Satisfaction

You swing open the doors. You're instantly greeted with the exquisite sound of piss and salt. It's a nostalgic smell. It looks like the one back at Momma's house, same stock photos of families frolicking in the fields coat the stained white walls. It's WcDonald's, and despite it being your first time at this specific store, it's got the same feel. You've been waiting in sheer anticipation for the grand opening. This specific store has been being built for months, teasing you from your place of employment, a factory across the street. You used to always get WcDonald's after a shift, but you've been forced to substitute it for lesser places. Mendy's and Burger Queen. Your face is in a fixed glow as you stroll around the restaurant, it's like being back home. You scan the restaurant. Booths with facing red sofa's sit alongside the wall, with a wooden table to eat on. The rest of the floor plan has white plastic stools and small square tables, sometimes a slightly larger one with two stools attached. A series of a dozen self-checkouts line what used to be the cashier spot. The future is digital, or so they say. Large windows sit above the booths at the edge, you can see the factory in which you work at on the other side of the road, illuminated with yellow street lamps. The light above is overbearingly white, making every colour in the place pop. Taking in such a nostalgic sight, you realize something. You're very hungry, you need to use the washroom, and your legs feel like they're gonna fall off. It's a 3 way dilemma and you aren't sure what to fix first. [[Eat. You can sit down and eat, kill two birds with one stone.->Eat]] [[Sit. Your legs are killing you and you'll collapse on the floor if you don't.->Sit]] [[Piss. You can NOT hold it in any longer.->Piss]]

You approach one of the many self-checkout kiosks. You tap through the menus with lightning speed, ordering your favourite Triple WcFuckMack with a side order of fries and Dr Penis in an instant. The total comes to 28.66$ dollars, but you already knew that. With a single arm movement, you pull out your debit card, swipe it through the machine's debit reader and sheathe it back in your pocket. [[Reach down to the printer for your ticket->Ticket]]

You decide it'd be best if you sat down first. Collect your thoughts and rest your legs. You can always order later, and bladder stones don't sound that bad. You quickly walk to one of the many empty booths and place yourself inside. The soft, yet sticky cushion clings to your ass. You can feel the board underneath having given out, providing you with the very exquisite tactile sensation of a nail ready to pierce you. You savour the feeling of sitting, your job doesn't allow for breaks, and you never get a seat during transit, so this is a rare part of your day. You relax your shoulders, scoot further into the booth and attempt to throw your feet up onto the cushions. However, you quickly remember that that would break at least a couple laws, or by-laws, or whatever they are. And you try your best to be a good model-citizen. Yet, you can't deny that the aching, near throbbing pain in your legs hasn't gone away yet. [[Throw them up. You're mortal, flesh and blood. Weak.->Legs up]] [[Keep them down. You will not deface WcDonald's property. ->Legs down]]

Pissing seems like the most urgent matter. You take a quick look around the restaruant and quickly find the sign leading to the washroom. You love the level design WcDonald's offers. It leads you around a corner and down a hallway. A single wooden door stands in front of you, with a plaque reading WASHROOM. [[Open the door.->Descend.]]

Against better judgement, you decide to indulge yourself in cardinal pleasure and swing your legs up. With a full, dramatic swivet and swing, your heavy work boots bounce off the cushion as they land on it. You stretch your legs out fully and feel the blood gushing back into your body. Blood you haven't felt since this morning. You quickly realize this was a bad idea. Something feels wrong in your stomach. [[Place hand over stomach.->Anxiety]]

You're not gonna do that. You're not gonna break any laws, you aren't gonna defile WcDonald's property. You sit, like a patient and mature man. Your legs burn, but you withstand it. After a while, you feel good enough to stand. You scoot out from the booth and approach the self-checkout kiosk. A series of ads dance in your face. You tap through them and order what you always get. It checks through and you tap your debit card. The machine prints your ticket. A few minutes later, your number is called. You get your food and ask the employee for the bathroom key. It's out of service, he says. You nod and walk away. You sit back down in a booth. You open the bag and pull out your food. You eat it quickly. It tasted exactly like it did last time. You enjoy it. You get up and leave. You walk to your bus stop and wait. You still need to pee. It arrives. You get on. You ride home, nothing is unusual. It stops at your stop an hour and half later. You get off. You walk to your apartment. You're in front of the door. You slide your keys and open it. You walk inside. It looks the same. You turn right and enter the washroom. You relieve yourself, wash your hands and leave the room. You turn right again and enter the main room. It's a small, constricted place. The walls are a dim yellow, thanks to second hand smoke from the previous tenant. Your bed is a mattress on the floor, covered in dirty clothes, tissues, a blanket and pillow. A onahole and a laptop lie next to the bed. A mini-fridge is in the corner of the room. This is all you have. You open the fridge and pull out a beer. You open it and begin drinking it. It's what you always drink. You open your laptop and watch some youtube, it's the same youtubers you always watch. You drink a couple more beers, but nothing crazy. The usual amount. It's about bedtime. You kick the dirty clothes off and lie down. You grab your onahole and relieve yourself, to the same porn you always do. You fall asleep. You wake up the next day and leave for work. It's a standard shift. Once it's over, you walk over to WcDonald's. Your legs hurt, your hungry, and you need to piss. You decide to sit down first. You scoot into a booth seat. You want to put your legs up. You decide not to. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You can't do it, you can't defile this table. You couldn't live with yourself if you did. You stand up with what little remaining strength you have and scoot out from the booth. Your hands are sickly pale, and your cheeks burn to the touch. Through a spinning blur, you see the washroom sign, pointing around the corner from the self-checkout machines, near the kitchen. You make a desperate dash for one of the checkout machines, flopping onto it with a massive hug. You cling to it like a baby to it's mother, fixing your posture and pushing yourself up it. The machine beeps and boops at you, you don't understand its alien language and you don't care. Catching your breath, you leap again, and bounce through the self-checkout machines like a frog over lily pads. The employees don't seem to notice you, they continue swirling around in the kitchen filling as many orders as they can. Reaching the final kiosk, you see the sign leading down the hallway, jus at the corner. But you have no idea how long it is. Getting this far was bad enough, and that was with the help of the kiosks. Bracing for defeat, you start thinking of quitting. Your legs are so weak, and you can't hold in this sickness for much longer. It's a miracle you made it this far. Your grip loosens on the kiosk and you begin sliding down. Just as your body slides down the machine, so does your mind. A lifetime of failure is all you can think about, you've always been a quitter. [[You still got oxygen in your blood.->Rush]]

You decide it'd be a lot easier to just puke there and then. I'm sure they have experts who'd love to clean up after you. Unable to hold on any longer, you grip the table tightly, your back fully bent over it with your face directly above it. Your legs are back on the floor, you just couldn't handle the guilt right now. Your nails are digging dirt and gum from the bottom of the table. The spinning wood in-front of you eventually stops. Everything becomes clear, you hear the shuffle and buzz from the kitchen louder than any other time of the night. You feel like you can count the particles in the table in front of you with how close you are. And then you puke, a pure liquid stream of burning stomach acid flies out of your mouth at near mach speed. It splashes against the table and knocks back into your face. It spills and runs off the table and coats the floor beneath you, along with your work pants and boots. You keep hurling but there's no solids in sight, you aren't allowed a lunch after all and you aren't about to be one of those "unionizers.". You hurl and hurl until you got nothing left and all those mini-triangular-paper cups of water you had is right there in front of you, in a sickly light green/brown mixture swimming on the table. You gag a little after, like a cat kicking up a hairball. You bring your posture back to a normal sitting position. [[Wipe your mouth and face.->Mouth wipe]]

Before she can finish tying up the back, you desperately attempt to wipe all the vomit off from your face. Your sleeves get too wet, so you begin to use the inside of your shirt. As she stands and lifts the bag over her shoulder, you close your eyes "P-PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME!" You shout loud enough for people across the street to hear you. Your heart begins to pound and you feel a bit of adrenaline circulating. You don't hear a response, but you don't hear footsteps either. "Please... I, from first glance, I've..." You swallow loudly, opening your eyes. You dare not look at her, but downwards, towards the table. "I've loved you. Truly." You claw at your knees and twist and turn the fabric of your jeans. "You're, you're beautiful, and I know, a g-g-guy like me, I g-got no shot but," You can hear your heartbeat ring between your ears. But you're managing to amass some pride. You hunch forward, ready to pop. "I... I just... I had to ask, so please." Sucking in some air, you psych yourself and turn towards her. Fixing your posture tall and proud, and with gusto you exclaim, [["Please go out with me!"->Ask out path 1]]

You remain quiet. She lifts the bag over her back and walks away. You stare at her ass as she does, almost as impressive as her tits. Her final parting gift to you before she turns into the kitchen and disappears into the sea of workers. You didn't have a chance, you never had a chance. A loser like you. You forget about the incident. You wipe the failure from your memory. You're alone. You remain sitting in the booth. You can feel vomit drying in your hair and on your shirt. No one's sitting across from you. No one has ever sat across from you. The soul crushing weight of reality begins to bear down on you. You feel lonelier than you ever have before. You feel scared. You begin scratching at the waxed faux-wood panelled table. You're beginning to panic. [[Stand up.->Shake it off.]]

You place your handle on the door handle. You give yourself but a brief second to admire the smooth, slightly cold tactile feel of it before placing some pressure on it and turning it. But it doesn't give. You just hear a slight clicking sound as it jams. You press down again, nothing. More sweat grows on your forehead. You take your other hand and press down with both, nothing. You attempt to raise it up and then bring it down, it still jams. The world blurs. You place your entire body weight into your push. The door handle still doesn't lower. You feel yourself getting light-headed, nothing seems real anymore. With your body fully against the door, you place all the weight you can into your hands and attempt to slam the door handle down. Sweat drips from your forehead onto the floor below. Time feels like it's a standstill. It will not budge. You quickly scan the hallway in front of you, it's the same as everything else. Decorated in some pictures, a sickly but warming beige paint, the standard tiled floor. But something catches your eye, a small little piece of paper taped to the wall next to you. Mustering all the focus you possibly can, you strain your eyes and read it. "Washroom for paying customers only!" You haven't ordered yet. [[Puke->Bathooom Puke]]

Five minutes later, you find yourself kneeling on the floor. The dirty, footprints covering the hallway tiles begin to get washed away by your puke. The thin, watery vomit flows down into the bathroom and you can hear it funnel into a drain. It's a small victory. Your entire lower body is coated in your throwup, confidently matching all dirt stains on your jeans from your job. Despite the horrendous stench, the world seems calmer, safer now. You finally got it out of your system, and you feel good. You slowly rise from your all 4s kneeling position and get back on your feet. You slowly watch the last of the vomit run down the tiled trail and into the bathroom. "Sayonara." You mutter. Wiping the last of it onto your sleeve, you turn to face the world again and get some grub. But before you can take your first step, a sharp pain pierces your bladder. You need to fucking piss. You attempt to open the door, it doesn't budge. You attempt the two handed technique, it still doesn't. You put some weight into it, nope. All of your weight, still nothing. You quickly remember why you had to puke on the floor in the first place and smack your forehead. This presents you however, with an issue. Do you hold it in and order some food so you can properly open the door? Or do you piss on the floor, attempting to disguise it with the vomit and have it drain to the same place? [[Do it the proper way. You've already broken law today, and you're not about to do it again.->Order food.]] [[Piss on the floor. You've already broken a law, you little daredevil->Piss drain]]

