~~~~^^^^^^~~~~~Bill Megami Tensei~~~~^^^^^^~~~~~It was a normal day at Geckocum High School. That is to say, everything was really ****ed up and made no sense.
The members of the Japanese Nazi Division SEES sat around a table in the cafeteria, awaiting the Hannukah Hour, which they termed the “Dark Hour” to new members to avoid scaring them away before they could be brainwashed by the preserved brain of the Grand Wizard, Adolf Hitler. When it came, they would head out into the world, hunting down the Juden schweinehund when they revealed their monstrous true forms and searched for innocent, white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant prey.
The hour had not yet arrived, according to the school clock, but the streets were in darkness nonetheless, and not a sound could be heard. Concerned about this, the group spent two and a half hours droning on about meaningless gibberish.
Suddenly, there was a frantic knock at the door. “MOTHER A' MERCY,” howled a grizzled old voice, “LET US IN!”
Mitsuru, the senior redhead – known worldwide as the only redhead in existence whose hair was actually purple - crossed to the door, bracing herself and opening it wide.
An old man tumbled in, clutching a pistol and with a shotgun slung over his shoulder, magically sticking to his back. He wore a green beret and a tatty army jacket, had a short dirty-white beard and a face covered in scars.
“Eek!” Mitsuru shrieked, “a hobo!”
“Well,” the old man muttered, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, “this is going to hell in a handbasket real fast.”
He was followed by a big, tattooed biker-type wielding an assault rifle. “I hate kids,” he moaned, upon seeing the SEES. “And schools.”
“Kids,” the old man whispered, his hands beginning to shake. “I... I remember the kids...”
He dropped his pistol, which scattered across the floor. The biker grabbed him roughly. “Bill's having one of his moments again! Barack, get in here!”
Barack Obama shoved through the door, deftly grabbing a bottle stuffed with a rag from Bill's belt. He stepped back out of reach until the old man stopped shaking.
“I remember... they... they melted... because of me,” Bill sighed, coming to a stop. He sat down on the spot, weeping gently into his hands. “Forgive me,” he sobbed.
A teenage girl entered last of all, quickly slamming the door shut behind her. The group breathed a sigh of relief.
“What the hell is going on out there, crackas?” asked a tall student with a slight goatee and a baseball cap. “I think I'm black,” he added.
“What a coincidence,” Obama said, “I do too.”
“Is it the... the Jews?” Yukari asked nervously, in a shy, sweet voice. This was because she was SHY and SWEET and INNOCENT. Do you comprehend her SHY, SWEET INNOCENCE yet? Good.
“Not quite,” Francis the biker growled. “It's vampires.”
“Zombies,” the girl, Zoey corrected him.
The SEES breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Okay,” Mitsuru said, “the undead aren't as big a problem.”
“Come on, guys,” Bill complained, “we gotta keep moving! Torch this place and let's get going!”
“You're not torching our school!” Yukari protested, wide-eyed.
“Sounds good to me,” shrugged the student with the baseball cap.
“Listen, they're going to break in as soon as it's narratively convenient,” Obama explained. “You kids have to run and find somewhere to hide.”
“I heard they can see your silhouette through walls,” Zoey whispered.
“Now that's just crazy talk.”
“Pah,” Bill spat, “you think
this is a zombie apocalypse? Should've seen the great undead invasion of '63...”
“You were in Vietnam in '63, Bill,” Zoey interrupted.
“...oh, so I was,” Bill muttered after a few moments. “Zombies, Gooks, you get them mixed up sometimes.”
“I hate Gooks,” Francis complained.
“Me too, man,” Bill said emphatically.
The SEES members looked at each other awkwardly. They lived in Japan, and had Japanese names, but to all extents and purposes appeared to be entirely Caucasian. So their loyalties were split.
“Hey, aren't these kids Japanese?” Zoey asked eagerly. “Maybe you can use them as cumdumpsters instead of me and give me a chance to learn to walk normally again!”
