: Next slide: This is a shot of a family unit in one of the local parks. The slide showed a mother jissou, several ko-jissous, and about a dozen maggots playing and in general being jissous. Ladies and gentlemen, believe me these park or feral jissou are a problem. As a genetic mutation or construct they were released by what we believe to be a pro-animal rights group, This in turn caused the world wide infestation. Part of the genetic make up was to make these creatures loving and adorable pets that could be anthropomorphized for the entertainment of humans and even be companions for the lonely. Because of this those jissou that live in the city areas come to see humans as saviors. So there is no survival skill development, no social development or possible evolution of the genetic construct. Most off spring occurs because of jewel or stone budding. Once a pregnancy is triggered a small crystal inside the creature splinters off and develops fetal bodies that grow into one of the above 3 stages. Soon these bodies are delivered and begin life. As I stated, the lack of development in city feral jissous is stunted due to environmental factors, and lack of genetic mutations. However the wild jissou has no restrictions. Click click next slide: This slide showed a dead penis jissou laid out on a autopsy table. A scale next to it measured the jissou at 4 feet tall. Its member was measured at 18 inches long and big around as a mans forearm. Ranger Rick continued. In the wild removed from human contact, the jissous will grow in proportion to the local food supply. While in captivity or close to human habitation most jissou will not grow taller than 3 feet, but will get morbidly obese with continued feeding. In addition these jissou will develop collectives in response to what is in the area. We have seen hunting and gathering collectives, fishing collectives near rivers strams, and some farming collectives. They will also protect these collectives with hand made weapons, and their own feces. Most weapons are sharpened sticks, rocks, and some fire based weapons torches and the like. Most city feral jissou will live in abandoned boxes, and natural cover under bushes and the like. The wild jissou will actively alter their own surroundings. Dig tunnels, build stone cairns, and bark houses. They will defend their homes and attack people. They have developed a rudimentary social structure with a leadership position and followers. They will even have assigned tasks and jobs. They will set up look positions, escape routes and defensive lines. Whether this is for protection against attack from people, or other jissou collectives, we don’t know. We do know that when a single human is attacked by these jissou collectives, the human can be injuried severely and even killed. Click click, next slide: This slide showed a small collective at work. As you can see here the collective appears to be operating like a medieval village. Some jissou are gather berries and small plants to eat. Others are clearing areas for possible cultivation. When this picture was taken, the ranger following the jissou observed the jissou catching frogs, bugs, and minnows in a near by stream. He followed them to this point. When an alert was sounded the village jissous ran to safety, and using willow branches drove a penis jissou toward the ranger. The ranger shot and killed the lead penis jissou, and that is what you saw in the earlier slide. It appears that the collectives use the penis jissou as guard dogs, and as threats to maintain order. The ranger reported that he had seen the village elder order a recalcitrant jissou thrown into a cage with a penis jissou to be raped to death. The lecture continued on for about 2 hours before we took a break. I went up to ranger Rick to ask some specific questions. So Mr. Ranger Sir, the wild jissou are really more dangerous? Yeah, more so than you’d think. Most injuries on these hunts is because someone forgot that these jissou are really wild animals, with little fear of humans. Don’t worry they still fear a armed human, but that fear doesn’t cause them to run, or freeze. They will attack. We talked for a few more minutes then the class began again. The lecture continued showing what signs to look for, how to spot the look outs, and best ways to sneak up on the collectives. We then broke up into our hunting groups for inventory check and recommendations. Ranger Rick came to our group. What weapons will your group be using he asked. I spoke up. I use a 7 mm pellet gun with CO2 charges. The effective range is out to about 45-50 yards. Jackie spoke next. I have a licensed Jissou 180. The ranger lifted an eyebrow. Jackie explained. It’s a drum fed .22 capable of full auto, but modified to use Calibri rounds. No powder just the primer charge, and only a 3 round burst. The ranger nodded. Expensive? Jackie answered yeah, but worth it. Phillip spoke next. I have a paintball gun, the Max-paint 5. Looks like an MP-5 with a separate bag mag. Billy said that he used a standard spyder paint ball gun. Jackson stated that he had a more powerful 10 mm pellet gun. Ranger Rick spoke, those are generally good choices. He handed us a list. For everything except the 180, use these ammos. We don’t recommend one manufacturer over another, but these paintballs and pellets carry poison. The most popular seems to be the foamers. These pellets carry an Alka-Seltzer with an attitude. If you hit a jissou in the stomach cavity, it will foam up, and block the jissou breathing tubes and if the shot doesn’t kill them, then they drown in their own foam. Then when the scavenger animals show up, the won’t be hurt by the poison. With the 180, just be careful and mindful where you point that thing, and be sure to carry a copy of the license with you. Phillip spoke up. I can get smoke, tear gas, and stun grenades no problem. The ranger answered They’re not a problem, just as long as they are not offensive weaponry. Last year some idiot brought dynamite. About killed his own team. Just be careful about fire hazards. Anything else? We shook our heads. Good, let me sign off on your permit. You can report to the ranger station on the 18th. We will issue a GPS marker, and flags. When you finish one collective, before looking for the next, mark it on the GPS locator, and raise a flag over it. When we do a sweep up after you, we can find it, and see if any jissou are returning. Also this gives us an idea on where the jissou are living and possible movements. Good luck every one. That next week was spent getting supplies and equipment. We decided on a running camp, no fires, cold food, and water purifiers to utilize local supplies. Phillip was made leader due to his military background, with Billy as second in command. I was rubbed the wrong way, but decided that the experience should lead. On the 18th, we were checking in at the ranger station. The ranger showed us a map that showed the locations of previous hunts and were some collectives were attacked. He explained sometimes survivors would migrate back to their old collectives and restart their lives. Usually after scavengers had cleared the corpses. Phillip studies the made, while we made markings on ours. Phillip spoke. We should start here move north of the river and parallel the river. If we see any collectives, we can then pin them against the river and limit their retreat. Jissou float well, but can’t manage to swim. The ranger added, True if they panic in the water they drown their selves, and the bodies will float. Just get them to panic and that’s that. We agreed and set out. We set a leisurely pace stopping ever so often to rest and scan the area. Jackie spoke. There in the tree. A look out. Billy pulled out a laser equipped pair of binoculars. Range 74 yards. Jackie said I can get it from here. We watched as she attached her scope and zeroed in. Time to die. A single shot rang out, the jissou fell from the tree. We watched and listened. No signs of alert we dumped our packs and closed them up in larger plastic bags. We crept through the brush, and found the jissou trail. It looked like a small animal trail, with the occasional pile of jissou shit on either side. We came up over a small rise. The rise was over looking a small stream. On the far bank was a Jissou collective. About 80 to 100 individuals. We could see a cage with the penis jissous at the back. In front were bark homes, a dock, with pieces of wood shaped to be boats. In the hill we could see tunnels dug into it. We backed down from the rise to get ready. We put on our headsets, loaded the weapons and under Phillip’s direction spread out. Phillip came over the head set. Move up the rise and get your firing position ready. Jackie go for the penis chans first. Everyone else, get your fire vectors ready. Don’t shoot until every one is ready, and I give the word. We nodded, and moved out. Red one, Phillip was ready and in position. Red two Jackson was ready and in position. Red three, I was ready and in position. Red four, Billy was ready and in position. Check five. Jackie was trying to get a better position. We waited. Red Five, Jackie was finally ready and in position. GREEN! GREEN! GREEN! I open fire on the dock workers. One jissou heard the CO2 hiss and looked up just to see her companion fall into the rive with a head shot. She started to sound the alarm, but the alarm died in her throat with a pellet. I heard the snap snap snap as Jackie fired on the penis chans killing them in their cage. Jackson’s pellets were taking out the jissou near the tunnels, I could hear the jissou scream as their companions fell over dead, or scream in pain as a pellet tore through a limb. One jissou was jumping up and down screaming for help. I shot her leg and she fell over and tried to drag her self along the ground. The leg was foaming blood. A final shot through her head stopped her escape attempt. Pillip was shooting from left to right trying to herd the jissou into a tighter group easier to shot a group than chase individuals. Some jissou made it to the tunnels. Others died in the mouth of the tunnels, and had to be dragged out of the way. One group of jissou tried to enter the same tunnel mouth at the same time. Billy and his painball gun made short work of them. Soon a pile of dead jissou, and foaming blood marked their last attempt to escape. I looked down to see 5 jissou try to get a piece of wood into the water and escape down river. A few well placed shots knocked the boat over spilling the jissou into the water. I watched as they struggled to get back on the wood. I just shot the wood, and moved it further from them. As the ranger said, they panicked and drowned. It was over in just a few minutes. We watched the village for a minute to see if any escaped or were still moving. When we saw no action or signs of life, we waded across the stream. We moved closer and approached the tunnels. At one tunnel a jissou appeared and through a pile of feces at us. I answered with a pellet shot. The jissou tried to back into the tunnel, but the foam sprayed out of her mouth and nose. We could hear her trying to breathe. She fell down, and rolled down the embankment to our feet. She waved her arms weakly and then lay still. Phillip barked out. Which tunnel she come out of? I pointed to a tunnel that was about 4 feet above us. Phillip handed Billy a canister about the size of a soda can, that had wire wrapped around it. Jackson, Steve(me), get some of that bark to cover the tunnel, Jackie find the longest stick you can. We complied. We went to one of the houses, that was strangely unhit. I kicked it and heard techi? I pulled the roof off and saw 4 jissou hiding. I was about to kill them, I heard Jackie yell, don’t I got plans. I shrugged and took the roof the Phillip. Okay, now what. Phillip smiled, Old trick, watch. Billy unwrap that wire, Jackie bring that branch. Using the branch, Phillip pushed the can as far down the tunnel as he could. About 6 feet. Attaching the wires to a small control switch. He gave orders again. Jackie grab those jissou in the house we can question them. Jackson, you and Steve cover that tunnel with the bark, and put dirt over it. We complied and waited. Phillip then told us to climb the rise and watch for purple smoke. We shrugged fine. We did so. We heard Phillip holler fire in the hole. Phillip then threw a switch on the control panel. We waited a few minutes and about 25 yards away we saw a plume of purple smoke appear. Phillip came up beside us. He yelled at Jackie watch those Jissou, Come on guys. We hurried over to where we saw the purple smoke. Coming out of the tunnel we saw 15 jissou. An escape tunnel. I was just shocked, I just stood there, until Phillip punched my shoulder, FIRE! FIRE! We opened up and killed them quickly. We poked the bodies to make sure they were dead. Then we walked back to Jackie. Using zip ties, the jissou were bound hand to hand with each other. Or should I say stump to stump. Jackie waved a bag of candy in front of the jissou. They had all shit themselves. Jackie spoke. Why are you bad jissou, and why did that other collective tell us where you lived? The largest jissou looked at Jackie. We good jissou, we good jissou, desu. It looked around and saw the carnage, orororororonooooo…. Jackie slapped the jissou with the bag. That other collective told us you are bad ugly jissou. Stealing their food, making them go hungry. Suddenly the jissou realized something. Other village. They bad jissou they cheat us. Give us few berries, and take all our fish. I started to ask what the hell was Jackie talking about. Phillip nudged me and motioned me to keep quiet. Jackie spoke to the jissou again. Well yes, the other village had lots and lots of big big berries. But why would they cheat you. They are good jissou, not bad like you. The jissou broke down and started crying again. Its panties got bigger and overflowed with feces. We good jissou. I can show you were bad jissou live. Jackpot. A jissou traitor, and guide to other collectives. Now I understood.
What do you think about how airguns would damage the jissou? I mean they're usually regarded very fragile, so I think using even .22 would be overkill. I am writing a story about meeting jissous here in Northern Europe(it is about -15 celcius now outside) so how would jissou cope that? There are the obvious things like getting in Mr. Mens' houses and garages of course, but some animals actually dig into snow because it is warmer there. Would that be something that jissou would be capable of figuring out?
>>220 Please, please start going over and adding proper punctuation. The story seems good, but I cannot tell half the time what is speech and what isn't.
>>222 Well I already wrote a little about Jissous and winter in >>148 , and El Cid did too in >>91 , but don't let that stop you, a story focusing on the cold aspect would be very interesting. To sum up, I think only groups would be able to survive, by killing each other for warmth, and El Cid wrote that the jissouseki could be frozen and still be alive when thawed.
Anyone considering doing jissou Christmas stories?
>>225 Not really, I'm not that big in the whole Christmas thing (or any celebration-related stories really), and besides my current story is set in June. Now for a plot-driven chapter. ------------------------------------- Chapter 4 – Operation Breakthrough Several hours after the onslaught in front of the prefecture, I enter, with a single step, into the first through last circles of Jissou hell, also known as Stephanie's flat. Are you a practitioner of domestic Jissouseki abuse ? What's your apartment like ? Maybe you have one room or basement, tightly locked, where you store your victims in a vivarium, complete or not with a torture device depending on your wealth or motivation. At most, you probably have a room where Jissous can leave in peace in order to cultivate that awesome look in their eyes when they realize they have been betrayed. But this is a merciful world, and not a single one of you is like the raving lunatic I should probably stop frequenting. Her apartment is a complete mess, student style. But instead of empty beer bottles, the floor and furniture are littered with creative terrariums. Contrary to absolutely no expectations, a putrid stench floats in the air, and because of the screams, you have to raise your voice just to communicate with someone near you. Just an example : A mother is hooked to a life-sustaining system. Food is delivered via an IV drip plugged right into her stomach. All her limbs are soundly restrained. She's sitting on a mesh, which makes all her shit leak into a box which must, I presume, serve as free food for Steph's other "pets". A second IV drip constantly applies red dye in her left eye, which causes a steady supply of maggots to be born. The maggots, being unrestrained, are attracted by the everlasting movements of a large clock, in another part of the big terrarium. They can crawl through a small opening. The little procession is really cute. Their small, underdeveloped faces are beaming with hope, programmed as they are to believe anything that moves will rub their bellies. Their mother, of course, after seeing so much of their babies die, knows what is waiting for them near the clock. For god knows how much time, she pleas each and every maggot to come back. Irony is, they would probably obey her, if they weren't too young to understand language. Sure, they're dumb, but tell to a regular maggot you will give them a belly rub, and they will alter their course, no questions asked. But in their newborn brains, minutes away from the unfathomable spontaneous language learning, only movement means anything. And the mother can't move an inch. You've got to appreciate torture based on such irony. Now, here's your chance to prove you're as fiendishly cruel as Stephanie., What exactly is waiting for the cute little baby jissous ? A – A bunch of horny male jissous on steroids ? B – Smalls amounts of miracle cure mixed with small amounts of poison vaporized into the air in order to make them live longer while feeling their insides melt ? C – Ultrasounds just low enough to hurt maggots without hurting the mother ? If you answered any of those, well...according to Steph, you suck at abusing. The answer is all three. And so, little maggots are, at the same time, pounded in the ass, destroyed from the inside, and bleeding from the ears, unable to escape their pain because of their bodies regenerating faster than the punishment they take. The floor is littered with little maggots torn open by giant dicks, their guts lying on the floor, bubbling from the poison. They try to curl up in order to protect their ears from the horrible sound, but most of their muscles are destroyed. And, for all this pain, all they can muster to let out are the retarded coos of the newborn, their nerves unable to transmit to them the full extent of the pain they're submitted to. But it doesn't matter. After all, it is the unblinking mother, here, who is truly abused. _Home sweet home ! Says, cheerfully, the ringmaster of this fucked-up circus. _I don't know about "sweet", but if you...No, actually I don't know about "home" either. Come on Steph, I know you love abusing, but don't you desire, I don't know, some privacy sometimes ? Shit, how do you even sleep at night ? I mean, fucking listen ! This place sounds like the entire Silent Hill OST all blended into one track ! _Oh, don't worry Thierry, my room contains only pet jissous, and the whole apartment is soundproof. _Not odorproof, unfortunately... _Well, if I opened my window, birds could be attracted. We don't want the dolls to die too mercifully, and... _I'm not sure I want to hear the rest of this sentence. I'll go make dinner. _You're no fun. Thank god the kitchen is clean. Well, "clean". There are still jissouseki in cages, but you take what you can get. Namely, jissouseki. I quickly realize all the real food she has is comprised only of things to cook jissous with. To cook living, talking beings. I have no problem with eating jissous, they taste pretty good actually, but cooking things we just heard talking minutes ago is something that will always make me cringe. Still, no use trying to go to a convenience store now, I didn't bring money and asking Steph would be rude. I look at the hamster cage. There are a lot of maggots squirming around, gently gumming at big jelly balls. Bleh, it looks like a blob. Some of these widely-advertised things meant to give a flavor to their flesh, no doubt. Only jissous and the English can eat this kind of stuff. In the foreground, a single, very young mother is holding a maggot-chan in her arms. "Good day, Mr.Man, techu ! Is maggot-chan cute, techi ?" "Huh...Let's say cuter than your friends in the living room, at least." "Techu~n ! Me and maggot-chan are free, you can take us home if you want, techi !" "You do know you're already in a home, right ?" "Yes but I am sure yours is better, te !" Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that ! You live in Torture Central ! At least try to say you saw all your sisters being cooked and eaten before your eyes ! Prove you're not just a broken robot repeating the same preset lines over and over ! EXIST, FOR GOD'S SAKE ! "I'll decide later, okay ? Right now I have to prepare dinner." In before "For us, techi ?" Bracing for facepalm... "Yay, techi ! I cannot wait, te !" "Refu ? Food ! Refu !" B for trying. "You can have some if you don't say anything about what I will cook." "Te ?" "Do you promise you won't say anything ?" "For food ? I promise, te !" Well, let's hope that will work. For now let's...URK ! In the next room, I can hear the characteristic shriek of a male jissou who had its most treasured possession chopped off. It's not a simple cry of pain or wail of despair. How should I put this...The cry of a regular jissou is like a human's. We, too, shriek like pigs when shit gets real. Well, there's not much more to their shrieking, except of course that the jissous can't help but say "degya" or "ororoooon" when they scream. The sound is essentially the same. A male jissou who is unable to get its shaft to work, for whatever reason, is in another ballpark entirely. It's more like a hiccups, or a prayer. It wavers, alternates between high and low, between a shriek and a lamentation. It's anything but natural. You've got to understand, even if you don't want to, that a male jissou's thinks with its penis. Yes, more so that a man. There is no known limit to this creature's sex drive. Their boner is permanent, because there is no place inside their bodies where the blood could flow back. Their whole life is just a big race towards the next jizz. So, compared to them, female jissous are MIT students. A good chunk can't even speak, and even those who do know less than thirty words. You put one into a jar, and overnight, it will have fapped so much he has fucking drowned in his own cum. Yeah, it's that bad. So imagine what it is for them to find they can't fap anymore. It's beyond our comprehension. It's not a scream they emit when it happens to them. In one sound, they manage to cram together acute pain, bitter disbelief, hopeless denial, atrocious despair and a last-resort prayer to get their boner back. It is the song of the void. The music of Erich Zann. The unearthly herald of unfathomable pain. No wonder, then, why my very thought process was interrupted. And obviously, the kojissou I was talking to doesn't fare any better. _Hey ! Playfully says Stephanie from the other room. You need a dick in your recipe ? _Only if you eat it yourself ! Bitch. The kojissou has somewhat kept up the appearances, but the maggot in her arms is freaking out. It's panting heavily, and the perpetual trickle of shit has doubled. An interesting note, though : Its siblings, crawling around the jelly blobs, seem to not have noticed at all. Good. Stressed jissous taste sourer. I prepare a bowl of warm water, take a pair of sterile gloves, and put my hand in the hamster cage. "Over here, babies ! Crawl into my hand and I'll rub your punipunis, or whatever you call them." "Punipuni ? Refu !" They don't understand until I wiggle my left hand's finger over my open right hand, but soon enough, I have a whole bunch of maggots piling up into my palm. Some fall when I lift them out of the cage, but they safely fall on the litter. I count my catch. Nine babies. I put them, gently and one by one, on the table. I expected them to claim their belly rub, but instead, they seem amazed by their new environment, very different to the crowded cage. What was this smooth, hard surface ? Why is the sky bigger now ? Like real babies, they set out to explore, leaving thin trails of green goo behind them, collectively drawing on the white table. It's sad to think that if I let them go, they'll inevitably fall to their deaths. I take one, a butter knife in my other hand. I put the round tip under the infant's hood, removing it without putting the skull at risk. Then, swiftly, I remove the entire sock. Now that the little grub lies naked in my palm, still smiling and looking at me with its big eyes, I freeze for a moment. I should put it into the water quickly before the panic sets in. It's weird, how the Jissouseki are so attached to their clothes. I mean, not the attachment itself, no human likes to be stripped of its clothes either. No, it's the way they manifest it. I never saw a Jissouseki show prudish behavior. They don't seem to mind being naked, it's just the actual loss of the fabric. What's more, there's no big difference between the removal of a standard dress and the removal of an expensive one. Sure, they really love beautiful dresses, but when it comes to its loss, it's no worse than losing tattered rags. Among all the means of abusing a jissou, this one has always fascinated me. It's innocent, it's reversible, there's no real harm done, and yet, the anguish they show is just as real, if more subtle. "Re...refu ?" After a full four seconds, the spark of life finally lights up in the little baby's brain. What does it feel ? Cold ? Shame ? Inadequacy ? Hard to say, but it's disagreeable. "Where are clothes, refu ?" I remain silent. The simple life form squirms around, panting, just as if it was afraid. But afraid of what ? Your sock isn't a magical armor against serial killers, you know ? "Refu...Give clothes back ! No like naked, rehi !" It's crying now, snorting a bit and uttering a weak "repyeeen" from time to time. It reminds me of a young child seeing its parents go away at the first day of school. Yeah, that makes sense. The maggot is afraid, but doesn't try to escape from my hand. It IS like the child alone at school. It isn't any less safe without its parents, but he's panicked nonetheless. Okay, so it's a matter of fear of the unknown. That's a satisfying enough explanation. Too bad it doesn't explain why the adults show the same reaction. Still, I feel a little bad for the grub. Maggot clothes are a bitch to put back in place. Surely you encountered one day, in the street, an empty maggot sock, caught by a twig, a nail, or any other kind of sharp object. A naked maggots is weeping, trying to no avail to push its way back into the sock. In the best case scenario, the mother is a thoughtful one, and tries to help her baby, which is just as impossible given her stumps. To be honest, it's funny as hell, especially when it leads to the mother finding a rough substitute, like a real sock in which she will carry the maggot like a Christmas present. Still, the point is, when a maggot is naked, it's going to remain that way, in the best case scenario, until it morphs into a child. "Naked bad, repyeen...Want clothes back, repyeen..." I finally stop the baby's limbo and put it into the plate full of warm water. Its head floats, and the body sinks, as a testament to the balance of power in its body. After a short time of panic, the maggot blushes, engulfed by the warmth. Its bowels quickly loosen, and a string of slime floats to the surface. "Feels good, refuu..." Now for the others. They didn't go very far, which is fortunate because it's never fun to wash splashed maggots off the floor. This time around, I put them in the water immediately after removing their clothes. I thus find myself with a plate full of green soup and little pink buoys, and nine intact green socks. I change the warm water four times until shit stops coming out. They don't show any sign of getting bored. As a matter of fact, they're still in nirvana. They should ask for baths instead of belly rubs. Bah, let them enjoy it. I prepare a mix of flour, butter and spice. "Are you going to eat the maggot-chans, Mr.Man, techi ?" Asks the young mother who remained in the cage. "What did I told you ?" I say in a stern voice. "You only get to have some if you don't say anything !" "But you are mistaken, you took baby jissous. Baby jissous and food are different, techi." Hm ? More though-out that I expected. "Are those your babies ?" "No, Mr.Man, mistress brought them here, techi. I was alone before, so I adopted one of them, I named her Jissou-chan, techi." "So why are you concerned for them ?" "Because they are maggot-chans, techi ! Maggot-chans are cute and innocent and should not be eaten, techi." "Well, you're right, but I'm a human, it's human babies I don't eat. Maggot-chans are tender and tasty, and when cooked and properly seasoned, are like a great steak for free. It's totally cool that you don't want to see the babies of your species eaten, and I won't force it unto you, but if there's one thing I hate, it's someone bitching about what I cook." Despite my attempts at diplomacy, tears blossom under the little jissouseki's eyes. "Do you understand what I'm saying ?" I say, holding a cooking knife menacingly. "Yes, techi..." She puts the maggot on the floor. The larva promptly proceeds to go eat the jelly. She puts her paws on her eyes, bowing her head forward. "Teeeeeen..." A few moments later, Stephanie enters the kitchen. "Why is the turd crying ?" "She tried to talk me out of cooking the maggots. I just...convinced her to shut up." "For all your talk about being indifferent to Jissouseki, you sure are impervious to any form of burgeoning intelligence or morals in them." "Yeah, well, when you've seen a jissou, you've seen them all." "Says you. You think I'd still be at it if they all reacted to abuse in the same way ?" "Yeah. Yeah, I think you'd still be at it." "Man of little faith." She goes to the cage. Here we go again...Anyway, my seasoning is ready. I take one maggot. "So, little baby, the bath was good ? How about I give you new clothes ?" "Very good, refu ! Want clothes, refu !" I drop it gently into the flour and butter mix. Its body being still wet, the seasoning immediately sticks to its skin. I was hoping it would find it enjoyable. Well, it did ! The little maggot begins rolling around, covering itself with flour. It smiles, coos, and has fun while replacing its sock with this sticky, warm stuff. Sadly, it didn't take a lot of time before the maggot found out the new “clothes” were tasty. Sorry, no food or you're going to produce a pound of shit again. I take it in my hand, and sever its head in a swift, painless move. I then put the body's gaping wound into the flour to seal it. The end result kind of looks like a bean, or some kind of chinese delicacy. Which it probably is, I can't be the first guy to think of making Jissous Meunières. "So, how is work treating you ?" I finish my fried maggot before answering. It was improvised, but ended up pretty well. The seasoning preserved the fragile flesh from the sustained cooking, ensuring a satisfying texture. The parsley compliments quite well the jissou's natural flavor, although it does tastes a bit odd with the mango seasoning. The sympathetic child is on the table, attached to a weight. She weeps softly, unable to get her eyes away from her unfortunate cousins, now lifeless, decapitated corpses. She'd protest if she didn't know I would kill her on the spot. "I wish I could say everything's going well, but that would be lying. Shit is flying towards the fan pretty fast." "Really ? I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary in the streets..." "Oh, I'm not specifically talking about Annecy. No, it's a ginormous shit and a planet-sized fan." "Mister Genestar, please, I'm studying the damn things and..." "And you were surprised when you saw the demonstration this morning, I believe." "...Yeah." "Something's going on. I don't know what, but something is changing. Something that give them strength." "Well, it's definitely not evolution." She says while handing one of the cooked maggots to the grieving kojissou. "Even with their insanely short generation time span, it doesn't work this quickly, and there's no noticeable physiological difference anyway." "And psychological ?" "Well, there are cases of greater intelligence, stronger moral sense, but they've always been here. Although...What's the deal with the boom in the high-class jissou market ?" "Yeah, that...Well I don't know, some american lab reportedly found, several years ago, a way to educate them quicker and with greater chances of success. But it has next to no effect on the feral population. There were studies on this." "But, how exactly is "shit hitting the fan" ?" "Entire towns destroyed." I let that sink in for a moment. Steph is staring at me, dumbfounded. The small jissou ignores us, hugging the dead maggot-chan. I hear her tiny stomach growl, but she still doesn't resort to cannibalism. "You know Ambérieu ? Small town to the west, where all trains for Lyon inexplicably stop ?" "Yeah, of course.” "Overrun. Evacuated. Wiped out with toxic gas. It's a ghost town now. First city with a population greater than ten thousands to fall victim to the retards. In France alone." "Hooolyyy shiiiit...You're shitting me right ? Surely I would have heard about th..." "Nope. The State has put the case under absolute secrecy. I shouldn't be telling you this. In fact, I shouldn't know about that at all." "How in the name of fuck did this even happen ?!" "I don't know the details, but I'm fairly sure the explanation is utterly terrifying." Silence ensues. To be honest, I don't want to believe this bullshit, but a quick glance at the train schedule confirmed it : all trains for Lyon now take a long detour. The justification being that there's an unknown epidemic in Ambérieu. Yeah, that's how fucked we are : We'd rather tell people there's a real-life reenactment of Outbreak's plot than the truth. "It is good, techi. You will all pay for what you are doing to us, techi." Steph and I turn our heads towards the callous child. She seemingly gave in to the hunger and is slowly eating the maggot, all traces of remorse gone. "Excuse me, what ?" Says the scientist with a stern voice "You are cruel. This is only justice, techi. Together, we will win in the end, te !" "You've got to be shitting me." Says Steph, grasping the insolent in her hand. "Quit playing tough, you're the most goody-two-shoes jissou I ever saw this week. And now you're acting like a supervillain ?" "A superhero, te !" "You are so going to regret this." She goes fetching some torture instruments. The kojissou, still unable to run away, should be shitting herself by now. And still, she seems eerily calm. "Steph, wait !" "What do you mean, wait ? This little shit gets it, and you won't stop me !" "Do what you want, but that won't do squat." "What ?" I look around. "You're here, aren't you ?" "Who are you talk..." "Hush. I know you're controlling this Jissouseki. Show yourself !" The little doll emits a quiet laughter. "Perspicacity : As foreseen. Knowledge about jissouseki crisis : Also confirmed" A "what the fuck" can be read on Stephanie's lips. No wonder : The voice is still shrill, but is otherwise nothing like a jissou's. Calm, purposeful, and, well...You know. "What kind of supernatural, evil force are you ?" I say. "Cthulhu ? Shub-Niggurath ? J.K Rowling ?" "Identity : Secret and irrelevant." "Yeah, yeah. So, what business do you have with me, exactly ? You came at my house, and we met in the Gardens of Europe as well." "First mission's agent : Chloé, not me. Purpose of actions : Awareness needed." "Thierry, you know this thing ? Why didn't you tell me, that's..." "Since sunday. And I'll tell you everything later, okay ? What do you mean, awareness ?" "Amberieu crisis : All too real. Government's decision to keep it secret : Regrettable. Reason : War has begun." The strange phrasing kind of ruined the dramatic impact, but I knew what the thing was saying. Sooner or later, the professional exterminators just won't cut it. If we want to make a difference, everyone must pitch into the extermination. The way things are going now, every jissou lover or indifferent is a liability. You see, every time a guy picks up a feral is a risk of creating yet another a jissou-infested building. It takes on average six days for a child jissou – the most frequent to be adopted – to become an insufferable asshole. If it's still spoiled, it can spawn a family of twelve, a number which can easily double within three days. If the exterminators still aren't called, everything goes to shit real fast. The jissous boss around, making the owners more and more busy with them. Eventually this will lead to either the children beginning to reproduce themselves, or ferals getting into the house. Soon, there are too many jissous for the owners, the house is ruined. In worst cases, often old ladies or busy families where the jissous are left by themselves, this process can take as little as thirteen days. On average, it's twenty-two. And I'm only talking about a single child being adopted. You don't want to hear about what an entire family can do. It takes five straight hours to a fully-trained team of five to purge a house, much more for a building. Just poisoning them all won't cut it, letting the corpses there attract other jissous as soon as the exterminators leave. Once a certain threshold is reached, it takes increasingly more people to successfully cleanse a place, and increasingly less time for a jissou colony to spread to another building. It's a chain reaction that can get out of hand in a matter of days. Kind of the chaos theory, only with less metaphysical bullshit and more terrifyingly real consequences. What's worse, it's really fucking hard to foresee where exactly the threshold is reached. As I mentioned, invasions takes weeks. But once there are enough grown individuals in a town, the numbers can skyrocket at a flabbergasting rate. I'm talking tripling in 24 hours here. And it all depends on the people who take pity for feral jissous and take them home. Abusers keep the numbers constant, and pet jissous aren't anywhere near as dangerous. Only a planet where every single human is an abuser would efficiently keep the jissouseki strictly outdoors. Outdoor jissous can be annoying, but will never be able to overrun a town. They are subject to way too many dangers. But give them protection from animals, the weather, and cars, and... "Yeah, I know what you're saying. What's your plan ?" "Shock and Awe : Needed. International Festival : A chance." "Yeah, yeah, I already figured as much. I mean the details." "Saturday : Awards Ceremony." "Yeah, yeah, the cream of the crop will be at the Imperial Palace. It's a private ceremony, though..." "General public : Will be informed by journalists. Urgency : Convert all elites to the cause." "There are still people who want to protect the retards ?" "Sad to say : More than you think." "Okay...Well, during the week I'll lower the security in the festival's grounds to refocus on nest-purging. I wanted to do that anyway, the festival's grounds aren't at risk. I should know, I lived three years 200 meters away from the main grounds, and I could hear their music through soundproof windows. Jissous just can't survive there." "If you say so : We trust you. Now leaving : Until next time." An instant later, the cold stare gave way to the usual naive and dumb look. The jissou was back. We remained silent, wondering if she would remember anything. It didn't seem to be the case. In fact, she didn't seem to realize anything happened at all. I discreetly take the partially eaten maggot. It seems unnecessarily cruel to let her know she was the one to eat it. I spend half of the evening explaining to Steph what all this shit was about, and the other half wondering what to do, alone at home. I think the thing was right. Manking needs a kick to the butt before it's too late. And even if the critical threshold of invaded buildings is never reached, the social consequences are dire. More and more homeless people, sure, but there are also companies led into bankruptcy. We have to do something. However, the controller isn't the solution. I mean, they are too damned extreme. Turning the feral jissous against the bigot protectors in the Gardens was pretty smart, but it was really fucking obvious that shenanigans were afoot. He could end up doing the opposite of what he thinks he's doing. Thus, I must stop him. It's now Wednesday morning, 00:42 AM. He will strike Saturday evening. Time for some Hollywood-style anti-terrorism !
bump, more please.
Belated Jissou Christmas story coming soon from me.
Merry Fucking Christmas Thorold, Ontario, Canada December 24, 2010 Around 7:00 AM I fucking hate jissouseki. Okay, so you might remember me from the whole garbage day story. Well, since that happy jissou-free ending, it seems the little fuckers have built up an immunity to my traps. Meaning they no longer give a shit if they see one of their own get caught or killed on their way to my house, they're that determined to make it inside. And of all the days one of them chose to cross the line 10 times over, it had to be Christmas Eve. Christmas is my absolute most favourite time of the year. In fact, for me there are only two times of the year: Christmas and "FUCK YOU, WHEN THE HELL IS CHRISTMAS?" I had been up all night on the computer by the time the sun started to rise on Christmas Eve morning. I went downstairs to get some breakfast and maybe get some sleep in before the family festivities that evening. In all honesty, I rarely sleep these days. I was halfway down the staircase when I felt a cold breeze and quickly realized the window had been pried open from the outside. I saw dirty little footprints leading from the window to the bathroom. Running down the stairs, I realized there was only one explanation. And when I got to the bathroom door after shutting the window and making sure none of the cats had gotten out {thankfully, none of them had--the intruder must have come in pretty damn recently}, I saw that explanation sitting on my toilet, pretending to read a newspaper upside-down. It was a grubby adult jissou. Her dress was torn and her right ear had a big chunk missing. She was pale and shivering from the cold, and her nose was running. She lowered the newspaper and looked up at me when she realized I was there, and actually had the nerve to say to me... "Get out, Mr. Man. This my house, desu." Bad idea, bitch! I snarled and stormed in, tearing the newspaper out of her hand-stumps. Her attitude immediately changed and she shrieked apologies as I picked her up by the dress and threw her out, shutting and locking the door. She pounded, or rather tapped, on the door with her pathetic excuses for fists. "Let me in right now, desu! If you hurt babies, I kill you, desu!" Indeed, I had heard the babies inside the toilet, hence my locking the door. I wanted to get a better look at how big the problem was without bitchface there interfering. I looked in, seeing a huge pile of green diarrhea with several maggots and thumbs sitting in/feasting on it. They looked up at me and smiled. "Hello, Mr. Man, rechi!", a thumb greeted me. "You bring candy, rechi?", another one asked. "Belly soft and springy! Rub, refu!", chirped a maggot. FUCK, I hate maggots... I placed my hand on the flusher and opened the door. I wanted the fucker to see this. I noticed the mess behind her, but ignored it--at least it only got on the floor tiles and not the rug. The mama smiled as if beginning to thank me, but then screamed in horror as she saw what I was about to do. "NOOOOOOO, WHAT YOU DO TO BABIES, DESHAAAAAAAAAAAA?!?!" With that, I flushed the toilet. The baby jissou all let out painfully high shrieks as their weaker-than-rice-paper bodies were torn apart by the centrifugal force, all of them sucked down the pipes with their mama's putrid shit. Two thumbs and one maggot whose bodies somehow remained intact floated lifelessly back up into the toilet bowl, the maggot floating face-up, leaving her blue skin, grey eyes and hanging tongue visible. I could barely hold back a burst of laughter. "SUCH A CRUEL WORLD, OROROROROROROOOOOOOOON!!", the mama jissou wailed, falling dramatically to her knees and pulling at her pigtails, red and green tears and thick yellow snot streaming down her face. "Oh, shut the fuck up!", I yelled at her in reply, "You can shit out like 50 more whenever you want! And I know better, you jissou have no feelings for your babies anyway--you're sad because you lost your property and a possible emergency supply of food, fire tinder, decoys and projectiles!" Predictably, she instantly stopped sobbing at the mention of food. I bet it was the only word she understood in the entire rant. She sniffled and struck that stupid, stupid, STUPID "cute" pose. "F-Food, desu? I did just remember how hungry I was, Mr. Man... If you give food, I forgive you, desu..." How typical. Bring up food and a jissou will forget all her problems, even if said problems include losing every last one of her newborn children to a toilet flushed by the very same Mr. Man she's now trying to mooch food off of. An idea sparked in my brain. I decided to play along, lull her into a false sense of security. That's always fun to do with these fuckers. "Okay, I'll give you food.", I say to her, "Follow me into the kitchen." I led her there, and began heating up some water and readying some hot chocolate mix. "What that, Mr. Man?", she asked, doing that pose again. "Hot chocolate, you retarded mogwai wannabe", I reply matter-of-factly, "It's a cocoa-based drink that comes from a packet. It's popular in Japan too." She nodded, seeming to understand somehow now that I mentioned Japan. "I see, desu! It sounds delicious and luxurious, desu!" Delicious? Fuck yes. Luxurious? To you, perhaps, but not to us human beings. It's just hot water and cocoa powder. Once the water was finished boiling, I turned to face her. "Take off your clothes, all of them. I'm going to wash them with the remaining water." She nods again and strips down, handing her filthy clothes to me. "Don't ruin them, Mr. Man, or you buy me new ones, desu." Oh, fuck off. I'm not buying you jack shit. So I mix two mugs of hot chocolate. One I prepare with milk and candy cane pieces, mixed with a large whisk, topped with three marshmallows. The way I prefer it. Cause I intend to drink it to soothe my nerves once this is over with. The other, I excite her a little by mixing konpeito into it. Then as I whisk it all up, I intentionally knock it over onto her clothes. "Oops! I spilled the hot chocolate all over your clothes!", I taunted her, making a comical effeminate gesture worthy of Prince Poppycock and doing my best trollface. She stared at me in absolute shock, mouth agape as her face turned red with rage. "You shit Mr. Man, desu!", she soon cried, "You ruined my only clothes, desu!" I pretended to ponder this for a second, complete this my hand on my chin. "Hm. So I did.", I nonchalantly replied before picking up her dress and effortlessly ripping it to shreds with my bare hands. It was like tearing apart a piece of paper. "MY CLOTHES, DESU!!", she shrieked, falling flat on her ass and crying, shit spewing from her vaganus, "Not my beautiful clothes, desuuuuuun!" I proceeded to kick her in the face. Man, that felt good. She began crying even louder, tears spilling onto the floor. She looked up at me and sniffled. "Why you hurt cute little me, desuuuuuun?!" She had a massive purple lump over her red eye from my kick--I always find that jissou injury a hilarious one for some reason. I raised my foot, ready to kick her in the other eye. "WAIT!!", she cried, holding up her arms, "I make Mr. Man happy, desu! Promise, desu!" "Oh yeah? What, dare I ask, do you have in mind?", I challenge her with a smug look of amusement. "I... I have song for you, desu! Is, uh, Christmas song, desu!", she cooed after a moment of thought. Before I can raise any protests or point out that singing won't make me like her, she starts dancing around {though in all honesty, it was more like desperately hopping from foot to foot and waving her hand-stumps} and singing this godawful repetetive tune with on-the-spot lyrics about how I should stop abusing her and give her gifts. "Mr. Man, it's Christmas Eve~ So stop abusing me~ Give me lot of presents desu~ Because it's Christma--" That was all the ear rape I could take. I grabbed and held her by those stupid pigtails, watching with delight as she started flailing about, wiggling her limbs and swinging her lower half around. She looked exactly like a Mii that had just been plucked up. Those of you who have ever used a Wii know what I'm talking about and probably find the comparison as funny as I find it. "LET ME GO, DESHA!!", she screamed, her hair starting to tear out from the roots, unable to hold her up any longer, more of her shit pouring out of her, "I LOSING MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR, DESHAAAAAAAAA!!" And with that, she finally fell to the floor with a pained squeak and I threw her hair all around her, laughing hysterically. As a finishing touch, I bent down and tugged on her forelock, pulling it out effortlessly and throwing it in the trash, laughing all the way. I watched for a moment as she crawled bald-naked along the floor on her hand-stumps and knees, sobbing and picking up clumps of her hair. "M-My hair, desu... My beautiful hair, desu... It can't grow back, desuuuuuuun..." I picked her up and held her upside-down by her leg, laughing coldly at her as I brought her into the mudroom. She was wailing in humiliation and pain, still clutching the hair she had grabbed off the floor. I bet she thought she could stick it back into her head or some dumbass shit like that. Mercifully, she was finally out of shit, letting out only high-pitched farts as she tried hard to shoot out more of that disgusting guacamole from Hell. "You shit Mr. Man! It's Christmas Eve, desu!", she sobbed, "Where is Mr. Man's holiday spirit, desu?!" Oh, I'd show her holiday spirit. I took a deep breath, then brought her upside-down face up to mine and let out a mighty scream of... "MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS, YOU SELFISH LITTLE PIGSHIT SIN AGAINST EXISTANCE ITSELF!!" And with that, I swung open the front door and literally threw the bitch into a pile of snow, probably breaking her leg like an icicle in the process. Then I quickly shut and locked every door and window and watched as she cried and shit herself some more. She sat on the snow pile, quickly turning it green, staring at me as I glared out the window. I noticed that she was actually crying for me to let her back in after all I'd done to her, still reasoning that because it's Christmas Eve, she deserves endless pampering. "Please, Mr. Man, desu! It's Christmas Eve, desu! My home destroyed in storm, desu! Feed me right now, desu! I need clothes or I freeze to death, desu! I DESERVE LOVE, DESHAAAAAAAA!!" She deserves to die, that's what she deserves, just like every jissou. I walk away from the window, clean up the tears and shit in the kitchen and outside the bathroom {turns out their shit even stains tiles, just my fucking luck}, grab my now lukewarm chocolate and lay down in my recliner to watch some early morning Christmas specials. What a way to start Christmas Eve. I began hoping and praying that more of the little shit-goblins wouldn't find a way to break in, destroy the place, eat my cats and steal my presents while I was at my grandparents' that night. Next one that comes into my house is getting boiled in pudding with a holly stake through her heart. I fucking hate jissouseki. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The bald-naked former mama jissou sat in the snow with her back turned to the house. She was shivering and miserable, her face going blue, a puddle of green behind her. She stared down at the little fistfuls of her hair that she had salvaged. Snow was falling softly onto her. She had been sitting there for several hours, slowly freezing to death. "M-M-Merry Christmas, Mama and sisters, d-desu...", she shivered, thinking about her mother, who had died that summer, and her sisters, who had died during the previous winter and following spring. When she was still a child, her sisters all froze to death, drowned in drainage ditches, got eaten by neighbourhood animals, ended up stomped on or otherwise abused by humans, or some combination of the four. Her favourite sister died on Christmas Eve when a cat grabbed her in its mouth, broke her neck and ran off with her twitching corpse, and the cutest little Maggot-chan was snatched right out of her arms and swallowed whole right in front of her by a sparrow when spring arrived. When summer was at its peak, the mama jissou gave birth to 50 new maggots and thumbs, tossed every last one of them into some Mr. Man's garbage can, kept her one surviving child at her side when she left, and got crushed by a construction vehicle near a shopping plaza not even 10 minutes later. "M-Merry Ch-Christmas, babies, desu...", she whimpered, remembering the babies she had given birth to that day, who had only lived for about five minutes at the most before meeting their loud, spinning, watery death. Without them, who would keep her company out here in the cold? And who would keep her alive when she ran out of food and warmth? "Merry Christmas, Mr. Man...desu...", she chirped, still believing the tall, scruffy Mr. Man inside the house would come to his senses and give her a home and food and toys and beautiful new clothes. Maybe even new hair to replace what he had torn out. It's Christmas Eve, he has to give her everything she wants... Right? "Merry Christmas...me, de...su...", she sniffled, finally breathing her very last breath, freezing to death on the snow pile. The evil Mr. Man came outside that afternoon dressed in a badass Santa costume and stomped the jissou's corpse into paste before leaving with a large bag over his shoulder full of presents for his family. Curiously, this was finally enough to make jissou stop invading our protagonist's home for good. Perhaps they knew better than to mess with a Mr. Man who could be this cruel on Christmas Eve. And here they had been, planning to break in, destroy the place, eat his cats and steal his presents the next time he went out...
>>190 Just now noticed this post and felt the need to comment. I don't really care how painful her fate would be or not, she still shouldn't have to live as a jissou fucker's retarded pet. She should've been allowed to just die the badass she was, that way she'd still have some dignity.
A Dreadfully Hot Day - Summer! A time of no school! Free time galore! Ice cream! It was hot, sweaty and just really really dry! It was also the kind of time for hundreds of thousands of jissou dying en masse of dehydration, heatstroke, and burning. It didn't matter whether or not they were in the alleys, the streets, or even homes of the human beings. They suffered and suffered. Usually, this might mean a few of the stronger ones might attempt to break into air conditioned homes or vehicles, often without luck. Fences and buildings were very well defended against these sentient pests nowadays. They gather by the hundreds at the local pools, but are repulsed by sonic waves installed at the entrances and windows that cause them intense discomfort. The few who make it through the constant silent screaming are faced with an impossibly high wall so solid, they are faced with an impending death of attempting to climb the hot wall. The jissou gather in the shade, but the hot air does not relent, their flesh weeps precious water and fluid. The resulting stink is often of complaint, but it is not so dissimilar to the piles of garbage that appear every morning. The Seven Elevens are also equipped with the sonic machines, and small crowds of jissouseki could be seen nearby. The few who braved the silent screeching that only they can hear attempt to get people to help them. They can only shout for help and not get anything in return. The pain is often too much for them to handle. One man, carrying an extra-large slushy, cold and deliciously tasty, of a soda-flavored variant was accosted by a number of these pests as soon as he left the perimeter. A gaggle of at least a dozen jissouseki, mostly adults and a handful of smaller children beg for him to take them home or give some of the icy deliciousness to them to sate their thirst. "Mister Man, desu," gasps a sweating jissou, her green dress soaked through and bib wet with presperition, "Would you not give us some cold icy candy, desu? Can you not see us suffering from the sun, desu?" "M-m-mister Maa-an," squeaks a child, her face haggard and dry as paper, "Please let me drink a little...te....tech...techi..." "Please take me home, desu," begs another, "Only for a little while, desu." "Maggot-Chan can't take anymore heat, techi! Maggot-Chan is too cute to die, techi! Please help, Mister Man!" Begs a little child, holding her expiring sister, in desperation. It is futile. In the end, they fall back to accost another. By then perhaps half the entourage would have probably left or died from sheer exhaustion. One home had a single jissou mother with half a dozen of her children of varying sizes ringing the doorbell with a long stick. Quite clever by their standards. The children are complaining or expiring. A few are already dead. Still pressing the doorbell in hopes of the person opening. Persistance pays off when the door opened slightly, prevent even a child from attempting to slip through. Room temperature air is puffed out, giving the pests a very brief respite. "Go away." "Please Mister Man-!" Starts the jissou. "I'm a woman." "Er-Miss Lady, please let us in, desu," begs the jissou, "There is nowhere to go, my babies are fragile desu! They need to stay where it is not so hot, desu. Can you not take my babies in, desu? Please, kind Miss Lady!" "Hmm...I could use some more amusement. Sure, I'll take a them," says the woman. She has gloves on and a high step, apparent when she opens the door wide. The high steps prevent the jissou from rushing into the house completely. This obviously disappoints them. However, in her hands was a hose. "D-desu, what is that for-" The woman however, has taken some of the kids into a box and set it aside in favor of hosing down the jissou in front of her. A good idea, they stink. The hose fires a thin and powerful steam of cold chilly water and the blasts shocks the jissou instantly. "T-t-too cold desu!" "Maggot-chaaan-blublublub!" "Re? Too cold refun!" The remaining jissou are swepted out, thoroughly chilled to the bone and even dying of drowning. The mother feebly twitches. As the door closes, the surviving jissou moan in despair. Others wish their newly adopted sister good luck. Unlikely, given the chances of someone accepting them into their home now days was greatly unlikely. Those jissou may not even survive the day. If they were lucky. In the streets, jissou are everywhere but there. The few that are, sit in cardboard boxes like so many miniature hobos. They have water, but it is warm. Many have died due to the heat, others are close. The few alive beg, but they are ignored. In the park, where thousands of jissou live, it stinks. Many jissou during this time have taken to shedding their clothes. Normally, they do not do this, as they treasure the things, no matter how frayed or dirty. Despite their attachments, many even go so far as to tear out their own hair to alleviate their suffering. Needless to say, it never actually works. More or less all of them are in the bushes or the trees. Already dozens of them have suffered heatstrokes. Birthing rates of the jissou are at an all time low. Many maggots that are born healthy dry up as their birthing fluids harden, the air leeching the water from the slime, imprisoning them. Attempting to free them from this shell often results in the babies dying, as the slime hardens inside their lungs, puncturing their primitive bodies and killing them before they even manage to take a breath of air, let alone begin to think and open their eyes. The maggot-chans who manage to be born alive and awake are thin and papery. They are often the product of dehydrated jissouseki mothers. They often die after a few minutes. Any and all other maggots are usually dead during the summer. Jissou exterminators are often out of the job during these times, taking only a handful of hours to eradicate the dwindling nests in comparison to spring and fall times. There is a large cardboard box with four naked and hairless jissou. The mother of three is simply lying there against the wall of the tipped over box, eyes staring into space, arms and legs boneless. She does not notice one of her spawn seeing a chance to get water, fresh delicous water from the water fountain in the middle of the park. A small steam of tricking water is a tempting, but ultimately impossible treasure to reach. To do so, they must expose their naked bodies to the sun while running to the very center of the park. Equivalent to perhaps half a mile away for the little things. "Water, techi," says the little creature. The ko-jissou runs out of the protective shade, her two sister begging her to come back. "Come back techi," shouts a fearful ko-jissou. "Too hot techi!" Agreed the other. The little ko-jissou actually makes it halfway across, leaving a trail of little puddles of green diluted shit made up of partially poop and mostly sweat. The body was shining with sweat. The sun's rays baring down upon it relentlessly. But like the rest of it's kind, it's limited constitution limits it's lifespan in the face of such a hostile environment. As it reaches the hafway mark, the jissou begins slowing. Before long, her body stops moving entirely and it falls to it's knees. The jissou's eyes are bulging and her harelip is gaping as she tries to breath the dry air. It does her little good as the sun and it's relentless rays of heat bares down on her, taking away breath and flesh. The eyes were cooking under the heat. They were the first to burst, her brain shut down and the body slumps forward. It is already halfway cooked. "Teeeeeeeeee~," weeps a sister miserably in despair on her belly, arms raised up comically into the air. Her other sister merely gapes in shock, eyes staring at the once moving sister. Inside the box, their mother has already suffered a heat stroke. Inside my air conditioned car, I smile, amused by the fickle nature of my amusement.
I've been gone for a while, and I must say, I'm not at all disappointed with your recent efforts! Continue your killing, Jissou murderers!
REd! I love a dreadfully hot day. How about one on the harshness of winter?
Will do that for each season as soon as time permits.
Awesome!! I'm looking forword to it.
Continued from >>226 Supreme Abuser - Chapter 5 : Operation Workshop Wednesday, third day of the Animated Film Festival, 7:24 AM. Thierry Genestar So. You know there is going to be a terrorist attack and you know exactly when, but you know next to nothing about the perpetrators. You know, however, that they are fully capable of spying your ass whenever they want to, and thus that reporting the danger to authorities is a bad idea, even though you are the goddamn authorities. What do you do ? If you thought "Just shut up and go back to work" congratulations, you're like me. Also, human. By now though, you may have noticed my job is mostly out of doors. Sure, I could stay at my office, but really, all the people who need me have my cell phone number, and most just want a verbal order or advice. So I stroll a lot, inspecting shit, do whatever missions I'm given by the police and other people, and only go to my office when the mayor needs a note about something. And it just so happened that Michel, you know, the cop in chapter 3, had another troubling case, and that my expertise could be needed. I show up at the scene, an overrun factory in the city's outskirts. Not exactly my jurisdiction, but I was here as an informer. "So, tell me everything", I say as we shake hands in front of the building, a rather old boat manufacture. The lake is one hundred meters or so away, and the whole neighborhood is the kind where everyone absolutely needs a private boat, lest they implode from shame. A state of things made even more ridiculous by the fact that this side of the lake is a natural reserve, and thus, docks are tiny and very few. This results in most of the houses having a boat in their garden. Guess who profits from it ? Yeah, them. Even with protective sheets, nearly all the boats have become home for feral jissouseki. Rich suburban neighborhoods are the prime customers of private jissou exterminators for a reason. So it's no surprise that there would be infested buildings, even that far from the city. "Well, circumstances are eerie at best", replied Lagardère. "The company declared their building lost about three weeks ago, but since they had found a new place anyway, we didn't rush in. Until early this morning, around about 5 AM, when a detonation was heard." "A detonation ? Wow. And so you think the retards are responsible ?" "We don't really have other suspects, the building was completely locked down save for a few holes in the windows, which couldn't be big enough for an adult, and even a child, to pass through." "Well, one thing's for sure, I never heard of jissouseki being able to cause a big-ass explosion." "Drat, I guess there goes my plan to have you explain everything." "Not necessarily." I say, fingers on the chin. "I'll check inside, just find me a pair of gloves." "What do you mean ? You ain't no detective." "Fool. I watched every episode of CSI : Las Vegas. I'm so qualified for this that it's practically overkill." "...Yeah, whatever." One of his colleagues opens the door to the factory. The interior seems damaged, no doubt. There's the unique blend of shit-tainted jissou blood everywhere, and some of the scaffoldings are on the floor. By all accounts, something did blow up here. Not a lot of things on the floor though, the company must have reclaimed all the tools and whatnot before leaving. "You think it could be a misguided attempt at extermination, Thierry ?" "I never heard of cleaning up an infested building with dynamite, and I think it's for a good reason...The noise certainly killed all the maggots and the smallest children, but adults that weren't within range of the blast most certainly survived. You can't even expect ruptured eardrums : They don't have any. My bet is on abuse, or revenge." "Yeah, some rich guy is sick of jissous in his garden, the exterminators don't come to clean the infested factory, so he decides he's going to give the dolls a run for their money. Makes sense. But then again, we know no human could have entered the place." "Didn't have to. You can throw a pipe bomb through the windows." "True. Still, you say the adult's aren't deaf now ? Christ, we'll have to kill them all if we want to investigate in peace..." "Oh, come on, Michel. For once, the jissous aren't nuisances. They're witnesses." Witty one-liner done, cue in the opening theme. Who are you? Who, who, who, who? Who are you? Who, who, who, who? I really wanna know Who are you? Who, who, who, who? Tell me, who are you, you, you are you ? "...Thierry, what the fuck are you doing ?" "Never mind. I'll let you search for traces of explosive, I'm going to interrogate me some jissous." Thrilling perspective, as I'm sure you'll agree. Nothing in their nature predisposes them to top-grade witnessing. Dumb, oblivious, memory of a goldfish, and prone to lying. I don't think their testimonies would be worth anything in court, as the smallest enticement can make them say everything, and its contrary within a minute. "Sure, Mister prosecutor man, I saw him kill the victim ! Can I have my ice cream now ?". But I nonetheless have to try. Jissous don't have truckloads of imagination, so if they do tell me a story, it probably really happened. The still-living individuals present in the great hall move haphazardly around, gaze lost into the distance. Some are wounded, some are not, but they all seem shocked. One is sitting against the wall, holding the gaping -and fresh- wound, where her left stump once was, with her remaining paw. "Hey, you ! Were you around when the explosion occurred ?" She weakly raises her head. Her eyes are dazed, and her mouth is dry. Her lips tremble, but no words come out. "Hellooo ? Candy ? Home ? I just need an answer." "Maggot-chan, desuuuuun..." "What maggot-chan ? Yours ?" "I rubbed your belly, maggot-chan, be happy, desuuun..." Great. So I go ask another, and another. All are up high in la-la-land, either dreaming about a good home or grieving some larva. Well, a bomb explosion is pretty scarring for us humans, so I guess jissouseki, even lightly injured, would get fucked up beyond compare. What do I know ? The closest I've been to a terrorist attack was one kilometer away, during the attack on the courthouse, more than a decade ago. Didn't even wake me up. No use looking into the main hall. I have to find places protected from the explosion. Surely this place has, at least, a boss' office and a restroom. A quick glance to the right proves me to be right. There is a small corridor, one door on each side. Suitable shelters. I go open the door to the left, and am greeted by a shrill, happy voice. "Welcome to Jissou-san's delicious food, desu !" This room was, obviously, the company's cafeteria, and the living dolls certainly didn't miss that. Right now though, you're probably picturing an absolute mess, with fridges and drawers pillaged beyond repair. Well...no. They turned the place into their own cafeteria. The floor was very neat by jissou standards. Two ragged adults were cleaning it, apparently as full time employees. In the big, transparent fridge, you could see plates with slices of jissou flesh. Well, you can always expect cannibalism in jissou settlements, but here at least, there was some method to it. The fridge wasn't powered, but the meat wasn't rotten, which meant they probably had a steady demand. On the counter, were baskets of konpeitos, and just behind it, was the apparent ringleader of this unsettling circus. A well-fed adult with a clean dress and a ribbon made of paper wraps. She was calm and had a honest smile. Well, fuck me crossways. This kind of thing is why, all in all, I welcome the jissou invasion. (Aside from giving me a pretty cool job.) Once in a while, you can be amazed by what they do. Now I'm not particularly fond of raw jissou meat, but this place is nice enough for me to be civil to her. "Great restaurant ! When did you opened your business ?" "When I had my first cute maggot-chans, de ! It is good to see a Mr.man, desu. What do you want to eat, desu ?" "Actually, I'm here to investigate about what happened last night. Can I ask you a few questions ?" "Only if you are a customer, desu !" "*Sigh* Okay, then I'll take one of your candies." "Right away, de !" Says she as she puts her stump into one of the baskets. "It will be one thing, desu !" "One...thing ?" "Yes, the other jissous gather things, so they pay with that, desu." Well, I guess it makes sense that the economy in any primitive civilization would use barter. A good thing too, I'd hate to give even one cent to a packaged retard. I take an intact maggot sock from my fanny pack, and give it to her. To my surprise, her eyes glitter. "Oooh, thank you, rich Mr.Man, desuuuu...I'll give you three delicious candies for this, de !" "Huh, sure, thanks. Anyway, do you remember any big noise or something unusual, very early this morning ?" "Sure, Mr.Man !" Says she as she takes the maggot clothes and ceremoniously puts it in a box. "My youngest-maggot-chans died because of shit noise, but I am stronger than them, desu..." "My condoleances, Jissou-san." The contents of the cafeteria's fridge come again into my field of view. "If this loss is at all important to you anyway..." "How did you know my name, desu ?" Says she, paw on her chin, impressed. "It...is in the name of your shop, right ?" "Oooh, very smart Mr.Man, I am thankful to have such a wonderful customer, desuuu..." ...I should say something witty about this, but...sorry, I can't, the retardedness is just too strong. I mean, aren't they even conscious they all have the same name ? "Please, you're embarrassing me...At any rate, was there anything unusual in this place's main room ? Something ticking, perhaps ?" "No, desu. Just maggot-chan, desu." Here they go again with their unremarkable larvae...Grow out of it, it's just a mindless bean, not some unique and precious individual. "And, was something going on before that ? Did a human try to break in ? Yelling things at you ? Asking for the others to do this or that ?" "No, we never saw any Mr.Man, that is why my shop is successful, desu. There was just the weird jissou-chan, desu." "Could you...describe her to me ?" "Sure, Mr.Man, de ! She was normal, but she said things we could not understand, desu. Like..." ------------------------------------- "Currently in the crocodile's asshole. Any updates regarding the more-important-than-fucking-christmas festivities ? Is that how it is ? Holy bamboozle that's an okay situation." The goblin strides confidently across the main room. Around her, bewildered jissous try to make sense of the confusing, desu-free string of words. ------------------------------------- "She was here for some time, desu." "Thanks for your testimony. I'll come back if I need further details." "Anytime, de !" So there its goes again : Cthulhu was here. Although, he spoke differently than when he was at Stephanie's. Well, he did imply he wasn't alone... I take one of the purchased spiked candies. Heh, it was left in the open for too long, it became kinda paperish. Bah, at least it's edible... As I walk out of the room, I see a tattered mama and three kojissous, two clinging to her back and one carried by her arms, enter the "restaurant". "I'm so hungry, jissou-san, give me some delicious food, desu..." She says in a beaten voice. "Stop coming here if you don't have things, desu !" Replies the shop owner. "Please, my babies are going to die from starvation, I beg you, desuuun..." "So...hungry...everything is white, te...chi..." Weakly says the child in her arms. "I do not care, desu ! I am trying to run a business here, de ! Security, kill this shit jissou !" On these words, the two adults that have been cleaning brandish their brooms and charge onto the starving family. Disgusting, but my attention is required elsewhere. "No, no, please, why do this, desha ? Look at my daughter, isn't she c...DEGYA ! No, stop ! st..." Back in the main room, I see the cops searching for remains of a bomb. "So, any luck ?" "Nope, there doesn't seem to be any metal fragments or even burnt areas. Something blew up, but it was...just air, it seems." "Okay, well, I guess the only thing left for you is to question the neighborhood. I'll process the scene for any unusual jissou-related evidence" "Knock yourself up." I take some swabs and a forceps from the official forensics investigator, and begin my hunt. Clearly, luminol isn't needed. I can close my eyes, spray in a random location, and be sure to end with a positive reaction. In all likelihood, the thing that exploded attracted a crowd, which got splattered on the walls and floor. You can easily see the epicenter between two scaffoldings that got knocked to the ground. The splatter is in the shape of a circle, which means it was indeed akin to a bomb, as opposed to, say, a cannon, which would have left more of a v-shaped splatter. Now, there is indeed no burn marks, so no combustion. The other thing that make things explode is pressure, right ? Like when a balloon bursts. With enough pressure, I guess jissous could be reduced to paste. I quickly check all the windows. Michel was right, there were only two holes in the entire building, and they were smaller than a jissou adult. Green-stained blood on the sharp glass proves that they tried nonetheless to get out. Alas, even the explosion didn't break the windows...And for a good reason, the glass is pretty thick. Insulation issues, perhaps. I take my cell phone. "Hello, Stephanie ? It's Thierry. Could you run a little experiment ? Oh, don't worry, you'll like it. I need you to find the minimum level of force that is needed to completely dismember a jissou and send her skull flying away twenty meters or so. Hm. Okay, thanks." I don't wait for the answer to search for the weapon. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find anything foreign to the jissou soup. Eyeballs, squished craniums, tongues, torn dresses...There is just, under the thick layer of gore, a -formerly- white bedsheet. The murder weapon was, no doubt, laying on it, but that doesn't give any hint as to what it was, sadly. Knowing the mysterious controller though, it's entirely possible that he made the dolls remove all evidence of the crime. But then, why leave the bedsheet ? I thus search the building thoroughly. Even if the culprit could live with the jissous without being pestered for being human, any terrorist plan needs preparation. He must have had some kind of shelter, at the very least a cardboard box, the standard feral jissou property. And there were some. Of course, which factory doesn't have a few cardboard boxes around ? But there was nothing but the usual stuff within them. Primitive, starving families that have collected random junk in their surroundings, pretending the boxes to be a human home. One of the boxes is empty, and I doubt the owners will come back anytime soon. Back to the corridor, I open, this time, the door to the right. GAH ! An incredibly foul odor greets me, starting my gag reflex. I tuck my nose under my shirt, but it does little to stop the stench of shit. My brain, in a self-preservation effort, looks for every reason I shouldn't go in there, but sadly, none of them outweighs the fact that this room is sufficiently horrible to be a suitable hiding spot for Cthulhu and friends. After five minutes unsuccessfully attempting to getting used to the odor, I go in. This is the restroom, and a outstanding testament to the critical importance of janitors everywhere. I mean, just fucking wow. The amount of crap here is the stuff legends are made of. Giant piles of crap, taller than a basketball player. Ancient crap too, judging by the smell and aspect. Urgh ! A pattern on the floor catches my eye. The green goo has been swept from the center of the room towards the exit. "Something was dragged here..." I kneel. The sweeped area is broad. In fact, it was roughly the size of the white sheet we had in the epicenter. Interesting, I've got myself a secondary crime scene. Still... Why in the name of fuck did they let that much crap pile up ? They are starving in the main hall ! You see a jissouseki eating her own fresh crap every single bastard day. Why let it rot ? This makes no sense. No jissou is civilized enough not to eat its own crap when starved. Not a single o... ------------------------------------- "Please, you're embarassing me...At any rate, was there anything unusual in this place's main room ? Something ticking, perhaps ?" "No, desu. Just maggot-chan, desu." "Hellooo ? Candy ? Home ? I just need an answer." "Maggot-chan, desuuuuun..." "What maggot-chan ? Yours ?" "I rubbed your belly, maggot-chan, be happy, desuuun..." ------------------------------------- ...Never assume anything. I storm into the restaurant, pausing a moment to breathe in fresh air before going to the shopkeeper. "Who, or what, is the maggot-chan you were talking about ?" "What do you mean, desu ? It was just maggot-chan." "Obviously you're not talking about the ones you're serving to your customers. Describe "maggot chan"". "Very well-fed, very big, de ! He came from the pooping place with the weird jissou-chan, desu." "...Thanks." I get back to the restroom. That's where Cthulhu was. Overfeeding a maggot, and somehow preventing it to explode from the food...At least, not until a certain critical point. I gulp down my disgust and begin searching. There has to be evidence proving this theory. And there was.. First, in a corner of the room were shards of clear glass. Judging from the quantity, the bottle must have been very small. It could come from the cafeteria, but it could most likely have been the remnants of a miracle cure bottle, diluted doses of which are sometimes used to push beyond the normal limits of a maggot's size, for culinary purposes. Although in this case, the cuisine was explosive. ------------------------------------- "REBOOOOOH..." "Don't come crashing all dead on me, Stallone ! Swallow this...Here, all better in switzerland !" "MAGGOT-CHAN DOES NOT WANT FOOD ANYMORE REBOOOOOH..." ------------------------------------- Second, the very item used to overfeed the unfortunate guinea pig. An electrical pump, with one end buried into the stalagmites of shit. And finally...It wasn't something you could notice at first glance, but the shit in there was organized. There were neat little piles in the urinals, different in color from the huge columns, vivid green rather than pale. And what's more.... In the crap were hundreds of little circles. Jissou footprints. What's more, the overwhelming majority of them were going straight to the urinals. Some were going around the whole room, but the axis door-urinals was a fucking highway. The most enlightening though...Were traces of blood sprayed around the urinals. Jissous screw around. Jissous eat their own feces if need be. Unless you prevent them to. -------------------------------- *POOOOOOT* "You pooped, now go, desu !" "Nooo techa ! I am too hungry, let me eat my poop techa !" "I said go, shit jissou, de !" "TEGYA ! No, stop hitting me, I go, teeeeeen !" -------------------------------- "The goblins were crapping in this place. Cthulhu needed the material to feed his experiment. But he just couldn't be powerful enough to deal with all the inevitable trespassers, hence the blood near the urinals. He hired help to beat the starving jissous away !" My phone rings. "Steph ?" "Yeah, it's me. Well, to send a jissou twenty meters away at ground level wouldn't require much of a blast. Say, one or two kilos of TNT ?" "Okay. So our mysterious guy from last night can make a maggot explode with this kind of power. And it's in all probability only a prototype maggot-bomb. Except that TNT doesn't send flowing five times its weight in crap" "….................Wha"*click* On one hand, the blast wasn't that big of a deal. It would probably be cheaper to use real explosives. On the other hand, they need to present jissous as a threat, real explosives won't do. It's an incredibly, incredibly stupid plan, but by Christ, if the officials present in the award ceremony, already on the edge because of Ambérieu's invasion, get slimed by the insides of a giant maggot which fucking exploded in front of them...They are going to crap their pants alright. And this was just in a shitty factory, with a small community, what could they do if they think big ? Make a J-bomb twice, thrice as big ? Reunite four, maybe more in the same place ? Put explosives into their stomachs to enhance the blast ? Get them pregnant at the same time for a fragmentation jissou bomb? By god, I don't care how ridiculous this is. If you're taking a stroll in the morning, minding your own business, and suddenly hear a deafening "REBOOOOOOH" followed by a huge explosion, a tsunami of shit rising over the trees, and hundreds of maggots falling from the sky, you are going to be fucking terrified. And the icing on the cake ? If I try to warn the higher-ups of this kind of terrorist attack, I'm going to get laughed off the goddamn country. Still, they left the place, there's nothing I can do here anymore. Regarding the controllers, anyway. Because someone helped them starve this community...And I think I know who, and why. "Could I see your legs, please ?" The jissou stops brooming and looks at me. She's one of the most ugly types. Her head is irregularly shaped, her nose is running, and her hair is dirty and dull. "Legs, desu ?" Realizing I don't need no warrant to inspect her, I sit down and look at the dirty stumps. Unsurprisingly, there is crap, and lots of it. Any jissou who went into that restroom would be as dirty, though. I need more evidence. I take a swab, and rub it in the green goo. It uncovers a red fluid, but too clear to be blood, and a circular bruise. She was punched, and judging from the size of the bruise, by a kojissou. However, it should be higher, near her thighs. Here it's just one centimeter away from her stockings. What happened is pretty obvious. She was hitting a children laying on the floor, sending blood and tears to her tormentor's legs, and the poor thing tried to fight back. "It hurts, shit Mr.Man !" Yells the guard, taking a step backwards. "I will not forgive you, desu !" She brandishes her little broom, and swings it down on me. I have the time to protect my head, but the mere impact of my arm breaks the jissouseki's weak grip. Even with a weapon, they are worthless. I take the broom, and get back up. The insolent jissou falls on her ass, shaking. "There's three things I got a real problem with. Cults, hazing, and the scum that causes death to make a profit." I turn to the shopkeeper, who's staring at me, bewildered. "You were his accomplice. You sent your watchdogs to protect the weird jissou's stock of food." "He asked me to, desu ! I am good jissou, I help others, de !" "Oooh I bet your intentions weren't all that selfless. You often get beggars ? "Yes, desu ! All the time, this is annoying, they are selfish and don't want to give things !" "And you damn well know they have a hard time finding some !" My violent outburst shakes her up a little, wiping out that annoying smile of hers. "The first thing we knew about this place was that it's almost completely sealed. When the company left because of your presence, they closed all the doors and windows. There were only two ways to the outside world, and no way to broaden them. Only the kojissous could get out and fetch food and junk. Barely enough to sustain everyone, but fortunately, this place's citizens were able to eat their own feces. That is, until he came in." The other guard tries to hit me, but gets the same result as the other one. They both begin to slam the ground in frustration, ranting about how I'm composed of fecal matter. "He needed shit. Lots of it. To that effect, he wanted everyone to shit exclusively in the restroom. However, I don't think he absolutely needed all this shit to be safe from eating attempts. That was your idea. You had a business selling food, and at first, it had no reason not to go well. After all, we're in a factory, there were probably plenty of things around to pay you. I thought the company took all the stuff before leaving. But no, it's probably all in your closet. However, at some point, your customers ran out of things to just pick on the floor. The only alternative was to go pick some outside. But only the children could go out, and could only bring back so much stuff. They couldn't pay you anymore, and you had to hire guards to prevent burglary. So the others simply turned to plan B : Eating poop. Which was, for you, entirely uncool. I think this is when Cthulhu came in, and asked for help. So you joined him, but put your own spin into the plan." "I do not understand you at all, Mr.Man, you are talking too fast, desu." "Whatever. You ordered your guards to stop your poor comrades from eating the poop they were relinquish in great quantities. How you and Cthulhu managed to effectively stop them from shitting elsewhere is beyond me, though...Anyway, I noticed there weren't that many children and grubs here. No regular food, no thing to pay for yours, no poop...The only choice left was putting the kojissous, the only ones able to go outside, to work." "Yes, these lazy jissous could have brought more things in, it is not my fault, de !" "They could have. Some resourceful jissou thought of putting ropes to enable the children to get out and back safely despite the windows being one meter above the ground. It could have worked...If it wasn't for your species' stupidity." "Stu...pity, desu ? No, they were lazy, desu !" "Oh jeez, jissous are economic liberalists, didn't see that one coming. No, it's because when a kojissou brought back food and things, at best the fruit of her labor was monopolized by their bossy mothers, and at worst, they were eaten. And whamo ! The entire colony is fucked in a matter of weeks. Cthulhu accelerated it, but I'm confident your business plan had doomed everyone in the long run." "I...did not know, desu...Why would I want to kill my customers, desha ?" "Because that's what companies do. Never mind the long-term consequences, you want the biggest cake, and you want it as fast as fucking possible. By god, maybe you really are our dark reflection." I draw my gun, and quickly hear the characteristic sharting sound. "No, no desha ! Quickly, kill this shit Mr.Man, he is dangerous !" The two guards reach for their crotches with their paws. I swiftly shoot them both in the head. I then run to the shopkeeper, and catch her by the braids. "No, dechaa ! I will give you all of my candy for free, do not kill me, dechaa !" "If that's any relief to you, I would have done that even if you were human." She squirms, trying to free herself from my grasp, and swings around as a result, sending small droplets of shit flying around. She knows she is going to suffer and die, and struggles for dear life. She yells at the top of her lungs, and still, it only seems like a whimper. She's weak, and even though she is leading the ultimate fight, her efforts are so pathetic that it looks like she has already half given up. "Everyone !" I shout, my head sticking out of the cafeteria and into the corridor. "The restaurant is now free !" The reaction is gradual. At first, I can a few cautious "desu ?", which quickly transform into joyful "desuuuun..."s. And then, a full-blown cheer as every adult in the vicinity dashes forward us. Never mind the traumatism for the explosion, there's food, and we don't let screaming insanity get in the way of that 'round those parts. "No, no, desu ! Do not let them steal my delicious food, please, degyaa !" "Should have thought of that when you stole theirs, dickwad." The factory's entire population enter the room. The corporate criminal's bowels empty on the head of jissous of various sizes and shapes. The jissouseki agglomerate at the counter, briefly looking around, and then climb up to get to the long-awaited, yet kind of underwhelming, eldorado. In mere seconds, the entire area is invaded. The baskets on the counter are emptied in a blink by the fastest ones. The transparent fridge is open and quite comically fills with packaged retards, so hungry that the last arrived instinctively chew on the firsts' flesh. Opposite day ! The closet is opened, revealing, as I thought, dozens of tools, cans of paint, scrap metal pieces and some various junk collected from the outside. The box when my maggot sock was put is quickly emptied, revealing nothing but a lot of pristine jissou clothes. The situation got so desperate, the jissous actually gave up their clothes for a slice of meat. To think that if they were able to self-impregnate, they could have gone on forever. No one thought about dripping blood into their eyes ? Surprising. The door to the backshop is also opened, and I see the biggest population of juvenile jissous in the whole building. At first, they seem happy. I wonder why, but soon it doesn't really matter : The adults grab them without any hesitation and shove them, screaming, into their mouths, like they were bread. It's odd, though, they are twenty, maybe forty kojissous in there, parked like in a concentration camp in this enclosed space. All of them are naked. I turn to the shopkeeper. "That can't be all your children in here...They were sold ?" "Yes, desu...But I just took a lot of them, desuu..." "You just...took ?" A wave of disgust washes over me. No, you've got to be kidding. "Yes, the jissou-chans are the tastiest, I send my employees to take them so that I can make more food, desu..." I stand here, dumbfounded, staring at her. "You're even worse than I imagined...You...You...you just fucking sicken me." I frantically look around. I need something. What could be painful enough for this walking globe of rotten vomit ? I need Stephanie here, and I need her right the fuck now ! "My beautiful restaurant, desuuuun...I do not deserve this, I am just a cute and helpful jissou, desuuun..." Okay, that's about all I can take. ---------------------------------------------- "So, what did you find ?" "Turns out they overfed a maggot, and for some reason it resisted until it was really, really big. Then one of the jissous got hungry, took a bite, and whamo." "A maggot exploded ? And that woke up the neighbors ?" "Well, science is just beginning to understand the fuckers, sometimes something astounding happens." "I guess, yeah...What's this thing you're carrying in this filthy sheet ?" "Nothing. Oh, and if your crime scene investigator gets bored and wants to get a shot at the jissous, tell him to dust their asses for footprints." "Huh, yeah, whatever. See ya around !" I take my bike and ride back to town. On my way home, I find a balloon seller, and buy some. Once in my backyard, I kick away intruding jissous, and unpack the package Michel was talking about. The shopkeeper is the shadow of what she had been. In my rage, I tore out her four limbs slowly, deliberately twisting them to let her savor the torment. Oh, did she scream. She screamed so much that the jissous who were ravaging her shop asked me to go on and finish the job already. Instead, I tore her tongue out, and force-fed it to her. She still had her hair at that point, so I went back into the factory's lobby, and swung her around until the braids let go, catapulting her at full speed towards one of the broken window. When I found her, on the verge of being devoured alive by crows, she looked like an oversized maggot, limbless and only with the frontal patch of hair. She was shaking, wailing, covered in her own vomit, a big shard of broken glass in her left eye. And now, she was transfixed, staring at me in a mix of fear, despair and hope – hope that I'd put an end to her suffering. "Hell no you're not done yet, you little shit." She lets out a weak whimper as I attach her squirming body to the balloon. "Did you know a toy balloon like this can travel many kilometers before falling down ? It can also rise to eight kilometers before popping. I wonder what it's like to fall from that eight. Maybe you'll find out, or maybe they'll find you in Switzerland. At any rate, try not to die too quickly, okay ?" I wink and tap on her shoulders before releasing her. A trickle of shit comes falling down as she understands what is going to happen to her. "Et bon voyage, saloperie !"
Great story. Love the balloon trip.
I don't get it. Why was he disgusted by the fact that the ko-jissou were being cut up for meat? Jissou do it all the time. Heck, he already professes disgust for pet jissou.
"There's three things I got a real problem with. Cults, hazing, and the scum that causes death to make a profit." Thierry can't stand that an individual, jissou or otherwise, would kidnap random children just because he doesn't have enough meat to sell. In other words, it's not the killing itself that bothers him, it's that the purpose is business instead of survival.
The leaves woke me, along with spittle of rain, both brushing my face and rousing me from my nap. Not too long before the rain would hit, and then I'd never get the lawn done. Bloody stuff – we'd left the house for a month, come back and there's more greenery in our back yard than you'd find in a Bulbasaur porno. The lawnmower took some work – oiling, cleaning, dusting... and then filled with fuel. A quick yank on the cord pulled it into life. Oh yeah. Time to party. --------- Yona rose suddenly, as a large raindrop struck near her, the water splashing her from her dozing. Stretching, she immediately looked about herself, the comforting forms of Maggot-chan, Maggot-chan, Maggot-chan, and Momma were near at hand, thankfully untouched by the deadly water that fell from the sky. Her Momma, however, had taken another of her siblings in her hunger, the loss of her precious Maggot-chan bringing red-green stains of tears to her eyes. Whimpering quietly, she then began to herd her surviving sisters to the bulk of her Momma, the threat of being eaten lighter than the risk of being struck by the raindrops, each Maggot-chan chirping, blissfully oblivious to the threat above them. Smiling, she took comfort in their innocence, petting the belly of Maggot-chan before Maggot-chan began to crawl off, distracted by something moving nearby. As they took shelter near Momma's skirt, the sound of hell itself began to open, a terrible roar opening from somewhere beyond the grass, the Maggot-chans freezing, blue, even as Momma began to wake, stirring her humungous bulk into sitting to stare at the terrible sight, but even as the fear began to close on her, Momma's words cut through, bringing bravery to the kojissou's heart, always knowing the best thing to say. “Mr Man? He's come to take us home, desu!” --------- Damn, this grass grew. One month, and already past knee-height. Even as the clouds gathered over, I thought of the threatened council fine for harboring pests. Last year, a locust swarm had stirred, and being on the outskirts of town, farm-sized properties weren't unheard of. Thank Christ I didn't have to cut more than a normal yard- “TETCH-!” A sudden spray of red erupted from the side of the Kawasaki, the motorised blades grinding up what seemed to be a mouse, from the- “REPY-” “GRAA-” “TETCH-” Over and over, the sound of horrific screaming accompanied by the terrible grinding, almost like wood being power-sawed, struck out from my mower. Quickly, I cut the fuel lead, cursing myself for not checking the grass beforehand. Kittens, birds nesting, I could have just run over an endangered critter of some kind. Behind me, I felt something tickle my leg, my reflexive knee-jerk twitch bringing another tiny scream, my spin bringing me to the sight of a half-raging jissouseki, a bundle of it's... possibly another's... maggots in it's hands, one collection now smeared on the leg of my work-pants. “Piece of shit human desu! You killed my babies, now you let me in house desu!” I stared at it. It was grotesque! It's not as though I had never seen one before, just... never so -big-! In the knee-length grass, she would have had to be seated to avoid notice, standing almost my waist in height, and oh my God the stench! Like rotting cabbage, worsened by a free-flowing spurt of shit from under it's skirt, the dead, crushed maggots still twitching in it's grubby, stubby hand. “No.” My mistake. It sent her into a rage, her screams bringing a collection of “desu”s from the nearby grasses as more of her lesser kin gathered, their whispers mixed between doting at me in hopes I would find them pleasing, or demanding for themselves. A maggot crawled to my feet, rolling over, it's tail flailing as it shat in anticipation. “Refu!” I could hear it's high-pitched whine already, the sight of council fines for an unexpected plague of Jissou rolling before my eyes. I knew that I could not, would not, -ever- let them loose. Like in a movie, my gaze slowly narrowed on the lawnmower behind me. It shone in a sudden burst of light from a break in the clouds. A sign from God himself of the righteous thing to do. Time to unleash motorized hell on these sons... uh... … were they male? Don't care, too much Rambo on the brain. Time to unleash motorized hell on these sons of bitches. --------- Yona's dazed eyes began to open, her Momma having slapped her aside as she had started to gather up Maggot-chan and run for the Mr. Man who would save them from the terrible noise. Her path was evident, as streaks of green and red blood- Ah! She was bleeding? A quick inspection showed no, she wasn't. But she was holding a very wet green-and-red length of cloth that smelled strongly of... Going blue, she dropped the swathe of cloth, stepping back from the gore-ridden remains of her favorite sister, Maggot-chan, flashes of Maggot-chan's life repeating before her again and again. Maggot-chan playing with Maggot-chan, rubbing Maggot-chan's oh-so-squishy belly next to Momma's skirt as they hid from the rain, watching with a mixture of disturbed horror and joy as she had been born... at only a day old, Maggot-chan's life had been cut far too short. Streams of tears ran down her face as she looked at the remains, her imagination now showing her what probably happened – as Momma had knocked her aside, Maggot-chan had still been in her arms, and in a selfless act of sacrifice, given her life so that Yona could live... overcome by emotion, Yona's three-day-old heart broke at the intensity of her love, and grief, for her beloved Maggot-chan. --------- It wasn't hard to ignore the Jissou as they prattled, other than the big one. Jesus she was a monster! Strutting back and forth, the remainder of the maggots in her hand being tossed to her maw, their screams cut by the strong chewing motions her A-mouth was performing. Pulling on the clutch, I revved the engine, most of the Jissou nearby turning blue with horror – the maggots closest suddenly giving a jerk-snap reaction as their hearts gave out, vomiting blood from the shock. I grinned, though I had noticed the only one to not begin running was the giant, who was now looking at me, enraged, her teeth bared as she snarled at me about something, her hand full of her own shit. You know what? I don't feel like taking a round from these bastards today. Normally, a lawnmower is meant for a particular use – you push it forward, the wheels turn, and the blades under it suck grass up and slice it off at the height you want. I'm no lightweight, though, so picking it up to swing it, blades first, at the huge -thing- in front of me wasn't too much effort, and it's a Kawasaki. You know they can handle the angling. The scream was worth it, as the lawnmower connected I heard the same noise again, like a buzzsaw slicing into wood, though as I pulled the swing complete, letting my mower settle and cough on the grass again, I saw that the work wasn't complete. The giant Jissou had been sliced open, her shit-throwing arm severed, gone completely, her body tossed backwards with part of her face missing. Given the fragility of these bastards, she'd shown an amazing amount of tenacity, not having died yet... … her crystal, lodged in the wheel-rim of the mower, caught the last of the sun, and in doing so, caught my eye. A grin came to me as I picked it up, and pocketed it. “You want into my house? Sure. Just not in one piece.” Turning the mower towards her, I ignored the terror in her eyes as her dislocated jaw wobbled, half-formed pleas coming out as she strove to stand, innards spilling into the path of my mower. Oh yeah. I knew what I was going to do. --------- Yona's mourning was cut short suddenly by a stampede, many of the others from nearby trampling past in terror, screaming at each other and nothing at all, one sliding in the remnants of poor Maggot-chan, snapping her attention back to the present. Momma's screams came clearly from the dozen yards away she was, her form no longer visible across the grass, her terror-flee scent overpowering. Yona's eyes brimmed with tears again at her thoughts of Momma only moments ago – she had thought Momma had knocked her aside for selfish reasons, but no, it had been for her safety. Her eyes had no more tears. This Mr. Man was a bad one. A Jissou torturer, who had no candy no matter how much he said otherwise! She needed to run, but after Maggot-chan, Momma, and she could only assume now Maggot-chan and Maggot-chan had given their lives, she would only waste it if she did not take this opportunity for vengeance! Moving with all the stealth of her thumb-like body, she ran through the stalks towards the screaming, roaring noise. --------- Running the mower up, I let the nose slip over the closest of the giant bitch's viscera, the mower coughing as it began suddenly to yank strongly along her guts, even as she ran. Rapidly, her innards began to pull free in a re-enactment of Star Versus Moon, Jissouseki edition, her jaw so far out of place that all she could utter was a: “Ouuouuouuouuouu!” Not even the typical wailing noise they would make, gutteral and even more retarded sounding than they normally did. Pushing on the handle, I began to lift the nose up, the angle giving faster motion to the disembowling, until with a sudden tearing noise, the guts of the giant Jissou suddenly ripped free altogether, the end slapping wetly into the undercarriage, as the mower coughed again, stalling. Wait. Checking the fuel, the inlet, I turned the engine off and tilted the whole mower to look underneath. Around the inside of the blade, the intestines of the giant Jissou had tangled, like tall weeds, tying the machine up with more than just a horrible stench. From a break in the detached stomach, I could see the half-chewed remains of her maggots from earlier... Cursing, I pulled out my utility knife in order to cut the crap away, the giant slowly heaving herself back up, motivated by some bizarre instinct. Maybe she didn't know she was a dead goblin walking? Calling over as I worked, I taunted her, to see if she would still rage. “Hey! Shit-Jissou! How's it feel, being cuter now for Mr. Man?” Incredibly, her running stopped, her eyes sparkling as her head tilted. It was almost like the thing didn't notice it was missing the arm it'd usually press to it's cheek, giving the Jissou twirl, her stomach gashed open, two red eyes staring at me as some form of putrid red-and-green shit streamed from her legs. It was like a scene from a horror film, and I instantly regretted getting it's attention back. With it's half-formed words, it sounded just as bad. “Miff maaah luff raaaghl.” I started the mower again as the last of this ignorant shit's guts came free, grinning at her, the blue tint coming to her face once more as she realised I'd just convinced her to stay. Her screams, as the mower drove into her directly, were worth it. I knew she wouldn't die just yet. Not with her crystal in my pocket. But I would make sure she wasn't running anywhere. Her legs sounded just like the rest of her as the blades ripped them to shreds. This was definitely something that made the mowing worthwhile. --------- Yona heard her Momma's screams as she neared, stepping to the edge of the grass to see the Mr. Man drive some big red... -thing- over her, Momma's hollaring of pain and torment nearly severing Yona's hearing. Looking about, however, she saw to her dismay that her other remaining sisters had also died, their fragile hearts snapped by Mr. Man's betrayal. Fierce resolve in her heart, she prepared to step into view before the wonder of what the hell she was going to do struck her, her brain catching up with the idea of “you haven't got anything -to- do”. Pulling back from Momma, the horrible Mr. Man ran the red thing over the corpse of a Maggot-chan, the body disappearing suddenly into it's terrible maw. Overcome by fear, Yona began to run in the same manner as the other Jissou, the last of her tiny courage fleeing also. The Mr. Man said something to her Momma, bringing another wail, before she heard the sound of the red thing getting closer. Oh Momma, no! It was coming right for her! --------- With the big Jissou cut down finally, I laughed to her. “You get to stay and watch. Don't go and die now! I'll have you as my favorite pet after.” Like hell I would. But I wanted to see how far I could push the ugly thing, the mower buzzing as I turned it to the grass once more. Plan was simple, I'd run it in a square around the boundary, then work it inwards in a spiral until nothing was left. Then any Jissou who managed to keep ahead of me would have to run across the open, giving me plenty of chance to see them and deal accordingly. No council fines for me. Ripping ahead with my mower, I sliced the grass from the house boundary, ignoring the multitude of screams that came from under my feet. Even their maggots seemed happy to shriek as they were picked up – unfortunately, though, as I watched, some were coming out alive, missed by the blades thanks to being too small. Only one began to crawl away, however, a third eye visible on the side of it's drooling head. Jesus, these things were horrific today – mutant maggot got my boot as I pressed on. Keeping the maggots from surviving seemed easy enough, just had to take the grass-bag off and then lower the catch. The actual grass was being thrown aside copiously now – and every now and again I could hear the sounds of a reassuring “thunk” inside the catch, the small plastic lid providing more than enough resistance for their tiny bodies to explode against. It didn't take long for the first circle to finish, though for some reason I could swear that screaming was coming from the mower itself now. Meh, probably an adult caught in the blades. I'd see to it when I'm done. --------- With a sickening realisation, Yona saw the fence come up ahead of her, the wall still alongside. An idea came to her, though – if she waited near the fence, the mean Mr. Man would keep going to get to her, the red thing smashing into the fence, and opening a hole big enough for her to get through! Crouching, she waited, the noisy thing closer, closer, and then suddenly, right on top of her! But it didn't hit the fence. Instead, it just stayed there a moment, twisting slightly. From her vantage point, Yona could see the devastating thing this Mr Man was using to slay them all. Four huge wheels sat around it, as the blades spun fast enough to rip through the grass, leaving nothing but torn vegetables and Jissouseki alike in it's path. And the wind! It tugged at her rapidy, the force strong above her, but her grip on the grass was strong... With a tearing, the grass gave way beneath her, and with horror etched on her features, she hurled at the blades of Jissouseki death. Her life flashed before her eyes – her happiness and sorrow to have a family that had loved her so much. And then, she hit the roof of the mower, sticking there in the slime that had been left by the dead. She was alive. Her eyes opened, staring despite the wind rushing at her, looking about – she was in some kind of big dome, with a tunnel next to her that opened and closed rapidly. A tunnel! Safety! She then saw something that made her nearly die of panic... she was not the only one spared the blades. Dead Maggot-chans, dead kojissou like her had also slipped through, only to be impaled and pierced by sharp bits of grass, bits of gravel, even on one occasion the carapace of a bug. Two Maggot-chans had struck each other, the result explosive. She had to move, before the Mr. Man realised she had survived. As the mower began to move again, however, the only thing she could think to do was scream. --------- Again and again I circled, the grass getting narrower until only a square foot of it remained. The Jissou that had run from it had proven no challenge – the mower was light enough to allow my steps to catch them, their mass entering the grass that had already been consumed. I am become death, the destroyer of worlds. Sure, that would apply to the guy who built the nuke, God bless America, but right now I was become death, destroyer of Jissou. It was a complete power trip. America, fuck yeah! I began to sing off-tune as I worked, finishing as pulled the mower back, letting it idle while I looked at the tiny patch remaining. The grass was so thick with the bastards that you could see them piling up. A naked, bald one looked out from between the stalks and laughed, as though somehow I couldn't see it. “Stupid Mr. Man desu! Doesn't see me, desu... te te te...” Or hear it. Jesus these things were fucking retarded. I played along, though, pretending I hadn't seen them, making a show of inspecting the mower, until I felt something squish against the back of my head. Oh, fuck no he didn't just throw shit at me. Wiping the mess from my hair, I looked at the now-shit-marked naked, bald jissou that was laughing still. Yeah, ha ha fucking ha. I used the stain on my hand to make a tiny °A° “Jissouseki” face on the front of my mower. Revving the engine again, I cackled at the survivors. “You can run, but you cannot hide!” My shout was loud enough to draw a neighbour to the window, but I didn't care. Heard once that the smell of these shitbags was enough to affect you, and I wouldn't doubt that now. All I wanted right that moment was to rip the things to pieces. And my mower was satisfying that urge for now. Lifting it up, I slammed it down onto the last patch, hearing their screams of terror and pain. It was music to my ears. A prayer unto God. An offering that was worthy in the eyes of the Lord! --------- Yona could not move, her body rigid, her eyes frozen open as she saw the massacre, a front-row seat given to her. Torrents of gore and destroyed siblings had torn over her, but by some miracle, the most of it had liquefied on it's way in, leaving nothing that could actually kill her. After a long, long time of the blood, green-and-red fluids, pulverized grass, and more washing over her, she began to pass out completely, shock and exhausted terror lifting her blissfully into sleep filled with candies and maggot-chans that needed puni-puni. She didn't make a sound as the mower was rolled into the garage, the Mr. Man seemingly oblivious that he had a passenger. --------- The captured little thing had been quiet a while now, and on quick inspection of the undercarriage, I couldn't see the little bitch's body. Happy that it had been pulverised, I made my way back out to the yard. Fresh-cut grass, and instant fertiliser. I was actually quite happy with the result, the jissou had turned into a hidden blessing for the yard. Not that it needed encouragement. The rain began to splatter down, now, bringing the smell of fresh-grass-cut-and-wet that always brought a calm to me. The mutilated monster was nearby, laying in the cuttings with a dour expression. I think. It's hard to tell – her lower jaw had been shorn completely off her by the trauma. Smiling, I made my way over to her, grinning down at her now very distrustful eyes. She had a doeful look to her expression despite it – hoping, waiting for death perhaps. “There. Now that the work is done, I'll take you inside.” I was being mocking, but her eyes widened, first in disbelief, then in hope. My palm striking my face was loud. Grabbing the fucker, I took her to a nearby tree, ramming the emptied hole that was her lower body to a dead branch, feeding the remainder out of her mouth. Moving the bird feeder under her, I headed for the shower. She wasn't going anywhere, and with her crystal safe in my fridge, I'd be able to happily head for the shops to get some of that miracle paste crap. Make her whole again, albeit now a part of the tree she was impaled on. Her panic-born maggots would feed the local wildlife, oblivious of the screaming above them being a warning to get free before feathered doom would approach them. I couldn't help the cackle. --------- When Yona's eyes opened, she couldn't breathe. Panicking, she broke free from the sludge that had caked around her, a half-locust breaking her fall as she landed, the dripping ooze that had been so many of her siblings slipping from above. She was alive. Somehow. Bruised all over, she was a sorry sight, her body swollen comically, but with determination she collected her impromptu meal-and-landing-device, and looked around the room she was inside of. She was inside Mr. Man's house! But... he had killed everyone! Everyone but her... … Had he actually been keeping the others away, to let her be his favourite pet? The giggle came to her too quickly, a sharp, cruel 'tetetetetete' as she looked at the ones who hadn't been as lucky as she wa- A preserved, gashed maggot head stared back at her, glassy eyes staring into space. No. Mr. Man had killed Maggot-chan, Maggot-chan, and Momma. He didn't keep her as a pet. Even thinking about it brought her up again. Madness slowly began to threaten in her tiny, fragile mind. If Mr. Man was bad, why did he keep her? If not, why kill Maggot-chans? Scampering away from the horrific red thing, she came to one conclusion. Mr. Man wasn't bad. The red thing was. She slipped silently into a vent opening, the drumming sound of rain outside a distant concern for her now. She knew what to do here. Mr. Man would need to see her maggots when she was big enough to have them herself. And that would mean surviving until then. When he saw how cute her own grubs were, he'd be overcome and help her get rid of the bad red thing. Shuttling back and forth, she began tearfully collecting the remnants of her sisters, gathering what she would need to live through the coming weeks. She'd give birth when ready, and then she and her family would enjoy the house that Mr. Man had let them into. He'd love them all. She knew, deep in her heart as she hugged herself in the metal vent shaft and waited to grow, that was the truth...
>>240 Sorry for taking so fucking long, BTW. Forgot where I'd put it for a while there.
bump again
Mayday, mayday, we are going down...
>>244 *looks around frantically for the 'Auxiliary Power' switch* Dammit! Who's been draining the auxiliary power reserves by frying Jissou in the microwave?!!
The Muse is struggling to inspire: The man walked backstage and looked in the box. There were more than 200 jissous milling around. All were looking up in expectation. “Time for some lucky few to get to their new homes” He announced. The Jissous lined up. Through example and torture, the jissou knew to not act up, or to beg. The man selected 36 jissous at random. The disappointed jissous then went back to their small boxes and pads to cry. They had not been picked. On jissou, who had forgotten its lessons cried out. “Mr. Man. Am I not cute jissou, desu? Why do I not get good home, plenty food, and be favorite pet? Mr. Man is shit human, techi. I deserve better home than this shit Mr. Man.” The man put the box filled with the selected jissous on a table. He then turned around and grabbed the vocal jissou. “Stupid stupid jissou. You were told. Behave. Don’t argue. Don’t be a pest. And you would have a safe place. Food to eat. And sisters to play with. But no. You had to forget. Well remember this for the rest of you short miserable useless life.” The other jissous heard the man speak, and cowered in their place, or tried to hide under the small blankets they had. “Listen up you jissous. Watch what happens to bad jissous and learn. If you can not follow instructions, then you will pay with suffering and pain.” When all the jissous were watching, the man placed the offending jissou in a small wire cage. The cage was placed on a small heating plate. The man then turned the heating plate on and set the temperature to 80 Degrees,(181 Fahrenheit) and sat back. The heating plate took some time to get to the desired temperature. Inside the cage the jissou tried to hop around and get away from the heat. It then tried to climb up the sides of the cage, but discovered that the cage was heating up also. The jissou then fell to the floor and started hopping around again. Some of the unselected jissous covered their eyes, but the man yelled that they were to watch, or be next in the cage. “I do not tolerate ungrateful jissous, or jissous who disobey the rules. I have told you the rules, now watch” The caged jissou jumped, begged and pleaded. The man watched for a few seconds and turned to the box of selected jissous. “See you were good and patient. So now it is time to get you ready for your new home. Are you ready?” The jissous then turned away from the suffering jissou. They all answered in various ways. “Desu, we good jissous. We ready for new home. Will we get good food at our new home?” The man took the jissous through a door and closed it behind him. Placing the jissous on a table, he spoke. “You new home requires you to wear new clothes and a new hair do. So I need you to take off those old dirty clothes, and bathe. Then I will feed you and get you ready.” The jissous scrambled to take off their clothes. As the did this, the man set up 2 dishes of candies. One dish held green candies, anWhen the jissous were naked, the man feed a green candy to each jissou, and gave them instructions. “Okay every fed? Now then go to the other side of the table and take a bath.” The jissou ambled over to where they were directed, and slide down a small incline into a large pan of water. While in the water, the green candy took effect. It contained a strong laxative, and soon the jissous were shitting everywhere. “Ooooo Mr. Man I can not hold it. I need to go.desu” “That’s all right little jissous, this all part of getting cleaned. Walk out on the other side and I’ll rinse you all off.” Again the jissou followed orders and were soon clean. “Techi, Mr. Man were new clothes? We are not going to be naked are we? Desu.” The man took the bowl of blue candies over to the jissous. “Don’t worry. Here is another candy. Take one, and relax.” Soon after all the jissous were fed a second time, the candies went to work. Inside each of the blue candies, was a combination of a muscle relaxant, and sedative. The jissous were asleep. The man then laid out the jissous in a tray that was divided into 36 compartments each just big enough for a jissou. The tray was set up in a 6 by 6 arrangement. He then took the tray over to another table. He then picked up the first jissou in compartment 1, and laid the jissou on a work-board. With a practiced hand, slit the jissou chest open, extracted the jissou jewel, and using a brush applied glue and jissou healing juice to the sides of the cut, and press the wound closed. The jissou was placed back into its compartment. The jewel went into a large clear fish tank filled with green water. The man repeated this 35 more times. Soon the all the jissous were de-jeweled and the tray was covered with a sheet of Plexiglas. While the man was doing this, a woman entered the room. She was dressed in a cocktail waitress outfit. She stripped out of this and dressed in a parody of a jissou outfit designed to show off her charms. The man used to this didn’t even look up. The woman spoke, “If this wasn’t so embarrassing, I’d go back to my old high school and tell those kids to study, or end up like this.” The man nodded. “I know. I was studying biology, but too much time partying. So here I am too.” It was the usual complaint between them. The woman added the final pieces to her costume. A wig designed to look like a jissou hairstyle, and colored contacts to her eyes to make them red and green. “Big crowd tonight?” he asked. “About the usual. I’m glad we only do this 5 times a day. The casino management wants to do an hourly show.” She answered. “Yeah I know. But they draw the line when we tell them we’d need more staff.” He said. The man then got dressed in a tuxedo and combed his hair. “Oh by the way, we got a complainer in back.” “Really? What was it this time? Food, clothes, or not being picked?” “Not being picked” he answered. “Did you use the stretcher?” she asked. “No. Didn’t have time. So I used the hotplate. It should be cooked by the end of the show” he explained. “Okay then”, she said, “On with the show, this is it.” “I’m ready.” The man then stepped out to a small stage and waited for the curtain to rise. The woman placed the fish tank with the jissou jewels on a cart and waited her cue. The curtain lifted. “Hello ladies and gentlemen. It is now time for Jissou roulette. Get your bets ready, and get ready to play,…JISSOU ROULETTE!” the man announced. There was a smattering of applause, as the man walk around the stage waving hello to the audience and nodding when someone caught his eye. “For the un initiated, let me explain how jissou roulette works. Back stage a crafted and skilled team removes the jissou stone from the jissou, and the stone is placed into our jissou tank. And here it is the JISSOPU TANK” the man explained. Canned music played as the woman walked out on the stage pushing the cart that held the jissou tank. When she reached her mark, she stopped and took several poses, as the crowd whistled and took pictures. The man held up his hand. “Please, please, remember the casino does not allow pictures. After the game, our adorable hostess will be available for autographs, and signed pictures, so please wait, while we play Jissou ROULETTE” “As I stated 36 jissous have had their jewels removed. Where are the jissous you ask? Well here they are. Our little jissous contestants.” Two assistants wheeled the tray with the 36 jissous out, and raised it up. By this time the sedatives had worn off. This had given the jissou severe headaches, and made the jissous miserable. The jissous started to bang on the glass and tried to escape. Because they had been given a laxative, and drugged, there was no spews of jissou shit. The glass was thick enough to keep the jissous from escaping, and muffled their cries. “As you can see each jissou is in its own little compartment. Each compartment is numbered from left to right and top to bottom, one through 36. Our hostess will then select the stones from the tank. Then some of our lucky patrons will get to smash a stone. And if the jissou that explodes is in the number compartment that you have on your ticket, YOU WIN!” The man continued, “You all have a few minutes left in this drawing. So get your tickets. Each ticket costs only a dollar, but pays at 10 to 1. So the more tickets you buy the more chances to win. All right then, are you ready to smash?” The crowd cheered and the man then selected 10 people at random, and asked them to come on stage. He gestured to his co-host. She then stepped forward and brandished her net. “I’m ready to pick the first jewel. The audience cheered and the woman then dipped the net to pick the first jewel. With a flourish she handed the jewel to the man who placed it on a pedestal, and motioned for the first contestant to approach. “Now remember whatever jissou explodes who ever has that ticket number, will win 10 dollars. Now what’s you name?” “Sarah” the woman answered. “Okay here is your hammer” the man said. “Just give the stone a good solid whack, and we’ll see which jissou explodes first.” The jissou in the tray watched, they could hear clearly what was about to happen. Some fell to the bottom of their compartment and began to sob. Others pound on the glass trying to find a way out. Others still just stood there unable to move, cry or even breathe. This was their new home? Sarah the contestant raised the hammer and gave the stone a heavy hit. “Bango, and our first number is…” the man turned around to see which jissou had popped. “..27!” the man announced. Sarah the contestant looked disappointed. The man asked her, “Which number did you have?” “16” She answered. “Well don’t worry. You have 9 more chances to win. And lets bring our next contestant up here to play….Jissou ROULTTE”
So wanna see a continuation of this, it's fun. 8D
going down again
Sorry for not posting for so long, I've been wasting my health away in an exam. So I'll be breaking this chapter in two in order to post something before summer. Hopefully I can bolster my motivation enough to get back in business. Supreme Abuser : Chapter 6 – Operation Paradise Thursday, fourth day of the Animated Film Festival, 8:19 AM. "Oh, hello Thierry, nice to see you there for a change !" "'sup Victor ?" "Oh, the usual, really. Accounting isn't really that eventful, you know. You ?" "I solved a mystery for a cop friend of mine and then headed to the festival grounds, pretending to work while enjoying the public projections, and finished the day by stuffing myself with a roasted chicken in front of a starving jissou family. The kojissous cried so much that they died of dehydration." "It's like you want us to hate you. Do you realize exactly how big of a lucky bastard you are with this DARJ thing ?" "What can I say ? Job's new. But don't worry, eventually they will find a way to make it suck." "Yeah, seems inevitable. Anyway, whatever are you here for ?" "I've got an actual job today. I just came here to pick up the required legal documents." "Oh, let me guess, pet shop inspection ?" "Yep. Have a nice day !" Oh, yeah. My job isn't always about dealing with feral Jissouseki. I am in charge of several things about the domesticated ones, too. For instance, I'm in charge of quality, salubrity and security control and assistance for shops and restaurants. It's pretty refreshing. What isn't refreshing, however, is getting there with my bike. Seynod, in Annecy's agglomeration, is up on a hill, and the road there is pretty steep. And, yeah, bike. I don't have enough to buy a car, I don't have my license, and driving sucks . "Ma Jissouseki préférée." Ugh. I inspected five shops since my recruitment, and every single one of them had a retarded name. For the moment, the shop is closed. It's scheduled to make its grand opening in two weeks, and I'm expected to point out any fatal flaws before it's too late to rectify them. Now, normally the administration wouldn't pry into private businesses, but Jissouseki are kind of everyone's problem. Also, the European Union has banned common Jissous in any other industry than food and textile. Thus, every Jissouseki retailer is now specialized in the, at least, average-class pets. Oh, they are still perfectly able to sell poison, abuse toys and whatnot, it's just that if they sell Jissouseki specimens, it has to be expensive ones. What that entails is that the Jissouseki enclosures look like freaking paradise from a stray Jissou's perspective. There are more than a few cases of rich families buying high-end gremlins, and discovering that they were merely feral ones that had snuck into the enclosures, killed the unfortunate pet, and took her clothes. It was so common, in fact, that every guy who wanted to venture into the wonderful world of jissou-related business was now calling us to make sure they're out of trouble. And it came as no surprise to me that there were already two dozens of strays hugging the walls, desperate to find an entrance into the big building with alleys full of treasure. It's no use though, as the architect really thought this one through. There are but two ways for a jissouseki to enter a building : The door, or the windows, and they show a seemingly supernatural ability at exploiting them. Many a tale from the unfortunate owner of an overrun house describes the living dolls open a locked door with a doorknob way too high for them, or succeed in entering through a tightly locked window the minute the owner looks away. They are usually regarded as urban legends, because, hey, if jissous were freaking wizards, we'd know about that already. Still, it is terrifyingly and inexplicably true. Jissouseki seem to be able to operate simple mechanics without any visible means to do so, but only when you're not looking, not unlike particles at quantum level. It's pretty limited though : properly doubled-locked doors, and sliding windows are enough to keep them at bay. Still, some people don't take any chances, and such was the case here. The windows simply could not be opened, and the door was automatic, activated by a weight detector under a mat. Which, according to a warning sign, was protected with ultrasounds. So, the only jissouseki brave and strong enough to withstand the sound only they could hear, would be way too light for the door to open. By all accounts, this place was an impenetrable vault to the gremlins. And it had to : There literally isn't any place on Earth more attractive to them than a pet jissou shop. Not a single goddamn one. "Here you are ! My uncle said I couldn't mistake you for anyone else." "Your...uncle ?" I reply to the tidy young man who emerges from the automatic door. "And what, do I really stand out that much ?" "Among regular citizens, no, but, you know, when someone expects the visit of an inspector from the administration, they picture someone more..." "Anal-retentive ?" "Yes. Also, someone who would never say "anal-retentive"." "I catch your drift. But trust me, I'm more professional than I may seem. For instance, I insist : Who is this uncle you talked about ?" "Jean-Luc Rigaut, Annecy's Mayor." Short silence, during which I utter a single "yeah". After all, the mayor is my boss. "Look, you see, that's a prime example of what I mean. I grew up reading about corrupted politicians and pledged not to ever, ever be like them. So, I don't mean to accuse you of anything, but I must declare that nephew of the inspector's boss or not, I have a job, and from this job depends the well-being of the community. Besides, I'm not here to screw you up, I'm here to check if your installations are secure enough to ensure feral jissouseki don't corrupt civilized ones. An event which, should it ever happen, could cost you thousands in court procedures. I'm your ally, and my total impartiality is in your best interests." "Oh, huh, of course, I get it, no problem ! But please, come inside." "Glad we understand each other. By the way, Thierry Genestar." "David. You already know the last name." We enter the shop, followed by a herd of jissous of various sizes. Fortunately, before they even get to the mat, the ultrasounds become unbearable. I hear them wail in pain. Most immediately retreat, but some fall on the floor vomiting or passing out. I hope he has a serious budget for maintenance, because a welcoming carpet of dead jissouseki isn't really what you expect in front of a pet shop. What I do expect, however, is here : A sign, very conspicuously placed in the entrance, sternly stating "For our jissouseki's safety, do NOT help feral jissouseki into the building." Beyond the sign, is a quite frankly neat shop. Big, around the size of a modest supermarket, very colorful and welcoming, coos and laughters of pet jissouseki gently resonating in the background. The most impressive being that we are alone in it. "Where's your staff ?" "Day off, it's the festival after all, and I can take care of our little hosts myself." "Plus the security system is reliable. Or is there any problem you'd like to report ?" "Oh, no, we've enjoyed a perfect streak of fourteen days without a single intrusion" he proudly answers. "Even though there's a big park just on the other side of the road ! We'll be fine." "Without major malfunction, it should be the case, yes. So, before we get into the security control in more details, give me the tour." "Gladly. The first area is food. We've got 6 different brands furnishing us, generic and specialized. We've got all kinds and qualities" He shows different examples. The usual, really : Flakes of green stuff that really are ground and dried maggots, some green sugar bombs that, in essence, actually are ground and dried maggots, some products that pretend to be more sophisticated but really are nothing but ground and dried maggots...Hey, most of human food are the same fucking thing with only tiny differences between brands to pretend uniqueness while cutting the costs to a minimum. Why should jissous be better off ? Although there are some "luxury" things coming straight from marketing hell, such as chili con carne or chicken wings, but colored green. UGH. And of course, the candies. Three different brands of konpeitos, what seems to be ice cream -jissous in summer usually are in dire need of some freshness- in little pots so that they don't spill any with their messy eating habits, chocolates, cakes...A lot of what we have for ourselves, only with an shape related to the living dolls. "Next up are items for pets. Small houses, fully-equipped terrariums, toys...you name it, we have it all." A quick glance is enough to realize just how much the numbers of pet jissous are on the rise since this American innovation. Aside from the usual toys, like balls, xylophones, and toy cars, you have legos. Yeah, freaking lego jumped in the bandwagon. I'd love to see a jissou assemble even a tiny spaceship. Anyway, the bandwagon is getting heavy : Play-doh, Playmobil, My Littlest Jissou Shop...Even Barbie. So now, mankind can proudly boast to have made dolls for dolls. "Even items for abuse ?" "Unfortunately" he sighs. "I'd rather not, but in this business, you've got to delve in this stuff if you want to stay afloat. It's separated from the regular goods, though." "As it logically should be. Well anyway, items are rarely a sensitive point, so let's get down to our real business. Show me your specimens. All of them." "Of course !" His voice lifted up. Seems like he wasn't particularly afraid of me striking his jissouseki as illegal. Still, experience taught me the line between legal pet and illegal pest is thin, and that you don't want to touch it, even from ten kilometers away with a nuclear warhead. "The shop is divided between two areas. The one where we are is the general store with only a few, low grade specimens. All of them, however, are worth seeing, I guarantee you." He goes to a bunch of terrariums imitating natural environments. There are three. Your average park, a small, sparse forest, and a lakeshore. He smiles and points to the forest terrarium. "Observe." I step closer. At first, I don't see any living doll, or at least none with the typical green dress. However, what I thought at first to be rocks begin to move, turning around, and revealing the typical, stupid faces of jissouseki. A child jissou and a maggot. Hm, so, jissous in dark gray dresses ? Not quite, as I soon notice something very, very out of place on both individuals. Top hats and monocles. "If you would be so kind as to listen to my plea" The maggot began by saying, "I would like to require an application of friction onto the area between my pelvis and my thorax, for said area is known for both its smooth texture and its pleasant reaction to the touch not unlike that of a toy balloon." "Forsooth ! My esteemed and treasured young relative colloquially referred to like a pre-metamorphosis individual of the fly species, suffixed by the Japanese vocable typically used to refer to female individuals younger than oneself, is indeed, I have the utmost pleasure to say, gifted with an abdomen uniquely pleasurable to the touch. In addition, I find her to exhibit the positive properties often linked to small individuals with charming yet innocent demeanor, and would like to inquire whether you share this humble opinion." I turn to David. "What. The fuck. Is that." The fucker is gloating. Showing to a inspector something he never saw even though it's supposed to be his specialty must be pretty satisfying. "A new mutation straight from England. The kojissou is only third generation. The bloodline all show the same characteristics : Regular jissou behavior, but refined appearance, and verbose versions of the usual expressions." "I won't lie, that's quite fascinating, and it would, no doubt, catch some interest. But regular behavior ?" I answer, snickering. "Aye, there's the rub. " "What do you mean ?" "The ban for feral jissouseki isn't actually based on pedigree. It's, in fact, a norm applied to the breeding process. Specifically, the education. There's a mandatory exam before any jissou is approved. It's not based on intelligence, but rather on social skills and moral values. For instance, if they can't readily and honestly accept another individual into their group, it's a serious penalty. You handled these...gentlejissous. Do they pass ?" He scratches is head, embarrassed. "I figured" I say. "Now, maybe you can get some derogation. At least you know who you can talk to. Anyway, show me the others." "Certainly...In the aquatic environment, we have a family of jissouseki particularly attached to cleanliness. About average IQ, but with over-par moral standards." I lay my eyes on those. Playing around in the shallow pool of water are normal looking individuals, an adult and five children of the same age. On the sand lie their dresses, all blue, neatly folded and in pristine condition. "Let me guess, if you try to abuse these ones, they break out in a sweet dance and sing "Well you can do anything, but lay off of my blue suede clothes ?" "...Wh..What ?" "Nevermind. What do they do ?" "They're polite, very considerate of their environment and strictly non-violent. However, the drawback is that they can't stand to eat any regular processed food. Anything under dog food is out of the question. I would also not recommend putting them together with other kinds of jissouseki." "Like any pet jissou for that matter...These ones pass, even if there's some risk involved." "Well, they're low-cost pets after all...And finally in this section, run of the mill uncommonly dressed jissous who aced their social adequacy test." In a grass environment with the occasional bush, kojissous of every color are happily prancing about. A red one is giving half of her candy to a green-dressed one with a richly laced bib. Three others are playing together with a little stick, and two are trying to get our attention. "Hello, Mr.Man ! I hope I am not bothering you, but I would really like becoming your pet, if you take my friend jissou-chan with me, techun !" "Yes, we are best friends forever, techi !" "Really ?" I reply diplomatically. "Well, I'm sorry but I already have a cat. However, you asked nicely, and nice jissous should get rewarded." I take a konpeito from my fanny pack, not out of generosity but rather because I have to test their seemingly strong friendship. They accept it with open arms, and then sit down, cooing happily as they break the spiked candy in half. "Pass for these ones too." "I never doubted them. After all, this kind of specimen is the bread and butter of pet jissou shops." "Yes. You mentioned another area ?" "Indeed. The high-quality zone. I aim to be the town's most reputable retailer with it." My interest piqued, I follow him to his holiest of holies. It's behind a double automatic door, each activated by weight-detecting mats. And what I see is nothing short of the Jissou Eldorado. Yesterday, I saw a jissou dystopia, and now it's the utopia's turn. In a crescent-shaped room, juvenile jissouseki are happily living together, free from any forms of restraint. None of the individuals could be mistaken with a feral jissou. Aside from the obvious fancy dresses and hair colors, they all had something unmistakeably human in their posture, in their expressions. Their eyes were shining with intelligence, even their rigid A-shaped mouths felt alive. Three of them were sitting on pillows, talking and laughing. You could easily have mistaken them for human children, if they weren't a quarter that size. If you didn't know anything about Jissouseki, and your first contact was this room, you'd be thinking them to be some kind of fairies, benevolent and cute, if a little misshapen. But hey, we've fallen in love with worse things. Dogs, for instance. There are typical, glass walled enclosures with beds, food and whatnot, but a trapdoor enabled them to go into the main area as they please. It really was a zone where the humans were the hosts of the would-be high quality pets. A place which made you forget that their species, as a whole, was a bigger pest than humanity itself. Everything was clean. Not organized, but clean and odorless. A pink-dressed blonde kojissou politely excused herself and went to her enclosure -at the opposite side of the room- to do her business. "Come back soon, jissou-chan, te !" "We'll wait for you, techi !" I don't know what was going on, probably some kind of social games like children and teenagers just can't stop playing. Still, that proved a solid and spontaneous bond had formed between them. Not the slightest doubt about it : They were high-end pet jissous. "Hello girls !" Proudly said David. "My friend's name is Thierry. He's here to make sure you're all safe." "And then we can finally be with Mr.Men, desu ?" "Yes, the shop will open in a few days." The living dolls cheer. I, myself, wouldn't exactly be thrilled to be sold to strangers, but eh, to each his own. All the jissouseki gather around me, albeit in a respectful fashion, nowhere near the usual crowd that gathers around your feet, demanding food and homes. "Hello, little jissous. Like David said, my job is to make sure no feral, bad jissou can reach you and harm you. Well, I'm also supposed to inspect your behavior and intelligence, but, quite frankly, after seeing you roaming freely in here without dirtying anything is..." *Clack* All of a sudden, all the lights went down. Power outage. The exact kind of thing you don't want to happen when an inspector is in your shop. Fortunately for David, I knew and understood that electrical power is a fickle mistress. I merely jumped on the occasion to ask him... "Do you have any kind of back-up power ?" "Huh, well...It was among the things that I was supposed to be delivered days ago..." "Okay, I'll accept that excuse without problem if you show me the receipt." Silence. "Did you heard me ? I wish to see the..." "We got a bigger problem on our hands." "Is that so ?" I say, sighing. "Look at the entrance." I do so. Well, shit. ...to be continued in Operation Crash and Burn !
Well, I'd probably say the enclosures are all security sealed and virtually no feral jissou can get in them without finding the security pads and their passcodes. Or the lock for the security pads. Nothing short of a grenade launcher can get into those enclosures! :D Why? I patented them myself!
To InLeaves: Very well written,(better than mine). I have several ideas about the power failure, (I'll keep them to my self). I look forward to reading more of your work.
The British Jissou got me laughing hard. XD
http://nijibox.dynup.net/jissou/hokan/src/1203044136683.png this is what I envision Mr. Thierry Genestar to look like; a hardbroiled man in his early 30's willing to do anything to solve a Jissou case, from Jissounocide to even more extreme measures like talking whit them.
>>250 Yeah, but Jissous aren't fun unless you give them a little headstart. We wouldn't want our favorite pest to be wiped off the planet within weeks, after all. >>253 Maybe it's just me, but the server forbids the access.
>" ...our favorite pest to be wiped off the planet..." Silly InLeaves, Jissous are gonna follow mankind in their inevitable conquest, enslavement and eventual extermination of all sapient species in the galaxy. Just picture it: a 5-tonne-something maggot-chan floating in a glass tank like the navigator in that old DUNE movie whit David Bowie, Jissou drawn wagons in the anachronistic old west themed planet were humans hunt down thinly veiled apache analogue aliens, the entire biosphere of Pandora overran when a single food-grade thumb-chan escapes the human settlement's canteen, the bizarre J-civs who build massive obsidian Kompetios and scatter them across the planets, or the even weirder ones who hunt other jissous to trade with men, or who torture and resell androids in little backwater moisture farms, the fanatic A-tier zealots who worship an old and broken suseiseki doll as the god-empress of jissoukind... not to mention all the possibilities microgravity, the vaccum, the high radiation, the near absolute zero temperatures and the micrometeorites of space open to abusers. tl;dr: moar Jisso IN SPESS, PLZTHNXBAY.