You approach one of the self-checkout kiosks. The screen is illuminated by ads, coupons, meals and deals. They dance before your eyes, it's all so familiar, all so welcoming. Your mouth waters and your stomach growls, looking to replace what you recently shot out. WELCOME TO WcDONALD's. HERE OR TO GO? [[HERE->Here.]] [[TO GO->TO GO]]

You've already broken one law, what's one more? Besides, this whole situation has eaten up quite a bit of time, at this rate you won't get to meet your 2 hours of sleep before having to leave for work again, and you get real cranky when you don't get enough sleep. You face the door and begin unzipping your pants. You close your eyes, it makes it a little easier. You picture a urinal in front of you, same as any other washroom. A good one, with the little cake. Fully unzipped, you swing your underwear down and get into position. You focus mentally on that cake, it's blue. It has a tiny little hole in the middle that you have to piss in, you aim mentally best you got and begin letting out an entire day's worth of urine onto it. The relief fills your body, you feel wonderful. As you relieve yourself, you feel a hand press onto your shoulder. You didn't imagine a hand, this must be what they call lucid dreaming. It feels soft, tender, almost womanly. "This must be my lucky day!" you think to yourself. You turn your face to meet this mysterious woman in your dreams. The reality around you shatters as you find a man much larger than you are. He stands about 2 heads taller than you, and much wider. His thick, veiny neck compliments his block shaped head. A thick, long beard trails down his chin, the only hair on his head. His skin is a deep red of pure anger. A small visor cap strains against his bald dome. He's wearing the standard WcDonald's uniform, yet it looks comical on his frame. His arms have already torn the short sleeves, and it clings to him as if another even 1 cm smaller shirt wouldn't fit. His powerful looking legs also strain against the tight black sacks, He doesn't seem to need a belt. You attempt to open your mouth, negotiate a little but he isn't having it. With one hand, he gives you a fierce shove and sends flying back, bouncing off the washroom door. You regain your stance and naturally assume a fighting position. You glare at your opponents eyes and anyone could tell he's seeing pure red. His cheeks are flush and you can almost see the steam being shot out of his nose. You're gonna have to fight your way out. [[FIGHT!->FIGHT!]]

[[BURGERS->BURGER]] [[CHICKEN->CHICKEN]] [[FISH->FISH]]

[[BIG MCFUCK->COMBO]] [[LIL' MCFUCK->COMBO]] [[JUNIOR MCFUDGE->COMBO]]

[[MCDHICKEN->COMBO]] [[JUNIOR MCPEEPEEINN ->COMBO]] [[1 CHKN NUG->COMBO]] [[10 CHKN NUG->COMBO]] [[20 CHKN NUG->COMBO]] [[100 CHKN NUG->COMBO]]

[[FILL-U-UP FISH->COMBO]] [[FISH DICKS->COMBO]]

WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR MEAL TO BE A COMBO DEAL? [[YES->DONATION]] [[NO->DONATION]]

WOULD YOU LIKE TO DONATE? WcDONALD'S SUPPLIES FAMILIES IN WAR-TORN COUNTRIES WITH THE FOOD THEY NEED. A DONATION HERE IS A BIGMCFUCK FOR A STARVING CHILD SOMEWHERE. [[YES->TOTAL]] [[NO->TOTAL]]

YOU'RE TOTAL IS 32.75 DOLLARS. PLEASE TAP THE MACHINE BELOW WHEN YOU ARE READY. [[Tap the funny machine with your card.->Reality]]

The buzzing of the printer snaps you back to reality. After all that excitement, something so natural as ordering put you in a hypnotic state. It prints without issue, you grab the ticket and sit down at a nearby booth, overlooking the kitchen. You stare off into it. The workers look hardened, ready. They expertly wrap sandwiches, stuff fries and fill drinks. Each individual part moving together in a well oiled machine. It makes you hungry just looking. People swap and trade positions at seemingly random, but all without missing a beat. Lines of UferEats employees come in and out, each grabbing identical brown bags before leaving from the check-out counter. Your order doesn't seem to be ready. You lean further back into the red cushion. The employees, now moving even faster, begin morphing before your eyes, trading size and shape. People you thought were there just minutes ago are replaced by another. The UferEats drivers also move faster, the line blurring. Your order doesn't seem to be ready. You don't feel like going up and asking. You're a bit tired. Light shines into the restaurant, and just as quickly lives. Like a little kid flicking a light switch over and over again. They eventually combine in a chill twilight as you watch the ever increasingly fast kitchen and lines move. You feel very tired, you've been here for quite a while. You should probably start getting home soon, but your order isn't ready, and you're a bit tired. You're just gonna sit here, relax and wait, for just a bit longer. You avert your gaze from the kitchen and stare out the window. You see your reflection, an elderly man sunken deep into a WcDonald's booth. You can see the factory across the street but you have no desire to go. The sun rises and sets in an instant. GAME OVER. [[Try again?->The start]]

You play as a mid 20's, white, cis male man. You work in a factory. Your job is to glue two pieces of wood together and set them to dry. You have no ambitions and live a mediocre life. For the first time in a while, you go to WcDonald's after a shift, around midnight to 2am. WcDonald's is this universes McDonald's. It's just been built across from your job, and you're very excited. This games many scenes of violence and sexual acts. If you find them at any of all disturbing, I apologize. For spoiler reasons I won't say specifics, but it is very open with it. It contains many endings, please try your best and find them all. Every scene in which it is important to move backwards, contains a back button. Please refrain from using the global one as it may fuck things up. I'm sorry for the bad programming. If you are absolutely stuck, or have reached an ending, please feel free to do so. [[Start->The start]]

The towering WcGiant blocks your path [[ATTACK ->ATTACK1]] [[DEFEND->DEFEND1]]

You swing a very amateurish punch at him. It bounces off his chest easily. The WcGiant swings back at you, directly slamming your stomach and causing you to pop off the ground. You land barely on your feet, dry-heaving. [[ATTACK->ATTACK2]] [[DEFEND->DEFEND 2]]

You put your hands back in the traditional "Peek-a-Boo" blocking position, holding your head inward. The WcGiant does a left handed swing at you. It slams against your hips. You pop upward, your entire body shakes. But you hold fast. [[ATTACK->ATTACK2]] [[DEFEND->DEFEND 2]]

You swing again, now with even less power behind it. After the last hit, you almost topple over before it even lands. The WcGiant throws a massive upper towards your face. You feel his knuckle grace your chin, the last thing you ever feel. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You put your arms in a cross-block, forming an X over your body. You buckle yourself inwards and place your head as close to your chest as possible. The WcGiant goes for a side hook, but for what he has in power, he lacks in accuracy. He punches the side of your shoulder, it stings, but far from lethal. YOU HAVE ENOUGH SP FOR A SPECIAL! [[SPECIAL->Special4]]

You rub your stomach but it won't stop. It's only getting worse. You start sweating from every pore, your face turns red like a tomato and your vision gets a bit blurry. You feel aged, stale blood rush back into your system and you hate it. The guilt of dirtying a WcDonald's cushion doesn't help either. [[Put your feet back down.->Down]]

Too late, the blood and anxiety is in your system. The blurs in your eyes begin to swirl, your sweat turns cold and you can feel it drip onto the table in front of you. You grip the faux wood-panelled table for dear life, gripping your nails into the bottom of it, scraping up chewed gum. [[Puke.->Throw up]] [[Run to the washroom, fast.->Bathroom]]

You reach down to the printer to grab your ticket. You grasp empty air. [[Grab a bit more to the right, you must be rusty.->Ticket2]]

Nothing. You don't grab anything. [[Look down and get it.->Ticket 3]]

You look downwards towards the printer. You see the serrated edges poking out where the ticket is cut, along with the black outline. But you don't see the ticket. You begin to feel your heart beat a little harder. [[Check the floor, it has to be here.->Floor]]

You step back a bit and see if the ticket didn't manage to fall. Casting aside the shoeprint covered floor, you don't see anything, and there's nothing but the machine blocking your view. You can feel your heart begin to pound against your chest. You look back at the self-checkout kiosk. An error has occurred. The ticket didn't print. You begin to feel cold, your palms clammy as you tighten your fist. This is blasphemy, this is madness. [[Walk over to the pick-up counter and see if someone can help you->Pick-up]] [[Get on all fours, investigate. You can't give up faith in WcDonald's, not now. It had to have printed.->Heart attack]] [[Madness? THIS IS SPARTA!->Sparta!]]

Attempting to swallow away the anxiety in your throat, you begin walking towards the pick up line. "I'm not supposed to do this...", you think to yourself. You clasp your sweat drenched hands together and keep them close to your chest. You huddle your shoulders inward and sub-conciously attempt to make yourself look smaller. Every step feels like an enternity, despite the distance only being around 2 meters. "I don't have a ticket. I'm not allowed to stand here. My order isn't ready." You arrive at the pick-up aisle. You're taking up space needed space. Despite the place being practically empty, you feel a thousand stares upon your back. Your chest feels as if a snake has wrapped itself around you and is squeezing tight. Sweat drips off your forehead and splatters against the order reception counter below. The employee's move like a hurricane, constantly swapping place and position, putting different items in different bags at lightning speed. You watch them in terror and awe. Minutes go by, no one's noticed you. Your legs are really starting to hurt. [[Attempt to get one of the employee's attention->Call out]]

You drop onto the dirty floor knee first, your body will regret that later but you have more important things to do right now. You quickly scan the floor in front of you, but you still don't see anything besides week old shoe prints. You feel sick. You feel like your heart is about to jump out of your chest. You put your palms on the floor and assume an all-4 doggy position. You scuttle around the self-checkout kiosks as quickly as you can for any sign, any hint of a ticket. Even just the smell of fresh ink. But you can't find it. The feeling in your chest grows tighter. You lose arm strength and flop your torso onto the floor, banging your head into the tiles. You feel your cheeks burning on the cold tiles. Breathing is becoming really hard. Your rib cage feels as if it has pierced your heart. You realize what's happening. This is a heart attack. You're dying. You couldn't imagine a better place to die, but you wanted one more meal at least, and maybe one more shift at work. You begin crying, sobbing. Everything feels more real than it ever has. You want to scream but nothing escapes your lungs. Your vision grows blank, until you see your mother. She's in the kitchen, back at the farm. Your childhood home. She made your favourite, she got WcDonald's. She reaches into the classic brown bag and pulls out a Big FuckMack, extending it towards you. [[Reach for it.->Death2]]

You grab it. You snap back to reality. With your dying breath, and through tear filled eyes, you see your extended hand gripping a white note. [[Open my hand, see what it is.->Death1]]

