Viewing Single Post From: Fist of the Fusion Star

Viewing Single Post From: Fist of the Fusion Star
K'	Jan 6 2009, 06:05 PM
PR Posts: 317 Group: FEFFer Member #1,487 Joined: October 3, 2007	Fist of the Fusion Star, the Legend of the End of Century Savior! Chapter 2: Penis Fist There were stories of a pair of supposedly pretty ballin’ looking guys driving around in a discovered ’64 Impala, probably the greatest piece of machinery unearthed after the nuclear war. Rumor had it that they cruised around from village to village, blasting Tupac with some deep bass while heading towards the south. True shit. Of course, these two ballers were PZ and PR, on their journey to the south for some unknown reason because PR was being a douchebag and not telling PZ why the fuck he had to act as PR’s personal chauffeur. It might’ve actually just have been because if he didn’t, PR would poke his armpit or something and make him blow up. “This is boring stuff bro,” PZ complained, looking at a lounging PR who had his seat reclined all the way back. “We have this ballin’ car with ballin’ music, why don’t we go pick up some bitches or some shit dawg it’d be easy with you around!” PR snored in reply, he was already asleep. PZ sighed and kept driving, in that gangsta ballin’ way with one hand on top of the wheel and the other arm resting on the door while the window was down. Niggas indeed. That’s that trushit after all. So the duo continued to cruise, but unfortunately for them ominous music started playing out of nowhere and a mysterious narrative voice that kind of sounded like Keanu Reaves started to talk. Oh no! Bro what will they ever do! They don’t know it yet but dude, the king of this area has already put a reward or something for the head of the Man with Seven Scars! Wicked! Bro how will they ever get out of this one?! “Uh, I can hear you Keanu Reaves, you stupid fuck,” PZ said irritably. That’s not good. You know too much… “Dude, what the fuck seriously man you were totally using your surfer voice two seconds ago and now you’re talking in like a fucking whisper and trailing off your words make up your damn mind man. We really couldn’t find anybody better to be our goddamn narrator?! Really?!” “Hand over all your food and water bitches!” A group of like 12 or 13 thugs leaped out from under a bunch of potato bags or some shit that they had make to look like sand. I mean, it probably would’ve been scary for PZ, but he had a man next to him who could make people’s heads explode by touching them on assorted parts of the body. Then again, he was sound asleep. “Sonuva… oh fuck me.” The thugs stepped in front of PZ and PR’s ballin’ Impala and tried to stop it with brute force, but PZ floored that shit and ran over like 2 of them before they managed to stop the car. The thugs had encircled PZ and dragged PR’s body out of the car. Somehow, he was still sound asleep, which was pretty fucking ridiculous if you ask me. Each of the thugs was either brandishing a spiked steel club or loading a crossbow. This didn’t look good for PZ, who was desperately trying to rouse PR from his slumber. “Haha this guy’s out like a light!” snickered one of the goons. He walked over to PR and started prodding him with a boot tipped with a sharpened steel point. It pierced PR’s flesh and he started to bleed, but he still didn’t fucking wake up. Jesus Christ. “What the hell’s wrong with this guy?” The thugs were all beginning to get riled up at this point, growing angrier by the minute that someone managed to stay asleep while being attacked by them. Them thugs gotta keep up dey street cred, word? They all suddenly huddled around PR, kicking him and stomping him and shit. They even curbstomped him, which was a feat in itself because they were in the middle of the desert and there were no curbs around. Don’t even ask me how they did that shit, but it was painful. When all the dust settled, PR was in the middle of the ring of thugs, bloodied up and still sleeping. “Okay you know what, this is just too fucking ridiculous,” PZ said, grumbling to himself. “I don’t even give a shit anymore.” The thugs smiled and turned on PZ, shooting out freakishly long tongues slathered in saliva, licking their weapons. It was really fucking gross, but at the same time kinda kinky which turned PZ on. PZ started to beg for mercy, stating that he had no food or water to give them, and that he would give them the banging ’64 Impala if they let him go. But of course, since they were thugs, armed, and willing to kill; why not just kill PZ and take the car anyways? Suddenly, a giant fucking shadow was cast over the thugs as a figure with glowing red eyes rose up from behind them. PZ jizzed in his pants because his savior had finally fucking woken up. “What the fuck we curbstomped you and beat the shit out of you how are you still alive?!” the goons cried in unison. “Yeah, and I touched you in your no-no place!” a lone voice cried out. It was met by awkward silence and forced coughs, as everyone fidgeted uncomfortably. It appeared as though Laharl had survived somehow. Faggot. “Hokuto Shin-Ken has a 2000 year old history,” PR growled, the familiar white light surrounding him again. Same shit happens, stuff on his arms rip, shit vanishes, whoop-dee fucking doo. “There’s no way I could be beaten by worthless pieces of shit like you!” With a vigorous, ‘ATAH!’ PR swiftly dealt with two of the remaining thugs, causing one’s ribcage to explode out of his stomach and the other to empty his vital organs through his bowels. 2/10. With a hearty, ‘ATOH!’ PR struck down another two villains, making one’s head blow up in the everyday fashion while the other just kind of split in half. Beautiful. 4/10. And finally, finishing off with his signature ‘ATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA!’ PR killed five of the remaining six thugs, leaving only Laharl alive. It’s not worth your time for me to describe how they died, you can make something up in your head and it’s probably possible with Hokuto Shin-Ken. And I mean you can make up anything. Anything. So there was Laharl, face to face with PR. He shit and pissed himself in fear, which was really fucking gross and almost made PR throw up. But he restrained himself. Then he saw Laharl’s face and couldn’t hold it back any longer. When he was finished, he cracked his neck and his knuckles and slowly walked towards Laharl, thinking of the best way to kill him. He came within inches of Laharl, then reached out and delivered a powerful slap. It was the greatest slap in the history of the world; not because it had beautiful form or anything, but because it was Laharl getting slapped. Word. Laharl whimpered and covered his face, but PR shook his head and pointed at Laharl. “You are already dead. I stuck a pressure point on your inner thigh that leaves you with only three seconds to live. Gg nub.” “How in the fuck did you do that?!” Laharl cried out in disbelief. “This is a fucking joke isn’t it? I’m getting the hell out of here Sentenal can go fuck himself!” Laharl stumbled away, crying and pissing himself. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to –“ Laharl began to convulse violently, as every single muscle in his body contracted painfully. His bones creaked from the pressure, eventually giving away and shattering into pieces. The pale white fragments protruded from his skin in places, and he began to bleed from his crotch as his vaginal muscles tore. He began to bend backwards as the muscles around his spinal cord tightened more and more, until he was nearly folded in half. His spinal cord made a horrible creaking sound as it approached breaking point. At this time, Laharl’s face was a mixture of blood, snot, and tears. It actually made him look better. Three seconds were up, and Laharl’s spinal cord snapped from the pressure as his ribcage simultaneously exploded out of his torso, shooting with it all his nearby vital organs. It was the most beautiful thing PR and PZ had ever seen. Now, unbeknownst to these two bros, the thugs they had just defeated were Sentenal’s best men, which was really fucking pathetic. ‘Cause I bet you even an unborn fetus could’ve managed to fight these guys off. But who exactly was Sentenal? Sentenal! The king of the south, he rules with an iron fist and kills all who get in his way! He is best known for his Nanto Penis Ken (Penis Fist of the South Star), which is a style of Nanto Sei Ken, the rival school to Hokuto Shin-Ken! If Hokuto Shin-Ken kills the opponent from the inside out, Nanto Sei Ken does the opposite! With its members each possessing a unique ability, Nanto Sei Ken is regarded as the most brutal of killing techniques! “Hey thanks Keanu Reaves,” PR said. The bros headed to their Impala once again, on a mission to continue their journey. But why exactly was PR trying to reach Sentenal? And why was Sentenal so intent on killing PR? How powerful is Sentenal’s Nanto Penis Ken that PR himself must intervene? PZ was still wondering why PR was leaving him in the dark, but believed that his bro would answer all questions with time. So they began cruisin’ again towards the south, as the face of some fucking e-whore appeared in the sky for some reason just before the ending credits began to roll. Edited by K', Jan 6 2009, 06:08 PM.
	Iris [ pH 0 ] +[ Ms Doom is /pout ]+ says: I HAD LIKE FIFTY ORGASMS

Fist of the Fusion Star · Fan Fiction