Short story to occupy time till other stories appear.... I walked into my new job. As an assistant animal caretaker at the city zoo. Things were looking bad, I had to take any job that was available. Paul Jacobson was my supervisor’s name. My new partner was Chris Anderson. I was escorted to human resources and had to fill out several reams of paper; insurance, retirement, medical, W-2. That afternoon, Chris took me to the feeding pens where animal food was prepared. “Since you’re the new guy, you get to fix the mobile food.” Chris said. “Meals on wheels?” I asked. “Nope. Meals on legs.” Chris answered. Chris opened the door. A smell of rotted cabbage and ammonia greeted my nose. “What the hell is that” I gasped. “Simple. Jissouseki.” Chris explained, “While many animals are bred for zoos and attractions, they still have their hunting instincts. If these instincts are not met, or satisfied, then the animals can get cranky, and even more dangerous than they already are. In addition Jissous are cheaper than meat.” “I don’t understand.” I asked. “What do jissouseki have to do with instincts?” “Simple. The jissouseki get all panicked in the cages, and try to run. The animals or carnivores track them down, kill them, and eat them. It gives the animals a satisfaction for their hunting instincts and provides exercise.” Chris said. “So I just walk around tossing jissouseki into the cages?” “At first you’d think so. But sometimes the jissouseki escape being hunted or an animal isn’t hungry. Then the jissou start to breed, and soon we have a cage filled with dead animals and feral jissou. If the public wants to see that, they can just go to the local parks.” “How does a jissou kill a wild animal?” I asked. “Simplest way is for the jissou to shit in its mouth while the animal is asleep. If the animal aspirates any jissou shit it can come down with pneumonia, and other respiratory infections.” Chris explained, “Also if the jissou is scared enough during this time, it can give a panic birth, and then you end up with a grub jissou in the animals airway, and the grub or maggot will try to eat their way out.” “Gross” I answered. “So, explain to me the set up. And why don’t we just let feral jissou in, and the animals can eat all they want?” “The feral jissou may carry diseases. That’s why all the jissou guards around and in the zoo. Jissou boxes, jissou wire, and other catch and terminate devices. But we don't use any poisons. We don’t want a jissou to be poisoned, and then be eaten by a zoo specimen. No one wants to see Tony the Tiger die because of a jissou.” Chris explained. Chris went on, “Each animal is checked once a month; weight, blood pressure, temp. The usual check up routine. The carnivores are then given an estimated dinner chart. How many jissous of what weight is needed to feed them. If the animal weighs too much, then they get more, but smaller jissous for exercise. If the animal is the correct weight, then they get adult jissous. The carnivore fish in the lakes get jissou maggots.” Chris continued. “The big cats, lions tigers, leopards, cheetahs, get more than the canines, wolves coyotes, dingoes, foxes and the like. The cats expend more energy in their hunt, because they will play with the food.” I took this all in. It did make sense. Border collies, rat terriers, and other hunting herding dogs did the best at jissou eradication in certain areas. Chris continued talking, “We have to prep all the jissous for the daily feeding. To make it easier for the animals, we strip the jissou and remove the stone. Each animal will have a dinner pack. The stones are kept with the dinner pack. The dinner pack is released into the exhibit, and the stones are left outside. Before the next dinner pack is served, the stones are broken. Any jissou that is missed will be destroyed, and picked up at the cage cleaning. This keeps any jissou hiding from the animals from having a litter and contaminating the cage.” “How come I got the feeding job? I’d think anyone would want that rather than cleaning jissou messes, and cages.” I asked. “You’d think so. But a lot of people don’t like jissous, but don’t want to deal with the mess, or trouble. Some guys like telling an individual jissou what is going to happen, but when you do it every day….” Chris let the explanation hang. I got it. This was the job to see if a person had the right temperament. “All right then how do I prep the jissous.” I asked. “Right this way I’ll show you.” Chris said. We walked down a hall way and dressed in one piece coverall that had attached boots. After taping all openings, and the gloves to our sleeves, we entered to jissou room. Inside it looked like a chicken ranch. Small conveyer belts carried green pellets, alfalfa nuggets Chris explained. Chris then picked up a clip board. “Today we need 25 ko-jissou, 16 adult jissou for the bobcats.” Chris then picked up a stick with a closable claw at the end. “We try not to injury, or cause any blood to spill. That panics the jissou, and makes the job harder.” Chris handed me a plastic box then I followed him went to the crowd of jissou at the far end. Chris spoke some nonsense to the jissou to keep them quiet. Something about an examination before seeing their new home. The jissous crowed around us and pestered up for candy, new clothes, belly rubs. The usual jissou crap. Using the claw, Chris picked up the required number of jissou. When the box was full, Chris announced to the waiting jissou, “We’ll be back. We will need more jissou, so just be patient.” We then walked back into the work/prep room. Chris explained further about the jissou prep. “We have to sedate the jissous.” With that Chris took a hose and placed it in the plastic box, and filled it with a gas. “We use nitrogen to knock them out. That way no harmful drugs will reach the animals.” Working quickly, Chris used a sharp knife to slit the jissous’ clothes and removed them. Then he quickly slit open the jissou, and removed the jissou jewel. Placing the stones in a clear plastic bag, he then used a glue to seal the jissous shut. He then placed the jissous in a clean box with small holes along the bottom edge. “The jissous will wake up in a few minutes and become fully conscience.” Chris explained. “They usually don’t know realize what happened. They know something happened, but can’t understand it.” Chris then sprayed the jissous with a liquid. “This is a vitamin spray, which give the jissou an odor that the animals can track.” With a nod of his head, I followed him out to the zoo exhibits. We walked to the back of the bob cat cage out of sight of the public. Chris walked up to a small door, that was the same size as the box. “Watch this closely” Chris said. Chris then reached up and removed a plastic bag from a hook hanging over the door. “First take the bag from the previous feeding, and run it through the towel wringer several times. Make sure every jewel is crushed. Otherwise a surviving jissou could contaminate the exhibit with feral born jissou. Then we’d have to call an exterminator to make sure the cage is cleared.” I watched as the bag of stones was crushed and Chris inspected it to make sure none were missed. Then Chris took to stones he had just removed and placed it on the same hook. Chris smiled, “Make sure you don’t get the bags confused. Otherwise you get a big mess to clean up” I nodded, and watched as Chris opened the door, and dumped the jissous into the cage. I heard several cries from the jissous. “Techi, look sisters we have new home.” “Desu, we can live here.” “Look what is that coming, desu” “Deeguyaaa…. RUN! Shit animal, don’t eat, ….CRUNCH.” “SISTERS COME BACK…..SHIT SISTERS, Don’t leave me….orononorononmron…………” We walked to the front of the cage, and watched. 3 bobcats were running around chasing the jissou. The jissou tried to run, but were too slow. Others tried to hide, but left a trail of jissou shit leading right to where they were hiding. With several screams and crunches, the jissou were soon caught and eaten. Bobcats like their smaller cousins liked to play with their food. We watched as one bobcat, would catch a jissou, and bat it around, then chase it more when it tried to escape. When the jissou was too beaten and tired to run anymore, the bobcat walked over to it, and bit its head off and slowly finished its meal. “Usually I don’t stay to watch, but I thought I would satisfy your curiosity and let you see how the jissous are done. The bobcats will play more. The lions and other big cats will usually just do one grab, one gulp, one jissou. Not much finesse. Canines usually will let the jissou get further into the cage and track them. The meat eating birds will actually hunt. The owls we don’t feed until close to sundown. I’ll show you the schedule and rotation sheet.” “Is this what it’s like everyday?” I asked. “No, sometimes it gets really bad when the jissou start begging to be let out, or taken home with you.” Chris answered. “Don’t get too close to the food, or too familiar.” “All right then, whose next” I asked. “The alligators” Chris answered.
Note: Canon has it that if you crush the jewel, the Jissou die. Usually explosively. With their eyes popping out and their organs failing spectacularly. Removing the jewel just makes them immortal, though they might beg for death at some point.
Just bumping the thread to keep it going.
The NDCNB (Non-Dipshit Chapter-Naming Board) has overruled the preview of this chapter's title in the previous one, and also wishes to state that naming chapters after random episodes of CSI, even from a list exclusively comprised of the Las Vegas series as opposed to the other pale imitators, is stupid, and the author is hereby deprived from his weekly gin tonic binge for a month and supplied with shitty rosé instead. Thank you for your comprehension. (Also, too happy to finally finish this jumbo chapter to proofread it thouroughly.) Chapter 7 – Operation Eternal Victory Continued from >>249 There was, quite simply, a lot of jissous. From where I was standing, the entrance was far away, but I could still see that there was a lot of jissous. Big deal, right ? I already said that the critters were naturally attracted to the pet shop. And yes, seeing a large bunch of jissous would have been quite normal, especially given that the ultrasounds stopped emitting. However, this was beyond a large bunch. In fact, I don't think I ever saw that many jissouseki in one place. "I knew there were many in the forest nearby" said David Rigaut. "But this many ? Plus, they have to cross the road ! I swear this never happened before, I..." "Don't sweat it. I know it's not your fault. And I know exactly why, too." Fucking Cthulhu. If you keep tailing me like that and wreaking havoc wherever I go, eventually somebody's going to call shenanigans. Especially considering you're targeting the Mayor's family. Anyway, the situation was astounding. Like he said, there's a road between the forest and the shop. The kind where people drive fast. The kind jissouseki are normally scared shitless of crossing. For such a number to reach the shop, there's either some kind of tunnel, or a goddamn legion coming at us. "What are we going to do ? If the power isn't back up soon, eventually they'll force the gates open !" "I know !" I answer, angrily. "It could be back up in thirty seconds, it could be back up in an hour. We're not going to take any chances. We wait for them here, and kill them all." "What ? You're insane, I'm..." "Listen to me ! In this room alone, you must have more than one hundred thousands of euros worth of jissouseki and hardware ! Way more than the first shopping area ! If we can save one area, it must be this one !" "We could take them into bags and try to run for it outside..." "And you think anybody would buy them after being shoved into bags and swung around, breaking several to all of their bones ? Let me answer the question for you. No !" I look behind me. The high-class pets are shivering, looking at us. All around them, through the windows, they can see feral jissouseki mindlessly pounding the glass, screaming, with hungry mouths and ravenous expressions. It even transcended the simple need to find shelter and food. The ferals were clearly out for blood. I was a towering giant compared to this barbaric horde, and yet I wasn't feeling that much cocky. So the pet jissous perfectly understood from just how close the shit is from the fan, and knew full well we were their only hope. I turn toward them. "Okay girls, here's what we are going to do. You must stay safe at all costs, so everyone goes back to their enclosures, and under no circumstances will you be allowed to look outside. Things are going to be very messy, so messy that it could very well make you unable to sleep at night. David, what do you have that can protect them and their senses ?" "Let me see...We have earplugs and sleeping masks." "This will have to do. Go fetch those !" He rushes off to the first part of the store. The jissouseki are clustering together, trying very hard not to shit themselves. "The mean jissou-chans want to kill us, teen..." "Why ? We did not to anything to them, we are good jissous, teen..." "Maybe they will listen if we tell them we like them and share our candy, techi ?" "I do not think that will work, jissou-chan, techi. We must trust the Mr.Men, techi." Smart girl. The shop owner comes back in a hurry, stuff in his arms. Behind him, I can see the feral jissous getting together to pry the doors open. They may be weak, but without power, the doors won't close automatically, and eventually, they'll get enough space to enter. Plus, like I said, it's like they have the 9 again rule for all dice pools involving opening doors. "That should do it...But damn, I can't believe how many there are, they completely surrounded the building !" "Help your girls put those on, and get them into their enclosures. Then block the entrances. I'll call the exterminators." He pitches right into it, gently but firmly telling the high-class pets to put the protections on. Frankly, I don't know if that will really shield their fragile psyches from harm, but we have to try, right ? "Annecy's Extermination Service, wait a second while we..." "It's Genestar, and it's for an urgency." "Oh, hi boss...An urgency ? Where ?" "You know the commercial compound to the ride of the road to Aix-Les-Bains ? Just before entering Seynod ? I'm in the new jissou pet shop, the power is down, and a jissouseki army the likes of which I have never seen will soon break into the building. Whoever is available should come here right now, the shop owner is Rigaut's nephew." "Okay, I'll see who I can find." "Thanks. See ya." I hang up. David is just done putting the pets into their enclosures. He looks at me. "Why are you protecting them ? Aren't you the chief exterminator ?" I chuckle. "Yes, but I'm not the kind to kill indiscriminately. I hate feral jissous because they're a threat, even though the boon of free food for everyone is invaluable. Without exterminators, cities would be little more than jissou breeding grounds with a few humans here and there. Ferals are robotic, selfish as all fuck, and a very disturbing view of where intelligence without strong social bounds can lead." I look at the scared pet jissous, cuddling their plush toys, trying to convince themselves their masters will save them. "But letting the educated few die to the hands of the retarded masses just doesn't feel right." "Glad we agree" he answers, smiling. "The verbose jissous and friends are toast though." "WHAT ?" I snicker as I walk into the shop's first area. There are limits to my empathy. I try to ignore the thumping against the glass doors, and look for the computer in charge of the -mediocre- music here. It runs on batteries, so it's still good. When you're fighting jissouseki, one of your best allies is loud music. It disorients the adults, kills the youngest specimens, and guarantees every "emergency pregnancy" only results in tears. I take a quick glance to the vivariums of the regularly priced pets. The verbose jissous I won't have the slightest guilt to let die, but the others...Oh, well, I can use some excuses to cry in public. Crocodile tears are good only when you can explain them. From my smart phone, I upload Der Ewige Sieg by Equilibrium. A German band. Eh. Contrary to popular belief, the German's aren't the French's hereditary enemies. That would be the British, and a century-long truth shall, I think, never erase that. Still, their language is, as far as I'm concerned, an incomprehensible clusterfuck, but damn does it not impair their ability to do good metal. Also, Equilibrium is the only metal band I know that has a female member who's a guitarist instead of a singer. But I digress. The automatic doors emits worrying noises now. I look around for a weapon. Fortunately, pretty much anything works against the jissouseki. I just have to pick something big and cool-looking. Unfortunately, all there is is a broom. "They're almost in !" Shouts the shopkeeper. A broom it is. I run to the doors. They indeed are on the verge of giving in. I spin my broom, Zhao Yun-style. The jissous are howling at me. There's such a cacophony of voices that the only thing I can make out is "techi". Kojissou faces are being pressed against the glass, deforming their soft skulls. A tide of green and pink is flowing across the road. From all over the forest, jissous are heeding Heaven's call. The great building has stopped being noisy, and in their minds, it means it's now welcoming them with open arms. It's a frenzy, sure, but there is as much hope as there is rage. "Let me pass, I must be first !" is, no doubt, the sentence that is driving them forward. There are more than a hundred. Hell, maybe even more than a thousand. I shiver. The thought is crazy, but with this many, maybe, just maybe, they could prevail against us. The opening is now the size of a kojissou. They get a better grip of the doors. In a few seconds, my otherwise pretty real life will go Zack Snyder. I try to poke their stumps to make them let go of the doors, but the rear guard react scarily fast, and throw shit at me. I thus step backward, and wait for the floodgates to open. They're in full war mode, despite their instinctive attempts at wooing me. Maybe it's the work of the manipulators, but somehow, I doubt it. I'm facing a hive. The doors creak. The first jissous are pouring in. Conveniently, the music only starts playing now. I yell to the vanguards my most fearsome battle cry. "WHY AM I STUCK WITH A BROOM DAMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT !" I crush the biggest of the group. Her eyeballs pop out of their sockets, and she vomits part of her lungs. The others recoil in fear, but are pushed forward by those behind. Part of those who are trying to get past the doors are crushed by their sisters, either on the floor or against the glass. They're beginning to pile up, in their haste to get to the fabulous home. I'm stepping on the remainder of the first wave when the doors finally give in. In a flurry of -techis barely covered by the music, the green wave marches on. They're staggered by the sudden increase of decibels from the loudspeakers, and I go for the multi-kill with a large swipe of the broom. There's no end to the green tide. They are still pouring in from the forest. Car drivers even stopped to marvel at the phenomenon. "Goddamit you assholes, I'm knee deep in shit over here ! Get your asses back on your seats and DRIVE !" Of course, my voice is drowned among the music and the herd's battle cry. I furiously whack the heads of every jissou that manages to enter. Each time, a "TEG-" or "DEG-" marks the last second of their lives before their skulls are flattened. They are jissouseki. They are weak as all fuck. But I am alone, and they are legion. Those not actively trying to enter, unconcerned by the Balrog standing in their way, are pulling on the doors to the point that their veins pop out. A mother jissou, with a child tightly clinging to her hair, goes blue from the efforts. She's straining her muscles to the max, all the while tapping into their last reserves of willpower to resist the fear induced by the Metal music. Even knowing that this level of effort would barely rip off my hair...It's really something to be up against things willing to go this far. It's like I'm a shônen villain character. That, no matter how strong I am, I could end up with my ass beat by some punk who's only relying on the power of friendship. I waver for a moment, and a stream of kojissous goes for the pennant. They run clumsily, like a fat high-school kid trying to prove he isn't just the butt of everyone's joke. "Fucking DIE !" I sweep them all, sending them flying against the second room's glass walls, where they end up in jelly. I turn around, just in time for catching another wave and give them quick yet painful deaths. But soon, I realize. They're going to break the valves entirely open. They seem to have reached the point when no physical obstacle prevents the doors from opening. Now, with every pull, they open wider and wider, unhindered. The broom isn't going to cut it. I rush to the "abuse toys" section, and frantically search for something useful. I let some enter, but it's nothing compared to the wide stream that's soon going to enter and carpet the whole floor with jissouseki. Plus, they're disoriented by the loud music, giving me some time. I wish I could use my incendiary grenades, but in this state of focused frenzy, even when they die they just aren't giving me enough shit to fuel the fire. Nothing in my fanny pack is useful in this dire and surreal situation. I have to improvise. Poison flakes...Even if they stop for it, the sheer numbers won't be affected overall. Pulsating sound wave...Would take too much time to make it active. Poison this, poison that...Do you fuckers have anything more massive than the aerosol spray ? Ah, fuck this ! Mankind never expected an attack this huge ! I'm totally outgunned ! SHIT ! And nevermind that I'm paid like an administrative secretary and not as a Dynasty Warriors protagonist ! "Genestar ! Try the thing hidden under my desk !" Shouts the shopkeeper. "I'm not supposed to have that, but this really isn't the time to respect the law !" I don't even question him and go behind his stand, and try, as calmly as possible, to find what he means. A government-issued heavy poison dispenser. You know, those in the shape of fire extinguishers, but on a small cart. Normally kept from the general public for health concerns. Sweet. As the guy who formed Annecy's exterminators in the use of those babies, I equip it almost instinctively. Normally, I consider these things overkill, as do the accountants, albeit for a different reason. But I'm sure as fuck glad this guy's the Mayor nephew right now. I walk to the broadened entrance, and remove the safety valve. "Now it's Party Hard, motherfuckers !" The poison gas gushes forward, enveloping the crowd around the gates. In mere seconds, the nerve agent hits their brain, and they shiver, their weak muscles contracting, making it difficult to breathe. I send a few puffs on the two dozens that entered the shop. Fortunately, I'm not putting the medium-level pets in danger : they are above the ground, and this poison is heavier than air. You don't want a poison gas to float to the ceiling when 80% of your targets are smaller than 30 centimeters. At long last, the army stops in its tracks. The poison has finally succeeded in intimidating the rear guard. I quickly go stop the music. Maybe now I can intimidate, or trick, them into going home. Standing between the gates, I look at the frightened faces. The pet shop was supposed to be paradise, but overwhelming evidence of the contrary has showed up. They aren't quite as cocky anymore. Both amused and curious, I listen to them. How can such a simple mind process such a situation ? After all, I'm fairly sure this is as new for me as it is for them. To my utter surprise, I can't understand a thing of what they say. Of course, I still hear desu's and techi's, but the rest is an unfathomable gibberish. Among all the quick theories that show up in my head, I quickly dismiss the work of an estranged foreigner teaching them their language. Their ability to learn languages in mere minutes, even when they're maggots, is, by far, the greatest wonder of the Jissouseki's existence. After all, Seynod's forest is far from deserted. If they made contact with a foreigner, there's no way they never saw a Frenchman beforehand. No, if they don't speak French, that means they never encountered humans before. Which, in turn, means they developed their own language. A prospect as logical as it is baffling. After all, they are the very best on the planet, and possibly the universe, at developing languages. Why should it be restrained to copying one ? As for the fact it was never discovered before...Well, Jissouseki are wired to seek out humans, so to begin with, that would be improbable. But if the controllers are behind this, and I damn know they are, that would increase the plausibility of this theory tenfold. They manipulated two, maybe three max, generations of jissouseki, to avoid human encounters at all costs, and tada ! You have the first original Jissouseki language in history. Frankly, I'm amazed. I thought I knew everything about them, and they blew my mind twice in fifteen minutes. And thus, my plan to use diplomacy goes straight to the shitter. Unless... I hear some French, which is not surprising because the army can't be entirely composed of this mysterious isolated tribe. There should even be some french speakers within the secluded tribe. Individuals that strayed a bit too far, learned a human language, never to spread it at home. Who knows ? At my feet, now that the music is out, one of the dead kojissous is giving birth. Her belly was torn open by the broom, and the kind of adorable little living beans flow out of the wound instead of the natural exit. They are, I believe, the only maggots in the army. Their brains are incapable of desiring anything but raw food, so I can't imagine them crawling all the way here for what is, for them, just a huge building. Sure, the odd kojissou must have brought their "favorite maggot-chan" with them, but I'm willing to bet they were trampled for being too slow. Anyway, while I look menacingly at the horde, the hose turned toward them, the babies chirp obliviously. "Tettere~ !" For all the ways by which the jissous get their asses kicked by the human species, you've got to admit that "tettere" is better than "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA". So what the hell, let them live, they pose no immediate threat. I look back at the more mature individuals. "Leave this place !" I declare. "This paradise is not yours. Jissous only get homes when they successfully charm Mr.Men !" "But...None want us, techi !" Complains a french-speaking kojissou somewhere in the back. "They killed mama, tesuuun..." "Stop guarding the Paradise, shit human, decha !" Authoritatively says a ragged adult. "The shit noise stopped, so it means the Paradise welcomes us, desu !" "Tummy soft and springy, please, rub, re..." Oh, my, I had forgotten why I hate maggots for a minute here. *Sprotch* "Granted", I say, "rubbing" my shoe against the floor. "No, you see, that is kind of the point. The stopping of the noise is actually a trap, a siren to lure in the weak-willed, shit jissous. So it's perfectly natural I kill everyone here. Because they are weak-willed, shit jissous. But you're going to get back to the forest because you're a smart, good jissou, right ?" I stare at here. She's trying to get her thought process rolling. If she falls for it and retreats, I can hope for the rest of the hord to retreat as well by pure mimetism. They're at a stalemate, and the first move is likely to be followed by all the others. Just like for us humans, really. At my feet, the six or seven other maggots keep asking for belly rubs. One cute kojissou boldly steps forward to indulge them. I need to make an example anyway. "Techa ?" I grab her by the head, and rise her up into the air. "What are you doing, Mr.Man, techi ? Let go, I have to rub maggot-chan's cute tummy, techi." "Weren't you listening ? I am here to kill the bad jissous who trespass here." "But I just wanted to rub maggot-cha..." I begin to squeeze. "Techa ? It hurts, Mr.Man !" It saddens me that the poor bastards never seem to know that you're hurting them on purpose before a full five minutes after the fan/feces spatial synchronization. Baffling, like many of their traits, as this serves no visible purpose besides preventing their abuse to ever get old. Under the pressure of my hand, her skull is deformed like a water balloon. I can see her green eye just above my thumb. It's all watery, but I can hardly feel her tears on my skin. Maybe I blocked her tear ducts or something, if it's at all possible ; I'm no anatomist. "It is painful, teeeen ! Stop it, please Mr.Man, I...*pop* And so she meets her end like a bubble wrap's...well, bubble. Fortunately, she doesn't die in vain, as the sight of her brain matter flying in the air finally gets to the francophone adult. Her face takes the characteristic bluish tint, and she backs up slowly. The stalemate is broken in my favor. "I am sorry, Mr.Man, I will return to the forest, deee..." "Well that's good. Now beat..." Suddenly, a voice comes from the other side of the road. "Stop ! Do not do horrible things to the children, desha !" Strange, this is definitely a jissou's voice, but decidedly louder than average. You can't mean... Yes, a giant jissou is running toward the shop. Or, perhaps more accurately, me. Normal proportions, normal appearance, just with the size of a human. Of course, why stop at the normal, albeit numerous, jissouseki, hmm ? The behemoth, stretching her arms forward into the air in a "stop it" gesture. She's trampling her small cousins along the way, but that aside, her expression shows genuine concern, with clear tears...Yeah, it makes sense, it's the only way she could have known I was killing maggots and kojissous from that far away. You see, I'll admit, I'm a little bit unfair when I say all the ferals are identical in personality. Well, this is true for about 99% of the time, but there are certain personality templates that occur naturally once in a while. What I am witnessing is simply a giant version of the "earnest mother".A jissou specimen that expresses genuine love and care about young jissous, and can perceive abuse from a good distance. Actually, the term of "mother" is just a convention, because she will care for any individual noticeably younger than her. For all intents and purposes, this is a pretty rare template because of the obvious inadequacy of this empathy in the feral jissou world. Their only shot at survival is usually to get adopted by humans who realize she isn't as petty and opportunistic as the others. But this one obviously made it because she was born at kojissou size, in all probability killing her mom in the process. Weird that she was one of the few to learn french...Maybe she just overheard some passersby. But her presence here completely fucks up my plan. Her forward momentum completely overturns the backward momentum I was trying to build in the jissou army. Already, those she has passed by begin to follow her. She probably doesn't mean to attack, focused purely on the children, but it doesn't matter. Now, direct confrontation is inevitable. I step backward, and run to the laptop, reactivating the song, all the while yelling to David... "We don't have long before they resume the assault ! This kind of giant jissou can survive the poison because of sheer body mass, and she'll bolster the courage of all the others by stepping in here ! We'll have to divide the tasks ! I'll deal with her physically, you form the last line of defense !" "With what ?!" "The poison gas tank ! I don't have the time to show you how it works, so I hope you already now, or you'll have to adapt on the fly !" With one kick, I send the little cart rolling towards the inner circle of the shop, and throw the hose in this same direction. The Big Mama is kneeling over the crushed maggot and child jissou. She looks absolutely shocked, just like a human would be under the same circumstances. Most jissous, of course, would have gone straight to the anger phase. Hard to say, or even guess, what exactly goes through the head of this mutant right now. But I get a good idea when she slowly turns her eyes toward me. She bares her teeth. I do the same. She's just a few centimeters taller than me, and clearly larger. Does it means she's a match for me ? In pure physical terms, shit no. Her bones are fragile, her flesh is easily torn apart. I'm not exactly ripped, but despite her size, she's just a big punching bag. Nonetheless, I'll give her a fighting chance. Why ? Damned if I know. "Why did you kill the cute maggot-chan and jissou-chan, Mr.Man, desu ?" Asks she, simple-minded, yet determined. "Why did I kill them, huh ?" Say I, fingers on my chin. "Let's see. It's my job, all feral jissous are, varying cuteness notwithstanding, classified as pests, and I'm protecting other, smarter jissous." "The maggot-chans are not dangerous for anyone, desu.. They are just babies, desu. Only someone cruel kills innocent babies, desha !" "Er, actually, before your species appeared, and even then you're not exactly paragons in this matter, the human species was the only one to give even the slightest shit about infanticide, and even that is pretty damn recent." "I do not care, you are a mean Mr.Man, desha !" "What a wonderful fucking day for an understatement." She steps forward. Like in a cartoon, a flurry of smaller creatures gets past her. "Ready, Dave ?!" "Yeah, I got it, but don't get beaten up by that thing !" "Don't worry." I snicker. "To be a civil servant, one must be the very best at kung fu." She charges. Clumsily, as always, wobbling on her two stumps. I always told myself that, if presented with a Hollywoody situation, I wouldn't spend my entire moment of glory speaking, and go straight for the shooting. But right now, I want everything except to end it up quickly. I'm Blofeld against Bond. Sephiroth against Clad. Griffith against Guts. And by god, he'll listen to every last word I have to say. She does a vertical chop. I'm usually a lousy dodger, but against a Jissouseki, this somehow comes naturally. Perhaps the knowledge that being hit would amount to nothing but getting thrown a book at, thus neutralizing the fight-or-flight response ? "Hey, know why I picked this song ? Of course not you don't. You'll probably speak perfect German by the end of it, but that's all you're able to learn by yourself, you dipshit !" "Ungh ! Shit Mr.Man, stop running, desha !" "I don't have any idea what the lyrics as a whole mean, but I can at least translate the title. Der Ewige Sieg...How fucking befitting of this fight. Both the one taking place here, and the one taking place in the world at large." I follow up a dodge with a light jab to the sides. She grunts, but that's it. Good. "This an all-out war between two species ! Both sides uses their favorite tactics ! We enslaved you, we tortured you, we just plain killed you, and I'm sure that, somewhere, we nuked you ! And yet, you stand, undefeated, like a particularly obsequious Hydra of Lerna ! We keep winning and winning, and yet, you never lose ! For the first time in recorded history, This war can be said to be an Eternal Victory for us !" "No ! I will avenge the poor, innocent children, and you will lose and die, decha !" I burst from laughter, catch an incoming direct punch between my arms, and throw her away. It's amazing how light she is ! I sent her plummeting to her destination, which happens to be the medium-level pets' pens. Aw. Well, I did say they were toast. Her back shatters one of the glass walls. She promptly gets up, however, as the smaller jissous go en masse to the place that just made a weird, high-pitched sound. "Don't get any hard feelings, jissou-chan, but I really don't think you can harm me. Here !" I stand before her, arms outstretched. "Give me your best shot. Show me what a jissou's sense of justice can muster." Let's face it. No matter how fucked up the world has become because of the Jissouseki invasion, it's infinitely better than the boring version that came before it. Free food, blank check for acting like a psychopath, jobs created, and, above all, the possibility of adventure. Get in an abandoned house in 2000...at best you found nothing, and at worst you got shanked. But now ? You can go Rambo on the asses of the local Jissou gang, and risk next to nothing. And that's why I ask a giant mutant Jissou to do its worst while I stand here waiting for the blow : Because in a shittier reality, the only heroism you get out of the deal is the one attributed to people dead on the line of duty. *Sprotch* ...Fuck is this ? There's something in my shoulder. You don't mean. "Son of a bitch." "I told you, you will die, desu !" I tear the sharpened stick away from her stump. "Okay, I guess I underestimated you." The bitch made me bleed. Not a lot, it's just a sharpened tree branch. But still, Dr.Noing only gets you so far. "Now, you lose." I pounce on her, screaming. The poor balance provided by her stumps make her fall backwards without any trouble. Around us, the regular-sized jissouseki ignore our brawl, going to the now opened medium-level pet pens. And as luck would have it, it seems the first they access is the one of the verbose jissous. "Here's food, techi !" "I fear I must correct your statement, O kindred, but I am a sentient being with a degree of civilization, and not an inanimate piece of...May I inquire what are your current plans ? Before they seem to be in direct contradiction to what I just said. Ah, it is with great pain that I say that I now lack my left anterior limb. I will be even bolder in stating that this comes with a great deal of pain, which doesn't seem fated to recede anytime soon. In fact, I feel a sharp increase in this matter. ALACK ! ALAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK !" "Weird jissou finally shut up, but she was good, techi !" Eh eh, that felt good. Even if it's a shame that the other two pens will also be devoured. Back to the colossal jissou, I have her pinned against the floor, and punch her repeatedly. Forget the small talk. It may have been an insignificant injury, but I don't care. THIS SHIT WILL NOT FLY ! Her face is bruised. She bleeds from her mouth and spit out teeth. But I keep hitting, now motivated more by my petty anger than by the pets' survival, and she keeps struggling, the fires of vengeance still burning in her eyes. I you can tell who's in the right here, well, you're fucking lying, because right and wrong are just words. What matters is what you do. I catch her head between by arms, and begin to twist. The image of the first encounter, just before the Festival began, flashes in my mind. The mother who broke my computer, meeting her fate by twisting her own neck, controlled by a mysterious entity. "Stop...it...Shit...Mister..." I finally break her spine, and she goes immediately flaccid. I get up. The tide is still coming, but I can hear a familiar sound far away. "The cavalry comes at last..." One hour later, I sit in a bench, facing the forest where the jissoutongue-speaking tribe came from. The operation was a success. David had no trouble keeping the pests away from the holiest of holies, and the boys made short work of the army's morale by setting up their own ultrasound-emitting device. Why didn't I use one, you say ? Well, they weigh 7 kilograms or some shit, I'm not carrying them around everywhere I go. The mayor's nephew was very grateful, and was pretty abundant in his thanks since, all things considered, the amount of the damage was one fucked-up automatic door, a dozen of medium-grade pets devoured, metric fucktons of shit on the floor that was designed for this kind of crap -yeah, didn't see that one coming- and an astoundingly low number of food bags opened and scattered around. The tribe really was focused on the high-end pets, despite the obvious fact that they were unattainable for some reason. My shoulder hurts, but nothing I can't brush off. Really, I shouldn't have been so angry back there. Probably the work of the rage-inducing pheromones they emit. And then, it occurs to me. David, the jissou retailer ? I know another one. *Beep* "Mmgn...David Kellan speaking, who is it ?" "Oh shit, time zones. My bad. Anyway, hello Dave, it's me, Thierry. Remember, from the time you were in an internship in France ?" "Wa...? Oh, yeah, Genestar, the wise-ass kid ! You grew up to speak a pretty good english I see...Well, yeah, it's late here in the East Coast, but I was only half asleep anyway. Hm ? Nothing sweetie, just a foreign friend. Excuse me for that... So, why the call ?" "You are never going to believe this. I landed this job as a chief exterminator, you see...I just fought off an entire army of Jissouseki to protect the high-end pets of a pet jissou retailer named David." "Ha ha, sweet coincidence. And congratulations for the job, especially given you seem to make the difference between ferals and pets...But come on, army is a little too much, yes ?" "Oh no. I'm not shitting you, we were near a forest, and there must have been more than a thousand." "...Woah. I'd say you're bullshitting me, but I myself found myself in quite an incredible thing concerning jissous a few years back, so fair enough, I guess." "Yeah, and I didn't even tell you the most incredible parts. They....Ah shit, we'll exchange stories later. I've just been paged. Sleep tight, David." "Okay, have a nice day." I hang on, and get back to my bike. Because, yeah, this week's wackiness notwithstanding, it's still a goddamn job.
>>259 ooo, David Kellan is back? Nothing wrong with CSI style titles. I can imagine Thierry putting on a pair of sunglasses and walking off into the sunset with "YEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" playing in the background... hehe.
Zombie bump.
Another one: Sorry no zombies: Several men sat around a conference table the current discussion concerned the rising cost of fuel oil and heating oil. “Gentlemen, the rising cost of oil is making many items too expensive for the average consumer. While food costs are mixed, non-jissou items are rising due to jissou infestation. Jissou based foods are being lowered due to improved processing but consumer demand remains flat. What can be done to alleviate these costs?” One man spoke up, “Sir, the cereal grains are limited because the jissou invade and despoil the fields. This in turn limits the amount of grains available for animal food. We have utilized a jissou alfalfa mix for pigs, cattle, and chickens, but it imparts a sour taste to the final product. Until the jissous can be controlled or eradicated we’re stuck.” The chairman nodded. “Okay then what other ideas can we use to keep costs down?” As the men spoke, an intern walking around refilling coffee cups, and water jugs chuckled. The men noticed and tried to ignore him. The chairman asked the intern, “Something funny?” The intern caught himself and sheepishly smiled. “Well sir, this weekend I saw a video of a jissou kill that was funny.” The chairman really didn’t care but decided to ask anyway. The board needed ideas or a least an inspiration. “Describe it please.” The intern said, “It was nothing really. Some guys had captured a jissou and made it eat its own crap. I don’t mean just any crap, but every time it crapped, they would gather it up, and feed it back to the jissou. When they did it enough, they let it go. When it ran off, it crapped and left a trail. Then the guys lit the line of crap on fire. The crap burned real fast and caught up to the jissou while it was running, and it burned to death.” The chairman leaned back and thought. The other men around the table just looked at each other. Many had hired jissou exterminators and cleaners. Sometimes they had even killed a few jissous themselves, but didn’t understand the chairman’s curiosity. Jissou killing was a job for others. Jissou killing for fun was a different group or class of people. “Interesting, jissou feces usually burn like grass or leaves. Usually it doesn’t burn fast enough to catch a running jissou. Was the jissou sick or injured?” “Yes sir. I mean it wasn’t running as fast as a healthy jissou, but it wasn’t crawling or limping.” The chairman leaned forward and pointed to the research head. “Get a couple of jissous. Recreate what these guys did.” He then pointed to the intern, “Go with him, show him the video, and help him out.” The chairman leaned back. “If this works we might have a new line.” The meeting broke up. The board members were curious. What was the chairman thinking? Several weeks later the intern and the science team were in the chairman’s office. “Well what did you find out?” the chairman asked. The intern answered, “It seems sir, that when a jissou is fed its own feces repeatedly, the feces slowly become a more flammable substance. Some akin to bunker fuel about grade 5 or 6. After a while there is no improvement beyond that level, and jissou dies.” The chairman asked, “How does it work?” The head of research answered, “It seems that the jissou will produce hydrocarbons as a waste product. The repeated trips through the alimentary canal seem to purify it more and more, along with other waste products such as nitrogen. The hydrocarbon chains are held in suspension with the nitrogen. We really can not refine it further without a severe rise in recovery costs. However it can be used as a low grade fuel oil, such as a marine fuel, home heating oil and the like.” The chairman asked “How many trips does it take to get to a usable product?” “Usually about ten repetitions. After that the jissou expires, and the fecal material does not become more flammable. Also there is a problem. After the 5 time through the jissou the jissou will try to avoid eating the feces until the hydrocarbon evaporates. Then it will eat the dry feces.” The intern spoke up, “Yeah, so what we did was get a couple of marinade syringes and force fed the jissous.” The chairman leaned back in his chair. “Does the jissou need to eat its own feces, or can the jissou eat any other jissou’s feces to achieve the same result?” The head of research looked down. “We didn’t look into that. We just tried to recreate the video results.” The chairman looked at the research team. “Look into that and get back to me in a week.” Two weeks later the science head and the intern were back. “Mr. Chairman, I think we have a solution to the feces eating jissou issue.” “Well?” the chairman asked. “The jissous have a single opening, for all expelling actions, excreting, urination and birth. If we glue the mouth of one jissou to the opening and allow the first jissou to excrete directly into the mouth of the second jissou, then we have no issue with the jissou being, well a picky eater.” The research said. “Then we can continue the chain to a total of ten jissous. The final product, while smelly is a workable substitute for grade 6 marine fuel.” The chairman asked, “Can this be done in a reasonable time and costs?” “Yes sir.” The research head continued. “We have designed a working version and the chain will produce about 4 to 5 gallons of fuel per day. If we have a number of chains, a viable supply of jissous for fuel production and food for the conversion jissous then we can supply a goodly amount of fuel that can be used for shipping, or home heating oil.” The chairman looked at a file on his desk. “We have an empty warehouse on the docks right now. How many chains could be set up there?” The head researcher looked at the outline of the blueprints. “About 10,000 chains if we utilize a multi level plan.” “10,000 chains, each one producing about 5 gallons per day” The chairman mused. “If we set this up as a demonstration project we could supply our own fuel needs. Then it could be expanded to become a sale product.” Two months later a training session was in progress. The former intern, now head of training for jissou fuels division was speaking. “All right now, this job requires that you pay attention. This job is not a chance to torture jissous, or fulfill your jissou abuse fantasies. Now that’s clear let me show you what your job is.” An aide brought out a display board with 10 jissous on it. The jissou appeared to be in a daisy chain. “Your job is to walk along the lines, and tap the bottom jissou and see if it is alive. IF not then you close and remove the feed tube from the top jissou. The feed tube looks like an oxygen mask and is held in place with an elastic band. The tube reaches past the airway and feeds directly into the stomach. Then remove the jissou chain from the holding clamps like so.” The head trainer then unlocked the clamps below each jissou’s arms and pulled them free. Placing the jissou chain on a flat surface, he turned to the class. “At this point, poke the jissou hard in the stomach to make sure it is dead. If not, you will need to continue, but it takes an extra step. Slice through the jissou’s lips, cut it free from the jissou above it. If the jissou is still alive, remember we are talking about only the bottom jissou, twist its neck until you are sure it is dead. Then toss the dead jissou into the feeding trough. It will then be pureed and made into jissou food. The top jissou may try to talk or beg. Ignore anything it says. The reach under the line into the jissou cages and grab a fresh jissou. Make sure you have your gloves on. If you catch a penis chan, slice off its member and twist its neck and dispose of it in the feeding tray.” He paused to look around the room. “Any questions so far?” Everyone looked around at each other but no questions. The trainer continued. “At this point, with the fresh jissou, take the tube of contact cement and spread around the jissou’s vaganus making sure it is well out lined. The take it and spread its legs. If you have to, go ahead and break its hips to keep the legs from closing. Then with your other hand squeeze the top jissou’s jaws until you hear or feel it break. Then place the new jissou with the vaganus over the mouth of the top jissou and hold it until the cement sets. This usually takes about 15-20 seconds to do so. Remember the wear your gloves, the cement will not adhere to the glove, and the jissous will try to bite. Make sure the new jissou is faced in the opposite direction as the one below it. Otherwise, you will have to kill the entire chain, and build a new one from scratch. If during this process, the new jissou does close it legs and the cement sets, kill it and start again. It is too much trouble to try and fix it, and takes too much time.” The trainer looked around. A few people did look shocked, but it was jissous, not like they were real animals or really alive. “Then using both hands pick up the chain, and place it back in the clamps. Adjust the clamps as need to make sure each clamp is holding the weight of one jissou. We don’t want the jissous tearing away from each other and causing a mess. Also make sure the top jissou is facing outward. Replace the feeding tube and open the spigot. Make sure the feeding tube reaches into the stomach. It takes a little practice but you will see and feel how to do it. Otherwise the jissou will drown, and again you will have to build a whole new jissou chain from scratch.” The trainer looked around. Jissou prep and exploitation was not as fun as jissou abuse. But it did pay better. “All right then, all of you in the first row get in line and practice what I did.”
The Jissou Centipede?
That's how it started then it grew. Trying to rewrite the original.
>>264 At least it makes sense. Human Centipede's scientist made no fucking sense.
8unp
There's no use in bumping, authors will bump when their stories are done. If you want to be of any use to the thread, bump with a story, even a short one.
>>267 Dude, they're bumping to make sure this thread stays live, and that it doesn't sink away to the bottom. They aren't pressuring the authors, just making sure they have a thread to come back to.
Well, the intention's nice, but with more than two hundred threads still available, there's little to no chance it will ever be auto-deleted, if auto-deletion is ever possible on gurochan. With the insane amount of threads in the /lit/ archive I'm guessing it's not. So I'm just saying Jissouseki are well-known and have dedicated contributors, and thus, bumping isn't needed.
i FINALLY got through the old jissouseki thread! phew! i'm looking forward to the new stories. :D
Continued from >>259 Supreme Abuser Chapter 8 – Operation Halcyon Days Friday, fifth day of the Animated Film Festival, Morning. The remainder of yesterday was spent doing the usual : Coming to the festival grounds to deal with the odd jissou-loving protester here and there, and ordering some clean-ups. You know, the routine. Just like the way even the most bored of individuals can like it sometimes. Oh, and of course, I got the Mayor to ask the Prefect to thoroughly clean the forest when the Omega Tribe came from. It's nice to live in a world when, sometimes (if there is no political repercussions whatsoever, which is yet another highlight of killing jissou ass), the authorities skip the bullshit and get right into what needs to be done. Save from a few non-francophone jissous which were sent to the lab, I was told the community was "mostly destroyed". Which is about the best result you can obtain in a forest, sadly. For Jissouseki as for every other kind of animal. As long as the shanty town and food reserves get sacked, and the dead jissous removed, there shouldn't be any problems for a while. Especially if we ask the citizens to report any unusually large gatherings in the area for a token reward. Which brings me to today. I have been given the the day off. One part thanks to my stunt in shop of the Mayor's nephew, and one part because of it. You see, David Rigaut insisted to reward me. Guess with what. "Meeoooooorrw !" "I know, Casca, I know." I just opened the door of the complimentary pet carrier that went with the reward. Said pet carrier is on the table, I'm sitting on one side, looking bored, and my cat is on the floor, manifesting her displeasure at the new odor in her territory. Which doesn’t include any trace of fecal matter or any other filth. But you know cats : You bring any kind of groceries home, and they demand you let them sniff that shit. Demand denied at the moment. I know Casca isn’t big on hunting jissous, but I am not taking any chances. You see, in the words of my benefactor himself : “I just got her, but she’s the best I have. Nowadays, most high-class Jissouseki are subject to at least some measure of programming. Don’t disobey the owner, don’t be selfish, etc. But this one is entirely natural. The price is the same, but she costs way more to educate. These are about to disappear since everyone uses the revolutionary programming, but some die-hard still go about it the hard way. Anyway, she’s yours !” And she’s staring at me, silent, waiting for me to break the ice first. She knows it would be out of place to ask anything before I even speak. “Okay, this is awkward.” "What is, Mr.Man, techi ?" She says in a demure voice. "Let's get this out of the way : There's no way in hell I would do you any harm, if only because you're a rather precious gift from my boss' nephew. But, still ! My job is to kill the feral members of your species." "And it is good, techi ! The other jissou-chans are unfortunate, but dangerous for everyone, so you must not feel guilty for me, techi." "Yes, that's right. I know that better than anyone. But even if I don't have anything against educated Jissouseki, there are people around me that don't do that kind of distinction." “Do not worry, master, I will stay home and not try to go to other Mr.Men, te !” Not that kind of “around me”, kiddo. Of course, I can’t very well tell her that one of said people is some kind of monster who can kill jissous through walls and, apparently, from a large distance. Truly, if the past week is any indication, she’s fucked straight to the Moon. On some level though, I really appreciate the gift. I’ve always been curious of the truly domesticated Jissouseki. How did they transcend the feral crowd ? Can anyone of them do it, or is it based on exceptional empathy and intelligence ? If not, how the hell do you get Jissouseki to follow classes ? How do you even design the program for jissou-school ? I look at her. Appearance wise, she’s the “Disney” type. Big head, big eyes, and a short and thin body by comparison. Her mouth is shaped not like an A but like a triangle with smooth edges. Her dress is green, but laced, and she has a soft clip-on flower on one of her ears. But, like the ones I saved yesterday, everything is in her posture. In her eyes. In the purposeful tone of her voice. All the subtle qualities that make her look and sound human. It’s hard to pinpoint, but it’s here. It’s just like she was, in fact, a human child trapped inside a jissou body. “Okay, well, no use delaying the welcome !” I catch my cat, and put her on the table. She and the jissou are now face to face. I remain vigilant, in case Casca ever tries to get cute. “Oh, hello, Mr.Cat, techi ! I always wanted to pet an animal’s soft fur, te !” As she walks towards the feline, glitter in her eyes, she’s only greeted by a growl. This startles her, and she backs off a bit. “Don’t be scared” I gently say to her, waving a hand. “Cats are jealous of their territory like that. Just give her time to get used to you.” “Okay, master, techi !” She remains cheerful, but her disappointment is palpable. She really wanted to pet the cat, whereas other jissous would only have seen her as an obstacle at best, and a target at worst. Still, this “master” business is awkward. Quick, find something to do... “Oh yeah ! I have stuff in the basement. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Casca follows me as I exit the kitchen, like always. Normally, the confiscated smuggled goods in my basement only serves for mindfucking ferals, but I clearly need them now, since just a pet carrier wouldn’t be enough by any standards. Plus, I’m not enough of a handyman to build all the stuff by myself. I flick the light on. The smell of Pacman and Chomp is still lingering in the air. A shame, their death, but as it stands, I would have had to get rid of them anyway. In this dusty little room, I have enough stuff to make a lot of packaged retards lose their shit. Clothes of all kind, for one. Some harvested from live Jissouseki, some human-crafted and thus considerably more solid and durable. A feral with this kind of clothes would become the Final Boss of a shanty town in two hours flat. I take such an outfit, with a blue color. Next is an item I actually bought myself several months ago, mainly because it’s piss-cheap, and you never know : A toilet trainer. I had failed to do that stuff for my kitty, I won’t forget for an entity as prolofic in the crap department as a Jissouseki, sophisticated education or not. It presents itself under the form of a plastic set of stairs, for kojissous to get on the toilet bowl by themselves, and then a thingie you put under the seat, that basically enables your jissou to have a solid hold on something, preventing them to risk losing their balance and fall into the water. At least it’s simple, unless the toilet training sets for cats, which involves patience and trickery. For the time being, I think I’ll make a small park, to offer some measure of protection against Casca, who can get a little nuts sometimes. A couple of wooden fences will do the trick. Next, the bed. Most people assumes the pinnacle of comfort for a jissou is a human bed made for their size. Typical ethnocentric mistake. Jissouseki are not like us, and their sleeping habits are a prime example of this. Notice how Jissous living in cardboard boxes are perfectly content with just a mattress of leaves, if not just plain lying on the floor ? They have a very high metabolism, with a much higher blood temperature than us (which is why they can barely survive when summer is in full swing, but usually get through winter without their lives being much more shitty than usual), so bed covers are mostly useless to them. They need shelter, not blankets. No, a good, comfy jissou bed is an outrageously thick and soft uncovered mattress, accomodating their fragile body structure. Think big, fluffy cotton balls. Put that in some manner of opaque container, and you’re all set. Why opaque, I hear you ask ? Light pollution, my friend, light pollution. Our civilization made cities look like freaking lightshows by night. Believe it or not, that’s actually quite harmful to wildlife, and Jissouseki are no exception. First, they are very sensitive to light (just as to anything else, if you’ve been paying attention all these years) and have trouble sleeping when there’s too much of it. Sometimes, feral jissous will risk getting out in Saturday night to tell the neighboring night clubs, bars, or even convenience stores, to knock that shit off. Hilarious, as you can imagine. But it has a fun side effect. You see, even when a feral Jissou isn’t hungry, she’s thinking about eating anyway. Sleep is the only period when their craving stops, but when they get insomnia, well, there goes another maggot-chan as a midnight snack. With that in mind, I take a small bean bag chair, and stick it in the unused box part of Casca’s cat tree. That way, the pet jissou can sleep tight, protected both from the cat and the light of my computer, all the while enjoying the primal pleasure of sleeping in a bed you can sink into. Ah, but when you’re a pet, the house is all well and good, but the toys are the main event. Since I don’t have the patience –and inconscience- of doing the “enjoy your moment of paradise, little jissou, it will be your last” routine for more than an hour, I mostly rely on short-term happiness. Thus, I have no shortage of toys. First, the thing that enraptures the heart of jissous, human children and even adults alike, the alpha and omega of primal fun, effective simplicity at its finest. If you guessed “boobs”, I like your style, but no. It’s the ball. Nobody can fail with the ball. Soft, hard, rubber, sand-filled, bouncy or inert, toss a ball at a Jissouseki, and she’s happy for a good while. They don’t even try to make up rules or play collectively. They don’t want no fancy games, they just want to hug that shit and roll with it. So, why isn’t every jissou playing with a ball instead of bothering humanity ? Come on, boss, you know that one. It kills their ass. Let a Jissouseki climb on a ball as big as she is, which she will always eventually try to do. It will roll. If it was a maggot, it will be crushed. If it was a kojissou, she will fall and get a severe, debilitating brain concussion. A dark bump the size of her eye will swell, causing atrocious pain. Plus, it’s as fragile as a bubble of gum, and if something touches it, bam ! Massive brain hemorrhage. If it was an adult and you’re anywhere not in the USA, there’s a fair chance she’s in the midst of a football game, and is probably going to die before she even gets to the concussion stage. It must be terrifying, being this weak. Knowing that a slight shock can completely ruin you. Some humans are born with such a curse, but at least, they’re sheltered, and don’t inspire the scorn of every human they meet. Anyway, we got the ball rolling. There are other, simple contraptions that could, really, amuse anything. A string, small swings, hollowed tubes…It doesn’t take much to please a Jissou. They are simple souls, and the short range of their memory makes them eternally satisfied as long as you have some variety of activities to present them. When an adopted feral jissou wrecks the home she believes is hers, it’s just because they forgot that they were happy enough with what they have. They don’t need more, they want more, just because. Here, too, it’s a lot like us humans, only magnified. A pet jissou is one that learned that it was better to have than to desire. The others ? Corrupt politicians and crooked company heads by the time they are a fucking week old. Unsalvageable. Straight to the trash. But of course, a pet isn’t just a convenient way to waste your resources : You want it to amuse you in return. One popular way to achieve this is to give them toys that makes them funny. Thus, a lot of jissou pet products rely on the celebrated saying “Isn’t this funny, she thinks she’s people !” You’ve got vehicles. Nothing too fancy. Most are just little cars the jissous just have to run around, skateboard style. There are some that are pedal-powered. But the jissou lover who gave an electric car to his pet quickly gave to his 5-year old son a prime example of the term “roadkill”, conveniently cutting corners into the traffic accidents prevention budget. “Hold tight, jissou-chans, de !” “Yes, mama, techi !” “Here we…DE ?! Thing is very fast, desu !” “Slow, mama, slow, te…techaaaa !” “[/b]Punipuni refuuu[/b]uuu…” “Mama ! Jissou-chan and maggot-chan let go, techuuun !” “I will go get them back, desu ! Aah ! Shit thing too fast, degyaa !” *Sound of a toy car bumping into an obstacle, sending the adult into the wall, smearing the kojissou she was trying to save on the floor. Dreams shattered, hundreds of dollars wasted* Far less dangerous, but not without any risks of backfiring, interactive toys. Like instruments, building blocks, modeling clay…This will guarantee your jissou to look as ridiculous as she will be happy. Seriously, they can’t even craft a halfway decent maggot-chan, and you’d think they would be competent in at least that area. Those are harmless by themselves, but they will make you despair in even the brightest of the living dolls. Anyway, my point is, there is a whole crapload of things you can give to a jissou. It takes me several trips to move everything I chose from the basement to the area near the windows. I quickly put the fences in place, and... "There you go !" "Oh, is it all for me, master, techun ?" She tries to keep a humble voice, but is clearly excited. I lift her, and put her into the enclosure. "Cats being territorial animals, we must first accustom Casca to your presence. By sticking into your own area, you show you're not here to wander around all her property. After that, she should be more willing to share the same space. Do you understand ?" "Yes, I think I do, techi ! For now, here is jissou-chan's and there is cat-chan's, techi." "Exactly. Smart girl. So, make yourself at home, I have things to do. Oh, and feel free to change your dress." “Yes, techi !” She looks around with wonder. She's in the same place as the family of ferals that met their demise by the Controller's "hands" last Thursday. Predictably, she quickly settles her mind on putting the blue dress on, going into her box to do so. Meanwhile, I unpack my new computer. Between all that weird shit going on, I still thought of ordering a new one. Also, I protected the air vent through which the culprits had passed. Jissou-chan goes out of the box, and triumphantly walks around in her new dress. Like I said, it's awesomely durable compared to their natural dresses, but visually, it’s nothing special, just a dress for medium-grade pets. But she looks pretty good in it. While prancing about, she bumps into her first toy. “Te ? What is this big thing, master ?” She says, tilting her head on one side. “That’s a trampoline. You can jump on it. That’s quite fun, I always regretted not having one myself when I was a kid. Oh, and, please, just Mr.Man is fine.” “Yes, Mr.Man…Jump, techi ?” She says hesitantly, looking baffled by the concept. “Yeah, go on, try it !” The jissou-line is a small, round trampoline, about 30 centimeters in radius, suitable for all ages, although obviously the maggots will need a little help. It’s already wide enough to make a fall on the hard floor difficult, but there’s also a thick air-filled cushion all around it, making it perfectly safe for a Jissouseki to fall out of the trampoline. She carefully climbs on it, and wobbles when stepping on the elastic net. “Woah, dangerous, I will fall through, techa !” I laugh a little. “No, I assure you. It’s unstable, but solid. You jump, and the trampoline propels you higher when you land.” “I…I trust Mr.Man, te !” Her blue forehead tells otherwise. The situation was pretty funny. Not unlike when you tell a child to jump a measly two meters into the water, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. The little jissou gathered her courage, and jumped, her arms stretched upward. She was stiff, and had her eyes closed, shivering like she just made a true leap of faith. She was still stiff when she bounced back, and silently fell, face first, onto the net. Silence ensued. “Te ?” She gets back on her feet, and shyly makes another attempt. She bounced back again, this time trying to go with the flow. And a second time, going even higher. “Te !” Her eyes illuminated. This sensation of flying, even for a short while, was, it seems, enjoyable by both of our species. “I am flying, techuuun !” “Well, not technically, but I told you this would be fun, didn’t I ?” “Yes *boing* Mr.Man is nice and has a wonderful home ! *boing* Techiiiii !” “Don’t mention it.” I get back to the computer. The Jissouseki is engrossed in the experience, laughing with her shrill yet quiet voice. She bounces and bounces, on her legs, on her back, eventually trying simple figures, and falling softly on the mattress from time to time. About 11 AM, I wrap up burning the backup DVDs, reinstalling my antivirus software, and off we go to downloading back every piece of software I lost. God I hate this. Why the fuck hasn’t Winrar signed with Microsoft to come installed on every machine by now ? Jissou-chan has taken her clothes off, folding them near her bed. Usually, naked jissous are ugly because of their fat, but her type is spared, and just looks normal. I can't blame her for playing naturist, she played like there's no tomorrow, and sweats abundantly. She made a dozen of laps with the little pedal car, tried the swings before going to the trampoline again, and then composed a symphony in techi minor with the xylophone. It's a nice change of pace, having a pet that can play all by herself. Even if I sure as shit won't hug her just as I do with my cat. Suddenly, I hear a stomach growl. The jissou had gone tomato red. Oh, so part of her education is to never ask for food ? Because, obviously, she's ashamed by the request her body makes. "It is nothing, Master" she says meekly. "I am asking for nothing, teee..." I laugh. "It's fine, all that assembling has me pretty drained too. I'll go make something." She's relieved, but obviously she's still hard on herself. Yeah, I guess that just giving them human morals doesn't cut it. Humans are dicks, pet jissous have to be angels. "I appreciate the thought" I say to further reassure her. "you're selfless and that's awesome, but when nature calls, there ain't much you can do about it." "Yes, yes, I understand, techu~n !" She strikes the "cute" pose, head tilted and paw on her chin. I guess that must mean she's extremely grateful to be here, if she falls back to this instinctive behavior. Well, I'm no jissou lover, but sometimes, a dude just has to be excellent. I go fetch some jissou food, take a random plate, and open the bag, when I almost fall on my ass because of the foul smell. "Oh shit, spoiled Jissouseki food. What was I thinking, storing it down there ?" Unable to give a shit about proper hygiene, I throw the rotting bag out of the kitchen's window. A dozen of roaming street jissous run to it all at once. I take a few breaths of fresh air, when I realize I can't be fucked to buy jissou food right now. Oh what the hell, I always make too much food for myself, she'll eat my leftovers. I thus prepare a favorite of mine. Cantonese rice. Not fried, mind you, I just boil it and put stuff in it. While the rice is cooking, I take jissou-chan, back into her dress, from her enclosure, and put her on the kitchen's table. “So, I’m curious about you. Do you remember the place you were before ?” “Hmm…Yes, te ! It was a veeeery big, bright house in the mountains, with a lot of cute jissou-chans, techi. There were our mamas, and the Mistress, techi.” “How was life there ? Did you play a lot ?” “Only after the classes, techi. We could go in the garden always, but when there were the classes, there were also Mr.Men in the garden, techi. Bad jissous who wanted to play and eat before everyone were punished, techi.” “Interesting…Punished how ?” ----------- During the afternoon at the Haute Closerie house of training, a woman in her fifties is on a stage, before a dozen of kojissous, comfortably installed on pillows and blankets. She holds a marker. “Alright girls, who knows the answer ?” On the whiteboard is written “12+3= ?”. The Jissouseki children scratch their heads. They know the principles of addition and have performed it often since they were born, but their little brain still hasn’t automated the process. Each time, they have to count mentally. Of course, one can wonder what’s worse for math : Being rock-fuck stupid, or having no fingers ? “Huh…Twelve, techi !” “No, jissou-chan.” Gently replies the trainer. “Someone else ?” “Yes, it’s fifteen, te !” “Good, jissou-chan !” The little doll chirps. The others feel jealous, but they know they have to suppress this feeling. Pets aren’t judged on math anyway, it’s just to train their brain, in order to get them able to understand more important things. Yvette, the trainer, has chosen to keep everyone with the default name of “jissou-chan”. It could be detrimental to adoption to name them, and the Jissouseki seem to know which “jissou-chan” humans are referring to anyway. On the back, one of the living dolls is restless. "Questions are easy, techi. It is okay to go out and play instead, te !" Unnoticed by her peers, she walks away from the class. Happily waddling on the clean marble floor, she can't wait to enjoy the toys before everyone else. She especially loves the merry-go-round. One of the riders is shaped by a Mr.Man's hand, and she loves sitting in it, pretending to be already adopted. The merry-go-round powers up when she steps in the hand, and the token music begins to play. The little jissou chirps and lies down, lovingly licking the index finger, dreaming of a Master and a home. "I love Master, techun ! I have you all for myself today, te !" But, after a little while, a voice can be heard in the music. Not exactly a song, but is does follow the music somewhat. Close to a adult jissou’s voice, though clearly unnatural. “Playing is awesome, de !” “Yes, it is the best, techi !” Answers merrily the truant jissou. “But for jissous like you, pooping everywhere is even better, desu!” The kojissou drops her smile, shocked, and shivers. “N…No…No, I am good jissou, only street jissou-chans poop everywhere, tegya ! Mama told so, techi !” “Yes, and they prefer playing to going to class, because they are not interested in becoming better pets, desu ! So you are like them, desu !” “No, techa ! I am pet jissou, better than them, techa ! I will go to class, I love class, it is very interesting, techi !” Furious that the voice had treated her like that, the little doll jumps down the merry go round, and makes her way back to the classroom. “Jissou-chan will be the best pet there is, techi ! No one will believe again I am a street jissou, techi !” Unbeknownst to her, the employee who talked through the voice synthesizer goes back to reading the newspaper, amused at the thought of how effective this little trick was. ----------- I’ve got to say, this trainer’s idea is ingenious. Don’t educate the children from the ground up, but seamlessly involve the powerful thing that is parental education. First, make sure their mothers establish ironclad standards of cleanliness. This works even with Jissouseki, the mothers just never bother in the wild. Then, appeal to the kojissou’s sense of belonging into a first-class category of jissou, as well as their capricious nature, to solidify good behaviors, making the kojissou educate herself. You can tell an average pet jissou, that is, ready to listen, to control her poop, and she’ll comply, because “That’s what good jissous do, and it will please the guy who feeds me.” Normal socialization process. But at the Haute Closerie, again, the goal is to make angels. They know from their mother it’s “bad to poop everywhere”, but with the training process, they fully interiorize it, and adhere to this code of conduct because “It’s for lowlifes not to do so, harrumpf !”. In other words : Jissou aristocrats. Damn. “But now I am here, and I love you, techi ! I am a good jissou and my mama is proud of me !” “Yep, like she should. Anyway, the rice should be good. Hang on a second." I take the rice out of the water, scramble some eggs, take peas and cubes of ham, and put everything together before microwaving it. The little doll waits patiently on the table. When I put the tableware for myself and a small dessert plate in front of her, she sits down and waits for the jissou food. She gets two tablespoons of rice. This seems to confuse her, and she looks at me, at the food, then at me again. “I can eat the same food as Mr.Man, techi ?” “Don’t see why you couldn’t.” Say I, shrugging. Yeah, when I think about it, it just feels weird to give shit –literal shit- to a pet worth several thousands. For me, jissou food is used to keep abuse toys alive, and not much else. It’s not comparable to cats and dogs, either. We know the living dolls have the same taste buds that we have whereas a cat is unable, for example, to taste sweetness. Okay, I wouldn’t prepare sole fillets for the personal enjoyment of any kind of jissou, but sharing the food’s okay by me. Sparkles in her eyes, she puts her paw into the warm rice, and enjoys feeling it on her skin. “I cannot believe it, techu~n ! We only had human food has treats, techu~n !” “Yeah, I guess…Although treats usually involve meat or fish, this kind of thing. But I eat pretty simply, so…yeah, it’s not Beirut for you yet.” She’s too stunned to hear me, and tries the rice, chomping for a bit, and emits a muffled “te !” when swallowing. “It is not like the chicken Mistress gave us some days, but it is good, techi ! It has a full taste, not only sweetness, techi !” Oh yeah, it’s surprisingly rare to find jissou food improved by something else than pure sugar. I figure it’s because we can’t seem to give a shit if a jissou gets fat. Point is, human food, even run-of-the-mill category, is fundamentally superior to jissou food by the simple virtue of being varied. Hell, Cantonese rice is fireworks for the little jissou who only ever ate homogeneous things. Even the treats were probably sirloins or cake. But here, she has rice, eggs, peas and ham all in one plate. One freakin’ plate, man ! That’s obviously mind-blowing for her. She takes the separate pieces and tastes them slowly, like glasses of fine wine, even though it’s, in reality, dirt-cheap. I smile while enjoying my own portion. Really, I wonder if the abusers who fleetingly treat jissous kindly do it for the betrayal, or for the feeling itself of caring for something you usually kill. Because it’s certainly something special. As we eat, I progressively begin to hear jissou-chan panting rather heavily. And when her plate is completely cleaned up, she falls on her back, covered in sweat. "What's wrong ? Ate too much ?" "No, Mr.Man...It is just...hot, techi." I put down my fork for a moment, and look outside. The sun is shining bright, and the feral jissous who were around the spoiled bag of food are all naked, but not bald. "Oh, right. Summer is closing in." I look at my new pet. It’s obvious she’s uncomfortable in her dress, and sweats quite a lot. She now has access to a wide range of awesome things, but I don't have an air conditioner, being fairly tolerant to temperature swings, and that puts her in the same position than every feral on the street. Doomed to suffer from the heat, even the shade being uncomfortable, and with a very limited range of options. Sure, I could keep her in the freezer until autumn comes (yes, you can actually cryogenize jissous without killing them. How does that work ? Dunno lol), but that aside, the only thing I can do is to offer her cold water and ice cream. Jissou-chan is not yet at a painful level, but could obviously use some freshness. I put a shooter glass in front of her and pour cold water in it. She doesn’t waste time and drinks. “So refreshing…Techu~n…” “Keep drinking every now and then, even if you’re not thirsty. You Jissouseki dehydrate very fast.” “Huuuh, yes, I will keep drinking, Mr.Man, techi.” I take a dishpan, and grab jissou-chan to put her in it. “Te ? What is it, Mr.Man ?” “Such a beautiful day” I say while walking towards the garden. “It would be a shame not to go out. So today, you go to the pool !” I put the dishpan on the plastic table, under the garden umbrella. She looks around, marveling at the vegetation around. A gentle wind blows at this moment, relieving her from the ambient heat. As I go prepare the water hose, she rather clumsily climbs the dishpan, letting out adorable little grunts of effort, and falls in a “te !” on the plastic. I wonder why she would do that until she begins to undress. With the focus on detail of a soldier, she folds her clothes into a neat square pile, and puts her socks on top of it. While she does that, I fill the dishpan with fresh water. She climbs again, and happily dives in. She closes her eyes and rises her arms into the air. "Water feels so good, techi !" She then dives and splashes around, delighted by the freshness. I go grab a beer in the fridge, and sit in a chair, into the sunlight. The Sun's rays are still pretty gentle, and thus don't feel uncomfortable. I open the bottle, a Pilsner Urquell, a damn fine Czech lager. "What is in that bottle, Mr.Man ?" Says the Jissouseki, her head slightly peering over the dishpan. "I never saw a green bottle before, techi." "Beer, the very essence of life. I'll let you try this evening if you want." "Te ? Okay, I will, techi !" I know there's isn't any danger for her, as alcohol is not toxic for the Jissouseki, and they handle it surprisingly well for their body mass, but I don't want to see her drunk before the sun sets. Could be dangerous, for a number of reasons. "However, you can get ice cream now. Just wait a second, I'll go prepare some." I always have some lemon-flavored ice cream to mix with gin and ginger candy every now and then. Granted, it’s not a Frozen Daiquiri. I scoop up some and put it in a bowl, completing the set-up with a plastic spoon. Here, now the five thousand euros Jissouseki should be safe from the heat. … Wait a minute. Suddenly, doubt has assaulted my mind. I regularly have to deal with guys filing a complaint because of regular foods spiked with jissou poison. It’s too weak to be noticeable by taste or smell, but it fucks jissou pets right up. Picture it, if you will : You buy a big cake for your pet’s birthday, only to see her explode because the pastry chef decided to be an asshole and put jissou poison in it. I’m okay with abusing, but that’s just being a cockbite for no reason, since only pet jissous will ever eat such foods. Of course, such an act is illegal, so there are investigations. The police once found one of the culprits, a local farmer. Michel told me what he said to justify himself. “There’s no way in hell I’ll let those shitdolls eat my carrots !” I can understand where he’s coming from, but still. Plus, you never know if the poisons are entirely safe for human consumption in the long run. I find my tablets of reactive agent. Turns black on contact with poison. And…turn black it did. Damn ! And I buy from a local artisan. A good one too. If I wanted to, I could fuck his shit up by reporting him…But something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. A naked, sweating jissou and her seven, likewise naked daughters, are digging under my hedge. Spinning the wheel o’abuse… Jissou-chan is shivering lightly, her face going blue. She knows the family of ferals have spotted her and envy her position very much. “Mr.Man, there are mean jissous who want to enter the garden, tee~n…” “Yeah, I saw them from the kitchen” I whisper to her. “I’ll deal with them.” As I sit down once again, drinking my beer, I can see the fleshy cylinders digging under the metal fence embedded in the hedge. Usually, they don’t attack from this angle, preferring the garden door on the other side. (Remember their ability to open stuff ?). But they saw a first-class pet, so subtlety was instantly shit-canned, along with basic logic. “Almost there, desu !” “Mama is awesome, techi !” “I want the bath first, techi !” “Our new house is nice, te !” I can’t help but snicker. Of course, the first time you hear a jissou arrogate to herself ownership of your house, it pisses you off. But by the fifth time you hear it, you just feel sorry for the bastards. Stupidity and self-entitlement notwithstanding, they partially do that out of desperation. Allowing themselves to dream by denying the harsh reality of their unwanted existence. The hole gets big enough for the kojissous to crawl under it while the adult continues to dig for herself. There are four of the size of my hand, and three a little bigger. “Hellooo Mr.Man, techu~n !” “It is very hot today, could you please give us water, techi ?” They put up the “nice and cute” act, but can barely hide their quick looks at the fortunate pet. They want to give off the impression they’re innocent and humbly requesting help, but they’re on the prowl. If they get into the dishpan, they will tear jissou-chan apart the second I look away, or even sooner than that. "I have something even better, but it's only for the cutest Jissouseki around. Are you ?" "Yes, techu~n ! Look at us, we are small and cute, and we have nice, long hair, techi !" Whereas they're of the average variety. Body and head of around the same size, straight, dull hair and very unimpressive all around. Also, they still had their filthy panties on. "Yes, Jissouseki as cute as you shouldn't have to suffer in the sun..." "Exactly, Mr.Man, techi !" "We are meant to be beloved pets, techi !" "You hear that, Mama ? This Mr.Man is nice and understanding, te !" "Desu~n ! Tell him I will soon be here to take the refreshing bath, de !" "Mama will soon be here to take the refreshing bath, te !" "Like I said, I have something even better." I reach for the ice cream and put the plate on the grass. The little jissous put both their paws on their chins and blush, tongue out. "Oooh, delicious ice cream, techu !" "Thank you so much, Mr.Man, techi !" "Is it alright, Mr.Man, teee...?" Whispers the pet jissou behind me. "Yeah, you'll see why soon." The little herd of tiny living dolls rush on the lemon ice cream, and happily lick away. “So fresh, te !” “It’s not too hot anymore, techu~n !” “We’ll eat such good food everyday now, techi !” “Yes, no more trash cans and worms, techi !” There’s more than enough for everyone : I put all I had on the plate, knowing I couldn’t use it anymore. The mother giggles as she continues digging. All her joy is probably because of her own happiness, and not the relief of her daughters. The daughters being unevenly aged, it’s very likely she routinely indulges in infanticide. I look closely at the starving, sweating kojissous. The fun thing is, I know the ice cream's poisoned, but I have no idea of what type the poison is. They could die any second from neatly exploding in a green mist, in a few minutes by atrocious stomach pain and subsequent vomiting of all their insides, within an hour by irreversible dehydration – a favorite in summer, and thus likely for an ice-cream – or even never, and just have their hair fall out. Chemists have a blast by testing all the molecules previously thought worthless on the jissous, and observe a parade of unpredictable reactions. A boon for the pharmaceutical industry, who can make a quick profit out of a useless medicine by selling it as jissou poison. “Techi, so good…More, Mr.Man !” Says a small kojissou, even though there’s still plenty left. "No, Mr.Man must take us into the bath, techi !" Ah, of course. The presence of the pet really skews their priorities. Fortunately, before they become too pushy, the poison sets in. "Teee ? I feel weird, tee..." "Ate too much good food...Need a bath quick, Mr.Man, tee..." "Tebooooh..." My eyebrow raises as I watch the symptoms happen. The little jissous swell, like they were about to explode. But they don't. The swelling goes on, slowly, without the Jissouseki bursting into cries of pain. "What's happening to them, techi ?" Asks jissou-chan, as dumbfounded as I am. "Seems like the ice cream was poisoned with something, huh, weird." The reaction finally stops when the jissous have become almost perfectly spherical. "And funny as hell !" I add, refraining from laughing. The balls still have limbs, but they can't come into contact with the ground. Their panties have torn out, revealing the gross opening with serves as pretty much everything, poetically known as the "vaganus". Their heads have fully merged with their bodies, with only the ears pointing out. They're quite helpless, but alive and conscious. "I can't move, techi !" "Mama, help, techa !" "It is like I am a maggot-chan again, techi !" "And it is still hot, techi ! Please, a bath, Mr.Man, teeeen !" I grab the last one, and put her into the dishpan. As I expected, it floats. "Well, now you can safely play with this street jissou, she won't be able to hurt you, yuk yuk yuk !" Jissou-chan pushes the ball-jissou, and quickly sees the fun potential. "Tegya ! No, into the water, teeen !" "I will splash you if you are a good jissou, techi !" "But I can not be a good jissou like this, teeeeen !" And, at my feet. "Teeeen !" "Teeeen !" "Teeeen !" "I want mama teeen !" I have to think to buy more of this ice cream, this is freaking hilarious. While I am laughing, I can see the Mama, all dirty, walking, her paw on her chin, in full seducing mode. "I see you have fed my children well, de ! Now you can do the same thing to me, desu !" "Yeah, how about no ?" Still chuckling, I grab her by the legs and throw her as far as I can back to the street, undoubtedly killing her with the impact. I was planning a far more thought out way to kill her, but I have around a dozen ideas about having fun with spherical jissous. No time for serious business. As I hear the first-class pet having fun with her giant floating ball, I go back to the basement. Today is going to be fun.
This is hilarious, InLeaves. I actually really like Thierry a bunch! Your writing has really improved over the time you've been here.
Mr Genestar is my favorite character, better than Jessa, better than "Kevin" the J-civ intern.
>>273 They're okay, too, but Genestar is the bomb. He has a cool name, too. Is how he looks ever described anywhere? I draw decently, and would love to make an illustration of him. (not bragging or anything, notice I said decently and not great) Jessa needs to be wrapped up, as does J-civ.
Damn, I was considering Thierry to be pretty normal. What do you like in him exactly ? And for >>274 , I would actually really like some artwork. If there was, it would definitely be uploaded on my new jissou-related blog. There is a description in the stories, but you could be forgiven for missing it. It's in Operation Screech, and said by one of the pro-jissou protesters : "Ha !" Reacts a woman, as if I just told them Hitler was a bro of mythological proportions. "Is this your boss ?" She points at me while looking at Robert. "A young delinquent with only jeans and a white shirt, an unsightly stubble and...smoking ?! Is this the kind of man our mayor hires ?" I didn't think very much of an appearance for him, aside from a casual look and a stubble. You're free to imagine. I suck at drawing humans anyway, so I won't be drawing canonical pics anytime soon.
It's weird, for some reason I always picture Thierry looking like Medic in casual wear.
>>276 This could be very nice. I really like the way Medic looks. I always picture him just sort of looking laid-back. A little slacker-ish.
The Medic ? I suppose it could work, but if the good doctor hit the fountain of youth. I'm surprised I didn't mention he was in his late twenties, which is kinda important actually (DARJ is a bullshit job, required by law but largely ignored by the big shots, and thus given to young people so that they have an excuse paying them like dirt for the level of degree it legally requires. I had planned to include that, but figured that would be including public employment law that nobody cares much about. So, yeah, if Thierry's job seems a little too easy for you, that's why.). So, yeah, I definitely picture him with a slacker streak, though he does have this professional side the Medic could portray.
>>275 He just feels more real InLeaves. other characters who deal whit Jissou on a regular basis seem to generalize about them: they're either all-around lovers, hardcore abusers or cold clinical types; Thierry reacts and describes things like a real 20-something underpaid public servant would. He's a pretty normal dude in a very weird position (which just gets weirder every day) and he still hasn't gone flat or cliched, even after nearly a year of writing. What's wrong whit jeans and a white shirt anyway? did she honestly expect people to hunt Jissou in Armani suits and shades? tl;dr: He's cool because you write him, so keep writing or he'll become lame.
On a side-note, I might actually be writing something again soon, something summer-themed perhaps. It'll star the same guy from Taking Out the Trash and Merry Fucking Christmas, but you'll find he's toned his act down just a little bit now that he doesn't have jissou raiding his garbage and breaking into his house anymore--note also that this will take place almost exactly one year after Taking Out the Trash. He's still as foul-mouthed as ever though, and he still delights in seeing jissou suffer, you can count on that much. Also, he'll finally have a name. I may actually repost the other two stories at some point as well, since I've made a number of revisions and improvements to them. On top of that, I've been thinking of doing a backstory for the jissou from Merry Fucking Christmas, who as you may remember was also the oldest surviving sibling of the jissou babies in the trash can from Taking out the Trash. This backstory will act as the lead-in of sorts to both stories.
Continued from >>271 Supreme Abuser Chapter 9 – Operation Midday Carnival Later that day It was around 15:00. That Friday afternoon was growing hotter and hotter, and Jissou-chan and I were chillin’ in the small garden, under the gentle shade of the garden umbrella, having fun at the expense of the kojissous turned into balls by a peculiar poison. The pet jissou had christened her living pool toy “Baballe”, a familiar name for a ball in French. We were soon joined by my cat. She usually didn’t care about Jissouseki, much to my disappointment, but they came as much more interesting in ball form. I threw them around, sometimes in the garden, sometimes in the house, and Casca went running to chase them around and punch into them. They took some clawing here and there, but mostly superficial. I just had to tape their ass shut to prevent leaks, and ka-pow ! Perfect cat toy, complete with random limb wiggling and “teeeen”s all over the place. I expected them to blow up at first, but apparently the poison did more than just filling the jissous with air. Never assume anything logical with these monsters. As I give another konpeito to Jissou-chan, my phone rings. “Be right back.” “Yes, Mr.Man, techun !” “Teeen…I feel sick, stop pushing me around, teeen…” “Quiet, Baballe-chan, techi !” Glad to see her training didn’t involve feeling sorry for her lesser cousins. “Genestar speaking.” “Hey honey, it’s Steph. I called the city hall but they told me you were given the day off.” “Yeah, on grounds of heroism. Something the matter ?” “There was an accident at the lab. A sad story involving a broken fume hood and an utmost lack of willingness to evacuate our test subjects. So I’m back home, quite bored, and looking forward to a stroll under the sun of the last days of spring. With a baseball bat or two.” “Are you now ? Well, my criminally insane dear, I can’t say this prospect disgusts me. Plus, during the first days of heat, the streets never fail to entertain.” “Excellent ! I’ll wait for you in my flat. I have something to show you.” “Okay, see you there.” I go back to the garden. “Alright, I’ll be out for the rest of the day, so you’ll be safer indoors. I’ll just roll the shutters down so it doesn’t get too hot.” “Can I keep Baballe-chan ?” “Hmm, if you want, they don’t show any sign of returning to normal soon, if ever. The others will stay outside, just to be safe.” I put her back, along with her dress and her new toy, into the playing pen, and prepare a backpack with various abuse tools. A stroll around the town with Stéphanie is like trekking : You've better come prepared, or you'll look like a twat. Plus I have to restore my karmic balance, something fierce. I thus bid my two pets goodbye, and step into the sun. I already talked a bit about the streets under Packaged Retard rule. But when summer strikes, the rules change. Of course, you already know about the general reality of Jissouseki under the burning sun (>>231), but here’s a quick rundown. Their metabolism are too active to sustain the heat, and they dehydrate very fast : About 24 hours without drinking and they go down. Worse, they are weak to direct sunlight. During a genuine heat wave, they can cook alive. It’s June now, about 26 degrees Celsius, so they’re not in this kind of danger. But they do get sunburns easily, especially since the heat make most of them ditch their own dresses. Here are the general facts. But in Annecy, as in quite a bit of other cities, there is a certain something that completely overhauls the reactions of Jissouseki to summer heat. We have a lake. Normally, it's a dangerous place for them to be, because of the very high number of natural predators near the shore : Seagulls, swans, ducks, tourists...But the benefit of having an endless supply of fresh water when summer strikes outweigh the risks, so they all hit the beach. This is especially true for our lake, widely known as one of the purest in Europe, despite its size. Consequently, you can't even expect the retards to contract illnesses from drinking the lake's water. Thus, today, you can see this mass exodus of Jissouseki moving from the city's landlocked parts to the shore. Normally, you’d see the jissous cherishing the slightest spot of shade, and move along with it. But here, they painstakingly press forward. Thousands of families pour from everywhere in the city, only stopping to beg to the humans. And in their wake are left corpses, shit and dresses. It's actually pretty creepy, like the streets have become the remnants of a battlefield. A battlefield that is a street jissou’s life. As usual, you hear beggings wherever you go, but the heat cause the jissous’ voices to be raspy and desperate. This time, you know their pleas aren’t for show. Their suffering is palpable. Their mouths are dry and the skin of some individuals take a cardboard-like appearance. None but the maggots die, for this isn’t a true heat wave. But had the heat rose higher than 35°, the streets would look like an atomic bomb had gone off. This happens only when there’s a large quantity of still water in the city (a river won’t do, the jissous know it’s too dangerous), and when the very first day of heat goes truly nuts. But when it happens, it’s awesome in a visceral way. The jissous throw caution to the wind, go out of the shadows and kill themselves trying to get to the shore. By the time the sun has set, up to 90% of the city’s feral jissous have cooked alive or straight melted. That only happened once in Annecy, before I was appointed as DARJ, but it was the stuff of nightmares. The smell, in particular, haunted me for days. “Please, Mr.Man, take me to the lake, techi ! The ground is too hot, teeen…” All along the way, I hear requests like that, with varying levels of obnoxiousness. “Stop ignoring me, shit Mr.Man, desu ! You cannot leave a cute jissou like me to die of thirst, decha !” But I got used to it. Like everyone did. “Maggot-chan is melting on the hot ground, techa ! Sweet little maggot-chan ! Someone help teeeeeeen !” Lovers, abusers, indifferent, all had to learn how to filter out the high-pitched voices. In front of the door to Steph’s apartment building is a big family of thirteen, all naked and sweating. The adult is carrying one of her daughters. “Understood, jissou-chan ? You must push the button and the door will open, de !” “Yes Mama, techi !” “Here I go deeessssuuuuu !” Yells the mama before throwing the kojissou into the air. “Teeechuuuun !” She threw too weakly for the little jissou to get to the button. The child plummets to the ground and falls, from a height of one meter or so. I hear a crack. “T…Tegyaaaa ! The pain tegyaaa !” “Jissou-chan ? No, nooo, I am sorry desuuun !” I end the suffering of the newly spine-deficient kojissou by stepping on her, and open the door. “DECHA !” By the time she realizes what happened, I already got inside and closed the door, silencing her screams. The door to Steph's flat is open. I step inside. Right in the doorway, there's a adolescent jissou, you know, the ones who say -dechi, trapped in a homemade device, which is automatically, but at a painstakingly slow pace, twisting her entire body like a cockscrew. Her eyes are glazy, but intensely directed towards a little photo frame on the floor, representing a happy-looking family of forest jissous. No doubt the tortured one's family, taken from the neighboring mountains. The true "ferals" are Steph's favorite. Relatively clean and peaceful because they live out of leaves and spring water, and very simple and naïve, unaware of the cruelty of man. Every week-end, she goes into the wild to take a few of those. That's how dedicated she is to abusing. Seriously, she's a frightening woman, but I can't deny liking her a lot. It’s the equivalent of dating Hannibal Lecter, but with the insurance that all her violent tendencies are directed on the jissous. She's not for the faint of heart, and at no point I would move with her, ever, even if marriage occurs. She's best enjoyed from a distance, and I think she values loneliness enough to like the state of our relationship. I have no idea what she likes in me, though, and that's a little unnerving. I think the poor forest jissou wants me to kill her, but apparently she's no longer able to speak. That's Stéphanie's favorite theme : Limbo. Death is common for the kojissous and the maggots, but a prize out of reach for the adults. I take a deep breath. "Hoy, your door was open !" No answer. "Steph ?" I step further into the apartment. As usual, the cries of pain and despair of tortured Jissouseki are omnipresent, so I don't wonder why she couldn't hear me. That is, until I smell something burning. Shit. "Steph !" I make my way across the jissou-ridden floor, to where the smell of smoke is coming from. I can't believe it, that idiot finally went over the edge and did something stupid in the sake of abuse ! The balcony comes into my view. Steph is standing, unconcerned, in front of something. What is going on here ? She sees me over her shoulder, smirks, and steps aside, revealing some sort of mannequin made of wood. It's hollow, and a bunch of Jissouseki are inside, screaming, their paws frantically waving around through the mesh of branches. And it's easy to see why : A fire has been lit under the mannequin. Suddenly, Stephanie begins swinging her arms from side to side, and bursts into song. "Sumer is Icumen in, Loudly sing, cuckoo ! Grows the seed and blows the mead, And springs the wood anew Sing, Cuckoo !” And, inside the man-shaped trap, the flames get to the jissous, and the dresses catch on fire. “The heat, degyaaaaa !” “Why, Mrs.Lady, whyyyy, teeeeen…” “LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT TEGYAA !” I can see the bubbling skin behind the mesh. Their flesh literally melts away, forming pink droplets that splash on the burning wood, quickly evaporating in a fizzle. The jissous struggle, but it’s no use…Even if I extinguished the flames now, they would be barely able to walk afterwards. But, after the initial shock, I remember what this is all about, and I smile. “I’ve got to give it to you.” I say as I raise my thumb. “Fucking A.” She smiles, chuckles, and comes to me. Without another word, we kiss in front of the wailing Jissouseki. ------ Later, we are in the street, both equipped with a backpack full of various items, and ready to take on the world. As we walk, I tell her all about my recent adventures. "Get out of here ! They gave you a first-class, just like that ?" "Yep. It's a little embarrassing, but she's definitely cool to have around. I don't know, it's a funny feeling, I have no idea how to describe it." "Don't bother !" Says Steph in a fluty laugh. "I know very much what you're talking about. The more you care for a jissou, the more you enjoy torturing another one, and vice-versa." "What do you mean ?" "Well, I told you before : I have pet jissous too." "Please. It's obvious they're here to be tortured eventually." She remains silent, as she gives me a funny look for a few seconds, and then bursts into laughter. "Huh, what, did I say something wrong ?" I ask. "Yeah, you're dead wrong on this one. I don't deal with this "false hope" business since 2009. The pet jissous I have are happy and set to remain that way." "No kidding ?" Damn, I guess I underestimated her. "I just assumed that, really...But what happened in 2009 ?" "I was pretending to adopt an orphan for the fifth time that week, but when I held her over a terrarium with a floor made of razor blades, she just closed her eyes and said "This was the best moment in my entire life. I regret nothing, techi.". And I felt very, very, very stupid." "Oh yeah” I reply after a chuckle. “It's true some jissous deliberately seek those types of abusers. It's rare, but I can see why that would damage your enthusiasm." “Yup. Anyway, a true first-class is really something, if just a tad unsettling in its perfection...But to Hell with the pets, today it’s abuse time ! Where do we go ?” “I was thinking going to the lake by way of the old town. There should be lots of Jissouseki trying to get to the lake there, as the old town is fairly shadowy. Plus, If we want ice cream, there’s one merchant every ten meters so…” “Okay, sold !” We make our way to the old part of the town, built in the Middle-Ages around the small river that comes from the lake, the Thiou. Paved streets, stone buildings built close together, and an absolute shitload of tourist shops. A major marketplace, too. Definitely a prime destination for the jissouseki, at least when it's not too crowded. It’s the perfect hunting ground for sympathetic humans. You generally don’t come to that part of the town when you’re in a bad mood. It’s a quaint, soothing destination where, no matter how crowded it is, you still feel far away from our frenetic world. Sadly, no place will ever be entirely safe from guys who just want to go for the high score. We enter the district by its westernmost point, and just a little south from Stéphanie’s apartment, the Place Sainte-Claire. The plaza has this haughtily cultural aura : There’s the movie theater that doesn’t deal in mainstream films, the what-the-fuck-am-I-looking-at gift shop, and the plaza itself is the go-to destination for street entertainment events. From here, to the east, you have the old town’s main street, the Rue Sainte-Claire, that goes towards the lake. We could be walking along the Thiou, but the banks here are very narrow and absolutely packed with tourists. The jissous thus can’t even get to the water without getting trampled. It's difficult enough in the first place, since there are barriers and only a few stone stairs lead to the liquid gold. Unfortunately, it’s running water, so even if they do get to it, they have a pretty good chance to be caught by the current. Consequently, only the most desperate would settle for the river instead of pressing forward to the lake. A human family is sitting on a set of steps, a dozen of naked street jissous pleading at their feet. They obviously wish to be left alone, but can’t bring themselves to hurt the pests. Especially, I'd wager, considering that between the human mother and her little boy, there is a pet Jissouseki with a sun umbrella, licking away at an ice cream, merrily chatting with the boy. Putting up with the ferals is better than ruining the mood. And when the innocent citizen is in such dire straits, comes the righteous arm of the sadistic fuck. “Hey, you cute little Jissouseki, over here !” The family hear Steph and turn around. “Mama, this Mrs.Lady will help us, rechi !” “Yes, finally, dechi ! At least there are some nice Mr.Men, dechuun…” They’re a very young family, the mama being just a head bigger than a regular kojissou. Three thumb-chans and eight kojissous are following her. The maggot sisters of the thumb-chans probably died today, frying on the hot pavement. There’s a fair chance the young mother is still naïve and innocent. She stops at Stéphanie’s feet, and raises her stumps into the air, in a gesture that would be stepping on her toes, if she had some. “Mrs.Lady, it is too hot, dechi ! My baby daughters died horribly and we are very thirsty, dechi ! Please, help us get to the river !” “Ah, yes, there are too many humans right now, you can’t access it…Very well. Follow me.” Casually, she turns around and goes to the bridge near us. The jissou family follows her diligently. Of course, she’s fast from their point of view, so they're forced to run. And a measly 50 meters or so further, they are already panting, exhausted. “Here you are !” Happily says Steph. There was a better solution than going to the raging river : a fountain !” Indeed, between the riverbank and another major old town street, is a small stone fountain. Obviously though, it’s already surrounded by other, bigger jissous. There’s no way Steph wouldn’t know that, especially since we walked past it just a minute ago. “B…But, we already tried, Mrs.Lady, but the mean jissous ate one of my cute daughters, de…dechiiiin !” “Oh my” Answers Steph in a concerned tone of voice. “I’m sorry, but the river is protected, not even humans can get to it.” “But…There has to be a way, dechi ! The world can not be such a cruel place, deeeen ! !” The adolescent jissou bury her eyes into her paws and cries profusely. My girlfriend breaks out the evil grin. “I’m afraid it can.” “What do you mean, dechi ?” The little jissou hasn’t understood her intent yet, oblivious of the implications of the sentence. And when the skanky scientist takes a plastic bottle from her bag, and pours its liquid over her, she only blushes, and forgets all about it. “Aaah, fresh water ! Thank you soo much, nice Mrs.Lady, dechu~n !” “Me too, rechi !” “Yay, shower with Mama, techi !” “Shower smells good, te !” Only a few of them can get close enough to their mother before the liquid stops pouring, but the others roll around the moist pavement. They shed tears of joy. “Finally, some freshness, techu~n !” “So happy, rechun !” “Blah ! Water tastes bad, rechi !” But none of them see the pack of street jissous that were around the fountain, attracted by the appetizing smell. Unconcerned, my beloved begins to casually walk away, leaving the young family to be devoured, courtesy of the jissou-attracting chemical. "You ended up dealing in this false hope business." I observe. "Well, yeah, it's difficult to avoid when the Jissouseki themselves want so hard to believe in lies." The old town itself is ripe with opportunities, but unfortunately, even the most die-hard of abusers have trouble expressing their art in the middle of a crowd, if only because of the very real risk of staining the shirt of a heavyweight boxer. Fortunately, while the crowd is sparse here compared to the river banks, the area has a very effective team of resident exterminators : the shops themselves. High tourist activity oblige, nearly all of the shops leave their doors open. Of course, the hopeful Jissouseki, smelling the charcuterie, the ice-creams, the cakes and whatnot, seek to enter, only to be mercilessly crushed by the clerk. Most of them even hire high-schoolers to do their bidding and cleaning the entrances every now and then. Granted, they’re still pretty dirty, but that’s among the things humanity got used to. The end result ? The old town is still pretty packed with Jissouseki, but they tend to just walk towards the lake, begging every now and then. So, since heavy-duty abusing is to be avoided, Stephanie has resorted to taking her laser beam and fires Jissou limbs with terrifying precision, skillfully avoiding humans. More often than not, the dolls are not even aware of what struck them. As for myself, I stick with stomping on them. When suddenly, we hear some commotion to the left. “Hey Thithi, isn’t that from the Palais de l’Isle ? Let’s check it out” I don’t even have time to answer before she’s headed toward the river. Ah, the Palais de l'Isle. Also known as the Old Jails, it is without a doubt the most iconic building in the whole town. Build in the middle of the river, it's a triangular jail where conditions for medieval prisoners were reportedly pretty shitty. Consider it as Alcatraz on a river. Yeah, the Middle-Ages were a shittier time. Still, when viewed from the river bank, it's lovely, and a must snap for every tourist with a camera. So, what was going on here ? On the bridge leading to the small island, is yet another family of Jissouseki. But these ones are are bald, on top of naked. According to the hair locks lying on the floor, it’s obviously recent. The children are on their back, flailing their legs around, while the mother adorably slams the ground. “My hair, techieeen !” “Hateful abuser, teeeeen !” “Shit Mr.Man, I hate you ! We hate you forever, desu ! We cute jissous suffer from the heat, we just want water to survive, and you make us bald ! Shit Mr.Man, desu !” The commotion, however, comes not from the jissous, but from the far louder voices of two humans arguing. Two average joes, only one of them has a lock of hair in his hands. “Come on, you’re not going to shit a tank for a family of ferals !” “Just because they are pests doesn’t mean you have to be a petty asshole to them ! They deserve at least a swift and painless death, this humiliation is pointless !” “Good grief…” Sighs Steph. “You feel like butting in ?” “Okay, what the hell.” Paradoxically, doing non lethal things to a Jissouseki is more likely to get you attacked by white knights. Exterminating is seen as a necessity by pretty much everyone, but fuck with them without violence, and it’s 0% necessity, 100% assholery. And like everybody who is supposed to be “in charge” without anyone knowing exactly to what extent, I regularly intervene into everything that’s even tenuously related. “Everybody chill out, I got this.” “And who might you be ?” Asks the white knight. “Thierry Genestar, Head of Jissouseki Affairs” Say I, showing my badge. “What’s the situation ?” “Well, this guy tore away the hair of these Jissouseki. I’m all for killing them, but that’s not necessary !” “For fuck’s sake, I’m just tired of having my pants licked by begging jissous !” "Well, grow some self control, man !" And here they go arguing again. I sigh, and put my bag down. “Now, now, let’s not tear each other apart. It’s no big deal.” “Yes it is, Mr.Man, deeeen…Now our hair will never grow back, deeen…” “How about I give a bath to your daughters and we all forget that, hmm ?” “B…Bath, dee ?” “Yes, Mr.Man, techun !” “It is so hot, techi ! Bath !” I give a “told you” look at the two humans, and take out a dishpan from my bag. “There’s no sense arguing over torn hair” I say to the humans while reaching down for the river’s water. “Like for the dresses, they may cry when they lose it, but in the long run it doesn’t matter at all. It’s really only a problem for lone jissous that belong in a tribe. But for an independent family ? It’s nothing but aesthetics.” “Yeah, I guess I just lost my temper, sorry.” “It’s nothing, I made them bald because I lost my temper too…” I put down the water-filled dishpan on the ground, and the four kojissous hop in, the Mama just helping herself to some water, being too big for the recipient. “Aaah, water, de…” “We forgive you, Mr.Man, techun !” “Yeah, cool. I’m off.” The Full Monty departs. The White Knight stays, for now. “Tell you what, I can make this bath even better !” I say like a spastic telemarketer. “Oooh, how ? How, techi ?” “By pouring a little of this powder ! It’s a bath perfume for humans. That way you will smell good when you get out !” “Yes, I want the bath perfume, techi !” “Yes ! Yes, te !” I take a small plastic bag out of my fanny pack, containing a white powder, and pour it into the dishpan. “By the way, now that you’re here” Says the White Knight. “What are the official regulations on street abuse ? I know you can kill them, but what about displays of cruelty ?” “Good question.” I answer. “Well it all comes down to determining which, between the jissous and the abusers, jeopardize public order the most. The answer is in the law n°2009-357 revising the penal code. I won’t bore you with the details, but the gist of it is…” I catch the bald mother by the arm, launching her into the air with my right hand, facing the river, before punching the hell out of her with my left fist when she falls down. “TYRANT RAVE !” “DEGYAAAAaaaaaa *splosh*” …. After seconds of awkward silence, the white knight casually asks : “So, what did you put into the bath ?” “Wallpaper glue.” The kojissous, too engrossed into their experience, didn’t even notice the sudden departure of their mama. Furthermore, the powder has now diluted, changing the refreshing water to a thick, sticky stuff. “Tee ? What’s going on ?” “Water’s all weird, techi !” … “Yeah, it figures there would be a sadist at the head of the exterminators.” Presumably not wanting to waste any further time, he turns around and goes away. “I love your wallpaper glue idea” says Stephanie behind me. “Just thought of it this afternoon. Come on, little jissous, time to get out !” “No, techi !” “Water is too good, even if it is weird, te !” “Where is Mama, techi ?” “Don’t know, she suddenly left…That’s why you should get out and look for her.” The three little jissous look around. When they realize their mother is, indeed, no longer there, their heart sunk, like any child who realizes he's alone. “Tee ? Mama ?” “Where is Mama techa ?!” Blue and panting in panic, they get out in a hurry, covered in glue. I take the dishpan and wash it into the river. “Mama, don’t leave us alone, teeen !” “I want my Mama, teeeeeen !” They run around, trying to no avail to pick the smell of their mother. Unbeknownst to them, the sticky stuff they're covered in will dry under the sun's rays, slowly trapping them into hard shells, rendering them helpless and unable to move. Unfortunately... “Let’s go, the glue won’t dry in mere minutes.” I say. “Yeah, a shame.” Replies Steph. “I’ll look for things that dry faster than that. Plaster, maybe ?” “No idea. But, you know, sometimes the best abuses are enjoyed off screen. Plus, jissou statues will make a great picture for tourists later on.” “We’re philanthropists” -------- Finally, we arrive at the point where the Thiou flows from the lake, near both the town hall and the Gardens of Europe, which you already know about. However, neither are the main attraction here. Oh no. That would be the marina. You see, from here, the beach is still pretty far. First, there is a whole lot of boats, most of which being like every boat ever. But there are five public boats for tours around the lake, painted in white and red, the official colors of the town. Three of them are standard : The Belle Etoile, the Savoie and the Allobroge. One is a little bigger, but way more stylish : The Cygne (swan). And then, you have the freaking palace on the water that is the Libellule (dragonfly). Its dimensions aren’t too impressive, it’s not a cruise boat, but it embodies perfectly just how nuts Annecy can get with the deluxe shit. It’s used for regular tours, but is mostly known as a classy restaurant complete with a bar and a dancefloor. On the water. It is customary for people to celebrate their birthday there, but holy shit you’d better not be counting. An entree, a main dish and a bottle of wine is going to cost you up to 150€ per guest. This shit you’d expect from a renowned chef, not just from good cooks. Needless to say, those boats are of little interest to us now. We’re headed to the more casual portion of the Marina. Specifically, a corner known by the locals as a quiet swimming spot, if a bit lacking in glamour, being just a river bank with no sand whatsoever, and even a completely ignored "no swimming allowed" sign. Perhaps the very best spot for Jissou hunting there is at this particular time of the year. It’s the least crowded lake bank in the whole of Annecy, but just enough for Jissous to be attracted, and the boats provide formidable incentive as hideouts. Swimming-wise, too, it’s a great spot for them. Stone stairs provide a safe way to get into it, the boats prevent the children from drifting away, as well as serving as great wave-breakers. On the beach, a sudden gust of wind can cause a wave strong enough push back a kojissou onto the burning gravel with enough strength to scrape her flesh away. As a bonus, there is next to no wildlife here. Just a couple of coots fucking around here and there, and the fish are too small. Technically, the living dolls would be just as safe from humans and waves in the swamps between my home and the Imperial Palace, but the wildlife would fuck them right up. By no means it is perfectly safe place for them, but it’s, by a long shot, the safest. When we finally arrive, we can observe two things : There is only a handful of tourists, and they’re all in transit. No one can be seen here to swim. And the second thing : We could be very well be busy until midnight. Stéphanie has her mouth locked in an amused, if perplexed, grin. “Is this sunstroke ? Am I seeing things ?” “I don’t think so. Not anymore.” There’s a mini-shanty town right on the small grass fields, and we can tell from the noise that the water must be pretty green. “This wasn’t like this the years before, but I don’t think this year is anything normal.” “Yeah…Bah, at least the numbers are manageable. Not like your crazy story in the jissou pet shop.” “I was just thinking about that…Plus, there is a notable difference. They wont attack, since they’ve already got what they wanted : the water” “Satisfied, unsuspecting, carefree jissous…This is an amazing opportunity.” “Still, we’ll have to use finesse here. Abusing them while keeping the global trust of the herd.” “Yes, and for that, there is no method more effective than…” We look and point the finger at each other. “We’ll take you home, but…!” First, we set camp. Not on the grass, that would be foolish. No, there’s a small jetty, separated from the grass by a gravel walkway. As we walk towards it, we can see that the stone ledge of the bank is covered in jissou clothes. They're tattered more often than not, but their mere presence indicates they didn't come from far away ; otherwise they would have already done away with them a while ago. As for the water itself, it's covered with jissou heads, chirping and cooing and singing about how awesome the water is. They don't even pay attention to us, perfectly content with what they have. Fortunately, they conglomerated around the boats, so the jetty itself should be a safe -and unshat in- entry point. There’s only a single family of jissous on the jetty. They are still clothed, and scooping some water from the lake, a few dozens of centimeters below, with plastic bags. “Here, now we have enough water for our house, desu !” “Mama’s the best, techi ! Back to the house !” They walk past us without so much as a “hello”. Change of plans. Self-sustained way of life, methods of independent resource collecting, sporadic interactions with humans…Those are forest jissous. Which certainly explains how they built a shanty town in so little time. The entire tribe just walked here, carrying their stuff from the forest just 100 meters away, rather than from coming from various places in the city and improvising. Chances are, they did that as a plan thought out in advance by the Matriarch, as opposed to a instinctive reaction to the heat. We're so often in contact with street jissous that we forget what they are capable of when they form a stable social group. The primary definition of my job is to manage and order swift eradication of every stable jissou colony in the city, but fuck that, it's my day off. Plus, I can just feel Stephanie beaming with joy. Forest jissous, dozens of them, for her alone to enjoy. Her plan was likely to take its time, and that would give me the opportunity to observe the behavior of an autarkic tribe…
I like Stephanie :) Points for the 'Wicker Man' reference, hehe...
Still loving this story, keep up the excellent work.
-1'
>>259 I do think that was an amazing and well written story InLeaves, as usual. And I hate to nitpick but the history major in me as well as my anglo french background has forced me to remind you it's been about a 2 century long truce since the British and French have fought. But yeah otherwise great work!
Ah, yes, you're right. I was just thinking about when the Entente Cordiale was signed, but it indeed turns out the effective truce was effective long before that. Thanks for the info and the thumbs up then !
much-needed bump
Continued from >>282 Supreme Abuser Chapter 10 : Operation Tutti Frutti Summer Love After we’re done unpacking and changing into swimming gear, we profit from the jissous' focus on swimming to walk to the small grass fields where they have moved their shanty town. “Funny, I thought they wouldn’t dream of setting up camp in a place with no shadows when summer is closing in.” “Well,” replies Stéphanie. “You wouldn’t dream of standing under the sun if you had any other choice. But if you know there’s water nearby, then it’s okay. Most beaches aren’t very shadowy…” “Oh, right.” I can count about twenty cardboard boxes, all with some measure of customizing. I find the subject among the most fascinating things about Jissouseki. Forget the clothes and the hair. These makeshift houses are what truly show the Jissouseki as anthropomorphic. Hell, free access to them can even be counted as a Jissouseki Right. After all, as their name comes from cardboard boxes, we kind of consider that those we don’t use belong to them by default. Most supermarkets dump their leftover boxes in the open for the living dolls to take. It can even be used as a public salubrity strategy. In Annecy, as in a lot of towns, there are open cardboard box storages, complete with adhesive tapes and basic cutting tools, with signs plainly stating “Free cardboard boxes for Jissouseki” near the places we'd rather see them infesting. Around 80% of jissouseki dedicate their lives to become pets, leading a nomadic life, going against all odds and usually losing hard. But those who say “fuck it, techi” and decide to rely on themselves actually make a decent living, alone with their family or in an organized tribe. Point is, if a jissou wants a cardboard box, she can easily have one. And one she has it, she usually goes to great lengths to customize it. It’s a display of skill and ingenuity no less impressive than what a human can do (when he can be bothered, that is), only with less material possibilities. It’s like they traded their overall intelligence for a decent architectural sense. How decent ? Well… The first and foremost concern of the materialistic jissous is, of course, Aesthetics. Can’t really blame them though, especially considering that they’re going to live in a freaking box. The easiest thing to use is a pen. Humans lose them all the time, and it’s not that hard to steal. Plus, only one pen is needed for an entire tribe. Once they have one, they will draw things inside and outside the box. Usually windows and “Jissou-chan’s pretty home” and all that. Less often, you’ll see actually useful drawings. Camouflage, when they can get a hold of a color pen, but also misleading messages. Only effective on other jissous, of course. What, you think they wouldn’t fall for a “free candy” sign that leads right to a big, hungry and impressively lazy jissou ? Think again. And when they can’t find a pen, they use miscellaneous junk to adorn their boxes. For instance, I can see a medium-sized white box on which various flowers, coins and bottle caps taped on it. One has even built a fence of sorts around the door, with wooden sticks stuck into the soil. Another one took the stick thing a little further and build a garden tent above their door. That way, they can peek outside without risking the sun's fury. Of course, they just moved here, so there probably was a lot more stuff back in the forest. Next subject is comfort. As I said this morning, a jissou ultimately doesn’t need anything else than a few fresh leaves put together in a mattress. But since they’re forced to change the leaves when they dry and become uncomfortable, some seek more durable options. This particular tribe seems lazy about the subject, though. Only the big box in the center, probably the matriarch’s, doesn’t use leaves, but discarded human clothes. I’ve already seen improvised mattresses, though, like sand-filled plastic bags, or torn up newspapers put into one big pile in the corner. As for the furniture, most merely use an open tin can to store food and another for water. It’s rare to see something akin to a toilet, the jissous being fine with shitting outside. “Ah, I have one here !” Shouts Steph as we are looking for an exception to this rule. “What is it ?” “A Tupperware with a hole on top, and a kojissou inside.” I cringe, and go see it. Yup, it’s the tried-and-true living compost. You leave a child in a recipient they can’t get out of, and you feed her under the condition that she empties the box, both clauses referring of course to the same thing. Right now, the unfortunate kojissou is high up in la-la-land, drooling, nodding back and forth, her back against a pile of shit. I’d end her misery, but we’d best tread carefully or the tribe will shut down any friendly contact with us. Anyway…While some jissous leave one side of the box open, most close completely the box and cut out a door, leaving it open or covering it with a plastic bag or whatever. Which leads me to the next matter : Insulation. The elements themselves being hell bent on wasting jissous, they have to deploy countermeasures. For instance, the matriarch’s box has its top covered in plastic bags taped together. Good move to protect the box from the rain, which is, naturally, cardboard’s worst enemy. She even thought of creating an angle by putting a rock under the “roof”. It’s not perfect. For instance, it would have been far better to cover the entire box with tinfoil, but Jissouseki have a harder time getting some, let alone enough for a box. Heat and cold are both partially addressed to by making the walls thicker. Humans know this since antiquity, and now, so do Jissouseki. The execution in this shanty town is pretty half-assed though, with newspaper taped over a few boxes. But, again, I saw much more inspiring attempts during my life. There was this one lone family, living in the garden of a retirement house, who became the garden fairies of sorts, getting occasional treats and visits from lonely old people. They weren't pets by any means though, and still mostly had to get by by themselves. Well, the Mama apparently got a hold on an inflatable beach mattress, and used it by filling it with water, then putting it over her cardboard box, reinforcing the structure with wooden sticks. Protects from the heat, the cold and the rain, depending on the water’s temperature. Granted, it's not Frank Lloyd Wright, but coming from a being that is unable to understand that you're dangerous when you crushed her daughter with just two fingers right in front of her, it's downright impressive. The third environmental hazard, but far from the least, is the wind. Neither cardboard nor jissous are known to be heavy, and if the occasional breeze isn't of any concern, a gale, even mild, is felt like a major hurricane. In this regard, the street jissous are often well-off compared to their civilized cousins. Not because the city immunizes them against the gales, but because they don't have anything to lose. The obvious solution is putting stones inside the cardboard box to weigh it down. But it's limited. Any upgrade listed above contributes, but in the end, the only thing that is really effective against a really strong gust is to anchor the box into the soil. And unfortunately, Jissouseki don't have many options to choose from. Pinning down the box with sharp sticks works, but these idiots don't think of putting more than two or three where there should be more around twenty. The best option is, in fact, to go for the underground. Either straightforward burrows, partially underground boxes, or things akin to those makeshift bunkers you often see in war movies. In particularly windy areas, like the seashore, it's the only option they have. And here's the gist. I could talk about how the jissous secure their homes, but this tribe didn't do shit in this regard, so... "Hey, they are coming out of the water ! Quick, let's keep our distances !" I follow Steph's orders without question. She knows better than anyone how autarkic tribes work. We go back to the jetty, and observe the entire tribe progressively get out of the water, getting back into their clothes, and going back to the boxes. “Water is the best, desu !” “Penelope-sama was right to make us come here, techi !” “We can swim and drink when we want, techi !” There are, give or take, fifty jissous, with at least a dozen full-grown adults. The numerous children conglomerate around their mothers, themselves conglomerating around the matriarch, protecting her like an ant hive. We already met an old jissou earlier this week. Naturally, old age and the experience that goes with it is enough to be at the head of a tribe. But the matriarch we see proudly parading among her underlings isn’t particularly old. She’s just imposing and charismatic. She is big for an adult jissou, but nothing unnatural. What sets her apart is her scars, and her black dress complete with a long cape made with a napkin. I’d say she’s an abandoned pet jissouseki, who, instead of breaking down into a depression, took advantage of her skills to take control of a feral tribe. Pet jissous joining tribes are far from uncommon. There’s a very high rate of abandonment, mainly because of the sheer number of pet jissous purchased on a whim and quickly regretted, but you can't forget that some people love taking a pet away from the owner when he’s looking away, and releasing the poor, frightened jissou in a nondescript park miles away. In fact, the police regularly publishes “missing” posters for jissous that were spirited away in such a manner. Some are found and given back to their families in touching reuniting moments, but an overwhelming part never return home, if only because their only distinctive features can be torn away in a whisper. Thus, they have to adapt. As pets, they know damn well Mr.Men don’t adopt street jissous, so they go to the self-sufficient tribes. Those who aren’t devoured without trial are forced to work along the rest of the tribe, but if all are eager to belong, their meek nature and high standards ensure almost none of them have the willpower to get to the top, unavoidably getting their hands bloody in the process. This matriarch, however, did. She should be a worthy foe. They all go back into their respective boxes to relax after the reinvigorating swim. This doesn’t surprise my girlfriend. “Ah, Jissous and their love of exercise...We have about twenty minutes of post-effort bliss before they become active again. In the meantime…” “Beer !” “…What ?” I triumphantly take a small cooler box out of my bag. I’ve been looking forward finding any use for this bullshit which can only hold a six-pack at best. I open it, revealing five 33cl hand-picked beer bottles. For me, beer isn't for binges. It's every bit as colorful and varied as wine, and about 20 times less overrated. You don't find many specialized shops in Annecy these days, but by crossing every supermarket's supplies, you have a pretty solid range of products. "I've got a Kirin, a Tripel Karmeliet, a Foudroyante, a Goudale and a White Grimbergen.” Normally, my lager of choice is the Pilsner-Urquell, but my favorite is the Kirin, brought to us by Japan. It's got a cereal-y taste and is all-around good, even when there isn't any sushis around. The Tripel Karmeliet is a Belgian beer with a strong and peculiar taste, and is best enjoyed cold. The Foudroyante is a brand of various fruit-flavored Belgian beers, all worth the detour. France is usually pretty shitty as far as beers go, but it has the Bières de Garde to speak for itself. They are old ales, with a coarse and straightforward taste, and among them, my favorite is the Goudale (which stems from english's good ale). And finally, Grimbergen is a brand of Belgian beer. Yes, if you want good beers, you’d better get used to hearing about Belgium. They’re sold in supermarkets, but when it comes to generic European beer, Grimbergen stands proud and tall. Their greatest spin-off, though, is the White. It’s very different from most white beers, with a strong, pepper-y taste, and yet really refreshing. Steph, with a perplexed look on her face, takes one at random. “It really wasn’t necessary, you know…” “Fuck yeah it was ! Beer is always relevant. Plus, look at the water. Does it inspire you to swim, or to get drunk ?” I grab the Kirin and open it with my bottle opener/key holder straight from Ireland as she takes a closer look at the greenish water. “Point taken.” To be fair, we are unconsciously exaggerating the water's dirtiness. Jissou shit -which sinks, thank God- isn't nutritious only for our favorite monsters. It's also a godsend for the little fish all around the shore, and gets eaten fairly quickly. Algae benefit from it too. Humans are far from the only species that easily feeds itself on the living dolls. We slowly enjoy our beers, and twenty minutes later, we heard yawns and rummaging coming from the grass field. The jissous are done taking their nap. "What comes next ?" I ask. "They could just frolic around, but I'd bet on a Salvation Army." "Which means ?" Everybody makes up their own terms on common jissou behavior. I'm certainly no exception. "Every forest tribe worth its salt makes enough food by itself. But like every Jissouseki, they're materialistic as fuck. For them, humans don't mean food and adoption, but that doesn't mean they don't try to benefit from our encounters. They just do it in a way far less likely to get them smashed." As she speaks, I can see a group of seven or eight assembling, then wobbling towards us. "Here they come. They're still very cautious at this point, don't fuck this up." I already assumed this of course, but she loves playing the role of the expert. The incoming jissous are all pretty dirty, but their dresses don't show major traces of fighting. They stop one meter away from us, and do pleading gestures. "Hello, Mr.Men, techi ! Do you have any items you do not use, techi ? We peaceful jissous could use them for our town, te !" "Anything, we are smart and crafty, techi !" Makes sense. Humans obviously won't get nearly as annoyed if you ask for junk instead of adoption. Although...Is it thought out, or do the natural actions of a jissou tribe coincidentally lead to less abuse ? I can't tell. "Well" says Steph, "I have this used sock, and we have one or two beer caps as well. Would that suit you ?" "Yes, thank you, Mrs.Lady !" We handle them the goods, and I can practically hear the cogs turning inside their heads, imagining uses for them. The sock is obvious, but beer caps ? To them, it must be the equivalent of a plate of kevlar, and just as impractical as first glance. It's during that moment, when they let their guard down, that the sadistic scientist makes the first move. "By the way, cute little jissous, how did you make such a beautiful town ?" "Tee ? Beautiful ?" "Penelope-sama make us all have one house, te !" "Yes, and then she came up with the food idea, techi !" "She is great, te !" "Thank you. We will have more stuff to give later, stay around !" They turn around, chanting their success to their community. Steph chuckles. "Gets them every time." "What does ?" "Even if they aren't aware of the existence of torturers, at a subconscious level, they know we humans aren't entirely safe. Yet, if you ask them how they function, they will miss no occasion to gloat about their good ideas, and thus reveal the keys to their utter destruction." "You're beginning to sound like Krang here, you might want to tone that down a bit." She laughs. "I'm not exaggerating. Jissouseki's communities are fragile. You pull the right string, they fall apart. Let's say they just told us they mostly rely on scavenging. I would put one of my "magic boxes" at the right distance from their town, not too far, not too close, not too conspicuous. They open the box, aaaand ?" "...Dick jissou ?" "Exactly ! A ravenous super-rapist in the box. Fucks up one, if not the only, scavenger team, confuses the tribe, makes it drops its guard, and renders it open to new stimuli and human Deus Ex Machinas." "I see, given they react the way you expect them to." "Well, yeah. They obviously aren't completely transparent, they can surprise you...but it's rare.” I take another gulp of Kirin. "Given the intel they just gave you, what are our plans ?" "Easy. The matriarch, clearly a crafty and strong-willed pet, got their support by giving them all cardboard houses. She could have known the location of a deposit and made it appear like she magically make the houses appear overnight. Or she could have played it welfare, and overthrown the previous matriarch by giving the poor masses their own properties, thus staging a small-scale revolution." "Boy, Jissouseki politics are serious business" I reply, not convinced. "Don't underestimate abandoned pets. When they don't put the "frightened little thing" act, they can be downright diabolical in their quest to gain back some measure of their former comfort. It's a powerful motivation unique to their species. Anyway...Every goddamn family here has its own box. It's an entitlement now, a basic commodity. Take a few away, and before long, you've got a riot going on." "Extremely plausible, but we should have done that when they were swimming." "Not quite. If there were even a few homeless families, the suspicion for the boxes' disappearance wouldn't have befallen on the lucky ones. At best the homeless, at worst us. We had to know first." "I see...Anything else ?" "Oh, you bet. The big one mentioned "the food idea". Sounds like a big deal to you ?" "Can't say it doesn't...So, that would be a string large enough to be worth pulling ?" "Exactly. We just have to find what it is." “But how ?” I ask, still not convinced. “Didn't we scout the place before they came back from swimming ? Plus, I doubt they had the time to hide anything underground or whatever...” “Well, you can't expect all the answers to dance naked in the middle of the street, now can you ?” “I suppose you're right...” I stand up to get a better view of the cardboard town. The Salvation Army is proudly presenting their catch to their leader. As expected from a former pet, she's not impressed, but takes the stuff nonetheless. She then takes a look at us, upon which I quickly look away from her, acting innocent. Let's see...Food idea. There ain't fifty-one different sources of food available to jissous. Only nature, humans, and themselves. And only one of those is readily available in every circumstances, so I should look for traces of cannibalism, preferably enough to feed the entire tribe. Unfortunately, there's no box tainted with large amounts of blood or feces that could be immediately identified as a community kitchen. There's no question the food idea yields sizable amounts of food though...And that is bound to have visible results. A jissou goes out of a simple box, soberly decorated with drawn flowers. She seems inconspicuous enough, with dirty green clothes, but her white bib has lace around it, possibly making her a stray pet. She walks slowly, looking at the ground. Down about something, little jissou ? Don't be like that...at least not yet. But as I'm wondering why this little doll would be depressed when she's near fresh water in summer, I can hear Steph whistling a tune. Something celtic and uplifting. The sad jissou turns her head toward the sound. Yup, definitely a stray pet. Jissouseki are such uncanny imitators of mankind that you wonder why they're so limited with music. No natural wonders like the boxes in this subject : feral jissous don't go much further than two-notes songs, like “techi-techi-techi-te !”. But pets are bound to get in regular contact with human music, and thus can identify it when they hear some. The logical consequence is that, in a feral colony, you can attract the former pets by singing. Steph probably saw something special in this depressed jissou. Was there something I missed ? Oh. The left part of her forehead is scarred. No wonder she's depressed. “Mrs...Lady...techi” The small walks towards Stephanie, a fair distance away from the shanty town. Her voice is weak. “This is...music, is it not, techi ?” “Yes. You like it ?” “It is like what Mistress did...techi !” “You're not happy here, aren't you ?” Says the scientist while gently scratching her head. “They...killed my children, techi...” And there you have it. When jissouseki that really care about their babies see them die right in front of them can, and often do, go into shock, leaving them as a functional, but empty living being. Other jissous can pretty much to everything to them. And the matriarch obviously used her as a cheap food distributor, scraping the skin over her green eye for quick and repeatable pregnancies. But even when you're not all there, the labor is still a torture. The whole community utterly ignored her pain, and instead reveled in it, feeding off her pain. And Steph understood it with just a glance upon the unfortunate jissou. “Don't worry. Just think about your Mistress.” “Tesuun...Mistress...If it was not for this mean Mr.Man...” “Hush.” She takes the stray pet in her arms. She told me earlier she genuinely cared about pets, and I guess this wasn't told in vain. “It's fine to remember about what hurts you, but for now, think only about before. When you felt the warm embrace.” “Tee...Teesuuun...” The poor little jissou closes her eyes and loses herself in the embrace. Steph shifts to a more serene whistling while stroking her, her hands slowly but surely shifting around her head... She neatly ends her misery while she's in la-la-land. I look around. The shanty town took no notice of the event. Before they can get any wiser, Steph goes back to the jetty, the jissou still in her hands. She closes her eyes before gently putting her into the water. She sinks, but she looks at peace. If a human had lived something even remotely close to what she endured, the media would be all over it for days. But she's only a jissou, and not even her owner will ever know. “Well” Says Steph in a casual tone, presumably not willing to show this episode ruined the mood “There goes their food source. We should have the time to get some more beers before going for the kill.” We grab another bottle each and begin to drink, getting our sights on the shanty town again. I can hear Stéphanie's neurons blow up. “What the FUCK ?” A group of four muscular individuals and a man in his fifties are standing before the shanty town. We can hear the sharp screams of dying jissous as a white smoke covers the boxes. A simple gas grenade. Destroys a tribe in less than one minute, and dreams of subtle enticing into self-extermination in two seconds flat. Steph isn't one gal to let anybody shit all over her fun. “Hey, assholes ! This tribe was mine !” She walks rapidly towards the group, unconcerned by her distinct physical and numerical disadvantage. You could picture smoke coming out of her ears. But as she's about to punch one of the greek gods, the older one calmly states : “My apologies, Mademoiselle Philippe, but I fear we must talk without any risk of interference.” Steph is taken aback. As she asks how he knows her name, I myself walk to him, curious. “I fear there is no simple or reasonable-sounding way of telling this” he continued in a smooth yet authoritative voice not unlike that Hargreave guy in Crysis. “I am General Emmanuel Lejeune, incognito as a civilian as you can see, and I can give you explanations about most of what happened this week if you can give me a bit of your time in return.” “What happened this week ?” I intruded. “Yes.” He says, turning to me. ”Entities that can control the packaged retards from a distance. Mass gatherings of forest jissous in the city. Yes, Mister Genestar, we've watched you, though only by coincidence.” “I am not sure what to say...Or even what to ask, for that matter.” “Fine by me. Time is running out and I do not wish to spend it on idle suspense. I will explain what you need to understand from the beginning. Pack your affairs and come with us, being stationary would be a bad idea by now. And please, try not to interrupt too much.” Bewildered, and quite frankly too curious to refuse, we take back our bags and get past the boxes, now mere gravestones for the tribe we wanted to understand, if only to kill them more sadistically. “As I'm sure you know, Mr.Genestar, Miss Philippe, several years ago an American private lab found a way to artificially modify a Jissouseki's behavior via electronical link with their crystal, as it is colloquially named. It's no secret, as the technology spread quickly, but details about the original discovery are scarce. Who is this company ? Where did it go to ? Most internet detective pretenders couldn't find anything, and assumed they disbanded after a bit of legal trouble. This is only partially true. I will get back to that in due time. Governments were no strangers to this new technology, although we had goals slightly more ambitious than saving costs for pet training. We wanted to get back the upper hand. Slow the fantastical progress of these creatures before it is too late. Associating with a few other countries such as Germany and the United Kingdom, we expanded on the crystal hacking, and soon enough, we made a breakthrough. This breakthrough, as you no doubt suspect, is wireless access to the crystals. Alas, the range was quite limited, and the control had to be manual. You can procedurally put constraints on a jissou, but complete override of its actions required a human. Now, with a range under the thirty meters and the need of a human to be present, our plan seemed to have little practical potential. This was, until we realized we could fuse the project with another one : Creating a man-machine interface for jissou-shaped drones, clearly unnatural to the human onlooker, but familiar enough for the Retards, in order to manipulate them into, for instance, internal turmoils or willing departures from important places. The result was to re-purpose the drones for a strictly stealthy purpose, letting all the manipulation to the remote control device, thus creating an incredibly effective secret agent. We could get three drones ready before budget limited us. After carefully selecting soldiers with enough dedication and motivation to go into what was essentially a no-return mission, we could release the agents you apparently referred to as “Cthulhu”.” “Seemed fair enough given what they did in my house. Why, you've got a better name ?” “Better probably isn't the world you would choose, but they do have a official, albeit top secret, codename : Supreme Abuser.” “Pretty rad !” Admits Steph. “I'm glad you think so” says Lejeune, a touch of ennui in his voice. “Their mission was simple. Raise public awareness of the Jissouseki menace. Humanity has all but grown up on them nowadays, and thus we gave them complete liberty to complete their mission. We lacked the technological means to assume control, direct or otherwise. We could only track their location, hear their conversations, and they were to get back to the headquarters only once a month for briefing.” “So with your tracker, you could see they made contact with us ?” “Exactly. When you confronted one of them in Miss Philippe's apartment, we knew they perceived you as friends. And this is exactly why we must now rely on you to stop them.” I remain silent for a moment. “Stop them ? How ? Why ?!” “Well, the long and short of it is, their mission as it was issued quickly turned out to be disastrous should it be carried out.” “Okay...Let me see if I got this straight. The controllers are soldiers uploaded into stealthy robots and able to control jissous. Their goal to make gigantic maggots explode right in front of the VIPs at the festival's awards ceremony is merely their mission. You want to cancel it, but you can't because their next planned briefing is too far away.” “You got that right.” “So what happened ? Did they went rogue somewhere ? Planning too much firepower ? Or did you cock up at some point and gave a bad order, like a Jissou-themed reenactment of Fail-Safe ?” “I'm sure this prospect would be very entertaining to you, Mister Genestar, but I am proud to state that no one in command “cocked up” at the time the mission was issued, and the agents are carrying out their orders with rigor.” “So what's the problem then ?” “The situation has changed since then. Specifically, we uncovered there was a reason behind the recent increase in forest jissous trying their chance in the cities.” “Like the assault on Ma Jissouseki Préférée or the Prefecture ? I thought it was Ct...Huh, Supreme Abuser.” “It was not. And while it would be useless to divulge that to you now, just know three things. It makes you an even more unavoidable element for dealing with this mess, it's on a global scale, and its planning an assault on Annecy as we speak.” “Uh-oh” Says Stephanie. “Say WHAT ?” I yell, somewhat less circumspect. “Tomorrow, Annecy will receive the bulk of the jissou army that invaded Ambérieu. We know you know about this -you'll have to explain how you came to know such knowledge, by the way- and thus, that you are as worried as we are.” Great. None other than the fucking army discovered I told a state secret to my girlfriend. He's right though, I am fucking worried. Plus, If I followed the story right... “So, in that state of things, if Supreme Abuser carries out their mission, it will only add more trouble to this mess ?” “More accurately, Mr. Genestar, it will start the mess. You see, unlike the time of the invasion of Ambérieu, we know what causes these invasions this time around. The assaults aren't directly planned. The jissous are just put together in great numbers in certain areas.” “Like a town with a world-famous festival liable to attract hordes of Jissouseki...” “Exactly. Annecy is currently under jissou siege, although it is hardly apparent. But now that we have this knowledge. we have the means to prevent it, by sending undercover squads in the wilderness surrounding the city, preventing too great an attack by thinning out their numbers and scattering their ranks. However, should something happen in the city, something creating enough jissou paste to be smelled from kilometers around...” “Shit will hit the fan.” “Indeed, Mr.Genestar. We would have to send a bona fide army corps to deal with it. And while it would -fortunately- likely succeed in repelling the assault, the French government would be more than happy to stick to the more discreet plan.” “Which is why you need us to stop Supreme Abuser's plan. So you can keep the whole mess underground.” “That is exactly it.” “Wait a minute !” Says Steph. “We're still civilian chumps, and while we have made contact with...them, that doesn't mean we are qualif...” The general raises his hand, and one of the soldiers takes a CD box out of a bag, handing it to him. “Au contraire” he says while handing me the item. “with this, you will be as qualified to find them as one of our own. You merely have to deliver a message, and I'd like to presume that won't be a problem. But unlike a soldier, your companion is at the center of a quite frankly ridiculous array of coincidences which, like I stated one minute ago, makes him unavoidable.” Oh yeah, I remember he said something like that. I was just too stunned by the bad news for Annecy. “And what would those coincidences be ?” “Everything in due time, Mr.Genestar. We will leave now. I trust you won't refuse this mission, as informal as it is. Good day, and rest well. Tomorrow will likely be tiring.” We pretty much just stood in place as they left, the CD in my hands. I look at Steph. “So...We do it ?” “Why not ? Like he said, it's simple, and it can save the town, so...I just have some business to attend to...Call me tomorrow morning, okay ?” And without further explanation, she walked away. “Okay...” After ten seconds of spacing off, I look at the sky, pointing a disapproving finger at it. “Hey, you. After all that shit, I fully expect Steph to start giving head.”