It's a ticket for a WcDonald's order. It isn't yours. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You attempt to gain the attention of one of the employees, but you can only manage to mutter out some incomprehensible nonsense. No one seemed to notice. Your internal panic grows louder and the vice around your chest restricts. This was a bad choice, this was a bad move. "I'm so stupid!" You think to yourself. Your bladder is about to burst and your legs feel as if each muscle has been individually sliced. After what feels like 20 minutes at the counter, a very lanky yet tall man approaches you. He has a dark complexion, with thin, sunken eyes that look ready for death. He has a hat concealing his hair except for little tuffs of curls sticking out, and a mask covering the lower half of his face. "UferEats?" He asks you, his eyes pierce your soul. [["N-n-no-non, no. I, my , the ticket, uhm," *turn to the self kiosk and point at it*->Disappear]]

Realizing your words are failing you, you turn to the machine and point at it. You realize the machine is facing the other way, and neither him nor you can see the error message presented. You turn back in sheer panic, screaming. "THE TIC, THE TICKET DIDN'T PRINT!" He's gone. You stand still for a few moments. Chill sweats run through your body. Nothing has ever felt quite this real. Air has never tasted like this before, you never noticed how weird clothing feels. You release the iron white-knuckle grip you've been subconsciously doing. Your hand is dripping with blood. Blood is all over the counter. The vice tightens. You feel your heart stopping. You're dying. [[Grip onto the counter. Try and yell for help.->Help]] [[Let yourself go.->Death4]]

You grip onto the other side of the counter and attempt to shove as much body weight as you physically can on it, to keep yourself upright. You attempt to shout, scream, beg for help but no matter how much you do, nothing comes out of your mouth besides spit and drool. Tears stream down your face and land in the ketchup packets on the prep side. Still, no one seems to notice you, everyone is far too busy preparing orders to even care. You begin shaking uncontrollably. You're frightened. You don't wanna die. You feel like such a fuck up. You never worked hard, you never gave anything back. You never clicked the "yes" button when the WcDonald's machines ask you to donate. This can't be it, this can't be life. Your vision grows black. You focus your eyes on the fry cook. You can't make out any details, but they're expertly shuffling fries into all sorts of size containers. You're happy for them. [[Black out->Wake up]]

You let your everweaking legs buckle. You fall backwards onto the floor, smashing the back of your skull against the tiled ground. Your head splits open, chunks of brain matter and skull fragments fly out. The last sight you ever see is your own brain matter splatter against a nearby wall. You see blood stain the paint and run down, pooling and flowing into a nearby flood-safety drain. You begin to cry tears of joy. They'll never clean that, and you'll be in their plumbing forever. You've become one with the establishment. Maybe this truly is Satisfaction. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

Your eyelids open. You're directly looking into a panelled white ceiling, with strong led lights beaming down into you. You can feel yourself lying on a strict, tough leather bed. [[Touch your cheeks->Wake up2]]

You brush your hand against your cheek. It feels real. You pinch yourself, you aren't dreaming, nor does this seem to be heaven. [[Look around->Inspection]]

You scan the room, first looking downward towards your body. You're in a hospital gown, it's white, but decorated with little images of anthropomorphized burgers and fries dancing and holding hands. A clear tube pumps a very blue liquid into one of the veins on your arm. Checking the room now, it's quite small. A single plastic lawn chair is placed to the door, next to it a shelf with a series of pills and minor medicinal equipment. Directly next to that, a home-use fridge. The bed you lay on takes up the entire other side of the room, along with the iv bag. It looks industry standard, sans the light greenish/blue liquid that's currently flowing into your arm. You see a label on it. A very long white piece of paper lays next to you, trailing off the bed. [[Inspect the paper->paper]] [[Inspect the label->Label]] [[(I'm done inspecting.)->Next3]]

A picture of Ronny WcRonald is on it. His red-afro and clown-makeup look the same as ever. He's holding a big grin, with little sparkles in his teeth. Next to him, it reads "RONNY'S SUPER JUICE!" Every warning sign legally forced is on it, next to some text that's far too small to read, even if you got close. [[Back->Inspection]]

You flip it over, it's a receipt. It reads; "WE WOULD LIKE TO EXTEND A HEARTFELT APOLOGY TO YOU. WE ARE SORRY THAT YOU HAD A LESS THAN IDEAL EXPERIENCE AT ONE OF OUR ESTABLISHMENTS." "OUR SENIOR STAFF TOOK IT INTO THEIR OWN HANDS AND HAS GIVEN YOU THE BEST FIRST AID THAT CAN BE TRAINED." "WE'VE TAKEN THE COURTESY OF ARRANGING THE BILL FOR YOU NOW, THANK YOU FOR DINING WITH US AND WE HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON!" Below that is the bill. With quick finger math, you realize it'd be more than you'd make your entire lifetime. The rest of the receipt is the same info, simply listed in every written language on the planet. You respect the thoroughness, and look forward to your new arrangement with WcDonald's. [[Back->Inspection]]

You feel satisfied with your inspection of nearby surroundings. Though, a problem quickly arises. What now? You're still famished, though your legs feel better. Your bladder is surprisingly empty, you must have pissed yourself earlier. You wait around for a while and twiddle your thumbs, seconds, minutes, hours go by. It seems whoever could afford the time to move you here and bill you can't afford the time to check back in on you. You need to take destiny into your own hands. [[Stand up.->Stand]] [[Sleep for a bit longer, you feel tired.->MGSV]]

You slowly climb off the bed, careful to not rip the IV bag out from its socket. Whatever that Super Juice is, it feels good. The room is just as small as it looked on the bed, which itself takes up half of it. With you now standing, you realize you don't have a lot of options. There's the door, the stand with all the pills on top, and the fridge. The mere sight of the fridge makes your stomach growl. [[Inspect the pills.->pills]] [[Inspect the fridge.->Fridge]] [[Open the door.->Door]]

You decide to get some more shut-eye, you still feel weak and you desperately need it. You close your eyes and nestle best you can into the tough leather bed below. [[Sleep->MGSV2]]

You sleep, but you don't know for how long. Eventually, you wake up, but are only able to open a sliver in your eyes. Someone in a lab-coat is in the room with you, tinkering on the small table. They open the fridge, it's filled with Ronny's Super Juice. [[Fall back asleep.->MGSV3]]

You sleep for what feels like another eternity. Within your slumber, something begins pulling on you. You let it take you. You open your eyes. You're still in the room. You face the same ceiling you faced before. You hear the shuffling of footsteps beside you. You wonder if it's the man in the lab coat. [[Turn to your side so you can see them.->MGSV4]]

You attempt to turn over so you can see them. You fail spectacularly, your body is far too groggy and heavy to move. All you can muster is tiny little spasms. But, judging by the stop in footsteps, this doesn't go unnoticed. They resume, but this time heading in your direction. A shadowy figure appears over you, staring down at you. "You're awake." It says. You can't respond. The light above is glaring down too hard for you to see what they look like. The top half of the bed you're sitting on begins to move upward, forcing you to sit upright. The shadowy-figure moves out of your line of sight. "You've been in a coma for quite some time." You can't respond. The seat continues to rise, you're facing the barren white wall opposite of your bed.. "Yes, yes, I know. You'd like to know how long..." "I'm afraid it's been..." He enters your POV. He's an older white man, bald. He's wearing circular glasses. [["..."->MGSVEND]]

"Nine years." <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/y8VfziFZMGY?autoplay=1" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe> NEVER BE GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

Pill bottles decorate the top of what really is a miniscule shelf. You wouldn't have the space to put a dime on it. They seem to be bulk bought, straight from the factory. No familiar corporate labels to help you. [[Try reading the print.->print]] [[Taste test them.->opening]] [[Back.->Stand]]

You open the fridge. Dozens of Ronny's Super Juice fill every nook and cranny of it. [[Grab one.->Super Juice2]] [[Back.->Stand]]

A small, wooden door seems to be your only way out. You don't even see any vents. You attempt to turn the handle, it's locked. Judging by how much it rattled, it seems quite loose, but you don't have enough strength to bust it open. [[Back.->Stand]]

You're able to spell out all the words, but you can't decipher what any of them are. [[Back.->pills]]

You can't get past the safety cap. Damn, you really wanted to try them. [[Back.->pills2]]

You're able to spell out all the words, but you can't decipher what any of them are. [[Back.->pills2]]

You can't get past the safety cap. Damn, you really wanted to try them. [[Back.->pills2]]

The room is just as small as it looked on the bed, which itself takes up half of it. With you now standing, you realize you don't have a lot of options. There's the door, the stand with all the pills on top, and the fridge. The mere sight of the fridge makes your stomach growl. [[Inspect the pills.->pills2]] [[Inspect the fridge.->Fridge2]] [[Open the door.->Door2]]

You open the fridge. Dozens of Ronny's Super Juice fill every nook and cranny of it. [[Grab one.->Super Juice]] [[Back.->Stand2]]

It's cold and heavy. The liquid itself feels dense, slimey. You suspect the one in your IV bag might be watered down, keep the costs low. The plastic is surprisingly flimsy, some of the Juice has leaked onto your hand. [[Lick it off your finger.->Eating juice start]] [[Back.->Fridge2]]

You lick the residue off your finger. It tastes like a chicken nugget. You smack your lips and roll your tongue around in your mouth. It tastes, somehow, like a really good chicken nugget. With fries as an aftertaste. And is that some Dr. Penis there too? It's good, very good. And it makes you feel even better. [[Rip the bag open and drink it.->Acceptance]] [[Put it back, everything in moderation.->Denial]]

You rip the bag open, despite your weakened state it gives easily. The slimy sticky juice wobbles in your hand. Holding it with one, you use the index finger on your other hand to scoop out the cyan sludge. You feast on it like a king, but it's not enough. Two finger, three finger, full hand scoops until the bag is empty. Your stomach growls. The fridge is empty, torn bags of Super Juice litter the floor and pile nearly to your chest in your kneeling position. You're in front of the fridge, clawing at the back for any more packets, but you don't see any. You pop to your feet in one smooth, powerful motion. You feel fucking rad, you're ready to move a mountain, wrestle a gorilla. You rip the IV out of your arm, but your muscles are too tense to even bleed. Yeah, you're fucking good. You take the tube and stick it in your mouth, sucking out the watered down IV-dripped Super Juice like crushing a juice box. It isn't as good, but it'll do. After that feast, you remind yourself you still have to get out of here, and with this much energy behind your steps, you wanna show the world what you can do. [[Open the door.->Doorfake]] [[Inspect the pills.->Doorfake]]

You should learn to be more honest with your feelings. You've always been "one more." "One more match." "One more minute." "One more cookie." Once you get a taste of something, it doesn't matter how hard you resist. It doesn't matter if you climb onto the leather slab and attempt to sleep, or count ceiling tiles, or try blinding yourself with the LED lights. You can't resist it. The fridge is empty, torn bags of Super Juice litter the floor and pile nearly to your chest in your kneeling position. You're in front of the fridge, clawing at the back for any more packets, but you don't see any. You pop to your feet in one smooth, powerful motion. You feel fucking rad, you're ready to move a mountain, wrestle a gorilla. You rip the IV out of your arm, but your muscles are too tense to even bleed. Yeah, you're fucking good. You take the tube and stick it in your mouth, sucking out the watered down IV-dripped Super Juice like crushing a juice box. It isn't as good, but it'll do. After that feast, you remind yourself you still have to get out of here, and with this much energy behind your steps, you wanna show the world what you can do. [[Open the door.->Doorfake]] [[Inspect the pills.->Doorfake]]