“Good idea,” Bill said, raising his bushy eyebrows and turning to appraise the SEES group. He lifted his shotgun, pointing it at them meaningfully. “Backs against the wall, kids,” he breathed, “you gonna get
inspected.”
They backed up slowly against the wall in horror. Mitsuru's hand carefully crept along to her belt where she kept her Evoker, but to her horror she found the holster empty. The others did the same.
“They must still be upstairs!” she hissed. “Willy, see if you can grab the one Bill dropped!”
The new member of SEES, an intensely disturbing-looking tall, skinny youth with a mop of blue hair and cold, dead eyes known as Willy Diklik, nodded silently. When Bill looked away from him, he dived forwards, grabbing the dropped Evoker and pressing it against his head, his back to the wall.
“PERSONA!” he shouted, and pulled the trigger. The upper-left section of his skull burst as the bullet tore through it, decorating the wall in blood and brain matter. His lifeless corpse slid to the ground, where a steady trickle of gore and bits of skull dripped to the cold tiled floor.
“Diklik-kun!” Yukari screamed.
“Aaaauuwwww naaaaaauwww,” Bill moaned. “Well, at least it was that one. You, c'mere,” he beckoned to Yukari. She nervously approached and stood before him, hands clasped in front of her innocently.
“I had a girl looked kind of like you,” he rumbled, tracing the line of her neck with a grubby finger. “Back in the war. You know what I did with her, after I had my way with her for weeks on end?”
“N-no,” she trembled.
“I killed her,” Bill whispered, fire in his eyes. “She was going to have my baby... she loved me by the end. I
made her love me. But I couldn't handle what I had done, what I had created... so while she slept, I crept away from the village one night. The rest of my troop thought I was dead and gone... so I broke into camp, managed to get away in one of the planes before they realised what was going on. I went back to the village, in that plane, with its deadly payload...”
Yukari started to cry quietly, looking up at the grizzled war veteran and down at his own bulging payload, a promise of things to cum.
“I napalmed them,” he said, barely perceptible. “I napalmed them all... I still remember their screams, girl, as they burned. They couldn't believe it was happening to them. And I think she knew... in those last moments, she knew it was me. What I had done. I still see them, night after night, those villagers... I could name them all. I could identify them all. I still remember them. I STILL REMEMBER THEIR SCREAMS!”
He slapped her roughly, knocking her to the ground. Sobbing wildly, he dropped his pants and threw himself on her.
“FORGIVE MEEEEEE!” he screamed as he plunged into the shrieking girl.
“You!” Obama shouted at Mitsuru. “You look like a top, right?”
She nodded slightly, eyes narrowed.
“Good,” he laughed, “I love changing the establishment. Bend over.”
“Like hell,” she growled, turning and fleeing to the stairwell.
“Yo' ain't getting away from me!” Obama shouted, slipping into his hood dialect. He pursued her up the stairs and out of sight. After a few minutes, in which the occasional loud bang, shout or crash could be heard, he emerged, shaking and trembling from the top of the stairs. He was wearing Mitsuru's skirt, blood streaked the side of his face, and he appeared to be wearing lipstick.
“Ah made her call me
uncle,” he cackled, his eyes alight with passion and victory.
“Man, at least I'm safe,” Junpei sighed, watching the spectacle unfold before him. “Unless that chick thinks she's
man enough for me,” he laughed, looking at Akihooha nervously.
“No, but I do,” Francis replied, grabbing him by the shirt. Junpei gurgled, his eyes wide, as Francis dragged him away from the wall and threw him to the floor. He grabbed the boy's baseball cap, throwing it across the room. “I hate hats,” he explained. “Now get on your knees and
beg, boy!”
Sobbing, broken, Junpei sunk to his knees before the rough, muscled fighter.
“Open wide,” Francis grinned, unzipping his jeans. And then the skylight shattered.