Well, as long as Steph is not wearing a bikini made of live maggot-chans while she gives head... Nice to hear back from you InLeaves, I started to worry you might have abandoned the shit goblins and began writing about killing and abusing Yukkuris or ponies or something.
Haha, nope, my computer just broke near the end of July and, well, this kind of thing can fuck your motivation right up.
<i> The result was to re-purpose the drones for a strictly stealthy purpose, letting all the manipulation to the remote control device, thus creating an incredibly effective secret agent. We could get three drones ready before budget limited us. After carefully selecting soldiers with enough dedication and motivation to go into what was essentially a no-return mission, we could release the agents you apparently referred to as “Cthulhu”.” </i> No return mission ? Why ? They are drones, not humans transformed into Jissouseki...
It's a discrepancy I wrote on purpose. But if that really bugs you, just consider "drone" was an imprecise choice of words.
There is only two, maybe three, chapters left in Thierry Genestar’s adventure. As I struggle around the dreaded writer’s block, I’d like to talk about what’s next, for those of you who may be wondering. Simply put, it will not be the end. The story has yet to come full-circle in what will be (and already is actually, god I’m such a nerd) the most ambitious english-written Jissouseki story as of yet. Thing is, I’m thinking of taking a few steps in preparation for, one day, converting this trilogy into a book readable by someone who doesn’t know squat about the Jissouseki. Both PTLD and Supreme Abuser require at least basic knowledge in the subject. But the sequel to those two, obviously, cannot be any more lenient on jissou-newcomers. That’s why I plan on writing two things : - A prequel chapter to Supreme Abuser in which a young Thierry has his first contact with our favorite living dolls… - And a mini series, of 2-3 episodes at most, featuring a certain character’s ex-wife, and which will serve as the beginning of the future, all-encompassing book. It won’t be useless to you seasoned readers, though, as it will also double as a link between PTLD, Supreme Abuser, and the upcoming, full-sized series. Heavier on plot than jissou goodness, but necessary. So here’s the gist of it people. Stay tuned to the final chapters of SupAb.
You're really serious about it. I'm impatient to read what you'll write next. Any progress on that Flash Game you talked about last year ? Post 178 by InLeaves @ 2010-09-15 07:28 : The reason I wanted to end the series is because I'm on programming a flash game in which you're a professional Jissouseki breeder, and will be able both to treat jissous kindly or abuse them, with a special attention to mindfuck potential. It's going pretty well for now but I got to lower my number of ongoing novels if I want to make a significant progress, at least for a while.
Well, I did get around to do it. I have a solid interface, but a computer reboot made me lost the .fla file. I spent a week decompiling a .swf, with success, but that dampered my motivation so I pitched into Supreme Abuser instead. Still have it though. I'll post what I have on my blog sometime this week.
Supreme Abuser Chapter 11 : Operation Pandora Continued from >>289 Saturday, last day of the Animated Film Festival, Morning. I wake up, a familiar feeling in my head. I drank myself into oblivion like I always suspected I would if I was confronted to a 24-like situation. Seriously, simple mission or not, that's just bullshit. You don't put the fate of an entire town on someone's shoulders. That's against the rules. Jissou-chan is in her playing pen, quietly looking at me emerging. She seems to be concerned. She got drunk -albeit not that much, Jissouseki are fairly resistant to alcohol- after a glass of beer, and must be wondering why I'm not dead after drinking more than thirty times that amount. I check the clock. Half past nine in the morning. Eh, not too bad. “Are you alright, Mr.Man, tee ?” “Yeah, yeah, don't worry about me.” I get up and walk to her to give her a reassuring pat on the head. I see the ashtray I gave her to poop into until she can safely go to the toilet on the other side of the house without my cat attacking her. It's cleanly covered by a bunch of torn toilet paper. She also took care of her living ball. Couldn't expect any less from her, of course. I go clean it, and open a bag of cereals, putting them in a bowl. “Here is your food.” “Thank you Mr.Man !” She says rather conventionally. But after seeing that, today as well, she didn't get jissou feed, she says again “Thank you, techi !” In a much happier tone. “No problem. Oh, I have a lot of things to do today. It's a very important day for the town, and I have a job to do. I'll probably be back when it's dark.” “Yes, I will wait, Mr.Man, techi.” “Good jissou.” A simple compliment, but they take it as a canonization. I quickly get dressed. I certainly have a lot to do, even without the general's mission. Today's the big finale, with an indecent banquet at the Imperial Palace for those who participated in the Festival. Furthermore, there's the open-air film projection on the Champs de Mars, and overall, more than enough to attract a jissou army without a gigantic maggot exploding and covering the grounds with crap. First things first, I have a meeting with my exterminating team in ten minutes. I'll have to take my bike. -------- We're in the City Hall's deliberations room, normally reserved for the municipal councils, but since all the conference rooms were booked, particularly important day oblige, administration gave us that one, because the prestige notwithstanding, it was remarkably impractical for a simple reunion. I indulged in my guilty pleasure by sitting in the mayor's seat, but invited all the exterminators to sit in the counselors' seats. I'm not one to uselessly despise the personnel. “Men, I'm afraid I have bad news. Or good news. That depends on your hatred of the shit goblins' du jour, really.” “There's an entire building infested ?” Tries a new recruit. “Worse. I received enough calls from strollers yesterday to be fairly confident all the forests around Annecy are packed with Jissouseki. We scheduled this briefing a week ago because we knew the Festival's climax was going to cause trouble. But it appears the trouble will be bigger than expected.” “So, what do you think we should do, Thierry ? Focus on the festival grounds ?” Asks Robert, the experimented exterminator I told you about Monday. “Definitely. Especially the MIFA and the Imperial Palace. If you've ever been a volunteer for the festival, you've been invited to the final banquet, and you know it's train-stoppingly insane. We're talking about a buffet for hundreds of people with lobster and fine wine here. What's worse, it's right in the middle of a park, and not one of our best protected.” I point to the left wing of the deliberation’s room. “All of you in the Socialist, Green and Communist seats will go protect that. And, as you already know, I'm sorry but it's during the evening. Can't work around that.” It's my first year as DARJ, and there is absolutely no question some of the exterminators already did that the past years. But here's the deal : I'm not an asshole to them, they forget their boss is younger than they are. Everybody involved in the Jissouseki public service is in the same low-paid bandwagon, so we mostly try to be excellent to each other. Because the hierarchy certainly isn't. Can you blame them ? We're paid to do what every sadist does for free. “What about the rest of the town ?” “Bonlieu has the open-air winning film's projection tonight, and the Retards aren't known for their battle prowess against an dense crowd. But still, public salubrity and tranquility, all that, so...let's say a dozen of you in the Champs de Mars this evening. Let's say all those around me. That leaves the guys on the right, a little less that twenty people, on regular patrol.” Silent approbations in the room. “And given the aforementioned exceptional quality of this day, if you find anyone fucking up the jissous, even in front of children, leave them alone. As usual, every pet that isn't on a leash is liable to get Hulk Smashed. Owners that don't know their law by that point deserve that. And last but not least, for the regular patrol group, don't worry about the corpses.” Gasps of surprise. As you know, cleaning up is an important part of an exterminator's job. Not doing so on a freaking Saturday is unheard of. “I can't give you the details, but trust me, there is some serious shit threatening us. And if there is a wave of hundreds of thousands of jissous pouring in the town, I want as much food as possible in the streets to slow them down. Understand ?” “Yes boss !” “Today, only two things matter. Cleanliness in the festival grounds, and total annihilation everywhere else. Go nuts. Show them Hell.” Approbations rise once again. Yet, a wise ass says : “And you, you will be attending the buffet ?” I sigh, standing up and putting the unimportant files I put in the desk to look serious back in my bag. “I fucking wish.” So, what was in the CD ? Quite simply, the mission briefing's transcript. In it, I saw my whole week. “Test and confirm your drones' abilities in a sparse residential area for an easier approach. Test both primary mode of complete control, and secondary mode of simple body functions override.” Over the course of the week, aside from preparing the Maggot-bombs by themselves, they were to “Intervene in any situation that you may think requires intervention.” Like the protest in the Gardens of Europe or that massacre Michel told me about. I obviously wasn't there for all of their interventions. Still, the final order for the Festival's climax was just as I deduced in the abandoned boat factory : They were to produce a non-lethal-all-show weapon that could pass for a freak jissou incident and attempt at the awards ceremony the world record of longest uninterrupted urine stream on the VIPs. One of them came up with this maggot-bomb idea, and I'm sure he's onto something. As for the scene of the crime : The Imperial Palace, where the awards ceremony takes place. Aside from that, no details. But at least I know where to find them, and that they can't leave the scene like that. Plus, my job gives me a good cover. Of course the head of Jissou affairs would be in this area today. The Controllers -Supreme Abuser- wouldn't question that. Oh, and I can't forget the password to gain Supreme Abuser's trust. “It's a good day for every desu”, en anglais dans le texte. Military missions are even cheesier than I imagined. I call Stéphanie while making my way to the Imperial palace, my trusty bike under me. All I get is voicemail. Weird, she is adept of always having her cell phone charged and turned on. As I ride to the Imperial, the weirdest things about the situation I hadn't noticed yet pop up in my mind. If I got this straight, the all-encompassing threat behind all of this is someone who can roughly control herds of jissouseki anywhere in the world. That sounds like a myth that would get busted at the mere approach of Jamie's mustache. And even supposing that's true, why get to Annecy after Ambérieu ? The two towns aren't the best candidates for a one-two, given the geographical distance in between. Bah, mankind has done stupider stuff, like finding New Vegas better than Fallout 3. But something with this Supreme Abuser stuff seems weird to me. I mean, even considering it's a completely legitimate military application. Why would the military let a prototypical unit loose ? Sure, they're undercover, but not bound to be discreet like it would be in a human environment. Jissous don't care, and they're all but invisible for us humans. So what's the deal ? Ah, forget it. I have more important things to worry about right now. The Imperial Palace. A big, all-white hotel near the lakeshore, surrounded by a big park and a commercial swimming pool-beach combo. A night with full service there and you'll worry about making it to the end of the month. It's also, Bonlieu aside, the second place where the International Animated Film Festival is at. In the public park, you find the MIFA -that's for Marché International du Film d'Animation, or International Animated Film Market- mostly for professionals, as well as the festivities held on the last day. In the park, a huge stage covered by a tent houses the buffet where everyone's who participated in the festival is invited. And like I said in front of the exterminators, it's nothing short of breathtaking. The only thing remotely like it is a wedding. The first time I got there was one year when I volunteered for the festival. Not one euro of salary, but by the end of the week, I couldn't consider bitching about the advantages even if my graduation depended on it. I came to the buffet half an hour in advance, and was among the first to come in. It's a restricted event, so the waiting line isn't exactly communist-grade. I stepped into the tents, and my holy-shit sensors immediately went haywire when I saw the mound with a goddamn miniature river and marmot automatons proudly presenting the glorious food. This is stuff that would elicit thoughts of sneaking in in humans, let alone Jissouseki. So if Lejeune was right, and we are facing a major invasion, of course the jissous will come here first thing in the day. Their problem with food isn't finding it, it's accessing it. I consider going to the organizers to decide of a common course of action, but quickly decide against it. It would take hours to reach an agreement, and that's if they don't dismiss me as paranoid. Teamwork is good, but multiple-party co-decision is bullshit. I call Steph again. “Yeah ?” “Ah, here you are ! I'm at the Imperial. The CD they gave me confirmed that they would be somewhere in the area.” “Okay...So you want me to help you find them, right ?” “Yes. It's still a large area and while we could find them very quickly, we can't take any chances. We have until the evening, when the ceremony starts, to do this or Annecy is fucked.” “At least concerning public relations. Okay, I'll be there in a half-hour.” I hang up, and start looking for probable hiding places in the park. A shame I'm not familiar with this part of town. I've always be a downtown kid, and the Imperial is at the city's very edge. I'm not saying it's almost in the wilderness. It's just that it's at the frontier between Annecy and Annecy-le-Vieux, the northeastern adjacent town. Still, like I said to the exterminators, it's not precisely one of our best protected parks. Oh, the Imperial Palace staff has done a great job protecting its immediate surroundings, but it's only a fraction of the actual park. The town just couldn't protect the whole thing. So we merely fenced in the critical areas : the cemented paths, the pool, the beach, the children park, some patches of lawn...The rest are kind of left at the Jissouseki's mercy. Jissouseki that ceaselessly plead to the tourists they see beyond the fences. I hear children love the place because it's kind of like a jissou zoo. I'm glad they see it that way. Because older, less innocent people generally have a less than enchanting place in mind. No, I'm not saying what. When Godwins, we lose. “Take me to the big house, shit Mr...Man...” says a kojissou with a raspy voice, her stump desperately reaching through a hole in the fence. Where they are, there is no shade, and the sun is unforgiving, even at 10 in the morning. But what can you say, the Imperial Palace is that appealing. The ceremony will take place in the fenced area around the palace. That much I was informed of as the administrative police officer in charge of jissou-prone situations. Yeah, police officer. That's a public law thing. I know from the derelict factory that Supreme Abuser's assault will take the form of a maggot bomb. And it cannot be that far-reaching with only days of preparation, so it has to be nearby. And, really, the obvious solution is the palace itself, but there are too many employees working there for secret agents to operate without anyone noticing. The festival's temporary installations could work too, I guess, but the same problem applies. For now, let's go see the witnesses. Yay for witnesses. "Okay, little jissous. Here the d-" "Mr.Man, please take me with you to the big white house, techi !" "Tummy soft and springy, please rub, refu !" “I am so hungry, desu...Take me to your home, I eat very little, desu !” “Shut up and listen to me ! I will give you something very nice if you help me find something.” A new cacophony is all I get. This is like the pet shop, they are too focused on the palace to converse. I need something that has weight. It's easy to catch their attention with a candy, but they're just going to feel entitled to it, and that's never good. I need something more like pure awe. Like...A cloud ! A cloud that is drawing close to the sun. Perfect for old-timey divine intervention bullshitting. “Jissous who don't let the Sun God speak are Bad jissous and will never get a home !” I say with my best Stentor voice. “Who is Sun God, desu ? Can he make the shit hot light disappear, desu ?” “I am the Sun God, and that I can do. Behold !” I make a dramatic gesture with my arms, right on cue for the cloud to pass in front of the sun. The panting, sweating jissous quickly notice the effect on the temperature. “The...the light is gone, te !” “So refreshing, techi !” “Ooooh...Sun God has impressive powers, desuuuu...” The kojissous don't seem to make the link between the light dimming and my antics, but the adults do, and it should be enough. “Yes, and you shall now be good jissous and answer my questions, lest I make the fiery sun come back !” “Desha ! No, not the sun, desha ! We will answer !” “Good. Have you seen any big maggots or weird jissous who did not talk like you ?” “I have seen big maggots, desu !” Says an adult, excitedly hopping into place. “Oh, where ?” “Well, huh, around, desu ! Big juicy, delicious maggot-chans, dee...” she says, paw on her chin, drooling. “I...meant a bigger kind of maggot than that. More like my size than yours.” “Your size ? You are stupid Mr.Man, desu. No maggot-chan is that big.” “That's because you don't know where to look. Sadly, my dear jissou, if you aren't able to see big maggot-chans, you will not be able to see the fabled hyper-candy.” The adults are taken aback. “The...hyper...candy, desu ?” They say with pauses of various lengths, eyes glittering. “It is a konpeito who is said to be so tasty it bends light and becomes invisible. Only the jissous with the sharpest senses can ever dream to experience its taste, which is such that it will triple your strength forever.” “I want the hyper-candy now, desu !” “No, shit jissou, it is mine, I will no longer be hurt by mean Mr.Men, decha !!” “Daughters, go search the hyper-candy now, desu !” And here is how I can take advantage of their visceral competitiveness. Plus, knowing we placed the fences in a way that there aren't any isolated cages full of jissouseki -that would be a catastrophically bad idea because of the sheer difficulty to clean such cages- there's a huge chance the competition will spread like wildfire. “Wait ! I told you, you must first find the giant maggot-chans. If you can't see them at first, it's fine. You can smell the scent of a maggot-chan, right ?” “Yes, Mr.Man ! I am very perceptive jissou !” Says a dirty mother surrounded by her children. ”Maggots have a very different smell than grown jissous !” “Very well !” I say to the whole group. “If you happen to smell a particularly heavy smell of maggot, even if you don't see it, come tell me where you smelled it. I'll go check and tell you if, indeed, it was a giant maggot.” I raise my arms up in the air “Then, you shall have passed the trial, and you'll be able to search the Hyper-Candy !” “Yaaaay desuuuu !” “We will find it Mr.Man, teee !” “Hoorray for the Sun God, desuuu !” They run off, swaying their heads from side to side like crazy in an attempt to pick up the scent. I sit on a bench, and take a cigarette out. Like I expected, they didn't stop talking about the giant maggot and the hyper-candy. That way, other jissous will inevitably get interested and search themselves. Hell, you can't even say I'm being cruel : by actually searching instead of depressingly amassing against the fences, they're bound of get some food for a change. It's a win-win situation. And either they find the maggot bombs, or the racket tips off Supreme Abuser and they get out of cover. Really, things should always go this smoothly. Later, Stephanie finds me. “Hey, the jissous here are acting super weird. They're all searching something like their lives depend on it. I even saw some of them crawling on the grass, sweeping the surface with their arms, mumbling about finding an invisible candy.” “Yeah, I tempted them with the idea of a Torikoesque candy they can only see if they find a giant maggot first.” “A giant maggot like the one you found at the old boat factory ?” “Exactly.” “I'm surprised you got them to cooperate that eagerly.” “Yeah, me too. I thought they would get bored quickly, but...It seems that whenever that pointy candy is involved, their brain kind of blacks out on everything else.” "True, but it doesn't hold a boundless influence by itself." "That's why bullshitting exists, baby. Anyway, how is the rest of the town ? Did you see signs of imminent invasion ?" "Hmm, now that I think of it, there was a lot of shitdolls on Albigny Avenue...Cars plowed straight through them though." Albigny Avenue links Bonlieu and the Imperial Palace. It's a long, straight road with a lot of traffic. It's also near the lake, so seeing jissous passing through there isn't too surprising. And it's worrying actually. People will just assume they do that because of the summer heat, to go to the water, and dismiss the possibility of something greater going on. "Mr.Man ! Mr.Maaaaaan desuuuu !" A mother runs towards us, holding one of her kojissous in her arms followed with difficulty by the rest of them. "Yes ? Did you find something ?" "My cute daughter smelled something, de !" She says, presenting her daughter like a little girl would present a doll. "A very strong maggot-chan smell, techi." States the little Jissouseki rather plainly given the exciting treasure hunt. "It was near a black building, behind the big metal thing, techi. I thought it was my favorite maggot-chan but I forgot I had left her on a leaf, techi." "Can we see the hyper-candy now Mr.Man, desu ? Can we ?" "I'll check if it was indeed a big maggot. Stay here." I look around. Neither kojissou nor mama thought of indicating where it was. Not even pointing the general direction with the arm. Another one of their bizarre traits. By "big metal thing" I'll just assume she meant the fence. And a black building has to be one of the temporary installations. Soon enough, I find it. A small wooden shed not far from the big buffet, painted in black for fuck knows why. Around 6 meters in length and four in height and width. Behind the fence, so inaccessible to the Jissouseki but accessible to humans. Only problem is... The door has a padlock on it. "Well, seems like the kojissou was mistaken. Nobody but the festival's staff could have been in there." Sighs Stéphanie. "Not so fast...I don't know to what extent, but Supreme Abuser have great stealth capabilities. I mean, even discounting the jissou control, they're military grade spy robots, right ? They could have stolen the key, or perhaps dug a tunnel into it." "Yeah, I guess...But to verify that, we have to get the key, so..." "Come on, I'm DARJ, remember ? Getting the key to an innocuous shack won't be a problem." "Uh huh. You'll get me back on that when you'll have the key, okay ?" "Woman of little faith." I go to the MIFA, where the bulk of the festival's organization in this area should be. After a bit of asking around, I find the Keymaster, in this feeble dimension known as the head of logistics department. "Hello", I agreeably say to the plump middle-aged man. "Thierry Genestar, DARJ. I have reasons to believe one of your temporary installations has been invaded. However, it's locked at the moment, so..." "Aw shit..." He sighs. "Happens every year, regardless of our precautions." He takes his master key holder. "Alright, which is it ?" "The black shack, between the imperial and the lake." "The...black shack ?" "Yeah, simple, without windows, 6 or 7 meters long." "...We don't have no black installation, mister." Huh. "What do you mean you don't have one ? It's in the middle of the park, clear as day." "Let's go see it." "Well I'll be damned." He sees the small black wooden building, flabbergasted. "I'm pretty sure this wasn't there until at least yesterday." "Well, this is here now. Maybe someone put it there during the night." "Yeah, but who ? There were people here until late in the night. And this is no crate, you need time to install something this size." "No matter. We have to know what's in it, and fast. Check if your keys work." As he complies, I look at Steph. This is suspicious as all hell. Building something in the dead of night isn't impossible in itself. The park only sees drunk people during this time, and they probably wouldn't even notice after 2 am. And the earliest workers that I know of begin their work, what, at 5 ? There's definitely a window of opportunity. So...stealthily build during the night, no windows, locked, and strongly smells of baby jissou ? No doubt about it, this thing is trouble. "Nope, none of my keys work." "To be expected...Thanks, I got it from here." "You sure ?" "Yeah, a third of my crew is in the park right now." He departs. I call the first exterminator I see, and tell him to gather all his colleagues here. Minutes later, we are a few people short of twenty around the suspicious shack, me and Steph included. "The logistics guy was right" says one of them. "I've been patrolling here since Wednesday and there was nothing here." "I can smell shit alright" says another, frowning; "But I couldn't determine the age by smell alone." "Well, the Jissouseki can." Precises Stéphanie. "Their sense of smell is much more powerful than ours. We are the losers of the olfactory department after all." "So anyway, Thierry, did you just say some manner of giant maggot was inside ?" "Yes." I answer. "Someone is making maggot bombs about the size of a human, which can generate enough pressure to be akin to a stick of TNT, without the heat." "Wow...This is serious." "Very. Plus, the shit would mess up the place, which we can't afford today. We have to get this thing out of the park and into a secure location ASAP. Henri, get the truck for heavy-duty shanty town cleaning. We'll figure out in the meantime how to move this thing to the parking lot." "Got it." Okay, calm down Thierry. Supreme Abuser got it there, and they only have jissous and stealth-oriented robot bodies. We have a full team of humans. There's no way we can't do this. I slowly walk to the black box. In all probability, the J-bombs inside aren't scheduled to blow up until this evening. But there's no way overbloated maggots can be stable. I touch the wood. Clearly, it's not massive material, but some kind of cheap composite. I push it gently, and the whole thing wobbles. "Wow !" Says Steph, surprised. "This looked more solid than it really is. Actually..." I knock on the surface. "Guys, I think those are thin plywood boards. Like the ones you make closet roofs out of." "You're shitting me. Can't you punch through that thing ?" "Probably not" answers an exterminator. "But it's very lightweight and snaps easily. This is no construction material. Whoever put it here must have been in a real hurry to make it" "Yeah...But somehow, I don't think they took plywood this thin just because of that." Maybe... This isn't even a storage container. When I knocked on it, I felt something strange. I do it again, a bit more forcefully this time. I knew it. "This doesn't sound hollow at all." "What do you mean ? It's made out of plywood, it wobbles at the slightest amount of force. It has to sound hollow, otherwise it would be more stable because of all the content." "Yeah, unless that content is one of the most fragile organisms known to man." And as silence falls over our group, a sound comes from the box, as if on cue. "Rebooooooh..." Reboh. The sound of a maggot who has eaten too much, unable to know its limits, and emits a deformed "refu." Only this one is faint, but extremely low in tone. Which means vocal chords distended to an insane degree. Nothing even a human-sized maggot could muster. "Gentlemen, this isn't a container. This is a shell..." "...For a bomb hidden in plain sight." completes Steph. Behind the fence, the jissous are amassing, curious. "So ? So ? Is it the giant maggot-chan, desu ? Can we see the hyper-candy, de ?" "No, it's not." I precipitately answer. We can't afford them being curious about the bomb. "But keep searching, I'm sure you'll find the maggot." "Desuuun...okay." Whines the perceptive kojissou's mother, disappointed. ------------------------------------------ Twenty minutes or so later, the guy in charge of fetching the truck sees ten of us carrying the damn thing by hand. "What the fuck ? How light is that thing ?" "Amazingly light, thanks to its components, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous ! Everybody, charge it on the truck ! And nobody fucking slips !" I go to the passenger seat. "We need to dump this thing to a hangar ! Do we have any left ?" "Yeah, I think the one in Annecy-le-Vieux is only a quarter full." "Good, we'll go there." Everybody knows about the first two phases of Jissouseki extermination : Killing and body collecting. However, body dumping is perhaps the most important. We can only do it in closed spaces, or the powerful smell would attract the street jissous. Thus, we have several specifically made hangars in the city. A life saver in these circumstances. "The box is in !" "Good ! Stay around it to stabilize it in case we make some sharp turns along the way ! A shock could very well make it explode !" "What ? This easily ?" Reacts Henri, the driver. "Yes. At first I thought it would be like the prototype I saw, but the entire damn thing is filled with a single, spectacularly bloated maggot. I don't know how much force it would generate by blowing up, but I'm pretty sure this can be genuinely dangerous at short range. Plus, it would generate much more feces than the body's volume, thanks to their unbelievable shit production, and would probably have coated the entire Imperial Palace in jissou shit. Anyway, drive !" He complies, nervously. "Who the fuck would do that ? I mean, this is terrorism, right ?" "Without a doubt..." As we drive, I can see the increase in the living doll numbers. The sun is up and unclouded again, but they seem to have a renewed vigor nonetheless. One group is furiously munching away at a garbage bag full of dead jissous, the bounty of the local team of exterminators before I had to redirect their attention to a different matter. The bag is solid, reinforced with a synthetic mesh conceived to prevent jissous from ripping it apart too easily. They will eventually open it though. Several groups of tourists are walking away from begging families. One has taken a more direct approach and is methodically stomping on the kojissous, who trip trying to escape the giant legs. I can even see some groups from the Imperial Palace's park taking to the streets, probably thinking they have better chances at seeing the giant maggot that way. Idiots. Anyway, there definitely are more Jissouseki than usual, and we're in the hottest hours of the day. The General's quasi-mystical threat doesn't seem so weird now. Fortunately, thanks to drivers being generally jaded about jissou roadkill, it doesn't cause any traffic, so we get to the hangar, built over an old supermarket closed due to jissou invasion, in just ten minutes. We unload the deadly cargo on the parking lot. I go open the heavy metal door. The metallic building is large, painted with the city's official insignias, and hermetically sealed to prevent any odor leak, as well as keeping the building dry. Desiccated jissou corpses are better than moldy jissou corpses. "Okay. Easy now, we just have to get it inside. Then we open it sloooowly." With all our strengths combined, and without obstacles like the fences to worry about, we get it inside the hangar without much sudden movements. Our hearts jumped once or twice, though, when we heard the maggot utter "rebooooh" with the voice of a slowed down Barry White. In the center, between the mountains of desiccated jissou bodies, nearly indistinguishable from crumpled down cardboard by this point, we put the J-bomb on the cement floor. In the tool shed, one of my crew takes a bunch of crowbars, and we get to work uncrating the gigantic maggot. The nails in the plywood give in like a charm, letting the structure fall apart without any major shock. And finally, we see it. The apex of this crazy week. "There is room now, reboooh..." The maggot was so cramped in this big box, its face has been durably flattened. We could just barely put the box and a bunch of people around it in a moving truck's container, and the maggot is even bigger than that. It is terrifying. "Holy mother of fuck !" "I'm dreaming, right ? This is a jissou larva ?!" "Never mind building the box without anyone noticing, how could they make a maggot this big ?!" This is the real deal. The maggot is naked, but still has a minuscule tuff of hair which is a testament to the fact that this behemoth was once normal. The eyes, ears and mouth grew with the rest of the body, albeit not in perfect scale, but the tail, the legs or the nose haven't grown a centimeter. Its freakish proportions make very clear that it attained this size only because it has been inflated by overfeeding, and its body structure forced to remain unbroken by heavy doses of miracle cure. Iteration by iteration, they painstakingly got it to this size, and now it can rupture with incredible force with a simple poke. This is. A bomb. "Hey, check it out ! It was on the inside of the box, against that...monster's face !" Henri shows me a simple device taped to the plywood. A simple LED with a battery and a timer. "As I suspected Wednesday...They planned on adding fragmentation to this bomb. Maggot pregnancy always result in explosion anyway, so they figured that they might as well try that as a method of ignition." I look at the freakish maggot again. It seems somewhat relieved to have been freed from its bomb shell, but the tears and panting indicate it's still suffering. "Well, crisis adverted, guys ! We saved the town from the world's first ever recorded J-bomb ! Festivities are in order, but for now let's back away from the blast zone." Cheers in the group as we walk back to the exit. But strangely, Steph stays in place, a very concerned look on her face. "...What's wrong ?" "There is nothing on its anus." She walks back to the maggot. I try to stop her, but she rejects my hand. "Back off, I must check something." Clearly, she's sensed something wasn't right. She first checks the monster's anus more closely, apparently checking if there weren't any plugs invisible on the surface. There weren't, so she circled the maggot, looking for God knows what. She's behind it when I hear her screaming in rage. "I FUCKING KNEW IT ! THOSE ROBOTIC BASTARDS !" I run to her, leaving the puzzled exterminators behind. "What's wrong honey ?" "Look at that area." She's pointing to a nondescript part of the maggot's body. Somewhere on its flank. At first I see nothing, but soon enough, I notice a faint change of tone, like something was written on the skin before it was stretched. "Is that some kind of tattoo ?" "Yes. And not any tattoo. Our lab's official seal followed by the specimen's serial number." Wait, does that mean... "Holy shit, this is one of the subjects for the constipating mutation you mentioned ?" "Yes. Definitely. That can only mean one thing. That accident yesterday was no accident at all. Supreme Abuser did that to make us clear the place for the weekend so that they could steal modified maggots at will." "But...Why ? They very well could have overheard you talking about that in front of Bonlieu, or even just followed you to your lab and discover that but...To what end ?" "It's obvious, idiot !" She spits, seething with rage. "A Jissouseki larva is like a canister of compressed shit. They hold many times their body volume in shit. Still, there's only so much pressure you can create with the method of using the miracle cure to push the boundaries of their body. A simple aperture like the ass would eventually be enough to generate enough pressure to pop up anything you block it with. But our mutation plain and simply closed the ass with flesh. Which meant much better results with the miracle cure method. Supreme Abuser saw that as an opportunity to take their bombs to the next level." "Which is the only reason why they could get a maggot this bloated." "Exactly. Any artificial ass shutting wouldn't have cut it." "And, huh...What about the other hole ? The mouth ?" "Maggots can't vomit. Ever. Fucked if I know why." "Okay...Well, Steph, we still are in a possibly lethal zone so...be a dear and follow me, okay ? We have to make any evidence your lab is involved disappear anyway." As she lets herself be dragged away from the J-bomb, she asks : "What, you plan of blowing it up ?" "Come on, we have a sealed hangar, and a world premiere bomb. If I don't take this opportunity to blow the shit out of it, my 23rd pair of chromosomes will automatically shift to XX." Once we're out of the hangar, I open my trust fanny pack and take a laser pointer out of it. "They wanted to test the Jissouseki Fragmentation Bomb, but only you will get to witness if it's effective or not !" "Heck yeah, that's going to be awesome !" I close the hangar door to make sure no shit comes out in the street, and when there's only a slight opening left, I aim the laser beam to the J-bomb's left eye. Huge as it is, I can clearly see the green eye quickly muddle with bright red. "Rebooh ?" The maggot senses something wrong, but as usual, its weak nervous system dulls any pain, thus making impossible for it to understand exactly what went wrong. For example, it doesn't sense that a dozen maggots, probably larger or more numerous than usual, are growing inside it. It happens fast, though, and the pressure against its whole body is soon enough even for a maggot to become unbearable. "Repyoooooh ! RebooorebooorebooorebooooBOOOOOOO" I close the door as the final scream sounds. A fraction of second later, a loud KABLAM shakes the hangar. Not deafeningly loud, but for a freaking maggot, the epitome of fragility, it's insane. And when I open the door, shit leaks from behind it. "Holy great-grandmother of crap." The whole hangar is filled with semi-fluid jissou shit. A 10-centimeter layer is on the ground, and everything, from walls to ceiling, is coated and dripping with shit. And in the shallow crap pool, an entire nursery of normal-sized maggots float. The sound of "Tettere~ !" is multiplied by maybe hundreds. "Thierry, I'm sure glad we stopped that from happening near the Imperial." "No kidding...But if you want to crash an enemy's party, well, now you know how it's really done." "We're heroes, man. But I doubt this is the kind of fame we can claim without sounding like obnoxious little kids." "Yeah, Jissouseki-related heroism isn't really on par with Lord of the Rings." I close the door again. "We'll deal with this mess later. For now, back to the Imperial. The hardest part of the day should be behind us now." The exterminators get back into the truck, high-fiving and commenting on the big boom. Stephanie and I, though, share the same concerned look. "You know we still have to find Supreme Abuser." I quietly say to her. "Yeah, and they're quite possibly hiding in my lab." "Where is it anyway ? You never told me, now that I think about it." "Not too far from your house actually. I guess I could have told you, sorry." "No matter. We'll get by there on foot from the Imperial." "Yeah, and give those lab-breakers the beating they deserve."
...I suddenly have an urge for chunky pea soup.
Note: This is something that Civilization J made me think of when I first read it ages ago, to wit: the special forces maggots, took to a new level. So therefore, I present: I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 1 --------------------------- Let me be clear, I don't hate Jissouseki. As long as they leave me alone, and stay out of my house, I don't give a shit. That doesn't mean I don't kick obnoxious ones that don't take no for an answer, or give bigger beggar groups stupid quests to become a pet, they are simply means to an end: the quickest way to be left alone. My lack of hatred for Jissousekis stems from my time in Iraq. The sandniggers declared that the Jissou was unfit to be eaten, and unclean as a pig. Of course, the top cleric who was first to declare that was among a group of civilians wounded when some bad guys decided it'd be funny to strap bombs to a bunch of bigger Jissous, and tell them that if they 'delivered the package to Mr. Man' they would get candy. That's why I almost l like the horrid fucks, the sandniggers were so fucking PISSED at the use of Jissou bombs that within a week any insurgents left alive were surrendering to us in droves to avoid the mob. By the time my year in Iraq was over, it was basically a vacation in the desert, with weekends in town with no real fear of danger, as we had turned from a counter insurgency force to an extermination force, which made the locals love us. Or at least realize that towns in which anything happend to our people would be overran by Jissous within a day. When I got out of the service, I avoided any law enforcement job like so many veterans went into, or anything related to my MOS even. Instead I got a job maintaining a park in my city. The exact details are not relevant of course, needless to say I ran into immediate problems with Jissousekis fucking the place up. Ignoring the basic mess their fluids caused, they tended to fuck up all the plants and generally undo my work. However, I had noticed that occasionally there were smarter seeming Jissous, they even made attempts to keep their little corner of the park neat and clean before begging me for food. Of course their attempts caused even more damage, albeit less and less over time as I taught them to just leave the fuck alone past picking shit up, and even better those particular tribes flourished as I helped them some with their box villages, reinforcing them against the weather and to an extent against other Jissouseki. Of course most ended up wiped out. But that got me thinking. And that is where our story starts. One afternoon as I was finishing up work, I went behind by storage shed/office to check on one of the more civilized tribes. They never went into the shed as they knew that I killed any Jissous found inside it, in fact they would often give it to other tribes just so I would remove the competition, and let them 'dispose' of the bodies. Hey, I cant say as I blame them, free food and less risk. Well, when I went to say hi that day I right away saw shit had gone wrong. A giant penis jissou, about two foot tall, had smashed the village, and had the matriarch (who was also his size) fatally impaled on its cock. The fresh blood smeared on its face told me the rest of the story. Of course, I right away drew my 'bad jissou' gun, a .45 loaded with a low powder charge and about thirty or so BBs, and put the matriarch out of her suffering, the penis-chan died a bit slower, as I hadn't aimed at him and only a few pellets had struck him. 'well dammit' I thought to myself 'that group was half useful.' It was about then that I heard it. "Chieeeennnn..." It was quiet, and faint, but it seemed that one of that group had survived. A quick check under the boxes found the source: A thumb-chan. "Mr. Man, my sisters ~Resun" it wasn't even crying, just dry sobbing. It was then I decided to help. I picked her up, and carried her back into my shed, first into the storage section that was often broken into, then into my office, which was a slab of concrete, with concrete block walls and a metal roof. And most importantly, the door was a VERY tight fit complete with a rubber gasket lining it. Jissou's never got in here. Now, I knew she would need somewhere to live. And I'd be damned if I took an untrained feral, even one whose matriarch had been a high grade pet at one point in time, into my house. Besides, I could hose down the office and fumigate easily if I needed to. It happens on occasion, when one snuck in as I was leaving for the weekend. So I set the thumb down on my desk, she was curled up and asleep at this point, and looked on my shelves, and the idea hit me. I had a terrarium, a decent sized one, intended for squirrels and birds and such that had been wounded. It was utterly fucking stupid, because I had no fucking veterinary training, but PETA had given the city a supply to give to parks workers. Most of the other guys pawned theirs the same day. I figured keeping it could mean I may get a piece of PETA ass some day, and they were too cheap to be worth the effort to hock, since as a returning veteran the city had started me way up on the park management totem pole and I basically ran the work at the park on my own with crews from other parks coming in as needed. I put the thumb into a small Jissou cage meant for storing possible lost pets, (usually it meant storing one that had stole a collar from a pet after eating it so the owner could 'play') and possibly diseased specimens for labs (not that that matters, other than the common cold the fuckers don't seem to get sick) and sat back and thought for a bit. I went outside and grabbed a handfull of grass from the mulch bin, I'd mowed part of the field just before coming back, and dumped it into the small cage, along with some bird seed, for the parks feeders, and a cookie from my fridge, then I filled up the crates water trough, and turned the lights to dim and left for the day. When I returned the next day, I was late going to the office. It seemed that that penis jissou I'd killed had been yet one of a large group of large penis-chans that had migrated into the area, and they had flooded into the park that morning after being ran out of a Catholic school nearby. An all girls Catholic school. Even funnier was that the only girl they managed to rape was the daughter of the local PETA head. I only discovered that because about ten minutes after word of her disappearance had went out, I found her corpse in a wooded back section of the park being gang banged. She'd choked to death on jissou cock. Needless to say, my first order of business was masturbation, I mean fuck the girl's skirt was hiked up and she had cocks the size of her arm in her ass and mouth. So after kicking the jissous off, and out, of her, and dispatching them with my .45's 'bad jissou' rounds, I'd called in an EMT and the cops, and lead an impromptu posse that ironically was made up mostly of the local PETA chapter in clearing the park of the few remaining dick-sekis. So needless to say, after I'd gone home to change into clean clothes (and uploaded a video of the corpse being porked via tor, to 4chan of course to ensure it got spread), I'd pretty much forgotten my thumb chan by lunch, when I finally ended up making it into my office. "Thank you for saving me Mr. Man ~Techi!" she squealed, and fuck her voice still seemed to be tinged with sadness. "I'm hungry ~Techi. There is no more food here ~Techi" I started to scowl, then I realized, I'd only given her a small amount of food. "Hold a second, I'll find something." "Yay ~Te!" So I dug into my fridge, I kept it semi stocked for days where I worked late, or forgot my lunch, and pulled out another chocolate chunk cookie, and some beef jerky that I made in big batches every few weeks. Shit was dry as fuck, and hard as concrete, lasted forever. Jissous loved it, I'd sometimes drop small pieces when annoying groups lile gay pride fags came to the park, great way to ensure a swarm of Jissous drove them off. As soon as I tossed some into the cage, she pounced on it. Now that I paid attention, she appeared to be a bit bulkier for a thumb-chan, she must be nearing her growth spurt as she reached child stage. "Te! Thank you!" she squaled, as she ate a choclate chunk from the cookie. Then, oddly, she stopped after that one chunk. "Mr. Man, is my family dead ~techi ?" Well, I've never been much but blunt, trying to sugarcoat shit comes awkward to me and seems pointless. "Sorry, but yeah. But I killed the dick-chan that did it." "Ororon!" she continued like that for a minute or so, crying. Then, with sobs, she continued "At least penis-chan won't hurt anyone else." A few sobs later, her hunger got the best of her and she went back to eating. Well, she wasn't that talkative for the next few weeks, I'd even gotten her a pretty nice terrarium from a pet store, and she mostly kept it clean, and as she came out of her funk it got cleaner. I shan't bore you with the details, as I didn't spend too much time with her. The dick-chan invasion had caused the city council to basically put me in charge of Jissou management for part of the city, it seems that a video posted of that PETA girls teenage daughter BEFORE she died had also been posted online and the city was desperate to make sure that any problem jissous got dealt with. Long story short, I kept my office, and pretty much had carte blanche to deal with any Jissou populations that could cause trouble. So I spent the better part of the day trolling pony threads on /b/ and directing kill teams via the computer, tracking each area as it was cleared. Turns out that the dick-chans had came from another smaller park that was the local faggot hook up place, seems some of them had set up pens for the things, and they'd escaped. Needless to say, when I strongly suggested that the unused park be cleared of all underbrush, and most of it's trees to make faggots hooking up out of sight harder, it got done with a quickness. Then one day, about a month later, thumb-chan asked me something while sitting on my shoulder. "Am I a good pet ~Techi ?". "Huh ?" "Mother-chan always said that if I ever get a master I should make sure to be a good pet ~Rechi" "Well she was right. And yes, you are." "Techu~n" She leaned against my neck, and I clicked on the map, a rather annoying tendency of Jissous to break into a house mid-day, then quickly LEAVE with shit, had been occurring. My search parties had been coming up empty, but thought they were getting closer. And I just happened to remember a particular old drainage culvert that wasn't on any map. Needless to say, if that was it, Kill Team Hurr's leader (Yeah, another chantard in Jissou killing for money, go figure) Angelika Novikov (her family had defected just before the soviet union fell) would get to have fun with her home made 'flamenwerfen'. Shame I'd miss it, but hey I didn't even need to wear pants at work anymore even. Fair trade off since I could off the packaged retards for fun on my off time. I stepped outside my office and had a smoke, no use in getting yelled at smoking inside, as insulated as my post was that was one of the few things that the bosses seemed to give a fuck about. Flame throwers inside ? Fine. Tobacco smoke ? Fuck no. Fucking government. "Desu!" splat "Dee!" splat "ORORORO~N! YOU KILLED MY SISTERS YOU SHIT PET I KILL" splat. "Techuwa!" this time it was my pet, and I was allready back in my office. "Master, bad Jissou tried to hurt me!" On the floor between my desk and the door was a small table and chair for guests. And three dead Jissouseki adults. I must not have fully closed the door. "They came thru the door ~techi" "Good girl. I'm sorry, that was my fault." "I glad master. Shit-chans made mess in masters house." I liked my pet. ------------------------ Well, this part was mostly backstory/leadup. I'm not the best at being overly descriptive, so I plan to keep it to writing mostly first person/introspective. If you noticed the mix in speach patterns, the tumb was an older thumb to start with, and as she aged she started to speak more like a child.
>>299 Generally if a girl is raped to death by over9000 penis-chans, your response is not to fap. At least not then and there. (The correct response is to upload to 4chan, which you did right.) Aside form that minor detail that caught my eye, I liked it. Also, we seriously need someone to make Jissous of the other RM dolls. Preferably Bokusekis.
>>300 A Souseiseki Jissouseki exists in some of the fanart, usually has a pair of scissors and fucks the shit out of regular Jissous. Because boku > desu. Also why NOT fap ?
note: I'm using http://gurochan.net/g/src/131829505184.jpg as my basic aging guide for a Jissou for this story.z I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 2 --------------------------- Well the past month had been quite nice. The feral Jissou population was heavily depleted in most parts of the city, and my extermination team had been downsized a bit to a single roving team that took calls as needed, and a few other teams working at a few spots that the jissous kept going to ( primarily grocery stores, parks, and schools, prime places to beg for food or to be a pet). Since I was spending less time dispatching my teams I eventually decided I would take the time to drive around the city and inspect places for Jissouseki infestations. One day I went into this hippie grocery store that only sold 'organic' foods, and only vegetarian foods at that. After showing the manager my ID and explaining I was just doing a random walk thru, I quickly got an offer for a quick tour of their anti Jissouseki defenses. "As you can see sir, the first line of defense is our mail box, the little vermin love trying to sneak in this way." He gestured to it. "It enters the store from this entry chute here where it collected the mail in a hopper at the bottom." "As you can see, we can see inside of it, thanks to one way mirrors covered on the inside with plastic panels." As he pointed this out, a few maggots, thumbs, then three children tumbled down into the chute. "Ah, it seems we have a perfect chance to see how it works. Watch this!" The Jissousekis quickly begain making a show, one was obviously thinking it's reflection was another Jissouseki and attacked it..... then I heard a muffled exclamation from one of them, and they all instantly stopped. "If you'll look at the back of the mail hopper you'll see we have an additional chute" Indeed they did, viewable by way of the one way mirrors, they had a plate of candy including those spiked sugar balls from japan that the things loved so much. The Jissous all stopped what they were doing, and charged. However, as they ran, their weight caused a reaction, and a spring loaded trap door dropped open, dumping the jissousekis into a box below. "For the most part, this works fine for our mail box. Every few days we just dump the box outside" I nodded my approval, then a fat woman at a register began making a ruckus, causing me to finish the tour on my own. The least secure yet at the same time most effective part of the stores set up was the entrances. They had some commerical Jissouseki traps complete with flashing lights and a recorded Jissou encouraging other Jissous to come in for candy..... of course, a blender awaited them. The exterminator that came up with that method was rich son of a bitch. As I was inspecting the stock rooms, I actually found the only weakness in their security: They had a family living inside. I shit you not, a full family with a four foot tall matriarch. And they had a giant terrarium even. Turns out they had trained the fuckers to not only clean up, but deal with any Jissous that DID get inside. the better they did and more mess they cleaned, the more of those spiky candies they got. With an endless supply of those things as long as they keep earning them, those fuckers needed almost no training, and any of their number that fucked quickly learned not to... or became a snack. As I was leaving the store, that was when I got my idea. I would train my little Jissou, who I had named Gorgo about a week ago. That evening as I got home (I had moved her into my house by this point, she had took well to training) Gorgo was as usual ready to greet me. "Welcome home mister man ~desu" she waved, then continued the notable event report I had trained her to make "I killed a mouse that I saw, I dont know where it came from" "Good job Gorgo" I said as I picked her up to give her a piggy back ride. Some people hesitate to give a jissou a piggy back ride, or call it a shitty neck ride, but I had trained her good on her shit. Plus about a week before when I realized she had reached a foot in height I had started having her wear diapers. Anyway, with her holding onto my neck and head I let her lead me to the mouse corpse. Sure enough, it was a small mouse. I put Gorgo down and fed her some of my beef jerkey. Don't know why, but she loves that stuff more than candy. "So Gorgo, how would you like to go with me to work ?" "All day with master De- ?" she cocked her head and put her left hand up to her mouth. "I would love that ~desu!" "Ok, but you'll have to learn more before it will be safe." "Yes mister man ~desu." That friday before coming home from work, I stopped by a doll shop that had in recent years gotten new life making clothes for Pet Jissous. They also did a great side business in clothes that shrink in sunlight or when wet, or cant be took off by a Jissou so growing older means your clothes kill you. Point was, they made good shit and selling to abusers and pet owners (often the same person) they had a lot of experince. So I picked up an order I had left, having brought in Gorgo for a fitting the day before. Gorgos new clothes were..... unique. It was basically a standard Jissou dress, but it had hard plastic plates backed with foam, so an impact would not only be deflected but the shock would be absorbed without doing damage. A synthetic Jissouseki dress material went ontop of all of that, to somewhat disguise its features. The legs were protected by chaps that hang from suspenders under the dress, and the crotch was protected by the dress itself, allowing the wearer to still deficate, or have a diaper changed. When I got it home, I helped Gorgo put it on. "Feels heavy ~desu" she said as she moved arround to settle it on her frame "Try moving arround the house in it Gorgo" "Yes mister man ~desu" Gorgo ran arround the house a little, but quickly slowed to a fast walk. "It hard to run in mister man. Can walk fast fine in it ~desu" "Thats fine Gorgo. Lets check out the rest of it" "The rest ~dee ?" she asked curiously. I smiled, and pulled out next upgrade. It was a helmet. It was green and looked like a normal Jissou head stocking, but it was hard plastic with extra interior padding for Gorgos soft head, and a clear plastic face shield that could flip up. "Feels funny ~desu" I held my hand in front of her face, and held my middle finger against my thumb and flicked it for her to see. "Desha!" she wailed as I moved my hand to her head.... then I flicked against her helmet. "IT NOT HURT ~DESU!" "See Gorgo ? Its better that way. Want to go for a walk now ?" "Yay walk!" Gorgo often had gone for walks, riding on my shoulders. However, this time, I decided to break out the next item. "Now that you have armor, you can walk on your own. Until we get to the park however you need to wear this leash." "Whats a leash ~desu ?" I answered her question by clipping it to her armor, there was a loop for a leash on the back. "This is a leash, it's so you cant run off, and bad humans know to leave you alone" "OK mister man ~desu. We go now ~desu ?" "Yup, we can go now Gorgo, just let me grab my bag" I shoulderd my back pack, and we went out the door. About a block later, a ferral attacked Gorgo from behind, meaning to run into her hard.... however all the ferral managed was to knock Gorgo down, and the ferral smashed her own face up rather bad. "Tepupupu!" Gorgo laughingly mocked the ferral "Bad Jissouseki!" The ferral bit at Gorgos leg, but only managed to hurt herself further as two of her teeth broke off on the armored leggins. We made it to the park without further incident, having left the ferral to the mercies of other ferrals for one of their own when wounded. "Now, Gorgo, I have two more toys for you." I said as I unclipped her leash. "The first is a shield." It was just a sturdy piece of plastic, I had took some old electrical cords, those wide flat ones, and made some arm straps for it. "The second is a sword" Gorgos eyes were so wind they seemed to be about to pop out of her head. It wasn't a real sword of course, just an old short kitchen knife blade whose handle had broke, it was about three or four inches long. I had took the thing and sharpened up both sides, and fixed a new handle onto the metal haft where the plastic handle bad broken off at, at the end of it I had attacked a small loop for the arm to go thru using more of that old wiring, and used the same material to make a handle at the base of the blade. It was a short stubby blade, but for an armored Jissouseki it meant one thing. Fuck off desu. Of course, most feral Jissousekis dont think much, if at all. "Anyway Gorgo I'm going to sit down on this bench. Your training to come to work with me is to stay near the bench, and keep ferals from bothering me. You don't have to kill any, but if they wont listen or attack you you can kill them of course." "Yes master ~desu" "Oh and Gorgo, I'll set up a water and food bowl for you too" I said, as I pulled her travel feeder from my back pack. It was old sealable containers that once held lunch meant. Now they held some sugary dry cereal, that one with the flintstones on the box, and the other had water. Of course, as soon as that came out, the parks ferals moved in. It was no contest. Gorgo's shield held them off of her, and her knife cut them apart. The only real trouble she ran into were a few matriarchs that had came out of hiding. Now I'll admit to embarrassment here, those matriarchs were in MY fucking park, right near my office, and yet managed to avoid me ever seeing them. Of course, judging from the dirt on their dresses, odds are they had burrowed. One managed to knock Gorgo down, but in doing so Gorgo cut it's arm open, and took the hit on her shield anyway. At that point the second matriarch moved in and attacked the wounded one, and as it killed the wounded one Gorgo simply sliced at its legs, leaving it hamstrung as a group of thumbchans moved in with maggots for the free meal. Needless to say, Gorgo had fun playing. She'd be perfectly safe coming to work with me.
>>303 I've seen Souseiseki Jissous (Bokusekis, for convenience) in artwork all the time, but I've never seen a story written with them in, except for that huge RP thread in DesuChan's /nij/. I, personally, would fix that, if I were a writer of any kind. Also, you don't fap the moment you find the body. You wait until you upload it to 4chan to fap. >>304 Why did you name her Gorgo? A strange name for a Jissou. Better than other retarded cutesy names you could have used, but still...
Gorgo, wife of Leonidas, Queen of Sparta.
>>306 Ah. Sorry, I was asleep during that class in school. And that movie. Also, I might take a shot at writing a story. I'll make a draft of some ideas that have been bouncing around in my head and I might use some details you did (The "Bad Jissou" gun, the U.S. Jissou suicide bombers, things like that).I'll see how horrible it turns out before I go and post it, though.
the jissou bombers were sand nigger trained :p
Jissouseki story draft In the small space, there was utter darkness. A large family of Jissousekis woke up expecting to find their familiar box house that sat in a field and instead awoke to absolute, total, Stygian pitch darkness. All were confused, wide red and green eyes imperceptibly expanding in the blackness in a vain attempt to coax a spark of light from the enclosure. Confused voices echoed off invisible structures as though they were solid steel. “Where are we desu?” “It dark refu~.” “Hungry refu.” “What happened rechi?” At precisely this moment, a wall of blinding light appeared. It was a small sliver at first, then grew at a rapid rate, filling the family’s view in about a second. All of the Jissous were blinded by the sudden transition to brightness. It remained for about a second before disappearing in the manner that it appeared, shrinking to a thin line, than disappearing with a metallic “clang.” The family was utterly perplexed. “What was that Mama, rechi?” There was no response. “Mama?” The child explored the confines of the box she was in and found it devoid of the large presence and warmth she associated with her mother. She began to cry, a reaction to her utter confusion and the lack of her mother’s comforting warmth. Her tiny “Chieeeeeeen…” did not escape the walls of the closet in which she was imprisoned with her sisters. Outside, her mother had adjusted to the light. She discovered the nature of her short captivity and found she was in another room, but all of her attention shifted to the Mr. Man holding her aloft. In an instant, her desire for food and candy edged out her tiny maternal instinct to try to reunite with her children. “Hello, Mr. Man, de! I am your new pet, de! Don’t worry, me and my babies won’t eat much, desu.” The Mr. Man smiled and said, “That’s exactly right. Let me take you to your new house. I’ll bring your babies next.” The mother Jissou smiled and allowed herself to be carried to what she imagined to be a terrarium filled to the brim with konpeitos. When she felt herself being gently lowered to the ground she opened her eyes to find herself in a clear box. The Mr. Man had already withdrawn his hand and sealed the box. Her screams of indignation were muffled by the acrylic and lost upon the Mr. Man, who picked up a clipboard and pencil. He began to scribble, speaking to himself as he did. The mother couldn’t hear much, and didn’t understand any of it. Suddenly, he stopped talking and made a hand motion at something on the floor near the box. A faint hissing noise permeated the box, halting the mother’s ineffectively furious diatribe. “What’s that noise, desu?” The noise localized itself to a shiny piece of brass poking into one of the walls of the box. “Shut up, desu!” The brass nozzle, of course, was uncooperative, and the hissing noise intensified as if in answer. Suddenly, the mother became aware of a strange, faint sensation all over her. It was as though small weights were placed all over her and were being sucked towards her center. Before she could comment, the pressure intensified and became mildly painful. In almost the same instant, the pain intensified and seemed to migrate to her head. She assumed that the nozzle was the source of the pain, and accosted it. “Stop it, shit metal thing decha!” Once again, the inanimate nozzle ignored her. She responded by flinging wads of green shit at it while attempting to ignore the rapidly intensifying pain. The balls of shit reached the nozzle and were flung back at her. Pelted with her own shit and in a now excruciating amount of pain, she tried to scream in rage but found that she couldn’t breathe. It was like there was a huge weight on her chest. She appealed to the Mr. Man who was furiously scribbling on the clipboard. “Help…me…Mr. Man…de..ch…” At this moment, her head imploded. A fine red mist appeared on every surface of the acrylic box. The hissing noise stopped abruptly. The mother’s body fell limp, but not before churning out 3 maggots that promptly detonated like miniature firecrackers. I looked down at the gauge on the formerly clear plastic box. “24.898 psi…” I said aloud as I marked the value on the clipboard. I flipped a valve and the box began to vent the 10 extra ponds per square inch it contained into the room, along with Jissou shit vapors. I opted to exit the room and dodge the stench in favor of logging the results of my latest experiment on my computer. I suppose some explanation is in order… I’ll start with a history lesson. I’m not going to bore you with the details of the Jissou’s creation and release, or with their spread across the world. What I will bore you with is their history in America. Jissous first arrived in the United States aboard an unknown cargo vessel. The culprit is colloquially assumed to be the famed Maersk Alabama, which was supposedly the subject of a pirate conspiracy, but this is likely to be the work of the same anon on 4chan who first claimed that the Jews did 9/11. Either way, the port at which they disembarked (a nondescript port in a nondescript town in New England) was perfect for the Jissous to breed like rabbits. Within a month of their arrival, they had overtaken the Eastern Seaboard and had begun spreading east in a wave, outdoing even their famed work in France. Now, years later, they’ve sort of “clumped” together in cities. Guess which area has the highest concentration of the little bastards. New York City, with its super-high population? Miami, Florida, with its legendary tourist migration? The U.S. – Mexico border, with its famed illegal immigration? The correct answer is “None of the Above.” The OTHER correct answer is an obscure corner of the state of Virginia known as the Hampton Roads Metropolitan Area. Which, coincidentally, is where I happen to live. I have no fucking idea why the little shit-goblins decided to park themselves in our 7 cities. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I-64, one of the major transcontinental interstate highways, terminates in a beltway across the area. Perhaps they follow the flood of tourists that flock to Virginia Beach, the largest city in the area (and the state). The mild climate may be a contributing factor. Whatever the case, the Jissou infestation here has hit an insane level, which leads me to myself. I am one of a team of researchers that tests on these monstrosities for private labs and the government. I also help collect them from the streets to be tested on or sold as abuse subjects, further increasing our already high profits. The second job is rather easy, as I can scoop them up by the scores on my way to school. I guess I should mention that I’m 16. Not that it matters much. This whole operation is a family business. I just happen to be the chief researcher. This is because of 2 things: I love science, and I’m immune to the Jissouseki pheromones. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but it’s turned out to be an insane blessing for my family. I do, of course, take the usual perverse pleasure in seeing these conceited, greedy fuckers dying in agony, and this happens quite often in my research. Speaking of, I should probably get back to the abusing before half of my audience falls asleep. I walked over to the closet where I set the family of Jissous that I found in the backyard. I grabbed the box and lugged to the kitchen (Jissou shit is heavy, apparently) and assessed my haul. I was instantly accosted by 13 requests for belly rubs. The only other occupant of the box was a young thumb-chan. I thought for a moment on what to do, and realized that I was hungry. “Mr. Man, can we be your pets, rechi?” Straight to the point, as usual for these fuckers. “Absolutely,” I replied in a falsely cheery voice. “You all are kind of dirty, though,” I said, horribly understating the truth; there was probably more dirt than maggot in the box, “so I’ll give you all a bath first.” This announcement was greeted with a cheer from the thumb and confused squeaks form the maggots. “What bath refu?” “Does bath taste good refu?” “Punipuni refu.” (They never stop asking for belly rubs, fuck if I know why.) Ignoring this, I drew some warm water in a plastic container and filled a pot halfway with water. I plucked the maggots out one by one, stripped them, and slipped them in the warm water. I did this with efficiency until I noticed a foreign color on one of the maggots. I looked down at it more closely. This maggot was blue. Not slightly blue, not half blue, completely fucking blue. Looking at its face, I also noticed that the eye colors were reversed: its right eye was green as opposed to red, and vice versa on the left. I decided to save it from the death that awaited its sisters, and placed it in a separate container so I could figure out why it was different. I returned my attention to the regular maggots. Within a minute, all newborns were soaking in a freshly-changed tub of warm water. The thumb-chan I placed on a shelf above the pot and told her that her bath was later. 10 minutes later, the maggots had expelled their bowels entirely. I turned on the burner beneath the pot of water; it came to life with a satisfying “fwoosh.” While I waited for the water to heat up, I diced some celery and added a blend of spices to the mix. I made this particular concoction to complement the specific flavor of maggots. Yes, I have extensive experience cooking these things. My girlfriend loves the way these things taste. As do I, but that’s probably because they taste like chicken. “What are you doing rechi?” The thumb asked me. By now, the water was at a rolling boil. “Making a meal for us both.” I replied with a smile. I picked up the tub that contained her sisters, waited a moment for the meaning of my words to sink in, and flipped the maggots over, directly into the water. “RECHI! NOT MY SISTERS!” the child exclaimed. “Water too hot repya!” yelled the only maggot that had the brainpower to assess her situation. The remainder must have been more retarded than usual, because I heard not one coherent sentence describing the intense pain they undoubtedly were in. I swear to God I heard “punipuni please green thing refu” at one point. In any case, the maggots died very unpleasant deaths before the horrified eyes of their elder sister. A very faint “Chieeeeennn” emanated from above my head, and red and green tears dripped into the pan. I allowed this simply because the tears actually have a flavor. I can only describe it as something close to the mockery of Sweet and Sour sauce that Chinese Takeout places dispense like Coke. Anyways, about 10 minutes later, the maggot stew was simmering nicely. You can’t cook these things for very long; Jissous, and maggots in particular, start out tender and toughen up very quickly as you cook them. Thusly, I removed the pan from the burner and dumped its contents into a bowl for my enjoyment. I grabbed a fork, fished out a delicious infant morsel, and handed it to the thumb-chan. It looked at the cooked remains of its younger sister blankly for a moment, then she tore into it as though it was her last meal. Which, of course, it was. I tore into my portion as well, though I was not under threat of imminent death. When we had both finished and the thumb had returned to her hypocritical “despair,” I got her attention. “Hey, thumb-chan.” Getting to the point, I continued, “Tell me about the blue maggot down there.” The maggot in question was curled up sleeping next to an impossibly large mound of shit. (No, I have no idea how they store twice their body weight in shit inside themselves.) “What do you mean, rechi? She’s just a maggot-chan, rechi.” “But why is she blue?” “Is she blue, rechi? I never noticed, rechi.” I know full well that these damn things aren’t colorblind, so she was either unobservant in the extreme or retarded (my money’s on the second option), which sealed her fate. I set the empty pot back on the burner and turned it on full flame. It heated up in seconds. “I could use some after-lunch entertainment…” I said vaguely, looking at the wall next to the thumb-chan’s temporary seat, which let my sudden push catch her off guard. She landed on her ass in the superheated pot. “Techua!” She yelled as she jumped to her feet. She promptly began to hop from one foot to the other and stumble around the pot, looking for an escape route. She tried to scale the Teflon “walls” of her death chamber, but merely succeeded in converting her arms into the same variety or intensely painful charcoal that her feet had become. “Help me Mr. Man rechi!” She yelled to me. “I’ll try!” I said in mock panic. I grabbed a wooden spoon, held it backwards, and extended it towards her. As she reached for it, I gave her a gentle tap in the stomach. To a thumb-chan with a good foothold, this would not have mattered. However, this thumb was on one stump that was numb save for intense pain. She fell backwards, her back now the target of the searing heat. I held her down by pressing the spoon into her stomach. Her cries for help had long ago degenerated into incoherent screams of agony. After about half a minute of searing her back, I flipped her over. Apparently, 30 seconds is about 29 seconds too long for thumb-chans. When I nudged her over, her voice raised to a shrill scream on account of her skin having remained where it was. Her scream quickly annoyed me, so I pressed her face into the metal. Her scream became muffled, and slowly died away until all that could be heard was the sizzling of her face. I took the pan off the burner, ran some water into it to loosen her up, and dumped her into the trash. A slight noise reminded me of the presence of the blue maggot. She had somehow slept through her eldest sister’s death. I wondered what to do with her… AUTHOR'S NOTE: I whipped this up in about an hour, so there's likely a typo or 12 hiding in there. I'm not a writer by trade, so any pointers would be appreciated. If you like it, I'll try to continue it. Also, I apologize for the long background/history section. If the plot goes somewhere, it's a good idea.
>>309 Dont worry about the long setup, it fit in nicely. Also the bokuseki better not die or be an utter retard :p .
>>310 Cool. I was actually going to make her far smarter than usual. As in, 10-year-old level at maggot stage. That'd probably confuse the hell out of our 16-year-old protagonist (Who I've decided to name Justin). Expect Chapter 2 in the next few hours; I have some MORE ideas bouncing in my head. I didn't intend to leave "Jissouseki story draft" as a header; I blame Microsoft Word for that.
Chapter 2: Another Day, Another Desu I sat at my computer, typing up the various documents that were needed to keep my little operation afloat. Invoices, requests, checkbooks, and the all-important To Do List floated on my screen in various locations. You’re probably wondering why the ‘chief researcher’ of a business was running the books. The answer: I’m not the chief researcher. I’m the only researcher. I lied by omission; I was just the head research guy in the family operation for a year or so, until someone decided to tell his friend on 4chan about us. You would think this wouldn’t be a problem, but some anon was a PETAfag, because the “peaceful” group began to send prank service calls, death threats, and worse our way. This problem was exacerbated by the fact that PETA is based in Norfolk, VA, not 10 miles form our house. My mom and brother shrugged it off, but did take care to remove my name from the business webpage. That turned out to have saved my life. My mom and brother went out one day on a round to pick up jissous for my experiments. Instead of the Pontiac rolling into the driveway, a Crown Victoria arrived to bring me news that my mother and brother had been shot in the back of their heads. I pressed charges (OBVIOUSLY) under a pseudonym, and the cocksucking hypocrites who did it will be getting lots of practice with Bubba during their two life sentences each, but the group still hates my company’s guts, and the feeling is mutual. When my mother and brother died, I opted to become emancipated due to the fact that my father is a lazy piece of shit who couldn’t give a wet fuck about me or my family since he’s too “busy” taking care of my half-brothers in Ohio. So, I live alone, control my own finances, and run a business. It’s honestly not as hard as you would think. I do, however, have to take great care to keep my name and address out of the filthy fur-suited paws of PETA. As such, I have 3 e-mail accounts. One is a personal one. The second is the business e-mail, where people send me research questions, request certain types and quantities of jissou, and try to send me death threats. This is where the third account comes in. It has a fake name on it, and I use it to reply in a very sarcastic and smarmy manner to all the PETAfags who try to threaten me. It has none of my personal information whatsoever in it, so I’d call it pretty damn safe when you add in my 7 proxies. Besides, their indignant replies are hilarious. Anyways, I’d better get back on track here. I finished cataloging all the shit I would have to do for the day, sending invoices, and pissing off activists, when there was a knock at the door. I got up and opened it to admit Kate, my girlfriend. Katherine (I call her Kate, or Kay) and I met through our elder siblings. One of Kate’s sisters was dating (read: fucking) my older brother. They fell apart (for obvious reasons) but not before Kate and I met. We started dating, and we’ve been together ever since. The best way for me to describe Kate is that she’s me in female form. She and I have the same sense of humor, the same tastes, and almost the same job. She helps the breeders at a high-end jissou shop in Norfolk that specializes in super-high quality jissous. I wouldn’t go so far as to call her an expert, but she and I have helped each other out quite a bit, both professionally and otherwise (wink). So, anyway, she arrived. “Hey, Justin.” She sniffed the air. “Why does it smell like charred jissou in here?” “Long story.” She sat down in the living room while I grabbed what seemed to be a nondescript plastic container. “What’s in there?” Kate asked. “The reason you’re over here, Kay. Take a look.” I pried the lid off of the container (Tupperware containers have a strong grip) and set it on the table. She leaned in to take a look inside, and looked up at me, confused. “It’s a maggot wearing blue. What’s so special?” “Look at its eyes.” She picked up the maggot, which I noted had an incongruous expression of fear, and examined its eyes, as I had instructed. “What the hell?” She said, stunned as I was. “You’re the ‘expert’ on jissou variants. Ever seen this before?” “No… Actually, I wasn’t aware that there were ‘variants’ at all…” She set the trembling maggot back into its enclosure (I swear to god it sighed in relief for some reason) and focused on me again. “Where’d you find her?” (She refers to maggots as “she-s,” a habit that I hate.) “Found it and it’s siblings out there in a box.” I said, pointing to the stupidly tall grass in my backyard. “What th- why is your grass so tall?” “Because I seriously don’t give a shit about my grass.” “Well, where’s the family?” “The mother’s mist in a pressure chamber, one thumb-chan vaporized and the maggots got eated.” “Did you at least save me some maggots?” “No, I was hungry.” “Damn it Justin, I’m hungry too!” We were about to continue the conversation when we were interrupted by a thin voice from the table. “Mr Man? I’m…I’m hungry refu…” The maggot spoke with a hesitant tone that fit her words. Normally, I hate jissous begging me for food, but the apprehension in its voice caught me - it’s not like a maggot to not beg for food or belly rubs. It’s also not like a maggot to be scared of a “Mr. Man.” I pulled a box of Cheerios out of the cabinet in the kitchen and poured about a half-cup into the container. “Thank you Mr. Man, refu.” Another strange trait in maggots - actually giving thanks. I was about to say something when I heard the maggot say something strange. “I’ve never had Cheerios before refu.” “Where’d you learn what they were?” Kate asked. “It said ‘Cheerios’ on the box, refu.” What. The. Fuck. Kate and I look at each other in shock, then back at the maggot, then at each other again. Teaching jissouseki how to read is not unheard of, but they usually don’t do it very well, nor do they connect the words to actual things. Here we have a jissou that not only read and understood what a Cheerio was, but connected it with the contents of the box and its own memory. The human equivalent would be playing Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” on the piano at the age of 1. This maggot was the fucking Jissou JESUS. “Well,” I began, when I recovered from the shock, “I guess I know what I’m doing with it.” “Dissecting it?” Kate said, in a vainly transparent attempt to add some humor to the situation. “What?!” A squeak rose from the box. “Don’t diss-ect me repya! I don’t want to die repya!” Now you’re telling me that this maggot has an expanded vocabulary? Does it fly too?! “No, don’t worry, we aren’t going to kill you! Kate was only making a joke!” I said quickly to reassure the little savant. It looked up at me skeptically (A MAGGOT CAN LOOK SKEPTICAL NOW?!) “You aren’t going to eat me, like you did my sisters?” “No, I won’t. You’re going to be my pet.” Did I really just say that…? Author's Note: This one's got much less abuse and much more story; I kind of wanted to get most of the background solidified. It took longer than usual because originally it was going to be about someone attacking a federal building with jissous and trying to pass it off on PETA, since they're based nearby in Norfolk.
BOKUSEKI FOR THE MOTHER FUCKING WIN!
>>313 Glad you're so enthusiastic. Maybe you can help me out; I've got a severe case of writer's block. We have a savant Bokuseki maggot. Sooner or later we will have a Bokuseki savant ko-jissou. Also, how do I italicize/bold/underline on GuroChan? I'm an obvious newfag and I'd like to be able to do all three.
>>314 Well, I'd say just have the bokusekis intelligence not increase. IE: have this particular maggot get its full intelligence from the start. Also I'd recomend toning down the intelligence for any other (if you use them) bokusekis. They're rare so having them smarter than average would be ok, but savants need to be really rare. Past that, have it be a easily trainable pet. Have it do 'stupid' things still, but have it learn quickly, but have the stupid things be based in ignoranc and be done smartly still. IE: have it shit in a corner behind/under the couch or something, and ONLY shit there. So it tries to be clean, in terms of jissou logic, but it should figure out whatever you tell it when you do notice what happend.
>>314 314 here again, and I just had an insane idea. Remember PLTD/Trance/Sylvia? I absolutely despise bad ends. I also happen to be taking just about everything here under the banner of "Canon," just to avoid arguments. I also recall this: (This is by inLeaves, my copypaste hates GuroChan.) >>188 Nobody but the next one to write the story knows ! >>187 On the other hand she could have been far more fucked. Imagine if David captured her and held her captive until the bonding took place without wiping her memory beforehand, for instance. Now, sure, she's gonna be a oblivious pet as opposed to a badass abuser, but if you give Good Morning another read, you'll see her fate isn't likely to be particularly painful. ----------------------------------------------------------- (>>188 wonders what happens to Sylvia.) Firstly, I disagree on your point there, InLeaves. "Her fate isn't likely to be particularly painful" unless you don't want to be fucked. Secondly, I'd like to take a shot at extending Trance's story, unless you had something in mind for her at the end of Supreme Abuser or something. I remember that Thierry knew David Kellan, so... Anyways, I suppose my story halts temporarily. I'll just pull out Notepad and take notes.
>>315 I hate double-posting, but I didn't see your comment and don't feel like deleting >>316. That's a great idea, sir. I hadn't intended true adult human intelligence in any jissou or variant. Growing older but not wiser makes very little sense though, so I'll probably have to help her along. Either way, that makes perfect sense. Expect that; I owe you one.
>>317 I see what you mean, of course their brains language center is the biggest part of their brain, and that could explain what the bokuseki maggot did.
>>318 Language processing only helps but so much, though. Realizing that the word "Cheerios" and the letters C, H, E, R, I, O, and S put together refers to a delicious ring of wheat and sugar is one thing, but knowing that a word put on a box means that the box contains what that word means requires a bit of a mental jump. Making that leap is followed by the realization that the substance is edible. It goes like this: Recognize Letter-> Recognize Word -> Recognize Word is on Box -> Recognize Word is in box -> Recognize Word is Tasty. I'm inclined to believe that her language-processing center is a bit smaller than what Kevin found in the prelude to the "Civ J" series, perhaps 15-20% as opposed to 30%, with the extra amount devoted to higher reasoning, learning, and comprehension.
Or she used logic. Box has writing, writing says Cheerios, thus she knows how to pronounce it. Then she observes you getting it out in response to her asking for food, thus she assumes that it is food, and cheerios is the name, and she knows she's never had it before. If the box had been full of thumb tacks, she would have then made the same assumption. My thought on it anyway.
Glad to see this thread back to activity. The two stories are certainly worth the read, especially >>309. Do continue, the more the merrier. >>316 Secondly, I'd like to take a shot at extending Trance's story, unless you had something in mind for her at the end of Supreme Abuser or something. I remember that Thierry knew David Kellan, so... Well yes, I did say at the time that anyone was welcome to extend PTLD's story, but yes, as you noticed, Supreme Abuser is going for a tie-in, and not a minor one at that. (This should become clearer in the upcoming chapter.) But I am adamant about anyone writing what they damn well want, so if you are fired up for a PTLD continuation, go right ahead. We'll just consider your story and mine are in alternate universes. I don't mind at all.
>>321 Or one could take place before/after the other as well :p My thoughts on continuing PTLD: eventualy move her to trying to become human again, and loose her jissou traits, with comedic results ~desu :p . I dunno what your plans regarding her are when it comes to the guy that captured her (unless I've missed newer chapters past that point, dont think so) but I'd say once she escapes have her get a job or something maybe. Be it teaming up with your french jissou disposer guy and his GF, or running (or working at) a jissou shop, acting as a breeder/trainer, whatever. The characther has a unique backstory and is well devolped, and should not be thrown away (tho as a loli spending time as a sex toy would be acceptable, tho she'd have to escape eventualy)
>>321 >>322 First off, thanks for the praise. My overly-polite brain can't continue without me saying that. Secondly, I'm going to hold off on the PLTD continuation until I see what this tie-in will be. As I said before, in the absence of an actual "canon" for Jissouseki, I'm taking everything that happens as part of some nonexistent canon, to avoid arguments. Besides, if PLTD goes one direction in your story and a completely different way in mine, its just going to look like I'm stealing your character and plot (which I would be, technically), and I don't want that. I'm not going to go into specifics about what my idea is, but part of Kashiwaba Tomoe's remark has to do with it: "...once she escapes..." At the moment, she can't, due to the Bonding that has inevitably taken place. If she's going to escape, she needs help. That's where my smart-ass 16-year-old scientist would come in. Assuming you wanted her freed, of course. Expect Chapter Three in a few hours. Maybe this time I can remember to delete the "WIP" titles I put in the Word document before I upload... Oh, and I'm going to adopt a name. I just have to pick one...
Well the escape would be as easy as an accident occuring and the master dying. That or her programing wearing off just enough as she ages (Onset of puberty prehaps ?) where she says fuck it and leaves (either with or without killing the guy first.)
>>324 True, but that's slightly more of a deus ex machina than anything else. The idea I had envisioned would make a lot more sense (though it is a little contrived). Besides, her programming wouldn't wear off, as it's stored in her crystal. Chapter Three is three-quarters done. I need to learn to slow down...
Chapter 3: New Experiences This week has been fucked up. I don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way, for the most part. I’ve been insanely busy dealing with random bullshit though, hence the week-long time-skip in this journal. Firstly, I’ve finally given up on school. Yes, I am now an official high-school dropout. I have an ironclad excuse, though: I have to support myself financially. Nobody was really surprised at my decision; most people asked me how I stayed for a year while keeping food on my table. The answer: With a fuck-ton of hard work. Secondly, I’ve encountered another type of Jissouseki. I keep my (very) large stock of jissous in a custom-built shed in my backyard. This shed is more akin to a garage in size, and is soundproof, waterproof, airtight, and climate-controlled. I keep stocks of delicious food, delicious water, and delicious maggots in one corner, and the remainder of the space is occupied by cages housing about 25 jissous each. I have 10 of these cages. When I went in to feed the jissous one day, I could hear a strange noise in the background. It was a sort of wet slapping sound. I mostly ignored it until I went to drop food and water into the cage it was emanating from. The food bag and water jug fell to the ground, closely followed by my jaw. What I saw was a full-sized adult jissou with a larger-than-life penis. I realized he was fucking the hell out of what used to be a thumb-chan. As I stood there with a “deer-in-the-headlights” expression, he jammed it all the way down on his member, and a white jet of what had to be semen flew out of the thumb-chan’s mouth. He slumped over with in incongruously human look of joy on his face. The thumb-chan’s face didn’t look quite so happy, seeing as half of it was settling into a greenish-white puddle on the other side of the cage. I snapped to my senses. I ran across the room and grabbed a small metal canister, pulled the pin, dropped it into the cage and sealed it. The arming lever of the canister flew across the cage, narrowly missing the penis-jissou’s still-throbbing member. It caught his attention, and he walked up to the cold metal as if it were his next girlfriend. Thankfully, the can told him to fuck off with a burst of aerosolized strychnine. Some background chemistry information: Strychnine is an extremely powerful neurotoxin. It causes intense convulsions, spreading from the neck to the rest of the body. Human victims die within a few hours of exposure due to respiratory convulsions, respiratory or cardiac arrest, or simple exhaustion. This was the first time I used it on a jissou. It wasn’t to be the last. Anyway, the first blast of airborne death didn’t seem to faze the bastard. He collided with the canister, knocking it down, and tried to dry-hump it. After finding out that solid steel doesn’t make for a great sex doll, he looked around, undoubtedly with the objective of locating another thing to fuck. Unfortunately, a maggot – the very last other living thing in the cage – chose that exact moment to comment on the bitter taste in the air. “It tastes funny in here refu.” The penis-jissou whipped around. He (or, more correctly, his dick) locked on to the maggot and charged. Within seconds, the maggot found itself impaled on a cock larger than it was. Its death was instantaneous, having been ripped in two, but the penis-jissou didn’t mind. At least, until strychnine concentrations in the airtight box reached the critical threshold. His penis began to twitch. He looked down at it, obviously confused that all was not going according to whatever semblance of a plan his miniscule mind had created. He made some kind of low noise of confusion. His left arm began to twitch, too. His right arm fired up, too, followed by his legs. The convulsions were minor at best, but the canister was still spraying its contents into the air. The penis-jissou suddenly began to thrash violently around. It made some noise of pain before its jaw began to convulse as well. Any layman walking in, after getting over seeing a jissou with a penis, would assume that it was having a seizure. The canister finally stopped hissing. The penis-jissou was still fucked (figuratively), as there was more than enough rat poison floating around the cage to end its life. After a few more minutes of thrashing back and forth, he suddenly stopped moving altogether. I can only assume that the convulsions spread to his diaphragm. These 5 minutes of fun were balanced out with an hour of trying to find out how to neutralize strychnine. Eventually I decided to just toss the still-sealed cage into the canals that run through the neighborhood and make another. What? I’m lazy, and it’s not like anyone will give a damn. In case you’re wondering where I got the strychnine, you can purchase it (in solid form) in any supermarket that sells rat poison. I got mine from a customer who wanted me to test a few chemicals. She never did tell me why I received a can of strychnine… Anyways, my second surprise of the week was my little blue maggot. She is far, far more intelligent than anyone could have imagined. I also dug a little deeper into the history of the Jissouseki “species,” and found that my little maggot most resembles Souseiseki, the twin sister of Suiseiseki, the character from whom jissous were inspired. I also found out that, in the anime, Souseiseki has far more common sense than Suiseiseki does. This explains why my little copycat is so much smarter than her green cousins, I suppose… The stranger thing about this is that I am finding myself getting attached to her. I had originally intended to send her off to be a pet for someone else who actually LIKES jissous, but after being around her for a week… I don’t know. Maybe I never really disliked jissous themselves, but simply the traits they have been given. My Souseiseki copycat is missing the two traits I hate most about jissous: Stupidity and avarice. Without those in the way, I can almost see the appeal of these things… Whatever. It’s something I’ll have to deal with later. Which brings in my next point: I’m fucking swamped with work. I’ve been working, almost nonstop, for the last five days. I’ve been grabbing entire colonies of jissous simply to keep a steady stream of subjects for my tests. My entire stock of my special brand of abuse jissous has been sold out, and I’ll need some more time to get some more. In case you’re wondering, they’re common jissous that have been pampered like high-class ones. Ripping their hair off combines that priceless look of betrayal with the low price and arrogance of the classic abuse model. The price is somewhere between that of normal common jissous and mid-grade ones, so they sell like hotcakes. Problem is, by its very nature, setting up the mindfuck situation everyone wants takes time and money. Lots of money. My experiments, on the other hand, bring in a humongous amount of money and are actually really fun to do. Among other things, I tested to see whether jissous prefer konpeitos or colaciones. The answer is yes. When given a choice, 5 out of 10 jissous chose the colaciones, and 5 out of 10 chose the konpeitos. For all intents and purposes, they are identical. Another truly fun experiment was trying to locate the flash point of jissou shit. You wouldn’t think this to be fun (or useful), but I decided to add a jissou in with each test, sort of as a reward for withstanding the smell. Incidentally, the temperature is about 155 degrees Fahrenheit, which is low enough that I got to enjoy watching the unfortunate jissou suddenly catch fire. “Wha- where did all this fire come from, decha?” That look of surprise is priceless. Anyways, I have to get back to work. I get to dissect a jissou and put it’s crystal into jissou shit for some reason. Whatever, the money’s good… AUTHORS NOTE!: This time, the title is the actual title. This is more filler than anything else, but the penis jissou part ought to get a maniacal laugh or two.
>>323 PTLD won't appear until some time. She will be mentioned as soon as the next chapter, but otherwise, you won't know what she's really up for, say, a month or two. So don't hold your breath and go for it instead. Just know that she'll go with Genestar for a very specific quest and stay in one place for a while, far from civilisation. It will also be a pretty dark story, so if you have something more general and light-hearted in mind, there won't be any overlapping.
just a way to help you two not clash, would prehaps basing it during a prior one of inleaves recent chapters during the invasion week work ? IE: have her doing whatever in the area before her part in the story starts. That way, both can write, and not overlap.
>>327 >>328 Well, fuck. Don,t get me wrong, I'm psyched that she'll be coming back in such a big way, but that ruins the plot I'd completely fleshed out in my head. I can only assume you don't want the "escape" thing done... Well, I'll cook something up. I'll have a few days away from the keyboard which should give me time to get some ideas. Some minor details about the plot I'd had in mind: In every fiction I've ever read, EVER, mind-erasing devices lose potency after a number of uses, ranging from 10 to 1000. Part of the story involved Justin's growing fame (which I alluded to, "I'm fucking swamped with work") as a researcher, in combination with the mind-wiper used in No Country For Jissous, pt 3. I'd have taken some artistic license with the true functions of the mind-wiper (Seeing as it was likely an Amaterasu Genetics invention, they would have made a bit of sense) and used it to get Justin and David together. Hijinks would ensue, followed by PLTD's memories being returned. Needless to say, this likely conflicts with your intended plot...
>>329 My two cents as someone who enjoys PLTD's storyline and would enjoy an extra story fitting in it: Just make it a prequel, at most wait until after the next story debuts, and have it fit into that. Just dont go hard gay (fufufu) for the prequels like star wars (or the latest star trek for that matter ...)
>>330 A good idea, but any time I use someone else's character, not only does it make me look like a dick, I have to be super-careful. My original plan didn't have her doing anything but reacting to new (old) information. A prequel story would take an understanding of her character and personality that I doubt I can achieve in a timely manner. Also, I'm rather wary of prequels in general because of Star Wars, as you mentioned. I'll be waiting a while, if I do it at all.
Well keep in mind Im just tossing ideas to be helpful. And it would really just need to be more reacting to old information, for example take her reactions to the french (IE: smelly, even jissous dont eat snails, etc) and have her have the same basic reactions, prehaps have her witness events from previous chapter in the story on the day yours takes place, and end it up with her heading to do whatever starts the story for her in fance.
332 I know you're tossing ideas, but my OCD psyche needs me to respond to most/all of them. That's really not a bad idea. Either way, though, I need to wait for the next chapter of SupAb. There's a great possibility that David will still be Trance's master, which can screw things up in my department because I'll have 2 major characters that I have to be careful not to fuck up. Also, 333. I am a half devil.
>>333 Its simple really, just avoid using characters except in passing other than Trance. If the plot allows it, have her with some free time or something. I wouldn't be too suprised if InLeaves, knowing you wanted to do a tie-in, could be talked into adding some sort of timeframe where that could be done, up to him tho. (InLeaves if it fucks up your plan at all of course, ignore me)
>>334 This is true. It's also likely, given the exact nature of Trance's captivity. Just wanted to mention something I noticed while re-reading SupAb. David, the jissou retailer ? I know another one. *Beep* "Mmgn...David Kellan speaking, who is it ?" "Oh shit, time zones. My bad. Anyway, hello Dave, it's me, Thierry. Remember, from the time you were in an internship in France ?" "Wa...? Oh, yeah, Genestar, the wise-ass kid ! You grew up to speak a pretty good english I see...Well, yeah, it's late here in the East Coast, but I was only half asleep anyway. Hm ? >>Nothing sweetie, just a foreign friend.<< Excuse me for that... So, why the call ?" "You are never going to believe this. I landed this job as a chief exterminator, you see...I just fought off an entire army of Jissouseki to protect the high-end pets of a pet jissou retailer named David." "Ha ha, sweet coincidence. And congratulations for the job, especially given you seem to make the difference between ferals and pets...But come on, army is a little too much, yes ?" "Oh no. I'm not shitting you, we were near a forest, and there must have been more than a thousand." "...Woah. I'd say you're bullshitting me, but I myself found myself in quite an incredible thing concerning jissous a few years back, so fair enough, I guess." "Yeah, and I didn't even tell you the most incredible parts. They....Ah shit, we'll exchange stories later. I've just been paged. Sleep tight, David." "Okay, have a nice day." I quite literally just noticed that part of the conversation. InLeaves, you also mentioned this: - ...And a mini series, of 2-3 episodes at most, featuring a certain character’s ex-wife, and which will serve as the beginning of the future, all-encompassing book. Trance, Stephanie, and the assorted minor characters don't have ex-wives (Obviously, in most cases), Thierry is 27 or so and probably (emphasis on 'probably') wouldn't have an ex. This leaves Daniel. Maybe he got a girlfriend, but, remembering the origin of Stella's children, the implications are far more sinister...
>>335 Depending on the ammount of time between the trans and supereme abuser stories trance could BE the ex wife .....
>>336 That's true. Either way, don't think about it too hard. I did. I won't be sleeping tonight. Speaking of, I'm turning in. I'LL BE BACK in a few days.
Woah, woah, slow down. I'm totally okay with someone using my character, yes, but under the condition that it's in an alternate universe/timeline/special about superheroes in bikinis and speedos. The reason is self-evident, really. Two stories set in the same universe will create a fuck-up at some point. It's a complex exercise that isn't worth the effort. Plus I won't use bokuseki in my stories, so your story is already in a separate universe. So I'll say it clearly : Use PTLD however the hell you want, with your own set of rules, or not. Your call. But what I do with her shouldn't influence you in any way. If there are two stories, they will, and they must, be distinct. I'm not "wanting" anything specific to be done to PTLD. At all. I'm just interested in seeing how someone who doesn't like what I did to a character would use this character himself. As an author, it's fun, and instructive, to see such things. That's really all there is to it.
>>338 I'll take your point. The only reason that I had intended an offshoot was because PLTD's story ended in the way it did, with that particular fate. That said, if I do anything with anyone else's character at all, it will at least APPEAR to fit with the established story. Maybe it's because of a mild form of OCD, but to me, if I use someone else's character and end up at odds with the story, I'm stealing him/her/it and using the author's popularity. If I create an ending that separates PLTD from David, Thierry, and anyone else, and you keep her with them, I'm hijacking your plot. Even if we say it's not the case because of alternate timelines. Besides, you are extending PLTD's story in such an awesome way that to not include it would be a crime. If you actually want to see what I would have done, I could make a one-off story. Otherwise, I'll wait until the next few chapters of SupAb, if I do it at all.
>>338 I won't use bokuseki in my stories you sir, are a faggot :p Also, post more of the bokuseki soon a2e006
>>340 Will do. I'm going to take a cue from Civ J, both in naming and plot. ;) I'll get working on Sunday night. I'm using a friend's computer at the moment, so I'll have to actually hand-write something for once... Also, I used bokusekis simply because nobody has before. I didn't really expect anyone to pick them up and use them. You're welcome to, of course...
Don't worry folks! Yes, I have returned at long last! And accumulated a rather large amount of rather high quality jissouseki pics too. Also on the backburner also happens to be a bunch of rejected stories that never made it to the light of day. When I've got time, I'll finish em and post em up.
WB fgt. Find any jissou flash games while afk ?
Just these so far.... http://jissou.buzama.com/index.htm Someplace there is a cooking game.
>>344 Its in this thread allready. And it's also not translated.
Supreme Abuser Chapter 12 : Operation Balls to the Wall Continued from >>297 Saturday, last day of the Animated Film Festival, 14:27. After the exterminator team drops us off at the Imperial Palace, we quickly head West, to Stéphanie’s workplace. A tattoo on the maggot-bomb certified it was one of the lab’s test subjects, modified so it wouldn’t be able to defecate. This pointed to the accident that made Steph and her colleagues clear the place being the handiwork of Supreme Abuser, the mysterious military unit that made our week so much disturbing. “How exactly did the accident happen, exactly ?” “Well, I wasn’t in the laboratory when it happened. I was in the storage room, overseeing a shipment of fresh specimens from northern Italy. A bunch of jissous who were born in very high altitudes, where humans have trouble breathing. We were to find if being born in this kind of environment had any effect on their morphology. Anyway… I heard an explosion and the noise of glass shattering. Cries of surprise, too. I ran to the main area, and saw my colleagues getting out of the lab in a hurry. They told me some jar of liquid had exploded in the fume hood, tearing it apart. We promptly sealed the lab down, and since it was the last work day of the week, we figured we might as well profit from the occasion to test the effect of long-term exposure to dangerous fumes. In retrospect, that was a stupid idea.” “All the way.” “Go on, gloat. Anyway…When we build cages for jissous, we usually rely on their stupidity. But if they get controlled by something intelligent, I can see many ways they could break out, take a dangerous liquid, and put it in a fume hood with enough heat to make it eventually blow up. Come to think of it, this direct control thing has kind of an insane potential. I mean, we have grown so much on the jissous’ uselessness…” “No kidding…All kinds of bizarre heists could happen that way…You have CCTV in your lab ?” “Yeah, but only for specific experiments, not for security purposes. So it won’t be helpful to us. Shouldn’t matter though, the lab’s not that big.” “I kinda gathered that together already.” And indeed, when we do arrive here and see for myself the lab she talked so much about, it’s nothing like a giant building that we could suspect could house insanely dangerous specimens ready to be unleashed upon the world. It had a nice design, with inventive curves and what-all, but in terms of size, it was just a regular house. We go through the back, where Steph’s badge grants us entry. The room we enter is very dark, and resonates with the chirps of several dozens of children jissouseki. “The storage room I was talking about. Nothing really special at this point, just maggots and thumb-chans born under unusual circumstances. Their organism is so sensitive, we’ve got to check if there are significant mutations with the conditions of birth as the sole variable.” “Found anything so far ?” “Well, yes, actually. Enough to interest science, but…It generally doesn’t go further than that. At the end of the day, it’s only numbers.” Indeed, the specimens don’t seem at all impressive. The young jissouseki in cheap wooden crates have all been stripped naked and bald, and cower in fear when I look at them. Nothing different from living ingredients delivered to a restaurant, separated from their mothers at birth and not shown any sort of affection whatsoever. “I don’t see any tattoos, that comes later ?” “Yeah, when we handpick them and transfer them to the lab. We use a ultra-precise automatic needle to minimize risks of injury.” She walks straight to the next door, entering the lobby. There’s the usual : green plants, front desks, a few posters. But the laboratory itself can be seen from there, behind thick glass doors. It’s clean, white, like all labs should be. The walls are covered in terrariums with various jissou specimens and environments. Some Plexigas boxes are empty safe for the specimens, others resemble an average pet’s pen, others still have all the looks of torture chambers. But most importantly, I can only see alive jissous from there. “Well, I doubt very damn much that the liquid that exploded Friday is in fact toxic.” Says Steph, demonstrating again she’s faster than me at deducing stuff. “Otherwise, the fumes would have killed all the jissous.” “Yep, you all fell for a complete bluff.” “Piss off, it was Friday afternoon, you would have done the same. And better safe than sorry, anyhow.” “So, do I get to don a scientist’s coat ?” “Oh yes, they would fire me straight to space if we don’t enter perfectly sterilized.” “Even considering goddamn jissous are involved ?” “Eh, science is all about striving for perfect control over the variables, that doesn’t change with the shitdolls.” Minutes later, oh joy, I’m in a white coat, rubber gloves and hygienic mask. I can’t help but giggle, given how horrible I am at everything math-related. Being an honorary scientist is thus an up-yours to all my high-school days. But when my girlfriend opens the last doors separating us and the lab, the stench comes rushing, and the mask doesn’t help for shit. “Your Monday mornings must be delightful, darling.” “Nah, usually it’s way milder than that.” I look to my left, where the first row of terrariums can be found. And a pattern quickly emerges : all cages have an homogeneous population. No penis jissous with regular jissous, no maggots with thumb-chans, no kojissous with adults, no mutants with regular jissous. And for most cages, what’s going on is them is fairly obvious. For instance, in one of them, three young penis jissous -a few months of age at most, no bigger than 20cm- sit motionlessly against the glass, their usually monstrous members lying on the floor, small and flaccid. Which would never happen in the wild. As I told you earlier this week, the blood in their pecker has nowhere to flow back, thus ensuring an unending boner. Steph notices my surprise, and laughs. “Ah, the Barbara Streisand experiment. We tried several methods of chemical castration, and one worked. We always thought it was their overall blood quantity that made them eternally horny. Turned out we were only somewhat right. It’s their insane sex drive that actually makes them produce enough blood to sustain their boner. If their sex drive is chemically killed, eventually the blood production gets back to normal levels. Thus, the flaccid jissous you can see here.” “I see…”So much for my expert narrative. “They look like shit.” “That they do. They’re just hollow shells now. Walking meat. Beyond the basic reflexes like blinking to bright light, they don’t react to any stimuli we throw at them, even hunger, thirst or pain. We burned one alive. No reaction.” “Great, so there are living males that literally, verifiably think with their schlong. Feministas will never shut up about this.” “Oh, don’t go crying on me now, you baby. Anyway, the constipation experiment’s subjects are over there…” She walks to the back wall, where several terrariums complete with appetizing food like konpeitos are freely available. However, no Jissouseki are currently eating it. They are too busy having the worst indigestions I have ever witnessed. Well, the deliberately overfed J-bombs excluded, of course. All the maggots that didn’t already explode are bloated. All of them. At the very least, they have begun to eat a few hours before the fume hood explosion yesterday. Now, they are lying on their back, their breath a labored whistle, their tiny limbs helplessly wiggling, and their belly showing the green goo underneath. With the miracle cure, the skin would be reinforced where it is so distended it became translucent. It shows how impressive their method was : Those maggots are at the natural limit, and they didn’t even attain the size of a rugby ball. And that’s accounting for the fact that their anus has been sealed shut by this lab’s groundbreaking mutation. Like for the J-bomb, their discomfort is apparent. I’m not sure I can adequately call it pain yet, but it’s got to be a torture all the same. But the real show is the adult that, apparently, has been churning up all those poor maggots. She looks like she could have been decently cute, if it wasn’t for the fact that she and her cage are covered in vomit. Because unlike her babies, she can still evacuate food the Roman way. She has hiccups every now and then, and her face is very pale. Obvious signs of nausea. Every guy who has been constipated and hungover at the same time knows what she’s going through. And it sucks. “Mrs Ladyyyy…” She says after seeing Steph through her nauseous stupor. “I am so hungry, but delicious candy always hurts and goes up, deshaaa…Why, degyeeeeeen…” “I explained that to you a good six times already, you dipshit.” Answers the scientist, unconcerned as the jissou continues to cry, paws in her eyes. She then points a normal-looking terrarium right next to the sick adult. “Hey, Thierry, this box should be full of mutated maggots too. Those are healthy maggots, they clearly defecated.” “Well, they must have switched the two boxes.” “Yeah, so they’re probably in secondary storage now.” Still pissed, she strides to a non-descript door. “The maggots we select from the shipment room to be referenced and tattooed are in there. These mechanical fuckers probably are too. That’s a quiet room, and also when we keep our chemicals, miracle cure included. I swear, if they took even one bottle, the army is going to pay for the damages, this stuff is…” “There there” I say, tapping on her shoulder. “Let me handle this, or you could do something stupid.” “…Hmpf.” I step forward, and enter the room, opening the door with an ominous “What up ?” It’s a little more messy than the main lab, but still Jyggalag realm compared to my house. There’s a strange apparatus that I suppose is the automatic tattooing device, several closets, and a few terrariums full of jissouseki specimen. Sure enough, one of them, right on the floor, next to a pile of books no less, is the missing cage of constipated maggots. If there was any question about it, there isn’t now : Supreme Abuser was here. And quite possibly still is. “Okay, guys !” I say out loud. “Game’s over. Your general in charge is aborting the mission.” No response. “You want more ? Alright. He told me to contact you and tell you to stop the plan for tonight. Why ? Because some unknown stuff has led hundreds of thousands of jissouseki in the surrounding forests, and a giant explosion of jissou crap would make them rush into the town and fuck everyone’s shit.” After a few seconds, I can hear one unmutated maggot say, with its ridiculously high-pitched voice : “Concern : Acknowledged. Radical change in context : Conceivable.” “Yeah, nobody’s blaming you for doing your mission, we just need to abort it in time.” “Hold up a second here, Lucy” states a kojissou on the other side of the room. “Passwords aren’t for seagulls, and you will say it !” I was hoping they’d forgotten about it. “For fuck’s sake, do I really need to ?” “Procedures : Necessary even when they do not seem to be.” “Alright, alright…This a good day for every desu.” “Password : Valid. Mission : Aborted.” I hear a metallic sound, and promptly turn towards it. A ventilation shaft has been opened and… “Holy shit !” “Yeah, we aren’t exactly Miss Universe and Beyond material, are we ?” “Steph, come here !” She steps into the room, and sees the one and only members of Supreme Abuser, stand…ing…? I don’t know, maybe that’s not the proper term, in the shaft. One is a sort of hybrid between a sort of jissou-looking robot and a wheeled vehicle, and the other, a full-on mechanical monstrosity with six legs. “Wah…I mean, we know we were looking for robots, but still, it’s quite something.” “Surprise : Understandable.” Continued one of them, who knows which, through the maggot’s voice. Maybe they’re unable to speak on their own. “But priority : Matter at hand. 3:26 AM today : We installed a surprisingly powerful bomb. Elements used : Specimens from this laboratory.” “Well, as a matter of fact, while we were looking for you at the Imperial, we found your bomb and safely detonated it in a sealed hangar. That’s how we found you, actually, by seeing the lab’s official tattoo on the bomb.” “Direct consequence : Abortion of mission superfluous.” “What do you mean ?” “He means this shit balloon was one of a kind, baby ! Well, a little less than one millionth of three millions were planned at the briefing party, but someone blew up in midair and we had to curb-stomp our expectations.” “Blew up in midair ?” Asked Steph, eyebrow raised. “Number of agents : Originally three. Event : We lost Chloé three days ago.” “Oh, yeah, the general mentioned three guys in your group. So, it was a girl ? What happened ?” “Within a human soldier template : Weak and inexperienced. Nonetheless : Included in Supreme Abuser. Wednesday : All communications to and from her completely stopped.” “She died ?” “Conclusion : Obvious but debatable.” “What the fuck do you mean, obvious ?” I intervene. “You guys are drones, right ? Robots commanded from a distance ? Even if her drone was wrecked, she wouldn’t have died !” As part of me feared, a telling silence fell over us. “Hypothesis : General Lejeune did not tell you the entire story.” “We’re not robots commanded from a distance at all, dude ! Rather, we’re like ravioli put into a motherboard !” “The fuck do you mean ?” “Those robots : Our actual bodies. Projet Mégalithe starting breakthrough : Transferring a human consciousness into a computer. Supreme Abuser : No return mission.” My hand flies at my mouth. Humans transferred into a robot body ? I…can’t even begin to know how to react. I can feel my brain say “oh, hell no” when attempting to process the information. “Did you…at least agree to this ?” “Inquiry : Do you think we are in North Korea ?” “I fucking wonder.” “So, uh…human consciousness in machines, like in Total Annihilation ?” Steph says, the perplexity in her voice indicating she reacted the same way as me. “That kind of figures why they chose that silly codename.” “And…why is that, dear ?” “Well, Total Annihilation is an old real-time-strategy game, where two factions blast the shit out of each other over a moral conflict caused by…well, putting humans into computers. There was this game, Supreme Commander, that’s much more recent. The story wasn’t the same, but gameplay wise, this was a straight remake.” “Eh. The more you know I guess…Well, if there aren’t any more bombs, let’s…just head out to the Imperial, yes ? Lejeune said in the CD that he would be waiting there in the evening. This Festival’s scheduled to end with a party, and that’s what we are going to fucking get.” ——— Later, we’re at the imperial, in the good General’s private room. The two surviving members of Supreme Abuser -which we have discreetly moved through the busy and increasingly jissou-filled streets in a bag- are busy talking to their superior while I was enjoying a first-rate champagne bottle. I’m sure they’re sharing some very important information, but I don’t want to know. This crazy week’s over. I pierced the mystery of the jissou sadistic controllers. I have stood against a Jissou army, and won. I have gone through the hurdles of jissou pet ownership, and won yet again. And finally, I have defused a bomb and found the hopefully willing subjects world’s craziest military project. I mean, there’s no wonder why they talk like that. After being irremediably put into a machine, I would expect you to go batshit. But eh, it’s not my business. I saved my city. “I think congratulations are in order, Mister Genestar.” Says the General’s smooth voice behind me. “I should probably reply “Not at all, just doing my job.” But screw that. What I am going to say is “Damn right.”" “Yes, after all, you aren’t a sworn world-saver. I am truly sorry to have put you through this.” “For this, however, I’m going to say it’s alright. So anyway…condolences for your lost agent.” “They told you ? Yes, the three are normally communicating at all times, but she suddenly went off the grid at some point, and never gave sign of life since. Could be a malfunction, or a more old-fashioned destruction. After all, her unit was designed to look like a large Jissouseki larva from afar.” “Yeah, pity for her but at least, it made the mess more manageable.” “This it did.” “But fuck, how couldn’t I see any one of them ? Especially in the Gardens of Europe case ? They’re small, sure, but they stand out !” “Their control range is nearly one hundred meters and goes easily through walls. And if it isn’t sufficient, the first unit has a grappling hook to get on higher ground, the second has a built-in camouflage device relying on a cutting-edge, flexible LCD screen to blend in with its surroundings albeit not achieving invisibility in any way, and the lost third unit could climb every common building material.” “Oh, yeah, that’s some serious James Bond stuff.” “Indeed it is, Mister Genestar. By the way, the large amount of Jissouseki we detected have partially been invading the town, but the bulk of them are still busy with my troops in the forest. The Festival’s festivities should now go as planned.” “Glad to hear it, General.” “By the way, where is your companion ?” “Stéphanie ? She said she had enough for the week, she went home.” I look at the lake, gently shaken by the breeze. “Well, good luck for the rest of the mess” I say, pouring myself another glass. “About the mysterious force controlling the jissouseki to force invasions of entire towns, I mean. I bet this must me more exciting than fixing telephone poles and occupying Afghanistan.” “You seem quick to forget certain things, Mister Genestar.” I stop and look at him. “What would those be ?” “I’m expecting you to take point for this mission as well.” … “…What.” “Of course, the nation is ready to make worth your while. In fact, you should find your bank account some ten thousand euros heavier for what you’ve already done today.” I put my glass on the balustrade. “No no no no no hold the fuck on. This is not a matter of money. I am an expert in public law and Jissouseki-related management, but there is no way in hell there isn’t some supersoldier that’s more competent at whatever you plan to have me do. There isn’t.” “This is not about what you know, Mister Genestar. It’s about who you know.” “What, Steph ? Michel ? Laurent ? I’m not the most connected of guys. With all due respect, you clearly sniffed to much ether.” “You are connected to David Kellan.” “What…? Yeah, I am, he spent two weeks in the guest room of a friend’s house we were guarding for the summer. But that was a long fricking time ago , I was, like, 16 !” “Seventeen.” “Whatever ! I was just fucking around with my childhood friend, and this guy…we barely saw him at all, it’s just that, when we saw our first Jissouseki ever in the house’s swimming pool, he was here to explain what the fuck it was. He’s been contacting me on the internet, because apparently he’s the clingy kind of guy, and I happened to phone him Thursday because someone reminded me of him, but that’s fucking it ! If he’s involved in some kind of supervillain scheme, I am in no position to coax any info out of him !” “Calm down. The case is a little hard to explain. He’s not directly involved, he’s just…Holding who we believe is the only witness alive who could ever lead us to who has been planning these attacks.” “Holding ? This guy’s a Loyal Good chump, he would never…” “As I said, it’s hard to explain. Anyway, he’s in the United States, and we would like to avoid any risk of diplomatic misunderstanding between our two countries. And since you already know about the situation anyway, the President figured we could as well take you for the entire ride. If it can at all assuage your concerns though, know that I was strongly opposed to this course of action.” “It does not, but thanks for trying.” “I understand.” I sigh heavily, and take by my champagne cup. The sun is smoothly going down. In just an hour or two, it will set, and the festivities will commence. Already, I see the mayor greeting some people on the white stairs of the palace. Behind the fences, the jissous are faffing about, as usual. But something catches the corner of my eye, and I lean a little on the balustrade. “What the…?” A green thing is climbing the wall to our terrace. Jissou green. But it’s climbing vertically, which I believe Jissouseki still can’t do. Wait a second, wouldn’t that be… “General ! I think your third agent is reporting for duty !” “What do you mean, Mister Genestar ?” He replies doubtfully, coming to see what’s up.”Well I’ll be…This is indeed Private Dardenne’s unit !” The thing is just like a big maggot, eggplant-sized, only with spider legs, climbing the vertical wall at a moderate rate. The features are clearly artificial, but they’re full of life compared to the other two. With two appendages, it holds a real maggot on its back. It climbs all the way to the balustrade, and stops right there. “General, sir !” Excitedly shouts the maggot. The real one. “Where were you, private ? Brockway and Neill lost all contact with you several days ago !” “Yes, a simple malfunction in my transmitter, sir !” Comically carries on the tiny maggot, with the peps of a human soldier. “I was undamaged myself, but by the time I got to the rally point, they were already gone, and cops were everywhere, sir !” “No kidding” I say to myself. “The J-bomb prototype blew up, they had to bail…” “So, what did you do between then and now ?” “Completing my mission, sir !” A feeling of unease floats in the air. “Completing your mission ? Did you succeed ?!” “Sir, you bet I did, sir ! As per the mission’s terms which expressly demanded everything be done to complete it even if some of us failed, I carried on alone, sir ! It took me a while, and I had to recruit some eccentric in the mountains, but I am pleased to announce the plan will proceed as planned, sir !” I look at the General, who obviously seems less than thrilled. “Alright, private…” He says in a calm voice. “Specify everything. Method of delivery, payload, ignition time…” “Sir ! This patriot bought a lot of miracle jissou cure, made three explosive maggots with it, about two meters in rough diameter, and is on his way to deliver it by plane right now, sir !” I look at the sky. —– “Ol’ Martin and his trusty bird at the rescue, my dear country ! Let’s see those love-mongers refuse a war against those critters now !” Triumphantly yells to himself the owner of an old plane, carrying three giant, ready-to-explode maggots with a quick-release cable. “I reckon’ this little girl in a machine has the balls to do what needs to be done, and ol’ Martin won’t fail her, no sir !” —– “This cannot be fucking happening.” I say after seeing the rickety plane with its crappy payload. “Private” Calmly, but with an obvious streak of seething rage, states Lejeune “We actually aborted the mission. Circumstances have changed, a whole army of Jissouseki are surrounding the town. The non-lethal explosion we planned will still have the effect of shocking the general public, but at the cost of attracting this army to the city. So we’ll have a PR stunt AND real, massive property damage. But that aside, you did great, private. I’m actually impressed by your perseverance. Now, is there any way to contact the pilot and tell him to abort ?” Long silence. The robot stands perfectly still. “…srnsr” “IS THERE ?” “SIR, NO SIR !” The plane is coming at a fast rate, making enough ruckus to be noticed by everyone for miles around. But even if they see the three gigantic maggots, they don’t know what I know. They’re smaller than today’s J-bomb, but bigger than the factory’s prototype. They are three. And they are going to fall several hundreds of meters. The impact at terminal velocity will make it worse. This is going to spread insanely far. Humans at ground zero could very well be killed. And the fall could possibly trigger, instinctively, the pregnancy response. And there ain’t fuckall we can do about it. I shout to all the humans in the park. “GET OUT OF HERE ! THIS PLANE IS DANGEROUS ! EVERYONE INSIDE THE PALACE !” Of course, the military general has beaten me to it and is already broadcasting emergency orders on his transmitter. “Get inside, Genestar ! There’s no time !” “Fuck !” I comply, and rush inside as I see the maggots being released, and falling in an arc towards the park. It happens in seconds. Lejeune follows me, quickly shuts the door closed without hesitation. I see the three maggots pass in a blink of an eye, all of their eyes red. And suddenly, after a big “SPLAT” the window turns green. “…We’re on the second to last floor.” I walk towards the stained windows, and see several newborn maggots splashed against the glass. “It’s hard to induce the panic pregnancy in maggots because of their lack of reaction to stimuli, but…obviously not impossible.” Lejeune sighs. “So not only do we have gallons of shit on a wide area, there are appetizing fresh babies for starving Jissouseki to feast on ?” “Yes. Well, those who went at a shallow angle anyway. The rest have no doubt been flattened.” “Then those in the forest are rushing in as we speak. I’ll order the intra muros military intervention.” “I won’t question your judgment.” As he begins to organize the rescue that will, no doubt, make the headlines, I slowly open the door to witness how much damage has been done. First of all, shit leaks down the door onto the floor, but I doubt this is going to be the cleaning staff’s main concern. The whole terrace is covered. Scratch that, the whole, normally luxurious building, is completely covered in green goo on the side facing the park. There’s shit on the grass. On the trees. On the lake. The blast zone is tremendous. It was delivered by plane, so the “freak accident” aspect is pretty much out of the question, but does it establish how dangerous Jissouseki can be ? Hell yes. The air is filled with cries of panic, as VIPs frantically try to clean the shit off them, mothers calling the names of their children, and just plain “what the fuck” exclamations. And everywhere, jissous can be seen kneeling, having the easiest meal they had for weeks. Loads of fresh maggot shit, with the added bonus of maggot croutons. No way the Jissouseki that have been skipping meals to get to the lake will ignore that. Soon, the whole area will be chock full of flesh-colored piglets. And once they’re here, they’re bound to notice the buffet full of real food. So yeah, no party tonight. Except for the soldiers, maybe. Anyway, nothing I can do here. I’m dramatically outgunned. This much shit would take at least a week to clean up with my current team, and that’s not even taking into account the legions of Jissouseki that are rushing in right now. To think we did everything right, just for our plans to come undone because of a freaking malfunction in a cutting-edge technology robot. “Hyper candyyy desuuuuu !” Among all the chaos going on, this shrill exclamation catches my ear. Some jissou mama is on her knees, trying to wipe the shit on the ground. “Show yourself, hyper-candy, de ! I can see you now, de !” What’s this ? They’re still going on about it ? On closer inspection, what I thought were jissous eating are all, in fact, just searching. “General, could you hold on a moment ?” “What is it, Mister Genestar ? I’m a little busy.” “You might not actually be. Let’s go outside, see how things are going on on the other side of the Palace.” “What do you mean ?” He replies, not convinced. “Just come, okay ?” On the street and parking lot, the first time we see is that shit flew so high into the air that some made it past the Imperial Palace. It’s not as bad as the other side, but the pavement is stained, as well as trees and cars. Some can even be seen on the residential building’s walls. There’s largely enough crap to feed a lot of starving jissous, which I know for a fact there aren’t any shortage of, even discounting the exceptional circumstances. And yet, all they seem to do is running around, collectively clamoring the name of a fictional delicacy. I snicker. “What’s going on, Mister Genestar ? Why don’t they seem to be interested in the fecal goo ?” “It’s a bit hard to explain. Do the guys in the forest report movement toward the city ?” “Hold on.” Un-freaking-believable. The coincidences going on here are enough to make even a sci-fi character scream bullshit. “Only marginally. It seems the goblins are ecstatic and looking for…something. Care to explain ?” “Well…You see, when I was looking for Supreme Abuser, I, at first, tried the park itself. And I tricked the roaming Jissouseki into helping. I told them there was this invisible konpeito, see, the “hyper-candy” unearthly delicious.” “And they believed you ?” “Yeah, retard is in their formal name, after all. Anyway, for them to be useful, I told them that they could only see the candy if they first saw a giant maggot. I only told a small group, but in their excitement they forgot to hide it from the competition, and the whole park jumped on the bandwagon really fast. This was around, I don’t know, 11 AM ? Hours later, we find the bomb, and get it out of the park. Already, I saw jissous going to the streets to continue their quest. And, no doubt, spreading the quest even further. It’s now 7 PM or so.” “So, you’re telling me this could have spread as far as the big groups in the forest ?” “I’m pretty sure of it. But the real kicker is this : Just minutes ago, not one, but three undoubtedly gigantic maggots flew in the sky, for everyone to see. The plane was flying low, and the noise caught the attention of pretty much everyone. Even in the forest, you probably could at least catch a glimpse.” “But…Even if most of them did, there are bound to be still a whole lot who didn’t !” “Granted, but you’re a jissou. You have nothing, yet you feel entitled to all the comfort in this world. You consider yourself so cute that every human is either willing to treat you as his own child, or stupid, shit human. You keep all the food for yourself when your own children fetch some.” “Yes, I get the picture, Mister Genestar.” “Good. So, given all that, you hear other jissouseki -shit jissouseki, as they are not you- screaming they saw the giant maggot, which you have been looking for all afternoon. Well, in all probability you are going to pull a Cartman and convince yourself you saw it too.” “Thus making you lose interest in the load of feces, immense as it is, and neutralizing the massive rush we have been expecting.” “Yes. By sheer dumb luck and me reading too much Toriko, the unexpected crisis caused by your third agent was dead before it even began. The jissous will stick to looking for this bullshit delicacy, and not rush together to cause mass chaos.” “But surely they will forget about, or grow bored of, this “hyper candy” thing, yes ?” “Oh, yeah, no doubt. When they wake up tomorrow morning, in fact. Next no none should even remember the notion.” Lejeune stays silent for a moment, assessing the situation. “This leaves us the night to clean the mess. It will still require military intervention.” “Yes, but at a scale that will be pretty darn justifiable. Nobody will jump to the ceiling at the idea of the local battalion helping cleaning such an important area as fast as possible, unlike full military occupation of the town for safety purposes.” “Indeed. I’ll be working on that, Mister Genestar. Go home and rest, I will contact you tomorrow for the other matter at hand.” “The David Kellan one ?” “Yes.” “Great, you do that.” As I begin to walk home, I see a massive amount of people looking with amazement at the lake of shit. “How did this happen ? All I heard was the noise of a plane, and then…” “This is disgusting !” “Could this be a new weapon based on the dolls ?” “I hope they ban those things once and for all, then ! This is getting more insane with each passing year !” “Yeah, we must do something before it’s too late, I heard they’re invading entire cities now !” “…Calm down, everyone, this is an accident…” “Yeah, I’m sure you’re one of those holier-than-thou protesting for these monster’s rights !” “What ?!” All in all, the mission could be considered a success. I guess. Time will tell. Anyway, the big buffet is ruined for tonight. And all I get from Stéphanie’s phone is voicemail. Oh well, like the great Andrew WK once said, if you can’t find the party…be the party.