You take a moment to appreciate your body. It can't be overstated how good you feel, spring like a chicken but with the strength of a lion. Your life of mediocrity is coming to an end, and it's coming to an end now. You feel a vague sense of holy guidance, asking you to do a specific task, but you ignore it. You turn to the pill table, grabbing a bottle. You crush it with your fist, snapping the lid off and flinging the pills into the sky. You catch them with your mouth. You remembered how you tried to open them earlier, but you were too pitiful, too weak. Not now, not ever again. You're a fucking man now. You're gonna do whatever you want. You continually grab bottles and pop their innards into you, sometimes two at a time. You don't need water, if they ever get stuck you just grip your neck and shove them down. Super Juice and unknown drugs fill your systems. The cocktail mixture is nice. You can physically feel the Super Juice dissolve the drugs and slide their particles into your muscles, or however that works. The once white walls are now a bright red, kicking. You turn to the door and rip it off its hinges. It feels like a toy in your hands, you toss it at the wall but it doesn't make any noise. There's a hallway in front of you, it's long. You guess it's maybe 200, 300m long. Not long enough, you think. In a full sprint, you zip down the hallway in a prepared shoulder tackle, aiming for the door at the end. You clear it in less than 5 seconds. [[Smash the door.->Rogan end]]

You take a moment to appreciate your body. It can't be overstated how good you feel, spring like a chicken but with the strength of a lion. Your life of mediocrity is coming to an end, and it's coming to an end now. You forget entirely about the pills. You aren't about to injest something you don't know about, you aren't that stupid. Besides, your body is a temple, gotta take care of it. You place your hand on the door and give it a good tug, the lock easily breaks and it swings open in front of you. Expected. A short hallway is in front of you. It's dimly lit, grey tiles cover the walls, ceilings and floor. There's a room directly across and to your left. The door across reads "Supply and Inventory." The door to the left reads "Kitchen." [[Open the left door.->Kitchen door]] [[Open the door directly across.->Inventory door.]]

You try opening the kitchen door. The handle doesn't budge, it seems to be locked. This really fuckin' bothers you. You begin questioning if you're really gonna let some door get in the way of your goals. Getting mad is fun, but you might not be able to step back. [[Get mad.->Kitchen Door 2]] [[Walk away, you're cool, you're chill.->Doorr2]]

You try opening the Inventory door. It opens without issue. The air inside feels different, like once you step in, you may not be able to step out. [[Enter the Inventory room.->Inventory room]] [[Back.->Doorr2]]

You begin pounding on the steel door like an animal. You smash your fist into it as hard as you can but it doesn't dent. You kick and scream. "WHOEVER LOCKED THIS DOOR, I'LL KICK YOUR FUCKING FACE IN!" Nothing changes. You feel as red as a tomato and your veins feel ready to pop. You're fucking fuming, you can't walk away now. You grip onto the steel handle with both hands, placing your bare foot onto the door and shove. The handle shatters, turning to scrap as it crumbles in your hands. In frustration, you whip it at the door. It bounces off and nails you in the temple, it hurts, a lot. You can feel a faint trace of blood pour down your head. The Super Juice might be letting up. [[Like fuck it is.->Kitchen Door 3]]

You give the door every fucking thing you got. "COME 'AN BRAH. THIS ALL U FUCKING GOT? YOU FUCKING PUSSIES!?" The door isn't giving, but neither are you. You will fuck this bitch up, even if it's the last thing you do. Gearing up for a big swing, the door flies open in front of you. The blinding light emanating from it stuns you, you cover your eyes with your arms. Attempting to peek through, you see multiple silhouettes in a formed position. Your eyes continue adjusting to the light. There's an incredibly loud voice booming from a megaphone, but you can't make heads or tails of it. Eventually, your vision adjusts enough to see what's happening. SWAT members have formed a shield around the door, shielded officers block out your exit while rifles aim through the small gaps. Through the see-through shields, you see the other side of the WcDonald's. The workers are moving just as fast and efficiently as they did before. You let your arms down and begin giggling. The voice on the megaphone doesn't stop. The giggle turns to uproar, you step out of the small hallway into the large kitchen. You get a better look at the police officers faces, panic, fear and dread have painted their frowns. You see the man with the megaphone, an older man, grey goatee, male pattern baldness. A silver crown of hair covers the sides of his head. His eyes are fierce, he's a worthy opponent. In a spot with better acoustics, you begin to make out the what-you-assume-to-be Chief's demands, unconditional surrender and later execution for the crime of public disturbance. You continue laughing and stare at the Chief directly in the eyes. [["FUZAKENNA!"->Kitchen Door End]]

The Chief is taken aback by your war cry. Clearly, he doesn't watch enough anime. You crack both knuckles and give your neck a good crack. You assume a self-trained but mirror-mastered fighting pose. You can feel every SWAT member gulp in fear. [[Lunge at them.->Kitchen End 2]]

Without a split second of warning, you lunge at the SWAT members. They're too afraid to open fire. You approach the first one within nano-seconds, the only thing you see on the other end of the shield is genuine panic. [[Shatter his little toy.->Kitchen End 3]]

You punch the shield. You feel every single bone in your hand break. Your hand limply bounces off the shield and flings into the air. Suddenly, you feel very fat. You feel very very not good. Before you can question it, or even feel the pain of your freshly broken hand, the officers swarm you. The next thing you know, you're in the electrical chair. It's been about 20 minutes since your arrest. All the belts and buckles are in place, you can't move. The helmet has already been placed on your head and someone is standing by the switch, waiting for something. The room is dark, cold, the walls built with old bricks and gravel. A single wooden door stands across from you, along with a small wooden table and a single plastic stool. The door opens, and a portly man walks in. He's wearing a white dress shirt and slacks, kept up by some overalls. He has a bright red tie and a distinguished, yet soft and kind face. He plops a WcDonald's bag on the table and sits in the far too small for him stool. He takes some fries out of the bag and feeds them to you. It's your last meal. GAME OVER. [[Try again?->The start]]

You confidently stroll into the Inventory room. The air in it is cold, as it should be. Hundreds of cardboard boxes, all labelled "FRIES" coat the walls of an increasingly huge storage space. You attempt to remember if you ever saw anything this big from the outside, but you shake your head in protest. That loser is dead, you think to yourself. You're fucking JACKED now. What happened then doesn't matter now. Between the towers of cardboard, rows upon rows of shelves fill the middle. Each one is filled with a different meat, beef, chicken or fish. All of it appears to be raw, bright pinks and whites and whatnot. The room itself is a dim blue and seems to stretch on forever. Just in front of you must be food for billions of orders, and that's just in sight. It seems impossibly tall and unfathomably long. The shelves are a sheen metal with tiny little black ridges. The meats sit in piles, assorted by shelf between the types. You've hit the motherload, it looks like. God is looking out for you, praise be. Despite all the Super Juice you just ate, you're still quite hungry, and it's time to feast. [[Start devouring.->Feast]]

A short hallway is in front of you. It's dimly lit, grey tiles cover the walls, ceilings and floor. There's a room directly across and to your left. The door across reads "Supply and Inventory." The door to the left reads "Kitchen." [[Open the left door.->Kitchen door]] [[Open the door directly across.->Inventory door.]]

You grab handful after handful of uncooked, processed meats and shove them into your face. You gnaw and gnash your teeth against the cold meat until it's a pulverized mess, ready to swallow. To wash it down, you punch through a bunch of fries and chew them till they're a fine mash. Deep down, somewhere inside you feel the previous you. He's crying. You're destroying this WcDonald's stock. But the current you is happy. Not just for the protein, you're doing a service, this stuff is a poison. A plague on society, it's no good for anyone. Only someone like you can eat it, you're a beast, an animal. You'll digest it raw, none of those oils or fat. Blood rolls down your chin. [[Lick it off->Beast]]

That's right, you're above those sheeples in the dining room. You lick the blood off the side of your chin. It tastes better than the meat does. You squeeze and pulverize the meat above you and drink the blood that falls, licking whatever drops onto the floor clean. You begin ignoring the fries, they can have 'em. You want products with pain in their history, with some life. You work your way through tens of shelves before spotting something. A stock kitchen knife, black handle, sticking out of one of the fry boxes. Seems someone needed to open a box fast and left it here. [[Grab the knife.->Knife]]

You yank the knife out of the box. It slides out easily, you can already tell it's incredibly sharp. You carry on with previous activities, but with a new friend. You slice open the cuts of meat and get down and dirty. You stab and thrust and slice at the shelves, knocking the meats from their sitting positions all over the floor. One of them specifically looks like a very choice, very juicy cut of meat. You look over and it's an ultra fresh WcMacFuck patty, something you only heard fables about in your previous life. You can see the blood ooze from it, pouring out of its pores and dancing on the patty itself. You throw the knife towards it, pinning it to the floor and get on all fours, you doggy run over until you're directly on top of it. You lap the blood up off the floor and you begin to quiver. This animal couldn't have died more than an hour ago. How was it *this* fresh? You put this question aside for now and continue eating. It's the best thing you've ever had, and it's gone before your eyes. You pull the knife out and eat the lil' remainder at the tip, gone before you can even swallow it. It wasn't enough, you scour the shelves but nothing else is that red, that juicy. Most of what remains is a dull brown, nothing to satisfy you. Suddenly, you hear a click. Someone has opened the door. [[Inspect it.->Lady entrance.]]

Using one of the shelfs as cover, you grip the knife and hold it to your chest. Using one eye, you peek from the steel bars and look at the intruder. It appears to be a woman. She's wearing the standard WcDonald's uniform, a blue shirt and black dress-pants. She has a visor cap on, with jet black hair tied up in a ponytail sticking out of it. Bangs coat the front of the rim. You can't get a good look at her face both from the distance, about 125m, and due to the face mask she's wearing. Her body, however. You see quite well. She has curves in all the right places. Her tits betray her short frame, and nearly threaten to pop out of her uniform. Even with a few buttons undone at the top, the shirt is clearly struggling. Scanning lower, her belt is tied to her wonderfully small waist, fully complimenting the exquisite curves of her hips shown through her tight fitting mandated work pants. You wonder how *anyone* can get work done standing next to her. You feel an orgasm rising. You've been touching yourself. But right before you blow, you stop. Only then do you also notice the knife in which you placed on your tongue, incessantly licking as you oogled her. "Not yet." You whisper into the blade's reflection. "You need to taste her first." Your legs quiver, your heart races. Despite the cool environment, you feel like you're burning. This is what you've been waiting for, this is what you wanted. You tighten the grip on your knife with your quivering, anticipation filled hands. You turn an eye back to find her. She's walking towards you, clearly looking for a specific product. Her tits bounce and jiggle with each step. You place your other hand on the knife and clamp down to keep yourself from masturbaiting. [[Wait for her to get closer.->beast end 1]]

Her pace doesn't quicken or slow, she moves like an automaton. Since entering the room, she hasn't looked around or relaxed, she walks in this direction as if she already knew where she was going. She either never noticed or never acknowledged the mess you made, perhaps to get out of cleaning duty. Dumb bitch doesn't care about her job, you think to yourself. Despite her decent speed, it's taken far too long in your mind. Each step feels like a generation. Blood is pouring onto the floor in thick splats, but she doesn't hear it. Your head begins to feel dizzy, but her tits keep bouncing, and so your grip doesn't loosen. [[Keep waiting.->beast end 2]]

