you are playing with a ouija board and you accidentally summon the ghost of marilyn manson, he proceeds to rape you while yelling expletives about his dentures
it wasunexpected, thats to say inthe least. you were all alone in your home playing with your qoiche board. you are a pagen, after all, and communicating with the spirits is one if the most important ways to keep your high in status in pagen hell. which you, of course, are the leadder of. little ole pagan satin up here. living in your smallass penthouse in the west side of the east coast by the far north south side of the river by the nort-west sideof the westeast coast. you lived a rather dull life, and talking to the spirits of the area was something that alwasy seemedto make you more comfortable and happy in your pagen household. you always felt a great sense of security talkkking to the dead. like a small, gentlereminder that after your on enevitable death, you eillnot just beforever, and that oneof these days you might even be able to communicate beyyong your own grave as well...
the nights air was cold and crisp and sent shivers down your spine witth every chill breeze that fluttered in through your open bedroom window. you enjoyed it, though. the smell of campfireoutside and the sounds of your disgusting gay neighbors children playing and screaming was comfortin, too. you had turned off all the lights in your room so that it waas dark, andthe only sorce of illuminaion in the room was the bright full moon and the five lit candles you had around your bed.you close your eyes, take a deep breath, andin a soft voice you mumer "spirits of the dead,beyong the grave inwhich you lay. please, someone, help.....meayh...." because haha vry cool rhymes. ghoosts like the rhyes. of course they do. who in thheir right mind wouldnt. suddenly your hand jerks yo the side and your eyes snap open, the familiar scent of campfire outside turns into a nausiating form of burning flesh, adn you know that its starting to work. again, you repeat yourself, and call out a "come out! show yourselves,whoever you are. youre welcoe here, to talk." and your handjerks again to theside, overthe planchet thingy,spelling out the word "dentires" you are confused about why dentures is mispelled, but go with it, nevertheless. ots normal for ghostts to mispell things, afterall. thhey havent exactly had to wright anything in a long, long while... you ask what the ghost means, but before you can even finish your sentenve, a man appears before you. he is in sexy lingerieamd is layingacross the board, smolldering atyou with half lidded gaze. you panic and jolt back, falling back aganst the pillows of your plush red matress. in an instant, the ghost is over you. you try to shovehim off, but the dead are alwasy stronger.. he grabs your wrists and pin them up byyour head, his dark eyes glaring into your soul.youre scared for the first time in forever, but you try to play it cool."i know who yoou are-" you state, "mary. marry mansion. ive heard about you onthe interwebs" you say this, andtheman leans in and plants a lingering kiss to your lips. this shocks the bejebus out of you, and you gasp, leaning back intothe matress to try to get away from him. but themghost only presses againstyou evenmore. your mouth had opened when you had gasped, and with this it was easyfor the otherto slip hiscold, slimey tongue into your mouth.he shifts sp that he is holding both og your hands in one of his own, and slides his free hand down your body. first overyour neck, then your chest. he takes a moment to rideupyour shirt and thumb over your already hard tits before slipping his hand down further. his handworks its way underneath your pants and boxers and he slipps a finger intp your tighhole. it hurts. god, does it resally hurt... yove never tiouchhed yourself down there and you didnt really know what to expect, but jesus fuck... it was n o t this...
you try to fight himback, turning your headaway from the kiss and closing your eyes, screaming out a harsh "NO! STOP!! PLEASE,I.... I DONT WANT THIS!" but manson doesnt listen. if anything, it only makes his actions worse. inone swift otion, he moves you so that youre on your stomach, ass in the air,and heaad pressed into the matress below you. he removes all ovyoour clothing, and shoves his already erect cock intoyour tight virgin ass without as much as a small warning.you scream out and feel your assstart to bleed, the redliquid working efficientlly enough as a lube and you can feel that the more the ghost of manson starts to thrust into you, the more the hot, fresh blood gushes out of your entrance. it runs down your legs like freshpiss and soaks the white matress below you. permenantly staining it with thered memories of tonight. manson screams out wooth you, a cry of imense pleasure, and he then claims thathe is getting revege fir his dentures. you ask the man what you ever did to his dentures, but hedoesn not reply, instead just fucking you sensekless. though, after a while he starts in detail. he explains that his dentures were the ontly thing that heloed him when he was aliv, andthat you werethe onewho took them. he blames you for this and for his death, and claims that raping you is the only justice. you scream and you cry, your own snot and tears mixing into the matress with your blod, that is ever rushing out of you.
hours pass by. or maybe days... but thelast thing you remeber is mansion biting into your shoulder with his rotten gums and whispering out to you how good justice finally feels..
youre found dead twenty days later. nobody ever came to checkon you, except for your landlord, and that is when you weerre found.. little do thefedsknow that youare still being fuked to this day. the end;