As I said on your site when you posted it the other day, good chapter. And with chapter13 next, I imagine it will prove VERY unlucky for a number of Jissous ....
I believe a HOLY SHIT is in order. So, HOLY SHIT. Epic win as always, InLeaves. One question, though. The focus is shifting from Supreme Abuser to David. Will that cause a change in title? Chapter 4 of my set is complete, but I can't get it typed up until Monday night. Just thought my loyal followers (read: Kashiwaba Tomoe) might want to know.
Thanks for the compliments, guys. Will that cause a change in title? Yeah, it will. Supreme Abuser is, quite intuitively, the story of Supreme Abuser's mischiefs. Thus, it will end with the epilogue. After that will be the miniseries I mentioned, and next will be the true sequel. Both will have different titles.
Chapter 4: DEATH FILLER! A young mother jissou strokes her only maggot’s belly in a large cage. She doesn’t know how she got there, or, indeed, where she was before, but she is warm, has plenty of food, and has kept her beloved maggot. In her mind, it is paradise. Before she can finish rubbing down her offspring, however, a Mr. Man walks in the door. She feels a desire to reach out to the Mr. Man. Maybe if she asks him for candy, he will give it to her? “No,” she says to herself in her mind. “I have food and my maggot-chan. I don’t need candy.” At that precise moment, she looks down to find an empty space where her beloved maggot was. “Mama! Help me, repyeen!” A piteous wail faintly reaches her ears through the surrounding darkness. “MAGGOT-CHAN! Where are you, decha?!” She scrambles to her feet, and tears off in the direction of the cry. She only gets a foot or two before slamming head-first into an invisible barrier. She scrambles around the perimeter of her invisible prison in a panic, searching for a nonexistent exit. Realizing the futility of the struggle, she curls into the jissou equivalent of a fetal ball and sobs hysterically, lamenting the loss of her precious baby. Unbeknownst to her, in the distance, another jissou loudly snacks on a maggot, amid a chorus of angushed “Techa”s. Fifty yards away, the maggot in question looks up at the gigantic Mr. Man carrying it. “My belly’s soft and squishy, please rub it, refu!” “I’ll do that, but first I need to give you candy.” Replies a loud baritone voice. The voice has a strange, mocking tone to it, but the maggot in its happiness doesn’t notice. It was carried for a minute or two through a maze of rooms and finally came to rest on an ice-cold, hard surface. Before it can voice its discomfort, the baritone voice calls out: “Look! There’s the candy! Crawl to it!” The maggot looks around and does indeed spot what appears to be a konpeito perched atop a sack. Mist rolls out of a box on a wall and a light shines down on the candy from above, creating an almost mythical appearance that was lost on the maggot. It runs at top speed (just under the speed of stupid) towards the delicacy. Over time, it begins to slow down. “I feel cold, repyeen…” But no matter, because it’s reached the candy! It chomps down on the spiky spheroid, expecting a delicious sugary delight. It receives a taste of frozen nothing. It takes another bite in confusion, and receives another mouth-numbing bite of ice. “Too…cold…re..hi…” The maggot collapses and succumbs to the creeping darkness amid the fiendish cackling of the mad scientist Mr. Man. A few minutes later, Justin pulls the maggot out of the freezer. He looked at his clipboard. “’Test Jissouseki cold resistances and rumors of viable cryogenic preservation, particularly among the larval stage.’” He reads aloud. “Too fucking vague. Why can nobody give me a fucking hypothesis or something? You get a ‘yes.’” He says to nobody in particular. Contrary to that statement, he pencils down instead: “Subject successfully preserved via standard refrigerator freezer temperatures. Initial unconsciousness induced via low ambient temperatures (Below zero degrees Celsius) and ingestion of ice. Temperature threshold tests inconclusive.” He sighs, tossing the clipboard and pencil into a nearby chair. “I might as well have some fun with you…” He says to the unconscious and frozen maggot. Without further ado, he slams the blade of a knife through the tail of the maggot, which promptly flies across the room. It’s not an instantly fatal wound even on a conscious maggot, so this one has a few minutes of life left. He grabs a bottle marked ‘miracle cure’ in horrible handwriting out of a cabinet and sets it down. He chuckles to himself. “Maybe I’ll have a little fun with your mother, too…” In the shed, the young mother is still in a fetal ball, crying. She remains inconsolable (not that anyone was trying to console her) until she hears a baritone voice from a distance, singing: “I have returned! Everything dies, look to the skies, to see the end of all Creation again. See with your eyes my army of flies, When no one’s alive…” She ignores (or doesn’t notice) the implications in the song and jumps to her feet. “Mr.Man! Have you seen my baby, desu?” she yells at the top of her voice. A hand descends out of the sky and picks her up. Simultaneously, the baritone voice says: “I have indeed. She’s inside my house, getting warm. I’m here to take you to her.” “She is?! Thank you so much Mr.Man desu!” She snuggles into his hand. Smirking to himself, he carries her into his house and to the kitchen. The maggot appears to be sleeping underneath a clean white blanket. “I need to get something. I’ll be right back. Be careful not to wake maggot-chan.” Justin walks away, hiding out of sight on the other side of the door. The mother plans to heed his command, but wants to see her maggot’s cute little limbs wiggle as it dreams. She pulls the blanket back… “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH ORORORORORORORORORON!” This piercingly high-pitched scream rings out, punching through all doors, walls, and windows in the vicinity. A moment later, another scream echoes around the kitchen; this one an unearthly shriek of pain and terror that no maggots before or after could match. The two screams ring out again as one. Justin chooses this moment to burst into the kitchen. Inside is a scene of terror. The maggot is wailing its banshee cry of pain and wiggling its little limb stumps in a vain attempt to escape the horrible pain. The mother is too shocked and frightened to react, and basically stands there like a deer caught in the headlights, with a hellish scream “What the hell is going on? What did you do to her?!” He yells out at the mother. Before she can react, he snatches the wounded maggot off of the table and raises a droplet of miracle cure to her mouth. “Drink this, maggot-chan! It’ll make you better!” The maggot complies. Instantly the hellish wail is replaced with a confused squeak. “I feel funny, refu…” The maggot was regenerating, its wounds healing before their eyes. Within a minute the wound was sealed up and perfectly healed albeit raw-looking. Justin cuddles the maggot to his chest and begins to berate the mother. “What the fuck did you do to her?!” “What are you saying desha!? I wouldn’t do that to my maggot-chan, decha!” “Well, she was perfectly fine when I left her! What the fuck is wrong with you!? You try to kill your baby and then lie to my face about it? What kind of a mother are you?!” “I AM A GOOD MOTHER SHIT HUMAN! GIVE ME MY BABY DECHA!” Justin pulls the maggot away from him and addresses it. “You’re going to be my new pet, little one. I can’t leave you with your shit mother in good conscience.” “My mama’s a good mama refu.” “But she tried to kill you.” The mother tried to interject but an absolutely venomous look from Justin reduced her to silence. “Refu?” “Yeah, she stabbed you with that knife.” “My mama’s not a bad mama refu!” “Only shit mothers try to kill their cute babies. If she was a good mother, she’d have given you candies and belly rubs all the time. Speaking of…” Justin rubs his index finger gently up and down the maggot’s stomach. It sighed in ecstasy. “See, don’t you want to stay with me?” “Yeah refu! Mama’s a shit mama refu!” “WHAT DID YOU SAY MAGGOT CHAN DECHA?!” “Let me get you set up in a terrarium.” “Bye, shit mama, refufufu!” the maggot yells as his mother exits its view. In the other room, Justin pulled the maggot out of his hand and held it by its head over his mouth. “Welcome to your new home.” Without further ado, he drops the maggot into his throat. It’s too surprised to struggle until it plops into his stomach. Instantly, the maggot begins to writhe in agony, if the vibrations in his stomach tell the tale correctly. Justin returns to the kitchen, the maggot still writhing in its new squishy, acidic home. The mother is, once again, a ball on the floor. “ORORORORORORON Maggot-chan come back ororororon…” “You’re going to suffer for what you did to her!” Justin exclaims and roughly grabs the mother. He rips off her clothes and hair, but she doesn’t seem to notice. He thinks for a while, than hits upon a way to kick her out of her catatonic state. He drops her into a pot and drops a lit match on to her face. She snaps back to reality a mere instant before the orange blob lands on her nose. “NOOOOOO-“ Her scream is cut short by a loud “whoomph.” The remainder of her vocalizations are garbled screams owing to the destruction of her vocal cords. The fire spreads slowly form her face to her leg stumps, melting flesh off of her all the while. As an added bonus, the shit she leaks in her combustion-induced agony ignites as well, frying her alive. After six minutes of fire and hyperthermia-induced extreme epidermal exfoliation, she finally expires amid a background of devilish laughter. END CHAPTER 4 Yeah, I figured it was high time for some good old-fashioned slaughter. Also, mindfuckery. I probably screwed it up, but oh well... Also, my internet is busted. I'm barely able to upload this thing here. Don't expect much more anytime soon.
A shame, that was a good mindfuck. If I had to say something about your stories (aside from "keep it up"), it's that the while the narrative is impeccable, the structure can be confusing at times. I feel like there's a lot left implied that should be written. Nothing major, though. Anyway. Continued from >>346 Debriefing : The Show Must Go On The following Monday Apparently, I’m a sucker for adventure, even if my involvement is even less likely than a fanfiction’s plot. I’ve let myself be talked into cooperating by Lejeune and his aides. Well, more accurately, I reluctantly agreed to hear the details, but once I did, I could no longer ignore my inner adventurer. The witness, the one David has with him, is apparently a super-evolved Jissouseki. Unlike her cousins, she’s almost entirely human in appearance, save for the face. Little is known about her, save for three things the DGSE (the french intelligence) is quite confident about : -She was made in the mysterious laboratory that came up with the jissou programming. (And the prime suspects as those who controlled the Jissouseki army who nearly invaded Annecy) -She was a ruthless killer of Jissouseki, as evidenced by a single piece of video where she appeared, killing Jissouseki in a furnace in front of their caretakers. It was believed to be a fake, but given the photos they took of her inside Kellan’s house, it is now very doubtful. -And she was somehow domesticated by David, exhibiting none of the behavior above. They think the only explanation for this is a programming that blocks memories. Devices for this have existed for quite some time. Aside from explaining a few things about the speech Lejeune gave us when we first met him, it means that, if I want to have her testimony on how to track the culprits down, I’ll have to unlock her psychopathic personality. Having been with Stéphanie, I find crazy girls appealing, but this means one thing. “Sorry, Jissou-chan, I really can’t take you with me.” “W…Why, master, teeen ? I want to be with you, techuuun…” “Trust me, it’s best for you. If you came with me, you would die.” “Teee ? But…Does it mean you will die, teee ?” The pet jissou is in tears. I probably should have found a less abrupt way to say it. “No, no, not me. I’m going to travel with someone who hates Jissouseki, something fierce. I need her to neutralize the feral, bad jissous who threatened this city. That means you must stay here, in safety. What it doesn’t mean is that I don’t care about you.” “O…Okay, Mr.Man, techu…” She quietly wipes tears from her cheeks. “Don’t worry, I found someone nice to take care of you. Someone I can trust to be affectionate.” “Who…is that, techi ?” “My cop friend Michel. Well, his girlfriend in fact. She’s been with him for a year now, and I know she’s an animal and Jissouseki nut. When I asked her to keep you, she was psyched as hell to take care for Casca and for a high-class jissou like you.” “Mr.Cat will be here too ?” “Yeah. I can’t take her either, cats hate traveling.” “So…it will be alright, Mr.Man, tee ?” “Yes” I answer, gently patting her head. “It will. You’ll be in good hands.” “You will be back, yes, techi ?” “Of course. It’s only bad jissous, and after what I saw this week, I can take a whole planet of them.” “T…Then I’ll wait, Master, te !” Glad to have convinced the young pet jissou, I call Michel to schedule the time when I bring her and my cat over. My plane for the United States of America is in the evening, but I do my best to appear calm and not stress either of my pets any more than necessary. Which isn’t that easy since it’s essentially the first time I travel abroad alone. I tried to get Steph on board, but… “That sounds like fun, Titi, but I’m afraid I can’t right travel anywhere in the near future.” “What ? Why ?” “Well…I don’t know how, but my bosses have somehow found about Supreme Abuser. They know they stolen a specimen for their bomb. More troublesomely, they deduced that is was me who tipped off the mechanical assholes about our lab’s discoveries.” “Oh, shit…And so, they hold you responsible ?” “Pretty much, yeah…They told me that if there was any PR trouble on the lab, I would be the short fuse.” “How did it even come to their knowledge anyway ?” “I’ve been thinking about that, of course, and…The only reasonable explanation is that they do use the CCTV for security purposes…” “Uh…If you didn’t know about that, it’s somewhat on the “no no” side. And even if it was legal, they can’t fire you for that. You were spied on by Supreme Abuser, nothing’s your fault.” “Yeah, I know, but…Even if I sue, that means I’m stuck here for quite a while.” “Crap…Well, I know someone who studied private law, he should be able to help you. I’ll tell him to call you.” “Thanks. Enjoy America.” “Enjoy. Will do.” So here I am, lone collaborator to the French army. Or secret services, or both. I suspect these city-fucking human-controlled jissouseki armies have caused quite the clusterfuck up there in the powers that be. Anyway, I’m like a mercenary James Bond. Or perhaps more like Emma Peel. A dashing and brilliant individual completely external to the state, but so awesome the state can’t help but ask her help for secret missions. Yeah, why the fuck not, let’s be Emma Peel. So, like any spy worth its salt, I have been given a shiny device. “You’ll need that” Said the poor man’s Q I had informally met the previous day. “It’s a by-product of our work on the Jissouseki direct control.” “It automatically makes them perfect pets ?” “No, sir. Quite the contrary, in fact, it completely voids the crystal of artificial programming. It resets it to “factory conditions”, if you will.” “And I have to use it on that super-jissou of sorts ?” “Yes. We don’t know to what extent she was programmed, but given that her creators invented the process, we can reasonably suspect this extent was large.” “So basically it’s a gambit ?” “Yes. Only one thing’s for sure, she will recover her memories. Only a amnesia programmer could have the drastic effect we observed. But after that…For all we know, everything that made her mentally human was in the crystal.” “Great.” While I’m packing my things, I look at the device. It looks like a smartphone with a big, non-retractable antenna. Seems weird, but at least it doesn’t scream “spy”. Third-rate ersatz, at worst. Super-jissou, heh ? I’ll believe it when I’ll see it. I mean, how the hell could someone like Kellan have her ? I get why : Who wouldn’t want to have a quasi-human jissou ? But if she’s one of a kind, I’d expect her to be in the home of some kind of VIP. Then again, if she was, they wouldn’t have sent me. Bah, no use thinking to much about that. After all, officially, I’m on vacation. At first, and even though the army successfully cleaned most of the shit at the Imperial to avoid chaos, the city hall didn’t want to let me go so soon after a major jissouclysm. However, the mayor quickly stepped down before the good General. Especially after he said the government was sending a special crisis committee that would have overruled my authority anyway. I would have liked to make a proper party with the exterminators, but my departure for America was planned in a hurry, so I promised the party would be thrown after my return. Although I was unable to give them a date. So I’m kind of leaving like a guilty person. And knowing human nature, there’s a good chance I’ll appear like so after this thing’s over. Sucks, but I understand that until the mysterious party behind the attack is found an neutralized, who knows how many cities could go under. After all, we know fuckall about their methods. Just that they can control quite powerfully the whereabouts of huge groups of jissous and do that with optimal destruction in mind. Nothing else would explain how the Jissouseki near the pet shop stayed long enough out of human contact to make up their own language. For all we know, they can broadcast worldwide with some kind of satellite. And all of our answers rely on that highly evolved Jissouseki. 4 PM. Time to go to Paris. The plane’s waiting. Supreme Abuser – FIN.
>>351 Thanks for the praise. I'm well aware of my vagueness; it is something I try to fight. I'm experimenting with different perspectives. The third-person present-tense perspective worked the best so far, at least to me. The journal system I'd intended is going into the trash can with a quickness. Also, you have me waiting on the edge of my nonexistent seat waiting for this smartphone-antenna-crystal-wiper thing to take effect. Having read all of the PLTD story repeatedly, I can see some effects this will have, aside form the mentioned. I'll just shut up about those, though... Also, >>347 mentioned you have a website. What's the URL, if you don't mind? Oh yeah, I have a temporary internet connection somehow. I have no idea where it appeared from, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth.
http://statu-quo.fr/jissou/ I posted it a few times in the /g/ thread but that was a while back. And yes, there definitely are going to be fun side effects with the wiper.
To the Justin story: It's nice, but a shame that a rare GOOD jissou mother has to be the one mindfucked, as one that actually decides to not beg as long as it has its kid(s) and food is a very rare one. InLeaves a few points: Stephanie worrying about her jerb.... why not just tell the military to deal with it and be all 'bitch be cool', like this: youtube.com/watch?v=Lv3AY1zTzaE As for your setup for another story... hehehehe I wonder does Sylvia return (albiet VERY mindfucked) or does trance return ? If the crystal was (as trance was suspecting) took from a thumb-chan, could resetting it give her basic thumb programing ? Or was it a custom made or simply modified by people who could re-set it's firmware to like new conditions, so that trances personality as originally seen in your stories occurs.
Why not tell the military to deal with it...Perhaps it's just that she thinks that the lab being privately owned, such an intervention could backfire on her ? As for the exact effects of the crystal...You'll see, my friend, you'll see. (One of the possibilities is obviously more profitable to the story than the others though.). But the researcher guy implied that it was something they made previously, not for this special occasion. (Or did they ?)
>>344 The other alternative was the other jissou munching on her offspring at the end of the third paragraph. The "your babies are my pets but you aren't" angle's been overplayed, in my opinion. >>355 Oh god I write a story about mindfuck and end up as the one being mindfucked. You're deliberately trying to confuse us, aren't you? Also, I voted in your blog. You'll notice that 100% of the one voters preferred PLTD over SupAb. ;) También, you like Souseiseki too?! I'm not alone?!
>>356 The poll needed a 'moar loli' option. Not that it had any bearing on his story, but just because. Answering the poll here AND on InLeaves blog. Poll 1: They're now in the same storyline and thus really the same story : p . Plus needs a 'liked equally' option. PTLD was characther driven, supreme abuser was more based on the Jissous themselves, IE: the descriptions of colonies, Jissou behavior, etc. etc. No Vote. Poll 2: No clue, I never paid attention to the chapter names enough to remember them, and it's too late to re-read them. No Vote. Poll 3: See above Poll 4: PTLD (Sylvia is pretty much only seen in a few flashback lines and doesn't really count as a characther :p ) and Stephanie. I like her whole approach to the Jissous. Prehaps a few chapters between stories with her fucking with tribal Jissous ?
Well, PTLD wouldn't like you separating her from her human part. Among the last things she did in my first story was rejecting the name "PTLD". She's conscious about not being "Sylvia" in the truest sense, but it's definitely the identity she preferred after she learned the truth. Perhaps you'll have to read the stories again ? ^^ (You'll understand of course an author who personally worked on each chapter's story will not accept any excuses about forgiving people not remembering any chapter's content. Don't take it as an order to vote though :) )
>>358 I suppose even if she didn't, it wouldnt matter much... Also, I'm finally using a name. Don't ask what the F stands for, I don't even know; I've used variatons on this for 10 years or so.
>>358 Well considering the length of time over which I've read (well re-read even) all the chapters, not remembering isn't exactly hard :p . Fperson is Francis. Hi Francis. As for my story, more before too long, got a basic idea where to move it just trying to think of the best way to do it.
>>360 Fperson is Francis Wut? Also, I was about to ask if you were even continuing your story, so that's good to hear. Mine's on the way, I swear. I was tempted to take a name from Civ J, but I've already taken far too much from that particular story for it to work... Come on, PTLD, come on ! No, not PTLD, I'm Sylvia ! I'm Sylvia and I want to get the fuck out of here and LIVE ! If this is a game, I believe I am a winrar.
Let's try this again... Chapter 5: Both Ends of the Spectrum I’m sitting at my computer, vegetating to the sound of Metallica blaring from my headset. This, by the way, is my way of rewarding myself for having my first (legitimately acquired) spare moment for the first time in two weeks. I’m not just vegetating, of course, but I’m browsing online for horror stories of Jissouseki invasions, tortures, mindfucks, and the like. You would think that I’d know everything, seeing as I’m the stereotypical mad scientist and have killed more jissous than any dedicated torturer, but I’ve never actually had to deal with a full-scale invasion. That’s not to say I don’t know what to do if it were to happen, seeing as there’s a shed containing 250 or so of the little bastard in my backyard; I just like to read about when idiots try (fail) to clear their homes. Of course, torture and (to a slightly lesser extent) mindfuck are literally in my job description, but I’m always open to new ideas. So, anyway, I’m zoning out to hard metal and funny stories, when I hear a feminine-sounding noise. I assume the worst (given the subject material I’m perusing), so I fling my headset off and look around in a panic. All I can see is the plastic container that contains (no pun intended, however minor it is) the small blue maggot I happened to save from a death by boiling/stomach acid. The room is clear and the smell of jissou shit is decidedly and definitively absent, but I don’t let down my guard. “Mr.Man, refu?” A squeak rises from the container, killing my panicky bravado. I hate being paranoid. “Yes?” I say, more than slightly annoyed (though mostly at myself for being a paranoid idiot). “Do you know my name, refu?” “Uh…” Yeah. I’ve been alternatively busy and lazy, so I never did take the time to name her. She’s eaten well, make no mistake, but since wild jissous have the tendency to name their children the standard “jissou-chan/maggot-chan/dinner,” she likely doesn’t have a name at all. “Do I have a name at all, refu?” Um, so she’s telepathic. “No.” I decide that honesty is the best policy. “I’m thinking of one for you right now. If you have any suggestions, though…” “I do, refu!” For a moment, I must have forgotten that this little maggot was far smarter than even her fully-grown cousins. “Well, let’s hear it.” “How about… Sarah, refu?” She looks away as she says this. Um… That wasn’t plucked out of midair, not at all. Waitaminute. Sarah was the name of a pet jissou I was reading about (who promptly got owned in the face by a random abuser, but that’s beside the point). The name is still on the screen of my laptop. She was looking in the direction of my laptop. Does that mean that she read it off of the computer screen? I’d always thought that jissous had issues seeing screens – at least, that’s what my original tests on the subject showed. Well, normal jissous can’t read, and most won’t associate images with something, so my experiment was a little (extremely) flawed. I just got intellectually owned by something with a brain 1/1000 the size of mine. Holy shit. Oh well, I’m a fucking mad fucking scientist, for fuck’s sake. The score’s at Jissous: 1, Justin 8999. Anyways, back on topic. “That’s a great name, Sarah. Where’d you get the idea?” “I saw it on the shiny thing over there, refu.” Well, I got something right. Jissous: 1, Justin: 9000. “What does that thing do, anyway, refu?” “It’s hard to explain. I think I’ll just show you.” I pick up the newly-christened Sarah, walk over to my seat, sit down, and set her on the ottoman I use for both foot and computer storage. (I close the abuse stories with a quickness, of course.) Sarah’s face lights up. “I can really watch you use this, refu?!” “Yeah. Just try not to poop everywhere.” I suppose she was exited to be interacting with Mr. Man… I’ll skip past the hour or so of internet surfing and delighted cooing that took place. She was far too delighted, I think, to acutally read what was scrolling on the screen. Or perhaps I was scrolling too fast. Who knows? Anyways, after about an hour, I faintly hear Sarah ask what I was listening to. How she knows that music is blaring through my headset is beyond me. “You probably won’t like it. It’s rather death metal-y. Whatever, here you go.” I pull the headset jack out of the headphone port. Instantly, Elena Siegman’s “115” fills the room. To my surprise, Sarah didn’t cringe and yell to turn it off. In fact, after a minute or two of the song passed, she started to hum along with it. When it’s over, she says “I like that kind of music, refu.” I have a super-intelligent maggot that likes metal on my hands, it appears. Badass. “I can top that.” I play Metallica’s “One” next. Yeah, not quite as death metal, but still a great song. As before, she seems to really enjoy it. This is surreal. I have been intellectually killed - again - by this little savant maggot; I had it on good authority (not just my own this time) that jissous universally hated metal, and rock ‘n’ roll in general. Maybe Sarah’s an isolated case, but jissous are gaining on the scoreboard. The next hour was filled with music. My next pseudo-hypothesis (namely, that Sarah happens to like ALL music, simply because it’s a product of Mr. Man) was blown to shreds when Sarah proclaimed disgust at most of the rap songs I played. She happens to like Michael Jackson, awesomely. Joining Michael Jackson’s collected works on the “approved” list is “Stand By Me” (Both the Ben E. King and Prince Royce versions), “My Girl” by the Temptations, everything by Tobuscus (for no discernible reason, pun intended), and assorted other epic songs. And here was little old me, thinking that jissous had no appreciation for fine art… On top of all this strangeness, Sarah has maintained complete control of her bowels for a full two hours, a trait that had been proved beyond a shadow of a doubt to be completely impossible without forced programming or insanely long training. Sarah is singlehandedly kicking the collective asses of the entire scientific community, all without lifting an arm-stub. The last jissou to do that didn’t even fucking exist, for fuck’s sake. Suddenly, a loud ringing emanates from the hallway. I jump up instantly, snatching Sarah (firmly but gently) from the ottoman. Before she can say anything, I plop her into her plastic container. “Listen Sarah, I need you to stay in here for a minute. Be quiet, ok? There may be some bad jissous coming in.” I say, making sure to keep my voice calm. “Don’t worry Mr. Man, I will be quiet, refu!” I snap the lid on the plastic container. True to her word, not a sound escapes the tupperware. Since its opaque, no errant jissou will know there’s a brainy morsel in there, which is a good thing, considering the specific nature of this alarm. All of my alarms have specific sounds associated with them. An alarm clock signals a massive release of test subjects. By massive, I mean every test subject that can possibly be in my lab at one time (about 40). However, as I’ve already said, I’m paranoid as fuck, and I’d expected Murphy’s Law to kick in at some point. This is why there is an anti-jissou gun stashed away in one of the kitchen cabinets. This .44 magnum surprise fires specially made gelatin capsules (not unlike paintballs) filled with a very popular jissou poison. My gun is extremely illegal to own without a license, owing to the fact that it is an actual human-killing gun modded to shoot stupidly lethal poisons, so as much fun as it may be to use, stick with the store-bought variety of anti-jissou BB guns or Chris Hansen will kick your door in and hijack all of your chairs. Anyways… I go tearing down the hallway and kick – literally kick – the door to my lab open, expecting the worst. And the worst is indeed greeting me on the other side. As expected, about 35 adult jissous are stumbling around the lab at varying paces and with varying injuries. Also as expected, all of the boxes that formerly held my test subjects are upended and now lie empty on the floor, save for the occasional retarded maggot or child here and there. However, what catches my eye is the conglomeration of adults in one corner of the room. As I watch, one picks up one of her children – an old (for her stage) kojissou – and flings her at the window, 10 feet off the ground. The windows are made of reinforced Plexiglass, by the way. The kojissou bounces off of the invisible barrier with a “thunk” and a “crack” and plummets from the height onto another unfortunate kojissou. Another “crack” is heard. “MAMA! IT HURTS TEGYAAA!” Mama’s response is to fire the spineless (literally) kojissou at high (low) velocity at the window, with similar results to the last time. I decide to intervene, bracing myself for the flurry of shit/cute poses that are inherent with the job. “You do know you can’t break that window, right?” I say, as though to a friend’s annoying infant sibling. They all turn to me, and the predicted cute poses occur almost simultaneously, so the entire mass of mothers appears to do the wave. “Hello Mr. Man!” One of them says. “Can you help us open the shit window, desu? Our shit daughters won’t do it, desu.” “Uh, no, you little shit. When I told you to stay in the box, I meant ‘Stay in the motherfucking box.’ You have 5 seconds to get back into-” I break off here, as they’ve stopped paying attention. To force them to listen, I fire my gun at the mother who spoke. The BANG that echoes around the walls catches their attention. All jissous in the room instantly shit bricks (or maggots, in this case) and their faces turn that special shade of blue reserved for a terrified jissou. Mama Jissou, however, doesn’t have the luxury of changing color, owing to the fact that her face was melting. “DEGLugguglurglguglurg” Yeah, it’s one of those poisons. The poison is in liquid form, so she probably inhaled a droplet or two of it, accounting for the horrible gurgling noise. She gropes her throat, or at least tries to, with her stumpy, melting arms, while falling to her knees. She doesn’t die, however, since her crystal – and the crystals of all of her cousins – are tucked away in a box on the far side of the room, which I casually stroll over to. I hold it sideways, so that they can see what is inside. “Do you know what these are?” Without waiting for a response from the transfixed mass of shitdolls, I continue: “There are your crystals. When I smash a crystal, its owner dies. Like so.” I drop one of the crystals on the floor, and grind it into dust with the heel of my shoe. The moment my foot meets the cerulean gemstone, one of the jissous straight-up detonates. A spray of green and red flies up, dousing the nearby jissous and tinting them – and the ceiling, for fuck’s sake! – with an unholy mixture of excrement, blood, and torn fabric. Nonchalantly, I slowly reach across the lab counter and grab a large hammer that sits there for this precise purpose and say: “If you don’t want to suffer the same fate, you will all get in that box,” I point at one that is on its side, “before I reach 5.” They stand stock-still, some undoubtedly supporting others that have fainted. “ONE!” I punctuate my counting lesson by slamming the hammer on the counter, narrowly missing a crystal. “TWO!” I say, this time actually crushing one. A maggot explodes with a “REBO-”. “THREE!” The retards finally get the message. They scramble, leaving behind their children and the still-melting mother. Her brain has been exposed to the foaming poison, killing her without my intervention. (When the crystal is removed, the only fatal injury is brain damage.) I grab the children and twenty or so panic maggots. The maggots go in a specimen jar which will be added to my dinner, and the children drop into the box with their mothers. They all cower before me, aside from the maggots, which coo the standard “Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu!” “You will be punished for this.” I say, waving my hand to the devastated lab. There’s far more damage than I had noticed at first. A compressed air cylinder is leaking its contents from having been put on its side. A faucet has somehow become open, and the drain is stopped up with a dead maggot, forcing the water all over the floor. Expensive testing equipment like ophthalmoscopes lie broken on the floor, the carts they were sitting on upended nearby. I’m not susceptible to the shitdoll’s pheromones, but I’m pissed nonetheless. It’s extremely difficult to make me rage, but fucking up my lab is the easiest way to make it happen. I split the box of crystals in half. I pick one up from the right side pile, and drop it on the floor. It shatters on impact, as does a kojissou. “But you said you wouldn’t do that if we got in the box, decha!” I grab the complainer from the box. By her hair. Before she can scream, I slip a strip of tape that I grabbed a moment before, and force her to shut her mouth. I grab two shards of plastic and make a crude cross with them. I tie her to it with some plastic twist-ties that were lying around. What I’m left with is a crucified jissou, hanging there like Jesus. Or, more correctly, the Antichrist. “I bet you want me to crush your crystal now, huh? You’d better hope I don’t recognize it.” She whimpers through the tape, pleading with me through teary eyes. I pay no attention as I nail my Devil’s Crucifix to the wall. I spend a half-hour slowly crushing crystals. Some of the jissous break down into tears, some (try to) shower me with shit and abuse, others just stand stock still, stunned. The Antichrist Jissou did not detonate, and gets to die a painful horrible death for the sins of all jissous. Well, actually, just for her sins. Actually, not even for her sins. She just gets to die. When I’m done, there’s 15 jissous left alive out of the original 35. I walk out, shutting off the compressed air cylinder and tap as I do so, and resolve to clean up my lab and assess the damage when I calm the fuck down, which will be tomorrow. As I re-enter the living room, I see a familiar tupperware container lying on the floor on its side. The top is off, and is nowhere to be found- What the fuck? END CHAPTER 5 Author's Note: AMBIGUITY! Yeah, I originally "finished" and uploaded this at midnight last night, but I re-read it afterwards and thought it was absolutely terrible, and trust me, it was. This is about twice the length of the original, to put that in perspective. Also, you get to decide Sarah's fate, because I have writer's block. If, by the way, someone has a better idea for a name, I'll probably retcon her to that. I was going to name her Kai, but I've hijacked enough from Civ J to do that.
Sarah vanishes, a mother escaped into the house, knocked Sara's box over without realizing it, and she hid in a vent or some crack that's hard to reach, then while hiding she starts cocooning into child stage, and of course you spend many hours with the jissou that knocked the box over, then wake up with Sarah back in her box (which she righted herself).
and yeah, my way of saying: I LIEK, MOAR PLS FGT.
Sarah vanishes...cocooning into child stage... I LIEK, MOAR PLS FGT TAEK YOUR MOAR Spend many hours with the jissou that knocked box over It's time to go Caesar's Legion on that. InLeaves, I found a picture in DesuChan that reminds me of the ending to PLTD Chapter 5: And Then There Were None (2). Did I see artwork of PLTD? Because I thought I saw artwork of PLTD. Alternatively, am I stupidly late? http://desuchan.net/nij/src/1294998997802.png
Chapter 6: One For My Baby (And Another For The Road) I stand in the living room, staring at an empty tupperware container. Sarah was sitting in it, seemingly hidden from the jissous that now sit traumatized in my completely fucked-up laboratory. I say “was” because she is no longer in it; I can tell just by looking that she’s nowhere nearby. Why am I so shocked? It’s just a maggot… I start looking around for a streak of blue. 1 upended table (my fault, for once), 45 vigorously searched ottomans, and 96.7 thrown couch cushions later, I am forced to conclude that Sarah is no longer in the living room. She may have been smart as all hell, but she was a maggot with the same ambulatory capabilities as any other, so there’s no way she could have gotten much farther than the kitchen without assistance… I walk into the kitchen. My neurons detonate. In the kitchen, raiding my fucking pantry, is an oversized jissou. In terms of stages, she’s well into stage 5, AKA Hideously Fat Adult Jissou, with emphasis on the “Hideously Fat” part – she reaches up to my waist and is as perfectly round as a jissou can get. My brain catches fire because she – very obviously – has blood ALL OVER HER FUCKING FACE. I don’t mean, just around the lips, no, ALL OVER HER GODDAMN FACE. There’s a fatass glutton of a jissou in my kitchen with a blood-smeared face. You have to pass through the living room to get into the kitchen. Sarah is no longer in the living room. You don’t need to be a mad scientist to put together a 3 piece jigsaw puzzle. “Hello Mr.Man, des-“ I cut her off and say in a strained voice: “Did you happen to eat a strangely colored maggot recently?” “Yes, desu! ” Oh hell to the fuck no. “She was delicious, desu.” You may want to shut up if you value your life. Why the fuck am I freaking out…? Am I really that attached to a mag- “If you have any more, I’d be happy to be your pet, desu!” That’s it. I’m done. I step forward and backhand the fuck out of the glutton. The sheer force knocks her off of the drawer she was using as a stepstool. “My beautiful face, decha!” She says, crying and holding her arms to her newly black eye. “Why would you hurt a cute jisso-“ “Shut your fucking face, right the fuck now.” “YOU SHUT UP SHIT MR MAN DECHA!” “So you want to play it that way, do you?” I say in a voice of deadly calm. “Fine. We can go that route.” Without further ado, I grab a knife and pin her down. It’s time for a little amateur surgery. I start by making a small incision between the jissou equivalent of the fourth and fifth ribs. Blood sprays from the small incision and excrement from her panties, both directly into my face, which only pisses me off further. She suddenly begins to scream her face off. Hmm, did that hurt? Let me make it worse. I grab a bottle of hot sauce and dip the knife into it. I continue cutting until I have a clear view of her crystal. I pluck it out of her chest and hold it in front of her face. “Hey, guess what this means? It means we get to be together for a long time!” I say in her face with a happy-go-lucky voice that contrasts with her immense pain and my inner rage. Her eyes widen in fear as she realizes that the next few hours won’t be very pleasant for her. The crystal gets placed into a plastic box padded with bunched up paper towels and bubble wrap. That leaves a giant, gaping wound in the chest of the still-screaming murderer. I suppose it should be sewed up… I walk to my lab – which is still devastated – and pick up a needle and thread. Not surgical quality needle and thread, mind you, just a large needle with a rough thread. To deteriorate the point further, I take an emery board (Thank you Kay!) and scrape the needle against it a few hundred times. My now-dull needle gets threaded and transported to the kitchen, where it, too, receives a coating of Tabasco sauce. Now comes the simple task of temporarily forgetting how to put stitches in… The needle takes a good deal of effort to get through the first flap of skin, something that I, distantly, find pleasing. In the forefront of my mind, however, is a cold rage. I suppose I was far more attached to Sarah than I thought… I need to get back to the task at hand. I’ll worry about motives later, when I don’t have to deal with an audience clamoring for violence. Yeah, the needle is so dull that I have to force it through the skin, something that was not lost on either me or her. The same thing happens with the other side of the incision. The thread is so rough that it takes some effort to pull through to close the bottom part of her wound. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Only 14 more times to go!” I say, almost gleefully. 14 sutures later, she lies exhausted on my kitchen floor. Her screaming had stopped a while back, owing to the damage to her vocal cords. I let her rest a moment and recover her voice. In the meantime, I get a bottle of hydrochloric acid. Not just any hydrochloric acid, either. It’s 3-molar HCL, the strongest variant of HCL, capable of eating through your clothes in a few minutes and your face in a second flat. Her voice returns by way of a low “orororororon…” I smirk. “You really have no idea just how fucked you are, do you?” I hold the bottle of Tabasco sauce over her green eye and let just one drop splash into her eye. In the moment it takes for the drop to form and fall, her eyes widen further with the realization of just how fucked she really is. The drop impacts. Her green eye turns red, as does the skin around it. She begins to thrash around, crying red tears and making a sort of wordless moaning, signaling that she’s not going to be able to talk for a while. I take the thread out of the needle and rethread it with a smooth surgical-quality suturing thread. I wash the needle, and sharpen the fuck out of it, something that doesn’t take too horribly long. By the time I have a wickedly sharp, clean-as-fuck needle, there are 7 maggots yelling their trademark “Tettere~!” and wriggling around, with a tenth on the way. I pick one up. I read about something like this on the internet, and I’ve always wanted to try it. I slip the needle quickly through the maggot’s head. It doesn’t really notice since there are no nerves in its head yet. By the time that it figures out that there’s pressure in its skull coming from a white long thing, I have threaded another maggot bead onto my string. I repeat the process, sliding maggot after maggot down the string. Once all of the maggots are on the string, I get some scotch tape and seal the “anus,” or whatever the fuck it actually is, on the first one, and go on down the line. The mother, by this time, has fully recovered, and looks at me finishing up my maggot bead …thing… “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BABIES, DECHA?!” “I’m going to clean them up.” I say. I separate the last of the eight maggots and separate it from its sistren. I uncork the acid and lower the maggot’s tail slowly into the corrosive liquid. “Refu?” It’s nervous system fails to deliver to it’s tiny rain the full extent of the pain it is feeling at first, but after maybe a second, it all kicks in. “REPYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” An insane screaming erupts from the unfortunate eighth maggot. A hissing noise emanates from the glass acid bottle, and the acid is foaming. I can feel the heat from the chemical reaction, a full foot above the bottle. The maggot’s tail is burning, both from the chemical and from the aforementioned heat “NOOOOO OROROR-” “Shut the fuck up, you heard worse than this when you ate Sarah.” The maggot has cooked from the intense heat caused by the chemical reaction of its tail and the acid. I take some scissors and cut the thread so that the carcass of the maggot slides into the acid. It hits with a plop and continues fizzing at an insane rate. I retie the thread, hang the remaining 7 maggots on one of the knobs for the drawer, and examine them. They all have shit bricks –or would have if there wasn’t tape in the way. All of them are bloated looking and calling “Mama, save, repyeen!” The mother doesn’t give half a fuck, apparently. She’s more focused on- *Crash* *Splash* Wait a minute. You don’t mean… Oh. FOR FUCK’S SAKE! I fling my shoe off with a quickness. It lands on the other side of the room and promptly disintegrates. I grab a bottle of Drano. Background chemistry info: Drano, the common drain cleaner, is a powerful base. The acid is, obviously, an acid. When bases and acids meet, they react violently. Think that old vinegar-and-baking-soda volcano times 50. I pour the Drano into the puddle of acid and step the fuck back. The maggots are spared the spray of corrosive acid and corrosive base, but the mother gets doused in it. “DEGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” I grab her by her hair, the only part of her that survived the acid splatter. She is still screaming at the top of her lungs. I carry her off by her hair into the shattered remnants of my lab. She is now a shadow of what she was. She is bleeding from the mouth for some unknown reason, the ‘sutures’ I used to stitch her shut have melted off, and she lost all of her legs and most of her arms in the acid spray. She tried to kill me. SHE TRIED TO FUCKING KILL ME. There will be no mercy. I tape her mouth shut. In the tape, however, is a tube. I connect an IV drip to it and add a full bottle of that crazy-expensive Japanese miracle cure. I take the original Antichrist Jissou off of her cross and crush her skull before she can react. Then, I place the mother in my hand onto the cross, twist-tie her into place, and hang the IV drip above her. “Oh, by the way, you don’t get to have hair, bitch!” I snarl and rip out her braids, the only part of her that escaped the chemical fire. Her forelock is next. I walk out of my lab then, listening to her muffled “orororor” with relish. I check in the kitchen. The wood and linoleum withstood the acid admirably. A few minor repairs and it’ll be good as new. The maggots I pick up and take into the living room and hang on the wall, well away from anything that may be damaged by the inevitable maggot firecracker detonations. I sit down and sigh. I look on the floor at the forlorn plastic con- …It’s not there? What? I look at the table. The container is there, and upright. How the fuck…? “Look Mr.Man! I grew, techi!” How the…? END CHAPTER 6
Oh you so stole that from me. :D
>>368 I did indeed. I'm sorry, but it fit SO WELL. If you look closely, I actually took cues from a bunch of other people too. I didn't steal anything else though, honest!
>>366 And if that IS PTLD artwork why hasn't it also been posted on bokuchan too ? Francis: I shall take my moar; and read it too! Infact I just did, and I enjoyed it. I /r/ moar, good sir.
>>370 Because DesuChan gets more traffic than BokuChan. If BokuChan had more traffic, I'd go there, for obvious reasons. You will get moar, and more as well for that matter, but the dreaded writer's block has gripped me again. WHERE TO GO FROM HERE I WONDER QUIETLY TO MYSELF. francis wat Also, I was thinking that that one wasn't all that great. Good to know I'm just a perfectionist. ;)
That's definitely not PTLD artwork because she has short hair. The proof being in that picture I drew which IS PTLD artwork. http://i56.tinypic.com/1z6bfv8.jpg Oh and if you can post two chapters in less than 24 hours, you don't have writer's block.
>>371 Na it just gets fucktons of lurkers is all. InLeaves, moar PTLD artwork; NAO! :p Also: We should get a Jissou IRC up. irc://irc.internetrelaycats.net/jissouseki < Join me :p
>>372 >My clothes are green, my ears are pointy, my lip is curved -albeit in a cute way, not unlike a cat- but it's the round, beady mismatched eyes that gives me away the most. They are almost the same as those of my horrid little prototypes. I have eyebrows though, that makes me look significantly less retarded. I dunno, I like to think of PLTD as having long hair, seeing as it wasn't really mentioned. Her ears seem really long in that image, though. Like, longer than most jissous. I'd expected an elf kind of thing. Oh well, I can dig it. Also, Ch. 5 was already written, for the most part, I just had to clean it up. When I was done with Chapter 6, I saw a wall, couldn't think up a way 'round it, and got my lifelines ready. Undermining my position, though, is the fact that I forgot a character of mine like the most retarded idiot in StupidLand, and thusly I have material for one more chapter. How about this: We ignore all of my cries of WRITERS BLOCK OH NOES for a full 48 hours. Jissou IRC Will do sir
Chapter 7: To The Victor… “Mr.Man, techi?” Sarah says, with a worried look on her face. I suppose she is reacting to my shocked face. Yeah, I am a little shocked at her presence. The again, who wouldn’t be? I got my laboratory eaten, shat on, and generally fucked up by a small horde of jissou and returned to find her temporary container flipped and empty. A quick check of the (now acidic) kitchen revealed a stupidly stupid jissou who confessed to having eaten something blue. I spent the next hour whooping her ass, practicing my amateur surgery, and generally causing her endless physical and mental anguish which ended with her seizing an acid bottle and flinging it at me. I replied with a bottle of Drano, a cross, and an IV stomach drip of miracle cure. I returned to the living room to find the main reason for my rage (but not the subject of it, don’t get me wrong) standing, alive and well, and out of maggot form, on my table. Why the recap? To explain exactly how shocked I am right now. “How…What… Where were you?” I stammer, confused as all fuck. “I was down there, techi.” She says, waving her arm (that she didn’t have an hour ago) towards the floor hot air register. “How did you get out of your container, and into there?” “The bad jissou knocked me over, techi. She said she was going to eat me so I crawled over into it, techi. Then I fell asleep and woke up like this, techi.” Plausible enough. “Why are there maggot-chans up there, techi?” Oh shit, I hung them up there, didn’t I? Whoops. To underscore her point, one of the maggots starts wiggling its stumpy limbs and calls for its mother. This sets it and the 6 others swinging along the common thread running through their heads. “Uh…” She’s far too smart to BS like I would any other jissou. Time to BS like I would to a person! “The bad jissou sent these maggots into the house ahead of her to make sure it was safe. They were very, very wrong, but I had to do something with them.” “So you made them into a necklace, techa?!” I didn’t quite expect that response. Damn it all to hell. “Kind of. Bad jissous must be punished. If I didn’t punish them, their mama would have taken them to another house and stolen all the food there.” She seems to be mollified, somewhat, but still proves to be full of surprises. “What did you do with the mama, techi?” “You don’t want to know, trust me.” “…Fine, techi.” …And she stops being inquisitive, at the precise moment that it would make my life easier. Cool. “Weird onee-sama, it hurts, refu…” A small squeak from the wall. “Good, techi! You were bad maggot-chans!” Wait, what? So, she’s not opposed to me torturing her (extremely distant) cousins? I believe that deserves a BADASS. I pick up Sarah and plop her into her tupperware container, and discover a problem. Sarah is officially taller than her home. She blushes. “I’m sorry Mr.Man, te…” “Nah, it’s not your fault, you had to grow eventually.” I look down at my shoeless feet (one of which has half a sock on owing to the wonders of acid). “I need to go out anyways, we’ll stop by a pet supply shop while we’re out.” “We, te?” “Well, I can’t just leave you here alone right now, what with the devastation in my lab and all. You’ll have to wear a leash, though, so that some idiot abuser doesn’t get any funny ideas. If you’re a good jissou, there shouldn’t be any problems.” “I will be good for Master, te!” “Please, just call me Mr.Man.” I bring out the leash. To make it absolutely clear that the wearer of the leash is a pet, the leash must be connected to a special red-and-green harness, by law. “Failure to do so may result in accidental pet termination,” or so says The Man. Mostly, it serves as a warning to retarded high-school sophomores that any shenanigans will be answered with a well-placed foot up the ass. Anyways, Sarah begins to make a show of putting on the harness for the leash, and it gives me time to assess her appearance. She looks quite like what a normal kojissou would. The main difference between her and her cousins is that the color of her dress is a lapis lazuli blue color, as opposed to emerald green. Her eyes retain their reversed quality, as well, but her hair really stands out. We know that normal jissous are brunettes, right? Sarah’s hair is jet black, a trait that she did not have when she was a maggot. The braids are also much shorter (about shoulder length) and wider than normal, as is the forelock. It actually looks like she has a full head of hair. When she pulls her hood off (as she has to do to get the harness on) she looks like a monk, but still. “I am finished, Mr.Man, techi!” Indeed she is. I clip the leash into the back of the harness, and lead her to my car. My car is actually a SUV. An old hand-me-down from Dad, this old Nissan Xterra is a piece of absolute shit (just like Dad), but I’m not quite rich enough to get anything better, what with the repairs that this thing always fucking needs. That doesn’t quite mean I’m poor, however, which is something that Sarah will benefit from. We get in and go, the AM radio blaring horrible late 90’s pop music. Along the way, Sarah clutches her stomach and lets me know in the most direct way possible that she is carsick. Oh well, the floor’s seen worse. We arrive at a not-so-nearby Jissouseki pet shop in scenic, crime-ridden Norfolk, VA after a 25 mile long ride on I-64. The neon sign over the store says: “Mi favorito Jissouseki,” En español por alguna razón. (My Favorite Jissouseki, in Spanish for some reason.) There’s not many Spanish-speakers in the Seven Cities, but the owners of the shop are from España, and thought that a foreign name would translate into better business, when in reality French or Italian would have been a better way to go in the U.S.A. Anyways… After Sarah takes a moment to recover from the rolling centrifuge, we stroll into the store. The door makes that annoying dinging noise that most store doors do. A cheery female voice calls out “¡Bienvenidos!” (welcome) from somewhere in the back, as per store rules. I respond with “¡Gracias! Necesito ayuda, por favor.” (Thanks! I need help, please.) Which confuses the fuck out of the cashier. Yeah, they don’t really speak Spanish here. Which is why there will be no more Spanish. You got lucky, punks, I actually speak Spanish, so don’t fuck with me or voy a joder tu mierda. A very familiar female figure strolls out of the back of the store. “Hello, Kate. How are you?” She looks up, startled. I’ve never randomly driven over here, so I guess I’m not surprised. “Justin, what exactly are you doing here?” “I needed to buy a couple things, and I figured I could use your employee discount.” “Why would you need to-” She’s interrupted by Sarah’s cheery “Hello, Mrs. Lady, techi!” “Ah. I see. You got soft.” “Let’s just go buy stuff, okay, Kate?” Kate chuckles, and comments “You really have gone soft. Where’s that mad scientist I knew and loved?” “He got tired of the jokes.” The first thing we get is a terrarium. I go with one of those moderately-expensive 4-star homes. This one basically looks like one of those Barbie Dream Houses, minus the kitchen and crushed down to one story. I grab a few plastic jissou fence sets to make a huge ass “yard” for Sarah. Next comes the food; I go with a basic but higher-than-normal quality. Then, I get a few dresses, hiding them away as a surprise. I’m obviously skipping the “essentials” so I can get to the fun part: Toys. Jissou toys have a range much like human toys, going from the stupidly simple to the fiendishly cryptic. At the lower end of the spectrum is the ball. Yeah, just a ball, designed to be slightly smaller than a jissou so that they can’t kill themselves by climbing on top of it and falling. At the other end are Jissou LEGO sets. Yeah. I’m not even fucking kidding. Most jissous can’t assemble anything that looks remotely like something that isn’t a bunch of plastic bricks mashed together. However, Sarah is not part of the mass of idiots. However smart she may be, though, you won’t find me paying $45 for a set that would cost $5 if sold in a store for human children. There are other, generic toys like tubes and strings that are basically cat toys that have been spray-painted green and marked up by 1000%. There are, actually, some unique toys that bear mention, some of which I purchased. One of the ones I actually bought was a swing set. The deluxe version that I didn’t get has seats for all ages of jissou, and a motor for the maggot’s seat. The one I did buy is just a seat that can hold a kojissou or adult. Another thing I got was a pedal car with an integral, permanently activated brake. The brake serves to slow the car down and force the notoriously fat jissous to exercise. That about does it for the splurging. When all is said and done, there’s 3 zeroes on the wrong side of the decimal point, but that’s a drop in the bucket compared to the contents of my bank account. Then again, I’m not making money, and in fact will be losing money to repair my lab, so I should probably stop spending fucking everything. I bid Kate a fond farewell (ahem), and head on home. This time, I provide Sarah with a bag when we hit 60 mph. The car pulls into the driveway, crushing the skull of a jissou that had the misfortune to be in the way of my tires. That’s strange, the door’s open… Wait. Oh for fuck’s sake, why can’t I have an hour off?! END CHAPTER 7 Yeah, it's shorter than usual. Also, in case someone's wondering, %voy a joder tu mierda% means "I'm gonna fuck your shit." If %'s show up, I was doing a test.
Ah I refresh and get a new chapter, fuck yer. Shame you didn't get Sarah body armor and she lacks gardeners sheers, or you could let her clear the house for you! :p Methinks the house is going to take some work to clear, what with an open door.
>>369 Yeah, I can see several things and lines of dialogue close to PTLD/Supreme Abuser. But yeah, they're references, not theft. And yes, I didn't describe PTLD's hair. I just forgot to actually, because there was never any doubt in my mind. The spanish was a nice touch, by the way.
>>376 I didn't know you were following me that close. Cool. I'm trying to tone down the sadism in Sarah. She needs something to stop her from freaking out at Justin's experiments, though. By the way, your IRC link leads to a 404. >>377 I just realized that the store in my story and David Rigaut's store are named the same thing but in different languages. I swear that was unintentional. Let's try this testing business again.
>>378 It's a IRC link not a HTTP link. Open it in a IRC client. If your IRC client/browser aint setup to handle an IRC link, then go go irc.internetrelaycats.net : 6667 #Jissouseki
>>369 Oh. I've never used IRC before, so pardon my idiocy. I think I'll pass on IRC anyway.
It's a quite useful chat program. Easiest method would be chatzilla for firefox.
I'm not really in the mood for instant messaging, so forgive me for not taking on your IRC offer. Until Death do us Part Part 1 My name is Lynn Beckett. 34 years old, Crime Scene Investigator. And as much as I despise the TV series CSI for being so unrealistic about my job, I am famous among my colleagues for being Sara Sidle and Catherine Willows, the original show’s lead female characters, rolled into one person and kicked into real life. I even get greeted with the name of those fictitious characters sometimes. Mere coincidences, of course, but I guess I can’t blame anyone for seeing the resemblance. Concerning Sidle, I’m a workaholic. Plain and simple. I know, on a pragmatic level, that it’s bad for me and who I love, but I can’t help it. I feel guilty about the slightest bit of personal enjoyment. When I’m not looking for answers, I feel worthless. My promotion to field investigator -I’m only going to say it once : that doesn’t mean I get to participate in the arrest of criminals in any way, my job is merely to confirm already existing suspicions- is due to me taking every single overtime hour legally available for four years straight and generally be scary to better balanced people. I’m also quick to anger, intolerant about a lot of things, and I, in fact, just got a month-long suspension for insubordination. Concerning Willows, well… I was despairing over my “vacation” but ultimately decided to spend time with my daughter Samantha. I’m divorced. And like Catherine, it’s not easy for me to be with her. I also was the one who asked for divorce after realizing my husband cheated on me. Don’t ask for details about this. Absolutely don’t. “Mommy, can I have the camera ? I found something awesome !” “Sure ! What did you find ?” “Follow me !” I’m not very present in her life. You know how the father gets the custody in less than 10% of the divorces ? Well, hers is in the chosen few. And I was the one who asked for divorce. But no, I’m just too professionally active a mother to be any good, apparently. I left when she was just seven. She’s eleven now. At any rate, for our vacation, we went to a quiet place in Colorado. I rented a house in the mountains for two weeks, and we were going out exploring at her own rate. After all, even considering she’s of the Internet generation, I’m probably even more of a shut-in than she is. She brought her laptop, but I did too, as well as a whole bunch of books. So I guess she doesn’t feel forced by when I suggest we go out. It’s not like I can’t understand her attachment to her computer. At least, I’m fairly certain by now that she loves my camera. Professional grade, used for crime scenes. Ultra-high definition, little delay between shots, very high capacity, a tremendous value/fragility ratio…A teenager’s perfect toy. “Here it is !” She shows me the scene she asked my camera for. A mutated Jissouseki with two extra arms. I have a violent jerk in my stomach. I hate those things, as anybody should, but mutated ones ? It’s beyond disgusting. “Do you think she can survive like this ?” “I…really don’t know, sweetie. I’m not really interested in those things. But I guess she already did a great job.” Snap, snap. The camera trigger gets the monster’s attention. If it was just me, I would have crushed it under my foot. But I know Sammie likes those things, so that would be a rather insane thing to do. “Oh, hello Mrs.Ladies, techi !” “Hello, little one” says my daughter. “Are you alone here ?” “Yes, I’m a big girl, techi ! No other cute jissous to take home !” I turn away, muttering a “for Christ’s sake…”. I know Sammie isn’t stupid, she’s not going to get coaxed into adopting the freak, but she’ll definitely try to play with her a bit. So I look at the mountains. Majestic, natural, and, above all, not shitting all over themselves. Some have welcomed the Jissouseki, commonly called jissous, or at least got used to them. Some are long past due a change of mind. Suddenly, my phone rings. Shit, forgot to turn it off. I’m not used to being off duty. Who could this be ? Aside from the lab, there are only a handful of people who know my number. “Beckett” “Lynn ! Wh…Where are you ?” “Caleb ? What do you mean, where am I ? I’m suspended, remember ?” “Just answer my question, dammit !” I’m taken aback by the panicky tone of his voice. Caleb Neil is nothing if not a composed person. “I’m with my daughter, in Colorado. Decided to spend some…” “Samantha is with you ? Can I speak to her ?” “What ?! No you can’t, not before telling me what’s wrong !” “Alright. Alright Lynn, it’s just…” He takes back his breath. “I thought you were a prime suspect for a second there. I mean…Your ex is dead.” My eyes burst wide open. I instinctively look back to my daughter. No way… —— Like every saturday at noon, I’m sitting in the corner of my favorite Indian restaurant. It’s my way of ending the week, after a long night of work. I see the waiter taking orders from the other tables. They are always late at noticing me. Not that I mind. I have time to review what I did at the lab. If I haven’t made any mistake in matching microscopic materials, if there wasn’t any out of place figure I could have missed, all that. I’m a simple assistant, but a mistake could weaken evidence and send a murderer free. I cannot be too careful. “Hello, miss.” “The usual, Rogan Josh with a small salad. And a glass of water, please.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” Says the man with a respectful laugh. “I’m not the waiter.” I get my eyes out of my notes. A tall man with short, black hair and a chiseled face is smiling at me. “Excuse me, do I know you ?” “You don’t, but I can’t help but notice you are alone.” “That is correct. That is also normal.” “Is it really ? Just say the word, and I can keep you company. Even though I’ll probably order something less spicy.” I sigh. Can’t people mind their own businesses ? I know he means well -probably- but I just don’t get this kind of guy. Then again, if you don’t play, you don’t win. And that beats the misery of internet meeting agencies. All right, all right, have your chance. “Lynn Beckett.” “David Kellan.” —— “David’s dead ? What do you mean ? H…How did this happen ?” I reply, my hand over the speaker. “We just got the news…Discovered dead in his house. Anonymous message told the precinct to check. He died in his bed, presumably in his sleep, by four bullets to the forehead, and there wasn’t any sign of a gun nearby. Suicide can pretty much be ruled out.” “Yeah, so you thought about me ? Come on Caleb, I thought you knew me better than that !” “…I’m sorry, I know you’re no criminal. But, there’s another thing.” “What is it ? Speak, dammit !” “His pet jissous have been tortured beyond all recognition. ” Silence. “What the…Okay so I admit I might have talked about roughing this little slut up a little.” “You mean torturing the shit out of her, Lynn.” “Torturing Jissouseki isn’t a crime, Caleb.” “I know, I know ! Well anyway, since you’re in goddamn Colorado, It’s clearly just a sordid coincidence. I’m sorry for suspecting you.” “Knowing the precinct, they probably already traced my cellphone and checked my location, so apology accepted. Sammie and I have been here for five days…You can check with the airlines company. And…” Tears, those things I hate so much, flow down my cheeks. “Dammit, I can’t even begin to think how I’m going to break the news to her…She’s eleven, for God’s sake. It’s too early to lose your father.” “I’d really like to give you advice but…All I would say would probably be out of place. I mean, you don’t even have her custody, most people are going to assume you had some hand in this.” “Yeah…Bye.” I sigh, and look at my dear girl still playing with the small sized monster, asking me who was on the phone only as an afterthought. “Sweetie…It’s about your father.” Mere hours later, we are flying back home, silent. The truth does not wait, even if it hurts. Sammie hasn’t said a word since we packed up our stuff in the car. I know she loved her father. I can understand why. After all, I once loved him too. David Kellan. A regular pet retailer at the beginning of his career, but he quickly reconverted into Jissouseki after the invasion. He was a very sweet man, able to lift up your soul in your darkest hours as it wasn’t even a thing. Unfortunately, his curse was being unable to recognize when being nice to a being entails being cruel to another. By the way, what are those “Jissouseki” I keep talking about ? Well, consider yourself lucky to have to ask the question. Alas, even if every single human being in this world knows by now what a Jissouseki is, as an observable object, I doubt any can say exactly what they are, scientifically. They are a living species that threw all we knew about science and biology straight out of the window. Few aspects of a living doll wouldn’t break at least one consensus we previously had. They are the closest humanity ever had as a definitive proof of a miracle. But what a shitty miracle it is. It looks like a doll made in a rush. It’s largely humanoid, bipedal, has hair and wears a green dress. But the details are strangely simple. The arms and legs are mere tubes of flesh, with no fingers or apparent articulations whatsoever, kind of like a teddy bear. Unfortunately, the cute analogies stop there. Because, if, from afar, it may look like a children’s toy, the true horror comes with the face. It’s in the middle of the pointy-eared head, the only place that isn’t covered by this kind of skin-tight green hood. And unlike a toy, the traits are thoroughly unnatural. The eyes are perfectly round, without eyebrows, and without an iris, pupil or anything that normally makes an eye function. Their beady eyes are totally monochrome. Worse, the left one is green, and the right one is red. The nose is near-invisible, being two barely visible holes right above the mouth. Oh, and the mouth. Of course, I probably should have begun with that. The mouth is an A. Seriously, it’s an A. Literally. As in, it’s the most straightforward way to describe it. The uppercase A is an accurate drawing of their mouth. Needless to say, they’re an aberration, and not a single one should exist by science’s standards. Nonetheless, they are more than anyone could ever count. They are everywhere. “Mommy ?” “Yes, sweetie ?” “You can find who did this to daddy, right ?” Aaand here is the question I dreaded. I know Samantha is a big fan of CSI. After all, it is a hugely popular series. But, try as I might to tell her that most of it was blown way out of proportion for the sake of a better show, she always, in the back of her mind, saw me as the badass who catches criminals with SCIENCE. And one of my biggest fears is that she only believes that in order to see the mother who’s never at home as a mother she can be proud of. “No, Sammie, I told you countless times, I’m just confirming susp…” “Don’t feed this to me now, mom !” Her sudden interruption catches me by surprise, and while I’m stammering, she carries on. “I know you’re really smart and dedicated ! Daddy told me you often risked disciplinary action because you went further than you’re supposed to ! Daddy’s dead, Mom ! You’re able to investigate by yourself, so can’t you at least try to do it ?!” However impossible her request is, I can’t help but think she’s right. My former husband’s dead. The father of my daughter’s dead. Investigators are forbidden as hell to work when their loved ones are involved, but right now, I’m just a normal civilian. Plus, I get to see this little bitch dead. Still… “Even if I can, isn’t it better to let the others do their jobs ? I’m the junior field investigator, they’re more experienced than I am. And they know they can’t slack because I’m watching them” I say with a smile. “No…” She replies, to my surprise. “No Mom…It has to be you.” “Sweetie” I sigh. “I trust my colleagues completely, you don’t have to…” “You don’t understand. This isn’t about skill or whatever. This is about…” “…What ? This is about what, Sammie ?” “…Sylvia.” My heart heats up. I don’t know any Sylvia. David doesn’t have any new girlfriend I know. At least, any human girlfriend. And as much as I’d love not to, I remember all the names of this family of monsters he calls pets. Stella, the main horror, is pretty close, but the children have all been inflicted with disgusting bimbo names, not anything…human like Sylvia. “Who the fuck is Sylvia ?” “Please, Mom, it’s not what you think, she’s…my best friend, but we had to hide her from the world. Even from you.” “…Excuse me, what ? You’ve been hiding things from me ? And why would a friend of yours even be involved in this ?” “She’s not human.” “Oh for Christ’s sa…” “She’s not really a Jissouseki either.” I look at her. “Then who…what…is she ?” “Dad never told me when she found her, but…apparently she’s an incredibly evolved jissou. Almost human. There’s no one like her, that’s why we had to hide her, and why you have to investigate yourself. If the world finds about her, she’s going to be a lab rat for the rest of her life, and…” She bursts into tears. “She doesn’t deserve that Mom…I know you hate the Jissouseki but…Save her. She’s almost like us !” I’m too stunned to reply. What sort of mockery is this ? A human-like Jissouseki ? This is impossible…I mean, they are vaguely humanoid, but the sheer number of mutations required to accomplish such a thing is something only a God can do. But why would Samantha say such an outrageous lie at her most vulnerable ? She never was a liar. A more likely explanation is that this…Sylvia is a delusion of some kind. And if that’s the case, I’d hate my colleagues to find out. Not before I get to the bottom of this first. If Samantha is to be found mentally ill, I want the diagnostic to be right. “Alright, I’ll do it.” “Really ?” “Yes, but pretty soon, policemen will interrogate you. I want you to tell them everything you know, sweetie, the whole truth. But for now, tell me everything I’ll pull strings to go to the crime scene alone, and make sure I can see the critical evidence before they collect it and lock it away in the system where it will stagnate for years.” For the first time since the news, she smiles. “But…Isn’t that illegal ?” “Even more than you think. But the truth about David’s death is important for both of us. If I must take heat for it, so be it.” I’m in front of the house that once was my home. I made a few calls, and obtained from my colleagues the time at which they will be in the house. Apparently, some incident halted things a bit at the precinct, so the police just closed the perimeter while the investigators get ready to go in. Oh, despite the incident, it wasn’t easy. I had to remind Caleb I knew about his…paramour. Oh, I never spied on him or anything. It’s just that an old friend from high-school I met at a scientific conference happened to tell me about a man she slept with a few days before. Of course, it was Caleb. A married man. Just goes to show, even with all the precautions in the world, infidelity can always find a way to bite you in the ass. So all I have to do now is to enter the house without the cops noticing, and gather as much information I can in two hours without leaving any significant trace. And I do mean significant. A single hair of mine won’t be the cause of any warrant. My DNA doesn’t mean squat because I’m still connected to this place. For one, I come every week-end to take Samantha. And during the week-ends, she has plenty of opportunities to gather my DNA on her and scatter it all over this place. Even if there was no direct explanation for it, a single hair as evidence is flimsy as hell in the real world. Let’s suppose for a second the precinct is run by a brain-dead jissouseki hybrid and decides to fire me on account of traces of my presence in my ex-husband’s house. I like my chances for a civil suit. I only have to worry about being caught red-handed, really. And having the keys, both material and mnemonic, to this house significantly decreases that risk. Avoiding the not very subtle policeman on guard is a no-brainer. They’re mainly here to dissuade, and even though culprits do return to the scene of the crime, it’s usually not past the guards, unless they’re feeling lobotomized this particular day. A discreet detour by the backyard, and… —— “Honey, I’m home !” I get my eyes out of my science report. David’s drenched. It rained cats and dogs all day. “So, how was your day ?” I say while attempting to get out of the sofa. “Hey, hey, don’t move honey ! I’m almost out of this blasted raincoat.” “It’s fine, I’ve been vegetating in here all day anyway. I’m bored out of my mind !” I hold both our weights and get back on my feet. A vague feeling of nausea shows its ugly head while I stretch my limbs. “You’ll be able to get back to work soon enough, honey…Anyway, I’ve been thinking” Says David as he gets behind me, gently caressing my belly. “About the baby” “And ?” “She deserves the best, and I think there’s a lot of money to be had in this Jissouseki business.” “You’re joking, right ?” I reply, giggling a little. “No Lynn, I don’t mean those you can find everywhere.” He says seriously while stroking my ponytail. “I’ve been receiving those ads at the pet shop. Breeders who claim to have successfully trained those strange beings to be socially aware and mindful.” “Every child in the block tried that. Remember the Hammond kid ? Took one of those things when it was still at larval stage.” “You mean the maggots ?” “What ? Maggots ? Well, it’s certainly a good example of a larval stage, but why the fly’s larva ?” “I don’t know, the jissous themselves call their babies like that. And not in an insulting way. For them, the word “maggot” is…good. It’s cuddly.” “Yuck…Well anyway, even from the youngest age they couldn’t get the damn thing to remember to make its business in a litter box. They threw it out when they realized the carpet was irremediably stained with their…strange half liquid waste that serves for both urine and feces.” “Yeah, I remember. I was as skeptical as you about people being able to make them behave somewhat like functioning members of society. So I went to one of the companies that sent the ads.” “And ?” “Well they were successful. Don’t ask me how…You know how the jissous you find in the wild always ask you for favors without really listening to you ? Well, the little jissou I saw…It was very polite and…I don’t know, it had something really different from the others. I’m not sure yet, but I think they have the potential to be awesome pets. Sentient beings that talk, think and love, unlike the pests they are when left to their own devices.” “And you want to try that at your shop ?” “Yes, I’m sure there’s definitely something going on here. It just has to catch on and we can have all the money we need for Samantha.” “We’re not that poor !” I laugh. “But I trust you. You’re the businessman after all.” —— At the time, I really believed in this. The jissouseki entered our daily lives just two or three months before, and everybody was too busy being amazed to make a real effort to use them. This “pet” thing seemed reasonable. I only realized the truth of it when it was too late. That, no matter how educated, all of them are fiercely egoistic and self-entitled. In the now inert house that I illuminate with the sole light of my phone, a flashlight being too visible from outside, the familiar stench of death imposes itself. It tells me right off the bat that the anonymous information came at least a day late. Can mean many things. The living room is clean of any obvious traces of violence. David has always been a light sleeper though, so if he’s been killed in his bed, I very much doubt the killer is a robber, or even anything random for that matter. If suicide’s ruled out, there is not much but assassination left. And who would want to assassinate an average pet shop owner, ex-wife with a grudge aside ? Well, if Samantha tells the truth, this “Sylvia” just might be the motive. Table is still half-set. The dirty plates have been taken to the kitchen but that’s about it. Two human sets, indicating he had a guest, and two with brightly colored dishes and chairs, obviously for the jissouseki. But only Stella, the mother of his family of pet jissous, is normally allowed to eat at the table. The children, about one tenth of her size, still eat on the floor. A second set does give credence to Sammie’s affirmations. Which is hardly good news. I have many other things to check out here, but my steps guide me upstairs. There’s no way around his. Above all, I want to see him. I tried to sever our ties, I asked for my promotion to field agent just so I could forget about him, but…you can’t erase such feelings. The smell gets worse. I have smelled death before, often enough. Before settling down for being a material analysis assistant, I tried to become a coroner. I liked it, to be honest, but my father had…something against coroners and kind of forced me out of this line of career. Said I could do better with my life. Anyway, the point is, I know death. I feel at ease with dead people. They are the embodiment of ultimate peace. Ultimate neutrality. That’s easy to say of people you didn’t know when they were alive. Our bedroom is as I left it years ago. The rest of the house has gone through at least some minor change, but the bedroom is the exact same. And, in the right side of the bed, the place he always took when I was here… Here he lies, supine, heavy streams of dried blood across his forehead. I get on his side of the bed. A big hole can be seen in the middle of the streams. Well, a big hole composed of at least three small ones. Gunpowder burns are all around it. Point blank, with .22 caliber projectiles going the longest distance possible through his brain, from the cortex to the stem. Instant death. Even if he was awake, he wouldn’t have felt anything. A quick glance to his night table attested this wasn’t even a question. On it was a glass and a tube of soporifics. He did take some from time to time, nothing out of place. That’s what makes no sense. Why fire multiple bullets ? That’s obviously a sign of passion, of anger, and such things usually don’t happen when the other is asleep. Plus, when you’re pissed enough to want to shoot people multiple times, you don’t want them to be just lying there emotionless. …Or at least I suppose. You probably shouldn’t make assumptions about this sort of thing. I look at him. He looks so peaceful. Even he didn’t know why he died. I stroke his cheeks with my glove-covered hands. Tears run across my cheeks again. “Why…? I’m still loving you David…Why did you keep them ? I don’t understand…” I stand here, containing my tears, for several minutes. But the feeling only builds up. “This can’t be the end…Not like that !” Ever since I’ve engaged the divorce procedure, I have looked for a sign. That he would, at last, ditch this trash out so we could continue as a family… But he never did. “I’m still loving you…” I’m way too close for an investigator now. I get myself back on track, but it’s not without pain. I have to ignore my beloved, and go on. I can only go on. “…but I’ll never forgive you.” Obviously, the main suspect is the guest. Someone he knew enough to be willing to invite to him to dinner. Not very restrictive, since David was quick to make friends. But still, there has to be some trace of that person’s identity somewhere. The phone is the most likely candidate, but it’s up to the precinct to investigate into the phone call records. Can’t really do that here. …But I just may have something better. —— “Hey honey, what are you doing here, holed up in here ? The weather’s great !” “I’ve been practicing electronics the past few days” I reply, proudly pointing to a device. “And look what I’ve made !” On my desk was, among a bunch of wires and electronic stuff, a radio transmitter and some things we had in the hourse hooked up with antennas. “Er, what is that ?” “Somebody at work said he wanted to let go of obsolete radio stuff he used in his spare time. I took it, thinking I could make a rig similar to a baby phone, but far more awesome.” “So you tortured my digital tape recorder ?” “I made so it recorded whatever whatever the radio transmitter did. So if Samantha cries when we’re away, we’ll know !” “That’s…great, honey” Cautiously replies David to my enthusiasm. “but…What purpose would that serve ?” … “…I don’t have a clue, I just…had to think about something to stop my brain from shutting down.” “Still bored with a crying baby in-house ?” “I think most parents overreact. It’s not so bad, she sleeps like a granite stone most of the time. Anyway, yeah, you can record the baby crying. Fascinating device, isn’t it ?” “I love it, Lynn.” He says jokingly, kissing me in the neck. —— The rig is still where it has always been : in the living room’s cupboard. A LED says it’s been, fortunately, up and recording. I extended its functionality during the remainder of my maternity leave : You can download the feed by calling the house’s number and a special code when you get to the voicemail. I learned a lot about phone networks just to pass the time, and that was the only thing I used that knowledge for. I don’t think the stuff has ever had any uses aside from amusing Samantha. Of course, I can’t call David’s number right now, but the feed can very well be downloaded locally. When I do, I fear my phone won’t have enough space. The thing has been running for 35 hours and 27 minutes. That’s a whole lot of megabytes in audio files. The useful part is most likely at the beginning, but I like to be thorough. I’ll listen to them at home. For now, I have one last thing to check. Upstairs, to the right, past the bathroom. Their room. David successfully converted his pet shop to a Jissouseki pet shop a few months after Samantha’s second birthday, but he didn’t decide to take one of the pets home until four years later. Stella. A simple, tiny jissou child at the time, a naturally dark-haired specimen which, supposedly, cost him two thousand dollars. For the shitdoll alone. Sure, it had manners and knew where to shit, but it was more obsequious than polite, and it was still a monstrosity that shat two times its weight every day. And all the things he bought for her. My God…I think Samantha’s ahead in terms of expense only because of the schooling fees. He straight up revered the freak. Just because it was comparatively better to the ones in the street that shit everywhere and eat their own young. I, his wife, came only second. You bet I would have tortured the bag of shit had the chance presented itself. So, how did they fare following their “master’s” demise ? According to Caleb, not so w… Oh my freaking God. The arm that’s not holding the phone falls down. I’ve never seen anything like it. And I saw chainsaw victims. I suppose there are five dead jissouseki children. “Suppose” here meaning that all that’s left of them aren’t identifiable enough to even assess the number of original bodies. It would probably be quicker to count the body parts that are not horrendously damaged. I can recognize a head, but the skull has been cut open, the long, triangle-shaped ears have been cut off and stuffed into the A shaped-mouth and…the normally mismatched eyeballs, now turned gray because the jissou died, are sitting on top of the frontal lobe, pulled through the brain, presumably without any sort of anesthetic. The whole room, normally a temple to the nonexistent Jissouseki’s glory, is completely smeared in the mixture of blood and green goo these goblins let out when they’re wounded. Everything. The little beds, the piano, the wallpaper, the toys…All of them are toys for human children that have been decorated with the colors green and red, with the occasional happy -but still nightmarish- face of a Jissouseki. And now, they’re the hard evidence that someone went ballistic here. Litterally. The bedsheets are shredded the way only a bullet can. How come nobody heard and called the police ? People are apathetic to a lot of things, but the sound of six or seven bullets fired had to be heard by somebody. Plus, this is a peaceful neighborhood, I don’t believe people would just shrug it off. Moreover, bullets are amazingly overkill on the Jissouseki. They are extremely fragile organisms, and even the adults, about the size of a human toddler, are killed by the weakest airsoft gun. Bringing a gun to a jissou fight makes War of the Worlds seem like a fair fight. I look at the ceiling. The main horror is there, hanging, a rope tied all around her body, dead. She was about five years old, which is close to the upper limit of her specie’s longevity. An age almost none of them attain in the wild. Her once black hair are now of a sickly gray, despite the hair conditioner that has obviously been applied. Her wrinkled face is tinted by a dark blue, which happens when they’re in extreme stress. Her tongue is hanging out of the misshapen mouth, indicating a state of utter shock. No signs of external injury, and the rope itself couldn’t have caused the death. Apparently, this little slut died solely out of mental anguish, her offspring horrifically murdered just a few feet below her. That was among the revenges I had devised, but far better executed. Or, more accurately, far more violently executed. I would have slowly cut the flesh and preserved the children’s life for hours on end, not saying a word as their mother’s mind slowly broke from cocky pride to miserable despair. But who did this chose shock and awe instead. Quick and unbelievably intense…Who the hell could have as much beef against her as me ? The guest, or this “Sylvia” ? Perhaps both ? The tape has to contain some kind of answer about that. Even from downstairs, this elaborate and savage torture must have been recorded. My phone indicates I only have an hour before the boys come here. I’d better begin a more thorough search. …But I still have the time to look at Stella’s face. Her death won’t give me back those years. Even if she felt her last minutes as an eternity. Nonetheless, I smile. “You’re not feeling like singing “depupupupu” anymore, are you, bitch ?”
>>382 As mentioned on your blog, this made my brain detonate. Awesome.
>>382 Um, IRC isn't instant messaging ..... New story wise: And yes, the Jissou fucker is dead! I must take the time to LOL. Also: This means either PTLD did a rube goldberg to shoot David, or she has at least managed to overcome her mental blocks. I suppose the other question everyone will ask is: Was she fucked.
Un regalo por tu, Kashiwaba. Chapter 8: Outside Forces What would you do if you came home after an hour of driving around and found your door wide open? Would you panic? Would you scream? Would you run in and assess the damage? If you answered “yes” to any or all of the above, you are like me. Before I did any of those things, though, I replaced Sarah in the car. I turned the engine and AC on so she wouldn’t boil, and told her to stay put until I come back. (If I see THIS on its side, I’ll just kill myself and get it over with…) So, after making a rational decision, I make the irrational one and charge into my home, gun drawn. As expected, signs of Jissouseki invasion abound: Shit vapors, shit trails, calls of “Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu,” shit vapors, dead Jissouseki, shit trails, and so on ad nauseum. The carpet’s fucked, the house smells like jissou shit (worse than usual, anyway), and basically looks like a bunch of green-clad frat boys came in and trashed the place. I charge into my living room, where the smells and sounds are strongest. I see… Wait. What. The. Fuck. In the center of the room, where my coffee table used to be, is a classic jissou colony. When I say “Classic” jissou colony, I mean the type that you see in the forest that’s been untouched for 35,000 years. The type that abusers love to fuck with. You know what I’m talking about. If you do, you’re probably wondering exactly how the fuck one arrived in my home in under twelve hours. Trust me, you’re not the only one asking that question. Whatever. It needs to die anyway. I run to my lab to retrieve my heavy-duty weapons of mass destru- What? No. Hell no. HELL TO THE FUCK NO. My lab is empty. I mean totally empty. As in, the only thing present in the room is air. About $45,000 worth of apparatus and supplies have disappeared into thin air. I check the cabinets. Some things are still there. The box of crystals from the escapees, for one. I smash them all with my foot, simultaneously. There’s extra ammo for my anti-jissou gun in the locked cabinet, thankfully, as well as a prototype weapon that I’ll get to in a moment. Aside from that, there is nothing in my lab. Also, the place is spotlessly clean. Someone took the time to clean the blood and shit off of the walls (and ceiling), ruling out the obviously-slim chance that the jissous swiped my shit. There was intervention here. Human intervention. Someone will pay dearly for this… Fuck it, back to the task at hand. My prototype weapon sees the light of day for the first time in a year. This thing is a highly powerful (and highly illegal) pistol-sized sonic weapon. Basically, it creates a short-range “column” of 175-decibel sound that can do several things to a jissou depending on what frequency you set it to. There are three preset frequencies; one forces the jissou crystal to resonate, shattering it (and its owner) in under a second from about seven or eight yards away. Another is simply uncomfortable to jissous, encouraging them to go away (not unlike the version businesses and stores use). The third is somewhere between the two above, and was popular with abusers. What it does is create crippling pain in the target with the potential to damage them slowly over time. Because of this particular use, PETA activists shoehorned a law banning it through U.S. political bureaucracy by means unknown. Not only is it stupidly illegal now, but I made some even more incarceration-inducing modifications to it. It originally ran off of non-rechargeable batteries shaped not unlike a pistol clip and loaded the same way. Since these are now unattainable, I modded the gun to run off of a few laptop batteries, providing enough power for around 200 shots. I removed the limit on the frequency selector, allowing me to put it into any frequency I desire, including human hearing range. Finally, I created another sound “lens” (for lack of a better word) that created a sound “beam” (again, for lack of a better word) in the shape of a cone, and made it swappable with the original cylindrical one, allowing me to switch from sniper mode to grenade launcher mode at will. The sonic insta-killing will wait, though. First, I need answers. Since someone cleared my lab of all equipment, valuable or otherwise, it is safe to assume that the jissous in my living room were deposited here by the same party. After all, forest jissous don’t suddenly decide to migrate en masse from a forest into a home. Not only that, but they lack the ability to move 10 cardboard boxes in under 3 hours at all, even ignoring the intervening roads filled with cars and abusers. Even then, someone would have noticed; jissous with boxes on their backs stand out a bit. I walk back into the living room, concealing my sound gun in my pocket. A kojissou walks up to me. “Hello Mr.Man! Do you have any candy, techi?” Typical. Fucking typical. I check to make sure nobody’s looking, and snap her neck so quickly a “chuwa!” isn’t even uttered. I surreptitiously drop the body into the nearby trash can and get to actual observation of the colony. Confirming my suspicions, there’s no indication that the smashing of crystals killed any member of the colony, implying that the shell-shocked survivors (as well as the living Antichrist Jissou) were taken by the home invader. He/she was probably rather surprised when the “rescued” jissous detonated simultaneously. There appears to be the standard matriarch in the center of town. She was likely a pet at some point due to her purple dress. There’s the kitchen, complete with a bald-naked jissou curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth next to several bloody wood chips. Waste disposal is nearby, consisting of another bald-naked kojissou inside a box with a hole in the top. The remaining cardboard boxes are living spaces. The boxes are haphazardly spread around my living room, with some on the ottoman, a few on the floor, and some on the couch. Small pieces of some strong plastic serve as bridges spanning the 5-foot chasm between the couch and ottoman, and from the floor up to the aforementioned furniture. I pull a konpeito out of my pocket and gesture to a mother and her children, who promptly waddle over to me. “Hello, Mr. Man! Can my babies and I have that candy, desu?” There’s no way the children will get even a small amount of this candy (stating the obvious), but I have to play along. “Sure, but first I need to ask you a question. Who is the leader of this tribe?” “Jissou-sama, desu! Give candy now, desu!” She says, waving her arms to the matriarch and then to my candy. “Wait a moment. Tell her I want to talk to her and you will get your candy.” “No! Give me my candy, desu!” Now it’s her candy. There went the “my cute babies” routine. “This is not your candy. It’s my candy, and if you want it you will go get Jissou-sama for me.” She grumbles, and toddles off with her forlorn group of thumb-chans and one maggot following. I don’t hear what the mother says to the matriarch, but the reply rings out loud and clear. “I don’t talk to anyone, desu!” The matriarch promptly backhands (back-stumps?) the mother across the face. While she’s down, she stomps her head in. Cocky, huh, bitch? Let me just take you down a notch or twelve. I draw my sound gun, aim, and fire. All jissous nearby cower and screech from the reflected ultrasound waves, but the matriarch doesn’t. She detonates. The purple dress is shredded, becoming shrapnel which knocks down an unlucky thumb-chan. The blood sprays upwards and outwards. Luckily for me and my couch, the matriarch was in a box at the time. The box in question is now soaking wet and colored in a decidedly Christmas-y flair on the interior. The children were all killed, either from the sonic cylinder of death itself or from the blast force. The mother is nowhere to be found; she was probably torn apart by the multiple explosions. The other colonist jissous don’t notice due to the reflected sound being painful but not lethal. Basically, they wander around in circles, dazed, for about a minute. This gives me enough time to lift the matriarch’s home and the kitchen up and carry them away. I take them to the outside trash can and toss them in. When I return, I can hear some of the jissous wonder where the matriarch is. Don’t worry, little jissous, you’ll be meeting her again in a few minutes. I pull out my sonic gun again. This time, I use the conical beam. I also switch the frequency to the “painful” frequency. I fire the gun, and all hell breaks loose. “SHUT UP SHIT NOISE! STOP HURTING DECHA!” “Too loud, refu!” “MAMA, IT HURTS TECHA!” Several maggots turn blue and die immediately, unable to handle the sound. The remaining colonists are in various forms of the fetal position, trying to cover their humongous ears with their stumps and spraying green shit everywhere. I hold the trigger down as I round up all of the colonists into one box. They are too crippled with pain to resist. I lug the box (I blame the fat-ass mothers) into the kitchen and dump the contents into the sink. Then, I turn on the water and plug the drain as I release the trigger on the sound gun. A minute later, the jissous recover from the eardrum-shattering sound to find themselves floating in frigidly cold water. “Help me m-glblgulg- Mr Ma-glrurgrl” and variations of it emanated from the sink. “Will do.” I say as I pull the plug out and flick the switch on the (industrial-strength, it pays to be careful) garbage disposal. Within a second, the entire colony is pulped and sent into the sanitary sewer system to feed the alligators. I spent a good hour clearing the boxes out and scrubbing the floor up as best as I could, with minor assistance from Sarah. Thankfully, the carpet isn’t nearly as fucked as I had thought, and a simple carpet cleaning machine clears the problem up for me. After that fun hour, I finally get around to assessing the damage to my belongings. My furniture is obviously fucked to all hell (thankfully I have and old couch/loveseat set stored in the garage), but what is most noticeable is what is not destroyed/missing. My computer, for instance, is perfectly fine. Someone tried (but failed) to hack into it, seeing as how Command Prompt is running on the login screen. The box is blank, indicating someone tried to hack in, failed, and then wiped the display to try to cover their tracks. Aside from that and my missing lab equipment, the house is missing nothing. My shed out back, however, is a different story. It’s emptier than my lab, which is saying something. There is absolutely nothing. As in my lab, the floor and walls are immaculate. Wait, what’s this? A note, lying on the floor. It says: “We are Anonymous. We Are Legion. We do not forgive. We do not forget.” Uh, why does Anonymous want me dead? Sure, I lurk on 4chan occasionally, but that’s not cause to come after me. Besices, I’ve made damn sure to keep my name out of the public eye. Wait. There’s a watermark on the paper. It’s a little difficult to make out under the ink, but I think it says: “People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals” You have got to be fucking bullshitting me. End Chapter 8 Also, re-read the SupAb epilogue. It will make things a bit clearer.
>>385 Francis, thank you, it was a well written chapeter, but that ending...... Actually these days I COULD see anon going after Jissou abusers, used to be Anon focused on funny shit (like prank calls to a girl dying of cancer... and her family) now it seems it's all moralfaggotry.
>>386 Not Anonymous. The stationary had People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals on it. What I tried (and failed, apparently) to imply is that PETA found Justin and decided to fuck his shit. They've fucked with his family before, and with other jissouseki researchers, so it makes sense. The "We are Anonymous" thing was supposed to throw him off. Francis Please stop that.
Sounds more like some wanabe /b/tards happen to be PETA moralfags :p . So it wasn't a mockingly accurate commentary on anon's present state, it was just showing PETA are fucktards.
>>389 anons present state Was it not always like this? /b/, I mean? Think about it how you want to, though. The main connection was PETA. Perhaps those particular PETAfags were /i/diots. Who knows?
Was it not always like this? /b/, I mean? Na, used to be that the raids were actually, well, raids. Now it's just 'i dun like this for moral reasons, lets protest' Think about it how you want to, though. The main connection was PETA. Perhaps those particular PETAfags were /i/diots. Who knows? Well considering the lore (in this therad and the previous one at least) on how Jissous got out into the world, that actually makes sense....
Ah. Pardon the newfag, please. Well considering the lore (in this thread and the previous one at least) on how Jissous got out into the world, that actually makes sense... That's true. I had forgotten about that. PETA's not known for being smart or subtle, anyway. I can just imagine them remaking that "Cooking Mama" parody they did in a Jissou edition. As I mentioned, Norfolk, VA is the international HQ of PETA. I can tell you that I'm unhappy to be living within 50 miles of the idiots, but it does make for some story options...
PETA's involvment is a nice way to ground your series in reality. It's a bit of a USA thing, though. I mean, I know about PETA and their almost parodic behavior, including the Cooking Mama thing, but it's still quite foreign. I did not believe they could be this brutal and invasive, for instance. Also, re-read the SupAb epilogue. It will make things a bit clearer. It does ?
I did not believe they could be this brutal and invasive, for instance. PETA and the nutjobs can be quite troublesome, but ironic as well. IIRC about six or seven years ago a PETA warehouse got raided by cops, and animals stolen from petshops and labs were in it...... with most being dead because PETA just 'liberated' them, then were too lazy to keep the animals cage maintained (or feed/water them, etc). Anyway, keep at it Francis person.
Good Stories. Love to see the different ideas. Peta trying to use anonymous as a distraction. Sylvia regaining her memories. I'm working on a new story. Hope to get it posted soon.
>>392 I meant to link to Kashiwaba's post about how Sylvia "got around" her programming, but I forgot. Also, PETA has been known for forcibly taking pets and livestock. The Silver Spring monkeys, for instance, were essentially subpoenaed by the courts, and they promptly disappeared. They happened to be in the possession of one of the founders of PETA at the time. Killing people like I mentioned in Chapter 2, though, is out of the range of all but the true extremists. Sadly, there's a lot of extremists, especially in their HQ in Norfolk.
Chapter 9: The Finger of Suspicion (Also, a Hamuleen Special!) So, I have come to the conclusion that PETA is Anonymous, or the other way around. They’re both retarded idiots, and both have been known to fuck people over when it comes to Jissous. Then again, Anon was a little bit worse with their involvement, but whatever. Anyways, I am slightly less screwed than I had originally thought. I’d thought that I was fucked 6 ways from Sunday, with most of my equipment and all of my testing stock gone, but my wide array of customers has proven to be an advantage, for once. Kate, for one, has been a serious lifesaver. She has agreed to keep Sarah until I have found a new place to live, for example. Yeah, you can take 250 common jissous and I really won’t care; 100 spoiled ones will hurt, but they’re replaceable. Sarah, on the other hand, is one-of-a-kind, and Anonymous/PETA will have to fight to “liberate” her. Also, like I said, I need a new place to live. It won’t do to buy $100,000 worth of new equipment and testing subjects if it will instantly be stolen. The wide array of customers that I mentioned is proving to be especially helpful in this area. I reported the break-in and theft to the police, sent a mass e-mail telling everyone what was up, and put a notice to the same effect on my website. Not one day later, the government has offered to come to my aid. Essentially, I was told that, since I did a ton of work for the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the CIA (I did?), someone would pull some strings and find me a new, jissou-testing friendly location for me to rent, with the option to buy. Who knew I was such a celebrity? Thankfully, the PETA bastards (ironically) couldn’t break the three passwords I put on my computer. It’s ironic because the answer to all three hints is about 50 feet away in my room, inside a book titled 1984. Yeah, I read too much, but it makes sense. For example, who would connect “ignorance” to “strength?” Either way, this has proved to be a godsend. Had they run off with my laptop (which is now ALSO at Kate’s), I’d be broke and they’d be able to fuck with my customers. That’s assuming they could locate all of my hidden directories. I think I can honestly say that I’ve made my computer script-kiddy-proof. In the meantime, however, I get to stay in my old house in my old neighborhood. I’ve taken to walking the neighborhood in my newfound free time. I get to relieve some stress that way, in more ways than one. Today, I’m just walking and thinking with one half of my brain, while the other half tries to decipher the lyrics of every Metallica song that I own. It’s relaxing, this time of year, with the leaves just turning and the air a perfect 40° Fahrenheit. All we need now is some snow and I’d be set! “Mr. Man, desu!” I ignore the voice behind me; I really don’t feel like dealing with it right n- *splat* Oh hell no. I pull out my earbuds and look around. I see a mother, holding a kojissou over her head, who is holding up a thumb-chan in the same manner, who is holding a maggot aloft. Below her is another maggot that had detonated, presumably after being dropped by its sister. So they didn’t throw shit at me. I’ll be damned. I still don’t feel like dealing with the “give candy/home/punipuni routine, though. I flick the kojissou with my finger. She goes flying, and the thumb falls to the ground. The thumb is alive (unlike her older sister), so she gets to watch her beloved maggot-chan grow larger and larger, and finally make both of their faces into the same splatter of blood and excrement on the pavement. I kick the mother before she can protest. She goes flying into the street, but she climbs to her feet. “SHIT MR. MAN I’LL KILL YOU DE-” A car decides to swerve and end her life the fun way. He apparently bought the deployable undercarriage wires that mechanics have been making a fortune off of, because she’s lying in two halves on the pavement, silently screaming in agony as her lungs drop out of the bottom of her torso. I give the driver a little wave and continue walking. Anyways, what was I saying? Oh yeah, this time of year is relaxing. The only bad part is that, unlike summer, jissous don’t die horribly painful deaths. They do freeze, though, especially if it snows, which is super fun for the mindfuck factor, but aside from that they come through fine. This problem isn’t helped by the fact that Virginia winters are stupidly mild. Not only that, but Norfolk and Virginia Beach have some kind of magical anti-snow shield; blizzards will literally split around us and re-form as they move north. “Mr.Man, desu!” For fuck’s sake, again!? I look around. There’s a mother holding a kojissou, holding a thumb… You see where I’m going with this. There’s two thumbs holding a maggot each around the mother’s legs, but my eyes are caught by the second jissou pyramid I’ve seen in under an hour. I know that they tend to copy each other, but even small rodents know that if its fellows get eaten it’s likely a bad idea to act the same way. These fuckers, obviously, don’t have that cognitive ability. I make ready to flick the kojissou off, but a thought strikes me. Today’s Halloween, and I haven’t decorated. I also want to send a big “FUCK YOU” to PETA, don’t I? Time to make my own decorations! “Aww, so cute! Do you want to be my pets?” “Yes, Mr. Man, desu!” All other parties agree, aside form the maggot, who interjects with the standard prerecorded “punipuni refu!” The walk to my house is rather uneventful, consisting mostly of the mother’s monologue of how there’s going to be SO many candies and SO many belly rubs, when in actuality Hell consists of ironic pain and children laughing at desecrated jissou corpses. We arrive, and the mother wastes no time in plopping herself down on my shit-covered couch. “Mr. Man, why is your couch so dirty, desu?” Because you sat on it, you retarded bitch. What I actually say is “That’s from my old pets. Don’t worry about it, I got rid of them for you, to save you the trouble. I have more furniture on the way, too.” “Good, desu. Now get me some candies, desu!” Oh, you are so lucky I need you alive. Then again, your rotundity will help me out later on… “Here you go.” I take a few colaciones out of my pocket and fling them into the middle of the living room. The mother shoves aside her assembled children and charges the delicious morsels. Before she reaches them, I pick them up. The mother stops short. “Give me my candies b-” “Look at what you did!” I yell over top of her, pointing at her little group of children. One maggot is now short a skull, courtesy of the mother’s foot stump (which is covered in blood, as expected). “I only give candies to good mothers and good children.” That said, I drop the candies into the middle of the group of children. In the same motion I grab the mother, covering her mouth so I don’t have to listen to her insipid threats (yes, I did don some bad jissou gloves beforehand; I know what I’m doing). She gets plopped into what’s left of my lab. When I return to the scene, three maggots and the thumb are crying. The kojissou and one of the maggots are not crying, probably because they are the two who managed to snatch the candies. “Now you two are being shit sisters?” I say, putting words into the kojissou’s mouth. “No, techi. The others are shit sisters, they were too slow, techi.” “Yes, so rub belly refu!” Blindly agreeing with stuff generally gets you nowhere, little one. I’d say don’t do it again, but… “That’s not a good thing. You two need to be punished, just like your mother.” The meaning of my words doesn’t sink in for the maggot at all, but the kojissou cottons on when she finds herself in the kitchen with a knife over her neck. “NO PLEASE MR MAN TECHI! DON’T HURT ME RE-” Too late. The knife falls with a soft “crack.” The kojissou is neatly decapitated, which is exactly what I need. Now, to get creative… I grab the thumb, who is still crying over the lost candies. She’s in a completely different world, apparently, since she doesn’t react to my hand at all. She gets set on the cutting board. Chop, and her head is gone as well. I run and grab a needle and thread. Nothing surgical quality, since that would be overkill (and in any case all of my surgical tools were in my now empty lab). I take the thumb’s head and the kojissou’s body and begin to very roughly sew the head onto the body, slightly askew. It takes a little bit of effort, but within 5 minutes I have the first ingredient in what’s going to be a jissou totem pole of terror. The second ingredient is the thumb’s body with the kojissou head stitched on to it. I impale both of these on a spare knife-sharpening iron that I happen to have on hand. I take a bit more thread to the limbs and heads, and voila! I have two bodies with mismatched heads that have been sewn together extremely roughly and impaled on a metal rod. For the benefit of those reading, it looks like two green Frankensteins with green outfits and mismatched heads were sewn together like Siamese twins and had a pole threaded through their intestines. I even went through the trouble of stitching the bottom one’s arms to the top one’s legs, for the extra 10 points. Now, for the remaining 6 inches of the sharpening post. Apparently PETA didn’t check the kitchen when they raided my house, because there’s a spare bottle of miracle cure sitting in the cabinet, which will help me add motion to this sculpture. I round up the maggots, and select the largest one and the smallest one. The large one goes on first. I take the pole and quite literally shove it up its ass. The maggot tries to yell in pain, but finds that there’s a long metal thing in its way. It can still breathe, though. It can also drink, apparently, because when I drop a bit of miracle cure into its mouth, the rough entry and exit wounds heal and make the maggot an integral part of the pole. The smaller maggot is actually longer than the remaining length of the pole, which means the pole won’t exit via its mouth. Because of that, this will be an auditory, motion-sensing kinetic sculpture! I once again ram the maggot onto the pole, and drip a bit of miracle cure down its throat when it tries to scream. The wound heals, and the pain subsides. At least, until the maggot tries to move. “Metal thing hurts when I move, repyeen…” “Well, if it hurts when you move, maybe you should stop, stupid.” I set the totem pole aside, next to a trowel. When it comes time for the trick-or-treaters, I’ll dig a hole and bury the handle into the dirt so that it stays upright. As I walk away, I can see both maggots wiggling their limbs in an attempt to escape, with no success. Oh shit, it’s 5:00. The kids will start coming at 6:00, I’d better hurry. The mother has apparently been banging against the door for the past 15 minutes, as her stumps are bloody and have left splotches on the door. “It’s about time, Mr. M-” She doesn’t get any farther before my hand is over her jaw and she is carted off to the kitchen, which has by now become my impromptu workshop. My knife sees action again, and once again it is slicing open the abdominal cavity of a jissou. My hand is still over her mouth, but I can still hear a muffled scream. She tries to bite me and gets nowhere due to the thick rubber gloves I’m wearing. Her crystal goes into a padded plastic box, like before with the Antichrist Jissou. This time, however, I don’t close the incision. In preparation for my final act, I grab a bottle of red food coloring and drip it into her eye. “OROROROROROROROROR-“ Why the fuck is she wailing like that? That’s not the wail of a jissou in pain. Strange – I think this is the first jissou that would have preferred birth control simply because of a desire not to have more children. Oh well, nothing to do about it now! Inside of her abdominal cavity, and through the paper-thin lining of the uterus, I can see the maggots forming. They transform from tiny ringworm lookalikes to the real article in seconds, align themselves, and begin pushing out of the anus, or whatever it is, in a sort of macabre congo line. I’ve never been treated to this view before, and it’s actually very strange. Whatever, show’s over; there are now 12 or so maggots that have exited the womb and sit calling the usual “Tettere~!” of the newly born. 6:00 already? Damn, I’ll have to skip the painful torture and get to work. The maggots, for now, end up in the padded box while I embed my totem pole into the soil. The mother receives a few strings through her legs, arms, and a few other secure locations to anchor her. I secure her to the wall outside at about a 45° angle, to provide a gory view into her chest. Finally, as the final touch, I add the maggots into her chest. They promptly begin to eat her insides, cuddle up, and basically make themselves at home. The first trick-or-treaters arrive and I settle into a lawn chair, awaiting the admiring comments on my unique decorations. END CHAPTER 9 Have a happy Halloween, everyone!
France succeeded in repelling Halloween to its anecdotic portion (not that we don't like partying, but being imposed a completely foreign and frankly quite silly holiday for commercial reasons didn't pass) but have a dead (in the conditions specified in Until Death do us Part) nonetheless. I know some of you will enjoy it. http://i42.tinypic.com/24dk2zb.jpg
http://kazumi386.org/~zissouall/cgi-bin/uploader3/src/up0041.swf Found this, enjoy.
hate to double post, found a second. http://kazumi386.org/~zissouall/cgi-bin/uploader3/src/up0040.swf
Let's try this again... There's mindfuck here, but not quite what you think! Chapter 10: Return To Sender I hate moving vans. More than that, I hate driving them. I decided to take the government’s offer of a location to rent. It is a good 20 miles from where I was, it has a fucking heated pool (I was sold at that) and the landlord is a true jissou hater and doesn’t mind me kicking some jissou ass for SCIENCE! The only problem? It’s in fucking Norfolk. Norfolk, by the way, borders Virginia Beach, has a retardedly high crime rate, and – worstly – is the international HQ of PETA. On the same note, though, I bet they wouldn’t expect a scientist in the city… Anyways, I still need to focus on driving this U-Haul truck that they decided to overcharge for just because it has those undercarriage wires on. It’s not my fucking fault that they ran out of normal trucks… So, 6 hours later, I have unpacked most of my shit, and look around my new house. The aforementioned pool sits, ready to use, in the backyard. The layout is fairly different from my old house, with the foyer branching off into the living room on the right, the dining room on the left, and the kitchen in the center. The stairs are in the foyer as well, and leads to 3 bedrooms and a full bath. Off of the living room is a hallway leading to the bathroom, the garage, and…more stairs? Why are there two staircases? Oh, there’s a room over the garage. It reminds me of the awesome room that my brother had in a room over a garage, and that’s why it’s where I’m setting up my furniture. I just need to buy a futon and an entertainment center, and I’ll be all set. So, now to determine where everything else will go-what the fuck just jumped in the pool? A family of jissous? Seriously? A privacy fence and heavy-duty antijissou countermeasures can’t keep the little bastards out? Damn it, I don’t have time for this. Then again, they do need to go. I also need to find out exactly how they managed to invade. To that end, I walk outside and take a look at exactly what I’m dealing with. The maggots are all on one inner tube, perched in recessed areas that are likely intended for handles. The thumbs and kojissous sit closer to the edges of the ring, and the mother brought her own inner tube to float on, because even adult jissous can’t swim for shit. I walk over to the switchbox. Oh, that’s how they got in – the jissou disposals are shut off. Yeah, fuck you too, Mr. Landlord. I flip the breakers and hear a high-pitched scream as blades begin to spin and kill some unfortunate family clamoring for colaciones in one of the now-active disposals. There’s about 400 switches more than usual in here. This pool has to be an oversized jaccuzi, seeing as how 95.6% of the switches are devoted to it. I flip every switch up and sneak over to the pool’s control box. The family’s too overjoyed at the warm water to notice. I was right- there’s water jets, lights, bubbles, a thermometer control, and other assorted goodies. I guess I get to have some fun, after all. I indiscriminately flip switches and turn dials, and look up to see what I get. The water jets do exactly what’s said on the box; there are now veritable geysers of water rising as high as a few feet off of the water’s surface. The bubbles show themselves next, and both phenomena catch the attention of the family. They are undoubtedly cooing about their confusion, but the noise of the water jets is too loud for me to discern anything. The bubbles are small-time, barely doing anything but spraying water at them. The water jets, on the other hand, are rocking the improvised infant’s raft to the point where one of the kojissous becomes physically ill. I flip the switch on the filter pump, and feel a vibration beneath my feet. Directly below me, there’s a… plexiglass window…? There’s spinning blades in it, meaning that some bright executive in the pool filter firm decided to make extra money by slapping an oversized garbage disposal on it. The inner tubes begin, slowly but surely, to move to the gigantic pump opening that has appeared. The mother sees what’s coming. I suppose giant spinning blades tend to scare the hell out of anything, regardless of intelligence level. I can’t hear what she’s screaming, but she’s trying to paddle against the flow like a 5-year-old caught in a rip current. Needless to say, all she’s doing is terrifying her kids more (not that that’s a bad thing). The turbulent water upsets the other tube, which doesn’t have 25 pounds of fatass hanging from it. The maggots, thumb, and kojissous tumble into the water and struggle to stay afloat as they sail into the spinning blades of death. I look at the plexiglass window in the ground. The thumb is the first to enter, and is instantly transformed into a green paste, staining the water and window green. The green stays within the blade’s area, attesting to the sheer power of the pump. The maggots enter and end their lives the same way. The kojissous survive slightly longer, and I’m treated to a view of them being sliced apart, one bit at a time. This is all small time, however, compared to the mother. She does not fully enter the shredder because her inner tube won’t fit. Her legs, however, are fair game. Within a second, her legs are pureed and flushed into the sewer. She lets out a wail that’s so loud that I can hear it over the roar of water and spinning death. Through the window, I can see the stumps becoming steadily shorter and shorter as she flails them around and exposes them to the blades. She notices me for the first time and reaches over to me with her arm, hoping against hope that I’ll save her. I provide her with a stick to the inner tube for her trouble. It pops like a soap bubble, and the water shoves her into the waterslide of death. She is not instantly diced, but is flung by the force of the blades around the chamber. Every time she passes the window, I can see her become progressively less and less solid until her face literally disintegrates and slides off the plexiglass in an almost cartoonish fashion. I kill the blades (over which a cover appears, presumably to stop errant children from being shredded) and walk inside. As fun as that was, I still have work to do. I reflect on my particular situation as I unpack and load my new house up. A multi-national organization has their sights personally set on me because I don’t feel the same moral obligations as them, and there’s quite literally nothing I can do about it. The police basically told me that the not I found doesn’t qualify as evidence (since nobody in the P.D. can read), so there’s no getting my expensive equipment back. Not only that, but rent for this house is exorbitant. Getting new furniture and food has basically emptied my bank account into the toilet. It looks like I’m going to have to start small, doing experiments with standard household equipment or nothing at all. Hell, I could charge the fuck out of the standard abuser, since they’re going to be the ones who want to know what dropping a jissou on a short circuit will do. I’m still pissed that PETA randomly decided to go after me and is getting away with it, though. I pause in my unpacking, mostly because bending over for 6.787 hours tends to kill your back, and my eyes fall on my computer, which I had on Google for an unconnected reason. A wicked smile spreads across my face. I think I need to send a message to these bastards. I step out front and immediately notice the woods bordering the neighborhood. A few minutes of stomping through it reveals a stock jissou colony. Normally, I’d trample the fuck out of them, but I’m slightly pressed for time. Thusly, I snatch a box, close it, and truck it back to my house. Inside, I open the box and find a mother and 8 maggots, who instantly fill my room with requests for candy and belly rubs. Perfect. Since shipping a jissou colony box doesn’t fly with the US Postal Service, I grab one of the boxes I packed my dishes in. This box has a carpet of bubble wrap on the interior, making it work rather well for my purposes. I turn to my computer and look up PETA’s address on Google, and write that on an envelope I’m going to tape to the box for mailing purposes, followed by my old address for a return address. Next is the true statement. On a related note, my surgical skills are growing rapidly. Within about 6 minutes, the mother and maggots are crystal-less. Next is the tragic removal of the jissous’ clothes. Their hair follows the dresses/maggot socks into the toilet. The next act I perform is to sew the mouths and anuses of the mother and maggots together with standard thread and a standard needle. Finally, I string the maggots together via their heads, as I have done before, and sew the limbs of the mother together. The mother is simply placed into the box, the maggots are taped by the string they are strung on to the side. I add a few colaciones that are, thanks to my admirable mouth-sewing, inedible to the jissous (though still very tempting), as well as a plastic bag with a piece of paper inside and the shock package is finished. I write “FRAGILE, THIS SIDE UP” on the side of the box, tape it shut, and hop into my car. At a Virginia Beach post office (to throw them off the trail by having a Virginia Beach postmark on the package), I send it off on Overnight shipping. I drive home, set an alarm for tomorrow next to the jissou crystals and a hammer, and jump into my pool, ignoring all the boxes I have yet to unpack. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - A new member of PETA sits, bored, in the mail room. A cart comes in, laden with packages. The woman sighs and starts to open them, one by one. By the look on her face, it is very obvious that she had expected to be liberating animals and jissous that are abused, as opposed to reading the same ignorant hate mail over and over. Attesting to this, she whispers aloud to nobody in particular: “What I wouldn’t give to be doing anything else. Even helping to take care of the animals we’ve saved would be better than this. At least then I could be doing something…” She sees a box, with the address <REDACTED PER US DEP.T. OF DEFENSE- AUTHORITY 2001 PATRIOT ACT>. She recognized the lot as belonging to a horrible little teenager who not only escaped punishment for the murder of thousands of jissous, but even made money off of it. PETA had saved hundreds of jissous from his clutches. There were rumors that he had managed to kill some of the jissous that were saved, but she didn’t believe it. After all, how can someone kill something from a distance? Besides, they were taken away to safety. Nobody could be so heartless as to take paradise away from the poor little jissous. While she reflected on this, she pried the tape off and reached into the box. Her hand brushed something warm and soft. She looked in the box and screamed in shock. She saw 10 maggots, cruelly strung up by their heads and taped to the side of the box. Their mother was there, naked and hairless, and bound by threads passing through her arms, legs, and chest. She scanned further into the box against her will, as she stood with a deer-in-the-headlights expression .Their mouths were sewn shut, and candies were placed into the box simply to torment them. By this time, several other office workers had responded to her terrified yell and were staring with an expression strikingly similar to hers. Eventually, someone had the bright idea to call someone to collect the jissous. That same person was busy removing the threads holding the mother in captivity. He handed the mother to her to hold as he got to work freeing the maggots. The mother looked up at her with sad eyes. She grabbed the candy that was in the box and gave it to her (the threads sealing her orifices had been cut as well). The mother that had been so cruelly abused grasped the candy she had been so long denied, and looked upon the mail room worker with an expression of happiness that she interpreted as gratitude. She felt a moment of warm happiness, and smirked, thinking that Justin’s plan backfired, and that these jissous would be treated well, when he obviously intended pain for them. The mother slowly opened her mouth and angled her stiff limbs to bring the candy to her mouth. 10 miles away, an alarm went off in the living room of a nondescript house. One second later, inches away from sugary bliss, the mother detonated, spraying the mail room worker with blood and excrement. The maggots followed in quick succession, popping like firecrackers. She stood stunned for a moment, and screamed again. Ten minutes later, the mail worker had calmed down. She picked up the blood-splattered candy, and had to fight back tears. All the mother jissou wanted was her babies, and this candy. Justin, in his infinite cruelty, had denied her both of these, mere moments before both desires would have been fufilled. Her hands started shaking, to the point where she dropped the candy into the box. She reached in to pick it up, and only then did she notice the plastic bag taped to the side. She looked down and tried to discern through the maggot blood what was inside. After a minute of squinting, the object solidified in her mind as a piece of paper. Equally solid in her mind was what was written on the paper. “YOU PICKED THE WRONG PERSON TO FUCK WITH!" End Chapter 10
Sorry I forgot to reply to your last post Fperson, was a perfect haloween post. Also that last chapter made me fucking lol. Hard.
Chapter 11: Take It Back! I have good news and bad news. The good news: I’m on TV! The bad news: The Fox (Faux) News Company is apparently a PETA supporter, because I received a knock on the door from a reporter. I was ecstatic until he began to fling loaded questions at me. “Mr. ****** <REDACTED PER US DEP.T. OF DEFENSE – AUTHORITY 2001 PATRIOT ACT>, why did you send a package with an organic bomb to a building run by the People’s Society for the Protection of Animals?” Luckily, I’m a little too smart for that type of incrimination. “I did not send a package with a bomb to a PETA building. You have your facts mixed up.” “But Mr. ******, the package had your former address on it.” “Is that so? Then why are you not at my former address?” “Because this is where you live now.” “So? You cannot connect someone to a crime of that magnitude just by where they used to live. The very fact that you would suggest that is insulting. I may not be a saint, but I don’t want people dead or property destroyed.” “Okay. So, on another note, why do you have a vendetta against PETA?” Switch it ‘round, idiot. “I do not have a vendetta against PETA. On the contrary, they have one against me. That is all I can say, at least until the police investigation is finished.” He just kind of left after that. I found out why today. That last remark was rebutted by the news company by saying that there was no evidence against the bastards, while the cop they had onscreen actually said that all evidence was circumstantial. Not admissible by itself in a US court, perhaps, but some does not equal none, idiots! The whole interview was preceded by a voiceover saying that I denied charges of terrorism. This, despite the fact that no investigation was taken out against me, no charges have been filed, there is no solid evidence whatsoever that I sent that package (on the other side of the coin, though, is the fact that there is no evidence to the contrary, either), and that the damage done to my property is far greater than the desk of some mail room worker. She was apparently Fox’s star witness, since she had double the screen time as me, all of which was composed of her crying about how the mother jissou I sent had exploded in her face. I can honestly say that I didn’t expect anyone to be handling the package when I smashed the crystals, but the detonations couldn’t even hurt you, for Christ’s sake. Besides, it’s a fucking jissou – you can literally walk 5 steps outside and get another at will. This woman needs to get over herself. Anyways, the cops didn’t show up, but a lot of angry people in my neighborhood have. Incidentally, do you know how hard it is to get rain-soaked rolls of toilet paper off of a two-story building’s roof? Yeah, about 20 people have showed up, yelling about how I was a Muslim terrorist and a jissou abuser, I should kill myself and save them the trouble, throwing toilet paper and eggs at the windows and roof, etc. Way too many people take Fox News seriously. So, I get to climb up on the roof and pick little bits of soggy toilet tissue off of my roof tomorrow. I was originally going to just call the cops (they’re on my lawn, so since I yelled at them to get away it counts as both trespassing and vandalism), but these idiots need to be taught a lesson too. My rebuttal will consist entirely of 3 penis jissous. Yes, I have found more. You see, some people have brought their pets with them to this little protest. We all know that a penis jissou plus a normal jissou makes a penis jissou with a dead jissou and a lot of semen. Adding two more to the equation should be fun. I launch my little bombs with an old RC car. I think I might have played a bit too much Black Ops. I watch the car as I drive it through a small hole under my fence. There’s enough room for a large dog to squeeze in (which means it’s getting filled in posthaste), so a car with a giant cock attached to a jissou has plenty of room. The car drives behind the crowd. As it does, the penis jissou gets a glimpse of one of the pets and jumps from the car (which was moving super slow because I anticipated this, so no harm done). Nobody notices the jissou getting rammed in the ass by a gigantic penis because of the ironically ominous lightning storm and sheer number of people. They’re all too focused on chanting random insults anyway, I could drop a fucking bomb next to them and they wouldn’t even notice. I load up the next penis jissou into the car and drive it off, again around the back of the crowd. This time, I don’t see where it sprints off to. I do, however, see the first jissou running towards another lucky customer towards the front of the crowd. The plan is working like a charm. The car gets its final cock-bomb. This time, I drive it directly in front of the crowd. They stop chanting their asinine bullshit and stare at this little car with its giant penis with wonder, as if it’s the first penis-chan they’ve ever seen. Then again, since they’re jissou lovers, it very well could be their first time. They must be penis-chan virgins. Wait, that sounded wrong… The penis jissou looks around slowly, not noticing any obvious target. The entire crowd has gone silent. They have gone so silent that I can hear two sets of wet slapping noises, and two jissous singing in harmony. “De-de-de-de-de-de-de-zu-zu-zu-zu-zu-zuuuuuuuu” “De-de-de-de-de-de-de-zu-zu-zu-zu-zu-zuuuuuuuu” The penis-chan finally spots a third pet. He locks on to it and charges with the speed and accuracy of a cruise missile. “AHH! Mr. Man help me decha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!” As this happens, the first penis jissou ejaculates for the second time, a stream of jissou sperm flying out of the jaw of his second rape victim. He flings the carcass to the side and tackles what will become the fifth kill for the Jissou Rape Team. Two jissou owners are literally in tears, kneeling by the desecrated remains of their “beloved” pet. Time for my intervention. I open the window and yell out: “Oh, get over yourselves, you pussies! They’re jissous, you can walk around the street and grab them by the dozens!” I slam the window shut as the crowd tries to retaliate. I hear garbled phrases through the glass. It’s all “you’re a heartless bastard” and variations on that. They are totally ignoring their pet’s plight, as more and more succumb to the advances of the suave, sophisticated jissous with the humongous dicks. Even the formerly sobbing couple is screaming what they imagine to be vicious insults at me. Eventually, the number of pets that remain alive hits the negatives, so the penis jissous have nothing left to fuck. The one that I can see wanders around in a circle a few times, looks around, and finally decides that its next sex toy will be its hands. I look away for a more interesting subject, until I notice a white jet strike some guy in the face. He dodges the next shot, cussing at the top of his lungs and opening up another headshot. Then two more shots fly out. I swear to God that these things are actually aiming for people’s faces! By the time the firing squad has calmed down, 7 people have received semen to the face. The remainder of the crowd is just as pissed as they are, for some inexplicable reason. It takes me a minute to remember the jissou pheromones. They don’t affect me, so I tent to forget about them. I may be immune, but the protesters certainly aren’t. They pounce one of the jissous in a giant mass. I can only see bits and pieces of the action. Literally. I watch a penis fly upwards and land in one of the storm drains. The attack can only be described as hilariously vicious. The crowd moves away and tackles jissou number two; all that remains of the first one is a few shreds of green cloth and some splotches of red, white, and green. Once number 2 is sliding into the storm drains in 165,000 pieces, the third jissou receives a BB to the head, courtesy of me. The outside influence snaps them out of their chemical-induced rage, and they look at one another guiltily. They disperse, leaving jissou corpses and various puddles of bodily fluids to be washed into the drains. This little gathering is undoubtedly going to be me on TV again. That really sucks, since the whole point of my moving was to stay incognito. Oh well, there’s not much I can do right now. There’s also not much to steal, thankfully. I get to work again. I need to get some cash back in the bank. CHAPTER 11 END It's a bit shorter than usual, and a bit human-centric, but oh well. I had to include realism at some point, and you sure as hell don't mail a jissou bomb and get away with it without a TV interview. Also, Fox News really is like that. I'm not kidding.