You can feel the knife slice through your bone and tendons, you're about to lose a hand. She's within 50 meters now. She has to be close enough now. [[Wait.->beast end 3]]

The blade finally slices through the upper part of your hand. It comes clean off and plaps onto the floor. Blood gushes from the remaining part of your hand, but you subconsciously block it with the knife. She's 45 meters away now. That's enough. You can't wait any longer. [[You can.->beast end 4]]

You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. You can't. [[You can->beast end 5]]

You ignore the last given direction. You jump out from behind the shelf like a jackal. Your gown is coated with blood, your tongue is hanging out of your mouth and lowered below your chin, your pupils have turned pure black and your skin a sickly pale. You stand in a backward curved position, twisting your head to the side. Your lips are fixed in a permanent grin. With dangled arms, one holding and playing with the knife, the other spray blood directly into the floor. Your erection stands proud through your gown, and your legs bend inward. The bitch is a bit startled by this, and takes a step back. It's the first sign of humanity you've seen her make. "KYEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHEHE!" You laugh hysterically. Licking blood off the knife, you shout at her. "KUDARNAI, NA!?" "THANK ME WHILE I SLAUGHTER YOU!" You begin sprinting at her, your hands flapping freely in the wind. You laugh the entire time. You're getting very close to her, and the bitch hasn't even attempted to run. [[Pounce on her.->Beast End]]

Throwing your arms forward, you pounce off your feet and fling yourself in the air. You put both hands in front of you, ready to grab and tear her apart, even despite not being able to grab with one of them. As you reach the apex of your jump, she finally begins to move. In a flash, she takes her right hand and inserts it into her cleavage. She pulls out a double barrelled shotgun longer than her torso. In a smooth, trained motion, she presses it against her right shoulder and grips it with both hands, assuming a firing position. *Click* You are blown to smithereens. Chunks of your matter fling and fly all over, mixing with chunks of half eaten meat discard on the floor. No one remembers you and no one will bury you. GAME OVER. [[Try again?->The start]]

Your shoulder connects with the door and you turn the thin' to fucking splinters, right on. You're in a chair. There's a microphone in front of you. "You ever see the video of the guy who fought a chimp?" Weed smoke is blown into your face. Joe Rogan is sitting across from you. "N-no, no I don't think I have." "Jamie pull that up." You and Joe turn to the project on your left. You grab a joint placed in front of you and take a heavy dab. "It's, it's fucking crazy man. So they get a chimp, right? Like a nasty one." [[Nod, this guy knows what he's talking about->Rogan end 2]]

"They put mitts on him right, so the dude doesn't get his dick ripped off." "P-pussy, guy's a pussy for needing that." You respond. Joe laughs. "What, you think you could handle a chimp?" "Fuck yeah man, I could fuck up a chimp." "I mean you're a big guy, like you're jacked man, you're huge. But you ever see a chimp?" "Fuck yeah I've a chimp, fuckin, fuck, showing it to me right now man, I can take a chimp." You get up and start bouncing a little, you're getting a bit agitated. "Whoa settle down man, it's just a video man, watch watch this guy's MMA watch the chimp fuck him up." He takes a dab of his joint. "Nah man, he's a bitch, I'm not watching man, fuck that man. I'd fuck that chimp up, I'd fuck anyone up man. I'm jacked." Rogan laughs, this pisses you off. "What you think I can't take a fucking chimp?" "Nah man that's not what I'm saying, you're jacked man you could do it, just, just don't get so upset okay? No ones doubting you." "You don't think I can take a chimp huh? You don't think I couldn't fuck that little fucker up?" [[He thinks you can't take a chimp.->Rogan end 3]]

Before Joe Rogan can even respond, you lunge across the table and grab his throat. The tackle sends the two of you flying to the ground. You land in the jungle. The grass is soft but the dirt hard. Vegetation and trees surronded you, you can taste the mist in the air. Y You keep choking him. You and his face are beet red, both of you are spitting up in anger. Joe begins punching your waist and ribs from below but you don't loosen your grip. However, the tighter the grip, the weirder it feels. Joe's skin begins to feel rubbery, fake. Like you could pull it off. [[Rip his face off.->Rogan end 4]]

You rip his face off. It was a mask. You're on top of a chimp strangling him. The chimp screams and begins clawing at your face and eyes. You jump off him to not go blind but he still got a few good scratches in. Your face begins to feel fake, like you could pull it off. [[Rip your face off.->Rogan end 5]]

You rip your face off, you're a chimp. You and the other chimp continue fighting. You claw at each other, bite and scream. Your opponent eventually gets a good handle on you and pins you to the floor. With wide arcs he claws at your face, screaming. You use one hand to protect your eyes while the other gropes around for a weapon, perhaps the last remaining bit of human intelligence in your system. You find a very sharp, pointed rock. [[Use the rock and swing at him.->Rogan end finale]]

You dash the rock against his temple, he never saw it coming. He drops like a stone onto the grass beside you. Despite your relatively major cuts, you've won. You pound on your chest and scream, asserting your dominance. After a couple of days spent in a nearby tree, licking your wounds and eating whatever meager bugs and berries you could find, you return to monkey life. Swinging from tree to tree, exploring a jungle completely foreign to you, eating whatever you can find. Participating in mating dances and fights for dominance. You don't remember your previous life, you don't remember anything before fighting the chimp, just what's ahead of you. GAME OVER. [[Try again?->The start]]

You wipe your mouth and face. Recoil vomit has gotten everywhere, eyebrows, mouth, nose, eyes, forehead, cheeks. Luckily, you have a sleeve. An employee rushes over to the table with arms full of towels. Without a word, she tosses them onto it and begins rubbing them around, attempting to clean up the vomit. She doesn't offer any for you. You stare at her, leftover vomit spills down your lip. She's wearing the standard WcDonald's uniform, a blue shirt and black pants. Her hair is jet black, dressed up in a ponytail that sticks out the back of her visor cap. Bangs flop outward, covering the classic golden arches on the cap. You feel a bit offended. Her thin eyes glare at the table with pure hatred, but she doesn't look over at you. You can't see the rest of her face due to a face mask. Though, not that you would want to. With the towels no longer covering them, her massive tits are revealed. They're almost bursting out of her top, straining the fabric. Even with a few buttons undone, it still looks tight. They bounce in your face as she cleans up your puke, you watch hypnotically. Before long, the puke is mostly gone and she scoops the towels into a large plastic bag, tying it up. It seems like she's just about done and is about to walk away. [[Ask her out. You can't let a babe like her get away!->Ask]] [[Stay quiet, you aren't used to talking to women and you ain't about to start.->Quiet]]

You scoot out of the booth and stand up. Your eyes naturally dart around, investigating the WcDonald's, it should be calming but it's anything but. You stare off into the familiar kitchen and begin to panic further. "I haven't ordered yet." You think. "I should order." You walk over to the self-checkout. [[Order.->Fake order.]]

The screen lights up in ads, coupons and meal deals. None of it makes you happy. "I'll get my regular." You think to yourself. It's a good thought. You press around on the machine. You make yourself a cart. "Checkout." You mutter to yourself. You hit the button. The checkout screen appears. This is wrong, this isn't your regular combo. You don't know what this is. [[Try again.->Fake order 2]]

You try again, but have even worse luck. Lists of sandwiches appear in front of you but they no longer mean anything to you. You step away from the machine. The anxiety is starting truly to set in. You pace yourself, biting on your fingernail. "What the ff-ffuck is my order!?" You continue pacing and biting until you nip the skin, causing yourself to bleed. It snaps you back a bit. You re-examine the building but something's different. You don't know where you are. The kitchen is foreign, you don't understand these machine obelisks that stand before you. You look at the pictures on the walls and wonder who the fuck they're supposed to be. This isn't right. Someone taps your shoulder. Like a deer in headlights, you spin to face him quickly, eyes widened. It's a homeless man, or at least smells like it. He's looking at you with tired, brown eyes. His skin is darkened with soot and dirt, the hand in which he touched you with is rough and coarse. He's got a shaggy grey beard and more than a few missing teeth, his face crumpled and wrinkly. He's adorned with an ill-fitting toque/beanie and a dusty overcoat, covering the rest of him. "Buy m' som'th'n to eat? You're unsure if he just walked in, or if he's been here for a while. You think you didn't see him, but you don't know. The thought terrifies you. [[Ask him who he is.->Homeless peace 1]]

"W-wha, who, who are you?" "'m Steve! Want som'th'n to eat." It's difficult to make out what he's saying, but you think he wants something to eat. This further sets in your panic. Is that where you are? A restaurant? You spin around, investigating the perimeter. The whirlwind of people huddled in a small metallic hell certainly doesn't look like a kitchen, but you can't deny the pictures of food on the wall. He taps your shoulder. "Jus, jus' wan' somth'n to eat, man!" Just the breath alone proves he's drunk. You're not giving this bum a crumb. Turning back to face him, you begin to open your mouth, but no words leave. What IS being drunk? You vaguely remember the practice, but not the cause. The ground beneath your feet begins to crumble. Terrified to not slip, you grab the man's shoulders and grip them. This seems to surprise him, but he doesn't react greatly. [[Ask him more questions.->Homeless peace 2]]

"What, what is being drunk? How did you cause this?" The kitchen disappears from your world. A void replaces it. It's just you and him standing in an empty room. You don't know what service this room serves. "Aintch know whatcha 'alkin' bout. Jus' wan' some food, is all." You're starting to doubt your beliefs. Your mind continually slips. Why the fuck does he want something to eat from you? Where are we? "Where are we!?" You give him a good shake. "F'ckin, if I answ-". The floor continues to crumble. An endless dark void appears beneath you and you stand atop a thin, lone pillar. Only a couple floor tiles keep you situated. With every moment another plate falls. You cut him off. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE!?" This clearly pushes him too far. He uses both arms to fling yours off him. "F'ckin' asshole!" He shifts his coat around and retightens his toque/beanie. "F'ckin' want'n some f'ckin' food, 'sall" He walks away, disappearing into the void. Your balance to this reality is gone. The final tiles begin falling away. You pull your outstretched arms in and hold them close to your chest. You begin to sob uncontrollably. You don't know what's happening. You attempt to ground yourself mentally. Name, date, place of birth. But you can't remember any of the details. Nothing of you exists anymore. The final tile crumbles. [[Fall.->Void end]]

You fall. The Void rips away everything. All your opinions, memories, thoughts, dreams, anything. It reduces you to nothing. You become nothing. You no longer feel your body in any form. You no longer understand what a body is. The Void removes everything yet you feel the same. All is gone but nothing has changed. You lived as nothing, and then you changed into nothing, therefore, nothing has changed. You feel a sense of peace. You join the Void and no longer feel anything ever again. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