“HORDE!” Francis shouted at the top of his lungs, pulling up his zipper and grabbing his gun. Bill struggled to his feet, Yukari prostrate before him, being forced to role-play an abused poppy farmer's wife. He grabbed his shotgun and began blasting the zombies as they streamed through the ceiling and into the school. Zoey stood on a balcony, firing a hunting rifle into their midst. Obama fled back up the stairs.
“That kid's got my napalm,” Bill growled, pursuing him. “Hold them off here!”
“I hate napalm!” Francis shouted.
“SMOKER!” Zoey screamed, as a tall, staggering zombie threw out a long, whip-like tongue and snagged Yukari. The girl screamed as she was dragged through the skylight, Zoey half-heartedly fumbling to reload her rifle, too late.
Once she was dragged onto the roof, the shivering, naked young girl was dropped at the feet of a huge, obese, decomposing zombie. The Boomer cackled, vomiting all over her even as the Smoker's tongue extended to penetrate where it should not penetrate.
The horde turned, stopped streaming into the school, smelling the delicious, stinking odour of the boomer vomit covering this nubile young female. They approached, hungry and aroused...
Bill returned down the stairs, Obama and a staggering, dazed Mitsuru clad in Obama's business suit in tow, just in time for a Hunter to leap from an opposing balcony with a shriek. It grabbed Mitsuru, pinning her down, and began ripping off her clothes. She screamed hysterically.
“Bitch, that suit cost me a...” the young black man began, hesitating.
“You stole it, right, blackie?” Bill grunted.
“Well, yeah,” Obama admitted.
They walked away, leaving the hunter to plunge its long, slim claws into Mitsuru's various orifices.
“TANK!” Bill suddenly screamed in alarm. Obama looked around.
“Don't see one,” he said.
The Tank smashed through the wall behind Zoey, punching her off the balcony and down to the floor, where she landed on her head with a sickening
crack.
“ZOEY!” Francis yelled, just before the horde overwhelmed him. “NEED A LITTLE HELP OVER HERE!”
“RELOADING!” Obama replied, feeding a fresh magazine into his uzi.
Bill surveyed the scene grimly. A Tank beating what was left of Zoey's life out of her. A hungry horde drowning Francis with sheer numbers, even as he fought them off. The SEES members being either eaten, violated or both.
There was only one thing to do.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” he roared, lighting his molotov, and throwing it across the room. It struck the tank, fire launching into the air and quickly spreading throughout the room thanks to the horde.
“This is... this is turnin' into... one of those...
days,” Francis moaned, and died.
“COVER ME!” Obama shouted, rushing into the inferno to save Zoey. Bill deftly grabbed the molotov from his hip as he ran.
“Payback time,” Bill whispered, juggling it once, twice, then throwing it just past the foot of the stairs. Obama erupted in flames, screaming and beating at himself futilely.
“Nobody steals my napalm, bitch,” Bill sneered, watching the blaze. A beautiful sight. Just like back in the jungle... coming upon a horde of refugees, fleeing the war zone. Flamethrower in hand, he had descended on them... man, woman, and child alike. He still remembered the way they pleaded for help, the hurt confusion in their eyes... barely conscious that he was doing it, he slowly began to rub himself through his pants, eventually shuddering slightly, letting out a sharp exhalation and stopping.
“Man, that feels good,” he whispered, and sat down to watch as the flames burned themselves out and the children, one by one, succumbed to the fire and blackened to a crisp.
Home 
Search 
Memberlist 
Usergroups 
Register 
Log in 
Subject: AWESOME FANFICTION CLUB! MANY STORIES AND I AM TOO LAZY TO KEEP UPDATING THE TITLE! LIST ON FIRST PAGE!!! ALSO EXCLAMATION MARKS!! 
Tue Dec 02, 2008 6:30 am
. He was beautiful. In return for the sacrifice of many drowned innocents, 