Great chapter Frank. And it depends who at Faux, some are cool, some are fgts. And their late night guy likes to troll.
>>404 Post not found. In all seriousness, that is true. The late night guy is a douche. Some of the people are actually decent news anchors. The rest just piss me off. Also, has anyone noticed my chapter names since like chapter 6? (If you ignore chapter 7, that is) One more thing: I was thinking of making a small, one-off side story. I just re-watched Rozen Maiden, and when I started writing, I wondered out loud what Suiseiseki would do if she found herself face-to-face with the Jissouseki menace for the first time. I was wondering what you thought.
Fallout 3/New Vegas missions and sidequests, right ? And by all means, this is at the very least an intriguing concept. Perilous, but intriguing.
>>406 Yeah. I blame going on a FNV binge for the first few, and I just decided to roll with it. I'll get to work on that side story, then. It gives me an excuse to watch every single episode of Rozen Maiden featuring Suiseiseki over and over again, at the least.
>>405 The late night guy is a douche. Guttfeld ? I find him fucking hilarious. Fperson, as a long term dollfag here's my opinion: Suiseiseki would basically WTF and try to talk to them. She would end up trying to become a queen of a colony, and failing epically because they are that stupid. Meanwhile, Souseiseki would sit back, sip tea, and facepalm. Because Souseiseki is superior. Also if you want a real RPG, play Fallout/Fallout2, not the spinoffs.
>>408 Souseiseki is superior Yes. I need to fix a statement of yours, though: Meanwhile, Shinku would sit back, [b]sip tea[b/], and facepalm. Also: She would end up trying to become a queen of a colony Generally, don't Jissous not like "weird onee-chans?" Suiseiseki's a bit too human-like to be able to become the matriarch of a colony. No, I think what I've already written on the colony subject (she encounters one at the very start) would be the more likely outcome. One more thing: As of now, I'm referring to Suiseiseki's habit of saying "Desu" as a verbal tic, since almost all of the Maidens have one or two, Suigintou and Kirakishou being the exceptions (Barasuishou doesn't count). I did this mostly to differentiate between her and the Jissous, who have a similar issue. I can still change that, though, if I'm horribly wrong. Oh, and if you send me a copy of Fallout 1 or 2 I'll play 'em. ;)
Actually Frank, Souseiseki ALSO likes to drink tea. Well they all do, but Souseiseki is second to Shinku. And she tries to sit back and not get involved in her sisters stupidity. Suigintou- Is too busy drinking Yakult to have a verbal tik Kanaria- kashiira Suiseiseki- desu Souseiseki- boku Shinku- dawa Hinaichigo- nano Kira- Is too busy not having a body Bara- Too busy being fake
Oh and frank, it's actually not really a verbal tic. It's just a overly formal manner of speach in moonspeak, the feminine version of the word, it roughly transalates to "I am". boku means same thing pretty much but is the masculine version of it, less formal too.
>>410 >>411 I thought "watashi" meant "I am." There was a whole thread that degenerated into discussion of that in DesuChan's /Desu/. Desu is simply a copula, a word tacked on to the end of the sentence that acts mostly like a period. I believe that modifying it changes the tense of the sentence, but aside from that it just kind of sits there. Yuo can tell because in the horrible English dub of RM, Suiseiseki's voice actor puts emphasis on every "so" that is spoken (You're SO right, etc., though catching Suiseiseki saying something like that would be a miracle) Boku is actually watashi in masculine form, not a copula like desu. Instead of the feminine (watashi, I think) or neutral (jibun) versions, Souseiseki uses the masculine "boku" to refer to herself. On another note, this is far more difficult than I had imagined. I've scrapped 5 different versions so far, amounting to about 20 pages in total. A lot of it has to do with me typing too fast, but mostly I just don't know what the hell to do. The whole "colony takeover" thing, and my rendition of it where Sui gets an overdose of the pheromone that somehow affects her and goes on a stomping spree didn't quite work, nor did anything else I tried. Any ideas would be amazingly appreciated.
My immediate idea of Suiseiseki encountering Jissouseki is that she would be anything BUT antagonistic. I really see her as trying to take advantage of the jissouseki, what will all her human-phobia, even if her plan fails at first. She is nothing if not persevering.
>>413 I had imagined that, too. But the stupidity of the jissous and her unfamiliarity with them would be her downfall. Suiseiseki's not very calculating, and while I've been writing I have always ended up having her break character in order for her to learn enough about them to be able to do anything aside from "WTF" at them, which is, to me, committing a cardinal sin. I see her jumping right in and failing because she doesn't take the time to examine her options, which doesn't make for an amazing story. One other thing I just thought of is something that you mentioned while you were describing PLTD in Eugenics of Fear. The other thing is that my investors convinced dad I shouldn't look like Suiseiseki too much. With the jissou infestation, the character has drawn quite a bit of scorn, which could have made me the next generation of abuse toys. The moment Suiseiseki is spotted by a human, it's game over for her, unless that abuser as seen RM and happens to be a fan of it, and her. Hell, someone could mistake her for a jissou at first glance anyway and do something from afar.
Yeah, I hear you. But, well, as I assessed, this kind of story is very perilous and complicated. That's a challenge, my friend, and nobody is judging you if you decide to back up. And, that was just a reason to justify my character looking tomboyish even though she's supposed to be modeled after Suiseiseki. Including the short hair I never mentioned. Nothing wrong with taking it as your canon though, I guess ? >>408 As long as you don't suggest Planescape Torment, we're cool.
Frank, Suiseiseki, or any of the living dolls, would have nothing to fear from a human. Indeed, it would be quite the contrary, the humans should fear her. At least if she feels the need to defend herself.
>>415 It isn't just that it was stated, it makes sense. Imagine a random guy walking down the street. His house just got demolished thanks to a jissou infestation, he's lost his job because the company went under due to expenses from a jissou infestation, his car's interior is totaled due to a jissou infestation so he can't even live in that, and so on ad nauseum. He's walking, and he sees Suiseiseki, the very reason for his tormentor's existence. What do you think he's going to do? It makes perfect logical sense, you are just the person who stated it the best. You're absolutely right, though; it is going to be difficult. I'm not going to back out, though, at least not until I give it some thought. I've found that every time I think I'm stuck, waiting a few days and tossing ideas around in my head will supply me with an answer. I might take a leaf out of Kashiwaba's book and throw Souseiseki in as a character foil, to balance out Suiseiseki's impulsiveness...
>>416 I hate double posting, but I just saw your comment. Shinku specifically mentions in Episode 10 that the Maidens are absolutely NOT to harm humans. Suigintou does it because she is ruthless enough to cheat, and even then all she does is lock Jun in his dream, which does all the work for her. Besides, like I said, someone could mistake her for a jissou and pull something (i.e. a gun) from afar. She can't really defend herself from a bullet going 1500 feet per second without any warning, can she? Of course, given sufficient warning, any of them are perfectly capable of defending themselves.
Suiseiseki can fucking FLY Plus she has plot armor. Besides, we see the dolls get smashed into buildings and what not and survive.
plot armor All of them have plot armor. EVERY. LAST. ONE. Except Hinaichigo and Souseiseki. Also, she can fly in dreams or a box. Magic or not, though, armor piercing rounds > porcelain. Still, I get what you're saying. Humans don't even need to appear for a while, or at all.
Not porcelain... MAGIC porcelain. Also, we see Shinku and Souseiseki fight, in london, and fly, with no boxes.
Just wanted to post about how much I love InLeaves. Next to Hoop, you're my favourite author here (sorry, Hoop uses actual people.) Will Syliva have regained some of her old vita/vitru/character in the new piece. I really hope she does. I'd also like to say that this thread has made me love(killing) Jissous! If I ever finish actually writing the short story I started a while ago, I'll try doing a Jissou one.
>>405 ------ >>421 Okay, it has been a full 72 hours, and I am *still* completely out of ideas for this jissou-Suiseiseki crossover thing. Thusly, I will have to back out with what is left of my honor. If anyone else would want to take up the challenge, I would love you forever. I also saw a post in the /g/ thread (post# 40468, I believe) that totally killed my interest. I don't know if it IS Suiseiseki in that one or not, but it looks like it, and that image has disturbed me for the first time in years. Sadly, like with all images that disturb me, I now need to find the remainder of the story, if there is one...
>>423 There are a number of Suiseiseki/Jissou pics out there Ive seen over the years actually. Usually they consist of Suiseiseki reacting angrily to the stupidity of the Jissouseki as it does something dumb, or when they're a multiple pannel comic they have Suiseiseki trying to explain/help the Jissou.... and the Jissou is too dumb to do it, and Suiseiseki gets mad.
Hi, I have been reading all of the tales from this and the achived thread during the past few monts. I love all of the histories in here, but is sad that some have been abandoned. Please continue Project civilization and I will jessanonimous to return. Thank you all for this twisted and funny tales.
>>424 Generally they don't involve her being raped by tentacles and a penis grub impaled on a monstrous penis jissou. >>425 Ohaider. If you can get Jessanonymous back on here, I would love you. Forever. Seriously. Same with Civ J. Oh, and I remember someone wrote in the great archive about putting a kojissou (I think) in a jar and forcing her to watch the rest of her family being pampered. It was absolutely amazing, and it gave me a basic ministory idea for my little series...
Wow, it was Jessanonymous that wrote the story that inspired this, not some random anon. I’m an idiot. Chapter 12: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize, Part 1 Tonight will be a fun night. Why? Because I get to run a fun, complicated experiment and make a ton of money in the process! So, here’s what happened: I exchanged e-mails with a pro jissou abuser. This guy, if the internet is to be believed, has killed jissous with household appliances, diabolical inventions of his own, bare fists, and so on ad infinitum. If you have it in your house or dreams, he’s probably killed a jissou with it. He and I have done business on several occasions. He recently e-mailed me and asked me the feasibility of killing a jissou via asphyxiation in small Mason jars. After I lightly skip over the 40+ intervening detail-oriented e-mails, I had a very well outlined series of hypotheses, some new equipment thanks to the wonders of the U.S. Postal Service, and a promised US$2,000 and several more pieces of laboratory equipment upon completion of my experiment. Essentially, what I am going to do is test exactly how long a jissou can live inside a hermetically sealed jar. Common sense would say “not very long,” but humans that have been buried alive can live for about an hour. A jissou, though in a container about one millionth the size of a coffin, is correspondingly smaller. Not only that, but the lungs in an adult jissou are about half the size of a human child of the same size. I’m also going to test certain stimuli and their effect on the time that the jissous last inside their glass coffins. These will range from elation and (I use this term extremely loosely) “affection” to despair and excruciating pain. Anyways, let’s get to it! Since science strives to remove unwanted variables, and having batches of identical jissou test subjects is actually a feasible idea, I’m opting for the “restraints and red dye” strategy. This bit is the simple bit; there’s a jissou colony nearby in the forest and I have an extra chair that I don’t feel bad about taking a hacksaw to. I cut out part of the bottom out of the chair and use the extra wood to reinforce the backing, armrests, and the remaining part of the seat against the inevitable thrashing that it will see in a few hours. A small (~4 foot) pole gets strapped, duct taped, and superglued (yes, all three) into place, and a hook I jury-rigged from a few wire clothes hangers also gets the triple combo of fastening methods on the end. On this goes an empty 2-liter bottle of soda that I hacksawed in half and ran another clothes hanger through. I attach what I hope will be a sufficiently long piece of tube to the end of the bottle, retrieve some more duct tape, prepare a few leather belts, and my baby factory is almost ready. All it needs now is an occupant. I walk outside in the frigid air, holding a cup of hot chocolate. The cup steams in the 35 degree air as I walk into the forest. I retrace my footsteps that I created in the pine straw as I raced to create the gift that PETA absolutely loved a few days ago, and soon enough arrive at the jissou colony. There’s a wide patch of open dirt that once housed a box, but the remainder of the colony looks like it hasn’t been touched since the beginning of time. I take a moment to observe the colony, mostly to pinpoint the matriarch. This was a slightly more advanced colony than usual. I don’t really know how, but they somehow located a flashlight, and figured out how to use it. As I watch, it goes out, bathing the colony in darkness. Surprisingly, only the maggots are surprised at the sudden invasion of blackness, their exclamations of fear assuaged by the voices of thumb-chans. “Yona-chan! Go shake the light thing, desu!” Someone –Yona-chan, presumably- yells a generic “Yes, Jissou-sama, desu.” A few moments later, a rattling noise is heard. After about 30 seconds of this, the flashlight flickers into life, sending a cone of blue light heavenward. Yana-chan sets the flashlight down, bathing the colony in the light, and waddles into a box. Like I said, the colony is slightly advanced. They have divined how to operate one of those shake-and-charge pocket flashlights you see as free gifts on TV ads for stupid miracle products. Not only that, but they have so many residents in their little microcosm of the world that they must assign names to keep track of everyone. The boxes themselves show a semblance of intelligent design. Small pieces of rusty metal adorn the top of one box, presumably that of the matriarch. These corrugated sheets are placed at an angle and supported by a cushion of pine straw. The little channels are aligned so that any rainwater that falls on the box will be funneled to the side or absorbed by the sponge-like pine straw. It will be ineffective come below-freezing temperatures, but for now it is a decent setup. The other boxes only have the pine straw on top to protect the cardboard from its nemesis, further supporting the idea of the matriarch having hijacked the rusted roofing material for her own house. There appears to be pine straw insulation (remember, Virginia is literally covered in pine trees, and by extension straw) on most boxes, held in place by assorted odds and ends. The remainder of the box modifications are aesthetic in nature. Some bright specimen acquired a stock of Sharpie markers in assorted colors, making the scene somewhat more vibrant. It has been shown time and again that an intelligent jissou is as much of a backstabber as an idiot; they are in fact worse since they can actually strategize, after a fashion. This is most evident in two features no advanced colony is without: the kitchen and the latrine. The latrine is essentially a litter of thumbs and maggots that are locked in a box with a hole on top, and are told to keep it clean. Ironically, these imprisoned children are the best off of the children in a colony during the winter and fall. They have a plentiful supply of warm bedding, they have plenty of warm food, and they are safe from being eaten by their infantiphage mothers. The kitchen consists entirely of a bald-naked kojissou and a bunch of bloody wood chips. This kojissou is very obviously the town chef, though I sincerely doubt that she volunteered for the job. My hypothesis is further validated by the fact that she is in a fetal ball, silently crying. A figure steps out of the iron box. Thanks to my expert (lucky) positioning, I can see her clearly while she is blinded by the pale blue light of the flashlight. She wears a black and purple dress with cardboard wings strapped to her shoulders. This means that she was once a pet, and belonged to a fan of Rozen Maiden. She bears several battle scars; some of her forelock is missing, there are several scrapes along her face, and her dress is torn in multiple places. She is a member of the upper tier of jissou in terms of appearance: her hair is fuller (aside from the aforementioned balding), her mouth is shaped like a triangle as opposed to an A, and her proportions are more human than is normally seen in a jissou. All in all, I’m not surprised that she became the matriarch of a jissou town. She is shivering, no doubt because of the almost-freezing cold. I make the first move in an overly complicated plan. “Psst, Jissou-sama.” I whisper as I step out of the shadows. Her home-seeking instinct has not been destroyed by years of running a shanty town. She strikes that godawful “cute” pose. “Hello Mr. Man! Do you want to be my owner, desu?” “Well…” She intensifies her perceived cutesy-ness, which gives me the cue I needed to ‘capitulate.’ “I was going to say no, but you look so cute in that dress that I can’t resist. Here, have the rest of my hot chocolate. God knows you must be cold.” I say, setting down my cup of hot cocoa that I had actually prepared specifically for this purpose. “Thank you Mr. Man, de!” She gets right to it, chugging the entire mug of scalding liquid, marshmallows and all. “Delicious, desu.” She says, wiping her “chin” on her sleeve. “Take me home now, desu!” Yeah, you knew it was coming eventually. “Absolutely. Follow close now, I wouldn’t want you getting lost.” I thread my way through the forest with my new best friend in tow. “This place is filthy, desu.” She says when we cross the threshold of my house. “I know, I haven’t gotten around to cleaning yet.” “Do it soon, desu. It stinks in here, desu.” She replies, likely oblivious of –or more likely, in denial about- the fact that she is the one who stinks. “Here, have a konpeito.” I say, giving her a liquid-filled sugary delight. She predictably forgets about the hygiene of my house and gorges herself on the special candy. “Delicious, desu.” After about a minute, that liquid center kicks in. “I don’t feel good, desu…” She indeed begins to sway on her feet. As she falls over, I catch her. She gets dragged to and propped up in the new baby chair. The aforementioned belts get strapped around her arms. The duct tape secures her legs and head. It also secures the hose from the 2-liter bottle so that it can’t escape from her throat. As she begins to wake up, I rip off her shit-stained panties (donning gloves beforehand, of course) and grab a tin box and lighter. “Mh? MMMMMMMMMHMHMHMHHMM!” A muffled screaming announces her return to the world of the living. I choose this moment to make my reappearance. “Hello there, jissou-chan. Do you like being my new pet?” “Mhmsmhmhmhmh! Mmmsmhmhhmh, mmsh.” I guess it is hard to talk with a plastic tube going halfway down your throat. “You don’t like being my pet?” “MH, MMSH!” “How ungrateful.” I walk over and show her the skid-marked panties lying in my tin box. As she looks, I snatch the cardboard wings off of her shoulders. I follow it up by tearing her dress in half and whipping it off of her. “MHMMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMMMM~” A deformed “ORORORORON~” emanates from her taped mouth. I drop the dress and accessories in the tin. “Oh. One more thing.” I gently grasp what’s left of her forelock in one hand, and both pigtails in the other. She doesn’t get it, but after a few seconds, the little (rusty) cogs in her brain begin to turn. She whimpers for mercy, tears oozing out of her eyes. She gets no mercy from me. “MHRMRHMRMHMRHMRHMRMH” An identical ORORORORO again tries to escape the plastic and adhesive but fails. “Wait, I’m not done.” The once-proud matriarch looks up at me in terror. Undoubtedly the one thought in her tiny mind is “What more can he do to me, desu?” I lower the tin once again, exposing the dress and hair inside. “See these? Say goodbye.” I flick the lighter to life, and touch the flame to a few strands of hair. The fire catches and follows the hair like a trail of gunpowder, complete with a satisfying powder keg-esque “whoomph” at the end as the clothes ignite explosively. She doesn’t moan this time, but she finally releases the gargantuan amount of shit that her A-class training forced her to hold back for so long. Luckily, I had the foresight to place a bucket below the hole in the chair. My gaze turns to my small toolbox that is sitting next to the bucket. I heft it onto the table and look inside. The matriarch takes no notice of me, crying silently but copiously. The toolbox I have is only for small-time jobs; it has a hammer and nails, a little bit of glue, screwdrivers of all shapes and sizes, you know, things like that. What is of interest to me right now is the hammer and nail combination. I pull out 2 nails and the hammer. “Hey.” She turns her head against the resistance from the plastic tube and tries her best to focus on me through her tears. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is you will be my pet for a long time to come.” She whimpers at the news of her indefinite torture. “The bad news is that I will need those belts back soon, so I had to find another way of keeping your arms pinned.” She doesn’t catch on, at least not right away. She figures it out when I put the point of a nail on the skin of her left arm. Slam! “Mh? MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHM” She becomes an instant faucet of shit, gushing into the bucket like an unholy parody of Niagra Falls. Slam! This time, a nail penetrates her right arm. Her scream gets louder and the shit waterfall grows. While she tries to cope with the intense pain, I slowly saunter to the kitchen and grab my preferred red liquid: Tabasco sauce. This is the habanero flavor, considerably hotter than the normal type, weighing in at about 12,000 Scoville Units on the Scoville Scale, the scale used for determining capsaicin-induced heat. For comparison, the jalapeño pepper rates at about 7,000 units, meaning that this stuff is hellishly hot. It can literally burn a human’s skin if left on for a significant amount of time. I actually have to dilute it with water to make sure that it doesn’t incinerate the matriarch’s eyeball. Speaking of… I load the diluted hot sauce into an eye dropper. I walk back into the matriarch’s room. “Have you ever heard the quote, ‘In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children?’ I suppose not, no jissou’s ever read Genesis, much less the entire Bible. Either way, you get to learn the exact meaning of that phrase.” A fat red drop splashes from my eye dropper to emphasize the point. I walk up to her, hold her head steady and her eye open, and squeeze the dropper. Her eyes widen as she finally realizes that she is completely, utterly screwed. “MHMRHMMHHMRHMMHMRMHMHM-” To Be Continued…
Okay, fine, since I suffer from the curse of writing too damn fast, you get a two for one. I have waited about 20 hours for someone else to post, and in that time part 2 has been proofread about 7 times. Enjoy. Chapter 12: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize, Part 2 Did I say that tonight was going to be fun? I lied. This whole damn week will be fun. The red drop of Tabasco sauce impacts the green eye of the former matriarch. “MHMHMHMMHMH” Yeah, by now you’re probably getting tired of all the “mhmhmhmh” stuff, but she’s gagged, so I can’t really do anything about it. Aside from un-gagging her, but I find muffled screams easier to handle than regular ones. A torrent of green shit pours into the bucket below her seat. She tries to thrash around in the chair, but the belts, tape, and nails withstand the assault admirably. While she struggles in the agony of labor, I use the intervening minute between eye-reddening and baby-shitting to pound the tips of the nails heading through her arms with my hammer. The inch-long excess metal bends to form a hook and ensure that the nail won’t be coming out anytime soon. Once my labors are finished, I look in the bucket. There are 8 maggots and two thumbs swimming in an insane amount of feces. Damn it, I had a strainer to solve this exact problem, but I forgot it. Oh well, it works both ways, I guess. I retrieve my strainer and set it on the top of the half-of-a-2-liter bottle that will serve to dispense the matriarch’s dinner. I take the now extremely heavy bucket and gently pour the contents into it. The babies plop into the strainer and some of their dinner/bathwater pours into the 2-liter bottle, down the tube attached to it, and into the matriarch’s mouth. I set the bucket down – not even a jissou could swallow a bucket of shit all at once – and take the strainer of babies to the sink. “Mr. Man, rechi?” I ignore her. I need to avoid talking to the test subjects as much as possible. “Punipuni refu.” One of the thumbs, the one that tried to initiate dialogue with me, obliges. Before the maggot can become a living squirt gun of shit, I set the strainer in the sink. I turn the handle, and the maggots find themselves getting a belly rub from high-pressure cold water. “REFublublulblu” I have to admit, that sound is hilarious. I pantomime flipping a pancake with the strainer, and the assorted babies go flying upwards. They are caught in the strainer again, and returned to the cold water. It looks like I’m making jissou stir-fry with cold water and a strainer, if you don’t have the correct mental image yet. After about a minute of rinsing and tossing, I cut off the water and tumble the babies out of the strainer and into a towel-lined box. This will be my holding area for the babies, where they (and their soon-to-be-born younger siblings) will stay until they get dropped into jars. I fill two tin cans in the box up – one with water, the other with generic jissou food – and close the lid. The doorbell rings. I walk to the window. Outside is a truck from the U.S. Postal Service. I open the door and some guy who looks like a reject from California is at my door holding a package. “Package for Mr. Wilson.” “Yeah, that’s me.” “You’re the guy who was on TV, aren’t you.” Oh, fuck. “Yep, that was me.” “That sucks, dude. You got bashed for doing your job.” Wait. I have supporters? “Yeah, I know. It was stupid.” “Hey, don’t worry about it, dude. A lot of people out here think you’re cool.” “Really?” “Yeah, dude.” “That’s actually really good to know. Thanks, man.” Awesome! I was under the impression that everyone hated me. Good to know that I have acquired a fanbase. Now, to get back on topic. I open up the package that happens to be from my customer who is funding my little experiment. Inside the package are several assorted miniature cameras. You see these things in the use of James Bond, private investigators, and the like. They look kind of like the microphones that you see (or, rather, can’t see) news anchors wearing. According to the instructions on the box, they are wireless and can transmit through basically anything short of lead, which is great for my purposes. Some of them even record in night-vision, which is an added bonus. I have a bit of work ahead of me. I need to fabricate various varieties of torture devices, acrylic boxes, and the like. It’s gonna take a few hours, and it’s gonna be boring. I need something to keep me entertained. My eye falls on one of the night-vision camera and one of my mason jars. There’s no reason not to have a little fun before I get to work, is there? I get a little bit of tape and affix one of the night-vision cameras to the outside of the glass so that it records the goings-on inside the jar. I push a little button through the tape, and the little cylinder syncs with my computer. As I watch, a full-screen, fairly high-quality video of my face appears on the screen. I set the jar down for a moment (the camera now recording an infinite loop of its own feed on the computer screen) and link the computer with my awesome plasma TV. Once they link, the video feed jumps from the computer to the 55 inch screen. I walk to my little holding tank. As I open it, the usual chorus of “Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu!” slaps me in the face like jissou shit fumes (which, incidentally, also hit me in the face as I opened the box). I grab a maggot and a thumb. The maggot rolls over on its back and requests a belly rub. The thumb hugs her namesake on my hand and proclaims her “love” for me. I walk back to the jar, disengage the thumb from my thumb, and unceremoniously drop her in the jar. “What’s going on, rechi?” You’ll find out soon enough, little one. I take some tape and seal the maggot’s tail slit, and make a hollow fist around it. A very muffled “punipuni” escapes the small space. I shake my hand rapidly. I can feel it bounce back and forth against my thumb and pinky. I stop and open my hand. “Head hurts, refu… Feel sick, refu…” I gently press the maggot against the jar and firmly tape it to the glass, creating a cocoon of sorts around it. The maggot, despite having its head crushed against a glass wall, somehow retains the power of speech, as I (and the thumb) can hear it speak: “Help, sister, repyeen… Can’t poo, repyeen….” The thumb tries to reach out through the glass, but finds her hand blocked by the clear substance. While she’s mesmerized by the plight of her sister, I screw the top on the jar and walk outside. I ignore the barely audible screams of the thumb and the slightly louder pleas of the maggot and start digging (with a stick, because I’m too lazy to get a trowel or shovel). When I have a hole that’s about the size of the jar and slightly deeper than it is high, I set aside my organic excavation device and slowly, gently lower the jar into it, taking care not to disturb the over-taped maggot. Then, I gently scatter dirt around the jar, making sure I cover the maggot first. Once the fragile part of the assembly was covered, I shove the rest over and pat it down. I stick (no pun intended) the stick into the dirt where I planted my glass-and-jissou seed, and walked inside. Exactly as I had hoped, the camera was transmitting the events inside the jar to my TV in lime green perfection. I get some acrylic, the hacksaw, and some glue. I have work to do… ------------ The thumb pushed herself off of the glass surface she thought she had been laying on. Having been leaning against the wall, she fell on her behind on the floor. She looked around into the darkness. “Hello? Mr. Man, rechi?” “Sister, save, repyeen…” The maggot-chan – her sister – replied to her call, although she was slightly muffled. “Maggot-chan! Where are you, rechi?!” She ran at top speed around her glass prison and found no maggot-chan. However, she could still hear her crying for help. “It hurts, repyeen… Can’t poo, repyeen…” “Don’t worry, maggot-chan, rechi! I’m coming, rechi!” At this point, they could both hear muffled voices: “Mommy, Mommy, look at the stick!” “Timmy, don’t play in the neighbor’s yard!” The thumb cried out: “Help us, Mr. Man!” “Mommy, I heard voices in the dirt!” “Timmy, I’ve told you a hundred times, there’s no such thing as molemen.” “No, Mommy, they sounded like molegirls!” The Mrs. Lady sighed. At least, that’s what it sounded like. “Timmy, listen.” Suddenly, a loud “thump” could be heard. “Mrs. Lady?” A louder thump echoed around the glass. Then another. This one was accompanied by a loud “CRACK!” “RECHAAAAAAAAAAAA-” Maggot-chan’s scream was cut off by another thunk. The glass cracked again, and the thumb was thrown off balance and onto her face. “Now, listen, Timmy.” Silence reigned for about 6 seconds. “The voices stopped, Mommy, but I heard something before!” “No, you didn’t Timmy. Now come inside, its bedtime.” “Awww!” The thumb clambered to her feet. The floor had shifted in some places, and she found herself falling over repeatedly as she tried to walk around. “Mr. Man? Mrs. Lady? Maggot-chan, rechi?” Suddenly, a light appeared above her. It was red and not too bright. The thumb only got a small glimpse of the floor, which was now completely shattered and was essentially a deathtrap of sharp edges, before the light turned off. “W-what happened to the light, rechi?” After about a second, the light turned back on, and she looked around the walls. She recognized that the walls looked a lot like the floor, jagged and cracked and covered in feces- “MAGGOT-CHAN!” The poor maggot had been squeezed through the cracks in the glass. Well, kind of. Only her tail had been squeezed through the glass. Her face had been crushed against the glass. The terrified eyes of the thumb looked into the gray eyes of her dead sister. “Maggot-chan…Chieeeeeen…” She put her arm-stumps to her eyes and cried. As she cried, she made the mistake of trying to step forward. She felt a hot pain in her right leg. She looked down. Her right leg was wedged in a crack in the glass, against the razor-sharp edge… over on the other side of the jar. “RECHAA!” She finally lost the balance she had so carefully maintained. She rolled on her back, cradling her half-of-a-leg in her arms and sobbing. The light turned off. She looked up at the intermittent light source as it turned back on. Huh? What was this strange feeling in her stomach? She looked down at her abdomen, her forcibly amputated leg momentarily forgotten. “What’s going on, rechi?” She felt a pressure in her stomach, almost like she needed to poop. She tried to poop, but nothing came out. As she tried, she noticed that the pressure intensified until it became painful. “Stop, rechi! It hurs, recha!” The pressure continued to grow. The thumb thrashed around, but that did nothing to dull the pain. She saw her stomach visibly stretch, the fabric tearing from the pressure exerted by the bulge. Even though she was in intense pain, the loss of her dress still hurt. “Noo, my dress…recha…” The pain grew until she forgot about the dress. It made it hard to think. It got worse and worse until she couldn’t avoid screaming any longer. “RECHAAA! Someone help me, recha! It hurts recha!” The bulge in her stomach grew and grew until the inevitable finally happened. Pop! “RECHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Her stomach quite literally detonated. The pain intensified into levels that the thumb didn’t even think existed. As she screamed, she heard something. “Refu.” She looked. In the red light, she saw a little maggot-chan. Around her, there were other little maggot-chans, but they looked weird and didn’t move. This one was the only one that did. “Punipuni refu.” With what little strength she could muster, she extended her arm and stroked the little maggot’s belly. As she did, she heard a scraping noise. She ignored it until a faint light played through the ceiling. She looked up into the stars, and the eyes of the Mr. Man who she remembered putting her in the jar. She called out in a weak voice. “Help me… Mr. Man…rechi…” He made no response. His finger reached in the jar and touched Maggot-chan’s belly. “Feels good refu…” The thumb weakly smiled. The Mr. Man liked her baby. Maybe he would make her his pet. Who knows, maybe he had a spot in his heard for the little, stomach-less mother. Tears came to her eyes as she watched her progeny pant in happiness. More tears flooded her eyes as her hopes – and Maggot-chan’s head – were violently crushed. “Noooo, Maggot-chan, recha!” “Do you want to be my pet?” The Mr. Man’s baritone voice echoed in the shattered glass cylinder. Maybe there was hope after all. The thumb looked up at him. She felt tired. Why was it so cold…? “Yes…Mr. Man…re…chi…” She slowly raised her right paw to her chin and tried to grin, but her mouth wouldn’t respond. “Well, too bad. You’re too ugly, just like your baby was.” “Wha…?” She felt motion. Through the glass, she saw the world move around her… No, she was moving. She saw the ground. It seemed to be getting closer and closer. As she watched, a big rock came into focus, and beat the ground in its race towards her. Crash! The world got colder, if that was even possible. She couldn’t feel the pain anymore. She couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. Her vision went dark. As her mind slipped away, her last thought was of her baby maggot, sighing in pleasure from the Mr. Man’s touch. To be continued, again. Yes, I went off topic. I’m well aware of this. Don't worry, there will be SCIENCE in the next chapter, honest.
Fuck yer, I come back from out of town and get TWO chapters of abuse to read. Good jerb frank.
>>412 You're correct about desu and boku, but watashi is gender-neutral. Atashi is feminine.
inb4 inleaves and next PTLD chapter (since its up on his site :p ) also for those that dont read frogspeak: http://translate.google.com I'll await commenting on the chapter til its up here of course.
just read "Till Death Do Us Part", it's pretty good. thought you made Sylvia a bit too stupid though.
well to be fair he's been continualy dumbing down Sylvia as he went along, as she was a tad too bright at first.
I shall not delay commenting any further. Until Death do us Part Part 2 "Samantha, I'm home !" I don't hear any joyous answer. Of course, I wasn't expecting one. I put my bag on my desk and go to her room, gently knocking on the door. "Sweetie ?" No answer. I open the door slowly. The light is out, and she's on her bed, face down. "Well...You tell me when you want to eat, okay ? I'll just let you..." "It's fine, Mom." She gets up. Wounded, but not defeated. "You've been to dad's house ?" "Yes." "What happened ?" "I must work on what I found but basically..." I stop for a moment. "You want the truth ?" "Yes. Like you always say, I must know the truth, even if it hurts." "Yes." I smile. "David didn't suffer. He didn't even see it coming. He took sleeping pills and...he clearly was lethally shot while still asleep." Emotion grips us both at this moment. Very few deaths are without any pain. Knowing the departed one was in the lucky few is comfort, as small as it is. "What about Sylvia ? Stella ? The kojissous ?" "I...didn't find any trace of this Sylvia." "She exists, Mom !" "Yeah, yeah, I didn't mean it like that. There was a second bed in your room with Jissouseki decorations and a second jissou adult table set. What I meant is, her body is nowhere to be found." "She...was kidnapped ?" "No, I don't think so. There weren't any signs of struggle, and that wouldn't fit with the rest of the deaths." "W...What do you mean ?" *Sigh* "Stella and her children were tortured. If someone killed David just to kidnap this Sylvia, he clearly would have left as soon as possible, and not have taken the time to do...that..." As I feared, Sammie is shocked by the news of her dear jissouseki pets being tortured. "Honestly, I have no idea who did it and why, but..." "It happened before...!" "...What did ?" "A few weeks before Dad found Sylvia, Stella's children disappeared. Dad always refused to tell me anything about it, but...The poor Stella, she was so depressed...I know something terrible happened to them." "Could it be the same person ?" "Yes, perhaps...We weren't there when it happened. We were going to Granny's, and while I was sleeping in the car, Dad apparently went back because he forgot something, and he found our pets like that. The bad guy was already gone." "Thank you, that might be useful. And sorry to put you through this again." "'salright..." "Come on, sweetie, let's eat out." Later in the night, after making sure Sammie is asleep, I take my phone, and play the recording. "Okay, I know somebody's going to hear this, desu. I don't know how this works and I don't give a shit, but I damn well know it transmits information to someone, desu. Well, asshole, I hope you're recording this, desu !" ...And that's the very first thing that came out. You might have noticed the "desu"s. This word, apparently straight out of Japanese language, is something the jissouseki -the adult ones at least- can't help but say at the end of their sentences. But a jissouseki voice is easily recognizable. It's very high-pitched, unnaturally so. But the voice I just heard was human. Without any possible confusion. Samantha's account of some sort of hyper-evolved Jissouseki David brought home is now closer to being undeniable as ever. Within minutes of my rig being activated, I can hear the same girl singing something, and faint cries of jissouseki in pain. That's when the torture must have begun. And shortly after, footsteps. Sounds of a phone dial. "Général ? Oh bordel je suis tombé sur le standard...Euh, Je suis juste en train de vouloir contacter le général Lejeune, vous pensez pouvoir faire ça ? Quoi ? Euh, non, je peux pas trop dire mon nom là. Mais...Dites lui "David Kellan". Ca devrait lui suffire. J'espère." A stressed-out masculine voice. The recording was very clear, indicating the man was in the living room, but...Obviously, he wasn't speaking English. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was French. It's only my third language after Italian, and I'm a little too rusty to understand a stressed native speaker. Still,will have to do. "Ah ! Oui, Général, c'est moi, Emma Peel. Non, rien, laissez tomber. Parce qu'on est dans la merde ! Vous savez, la super-jissouseki que j'étais supposé interroger ? Eh bah j'ai utilisé le machin que vous m'avez donné. Tu parles qu'elle a réagi ! La première chose qu'elle a dit est, je cite : "My brain is full of billions of fuck desu". Oui, le desu est d'origine. Mais ça encore, on s'en fout. Une fois qu'elle a dit ça, elle est allée dans une armoire quelconque, en a sorti un flingue, et...” Silence. Apparently, he did...something to a super-jissouseki. Probably "Sylvia", and she freaked out. “Elle a buté Kellan, Général. Buté. Exécuté. Plombé la gueule. Envoyé de l'autre côté du Styx. Et j'ai aucune idée de pourquoi. ” Ranting notwithstanding, it means : She killed Kellan, and I have no idea why. And neither do I. Sylvia, whom my daughter cares very much about, killed her father and tortured her pets. I can do with murders less screwed-up than this. "Euh, vous savez que je suis toujours prêt à défendre la veuve et l'orphelin, mais elle avait un flingue. Ca a tendance à calmer l'héroisme." "Flingue" is slang for "gun". "Héroisme" is pretty transparent. These two words put together are the reason why caution has been invented. Never a good idea to mess with an armed madman. Still, what was this guy's purpose ? He clearly didn't expect the murder, and if he was here to steal this hyper-advanced jissou, why didn't he just run off with her while David was sleeping ? That makes no sense. Okay, Lynn, think. I know David had been to France several months before Sammie's birth, so eleven years ago. Just after the first jissouseki had appeared to the public eye, in fact. But he certainly didn't say he made a lifelong friend there, and God know he's talkative about this kind of things, so the meeting probably isn't related to that. A recent business partner is more sensible. The Frenchman, curious, will have done something that inadvertently screwed up the jissou. Highly advanced but never before seen spells prototype, and prototypes are not just likely to be unstable : They're expected to. The hypothesis of the freak, unfortunate accident sounds pretty good. Except for two things. -Unless I heard wrong, the guest is talking to a General. That, in itself, should raise the DEFCON level, never mind my suspicions of shenanigans being afoot. -And if she's unstable to the point of killing her master and barbarically torturing her fellow pets, why was there no trace of violence against the guest whatsoever ? Let's hear the rest. "Donc, je fais quoi ? Votre témoin-miracle est un putain de psychopathe armé capable de tuer de sang froid et...eh bien, disons juste que les cris que j'entends à l'étage me rappellent l'appart de Stéphanie. Je ne sais même pas si je suis en sécurité." He was himself scared of the mutant. Can't blame him. "Oui, oui, je m'en souviens, la vidéo youtube...Mais elle tue des Jissouseki dedans. Et entre tuer des Jissouseki et tuer quelqu'un, surtout quelqu'un avec qui, selon vos infos, elle a vécu pendant trois ans, c'est...Hm ? Hmm, c'est vrai ce que vous dites. Oui, c'est vrai qu'on lui a rendu la mémoire, qui sait comment elle peut réagir....Bon, je raccroche, je vais essayer de causer avec elle. Après tout, c'est bien pour ça que je suis là..." Didn't really catch much of that except...Give back memories ? Meaning, her memories have been somehow suppressed ? The creature did say "My brain is full of fuck". ...David, what in the name of God did you do ? But, seconds after he hung up, I notice something. The cries of pain have stopped. In their stead, the voice that came first in the recording, accompanied by the sound of someone getting quickly down the stairs. "So, anyway, who in the blue fuck are you, and what did you do to me, desu ?" "Just...Call me dude for the moment. I'm a sort-of-spy with a device that wipes out all programming in a Jissou. We counted on the fact your amnesia was programmed. This went well ! Unlike the rest...” For a foreign guy, his english is comprehensible enough. Thank God, that was tiresome. "All programming, desu ? Well, that explains why I feel fine after killing Mas...this asshole, desu !" "It does ?" "I've got the gun, I ask the questions, desu. Why did you do it, desu ?" "To save the world ! Although in retrospect, that was a bad plan from the get go." "Give me a break, desu. What is this, Hollywood ?" "I know, right ? I'm just a local head of jissou exterminators, and yet, here I am in the USA, talking to an armed, pint-sized sociopath. You think my disbelief is still suspended ?" Brief silence here. "You...are an exterminator ?" “Yes.” “So I trust you, desu. How can I help you, desu ?” Doesn't seem to hold her lesser cousins into her heart. And not just Stella. As a general rule. I can get why. “Good. And thanks for putting the gun down. Something is controlling the Jissouseki on a large enough scale that, even with their individual worthlessness, they are able to create chain reactions in cities, overwhelming them. Nothing short of the army can do anything at this scale. So, somehow, I've been put in charge of contacting you.” Cities overwhelmed ? I heard that at the precinct. And while most were very skeptical, I didn't find that to be much of a stretch. They are fragile to the point you can crush them underfoot and aren't exactly criminal masterminds, but their ability to reproduce is so mind-bogglingly huge, there very well may be a certain threshold where you can't kill them fast enough to cancel out the new births. No matter what the balance of power might be between the members of two species, numerical advantage can be unsurpassable. “Hey ? You're listening to me ?” “Mh ?! Oh, yeah, yeah, I was just...thinking, desu.” “Right. So. Apparently you are the closest thing we have to a lead to who has been controlling these mass jissou armies. After all, you were created by the lab who came up with the technology able to install a programming inside their crystals.” Girlish laugh, a distinct anger within it. “Well, I'm a dead end, desu. The lab was disbanded, overrun by Jissouseki, desu. They are all dead, desu.” … “...Or at least I hope, desu ?” “Why ? Why do you say that ?” “None of your business, desu.” “Well, I don't think so. Your company going down sucks, but I don't think they would all have killed themselves.” “That's not all they d...Hey, you're right, desu ! Nick said they all blew their heads off, but maybe that's a lie, desu ! Maybe they're liars about everything, desu !” “Maybe, yes. And now, they are trying to destroy cities all around the world. You were with them. Do you remember anything ? About a secondary lab ? About some kind of plan or project, perhaps ?” “...Let me think, desu.” Well, that could take a while. Highly evolved or not, she still seems to have their special brand of retardation. Take her realization she could have been lied to, for example. Jissouseki are amazingly naive. Usually, when you encounter a Jissouseki, it's in the street. They, much like pigeons, are scavengers that mostly live in our cities. Unlike pigeons, they have a certain level of sentience, and realize that a life feeding off breadcrumbs isn't really the best. Especially when the birds themselves tend to attack them and seriously wound them. Yes, even pigeons. Anyway, this realization leads almost always to the conclusion that they should try to persuade humans to take them as pets. Not that retarded a plan, right ? Being a pet is a far sight better than living in the street. The problem is in their method. They feel downright entitled to be pets. The “persuade” part is mostly composed of two phrases. “I am very little and don't eat much” and “I am cute”. If that's not enough to seduce the human, they immediately resort to aggressive pestering. Which, given how ugly and dirty they are, happen all the damn time. You see, they can't understand why anyone wouldn't want them. Even if they lost an eye after an altercation with an human abuser, they feel like the center of the world, with unabated cuteness. It's that lack of ability to think things over that makes them extraordinarily susceptible to deception. A lie can convince them of just about anything. Including, apparently, that bizarre mass-suicides can happen after a company incident. “...Wait a minute, so that was a real place, desu !” “What was ?” “One day, they took me to a place, to show me to someone, desu. A big mansion, desu. But Dad said I had dreamed that, desu !” See ? “You think you can find where it is ?” “Yeah, there was a big forest, it was on higher ground, desu. On a mountain flank, desu. If I see it again, I'll recognize it, desu.” “And who was in there ?” “I...I'm not sure, desu. I mean, there was a guy and a woman, but I don't know who they were, desu.” “Well, it's our only lead for the time being. We have to go now, it's not really a safe place.” “Yeah, the sooner I'm out of this house, the better, Mr.Man, desu.” “You don't want to bring anything with you ?” “No. And I need new clothes, desu.” “...What's wrong with your dress ?” “Let's just say it will soon have an unfortunate accident involving fire, desu.” “Okay, okay, let's go.” “And I need a new damn haircut, desu !” That last line was receding into the distance, and after that, nothing. I checked the recording on Audacity, and it flatlined for a very long time. In fact, until the police came in, a day later. A mansion in the mountains overhanging a forest. Shouldn't be impossible to find.
Good damn chapter. PTLD is starting to, now that she's interacting with humans more, act a lot more like a Jissou (what with saying she needs a new dress/haircut, assuming its not because Mr Dead Guy did something funny to her hair/dress)
naw, that fucker clearly would have "dressed up" his little pet
Yeah, still it was funny to hear PTLD sounding like a jissou demanding shit. Of course it was likely reasonable demands too..... prolly helps that unless someone gets a good look at her face she could pass for a human child too.
Damn it, I'm stuck out of town, I can barely get a damn connection, and I'm stuck using a fucking Nintendo DSi. RAGE. As I said on your blog, this is awesome. I'm really glad that I speak Spanish, since it has so many French cognates. Genestar's ranting about Kellan's death was hilarious, by the way. I'm still going to have to break out Google Translate when I get home, though. I noticed (as did Lynn, and Kashiwaba) that PLTD is speaking and acting very much like a jissou. Wouldn't some of that (the desus, for example) be caused by the crystal's programming, which Genestar wiped? It also seems to me that she has lost a fair bit of her intelligence going from her series to this one. She went from planning experiments (however flawed) in Eugenics of Fear to comprehending insurance (something I can't do) and capitalizing on it in To Hell and Back, If Necessary. Could this have to do with the crystal's influence, or am I looking too deeply into this? Actually, having a foreign object fuck with your central nervous system couldn't help your brain. It's already been stated in The Nightside of Eden that her IQ was thirded (or dropped by 1/3, I dont remember and this fucking DSi doesn't have the RAM to read this entire page) when the crystal was implanted. Could the thing be causing a continual decline in brain function? That, of course, would mean that her mind would eventually degenerate through jissou levels down to that of a household pet, or she would straight-up die from the brain damage. Like I said, I'm probably looking way too deeply into this, but it's a logical conclusion to reach. Oh, not only am I out of town, but I'm out of town with Skyrim. Don't expect to hear anything else out of me until Sunday or Monday.
my two cents: The crystal has a programing free state, that is that of an unalterd Jissou. The programing is just additonal behavioral alterations that were added on top of those. So when the wipe occurs, PTLD's programing reverts to it's defualt state. As for the memories, yeah her mind was wiped (again) but since her memories coming back is a plot point I'll (til contradcited by a chapter at least) assume that they were stored in the jissou crystal and when the programing wipe occured, the crystal dumped them back into her mind. As for her demanding behavior, in this case yeah it was clearly a case of 'ok wtf, get me out of this shit' and not a jissous 'FEED ME NAO' demanding. But it sounded just like it, which was what made it hilarious.
During all the time I was writing Supreme Abuser, I came to the conclusion that PTLD was too smart, especially in the beginning. Of course, she probably came out as stupider in this chapter than she really is. I just wanted to point out a flaw (she's gullible as fuck) that wasn't as evident when she was the one narrating (it was there, though). The "I want new clothes" at the end, however, is indeed a case of Kellan dressing her up. As for the exact effect of the wiper, let's just say that I consider things work that way : "Sure, we were able to reprogram a Jissou somewhat, but there was still a lot of things processed by the brain which we couldn't reach." - Nick Howell, The Nightside of Eden The brain and the crystal are two connected, but distinct, "organs". The brain works as, well, a brain, but the crystal, that is single-handedly supporting the Jissou's impossible existence, is able to override things in it. The crystal has priority, if you will, but it doesn't have a real influence on the mind without human tampering. So when she was transformed, her brain was changed by the shock of having the crystal implanted, thus the loss of memory and decrease in intelligence, as well as other natural jissou traits such as the -desu. But once it was done, the brain continues to work normally, storing memories and all that. However, at some point, the crystal was programmed to say "Hey, brain, I want you to forget everything that happened up until this point or I'll uninstall Skyrim from your computer forever, are we clear ?". Once this is out of the way, she simply remembered everything that was put under secrecy by the programming. I'm not sure if it's really coherent, but that's how I see things. And I say it now because I don't think I would have written it down in a chapter.
Um, so if Skyrim was the threat why did she loose her memory ? I mean lets face it, bethesda products suck balls. And yeah, it's coherent, her brain still remembers it all, just that the crystal tells her what to remember and not remember.
Kashiwaba, say what you will about Fallout 3/NV, but Skyrim is made of God, Win, and Awesome. Please refrain from uttering blasphemies. Thanks. Chapter 12: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize, Part 3 Well, that was stupid. Don’t get me wrong, the footage was hilarious, and will be going into my personal archive of jissou-related awesome, but I wasted one of the cameras for it. These things are motherfucking expensive. I gotta give Timmy, or whatever the next-door kid’s name is, a couple bucks for having his mom jump-start the action, though. I couldn’t tell you why he was ranting on about molemen. Probably some childish imagination thing. I wouldn’t know; my imagination consists solely of how to make money and torture jissous at the same time. Anyways… Yeah, I lost a camera when I threw the remnants of the glass at a rock. The red light that impregnated the thumb was a low-battery light, which is why I originally went outside to get it. A low-battery light that fucking flashes in an out-of-the-ordinary color doesn’t strike me as stealthy, but I suppose these things never were intended for actual James Bond 007 action anyway. Oh well, I have more than enough of the little things to get all the observations I need. I walk back in the house. As I do, the clock strikes midnight. Fortunately for me and my client, I am fully capable of becoming nocturnal on demand. All it takes is a metric fuckton of coffee. I retrieve a cup of the aforementioned sludge, toss in the obligatory 2 gallons of vanilla, and finally get down to the SCIENCE! Okay, here’s how the setup is going to work. In one room is the control group. They’re going to be in acrylic boxes which will be separated by black curtains and about 10 feet of empty space apiece to minimize interference. Unfortunately, this means I’m only able to squeeze 4 boxes in the room (it’s about 10-by-15 feet), one in each corner. These boxes have air holes placed in hard-to-reach areas, so as to avoid them locating them and throwing shit into the holes, blocking them, and dying like the actual experimental group (assuming my hypothesis is correct). The boxes are clear, so I can perform whatever kind of long-distance torture I need to without letting them out. Oh, and these things are absolutely miniscule. I made a few sizes, and they can just barely hold the type of jissou they’re intended for. The actual experimental group goes in another room, this one on the complete opposite side of the house from the baby-shitting matriarch and the control group. It’s also an interior room. If anyone wants to fuck with my experiment by means of an airsoft gun and/or laser pen, they can have the controls; the experimental group must be protected at all costs. This room has about the same dimensions as the control room, so there will be 4 test subjects per run. Again, the jissous will be shielded from contact from one another by black curtains and distance, with extra auditory interference from the glass the jars are comprised of. Said jars will be completely and tightly sealed, making use of several rubber gaskets, some petroleum jelly, and, if all else fails, a plastic bag secured by a rubber band. Beside the jar will be a timer that I will activate the moment I seal the jar, so as to allow me to get an accurate amount of elapsed time without having to do math via the cameras. All jars (and boxes, for the control group) will be empty of everything save the jissous, simply due to the fact that the jissous will occupy about 70% of the space in the jar, at least for this test. Without further ado, let’s get to it. This is a simple proof-of-concept test. My hypothesis is: If I place a maggot in a hermetically sealed jar, it will die of suffocation. Simple enough. One maggot goes in a tiny box. Another maggot goes into a Gerber baby food jar. In both cases, they have to curl up to fit, much to at least one’s displeasure. “Mr. Man, new home is too small refu.” “Punipuni refu.” Why do I ever expect anything different? Oh wait, I don’t. I tap the timer and move on. The cameras are placed next. They both are set up to send the feed to my computer, which will automatically save the videos as .wmv files for later review. It will simultaneously display the feed on a split screen because I don’t feel like kneeling in front of a jar for 6.75 hours until one dies, and besides the test calls for them to be alone anyway. I head downstairs to the aforementioned PC. The feed from the cameras is displayed onscreen, as I so vaguely foreshadowed. The box maggot, the one that complained, walks in a circle around its box. You’ve heard the expression, “You can’t put a round peg in a square hole,” right? Well, this one kept hitting its head on the sides of the box. Literally every time it cleared a corner, it would knock its soft, squishy skull against the hard acrylic I used to create the container’s sides. And yet, even though it’s getting plenty of negative reinforcement in the form of a growing bruise on its scalp, it continues to walk in a circle and collide with a solid fucking wall. This proves something that was colloquially assumed: Jissouseki, in their earlier forms at least, lack the ability to learn anything that isn’t a language. Sure, the smarter, older ones can learn, and can even become literate if given the chance, but the young ones and even the more retarded older ones will exhibit one of the symptoms of insanity or retardation; namely, performing the same action and expecting a different outcome. It’s like a human adding 2+2 on a calculator and somewhere along the line expecting a 5 to turn up. Think about it: how many times have you walked outside to find a mother jissou entreating entrance to your home, removed her dress and kicked her away, only to find the same mother, hairless, dressless, and child-less, entreating entrance into your home? This case here is actually kind of amusing, but the head-banging will kill the maggot if it goes unchecked, simply because a maggot can’t handle lateral force, period. A dead control that’s supposed to stay alive will fuck my experiment to bits, or at least this run. Oh, but what’s this? The jar maggot is still. Very still. As in, dead. Hypothesis confirmed: A maggot dropped in a jar and left alone will die of suffocation in a reasonable time. How reasonable? I save the .wmv files to my desktop, and replay the jar maggot recording. As with the box maggot, the jar maggot walked in circles for the remainder of its life. However, since jars are, almost by definition, round, there was no detrimental head-banging. After about a minute passed, it got wobbly on its feet, falling down once, but getting up and resuming the struggle. Finally, it just collapsed, its little chest continuing to rise and fall for about another minute or so before ceasing completely. Time elapsed: 2:06. I’d call that a result. Hell yeah. I switch back to the active feed from the control box. The boxed maggot is still circling, and its head is slowly but surely giving in to the self-inflicted abuse. All I need is that one song that goes like this: “CRAWLING IN MY SKIIIIIIIIIIIN, THESE WOUNDS THEY WILL NOT HEALLLLLL!” Yeah, that’ll work nicely. Anyways, the maggot’s head is bloody as all hell. There’s a little trail of blood that marks the retarded larva’s path, with large splotches of excrement and blood where the path of the head in question intersected with solid acrylic. I can hear a muffled voice through the microphone in the camera. “Head hurts, refu…” Generally, when a human does something and exclaims in pain, there’s an unspoken bit hiding at the end of the sentence that says “I should stop.” The maggot, however, makes no illusions about not knowing a thing about subtext. It makes one last heroic effort to resume the pace, and slams into the acrylic one last time with a wet squishing sound. It sticks to the wall for a moment, gargling incoherently, before slowly and silently succumbing to gravity and blood loss. Elapsed time: Somewhere around 7:00. Not really a result, but still, hell yeah. Now, for level two! The new hypothesis: Will a kojissou in a hermetically sealed jar die of asphyxia in a similar (or at least a reasonable) time as the maggot did? Setup is roughly the same for this one. The only true difference is the inclusion of a kojissou instead of a maggot and a slightly larger jar and corresponding box. I add the test subjects, set the cameras up, etc. I make a brief detour outside to fire up the pool/jacuzzi, because level three’s gonna take fucking forever. I return to the computer. You have got to be kidding me. Guess what both kojissous are doing? Walking in circles around their containers. I guess Mama Matriarch liked to walk in circles, and the whole memory gene thing is true. Or perhaps they’re all retarded. Yeah, let’s go with that. This time, they aren’t slamming their faces into the walls, given that their brains are a tenth of a percent larger than their larval cousins. They’re still trooping along, though, and in the jar kojissou’s case, burning precious oxygen as they go. This time, I pay more attention to my experimental kojissou. She stumbles around her jar in a circle with a diameter of an inch. She’s literally occupying 75% of the space in the jar. The thing is wider than she is tall, for Christ’s sake. The symptoms of asphyxia set in, much as they did for the maggot. Through the glass, a very muffled sentence breaks through: “I feel dizzy, tech…” The cut-off on the “techi” was from her blacking out. She falls backward, and ends up propped up in a strange manner since she’s taller than the jar is wide, as I mentioned. She continues to breathe as her body vainly tries to pull enough oxygen from the air to sustain her (minimal) brain functions. After a few moments, her lungs give up the ghost, and she is still. Elapsed time, 3:01. About a minute longer than the maggot. The volume of the container that the maggot and kojissou took up was roughly the same (off by about a percent, I think). That means that either kojissous breathe less, or one percent makes a big difference. I mark it down on Notepad and begin to set up stage three. This one’s gonna take a little while to finish, though. The new hypothesis: A maggot placed in a standard container found in most households (i.e. a straight-up Mason jar) will die of asphyxia in a reasonable amount of time. As you’ve likely divined, I think I’m horribly, horribly wrong. I’m expecting about an hour’s wait, if not more. Thankfully, there’s a pool in the backyard, and it’s fucking heated. To hell with the snow, I’m going swimming! *Ring* What? Oh, it’s my phone. Why the hell am I getting called at two in the fucking morning? I swear to god, if I hear a raspy voice say “Have you checked the children” I’m going to reply “I KILLED THEM.” “Hello.” “Hey Justin, it’s Kate.” “Hey Kate, what’s up, it’s two in the morning and I’m busy and tired and swimming in 40 degree weather and all that.” “Swimming?” “The pool’s heated. And a jacuzzi, somehow. So yeah, what’s up?” “It’s Sarah…” And suddenly, my pool and my experiment instantly migrate to the back burner. “What about Sarah…?” “You know what a laser light does to a kojissou, right?” “Are you implying what I think I’m implying?” “Yeah.” … “You there, Justin?” “I’m on my way over.” “Wait, wha-” Click. I jump in my truck, pull out of the driveway, and go roaring down the road, leaving a wake composed mostly of profanity and crushed jissou limbs. End chapter 12. Apologies for the Deus Ex Machina there, but Sarah’s been thrown to the wayside for far too long. And it is short. Sorry about that, the next one will be longer, honest!
Im not complaining, even if you like inferior RPGs. Fallout/Fallout2 FTW.
was me, forgot to tripfag after clearing cookies.
>>444 >>445 Nice get bro. Also, I'm tossing around an idea of restarting my series, but with an actual plot. 12 chapters (one of which has 3 parts) of directionless rambling seems to me to be more of a test run than an actual story, though perhaps it's just my perfectionism kicking in. Thought I'd run the idea by someone else before I go off and do something rash.
I would agree, this story, while containing interesting ideas and being all you can expect from a jissou story, does lack continuity and long-term focus. I mean, Sarah's disappearance for no reason was really obvious. I suggest you try a reboot only because I'm confident you can pull a more structured story. You needn't foresee everything from A to Z at the beginning, though. Just refrain from going anywhere unless you have thought about what would follow chapters down the road. And whenever possible, try to base your work on previous chapters, even if they are details. All good stories are woven as they go.
The disaperance seemed to be a pretty good reason to me. PETA fucked up his old house, he had a friend looking after her until he was confident his new place was safe.
Logic-wise, it was. Story-wise, it was not. The boku-jissou was the main event. It was understandable for her to be put on hiatus given Justin's situation, but sometimes, you've got bigger things to worry about than realism.
Na, his experiments are good too. Personally I find both equally enjoyable.
Yeah, me randomly throwing Sarah into the Void was one of my reasons. Like you said, it was essentially throwing a main character into the trash can. Even realism would have let me throw her back in the mix, but I decided to focus on the "mad-scientist" angle a bit too much. I also crave continuity. I despise it when someone jumps into a new part of a series out of the blue, switching details, introducing/cutting characters, and the like. Needless to say, I feel like a hypocrite at the moment. So, yeah, it's reboot time. Give me a few days, or years, to try to get a basic story started up. Yes, Justin will continue owning jissous for SCIENCE and cash. That's all I've determined so far...
or better yet just keep going, just take what you've learned into that.
>>451 Don't start over, you're doing just fine.
>>453 You're slightly too late; I've actually already started on the new thing. It has an actual plot (well, kind of) as opposed to randomness, so it's definitely being kept. By the way, what do you mean by "just fine?" I can't really get much out of "GJ."
IT IS COMPLETE! Kind of. Now I just need a title. Also, I assume that the reader doesn't know the first thing about jissous. Oh, and fuck Notepad. Chapter One: A New Beginning Let me start off by posing a question to you all. If you found yourself alone in a world full of horrors, what would you do? Drink away your sorrows? Freak out and run like hell? Cower and beg for mercy? Take the coward's way out? If you answered "make lemonade with a sledgehammer," than you are either insane or your horror is a Jissouseki. If you don't know what a jissou is, why in the hell are you on the internet? In case you have yet to behold one of these monstrosities, I suppose a quick description and history lesson wouldn't be too far amiss. Coerceo fossor, commonly known as Jissouseki or simply as jissous, are small, semi-sentient humanoids. They are asexual, though decidedly feminine, reproducing through either through standard sexual reproduction, a knee-jerk reaction to extreme danger, or a reaction to a red light or fluid (I'll elaborate on these in a moment). Appearance-wise, they are, as I mentioned, feminine, having distinctive twin pigtails, green dresses, extremely high-pitched voices, and the like. They look almost like mini-humans (assuming you aren't staring at the larval form for some odd reason) until you look at their face. The first thing that strikes you is the distinctive mouth. It looks like an A. I'm not fucking kidding, it is literally a capital A. Inside is a stupidly-long tongue that ends in a heart shape. They have heterochromia, their left eye being green and the right one red, both devoid of pupils. They have no eyebrows. Now that you know what you're looking at, you're likely wondering why in the hell these things are horrible. After all, they are semi-sentient, aren't they? Don't we allocate billions of dollars to trying to find intelligent life elsewhere? Isn't this an amazing discovery? If you know Latin, however, you are thinking something somewhat different. For the Latin-impaired, coerceo fossor means "enclosed fool." The English version is "packaged retard." Think about that for a moment. The scientific community has a penchant for understatement. For examples, look up the Big Bang or Tyrannosaurus rex. Off of those unremarkable names for very remarkable things, we went and outright called something stupid. That says something about the bearers of that name, doesn't it? Like I have foreshadowed, every jissou, with few exceptions, is dumber than a bag of bricks. They have very few talents, and if a subject falls outside of these few areas of "expertise," their brain responds with "oh hell no." Those "talents" are, in order of importance: reproduction, shitting, and greed. Remember how I mentioned the red fluid/light? If a jissou recieves a drop of a red fluid or a flash of red light in their green eye, they become pregnant. After a few minutes pass, they extrude anywhere from 2 to 20 larval-stage children. The same goes for that knee-jerk reaction; anytime the jissou finds itself in a certain-death situation, they shit babies as a preservation mechanism. Nobody, not even the scientists, know why or how, but it has been both a boon and a curse to humanity. A boon, because these things are actually edible. I can say from experience that the larvae (which, by the way, are little grubs that come in a stocking and are even more retarded than their elder cousins) taste so much like chicken that you can use them in a recipe that calls for it without any difference in the flavor whatsoever. They also come born with clothing for some reason, which means that the grubs can be used as literal silkworms, since they not only come in the stocking I mentioned, but they enter a metamorphosis into their elder form, spinning a silk cocoon to do so. The curse aspect of this comes from the fact that anytime a jissou is in danger or has a cut on its forehead it spews children. These children eventually grow to shit more babies. You've heard of the rabbit plague in Australia, correct? Australia imported rabbits as game animals, and got overrun. Same thing here. Cities are full of the little bastards. It's gotten to the point where the government literally pays you to stomp as many as you can. (They're fragile as fuck; lightly pressing your foot on them will crush their skulls. This is the only reason humanity still exists, for a reason I'm about to mention.) Assume for a moment that they could comprehend that humanity wants them as either stains on the pavement or chunks of meat in a bowl of stew. The logical thing to do in that case would be to stay as far away from humanity as possible, and some actually do, making an honest living for themselves in the process. Most, however, do the exact opposite. They try to become our pets. Your brain just detonated, didn't it? Apparently, these things were originally created to be the perfect pet. The lab royally fucked up, and was about to wipe these things off of the face of the earth when some assholes from the Internet decided to fuck everyone's shit and let them out into the world. Their small size and tendency to seek humans allowed them to travel 'round the world on boats and planes while humanity basically stood yelling "WHAT THE FUCK." Before we knew it, these things were everywhere, spraying liquid (green, inexplicably) shit and babies everywhere. To compound the problem, people took them in, appeasing their desire to be pets. Remember how greed is an area of expertise for them? If you give them a home, they demand food. If you give them food, they demand more. If you refuse, they throw their shit and scream like children until you give in. Think the saying "Give an inch and they'll take a mile" multiplied by 9000. Eventually, the sympathizers were literally eaten (and shat) out of house and home, their formerly proud houses condemned, covered in shit, and crawling with maggots (of both the jissou and fly varieties). Entire communities, towns, and even countries have fallen to these little retarded baby machines. You're likely wondering how I know so much about these things. The answer is paid research. I make my living off of testing these things. My name is Justin Wilson. I am a 17-year-old scientist living in the United States of America. America's the best place for any budding jissou scientist, but the worst for anyone else. This is because America has the highest average population density of jissous in the world. Even in metropolitan areas, it can be assumed that there are more jissous in the square mile than humans. Fuck if I know why. I bet you were thinking the Third World was the worst off in this regard. This isn't the case, because the people there eat the things. Of all the bad things I can say about the Jissouseki menace, it's that they solved world hunger. I bet you're also wondering why I can get away with testing something that's actually sentient and self-aware. If you are, you're retarded. Re-read above, and you'll realize that not only is killing these things encouraged, it's fucking required. In America, we have PETA and the ASPCA stopping us from organizing an extermination, but over in Europe they have whole divisions devoted to keeping jissou populations down. Since in this economic climate the U.S. can't afford to not take PETA's ill-gotten cash, they clandestinely turn to private scientists with sadistic streaks to look for easy, quiet ways to kill the little bastards. That's where I and my colleagues come in. If you can't be bothered to read a wall of text, here's the "Too long; didn't read" version: I get to torture things for SCIENCE and money. Don't get me wrong, there's no way in hell that I'd do these experiments on a human, ever. But jissous are so plentiful and stupid that almost everyone, not just the scientists, uses them to relieve stress and sadistic urges. I bet that hundreds of murders, rapes, and domestic abuse cases were prevented just by the almost-criminals being able to relieve rage on an abuse jissou. A silver lining to the infestation, I suppose. It's to the point where a jissou shop that doesn't sell abuse-quality jissous (abuse being the term for beating the dogshit out of a jissou) instantly goes bankrupt. I suppose that the people who actually know what jissous are have been sitting through my explanations half-asleep and waiting for the slaughter to begin. All in due time, my friends, I have the initiates to condescend to first. As I said, I make good money killing jissous in creative ways. I get paid with taxpayer money, too! I always get a kick out of the fact that PETA is unwittingly paying their adversaries. Anyways, I've stuffed my bank account like this for about 2 years, since I was legally able to make money in the Commonwealth of Virginia. I've been helping with jissou research for years before that, since these things first appeared and America said "oh fuck no." I went from a helper to the CEO of the business. How'd a 17-year-old do this? By becoming an orphan, that's how. My dad's a douchenozzle that doesn't give a fuck about me, and the rest of my family received lead to the back of the head, courtesy of an extremist offshoot of PETA. The cocksuckers are having fun with Bubba in prison, of course, but that left me alone in the world. Thankfully, I can take care of myself. I may be the only high-school dropout in the Wilson family, but I have an ironclad excuse: I have a business to run, damn it. Anyways, it's time for my first test of the day! All of you dozing in your chairs, awaken! It's time for death! I look at my clipboard. "Investigate effects of high pressure on c. fossor" appears in a neat font at the top of the page. Below it, in my distinctive, untidy scrawl, are my personal notes, most of them in shorthand and thusly illegible to anyone who isn't Leonardo da Vinci. A few stand out to me; these ones I deliberately wrote out to be legible later on. A few notable ones are "reinforce the box," "use compressed air," and "don't forget the motherfucking noseplugs this time." Yes, I tend to curse at my future self. Yes, I also sometimes forget simple things like compressed air and reinforced boxes. Essentially, what's going down is this: I'm throwing a jissou in a box, pumping compressed air into it, and seeing how high the pressure has to go before it implodes. Without further ado... I walk into my backyard. The shed looms ahead of me, a white structure full of foreboding and terror. I open up the door, and get slapped in the face by the stench of jissou shit. "Mr. Man!" I look down. A jissou mother looks up at me from one of the 20 enclosures I maintain in this shed for testing purposes. For the initiates I must mention that jissous, though capable of literally learning a language in 10 minutes, have several verbal tics. Firstly, they refer to humans as either "Mr. Man" or "Mrs. Lady." They also apply words from the japanese language to all others, most notably the copula "desu" for the adult jissous and the suffix "-chan" to refer to their own. Younger jissous use the copulae "techi," "rechi," or "refu" (in descending order of age) depending ont heir developmental stage. Depending on their situation and 'mental' state, they will modify their words. For example, an adult in pain will say "degya" as opposed to "desu." "Mr. Man, will you make me your pet, desu? MY babies are small and don't eat much, desu." The babies in question linger around the mother's feet. Most of them are maggots, who look up at me and chirp the exact same line: "Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu!" Others chirp (what I assume is) the japanese version: "Punipuni, refu." There are several thumbs indulging the maggot's desires. A thumb, for the record, is a baby born in humanoid form as opposed to larval form. They say "rechi" and are the closest thing to mothers that the children have, as you're going to see. The oldest children - adolescents, if you will - are called kojissous. There are only two, and they aid the thumbs in rubbing the maggot's stomachs. "Sure, why not?" I reply to the mother's question. "However," I add as the family prepares to jump for joy, "I can only take you, not your babies." The uninitiated, I expect, think that she will tell me "not without my babies." Remember, they're greedy as fuck... "Don't worry, desu! Shit babies can stay here, desu! Take me to my house now, desuu~n!" Greed. Poster child. Also, my house is her house, all of a sudden. All right, perra, let's go... "Alright." I pick up the mother by the waist (after surreptitiously donning latex gloves; the mother doesn't notice for some reason) and begin to walk away. The thumbs are heartbroken. "No, mama, come back, recha!" The maggots are too damn oblibious to notice or care. The kojissous probably learned the hard way that it's usually best to shut up. Or, perhaps they're more stupid than normal. Yes, that's it. Anyways, mama comes with me. She closes her eyes and sort-of snuggles into my shirt, getting her nasty-ass spit all over it. A green trickle runs down her legs and splatters on the tile floor. My mom had anticipated this long ago, and had tiled the floor. Jissou shit stains carpets and other fabric like a bitch. I gently lower the mother to the floor of a reinforced acrylic box. She's barely back on her feet before the top of the box is sealed. She runs to the clear walls and bangs her fists against them, yelling insults I can't discern through the clear barrier. I screw a high-precision pressure gauge on to one of the two brass nozzles I built in the side of the box. The other gets a hose attached to it. The hose leads to a cylinder of compressed air. It's actually a SCUBA tank with dive gases in, but it's mostly the same thing. It's breathable, and that's all I need. I unscrew the top, just a bit. A hissing noise emanates from the nozzle in the box as the canister empties its contents into the box. The mother stops her pointless assault of the acrylic to berate the nozzle. I can hear enough to figure out what she said: "Shut up, shit noise, decha!" The brass, of course, proves uncooperative. In response, the mother drops her filthy green panties. She grabs a wad of green, sticky shit and flings it at the brass. Just for the fuck of it, I completely open the valve on the canister for just long enough for the orbs of crap to redirect themselves in the wind. In an awesome stroke of luck, the shit returns directly to sender. "SHIT NOISE I KILL YOU DE-ch? Why do I hurt, decha?" The pressure kicks in. The gauge reads 20 psi, about 1.5 times atmospheric pressure. Like I said, these things are weak as fucking hell. Her pain intensifies, as do her protests. In her feeble mind, she links the noise, correctly for once, to the pain she feels all over. "Stop it shit... noise... degya... Can't breathe, de..." She drops to her knees. An arm reaches out to me as she stares into my face, hoping against hope that I'll save her from the horrible pain. "Help...Mr. Ma-" Her head detonates. Red blood and green shit spray the walls of the chamber. The formerly clear acrylic becomes a translucent greenish color. Through the green pinpoints, I can see panic maggots churning out of the one orifice that jissous have that basically serves as everything. These panic maggots are mutated as fuck, which usually happens if they're born post-mortem. As they pop out, they utter the cry of the newborn. "Tettere~!" At least, they try to. They only make it halfway before imploding on themselves. After about 6 iterations of this, the show's over. I record the number on the dial (24.67 psi, about 2 atmospheres or 202 kPa) on my clipboard and walk out, laughing. I saw an amazing show and got paid for it. And it's only Monday. Chapter 1 End.
That was awesome. It's a really good introduction to jissous for the uninitiated, quick, comprehensive and interesting. Can't help but compare it to my Until Death do us Part, in which the introduction to jissous is kind of drowned into the story.
My new story just got compared to Until Death do us Part. My day has just been made. I still need a frigging title, though. I guess I'll figure one out when I get a bit farther down the road. Like, next chapter or so. Which will take a while, anyway, so I have plenty of time.
My new story just got compared to Until Death do us Part. My day has just been made. Why wouldn't it be ? Both have the goal to introduce a jissou story to people who don't know about jissous. And yes, titles often prove strenuously related when chosen early. In a normal novel-writing process, they are usually definitely chosen near the end, but for an Internet story released on the fly, that is obviously not an option. Take Supreme Abuser for example. The title comes from the fact that the story was originally going to star the three operatives as the protagonists.
And Im back in town. Frankperson, good re-start to the series.
Take Supreme Abuser for example. The title comes from the fact that the story was originally going to star the three operatives as protagonists. Actually, that sounds pretty cool. Of course, this is after reading the Thierry-focused Supreme Abuser, but still. Also, I've solved the title dilemma. Now, I can actually finish the second chapter without stressing out over the title. Huzzah!
Just saying, but a series focussed on Thierry alone would be cool
It’s time for a deep, truly worst-case-scenario story! The Way the World Ends Chapter 2: The Beginning of the End (Yes, I know the title foreshadows the plot, and is a direct reference to Halo 3. Deal with it.) Let me clarify something. I don’t just do serious research into viable mass-death mechanisms for the CIA. I do baseline tests for other scientists who are lazy, long-term “psychological” tests (quoted because jissous really don’t have much of a psyche), and requests from the community at large. These last ones are the least profitable, but the most fun. Basically, some lazy abuser sends me an e-mail that basically consists of “DUDE, WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF…?!” I turn that into a hypothesis and an experiment, run it with a camera rolling (and my face masked, to avoid reprisals by white knights), and send the resulting .wmv file to the customer. Cheap as hell, but satisfying as fuck. Besides, I’ve often seen myself on Youtube, and even the daily news for a particularly fun (the media’s term is “heinous”) piece of work. Not only that, but stress relief in a business where 25% of the world wants you dead is worth its weight in gold. A currently running experiment has me placing a jissou in the path of exhaust gases from my truck. Something to do with heated carbon monoxide, or something. The first thing I need to know is if simply sticking a jissou behind a tailpipe of a pickup truck will kill it. Thusly, there is now a jissou twist-tied to a plywood board behind my running truck in the backyard. I now have about an hour to kill. On with the comput- Suddenly, a whirring sound emanates from my door. This whirring is followed by a thunk and a scream of pain. Hell yeah, my latest jury-rigged invention gets its first casualty! I walk to my door and look through the miniature tinted window at the top of the door. Standing about waist-high is a stock mother jissou and a stock family. The mother lifts a thumb jissou up towards the old-fashioned mail slot that still exists in my door from the 18-fucking-20s. The whirring sound returns, again followed by the thunk. This time, I get to watch the aforementioned thumb jissou fly out of a small tube, narrowly missing the mother. The thumb impacts the legs of the mailman, who looks down in surprise. The thumb’s dead, no doubt about it, but the mother and her 3 remaining children look up and strike the godawful “cute” pose. The “cute” pose, by the way, basically entails a jissou raising her paw (not hand, they have no thumbs aside from their children) to her chin, smiling, and tilting her head to the right, or the viewer’s left. If the jissou is of the store-boughten variety and costs more than $500 (the dividing line between average and abuse quality), it looks almost cute. If the jissou, like the one striking the pose now, is a stray, it is downright ugly. Needless to say, the mother doesn’t get the chance to voice the standard “take me home” request. “Mr. Ma-” The mailman interrupts her with a foot to the face. The jissous are insanely fragile, but a boot to the head is not lethal to a jissou unless you curb-stomp it. The mother gets the chance to clamber to her feet and scream like a little girl throwing a tantrum. The mailman raises his foot, but I interject by opening the door (making sure to close it behind me, they will run in at top speed if you aren’t careful). “What’s going on here?” I say, in mock surprise. “These jissous were trying to get into your house. I just decided to stop them for you.” “By unnecessarily causing them pain? I understand killing them, but did you really have to hurt the poor creatures like that?” The mother hovers by my legs, sticking her tongue at the mailman. He looks like he just hit on a pro wrestler’s girlfriend. He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. “I’m just pulling your leg, man, I want these shitdolls to die in the most painful way imaginable. They weren’t going to get in, anyway. Watch.” I pick up the last thumb. It is oblivious to the fact that I’ve proclaimed my desire to remove her limbs. “Hello Mr. Man, rechi!” I slide her into the mail slot. The whirring, once more, resumes, the thunk resounds, and the thumb goes sailing out of the little tube and into the street a full 25 yards away. A car passes by, crushing the hapless, dead thumb beneath the front tire. I take the opportunity to punt the mother. She goes flying, passing through imaginary football uprights before landing in the street with the remains of her child. The mailman looks back to me. “Can I get one of those?” I laugh. “Not yet, it’s still in development.” I open the door to show him the exposed mechanisms on the interior side. “It doesn’t handle maggots, for example, those just fall into this box here.” I point at a small plastic box. I grab the one maggot (“Belly soft and squishy, please rub, refu!”) and drop it in the mail slot. The wheels that act as launchers are too far apart to fling the maggot, so it falls through and lands in the plastic box. “Kojissous work the best, though.” I drop the final kojissou into the mechanism. She I threaded through the wheels which finally eject her through the curved plastic tube and out the exit. She ends up in the forest, a full quarter-mile away. “Nice. Oh, here’s your mail.” He says, handing me a few envelopes and a catalog. “I’ll check back in a month for one of those.” He jogs off with a cheery wave. I return it and walk inside. I start sorting through the mail as I enter. The catalog gets tossed into the fireplace. Let’s see. Invoice, invoice, bill, bill, bill, another fucking bill- I drop everything. The envelope that caught my eye displays a handwritten address – my own – and one in Ohio. The name: Eric Wilson. Some family tree info here: My mom divorced my dad when I was one. He went off, remarried, and had two kids. Despite that, he was a rather large figure in my life, even while living in Ohio, until I turned 10. When that happened, he dropped off the face of the earth for reasons that I still don’t fucking know about. He showed back up when I turned 13, we hung out a bit, and he returned to Ohio. We kept in contact over the phone for about a year, until he dropped off the face of the earth, again. Except this time, he had the time to go running off to Vegas with his new mid-life crisis girlfriend in a new mid-life crisis car for a mid-life crisis gambling spree. He talked to my mother, but whenever she asked why he wouldn’t talk to me he responded that he was “busy,” despite being unemployed. I still don’t know why he won’t pick up the phone and talk to me. I, personally, think it’s because he’s just a douchenozzle. Oh, and my two half-brothers still live with him. The older one’s name is Eric. I haven’t seen him for a full 7 years. See why I freaked out? I retrieve the envelope, and tear it open, ignoring the bills scattered on the floor. Inside is a postcard from Cincinnati, which is strange given the fact that the letter is postmarked from Dayton. On the back is a miniscule lined area, where the actual letter resides. His handwriting is ridiculously bad, just like mine. It reads, complete with typos: “Dear Justin, I finally figured out where you live! You werent very subtle about it though. I guess jissou abusing is a family gene or something. So you became a scientist? I guess that means I can voice all those questions about jissous that have been building in my head for years. Theres also some weird jissou stuf going on here. We should get in touch. Call me.” It doesn’t look like much, but it’s crammed into the lined section with not an inch to spare. His phone number – I hope to God it’s his cellphone – is written where the stamp should have gone. I pull out my cellphone and dial the number. After the fourth ring, a masculine voice answers with a quick “speak.” “Is this Eric Wilson?” “Uh, yeah, who is this?” “What, you don’t remember your older brother’s voice?” A two second pause. “Justin?” “The one and only. On a related note, you need to learn to write. Shit handwriting may run in the family, but at least I got legible before I hit 15.” “Holy shit, man! How’ve you been?” I’m gonna skip the intervening 15 minutes of long-lost brothers chatting about their divergent lives. After that, I get to business. “Okay Eric, your letter said some weird jissou stuff was going on up there. At least I think so, I can’t really tell what anything says in the damn thing.” “I’m never going to live that down, am I? Yeah, uh, hold on a second.” A high pitched feminine scream punches through the speaker and my eardrum. “Sorry about that, a jissou got through my window. Anyways, yeah, that’s kind of what I wanted to ask about. These things have gotten better at getting in houses.” “Uh, maybe there’s more idiots willing to take them in? I need a bit more than that, Eric.” “They’re forcing entry.” “They’re fucking locksmiths, man.” Yeah, jissous can operate doors and other simple machinery if (and only if) you aren’t looking. How they do that without thumbs, or fingers at all, is beyond me. “It’s not like that. They’re breaking doors. Like, solid metal doors.” Wait. “What the hell?” “Yeah. Nobody really knows how. People come home from work or the store or something and the door’s off its hinges and there’s like 25 jissous raiding the fridge.” “That’s… totally fucking crazy.” “I’m guessing that you don’t have a clue either?” “Nope, I’m totally blank. Nothing like that’s ever happened down here in peaceful Virginia. Well, I guess if they mobbed the door in insane amounts, they could knock the hinges off, but they’d need to coordinate. We already know they’re not that smart.” “It happened in California, remember?” “Yeah, but that was different.” A few years back, a couple Beverly Hills houses got swarmed, invaded, and essentially totaled. But the owners were stereotypical California blondes and left their door unlocked for the jissous to telekinetically manipulate. “Yeah. Well, did any of the houses have anything in common? A view into the kitchen, or something?” “I think a few of them said that they gave candy to street jissous…” “There you go. You give candy out a bunch of times, word gets around.” “I said some, not all, Justin. Others were die-hard abusers, to the point that one got booked for arson for trying to burn the jissous by torching his house.” “Well, I got nothing, Eric. Until shit like that happens down here, I can’t really look at it in detail. I’m not going to Ohio.” “You think it’s gonna spread?” “Yeah. I know enough of jissou pseudo-psychology that they’ll copy each other, and the knowledge will move like a giant wave. That happened when they figured out that they could climb into engine compartments of cars and get into garages. One would see another climb into the car, a man get into the car, and the car driving away, and would try it themselves. The second car was a traveler and crossed the state border, et cetera. This is gonna move slower, but mark my words, more houses in California will be broken into in the next few months.” “Hold on. They can learn?” “Yeah. Well, some of them, anyway. Idiot street jissous won’t catch on, but the former pets and smarter ferals will.” “Do you think that they may be getting smarter? As a whole, I mean.” I outright laughed. It took me a minute to recover. “They’re fucking jissous, man, they won’t get smart. Their brains just don’t work like that.” “Yeah, that’s true-” A high-pitched but masculine voice broke in, but I couldn’t hear what it said. “Listen, Justin, Tyler” – the younger of my two brothers – “needs me. I’ll call back later, alright?” “Yeah, call back around seven, I got work to do.” “Will do, see you.” He hangs up. I take a minute and look up on Google what Eric was talking about. Indeed, in Ohio and Michigan there were reports of jissous breaking into firmly locked houses. Most of the time the front door was the target, though occasionally the windows or back door were broken. They didn’t even think of taking the path of least resistance; security measures like deadbolt locks, chairs against the door and in one case a full-on door bar were used and thwarted. The numbers in the houses didn’t indicate a huge mob, ranging from 25 to 30 in all cases. It is utterly mystifying; not even a gang of humans could force their way into some of these houses. A timer chimes. I look out back, at my experiment in progress. This jissou problem’s going to have to wait for a while; I still have work to do. Chapter 2 End. Yep, this is going to explore the true worst-case scenario: What happens if jissous get strong enough to overcome us, and we don't have military operations (Supreme Abuser) to save us? Breaks what I started in the first chapter, but oh well.
Definitely better with a firm storyline. The question now is knowing if this is a true "end of the world" story or a "save the world" one.
Part 3 Two days later. As I suspected, there weren’t that much houses in the state fitting the criteria. At least, not to the point that it would take months to check all of them. It did take days, though. Most were still inhabited by people that didn’t see an evolved jissou or french guy, or infested by Jissouseki. But when I saw that particular mansion, quite isolated from the main road network, I knew it was the one. It was completely alone on that mountain flank. Big houses for rich guys tend to crop together, but here, it looked like the Overlook Hotel, isolated. But that’s not even the real point of interest. Jissouseki are all over the place. Well, not really. “All over the place” is the normal situation. You find them in every street, around every trash can, gathering around shops and restaurants, trying to get their food for the day. I’ve already told you they were everywhere and reproduced frighteningly easily. But not why. After all, it’s by far the least explainable trait of all. They reproduce by litters of at least ten, gestation only takes a minute and, worst of all, they don’t even need to be fertilized to begin a pregnancy. Something red, from a liquid to just plain light coming from a TV, can turn their green eye red and trigger the pregnancy. And even if that doesn’t happen, it can trigger anyway when their life is threatened. Impossible. I know. But here it is, and every scientist kind of learned to suck it up. Inevitably, that reproductive ability, combined to the fact that they are omnivores, enabled them to cover the whole globe in a matter of months. And now, wherever you are outdoors and you unwrap a candy, at least one jissou will come out of hiding, expecting you to hand it over. The point is, jissouseki are everywhere, and when it comes to them, words like “few” and “many” have no sane meaning. But what I have in front of me is just pushing it. You have the forest, the mansion, and…jissous. I guess. They’re like grass that had grown over the entire area. And getting to the mansion means getting through a sea of horrible, stinking, aggressive humanoids. I have no idea how many jissous it would take to take down a human, but that number has to be met here. Actually, it’s very reasonable to assume that whoever I’ve been hunting has turned right around when they saw that legion. Then again, I have to try. Find a way to get through this Jissouseki metropolis. I can’t just walk through, too dangerous. My best bet is manipulation, even though I’m not very experienced in this. I have been talking a lot about the Jissouseki. But I can talk about them for several days and never match the experience of interacting with one. That should be rectified shortly. I get out of the car, and exhale before walking toward the huge settlement. Sheer scale aside, it doesn’t look different from a regular jissou “town” in any significant way. They live in families, using cardboard boxes as houses. Which is weird, because it’s a remote area. Where did they get those boxes ? I could probably ask them. They aren’t really secretive. Unfortunately, they are also too stupid to answer most questions correctly. The town’s edge is in the open. No water streams, trees or anything. Just a few boxes in the grass. I don’t even have to introduce myself. All jissous in the immediate vicinity -about twenty, spanning two families- pour out of the boxes when they hear my steps. “A Mrs.Lady, techi ! Come see, Mama, te !” “Here, desu ?” “Hello Mrs.Lady, techi !” I already know what they’re going to ask. Food and/or adoption. I have to cut to the chase before they do. Once they have the future of a pampered pet in their sights, it’s hard to snap them out of it. “I have some chocolate for the good jissous that will help me get to this house over there.” “Chocolate, techi ! Yay !” “Which house, desu ?” The adult jissou, some 50 centimeters high, puts her paw in her right cheek. It’s the standard gesture they do when they don’t get something. I take it that understanding why I’m pointing my finger isn’t within the purview of their intelligence. “Behind you, on the mountain flank.” This time, she turns around, and sees it. “I see, desu ! I will need a lot of delicious chocolate, but we will get you to it, de !” “Oh yeah ? How ?” “W…What do you mean, Mrs.Lady, desu ?” She says, dumbfounded. “I can’t just accept a deal without information. How will you get me to the house ?” “We…uh…we will guard you against the shit jissous, desu !” “Are you prepared to fight ?” “For chocolate ? Yes, de !” “Me too ! My daughters are strong and healthy, desu ! We will help too, desu !” Well, at least I’ll have some protection. Although the many children aren’t as healthy as their mothers claim, I’d rather walk through a sea of jissou with a layer of other jissous around me than alone. Now let’s see…I have two tablets. They’re kind of soft after being in the hot car, but they probably won’t care at all. I go take them, and give a few squares to the jissou mercenaries. I try to give them to the children, but the two mothers rather unsubtly take the chocolate and chug them down, noisily licking the melted leftovers. The children whimper, but don’t try to struggle against their mothers, at least five times bigger and taller than them. “Delicious, de ! This way !” The mothers begin to walk toward the house, while ordering their daughters to form a ring around me. They probably know it’s the best way to defend themselves against other aggressive jissous. Like schools of fish. Only in the jissou’s case, the mothers know that they’re basically using their own daughters as living shields, rather than just taking advantage of numbers. Shocked ? You don’t even know how far this kind of stuff goes. They didn’t go from zoological wonder, capable of speech and sentience, to a pest whose torture is socially acceptable for nothing. Especially the adults. The youngest are somewhat cute, but as they age, they grow more and more selfish and ruthless. The stuff they can do to their own flesh and blood without giving it a thought is appalling. At every age, though, they are capable of -and often adept at- cannibalism. Yes. Pets are already pretty bad, but the feral ones are that horrendous. As we go, I realize the path to the house goes through less jissous that I initially thought. It goes through the outer layers of the huge settlement, and when it gets to the mountains, the numbers get scarce. Well…Similar to what you see in the city. Nevertheless, my presence causes quite a stir. Lots of jissous appear from inside the numerous boxes and try to approach me, but the group I hired appear to at least give them pause. I don’t know enough about them to know what’s going on, but my best guess is that they consider they can’t speak to me without dealing with the guards first. Like some kind of hierarchical consideration. It’s possible this fragile balance wouldn’t have worked had I had to pass through the center of the horde, much more densely populated. However, as soon as we begin ascent of the mountain, I quickly hear labored breaths. The children first, then the adults. My stride has become too quick for them. Their low stamina is sufficient for walking on flat surfaces, but apparently they aren’t cut to be mountaineers. As a matter of fact, one of the mothers puts her foot on a small rock, which slides and makes her fall, face first. “Desha !” She raises her head, showing a bruise that formed awfully quick. “It hurts, desha !” “Okay, you shitdolls obviously aren’t strong enough to follow me up the mountain. None of you are.” “No, we are strong, we deserve chocolate, desu !” “You do, for the part you’ve played. Have one. I’ll take it from here.” I casually drop one of the tablets on the ground. They immediately forget about me as they gather their strength to rush towards it like ants. “Delicious candy, techi !” “Such a happy day, techi !” “Do not steal your mama’s chocolate, jissou-chan !” Hadn’t I have something better to do, I would have killed this egoistical dirtbag. The rest of the walk to the house is a breeze. As I suspected, no jissou can keep up with a human. I know for a fact that mountains are not enough to stop jissouseki, since they are in Colorado too, but only if they take their time. Not in a pursuit situation. I suspect this has something to do with the house’s position. I mean, this gargantuan jissou herd can’t be unrelated to this isolated house. Especially not if this is the house Sylvia went to and was told to dismiss as a dream. In this kind of situation, coincidence merely means “plausible deniability”. If you want to have a lot of jissous nearby, but remain able to keep them at bay, building your base on a steep curve is a good idea. I get to the small plateau the house is built on, and catch my breath. The door is open. Did they see me arrive ? Could it be dangerous ? Bah, it’s not like I have a weapon anyway… I step forward and go into the house, and get greeted by the smell of jissou crap. No surprise here. Of course a building near such an army of Jissouseki would get invaded eventually. However, there is only the smell, whereas an active colony would no doubt make sounds. Children and larvae are very talkative, even in the wild. I can, however, hear the very human-indicating sound of typing. I walk slowly towards the source, expecting nonetheless a bunch of jissouseki to pop out at any moment. Despite having obviously been crapped all over, the house is one damn fine piece of real estate. Everything under the remnants of green goo screams new and rich. High ceiling, illuminating design with a lot of openings, nice furniture…Well, it’s a nice villa. I arrive to the living room, behind someone typing on a desk computer. A big one, at that. On the chair sits a guy with a white shirt and brown hair. Pretty young, thirty at most. He sighs, apparently having some trouble on the computer. “Hello.” “Putain de merde !” Startled, the guy jumps out of the chair and draws a gun. Shit. At least Sara Sidle was armed. Still, now I know that’s my guy. “Who the fuck are you ?” “Lynn Beckett.” I try to answer calmly. “I’m not armed.” “Well that means a lot. Why are you here ? That’s your house ?” “No. But I know you’ve been at David Kellan’s house five days ago.” He stops pointing the gun at me, sighing. “Great.” “But I’m no cop. Well, just a CSI. More importantly, I’m suspended at the moment.” “Okay…So what’s your business here, then ? Passing the time ?” “No. I’m David’s ex-wife.” He looks away. “Yeah, figures. Look, If you want revenge, that’s really a shitty time to do it.” “It’s fortunate, then. Because I don’t believe in revenge. I just came here for answers.” “Oh yeah ? Well, I hope you have some time, because the situation is somewhat difficult to explain.” “I promised my daughter I would come back and stay with her after that, but barring that, I have all the time in the world. Plus, I already know the culprit is some highly-evolved Jissouseki named Sylvia.” Taken aback, he raises an eyebrow. “…And here I thought Grissom and his crew were way too fucking good.” “Well, Sylvia made sure to make my job easy by activating an audio recorder. I heard your entire conversation with a certain General Lejeune, and where you were going with this Sylvia.” The young man turns his head over his shoulder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” Then back at me. “You’re sure you’re not armed ?” “Certain.” “Well, then you know pretty much everything, don’t you ? Sylvia killed your ex, we’re trying to locate a group that once occupied this house, end of story.” “That’s hardly everything in my book. Who are you ? What are you doing here ? What is this group ? And how did David came into the possession of this Sylvia, then got killed by her ?” He holsters his weapon and sigh. “That would be a long story. Two, to be exact. Mine, and Sylvia’s. But, by all means, make yourself at home. We certainly did. Oh, and do you know anything about computer engineering ?” “Yes, why ?” “Because we could need you. Despite appearances, this place has been locked down in various ways. Lots of secrets, like I should have expected. It seems that computer is in charge, but my definition of computer savvyness is knowing how to google a glitch. Which doesn’t do shit in this case.” “Well, to be honest, I am curious about this place, too…Like I said, I just want answers.” “Cool. By the way, the name’s Thierry. Thierry Genestar. And I don’t know about answers, but if you can settle down for questions, this place is the goddamn Eldorado.” “Nice to meet you…And what do you mean ?” “You saw the big-ass jissou shanty down in the valley, right ?” “Can’t say I didn’t.” “Well, for one, you only saw the surface.” “…What ?” “You’ll see for yourself soon enough. For know, I think you’ll want to meet the “highly evolved jissou”.” “You’re right, Mr Genestar.” “She’s one piece of work, let me tell you.” Suddenly, I can hear music at the end of a corridor. Accompanied with…a chainsaw sound ? “Shit, it’s already noon ?” Reacts Genestar, looking at his watch. “Well, Mrs.Beckett, I hope you like the taste of Jissouseki.” “…Not really, why ?” “After you.” He concisely says, indicating the end of the corridor with his arm, bowing a little. So I walk to the room from which the music originates, which turns out to be the kitchen, and I see a girl with a plain white shirt and a folded skirt. Her hair is light-brown, and very spiky, manga-style. Absolutely nothing like a jissouse…huh ? Among the spikes in her hair, I can make out something fleshy colored and roundly pointy, on the top-sides of her head. Exactly like jissou ears. Damn, she’s human to this point ? Her body is fully human aside from the ears. Hands, feet, neck…She’s a human girl ! She’s at the sink, humming the hard-rock music instrumental that plays on a radio. A quick look around explains why Thierry asked if I liked eating jissous. There are no less than four cages full of the little monsters, crying in fear and despair. Well, it would make sense to have a somewhat limited menu in this surrounded villa… Through the radio, the singer, male with a slightly raspy voice, begins his hymn. He’s closely followed along by the girl, whose voice I definitely recognize from the recording. “You’ve got your invitation Of family dinner and tonight you will eat” She brandishes an adult jissou by the neck while cutting down the water from the faucet. The thing, teddy bear-sized and stripped of her clothes and hair, is coughing water, flailing around wildly. Normally, in this situation, the panicked jissou lets out a impressive stream of green feces. But this one has run out, very possibly the purpose for holding her under the running faucet, face up. “No need for hesitation, sugar We’re gonna love you and it’s all we can eat” She goes to a cupboard, and as she turns around, I can see she’s definitely not human. She doesn’t notice me,but I can see her face well enough. Her eyes, round and mismatched, are exactly those of a jissou. The presence of eyebrows excepted. That’s my murderer alright. “Steaks à la carte Mama makes from the heart Pa’s such a gourmet for gore” She takes some cooking oil and, the jissou in her hand still screaming something about her being cute, pours it in a heated frying pan, and looks her lesser cousin in the eyes, a sadistic grin on her face. “Jammed eyes, bleeding herbs Banquet dining is worth dying fooooor !” And she dumps the living doll in the frying pan, face first. A hellish, muffled scream is heard as the oil begins to fizzle. The jissou whacks desperately her four tube-shaped limbs against the hot metal, trying to get off it, but the evolved jissou is pinning her down with a plastic fork. She’s laughing out loud as a large group of small jissous, probably the daughters, cry assisting to the scene. “At the chainsaw, chainsaw buffet ! The secret ingredient screams You’re my main course at the chainsaw buffet Feed on man-eater’s cuisine !” By the time the chorus ends, the jissou on the frying pan has already stopped moving. As…Sylvia turns it to cook the back, the Frenchman tells me to follow him out of the room. Which I do, discreetly closing the door to block the music. And the screaming. But the music, mostly. Thierry looks at me. “You like Jissouseki ? As a species, I mean, not as food.” “Who in their right mind would like those catastrophes ?” “You should be cool with Sylvia then. And…I gathered that you never saw her before, so you left David before he kidnapped her.” “That is correct.” “Yeah, so definitely no problem, I think.” “Agreed. Say…The last thing recorded is her complaining about her dress and hair…” “Ah, yes. David dolled her up pretty heavily.” He answers, scrubbing his stubble. “He got a hair dresser into the secret, so we went there for a last makeover before bailing out. I’m pretty sure he got suspicious. Wouldn’t surprise me if you found us because of him ?” “Hm ? Oh, no, only the recording. Anyway, I brought this up because this outfit reminds me of a character my daughter watched on TV.” “Ah, huh, well…She wanted to look nothing like a Jissou, particularly by not having long hair. But jissous are pretty much all she knows so she asked me. So yeah, she looks like Tatsuki from Bleach.” “Ah, yeah, that’s it, minor character I believe.” Pause. “…Yeah.” “Sooo…in a way, you dolled her up too.” “I suggested is all.” He replies dismissively. “Plus, the spikes are pretty good at concealing her ears while still keeping the hair short-y.” “Well, we can still see them but I see your point.” The music stops. “Hey, Thierry ! Dinner’s served, desu !” “Okay ! Oh and, Mrs.Beckett. One more thing. Don’t ever make fun of her tic.” He opens the door, and the smell of grilled meat floats in the corridor. Got to say, I never actually tried a jissou restaurant -there are lots of these- but the smell is actually pretty good. “Hi Sylvia. We have a guest.” “What, desu ?” The mutant says, stepping backwards. “Don’t get all worked up, she’s on our side.” “I know her ! I saw her on a picture at…that fucker’s house, desu !” “Well, yeah, she…” “I’m David’s ex-wife.” I say, cutting to the chase. “You killed Stella, right ?” “Yeah, desu…” “Thank you. I would have tortured her too, but you surpassed all my expectations. Good job.” I hold out my hand, smiling. She remains wary. “Why ? Did you hate her, desu ?” “Hate her ? She stole my god damned husband, of course I hate her. Pet or not, she was still a shitty creature.” “I hear you, desu.” And with that, she took my hand and shook it. ———————- I always heard from people cooked Jissouseki taste like chicken. Seemed impossible to me, or chicken with a distinct shit taste. But Sylvia took care of the infamous digestive system, and well, it does taste eerily similar to it. Although it’s much more tender. “I’m boss at cooking these things, desu.” She says, noticing my perplexity. “At the beginning, the guys in the lab gave me normal human stuff, but I tried a shitdoll after a long day at the arena, and since then I can’t get enough, desu.” Her -desus are really weird, but I can believe Genestar when he says it would be unwise to mock it. Still, she opens pretty easily when you get on her jissou-hating side. Much, much more sophisticated than a jissou. Closer to human, really. But even if she seems sexually mature, she still is, at best, a child. “It does taste good enough.” “I guess it’s my jissou traits that make me like that, desu. But hell, they’re good and fun to cook so I don’t complain for this, desu.” “Okay ladies, I think it’s time.” Sylvia rises her head, a browned arm still in the mouth. “Mfr Mwat Dfu ?” “You told me your story, Sylvia, but I never told you why in the name of ass I am here, in the USA, chasing after a group whose very existence is doubtful, with an experiment and a suspended CSI.” “Oh yeah, desu !” Says Sylvia after chugging down the arm. “I’m glad you came along, but it’s true I don’t know why you did, desu.” “Well, everything began…Hold on, what day are we ?” “Saturday. June 20th.” I answer. “Holy shit, it’s only been 16 days ? Damn !” “Since what ?” “Since Supreme Abuser made their first run in my house.” “Supreme Abuser, desu ?” Enthusiastically said Sylvia. “Awesome, who are these guys, desu ?” “Well, you’ll see. So anyway, it began the Thursday preceding the International Animated Film Festival of Annecy, taking place from to June 7th to June 13th.. Big festival. Lots of tourists. I’m Head of Jissouseki Affairs in Annecy. By all accounts it was meant to be a pretty rough week for me, but the Festival ended up being the least of my worries…" And cut to Supreme Abuser.
Like I said on your site, this is epic win, right here. It is nice to see Sylvia's human side. Rather, the side that doesn't want every jissou dead. What's the band, by the way? I forgot to ask. And yeah, I'm not sure if I'm going the "save the world" or "end the world" route. I'm not even sure how the jissous will threaten the world yet; all I've done is lay groundwork.
methinks we'll see her 'fuck mr/ms man, revenge tiem nao k' side soon. Frankperson, check his site for the band. inleaves, as usual the quality was good.
Wow, I'm a derp. I need to go look up Lordi then, immediately. I personally don't think Sylvia would randomly go rage mode on Thierry and Lynn. She's got no reason to. Besides, David was the only person she really wanted to kill that isn't already dead (to the best of our knowledge).
No not them, but the people that made her what she is. Sylvia is psychotic at times, yes, but it's not a random psychosis, it's a very well directed one with specific targets
David was the only person she really wanted to kill that isn't already dead (to the best of our knowledge). Sir.
Just read up to here in the thread... Why did I never look at this before?!?! Was my reaction.
For some reason I just imagined PTLD doing Vin Diesel's line from Triple X... "Ya know, if you're gonna send someone to save the world, make sure they like it the way it is, desu!"
I could see her saying that.
Who likes plot twists? I hope you do! Chapter 3: Paradigm Shift My job complete (In case you’re wondering, the jissou did in fact die of something I’m not quite sure of just yet, probably CO poisoning), I return to my impromptu investigation of strange happenings in faraway lands. Like Ohio. Yeah, like I’ve mentioned, there’s no rhyme or reason to the break-ins. A small group of jissous (around 30 at the very most) somehow punches through the front door of a house. The houses are unconnected, and are actually separated by 5 miles each at the very least. The jissous punched through both minimal security and overkill with what appeared to be identical ease. The owners ranged from single parents on the edge of poverty to the closest thing to aristocracy that Ohio has. In all cases, nothing but food is missing, conclusively rooting out a careless serial thief. All in all, the whole thing is rather troubling. Some of you are likely wondering why in the hell isolated (though frequent) cases of breaking and entering are so serious that a small-town scientist 1000 miles away is devoting an insane amount of time to looking into it for no real reason. If you know your jissous, you are not one of these people; please bear with me while I continue to educate (and condescend to) the remainder. Firstly, I know full well that I’m going to get a call from some CIA spook with a voice synthesizer wondering what the fuck is going on, and I’d like to be able to tell him/her something aside from “couldn’t tell you.” Generally, if the government gets a whiff of some new jissou-related developments, the CIA goes crazy and calls every single researcher it can find to try to figure out if the new behavior/mutation/what-have-you is a threat to “National Security.” The fact that this new behavior is rather serious in nature probably won’t help their mood over in the proverbial War Room. Secondly, the fact that jissous have been able to get into a well-protected home is a cause for alarm in and of itself, even ignoring the underlying causes. Jissous, as we well know, are driven by an incomprehensible avarice. If they don’t have it, they want it; if they do have it, they want more. Corporations send an insane amount of money to geneticists and psychologists to try to remove this particular character flaw; the money flow, in fact, is second only to what’s spent to try to find out how to control the jissou’s ridiculous ability to shit on anything and everything. Jissous also consider most homes (the homes of their “saviors,” humanity) as the worldly equivalent of Heaven. If you let one inside, even a maggot, it will multiply at a rate that makes rabbits look sterile. Within a week, there can be 50 jissous, and likely more. These all will demand food and candy from a human, and will take it by force if necessary, all while coating the house floor to ceiling (Literally!) with their viscous green excrement. In 10 days, a house can be rendered uninhabitable. Once this has happened, the horde of jissous can take over another house, demolish it, jump to another, etc, all while increasing their numbers. If you are having trouble seeing the ramifications of this, think of a virus. One cell destroyed is no big deal, but a virus will multiply and spread throughout the body, destroying cells as they go, until they cause illness and/or death. Replace “cells” with houses, “viruses” with jissous, and “body” with cities or countries, and you’ll get what I’m saying. Professional exterminators are the only force that can halt this, but the fucking activists have their buddies in Congress shut down any companies that try to start up. Extermination services are expensive, too, and not many people can afford it in this economic climate. Thirdly, jissous physically can’t accomplish the breaking of doors in groups as small as these. They are, as I have mentioned, insanely fragile, and will disintegrate on impact from anything with more force than the average man’s shoe. It logically follows that jissous are ridiculously weak to match, incapable of even breaking a pane of glass, much less a reinforced steel door. Jissous can and often do form crowds around places where they think there is food, candy, or pet jissous to kill (usually a pet store, since this is where all three can be found in abundance), and have been known to open doors or knock them down in those situations. However, the numbers in those cases were well in the hundreds, whereas the most that are in these homes is 34, and even then some of them might have seen the open door and wandered in. Oh, and before you initiates ask, there’s no way in hell 900 jissous would walk away from an open house; a decent home, even if it’s filled with other jissous, is their wet dream. Fourthly, and most disturbing, is the fact that the act itself is mostly beyond the capacity of a jissou’s mind. A jissou, as we already know, has the mental capacity of a sack of especially stupid hammers. The more obvious entry points would be the windows, where getting in is fairly straightforward. Not only that, but a solid steel door doesn’t really showcase the goodies on the other side like a window would, meaning that a normal jissou, and even an abnormally smart one, would lose interest after a couple minutes - or even less - of attempting to punch through the door, assuming she didn’t kill herself or exhaust her supply of infantile missiles beforehand (yes, jissou mothers are known to use their children as projectiles). Even if we assume for a moment that a jissou was bound and determined to get inside and knew how to do so, she would need to lead a group of jissous and have them make a concerted effort to breach the defenses. Jissou leaders are not unheard of, and are in fact fairly common, but forcing a group of 30 jissous to break a door down is beyond even humanity, which means that a jissou doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell of entering that way. Applying the other points I have mentioned (namely, the lack of a brain and insane ADHD) to the leader jissou essentially means that the entire endeavor is doomed from the start. Oh, and fifthly: Behavior changes spread. Like I told Eric, the cases will spread across the United States, and eventually internationally. So, yeah, I’m allowed to be concerned. I try to dig further into the issue, but get nowhere. There’s surprisingly little information given, even accounting for the distance between my home and the proverbial Ground Zero. There are, for example, no witnesses to these incidents, which appear to have happened in very heavily-populated areas. I can understand staying out of other people’s business, but the kicking in of a door tends to alert someone. Besides, if someone saw a group of jissous trying to enter a home, they would likely intervene, either from the desire to save the home or simply to kill jissous. Whirring, once again, emanates from my door, followed by a thunk and a high-pitched feminine scream. Speaking of the desire to kill jissous… I open the door, surreptitiously slipping on a pair of rubber gloves. A standard feral mother jissou stands at my door, holding a maggot aloft. She looks up as her probable target rotates into the house, and spots me. Her right hand (stub, actually; jissous don’t have digits, or hands at all for that matter) flies to her chin, robbing the maggot she was holding of its support (Punipuni refuuuuuuu-SPLAT). Around her, two kojissous emulate the mother, with only one giving a quarter of a damn about the maggot’s untimely demise. 3 maggots lie on the concrete, chirping requests for belly rubs. In the yard is a thumb, likely the one who took a ride through the Mailslot of Death, who miraculously survived the launch. She stumbles her way back to my door, showing all the signs of a concussion. “Hello, Mr. Man, desu! Take us into our home now, desu!” Well. That was quick; usually they ask nicely first before giving orders. Whatever, the outcome will be the same. “Sure,” I say, as faux-politely as I can manage. “I’ll get your babies in first so-” “No, let me in now, desu!” She tries to charge past me, and is stopped by my extended leg. “…so that I can make you a delicious meal. You wait out here for a minute.” She brightens up a bit when I mention ‘delicious meal.’ “Fine, desu. But hurry up, its cold out here, desu.” Indeed it is. A snowflake slowly glides past my nose to land on the exposed stomach of a maggot, who responds with a cry of “Too cold, refu!” This maggot is the first one that I grab. I pick the two others up in my other hand, and drop them into the plastic box attached to the mechanism of the Mailslot of Death (I think that’s what I’ll call it from now on; it fits rather well) that acts to catch their sistren. The thumb goes next, and I am careful to set her gently in the box. The kojissous are last, all of them collapsing in my hand with a contented sigh before rejoining their sisters. Counting the maggots already in the box from the Death-Slot’s previous use, there are 9 children of various ages lying on the plastic. I retreat into my living room, closing the door behind me. After a brief moment of what I can guess is disbelief on the part of the mother, a muffled, angry snarl makes its way through the door, followed by generic insults (Shit Mr. Man, and the like) and the pitifully quiet sound of her pseudo-fists impacting the wood. I take the plastic container into the kitchen and set it in the sink in such a way that any escapees wouldn’t be able to get very far, and return to the mother. When I re-open the door, I find a remarkable amount of jissou shit staining the white paint. I look down on the mother with genuine anger. “What the hell? I offer to let you into my home and you throw shit at it?” “It’s cold out here, desu! Why did you leave your beloved pet out here, desu?!” “You aren’t my beloved pet. I only like bald-naked jissous.” “Bald-naked” is precisely what it sounds like. A bald and naked jissou is the Jissouseki at its lowest point. Jissous treasure their dresses and hair (which doesn’t re-grow) over almost anything else, and most ferals know that the bald-naked ones are the first to be killed, either by roving cannibals or abusers roaming the streets. Not the “almost” in that statement there. No sooner do the words leave my mouth than the mother begins tearing – literally tearing – her treasured dress off of her body. The flimsy shreds of organic fabric flutter away into the gathering blizzard. She then reaches up, clasps her right pigtail as best she could, and yanks. My anger turns to mirth at her yelp of pain. She reaches up to the other pigtail, and rips it out as well. The small ‘forelock’ of hair is the last bit to go. She stands back up (having fallen backwards during the self-mutiliation) and looks up at me expectantly. I deliberately don’t respond, and instead stare into the curtains of snow depositing themselves on the trees. “Mr. Man.” I pretend not to notice. “Mr. Man!” “MR. MAN, DESU!” A glob of green shit enters my view, but is caught by the raging wind and returned to sender. I choose to look down in fake surprise when she yells in anger and frustration. “Huh? What do you want, shit jissou?” “What? I’m not a shit jissou, desu! I’m the cutest jissou ever, desu! I’m bald-naked, too, decha!” I eye her with scorn. Jissous almost invariably look vomit-inducingly terrible naked. She is no exception. She also has a new hat of rapidly-freezing shit on her head. “Ugh. I hate bald-naked jissous. Get the hell out of here and maybe I won’t kill you.” She looks up in disbelief. “But… You said you loved bald-naked jissous, decha!” “I never said anything of the sort. Get out of my sight. Now.” To my surprise, she actually obeys. She assumes a huddled stance and tucks her stumps into her armpits, and sets off while crying red and green tears that freeze in the wind. I stand and watch her go. As she walks, she moves slower and slower, before finally falling face-first into the snow. I pick her up by the legs and carry her inside. The kitchen is alive with all manner of jissou vocalizations as I return. One of the kojissous, presumably the eldest, has managed to climb onto the side of the Tupperware container, and can see me approach. She calls to her younger siblings below: “Mr. Man is back with Mama, techi!” A small chorus of joyful vocalizations arises from the sink. I take the aforementioned, still-unconscious mother and lay her on the linoleum floor. I also take a pan, fill it with water, and set it on the stove to boil. I then retrieve a small bowl, fill it with warm water from the sink, and throw it in the mother’s face. The warmth of it is enough to revive her from her hypothermic stupor, but she doesn’t stir. Undaunted, I toss a second dish of warm water at the mother. This achieves the desired effect. She returns to consciousness with some panicked sputtering of water. Someone’s undoubtedly calling me an idiotic hypocrite for allowing an entire family of jissous into my home, counter to my previous advice. Trust me, none will live to propagate their species and wreck my lovely home. Have I mentioned that jissous taste like chicken? “Mr. M-*cough, sputter, etc.*-an, desu?” I look down from the pot that I had focused my attention on for this little ruse to work. “What the hell?! How the hell did you get in here?!” I yell in mock anger. “Huh? I don’t…” Her reactions, ordinarily slow as a speeding sloth, are further dulled by the hypothermia I barely roused her from. I press on: “I told you to get the fuck out of here! Do you know what happens to bald-naked jissous that disobey Mr. Man?” I take a knife from the knife block and fling it at her like I know what I’m doing. Despite my obvious lack of ninja training, I actually manage to hit her, though not quite where I’d intended. “DEGYAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Her bowels empty themselves onto my floor. At least, they try to. The knife has embedded itself in the orifice known as the “vaganus,” which serves as exactly what it sounds like. Thusly, her bowels are actually emptying themselves into her abdominal cavity. “MAMA TEGYAAA!” What the hell? The kojissou that had been perched on the side of the plastic container has managed to scale a 10 inch tall stainless-steel wall and dirty my countertop with her shit. Her face is contorted with despair, and she bends over with her face in her stumps. “Teeeeeeennnn… Mama, teeeeeeennn…” Well, that’s a bit odd. If you want to know why, look at the other children. The maggots are oblivious, the thumb’s asleep, and the other kojissous don’t give a quarter of a shit. It’s actually not really usual for a child to even understand that another jissou has been injured. All jissous tend to realize that the shit’s hit the fan about 10 minutes after the fact, but the children generally never make even that small mental leap of faith. The crying abruptly stops. I look down. The diminutive kojissou, though still crying red and green tears, has stopped sobbing. She looks directly into my eyes with what appears to be an intense anger reserved for humans who have seen their family murdered before their eyes. I put stress on the word ’humans.’ “You will pay for what you have done, techa!” … This is new. “What makes you say that?” I say, trying my damndest to look unconcerned that a kojissou just spoke with knowledge above her species. “You killed my mama, techa!” “No, I didn’t. She’s still alive. Oh, wait, never mind. I did kill your mother. Silly me.” The mother has, in fact, died, her panic shit compressing her lungs until they couldn’t expand. Compressive asphyxia; I can honestly say I’ve never seen that in a jissou before. Nor can I say that any jissou has spoken to me or anyone I know or knew in this tone on this subject material. It’s almost like there’s a spark of intelligence behind those mismatched eyes. “Besides, who’s going to care? She’s one of a million, just like you.” On the contrary, this kojissou is one of a million. She has to suffer from some sort of mutation that made her a bit smarter. No way to really know why or how she managed to get a brain from the gene pool, but the fact remains that she’s talking almost like a human child. “The Mistress will, techa!” Wait. What?! “Who the hell is the Mistress?” “She says that mean abusers like you will be punished for your sins, techi!” She stares into my eyes with a burning passion I had thought impossible for a jissou. “You will die, techi, just like the jissou-chans you tortured!” End Chapter 3
wait frank-person are you not having a bokuseki this time around ? FUCK! Otherwise good.
Sowwy; I'd inevitably make her the star or something when the focus is actually going to be on this mysterious "Mistress." I say mysterious because even I don't know what the hell she is just yet.
which brings back the inital problem that was cited in your re-booting, you're writing w/o knowing where your going (just saying). Personally I think the bokuseki would be good as more of a side plot, mostly separate from the rest. Simply put, I enjoyed it, I also enjoyed your first story. More than the new ? We shall see. Althought I enjoy the 'explanations for idiots'.
Which brings back the inital problem that was cited in your re-booting, you're writing w/o knowing where your going (just saying). True dat. Well, as long as you're focused on a plot thread, even if it's thin, the story will be continuous. It's doing several plot threads at once that can hurt. But yeah, knowing in at least some detail where you are going doesn't hurt. That said, the threat is effectively conveyed. It's clearly felt something big and terrifying is going on, as opposed to silly things your characters get worked up about for nothing.
But it's the silly things that made his last story as good as it was, the fucking with PETA, and the 'oh wow' factor of the bokuseki. All he needed to do better on the first version was switch between the two, and he seemed to be doing a good enough job of that considering that in-story his characther had to move and shit, which in-story left the bokuseki in the care of a friend for a while til he could take it back.
Oh, I wasn't talking about silly things in reference to his first story. It was purely hypothetical, like a "The Happening" scenario that is more ridiculous than a really believable threat.
>>479 This. I couldn't see any real way to make the big threat come true without it seeming contrived. I said that I don't know what the Mistress is going to be because she could be anything. A human? A super-ambitious matriarch? The fabled Level Six jissou? I haven't decided yet, and I really don't need to for a while, I think. Althought I enjoy the 'explanations for idiots'. Yeah, I try to make Justin sound like a douchebag when I do that. It's hard to make him an ass and actually explain what I'm trying to explain simultaneously, though.