Your cheeks are blush red, but in the cute way, not the embarrassing way. Tears form in your eyes, but rather than a whimper, they show character and shine. But there's no one there to see it. She's gone, she wasn't listening. You fidget in your seat, both arms on the desk, clasping at nothing and moving erratically. You didn't hear her leave, where the fuck did she go? She couldn't at least answer you? You slam the table with your right hand. "The fucking bitch!" You try shoving the table with your other hand, it doesn't budge. You grunt in frustration. You're pissed. "So fucking, stupid!" You punch yourself in the forehead with medium intensity. "Fucking idiot, fuckin, fuck." With one arm on the table standing upright, you place your head on it and lightly tap it in an act of self harm. The other forms a fist and you begin smacking your thigh. "Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" Something feels off about your thigh. There's a large metallic slab placed between your jeans and skin. It confuses you. You pause your self-appointed punishment. [[Grope the odd metallic slab in your pocket.->discord 1]]

You begin prodding with it with your hand. It feels familiar, as if you've used it before. You trace along the ridge until you feel a little nub stick out from within. [[Click the nub.->Discord 2]]

As the nub lowers, you feel a satisfying click, which sends a shockwave through your body. It snaps you back into position, pulling your head and arm back into a proper seating position. It's your phone. You have a phone. With haste, you pull it out of your pocket. It's a relatively standard Android smartphone. You breathe heavily through your nose and turn it on. Your lock screen is a picture of Naoto Shirogane from Persona 4 in her standard IT outfit. She's laying on a soft looking white bed. You input your pin quickly and open the home page. The background is the same artist, another rendition of Naoto, but this time naked, with her tits exposed. You finally remember, you DO have bitches. You open up Discord. [[Discord->Discord 3]]

Your Princess has messaged you, just as enthusiastically as usual. She's a shining beacon of hope in your life. You'll always fight for her. The two of you have been together for only a couple of months, but have formed an iron clad bond of love. Sadly, she lives on another continent, and neither of you have met each other face to face. You haven't shared pictures with her, you both believe your icons express it better than words. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/q08l5w.png> </div> [[Reply.->Discord 4]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/zlv1mb.png> </div> [[Reassure her. Ask about her day.->DiscordSplit1]] [[Talk to her about your day.->DiscordSplit2]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/3tt9j7.png> </div> A rock begins forming in your stomach. You sigh deeply and shift further into the booth. This can either mean one of two things. One, she's feeling lonely, and you're gonna have to put up with her emotional baggage. You told her multiple times that you couldn't fly over for her birthday, but she never listens. [[Roll your eyes and ask what happened.->DiscordChastity1]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/z7qp73.png> </div> [[You can't resist.->discordmommy]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/eimvlu.png> </div> The rock solidifies, fully formed. You begin to wish it was just her being lonely, this is far, far worse. The two of you meet in a fetish discord community. After some decent interactions, the two of you began DMing each other and ERP'd a bit. You two got very comfortable with this act and eventually moved to physical LDR stuff. She became your chaste princess, and you her Daddy. She may only cum when you allow her, and you do not allow her to do it very often. You've been training her to last 3 days, as an accomplishment. The dynamic provides you with a sense of control and a feeling of power. You enjoy it. But the whore is too horny for her own good, and you're sick of it. This isn't the first time something like this happened. Normally, you'd simply punish her and move on, but tonight is different. You feel rage, burning, hot, violent rage. Your inner sense of control shatters, you look at her icon and no longer feel love. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/39oa82.png> </div> You look down at your phone and feel the broken fragments of your heart rebuilding out of pity. Maybe you're getting ahead of yourself. She may have just touched herself, who knows if she came or not. You need to ask. [[Confirm.->DiscordCum]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/mn6agk.png> </div> You drop your phone on the table. You begin slamming the table with both hands, thrashing it like a gorilla. Tears stream down your face as you scream out. "I. LOVED. HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Your heart has turned to dust. You don't know why it hurts so bad, but it does. Snot runs down your nose and drips into your lips, spit flings out of your mouth and decorates the table. Tears stream and stain your cheeks. You don't wipe any of them away, you're in too much pain to care. The workers don't notice. The homeless man sleeping a couple booths over doesn't wake up. No one notices your cries. You sob and scream and slam, but the pain doesn't go away. It only intensifies. You bring your right hand up extra high and slam it straight down. You feel your bone collide with the hard surface, it hurts. It's your cue to stop and just cry. You put both arms in front of you, folded, and place your head into them. Muffled cries and screaming fill the dining room. You stay like this for a while, wallowing in your own misery. You feel betrayed, hurt. You don't stop until you feel the table begin vibrating a little. You turn to your right and see your phone's display on. You have a message. [[Check it.->DiscordCumEnd1]]

You extend your snot and tear drenched hand over to it, sliding it across the table. You grasp your phone tightly, a bit too tightly. You check the notification, it's from Discord. You go past the lock screen and check it. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/lx4jx4.png> </div> The whore doesn't need a cage. She needs a lesson, but you're tired of giving them out. You sit upright once again and grip the phone with both hands. You sniffle your tears away and begin typing up a storm. You're gonna tell everything you really feel, everything you want to say, everything you've wanted to say. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/9e4kvl.png> </div> [[Send it.->Rant End]] [[Erase it. Respond nicely.->Bateman End]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/1aiowe.png> </div> She responded. But you don't bother reading it. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/3i3rg4.png> </div> [[Keep going.->Rant End 2]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/nbu40m.png> </div> You set yourself to Do Not Disturb, letting her know to back off. You're hurt, but strong. You can bottle it, you can handle it. Though the pain may be thrashing between your ribs, you don't feel it. You're above it. You decide to check out one of the many servers your in. Too many however, you don't feel comfortable opening in a public space. One you joined recently seems promising. It's a crypto server. You don't have much experience in it. You put a chastity cage's worth of money in CumRocket and lost everything. Might be worth a bit of pityscrolling. [[Open the server.->crypto]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/ph46by.png> </div> [[Send it.->Suicide.]]

You look up from your phone. You're home. It's a small bachelor apartment. Your bed is a bare mattress on the floor, toppled with dirty clothes, a blanket, one pillow, a mess of dirty tissues and an onahole. A laptop lays next to it. Directly across is a mini-fridge below a small window. That's all there is. The walls are a dim, smoke stained yellow from the previous tenant. This is the bedroom, living room, and kitchen. A single hallway extends out, only connecting to a bathroom and the front entrance. You stand in front of a noose, with a stool below it. You hold your phone in your right hand, it doesn't stop buzzing, but you don't check the messages. [[Step on the stool.->Suicide 2]]

You step on the wobbling stool. You don't think. You place the noose around your neck. Your phone doesn't stop buzzing. You drop your phone, the screen shatters on the hardwood floor. It's a satisfying feeling. It continues buzzing with messages. [[Kick the stool.->Suicide End]]

Your life severs, you feel nothing. And then it's gone. The body isn't discovered until rent is due next month. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You begin slumping, dragging your weight down the kiosk. But you stop yourself. "DAME DA..." You whisper to yourself. You can't give up here. Your legs hold, they refuse to give in. Your mind focuses. You think about all the heroes and legends in shows you've watched. You think about their courage, their endurance, how they never gave up. Naruto never gave up. Luffy never gave up. Ippo never gave up. You aren't going to give up. You stand back up, proud. You place both fists in front of your face, close to your cheek, in the traditional "Peek-a-boo" style of guard. Your once brown eyes glow green as power surges through you. You're gonna do this. You place one leg on the base of the kiosk and get ready to dash. In an instant, you push off, at mach speed, turning the corner with precision. Sweat flies off your body, your hair flows behind you. You can still feel the vomit rise, but you don't let it stop you. "THERE!" You spot the washroom at the end of the hall. A simple brown, wooden door with a golden plaque above that reads "Washroom." Your goal is in sight, and for once in your life, you're gonna reach it. You continue your dash down the hallway. Your head and torso are kept low, fists still glued to your face, running in a hunched position. A swarm of flies are buzzing around a vent that leads into the kitchen. You'll have to get past them. [[Weave through the flies.->Weaving.]]

You weave through the army of flies expertly, they don't stand a chance against you. They don't even slow you down, you've gotten good at this. Once past them, you see your goal, in perfect, full view. It's just in front of you. You come to a sliding stop, shifting to the side and landing shoulder first into the wall besides the door. You made it. You lower your guard and breath heavily, you're drenched in sweat. You swing your arms into the air, your face ecstatically smiling, and scream "YATTAZO!" You finally did something, you achieved something. After a bit more yelling and celebrating, you lower your arms and confidently look at the door handle. It looks frail, small, weak. You place your hand on it, grinning. You endured the stomach pain, you made it this far, you've won. [[Turn the handle. You've won.->Open]]

[[Piss attack->Run end]] [[DEMPSEY ROLL->Dempsey end]]

You piss on the WcGiant. You aim for his chest, but only manage to reach his waist. It pours down his uniform and makes it stick to his skin. Steam shoots out of his nostrils and ears. His skin turns a deep, bold red. Veins look ready to pop. He flexes and his shirt shatters, ripping off, revealing a tightly chiseled body, bulging with muscles. [[Keep pissing.->Break wall.]]

You continue pissing on him. His eyes turn black. He leans backwards, his right arm outstretched, he's gearing up for a hook. You continue pissing on him. He swings. You continue pissing. The sheer rage he was feeling failed his aim. The swing goes directly above your head and slams into the wall next to you. It shatters open, debris flies every and rocks crumble. You continue pissing. The dust settles and you see a massive hole in the side of the building, leading directly outside. You can see the factory in which you work clearly. You run out of piss. Giving yourself a few good shakes, you quickly zip yourself back up before he can attack again. You don't wait for a second chance and dash out of the newly made exit and run in a full body sprint. The WcGiant attempts to follow, but he's too large to fit inside the hole he made. Fear envelops you. Gripping all of your limbs. You have to keep running. If you stop, you will die. That's all you know right now. The night air fills your lungs with ice. You continue running. You pass by your factory. The nightlife district. Downtown. Home. Mendy's. You pass by all of them in a full sprint. You reach the ocean. You run directly into it. You don't stop running, ever. GAME OVER. [[Try again?->The start]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/l6ibc0.png> </div> [[Type: "I love you mommy."->Discord mommy 3]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/npa0sz.png> </div> The sudden switch agitates you, you were just getting comfortable. A rock starts forming in your stomach, you have a good feeling what this is, and you already don't like the sound of it. With an exasperated sigh, you sit back in the booth and type. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/eimvlu.png> </div> Your grip on the phone tightens, you can feel the screen begin to bend inward. The tip of your thumbs grow white as you vice grip it. The two of you meet in a fetish discord community. After some decent interactions, the two of you began DMing each other and ERP'd a bit. You two got very comfortable with this act and eventually moved to physical LDR stuff. She became your chaste princess, and you her Daddy. She may only cum when you allow her, and you do not allow her to do it very often. You've been training her to last 3 days, as an accomplishment. The dynamic provides you with a sense of control and a feeling of power. You enjoy it. But the whore is too horny for her own good, and you're sick of it. This isn't the first time something like this happened. Normally, you'd simply punish her and move on, but tonight is different. You feel rage, burning, hot, violent rage. Your inner sense of control shatters, you look at her icon and no longer feel love. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/39oa82.png> </div> You look down at your phone and feel the broken fragments of your heart rebuilding out of pity. Maybe you're getting ahead of yourself. She may have just touched herself, who knows if she came or not. You need to ask. [[Confirm.->DiscordCum]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/j7wa2w.png> </div> Two regulars seem to be chatting about recent acquisitions. You don't have enough money for an ape, and you doubt you ever will. You feel a twinge of jealousy, you wish you had a life like this. [[Vent unprompted->crypto 2]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/5f9w2w.png> </div> The user's sense of camaraderie fills you with hope. He's a gold user, which means he's been in the crypto game for a very long time. You're still a lowly bronze, just getting your feet wet. [[Reply earnestly.->crypto4]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/d91f10.png> </div> You're beginning to understand the true meaning of bromance. You trust this guy. [[DM him.->crypto5]]

</style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/cz3b4g.png> </div> It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. It's perfect. You begin crying a little. </style> <img src=https://files.catbox.moe/5z1zht.png> </div> It transfers automatically into your portfolio. These tokens really can't be funged. You check your balance, it's bigger than you've ever seen. This is more money than you make in a month. You feel a sense of inspiration. If this is chump change for that guy, would could he be hauling? Maybe it's time to get out of the factory business, for something a little bit more lucrative. An automated text comes in, blocking your site of your new found love. It's your work schedule, another 7 day week. [[Respond with your resignation.->Quitting.]]