Well in story, those he had to explain much if any of that too WOULD be idiots, this being condescending would be appropriate.
was me, forgot to tripfag
Figured. Remember, though, that most people who read this story already know what a jissou is, and the ones who don't generally start at the top and find REd's Guide to Raising Jissouseki before anything else. The simple fact that Justin assumes his audience is, for the most part, full of idiots is being a douche in-and-of itself. The wording of the explanations also suggests he's a dick. There's not a lot of dialogue, so you don't see the arrogance as much as I would like, but I try. Oh, and I decided what the Mistress will be. I hope you like plot twists!
well in a story prespective (assuming your not going to break the 4th wall) anyone who didnt know at least the basics IS an idiot.
I just realized I forgot to add the title in with chapter 3. Whoops. The Way the World Ends Chapter 4: Who You Gonna Call? Okay. So, I’m going to go ahead and admit that I’m a bit freaked out. “Alright, listen to me, little kojissou.” She opens her mouth to interject, likely to deliver more threats from this mysterious Mistress, but I cut her off. “You’re right that I am a mean abuser. But I’m also an abuser that can bring a jissou back to life.” I’m bluffing (OBVIOUSLY), but I’m just hoping that the legendary jissou idiocy will come back into play. It appears that my prayers were answered. She looks up at me, her head tilted to the side a bit. “You can, techi?” “Yeah. I’ll make you a deal: You tell me all about this Mistress, and I’ll bring back your mother.” Her eyes light up. “You will, techi?” I nod. “Yay, te!” “Alright, give me just a second.” I walk off into my laboratory/torture chamber, retrieve a camera, and return. I start recording (overwriting something or other, but at this point I don’t really give a shit), set the camera down on the table, and address the kojissou. “Okay, you first. Tell me about this Mistress.” “Uh, well, she’s kind of tall, techi. Like momma, techi. She has a green dress and lots of hair, too, techi. She carries around this shiny thing, techi.” Yeah, jissous aren’t really who you ask if you want a description. Basically, you end up asking them yes or no questions, and the whole thing degenerates into a game of Guess My Secret, but it’s a game I have to play. So far, we know that she has a green dress, intact hair, holds on to an object of some sort, and is around the height of an average jissou. Can I buy a vowel? “Does she have ears like your mother?” There are no E’s, says Pat Sajak. “No, I never saw her with ears, techi.” “Alright. Tell me about the shiny thing.” “I don’t know, techi. She hurts anyone who comes near it, techi.” So, this shiny thing is so cherished that any jissous that come near it get curb-stomped. This suggests that it is valuable, rare or sentimentally important, perhaps a piece of jewelry of some sort. Time to solve the puzzle. “Can you tell me her name?” “Uh…” The kojissou holds her stumps to her temples, and squints her eyes, probably to cope with the immense mental demands placed on her. After a few seconds of blue-faced effort, she straightens up. “I can’t remember, techi. It was really long, though, techi.” Well, shit. Oh well, we still know enough to be able to infer. She has a long name. She has an intact green dress and long hair. She has a cherished momento. All of that, at least to me, points to her being a former pet of some sort, bred to have full hair and shorter ears. It’s not unheard of; the jissou shop on the other side of town with a Spanish name has some that are bred like that. Hell, in all likelihood she came from there, since jissous aren’t known to embark on odysseys, which goes double for mothers like the one lying on my floor. That still leaves a few questions, though. How did she work up enough jissous to allow her to make threats like that? Why is she simply having them break doors? How is she relaying orders from here to Ohio? Hell, why Ohio at all?! The phone rings. I go answer it. “Mr. Wilson.” A deep voice, laden with the characteristic warble of synthesized speech, emanates from the earpiece. I told you the CIA would be making an appearance. I skip the pleasantries. “I assume you’re calling about the recent happenings in Ohio?” “Yes, actually. Do you have any idea what’s going on?” “I do. From what I’ve been able to find out, there’s some variety of Deus Ex Machina at work here.” “Which means…?” Impatient ass government operatives… “Which means that there’s a leader.” “Do you have evidence to support this?” “I do. I was screwing around and killed the mother of a family. An adolescent jissou managed to climb a sheer wall twice her size and proclaim that ‘the Mistress’ would make me pay.” Silence for a full 5 seconds. Sr. Espantoso (More or less meaning Mr. Spook, for the Spanish-impaired) is probably trying to digest what I’ve just told him. “That seems a bit far-fetched, Mr. Wilson.” Figured as much. I suppose I can understand his disbelief, though. Hell, I’m not even sure that it happened. “I’m going to put you on speakerphone. If you’ll bear with me, I’ll see if I can get her to do it again.” I press the gynormous speakerphone button, so that the operative’s reply is audible from a fair distance. “I’d very much like that, Mr. Wilson.” I walk into the kitchen and surreptitiously set the phone on the counter. The kojissou has aided her fellow prisoners in escaping the sink. I can account for all of them, but it still appears as though she was trying to either escape or demolish my house. She’s lucky I need her alive. The same can’t be said of the rest of the family, though. She is bending down to rub a maggot’s belly. “Feels good refu…” The maggot pants in ecstasy. I think I forgot to mention that rubbing a maggot’s belly is the equivalent of sex for them, minus the reproductive function. Wordlessly, I extend my index finger and take over the kojissou’s job. She looks up at me, apparently convinced that I’ve redeemed myself. She can’t notice (nor can the maggot due to an underdeveloped central nervous system) that I’m pressing harder on the maggots belly every second. After a few seconds, the maggot’s nerves finally transmit the “OH SHI-“ message. “Feels weird, refu…” It tries to wiggle away, but I’ve pinned it down with my index finger. At this point, the pretext gets thrown out the window; I press harder on the maggot’s belly. “Hurts, repya!” It gets no more words out before the pressure exerted on it’s chest/abdomen/thorax/whatever cuts off its air. One second later, a crunch is heard. I withdraw my finger to reveal the finger-sized hole I punched into the maggot’s chest. A small organ – it’s heart – disengages itself from my finger and plops back into the pool of blood and excrement that now fills the maggot’s chest cavity. “MAGGOT CHAN, TECHA!” Desired effect: Achieved. The kojissou kneels down and looks into the blue-tinged face of the dead maggot. As she does, I round up her siblings and replace them in the plastic container. The container is replaced in the sink, and becomes the recipient of the water from the faucet. She doesn’t notice until one of the other kojissous raises a piteous plea. “Onee-ch*glub*an! Help u*glurb*-s, techa!” Onee-chan goes running to the sink, but is stopped by my hand. “Mr. Man, help my sisters, techa!” I remain perfectly still and silent. She tries to dodge my hand, but I grab her (gently) and hold her in place. In between sobs she yells out at me, “Help my sisters, or the Mistress will never forgive you, techa!” That was what I wanted to hear. In response, I cut the water off, drain the (now extremely green) water from the container, and place the kojissou inside. She rushes over to help one of the maggots extricate itself from a residual pool of water. I pick the container up and flip it over onto the counter, much to the chagrin of all occupants (aside from the maggots). The pot of water is drained and placed on top, and my temporary jissou-proof container is complete. I pick up the phone, take it off of speakerphone mode, and address the CIA operative on the other end. “Did you catch that?” “I did. Do you have any idea who this ‘Mistress’ is?” “Judging from the minor description provided by the kojissou, I’d guess that she’s a mutated jissou, likely a former pet, who has a random vendetta against abusers, or more likely humanity in general. Then again, we both know jissous are unreliable storytellers. On the flipside, I can tell you with certainty that she’s in this area, since I doubt a family of jissous could make the trek from Kettering to Virginia Beach in the middle of winter.” “Interesting… Hold on just one second.” Some sound, garbled by the voice synthesizer, makes its way to my ear, followed by silence. A minute later, the line goes dead. In response, I turn on the TV, sit down, and watch a documentary about a famous jissou exterminator in France for 5 minutes. After that, the phone rings and kills my TV because my ISP is too retarded to separate the internet, phone, and cable lines. I answer it. “Mr. Wilson.” “This is him. What took you so long?” “I was clarifying my orders.” “Alright-y then. Still need my help?” “No. Your country needs your help.” And thusly begins the flood of patriotic clichés. God help me. Yes, they do this every time they need something from me. Every single motherfucking God-damn time. “My country may or may not receive it.” “Well, you’re the only man we have in the state of Virginia.” “Good to know, but my country still needs to clarify what it wants from me.” “We need you to look deeper into this matter.” “Specifically?” “We need you to find this ‘Mistress’ and apprehend her.” … “Wait a minute. You’re asking me to be a CIA officer for the day?” “Not really. Think ‘police detective.’” “Is this something you usually do? I’m fairly sure that someone wrote a story on the Internet about this exact type of situation.” “No, this isn’t something we usually do. And it’s in both of our best interests – not to mention the entire country’s – for you to accept our money and do this job.” “Why not send an operative of your own down here?” “Mr. Wilson, you and I both know why. A CIA operative in the HQ of an organization that hates this particular mission would likely raise a red flag or two. Besides, we have precious little time and money. Believe it or not, paying you – a substantial amount, don’t worry about that – is cheaper than sending one of our own. You’re also already in the area.” “So, I’d be a convenient fall guy.” “You’ve always been a fall guy, Wilson. You’ve known that from the start of our business relationship.” He is right, of course. The work I do for the government is contracted to private labs so that if we’re caught by some activist there’s no real link to the U.S.. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, though. “What would you do if I refused?” “To put it simply, you cannot refuse.” …?! “What?! Why not!?” “I’ve already mentioned our lack of time. There are also other circumstances which you do not know of that compound the problem.” “Such as?” “That’s on a need-to-know basis.” “Well, since I’m doing your dirty work, I think I do need to know.” “So you accept?” “You’ve made it rather clear that I have no real choice, haven’t you?” “Fine, then. You know, I assume, of the staggering population of Jissouseki in the United States?” “Yes…” “They are migrating. En masse.” “That’s old news, Slowbro.” “You aren’t understanding me, Mr. Wilson. They’re moving from cities and rural areas alike. They’re not all moving southwards away from winter weather, either.” “Odd, but what does that have to do with me? Where are they going?” “Look at a local map.” “Wait a minute. Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” “Yes. Every jissou in the country appears to be headed your way. You are the only person in the country, apart from myself and my colleagues, who knows why.” “This doesn’t make any fucking sense, though. This isn’t explaining isolated, physically-impossible break-ins 1000 miles from here.” “There have been more. All over the country. Once we saw the migrations, we initiated a media blackout.” “That explains the lack of information. Must be a very widespread problem if you decided to suppress out 1st Amendment rights.” “It is indeed a very serious problem. Mostly because the occupants were actually in the homes at the time, contrary to the few news reports that escaped us. Every single occupant of every single house was found dead. Rather, their stripped skeletons were found.” … Hold on a second. “What? Jissous are killing people?!” “Yes. Mostly by weighing them down with sheer numbers.” “30 jissous on their own can’t kill a healthy adult human.” “We thought that, too. Of course, the mysterious Mistress may have ordered some to leave as a diversion of some sort.” “So, you’re telling me that lives are in my hands?” “Yes.” “You do know exactly how cliché this is, right? I swear to God someone pulled this off of some website.” “We know that. We also know of the danger. To that end, we’ve sent a special package to your home, which should arrive within the hour.” “What happened to not having other operatives in the state?” “We called in a few favors.” I sigh. “Alright. Anything else I need to know before I go off to save the world in a science-fiction character’s nightmare?” “Just one thing. Jissous appear to be congregating in the neighboring city of Norfolk, Virginia. That’s our only lead for you.” “It’s better than nothing, I guess.” “Goodbye, Mr. Wilson. We’ll be in touch.” The phone clicks as the spook hangs up. I drop it. “What the fuck just happened?” End Chapter 4 Contrived plot device is contrived, I know. At least it's plausible. Doors have been opened for me! Also, I break the fourth wall repeatedly. With a hammer. Justin specifically mentions his audience multiple times.
So I'm assuming PETA is behind this.
Contrived plot device is contrived, I know. At least it's plausible. Doors have been opened for me! Very contrived indeed. I may change my mind later, but I preferred your old "random events" series : there was a ot of filler and a lack of focus on the main story (for a good reason...), but plot events did not rush every 10 seconds. Justin should learn to give his audience some time to ponder the main events, and try to guess what happens next. Everything happens too fast for that. And "filler" is not necessarily bad, if it helps building the fictive world or characters. If it's related to the main plot, even loosely, it's much better, of course.
>>487 True. I can't really put filler or side plots in, though, since I've made it clear that there is very little time to waste. You are right, though. I'll try to take your advice and slow things down a bit. In before overcorrecting and slowing the plot to a crawl inadvertently.
>>487 ^ this I'll try to take your advice and slow things down a bit. Or split the stories, have your first one and the reboot be seperate. Personally liked the first one a lot better.
You know, almost everyone has said that. Perhaps I'm a minority of one here, then. I, myself, prefer this new one over the original. That's probably because of the sheer fact that there's a solid plot this time around, and I'm not running (writing) around like an idiot.
I also like the new one better, for the same reason. However, the fourth chapter did felt really in a hurry to get things rolling. It's not about the Man's intervention and all that, rather "oh there's something weird, better investigate on thOH SHIT THERE'S AN APOCALYPSE AND IT'S COMING STRAIGHT FOR YOU !" If you know what I mean. Take your time to get things rolling, that's all.
Looking back at it, it does seem a bit off. "There's some strange things going on here." "That's 'cause you're about to DIE." The speed was kind of the point. I was aiming for a "Holy shit I'd better get moving" deal. I screwed it up by overdoing it, as everyone and their grandmother has noticed. Good to know I'm not a lunatic, at the very least. A lunatic, of course, being a minority of one, and not insanity.
>>490 I, myself, prefer this new one over the original. Then you sir, are a faggot. However, you're the one doing the fucking work so do what you enjoy the most. probably because of the sheer fact that there's a solid plot this time around, and I'm not running (writing) around like an idiot. Feel free to write like an idiot. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Introudcing the PETA nuts to the penis jissou ? Pure. Fucking. Hilarity. Besides, I also liked the experiments in the first too. Yeah it may not have had a big long-term plot, but who gives a fuck. Each time, you took an event, and played it out. You find the boku-chan. PETA fucks your house, leaves presents. You move, clear out pool. You get revenge You start new experiments You introduce PETA to penis jissous. All good as stand alones, yet at the same time STILL moving things foward. As for a big plot, hell if you want I'll suggest one, or we can do it in privat if you want.
... Um. Ok. My random dicking around is more popular than trying to make an effort for a real story. Odd. Lucky for you I saved all the original snippets. I see a middle ground here. I finish this new plot-driven story, and continue on with the old one afterwards. I'm happy, you're happy, everyone's happy. And I would like to hear your idea for an overarching plot. I'm always open for ideas.
Or you could seperate teh charachters, dick arround a bit while you prepare your serious effort, post serious effort, repeat :p
Middle ground is not making two stories, it's keeping the good ideas from both. Keep the plot, as an actual story is better than a pamphlet against PETA, popularity notwithstanding. Just don't rush things. The beginning was foreboding, we felt shit was going to go down. The fourth chapter kind of said "okay, for those who didn't listen : be afraid ! booo !". I get why you did it, you just wanted to establish shit was hitting the fan really hard. Trouble is, you already succeeded at that two chapters prior. Consequently, the effect was redundant, overkill, well, mostly negative. Just because you are too good to have to rely on unsubtle stuff. Don't get stuck on that, though...It was just a misstep. That doesn't invalidate your endeavors. Things can be corrected. But remember the rule of horror : Overdoing things doesn't do shit unless you state why we should fear for the character. Develop things, don't stay only on the threat. The threatened is just as important.
how can anyone in their right mind consider this content
>>497 because we are not faggots like you >>496 Actually his pamphlet against PETA was better.
>>497 oh you. >>498 it was more fun, but the second is better written...maybe if he introduces the bokuseki in this one it'd be the over-all better? i mean, If I wanted simple nonsensense torture I'd use yukkuris or watch a couple of the one-off ilustrations, the fics are, IMO, to explore how jissous survive on their own (and die horribly in the process) and how humans deal whit them in the long run.
>>500 exactly, thats what made his first stories so good, the jissous were not just the pawns of a comic book sounding villan.
>>501 dude, chillax, "the misstress" is just Suiseiseki, she's harmless.
Oh nevermind. Now if it was Souseiseki....
>>502 Why would you say that?
>>504 the way her eyes flash with yellow stars when shes angry/plotting in a few scenes in the anime.
Uh, ok? I was asking why >>502 thought Suiseiseki was my puppet master, sir. The yellow eye flash you're referring to doesn't explain it. Also, why do you think Souseiseki would be a terrifying Jissou-master? I wouldn't think she'd have a motive...
>>506 It may, I breifly had the same thought. Souseiseki would be terrifying because if she WNATED to shed be good at it.
>>507 this, she dislikes humans, is way smarter than them while being similar enough to them to be trusted as a sister instead as harassed as a Ms.Lady and in your description you mention she carries a shiny item she wont share, could be the rose, could be the water sprinkler. >“Uh, well, she’s kind of tall, techi. Like momma, techi. She has a green dress and lots of hair, too, techi. She carries around this shiny thing, techi.” but ultimately it's wishful thinking you'd explore how she'd react to the jissous.
shiny thing could be her artifical sprit too
BTW InLeaves, Im taking that .doc of your stuff and copy+pasting it into my IRC bot. Should be funny to have a bot that uses jissou fic phrases (along with the other shit its picked up over the years)
As you wish. Although I don't think I made especially memorable things to quote (I don't write with that in mind. But maybe I'm wrong.
>>511 I can name a few. WELCOME TO DIE, DESU! THEN YOU DARE TO DIE, DECHA! (or whatever the modified desu was) WHY AM I STUCK WITH A BROOM DAMIIIIIIIT All in caps, because the hilarious lines were in caps.
>>511 It's a chat bot, it doesn't NEED anything to say, per se, but the vocabularly and word combinations ads some random funny shit it could pop out.
Let's hope this is better than last time, eh? The Way the World Ends Chapter 5: Questions and Answers Well, fuck. That really sucks. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cool to be an honorary secret agent and all, but, still. You don’t drop that kind of responsibility on someone out of the blue, dammit. Whatever. I’m going to get piss drunk after this, and to hell with the underage drinking laws. Assuming, of course, the place hasn’t gone to Jissou Hell. Oh, that package that Mr. Spook (as I have come to call him/her/it) mentioned did actually arrive. Instantly. Like, one minute after he hung up. I just got the knock on the door. I open said door. In the distance, a figure – presumably the delivery boy - fades into the gathering snowstorm after jumping 3 cars, 14 fences, and a house. I kneel down to pick it up- “Mr. Man, techa!” I look up. There’s a kojissou and a thumb accosting me with red and green tears leaking from their eyes. “Mr. Man, please save our momma! Penis-chan won’t let her go, recha!” says the thumb. I look into my yard. Said mother is indeed in the amorous clutches of a rather large penis jissou. Okay, I bet someone’s sitting in their basement scratching their heads. A penis jissou is exactly what it sounds like: Mostly identical to the regular jissou, but instead of the “vaganus” there’s, well, a penis. An extremely large penis. It is quite literally three-quarters the height of the penis jissou itself and contains more blood than the actual body of the jissou. These things are, without exception, both retarded and singlemindedly focused on sex. If you put one in a jar, it will drown in its own semen. If there is any living thing in the area, it will be fucked. Repeatedly. The mother is not very happy with her new lover. Then again, I doubt anyone would be especially happy in her position. “De-de-de-de-de-de-de-de-zu-zu-zu-zu-zu-zu-zu-zu-zu” Her shuddering scream is punctuated by a wet slapping sound and a groan from the cock-wielding jissou. “Okay, little jissous, here’s what you do. You run up to him and punch him in the legs until he lets go of your momma.” “Okay, techi! Thank you, Mr. Man, techu-un! Come on, jissou-chan, we have to go save momma, techi!” Gullible as fuck. Literally, in this case. The thumb follows her elder sister and together they pound their mother’s assailant’s legs, which only seems to get him off more. “Jissou-sama, jissou-sama!” “DEGYAAAAAA!” A stream of white fluid seeps out of the mother’s mouth, cutting off her scream. Her rapist shoves her off of his penis, where she slides to the ground, her internal organs pulverized by the gigantic member. He looks around, and seems to notice the kojissou and the thumb for the first time. He wordlessly picks the thumb up. “Put me down, recha!” He smiles with glee, and shoves her onto his cock. “RECHAAAAAAAAAAA-“ The thumb finds herself stretched like a living condom around his penis. She dies more or less instantly, but that doesn’t stop him. A wet slapping sound still manages to echo around the street. I take my eyes off of the spectacle before me and open this box. Okay, what’s inside? “Holy shit.” Inside the box is a sonic gun. These things were actually outlawed by the U.S. via some bill that PETA shoehorned through Congress with over $9000000000000000000, making these things exceedingly rare. They’re also exceedingly effective, due to the jissou’s susceptibility to ultrasound. These things project a tight “beam” of ultrasound, essentially making them jissou snipers when in the right hands. There are three settings on the gun, all of which make for annoying Star Trek references. The first is an instant kill setting, which forces the crystal that holds jissous together to resonate and shatter, making the host jissou detonate. The second is simply annoying and makes jissous (and dogs) flee from it. The third (the stun setting, if you will) simply causes the jissou to buckle over with pain, making it impossible to escape, which intensifies the pain in turn. That last option is what PETA had an objection to. All in all, it’s not a bad thing to get in a care package. Pair it up with the Glock 18 I own (legally, due to the fact that I may need to kill jissous instantly), and I’m all set to have a party! There’s also a paper in the box that essentially permits me to carry and use this sonic gun. So, I’m good in the eyes of the law. Now, all I need to do is get my (other) gun and get going. But first… I turn on the sonic gun, aiming it at the penis jissou. He’s already dispensed with his second living sex doll, and is well on his way through his third. Might as well test the gun out on this monstrosity, right? I pull the trigger. An extremely loud, though hard to define, sound rings out. If you’ve had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of an LRAD, you know what I’m talking about. If not, it sounds a bit like a police siren, but sped up and much higher pitched. Of course, the infrasound is not the danger to the jissous. The penis jissou detonates. Literally, straight-up detonates. A spray of green fluid stains the snow around him. The thumb wasn’t actually dead, and thusly was actually killed by her rapist’s detonation. Green scraps of plastic float upwards and are snagged by the wind. “Well, it works…” I say to nobody in particular. I walk inside. If Mr. Spook is correct, even standing around for a minute is wasting time. It would pay to get on the road. So, after retrieving the keys to my SUV and the aforementioned Glock, I do just that. --------------------------- Thankfully, I can drive in snow. I’m the only one in this state who can, apparently. Wrecked cars line the sides of the highway as I sail along. Idiots don’t seem to realize that when you turn, you slide. Of course, I bet half or more of the drivers were swerving to try to hit a jissou. Most people tend to take time out of their day to kill jissous, and vehicular jissou-slaughter is no real exception. Of course, swinging two tons of car around to hit a target the size of a watermelon is difficult enough on dry pavement, and God help us all if something should happen to fall from the sky. Thankfully, my SUV handles the weather just fine, assisted by my experience in the northern states. I arrive in the beautiful, snowed-in city of Norfolk about 15 minutes after setting off, which is actually decent time in this weather. Apparently, the titular Mistress calls this city home. Unfortunately, so do 65 gangs. I’m not kidding, 65 is an accurate measurement. I’m wearing neutral green, so I shouldn’t get randomly shot, but my Glock is actually some comfort. Besides, most of the jissou damage is in the downtown area, well away from the risk of drive-bys. Either way, I’m confused as to why the Mistress set up her (metaphorical) jissou shop here. Why not Virginia Beach, 15 minutes away, where the human population is roughly 600,000? Then again, everything about the Mistress is a gigantic question mark. One more enigma on the list doesn’t make much of a difference. I hijack the WiFi connection of some random elderly couple in the house nearby and pull up the city website. The city lists the addresses of homes and businesses that have been overrun by jissous and offers a reward to anyone who can get them cleared out. It’s rather clandestine, seeing as activists don’t want money spent on jissou slaughter, but it actually works out well enough for both parties. It’ll also give me a lead or two on the Mistress. I select a likely house (a random one, actually) off of the list and drive away, taking care to crush a mother jissou with my right front tire as I pull out. The house is precisely as I expected it to be. No jissou infestation leaves a house unscathed, but the damage generally ranges from cosmetic issues to compromised structural integrity. This home is on the right end of that spectrum: the door has been knocked off of its lower hinge, the windows have been shattered, part of the fucking roof has fallen in, and the walls actually have holes in them. All of this allows jissous easier access to the building; taken together, this place is completely totaled. It matters very little to me, though. I just need information. I push on the door. The rotted wood that the remaining hinge is set in can’t handle the force and snaps off. The door falls inward, decapitating a hapless maggot and crushing a mother’s legs. “Knock knock.” I step on the door as I walk in, eliciting a cry from the mother whose legs I have just crushed. I silence her with the heel of my shoe and step into the house proper, ignoring the cries of the children. Surprisingly, it is rather dark, considering there’s a hole in the ceiling. It smells like jissou shit in here, too, but that’s to be expected. Why didn’t I bring a mask? Oh yeah, I’m an idiot. That’s right. I can’t light my lighter, because jissou chit and its fumes are flammable in the nature of gasoline. A single spark could set this place ablaze. In fact, I need to hurry up and try to find what I came- A green orb sails past my ear. It is quickly followed by about 5 others, who have aim that’s just as bad as the first shot. I pull out my sonic gun and duck for cover. 7 more balls of shit fly through the empty space that once held my face. “Stand down, desu. It must have been a mouse, desu.” Stand down? I creep out from behind my upended table to survey my surroundings. In the kitchen, where the shit originated, I can barely see about 12 kojissous donning their panties. Two adults stand nearby. Must be a jissou firing squad of some sort. I’ve heard of mother goading their children to toss shit at targets, but them trying to guard a specific location is unheard of. Then again, I can honestly say that little will surprise me now, given the craziness that has entered my life in the course of an hour... I decide to test the waters. I pull a penny out of my pocket and flip it. It reflects the feeble light from the doorway as it flips and lands, bouncing several times, each landing punctuated by a dinging noise. “Fire, desu!” On cue, 12 spheres of airborne fecal matter land in the doorway, burying the copper coin. Seems that they’re better shots when it comes to ground targets. “Nothing will get to the food in here, techu-un!” “Jissou-sama is the best, te!” Jissou-sama is the title given to the leader of any group of jissous, like the cardboard box colonies you see in the forests. Generally, it is implied that anyone referred to as “whoever-sama” knows what they’re doing. This is obviously the case, since she has managed to get 12 kojissous and 2 mothers to guard a pantry but not hijack any food, which is no mean feat. I appear to have stumbled on a group that has escaped the influence of the Mistress. I’m going to question them anyway, of course, if only as an excuse to use this awesome gun. Speaking of, I unholster my sonic gun, set it to stun, point it into the kitchen, and pull the trigger. The LRAD-esque noise returns, but far louder than before, being the product of reflected and diminished ultrasound. I hold my free hand and shoulder to my ears while I stun the artillery gunners and their confused mothers. After about 30 seconds, I let off the trigger. The mother and kojissous are still in pain and have been rendered deaf, so I’m in no danger of being shat on from range. As I look around the kitchen, I notice that there are several maggots lying on counters and the floor, all dead as a byproduct of the ultrasound – maggots just can’t handle the noise. Aside from that, and the shit in the doorway, the kitchen is surprisingly clean. There’s actually food sitting out on the counter that is shit-free, unspoiled, and uneaten. This place is a jissou’s wet dream. Any jissou wandering in off the street would immediately pig out and shit everywhere, and yet the ones who were in here actually exercised self control. I’ll be damned. Just for that, the artillery doesn’t get smashed. Instead, I head into the doorway on my right. After the bedlam in the kitchen, I’d fully expected more shit-archers blocking my path. Surprisingly enough, there’s nothing. All jissous either ran from the noise, or hid from it. This room is actually a long hallway, with a light glinting at the end of it. I make my way towards it. I guess someone would run from that noise; after all, the human variant is an effective pirate deterrent. I still figured-Shit! *thunk* What the fuck?! A random-ass wire was stretched across my path, causing me to trip. What the hell is up with that?! “The trap worked, Jissou-sama, techi!” “Shh!” … You’re kidding. They tried to trap me? Okay, now I’m pissed. The sonic gun is fired again. Two screams of pain are barely audible over the noise. I let off the trigger after only a second; I need their hearing to be intact. I pull out a cigarette lighter I found outside and flick it, not giving a shit about the shit, no pun intended. In the flickering light I see two figures clutching their ears. One is a standard kojissou, and the other is… Blue. That’s all I can say. She’s straight blue. Her hair’s black, as well. This isn’t a hair color mutation; the hair is shorter, too, which the geneticists can’t make happen for some reason. She was born like this. She’s an adult of standard stature, with a standard waist size, et cetera. Essentially, aside from the fact that she has short hair and a blue dress, she’s completely normal. She and her younger cohort both recover from the noise and straighten up. I can notice that the eye colors of the blue jissou are swapped; her right eye is green, and her left eye is red. In contrast, the kojissou has her red eye on her right side. Both jissous scream in fear when they notice me. “J-j-j-jissou-sama, te?” The kojissou stammers, blue with fright. Now I know who the leader of this tribe is. “Alright, ‘Jissou-sama,’ here’s the deal. I’m going to ask you a few questions. If you lie to me, or don’t answer it, I will make the sound come back. Understand?” Silence. “Understand?!” I pulse the gun to underscore my point. Both jissous scream in fear again. “Y-y-y-yes, decha…” “Good. First question, why did you try to trip me?” “We didn’t try to trip y-” The gun is pulsed again. Shit is spewed. “Okay, fine, degya! I thought it would make you leave, decha! Please don’t make that noise again, decha!” So, she’s smarter than the average jissou, as well? Huh. Given what she’s done for, or rather with, this tribe, I wouldn’t have expected much less. “Alright. Second question. Do you know of the Mistress?” “Yes, desu!” Oh. I must have been wrong earlier. Oh well, it saves me an hour of looking through other buildings. “Where is she hiding?” “In the circle building, desu.” “Can you be a bit more specific?” “Uh…” I raise the gun threateningly. She jumps a full foot in the air. “She said it was called something, degya! It started with an S but I can’t remember it, degya!” A circular building that starts with an S? She must be referring to the Scope Theatre, which is a dome. There’s not many circular buildings in the area, anyway, so if I’m wrong it’s not a huge problem. Something’s still a bit troubling, though… “So, you saw the Mistress herself?” “Yes, desu. She called me something weird, desu. It was really long, though, desu. If I remembered it, I’d tell you what it was, desu.” Huh. Odd. I don’t think she’s lying, though; even humans can’t make something like that up off of the top of their heads. Well, I know where I’m going next. “Alright, I’m out of here. Good luck with your tribe.” “Th-thanks, desu?” Yeah, I’ve got no problem with civilized jissous. If they were all like this, I wouldn’t mind the infestation as much. As it stands, they’re not hurting anything, so there’s no need to break out the Glock just yet. Besides, I need to get to the Scope, ASAP. To that end, I leave the building (after tripping on the tripwire again) and climb into my SUV. It’s time to meet the Mistress. Chapter 5 End
This chapter was a LOT better than before, as was the bokuseki apperance. However, it's kinda proceeding quite fast.
>>515 Thought you'd like that bit. I did, too. Yeah, it's going a bit fast. I prefer the fast pace, as I've said. It could be worse, though. I'd had thoughts of skipping this chapter entirely and going for the Mistress directly. Then I remembered that since Word's formatting sucks I think I write more than I do. Speaking of, does anyone know of a better text program? Notepad screws everything up, and I can't change the margins on MS Word for some reason.
open office is good. Normally I just use notepad tho.
What is open office, and where can I get it? Oh, and it may be of note to you that I just finished RM: Traumend episode 9 for the first time, and I am on the verge of tears.
It is a program. and you an get it thru the internets. Google: use it
http://www.openoffice.org/ Does everything MS Office does, only better. And it's free :)
Let's try this posting business again. The Way the World Ends Chapter 6: Heart of Darkness A lone red SUV doing 65 in a 30 past a police station in the middle of a fucking blizzard should turn a few heads, shouldn’t it? Apparently that’s normal to the cops, because they ignored me. Maybe the situation really is FUBAR, to take the military view on it. I had to cross a few bridges and an underwater tunnel to get to the Scope. My speedometer never dropped below 40 the entire time. Amazing what a difference an hour makes: The streets are completely deserted now, but an hour ago there was traffic out the ass on the highway. I guess they finally figured out that snow makes driving difficult. So, after taking snaky off-ramps at insane velocities, shattering every speed limit in a 5-mile radius, and nearly clipping every car that was parallel parked on the side of the road, I arrive at the Scope. Scope Theatre sits on a dedicated plaza, and both are about 15 feet up off of the road. The only place to park is a parking garage that goes underneath the plaza. Scope itself is a dome shape that’s about 440 ft. in diameter (and is the largest concrete dome in the world, for the 0 people that are interested). There’s 24 flying buttresses that hold the whole deal off of the ground, which are angled at about 45 degrees to connect to the roof and are currently covered in snow. There’s something on the order of 80,000 square feet inside, making it an excellent place for jissous to congregate. How many jissous? Well, since we can fit roughly 20 jissous or so into a square foot, and there’s about 80,000 square feet, that equates to about 1,600,000 jissous. In the building alone. The plaza is roughly twice that size. And there’s the multi-level garage, as well. If you wanted to hide a jissou army, there’s almost nowhere better to put it. I pull my trusty SUV onto the ramp to the parking garage… and promptly slide down it sideways. Thankfully, I hit a group of those orange rubber cones that they use on the highways, so no harm done, but if this is the ramp, it can’t be especially good inside the likely jissou-infested garage. I’m going to opt for walking through the snow and jissou fecal matter as opposed to stumbling about in a building that I shouldn’t be in and don’t know shit about. At least I’ve gone in it from above before. Twice. 5 years ago. I climb the ramp with extreme difficulty. The whole thing is iced up, which isn’t surprising since it’s been snowing for a good 4 hours. After making some impromptu cleats from a few strips of tape and some random metal nails lying around, I clamber up the slippery slope. As I do, I notice that the ice is rather green. We already know that jissou shit is slippery as fuck; combine it with ice, and I guess no amount of weight or traction will keep you from sliding. I’m probably going to have to blowtorch it to get my truck out, but, hey, one problem at a time. I remove my improvised spikes from my shoes. They won’t really help with walking in snow. The stairs, I notice as I climb up them, are covered in a deep blanket of snow which conceals a layer of that same diabolical concoction that encases the ramp. Thanks to the balustrade, I don’t fall over, but it’s still slippery as all fuck. After I brave the stairs from hell and get up to the plaza, I find out why the ice is so green. There’s about 9000 jissous up here. I’m wearing a white jacket and snow-covered pants, so I blend in with the curtains of snow that are tumbling down, but I can see their green dresses from a mile off. It’s hard to make out, but I can tell that there’s a great deal of them. The snow is completely green on ground level, which isn’t really surprising. What is surprising is the amount of jissous that are actually moving. Generally, jissous can survive these temperatures, but not these weather conditions. When it snows, they tend to dig a burrow and ‘hibernate’ or just end up dying of exposure. These jissous are doing…something. I can’t tell what, it’s too far off to see, but there’s a great deal of motion and activity. It seems a bit like they’re moving something, obviously a group of tiny things or one huge thing, but again, the snow is too thick for me to be able to really tell. Well, fuck. I’m kind of screwed; if this is the outside, than I don’t really want to know what’s inside. Perhaps a distraction would be prudent. My trusty sonic gun makes yet another appearance. This time, the instant-kill frequency is used. The plan – I say plan because this snow might fuck it up – is to sweep the sound “beam” across the crowd like a laser and hope to God that a giant swath of them explode. It’ll be one hell of a distraction, and if this is an important operation to the Mistress, the jissous that respond to the crisis will have to take the places of the dead ones. If it doesn’t work, the snow would have to muffle all sound, so no harm done. Except, perhaps, to my chances inside. I pull the trigger and swing the gun around. Mercifully, for me at least, jissous begin popping like firecrackers wherever my gun points. It’s actually not quite as effective as I’d hoped, but the desired effect is achieved with a few more passes. A giant swath of blood and shit bisects the group, with the surviving members filling the void as they run around and spray more excrement in their panic. I probably wiped half the crowd out with that little stunt. I begin to trudge away from my sniper’s perch, even though there’s no real need to do so. The usual, annoyingly loud burst of human-range sound was actually muffled by the falling snow. It’s likely that the only ones who heard it detonated from the ultrasound. Either way, this ensures I won’t be detected, because the snow is still falling and obscuring my footprints. Of course, jissous aren’t smart enough to follow sounds followed by footprints while panicking, but it never hurts to be unintentionally careful. My mind wanders a bit as I make my way to one of the entrances that dot Scope’s circumference. What happened to the staff of the Scope? There’s undoubtedly some janitorial staff or something that work here. Maybe the snow scared them off – after all, the last time a blizzard like this blew through was 1980. Then again, the Mistress’s influence has to have been going on for at least a month, and most likely more. I guess she might have moved in here once the snow kicked in. Seems like a gigantic, unbelievable circumstance that the jissou apocalypse would descend – here, of all places – on the precise day that the largest snowstorm in 30 years comes to town. Perhaps she planned this, biding her time until a severe weather event roared through. That doesn’t make sense either, though, because Hurricane Irene tore through here about 6 months ago and left us dazed for a full month. Maybe she just wasn’t ready then. Maybe she realized that the wind would throw her soldiers like toys. Maybe she’s just stupid. In the end, does it really matter? I – a random teenager conscripted by the government – will stop her. Hopefully. I finally locate an entrance. It’s obviously unlocked, since the snow is scraped away in a pattern that would suggest that the door’s been opened recently and repeatedly. I open the door, step in, and allow it to close. Thankfully, instead of clanging shut like a bank vault door like I feared, it catches itself on a pneumatic piston and silently slides shut. I need to explain the geometry of this theater before I go any further. Inside is a hallway that runs the circumference of the building. Inside is the stadium, with roughly 10,000 seats in a blocky semicircle around the floor (which turns into an ice rink in winter, to give you a bit of perspective). The stage sits at the far end of the ice rink. I’m sure that the stadium is full of jissous, so I kind of want to avoid that. I’m not really afraid of a crowd, and it’s not my stuff on the line, but until I ascertain the true nature of the Mistress I’d rather not be detected. After all, the “Mistress” could actually be a pro wrestler. Far-fetched, but weirder things have happened in history. To that end, I sneak through the circumferential hallway. The hallway is slick with jissou shit. I kind of wish I still had my jury-rigged spike shoes, but I manage to not die by falling. I pass by a hallway that leads to stairs that, if my memory serves me correctly, lead to more stairs that lead to the stadium proper. You know what? Sometimes, you just have to tell the risks to fuck off. Besides, they’re jissous. I can kill them all with one flick of my trigger finger. The Mistress may or may not be a jissou, but I think that in both cases my guns can solve the issue for me. Besides, those area stun effects really help my chances. I walk up the stairs, which have strips of grip tape that help contradict the thick-as-ever jissou shit, and catch my first glimpse of the stadium. You’ve heard of what crazy teenagers can do to a house in the height of a drug-fueled, sex-crazed party, right? Triple the destruction in that mental image you’ve undoubtedly formed. Now do it again. And again. You’re still nowhere near imagining what the stands currently look like. Chairs that were once securely riveted into concrete have been tossed varying distances from their former positions. Railings – solid steel railings - have been sheared off from their posts, leaving jagged shards of metal embedded in the concrete (which appear to have claimed the lives of some unfortunate jissous, if the piles of limbs lying beside them are any indication). Jissou shit has accumulated in gigantic piles, some of them taller than me and twice as wide. There’s an incalculable number of jissous meandering aimlessly around the stands and on the ice rink that was indeed constructed in the flat concrete area, with a similar unidentifiable number located in the stands, munching on the piles of waste. I notice a squad of penis jissous embodying the “sex-crazed” aspect of this party, roving around and annihilating any jissous they encounter with their cocks and jets of semen. About 45 yards to my left is the stage, which is surprisingly clean, given the debauchery and destruction. I’m not even going to try to wade through this insanity. Back to the circle hallway for me… So, I return to the circle hall and make my way around it. After a long 10 minutes of nearly breaking my neck on the insanely slippery floor, I arrive at a door marked by a sign in all caps: “BACKSTAGE ACCESS.” Once again, risks can go fuck themselves. I slide the door open slowly, close it slowly (this one doesn’t self-retract) and begin to inch along the highway. I freeze when I hear voices on the other end. A minute passes by heart-poundingly before I realize that they don’t notice me. Al least, I don’t think so. They’re speaking some other language that I barely know. One voice is extremely high pitched and obviously that of a jissou, but the other is slightly less ear-shatteringly high, and obviously not that of a jissou. I think I might have the Mistress. They begin talking again, and come to the conclusion that they’re speaking Japanese. I can recognize some of the phrases “Watashi wa,” “boku wa,” et cetera. Both are also speaking the jissou’s trademark desu at the end of their sentences, further reinforcing that assumption. That means that either this person is a Japanese citizen who wants revenge on us BAKA GAIJINS, or someone who happens to speak Japanese and wants to throw off anyone like me. Since that whole “baka gaijin” thing is idiotic and a bit stereotypical, I think it’s safe to assume the latter. The voices grow louder. Footsteps make their way towards the door in front of me. I sidle along the corridor frantically, hoping against hope that there’s a side room to hide in. Aaand, there’s nothing. Damn it all to hell! The door opens. Both of the speakers notice me and freeze, one stopping mid-sentence to return my stare. The one on my right is a jissou, no doubt about it, and possesses the same blue color mutation as the tribal leader from the house. The other is…. Uh… What in the holy mother of fuck is she!? The “what the fuck” one is the first to recover from the shock. “Who are you, desu?!” English with a heavy Japanese accent, but still intelligible. Well, not by me; I’m still in shock. “Uh. About that…” “Answer me, desu! You’re trespassing, desu!” She raises some object (that she wasn’t holding before, what the fuck) and points it at me threateningly. I have to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something along those lines, because it can’t be what it looks like to me. I manage to salvage a tiny bit of my self-composure. “I could say the same to you, ma’am.” Best to not piss off this diminuitive… whatever the hell she is. Especially since she’s probably the titular Mistress that I’ve been searching for. “I don’t care, desu! Leave, now!” Well, I have been telling risks to go fuck themselves, why should I stop now? Time to do my job “Yeah, fuck that.” I draw my Glock for added effect. I aim it directly at her, obscuring her left eye with the forward sight. Her face goes pale, but her stance and expression don’t change beyond that. My gun hand shakes a bit, but not enough to be noticeable. “You’re going to tell me who you are, right now.” End Chapter 6. Who likes cliffhangers? I do, if only because I want to take a bit more time on the Justin-???? dialogue. I think we all know who ???? is, though.
Ok, this re-do is starting to come around quite nicely.
Ten Thousand Stumps Show 1 : Rock the Hell outta You What... What just happened ? I feel weird... I just remembered something. But I'm not sure what...Master is in it. Stella-san too. So why am I so angry ? Because Mistress isn't in it ? No...Something else. Master's friend is still looking at me. He let something fall on the floor. He seems startled. "You're...Alright, Sylvia ?" No, I'm not alright. I remember now. The pain. The cold. Then the flash. What the fuck have I been doing these past three years ? Fuck ? That's a swear word, I shouldn't... "My brain is full of billions of fuck, desu." There are two mes. Neither ever knew each other. They hate what the other loves. I don't know what to believe. Except...Just one thing. I'm not the best jissouseki ever. I am not the perfect pet. I. Am. HUMAN. <!--more--> My guns. On top of Master's cupboard. With the mess in my mind, I can only concentrate on moving. Opening the cupboard, and climbing it with the help of the shelves. I feel sluggish. I remember something. A big warehouse. I jumped through the air like it was nothing. Three years without fighting. I'm slow. That dress doesn't help. But the grip of my hands on my guns feels good. It's another thing than the jacuzzi, the balls, Mistress. It's power. My power. He's sleeping. Seeing him, my grip gets stronger. He's nice to me. I really liked him, though I never shared his bed as Stella did. He said that would make him uncomfortable since I often sleep with Mistress. But Stella made me jealous, somehow. All these wonderful children... Wonderful ? Those ass-retarded stains ? I... Aaargh ! Gotta focus. There's only one truth both sides can agree on. He lied. He made us less than we are. We should have stood before Samantha as equals. This happiness was in exchange for slavery. He did it to us. Not Mistress. She doesn't know. It's only him. *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* He didn't even flinch. I think it's better this way. I don't think I would handle looking at his eyes. ...Hold on. I remember. The constraints. I was programmed, somehow. Even after being made like this, they wanted more. I was turned into a mere pet. Unable to stand up to Mr.Men. I couldn't even steal something from one without feeling like shit. And I just killed the father of my Mistress ? Just like that ? What did this guy do to me ? I leave the room. I can see that guy looking up the stairs. I point my gun towards him, just to see what it does. Once again, I feel nothing. He holds his hands in the air, afraid. "Got any metal on your phone, desu ?" "Huh...What ?" "You have a phone, yes, desu ? Do you have metal music on it, desu ?!" "Yes, I transferred some on the plane..." "Give it to me, desu !" "Okay, okay, just stay calm." He takes a smartphone out of his pocket, and holds it in the air. I get down and take it, without breaking the line of fire. "Thanks, desu. Now, out of the way, desu." I don't have anything against him. I think. It just feels good to make others obey, for once. But I'm not going to stop. I remember what links me to this house. Why I have been sipping tea and playing house for three years. The thing she activated. It's still here, in the small cupboard, next to the cutlery. The thing Stella activated. The thing that threw him on my trail. I find the switch, and turn it on. Alright, let's see anyone coming to save you now, "Stella-san." "Okay, I know somebody's going to hear this, desu. I don't know how this works and I don't give a shit, but I damn well know it transmits information to someone, desu. Well, asshole, I hope you're recording this, desu !" Time to get to work. I get back upstairs and open the door. The whole family is sleeping despite the gunfire. Not that surprising, as this whole house has been soundproofed. For various reasons, but mainly for the well-being of these monsters, who complained about having trouble sleeping. There are four miniature beds in the likeness of a Mr.Man's one. Three are of the same size, approximately 20x20 cm. Her five kojissous sleep in it. None is the same age as another, and one is almost fully adult. And those are the youngest. Three other children, who reached adulthood, were given to other homes to start their own families there. I remember being sad. Bullshit. To think Mistress had to reassure me by telling adult jissous can't be happy if they don't have their own cute daughters. I disgust myself. The fifth bed is much bigger. Here, under pink, silky bedsheets, the matriarch sleeps. In the new memories, she had naturally black hair. Now, they are grey and dull. Just five years of age; and she's about to kick the bucket, despite all the care she received. Waste of space. I open the toy chest and take a small rope they use for tug-of-war. They never got that whichever team has Lana-chan, the current eldest, always wins. Their stupidity was a lot more adorable an hour ago. Behind me, I hear Stella waking up. Damn, jissous are usually as hard to wake up as Mr.Men, but it seems to change a lot when they get ancient. "Is it you, Sylvia-chan, desu ?" "Uh, yeah, desu. I heard a weird noise downstairs, and Master is still sleeping, desu." "I will wake him up, de !" She immediately begins to walk. Despite her age, her walking has pretty much remained the same as every jissou's : an haphazard, unexplicably confident wobbling that miraculously manages not to fall on the floor every three steps, but fails to not seem stupid. Hard. "Wait, Stella-san, desu !" She turns around. Most jissous would have tilted their heads and put a paw on their chin, but her face is straight and confident. "What is it, de ?" "Master doesn't have anything to fear, desu. You should just protect yourself and your family and stay out of trouble, desu." "Hmm, yes, I should protect you and my children, desu." Fuck, she's grown really arrogant over the years. Oh, she's still very good around Mr.Men, but she has grown less and less thankful, and more and more entitled. Especially to me. She straight up thinks she has authority over me, the cunt. She takes the small plastic stepladder that makes her able to reach the lock. It's very rare of her to use it, she's not big on privacy. As she does her stuff, I take the phone the foreign guy gave me. It looks like Mistress's smartphone, but it has a big, clunky antenna on top of it. The menu looks normal enough. I quickly go to the files folder, and find music stuff there. But my brain caught something in the corner of my eye just before I went into the files. I go back to the main menu, and see it. A conspicuous button featuring a green jissou crystal, labeled "reset". ...This has probably something to do with what's happening. Cancelling what's been done to me. And if it worked on me...I mean, Stella accepted me without a hitch, and I doubt it's because of generous forgiveness. Master must have flashed her too. "Now that we are safely locked in, how about we play, Stella-san, desu ?" "Play ? But...it is late, desu !" She says, trying to be stern and serious. But for all her experience and authority, she can't escape being a jissou. "Master wouldn't want you or your cute daughters to worry sick while he solves everything, desu !" "Well...deee..." "Come on, it will be fun, desu !" “...Okay, but do not make a ruckus, desu !” Shit, I almost shot her here. "It will be quiet, desu ! I'm just gonna make you fly !" She says nothing, but her dull eyes, glittering once again, tell the story. Eternal children, the lot of them. "H...How, desu ?!" "See this rope ? I safely tie you to it, and you can see everything in the room from up high, desu !" "Seems fun, desu ! But you better be careful, desu." "Of course, Stella-san !" She turns her back on me, and raises her arms, all the while rocking her head from side to side and muttering a two-note tune. I tie her up, conscious about not hurting her. That done, I tie a toy ring to the other end of the rope to weigh it down, and throw it over the fan. Not normally supposed to hold much, but it will do for a Jissouseki. She is now safely tied up in the air, approximately at my head's height, chirping from the joy of seeing her room from a new perspective. I could just turn the fan on and watch the windbag spin around and spray the entire room with crap. I would. It would be hysterical. But I'm not here to have good-natured fun. "Now, Stella-san, there is something I want you to know, desu..." I go to the door and unlock it, opening it a little. I wouldn't want the soundproof door to ruin the recording downstairs. "What is that ? Close the door, desu." She says matter-of-factly. "Nope. Because I lied, desu. Closing the door won't do shit to protect you, and we are not here to play, desu." "You should not use swear words, Sylvia-chan desu !" "Shut up, desu. If I'm right, this should help you understand your situation, desu." I point the antenna at my dear Stella-san, and touch the "reset" button. The phone plays a silly tune. On the screen, a window pops up and reads "Detected : Amnesia programming/Commercial/F&F 0,97. No other registered programs detected. Pressing delete will wipe out all detected programs. OK ?" OK away, matey. At first, nothing seems to happen. The stupid old jissou just looks at me with the standard "huh ?" pose. But slowly, her eyes get dull and blue invades her forehead. Oh yeah. "The words you're looking for are "what the fuck", desu." Her right stump stays stuck to her chin. She's immobile, but trembling. Her eyes are transfixed on my face. My head was full of fuck because my pet self discovered my true self. This has to be jack shit compared to realizing the being she lived with and talked to like a child was basically the Devil. Oh, and also, the children she lost I guess. But mostly me, really. "Not so cocky about being Master's favorite, heh, desu ? Well guess what ? Your love is dead, desu. But MY mistress is just fine, with her mom, far away from here, desu." Not sure her brain registers that. Knowing their tendency to get lost in their imagination, she's probably reliving that night. Vividly. Remembering every detail. Every humiliation. Every moment when I manipulated her to kill her own children. Awesome ! I take the phone and go back to the files. There is a music folder, but no power metal. There is, however, a familiar name. Lordi. Yeah, that will do. I can remember some lyrics. I get behind the shocked "high-class" jissou, and put my head at her side to see her sleeping children like she does, as I gently stroke her cheek. "Once again, there is pain, I bring flames, I bring cold I'm the blood red sandman, coming home, desu." I draw my gun, and slowly point it to Jenni and Fifi, the two youngest, cutest kojissous. The older ones' brains will process the despair better if they die last. "On this unholy night, I will make you my own I'm the blood red sandman, coming home again, desu." Aaand BANG ! The loud sound snaps her out of it. "NOOOOO DEGYAAAAAAA" She thrashes around, vainly trying to set herself free. Amazingly, even now she doesn't crap her pants. "RUN JISSOU CHANS SHE WANTS TO KILL YOU DEGYAAAAAAA !" Oh, I'd say I already d... What the shit ? The children are all awake. Confused, stressed-out from the gunshot that woke them up shortly followed by their mother's yell. But alive. One of the beds has its bottom thrashed by the bullet, but the two occupants are very much intact. ...I...missed ? I fire at the two other beds. The children yelp, go panicky-blue, but survive. Once again, while aiming at the jissous, I only got the beds. From a distance of less than a meter ? Bullshit, even three years without training doesn't explain this much suckness. "Techa ! What are those sounds, mama, teee ?" "Why is it still dark, dechi ?" "Fifi-chan had an accident, mama, teeeeen..." Stella calms herself down and focuses. I found three years ago she had that rare quality. Seeing me fail thrice in a row probably helped. "Listen, my dear children, desu. Sylvia-chan is very evil, you must get up and find Master, quickly, desu..." "What are you saying, Mama ? Sylvia-chan is not evil, techi !" "She is right here, dechi ! Hi, Sylvia-chan, de !" My sight soothes them. Well, I am a familiar figure. “No, your mom is right, go see Master, desu.” The adolescent shakes her head to wake up, and wobbles away from the room. Thirty seconds or so later, I hear a cry, which quickly gets closer. "OroroooOOOON !" "What...? What happened, Lana-chan, deee ?" Says the tied mother, her face now almost entirely blue. "M...master is dead, ororooooon !" This simple sentence succeeded where a freaking gun failed. Their denial shattered. Denial of still having their lucky, comfortable life, of course, but more importantly, denial of being more than shit goblins. Three years ago, it took me a while to get them to crap in their silk panties. But the news of their Master's death took their resolve and ground it to a fine powder in a single smash. Even the youngest and most retarded are tinted blue, their mouth open wide. And that's the catch. They're not shocked because they know they won't see a loved one again. I don't read sorrow in their faces. I read fear with a hint of despair. What they lost is the guarantee they will be pampered forever. Boo-fucking-hoo. I pick Fifi. She doesn't even try to avoid my hand. Her feet shiver, and droplets of shit flow from the brim her panties. "W...W...W...What happened, techaa ? Master can not die, ororoooon..." Without the slightest hint to an answer, I slowly close my hand around her, tilting it up in order to catch her vertically. "What are you doing, Sylvia-chan, techa ?!" "That's Sylvia-sama for you, desu !" She's now in my grasp. Her dull fear shifts to straight panic as she begins to feel the pressure. "Mama tell Sylvia-chan to stop tegyaaaa !" "Desuun...no..." She simply whimpers, knowing full well how deeply fucked they all are. Fifi tries both to support her weight on my ring finger to avoid falling and to stop me by pushing against my thumb. I turn my hand toward the entire family as her bones begin to fail with impressive ease. "TEGYAAAAA ! Hurts ! MAMA HELP TEGYAAAAAARGL-" The family stares in impotent horror as her life ends, the only part of her they can see being the legs, and disgusting green balloon she called panties. After throwing the stain on the ceiling, I go to the toy box, and take a bunch of Mikado sticks. "We...are good, smart jissous, desuun...We are not meant to be abused like that, desuuun..." Attempts Stella. "What are you saying, desu ? You're the best ones to abuse, desu !" I grab Jenni, flip her upside-down, and quickly impale both her stumps with the sticks. She snaps out of her trance, only to scream, tongue stretched out. I put her on the floor. After a short while of howling like a drama queen, she attempts to get up, kind of as an afterthought. Of course, this wiggles the wooden sticks into her flesh. "TEPYA !" She cries in surprise and falls back on the floor, belly down. Only to try to get back up again, unable to understand this would only lead to an increasingly sharp pain. "Stop, Sylvia-chan ! Stop, dechaaa ! Were we not happy together, dechaa ?!" I don't answer and go to the three eldest children, now too panicked to defend themselves against anything I could do to them, not even attempting to throw shit at me. It wouldn't faze me anyway. Fuck being a pet. My calling is the shit goblin's screams of agony. That's what makes my heart pound. As I press the phone's "play" button, I can't help but smile. ------- A little while later, Gina is a living sculpture. With the remaining wooden sticks piercing various parts of her body, I made her assume a impossible and very, very painful position. She was the most gluttonous one, and constantly whine to get some more dessert. Adorable childish behavior and a good excuse to cut on MY part. "Plus it's a good diet" they said. Fuck that. Yes, they're already obese. Is that a reason to fatten them further ? No. Have a torture. Nao, her big sis, and the oldest that still says "techi” has been stripped from both clothes and skin. A necessary and urgent medical intervention for a terminal case of "you're a fucking jissou". I've been less sloppy, though. Her left cheek is gone, and I can see the uterus through her right flank. Both have red eyes, as they will no doubt die in minutes, but the sticks in Gina skewer her womb so I don't see birth happening in any appetizing form. Nao's pregnancy is fine, though. I can even see a maggot slowly, but visibly forming through the transparent membrane. Stella is silent, save for sharting sounds every now and then. Beaten, but not yet broken. I know this resilience of hers. But I'm not done. Lana is in the corner of the room, moronically trying to hide behind her bed, holding it vertically. I rip the bed right from her pathetic grasp. She doesn't scream, instead doing more of a whimper as she crawls away, bubbling shit out of her ass crack. “No please Sylvia-chan, decha !. I do not want to be tortured, deeeeen...” “What do you think today is, you little shit, desu ? Christmas ?” Seriously. On one hand, there aren't any sharp implements in this room. On the other hand, you don't need anything sharp to cut jissou bones. I take a toy sword and begin to carve into her skull. "DEGYAAAA NO I DO NOT WANT THIS DECHI I DO NOT WANT THIS DECHI" Torturing pet jissous is fucking awesome. The soft skull easily gives way, and I scalp her, exposing her brain. God, even the organ looks stupid. Just two parts ? Ha ! I bet Mr.M...human brains have at least six times that. Lana hasn't the time to catch her breath before I plunge my hand into the open skull, grasping the springy, elastic brain. Immediately, she goes into a seizure. "DEG-Dededededededededeeeeeeeeee" "Ororoooon..." Weakly cries the ancient bag of vomit. "Th...This is too much desu. She has done nothing to deserve this desu." She doesn't even try to convince me anymore. Good...Good... I keep squeezing the brain gently for a while. The spasms that shake her are a riot, but I just had the best idea. By compressing the brain toward the back of the skull, I can see the eyes, just lying there behind the eyesockets, connected by nerves that are themselves red and green -I mean what the fuck- and deprived of any sort of protection. Yoink ! Amazingly, the nerves themselves are pretty fucking solid for a jissou's organ. They hold firm as I cut through the brain like with butter-wire. The patient doesn't even react, too busy having her seizure, so I let the brain go, now that the eyes are successfully put on top of it. The adolescent jissou begins to emerge, only to freak out. "Deeeee ? Mama, head hurts, decha ! Where are you, why do I see all weird, deeen ?!" She tries to get up, only to fall because of the fundamental change in her vision. She panics. "De...de...dechieeen ! Mama, help me, deeen ! I want to be normal, deeen !" I look at dear Stella-san. She's silent. She knows she's powerless. Even without those ties, she knows she couldn't defend her offspring against me. The sweet, sweet despair is so intense it's palpable. But I want to squeeze that cunt dry. "And now, the great finale, desu." I catch Lana, who went into the fetal position "No...no dechieGYAAA !" She resumes her screaming as I tear her ears off. The silky, blue fabric wrapping them comes off like toilet paper. I'm sure this hurts the little shit at least as much as having her eyes at the top of her freaking brain. But I absolutely don't want to hear her say "my beautiful dress". So I stuff both her ears into her mouth. "Tettere~ !" Stella hears the happy cries of Nao's offspring, bringing back a -faint- light in her eyes. Trance at the rescue ! Several stompings later, that pesky light is gone. Much better. Next up : the fatalities. To the sound of Lordi, I put my foot on Gina, the kojissou pierced by the Mikado sticks, and slowly push down. Already forced into impossible positions, the pressure distorts her body further yet. But her tongue being stretched out, she doesn't scream anything recognizable, rather some sort of raspy wail. She's crushed and torn apart at the same time. Her elders, still conscious, if barely, all cry profusely. "Onee-san, teeeeen !" "Why is Sylvia-chan such a meanie, ororooon ?!" "Mmfdgshi !" "Oh, what's that, Lana-chan, desu ?" I say, mockingly putting my hand at my ear. "Mmfgggi !" I walk to her, smiling, but menacingly getting my hand closer. "It's time to beat them with their own kind, desu ?" "Mmfi ? Nmmmdfi !" I pick her up by the legs, and swing her like a weapon. "Why, yes it is, desu !" Jenni, despite having by now torn her legs apart by trying to move despite the sticks, tries to get away when she understands she's going to experience first-hand what it feels like to have her own sister collide with her at full speed. "Techaaaaaa*sprotch** Turns out, it doesn't feel much like anything. Well, speak for yourself, blisterpus, because I feel fucking great. Lana doesn't look so hot though. I'll just have enough swings for the last chorus. The skinless wiener is up next, and in her terrified eyes, I can see none of the beaming happiness she still had this morning, finishing the last energy bar. One strike, and she straight up explodes, spraying the whole room. Orgasmic. "Once again, there is pain, I bring flames, I bring cold, I'm the blood red sandman, coming hooooome, desu !" Oh, Lana's head came off. Her whole body doesn't look like anything anymore, because of just four swings. Well, she's not alone in that regard. End of track. For the song, and for Stella's life of pretending to deserve more than endless torture. She couldn't handle the shock. The wicked witch is dead. And I didn't even lay a finger on her. Revenge complete. ...But what the fuck do I do now ? I can't face Mistress. Not yet. She'll understand, but...not now. I should talk to the foreign guy. Clarify things. He must have restored my memories for something. Walking down the stairs, I can see him, just hanging up his phone. ...he had two ? Oh well. "So, anyway, who in the blue fuck are you, and what did you do to me, desu ?" -------------------------------------------- Thierry Genestar Soooooo. It has been an interesting evening. First, making a jissou prototype recover her memories from when she was an abuser among abusers. Easy enough. Next, witnessing a murder. Shortly followed by the realization that it's your fault. Great, heh ? But no time to dally. The mission stands. Good thing that the army provided me with a car. Hm ? Yeah, a flash-license came with it. I had the formation, I just cocked up the exam. So now we're driving in the countryside. We're looking for a villa on the flank of a mountain, overlooking a forest, hoping she'll remember the way. Buuut apparently there's something that takes priority. “Ha ha ha this is fucking great, desu !” “Yeah, yeah, until that tape gives way. Now sorry to be insistent, but can you concentrate of remembering ?” “Yeah, sorry, it's just...” She stops toying with the maggot whose skull she pierced with a piece of wire and attached to the rear-view mirror. “I want to get back lost time so bad, desu.” “That's okay. To be honest, I'm just disturbed right now. That crying maggot isn't really helping.” “Aren't you an exterminator, desu ?” “Yes ! Yes I am. It's my job to make sure humanity wins against the jissous. I even like abusing sometimes. But there was a fucking murder and I just stood here like a dead fish. I'm just not in the mood for fun.” “Plus there is some jackasses who want to destroy cities by way of packaged retards, desu.” “Yep. So I'll feel much better when we find that villa.” “'kay, desu. Just drive for now, I'm sure it was in this more mountainy area over there, desu. I recognize that radio tower, de*yawn*su.” “It's pretty late, heh ?” “Yeah, desu...” “Get a bit of shut-eye, I'll wake you up when we're there.” She gives a nudge to the maggot, and lowers the seat, yawning profusely. There's definitely a jissou in this creature, but holy shit-pope, the people who made this amazingly human a specimen must be biting their balls off from losing her. So much it's suspicious. But she's still pretty closed. Can hardly blame her, she lived a three-year-long lie. I can tell she's herself confused as to why she killed Kellan. Especially since she's apparently still loyal to David's daughter, who happened to be with on vacation with her mom. I have to ask her her story, but I can't push her too hard just yet. She's a murderer. Yes. But given the circumstances, I don't think any law made since the beginning of time can reasonably apply. “Belly hurts, please punipuni, reboooh...” “Oh, toi ta gueule.” I say, throwing the bloated maggot through the window. And I thought last week was weird. ---- Oh, and not to bitch, but in regard to the comments already posted on my blog, I'll quote an earlier post by Fperson : "By the way, what do you mean by "just fine?" I can't really get much out of "GJ."
Fperson has good ideas but does stuff way too fast, it's like you're trying to publish things before you have actually thought them out, in a frantic race to reach and endings we all could see a mile away before we all could come and say "the mistress is suiseiseki, you kill her feeling like you're the shit whitout building up any conflict or emotion then it turns out pETA raided your shit and raped your GF while you were on this little trip so it's ok."
InLeaves, you need to sto being awesome. >>525 wut Uh, yeah, you've stated precisely the same thing that everyone else has, minus the rant at the bottom. I beg to differ about the rest, though. I take time to think out and proofread what I write. I also take pains to not make conclusions obvious unless I want them to be, like the last chapter. Oh, and in this story, Justin has no girlfriend, and PETA has no real presence. I understand that was an exaggeration, but if you're going to rant about easy-to-reach conclusions, try to make them with actual information.
>>525 I gotta agree with him Frankperson, basically remember: It's the journey, not the destination. Parts of your stories may be predictible, who cares, its the way it's slowly carried out (in the first story for example) that makes it so good. Inleaves: As I said on your site, good chapter.
And as I implied : Please elaborate.
nothing to really elaborate on, I enjoyed it. Plus having Sylvia back in action was kickass. The story is secondary to the events during it. Basically, the filler is the best part :p .
Wow, I didn't even see that last bit. Eating my own words, I suppose. Sylvia got her own dedicated chapter. There was insane gore. We got the details of Kellan's demise. We got the details of Stella's demise. We found out exactly how Sylvia lived for three years. I think that's a bit more than GJ right there... One thing that I noticed is that Sylvia continued to revere Samantha after the crystal-wipe, mentioning that she was safe and alive while Stella's master was dead. It's also good to know that she never slept with Kellan, though creepy to note that she wanted to.
Long time reader, first time writer. I'd appreciate criticism. ******************************************************************************* My name is Jack, and about three months ago I had my first real interaction with a Jissouseki. Granted I've seen them on the sidewalk running up to others, alternatingly begging or demanding things for months prior to this. I didn't often leave the apartment, so I had considered myself until this point lucky to have never seen one up close, the internet and news painting them in a truly unpleasant light. Perhaps it was all hype, something that awful can't really exist. Right? My uncle had set me up with an IT job at his company, and I wanted to dress to impress. I had dusted off my suit and tie that had last seen the light of day a year ago at a family friends funeral. I remember how awkward I looked in the mirror; my traditionally unkempt hair forced into temporary compliance with a few passes of a comb. I had lost an inch of virtual height from no longer wearing my comfortable hiking boots and instead standing in undersized leather coffins. My tie refused to straighten, and atop all of this, I think I'm getting a head cold. I looked in the mirror and gave a sigh. I look like a parody of a businessman. No, more like some giant alien should have its hand up my backside, using me as a puppet to feed the other businessmen in order for them to imprint on suits and ties. I took some cold medicine and walked out the door to the train station. I'll spare you all the monotony of waiting for and riding a train into the city. At least being all stuffed up the train didn't smell like pee. Much. The doors on the train opened with a hydrolic hiss and I stepped out onto the platform not unlike an extra in "Dawn of the dead". Thank the Emperor I'd remembered to pick up my briefcase. This day was off to a poor start as it stood, but I had to stay focused. A job that can turn into a career was a big step in the right direction of getting my life together. I knew where I was going by heart, my uncle has been at that same building since I was a baby, and in a lot of ways the building on the corner of second and Elm was more like a home than where I grew up. A smile spread across my mouth with the fond memories of my uncle trying to undo all the crap having an abusive, alcoholic for a father did to me. Running mostly on autopilot and cold medicine, lost in the past, I was aware on some level that something green flicked out of the garbage-filled alleyway along my peripheral vision and tossed something in my path. The grub barely had enough time to make an odd "repya!" before my black leather dress shoe came down onto it. It gave underfoot with a small crunch I could feel reverberating in my ankle, the friction of the ground underfoot changed enough to let me know whatever I had stepped on contained a goupy mess. With the exasperated exhalation of a man who knows he's just stepped in dog shit, I stopped and lifted my foot. Red and green ichor stuck to my shoe with the consistency of snot and chewing gum, thick streams of... something... still connecting its decimated body to the ground. I looked about for something, anything to pick it off of my shoe. My first contact with a Jissou was as brief as it was inconvenient. A scream. No. More like a bellow. A roar? No. A squeal. It was shrill enough to hear in my eyes, as though my ears were being kicked in the balls. The noise set my teeth on edge, flared the hair on my neck, and did more to cement the world into reality than an anti-psychotic pill and coffee could ever do. I turned to face the cacophony, and had to look down. Before me, screaming as it came from the alleyway was an eighteen inch, fat, dirty, goblin in a green dress. Its A shaped mouth agape as the noise flung red and green bits of... something... from its chipped, crusted yellow teeth. Its eyes- my god its eyes were wide, perfect circles that flowed a red and green fluid. I can't describe the fluid it as tears, more like novelty christmas pancake syrup. For the second time today, I was glad I couldn't smell anything; its ripped and threadbare green dress was stained and crusted with what looked like shit mixed with guacomole. "CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! YOU KILLED MAGGOT-CHAN! SHE WAS SPECIAL!!! MAKE ME A PET AND APOLOGIZE WITH CANDY, DESU!" Its voice had all the subtlety of nails on a chalkboard. Not fingernails, roofing nails. People on the sidewalk stopped and stared, some aghast, some curious, and others leered with the hungry expression of a wolf. Everyone was waiting to see what I would do. Time seemed to slow down as my shoe, stained with the remains of her child, lowered from inspection height to kicking height. I brought my foot down and out, trying to push this nightmarish shit-goblin away from me. The maggot had made a mess of my attire in far excess of its size. I had no desire to see how much of my suit this thing could splatter. My heel caught it squarely between and below the eyes, dead on the ragged slits that made up its nose. I wanted to push it away, but in my revulsion and shock I miscalculated my own strength. A brittle, almost plastic crunch as its head gave way to my shoe, and I sunk in halfway to my ankle. It flopped backwards, striking its head on the brick building behind, and then again on the concrete of the sidewalk. Applause. Someone laughed. The world outside of a five foot radius returned to me, and I saw a crowd of smiling faces partially encircling me. An elderly man reached out and gave me an approving light punch on the shoulder. A smile upturned the corners of my lips, and I took a little bow, oblivious now to the screaming pile of meat and filth laid out behind me. Someone moved behind me, kneeling down before the ever expanding pool of blood and overfilling panties. The screaming stopped suddenly, and I walked to work with a feeling of elation. It was probably just the cold syrup kicking in. (End)
Not bad for a first time. And the up-side is any mess could easily be explained, as dealing with jissou mess is just something that cant be avoided.
Well a combination of writers block, and just plain being busy IRL lead to a lengthy delay, however next chapter is up. As usual, I wont try to compete with F-persons experiments, or Inleaves big descriptive stories, and stick to a simple first person narritive. I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 3 --------------------------- Well, as near as I could tell Gorgo was now about six or so months old, and she was about a foot and a half high. Over the past month or so, she had gone from getting slightly pudgy, well pudgy for a Jissou anyway, to being rather slim, once again for a Jissou, and having what appeared to be a growth spurt as well. The reason for this, of course, was exercise. Well, mostly. I'd finally decided to read up on maintaining the fuckers a bit, and even got some tips when inspecting a pet shop selling Jissous. The owner laughed his ass off at my using a Jissou to clear Jissous, especially when I had let Gorgo run into the basement under his shop to clear out an infestation. I'm not sure exactly what happened, just that there was a lot of screaming Jissous and about ten minutes later Gorgo came out with her armor completely soaked in Jissou shit, blood, and guts. A couple of bureaucrats with the city got really mad at me when they found out about a Jissou given a knife, but when I pointed out the cost savings associated with it they shut up. Well, that brings us to today. I woke up, as it finally got cold enough to end most Jissou issues, late on the first day of my vacation, I had so much overtime logged that the city basically was willing to pay me a retainer fee to come in if shit hit the fan, in return for me being able to take a little over a month off of work at the end of December and the beginning of the new year. Of course, I was more than happy to go along with the cities attempting to reduce its costs. During the winter Jissous were not really that big of a problem. The Ferrals basically hibernated, sleeping and just huddling together for warmth and to eat eachother, with ones trapped without shelter falling prey to eachother and other animals, with a lucky few freezing solid and thawing in the spring compleatly unaware of the time that passed. But I was glad for the time off for another reason. The green eye pregnancy. Seems Gorgo's biological clock had ticked over much earlier than I was told was normal for a Jissou, owing to the fact that she ate meat so often, apparently the more protein a shit demon ate and stored, the quciker and easier it could shit out a litter of children. Well, I wasn't as worried as some people are about a pet Jissou having a litter, as all I've read and been told was that a trained Jissou would almost always keep its non-maggot children in line, at least at first. One pet owner whose house I'd helped clear when he'd requested city help (hey, a jissou infection is a public risk, you want that shit cleared out fast when it's a residence, because they multiply so fucking fast in suck an enviroment) reminded me of the pitfalls of home breeding without precautions. He'd had a young Jissou, still a child really but grown enough to not be a thumb, run in his front door one day. He killed it of course, but as it died it had an emergency pregnancy and shat out a single tiny thumbchan. From what he said this one was half the size of a normal thumb, only about an inch tall tops. Intrigued, he had picked it up from the corpse of its mother and carried it inside before it woke up. Way he told it, it's first moment of consciousness was in his bathroom sink as he carefully washed it off with some cotton balls, and it initially only vocalized a little more than a basic maggot, but quickly gained intelligence. That is to say, a basic maggot is so stupid, even the dumbest of normal jissous is Einstein beside it. While it was born from a Ferral, as it had zero memory of any other Jissous ever, he had raised it to be quite well behaved. While that was likely because it was simply of a personality that was naturaly inclined to behave and be nice, the lack of outside influence no doubt had reason for it. So for about a year he had a perfectly behaved Jissou pet and no real problems other than the occasional accident when he fed it something that reacted badly with its stomach, and since the things shit is allready basically a rapidly expanding liquid foam when exposed to air it stands to reason some things would cause a similar reaction when eaten, it would also explain the Jissou poison that turns them to shit rockets, it just acts as a catalyst for whatever is in their shit that makes the liquid foam it is. But I digress. Anyway, about a year after it's birth his pets red eye turned green and a few days later it had shat out a large litter (for a child) of two thumbs and five maggots. That means within a month he would have seven Jissous to deal with, plus his pet. Now a wise, or experinced, man would have ditched all but maybe one of the thumbs or maybe a thumb and a maggot, but this guy was like so many victims of the Jissouseki, utterly oblivious to their capabilities. The first two weeks went fine. The mother taught the Thumbs how to behave, and they mostly did. The maggots just shat everywhere, but he had expected and prepared for it. About two weeks later the maggots had cocooned up and spent a day growing up into a small child Jissou. Of course that was when shit hit the fan. The children that had been maggots had been well enough fed that they actually ended up slightly bigger than the thumb's that had helped tend to them. They had also, as maggots are notoriously stupid in the dictionary sense of being UNABLE to learn, no idea of the basic house rules. Of course, if the mother wasn't looking that meant they reverted to standard Jissou behavior, but things went well enough for a few months. Long story short, they'd ate one of the thumbs, escaped into the house and hid, and quickly fought amongst one another enough to get some blood into eyes. The house was quickly infested, and the man had took his pet and the surviving child and fled while the city sent me over. In the end it was one of the more simple jobs, I just had a basic jissou trap with lights and a speaker playing a recording of Gorgo gorging on some candy talking about how good it was. Needless to say, the houses infestation had quickly charged into the box of death, mostly leaving behind maggots, and the occasional thumb that botherd to try to take care of them. A few actually stayed with and tried to take care of the maggots even after I started doing my walkthru of the house asking if anyone wanted candy, those I released outside. Sure they would probably die, but in the off chance they didn't I may be helping improve the gene pool of Jissous by having the less annoying ones out there. Of course I killed most of the Jissous in the place. But I digress. Aside from anecdotal information like that, the internet, and talking to pet shop owners and registerd Jissou breeders I'd learned a fair ammount about dealing with a fresh batch of Jissous and raising them. Of course the best advice I'd gotten from a professional breeder who raised and trianed above average mid-grade Jissous for the local shops. Basically he had started with a few Jissous off of the street and quickly killed most of them. But over a few years he had quickly been left with well beahved ones, and their offspring. The dude was a high school senior and was considering dropping out because he was making so much money allready. His advice was simple: When you're not there to watch, think like a lawyer looking for a lawsuit. Assume they WILL do something stupid and prepare where they live for that. Of course, most of the stuff he said was things only experience would teach you, how can they escape from this, how can shit end up getting out of that, etc, and to keep them separated into small groups as they age so any really bad behavior can be dealt with. Of course the biggest pre-requesite for a breeder was to have a mother and older children that were well behaved and could help enforce the rules and teaech the younger ones. Now, I don't plan to breed them en mass. At least more en mass than their normal birthing accounts for. But it's still sound advice. Well, I need to go get supplies. Gorgo's eyes only just turned so I've got at least some time to get ready.
>>533 You know, it was your series of stories that finally got me to start writing. Good to see it continued. Seems to me, though, that an army vet-turned breeder, even with the best advice, would be in slightly over his head. Then again, assuming the notorious disappearing maternal instincts pull their vanishing act, Gorgo could be sent in.
Seems to me, though, that an army vet-turned breeder, even with the best advice, would be in slightly over his head well he's not turning breeder, as gorgo simply got naturally pregnent. As far as his ability to deal with it, he's been pretty fucking lucky so far. On the other hand, getting a young ferral thumb that was raised by a former pet and taught SOME standards is about the best bet for raising a ferral with any luck (outside of a maggot)
>>531 A little short to make an opinion, but for a first contact it's definitely good. Good style, very descriptive. >>533 This chapter grew a bit staccato by the end. Too much coffee ?
Yeah, I was pretty wired on coffee at the time.
Well this is mostly a filler chapter, that and I had an abuse idea and figured I'd put it into action. I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 4 Well, I was well aware I was likely being a fool in planning to keep Gorgo's spawn, assuming they made an attempt to behave. Well execpt for the maggots, there's no way to really get THEM not to shit all over the place without way too much effort. Not knowing just what I needed, but having a basic idea, I decided to take advantage of some nice weather and walk to pick up the stuff. If my rough idea for gorgos soon to be shat litter worked, I'd likely be be somewhat busy. Since work had lately been keeping me either in my office, or inspecting businesses I decided to detour and walk along a somewhat secluded walking path that had a creek alongside part of it. As the trail came near one rather large bend in the creek, I saw movement. And smelt Jissou shit. And heard desu's, ~desu. Moving slowly and being careful not to make any really loud noises, Jissou's aint exactly the most observant creatures, I came upon a shantytown of cardboard boxes built under a small bridge spanning the creek. As I watched, the Jissous were stripping off and attempting to neatly fold their clothes, and begain slowly wading into the creek after depositing the clothes in an unadorned box, apparently the group storage. The Creek, luckily for them, was moving so slow at the bend that even the small thumbs could take their favorite maggotchan for a swim. Judging from the ammounts of water in the shit flowing downstream, I don't thing the maggots liked it. I stood there chuckling for a minute, but luckily the requests for punipuni, the return of clothes, and stating that maggotchan is cold were numerous enough to make noise to drown out any sound I made. As I continued observing, I even saw one thumb carefully guarding about four maggots, keeping them just barley in the water so they could be washed, and rubbing their bellies. Seeing motion back at their encampment, I saw what was obviously the matriarch of this group came out of a large box. I've seen some older Jissous before, usually in pet shops I inspected or on the end of a leash that cost more than I make in a month. Old Jissous like that tend to be portrayed, at least by Jissou fans, as being slightly chubbier at most but just like a cute thumb aside from the added height. Some of them may be like that. This one wasn't. She was about three and a half feet tall, and her hair was streaked with bits of gray and generally a LOT shorter than a normal Jissous hair marking past fights, and her dress had rips and bite marks in various places. She was also fat. Really fat. As she walked into the water, the fat Jissou stepped on the maggots that the lone Thumb was washing. The reaction was immediate and went like this: "Rechieeeen! Jissou-sama why kill maggot chans Resun!" "Shut up food Tepupupu!" "Food ? Where rechi!" "In my mouth desu" And without further adieu, albiet with one of most badass lines I've heard a ferral Jissou utter, the old Jissou popped the thumb into her mouth, scratched herself, farted a small jet of shit onto the dead maggots, and waded into the water with a splash that sent several maggots and thumbs floating downstream back where the creeks current actually picked up. Now, that thumb may not have been that bright, but it at least showed some basic civility in caring for the thumbs. Besides, I saw an opportunity for fun. Moving quickly, I grabbed a candy and tossed it into the creek upstream. "CANDY DESU" was the immediate response, with the fat matriarch angrily calling on shit jissou not to eat her candy. The Matriarch was of course ignored. While they were focused on a single object, I quickly walked down the slight (about three feet) slope and up ended the storage box I'd seen earlier, and grabbed all of the clothes, then I put the box back where it had been, and went back to my walk, dumping the Jissou clothes into a trashcan on the way. ------- Like I said, filler. I had the idea of stealing a whole tribe clothes a while back (actually, during the InLeaves fic chapter where theirry and whats her name are planning to abuse the shantytown on the beah when the general first appears) and wanted to put it into use. No eneding you say ? Sometimes it's best to stir the shit, then walk off smiling.
Okay, I have some bad news. My long-suffering laptop has finally recieved a final coup de grace in the form of a virus. I had to wipe the drive, and even then it's still busted. All that I've written is gone, and the only internet access I have is the DSi I've mentioned in rage a few times. So, yeah. I'm kind of screwed.
Can you check and see if last measure works on DS for me ?
I really wish there was a jissouseki board like One Yukkuri Place. Jissou abuse is so much fun.
>>538 I hope to old shithag gets what's coming to her.
>>542 Ah, but thats the thing.... It was a chapter without a real ending. Some forms abuse it's better to just walk away and imagine.
And now, as a special intermission and holiday treat, the full trilogy that started with Taking Out the Trash! Yes, trilogy--because the newest story is finished! Taking Out the Trash Thorold, Ontario, Canada August 2010 5:50 am "GARBAGE DAY!" Yes, I do exclaim that every garbage day thanks to that campy movie scene that's been spreading across YouTube. So yeah, it was Friday morning, garbage day. The sun was finally out, the microwave clock reading 5:50. This is why I love summer--way more sunlight hours to enjoy. After finishing my breakfast of omelet rice, canned bread and Pocari Sweat, I threw on my sandals and went outside to take the garbage and recycling to the curb. As I breathed in the fresh morning air and let the cool summer breeze bathe my bare chest, I suddenly gagged as I smelled something far worse than the garbage. "Good fucketty God!", I exclaimed, looking for the source of the smell. It smelled like shit. Literally, I could only smell the overpowering stench of shit. Coming from the garbage can. Which seemed to be making alot of tiny noises of the "refu" and "rechi" variety. ... FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-- Okay, in all seriousness, I went over to the can and tore off the lid. Yeah, sure enough, I saw well over 50--fucking FIFTY!--jissouseki maggots and thumbs, eating the garbage and shitting all over the goddamn shitty fucking place. They were all wearing clothing stained heavily with mud, garbage and shit. It was likely they were thrown in by some neglectful mother jissou who decided she'd rather dump her assload of children into a random human's garbage can, not even waiting to see if they'd survive. A number of them had dragged an unused chunk of salmon from my sushi party two nights ago to the surface and were pigging out on the rotting meat. They finally noticed me glaring down at them when I kicked the garbage can. Not hard enough to knock it over, of course, that'd be stupid. Just enough to make them clue in. "Hello, Mr. Man!", a thumb squeaked, trying and failing to look cute, "Thank you for all this free food, rechi! May we come inside house, rechi?" "We are little and don't eat much, rechi!", another one promises in a voice identical to the previous one. Bullshit, I thought, you fuckers are eating machines, and then you'll leave impossibly huge amounts of shit all throughout my house. Within seconds, every last one was bombarding me with their selfish demands. "Bring me inside, rechi! Is too hot, rechi!" Are you fucking insane? Or just the worst liar alive? It's never anywhere near hot at 6 am, no matter what month it is, even for a jissou! "Hungry, rechi! Want fresh food, rechi!" Okay, how about a nice plate of chilled kiss my ass? "Belly soft and springy! Please rub, refu!" Never in a million years would I even consider touching your filthy gut, you disgusting worm. "Give us candy, refu!" Make me! "Big metal things on road too loud, rechi! Shut them up, rechi!" I've got the perfect solution for that--maybe I can just rip your goddamn ears off, violate your diseased vaganus with a crowbar and splatter you all over the pavement! "Bring me into my home right now, rechi!" Oh, that last one was where I drew the line. That fucking shit-goblin had the nerve to call my home hers, and command me to bring her inside like I'm her servant, complete with a little anime rich bitch tone in her stupid ear-bleeding voice? I swallowed my growing rage and managed a dark smile. "Wait here.", I said in a rather devilish tone, "I've got a little something for all of you..." With that, I left them obliviously cheering in the garbage can as I tried to think of something. I paced around my mudroom before walking into the main house and looking for the supplies I had in mind. Time to get these horrible shit-filled pests out of the way and get that garbage to the curb. First, I grabbed my electric kettle and filled it to the top with water. I plugged it in and turned it on, letting the water heat up. While that was being done, I looked around for my insect spray. Dammit, I can't find it anywhere, I must've misplaced it again. I instead picked up some of my MAX deodorant, that should work just as well. I hope. Latex gloves so my hands don't make direct contact with those filthy sins against nature, medical mask and sunglasses for facial protection, a hat to protect my freshly-waxed hair in case of shit-throwing, a box of table salt... And now the water was ready, boiling hot. I was ready to kick jissou ass. I went back outside with my gear, the packaged retards looking up at me again. They acted like I couldn't see that they had been cannibalizing each other in my absence. Probably fighting over who gets to be Mr. Man's pet. There were about a dozen fewer than there had been not even 10 minutes ago. Hell, one of the fuckers was still chewing on a severed arm, and two were playing catch with another one's head. I held the MAX up to the face of an eager thumb. She looked very happy. "What is this, Mr. Man? Yummy food, re--" Spritz. "CHAAAAAAAAA!!", she shrieked, her face burning and swelling from the chemicals in the deodorant, especially her tongue and eyes. Yeah, one quick spray of a mild Axe knockoff messed this thing's face up beyond recognition. I began to laugh hysterically, it was that funny how weak these things are. She began running around blindly, her eyes watering and going white, her loose-tongued screaming and my laughter scaring her sisters. "CAN'T SEE, RECHA!! FOOD BAD, RECHA!! MR. MAN IS SHIT HUMAN, RECHAAAAAA!!" At least, I think that's what she was trying to say, her tongue was flopping around like a fucking dead monkey the whole time. She starts doing this flailing death dance like a fly doing Get Down {the song even playing in my mind during this hilarious event}, and she finally collapses, stone dead, mouth foaming, eyes dull grey. Her sisters began picking up huge wads of their own shit and tossing them at me. That wasn't a good idea--with each ball of crap that hit me, I just got more pissed off. "So that's how you wanna play it?", I asked out loud, spraying some more thumbs and watching them freak out and dance before moving to my next weapon, the box of table salt. I opened it up and poured some salt onto a little cluster of terrified maggots. Ever seen what happens to a slug when you pour salt onto it? What happens to a bunch of jissou maggots is even funnier, and you'll feel less guilty for doing it. I swear to God above, their faces all went blue as the sky, their eyes kinda greyish, and they began puking and shitting like crazy, moaning and gurgling in agony, their vomit and shit streams not stopping for even a second. Imagine the sight, about a fuckin' dozen jissou maggots covered in salt, blue in the face, puking and shitting endless rivers of something resembling spoiled baby food. Soon enough, they began literally puking their guts out, eventually turning into little brown husks of their former selves. All this from their stupid little filthy body socks making contact with motherfucking TABLE SALT! See? Comedy gold for just two bucks at the local grocery store! Now there were about 20 jissou remaining, 12 thumbs and 8 maggots, all shitting and crying. Yeah, still. Seriously, do these fuckers ever run out of shit? And why the bull-fucking hell is it always diarrhea? Now that I knew they wouldn't dare try attacking me, I removed my hat, sunglasses and mask. Then I grabbed one of the terrified thumbs with one of my large gloved hands, delighting in hearing her squeal to her sisters for help. "Where's your god now?", I chuckle, adding a mocking "rechi" after a second of thought. In a feeble attempt to save herself, she whimpered and did that stupid "cute" pose, tilting her head and putting her stumpy hand to her chin. "A-Am I not cute, r-rechi...?" I toss her back into the can, grinning down at all of them as I get an idea. "No", I answer truthfully, "You're all disgusting." Here's where I began to really have fun. "I only like bald-naked jissou. And I especially can't stand maggots, I want 'em all to just die." Okay, that last bit about the maggots was truthful too. They creep me right the fuck out. After staring at me for a few seconds as though trying to process this chimp-simple information without their tiny lumps of pudding they consider brains exploding, they began frantically tearing off their dresses, ripping their hair out and killing the maggots. Three maggots got eaten alive, two were stomped into paste, and the remaining three were simply thrown unceremoniously from the edge of the can to the driveway. Also, let me just say that I finally understand why jissou hate being bald-naked. It strips them of their vaguely human appearance and reveals their true nature, their true selves, disgusting monsters that no sane human being could ever love, a vomit-inducing aborted nightmare of a beast so ugly, retarded, laughably weak, hygiene-challenged, manipulative, greedy, arrogant, selfish, murderous, gluttonous, cannibalistic, monumentally annoying, and flat-out pointless that even mere ants can't resist the urge to kill them on sight! "Okay, Mr. Man! We are bald-naked, rechi! And every Maggot-chan is dead, rechi!", the one I had picked up cheerfully announces once the madness concludes, "Please make us your pets! Please, Mr. Man, rechi!" "Hm?", I reply, looking puzzled, "Who are you filthy little things? Who gave you permission to be here?" Understandably, they looked shocked when I said this. "D-Don't you remember, rechi?! You told us we had to kill Maggot-chans and be bald-naked, rechi! Mama left us here and then you found us and killed many sisters, rechi!" Oh hey, I was right about the neglectful mother hypothesis. Go me. "I said nothing of the sort, stranger. And now you must accept your punishment." With that, I lifted my kettle above them and poured the water onto them. They screamed as the boiling hot water cooked them alive, their skin turning bright red. "TOO HOT, RECHA!!" "WATER BAD, RECHA!!" "THE PAIN, RECHA!!" "WHY CUTE LITTLE ME, RECHA?! I KILL YOU, RECHA!!" I picked up the one from before. She was sniffling and panting, her flesh swollen and practically glowing red. I was running out of ideas, so I decided to finish the fun with a more simple slaughter method. "Hey, wanna learn how to fly?", I asked enthusiastically with a big exaggerated smile that probably made me look like a freakish mix of Shigeru Miyamoto and Ronald Mc-Goddamn-Donald. Before she could answer, I threw her as hard as I could towards the road. "RECHIEEEEEEEEEN!!", she shrieked, red and green tears streaming behind her. The thumb managed to grab her feet and start doing somersaults through the air, the sound of a high-pitched fart accompanying her screams as she attempted to shit {Oh, so I guess they can run out of shit after all!}, probably thinking she could rocket herself to safety with her own putrid guacamole, before landing with a huge splat on the pavement. Woah, with a pitch like that, I could become a baseball star! Okay, to be fair, they don't exactly take much effort to throw helluva far. After getting over my brief self-image of me as a white Mr. T, I did the same to 8 other thumbs, leaving 3 traumatized ones remaining, surrounded by the corpses of their sisters. The partially-cooked bald-naked jissou babies were too scared to even shit, afraid that the slightest drop of the stuff would set me off again. I put the lid back on the can and left them there while I cleaned up and checked my email and stuff. To my surprise, they were still there almost two hours later, still standing perfectly still in horrified silence. I carried the can to the curb, seeing the garbage truck at the end of the road. I quickly set the can down and brought the rest of the trash and the recycling up. "Bye-bye.", I said to the thumbs with a cruel smile, waving cutely as a funny contrast to my face. They cluelessly waved back, the truck arriving at last. I happily greeted the workers and watched as the can's contents were emptied into the truck. The thumbs cried and shrieked and begged for their lives to be saved as the crushing thing came down and smooshed the garbage back, ending their suffering. The garbage dudes laughed with me, happy to meet a fellow jissou abuser and half-jokingly asking if I could toss some live jissou into my can for them every week. They continued down the rest of their route as I walked back to the house, shaking my head and sighing in both annoyance and relief. Maybe the next thing I order from J-List should be a jissou death house--I clearly need better defense against jissou infestations more than I need another case of beer-flavoured sakuma drops and a buttscratcher that looks like Edward Elric's arm. Speaking of J-List, just as I was heading inside, I got a delivery from the postman. He sympathized with me about my jissou problem, noticing the mess, before having me sign for the package and going on his merry way. I opened up the package and made the mistake of announcing what was inside. "Sweet! My konpeito is here!" And from the bushes next door, I heard a tiny, timid, annoying-as-hell voice. "Candy, techi?" The phrase was quickly repeated by what had to be at least two dozen other identical voices. And some near-identical ones ending the sentence with "desu". And a few more dozen higher-pitched ones adding "refu" and "rechi". ...Well, fuck. EPILOGUE Two weeks later, I finally had no more jissou problems. My house was now seen by local jissou as a place of gruesome, painful death at the hands of a very evil shit Mr. Man, and those who were still stupid enough to go anywhere near my house fell victim to one of my several jissou death houses and various other traps. Even the candy and salty snacks from their homeland that frequently arrived in the mail weren't enough to make them approach my house. I could once again enjoy Friday morning, knowing I wouldn't find, hear, or smell anymore nasty surprises from now on. I made and ate my delicious breakfast. I stepped outside at 6:00 in just my pajama pants and sandals. I took a deep breath of fresh early morning air. And I gleefully shouted out the famous line. "GARBAGE DAY!" Merry Fucking Christmas Thorold, Ontario, Canada December 24, 2010 Around 7:00 am I fucking hate jissouseki. Okay, so you might remember me from the whole garbage day story. Well, since that happy jissou-free ending, it seems the little fuckers have built up an immunity to my traps. Meaning they no longer give a shit if they see one of their own get caught or killed on their way to my house, or even if it might happen to themselves. They're that determined to make it inside. And of all the days one of them chose to cross the line 10 times over during, it had to be Christmas Eve. Christmas is my absolute most favourite time of the year. In fact, for me there exist only these times of the year: Christmas, convention season, and two rounds of "FUCK YOU, WHEN THE HELL IS CHRISTMAS?" I had been up all night on the computer by the time the sun started to rise on Christmas Eve morning. I went downstairs to get some breakfast and maybe get some sleep in before the family festivities that evening. I was halfway down the staircase when I felt a cold breeze and realized the window had been pried open from the outside. I saw dirty little footprints leading from the window to the bathroom. Running down the stairs, I realized there was only one explanation. And when I got to the bathroom door after shutting the window and making sure none of the cats had gotten out or been killed {thankfully, none of them had--the intruder must have come in pretty damn recently and been very focused on getting to the bathroom}, I saw that explanation sitting on my toilet, pretending to read a newspaper upside-down. It was a grubby adult jissou. Her dress was torn and her right ear had a big chunk missing from it. She was pale and shivering from the cold and her nose was running. She lowered the newspaper and looked up at me when she realized I was there, and actually had the nerve to say to me... "Get out, Mr. Man. This my house, desu." Bad idea, you filthy little bitch! I snarled and stormed in, tearing the newspaper out of her hand-stumps. Her attitude immediately changed and she shrieked apologies as I picked her up by the dress and threw her out, shutting and locking the door. She pounded, or rather tapped, on the door with her pathetic excuses for fists. "Let me in right now, desu! If you hurt babies, I kill you, desu!" Indeed, I had heard the babies inside the toilet, hence my locking the door. I decided to get a better look at how big the problem was, and I wasn't letting bitchface there interfere. I looked in, seeing a huge pile of green diarrhea with several maggots and thumbs sitting in/feasting on it. They looked up at me and smiled. "Hello, Mr. Man, rechi!", a thumb greeted me. "You bring candy, rechi?", another one asked. "Belly soft and springy! Please rub, refu!", chirped a maggot. FUCK, I hate maggots... I placed my hand on the flusher and opened the door. I wanted the fucker to see this. I noticed the mess behind her, but ignored it--at least it only got on the floor tiles and not the rug. The mama smiled as if beginning to thank me, but then screamed in horror as she saw what I was about to do. "NOOOOOOO, WHAT YOU DO TO MY CUTE BABIES, DESHAAAAAAAAAAAA?!?!" With that, I flushed the toilet. The baby jissou all let out painfully high shrieks as their weaker-than-rice-paper bodies were torn apart by the centrifugal force, all of them sucked down the pipes with their mama's putrid shit. Two thumbs and one maggot whose bodies somehow remained intact floated lifelessly back up into the toilet bowl, the maggot floating face-up, leaving her blue skin, grey eyes and hanging tongue visible. I could barely hold back a burst of laughter. "SUCH A CRUEL WORLD, OROROROROROROOOOOOOOON!!", the mama jissou wailed, falling dramatically to her knees and pulling at her pigtails, red and green tears and thick yellow snot streaming down her face. "Oh, shut the fuck up!", I yelled at her in reply, "You can shit out like 50 more whenever you want! And I know better, you jissou have no feelings for your babies anyway--you're sad because you lost your property and a possible emergency supply of food, fire tinder, decoys and projectiles!" Predictably, she instantly stopped sobbing at the mention of food. I bet it was the only word she understood in the entire rant. She sniffled and struck that stupid, stupid, STUPID "cute" pose, but not before wiping her snot onto her sleeve. How fucking charming. "F-Food, desu? I did just remember how hungry I was, Mr. Man... If you give food, I forgive you, desu..." How typical. Bring up food and a jissou will forget all her problems, even if said problems include losing every last one of her newborn children to a toilet flushed by the same human she's now trying to mooch food off of. An idea sparked in my brain. I decided to play along, lull her into a false sense of security. That's always fun to do with these fuckers. "Okay, I'll give you food.", I say to her, "Follow me into the kitchen." I led her there, and began heating up some water and readying two packets of hot chocolate mix. "What that, Mr. Man?", she asked, doing the pose again. "Hot chocolate, you retarded Mogwai wannabe", I replied matter-of-factly, "It's a cocoa-based drink. It's popular in Japan too, especially in cafes." She nodded, seeming to somehow understand now that I mentioned Japan. "I see, desu! It sounds delicious and luxurious, desu!" Delicious? Fuck yes. Luxurious? To you, perhaps, but not to us human beings. It's just hot water, cocoa powder and optional milk. Once the water was finished boiling, I turned to face her. "Take off your clothes, all of them. I'm going to wash them with the remaining water." She nodded again and stripped down, handing her filthy clothes to me. Disgustingly, it seems she was pantyless this entire time. "Don't ruin them, Mr. Man, or you buy me new ones, desu." Oh, fuck off. I'm not buying you jack shit. So I make two mugs of hot chocolate. One I prepare with homogenized milk and candy cane pieces, mixed with a large whisk and topped with exactly three marshmallows. The way I prefer it. Cause I intend to drink it to soothe my nerves once this is over. For the other, I excite her a little by mixing konpeito into it. Then as I whisk it all up, I intentionally knock it over onto her clothes. "Oops! I spilled the hot chocolate all over your clothes!", I taunted her, making a comical effeminate gesture worthy of Prince Poppycock and doing my best trollface. She stared back at me in absolute shock, mouth agape as her face turned red with rage. "You shit Mr. Man, desu!", she soon cried, "You ruined my only clothes, desu!" I pretended to ponder this for a second, complete with my hand on my chin. "Hm. So I did.", I nonchalantly replied before picking up her dress and effortlessly ripping it to shreds with my bare hands. It was like tearing apart a sheet of rice paper. "MY CLOTHES, DESU!!", she shrieked, falling flat on her ass and crying, shit spewing from her vaganus, "Not my beautiful clothes, desuuuuuun!" I proceeded to kick her in the face. Man, that felt good. She began crying even louder, tears spilling onto the floor. She looked up at me and sniffled. "Why you hurt cute little me, desuuuuuun?!" She had a massive purple lump over her red eye from my kick--I always find that particular jissou injury hilarious for some reason. I raised my foot again, ready to kick her in the other eye. "WAIT!!", she screamed, holding up her arms, "I make Mr. Man happy, desu! Promise, desu!" "Oh yeah? What, dare I ask, do you have in mind?", I challenge her with a smug look of amusement. "I... I have song for you, desu! Is, uh, Christmas song, desu!", she cooed after a moment of thought. Before I can raise any protests or point out that no amount of singing will magically cause me to like her, she starts dancing around {though in all honesty, it was more like desperately hopping from foot to foot and waving her hand-stumps} and singing this godawful repetetive tune with on-the-spot lyrics about how I should stop abusing her and give her gifts. "Mr. Man, it's Christmas Eve~ So stop abusing me~ Give me lots of presents, desu~ Because it's Christmas Eve~ MR. MAN, IT'S CHRISTMAS EEEEEEEEVE~!" Thank God that went by quickly, because that was all the musically-challenged ear rape I could take from this piggish little unclefucker. I grabbed and held her by those stupid pigtails, watching with delight as she started flailing about, wiggling her limbs and swinging her lower half around. She looked exactly like a Mii that's just been plucked up. Those of you who have ever used a Wii know exactly what I'm talking about and probably find the comparison as funny as I do. "LET ME GO, DESHA!!", she screamed, her hair starting to tear out from the roots, unable to hold her up any longer, more shit pouring out of her, "I LOSING MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR, DESHAAAAAAAAA!!" And with that, she finally fell to the floor with a pained squeak and I threw her hair all around her, laughing hysterically. As a finishing touch, I bent down and tugged on her greasy forelock, pulling it out effortlessly and throwing it in the trash, laughing all the way. I watched for a moment as she crawled bald-naked along the floor on her hand-stumps and knees, sobbing and picking up clumps of her hair, ass bright red like that of a child who'd just been spanked. "M-My hair, desu... My beautiful hair, desu... It can't grow back, desuuuuuuun..." I picked her up and held her upside-down by her leg, laughing coldly at her as I brought her into the mudroom. She was wailing in humiliation and pain, still clutching the hair she had grabbed off the floor. I bet she thought she could stick it back into her head. Mercifully, she was finally out of shit, letting out only high-pitched farts as she tried hard to shoot out more of that disgusting guacamole from Hell. "You shit Mr. Man! It's Christmas Eve, desu!", she sobbed, "Where is Mr. Man's holiday spirit, desu?!" Oh, I'd show her holiday spirit. I took a deep breath, then brought her face closer to mine and let out a mighty scream right into her upside-down ear... "MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS, YOU SELFISH LITTLE PIGSHIT SIN AGAINST EXISTANCE!!" And with that, I swung open the front door and literally threw the bitch into a pile of snow, probably breaking her leg like an icicle in the process. Then I quickly shut and locked every door and window, finishing with the bathroom window, which I then watched from as she cried and shit herself some more. She sat on the snow pile, quickly turning it green and partially melting it, staring at me as I glared out at her. I noticed that she was actually crying for me to let her back in after all I'd done to her, still reasoning that because it's Christmas Eve, she deserves endless pampering. "Please, Mr. Man, desu! It's Christmas Eve, desu! My home destroyed in storm, desu! Feed me right now, desu! I need clothes or I freeze to death, desu! I DESERVE LOVE, DESHAAAAAAAA!!" She deserves to die, that's what she deserves, just like every feral jissou. I walk away from the window, clean up the tears and shit in the kitchen and outside the bathroom {and although it doesn't stain tile flooring, jissou shit is still hard as fuck to clean up}, grab my now lukewarm chocolate and lay down in my recliner to watch some early morning Christmas specials. What a way to start Christmas Eve. I began hoping and praying that more of the little shit-goblins wouldn't find a way to break in, destroy the place, eat my pets and steal my presents while I was at my grandparents' that night. The next one that comes into my house is getting boiled in pudding with a holly stake through her heart. I fucking hate jissouseki. ---------------------------------------------------------------- The bald-naked former mama jissou sat in the snow with her back turned to the house. She was shivering and miserable, her face going blue, left ear bleeding heavily from a destroyed eardrum, a puddle of green all around her. She stared down at the little fistfuls of her hair that she had salvaged. Snow was falling softly onto her. She had been sitting there for several hours, slowly freezing to death. "M-M-Merry Christmas, Mama and sisters, d-desu...", she shivered, thinking about her mother, who had died that summer, and her sisters, who had died during the previous winter and following spring. When she was still a child, her sisters all froze to death, drowned in drainage ditches, got eaten by neighbourhood animals, ended up stomped on, dismembered and thrown by humans, or some combination of those. Her favourite sister died on Christmas Eve when a cat grabbed her in its mouth, broke her neck and ran off with her twitching corpse, and the cutest little maggot-chan was snatched out of her arms and swallowed whole right in front of her by a sparrow when spring arrived. When summer was at its peak, the mama jissou gave birth to 50 new maggots and thumbs, tossed every last one of them into some Mr. Man's garbage can, kept her one surviving child at her side when she left after an hours-long stake-out, and got crushed by a construction vehicle near a shopping plaza not even 10 minutes later. "M-Merry Ch-Christmas, babies, desu...", she whimpered, remembering the maggots and thumbs that had been born into the bad Mr. Man's toilet that day, who had only lived for about five minutes at the most before meeting their loud, spinning, watery death. Without them, who would keep her company out here in the cold? And who would keep her alive when she ran out of food and warmth? Well, at least her poop is both edible and flammable. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Man...desu...", she chirped, still quite confident in her belief that the Mr. Man inside the house would come to his senses and give her a home and food and toys and beautiful new clothes. Maybe even new hair to replace what he had thoughtlessly torn out. It's Christmas Eve, he has to give her everything she wants... Right? "Merry Christmas...me, de...su...", she sniffled, finally breathing her very last breath, freezing to death on the snow pile. The evil Mr. Man came outside that afternoon dressed in a badass Santa costume and smashed the jissou's frozen corpse into paste with a snow shovel before leaving with a large bag over his shoulder full of presents for his family. Curiously, this was finally enough to make jissou stop invading our protagonist's home for good. Perhaps they knew better than to mess with a Mr. Man who could be this cruel on Christmas Eve--while dressed as jolly old Santa Claus, no less. And here they had been, planning to break in, destroy the place, eat his pets and steal his presents the next time he went out... A Funny Thing Happened Thorold, Ontario, Canada October 2011 Late afternoon Who'd have ever thought I could end up liking a jissou? Alright, a little bit of explanation is needed, I suppose. Well, okay, a fucking lot of explanation. In the middle of October, I was taking a walk one afternoon. This is one of the times when the weather is at its best, so these walks are a regular thing for me in October. On the way back home during the walk's latter half, I made my way through a parking lot behind a local real estate building, and three fucking guesses what happened. A wad of green shit flew past my head. Following the trajectory back to the source, I saw four jissou, three adults and a child. The adults were giggling, but the child seemed frightened as I came closer. "Explanation. NOW.", I demanded, lifting my sunglasses and glaring at them. They struck the "cute" pose and one of them spoke. "Sorry, Mr. Man, desu! We had no other way to get you to see us, desu!" "Try fucking speaking." "Mr. Men and Mrs. Ladies ignore us or hurt us when we try that, desu." "Oh, and throwing your shit won't cause that?" The child then spoke up, tugging the adult's dress. "Mama! Mama, don't make Mr. Man angry, techi! You will get hurt again, te--" Her mother interrupted her with a swift punch to the head. "I do not need you to ruin our chances again, desu! Jissou-chan, you shut up and let Mama talk, desu!", she yelled as her child cried and tried to rub the massive lump on her head. Yeah, sure thing, you fucking retard--it's your surprisingly sensible child who's ruining your chances of getting a home. Keep telling yourself that, whatever helps you sleep at night. "If you wanted a home, no way are you getting it now.", I said bluntly, "But then again, you weren't getting one anyway, shit-goblins." I turned to walk away, and more shit flew past me. And then some of it hit my pants. My brand goddamn new pants. I turned back around, speaking in a grim tone. "Which one of you threw the one that hit me...?" One of the mama's friends raised her hand-stump and giggled. "I did, shit Mr. Man, desu! That is what you deserve for not being nice, desu!" Without even changing my expression, I casually walked back over, picked her up by the back of her hood, and slammed her against the pavement face-first, crushing her head. She was dead instantly. I got very different reactions from the others--the child began screaming and filling her panties with shit, the mama looked nervous, and the last one looked angry. "Uh... Th-Thank you for killing her, desu...", the mama nervously whimpered, "Sh-She was making it very hard to get a home, desu. She was very rude, de--" "MY SISTER!! You killed my favourite sister, desu!!", the other one shrieked. "Mama, please, we must leave, techi! We must go back to park now, techi!", the child sobbed, only to get shoved aside by her mama, falling onto her ass. "SHUT UP, JISSOU-CHAN, OR YOU WILL BE DINNER, DESU!!", her mama replied. The sister of the one I killed rushed at me, mama and child watching as I endured the vengeful jissou's "punches" easily. I then picked her up and grabbed her left arm, twisting it. "This little jissou went to market, presumably to pester humans into giving their newly-bought food to her.", I recited, pulling the arm right off, continuing over her shrieks. "This little jissou stayed home in her stupid little cardboard box, a blemish on an otherwise nice park." Off came the other arm. "This little jissou ate her own shit. And then her babies for dessert." With that, she lost her right leg. "This little jissou had none, because she wasn't smart enough to think of even that, and she starved to death, which is fucking hilarious." There went the other leg. "DEGYAAAAAAAAA!!!", she wailed, "GIVE ME MY ARMS AND LEGS BACK, SHIT HUMAN!!!" I tossed her to the ground and knelt down on her body, grabbing her head and very slowly twisting. "And this little jissou went, "Wah wah wah, please don't kill cute little me, desu!", but Mr. Man didn't feel like sparing such a worthless shit-goblin's pointless life..." And with a snap, her neck was broken and her head torn off. As I turned back around to waste the mama, she fell to her knees, put her head down low, and held up her terrified child in front of herself. "Please", she whimpered, her panties now loaded with shit, "kill Jissou-chan if you want, but not poor cute me, desu!" ... For nearly a year, I had been pretty easy-going as far as jissou were concerned, ever since they began avoiding my house. But just like that, my old self from around last Christmas returned. No animal in existance would do this shit. Activists dare compare these things to humans? What human female, or human male, for that matter, when confronted by a murderer, would hold their own child in front of themselves and say "Fuck this little shit, spare me"? I don't know what else must've sparked in me, but I began to feel something for the little one. The child was looking up at me, sobbing, and somehow I got this rare sense of pseudo-humanity from her. I just got this vibe that told me this one was worth keeping alive. This child was one of the few jissou alive who deserve to live. I took her from her fucking horrible mother, who began smiling, bowing all polite and Japanese-like, thanking me profusely for sparing her. But to the surprise of both, I simply removed the little one's shit-filled panties, tossing them away and putting the child in my jacket pocket. She fit quite well, being no larger than a pop can, as child jissou tend to be. "Shit in there and you'll regret it", I warned her quietly. She nodded, wiping her tears away. "O-Okay, Mr. Man, t-techi..." "Hey! What are you thinking, desu?!", the mama shouted at me, now back on her feet, "You are supposed to kill Jissou-chan, shit human!" I glared at her and walked menacingly towards her, my height making it all the scarier for her as she quickly realized she was fucked. I'm honestly surprised she and her bitch entourage even survived this long. "Kill her?", I questioned, my voice starting off quiet and rising in volume as I continued on, "I never thought I'd ask this about a fucking jissou, but what did she do to deserve death? You and your friends deliberately bothered and attacked me, while she stood by and begged you, BEGGED YOU, not to anger Mr. Man, which you hit her, pushed her, and threatened her with being eaten for doing. Let me tell you something, you little donkey-raping shit-eater--DON'T YOU INTERRUPT ME!--I am not gonna tolerate this from you or any other jissou! You're stupid as fuck, even for a jissou, to mess with the likes of me! Give me one good reason why I should let you live! Why should I, you chicken-lickin' finger-fucking bitch?!" She stared blankly at me, taking a moment to process what I'd said, then struck the "cute" pose again, speaking to me in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice. "Because I am little and don't eat much, desu." That was the last thing she ever said, aside from incoherent shrieks for mercy. Because I immediately kicked her in the face, sending all her teeth flying. I fucking snapped. I'm not sure what happened next, but people who stopped to watch the resulting spectacle told me afterwards that I went into a berserker rage. The last thing I really remember is taking off my jacket and tossing it aside, then proceeding to beat the little shit-bitch. Apparently I did so until nothing was left but bloody paste. I was screaming creative profanity that would make the Angry Video Game Nerd blush, and began my epic assault by jumping onto the jissou and punching her face until no skin remained. I'm amazed she even survived that much. Then I picked her up and threw her 20 feet or so into a wall, breaking her skull. And then I rushed over to said wall, picked her body up in one hand, snapped her spine over my knee, and ground her skinless face against the wall. By now, her face was mostly just exposed bone, one eye dangling out of its socket, her legs limp and useless, as she tried to beg for mercy. Next I tore her fucking jaw right off and ripped out her tongue, strangling her with it and whipping her around like a chain-mace. When I stopped, I slammed her against the ground, tore out her hair and shredded her clothes, then began punching her rapid-fire in the stomach, not caring that I was getting her shit, blood and vomit all over me. I proceeded to pull her eyes out and crush them in my fists, then I pulled a Mike Tyson and tore her ears off with my bare teeth. She was spewing out stress babies by now and I smashed every last maggot and thumb before they could even say "tetere" or whatever stupid word it is they're all programmed inside the womb to say upon being born. I dismembered her, disemboweled her, broke her neck, pulled her head off, crushed every bone into powder, destroyed every organ, smashed her crystal beneath my foot, basically gave in to the primal urge to completely annihilate her, even after she was dead. And when I came back to my senses, panting heavily, feeling dizzy from all the adrenaline, I lowered my shit-and-blood-coated sunglasses and saw a big crowd of people watching me, looking rather shocked and amused at the same time, one group of guys and their girlfriends all filming me with their phones. I also saw a shitload of what used to be a jissou around and on me. Without saying a word, I wiped my hands off on the other jissou's dresses, picked up my jacket, which still had the child jissou inside and miraculously didn't get anything on it, and walked back home. Once I got home, I stripped to my boxers and threw out my shirt, pants and sandals. They'd never be clean again after what had happened. I put the jacket with the child nestled inside on the kitchen table, set my sunglasses in a sinkful of warm water, and took a long shower. When I came out, I found the child sitting on my bundled-up jacket and smiling, nibbling a large grape she'd gotten from the nearby fruit bowl. It was actually strangely adorable. She still had the comical lump on her head from earlier, but she didn't seem to notice or care anymore. "Th-Thank you, Mr. Man, for sparing me, techi...", she said softly, voice quivering, "Jissou-chan saw...what you did to shit Mama, techi... You...Jissou-chan's hero, techi..." And then I did something unthinkable... I picked her up and gave her a little hug. "Hey, no problem.", I replied, "And how about we give you an actual name? Your mama only called you Jissou-chan because she was too stupid and uncaring to think of a name for you." She seemed to like this idea. "Oh yes, techi! Jissou-chan would like that, techi! Shit Mama was very mean--she call Jissou-chan's sisters Jissou-chan too, all of them, before she eat them or let them die, techi." "How about something from your homeland?", I suggested, "I think you look like a... Yukiko." "Yes, that is lovely, techi! Jissou-chan's name Yukiko now, techi!" She then asked me, "What your name, Mr. Man, techi?" "Call me Al.", I answered. She nodded, apparently understanding. So I kept Yukiko, taught her the rules of the house, got her a terrarium to live in, personally made new panties for her, gave her some fruit and candy to eat every day {such a rare jissou child deserves better than cheap dry pellets made of jissou shit and ground-up jissou meat paste}, and made sure she'd stay good by warning her that misbehaving jissou end up like her mama. She's been my little friend ever since. And given her amazingly good behaviour, that isn't likely to change anytime soon. Like I said, who'd have ever thought I could end up liking a jissou? EPILOGUE A few days ago, during an afternoon of freezing rain, Yukiko and I sat in the kitchen eating ice cream when we heard something at the door. We answered the door together and found a jissou mother and her six children, looking wet, battered and miserable, not one of them wearing panties that weren't full to overflowing with diarrhea. "Please help us, Mr. Man, desu!", the mama squealed, her kids all doing the "cute" pose in unison, except for one that was carrying a frozen-solid maggot, "We are cold and hungry, desu! Our home was destroyed, desu! Please make us your darling pets, desu!" I could see them already jealously and hungrily staring at Yukiko. "No.", I replied bluntly, "I have enough mouths to feed in this house." And I shut the door. Within one second, Yukiko and I heard the terrified, agonized shrieks of jissou children. Opening the door again, we found the mama standing alone, her clothes and the ground littered with the corpses, blood and shit of her children. She was even still chewing the maggot with her mouth open. And she eriously believed that I'd think she was a different jissou. Is it any wonder why the Japanese named this species "packaged retard"? "Please help me, Mr. Man, desu! I am cold and hungry, desu! My home was destroyed, desu! Please make me your darling pet, desu!" I looked to Yukiko as though asking what she thought we should do. She pondered for a second, then giggled and exclaimed... "Shit mama must die, techi!" I set Yukiko down and let her watch as I stomped the jissou's head into paste. She cheered me on like a good jissou. No, wait, not a good jissou. A good friend. Author's note: Other writers, feel free to have Al and/or Yukiko cameo in your works, you have my permission.
Good story. Are you the same guy that wrote the old storys that were re-used (assuming I'm remembering the old stories possibly from the old jissou thread's in the /lit/ archives correctly) or just an anon doing a good continuation ? Eitehr way, good story.
The Toilet scene I recognized from one of my stories in the first thread. :D
Yes, I'm the original author of Taking Out the Trash and Merry Fucking Christmas. :3
OH SHIT REd IS BACK!
>>547 You do? Purely coincidence, I assure you.
To be honest I think that basic scene may have been repeated a couple of times in the archived thread.
I'm also the guy who wrote the story based on the Jissouseki Pedestrian Crossing animation. I've made improvements to that lately too, so I figure I'll go ahead and post it as a bonus. Jissouseki Pedestrian Crossing Tokyo, Japan Shibuya suburbs July 2010 Approximately 11:45 pm The night air gave Sayuri a pleasant chill as she stepped out of the convenience store. With her bag of food in hand, the young woman began walking back to her apartment complex. She came to the crosswalk and while waiting for the light to change, she heard something at her feet--no, two somethings... "Mrs. Lady have food, techi!" "Give food, desu?" Sayuri looked down and, to her disgust, saw two jissouseki. Unusually clean ones, considering they were undomesticated, though there were of course dirty patches on their dresses, and their panties, as typical for jissou, were anything but clean and looked like they were made of cheesecloth. The pair at Sayuri's feet were an adult and her child. They looked rather starved, not that Sayuri cared in the least. The child jumped and began tugging at the bag Sayuri was holding, grunting with effort. The little fucker's trying to tear it open, she realized. "Please take us home, Mrs. Lady, desu!", the mama jissou said, doing the typical "cute" pose jissou are so famous for that just makes most humans want to hurt them even more, "We are little and don't eat much, desu!" Shaking the child away from her bag, Sayuri's face took on a look of fear. She wasn't stupid, she had heard PLENTY of horror stories about these repulsive shit-goblins, and she was not about to let them into her home. Running a shaking hand through her long raven hair and thinking fast, she decided to distract them and run a different route home. Looking in her bag, she found some candy she had bought, which happened to be konpeito, the candy that jissou are known to instinctively love for whatever yet-to-be-discovered reason. She quickly opened the package and took out a large pink one. "You want food? Here's some of that candy you love!", she yelled, throwing the candy into the middle of the road. Within a second of it being thrown, the hungry jissou were both waddling after it. "Whoever gets it first is my new pet!" Sayuri took this opportunity to flee. Rather unfortunate, she thought as she ran, she had wanted to see what might happen next. But getting home was far more important. She didn't want them or any other jissou following her, and it was getting very late anyway. What Sayuri missed began with an ever-so-charming display of cruel and thoughtless behaviour from the mother. She glared viciously at her child as they ran for the candy. Sayuri's distraction of food and false promise of a good home had made her want nothing more than the disappearance of the little jissou running alongside her. "MY candy, desu!!", she screamed, turning and kicking her own child right in the stomach. "Stay away, greedy shit jissou, desu!!" The child went flying back onto the sidewalk, holding her belly in pain as her mother kept running, apparently completely forgetting she ever had a child. "TECHA!! Why mama hurt me, techa?!", she cried, getting back onto her feet, watching her bad mama kneel down to pick up the candy. "Mine, desu! All mine! First food all day, desu!", she shouted gleefully, "Now I get nice home, de--" SPLAT! The greedy mama jissou got her head and stubby right hand flattened in an instant by a passing car, too fast for her to even let out a final death scream, thick green shit filling her panties and spilling onto the road, the candy crushed as well, now just a pile of pink sugary dust. "Chuwa!", the shocked child whimpered, running over to her dead mother, crying and tugging on her shit-bloated panties to try and wake her. The child knew that her mother was hurt, but was in too much terror and grief to understand that she wasn't going to wake up. "Mama! Get up, techi! We need go back to park, techi! Dangerous out--" SPLAT! She got cut off as another car drove right over her mother's corpse, likely on purpose, crushing the torso with a sickening crunch and making even more shit fly out. The mother jissou's panties snapped off, her shit burying the little one. Coughing up some shit, the child climbed out of the pile. While sobbing over the loss of her only family, she suddenly heard a little muffled noise. "Refu." She gasped, knowing by instinct that this was the sound of a maggot and that her job as a good sister jissou was to keep Maggot-chan from dying. "Maggot-chan?", she called out, digging through the poop, "Where are you, Maggot-chan?" She soon found the maggot, covered in birth slime. It must have been born from a last-second preservation pregnancy. The child began cleaning the maggot with her tongue, dropping it carefully onto the ground once it let out a cheerful bark. "Tetere!" She found another maggot, cleaned it, and set it down, repeating this many times. Before long, the orphaned child now had a new family, three maggots and six thumbs. "My new family, techi!", she squealed gleefully, her sisters assembled in a neat little group, happily staring up at the child as she greeted them from atop the mountain of shit, "There bright side to everything, just like Mama told me, techi! We go back to park together and live happily! And then find Mr. Mans and Mrs. Ladies to go home with, techi!" A flood of happy "refu" and "rechi" reached her ears as her new sisters cheered. They weren't all that certain what they were happy about. They just knew somehow that they had a good reason to celebrate with their-- SPLAT! A third car, and the babies were mangled and flattened against the pavement faster than the eye could even detect, their guacamole shit and multicolour blood painting the road. A thumb and the maggot she was holding, their faces intact, stared out at their older sister with lifeless eyes, their tongues and intestines hanging from their gaping mouths, looks of sudden pain eternally frozen onto their faces. The rest of the unfortunate thumbs and maggots had been crushed into paste. The child stared at the gruesome mess in total silence for a moment, her face stuck in a dumb smile, forehead turning blue and breaking out in a cold sweat. She didn't know how to react or what to say, her tiny brain flooded with the realization that her brand new baby sisters had just died right in front of her, not even two minutes after their birth, the realization that everyone she loved was now dead, the realization that she was a shit sister for not protecting Maggot-chan and Thumb-chan, the realization that she was alone and vulnerable, and the realization that she might be the next one to die on that road. And if she didn't die there, she'd certainly die on her way back to the carboard box she called home. Left without anyone to call family and retaining absolutely no hope for survival, she fell to her knees on the pile, now filling her own panties, and began to sob into her tiny hands as the rain came down. All the shattered jissou could do now was wait...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7TqbTTLWtQ Here's the jewtube the above story was based on.
>>553 thats my jewtube he he he
...aaand I'm back. The little message I typed out on my old Nintendo product was rather terse, so I suppose an explanation for my sudden absence is in order. The laptop I'm using has about 1 byte of shadow RAM, apparently, and thusly will crash if I try to run anything with RAM usage that is anywhere near even jewtube. A virus got in somehow (given that I don't run many programs for the above reason), and the CPU couldn't handle the strain of a self-executing and self-replicating program, and responded by dying a fiery death. This, along with the virus, wiped the hard drive clean of everything, including the fucking OS, somehow. I've finally managed to get it working, but literally everything that was on here is completely gone, my jissou folder being one of the casualties. On the plus side, though, I got to revert to Windows XP and ditch Vista. Now, I'm working on a small one-off, just to get back into writing. Assuming this thing can handle it. Expect it tomorrow. Hopefully.
Happy new year! Long time lurker makes his first atempt. English is not my first language so please forgive my bad grammar. "The price of hapiness" by Isaac Z "When I will find happiness desu" Said a fat and dirty jissouseki, while searching through trash cans in a dark alley. She ate her last child yesterday. Food was scarce in winter so her daughters had to serve as emergency food so she could live another day. Or so she thought. Then, out of the blue, a man approached her and said: "Would you like to eat at my house?" She stood agape for a while. Mr. Men never approached her, ever. Moreover this one invited her to be his pet. Or so she thought "Yes desu! I would love to be your pet desu!" The man lift her and left quickly. After a while they arrive to the man's apartment. "My new house is luxurious desu!" exclaimed the jissou about her host´s place. The 'luxurious house' was a bachelor pad with tilled floor and cheap plastic chairs and table. In the small livingroom a old 22" TV and a simple sofa wrapped in plastic. Plain curtains, dollar store lamps, plastic flowers and generic pictures adorned elegantly the place, or so she thought. "Do you want to take a bath?" asked the man. "Yes desuun! I want a warm bath with bobbles desuun." purred the jissou in answer. The man took her to the bathroom and filled the tub with warm water while she took her clothes off. Then he put some generic brand soap in the water and gently put the, naked jissou, in. It was warm and just above her belly she never felt so warm and comfy in her entire life. "This is paradise desuun. I love you master desu." The man remained silent. Took the clothes of the jissou and leave while the little goblin sprayed soapy and greenish water carelessly. Once the little retard was satisfied with the bath, she struggled to get off the bathtub, just as the man returned carrying something. He left aside his package and helped the packaged retard. Then gave her a towel. Just as with everything else this was a cheap ass towel you can buy by the dozen in a thrift store. But, for the jissou, it was the best towel ever. She admired her skin, now cleaner than it has ever been. And worried about her clothes. "I want my clothes now desu! Where are them desuka" "I washed them." Replied dryly the man pointing at what he bring back to the room. The jissou admired her clothes, that were in a state she have never seen before, clean. "My dress is clean desu!, It smells like sun rays desu. It no longer smells like shit desu." "I love you master desu!" Again the man said nothing and helped the jissou to get dress. "Do you want to eat now?" "Yess desu." The man sat the jissou in a plastic toddler chair and went into the kitchen. There he took something from a small fridge and microwave it for a few minutes. The smell of seasoned meat filled the air and the jissou was drooling. "Is the food ready desu? Bring it now desu" The man served properly the "stew" with knife, fork and napkins. But the jissou ignored those items and any kind etiquette and devoured the meat in minutes. "The most delicious stew desu! Never had this tasty food desuun" said the foul goblin with a mouthful. This "stew" was made of jissou meat. This jissou had feed from her peers before but only raw uncooked, this was the first time she ever tasted cooked and condiment meat since that day she found a cold and half eaten chicken wing in a garbage bag. Finishing her meal once again ignoring the napkin she cleaned her maw with the sleeve of her dress. For about half a second she considered that the dress would get dirty again but master will make it clean again for her, or so she tough. "Do you want to see TV now?" the man asked. "Yes desu, I want to watch TV with master desuuun." Both sat at the couch and the man changed channels till the jissou saw something she wanted to watch. She decided for a cartoon show. What cartoon? It didn't matter she just wanted to see colors and music, even the plot of Spongebob was like Shakespeare to her. She curled up next to her "master". "I love you master, I found my happiness desu!" Said the jissou snuggling the mans arm. "happiness isn't free you know" responded the man. "De...? ********************************** "happiness isn't free you know" This were the last words she remembered. It was cold and dark. Her head ached like her brain was about to explode. She was laying in the hard floor covered with newspaper. What had just happened, she try to remember. Was it a dream, where did the happiness go. She sat, looked around, then at herself. Shock! Her dress was gone! "My my my dress where desu?" she cried. This caused her another headache then she took her paws to her head and almost fainted at the realization that she was bald. "MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR DESU. WHERE DESU!" The pain in her head was nothing compared to the horror of having lost her precious hair, that was somewhat above the jissou standard. She wanted to cry, she was about to, when suddenly the place filled with light. I took a while before her sight adjusted to the brightness. Slowly the figure of the man became clear he was standing at the door of this small room in which she woke up. "Shit human what did you do to m-!" BAMM! Her complains where cut short with a fist straight to her face. She felt backwards, blood and broken teeth's in her mouth, her sight hazy again. "That punch worth is 50G. Now I will give you your bill" She was trembling the punch was too much, so she remained silent. The man grabbed her by an arm and carried her to another room. "Your bill is as follows:" ******************************** Transport 1500 G Accommodation 3100 G Bath and towel 2600 G Washing clothes 2100 G Dinner 3700 G Entertainment 1800 G Service 4500 G Company 4600 G Sub total: 23900 G Tip 14%: 3346 G You owe me 27246 G ---------------------------------- Minus: Hair 1100 G Dress 1300 G Punch 50 G Paid: -2450 G ------------------------------- Current total owed: 24796 G ------- She could not grasp the meaning of this numbers but she did understood that she was in deep shit. In the other room silently were several jissouseki, all bald and naked, but what horrified her the most was that some of them were missing an arm or a leg or both. They all had numbers in their foreheads, written in their flesh. All of them looked miserable with bruises and swollen faces. She didn't have time to ponder on the meaning of it because the man grabbed her throat and using a sharp hot iron wrote the number 14 in her forehead. She wanted to scream but just as she tried, the mans grip over her throat became stronger shocking her almost to death. The man release her, throwing her to the middle of the room. She cough trying to breath again, searing pain in her marked forehead. The other jissouseki cowered watching the newcomer and her tomentor, they knew very well what the man was about to say. "Payment method is as follows:" Punch and kick worth 50G Whip 90G Give an arm or leg 950G Ears 500G Maggots 600G Thumb chan 750G Adolescents 1100G "I wont accept deformed of stupid child. They must be born from green eye pregnancy and you must love them. Or else I wont accept them" -The man continued as a machine. "You can eat your own shit and the leftovers I throw here. If you eat or kill any other jissou in this room its debt will be added to yours. You can eat the other jissous child if you want, I don't care." "Lastly, occupying this room and the leftovers cost an additional 250G per day. If you want newspaper to sleep that's 190G per 5 sheets, water 90G per cup. The man shut the door closed. And from the other side said: "Its up to you to promptly pay the price of happiness" Fin.
Here it is! Apologies for the delay, but this turned out to be a lot longer than I’d expected… December 3, 2011. 12:14 A.M. “Mrs. Jackson, we know you’re upset, but you need to tell us exactly what happened.” Two police officers stood before one of their own vehicles, their severe gazes locked on the occupant within. Said occupant looked up from her (cuffed) hands, tears still falling from her eyes. With the assistance of one of the officers, she exited the dreaded squad car and stood on unsteady legs. She sniffled once, and a small cloud of silver floated from her face into the cold December night. Her long black hair had come down, and she pushed it behind her shoulders with an awkward motion due to the handcuffs. One of the officers opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by four firemen charging past, carrying a hose between them. Their destination, the home behind the officers, was ablaze. The officers and the woman followed the four men’s short journey for a while, and received a ringside view of the main load-bearing wall collapsing inside the home and the second floor toppling to the ground. The woman returned to the same state of hysterics she had been in minutes earlier, dropping to her knees and burying her tear- and mascara-stained face in her hands. The officers let her cry herself out, waiting a solid seven minutes for her to recover. Eventually she did, rising to her feet once again and tearfully looking into the unsympathetic faces of the officers. “I’m sorry…” She sniffled. The officer on the right produced a white handkerchief and provided it to her, and she used it to blow her nose. “Mrs. Jackson, a witness reports seeing you holding a can of gasoline and a lighter, moments before the fire started. We have almost no doubt as to the nature of this fire. You do have the right to remain silent, but we’d like you to tell us why you did this.” She looked at them, briefly entertaining an idea of denying her involvement, but banished it immediately. “That’s a… a long story, officer.” The officer on the left glanced at the burning home behind him, and the firefighters battling it. “We’ve got time. Start from the beginning.” She took a deep breath and duly began, explaining in between sniffles and sobs. “Well, this whole problem started last month, I think. It was late at night…” -------------------------------------------------------------------------- November 29, 2011. 1:22 A.M. 4 days earlier. The neighborhood was silent. The only light on the forlorn side-street could be found behind the blinds of a restless insomniac. Sarah Jackson, exhausted from both her difficult job and recent romantic failure, was stretched out sleeping on her couch, having not bothered even to walk 25 steps upwards to the master bedroom. She tossed and turned, eventually falling off of the narrow couch and awakening in a panic. Shaking her head, she climbed to her feet and decided sleeping on her bed might be slightly more restful than on her old furniture. Due to the layout of her home, she had to pass through a small ‘mud room’ to reach the stairs. She was in this room when she heard a small feminine voice. “Mrs. Lady, rechi!” Sarah whipped around. Standing on the floor, directly beneath the mail slot, was a rather bedraggled Jissouseki. She was a thumb-chan, with the standard jissou arrangement of hair, dress, and panties. She was probably feral, and looked the part: Her dress was frayed, torn, and insanely dirty, and her panties were stained green. She was staring up into Sarah’s face with barely contained glee, her mismatched eyes actually glistening with tears. She tilted her head, placed it on her paw, and smiled. “Mrs. Lady, take me and my mama in as your pets, rechi! We are small and don’t eat much, rechi!” Now, Sarah, having had a somewhat sheltered childhood and a home away from major population centers, had almost no contact with Jissouseki beyond some late-night newsreels and a few accidental high-speed vehicular collisions. She thusly had no knowledge of their prolific breeding and ridiculous avarice. She had an attitude towards jissous similar to what others had towards squirrels and other small woodland animals; that is, pity for the victims of her unintentional vehicular jissou-slaughter. She refused to eat food composed of them, would not tolerate an abuser (indeed, her recent break-up was due to her boyfriend’s jissou-directed violence), and would not even frequent pet shops that kept or sold abuse-grade jissous or abuse toys. Any sane human being would have forcibly ejected the thumb from their home, or even lured the mother in and done away with them both. Sarah, on the other hand, felt sorry for the (to her mind) poor creature standing in her foyer, the recent breaking-and-entering notwithstanding. Because of all that, Sarah made an impulsive decision, and a fatal mistake. “Sure!” “Yay, re! Mama is a genius, resuuu~n!” Sarah opened her front door, and the thumb called out: “Mama! Mrs. Lady wants us to be her pet, rechi!” Within seconds a young mother jissou, about one-and-a-half feet in height and nearly the same in width, toddled out of the bushes. She, too, looked the part of the feral, with a badly-torn dress and a missing ‘forelock’ of hair. Following in her heels were three maggots and another thumb, though they did not look quite as bedraggled as their mother or older sister. Sarah’s brain suddenly registered a red flag at this; she had expected only the one thumb and the mother. “Hey, hey, I don’t think I can handle that many babies…” Any human mother would have argued, or at least stayed with her children, and this was the response Sarah was expecting. In fact, even a jissou would have offered up some resistance, if only at the thought of losing a meal ticket (actually, just a meal). Instead, the inexperienced jissou mother panicked, expecting her home to be lost on account of her children. To that end and Sarah’s horror, she picked up one of the maggots in her paws and flung it as hard as she could at the bushes. Said unfortunate maggot (“punipuni refuuuuuuuuu-“) somehow made a soft landing, but found itself tangled in a nest of branches a solid four feet from the ground. The mother prepared to fire another maggot missile. “Woah, stop!” The mother looked questioningly over at her, hapless maggot still ready for launch in her right paw. “I didn’t mean – look, tomorrow I’ll find good homes for them, but tonight they can come in too.” “Really, desu!” “Yes, really.” “Yay, de! Let’s all go in our new home and get warm, desu!” -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “You took feral jissous into your house?!” Exclaimed one of the officers, forgetting himself and his duties. He was quickly reminded of them by his more experienced partner giving him a sharp, reprimanding glance. Sarah managed a wry though watery smile. “Yeah. Kinda stupid, huh?” “I think I see where you’re going with this. But please, continue…” Said the other officer, finishing off a note on his notepad with a sharp prod from his pen. “Well, I guess I don’t need to tell you that they jumped at the chance to get inside…” -------------------------------------------------------------------------- This proclamation was followed by cries of affirmation and joy from the infantile crowd. The mother climbed up the steps immediately, leaving the thumbs and maggots stranded. Sarah picked them up in her hand and turned to pick up the maggot in the bush. Unfortunately, the weakness of a maggot’s stocking cannot be overstated; it caught on a thorn as she retrieved the wayward occupant and was torn completely apart, to the point that the maggot was left only with two patches of silk where Sarah had grabbed it between her forefinger and thumb. “Re? Cold, rehi! Don’t like naked, repyeeeen!” It began to thrash around in her palm, eliciting some rather disapproving remarks from the other two. The one thumb managed to comfort it by rubbing its belly. Sarah smiled at this sisterly show of affection and walked back inside the house. Inside, the mother had managed to make her way to the kitchen and was pawing at the refrigerator door. Sarah ignored her for a moment, retrieving a large terrarium (that had once housed a now-deceased snake) from a cabinet. She sat it on the kitchen table and placed her load of infant jissous inside. She then walked over to the mother jissou, who had by now found out how to open the refrigerator. “Mrs. Lady! Give me that, desu!” The mother was pointing her stumpy arm at a round aluminum pie tin containing Sarah’s favorite comfort food: New York cheesecake. “Sorry, that’s for me, but-“ Before she could finish her sentence, which would have ended in her offering a bit of sliced turkey, the jissou interjected. “No! Give my shiny food now, desu!” Sarah may not have had much experience with the Jissouseki menace, but she’d had enough dogs in her life to know that you need to establish your dominance. She did not, however, know that jissous didn’t respond like dogs did to displays of authority. “No. You will have your food, and I will have mine.” She snatched the container of sliced meat from the refrigerator. “You will eat this, or you won’t eat at all.” The jissou squared her stance, put paws on hips, tilted back, and let out a ridiculously ear-shattering scream. Simultaneously, a strange, acrid smell began to circulate around the room. She would later say that it could only be described as the color red in scent form. Sarah found herself becoming angrier and angrier the longer the scream echoed in the enclosed kitchen. Eventually, the mother’s vocal chords were worn down from the interminable wail, and she was forced to shut her mouth and settle for glaring at Sarah. “All right, I guess you don’t get to eat tonight.” She turned and walked to the children’s terrarium. They were blue with fright from the mother’s scream, but that changed when two slices of turkey fell from the sky into their midst. “Food good, refu!” “Thank you Mrs. Lady, rechi! Food is delicious, resuuu~n!” She stayed and watched them chow down for a while, calming down a bit at their (to her mind) cute eating. Even the clothes-less maggot was happily pigging out. After a few seconds, she turned to replace the container of meat in the icebox and found the mother still staring at her. “Give me food, desu.” She said it in a low tone of voice, and extremely quiet. “No.” Sarah turned to the refrigerator, opened it, replaced the poultry, and closed the door. As she preformed the final motion, she saw a green blob hit the white metal. She turned to see the mother, panties lowered, gathering more of the green, vomit-inducing fluid from her asscrack. This blob, once flung, smacked Sarah directly in the face. The putrid smell entered her nostrils, along with that acrid red scent. Indeed, the world did seem to tint a lurid shade of maroon… -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Then I just… snapped…” Sarah had long since stopped crying, but the memory was still painful. “Understandable. Jissouseki, especially feral ones, bring about the worst in us. It’s literally in their genetic makeup.” There was a pause. The first, less-experienced officer not-so-gently prodded Mrs. Jackson into speech again. “You presumably don’t have any memory of that aside from blackness. Go ahead and tell us what you remember next…” -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The next thing Sarah remembered, she was standing in a humongous puddle of blood and shit. She felt weak, as though she had gone an entire day without eating and then run a marathon (something she had experience with). Her clothes were irrevocably stained with Christmas-y jissou paste. The only identifiable piece of the deceased mother was half of her face, torn off in rage. It was remarkably well-preserved, the horrified look and even the blue tint of fear remained evident on it. The remainder of the mother was slowly dripping to the floor in a viscous sludge. Sarah felt a twinge of remorse, shame, and guilt at her moment of unbridled rage. She glanced at the terrarium. Amazingly, the blood/feces paste didn’t get to the end of the kitchen the table was at, but the amount of shit inside the glass wouldn’t have given any indication of that. The two thumbs were petrified. The maggots had been, but were busy eating the green paste that they resided in. All but one, though; the naked maggot had died of the shock of the insanely violent murder it had witnessed from the proverbial fifty-yard line. Sarah dropped to her knees and burst into tears, shuddering from more than hysterics and full of shame for murdering both the mother and the maggot. After a few minutes, a few small voices ended her bawling. “What’s wrong with Mrs. Lady, rechi?” “Punipuni refu.” Sarah looked up in apparent fascination, and moved over to the terrarium. The occupants looked back at her, maggots on their backs with springy stomachs exposed. Suddenly, she turned and strode to the refrigerator, retrieved the titular cheesecake, and dropped the entire pan into the terrarium, announcing dessert for the ecstatic children. Their cries of joy warmed her heart, and she listened attentively to every exclamation as she mopped up the remains of their mother. She decided that her new pets would be the most spoiled jissous the world had ever seen… -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “…which was the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life.” “Apologies, ma’am, but I have to agree with you.” The first officer bluntly stated the truth and received another reprimanding glance from the second officer’s evil eye. “We’re not here to judge, though I must admit that particular decision was somewhat foolish.” “No, I know I’m stupid.” She braved another wry grin. “Well, I bet you’ve seen what happened next before…” -------------------------------------------------------------------------- December 2, 2011. 5:43 P.M. Three days later. Three days after their arrival, the four children were doing very well. They had grown spectacularly, fattening up on delicious food and the generosity of the Mrs. Lady who had so brutally murdered their mother. All had become adolescents unnaturally fast, and two had made it to the adult stage. One had even given birth to a litter of three thumbs and six maggots. All had developed a taste for gourmet human food, and clamored for more and more. Sarah was quite happy to give them their gourmet food. She still felt a lingering guilt over their mother and dead sibling, and felt she could best make up for it by keeping the remaining living dolls happy. However, she operated under the expectation that jissous would be somewhat independent, especially with more of their kind and plenty of toys to play with. She couldn’t have been more wrong. The second of December was a Monday, and she thusly had to return to work. She told her charges to be good and she’d pick up more cheesecake, which elicited loud squeaks of joy. She stepped out the door, locked it, and drove away. She would return in about eight hours. The jissous did manage to keep amused with the balls, tubes, and soft rubber tunnels. Eventually, however, they grew tired and hungry and desired to see more of their home (for it actually, for once, was their home) than the one room that they occupied after they outgrew the terrarium. The eldest, the former thumb that had first entered the home via the mail slot, called her comrades to arms: “Mrs. Lady has food in a magic box, desu. We should go down and get some, desu!” This was greeted with approving squeaks from the younger jissous, and nods from the other adults. To escape their room, they needed to reach the doorknob. To this end, they showed an amazing amount of coordination and interpersonal skills by collaborating to move their toys into a makeshift ladder. One of the former maggots (since they were the lightest, again showing remarkable intelligence for their kind) clambered up the debris, twisted the doorknob, and pushed. The door, predictably, slid open. The debris, formerly leaning on a door, fell forward into the gap, propelling the occupant along with it. The room, it is important to note, was situated on the second floor, directly in front of the stairs. Thusly, the errant adult bounced 20 times on the way down to the first floor. Falling down stairs can cause severe injury in a human, especially the young and small. For an extraordinarily fragile, small entity like a jissou, it is a literal death sentence. About midway down, the jissou cracked her head (literally) open on a step. Instantly, she began to spray shit, her panties not so much as stemming the tide. Three steps later, she met her end at the bottom of the stairs, colliding with a sharp edge on a hot-air register. Her already-damaged head actually split in half, displaying the predictably-small amount of grey-matter within. Blood dripped from the gaping wound, and shit dripped from her torn panties. Suddenly, there was motion in the shit pile. “Tettere~!” A cool ten maggots crawled out of the mound of excrement. These ten were ignored by the pets, who descended the stairs in a more controlled fashion to gawk at the corpse of their fellow. They stood staring for a moment, one of the thumbs tentatively reaching down to stroke a newborn belly, when the eldest discovered the refrigerator and recognized it. “Look, desu! The magic food box, desu!” Loud cheers of happiness. The dead mother and her litter were completely forgotten in their haste to reach the icebox. In the confusion, all sixteen maggots – not just the newborns - crawled away, most hiding under the living-room furniture and leaving trails of shit behind them… The three adults and three thumbs arrived at the refrigerator and were confronted with another door problem, namely the fact that refrigerator doors must be pulled against the strongest molecular force known to man: magnetism. The solution was presented to them in the form of the small freezer drawer below the door. The three remaining adults combined their feeble strength to pry the drawer open. They then clambered on to a rack inside and once again combined their strengths. Proving that their impromptu intelligence has a limit, they pried the door open by the seams on the side as opposed to by the gigantic black handle. Either way, they did manage to break the magnetic attraction between the door and the metal proper and access the treasure trove of food within. All three clambered into the refrigerator, ignoring the three thumbs. They cried a bit about not being able to reach the delicious food, but soon enough a call from a maggot requesting a belly rub distracted them, and they ran off. The three adults located a stash of cheesecake that Sarah had intended to save for herself. They, of course, showed no remorse about chowing down on their favorite dessert even though it wasn’t theirs. Eventually, after devouring two entire pie tins of cake, they were satiated, and all leaned back on the plastic-coated wires to relax. One, however, did not notice that there were no wires behind her. Thusly, she fell into the freezer drawer below, spraying panic shit on the way down. “Ooh… I hurt my head, deshaaaa…” She put her paw on a small piece of metal, and pulled herself up. She didn’t realize, though, that she was pushing on a wheel, which set the drawer’s automatic retract into motion. She was trying to clamber back into the refrigerator when the edge of the freezer drawer caught her legs. The motor did have a safety cut-off, put in place in case a human hand was in the way. However, jissou flesh is much, much, much, much weaker than a human’s, and thusly her legs were ignored by the sensor and slowly crushed. “DEGYAAA! LET GO OF MY LEG DEGYAA!” The motor, of course, proved uncooperative. It chose instead to follow its programming and continue to retract. The legs in question were crushed further, eventually rupturing in a dramatic spray of blood and gore. “DEGYAAAAA-“ The unfortunate jissou’s leg stumps continued to compact, eventually pinching and ripping off. They continued to bleed, and the blood was immediately joined by her spray of shit, both of which seeped into the freezer before it finally closed. The jissou emulated the scream her mother had made two days earlier in almost the same location. She screamed for a good long while, and eventually her fellows began to take notice. One looked down at her through the lowest rack, and extended her paw down to the point where she could just touch the suffering jissou. Was this a paw offered for help? A final show of compassion for her sibling who was doomed? Nope. The extended paw was utilized to beat the screaming jissou into silence through unconsciousness. That unconsciousness eventually gave way to death, but she delivered a parting gift consisting of 9000 gallons of shit and six more panic maggots, accompanied by three thumbs. These all immediately responded to calls of ecstasy and felicitations from their fellows under the furniture, and they crawled off towards the awaiting belly rubs. The two living adults gave not the slightest shit (amazingly, considering the prolific shit creation of the jissou) about the demise of their sister and the birth of their new nieces, and returned to gorging on the delicious food. Hours passed. Eventually, at around ten o’clock at night, Sarah made it back home. “I’m ho-what the?!” The first thing she saw upon returning home was the destroyed corpse of one of her beloved pets. In their hunger, eventually some of the panic maggots had located the fresh meat and decided that mama tasted delicious. Thusly, the corpse was filled with 4 well-fed and sleeping maggots. She was about to kneel down to check the body for non-existent signs of life in a vain attempt to conjure a sense of denial when she heard a loud belch from the kitchen. She walked inside, leaving the door wide open in her haste. When Sarah returned to her kitchen, she found it in complete disarray. Small trails of shit, left behind by maggots crawling across the tile, were the least of her worries. She found the corpse of her second beloved pet, lifeless and legless. She ran towards the body, and caught the attention of the two jissous that were in the process of consuming a carton of roast beef. “Hello, Mrs. Lady, des- BURAP!” The eldest said, punctuating her greeting with a loud belch. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Sarah exclaimed. “We were hungry, desu. Jissou-san helped us get some delicious cheesy-cake, desu!” “You did WHAT?!” “Too loud, shit Mrs. Lady, desu! Be quiet, desu!” Once more, the acrid red smell returned to incite Sarah, but this time she managed to not go on a rampage of destruction. Instead, she lifted both jissous out of the refrigerator. By their hair. Two simultaneous and identical “DEGYAAAAA-”’s broke out. Ignoring them, Sarah carried them up the bloody and slippery stairs, tossed them into their room, and slammed the door shut. Almost immediately, pitifully weak fists slammed on the door. “Let us out, shit Mrs. Lady, desha!” Sarah, however, was already out the door to replace her demolished store of food, blissfully unaware that several feral families had noticed the multitude of jissous and was in the process of prying a window open… -------------------------------------------------------------------------- “When I got back, it was… absolute insanity. There were 35 adult ones jumping on the couch, at least 40 maggots roaming the furniture, crap everywhere, one adult eating another, I swear to God two of them had huge penises or something… When I walked in, they all threw their crap at me. Do you know how much shit 35 jissous can throw? I don’t really remember much about what happened next. I think I just… overreacted. All I know is that I picked up a can of gasoline, you know, like you use for lawnmowers? I think I tossed it in and threw the lighter after it, but I don’t quite…” “Don’t worry, we know what happened. That ‘red’ smell you’ve described is actually a pheromone, a mind-altering chemical. It drives humans to an insane rage. It’s so bad that it can be any crime committed under its influence can be mitigated through claiming temporary insanity.” The first officer spoke up. “This is the first time we’ve heard of an arson under these circumstances, but… I’m not registered legal counsel, but I really don’t know of a jury on this earth that would convict you. That said, you did give us a confession, and we know of the fire, so we do have to place you under arrest…” “I know. It’s fine…” Sarah took her seat in the back of the squad car, the officers took theirs in the front, and they were off to the precinct. Along the way, a dispatcher called in a fire on the other side of the town: “Suspected 502, repeat, suspected Code 502.” The passenger looked at Sarah through the Plexiglas partition. “Looks like someone had the same idea as you…” Pulling off of the main road, the car approached a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. An inferno gradually filled the front windshield, and a woman stood, sobbing, in the front lawn… Fin. Yes, I know it’s long. Yes, I know I said it was going to be a short story.
Good one Frankperson.
HA OH WOW let's try this posting bizness again... >>556 That was excellent. I don't really think that a jissou would have any understanding of numbers and would thusly run their debt up asking for water, but that's the entire point, right? I wanted to run something past all the lurkers and posters here. I really don't think I'm going to continue The Way the World Ends, partly because my draft of the final chapter died a fiery death but mostly because it became a chore to write. I seriously began to dread working on it. I like to write stuff for your enjoyment and all, but when it comes down to it, if I don't want to write it, I'm not going to write it. THAT SAID... I think what I'd like to do is start something with the Justin from my first, interminable series. It'd be a sort of jissou Mythbusters, focusing on unanswered questions and abuse strategies. I'd like to see someone else's opinion before I jump into this, so tell me if it's a good idea.
>>560 You already know I'm a big supporter of your more story-driven approach but then again, if you quit I'll be the undisputed tyrant of great Jissouseki sagas so go right ahead.
>>561 Welcome back. I don't know about "great" on my end... Yeah, I like a plot too, but trying to come up with points that didn't seem rushed and contrived (Chapter 4 comes to mind) was a strain, especially when I was writing one-page bits in under 6 hours. Besides, I prefer to write about jissous living and dying rather than a supernatural plot and impending apocalypses. Besides, we already have an apocalypse, complete with PLTD, coming from you. So, yeah. New story/series inbound. Since I got evicted from my home, it may take a little while to get out.
Jissou Mythbusters Episode One: A Foul Stench *Riiiiing* …Huh? Oh. Damn alarm clock. I punch the snooze button. The clock responds by releasing an ear-splitting whistle, so I just turn it the fuck off. The clock’s scream announces 8:30 A.M., which is time for me to go to work. Well, then again, I work from home, so I suppose I can afford a few more minutes... Eh, what the hell- “Mr. Man, techi!” Fuck. I burst out of my bed, fully expecting a horde of Jissouseki to be standing at my feet, heads cocked and panties full. Instead, there’s only one, wearing a blue dress and panties that actually aren’t soiled. “Sarah, can you please not do that? You scared the hell out of me.” “I’m sorry, Mr. Man, but it’s time for you to go to work, techi.” “Yeah, and I guess you’re pretty hungry, too.” “A little, techi…” I get out of bed, which is a bit easier than normal because of the brief shot of adrenaline, and assist my pet jissou off of my bed. My name’s Justin Wilson. You may have heard of me as the guy who sent a jissou-bomb to the headquarters of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. That means you likely have been informed by Faux News that I am a home-grown terrorist who is out to steal your puppies and kojissous for my black magic rituals. In reality, I’m a scientist, and I’ve chosen to take the express elevator to Hell and study the Jissouseki menace. I say Hell because many people have such strong views on the jissous that they seem to have no other choice than to mess with me because of said profession. Some people send me money; others steal my stuff and necessitate jissou-bombs. I walk downstairs, assisting Sarah, and toss two sausage biscuits in the microwave. Sarah’s breakfast is a bowl of Cheerios, minus milk. She thanks me, and begins eating with decency you wouldn’t expect from a jissou. “Are you going to be making lots of noise again, like yesterday, techi?” She asks me between mouthfuls. “Probably. Let me see…” A quick glance at my clipboard confirms it. “Yeah, it’s gonna be messy today.” “Okay, techi. I’ll just stay upstairs, techi.” “That’s a good idea.” I suppose someone’s probably wondering why I have a jissou pet, when my job entails butchering jissous for fun and profit. Sarah is not a normal jissou. I found her unaccountably tossed in with the usual Jissouseki rabble in my backyard a while back. She was a maggot then, but she was literate even at that tender age. When she became a kojissou, she got even smarter. If I had to put a number on her intelligence, I’d equate her to a twelve-year-old. Granted, she won’t be learning algebra, but she has the intelligence to hold a conversation without it degenerating into requests for food. She was also born with a peculiar blue dress and short, black hair, something that even our modern jissou geneticists can’t create together. All in all, I think she’s worth being a hypocrite for. The aforementioned Sarah finishes her cereal, excuses herself, and clambers up the stairs with no help from me. After she’s safely upstairs, I return to that clipboard I mentioned earlier and study it, munching on the first of the sausage biscuits. On top is a letter, written in a ridiculously horrid handwriting that’s worse than even mine (which is saying something) and nearly illegible, and interspersed with an insane amount of typos and misspelling, to the point where I can’t even type it up here. This here is the main idea, in the best nutshell I can devise: “How much shit can a jissou shit?” How much shit could a jissou shit if a jissou could shit shit? Heh. Fail poetry aside, it sounds like a fun thing to check out. Think about it: A jissou, when in pain, terrified, joyful, experiencing pleasure, eating, or any combination of the above, will expel a ridiculous amount of fecal matter. But nobody seems to know exactly how much they can shit before being exhausted. Tacking a value like “30 mL” on the end of that sentence may not seem to have any significance (30 milliliters is actually miniscule, by the way), but it’s more of a curiosity. ‘Course, it could help us to guesstimate the amount of soap, water, mops, bleach, and fire will be necessary after the fun ends. In the end, none of that really matters to me. It’s just going to be fun as shit (no pun intended) to test. And I get paid! This job gets better and better. To that end, I demolish the second biscuit like the creatures I’m about to experiment on, and stride into my laboratory. This interior room is actually just a bathroom with every fixture save the sink/counter removed. The floor’s been re-tiled in a clinical ice blue, as have the walls, sink and counter. New cabinets have been slapped on the walls and filled with scalpels, beakers, flasks, syringes, test-tube stands, and the like. I open this and set up my experimental setup. After about 5 minutes of tinkering, my design is complete: There are 4 test-tube stands with clamps on, to restrain the subject. The aforementioned subject will be suspended from her limbs so that her lower half is inside a 250 mL beaker. After the subject has run out of excrement, they will be tossed into my ‘incinerator,’ a terrarium with another jissou pet. (This pet is not an intellectual like Sarah; he’s more the ‘touchy-feely’ type, if you catch my drift.) Once subject has been disposed of, I will measure the amount of excrement in a 100mL graduated cylinder. Then, I get another jissou, clamp ‘er in, and begin the process again. Now, for the subject. I walk into my backyard, skirting my pool and entering a large white shed in the corner. When the door opens, I get smacked in the face by the smell of jissou shit, calls for adoption and candy, requests for belly rubs, and so on ad nauseam. The lights come on in reaction to the door opening, revealing seven or eight jissous running past me. I’m not worried; the pool’s heated and steaming in the ~20 degrees (Fahrenheit) air, which will be irresistible to them. They’ll then fall into the specially-designed anti-jissou turbine, which will kill them in the most graphic way possible while simultaneously removing up to 99.99% of all impurities from the water. I love my landlord. One specific jissou catches my eye as I sweep the 5 enclosures for likely candidates. The jissou waves a maggot in her paws, obviously trying to showcase her allegedly ‘cute’ offspring. Admittedly, I do think that maggots are somewhat cute sometimes, but they still annoy the fuck out of me with their constant nagging for punipuni. “Mr. Man, techi! Look at maggot-chan, techi! Isn’t she cute, techi?” Now, it’s time for the time-honored tradition of the abuser: Mindfuck. God, I’m a sadist. “Hello there, cute jissou-chan. You and your mother are absolutely adorable”-Blatant lie-“and I think I will take you home. That maggot, though… Ugh. I won’t take it. You might as well eat it.” The mother in question lights up. The maggot is confused. “Refu?” Our new test subject lights up. The kojissou is barely able to register what I said before the predictable happens. “Refu? RefuREFUREFYAAAA-” The scream is silenced when the mother’s fang crushes the maggot’s head. Devoted mama consumes her offspring while the kojissou wails. “Momma, don’t eat cute Maggot-chan techaaa!” Mama, of course, ignores her, and continues to chow down. “Congratulations, you two! You’re going to be my pets.” Both kojissou and mother instantly forget the very existence of Maggot-chan, despite the fact that Maggot-chan’s head is still skewered on the mother’s left fang. “Yay, de!” “Yay, te!” Simultaneous, yes. Surprising, no. I lift the mother and kojissou out of their enclosure and walk out the door. As I shut it, I can hear the high-pitched whirring of the anti-jissou turbine spooling up in the pool. That gives me an idea… I kneel down to the mother. “You know, in the light, I can see that your daughter’s not nearly as cute as you. I don’t think I can take her inside with us…” The mother, displaying what must be a marginally-improved intelligence, takes the hint without further prompting. She picks up her daughter. Daughter coos, expecting praise or more tales of the beauty of Mr. Man’s house. Instead, she’s launched into the air, and into the pool. Did I mention that the turbine creates a great deal of suction? “WHY MAMA WHY TEGYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” That rise in pitch was due to the blades of the turbine removing the kojissou’s legs. The legs are quickly followed by the body, arms, and head, ending her scream (and life). The remains are shredded, pureed, and finally sucked into the filter to be dumped into the sanitary sewer. The mother doesn’t even look. She walks to the door, reaches up, and discovers that paws are not the best mechanical manipulators. Before she can demand the door to open, I push the handle and nudge the door open. “Here, let me carry you. It’ll be faster.” She, of course, submits, probably considering the lift to be yet another perk of pethood. She closes her eyes in contentment. Awesome, that saves me from having to tell her why she won’t be getting food… We enter the lab. I set her down on the counter. “I need you to take off your clothes so I can wash them.” “Okay, desu. Don’t mess them up or you’ll get more, desu.” Yeah, sure, whatever. She strips, tossing the clothes into a small pile by the sink. She’s profoundly ugly, but isn’t all that fat. That makes my job (and the jobs of the clamps) easier. “Alright, I’ll give you a bath first. I need to hook you into this contraption here so I can wash you better.” She looks apprehensive, obviously (and correctly) believing that the stainless-steel tower would cause her harm, but in the end the luxurious bath wins out over her common sense. I pick her up, and hold her right arm out. I gently press the clip into her arm and fasten it. I then clip her left leg into the corresponding clip, and repeat the process until she’s fully secured. The beaker gets placed directly below the vaganus, and I’m ready to begin the fun part of this experiment. “I’ll go ahead and wash these clothes now…” I open the tap, letting cold water flow into the basin and down the drain. I wet her dress in the tap, as if I’m actually going to wash it. I hold it up for her to see… and tear it in half. “NOOO MY BEAUTIFUL DRESS DEGYAAA!” While she screams in grief for her dress, I open up a special cabinet under the sink. This one contains my considerable stash of abusing tools. I grab a needle, some thread, a lighter, and a small tin. I set the panties in the tin, and hold them up to her face level. She looks up in some kind of sad curiosity, and notices the panties. I hold up the lighter and flick it. A flame leaps into life, reflecting in her mismatched eyes. They widen as she realizes what’s coming. “Don’t do it, shit human, desha!” I just laugh and move the flame below the panties, which instantly ignite, as expected. The panties only burn for about a second before completely disintegrating into ashes. “NOOO, DEGYA!” “You do realize that’s the least of what’s going to happen to you, right?” She ignores me in favor of wailing wordlessly. I check the beaker. To my surprise, there’s not a single bit of shit in it. This might necessitate some… ‘unconventional’ tactics… I move to my equipment cabinet and retrieve a scalpel and a pair of tweezers. I also grab a specimen jar (a fancy way of saying a plastic tupperware container) and a bottle of red dye. I set the bottle and the jar on the counter, place the tweezers in my left, and wield the scalpel with my right. It’s time to brush up on my amateur surgery skills! The incision for this particular operation is traditionally placed about 8 inches below the jissou’s chin, but I don’t believe in tradition, so I just make one long cut from her left armpit to about the center of her chest. Unlike with the dress destruction, she raises a hellishly loud, wordless scream. Also new is the torrent of panic shit finally splattering into the beaker. I use the tweezers as impromptu retractors, spreading the wound and exposing the jissou crystal. If you can’t guess what happened next, you’re an idiot. I snatch the crystal up with the tweezers. I wave it in front of her face, to her general despair. Now, I suture the wound up. Wouldn’t want her to pass out before the fun really begins, do I? I place the sutures carefully, making sure to not cause her undue discomfort at this point in time. She’s too delirious with pain to really comprehend what’s happening, so what’s the point? The process takes about 10 minutes, and when I’m done, she’s recovered somewhat from the shock of having her internal organs exposed to the air by way of a gigantic gash in her chest. “S…Shit abuser…Mr. Man…. decha…” She spits out between breaths. “You think I’m bad now? Just wait.” “What do… you mean…decha…” “Well, look up.” I position the red dye, upside-down, over her green eye. When she looks up, I squeeze the bottle. A single drop forms and falls. “Nooo!” She tries to close her eye, but the drop’s already in midair, and enough makes it in for the inevitable to take place. The eye turns red. “NOOOOO DEGYAAAAAAA-” How the hell does she still have the energy to scream?! God. I need to fucking fix that, but right now she needs to breathe. I can’t have her passing out. The first maggot plops into the beaker of shit, which is currently showing roundabouts a quarter of a liter, which is ridiculous. The maggot’s likely to drown, so I snag it gently with the tweezers and drop it into the specimen jar I grabbed earlier. “Tettere~!” “Tettere~!” “Tettere~!” And so on, for about 5 more times. You know, while I’m systematically plucking maggots out of a beaker over the space of 10 minutes, my mind starts to wander. I’m thinking about something totally random: an old science theory called the Law of Conservation of Matter, which states that matter cannot be destroyed or created (with the exception of nuclear fission by way of Einstein’s E=MC2). Jissous create their own offspring from nothing, which isn’t a new phenomenon in nature. However, they can eat their own offspring, shit, create more babies, eat most but not all of them, shit, create more babies, and so on ad infinitum, and survive fairly well. If the cycle isn’t closed, and mass is leaving the equation, that would mean that the mother would starve to death after a finite number of generations. But she doesn’t. The same thing happens to maggots. They can create excrement without eating, and without damaging themselves. This means that the mother and the maggot are creating matter at some point in the cycle, which blows a gigantic hole in the Law of Conservation, and every theory (Relativity) that is based off of it. If jissous can break those, can they break bigger things, like Causality (the principle that every effect has a cause and vice-versa), and give us time travel? Infinite energy? Something even stranger? Whatever. I’m not here to philosophize, I’m here to torture jissous for science. The mother has a litter of 9 maggots and a thumb. She’s exhausted from labor; I can hear her panting from across the room. The labor excrement has added a full deciliter to the jar, making the total about 4.5 deciliters, or about half a liter if my metric skills don’t fail me. The mother takes up about that much space. What the hell. We’re not even done yet! At least, I hope we aren’t. I put the cap on the specimen jar, enclosing the 10 children inside. I set this aside, and return my attention to the mother. She’s recovered again, and looks back up at me. “Mr. Ma-” “No. You’re going to shut up.” “Wha-” I grab the needle and thread again, and poke it through her left cheek. “AAAAAAAAA” For the love of God. And I’m an atheist. Anyways, the needle goes through her other cheek. Essentially, I’m sewing a tear in her face, though this tear happens to be her mouth. It’s just like suturing any other wound up. So, yeah, she’s gagged on surgical thread in a very short time, about a minute and a half. Silence, blessed silence fills the room. But she’s still shitting…? How the hell… Now passing the half-liter marker. This is madness! The shit weighs more than her! Fucking hell… We need to get her emptied already. Time to speed up the process. I open the specimen jar, and snag a maggot. It’s covered in shit, so I run it under the tap for a second (punipuni ref-glrlglrglrg) to clean it off. When it’s clean and requesting belly rubs, I turn to the mother. “Isn’t maggot-chan cute?” I say, parodying her now-dead kojissou child. She murmurs something through her sutured mouth, and nods her head. “Do you want to keep her?” She nods again. “If you wanted to keep a maggot-chan, why would you eat the maggot-chan you already had?” This appears to confuse her; she looks at me with her head cocked a bit, and makes a noise. “You must not want maggot-chan after all.” She nods emphatically. “So, you don’t want her?” She nods again. “Alright then, if you don’t want her, I’m just going to eat her.” “Refu?” “Mmh! Mmmmmmh!” Ignoring the confusion of the maggot and the dissent of the mother, I open my mouth and drop the maggot in. The unfortunate maggot tries to fight peristalsis, but 20+ muscles can’t be denied. Within 10 seconds, the maggot finds itself in a small, squishy cavern filled with undiluted hydrochloric acid. *POOOOT* The noise I’ve been waiting to hear echoes through the room. The noise of a jissou who has run out of excrement. Awesome. “Alright, let’s get you out of there.” She looks at me with wide-eyed disbelief as I undo the clamps holding her limbs to the steel frame. I lift her considerably-lightened body up and smile into her face. “Do you want to be my pet?” She nods. “Okay, but there’s one thing. You have to fight my old pet. Here he is!” I say, dramatically uncovering the terrarium that contains a sex-deprived penis jissou. “Have fun!” I drop her into the waiting arms of her new boyfriend. Without any pretense, he shoves himself inside her. I look away from the spectacle and measure out my foul-smelling catch. Final volume total: 6/10 of a liter. Insane, considering the size of a jissou is roughly equal to that. Huh. How does that happen? Jissous can’t be gigantic pressure vessels, especially considering their fragility; in any case water (which is 95% of their feces) is incompressible. It makes very little sense. Their body isn’t 100% shit, I know that for a fact considering I just made an incision on a jissou and observed that myself. Meh. My job is ‘what,’ not ‘why.’ I get a piece of paper and write: “Tests have proved that jissous can expel roughly three-fifths of a liter of feces. As this value is the same as the volume of the jissou itself, it is currently unclear how this amount of feces is stored or created.” Hmm. I just noticed the word ‘tests.’ I suppose that means I get to do this all again. Marvelous. But first, lunch, eating that one maggot has left me hungry. I take the specimen jar and get ready to boil some water. Oh yeah, the crystal. Smashy-smashy. Mother vaporizes just before Mr. Jissou reaches his climax. He wails in despair before realizing his hands can be used for the same purpose. So, yeah, lunchtime. My favorite: Boiled Jissous! Delicious. Work can wait for a while…
Glad to see you returned to the first storyline frankperson, that was quite entertaining to read. Oh also for the solution to the shit goblin's shit, if you need one at all, something that I was considering using in my story eventualy: Foam. Jissou shit is basically just a foam of some sort, which doesn't get expand until exposed to air (or something in it).
Your character also needs to set up a control jissou, left alone over a beaker with no stimulus, so he sees how much the shit normally when not being tortured. It would lend an air of credibility to the story. I don't know where he'd keep the thing, but it would have to be out of sight of the torturing. Anyway, we really need a way to gather up all these stories somewhere. Maybe make a jissou story wiki or somethihng.
Weird, considering Justin made a point of establishing controls during previous sciencings. Also, I recently had the same idea, but for a jissou wiki in general. More widespread information about the subject is important and could lead to new content. Of course, a focus on the stories would be all but inevitable since it's the thing we have the most control on. An in-depth article for each chapters like in TV series' wikias, with cultural references and shit, would make my day. After all, the stories here do have a fat load of references in them.
>>585 I actually just forgot. My apologies. If you want an explanation for some reason, remember that Justin makes it very clear that he's in this one for the torture. I'd go for a jissou wiki. Every time I write, I find myself diving into this thread (or the Great Archive) for some detail. It'd be nice not to have to dig through everything. It'd also be nice to have stories in their own little page, particularly things like Civ J and the Jessa story, which are spread out over literally 1000 posts in the Archive.
InLeaves, I may be able to throw a Jissou wiki up, but if so may take a bit as I've other stuff to do first. If nothing else I'll add a Jissou board on bokuchan once it goes back up so we can archvie shit there.
Did everyone die?
>>569 I think I'm alive. I just don't have stable internet at the moment. Moving vans suck.
>>570 aww, man, good luck with that, I like to read your stories.
Ten Thousand Stumps Show 2 : All Guns Blazing Continued from >>524 Thierry Genestar By all accounts, she remembered just right. After a night sleeping in the car, we went and explored the whole area. Took us the whole morning and a bunch of “Hm, nope, nevermind, desu”, but we finally found the mysterious mansion she was taken to and then told to forget. There's...not a whole lot a doubt remaining. There's the house, there's the mountain, there's the forest, and HOLY FREAKING SHIT HOW MANY JISSOUS ARE THERE ? Well, to be honest, I am running after a mysterious group which only confirmed trait is to be able to manipulate large amounts of the pests. But you know, sometimes you can't help but jump, no matter how prepared you are. Sylvia, is, of course, aghast with excitement. She wanted to get back lost time ? Hell, she can get back a whole century with all the crap she's looking at. Me ? I should send postcards. On the other side of the Atlantic, a certain scientist should receive a photo of the valley with naught but a caption : "Wish you were here". "So, yeah, it's that big, white house on the mountain flank, desu. Sure of it, I remember the roof that directly connects to the balcony on the side, desu." "Does look peculiar. Tell you what, the trail goes to the forest. We hide the car there, and go to the house by foot." "Okay, as long as I get to waste some jissous on the way, desu." “You may want to keep your energy for the house itself.” “Why ? You think it's infected, desu ?” “There are always jissous trying to get into human-occupied houses at any given moment. Those on the mountainside are stationary. It means that, yes, the house is now jissou territory, and the whole metropolis knows it.” “Oh, so we'll have to kick some ass before settling in, desu.” “Exactly right.” As we begin our ascent, the jissous of this mega-tribe, come, of course, to us, but they quickly reconsider when the first Mama to get to us gets flattened by Sylvia's fist. Unlike what I saw back in France near the pet shop, those talk a human language, in this case English. They're substantially harder to understand than human speakers, given their unnatural voice. But considering that they always say the same shit...I think I'll manage. A mild mountain climbing later, we're at the not-so-long-awaited villa. It's by no means mundane : A designer house, very modern, a tad pretentious. First and foremost, that right here is a textbook exterminator case. The door is wide open, and the trademark green goo serves as a red carpet. My guess is we have a maximum of thirty families, but if the supplies are depleted, which is highly likely, there should only be a dozen. Jissouseki don't like crowds any more than you do. If the eldorado is depleted, they will get back to the great outdoors. “All right. The weather is mild, so we can't count on the temperature. We'll have to do this the old-fashioned way. How about you exterminate everything you see, and I handle the protection against future invasions ?” “What do you mean, desu ? We can waste their asses as they come, no problem, desu !” “Hey” I say with a wink. “What good am I if I can't show off my experience ? Believe me, I know how to make this house jissou-repellent. Even with the legion waiting over here. Numbers aren't an issue if you have the right know-how.” I tap on her shoulder. “I just need you to have fun.” She gives me an angry look. Still touchy...but she silently steps forward the main room. Without saying a word, she grabs a maggot and holds it it the air. Unsurprisingly, it says belly soft and yada yada yada. Also unsurprisingly, it quickly dies. I guess she did that to get the attention of all the jissous around, because it did exactly that. I put rubber gloves on. Time to get to work. I always regularly participated in cleansing. It helps gain the trust of my guys, and well, I like it. There's something really cool in methodic extermination that most abusers can't experience. Sure, every human is a demigod when they trample on jissous, but we exterminators never address them. We just kill and search every nook and cranny for children and maggots. Even the dim brains of our favorite parasites are able to understand quickly-ish that an extermination team is something mechanical, unstoppable. So you begin to witness a clumsy re-enactment of disaster movies. They don't even try to plea or communicate in any form. To them, we've gone from human beings to Doom itself. It's quite awesome. Well, you at least have to be three people with adequate training. Sylvia here is way too passionate to trigger this response. Too bad. I search the house to see what has been spared. There's always something. Nothing at ground level will be in any kind of order or cleanliness, of course, but the jissous know when something is useless. Take a vacuum cleaner, for example. Can't eat them, can't use them. So they'll just shit on it for being shit thing and leave it at that. And that's good, because vacuum cleaners are instrumental in durably cleansing houses. And no, not in the obvious way. You'll understand soon enough. The vacuum cleaner aside, there are a tool box, bottles of house cleaning stuff with children security that allowed them to stay closed, a nice stash of various strong alcohols on the top of the shelves -awesome-, garbage bags, pet cages and various kitchen ustensiles. A mother runs away from Sylvia, followed by three children. Perfect. "Kind Mr.Man, help us, degyaa !" "Weird jissou-chan has invaded our pretty home, techaa !" I take the mama by the braids, holding her up in the air while I trample her little girls, without uttering a sound. "DEGYAA ? Mr.Man pillages our home too ? Why ororoooon ?!" While she thrashes around in panic, I rummage in my fanny pack to find a certain tool. Some of you may know it by way of the sex toy industry. It's a mix between a corkscrew and a cylinder, and its function is boring holes in a Jissouseki's soft skull. Due to simple design and lack of any fuck, it always takes a chunk of the brain with it. Which leaves my jissou paralysed since I chose the rear side of the head, where the motion centers are located. That done, I leave her, immobile but alive, on the kitchen's table, leaning on the wall. I must save her for later. And while Sylvia passionately takes care of the visible part of the occupying force, I silently pitch into the boring work. Hunting the hidden. A single maggot in a good hiding place can spawn a family under a week. Especially if it's a hidden spot she can't get out of. She'll shit babies at a stupid rate just to stay alive. So yeah, you'll have to make sure every damn crevice is clear. Candy would usually be enough, but not when you just killed the mama. Children are stupid, but you don't need to be sentient to understand fear. For this, four courses of action. Loud sound and boiling vinegar are the everyman's method to get the maggots out of hiding. The third method is the weapon of mass destruction : the 7-kilo ultrasound device, or any equivalent. But that shit's expensive. You know what's really effective and affordable for nearly everyone ? A simple goddamn recording. It's the kind of thing so simple few ever think of it. Of course, it requires getting a jissou to talk into a microphone, which is no small feat. Every exterminator has a few voice boxes with a mechanical arm waving around and a kojissou's voice repeating "come, maggot-chan, I will rub your belly, te !" over and over. After the main rampage, you just scatter them through the house, remain still for a few minutes, and tadam ! You gathered every maggot still alive, panting on their backs in front of the mechanical arm. Not infallible, mainly because of mutations and maggots just plain stuck into their hiding places, but you don't need to worry about them having offspring. So, of course, I brought some with me. It's just that they say "Viens, maggot-chan, je vais te câliner le ventre, te !". Yeah, what did you expect ? I AM French. Fortunately, as you know, that's just going to be a problem for about three minutes. Sylvia "Cinq cent connards sur la ligne de départ Cinq-cent blaireaux sur leur moto ! Ca fait un max de blairs aux portes du désert Un paquet d'enfoirés aux vents du Ténéré ! Le rallye mécanique des Mad Max de bazar Va recommencer son cirque au soleil de janvier 'vont traverser l'Afrique avec les pieds dans le phare Dégueulasser les pistes, et revenir bronzés" What the shit is that ? As I'm plunging my fist up a mama's ass, I can hear that frenchie playing some song on his phone. Some lame song, which can be heard in the entire lower floor. I don't know what he's doing, but I doubt it's as awesome as he says. All the mamas are dead and accounted for anyway. The rest can't do shit against me. Anything less than pure violence is wasted on the shitdolls. Ah, I still have to deal with the upper floor. I tear the piglet's stomach from the inside and throw her against the very modern fireplace occupying one of the walls. Her head is severed against the edge of the mantlepiece and she dies silently. And as I make my way up the stairs, I can hear that fucking “depupupu” laugh. Obviously, my massacre was observed and enjoyed by those dwelling upstairs. Never occurred to them that they could be next. “You showed the shit jissous who is boss, weird jissou-chan, depupupu !” “Hooray for weird jissou-chan, te !” “Belly soft and springy, please rub, refu !” No less than four families are gathered on the stairs, cheering. They are completely clueless. "Let's play a game" I say. "Run to the end of the corridor, desu. The winner gets candy, desu !" Their natural competitiveness quickly kicks in, and the thirty or so jissous begin to run, already trampling maggots in the first meters. However, one of the mamas stands still. "De ? Why play a game when you can give me the candy right now, desun~ ?" "Hey, you're right desu, why ?" Bam, headshot. Midway through the corridor, the running group staggers and turns back. It's only the flashball gun, so the bang isn't really that loud, but it had this surprising effect of distracting the whole group of jissous from the promise of candy. I'm sure some people would have been very curious about it. *BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG* And here is how you do my world-famous...Completely unharmed jissouseki salad ?! What in the name of holy fuck ? First I miss maggots sleeping, and as soon as I think I'm clear shooting a mama at close range, here I am missing a whole salvo in a freakin' corridor ?! Fuck this, I'm a born sharpshooter, what happened to... ...Shit, right. My firearms training was part of the programming. With my freedom comes power-suckage with guns. “What did you do, weird jissou-chan, desu ? Noise is not useful, you know, desu ?” “I'll show you useful, desu !” I charge towards them. After all, who the fuck needs guns when you can RIP AND TEAR ? Thierry Genestar As I turn my phone off when the song ends, I see Sylvia entering the kitchen, jissou paste all over her. Some prejudiced girls in my high-school class wouldn't want to admit she's even of their gender. “So, what was that lame-ass song, desu ?!” “Thou shalt not disrespect Renaud, you fucking philistine.” I reply with my best haughty voice. “Humpf...How's that supposed to help us clear the house anyway, desu ?” “Quite efficiently in fact. One song is largely enough for maggots to learn my entire language. Not so with children and adults, but I'm assuming you took care of those.” “Yeah, I did desu. One family had took some of the cutlery with them, but jissous and weapons don't like each other much.” “Indeed they do not. Anyway, see that little box with the likeness of a jissou arm on the floor ?” “Yeah, desu.” “It's something that attract maggots with motion and a recorded voice. But it's in French so I had to teach them the language beforehand. I've placed the boxes all over the first floor. By the time we've broadcasted another song upstairs, all the maggots on this floor should be out in the open.” “It's how you exterminators avoid maggots hiding and reproducing ?” “Exactly. Come. For now there's only waiting to do, but once the maggots wiped out, we get to the fun part.” Fifteen minutes later, it's done. The voice boxes did wonderfully. I begin to put the dozens of dead jissous in a garbage bag. “That's the fun part ?” “Ahaha, no, merely a mandatory step. Well, near a settlement this huge I doubt the smell of dead jissous would be attractive, but you never know.” I put the bag outside the house, and empty it on the floor. Most of the jissous looking at me with dead, grey eyes are maimed, decapitated or otherwise physically killed, with means there's a lot of blood, compared to extermination by poison. Which means, in turn, that the mound of corpses is extremely flammable. So I light some dry weed and throw it into the mound. A big “WOOF” is heard and a bonfire is lit under the overcast weather. Time for the finishing touch. The mother I left on the table is still here. The destroyed nervous system prevented her from even shitting. As expected. “That mongrel just stood there, desu ?” “She kind of had no choice. Here, I'll show you what I was talking about.” I take the mama over to the sink, without her uttering a sound. I continue to prep her, taking a knife. Delicately entering the hole in the skull, I plunge it slightly downards, to the throat, and carve a circular hole, creating an open tunnel from the back of her head all the way to the mouth. Even by avoiding the brain, she will die shortly. Just not before she got herself useful. “Sylvia, I plugged and assembled the vacuum cleaner, can you get it over there ? I'm almost done.” “Huh, okay, desu.” My flesh-crafting done, I take the vacuum cleaner's hose, and delicately push it through the opening. The paralyzed jissou is completely slack, but I can almost feel her hellish panic. When I happen to waste jissous in my spare time, always for a good reason, I always try to be somewhat expedient. But this is for my duty, and every bit of cruelty is justifiable. Done at last, I brandish my contraption towards the jissou hybrid, obviously interested. “Where I learned that, we called it the “Judas Priest”.” “That's really kind of cool, the turd must be beyond panicked now, but what's it for, desu ?” “Vaccinating a house, if you will. You see, no matter how thorough you are in an extermination, it always has -it's the whole point- the effect of getting the humans back in control. Which immediately makes it a target for feral jissous all over again.” “Yeah, they never give up, desu. You know how it is, they don't have any survival instinct, those pathetic pukepipes, desu.” “Ah ah ! That's the catch. They do, in fact, have a perfectly functional survival instinct. They are, to some extent, rational creatures. Did you ever see a kojissou fighting alone against a cannibalistic mama five times her size ? Or keep fighting rather than flee when a swan kicks their asses ? Nope, they do have retarded ideas, but they usually quickly fall back to good old survival instinct. Except in one exception.” “Hum, desu ?” “When they are agaaiinst ?” “Ah, humans, desu !” “Exactly ! That overwhelming desire they have to become pets is pretty much the root of all the shit they go through. Without it, I think we would mostly get along. At least better than we do now. Anyway, as long as something is human territory, it can vaporize them the instant they get withing ten meters, but they will never really give up trying to become the pet of the house. So the only option we have is to remove, at least in their eyes, the human element altogether, and make it appear like the lair of a big, mean, incredibly powerful matriarch.” “Hence your...Judas Priest here ?” “Affirmative.” “You slurp up jissous trying to come it, and the rest of the tribe believes it's the mama who did that, desu ? That really works, desu ?” “You bet. We never went far into studying street jissou sociology, but we know it works. They obey the law of the strongest, and apparently, word of mouth gets fast. They don't recognize any human's authority, but they sure recognize a big mama's. It's effective long enough for the owners to get back into the house and settle back, lessons learned about house safety.” “Still seems too simple, desu. I mean, it's just a damn mama skewered on a vacuum cleaner, desu. Even they must get it's unnatural, desu.” “Unnatural is good if they don't know a human's behind it. You just have to assure the mama's still alive -for the eyes- and nobody but the victims sees the human handling her. Here, take the Judas Priest for a spin. We let the windowed doors to the terrace open, families will soon enough try to get in. As soon as they do, vacuum away. They should quickly stop coming.” “Oh yeah, that's going to be awesome, desu !” As I hear the first chirpings interrupted by grunts of effort closing in on us, I'm pretty confident it will be just that. Later, around 8PM. Sylvia had the really good idea to take in some jissous alive before vacuuming the others and effectively isolating us. After all, we have pet cages, but all the food has been consumed, so, good thinking. I'm really not psyched to eat nothing but Jissouseki for days, but we really can't be picky. Especially since I found a computer in perfect working condition. So now I'm sitting in front of the plasma screen, and Sylvia's coming behind me, munching away at a bowl of fried maggots. “What have you got, desu ?” “Well, not much it seems. I mean, it's a personal computer. There are standard programs, games, and what seems to be three separate mathematical applications. Oh, and it has Internet.” “This far in the middle of nowhere, desu ?” “Yeah.” “How did they get it here, desu ?” “Beats me. I don't know shit about the French telecommunications system, so America's...Dunno, directly from a satellite ?” “Wouldn't that be expensive, desu ?” “Probably, but this place doesn't scream “I'm very reasonable with my money”.” “Guess not, desu.” Now that it belongs to human territory, that place is awesome. Still some jissou shit here and there, and the perfume will linger for a long time, but it's vast, modern, and generally nothing like the my-first-house I'm the proud owner of. Not to mention it actually had a lot of reserves in high places. No real food, not even easy to keep stuff like rice. No, we're talking more about spice and condiments. A lot. Makes sense. The only thing we know about the previous owners is that they worked in the up-and-coming business of applicated Jissoulogy, so their diet must have been heavily reliant on the living dolls as well. Hence the load of spices. Jissou goes with everything. It also is awesome for cocktails. Sylvia Mistress let me play on her computer, but this one is so much cooler. Big ass screen, big tower without any lame brand marks on it. The Frenchie seems to be mostly exploring the system for now. There has to be something we can find about the owners there. I admit that, since I remembered -faintly- about that place, I got pretty curious. Who are these people, and why should my “creators” bring me here and then tell me to forget ? I mean, it's way too suspicious for a place that, neighboring sea of jissous aside, seems pretty fucking boring. Nowhere near some cool base of operations for villains. Plus, there's too much windows, it's creepy. “I don't think it's the computer they use for their actions” He said while taking something out of a bowl. “but I saw some directories that are password-protected so there has to be something in there.” “Anything about me, desu ?” “Huh, let me check.” “'kay...what that in the bowl, desu ?” “Oh, something I improvised with the stuff I found around. I took some maggots, diced them up, cooked them a little bit before making them marinate in lemon juice. After that, I coated them with sugar, and threw the result in gin...I love making shit like this on the fly.” “Sounds weird, but I'll have a teste, desu.” “Go right ahead. By the way...You do what gin is don't y-” FUCK ! I didn't know you could spit-take solid food. As soon as I put the cube of maggot flesh in my mouth, something burned. The guy is laughing is ass off. “Booze virgin eh ? Don't worry, happened to every human.” “Fuck you, desu !” “Anway, gin is a strong alcohol, so, yeah, it's supposed to burn, even when soaked in sugar.” “Whatever, desu. *Ptooey* So, any results, desu ?” “Nothing for Sylvia yet...” “Sylvia won't work, desu. Try PTLD, desu.” “As in...the four letters ? Why ?” “Just do it, desu.” “Ok-ay.” In the search window, something came up. “Yeah, seems to be in the “R&D” directory. Makes sense, but...ah crap I knew it, it's locked.” “Shit, can't you hack into it, desu ?” “Don't have the slightest idea how to. But I'll try to find something about that in the internet. Maybe you can try finding material evidence ? There were some documents upstairs.” “Yeah, I prefer a hands-on approach, desu.” So I get upstairs, pensively twirling my guns around. Immunizing the house against jissous ? That's boring and retarded, but at least I'll have the time to practice and get my skill back the natural way, until I find the bastards behind all this. Yeah, sure, they're threatening the world, but I have a score to settle. So let's see, maybe they have some sort of record about the lab. Even accounting would be useful. There are lot of novels, but there are some ring binders near a desk. The assholes didn't think of putting labels on the sides, so I push them to see the front label. Cavanaugh VR...JMC Hypothesis...Boring...Boring...Click...Boring...Click ? When I pushed a white, unassuming binder, something resisted and I heard a click. “Did you just do something ?” I heard coming from downstairs. “Huh, yeah, desu !” “Come down here !” I shrug. “Non mais, n'importe quoi !” He spits while pointing to the mantlepiece, which has risen a good one meter and a half upward, now revealing a door. “A secret passage ? Wicked, desu !” “Yeah, just as you say. Why am I even surprised by this ?” “I know my captors for being a bit insane about their architecture, so, yeah, par for the course, desu.” “The question is, where does it lead ?” “An abuse dungeon, duh, desu.” “Yeah, an abuse dungeon in a house miles away from any town. The complete social acceptance of jissou abuse notwithstanding...” “What ? Every now and then there's some retarded outrage about an abuser, usually led by PETA, desu.” “Are you fucking kidding me ? Public outrage ?” “Well, most people realize abuse is necessary if not awesome, but the national media still throws a fit occasionally, desu.” “What the fucking hell...” He just shakes his head while opening the black door inside the fireplace, revealing some stairs. Why this reaction ? Could it mean... “You don't have pro-jissou protesters in your country, desu ?” “We do have some, sure, but not in any kind of national scale...Anyway, there has to be some kind of answer about what's afoot around here down those stairs.” “Yeah. Hey, what's this, desu ?” Behind the door, some kind of box is on the wall. The French exterminator opens it, and takes out some kind of earpiece. “Well, several of these, and that's it.” “There is so something important down there, desu.” “Yeah. If we figure out how to make them work, we can go there and stay in contact.” “How about I go now and you figure that shit out on the way, desu ?” “Huh...” “Yeah, great idea ! I'm off, desu !” “And if you need to activate that thing from your end ?” “I'll just go back after a while, don't worry, desu.” I don't let him argue and take the earpiece from him. “I'll play with that stuff along the way, so if you activate the thing on your end, just keep singing something until I hear it, desu.” “Oh for crying...At least take my headlamp !” I turn back and catch the device he takes from his lame-tastic fanny pack. Very compact, with a simple piece of plastic attached to an elastic thread to attach the lamp around the head. Handy. “It doesn't have a lot of battery so don't throw a party in here !” “What do you think I'll find, desu ?” I say while strutting down the stairs. “A fucking labyrinth ?” “Do not fucking provoke destiny at this point.” I chuckled. I probably shouldn't have.
As usual, good shit inleaves.
I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 5 As I was walking away from the trash can I had tossed the Jissou tribes clothes into, I heard pitiful wailing in the distance. I smiled and kept walking. A short time later I reached the Jissou shop. "Hey man" the guy the ran the pet shop asked "are you sure this is a good idea?" Let me elaborate. This trip wasn't quite as spur of the moment as it may seem. Upon having my idea when Gorgo's green eye pregnancy occurred, I had called Dave, the owner of the pet store, and arranged for some items to be made up. "Probably not, but it'll be fucking hilarious even if it only partially works." "Hah, you got a point there man. Oh, right, my anual inspection is due. Mind getting that shit out of the way today ?" Fuck. Work. Ah well I did get those specials made up cheap and on short notice. "Sure thing Dave, you tend to have quality shit anyway." "Well feel free to look around, I see some customers coming" With that, he turned his attention to the mother and daughter entering the store, and I turned my attention to the various displays in the store. Dried Jissou shit packaged as food, check. Dried Jissou shit packaged as food, check. Dried Jissou shit packaged as food, check. Dried Jissou shit pack....... wait this one has some sugar as a flavoring. Check. Dried and dyed and flavored Jissou shit, sold for ten times as much, check. Luxury Jissou food, dried Jissou shit with waste products from meat processing plants, check. The next room over, monitored by a security camera and a guard in the back room who doubled as a clerk if needed, housed the lower quality Jissous. None were abuse grade, as Dave liked to keep those in the stock room, but they were not exactly what one would call a quality item. The funny thing was more of these sold to abusers because they were too lazy to ask to see the abuse grade boxes. Time to start the inspection I guess. Dave was rather smart in managing his shitdolls. As his lower grade Jissous shat out offspring rather often, he seperated all of the offspring into several boxes based on age. Box one was the low grade maggots. If it was a maggot, it almost always ended up in this box. This box was in many ways the cornerstone of his buisness. When they grew up, they could go into the regular boxes for low grade Jissous. As the grew up, they filled other low grade boxes. If there was an overflow, they could go into the abuse box as food or a resident. Usually they ended up as food, however every few batches he would simply move the box as a new abuse batch rather than feed it's contents to the older abuse dolls. Checking the box, I saw no deformities, or abnormalities. The box was coated in shit, despite the attempts to keep it clean, but that is to be expected with fucktons of maggots. Ignoring the requests for "punipuni ~refu!" I moved to the next box, which housed Thumb-chans, and roughly the same number of maggots. Most of them were busy rubbing bellys or otherwise caring for their favorite maggot-chan. This was how Dave sorted his Jissous, he segregates them by age, but mixes in smaller ones. If the smaller one becomes food, the offending Jissou becomes food for the abuse section. If a Jissou does a really good job, he may move it to a higher class box, or at least a customer may be more likely to buy it. Seeing no mutations, or abuse grade behavior, I mentaly checked off that box as well. The next box was five boxes. Each box had three child sized Jissous, and each of them had two thumbs and three maggots. Once again, the same survival test of the smaller Jissous applied, and seeing no mutations, I moved to the final row of boxes along the back wall. Along the back wall, each box was in reality a large cube shaped terrarium measuring about five feet each way, with a hatch on the front. Inside were the lowgrade mothers and several children. If the mother shat out more offspring, she got to choose which she kept and which went to other bins. They were, like the previous bins other than the maggots, mostly clean. The next room over held the mid grade and high grade Jissous. The mid grade ones were those that had done poorly at training centers, but still had been marked as trying to behave. These were in small groups in terrariums, and quite well behaved and almost always clean. Working the floor were the high grade Jissous, who had been rated as very well behaved but not smart enough for select grade. These Jissous could refill the food and water in the terrariums, and assist the slightly lower grade Jissous as needed. While it was a slight security risk, they did lack the ability to open the terrariums and were watched on camera. Besides, Dave's insurance coverd it and it was a great selling point. Seeing nothing abnormal, and no disturbance aside from an adult high grade scolding one of the residents of a terrarium for not noticing and cleaning its soiled panties right away, I went into the next room. Saves select room is actually in the adjoining building, accesable thru several sets of doors, and guarded by a shop assistant who doubled as a security guard and was lisenced to carry a silenced pistol (afterall you cant have a loud noise scare one of these items). The select room has some of the highest grade Jissous you can find outside of a custom trained shit goblin. When you enter the select room, the first thing you notice is the lack of green dresses. Dave has a standing policy of not accepting any of this grade in green dresses. Blue. Pink Black. Red Yellow. White. Any fucking color that inst pink, he accepts. Furthermore, these are all their natural dresses they grew with. As I enter, I see Jissou's sipping tea. I see Jissous sharing cookies. I see Jissous combing eachothers hair, and even using hairpins to style it. What I don't see is any sort of greeting, they are trained to leave you the fuck alone unless you talk to them. Nodding to myself, I walk out the way I came, and go thru a door I had passed earlier. Behind the two buildigns that make up Dave's Jissou shop is an fenced in storage area with metal storage containers used to store supplies. Also out here is the abuse grade bins, Jissous go here if they misbehave, or if Dave simply has too many. One bin is full of scared looking thumbs and child sized Jissous, they are behaving so far and must have been excess. The next three bins are full of various sized Jissous, and the bins themselves are coverd in blood and gore. One bin is mostly empty, and full of a bloody filthy and fat old sow of a Jissou, who is eating a child. Well, inspection done, I take the back door to the front room of the store as I see the mother and daughter going deeper into the store, having finished talking to Dave. Perfect timing. I get Dave's inspection log from the wall behind the counter and sign it, then grab my bags and head home. --- Yeah more filler, but slowly making my way back to the plot.
>>574 Nice, dont worry, your "filler" is entertaining to read anyway. Just want to see Gorgo kick some feral ass soon.
Sorry for the delay. I moved, had to get a new laptop, had to get new Internet, and then discovered Battlefield 3... Jissou Mythbusters Chapter 2 Grinding Gears Delicious…. Ahem. Lunchtime’s over, I guess. In case you’re wondering, the recipe involved 9 maggots, a few fresh herbs, a bit of diced onion, and a pot of boiling water. But whatever. Eagle-eyed readers will remember the thumb that my last test subject was, shall we say, ‘coerced’ into creating. Well, she’s going to have a special purpose in an upcoming project of mine, but I have some work to do before that. So, she stays in the specimen jar that she’s been occupying for the past few minutes. As I walk away towards my back door, I can hear her muffled “Reeeeeeeeeeen,” which is probably the result of seeing her younger siblings being brutally cooked and eaten through the clear plastic. You see, I made a rather large mistake in my last experiment. I forgot to include a control jissou. You might say “So what?” Thing is, I need a comparison. As does the rest of the scientific community. If I sent the results on to my customer, and he contracted someone else for a second opinion (which has actually happened), I’d probably be laughed out of the state. Besides, extraordinary values mean nothing without ordinary ones to compare to. $1,000,000 means nothing unless you know what $1 buys. To that end, I need to hang another jissou over a jar and wait for as long as the first experiment took, which was about an hour. So, in the meantime, I’m going to work on a project I started a few months ago. Anyways, I step out my back door and head to my specimen-holding-shed-thingy. I unlock the padlock on the door- “Mr Man, techi!” What? I look down. By the closed door of the shed stand three kojissous, both looking up at me. “Do you have any extra things that we can have, techi?” says one kojissou. “We can use anything you have, techi!” says another. The third one says nothing, but stands with paws outstretched. The other two do as well, so there’s three symmetrically identical kojissous standing before me. Oh-kay then. I dig into my pocket and grab something random, which happens to be the rubber stopper to a test tube. I kneel down and hand it to them. “Here you go, little ones. Can you use this?” “Thank you, Mr. Man, techi!” They run off with their useless prize, ignoring my question. Intentionally or not, I’m not quite sure. I really don’t have a problem with this kind of thing. When jissous ask/tell me to take them into my home, I don’t take it very well. But this sort of thing is fine by me. Roving bands of scavenger jissous are signs of established jissou colonies; collections of self-sufficient jissous that live out in the forest, in fields, or generally anywhere that’s far from humanity, without human contact. I actually like observing this kind of thing. I was the kind of kid who watched anthills to see the little bugs cooperate. Their methods of living are fascinating to me. That rubber stopper, for example, has several uses. It could help weigh down a box to help resist the wind, it could be used as a kind of marker, or it could just be used as decoration or makeshift furniture. What makes the entire setup interesting is that the unique mindset of a jissou is still a factor. Greed, avarice, betrayal, murder, infanticide and cannibalism are the norm. It’s strangely interesting, once you get past the green goo and the strange pseudo-society. There’s only one issue right now, which I’m fairly sure you have noticed. My backyard’s fenced off and my shed is closed. Where the hell is the colony? The three kojissous run off into the bushes that sit in the corner of my backyard. Kneeling down, I can see their feet as they go into the very corner of the yard, and then their faces as they squeeze underneath the fence. That means, rather obviously, that there’s a hole there. Once I’m sure they’re gone, I drop a rock into the small hole and fill in around it by kicking some dirt in. I’ll have to go locate that colony, but at least there’ll be no more intrusions. At least the hole was only big enough for children to squeeze into. If it were bigger, I’d likely have found a group of boxes in here, and then I’d have been in big trouble. More correctly, they would have been in big trouble. Back to work, I guess. There’s a few children and adults roaming my backyard, escapees from my shed. No building can be perfectly jissou-proofed, from the inside or out. Doesn’t matter much to me, I’m confident in my home’s defenses. Besides, the pool’s a giant, enticing trap of its own. It also makes my job easier, because I can snag a random adult for my purposes without having to go into my shed. To that end, I re-attach the padlock and scout for an adult. I walk up to a likely specimen and grab her around the waist. I kick her children into the pool, and they immediately get sucked into the anti-jissou turbine. “NOOOO MY BABIES, DESHAAA!” “You’re going to be my pet.” “I am, desu?” Cute pose struck. Typical. I take the mother to the laboratory and lock her in the restraints. I place a beaker below her and walk out after saying some bullshit line about how I need to get the house set up for her or something. Whatever. I close the door, lock it, and put a timer for an hour on. In the meantime, I have a project to work on. I grab the specimen jar and walk into one of my side rooms, where a door stands in the center of the room. Yeah, just a door. Free-standing. This door is a testing ground of sorts for a mechanical device I first sketched out a few months ago, back when I lived in my old house. That house was old in every sense of the word. Instead of a standard mailbox, it had a mail slot in the door like you see in old ‘50s movies and in Europe. Jissous have the intelligence to slip a kojissou or maggot into the door, so I always had trouble with trespassers. After browsing the internet one night, I found an image that gave me an idea, and I sketched it out. The trap consists of a car battery hooked up to an electric motor which turned gears and wheels. Any kojissou or thumb that found itself in my door would be caught in these wheels, redirected, and flung at high speed out a small hole cut in the door with enough force to do severe harm to the hapless mother who dropped it in. There were a few problems, though. To accept mail, I had to leave a gap between the wheels. Maggots tended to fall down through this, so I had to put a plastic box below it to catch them. While I often made dinner form this box, I also ended up with shit-soaked letters. When I moved in to this house, I decided I’d improve the mechanism. To that end, there’s a freestanding door in this room. Attached to it is the Mailslot of Death, v2. I even got a request for methods to keep mail slots safe from intrusion from some guy in Canada, so I stand to make money from this thing, too. I feel like those guys who make prototype Lego sets. Anyways, I now get to settle down to some calculations of gear ratios and crap. I start with a test run with that thumb in the specimen jar. I pick up the thumb (“Hello Mr. Man rechi”) and drop her in the mail slot. The first pair of cylinders snags her as she enters and flings her towards another pair, towards the rear of the casing. There’s a small gap, but it’s not big enough for her to fit through. The cylinders accept the shock of her impact by riding backwards on springs, and they pick up the rotation of two wheels set in their path. Their new downward rotation flings her into a small, high-speed belt of rotating cylinders, which fling her out the small hole cut in the door, as expected. She flies out at what I’ve guesstimated to be 10 miles per hour based on the speed of the motor, landing perfectly on the bullseye of a dartboard I set up as a joke. There’s a cushion on the bullseye, so she lands somewhat softly and survives the otherwise-fatal launch. Lucky little thing. Of course, that means she’ll be fed through this thing again in a few minutes, but that means she gets a few minutes more of life. I scoop her up gently and set her in the specimen jar again. Now, I insert an envelope between the wheels. The wheels snag the envelope, and feed it between the two rubber-banded cylinders, which are inert because they’re not resting against the other, spinning wheels. The envelope slips between the two cylinders, and drops out of the slot in the back of the housing. Perfect. Larger envelopes work just as well. The bigger ones push the top cylinder, which rotates downwards and inwards to pull it through. The device is working just as well as I hoped. Now, I need to get some other ages of jissous to feed through. Particularly maggots, of course, since they didn’t work with my last model. Back outside I go… Now, I actually have to go to the shed. There’s no maggots lying around outside. Ever. The pool’s just too damn enticing for the little bastards. The kojissous and thumbs can give all the belly-rubs they want, but eventually the steamy warm water will prove overwhelming to their already-nonexistent self-restraint. Of course, then the sisters jump in like retards to save poor maggot-chan, the anti-jissou turbine kicks in, and 99% of the family is in the sanitary sewer. For the second time, I unlock the padlock on the door. This time, I actually enter. The fumes of jissou shit billow out like smoke exiting a window shattered by fire. Inside, 200 jissous catch sight of me and freeze. Some want homes, some want belly rubs, some are too preoccupied with the latter, and still others have found themselves in the loving arms of a penis jissou. Matters none to me, I just need children. I grab a spray bottle filled with a clear fluid and kneel by one of the 10 enclosures. “I’m in the mood to take a few pets today.” Instantly, every red/green eye combo in earshot glows like demonic Christmas ornaments. I start pointing at jissous, all of them being children, since adults are without exception too fat to get through a mail slot. “You, you, you, you, and you,” I say, punctuating each word by swinging my finger at another child. The selected jissous step forward, hope sketched on some faces, anxiety others. “Do you want to be my pets?” A chorus of affirmative answers. Two or three kojissous, however, do not join in. One speaks up. “Mr. Man, can I bring Maggot-chan with me, techi? She is small and doesn’t eat much, techi.” Said maggot-chan is in her arms, squirming around and attempting to rub its own belly on her dress sleeve. “That’s fine by me, she can come.” A small, solitary cheer. I grab a plastic container and start lifting children into it. Each one coos as I grab it, and sighs as I let it down. When half of the children are in their transport container, an adult jissou, easily two-and-a-half feet tall and about the same distance across, speaks up. “Don’t you want me as your pet too, Mr. Man, desu? I am small and don’t eat much, desu.” She strikes that “cute” pose which is actually an eldritch horror personally designed by Cthulhu for the express purpose of leading humanity to insanity. On the subject of her eating habits and supposed size, I’m calling bullshit. “No.” Straight to the point. Not that she’ll accept it. “Take me to my home and make me your pet now, desu!” Called it. Also, fuck you. Have a spray of acid. Yep, that’s what’s in the bottle. A stream of hydrochloric acid flies out and hits her, smack in the open jaw. Ignoring the searing pain and destruction of tissue, acids are sour. The stronger the acid, the sourer it tastes. I’ve never tasted anything lower than lemon juice in pH, but I’m pretty sure that the last thing this jissou tasted was something that made lemons seem like strawberries. “AHHHMHNHMNHARGMHGMH-” Acid trickling into one’s vocal chords makes it hard to talk, don’t it, bitch? She drops to her knees, grabbing at her chest as the acid makes its way into her stomach. It’s staying there, since stomachs are designed as acid containers, but she’s still suffering from chemical burns. Not to mention the ridiculous nausea that accompanies sudden stomach acid pH rise. I ignore her woes and retrieve the rest of the children. I also snag a few more maggots, just in case. “Mithter Man, detha…” No. I slide her forward, into the puddle of acid that dripped off of her. “DETHAAAAAA!” Her face begins to bubble and melt, Raiders style. One of the other adults, probably under the erroneous impression that helping me will get her a home, uses her leg to hold the melting jissou in the acid, which is hilarious, to give credit where due. Of course, balancing on one stump is difficult, and she slips, falling into the puddle of acid as well. “DEGYAAAAAA!” Awesome. I put a top on my plastic box and walk out, laughing at the hilarious screams of melting jissous. Other jissous in the enclosure tell the two to shut up, and I can hear the sounds of stump impacting flesh as I walk out. It’s the work of a moment to get inside, lock the door, and head to the test room. As I pass my lab, I glance at the timer. It reads 45 minutes, 43 seconds. As I feed the first maggot through the slot, it sighs, since I inserted it belly-down. The soothing, high-RPM belly rub turns into a launcher. *Splat!* God-fucking-dammit. Maggot hit the force-reactive cylinders too hard and detonated. Fuck, now I have to wade through spring tensions and gear ratios. Just for that, I’m putting another in, I want to see it explode this time. “Punipuni refuuuu-” *Splat!* Yes. Now, maybe I should fix the problem. *Splat!* Nah.
Ah, what an 'entertaining' problem..... Prehaps two mail slots, one higher up with a 'mail here' note, one below it with a 'jissou trap' note, complete with pictures of candy. Jissous see candy, and are lazy, go for lower one. Also, feel free to use the version of the door trap I posted in an earlier post (albiet that's a slot version also designed to work for packages too)
>>565 Anyway, we really need a way to gather up all these stories somewhere. Maybe make a jissou story wiki or somethihng. I'd be willing to host that if people would be intersted.
Some guy in Canada--would that be who I'm thinking it is?
>>578 As I said earlier, I'm fine with it as far as my stories are concerned.
>>580 It'll be up soonish, also added a /jissou/ board to the site.
>>579 Perhaps. I sincerely apologize for the delay in the next chapter. A potent combination of work, school, Internet issues, and Battlefield 3 have been the source of that. Expect it by Thursday at the absolute latest. >>580 I'll be visiting the board, in that case. I'l just have to get there by way of DesuChan...
Do they still ban for Jissou on desuchan ?
>>583 Only outside of /nij/. In /nij/, you have to deal with the "No gore and scat" rules, but aside from that its fair game. I've been in a thread (which appears to be dead now, sadly) with a guy by the way of jissoujissouman, and have yet to be banned.
Oh rite when they added that board it ceased to be bannable.
Jissou Mythbusters Episode 3 High as a Kite, or Outside Forces 2: Electric Boogaloo *Splat* *Splat* That’s just mesmerizing. I guess I need to fix this problem eventually… I’ve long ago figured out what spring tension I need, and I throw in the new springs. I toss a maggot in, and this time, it splatters on the dartboard, not the interior of the casing. Finally, Mailslot of Doom, v2 is fully operational and firing on all cylinders, so to speak. All I need to do now is set it up somewhere to see if it works in the field. *Driiiiiiing* Oh yeah, I forgot about that. To the lab I go. I shut the timer up and open the door. Not surprisingly, the smell of jissou shit is thick in the air. I look at the beaker. Inside is, predictably, jissou excrement, measuring up to… 0.0626 liters. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a result. .0626 liters is almost exactly 1/16 of a liter, which is quite a bit less than 3/5 of a liter. I love it when a good experiment comes together. Now comes the question as to what to do with this jissou here… “Hello, Mr. Man, desu!” That wasn’t delayed as fuck, not at all. Ignorance is bliss, so I decide to stay happy and ignore the fuck out of her. She’s having none of it, except she is since she’s strapped to a metal stand. “Mr. Man!” Nope. In the corner, the penis jissou makes a small unhappy noise, but I’m trying to think of something new to do to this jissou. Creativity never runs dry in this particular endeavor, but it might take me a minute or two. Something my test subject isn’t happy about. “Mr. Man, desu! Give me food, desu!” Straight to the damn point. Honestly, I’m not surprised. You know, I have a K-tank full of helium sitting around. I always have use for an asphyxiant gas, and helium is the easiest one to handle by far, given that it rises, doesn’t burn, doesn’t detonate, doesn’t actively kill, isn’t an ecological hazard, and doesn’t corrode. All and all, it’s the easiest way to euthanize test subjects that I don’t feel like torturing. Of course, we traditionally put this stuff in balloons, do we not? I leave the jissou strapped to the testing apparatus, and head to a small cabinet I use for storage. Inside, I pick up an old pack of balloons I bought a while ago for some reason I can’t remember. It only takes a minute to fill the balloon with the rising gas and tie it up with a good meter-and-a-half of surgical thread. Why so much? If you don’t know what I intend to do, note that jissous are rediculously light. As in, even adults can be carried off by birds of prey, kojissous can be plucked up by generic robins, and maggots are even sold live as food for small carnivorous birds. That last option is ridiculously funny to watch, as all the little bastards will snuggle up to their killer, only realizing after two or three of their fellows are swallowed whole that the big green/yellow/black/whatever thing in front of them wants them in its belly. The effect is maximized with the mother of the doomed children present. “Nooo refu!” “I am not food reCHAAAA” “Punipuni refu” “Mama, mama, save, repyeeen!” Of course, this is all a digression. If you still don’t get it, think a bit. Long string, perfect for tying things with. Light jissou. Almost-overfilled balloon. If you need more prompting, please leave the Internet. I return to the lab. “Hello Mr. Man! Did you bring food, desu?” Hah, no. But I need her trust, so… “Yeah, I did. Let me get you out of the bath stand.” Implausible, I know, but I had to call it something. Besides, she probably doesn’t know what I meant. She doesn’t resist as I release her from the metal clamps. Once she’s free and perched on the counter, I reveal the red balloon. “What is that, desu?” She’s mesmerized by the sight of the gravity-defying red orb. Surprising, since most wild jissous have seen the balloons that kids let go or that billow out of cars when some idiot opens the door. “It’s a new thing. It’ll let you float around the house, see everything from above. Let me get you into it.” “Sounds luxurious, desu…” Again, no resistance to my manhandling whatsoever. Particularly trusting, or particularly stupid? You make the call. I loop the thread around her waist, and cinch it tightly. 68 knots later, I have a floating jissou. I release the string, and she predictably floats to the ceiling. “Wheee! I am flying, de!” Her eyes shine with joy. Blech, I really hate happy jissous. Well, except for Sarah, but she’s an exception. I grab the small bit of trailing string and pull the balloon with cargo along, into the living room. This room is one that most jissous never see, and for good reason; the carpet’s plush, and deep fucking red. So is the furniture. Let’s just hope her panties can contain her excitement. Anyways, she’s in here because this is where I happen to have a special remote camera. It’s about 5 inches long and two wide, with integrated microphone and a decent picture quality for something so small and so cheap. The really important thing, though, is the super-long transmission range that the addition of a long antenna engenders. I haven’t tested it yet, but it should transmit a good ten miles, maybe 15 if I’m lucky and the weather is good. Which, a quick glance at the Weather Channel confirms, it is. I go outside. The balloon no longer has to deal with solid plaster, and so rises to the full extent the shortened string lets it. I set the jissou on the ground and quickly tie the camera into the string, pulling the balloon down and not her up. I’d rather not let her know the end result of this until I’m about to let her go; it’s more entertaining that way. After testing the strength of the knotting, I release the balloon, only to snag the trailing string. The jissou is suspended about 7 feet in the air, just barely above my privacy fence. “I’m high up, desu…” She begins to look apprehensive, and with good reason. “Time to tell you something. You aren’t my pet. You never will be my pet. You’re just some stupid feral that managed to land in the worst place imaginable for your kind. That red thing above you, that lifted you to the ceiling? It’s going to go higher. Higher than those trees. Higher than the tallest buildings humans have ever made.” She tries to interject, but I cut her off. Her face is turning blue, her panties are turning green, and her expression shows that she’s just realized that I’m her executioner. She’s wrong on that front, though. “Once you get up to, maybe, that cloud over there, the ride will end. I don’t expect you to know anything about air pressure or the theory of gravity, but suffice it to say, you will fall. Hard. Maybe some bird will decide you look tasty. Maybe you’ll be lucky and get caught in a tree. Either way, no matter what happens, you’re going to die. Painfully. And you can’t do one thing to stop it.” The truth is out. Most jissous would try to beg for their lives, or scream, or just start shitting. She does the latter, but also does something unexpected. She pulls down her panties. “Shit abuser, decha!” Before I can respond, she’s gathered a glob of shit in her paws. Her face is still blue, but she’s got a determined look on her face. All that bravado vanishes when I let go of the string and she’s snapped upwards. “NOOO DECHA!” “Hahaha! Nice try, retard!” She drops (floats) into a wordless, animalistic howling, paws scraping at the air in a vain attempt to telepathically latch onto the ground. I turn to my door. Time to pull up the video feed on my compu- OW! What the fuck was that?! Fucking hell, something just hit me in the back of the neck! I rub my hands on the spot, expecting to find green. Instead, I find blood. My blood. What. The. FUCK!? *Pop!* God damn it! I head to the landing site, and make a flying leap for the rapidly descending, still-screaming jissou. I catch it (barely) and swing it outwards, turning her downward motion to sideways motion. I take a nosedive into the dirt, but such is the price of acting on impul- OW! Fuck! My arm this time?! Really?! Looking down, I see the blood oozing from a small pinpoint on my right arm. Feeling at it, I notice a small, solid sphere. A BB. Someone’s taking shots at me? What? Why? Who? “Abuser!” A voice, from some distance. A human voice, obviously. A woman, or girl, or a reeeealy feminine guy. “Hey, fuck you, asshole!” I yell at the top of my lungs, having regained my footing. “That’s for the innocent creatures you’ve murdered!” The jissou picks the worst time to utter a ‘depupupupu’, and receives my foot for her trouble. She goes flying to the edge of what the string allows, and falls face-first into the dirt. “Innocent my ass! Go take your white knight bullshit to PETA, they love you retards!” “Who do you think I work for, dumbass?!” … Oh hell no. “Are you fucking kidding me?! I swear to God, if I see any of you retards in my backyard, you’ll be getting something more painful than a plastic pellet from me!” “I’d like to see you try!” Two snaps sound beside me, and two yellow spheres appear at my feet. It appears she can’t aim worth a shit anymore. Good. “Stay right there! I’ll be right back!” I storm inside, the strung-up jissou trailing behind me, still dazed by the kick I delivered. Inside, I pull three balloons out, inflate them all to the bursting point with helium, and tie them to the string. I hold them, the camera, and the jissou in a small bundle, and step out the side door, ducking below the fence to avoid detection. Without warning, I release the entire assembly. “What now, bitch?!” *Pop!* Her aim’s back. One balloon pops. So does another, but the third one survives until it’s well out of range of the airsoft piece of shit my PETA nemesis is using. Of course, her attention then returns to me, but by this time I’m back inside. Doesn’t stop her from putting a few ‘rounds’ in my pool, though. I sit down in front of my computer, pissed off and bleeding. The bleeding I stem with two patches of sterile gauze, but the anger just sits. Why the fuck can’t fucking PETA get the fuck over their fucking retarded so-called ‘morals’ and leave me the fuck alone? Hell, even if they took the jissous from my shed, they’d probably end up starving to death or being euthanized to make room for some other ‘rescues’. Of course, Sarah becomes my next worry; in all likelihood they’d swipe her as well. If that happens, the Glock 17 I have in my room would sure as hell be coming into play, believe me. Whatever. That’s a problem to deal with later. In the meantime, I have a jissou to watch sail into the clouds. And probably directly into the ocean. I click on the camera software, and a window opens. After loading for a second, the feed from the camera appears. The microphone then initializes, and my ears are treated to a banshee wail of immense volume. After hastily turning the volume down, I set the focus on her and sit back to watch. Thankfully, the screams drop off into silence. For a few seconds, the only noise is a rustling from the wind blowing against the mic. In the background, the Oceanfront shows itself, skyscrapers and beaches reflecting the wintry afternoon sunshine. “Wow, I am high up, desu. Mr. Men look like little ants from here, de!” She’s… not terrified? Huh. I guess that line about small attention spans is true. Not that I ever doubted it, of course. She sits in silence, apparently mesmerized by the beauty of the land below her. I doubt that’s what she’s thinking, but you never know, maybe this one has an appreciation for natural and artificial beauty. Not that it matters much. The balloon, stressed to almost the breaking point, has been expanding in the lowered air pressure of high altitude for the past ten minutes. Eventually, the rubber reaches the critical threshold, and fails dramatically. *Pop!* “Huh, desu? What was noise, desu?” Unsuspecting, just how I like them. The shredded remains of the three balloons acts as a kind of pilot parachute, holding the string taut and letting the camera record the action. She manages to assume the skydiver’s spread-eagle position, by pure instinct. The audio degenerates into the sound of wind spiking the mike, but I can still make out the jissou’s commentary. “Is ground getting closer, desu?” “Homes getting bigger, desu.” Eventually, she figures out that she’s moving towards the ground at terminal velocity, which is , to my estimate, a prodigious 100 miles per hour. “How am I going to stop, desu?” Erroneously believing she has any power to halt her descent. “Oh, there’s water there, desu.” She’s over the Chesapeake Bay; for you foreigners, that’s a large estuarial body of water that separates the state of Virginia into a mainland section and the Eastern Shore, a small part of the Delmarva Peninsula. Why the fuck the cartographers gave that to Virginia and not to bordering Maryland or Delaware is anyone’s guess. Of course, eventually we had to find some way (other than ferries) to shorten what would otherwise be a 500+ mile drive, and the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, one of the engineering marvels of the world, was constructed. Part of that involved creation of 4 artificial islands. One of which happens to be directly below our skydiving jissou. “Huh, that’s not water, desu! SOMEONE HELP ME DESHA!” She gets the chance to scream for a quarter of a second before her freefall halts with a bone-shattering impact with solid concrete. The camera survives, and remarkably so does she. Her pelvis is nowhere to be found and is spewing blood, shit, and maggots. An arm stretches out towards some nondescript location, and remains for about a second before a flash of black – presumably a car tire – ends her life. The lens is splattered with blood, and after a second degenerates into static as another car runs it over. Well, that was entertaining. The clock says 1:34. Well, PETA or no, I guess I still have work to do… End Episode 3
Shit that was funny. Although I have to wonder why no call was made to the police over the attack.... Also it reminds me I'm due for another chapter soon.... Assuming I stay up another hour or so I may write it. Also experiment request: Jissous of various ages, weather baloons, same experiment. Since weather baloons wont pop as quickly/easily, could very well last a while. And suggestion for behavorial studies with the same experiment: Have a platform (with a small rail to keep maggots from falling) just large enough to hold a full sized family, and various age/numbers groupings, see how they react.
>>575 well, it's coming up, but going to be a while (chapter wise at least, dunno how quickly I'll write them) until it starts in any serious amount. I've got an endgoal of where I wana take this but it'll take time to actually have the backstory. (one of the posts from the archived jissou /lit/ thread gave me an idea ages ago :p ) I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 6 Well, I left Dave's Jissou shop a lot later than I'd intended, since he got me to do his shops inspection while I happened to be there. But I guess it works out in the long term, since once his inspection was officially due and I was on the clock, I could just go home early or otherwise find something fun to do. Of course odds are I'd end up back at Dave's place anyway, he has some fun shit in his backrooms. Everything from rube-goldberg like Jissou production lines, fat mother suspended where she can shit out maggots and thumbs, who slide down a ramp to the bottom of the box, and as they explore, sometimes step on needles that allow blood to be dripped into the mothers eye, with trapdoors that drop children into the mothers mouth.... well you get the idea, basically the kinda shit that jewtube gave up banning fairly early on because it was popular, and google wants monies..... and Dave is very creative in his shit. But I digress. I retraced my steps back home, noting on the way that the small Jissou settlement on the creek is heavily depopulated. Most of the population is gone, likely killed and washed down the creek. The suprise is the huge matriarch is also down, but not dead. As I pass the shanty, I see boxes damaged from a fight, and dead Jissous all over, and a group of a few children sized and mostly maggots poking dethroned jissou with sticks and twigs. There ain't manny left, but it seems they eventualy had managed to win. As I'm about to walk away, several thumbs form a line, and start passing maggots onto the matriarchs stomach, which had been poked repeatedly with sticks. Like a shark drawn to blood in the water, the maggots start chowing down on the still living Jissou. Chuckling to myself, I continue home. As I pass a stand of trees, I hear a distinctive click, and immediately drop my bags and throw myself to my left. *BOOM* Keeping my momentum up, I roll behind a thick oak, and take a peak. Shit, one of the local PETA crazies. And a .44 magnum. "Learn to shoot faggot!" I say in a conversational tone as I poked my head out to make the observation. And just as quickly, I jerk my head back as she finally gets a second shot off. Of course, my hands were not idle during those few seconds. My 'bad jissou' gun was a .45 revolver, loaded with rounds with a low powder charge, and lotsa BBs. Great for cutting thru a large hoarde. However, I didn't carry it all the time, such as on a day off. However, my fuck you gun WAS something I always carried. And of course, I had a concealed carry permit, not that I needed one due to my government job and the fact that PETA was known to occasionally attack people in my line of work. As soon as the second shot went off, not even hitting the tree I was on my belly hiding behind, I pushed off with my left hand, clearing the tree, and before she could deal with the recoil of the large pistol I put a .45JHP into her right kneecap. Needless to say, she dropped her gun. Of course, I was mad. So I proceeded to demonstrate why so many professional pistol target shooters prefer the .45, and I put my second round into her LEFT kneecap. Needless to say, she dropped straight back and hit the ground screaming. Since she was on a downslope from me, and I was also on the ground, I quickly put my final shot right up her skirt, into her crotch, the round exited her stomach, making a rather large hole as the .45JHP expanded after impacting bone. Why not kill her, you ask ? That third shot I could get away with by saying I simply hit her as she fell as I didn't see her drop the gun. Where any further shooting would, if any forensics were done, make it clear I'd shot her when she was down. Besides, odds are she'd bleed out while I waited a few minutes, screw calling the cops right away, I want to make sure she WAS alone. By the time the cops had came and took my statement and released me to go home, it had gotten dark. When I reached home, I entered quietly. Now Gorgo, having spent time as a feral, albeit one in a colony ran by a former pet, had some....peculiar... habits. Most notably, she liked to sleep. Infact, she slept like a cat at times. But most of all, she loved to sleep at night. Now you're likely thinking, whats peculiar about that right ? Use your brain. Jissous are pretty stupid on average, in the dictionary sense of the word true. They're fucking horrible at learning. And Jissou on average have a horrible survival instinct as well, albiet that mostly is due to their ignorance owning to stupidity, and short average lifespan. But despite that, a Jissou colony will retain some activity even at night, be it a hungry Jissou, or one just plain greedy one, looking for extra food (or smaller Jissous it thought it could get away with eating), or in the case of the smarter colonies standing watch. All this results in ferral Jissous that live in a colony not sleeping a full night, they'll do an hour or so, then a noise wakes them up. Jissous in a colony that don't learn that trick young usually end up as a midnight snack. Gorgo had evaded that fate, but as my house was safe, she loved to be able to sleep the entire night without interruption. So of course, I was a tad apprehensive when I got home and heard multiple Jissou voices.
>>587 A request? Will do sir. Eventually; already have the next part underway. Also, I didn't really think of the police. If an explanation is needed, last time Justin called the police they did nothing. Besides, it's common knowledge (even in real life) that the police forces in the Seven Cities are corrupt as fuck. I can attest to that personally, having lived with a cop for 7 years. Air gets thinner at high altitudes, you understand. At the altitude that a normal balloon will pop, it's already starting to thin out. Anything, human, jissou, whatever, strapped to a weather balloon would die of asphyxiation well before falling. That may help me out a bit, thinking about it... Also, who tried to kill your protagonist? A little strange that he's waking, an OH SHIT THERE'S A CHICK WITH A GUN OH GAWD
One of the local PETA crazies, just like my characther suspected. I'd been planning to have PETA show back up on his walk home, pretty funny both of our characters get shot at at same time lol :p . Of course, PETA will play a role as the story continues.....
It's...just my humble opinion guys, but both of you are getting creepy with this PETA thing. Is this headed to a goddamn genocide ?
Nothing wrong with genocide.... as long as the right people get killed.
>>591 Maybe, but only of jissous. I don't intend Justin to kill any human. Maybe shoot AT them, but not kill them. It's just that it's a rather prevalent thing in America, and it's very annoying for me personally, since I live 2 miles from their damn HQ. ...Newkirk [one of the founders] has elsewhere made clear that she supports the removal of animals from laboratories and other facilities, including as a result of illegal direct action. Copypasted from Wikipedia, cited from CNN (even though I usually distrust cable news). Thusly, their actions against Justin are in line with their policies. I'm not sure about opening fire in "I am Jissouseki," but there's crazies everywhere.
Nothing wrong will self defence tho, and PETA is known to attack people on occasion.
Self defense is OK, but I do not think that surgically removing one's capacity to walk ever again would be considered self defense by any court of justice. Just...think about it.
>>595 In that case I'd avoid /g/ if I were you.
Ten Thousand Stumps Show 3 : Indestructible Thierry Genestar After five minutes tinkering with the device, it appears obvious that it's programmed to switch to four or five preset frequencies. But try as I might to reach Sylvia, it seems something is missing. Maybe a hub of some kind. For encryption and other 007 shit I suppose. At any rate, I have to look for it, and if it's not in the house, hope that Sylvia finds it. And, seriously, let it not be in the jissou metropolis. I look at it through binoculars I found in a drawer. Powerful ones, with batteries, a big zoom and an image-stabilizing feature. Everybody could be amazed by looking at it from a great distance, but up close, it's even more amazing. There are a lot of cardboard houses. And I mean a lot. Like a quantity only a truck full of the stuff could bring in this place. It's no longer a shanty town. It's a fucking full-scale city. But it's not the size that boggles me the most. It's the demography. I can see the three stages of jissou civilization, which are described as follows : First, there's the best case scenario, if a large number of jissous find a large enough shelter. Typically, a building, but dense forests close to the city can also do the trick. Relatively safe from the elements, their number one predator, they can set up a pretty chaotic camp and just go nuts with the architecture and organization. It's pretty common to see cardboard-buildings with makeshift ladders to get to the second -or occasionally third- story. Being relatively safe, they just indulge in all they want to do. This means that, safe as they may be from the elements, these settlements are extremely prone to internal murders and cannibalism. Whatever is needed to build their perfect home. Secondly, there's the typical forest jissous. Like I explained in depth about a week ago, they're all about matriarchal structure and living modestly. Up to about 40 individuals, this type of group is the one with the most order. You see the exact same creative drive there is in the super-structures, but the numbers are limited, and violence is swiftly punished by the matriarch. And finally, the street jissous, may they be totally nomadic, or the more sedentary "park" jissous. Large groups of Jissouseki who gather together but never settle for just what they have. Their level of organization is variable, and can sometimes can be confused with their forest cousins, but unlike them, they still jump at the first occasion to pester a human. Thus, they always have some good measure of chaos and infighting. They only respect their peers as long as no human is in sight. Not only does this result in catastrophes when there is a human, but they're also too single-minded to pursuit innovation like the other two. All those stages are represented here, and it makes no sense. Why ? Because each stage is, first and foremost, conditioned by the environment. Respectively : Large shelter, remote location, open area in close proximity to humans. According to what I know, this metropolis simply has no business existing. The large numbers can only be explained by a large shelter. There's only the woods, and they aren't even primarily in there. Absolutely no forest jissou tribe, defined by its strong social bonds, could grow this large without breaking down, and I can see many traces of cannibalism anyway, not to mention the obvious moves towards invading the villa. So, really large street jissou gathering, right ? Wrong. The center of the metropolis is way, waaaaay to innovative for that. There's obvious and extensive social cohesion mechanically impossible to street jissous. I don't know, there's a mix where there shouldn't be one, it's like... Let's just ignore the environmental constraints for a bit. It's like there was a type 1 shanty town, surrounded by type 2 tribes, and then type 3 street jissous came, thinking of the town as a human town. Shit, it's a crazy thought. But easy enough to verify. I look for a point where the most elaborate cardboard-boxes become less frequent. For an equivalent of the suburbs. Once I do, I hold the picture and wait. Two boxes are put side to side, attached by adhesive tape, possibly with a hole connecting the two. A clean-ish adolescent sits just on the outside, stroking a kojissou on her lap, swinging her head from side to side. Just chilling, as they say. Can't get enough of seeing jissous just living in peace instead of throwing themselves at my job. Anyway, soon enough I see a ragtag band of three kojissous approaching the double-box. Bite marks, dirty clothes, the usual. They say something to the adolescent, stepping on their non-existent toes and moving their stumps up and down. The “begging” gesture. For all intents and purposes, a gesture reserved to humans. My hypothesis holds firmly : The type 3 jissous have adapted to beg, not to the humans, but to the wealthier jissous around. How do those react, I wonder ? Well, without even waking her little sister up, the dechi-jissou shakes her head, says a few words, and the beggars just...leave. Holy crap. In summary, the poor jissous beg to the wealthy as they do to humans, but the whole thing keeps a balance instead of just degenerating to a house-invading free-for-all because they DO take no for an answer. They don't insist and fling their shit at the owner. They don't throw a tantrum. They just accept the refusal and go on. The humans absent, their “common sense” is not overridden. Fascinating. There's no other word. It means a very important thing we thought we knew about jissous -namely that they so brain-munchingly stupid they can't survive outside of freak luck- is in fact just the fruit of an insanity they develop around humans and humans only. They're merely victims of a psychosis they develop when we're around, and obviously we are going to perceive this psychosis as the norm. Okay, there still are the obvious cannibalism and infanticide issues, but...Sanctified bullshit, the Jissouseki just went up a lot in my esteem. Without us, they are totally viable as a society, no matter how large the scale. And we thought we were the ones affected by the rage-inducing pheromone they emit. What if we had a pheromone that affects them much more drastically and immediately ? Just imagine...We somehow get ourselves on a planet inhabited by an extremely advanced alien species. We try to make contact, establish diplomatic relations and all that, and it turns out they emit something that just gets us irresistibly nuts with envy. Driven to the point of desperation to get everything they have, all the comfort, technology, or fucking die trying. Even though we're inferior in just about every way, except numbers. Wouldn't that make us the street jissous of this world ? Stephanie will be psyched to hear that. Sylvia That's so cool ! No, seriously, that's not a basement, that's an underground base. That's what I'm talking about ! The evil lair of those who transformed me into a subhuman monstrosity. I want nothing less than a dungeon as their home. It would be degrading otherwise. I've been walking for ten minutes now, and there's no way that thing is anything less than military. Solid metal doors apparently opened by electric devices, underground construction, absence of any signs beside big numbers painted on walls. It's stupid, but it kicks ass. It's just too bad that the clean state of the corridor hints at the absence of jissous. At least in the open. The opening was too protected, and even if they did step inside, I would already had seen shit on the floor. So yeah, I'm just walking through the empty corridors, but still ! If you came across an underground complex, as empty as it was, I dare you not to be excited. ...What was I looking for again ? Ah, a way to make the headphones work. Headphones require electricity just as anything else, right ? I find an interrupter and everything should be fine. Plus, it will probably enable me to open the doors, and maybe find shitdolls behind. No idea how to bring the power on, though...Let's hope it's just a breaker box. Aaanyway. Thierry, is it ? Not everything I was looking for in an exterminator, but at the very least he's not out to make me his slave. Not that he could, of course, the Bonding is gone along with every bit of my programming. But he's not even trying to establish superiority. Which is super-weird considering he kills Jissouseki for a living. He just seems okay with us being partners. Everyone else I know wanting me to be nothing but a pet, his behavior seems like a godsend, but also too good to be true. I'll keep an eye on you, crouton. Thierry Genestar _Huh, sorry to rain on your parade, honey, but that theory has already made its way. _What ? What do you mean ? You got to have a gigantic camp to even observe this kind of behavior. I regularly read specialized scientific papers on the dolls, and nobody worked with anything like the metropolis I'm dealing with ! _Well...Yeah, I'm certainly not going to deny you've got one hell of an interesting environment in your hands. But think about it. Does your theory ultimately needs abnormally large numbers ? _Fuck yes it does ! _Aaand here's where it's obvious you're not the scientific type. _Huh... _Your hypothesis is just to ask whether jissouseki act the same way in close and expectable human presence, or in complete isolation. Do you really think that hasn't be attempted before ? _Huh...Repeat the question, preferably referring to a part of the Constitution ? _Ha ha, very funny. You know damn well that what I'm saying is that no lab worth its salt would have passed on the opportunity to create isolated communities to study their behavior outside of all human interference. For your discovery, all it takes is to introduce famished street jissous to a classical forest tribe. _I see...But if that's the case, shouldn't this be common knowledge by now ? Why keep humanity believing the persistent begging to be normal ? _Well...scientific discoveries really only make headlines when they are absolutely groundbreaking or spectacular, and that doesn't really hold a candle to, say, the anti-shit pill everyone is waiting for. _I find that groundbreaking. _Because you're an exterminator and acquainted with the Jissouseki's subtleties, whereas most people don't give a shit beyond "how can I keep them out of the house ?". The second reason is, well, that fact shouldn't be common knowledge, now should it ? ...Well...Now that I think about it, anything that could put into question our decision to mass-slaughter them would be bad, moral issues notwithstanding. _True, it shouldn't. Extermination is not the fate the jissous deserve, but it's the fate we need. Then, suddenly, the sound of static in my left ear. _...work now, desu ? _Ah, great. Call you later Steph. Bye. I hang up and readjust the earpiece. _Who're you talking to, desu ? _My girlfriend, a scientist. So, anything down there ? _Oh yeah, desu. Just not anything open just yet, but with the power back on, shouldn't take too long, desu. _But it's big, I take it ? _Oh yeah, something like a awesomely hidden military base, desu. _So we can safely say the villa itself is of minimal interest compared to that...Hmm, maybe that's one of the abandoned missile silos I keep reading about on the internet. Remnants of the Cold War. _That exists, desu ? _Well, if it does, it certainly makes the place more believable. We already know they are stinking rich, but also that their ridiculous plans severely hinder their manpower. So the best solution for them is to buy something that already exists, no matter how extravagant. _I see, so...What should I expect, desu ? _Experiments on jissous of course. Pertaining to control, mostly, but there should be some side-projects as well. I mean, they want to take over the world by way of jissous, you don't do that shit without solid R&D. _That is going to be so badass, desu ! I can hear her walking. Badass I'm not sure, but exciting ? Oh yeah. Sylvia Just as I thought, I can now open the metal doors. Well, they do so themselves, really. There's some sort of scanner in front of them projecting light all up and down. Probably just to check the thing that wants to get in or out is bigger than a packaged retard. And I am bigger, so it opens to a medium-sized room with two separate parts. Between them, there's a large transparent window that I recognize immediately. It's exactly like my enclosures back at the lab. To prevent shit missiles from reaching the scientists. Initially. And what do you know, there are jissous on the other side. A family, provided not with the usual cardboard box, but a transparent plastic one. Easier to observe that way, smart ! Unfortunately, all there is to witness here is desiccated corpses. Maybe they poisoned them while leaving, or maybe they just starved. Either way, they're no fun. Next door, I finally see some life. It's an identical room, but the jissous behind the glass are striving. Well, the mother is. As long as they have oxygen, they can survive off eating their own for, I'm guessing, eternity. That aside, they're as average as it gets. Can't see science stuff there. Next... Aha ! In the third room, there are some gas cylinders linked to the jissou area, and some device with an electronic display wrapped around the valves. Behind the glass, the jissous appear, yet again, normal, albeit a bit more peaceful, with two separate families. But there has to be something going on. I release the valves. A loud "pschh" fills up my end of the room, as the gauges go counterclockwise rapidly. "Desha ! What is this loud noise, desha ?!" "It is coming from the glass thing, techa !" As the needle nears 20, I hear tiny sounds. Something like "rep-*plop*". Maggots popping, just like when you light them on fire, only even plainer. "DEEE ? Maggot-chans, degyaa !" "Feel weird, tepi..." Tepi ? Never heard that one before. The kojissous didn't explode, but their voice does seem a bit lower. The mamas aren't affected at all. Huh...All I did was remove shit from the room, shouldn't they get better instead of weirder ? The valve device's display isn't really of any help, just showing two numbers. 148 and 29. Heh. I leave the room and look for something more important than minor experiments. I go down a flight of stairs, to the level below. There, no hotel-like corridor with lots of rooms. I'm guessing that after storage, they begin to get serious. There are broader areas, desks at checkpoints, other typical doors...And a big door, isolated from the rest. Yum. “Hey, Thierry, desu !” “Anything new ?” “You fucking bet, desu. Listen to that.” I put the earpiece against the door, from which pours the unintelligible chirping of a jissou herd. “You found a big group ?” “Yeah, behind some electronic door, desu. It sure looks like it leads to a big area, and it doesn't open automatically like the rest, desu.” “Should be interesting. Is there some kind of device ?” “Yeah, a numeric pad and a green screen displaying a reference, desu. P4X-639, desu.” “I'll look it up, hang on." He hangs up. As I wait, I can see absolutely nothing, as I would expect in an abandoned underground facility. You can't even reasonably convince yourself there could be ghosts. Takes a good while. “Okay, got it, it was in the registries upstairs. There's a list of such nomenclatures with a six-digit code attached. I think it's all for the same room, but different experiments.” “How do you reckon that, desu ?” “Well...There's too much codes for there to be a separate room for each one. The room you're next to must multipurpose for a bunch of long-term experiments, but with different access codes so that the only the competent personnel can access each one.” “I thought we said there weren't a lot of guys in on this, desu ?” “Well, there certainly can't be thousands, but, I don't know, you tell me, there were a lot of people working at your lab ?” Hmm... “Actually, counting the peons, several dozens, yeah, desu.” “So there must have been people here as well. Anyway...at least three nomenclatures are labeled “High clearance required”. P4X isn't.” “Great, so give me the code, desu !” I say, excited. “Huh, nope. The P4X-639 experiment is about chemical warfare.” Thierry Genestar “What, desu ?” I look again, tracing the reference to the label. There's no mistake about this. “Specifically, immunizing a bunch of gremlins against some standard jissou poison over time, with incremental amounts. And when they do succeed in building up an immunity, unleash this group in the wild so that they can poison any jissou who want to eats them or even just their feces.” “So bottom line, they're poisonous to jissous, desu ?” “Well, if they're still alive, they're bound to be, yeah...” “Okay, I'll kill them before they can steal any single frag from me, desu !” “WHAT ? Did you listen to me ? They're death on stumps to jissous !” “Yeah, so I'm okay, obviously, desu.” ...Oooh shit. Don't tell me. “Well, huh...I know you're amazing, but I'd rather not take any risk if I were you.” “What ? Jissou poison is harmless to humans, right, desu ?” “Yeah, of course, but...” “But what, desu ?” “You're a pretty much unique organism on at least two counts, so I wouldn't go near a compound that makes your cousins explode, even with an olympic pole vault !” “DON'T CALL THEM MY COUSINS, DESU !” Woah ! “Huh, calm...” “No ! I'm human, you hear, desu ? Human ! It's a long story, but fucking believe me when I say GIVE ME THAT CODE OR I'LL COME UP THERE AND SHOOT YOUR ASS, DESU !” … “815937.” *Beep beep beep beep beep beep beeeeeeeeep* “Thank you very much, desu.” The door opens, and the sound of jissous peak. I shiver. From fear ? Partially, no doubt. I know she has a gun and isn't afraid to use it. But above all else, I gave her the code because I felt genuine anguish in that yell. She completely and fiercely denies the jissou part of her and...that can't be good for your mental health. “So many of you, desu...So you're all poisoned ? Bring it, desu.” “Who is weird onee-chan, techi ?” “Belly soft and springy, please rub, ref...” “DIIIIIIIIIIIIE DESU !” High-pitched shrieks of terror, the sound of fragile jissou skin ripping off, of thin bones being snapped. “Hey, at least deal with them from a distance ! Getting all close and personal will just pointlessly expose you to more poison !” “I told you, I'm human, desu !” “For crying out loud...no, you're not !” A pause. Well, from her part at least. Her lesser cousins are busy being slaughtered by furious kicks. “You *pant* really believe I'm some sort of advanced jissou prototype, don't you desu ?” “Well, of c...” “Don't worry, I... *pant* once believed that too, desu. Wish I could get back on doing that, desu. Now, request radio silence, as they say, desu.” “Okay.” It's not like listening to a slaughter is endearing. I don't know, without the visual aspect, abuse just seems bland. More importantly...What the hell did she mean ? Being human...At first, it seemed like denial. Refusing to accept her origin as a shitdoll. But that doesn't really explain her last reply. Why in the name of hell would you rather think of yourself as a jissou prototype ? Oh no. No no no no. Don't tell me. I've seen enough unspeakable experiments in the last few weeks. Don't fucking tell me her adamant conviction about being human is grounded in facts. Oh my god, she IS human, isn't she ? It's actually a far more likelier explanation than a single lone jissou prototype being this close to humanity after years of unsuccessful research, and somehow kept from general knowledge, considering such a mutation could make the inventor richer than every rich guy on this planet combined. The only logical explanation is that they can't reproduce her because the circumstances behind her existence are atrocious. Instead of making a jissou more human, they made a human more jissou. I go to the kitchen and take a whole glass of gin straight. Humanity is just appalling sometimes. But now's not the time to rage impotently. She could be in genuine danger. I slap myself on the face for not thinking of that sooner, and run to the secret entrance. By the time I find her in that ridiculous underground base, the danger has gotten pretty real. She's in a middle of a sea of jissou remains, on her knees. “Sylvia !” I shout while running towards her. “Are you alright ?” “No, desu...You were right, too much poison did get to me, desu...” “Well, to be fair, even as a human, it was unlikely you would have come out of that unscathed. We're talking massive dosage, even harmless perfume would be dangerous at this point.” “So...You believe me, desu ?” “It's the only thing that makes sense.” “The only thing I know about my life...Is this name, Sylvia, desu....” “Believe me, I want to know what you've been through, if only to kick those assholes' asses with more strength. But for now, I have to get you out of here.” I pick her up. She has exactly the same weight as a normal human child. Like I would need confirmation by this point. “Put me down, desu...I let some escape, I must waste them, desu...” “No. Listen to me. You were already invaluable when we believed you were an evolved jissou, but your human ass is more valuable that you could ever imagine.” “Huh ? Why, desu ?” “It's a long story, and only a theory at this point, but...look, you're human. That is priceless enough.” One hour later. She's resting on the couch. The poison induced fatigue and dizziness, but she quickly got better once we got out of the underground. I noticed that when we were cleansing the house. The Jissouseki seem to react to her as one of them. No pleading, no desire to seduce her and get her home. Of course, it wasn't surprising then, but now... Whatever has been done to her makes her devoid of whatever thing push the goblins to insanity. The weapon our enemy is using is jissou society itself. We should understand it more deeply if we're to counteract their plans. And there's no way to do that as long as they're affected by the human madness. As low as it is to say this, she's an amazing opportunity. “Hey, desu.” Ah, she's up. Certainly looks a lot less pale. “Feeling better ?” “Yeah, thanks, desu. Still have to catch those bastards though, desu.” “Okay, listen, I...don't think I have any right to judge you if all you feel towards the dolls is pure fucking hatred. But try to think more about living.” “Yeah, and living for what, desu ?” “Good point...But still, do you -really- want those pathetic displays of powerlessness to do you in ?” “Good point too, desu.” There's an awkward silence, but the corners of her lips go up and little. “Oh, and I damn well know what gin is, desu !” She exclaims, slapping me. “Ah ah ah, is that right ?” “Yeah, it was Nick's favorite drink, desu. Said a guy named Sol was a fan of it, desu. Dunno who this Sol guy is but Nick was pretty weird like that, desu.” “Want some ?” “Hell yeah, like I'm letting some liquid beat me, desu !” I get up, laughing as she punches through the air, pumped up. She may be disturbed, but she won't go down without a fight.