You open the message, click on the audio button and loudly yell "I. QUIT!". You send it to the machine and close your phone. You can feel the adrenaline, you can taste it. It's a feast within your mouth, it's the best thing you've ever tasted. You get out from the booth and begin pacing a little, making small little jumps into the air. You feel like a new you. Looking around, WcDonald's begins losing its luster. The once inviting atmosphere feels tacky, the juicy Big MacFuck now just sounds like a ball of grease. You ain't gonna eat this poison anymore. You're above the morons who do so. You have an ape. You prepare to strut out of the building, before spotting a homeless man sleeping in one of the booths by the door. Your face shrivels in disgust. Worthless bum. Couldn't even buy a soda to cover the costs of sleeping here. It's repulsive to you. [[Wake him.->Bum fight]]

You walk over to the bum. He's wearing a dusty brown trench coat. A ragged beanie/toque covers his head, ripped and torn gloves around his very rugged looking hands. His face is wrinkled and tired, hard to make out many details. Beady eyes, a fat nose and lopsided mouth with more than a few missing teeth compliment his ragged beard. "Wake up." You bark. He doesn't. [[Squat down to face level and say it again.->bum fight 2]]

You squat down and face him directly. He reeks of booze, you can almost see how bad his breath is from it. You shout directly in his face. "WAKE UP!" It's enough to startle him awake. He recoils back into the cushion, gripping onto his toque/beanie before it falls. He looks at you with bewildered eyes. "'uck you want? His voice is raspy, gritty. You stand upright. "Get up." "Fuck 'ou I ain' gettin' up." [[Make him get up.->Bum end]]

You grab onto his arm and hoist him up. He's very light and a decent bit shorter than you. Even through the trenchcoat you can tell he's nothing but skin and bones. "Come with me." You begin dragging him outside with you. "'uck you fucking taking me to? COCKSUCK'R" He begins trying to peel your grip off but he can't get close. His hands are slimy, dirty, disgusting to the touch. You kick open the front doors and toss him into the parking lot. It's dark, empty, barren. Orange street lamps illuminate the arena. "Your words have no effect on me. You know how much I'm worth now?" You walk towards him, he's coughing and wheezing, gasping for air on the hard gravel. He already seems decently injured. "Guys like me, can't be seen in establishments, with guys like you." You stand above him, towering over him. "It sends a bad image. Bad publicity! Could tank everything I own." [[Kick him.->Bum end 2]]

You kick him directly in the chest. You feel something shatter against your steel-toed boots. The reverberation puts a kick in your step, you begin dancing on your fight, shadow boxing the air. "Nah man, nah. This is a lesson. Guys like you," you give the air a quick 1 2 punch. "They see guys like me and they stay out of my way? 'kay?" He's empty screaming. All you can hear are desperate gasps of air escaping his widened, open mouth. His face is full of pain. You've never felt so powerful, never so above someone. "You'll thank me for the life experience, trust me. Gotta work for a living man, nothin' in this country is free. Gotta use money to make money, make it work for you. It's a free country man. Can't be sleeping all the time, grinding never stops." You kick him again. His body begins convulsing, wriggling on the floor. He grasps and claws at your legs, getting his dirt all over you. You kick him again and he stops. "First world man, can't bitch and complain. Got every opportunity you can think of. Ever try getting an internship?" You continue kicking him while doling out the best advice you got, but he no longer responds. His body feels heavy, stiff. [[Squat down and check on him.->bum dead]]

He's dead. He died a long time ago. You fall from your squat directly onto your ass. A mixture of pure ecstasy and fear overwhelm you. You can feel yourself getting hard. You scramble back up to your feet and begin jumping in place, deep breathing in and out. You look around to see if anyone saw you but no one's around. Just you and him. "D-didn't. Didn't wanna kill him." you mutter to yourself between breaths. Your hands have a thousand thorns running through them. You attempt to shake them off to no luck. You're very hard. "Shouldn'ta, shoulda, uh, shouldn't be in my way man. Mendy's is always open too." You look down at him with delirious eyes. You really need to cum. You spit on his body as a substitute. With your blood still pumping, you pull out your phone and order yourself an Ufer XL Deluxe, all for yourself. Stretch your legs on the way home, and get away from the crime scene. The driver arrives quickly. He either doesn't notice nor care about the body. He drives you home quickly and safely. As soon as he's parked, you jump out of his car and run to your apartment. You don't tip him. As soon as you're through your door, you rip your pants off and jerk yourself off, with a bit of the bum's sweat and grease from his jacket still on your hand. You cum instantly. [[Next.->dudebro end]]

You're standing at a poolside. It's a beautiful summer day. The sun shines heavily on the luxurious resort you're staying at. It's on CryptoLand. You're surrounded by like minded individuals, and you're discussing the latest crypto trends. Each one of you is wearing a golf polo and white cargo shorts, all cis white men with a short, slightly faded haircut and sunglasses. You have no idea who starts or ends the current train of your thought. You clench your 500$ whiskey glass in your hands and take a sip. It's been a long road. You moved out of your apartment and moved to the wilderness, only with a laptop and internet. You built a shack and ate exclusively red game meat. You traded crypto by the minute, getting 30 minutes of sleep each day. The only breaks you had were for Elon Musk tweet reading. You played Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson youtube videos on repeat. And now you're here, paradise. Gorgeous women are swimming in the pool directly below you, to the side. But you dare not look, you haven't orgasmed in months, and you need to continue retaining. You can't break now. "Yeah, my piss is skyrocketing. I'm talking Jupiter baby." "I was late on that train but bro my tokens can not be funged." "CliffyB retweeted my coin, finally made it." "I killed a man in a WcDonald's parking lot." "Got my 40'000 rental property this year." "You've seen the stock market lately? Bunch of chumps." "Women just don't get it bro." You take another sip from your glass. You don't really taste anything. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

It opens with no issue. You see a very long, cement stair case encompassed by a cement tunnel with only a single iron bar for a handrail, attached to the side. There seems to be no end from where you're standing, just a black void. You see no reason to doubt WcDonald's. [[Descend the staircase.->Stairs]]

You begin walking down the stairs, holding on to the slightly rusty iron bar for support. After a few steps, the door shuts behind you. Must be one of those self-closing smart doors, only one customer allowed. You keep descending, but it goes on for a painfully long period of time, minutes go by and you still don't see an end in sight, only more grey stairs and darkness. [[Gallop down the stairs.->Gallop]]

You quicken the pace, you really need to pee. The staircase remains impressively long, but you're determined. After a couple minutes of galloping, with your legs bulging in pain, you feel the bottom. The sudden change almost sends you tripping over yourself, but your grip on the iron bar protects you. You can't believe what you find. It's a room. [[Investigate the room.->basement]]

It's too dark to see anything, and you're pretty sure you have no light sources on you. [[Place your hand on the wall and walk the perimeter.->basement 2]] [[Inspect around aimlessly in the dark->lost ending]]

You place your hand on the wall directly next to the staircase. It's tiled, albeit a bit dirty. It seems like no one ever really comes down here. You walk alongside the wall, heading forward. Occasionally, you trip or fumble over something in the darkness, but you remain grounded, thanks to the wall. After a bit of walking, you run into another wall. You continue dragging your hand across it and begin walking in a new direction. You stumble directly into a wide box. It's blocking your path. [[Take your hand off the wall and walk around it.->basement bad 2]] [[Keep your hand on the wall and climb over it.->basement 3]]

A bit reluctantly, you remove your hand from the wall and walk around the box. Once you feel you've cleared it, you approach what you assume is the wall again. It's not there. You walk a little bit more forward. It's not there. You jog forward, hands outstretched. It's not there. You sprint at full speed. It's not there. Panic sits in. You begin to cry. You run with everything you have, in one single un-altering direction. It's not there. You don't know where you are. You don't know where to go. You cry. You sob. No one is listening. You give up. The darkness swallows you. GAME OVER. [[Try again?->The start]]

The wall strategy hasn't steered you wrong yet. The box is only waist high anyway. With your right arm still fixed to the wall, you use the other to help yourself climb up. It's a bit difficult, but you manage to push yourself up. You stand up on the box, it's an impressively tall room, whatever it is. However, the box below you doesn't seem able to support your body weight. It begins to wobble and collapse. [[Use your hand to push yourself off from the wall, land safely.->basement head injury]] [[Stabilize your weight, keep your hand on the wall.->Trust wall]]

Using the wall as support, you fling yourself off and jump. However, the box collapses inward, trapping one of your legs. Your jump is cut short and you arc downwards, face first into the hard tiled ground. You die instantly. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You aren't going to rely on anyone this time. You step confidently into the darkness. Your walk into a XXL rat trap. The hammer shatters through your steel toe boot like cheese. You recoil back. You back hits a shelf and a comically large pan falls from the top shelf, hitting you on the head. You spin around in a daze, the only thing you see in the darkness is stars. You fall forward and collide with the wall. You feel your hand land on a switch. You flip it. You hear a miniature door open in the wall. A boxing glove attached to the spring hits you in the face. You fall flat on the floor. KNOCK OUT! [[Try again?->The start]]

The box crumbles beneath you, but your faith in the wall doesn't waver. You quickly shoot your legs into an A like position, placing them on each side of the box. The card-board holds. You waddle forward and quickly jump off, still attached to the wall. You made it. You can physically feel your companionship with the wall strengthened. Nothing, noone, has ever supported you like this. You've never had a relationship like this. You trust it with your life. You continue walking the perimeter, holding hands with the wall. Some more boxes enter your path, but you glide and jump over them with no issue. Nothing will separate you. After a bit more walking, a jolt runs through your hand. You don't pull away, it just. Surprises you. It's a plastic square, with a little nub attached to it. It's fixed to the wall. You don't know what it is. You begin groping around at it. Your cheeks instinctually blush. Despite not being able to see, you look away, putting your free hand to your mouth in a fist position. You realize what it is. You didn't know he thought of you that way. You two had a really great friendship, but this. This is a lot. It's just going really fast. But it's still right there. He's been so kind to you, you can't say no. [[Begin rubbing it->Handjob]]