Like I said on your blog, good read as usual man. Also, you ever considerd in story having Sylvia watch Roze Maiden ?
>>598 Interesting plan, that is. I doubt it'd make sense in context, but I'd be interested to see what she'd think. Then again, she has to know something about it, seeing as she slept in a box with watering cans according to No Country for Jissous... Also, and as much as I feel like a parrot now, this is some good stuff right here. I wonder how bad a drunk Sylvia will be. That, and Thierry's "oh hell no" reaction to Sylvia's origin was almost exactly mine.
Well, Ive somewhat overcome some of the writers block I had going..... I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 7 Well, today had ended on a suck note. First some chick randomly starts shooting at me, and then I end up killing her. However it turns out she was a PETA member wanted for shooting at people elsewhere in the country within the past few weeks, she actually hit one guy when his attempt to jump out of the way carried him into a shot, ironically enough he was some pro-jissou faggot who was only there to yell at her actual target. The cops had let me go, saying they didn't see charges being filed since I was attacked by a known criminal. And then I get home to hear strange Jissous............. Turns out Gorgo had shat out a litter from her vaganus a lot quicker than I had expected. Luckily, I had at least semi prepared for that happening, I had gotten a large plastic box that was short enough she could climb over, but thumbs and maggots would be stuck in, and attacked a piece of one way mirror to the top of it so I could look in without being seen. Outside the entrance was Gorgos dress, panties, and slipper/shoe things Jissous are born with, folded neatly. Inside was a small pile of shit and slime in one corner, where Gorgo had obviously given birth, on the other side of the box, Gorgo was lying down sleeping on a mat of paper towls, with five thumbs and eight maggots all curled up beside her. Gorgo herself was somewhat filthy from having given birth, but the thumbs were rather clean, as were the maggots to an extent. Being quiet, I walked into the other room and set my package onto the floor and opened the largest of the boxes.it was basically a bunch of metal pegboards, and brackets to hold them together, all the parts were coated in enamel, which in turn was coated in teflon. The extra holes were designed to be plugged up with screws of the same material, with the part exposed in the cage presenting flat surface once it was tightened, as the head of the bolt was designed to slide into a groove inside the cage, to allow the nut on the exterior to be tightened properly. It was in essence the perfect modular Jissou cage. I quickly went about turning it into the Jissou habitat I wanted. What I built was a 5x5 foot cube, about three feet high, the panels in the front of it, as well as the roof, had clear plastic panels to allow viewing. It rested on metal legs that held it a few feet up in the air, this was important because it allowed access to the shit bottle from the outside, the back left corner had attached to it several Jissou tolits (a hole to sit on, and handles to hold), they hole was coverd in a few metal bars to keep thumbs from falling in, or maggots from being tossed in, and they had plastic tubing that drained the contents into the shit bottle. The front left side had a multi nippled drip water station, for the Jissous to drink from, and a food bowl, which I loaded with a bag of high grade Jissou food that Dave had gave me for free, dried ground Jissou meat, the kind of stuff that was sold to people who wanted to pamper their pet, and shell out large sums of money to NOT feed it jissou shit that was dried and flavored. The food and waste faculties took up the left quarter of the cage, and they were separated from the rest of the cage by four metal panels, where five would have been needed to fully seperate that part of the cage from the rest (the panels the cage was made from were 1x1foot squares), the entrence was in the very middle. The rest of the cage was living space, the front left section against the two wall panels to the feeding area was a pen for maggots, the bottom of it was lined in a wire mesh like in a hamster cage, with shredded newspaper and cat litter in a box attached to the bottom of the cage below it, to catch the flood of shit that maggos always produced. Maggots shit, they're babies, you cant expect them not to. The back section, running the length of the cage from the divider to the far wall, contained seperated sleeping pens for each Jissou, and the back right corner was an even larger room area for Gorgo. The beds were all low end Jissou beds, teflon coated synthetic leater beanbag chairs/beds in essence. For some reason the price on these was quite low even though this type of bed was best for a Jissou, rather than a fake human bed, all they need is something flat and soft to curl up on. Each of the rooms had a bed, a door, and small shelves for storing items. Also each door had a small cheap lock, a really basic model that could easily be picked, and the small keys I intended to give to each Jissou. The rooms, other than Gorgos, were one foot tall (gorgos was the height of the cage) and could be opend up from the back, each rooms back wall was a hinged panel. Gorgos room had a panel that could be opend from the inside as well as as the ability to lock the itnerior door, as I intended for her to be able to leave the cage as she wanted, as she had proven herself able to behave in the house, and even use the tolit, at least after I had cut a hole in the plastic lid for her to squat over. The modular nature meant that I had a few feet of space to play with above the rooms, and in this area I put a few basic toys: balls, hamster wheels (on brakes so the Jissou had to exercise to move it and if the Jissou tripped or stopped running, it would come to a stop rather than sling a Jissou to its death), soft rubber building blocks, and a small pool that was a few inches deep, and it could fill with warm water allowing the thumbs and maggots to play and bathe, but normally I would leave it drained to prevent an accidental drowning. Finally, I brought it into the living room and set it up by the door to the kitchen. At this noise, Gorgo woke up. "Is that you master ~desu ?" Gorgo poked her head over the plastic box as she asked this. "Hello Gorgo, I built a house for your children" "Yay! Thank you master ~desu!" As the newly spawned children were still sleeping on their paper towel mat, I carefully picked it up and set it down in the maggot pen area, and gave Gorgo a new Necklace, which also contained the small key for her rooms doors, and explained how it worked to her. The keys were specially designed for Jissous, and were not pointy like normal keys, but rather a small plastic cube, with a hole on one side containing the key itself, the Jissou just had to put the key onto the lock and twist the key like a door knob. I also gave Gorgo five more keys, labeld G1-T1 thru G1-T5, to give to the thumb-chans when they woke up, and assigned the thumbs the rooms labeld the same for when they grew up. This would also be my way of telling them apart. When they cocooned into large thumbs themselves, the maggots would get keys labeled G1-M1 thru G1-M8. For the slow people who can't understand my system, the G stood for Gorgo, the 1 stood for first birthing. T1 thru T5 stood for born as thumb/number, and M1 thru M8 stood for born as maggot/number. So if Thumb1 birthed a thumb, it would be G1T1-T1. A simple way for keeping records, names may or may not come later for them, and even among behaved pet Jissous, accidents happen. Also, as Jissous had the uncanny ability to remember the order in which their children were born thru their phermones, having Gorgo give the keys out would mean that they were numberd by order of birth as well. But anyway, I spent a few extra minutes with Gorgo making sure she understood what I had explained and went to bed. It was quiet when I woke up the next day. Gorgo was asleep in her room in the cage, with all of her children curled up with her. That was fine of course, I hadn't expected them to use their rooms until they were slightly older anyway..... wait, scratch that, one of the Thumbs was groggily waking up, and slowly walked over to the facilities, where she made a small farting noise as she squatted over the shitter. "Good morning thumb-chan" I quietly said The thumb quickly looked up, and fell back onto her rump as she noticed me, and looked like she was going to cry. I noticed her key read G1-T1. She was the oldest of the Thumbs, and apparently was quite the early bird. Not to mention, Gorgo had allready taught her to use the shitter it seemed. Before she could cry and wake up the other Jissous, I opend the facilties side lid on the cage, and picked her up, not too hard since she was the height of my thumb, I just put both hands into the cage, and when she tried to stand up, gently knocked her with one hand into the other, and poof, she vanished from the cage. Seeing that T1 had managed to get herself slightly dirty using the shitter, and probally also from dealing with the maggots, I carried her over to the kichen sink. "Good morning thumb-chan, would you like a warm bath ?" "Yes mister man ~Re!" she squealed" "Ok then, but be quiet, you don't want to wake your family up do you ?" "No master ~Rechi" "Did Gorgo teach you any rules ?" "Yes mister man ~Rechi, Gorgo mommy taught us the ten laws, and explained to go pooty in funny seat only, or to ask mommy or you ~Rechi" "Good thumb" I said honestly, then while I was letting the sing water heat up, I got out a sugar cube and fed it to T1, and she ate it while I was pouring and starting on my coffee. You're probally wondering 'what ten laws, Jissous don't have any fucking laws'. However, I had trained Gorgo with the 'ten commandments*' from some Jissou manual I had pirated online, "The Handbook of Raising Jissouseki" it was called I think, by some guy named Deeps or something 1. Mister Man/Master is the Law. 2. You will not fight Jissous, unless they attack you first. 3. You will not steal. 4. You will not lie in any way. 5. You will always love your master, your family, and your friends. 6. Do not abuse masters kindness, or the kindness of mister man 7. Do not shit yourself and use the facilties, or you will be punished. If you need to shit and cannot get to the facilties, let mister man know or a older pet know. 8. Strive to be good, so you can join your family in Heaven. 9. Strive to be good, lest you go to hell to be tortured by the Evil Jissou. 10. Listen to Mister Man, follow His instructions, and you will live a good life. Do not, and you will become a Bad Jissou and go to Hell. Well, I thought as I sipped my coffee, I'll be damned. I dont know if the maggots would pick up as quickly once they turned humanoid, but it seemes that at least this maggot had picked up what its mother taught it VERY quickly. I wonderd breifly if that was a function of the green eye pregnancy, no outside source of DNA may mean a green eye pregnancy is more of a natural cloning process. If so, Gorgos offspring had potentel to be very high grade. Well, enough of that, the sink was filled up enough with warm water, so I had little T1 get her clothes off, and set her gently into the sink, and poured a little soap on her and let her splash arround, while she was doing that, I moved the faucet over the other side of the sink, and got hot water flowing and soaked T1s clothes in soap for a moment, then rinsed them, and laid them out in a paper towl to dry, and let T1 know I'd be gone for a moment as I went to the bathroom. When I came back, she was ready to get out, so I set her onto the same paper towl her clothes were on and had her roll arround a bit to dry off. When she was dressed again, I set her in my shirt pocket (cheap tshirt with a pocket a bit taller than a small thumb) and went outside to get the paper. Of course, the first thing we saw was a ferral Jissou. The ferral Jissou, of course, wanted to kill T1 and becme my pet, and insisted that T1 was a bad Jissou, shit Jissou, and that I was a shit Mr Man for having her, but could sovle it by adopting the ferral. Well, this was a good opprotunity to teach T1. And that lesson would be told as a story to her sisters. "Thumbchan, this is a shit Jissou" I explained. "Jissous without a Mr. Man can be good Jissous, but those that are rude and demanding of Mister Man are shti Jissous". "Yes master ~rechi" T1 responded. By this point, a number of other ferrals were arround us. Well, fuck, violence is less of an option now. "Listen Jissou-chans without a Mister man. I have this cute thumb-chan and her mother allready, but if you can behave, you will eventually get a Mr Man of your own." The shit dolls eyes got a glazed look of happiness at this "BUT" I said with force and pointed at the first begger "BAD Jissous like this one will make that HARDER." I put extra force on the bad and harder, apparently getting thru to the ferrals. Then I kicked the annoying ferral over, not too hard but the fall into the grass put her in shock apparently. As I walked away, I spoke one last time "Remember, BAD Jissous that ANNOY mister men will cause mister men to avoid you too!" As I walked into the house and shut the door, I saw a number of ferrals closing on the downed Jissou, as it had a look of 'oh shit im breakfeast' on its face. The thumbchan had a slightly scared look on its face. "Now thumbchan, you see how not to behave, right ?" "Yes masterman ~rechi! I not act like shit Jissou-chan I saw outside big door ~rechi!" "Good girl." *ten commandments blatantly stolen from REd in post6 of this thread, and REd thanks for providing such a resource for the community
>>600 (nice GET) Me gusta. I was waiting for someone to take advantage of that reeeeealy old post at the very top of the thread, to be honest. Interedasting theory thar on the green eye pregnancy and its peculiarities. Might end up making use of this...
Well the theroy isn't that big of a stretch. Actually it applies to ANY Jissou birthing really, unless sperm was involved. Just like any asexual reproduction really.
I am Jissouseki, hear me roar. Chapter 8 Well, my day started out fun, I put the oldest Thumbchan back into the terrarium, and she went back into Gorgos cubbyhole of a room inside of it and curled up with her family and went back to sleep. One thing I've learned, Jissous love to sleep. Ferrals may not sleep like a cat, but that's because they're usually starving, or trying not to be dinner for something else. Or a fleshlight for penis-chan. Or a toy for an abuser. Or...... fuck it, you know as well as I do how many ways Jissous in the wild die. I cooked some breakfeast as I had my coffee and smoke, making sure that the door to the living room was closed. The door was well sealed, like all the doors in my house, as an anti ferral Jissou measure, complete with a rubber liner that while not airtight was fairly close to, plus when closed there is a latch under the handle that requires abotu fifteen pounds of pressure to allow the handle to unlock the door. It isnt shit to a human, but very hard for even larger Jissous to managed to open it. It keeps Jissous contained, usually, to a single room, or at least greatly increases the time it takes to spread thru the entire house. My setups never been tested, but Ive seen people with similar setups have a room get inavaded by Jissous, and unless they're gone for a significant period of time it almost always contained them. This is important, because I didn't want to wake up my roomates when I cooked. Yeah Gorgo is well trained, and her kids may be learning from her, but why tempt fate ? Besides, It's early, and the kids will likely chatter if awake. Then my phone rings..... fuck. Work calling, one of my Jissou crew is in the hospital, drunk driver smashed into his city vehicle as he left the school bus yard, where it was most convenient for him to park his work truck at, and since it was another city property (and like a hundred yards from his house) was quite easy to arrange... plus he stamps his time card there, makes it easy for him to sleep in and still be on time. Anyway, he was mostly fine, but I get to fill in for him. Like I mentioned, I was on a retainer fee during my 'vacation' for the budget cuts. I get paid for a few hours of work each day, and only get more hours if something happens. Like this. So I get into my truck, and head out. Dave, the guy I'm filling in for, has a pretty simple routine as a Jissou exterminator. He goes to each city park , and certain other properties of the city, and makes sure that Jissou populations are not higher than expected. If numbers get too high, he does a cull. Sometimes he even shares the fun... especially when hungover. Of course he returns the favor, so I'm not gona bitch, and I'm his boss. First up on the check is the play field of an elementry school, nothing much, the size of about three football fields, a bit of playground equiptment near the school, a couple of backstops for baseball games (why the city built full sized backdrops of chainlink fence, I'll never know), and a light amount of trees and bushes on the far side. Well, a school grounds check has two main goals First is to keep the playground equipment clear, the younger kids are always trying to get a pet and it makes a mess in the school. Second is just to keep an eye on everything else, and do a walk around, and make sure that no horde has appeared. The field itself, especially with the brush on the far end, almost always has a few Jissou families, with the number varying, sicne Jissous die so fast, and breed fast too. Luckily, Dave is lazy. But smart lazy. He thought shit thru before doing something lazy. He's supposed to come here daily, and does, but usually does nothing but look at the field from the road and make sure there isn't a field of Jissou green. You see, Dave is good at making stuff. As I reach the far end of the field, I start hearing crying, and remember just how good he is. As I approach, I step quietly to avoid being noticed right away, and the crying gets louder. "Dee...dee...dee..." "SHUT UP AND BRING ME CANDY STUPID JISSOUCHAN ~DESU!" Yeah, traps seem to be working. As I come closer, I see one of the larger Jissous I've seen in a while, a three and a half foot tall monstrosity. Fuckers as big, or bigger, than some of the kids at this school. Of course, Ive SEEN a giant Jissou attack a kid that could barley walk and loose, so go figure. Of course, as soon as it noticed me, it forgets about its smaller brethren. "MR MAN MAKE ME YOUR PET. NOW!....." The fucker then has the gall to try to smile cutley, and do the generic paw to mout and curtsey as it finishes its demand "..~desu!" "No" "SHIT MR MAN ~desu" The giant shit goblin starts to reach for its bulging panties..... When doing park exterminating, I wear fishing waders for a reason. Not giving it time to throw shit at me, I step foward, the Jissou has just enough time for its face to take on a slightly blueish tinge, as I raise my right food to its crotch, making sure its seated, then I quickly straighten the leg at the knee, and the Jissou goes flying about ten feet, going over a chain link fence and breaking a leg. Seeing the hole it'd dug to get into the school property, I grab a large rock and wedge it in there. Ignoring the screaming from the giant Jissou, I return to the first of the traps. Dave has a habit of showing up at work just long enough to punch the time clock in and out, which is another reason he likes living so close to the official computer he checks in at. It's not that he doesn't do anything either. He goes home and drinks beer a lot. And tinkers. Before me was one of his 'standard' products for enabling us Jissou disposal guys to take shit a little easier. It had started life as a basic small Jissou terrarium with a carrying handle, and two (very weak) spring loaded door flaps sized for maggots/thumbs, and kojissous. Dave had replaced the door flaps with a revolving door made up of quater inch tall strips of steel. On the outside you had a clear plastic window, anddepending on the particular trap, you would see various images, reflected from mirrors showing not the true interior, but items or pictures on the roof of the construct. And of course, sealed safely away from anything that could get inside. Jissous would see the things, and charge inside wanting candy. Kojissous the size of Gorgo with their first litter would send all of their maggots and thumbchans inside to bring them back candy, or if they were still small enough, charge in themselves. And larger Jissous would shove their entire extended family in, all to make sure THEY got the kontempi they could see teasing them inside (or depending on the model, a stuffed and preserved Jissou corpse may be holding one kontempi from a pile). Needless to say, they were popular. But, you ask, how do they get out ? They don't. As I mentioned, the door was made of up segments of metal. Those slots are there for a reason, you see Dave had took some steel picture wire, and unbraided it, stringing strands equally across the exit, so as to line up with the slots in the revolving door. And what happens ? Well that should be obvious... but wait, I hear a noise! "Mother where did you go ~te ?" Ah, the kojissou didn't notice me talking to its mother. Or allready forgot. "Your mother was a bad Jissou, come out to me and you can be my pet!" "I will be a pet ? This is good day ~Techu~n!" With that, the revolving door starts to move..... Of course at that point, it's too late for the little shit goblin, as the revolving door is on a spring that winds and releases each time one of the four 'doors in the axle is at the point where the Jissou trying to leave is trapped inside. Of course, at that point its too late.... and as the door springs back into place, the kojissou is slammed into the wire.... and comes through the door....... and falls down in chunks..... I let Dave sit at home drinking on the clock for a reason. You get a field with a lotta Jissous, put a few traps like this in it, and the Jissous will wipe out all their children trying to get to the candy, and lot of them hurt themselves trying to break in on their own..... that or the angry parents kill eachother in fights. Eitehr way, the shit gobblins do the work for us. I continue my way arround the fields peremiter, and come up to another trap... and hear more Jissous. Deciding to watch, I crouch behind a tree and stay silent. An older kojissou, just barley big enough to fit into the door, is standing at the window to the cage, and is throwing a fit. Inside the window, another stuffed Jissou corpse, dressed in a fine pets outfit of fake lace, with one arm on a loose spring, so even the lightest motion will make it wave wildly.... and in the hand, was a kontempo.... and a pile at its feet, too. All plastic, of course. "SHIT PET GIVE CANDY OR I EAT YOU ~tepupupu!" The 'pet' continued waving. "AHHHHHHHHH ~tec!" With an inarticulate scream, the Jissou forced its way into the cage. "WHERE SHIT PET GO ~TECHI!" "SHIT PET MY FOOD ~TECHI!" "SHIT PET NOT SMART HIDE OUTSIDE~TECHI!" Then the door moved again as the oh so clever kojissou, sensing its prey was outside, with the candy, rushed to exit. Plop. And the Kojissou plopped out in chunks. Well, I guess this school is secure, anyway.
Smart tramps I could finally read the two threads I love all the stories, but I wonder if it may publish one in Spanish
>>605 I'd try, pero no soy fluido en español. If that's even how you say "fluent." And yes, I am working, but certain goings-on here are slowing me down. The police are involved, and that's as much as I can say. I swear, the world seems to want me off the internet.
>>606 CP ?
>>607 Ha, no.
>>608 It better not be any of those IRL rAIDS
>>609 As much as I hate to doublepost, no. You'll never find me with a Guy Fawkes mask spouting memes. No, it's something more domestic. No, not domestic violence. No, not drugs. Waiting for someone to just start guessing random shit and magically get it right...
Domestic terrorism ? Because everyone knows Anonymous are domestic terrorists, because a local faux neus said so years ago.
is civ J dead? is so what a waste of a good story
>>612 is civ J dead? Far as I can tell, yes it is, see >>26 is so what a waste of a good story I agree fully.
also, Fperson, another experiment to carry out in your story when you are able to continue: Take a number of Jissous, lock their mouths open, and superglue them in a chain with mouth to ass, see how long they live, and add in other variables such as force feeding the last one with an exposed mouth before the process, force feeding ALL of them prior, starving various numbers of them and making them run out of shit prior, etc.
For the time being, yes, Civ J is dead and is currently held in stasis. Unfortunately the SCIENCE! must be paused. Haven't heard from WitchDoctor in ages, and his last project was 13; a dark psychological horror story involving the warped and twisted souls of twelve baby jissou, an insane high class jissouseki, the softy Mr. Man, and the Mr. Man's wife who hates jissouseki. I've got some stories hidden away somewhere that I never posted. If there is time or sufficient motivation, I'll toss them here.
>>614 Already been done, I believe, in the great archive. I think, at least. It may have been in this thread, but irredisgardless it was done. Not quite as in-depth, but yeah. Also, Human Centipede. >>615 That's sad to hear. I miss Kai already... Also, I would personally be spectacularly happy if you decided to post those hidden stories.
I can't speak for anyone else here, but I'd be happy to help you continue civJ REd, if only thru offering story suggestions, proofreading, and harassment to write moar. Actually, I think I'll give you the harassment regardless.....
>>617 id just be happy too hear that jissos are being tortured and sacrificed to the great mr man in the sky in civ j, what i am trying to say it just need to be a filler, nothing needs to be fancy or canon to your story, i found this thread last week and i have to say i have becomes addicted, and also stupid smelly jisso must die
>>614 Found that story you wanted, >>262 by *A*. Also, here's that other story you probably wanted. Jissou Mythbusters Episode 4 Grinding Gears, Part 2 So, yeah, back to work. I guess I’ll cut the first 25 seconds of the video out – the part with crazed activist rambling – and put it on my website. Someone else can get a laugh. I put a ton of videos up there (think something like tumblr, but fewer memes and more jissous) and it’s often given me some more clients from guys who look it up on Google or whatever. Besides, I like to entertain people. Who doesn’t? Anyways, that task done thanks to the ease of Microsoft Movie Maker (/sarcasm), I pick up my clipboard, remove the top sheet, and check the next one. It’s blank. Actually, it’s nonexistent; I’m staring at the wooden back. Hmm, that means until tonight I have nothing work-related to do. Cool. So, it’s about 1:45 in the afternoon. I have about 7 hours to kill before I print out my work for tomorrow and hit the sack. I stand for a few minutes, thinking of some way to occupy myself, since I’m one of those guys who will go fucking insane if I’m not doing something. Looking over, the Mailslot of Doom catches my eye. I do need to test it, might as well do it since I’m done working 3 hours earlier than usual. Ah, what the hell. Let’s do it. First things first. My real front door has no mail slot, so I can’t take the mechanism off the freestanding door and slap it on the other door, and trying to cut one out with a jigsaw is just asking for pain. My back door is a sliding glass door with a sliding metal door behind, so that doesn’t work either. And let’s face it, even a jissou will call shenanigans if they see a random door standing upright in the middle of the yard. Therefore, the Mailslot of Doom will replace my front door. Safety won’t be compromised, it’s an iron door, and jissous will have even less of a chance of getting in. The only issue will come while I switch the doors. I’m no lightweight, and the wrenchwork isn’t a problem, it’s the fact that I’ll have a huge entry point for all the feral jissous that definitely want in, not to mention the PETA crazies I now have to worry about as well. It’s sad when my precautionary preparations will take longer than what I’m preparing for, but the risk of ferals and insane people getting in is not one I’m willing to accept. Upstairs I go, into my room. “Hello, Mr – uh, Justin, techi!” Sarah greets me, managing to remember that calling me Mr. Man gives me a heart attack every damn time. Looks like she just woke up. She sleeps during the day, anyway. And the night. Jissous love to sleep, it appears. “Hello, Sarah. You can come down now, I’m done working.” “Oh, okay, techi.” She walks out of the room. I take little notice, and stroll to my cabinet. I grab my holster with my Glock in and strap it on, and also grab my anti-jissou pellet gun, which goes in my waistband because I’d rather have a bruise on my crotch than a bloody hole. Lethal force and anti-jissou weaponry. Thankfully, that new ‘castle’ law came into effect, so I can fire on someone if they try to break in and just say that I thought they were going to do me harm or fuck with my house, or something like that. To be honest, as much as it seems like I’m obsessing about these PETA freaks, I’m not really worried about them. They may have extremists in their ranks, but mostly they just piss me off and nothing more. Jissous, on the other hand, are slightly more dangerous since they can breed like fucking rabbits. To that end, I get a plastic baby gate I used when Sarah was slightly less careful with the stairs and a plastic sheet. Back downstairs, I set the baby gate up outside the doorway and cover it with the plastic sheet. I make a makeshift barricade behind me out of random foyer detritus and cover it with another sheet, to catch any jissous that make it inside long enough that I’ll detect and end them. Now, the fun bit. I take a screwdriver and pull the bolts from the hinges. I then give a good yank to the door handle and let the door fall back on me. I catch it (easier said than done, iron doors are heavy) and carry it into my little makeshift workshop. On the way back, I bring the Mailslot of Doom with me, which is significantly harder due to the fact that it has about 25 pounds of mechanics strapped to it, not to mention the car battery that powers the whole assembly. I set it down in the position a door would be had I opened it. I take a moment to check my barricades. There’s a small crowd of jissous at the end of the driveway, which is perfectly fine by me, they’ll all try to shove their progeny into the Doomslot. I count them, and guesstimate a good 12 individual adults, with 6 kojissous, what appears to be 7 thumbs, and the 7 maggots they’re holding, with more possibly in the middle of the group. Suddenly, one adult looks over, notices me and the open doorway, and heads my way, faint cries of “Mr. Man desu!” preceding her. Putting all of my quickdraw practice to work, I smoothly draw my pellet gun and send a plastic BB her way. It hits her leg, and she drops, not 5 feet from the group. “Huh, desu?” Her brain takes a second to register the pain. Surprising, that’s a trait you only see in maggots. It doesn’t really matter, the result’s the same. “MY LEG DEGYAAA!” “Dinner is served!” I yell, since it don’t take a crystal ball to see what’s coming. Indeed, I can spot a kojissou already eyeing Mama with a hungry eye. Most people freak out when they see children eating mothers, but I don’t. I say it’s payback for the mother’s greed and infanticide. If your mother ate your siblings right before your eyes and denied you what little real food you had in favor of her, wouldn’t you take revenge if you got the chance? Well, maybe you wouldn’t eat her, but you’re also not a jissou. Anyways, I ignore the feasting and lift the door onto its hinges. I slip the first bolt in, and the second, and finally the third. Thankfully, the doors are perfect matches, and the entire assembly is opening and closing perfectly. I add the battery on, and flip the ‘on’ switch. Nothing happens, and I panic for a moment before remembering that there’s a motion sensor in it so that it doesn’t burn the battery out by running constantly. I open the door and wave my hand in front of the mail slot, and the black box shudders and whirs. All systems are go, it seems. I provide the wounded mother, who now has half-disappeared into 5 stomachs but still has the energy to scream, a merciful death by way of 5 plastic BBs to the skull. I set up another of my innumerable mini-cameras up, add the legally required “You’re being recorded, smile!” sign, take my impromptu barrier down, and close the door. While I’m clearing the internal version of the barricade, Sarah appears. “What’s that thing, techi?” Her arm is aimed at the black box. “It’s something that’ll keep the bad jissous outside.” “How does it do that, techi?” “Well, there’s wheels inside, so if a maggot-chan or kojissou were to be put in the mail slot by a mother, it would be thrown out.” “Would it hurt them, techi?” “Depends. A kojissou’d probably come out fine. A thumb would be a bit sketchy, but maggots have a tendency to not survive, ‘cause everything comes out of there going pretty fast.” “Oh.” Yeah, Sarah’s an inquisitive one, in case you’ve missed the entire dialogue up there. Honestly, if you’ve ever seen a 10 year old child (which is where I’m estimating her IQ would lie if I gave her the test), you wouldn’t be surprised at her curiosity. Despite that, I’ve still to figure out her attitude to her less-intelligent cousins. She’s usually ambivalent about the situation, like “okay, ferals are going to die, whatever.” Even when the screams from my thinly-veiled abusing reach upstairs, she just complains about the noise. It’s weird, and more unsettling than if she were a sadist like me. Of course, if she raged every time I ended another jissou’s worthless life, that’d be a real problem, but thankfully that’s absolutely not the case. Unknown opinions aside, she heads off into the living room and turns on the TV that she magically learned to operate. The sickening sounds of Spongebob Squarepants roll in as I put on my headset on and activate my computer. 2 passwords and a hidden directory later (I’m paranoid as fuck and took Computer Science, come at me Anonymous ‘hax0rz’) I’m looking at the live camera feed from outside. It’s also recording, and if this thing works like I hope it does, I’ll be putting this video up on the internet as well. The little group in my front yard finally finishes consuming the dead mother. I quickly add a small annotation for the first 25 seconds by her that says that I had to shoot her so she wouldn’t get in my house, because even knowing I’m an abuser it’s a strange thing to have a desiccated jissou corpse in my front yard. Once I return to the live feed, a mother and trail of babies has arrived at my door. However, I’m seriously getting annoyed by the Spongebob in the background. Playing some loud rock music stops that. Hell, the lyrics are appropriate, too! “I can see them everywhere, they’re all around me, they’re waiting for me. Descending, unrelenting…” The mother jissou knocks on my door. It doesn’t even make a noise, or so the audio visualizations say. They stand there for a moment, preforming the feral jissou’s parody of thought. “Look, there’s an opening Mama, techi!” I turned the camera’s volume to the max, so I can easily hear this over my loud-ass music. “You’re right, jissou-chan, desu! I’ll put you in, and you can get the Mr. Man or Mrs. Lady to open the door for me, desu!” “Okay, techi!” The pure innocence in that kojissou’s voice would be touching, if it weren’t planning to invade my home. In it goes. “Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!” In case you’re wondering where the ‘techi’ is, it didn’t get to say it on account of the fact that it’s now moving at 25 miles per hour. Yes, the system operated perfectly. Moreover, the aim on the ejection port is spot-on. The kojissou comes out and strikes the mother in the stomach. If anyone here has ever been hit by a miss-kicked football (American or European, either one hurts like a bitch), double that pain and you know what that mother is feeling. She falls over in a fetal ball, protecting her wounded stomach. “Oooh, my stomach hurts, deshaaa…” She rocks back and forth, paws held to her stomach and shit bubbling from her panties. The ballistically-launched kojissou survives with no wounds whatsoever, attesting to the softness of a jissou’s fat rolls. “Mama, mama, are you okay, techi?” Her question is answered with a stump to the head. “Shit jissou, hurting your mama, degya!” “But mama, it was the door monster, it threw me at you, techa! Please, get up, techieeeeen!” Once again, paw meets face. Then stomach. “Shut up, stupid shit jissou!” “Why momma why tegyaaa?!” Famous last words. Literally, in cases of jissou infanticide. Literally every kojissou that has died by a mother’s hands in earshot of me or my cameras has uttered this line or a fragment of it. Strange, it’s like it was hardwired into every kojissou. So, yes, this kojissou is pounded into paste by its own mother. Another typical day in Jissou Hell. The maggots are panicking, the thumbs are trying to calm the maggots down while they are panicking in spite of themselves, the kojissou is dying a painful death, and the mother is bleeding internally while she pulverizes her daughter. Eventually, the kojissou is a puddle that even an enraged jissou cannot mistake for a target, so she decides to calm the fuck down. “Hungry, desu…” Obviously, a maggot just met its timely demise. “Re? Not food, rehi! NOT FOOD REPYA-” Meh. “Now, jissou-chan, go open the door for me, desu! Don’t be like shit jissou, desu!” The thumb that was selected quakes in fear at the reference to her deceased sister, and nods. She goes up into the slot, wheels begin to turn, and she is launched. This time, her lighter weight makes her angle upwards on the exit, hitting the mother directly in the head. Despite this light weight, she acts a bit like a bullet. Well, more like a rock. The mother’s head is crushed by the impact. Blood sprays everywhere, shit and maggots stream from her panties, and she falls backwards down the steps. Another jissou mother waddles up, seeing an easy meal. She grabs one of the maggots and pops it in her mouth. She then notices the mail slot, has the same epiphany, and shoves her own children in the slot. A literally identical scenario results, complete with pulverized kojissou and bullet thumb. Another mother walks up, and the exact same thing happens. How many more jissous are there? 12? This is going to get tedious reeeeeeeeeeeeal quick.
>>619 Oh fuck man, thanks for re-linking that old jissou centipede post, havent read it in ages..... and now I think Im due to take a few hours and re-read the archive thread and then this one. As for your post, I laughed my ass off.
Continued from >>597 Ten Thousand Stumps Show 4 : Spirit of the Hawk Thierry Genestar Since last time’s incident, we settled in quietly. Really, once I came to believe Sylvia’s story about being an orphan girl changed into a Jissouseki hybrid by a mad scientist, she opened a lot more to me. No shit. The first group of humans she met turned her into a monster, the second she met turned her into a slave. I freed her, but she was, understandably, wary around me, until that night. We drank and drank, and opened our hearts to each other. I told me my story, she told hers. It was fascinating. She believed to be a test subject, yet escaped to her freedom, and learned the terrible truth only after several months. I told everything about my past week, including jissou-chan, but evidently she couldn’t handle the gin. She quickly started to make no sense, kind of just fell into the sofa, and lost every memory of the evening beyond the telling of her own story. To be fair, the gin was Tanqueray brand. Ten percent stronger than most gins when it comes to alcohol percentage. You better believe I made sure the guns were hidden before we began. Anyway, we are two days later. Sylvia has explored the underground a bit more and gathered some safe specimens to populate the kitchen. We now have every age of jissou readily available for consumption and reproduction without having to get outside. As for me, I’ve skimmed through everything I could get my hands on, on both the computer and the bookshelves. Well, the bookshelves, mostly. And even if there was no diary or anything that convenient, I did find some things about the history of the place. A letter lost in some drawer was addressed to a certain “L.D”, was about four years old and referred to project Falconer. This sweet codename refers to the core of all the recent shenanigans : the crystal control technology. The letter was about how they managed to create a computer interface to the crystals, which was obviously a major milestone. I didn’t find the reply to that letter, but it does confirm this villa was part of the same organization that “created” Sylvia. Because after all, we made somewhat of a leap of faith here : Just because Sylvia visited the place doesn’t automatically mean her lab was directly related. Could have been the competition, for one. But the real bummer is, the only “proof” we have for this organization being the one the good General is actually looking for is the gargantuan colony. For all we know, we’re just helping with Sylvia’s evil group while ours is making soufflés in a volcano near Polynesia. At least, that was the bummer until I opened the ring binder labeled “JMC Hypothesis”. Most of it was math bullshit, but, I saw a handwritten letter in a plastic sheet. It was, in all likelihood, something of a first draft. It wasn’t signed nor dated, and the sheet of paper was perfectly smooth, without any fold marks. It read as follows : “My dear collaborators. We are no strangers to ethical dissensions, and while in the past I had made myself the voice of reason, I must now become the devil’s advocate. All of you are aware that the JMCDC Theory, formerly known as the JMC hypothesis, have implications that are both possibly the grandest milestone of human knowledge, and the endgame of all our endeavors. You are also aware that getting enough data cannot be done without inflicting some serious, if not shocking, damage to the environment in general and urban environment in particular. However, the sheer implications of the theory simply cannot, you must realize, allow any second thoughts. Since the beginning, our goal was to trample giants. This is about to happen.” …Aaaand that is pretty fucking ominous, isn’t it ? Yup. I’d say we are in the right place. On the other hand, the computer stays resolutely unhacked. I’m trying to google how to access private files but nothing I find makes any sense to me. As far as I understand from the screenshots I have to launch DOS somehow ? Bitch, I don’t want to hear about your 20th century complex. Just give me something where I can click all the buttons in succession and call it tech support. “Hello.” Jumping in my chair, I take my flashball gun, swearing, and point it at the source of the voice. A woman. Somewhere in her thirties. Dressed casually, but with a good touch of class nonetheless. Auburn hair tied in a ponytail. Seeing me drawing my gun, she backs up a little, hands uncovered. I ask the obvious question. “Who the fuck are you ?” ——————————— So I told them both my story. “Weird, it feels like I’ve heard that story before, desu…” “Uh, yeah, I told you two days ago but you got too hammered to remember it.” “Hammered ?” Angrily reacted Lynn. “She’s a minor.” I look at her seriously. She’s right, of course, but she didn’t hear her story yet. “Look, we’re both civil servants, I damn well know you don’t serve shooters to kids for several excellent reasons, but she’s the very definition of the word “exception” and trust me, she was worse off sober at the time.” “Sure she was.” She replies, calmly and clearly not impressed. “At any rate, you’re saying that whoever used to own this house is hell-bent on massive destruction ?” “Well, actually, I found pretty recently some evidence of that, buried within pages of science stuff. You should be able to confirm or infirm that.” “What is your opinion on what you found, for starters ?” “It was on a ring binder labeled “JMC Hypothesis”. Like I said, it had tons of stuff I couldn’t understand for the life of me. But inside, I did find something readable. A manuscript first draft of what was obviously some kind of company letter. Basically, it said the people behind this facility were after some groundbreaking scientific discovery, but that in order to confirm it, they were bound to do some real damage to cities.” The CSI merely raised an eyebrow, Sylvia was speechless. “I can show you the letter right now if you want.” I precised. “Please do…” “Holy fuck there’s some serious shit going on there, desu !” I headed to the table where I left the letter and handed it to Lynn. Sylvia got behind her, on her toes, to read it as well. “Mh, certainly looks like someone who wants some results out of a lab as fast as possible.” “What does he mean by “trampling giants”, desu ?” “Dwarves standing on the shoulders of giants…” “What, desu ?” “It’s a metaphor. A scientist stands on the collective human knowledge gathered before him, and he, himself, is just making his small contribution.” “So” I intervene, “it means this guy believes that…whatever they’re after is going to be so revolutionary, Lavoisier and Einstein will no longer matter ?” “It certainly is the logical conclusion.” “And, it’s possible, desu ?” “Hmpf” snorts Lynn. “Of course not.” “Yeah, it does sound a little too grandiloquent. But still, you should take a look at the science data, maybe you’ll understand a bit more about this…theory they have.” “It’s certainly worth a try.” “Well, I left the ring binder in the study. Remember, JM…” “Yes, I’ve got it.” She goes upstairs, Sylvia behind her, leaving a good half of her fried adult jissou behind. Damn. I refrained from saying it since she probably gets that all the time, but that Lynn is basically IRL Sara Sidle. She’s beautiful and dignified in every way, she’s smart, knowledgeable, and clearly, clearly no-bullshit. It was obviously her who divorced from that ass David, not the contrary. Just a shame that I managed to confess to her the one damn law-breaking act I’ve done my entire life. Dammit, I know it was wrong. But Sylvia really was worse off sober. Lynn Beckett “That’s interesting.” “What is, desu ?” Says, excitedly, David’s killer. “The entire file. It’s a KDD process.” “KDD, desu ?” “Knowledge discovery in databases. Better known as data mining. It’s…a complex branch in computer engineering where you analyze enormous amounts of data to try and find a previously unknown pattern.” “Oookay, desu.” Sigh. “Trying to find if there’s anything interesting in a whole bunch of stuff.” “Doesn’t sound very revolutionary, desu.” “Yeah I…don’t really imagine data mining crushing Newton’s laws. That letter’s crazy talk.” “Too bad, it sounded awesome, desu. But…what were they studying ? What did they find to make them say that, even if they’re wrong, desu ?” “Well, the papers are pretty much all the same : descriptions of the protocols used, which samples yielded results, adjustments made over time…There’s no mention of the end result or what they were mining in the first place. But I think it’s a safe bet is has to do with the Jissouseki.” “Because there’s so much outside, right, desu ?” “That, and the “J” in JMCDC.” “Hm…” I raise my head from the files. Since the beginning of the conversation, the small jissou-human hybrid stood perfectly still behind me, from a surprisingly large distance. Intrigued, I turn my head and look at her. She backs away for just a nudge. “What’s wrong ?” “N…Nothing, desu.” “I’m no interrogator, but it’s obvious you want to ask me something.” I say, trying to smile to…that. “You…You saw mistress, desu ?” “I…guess you mean my daughter, Samantha ?” “Yes, desu ! I know I killed someone really important to her, and I feel like shit but…she’s a complete stranger to the hatred I felt for him, she has to be, desu. Tell me she doesn’t know, desu.” The confession of a killer. No idea how to handle this. Absolutely none. My business is microscopes. But the truth is always the best answer. “Well, as is to be expected in this type of situation, she’s shattered by her father’s death, but the reason I’m here is because she begged me to find you. She still believed in you.” “Hey, what are you implying, desu ? I never betrayed her, desu !” “Sure, you just killed the human being she depended on most.” “That’s because he did something inhuman to me, desu. Even if I tried to I couldn’t have let him go, desu.” Oooh brother. I almost forgot why I divorced him, what with him being dead and all. Of course, that doesn’t justify murder in any way but… “I know, he’s…promiscuous with his jissous.” “What, desu ? Ah, you mean what he did with Stella, desu…No, it’s another thing, worse, desu.” I…Worse ? “Another thing ?” I reply after a three-second blank, perplexed. “What ?” “He enslaved me, desu.” Wow. A jissou that qualifies being taken as a pet as “enslavement”. It’s like a fish that would suddenly decide to fly several miles straight into an active volcano : it’s mechanically impossible, it’s absolutely unprecedented, and there’s no reason whatsoever to do it. I know for a fact that David has spoiled her rotten, so it can only be pride talking. And a jissou has no pride, only entitlement. “You didn’t like being a pet ?” “I like my freedom better, desu.” “Why ?” “Because I am not a jissouseki. I only look like one, desu.” “Well, even that…” “The people behind this place, desu. They took an orphan girl and implanted a jissou crystal in her spine, desu.” “What…are you saying ?” I say, my voice beginning to break. This…can’t be good. “That turned her into a monster, desu. Into me.” “Do you have proof ?” The strong tone of my voice startles her a bit. “Well, they…sort of destroyed the lab where I was created, desu…” “Understand, I’m not doubting you here. I like this explanation better than the freak miracle never attempted again.” “Yeah, Thierry said the same thing, desu…” “But we have to start collecting evidence to put those mad scientists on death row.” She raises an eyebrow. “You can do that, desu ?” “Well, if I can’t, then I don’t want to have anything to do with the legal system for the rest of my life.” “Death row is kind of more awesome than just shooting them, desu…” Says the girl, as if weighing the pros and cons. I get up. I shouldn’t get that worked up, that is completely unprofessional. She killed my ex-husband. She’s a monster. But she didn’t become a monster by herself. Thierry Genestar I sit on the terrace, in a long chair, looking at the cloudy sky. Shouldn’t I be inside, making sure the house doesn’t shift from “Lair of a big matriarch, stay the fuck away” to “Human house, please harass” ? Well, hypothetical attentive reader, you should know what the problem is, don’t you ? That’s right ! Mrs.Beckett already blew up our cover. And as we speak -albeit at an incredibly slow pace- a good detachment of vagrant jissous are climbing the mountainside. Twenty steps, thirty-seconds pause. Twenty steps, thirty seconds pause, maggot snack. Rinse and repeat. They’re damn serious about getting there, but can’t really go faster than that. Some mamas exhort their kojissous to press foward, others just leave them behind, but I strangely see none carrying their daughters. Presenting one like a doll is, after all, a staple of their Mr.Man-goading. The effort they make is just that great. I hear someone stepping behind me. “Hey, what are you doing outside, desu ? Shouldn’t we be staying indoors, desu ?” “The CSI fucked that plan already. Now that they know we’re here, they won’t fall for that trick.” “Come on, they won’t remember forever, desu.” “True, but even if Lynn’s arrival is lost to the memories of each jissou individual, the knowledge will remain in the group. Vague as it is, the info “humans are in this villa” is critical to any jissou, so it will go around and around and around in the community, permanently refreshing their individual memories as it goes back and forth with the word of mouth. That’s why we can only use the Judas Priest trick with a freshly cleansed house.” “Back and forth…It works that way, desu ?” “Well, it’s that, or accepting a sort of hive-mind theory and we don’t quite have evidence of this yet. Says Steph, anyway. Oh by the way, where’s Lynn ?” “She went back to the files to find evidence of my transformation, desu.” “Ah, you didn’t lose any time to tell her.” “Yeah, no, desu. Anyway, the jissous are almost here, what’s our new plan, desu ?” I snicker. “Behold, child, the power of a professional exterminator.” I raise my hand up in the air, and pull the trigger. A high-pitched, very loud scream can be heard, catching the attention of everyone around. All can see the red trail flying upward in the sky. And then, three seconds later, an bright red explosion. I dramatically blow on the gun. “Modified flare delivering a highly intense bright red explosion akin to professional-grade fireworks. Only issued to certified exterminators. Instantly impregnates jissous in a good kilometer radius while causing enough eye damage to make them go blind from several hours to an entire day. Basically turns the jissou overpopulation against them, making them way too busy with their maggots to look for human homes. The most unfortunate mamas get cannibalized by their own surprise offspring. Your fucking move, Jissouseki.” “You…could…have warned me, desu !” Protests Sylvia, rubbing her eyes. “Oh, hush, it can’t even destroy a jissou’s eye.” I get up my chair and look at the mountain flank. As expected, the surprise made many a mama roll down a good distance. They’re all completely still, panting, swelling up like balloons. “Why can’t I see, desha ?” “Am I…having babies, dee ?” “Stop growing, maggot-chans, I must go to Mr.Man’s house, desha !” The pregnancy flare is one hell of a weapon, but, for obvious reasons, only effective in the wild, where overpopulation can be a problem for them. I didn’t use it back in Annecy because it would just have been asking for trouble. But for protecting a completely isolated house surrounded by Jissouseki ? It’s perfect. “Okay, better now, desu…” Says sylvia, having recovered quickly from the flash. “But, when they stop being blind, they’ll just get back to the house, right, desu ? I mean, just because they have food in the form of maggots won’t make them forget about becoming a goddamn pet, desu.” “Nope, it’s not about that. A mama striving for pet status is counting on her daughters, even not consciously. When you have a sea of maggots at your feet, you can’t very well go home hunting, because they know kojissous are far better. Simple as that. Thus, we can count on a whole week of peace and quiet.” “I see, desu.” “The only think I’m concerned about is, of course, the metropolis. Who knows what can happen in there. But I still have two flares, so…we should be good for a while. Oh, by the way, what were you fucking thinking when you activated the recording, the night you committed a freaking murder ?!” “Huh, well, huh…I lost my freedom only because that piece of shit Stella thought of activating it so…I kinda thought about proving I was better than a bitch recording, desu.” “…Best just heading up to sleep, what do you say ?” Sylvia It’s the evening, and Mistress’s mom is still at it. Wow. I would have gotten out of all this paper faster than you can say degya. “You know, I thought you would at least come ask what the “bang” sound was several hours ago, desu.” “Why bother anyone with that ?” she calmly answers without even getting her sights out of the files. “I saw the red light it emitted, and knowing that guy is an exterminator, it follows that it involved the quick jissou pregnancy…Which cannot possibly be good for the critters at such a scale. I don’t even have to look out the window to know they are devouring the flesh of their flesh. Hmpf. Disgusting creatures.” “Hm, well, I guess you are a detective, desu.” “Well don’t go thinking I can solve crimes by looking at a single bullet casing.” “I don’t, Samantha explained me, desu.” She looks at me, obvious surprise on her face. “She did ?” “Well, yeah, desu, why ?” “Because I…was fairly certain she was convinced I’m some kind of super-cop.” “No ! She’s even tired of explaining that at school, desu.” “School…I…I didn’t realize you lived with her much more than I did. Huh…” Somehow, I felt that as a big compliment, and hung out to her lips, hoping to be helpful. “Yes, desu ?” “What was your relationship with her, exactly ?” “Well, I’m supposed to be her pet, but I guess I was more like the sister who couldn’t leave home, desu.” “And…what did she think of me ?” “Aside from “I wish mom was here” every now and then, desu ? Well…that’s about it, really, desu…She never understood why you and her father got separated but wanted it to have never happened, desu.” “Sammie…She’s too young to understand the reason. But you already know. Her dad fucked the pet jissouseki he bought.” “Hm, yeah, Stella basically gloated about it all the goddamn time, desu.” “Yeah…” She finally gets up, away from those files. “Sorry, but…I’m still not sure what to think about all this.” After making so much progress talking about our family, she seems to just shut me off. I understand, but I want to… “Let’s talk another time.” I want her to acknowledge me. But she’s already gone. Aaah, this sucks ! I suck ! Why would I even want to be her daughter ? That’s just not going to fucking happen. The other me is lame and stupid. Stupid ! A family is…would be nice, but I can’t tell for sure. Unlike all those Jissouseki in the valley. Those are awesome and I’m certain of it. They have multiplied by ten or so thanks to the flare. It already was a bit of a mess, but now the whole damn ground is covered in maggots. There’s not really any conflict, being that they are nearly all blind right now, but even those who dodged the bullet don’t seem to make a move against the blind ones. There’s just mass confusion. So why, in a group so dense the only reaction to being owned at this scale is just standing here confused, could there be anything of value to find with this data mining shit ? Bah, let Mom figure out. I think I’ll pay another visit to the underground tomorrow. Mom ? I need to stop doing this.
Suddenly I'm imaging sara silda making out with a Jissou. Good post inleaves.
622 Wat >>621 Nice one once again. Sylvia is just as bad a drunk as envisioned. Also on the subject of Sylvia, I can see some awkward moments with her and Lynn coming up.
>>623 Wat re-read, see who Lynn is said to look like, and >622 will make sense.
I think we all got who it was referring to. The Wat still stands.
>>624 was me, forgot to tripcode, incase anyone doubted. >>625 The Wat still stands rule34 on Sylvia and Lynn, or as Fperson put it....... I can see some awkward moments with her and Lynn coming up.
>>626 No, actually, I meant Sylvia slipping up and acting like Lynn's daughter (Calling her mom, stuff like that). Quite frankly, I'm trying to avoid envisioning that certain scenario there. I continue to Wat, good sir.
>>627 I still call rule34
>>619 Thank you Fperson for continue this series, it deviously cientific. please more! >>588 Tomoe I love this series of you, hope you can delivar more, i want to read Gorgo kicking dirty jissou ass with the help of her offsprings. A family army of Jissouseki, that would be awesome.
>>629 Yeah, I deffinitly plan moar, cant promise quick tho, I write when I have the time and am in the mood too, so sometimes you may get frequent posts, others none for a while.
>>630 Yay! also bump
A Room with a Desu c1 I casually strolled through the park, trying to be careful of the tiny odd-eyed cats hiding in the bushes, trees and grass ready to bombard me with shouts of “TAKE ME HOME DESU!” and “Take me home rechu~” and “Home refu~”.As I walked past the pond’s long streaming reeds I heard teensy tiny cries behind me of “Rarfu!Help me rarfu!” “Save us techu!Need home techu!”I looked down and saw a little child holding up her maggot sister.”Where’s your mama-jissou?” “Mama went to sleep.She never woke up techi.” “Well, come here.”I reached out my hand out and the child happily hopped on.I put them in my pocket where they curled up.I heard tiny little snores and jogged home to check out my new pets. When we got home I took out the two little jissou and set them on the floor.The child stretched and sat up while the maggot woke up with a squeal.”Wow,big house techi!”I went to get them food,as they were very skinny and the maggot’s cocoon was loose.I remembered reading about some maggots being fed some different things.Four were filled with water,four others mud,four eating plants,and the last four eating animals.The waters got bellyaches but were okay,the muds were licking the walls to get out the taste,the plants were happy,and two animals got fed fish and the others snails.The snails got sick and died,but the fish were fine.Taking that knowledge into hand,I got an eyedropper filled with water and some salted carrots,as well as some canned tuna.I fed the little babies and they got a bit full and their bellies got puffy.The maggot’s cocoon was a bit too tight and I rubbed her belly to help it digest easier.”Do you want a rub too?”I asked the child and she squeaked no,but I gave her half a teaspoon of pepto bismol just to be sure.The maggot curled up and wrapped her stubby legs around her belly and the child just sat down.I let them rest and went outside. “DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZHAAAAAAAAAA! WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE ME DESU?!” Outside was a raging wild mother.I kicked her and took her to the kitchen.My babies would get some fried jissou tonight! Before I amputated and fried the poor mother,I decided to have some fun.Note that I say mother because she was quite fat,from eating so much to poo a lot and feed her babies,but she probably became a glutton and ate them.I ripped off her clothes and ripped them in front of her face.”ORORORON MY CLOTHES DESU!”I then ripped out her hair and smeared the blood that ebbed out all over her.I then used a knife to take out her intestines,kidneys,bladder,and pancreas.I then stuffed her with meat and veggies,stuffing her orifices with fruit.I ground up the organs I took out and sprinkled them over her.I then sliced off her hands and feet.By now the jissou was begging for mercy,flailing around the chopping block.I then hung up her limbs by some meat hooks and hung her on a rack.I then swung the rack into a walk-in oven I had. “DEZHAAAAARARRAWWGHRRRLLLLL OGHORLGORLORRL DWAYTHUAHGHRNL!...waythayagraghhl…sssun…wa…” The jissou burnt up and roasted,screaming until her skin was crackling,her insides were by-products and she was stone dead.As she wailed at first her voice was clear,then foggy,then unable to make out,then sizzling,and finally crispy as her vocal cords were burnt up into useless crackling.She still continued to flail until her body was so crispy it would bleed if she breathed,then she blinked,until she finally gave out as her heart and brain were cooked.I removed the body and removed the eyes and teeth.”Okay,dinner’s ready!”My pets ate the roast happily.I put them to bed and ate the rest before sleeping myself.
>>632 You really, really, REALLY need to take Writing 101, because block-o-text and grammar issues makes this thing pretty fucking hard to read.
Ah, REd, your usual charming self I see. Certainly it is blocky and rushed by this thread's standards. Some people have a hard time reading on a screen and one should be thoughtful by providing a much less dense presentation than it is customary in hardcover books. But this is less than twenty lines long; it's not "pretty fucking hard to read" by any stretch of the imagination. Anyway, thank you for contributing, >>632.
>>633 Agreed. That said, I suspect the pets are in for fun. Or the humans in for an infestation.
>>632 Nice a little rushed, there are some errors but i like it goes straight to the point. Just make smaller paragraphs and practice a little bit. Loved the reference to "Civilisation J", the good doctor and his SCIENCE! I miss him. Hope you continue this tale Anon.
>>633 >>635 People, if you have so much time for complaining, start writing. At least the anon in >>632 is contributing. Despite it being a rushed story, in a single block of text,is actually pretty interesting. Better than the almost nothing we have had the last weeks.
>>637 People, if you have so much time for complaining, start writing. o'rly ? Lets take a look in this thread and see how valid your statement is mr ID: 3e86da. You singled out two people, REd and myself With REd if you go to post six, ( here's a link >>6 since Im assuming youre not big on reading the thread) you'll see his first contribution to the thread. Oh, furthermore, if you go back to the OLD thread, the FIRST Jissouseki thread, guess who got it started. Thats right. REd. he was the very first to contribute on this subject, four years ago. http://orz.gurochan.net/lit/archive/1227136933 And myself ? >>299 >>304 >>533 >>538 >>574 >>588 >>600 >>604 Conclusion: you sir, are an idiot.
>>638 HEY! DO READ WHAT I ACTUALLY WROTE. I'm not saying both of you didn't write awesome stuff. You did, really did. Awesome. But its actually SOME time since REd had wrote something. I Just said that, if both of you have time to complain, you should start updating and writing. Only that. I would write, if I had that gift. And the anon in >>632 is just starting, don't crucify him.
>>638 AND I read both the great archive and this thread here entirely.
>>639 Ah, ok. Na, neither of us were saying he was shit, just that he needed to spellcheck/format it a little better. It's called constructive criticism, can at time seem to be the normal asshattery expected from the *chans (and often is) but if listened to has the effect of improving whatever it's commenting on. As for writing more, well as I've said repeatedly, I just don't have the time quite often. If I'm going to write more, I'm going to wait til I have the time AND inclination (IE: know exactly where I want it to go) to do it right, rather than halfass it. Not that I don't halfass it on occasion, however when re-reading it, I decide to just close the tab rather than hitting reply.
Jissou Anticonceptive. Just call me Isaac. I have been working on this company since the begining. After graduation this was the only company that took my short resume. It all started small. A single Warehouse and a R&D lab, where the success of this company was discovered: Jissou Anticonceptive. It was by mere chance that they discovered the anticonceptive. They actualy were developing poisons and repelents. Five years have past since then and the company now has more than 9000 employes arround the world. And I am a Quality control manager now, pretty good after starting as a mere worker. But you may be asking yourself why people want somenthing as jissou anticonceptives? Well, people that has jissou as pets may not want their houses to get full of little jissouseki every now and then. Also the alternative of surgical castration has proven to be bad for the general health of the jissouseki. They become weak an get sick more often. But the real bussines is our brand of poison. The problem with other poisons is the little inteligence of the jissouseki, with time they avoid poisons after seeing their peers die a painfull dead. Some times things get worse as the dead throbes cause an emergency brith. You kill one jissou but twelve maggots survive the dead mother. With slow action poison the jissou start to develop tolerance quite fast so it gets useless after a while. And they may have shat a bunch of pups before die. Ours is an efective slow action poison mixed with the anticonceptive. Even if the jissou survives it will be steryle and wont be shitting more pups for a long time. It has proven to be very effective as populations of jissou decrease quite fast after using it. YOu know why?, because they eat each other faster than they shit maggots. And as an extra the exterminators have an easy job capturing a population of mostly adults. Today Im going to make a test. The kid who usually do it is sick. But Its okay this is entertaining. First, the test subjects, six jissouseki mature enough to reproduce. Two street jissou, two pet grade jissou, and two "lab jissou". Each one is on a plastic bin. All asleep. The street jissou were captured this morning, they had children but abandoned then for candy and a house. The candy was Valium, the house will be this lab just for today. The pet grade jissou were buyed from a local pet store. They also had children, and were sold cheap because they were old for the retailer standart. And the lab jissou are the youngest of the lot, they are almost as good as hi-class jissou, but are bald naked and were rised in a laboratory in order to be used for experimentation, they are more expensive than pet class but cheaper than a hi-class. Okay lets begin, I will inject one of each tipe with the anticonceptive, the others will be control samples. First the street jissou, carefully a lift its dress, as usual dirty pantys and foul odor. I inject the jissou quickly, it wakes up wailing, thats good I need it awake. Then I shake the other jissou´s bin so it wakes up too. Now the pet grade, it is already waking up because of the wailing of the street jissou so I quickly lift its dress and lower a bit its pantys to inject it. It jumps almost breaking the needle and starts to cry. "Why mister man hurt me desu?" Then the street jissou protests. "Shit human desu! Give me food now desu" to that the other street jissou, the control sample retorts "I am your new pet desu! Why is shit jissou in my house desu! Give me food and kill that shit jissou desu!" Ok time to put on the earplugs. I can still hear them but in a tolerable level. "Ororon, master there are nasty jissou in here desu! It dangerous desu" says the injected pet grade. "Master whats that noise desu, where are my babies desu?" now the control sample is awake, it seem it was sleep before it was separated from its children. I do my best to ignore them and go to the lab jissou. It is already awake sitting in a corner of the bin, it looks directly to me then to the needle. It knows whats comming. I get closer and it starts cowering in the corner of the bin. Then it puts her arm straight towards me. She knows what I am going to do and it seem she prefer to be injected in the arm but I make clear that I need to inject her in the rear. I grab her from the arm and lift her so her butt is facing me then I inject her quick. "Tee! Teee!" She protests. I put her down and she rubs her behind. The other lab jissou is staring at me, quiet and motionless. I take some sugary candies and give them to the jissous. That stops the complains and pestering of the street jissous and eases the pet jissous. The lab jissous on the other hand seem wary of the candies and taste them slowly first before eating them. Now to wait a few minutes while the medicine works. First test: red die. I grab a big syringe and fill it with commercial red die, that often is used to cause a red eye pregnancy. I go to the first jissou, licking its paws the sugar that left of the candie. It looks up at me expectantly. "I want more cand-!" -I shoot it in the green eye before it finish its demand. "Shit human desu! what you do desu!" Its eye turns red and its belly rumbles a little, "DE- feel weird desu!" But nothing happens she just shits her panties but no jissous are born from her. "De, weird desu." Now the control sample. It also looks up at me hoping for more candy, instead she recives red die in the gree eye. "DE! shit human what do desu!" its belly gets swollen and half a minute latter a litter of 6 maggots are sharing the bin whit her. "I see, you wanted me to have babies so we can live together and ead good food desu." I turn arround and go to the pet grade bin. The pet jissou is trying to peek over to see me. "Master can I go out is lonely in here desu." I answer that with a shot of red in the green eye. "DE, why master, desu? Why you hurt me desu?" As with the street jissou her belly rumbles, she runs to the corner of the bin and lowers her panties just in time to shit without soiling herself. "Im sick desu?". I go to the control sample. I repeat what I did before. The control sample of pet jissou has, just as the control sample of street jissou, a litter of babies, four thumb chan and two maggots. "Now I have new babies desu! Master can I show then to my other babies desuka." I just turn arround and go to the last two. Same result, the injected jissou just shits, but no babies. The control sample does have a litter. "No, no dont come Techi! I dont want babies Techi! Go back techi! the world is terrible techi!" Its kind of funny how she tries to push her pups back into her vaganus. Just four thumbchan and a maggot. So far so good. I repeat the test with a red lazer, and the same result in each case. Now the control samples have their paws full of pups, while the injected jissou remain alone. Finally a test of fear, now this is the funny part and the fastest. I take out of safe case 6 cherry bombs. I do my best to lit them all at the same time and throw one in each bin. Then as quick as i can cover each bin with their lids. All the jissous protests. Injected: "Shit human you are abuser shit human take me out or i kill you decha!!" Control: "Shit daugther dont bring that thing close, put it down, shit human take me out desu!" Injected: "Master this is dangerous take me out desu" Control: "Master my babies will get hurt desu help! desu!" Injected: "What is this desu?! Im scare techa!" Control: "Please take my daugthers out techi! just then dont kill them techi!" BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! All the bombs explode almost simultaniusly. Good thing this room is soundprof. All the lids go off and fall to the floor, I check the results. All the injected jissous are in panic showing the signs of an emengency pregnancy but only soiling themself. Success. All the control samples are in panic shitting more babies, the street jissou lost all of the maggots and a thumbchan seemed to be too close to the bomb when it exploded its just a little bloody crater. The pet jissou used its body to protect her pups, the maggots are dead thoug but the thumb chans are in panic grabbin on their mother. The lab jissou actually jumped over the bomb, its badly hurt but still is shitting maggots, the ones that she had before are dead as expected, but the thumbchans are unscatered albeit scare shitless. Okay! We are done for today. The quality control approves! Time to end the torture of these jissouseki. I take all the bins, put ten in a cart. The jissou still are startled some are crying weakly. And some newborns are asking for bellyrubs. "Time for a little ride!" I say aloud so they can hear. The first time they hear my voice. As per procedure I descart them in the furnace. Since the the quality room is in the second floor, a slide has been instaled to throw things into the furnace. There is only room for two bins at the time. First to go the street jissou. A chorus of: Deeee! Reee! y degyaa! comes from the bins. As they slide to the fire. Then thump! and cryes of "help me shit human decha!!" overshadow those of "too hot refu". After a minute silence. Now the pet grade bins: Same chorus, diferent cryes: "Please help me master! im in fire Desu!", "My babies my babies DEsu! Save my babies desu! save me master DECha!" "scare refu! too hot refu, loud refu". Two minutes and then silence. And last the lab jissou: A single Techaaaa! in the chorus this time, guess the other jissou was too badly hurt to cry. "Dont kill techiiii! I did good techi! I dont want to die techi!", then i could hear a weakly "come my babies, lets die together, lets leave this cruel world techiii!" "Scare refu" - "Dont be scare my babie I am here we are free now techi!" "mama, mama refuuu!" I wait a minute, and the cries cease, the plastic bins are thin and burn quickly. Tomorrow I will have to do the same test. Well another day another dollar. Fin
>>642 Good shit man. Obvious English isn't you're first language, but that's one of the unavoidable issues that pops up in this thread and not really a problem. More science please.
I was scrolling through the /g/ thread and was inspired to postpone a draft of mine and go with some semi-short semi-filler. Besides, it’s been far too long since I’ve written anything. Enjoy. Jissou Mythbusters Episode 5 Symptoms of Insanity Sigh. You know you’re bored when you say the word “sigh.” Well, the door works, that’s for damn sure. Yes, every single family of jissous shoved their offspring into my Mailslot of Doom, and received them back at highway speeds directly to the face. Probably should have seen that coming. Me, not them, for once. Oh well, the automatic return system functions like a charm. Test successful! Of course, I now have to clean up the carcasses. Nothing a pressure-washer can’t solve, I suppose. I head over to my neighbor’s house (He’s an abuser too, he doesn’t have an issue with me) and borrow his pressure washer. I screw the garden hose in, fill the gas tank up, and kick it into life. The kickback on one of these is actually slightly more than I’d bargained for, but I manage not to make a Youtube mistake and go flying across the yard by the hose. Instead, I take out some shrubbery that I couldn’t give the slightest shit about before I manage to get the hang of it. 750 psi doesn’t fuck around, and within moments the blood, shit, and kojissou brains are running in small channels down to the storm drain. I help it along, because I’d rather not have little Christmas-y colored streaks when the water dries. As I turn to power-scrub the sidewalk, I notice another member of the ever-present jissou menace staring hopefully at me, paw on face. I turn the engine on the pump down as much as I possibly can, to see what she’s saying. Or rather, to confirm what I already know she’s saying. “Mr. Man! Make me your pet, desu!” Yep, thought so. I push the throttle lever all the way to the rabbit end, and the engine roars back to life. I aim the nozzle at her, and tap the trigger. Note that 1000 psi (the pump’s operational maximum) of water can strip the bones of a full-grown live human clean in a fraction of a second. Needless to say, jissou-chan here doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell against my wand of pain. The flat line of water neatly bifurcates her, and her torso lands in a pile of her own intestines. For a moment, she fails to realize what has happened, but almost immediately she divines it. She tries – and fails – to scream, though not due to lack of trying. Her face is contorted, her mouth is wide, and she essentially just looks like she’s in a lot of pain. Might as well as clean up the mess before finishing her off. As she waves her stumpy limbs, I turn the pressure down (so as to not create flying jissou bombs) and send her organs, shit, blood and newly formed (deformed) offspring down the storm drain. Finally, I turn the water back on her, cutting her in half from top to bottom, giving me perfectly preserved jissou terror in two pieces. At least, until I mulch it with the pressure and send it into the sanitary sewer. I return the pressure washer and walk into my house feeling like a boss. It’s 3:54 P.M. and I have nothing to do. Might as well have some more fun, right? Now that I think of it, there’s a jissou colony nearby. Might have a chat with the matriarch, see what’s up. Yes, I did just say that I was going to have a conversation with a jissou. Yes, I am likely insane, but if you didn’t already think that, you’re an idiot. However, my likely-unstable mental state actually has nothing to do with my conversing with a jissou. Jissou politics is much like American politics; it’s bloody, nasty and vicious, though the “mud” being slung is actually feces in the case of the former. Generally, a leader goes through a trial by fire to reach her position – anyone else who wants to lead a tribe has to either fight or think their way to the top. Outsmarting a jissou is an easy feat, unless you’re a jissou yourself, which means that the smartass leaders are actually smart in some practical manner, so as to get the others to follow their suggestions. So, here’s how it’s going to go: I’m going to talk to this matriarch. If she asks to be my pet, she gets tortured and murdered. If she’s stupid and got her position by force alone (the likeliest scenario) I’ll leave the colony alone and let it disintegrate when Big Mama murders all the competitors and eats all the kojissou treats. If she’s half-intelligent, I’ll actually help the colony out. Why? Because it can help with the annoying strays. Besides, it makes me look pretty half-decent to the (non-Fox) news crews, who will report that I only murder the stray problem jissous. I walk into the forest behind my house. Surprisingly, two kojissous march up to me suddenly. “Hello, Mr. Man! Do you have any things you can give to us, techi?” The other chimes in: “We are inus-tree-us, Mama said, we can use anything, techi!” Yep, the mark of a somewhat-progressive tribe. These roaming scavenger parties play off the fact that people get less pissed if asked for random trash instead of homes. Besides, it’s recycling. “Sure, little jissous, but I need you to take me to your, uh, leader.” Cliché alien science-fiction reference completely unintended, they just wouldn’t get the meaning of “Matriarch.” If the way they mispronounced “industrious” is any indication. Which it is. Either way, I shove my hand in my pocket and retrieve…uh…nothing. Other pocket. Has something. A rubber stopper from a test tube, and a stub of a pencil. This (plus the annoying-as-fuck pocket lint that’s obligatory in all non-denim pants) I hand to the kojissous. Their eyes shine. “Thank you, Mr. Man, techi! We can use these, techi!” “Follow us, Mr. Man, techi!” So I do. They’re persistent, that much is certain, as they’re clambering over tree roots that are taller than they are. When they get to a particularly high bump, one of them pushes the other up, and she helps pull the first from above. Sure, they could have gone around, but this shows some surprising teamwork. The fact that it was wordlessly performed is a good sign on 2 accounts – either they’ve done it a lot and memorized it, a major feat in a species known for not fucking learning in the wild, or it was taught to them by a larger, smarter jissou. After about a minute of slow walking, I see some boxes set up in clear ground. Unlike normal colonies, which have them spread out haphazardly, these ones are set up in a sort of pattern, following the undergrowth. The few boxes in the open appear to have coverings of some sort without exception. Some are coated in plastic-wrap, others have some pine-straw and fallen leaves on them in a sort of pattern. All the boxes have multiple stories to them. Inside one of the ones under a bush is a jissou wearing a purple dress. Presumably she’s the monarch of this place; either she was once a pet, which means she’s fairly cunning or strong to get her spot, or she’s a regular feral who ate the former pet or found the dress floating in the wind. The kojissous march up to the purple jissou. “Jissou-sama, we got stuff from that Mr. Man!” The other, the one with the stuff, remains silent, but holds it out in her paws. Jissou-sama gets up off her pile of leaves, and examines the stuff. I hang back, to see what she does with it. The obvious – using the pencil bit as a stake – is immediately ordered, and a nearby adult jissou runs up, takes the bit of wood, and tries to hammer it through the bottom of a cardboard box with little success. The now-confirmed matriarch takes the sizeable ball of lint and adds it to the pile of leaves behind her (good to see the standard jissou greed is still in play), obviously to use it as extra cushioning. For stuff that people toss away as useless, not half bad in the creativity department. The rubber stopper she has to think about for about a few minutes, but she eventually waves the kojissous away. They take the rubber cylinder and give it to their mama whilst yelling about a new chair, and receive head pats for their efforts. I take this as my cue and walk up to the matriarch. Thankfully, due to her position at the top of a three-story box skyscraper (leaf-scraper?) I don’t have to kneel down to address her, but she and I both are tilting our heads at awkward angles to see each other. “What do you want, Mr. Man, desu?” Straight to the point, none of that pet bullshit. One point to Jissou. “I was looking for the leader of this tribe. I presume that’s you?” “I am, desu.” She’s rather calm. Distrustful, but calm. Surprising. Two points to Jissou. “You do know you’re on my land, right?” That’s stretching the truth, but whatever. She don’t know that. “Huh, desu?” “Yeah, this is my land. I could call the exterminators right now and have you all killed. But!” I say this as she tries to interject, “I like what you’ve done to this place. You’re not the ordinary jissou, and I respect that. So, I’m going to let you stay here.” “I- Thank you, Mr. Man, desu.” I get the feeling she was going to comment on my ‘letting’ her and her ilk stay here. “I want to tell you some things, though.” “Like what, desu?” Spoken with legitimate curiosity. Again, not something you see in feral jissous concerning subjects that aren’t food or homes. “The big fence that way-” I wave my hand toward my house “-is mine. Don’t go under it. It’s for your safety, because I have a lot of things there that will kill jissous. Secondly, I want you to deal with any stray shit jissous you see. I don’t care what you do, but keep them away from my house and your town. Following me so far?” “Yes, Mr. Man, desu. Keep away from big fence and kill shit jissous, I understand, desu.” “Alright, third thing is, I’m going to be giving you some stuff. If you’re going to stay here, I’m not going to let you get blown away in a storm or something. In fact, I’m going to do that right now. I’ll be right back.” “Okay, Mr. Man, desu!” So I was right, she’s more of a smart leader than a brute-force leader. Cool, I have an asset sitting in my back what the fuck is that wet on my leg? “Mr. Man, refu!” Fuck you, you green-socked bastard, these pants were fucking khaki. The maggot’s holding a flower, and appears to be scratched and clawed. Despite what I said earlier, it’s out of its sock. Obviously a stray maggot. I look at it more closely. It’s resting it’s head on the dandelion, and it is sighing in contentment like a maggot getting a belly rub. Huh. I set it down on the outskirts of the village. It was too strange to violently crush, and actually looked somewhat endearing. Besides, the mess was only on my pants and cargo pants are a dime a dozen. I head back to my house and grab some assorted junk. Most of it is essentially trash; you know, plastic bottles, scraps of paper, the contents of the dryer’s lint trap, shit like that. I do grab some cracked lab glassware that’d have to be tossed anyway, a bottle of water, a small bag of food, and a tiny packet of colaciones. Sarah looks at me questioningly as I step out the door again, but says nothing. I carry the junk back to the tribe and set it in the open ‘commons’ area that appears to be a congregation point. “This is all for you. Now, follow the rules I set down, and we’ll get along fine.” “Th-thank you, deee!” The matriarch looks up at me in genuine gratitude, having noticed the water and food. “Mr. Man is good, de!” “I love Mr. Man, techi!” “Punipuni refu!” Oh dear, I’ve made a crowd. Oh well. I head back to my house. After I leave earshot of the village, I note some rustling in my lowest pocket. Opening the Velcro, I see about 5 thumbs, a very small adult (maybe an adolescent?), a maggot, and a kojissou. Once again, fuck you, these pants were fucking khaki. Fuck you all, you’re getting tortured. I close the pocket, making a mental note to burn these pants, and head inside. The very first thing I do is electrical-tape the pocket shut, to prevent escapees. I then quickly affix some pieces of acrylic I keep around for just this type of emergency, and blowtorch them together. Next, I un-tape my pocket and add the jissous in. “Alright, kids, you’re my new pets.” Ignoring the cheers of happiness, I add a shit pan, a food dish (with food) and a water bowl (again, with water). I want them to live. You see, this torture isn’t physical, it’s mental. You’ll see in a second. “I’m going to take your clothes and have them washed, so take ‘em off for me.” They do, with more cheers. The maggot isn’t too happy, but a belly rub satiates it. The clothes are piled in the corner, and I take them. I quietly drop them into the trash can. I walk to my garage, and snag an old TV. I set it in front of the jissou captives, and plug it in. After fiddling with cable splitters for about 5 minutes, I get it plugged in and turned on. I switch it to channel 21, the Jissou Channel. (Yes, there’s a fucking Jissou Channel.) I then walk away, as the jissous crowd against the plastic pseudo-glass to see what’s on the TV. I set up a camera, a real, legit camcorder, and walk out of the room. If you haven’t caught it, here’s the underlying quasi-psychology: Jissous will react adversely, even in a home, if they think that another jissou or group of jissous is being treated better than them. Initially, the reaction is anger – “Shit jissou/s is/are shit” – which is why many pets being walked by their owners are assaulted. The next reaction is envy – “I want candy/clothes/whatever” – and finally, after some time, they drop into a mind-numbing despair, curling up into a fetal ball. Even maggots will do this. This right here is the state I’m going for. Removing the clothes is one thing I can do to make the jissous in the cage feel inferior to the jissous on the TV, which will exacerbate the issue and speed the reaction a lá “I wish I had clothes.” By the way, the jissou channel literally loops jissous. That’s just it, just jissous. Well behaved, pet jissous. It’s fucking perfect for this, and it makes me wonder if the station managers weren’t abusers themselves. The only catch is that the entire thing takes about a day or two. Hence, the camera. So, now, I wait. I check the time; 4:16 P.M. Fuck, boredom. Fuck. End Episode 5
>>644 is me, because apparently the deletion password isn't the same despite the very obvious fact that it is.
>>643 Thank you, please point out the errors so I can improve.
>>644 frankperson you beautiful bastard, I LOLd hard at the trick at the end. Also, enjoying the depiction of a (for jissous) civilized and well behaved tribe. Try not to write them out too quick (if at all).
>>647 I honestly looked back at that bit and was punching myself in the face. I wrote it all in two hours (midnight to 2:00, to be exact) and there was almost no description in it, at least to my eye. Glad that I was at least somewhat mistaken. But yeah, there's going to be more about that colony in the future, and the mindfucked jissous will probably get an entire chapter of their own, just to get the juicy despair-y goodness.
Well if manipulated right, forest Jissous have the potential to be very entertaining. And I mean with no abuse directed at them even.
>>648 I honestly looked back at that bit and was punching myself in the face. I wrote it all in two hours (midnight to 2:00, to be exact) and there was almost no description in it, at least to my eye Sounds like my normal story post.
I tried harder this time, guys! Jissou Mythbusters Episode 6 The Cure for Boredom Fuck video games. Fuck ‘em to hell. It’s sad that I could probably shoot a real sniper rifle better than the fake one I tried to shoot. I blame 47 and his shaky hands. Or was the controller shaking? Ah, whatever. So, 5:00. Now what? I hear the whirring of the Mailslot of Doom. I give Sarah a glance, and note that she’s very absorbed in her Spongebob Squarepants TV show and super-generic lego set (Like, the generic version of the generic version; I love her but I’m still not paying full price for a lego set for her), so I think the coast is clear. Time for fun! I open the door. As I fully expected, there is a mother, with a maggot in her paws. The carcass of another is lying in the grass, about 3 yards behind her. Two kojissous stand beside her, two thumbs and 4 maggots at her feet. All cheer at my arrival. The mother assumes the standard ‘cute’ pose, dropping the maggot she was holding onto the head of a thumb; surprisingly neither are seriously injured (“Ouch, my head recha!” “Onee-chan is soft refu”). A pity. “Hello Mr. Man…” I tune her out to take stock of my new playtoys. I maintain my very creepy wide smile. Only one of the kojissous finds it odd; her smile drops and her face tints blue as I look at her. The others are the usual, run-of-the-mill jissous; stupid, dirty, half-decent in appearance. All have their original dresses and maggot-socks where applicable, all have their hair. Their mother is smaller than usual, about a foot tall. She’d fit almost perfectly in my hand. The kojissous are almost her size, identical when it comes to each other (at least in the looks department, as stated already one is somewhat more intelligent), the thumbs are the size of their namesake and the maggots are maggots. I can tell right off the bat that the smart kojissou will be strapped to a chair and forced to watch the spectacle, since she’s certainly got the cognitive ability to truly feel despair and terror. The mother will be sidelined as well, but only temporarily. The maggots, thumbs, and single kojissou will be the first fodder of the day. But how to begin… “Mr. Man? Did you hear me, desu?” The mother snaps me out of my thoughts, looking up at me with a confused expression, though her paw remains bolted to her cheek. Hmm, a thought just occurred to me… But first: “Yes, yes, pets. Sure, why not, come inside. Don’t shit on the carpet or I kick you.” The last-minute threat seems to kick in for the kojissou, who picks up two maggots and orders her sibling to do the same. The other kojissou grumbles, but complies. The thumbs together carry the fifth maggot, the one that fell, considering that she’s the same size as them. They follow me past a door with a sticky note on it. It says in my very bad handwriting: “Don’t open this fucking door.” At least, I think that’s what I wrote. I can’t tell. That door hides the jissous that are watching the Jissou Channel. Tomorrow morning, I’ll tap into the camera feed and see what’s going down, but any outside contact will fuck up the entire endeavor. Therefore, “Don’t open this fucking door.” “In here.” The jissous file into my laboratory, and I shut and lock the door. I take stock of the jissous, all are present. Good. I set them up on the counter. “Alright, take off your clothes. I’m going to wash them and give you a bath.” They comply with the expected gusto. While they take their clothes off, I set my iPod up, set it in the speakers I have in here, and play some music. It’s more for my inspiration than their fear right now, so I start with a parody of Usher. It’s got some parallels with the situation at hand. I suppose they’re both green, explode when you kick them, and aren’t quite huggable. Finally, they’re done stripping. Thankfully, the mother isn’t the miniature landwhale that feral adults tend to be, but instead she’s just round and smooth, sort of like an oval overall. The kojissous and thumbs aren’t special either. The maggots retain their clothes, because jissou paws aren’t the best apparatus to use to remove maggot socks. So, I take a plastic container out, strip the maggots, and plop them in there. “Rehi? Where clothes rehi?” “Don’t like naked repya!” “Want clothes back, repyeeeeen!” Oh, shut the fuck up. I set them in the sink, strategically below the faucet. I then take a few metal pieces, like you’d see in an erector set, and fashion a crude stand. I use some fishing line to tie them to it through the holes in the metal, saying some bullshit about how I have some new shower thing and they need to be very still for it to work. They submit willingly, as they do when anything is called “luxurious.” Retards. Once they’re tied up, I turn up the music and switch it to this shit right here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94bGzWyHbu0&ob=av2e Avenged Sevenfold, Nightmare. Fuck yeah. I grab a lighter while the opening piano notes play. It’s one of the long ones, used to light grills and shit like that. I then wait for the opening bit to end. Suddenly, the music slams into a loud-ass guitar solo. My face slowly shifts from passive to my insane grin. As soon as the loud scream of “NIGHTMAAAARE!” sounds, I flick the lighter and hold it on the pile of clothes, which ignite like a firecracker. “NOO MY BEAUTIFUL DRESS DESHA!” “MY CLOTHES, TEEEEEEN!” “NOOOOO TECHII!” “Too loud, refu.” Fuck you say? Have a blast of cold water, you don’t get to diss A7X. Well, maybe you were telling your sisters/mother to shut the fuck up. Either way, I don’t give a fuck. Faucet is open. Maggots are drowning. “Colglurb, regrarb” “Helglbp, regelelb” “Wharrgarbl” Did it seriously just say Wharrgarbl? Wow. Anywho, I drain the now green-tinted water off, and turn the faucet off. The maggots are waterlogged, but otherwise unharmed. I scoop them out and set them on the counter. “Mr. Man is an abuser, techi! Run, Maggot-chan, techa!” The smart kojissou tries to warn her younger sisters, but I wiggle my finger and they crawl towards me. I nudge two of the maggots close together. Both promptly roll belly-up, away from each other, and request punipuni. I nudge them back together, and rub their bellies simultaneously. With my stapler. For a moment, they fail to register the pain. But after about a second, they get it. “Belly hurts repya!” “Help, sisters, reeeeen!” The other three maggots stare for a moment, and as I move the stapler towards them they finally recognize that I am not a nice, belly-rubbing Mr. Man. “You should have known, the price of evil And it hurts to know that you belong here, yeah…” They crawl away from me, leaving green trails in their wake. I get my lighter and ignite one of them. “Oooh, It’s your fucking nightmare! Hahaha!” The fire follows the trail in a Hollywood fashion, like those car chases you see where the bag guy’s leaking fuel and the badass good guy drops his cigarette into the gas stream. Of course, this is in slow motion, but the effects are similarly comical. Despite being nigh-explosive in high quantities, thin maggot-trails of shit are not very flammable. They’re just burnable enough to act as fuses, or for the purpose I’m using it for. As the fire creeps closer, the maggot speeds up. That just thins the trail, and the fire spreads over it faster. “Hot, repya! Hot! Hot hot hot HOT HOT REPYAAAAAAAAA!” Finally, it ignites. It degenerates into a modified ‘refu,’ sort of “REPLEARAARA” on account of its face melting. The other maggots cease fleeing to stare at the candleification of their sister. Bits of its flesh, still burning, melt off and sizzle on the granite. It continues to gargle for a few moments, and then dies, still ablaze. While the jissous are transfixed by this, I get a needle and thread it with surgical thread, and put a knot at the end of the string. Time for one of my favorite tricks! I grab a maggot, and rub its belly. It sighs, forgetting about its immolated sister. While it’s in Happy Belly Rub Land, I slip the needle through its skull. I slide it down the string. “No! Rub belly more repi! Huh? Head feels weird, refu…” “What are you doing to my babies, desha?!” “Shut your fucking face right the fuck now.” “Put my babies down desh-” I give her the most hostile glare I can muster. She shuts up, which is a good thing, because I probably would have snapped her arm off and shoved it down her throat if she didn’t. I would do that anyway, but I have a different plan for her arm. I take the stapled maggots and run the thread through their heads as well, and slide them on down the line, and add the last maggot. Then, I cut the thread, tie it off, and run string through the tails of the maggots. Not too low, about ¾ of the way down their bodies. I cut and tie that off, and get a 50 gram weight. I hang that off the bottom loop. “Watch.” The mother jissou, as well as the kojissous, close their eyes. “Open your fucking eyes before I rip them the fuck out!” My shout scares them into obedience, and they watch as the pressure on the heads and tails of the maggots begins to show. Blood begins to leak from the points where the thread goes through their bodies. Thankfully, little excrement follows, because I angled the needle to pass through their tail slits. “Heavy, repi.” “Punipuni refu.” “Head hurts rep-” That last one’s head ripped the fuck in half, from where the string went through. It dies instantly, and its body rotates and hangs from the bottom thread by its tail, further increasing the weight on the others. Another has its entire tail removed, and it took most of its lungs with it. It sits, wide-eyed and silently screaming (its lungs fell out) until the eyes slowly lost their color, fading slowly to gray. The third and fourth are the stapled maggots. One suffers the same fate as the first, and starts to fall backwards. But it is caught by the staple, and drives it farther into its companion. Eventually, it pulls the staple – and a sizeable chunk of the last maggot’s body – with it. When its weight jerks on the string, the last maggot rips cleanly in half. Not by the lines where the string went through, like the last three, but straight across the midline. The bottom string, with tails and half-heads of maggots in tow, falls to the granite. As with the other maggot, the last maggot’s lungs remained with the bottom half, so it silently mouths its despair and pain to its sisters and mother, and eventually, the eyes slowly fade to gray as it dies a painful death. “Alright, you little whore, you’re next.” I cut the strings holding her arms up. Her face is blue with fear, but her fangs are showing? Oh. She wants to throw shit at me. Why didn’t I see that coming? Before she can toss the globule of disgust that she’s got on her paw, I bitch-slap her. Hard. So hard, in fact, that she flies across into the sink. Taking the opportunity, I turn on the water. She’s too surprised to yell or gurgle threats, and settles for emitting a stream of shit into the drain. I cut the water. She continues to shit. I turn the water on. She continues to shit. I cut the water. She continues to shit. You see where I’m going with this. *POOOOOT* Finally. Jesus, fuck. I pick her up, now that the risk of getting shit on my hands is gone. I grab her right ponytail and yank. Predictably, it comes off, and I set it on the counter. I do the same with the other. Then, I grab hold of the forelock. “No, Mr. Man, please, no, desuuuu…” I tug. It doesn’t come off? The fuck? She’s wiggling her legs like a maggot, and screaming “OROROROROON~”. I pull on it, and it finally comes off. “Such a cruel world, ororo- NOOOOOOO!” That last yell was because I lit the pile of hair on fire. It flashes for a moment, and burns out. I grab my stapler and hold it in my off hand, behind my back. I pick her back up in my dominant hand, and bring her up to my face. “Shut the fuck up and stop crying, you selfish bitch! You’re crying over your damn hair, and your daughters were just torn apart and burned in front of you!” I lower her down and hold her in front of a maggot, and force her nose-to-nose with the dead gray eyes. I bring her back up and yell – literally yell – into her face: “Give me one good fucking reason why you shouldn’t join them!” She raises her right paw to her face and gives a watery smile. “Because I am little and don’t eat much, desu?” “Wrong fucking answer.” I staple her paw. To her face. “OWOWOWOWOWOOOOOOWN~” The owowow bit because she can’t make an ‘r’ sound with her cheek being stretched by the stapled paw. I throw her into the sink, and she lands on her ass. She’s found some new reserves of shit, it seems, as the metal turns green around her. I take the stapler, point it at her, and squeeze it. A staple flies out of it and hits her in the stomach. The legendary jissou fragility takes over, and the staple embeds itself in her flesh. I ignore her cries of pain and leave the room. I head to the kitchen and grab a nice bottle of Tabasco sauce. I head back to the lab and shut the door. I grab the mother and force her green eye open. She cries out, knowing what’s coming. She cries out louder when the hot sauce hits her eye and it begins to color red. I drop her in the sink and cut the thumbs and one kojissou free, and toss them in there as well. They take a moment to recover, and in that moment I grab a nice long metal mini-I-bar, like the one I used to secure the jissous. When I return to the sink, the mother has had 3 maggots and a thumb, with a fourth maggot on the way. The thumbs are licking the slime off the newborns, and the kojissou is supporting her mama. I look to the smart kojissou, who I deliberately left tied up “You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” I mime stabbing downwards. The jissous in the sink are too preoccupied to notice. The kojissou turns blue and shakes her head. “No, Mr. Man, please don’t do this, techiiiien!” I ignore her and turn back to the sink, ignoring her, and wait for the birthing to end. Eventually it does, with an unknown number of babies born. I say unknown because the instant it’s done I begin whacking with my metal stick. “WOOOOOOOW OWOWOWOWOWOOOWN!” “NO MY SISTER RECHA-” “You won’t hurt Maggot-Chan repy- MY LEG REP-” “Why Mr. Man whyyyyyy-” After about 10 swings, all jissous in the sink aside from the mother are paste. I plug the drain and turn the water on. Turns out, when your arm is attached to your jaw, you can’t swim. She begins to flail about. I grab my drill, and get a special metal star attachment. I cut the water, and from underneath the water level the mother jissou looks up at me with two red, hope-filled eyes. That hope – and the eyes themselves – are mulched when I put the blades of the impromptu blender on her face and pull the trigger. The water begins to swirl, and rapidly turns even redder than it was as the mother’s blood is added to the soup. After about a minute, I’m satisfied that it’s all liquefied, and pull the plug out. The water drains, leaving behind only the two staples that were once lodged in the mother and were too big to fit down the drain. I turn back to the last kojissou. She’s crying and holding her face as best she can with her paws bound over her head. I cut the strings and hold her over my shoulder. I walk into another room of my house and whisper: “Don’t worry, little one, you’re going to be my pet.” I hold her gently out in front of my face. Her eyes shine with tears and hope. “Really, techi?” “Absolutely.” Her face lights up for a brief moment. “Not.” I let go. She falls into the toilet, and I flush it. She swirls around, bubbles escaping her mouth. She almost fits down the drain, but she’s just barely too wide. She gets stuck, and beats her stumps against the porcelain. “Let me go, shit toilet! I want-” “Shit toilet?” Huh. Anyways, she continues to beat her paws against the porcelain as the water refills. Slowly she drowns, her swings getting slower and weaker. Eventually, I shove her through the water trap by crushing her arm with the stick of the plunger. Now, she fits (on account of the fact that she’s in two pieces) and gets flushed down the toilet. I check my watch. 5:30. FUCK! End Episode 6
>>651 good shit, dying to know what happens next.
Good shit man, per usual.
Oh forgot to add, when I got to the jewtube link I opened it in a new tab, and continued reaing, stopping on occasion to let it catch up, fucking made the story even better.
Currently working on a new story about Al and Yukiko, so keep an eye out for that, readers.
>>655 I love you now, sir anon. Maybe you should namefag or something, so we can see who you are, instead of being "that anon with the Al and Yukiko story"? >>654 I would have incorporated the lyrics better, the second verse is fucking perfect. But the music ran out and it switched to another track, and I forgot. "Can't wake up and sweat 'Cause it ain't over yet Still dancing with your demons Victim of your own creation..."
Either way, good job Francisperson.
>>656 Well, you can go ahead and call me Al--the Al character is named and modelled after me.
>>658 the Al character is named and modelled after me. You're a Jissouseki ?
>>659 Uh, no, Al's the human. Y'know, the incredibly profane "evil Mr. Man"?
Continued from >>621 Ten Thousand Stumps Show 5 : Send Me a Sign Lynn Beckett We were at the dining table, enjoying a hassle-free evening, provided that having to eat a fried jissou mother isn't a hassle, when Genestar's phone suddenly rang. After seeing who the caller was, he excused himself in another room. It could have been anybody, at first, but the expression he had when he came back strongly suggested his caller was the General. “Sylvia, Mrs.Beckett, news are not good.” Apparently, France very nearly lost a town named Gap to the dolls. It was as he told us concerning Annecy : Seemingly random arrivals of wild jissous quietly surround the town, and then, all hell breaks loose as every one of those pour into the city, gaining a nigh inexpungeable foothold. Only quick reaction by the army, fully prepared, prevented citizens to be driven out of their homes. But the events were beginning to transpire to the general public, and their government was expecting a nation-wide panic soon. Of course, I asked... “But, wouldn't that be exactly what the Supreme Abuser program was for ?” “Well not really. SupAb's mission was to raise concern about the jissous yes, but in regard to a crafted danger, a freak accident. People would have set out against the jissous, but not really fearing that they will absolutely be next.” “But does it change anything, desu ?” “Not in regards of our crafted invasion, no. I mean, with a mass invasion, an aware human population can't do much more than an unaware one. However, panic is never good...But there's worse. The Giant Tramplers know France is onto them. No less than five European towns, and two in the USA, have been attacked in only one night. In no case was the army prepared. As we speak, civilians are being evacuated. Witness accounts of Jissouseki breaking into apartments by groups of several families abound. Human casualties are few, but property damage is in the billions.” “Holy f...but the army can do something now, can it, desu ?” “No, it's too late. The danger is not having a lot of jissous in the street. It's having a lot of jissous in the houses. By releasing mind-boggling amounts of the retards into a town, the bad guys are basically cranking the house hunting to the max. With such a critical overload, jissous skip all the coaxing bullshit and go straight into fucking things up and making themselves at home. Just like they would with a house that adopted feral jissous for several weeks...It gets turned into a battlefield. And at that stage, it's very difficult to purge a house. When overridden houses number in the hundreds, this is an herculean task.” “Damn, so those towns are now nothing but nesting grounds, desu.” “Exactly. Even if half the houses are clean, the balance of power is now tilting to the Jissouseki's side. And the more nesting grounds there are, the more humanity is fucked. We need to bring out our A-game and find something useful NOW, because our enemies are through fucking around.” I remained quiet through his speech, mainly because I was unsure how to react. Certainly, the analysis was sensible, but the scope of the consequences was simply too great to even consider. Still, it gave both Sylvia and me pause. From where we were standing, it was clear that doing our very best couldn't hurt, and was in fact showing a huge potential reward. Stress on potential. “I have something, desu !” “Okay, what ?” Asked Genestar, nervous. “You know, the memory I have about coming here, and talking to people, desu ? Well, I remember the living room, desu. I even have the vague impression of the secret passage opening, desu. But the actual place where I met those guys has nothing to do with the style here and...I explored the entire underground, and I still didn't see it, desu.” “You're sure it wasn't in an entirely different place ?” “I've never even been to enough places for that to be true, desu ! I have clear memories of the lab, the places after my escape, and Mistress's house, but I only have this place as a vague memory, desu. No, the room I remember is here, somewhere. We just didn't find it yet, desu.” “Well, do you remember anything that could help us find it ?” “If I did I would have found it already, desu !” “The fact alone that we suspect that something's hidden is enough.” Both turn to me. “It does, desu ?” “Yes. I gained access to an architectural map of the place this morning while tinkering with the computer. I vaguely looked at it, and thought there was something wrong somewhere." "You studied architecture ?" Inquires Genestar. "No but my field of expertise is materials science, which does have huge applications in architecture. Anyway, one corridor in the underground doesn't have rooms on its side, yet the walls have the same width as corridors that do. As a materials scientist, I'm thinking a wall you don't absolutely have to pierce with doorways should be thicker, to be able to handle more stress. But being no architect, I had no concrete evidence that it would, in fact, be necessary. So I thought nothing of it. But if there is a hidden room somewhere, that place is a likely candidate." "Awesome ! I'll check it out right away, desu. Where is it, desu ?" "Two flights of stairs from the first sub-level, if I recall correctly." "I'll keep you posted, desu !" She bolts off to the secret entrance behind the fireplace, leaving her jissou in her plate. She's missing all four limbs and a good part of the abdomen. The entrails, though cleaned of shit from Sylvia's patented faucet method, are still in place and partially bitten off. Genestar and me took the time to remove them, clean or not. The skin bears marks of burning, not unlike a pork-chop, but nowhere near as appetizing. She just looks like a third-degree burn victim, not a piece of well-done meat. The gray eyes surrounded by marks of pained squinting do not embellish this grisly image in the least. My kingdom for real food... "Found something else of note along with that map ?" Asks the Frenchman after a bite. "I'm not sure. A lot seems to focus on the dolls and I'm not familiar with them." "How do you crack the files' protection anyway ?" "Easily. They're not really that protected at all. This place's previous occupants just used the CACLS command before leaving." "And what would that be ?" "Sloppy. Also, Window's equivalent to chmod. Gives or revoke reading, writing and editing rights, but it's not automatically protected in itself. So the files are only inaccessible until somebody chooses to get the access back." "Ah okay, so if I knew anything about computers..." "...It would have been like removing adhesive tape from a drawer." "Terrific. So everything's open now ?" "Unless they did really protect some files, yes. I used the command on the entire C:\ drive. Only for reading, so there's no danger of messing with system files." "Well, thanks anyway. God I feel stupid." "To each his own knowledge." He leaves with a "I guess", taking his plate with him. That's when I hear a very faint voice, to my left. Oh, there's an earpiece on a table. Sylvia's trying to reach us. "You were quick." I say after taking and equipping it. "And you were slow, desu ! Anyway, I'm in the doorless corridor you mentioned, desu. What do I do now ?" "Well, you can begin by checking if any part of the wall sounds hollow. A bit too simple, but you have to begin somewhere." "Sure thing, desu !" Well...Now that I'm alone at the table, the last remnants of appetite I had vanished. I take my plate, and go to the kitchen. I never was a big eater anyway. On my way to the trash, I can see Genestar, in front of the computer, making a fist-pump. “Did you find what you wanted ?” “Hell yeah I did !” He replies excitedly. “While I was looking for the files about Sylvia in the R&D directory, I found the original Falconer program !” “...Falconer ? That was in the files upstairs.” “Yes. The very first endeavor to gain control over the jissou crystals. It's what eventually triggered...well, everything ! The massive boom in pet jissou market, the mess in Annecy, and all this unfortunate situation with your ex-husband and Sylvia...All of them are related to Falconer. Anyway, the programming method is very well known to be extremely secretive, but...here it is. Right at the source.” "That does sound interesting...Well, if you're into jissous, that is." "Interesting ? It's the holy grail ! Even if you discount the possibilities this has for fixing this whole jissou apocalypse thing, abusers and pet owners alike have been frustrated at the fact that only one set of constraints is available worldwide for years !" "Only one ?" "Well, there are other versions, but they're well known to be basically the same thing : Don't attack humans, don't ruin their stuff, don't shit everywhere, hate feral jissous. No radically or even noticeably different version has ever hit the market, and believe me, that's by no lack of reverse engineering attempts." "What about the amnesia you mentioned ?" "Oh, that ? Well I think the amnesia programming is basically just brute-forcing data that happens to mess with the ability to access memories. It's not really a legitimate breakthrough." "So they chose to never sell the source code despite the ludicrously high demand, and yet they left it unprotected on that computer ?" "Don't ask me..." "I won't." Let him get excited about the goblins. This case is becoming a bit clearer. As far as I can gather right now, we've got a company trying to play God while showing dangerous signs of incompetence. They were onto something, sure, but they had a complete meltdown while trying to actually channel their discoveries into something useful. The rest is uncontrolled contingency. That would, of course, mean Genestar can't hope to stop the city invasions in this place, for the butterfly has flapped its wings a long time ago. "I found it, desu !" bellows Sylvia in my ear. "A hollow-sounding part ?" "No, the damn door itself ! Come on, quickly, desu !" I call Genestar, and we quickly go to the underground. Sylvia is in the corridor I mentioned, making air-guitar gestures. There was, strangely, no door to be found around her. "This is so frigging cool, desuuuuu !" "How did you find it ?" "I knocked on the wall like you said, and there weren't any parts that sounded obviously different than the rest, desu. But then I remembered something , desu ! Just a flash, but yeah, it was this woman saying..." She dramatically rose her hands up in the air. "Gamma Ray Aegis Cerberus" Immediately, I felt a slight vibration in my feet as a mechanical sound filled the silent alley. The wall opened, a huge slab of smooth concrete pulled back by hydraulic pistons. "Well I'm certainly glad the amnesia programming was reversible" observed the Frenchman. "Makes sense, if you want to keep the existence of the door itself hidden, your best choice of input is voice control." He looks at me with a confused expression. "You're sure you're not actively trying to channel the show ?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "Sure you don't." "HEY ! The cool stuff's over here, desu !" "The young lady's right." I reply, walking to the aperture. Thierry Genestar. Sure she is. Anyway, what lies beyond the secret passage, which would probably be visible upon close inspection of the wall, is unlike the rest of the underground. And that's an understatement. It's full of spartan rooms and ad hoc labs, and here is a classy living area. I do mean classy. Like leather sofas, a persian mat and a few paintings and statuettes on the antique furniture. Even without context, finding this room in this place would have me dialing a superhero hotline. "Holy shit is that cliché, desu." "Cliché yes, but not necessarily that surprising..." says Sidle. "Come on, it's something build for the cold war, they would never have included that !" "Imagine you're a paranoid government that is convinced the world is going to end because of the URSS. You authorize bunkers, sure, but once the military has what it needs, you're going to make sure to throw in some luxurious amenities where you can live the rest of your life as the overly self-important persons you and your fellow "elites that must survive humanity" are." "I...guess that makes sense, desu. Does it ?" "Oh" I reply, shrugging. "That already wouldn't surprise me of certain french politicians, and we never had McCarthyism so..." "Okay, desu...Anyway, this is where I met the owners of this place, I'm sure of it, desu.." "That's a start" observes Beckett. "Let's look around." No objection here. No wonder Sylvia didn't confuse the villa and here even in fuzzy memories. The styles are completely different. One is modern, full of light and openings, a designer's home, and one is more classical, made after a certain idea of European class. One thing that bothers me is how clean it is. I know rooms like this, my family has several bourgeois, and furniture like this, it makes a certain smell. A smell that is corrupted if you don't clean adamantly. This place doesn't smell like it's been abandoned for long. Which, considering the state we found the villa in, is, not mandatorily I'll admit, disturbing. Evidence of recent activity, which we need if we're to have a reason to gasp dramatically, shouldn't have been hard to find. But the room is clean of any, save from a fair amount of dust. “Clearly it goes beyond that room alone.” says Beckett, pointing at the two doors. “Well, if we're going with megalomaniac politicians, a single room isn't logical.” “I'm smelling jissous, desu.” I turn towards Sylvia, sniffing. "You're sure ? I don't smell anything. Well, apart from the smell our clothes picked up in the villa." "Damn right I'm sure, desu. It's faint but it definitely smells like an indoors settlement, desu. And it's way too fresh to be a leftover scent, desu." "Well, I do suppose you're well armed to identify their smell with precision." "Not that I'm proud of it, desu." She walks around for a while, before pointing at a door. “It's from behind that, desu.” Strangely, all of us seemed in awe before this unassuming door. And for what ? The presence of Jissouseki on the other side ? That's like being apprehensive of seeing a pigeon. But the situation was, in fact, thoroughly surreal. If jissous there were, this room would have been ruined a long time ago. And a simple door which didn't even feature a freaking lock would never have been able to keep them at bay. Something was terribly wrong. With a prudence uncharacteristic of her, Sylvia turns the handle, and opens the door. Small gasps of surprise tell us the tale. “We need them alive.” “I guess so, desu.” I realize that I have my hand on my shirt's breast pocket, where my phone lies. Professional habit of course, it's not uncommon to have to request backup when we enter an infested building. While the first room of the secret area was a living room, or perhaps more of a lounge, this one definitely looks like a personal room. Weird, then, to see a door on the other side. Damage assessment. Strong jissouseki odor, items out of place without going to mess level, the uncontrollable chirping of panicked maggots accompanied with barely hidden calls to silence. But conspicuous absence of everyone's favorite : the green goo splattered everywhere. The odor indicates it's here, but most likely hidden. Pet jissous. Sylvia points to a cupboard, all the while hand-signaling us to hold our position. I taught her the basics, just in case. She slowly goes to the piece of furniture, and opens it. "De !" "Repya !" "Don't hurt us, weird jissou-chan, techi !" "Calm down, desu. I'm Sylvia, I'm just exploring this place, desu." "You're...not here to hurt us, desu ?" Cautiously replied the mother. "No, now come out so I can ask you a few questions." They obliged, and soon we saw a rather average group of jissous, with a mother, her three kojissous and a few maggots. Nothing special to say about their appearance either. "Who is your master, desu ?" "Master, desu." "Yes, desu. Who's he, desu ?" "I told you, master, desu." "Ah okay I got it, desu...Well guys," she said, turning her head toward us "you have other questions, desu ?" "Well, to be hon..." "Mr.Men techi !" The fuck ? As soon as I uttered a word, the whole family turned to me like a group of possessed children in a goddamn horror flick. They wobbled in my direction with unsettling intensity. Lynn was obviously freaked out and took a step backwards. It didn't take an expert to know those were about to go full retard at our feet. I took out my flashball gun. *BANG* *BANG* *BANG* The trio of daughters was pulverized on the spot. The mama broke her stride, looked back, shat herself, and began showing her teeth at me. “Describe your master or die right now.” I say as emotionlessly as I can. “SHIT MR.MA-” *BANG* At this moment, I knew perfectly well I looked badass as fuck. Still, I wasn't trying to woo anyone. “Okay ladies, we're in trouble. There is something in this part of the compound that is intelligent but not human.” “Alright, I'm in.” Said the CSI, crossing her arms. “What makes you say that ?” “Let's begin with the easy part. This was the first time those jissous ever saw a human being. A little long to explain, but basically, when Sylvia talked to them they were in a state they're never in when in human proximity, and their reaction to us guarantee they aren't pet jissous.” “And for the intelligent being ?” “Well, they did refer to as a “master” and we know for a fact he isn't human. Or talking through an electronic device, maaaaaaaaybe. But improbable.” “Well, an older Jissouseki comes to mind.” “Yes, but they would call her Jissou-sama, mistress at best.A dick jissou being out of the question.” “I see your point.” I look at Sylvia, who seems troubled. “You're the only one here that won't make the jissous in here crazy. You'll have to continue alone. Find that Master and bring him alive. He may hold the key to stopping this invasion.” "Huh ? Huh, okay. Fine by me, desu." And by just leaving through the other door, she baffles me one more time. I pretty much said she wasn't human here, she had every right to freak out. Go figure. Lynn suddenly begins to talk by herself. I ,thankfully, quickly realize she's talking to Sylvia via the earpiece. "You might want to take this" she then says, "you're the expert on those monstrosities." Sylvia Jeaaaaaaloooousyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Aren't the French supposed to suck at war ? He put like three headshots on three small moving targets under two seconds. You can't even explain this by his job. Exterminators use poison, not guns. That can't possibly be useful to him. What a fucking poseur. Anyway. This place is nothing like the rest of the underground. It's a comfy apartment. Inside a bunker. There's something really creepy about this, in an exciting way, like being in the Twilight Zone. And while I'm not sure of the exact reason why the frenchie freaked out after seeing the jissous here, I do feel like something is deeply wrong about them. They're far too orderly. It's a good thing, objectively, but it's unnatural and freaky. Like if you found yourself in a city where there is zero crime and not even any arguments in the street. You wouldn't think "Wow, it's a paradise on earth !". You would think "I've got to get out of here before my brain turns into an octopus too." You can bitch about people being assholes, but if everyone was nice, it just might actually be worse. "Hungry, techi." Good, some familiar ground. The closest room from here is a bathroom. A large one, with a big, round bathtub. The toilet catches my eye : it's surrounded by random things. Judging from the small jissou child idly sitting on the toilet bowl, it's a crude stairwell. "Pooping is fun techi, if you keep it clean techi" "Hello there, desu" I say, refraining a hilarious push. "Hello weird jissou-chan techi. I am pooping, do not take the toilet techi !" "I...just want to ask you something, desu. Who taught you to shit here, desu ?" "Mama, techi." "Hey frenchie" I tell through the speaker. "You should know something about interrogating jissous, desu." "Should I tell you about that derelict factory thing again ?" "Yeah right, like it wasn't way overblown, desu." The kojissou just sits here, her ass crack over the hole, without any sign of physical exertion. That's just not normal. Even Stella and her children made sure to do their business quickly. "What are you waiting for, desu ? Shit, desu !" "Shut up, weird jissou-chan, techi." You know what ? I'm not even going to try. I blow on her, and she falls head over fleshy tubes before she can even react. "Techglurb ! I fell, techi, save me, techi !" "Why, desu ? What's so great about your life that I should save it from ending right now, desu ?" "Be...Because I am good jissou, techi !" She sinks after emptying her lungs from speaking. She breathes in a bit of water and coughs. She tries to climb the ceramic, and slips. The awesome, cruel usual. "Nope, you're a sentient piece of plastic just sitting on your ass doing nothing, desu. Your life doesn't matter, desu." "SHUT UP, SHIT JISSOU-CHAN, TECHA !" "Okay, one last question. Show me if you're as great as you think you are, desu. How..." "Master will...argblchi...kill you, techa !" "Forget the question. Enjoy your trip, desuuuu !" I flush the toilet. "TEGYAAAA*blub*" An arm gets ripped off by the current that, from her perspective, most be like the inside of a laundromat. The rest of her last moments, I can only guess. I mean, we all saw plans of a toilet but that's about it. It must be something like that : "What's happening, techi ? Can not breathe, techa ! TEG ! Head hit something, hurts, techieeen ! I can not see, I want to get out of there, techieen...Hurts ! Want to breathe, tegyaaa !" At any rate, I seriously doubt she can hold her breath until finding air again, and even if she does, she'll be half dead. ...There must be others around. Hey, in fact, there's one right there ! A mama asleep in the tub. No visible shit in her panties, but a dirty mouth, proof of her cannibalistic behavior. Good, she should be less stupid and thus more informative. That said, she did fell asleep in the tub. Given its depth, and her size and corpulence, respectively not yet a fully-grown adult and already a fully-grown fatass mama, she won't be able to get out herself. She climbed thanks to an old hairdryer box, but has nothing to help her for the return trip. I have an idea. "Oh my god oh my god wake up desu !!!" "Deee ?!" Drowsily exclaims the mama. "There was a cute little kojissou on the toilet, the Master killed her, desu !" "...Deee ? Jissou-chan ? That is not possible, desu !" "It is, desu ! I saw him come in the bathroom, push the poor little thing and flush her out, desu !" "No ! Why, deshaa ?!" "I don't know, desu." "Jissou-chan did not deserve this, desuuuuun...But I cannot avenge her, ororooon..." She was completely heartbroken, but also strangely unwilling to go and kill shit master. Susceptible as they are, she shouldn't be...I mean, I was counting on the fact that she couldn't get out to tell me spontaneously where to find the supposed killer. Bah, that'll do I guess. "Just tell me where he is, desu !" "In room near, desuuuun...." That simple ? Alright. I go out of the bathroom, and look to the opposite side to where I came from. Now how should I handle it ? I mean, the "master" will pose a bigger challenge than those he commands. It could be a robot, or...another experiment. Another like me. Oh shit, that sounds like a very real possibility. Another PTLD. Maybe a failed experiment, even, alive but barely sentient. Or, on the contrary, my exact sister. "Jissou-chan was my favorite, desuuuun, I..." "Daaah what the fuck desu ?!!" The fat mama is here, tugging at my sock. How in the name of flying ass did she get over there ?! Angered, I grab her by the braids and pull her to my face. "You had absolutely no business getting out of that tub, you cunt, desu." "Wha...what are you talking about, desha ? It was easy, let me go, desha !" "You smug little blister." I turn to the wall and hold her back against it. She dangles around, trying to reach her braids with her stumps. I ready my fist, and, literally, punch her face in. "DEG-" All of her facial structure is relocated to the back of her skull, her eyes reduced to pulp, and her brains are squeezed to the rest of her head, causing intense and utterly unnatural swelling. I let her fall, and even if her grown legs don't break, she's suitably fucked as she is. Unable to talk, she instead emits sort of a labored whistle through her orifices. I turn back to the remaining door. "Okay, desu. No more stalling." When I turn the handle, I expect to be greeted by the usual environmental sounds of a place full of jissous. But it's remarkably quiet, as only soft sounds of movement get through the opening. Maybe they're all asleep, I think. Well, no they aren't. They're perfectly awake. Kind of hanging out, doing jissou stuff, without the irritating soundtrack that normally goes with it. And there are twenty or so of them. With, strangely, no maggot in sight. No Master in sight either. Of course. "Okay you shitbags, desu. Give me the Master and no one dies, desu." Instantly, all the jissous in the room turn blue from panic, and put their stumps in front of their A-mouths. "Shhhhhhhhh techi !" I take my guns out. I can't aim for shit right now, but I have to make a statement. “You motherfuckers really are getting cocky, desu.” In a few, incredibly loud seconds, I blindly empty both my magazines on the herd. Enough with the weirdness, enough with the mysteries. I want my jissous fragile, numerous, reliably stupid, and shitting their pants from fear. From this distance, thank God, I achieved what I wanted, and have their undivided attention. “He's not worth your life, desu. Where is the Master, NOW, desu.” The adults are hugging their dead offspring or their own wounds. The children are covering up their ears, teeth chattering. But none of them are answering. Fine by me. When I take one mama, she's still clutching her left leg, she whimpers, but keeps clenching her teeth. Her restraint, like all the others, is out of this world. The Master must be a serious hard-ass to keep them in line even in the face of death. Hey, that could be fun after all. I grab one of the terrified little jissous, and put her right in the field of vision of the mama that seemed to react the most. The two simplistic humanoids stare at each other with teary eyes, but remain quiet. I thus put the little girl's forelock between my thumb and my index finger. The reaction is quick. The child straightens up and repeatedly hits my fingers. She does whimper, but even that is quickly met with the mother's "ssshhhhh desuuuuu". Okay, there goes the lock. Silently, the now bald-forheaded child lets her arms down, and puts a "Oh, come on" look on her face. It's obvious those jissous are like any other. They have the same reactions, the same pain when they're abused. It's just that abused Jissouseki are prone to complain, and those don't have the right to do so. Heh, it really puts the meaning back in "abused". I'm abusing a situation they can't get out of. I'm being the opposite of fair. They're upholding some kind of law, and they get hell for it. They're thoroughly screwed. I sloooowly get to the left braid. The helpless kojissou realizes soon enough what's about to happen and puts her paws in an unmistakeable prayer gesture, shaking her head. But I pull, and the hair gets torn out. "Nooo my beautiful hai-TEG" Holy hell, what ? The mama had a panic attack and straight up punched the child. With all her might. The shock crushed the poor little bastard against my palm, prompting a vomit full of chunks of vital organs. My bit of fun is well into creepy territory now. Seriously, that's not hard ass at this point, that's dictatorship. And it's clear the oppressed jissous won't help me. Thierry Genestar And again, a few moments after this interrupted plight from a kojissou, Sylvia goes to town. Multiple "Hyaaaah !"s followed by the noise of frail jissou bones breaking. It's like Link in a pottery shop. Getting to the complete massacre option every time might seem worrying, but a bunch of mute jissous ? Yeah, fair enough. "Well, I guess the Master isn't around anymore." "Yeah, nothing but Jissouseki here, desu." "We'll get back to the villa, have fun." "Okay, desu. Karateeeeeee chop !" Ah, shit, so much for being the miracle the world n... "W...W...W...W...Whaaaat desu ?" I hear Sylvia say with an utterly confused and voice. "What's up ?" "I...I...No f...What, desu ?" "Hey, you feel alright ?" I turn to Lynn, who's looking at me, curious. "I don't know, she's having a meltdown." Back to Sylvia. "Take your time. Breathe." "No you d-d-d-don't understand, desu !" Obviously, the jissous down there decided to take the chance and run for it. One mama appears where we are waiting, running to the exit. "Hey, you let one escape." "YEAH, HER ! CATCH HER NOW DESU !" I look at the escaping Jissou, who heard the shout through the earpiece. She smiles at me. No, leers at me. And her mismatched eyes briefly, but clearly, flash yellow. Bright yellow. What. The. Fuck ? In a blink of an eye, she's gone. "Shit ! Beckett, with me ! We have to catch her !" Without checking if she follows me, I dart to the main part of the underground bunker where the jissou with yellow eyes went. Nothing in the connecting corridor, she's already beginning to lose us. That can't be real ! "You see her ?!" Shouts Beckett from the other end of the corridor as I get to a right turn. "No ! Nothing, she just freaking vanished !" "You've got to be kidding me..." Thirty minutes or so later, all three of us are standing in the living room. We're all pretty shaken, but Sylvia is livid. "So...what happened ?" Asks Lynn to her. "How did you find that...thing ?" "I just did a karate chop to a mama. A completely normal mama, dammit, desu." "And ?" "She blocked it, desu !" "She...what ?" "You mean she dodged it, right ?" I intervene. "They just don't have the physical ability to..." "No ! Fucking blocked it, desu ! She raised her stump, and bam, my chop was stopped like it hit a human arm, desu !" I take my head into my hands. "Okay, I've got nothing. Never saw anything of the sort. Stargate excepted." "I think we can agree this is likely to be directly linked to those we're after, however, right ?" "Yes Mrs.Beckett, we certainly can." "We have to find it, desu !" "We searched the entire underground twice" matter-of-factly says the CSI. "There's only one place she could have run off to." "I don't care, as long as I can do as much unstopped karate chops as I can, desu !" Knowing full well what Lynn is referring to, I walk to the windows, to behold once again what we ignored for all too long since we got here. The main event. "For once, I've got good news for you."
As said on your blog, epic win right here.