You clench some fingers around it. It's a bit small, but that's okay. It's extremely hard and pointed downward. It's a bit sticky and... slimey? to the touch. You haven't felt one like this before. You get a bit accustomed to it. You don't look away any longer. You face the wall. You place your other hand on the wall as well and look up, towards him. "I-.." This is so fast. It's understandable to be confused. But you should say it. [["I-I love you!"->wall pre suck]]

You profess to him. He doesn't respond, but he remains just as hard. Doubt fills your heart, you wonder if you're not good enough for him? He's so big, and he's so tall. He's reliable, handsome, he's out of your league in every way. You've always relied on him, and he's never once complained. You need to try better. A hand isn't gonna cut it. [[Suck his dick.->Lights on]]

You take your hand off his member and get close to it. You still can't see it, but you just know you're only a few cm away from it. Quickly, you give it a little peck. Your kiss virginity, gone. You can feel his hand on the back of your head, it's pushing you forward. You swallow his member into your mouth. It's rock hard, you can taste the hand sweat you left on him, and his own foul-tasting slime. You bear through it. You're careful to avoid your teeth, but with his downward angle, it proves a bit tricky. You begin getting hard yourself, pushing your entire body closer to him. Letting him feel every inch of you. You get real into it, humping his leg. You keep thrusting as you suck, over and over. You feel him getting close, he's about to shoot up. You suck harder and harder. He's on the verge. "Give it to me!" You shout in a muffled tone. He flips up. Light reverberates, bouncing off the tiles directly into your face. You recoil back, stunned. You cough and gag, rubbing your eyes, entire body clenched over. You lose your boner. It takes you a few seconds for your eyes to stop burning, but when you do, you're shocked at what you see. It's a room. [[Investigate the room.->light basement]]

You're in a WcDonald's basement. Now that you've grown accustomed to it, it's dimly lit, with only a small yellowing bulb that engulfs the room. You see the stairs in which you descended on the other side of the room. The tiled walls are smeared in a continuous streak, multiple boxes are crushed and squeezed, oozing ketchup. You turn back around and see a light-switch dripping in saliva, dirty smeared all around it. You wipe your mouth and think about how gross someone would have to be to do that. You see two rooms on the opposite side of the room. Remembering you have to pee, and with nowhere else to go, you approach them. Both are faux-wood paneled. The one on the left has the words "EMPLOYEE'S" marked out with a sharpie. It now just reads "WASHROOM." The one on the right reads "EMPLOYEES ONLY." You have a feeling you should try the door on the left first, for whatever reason. [[Try the left door.->Door locked]] [[Try the door on the right.->EL start]]

It's locked, damn. You really need to pee. [[BACK.->light basement]]

It opens without a hitch. You step inside. Like the door at the top of the stairs, once you step inside, the door shuts behind you. You have a feeling you won't be heading back, at least for a while. It's dark, but you can make a vague outline of a light switch to your right. [[Flip it on.->EL inspection]] [[Suck it.->pervert end]]

You flip the light switch on. Another dim light illuminates a conversely state of the art recreation room. It's a place for the employees to relax on break. It looks like it hasn't been used in years. It's a tad small, a series of small key lockers fill the entire left side of the wall. Directly across from you is a mural of the outside sky and field. Despite being underground, they still want the workers to have a window. In between you and the mural is a series of circular, almost orb like chairs. They look sleek, modern, unconformable. Perfect eye candy for any inspectors. Seated across from them is a small coffee table, and next to that, a 14 inch HD TV, with extra thick bezels. You have a full bladder and you need to solve that, fast. [[Investigate the lockers.->Lockers]] [[Investigate the chairs and coffee table.->Chair and coffee]] [[Try turning the TV on.->TV]] [[Look at the mural closer.->Mural]]

(We're not doing that again.) [[Suck it off.->Pervert 2]] [[BACK->EL start]]

(I said. We're not doing that again.) [[(But I want him to suck another light switch dick.)->pervert 3]] [[BACK->EL start]]

(He's not going to do that again, pervert.) [[(Well, I want him to.)->pervert 4]] [[BACK->EL start]]

(Oh, you do?) [[(Yeah, I do.)->pervert 5]]

(You wanna see the protagonist suck another light switch again huh? See him wrap those lips around a hard cylinder and suck like a good boy? Hm? That make you happy? Huh?) [[(Yeah, it does.)->Pervert 6]] [[(Okay, well. The way you said that was weird.)->pervert reverse]]

(I'm not dignifying you with a response. You know how many times I paced the room writing this, or the rest of the game for that matter? You know what server is gonna read this schlock? My heart is racing, you're not getting another blowjob scene. Goodbye.) GAME OVER [[Try again?->Fake out]]

(Weird huh? Weird to think about the protagonist slurping on a big, juicy, hard lightswitch? It's what you wanted. I made sure you clicked multiple text boxes you little fucking freak. I'm not gonna let you respond. Danzai'd. Banned. Moon Cradled. Goodbye.) GAME OVER [[Try again?->Fake out]]

(Only dumb stupid babies get this screen. You dumb stupid baby. No restart button for you. Close the tab and restart fully.)

You inspect the lockers. There must be hundreds of them. You're surprised at how many can possibly fit in a small space. You scan over all of them, and find 3 placed in a row that seem to click. The name tags are brighter, easier to see. These must be newer employees. From left to right, they read. "A.Hawk, B.Trevor, C.Sylvia" They all seem to be unlocked as well. [[Investigate the contents of A->Locker A]] [[Investigate the contents of B->Locker B]] [[Investigate the contents of C->Locker C]] [[BACK.->EL inspection]]

The chairs look painful to even look at. The coffee table is empty, aside from a single note. [[Sit in one of the chairs.->Chair end]] [[Inspect the note.->Coffee table]] [[BACK.->EL inspection]]

The TV is off. [[Turn it on.->Lighted up room.]] [[BACK.->EL inspection]]

You admire the mural in closer detail. The employees are lucky to have something like this, despite being underground. It's a bit too dark to make out the finer details, and you don't wanna ruin it by touching it. [[BACK.->EL inspection]]

You open locker A. You find some very buff, near naked pictures of men, some protein powder and a book. Whoever this is, you admire their goals. [[Inspect the book.->book A 1]] [[BACK.->Lockers]]

The person who has this locker is business first and business only. You understand why WcDonald's hired them. A spare uniform with all parts are inside. Somehow, they seem to be exactly your size. [[Try them on. Your work clothes feel filthy and these seem fresh.->Borg end]] [[BACK.->Lockers]]

You open the locker. An impressively, stupidly large bra is inside, along with a framed photo. [[Inspect the bra.->Bra end.]] [[Inspect the photo.->photo]] [[BACK.->Lockers]]

You strip out of your dirty work shirt and jeans and toss it on. The blue shirt fits over your head and snaps into place perfectly. Your black slacks offer little resistance and form a snug fit. The visor cap firmly sits around your forehead. You look down at yourself and begin twisting your body, checking yourself. It's a perfect fit, you don't quite get how, but you look good in it. "I NEED 2 LARGE, 3 MEDIUM, 2 SMALL FRIES, NOW." You snap, spinning around. No one is there. Your heart rate increases. That wasn't your imagination, you *heard* something. "LIL MCPEEPEEIN AND 5 NUGGETS IN THE WINDOW" You spin in the other direction, your hands are out, ready for anything. Sweat drips from your brow. You scan every corner of the room but see nothing. "I NEED UFEREATS CODE 3DHJ7A" "THERE'S FIRST AID IN THE BACK" "GIVE ME 3 BIG FUCKMACKS, STAT" You get a headache. You can feel your brain throb against your skull. "THE FRIER'S BROKEN, CALL THE SUPPLIER." "NO SALT OR ONIONS FOR THAT ORDER." "I'LL GET THAT ORDER FOR YOU RIGHT AWAY SIR." "SOMEONE VOMITED NEAR THE BATHROOM, WE NEED A CLEANUP." "CAN I GET SUPPORT ON SANDWICH DUTY?" Your legs start moving on their own, pacing for the door. It opens without issue. You briefly stare at the washroom, you have no need for it. You turn towards the stairs and run like a mad dog up them. The door at the top opens with no issue. You walk down the hallway and see the dining room, it's bustling with customers. You walk by them, apologizing to each of them instinctively and squeeze past the check-out counter. You become a cog in the kitchen machine. You're assigned to burger production. You slap burgers on buns, fill them with condiments and wrap them in record time. You slap them out as if you've done this your entire life. Occasionally, you swap positions, and handle it just as effectively, you already know everything there is to know. Whenever a new order comes in, you hear it in your mind. Along with everyone else's thoughts. They're all a part of your thoughts now, and yours theirs. You look out to the dining room and see an endless crowd of waiting customers, all tapping their leg in impatience. You can't make out their faces anymore. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You sit in one of the modern chairs. It hurts, you lose 8 health points. [[Keep sitting.->chair end 2]] [[BACK.->Chair and coffee]]

It's a small white note. It's written in blood. It says the word "MURAL" on it. Whatever. [[BACK.->Chair and coffee]]

It really hurts. You lose another 15 health points. [[Keep sitting.->chair end 3]] [[BACK.->Chair and coffee]]

You can't take anymore of this. It's a genius idea from corporate, but you've personally had enough. [[Keep sitting.->chair end end]] [[BACK.->Chair and coffee]]

Your health reaches zero. You have a heart attack and die. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

The TV turns on. The signal is pure static. You chuckle softly, how cliche. The room is a bit brighter. [[BACK.->EL inspection2]]

It's a tad small, a series of small key lockers fill the entire left side of the wall. Directly across from you is a mural of the outside sky and field. Despite being underground, they still want the workers to have a window. In between you and the mural is a series of circular, almost orb like chairs. They look sleek, modern, unconformable. Perfect eye candy for any inspectors. Seated across from them is a small coffee table, and next to that, a 14 inch HD TV, with extra thick bezels. You have a full bladder and you need to solve that, fast. The TV is on. There's no reason to turn it off. [[Investigate the lockers.->Lockers2]] [[Investigate the chairs and coffee table.->Chair and coffee2]] [[Look at the mural closer.->Mural2]]

You inspect the lockers. There must be hundreds of them. You're surprised at how many can possibly fit in a small space. You scan over all of them, and find 3 placed in a row that seem to click. The name tags are brighter, easier to see. These must be newer employees. From left to right, they read. "A.Hawk, B.Trevor, C.Sylvia" They all seem to be unlocked as well. [[Investigate the contents of A->Locker A2]] [[Investigate the contents of B->Locker B2]] [[Investigate the contents of C->Locker C2]] [[BACK.->EL inspection2]]

The chairs look painful to even look at. The coffee table is empty, aside from a single note. [[Sit in one of the chairs.->Chair end2]] [[Inspect the note.->Coffee table2]] [[BACK.->EL inspection2]]

You open locker A. You find some very buff, near naked pictures of men, some protein powder and a book. Whoever this is, you admire their goals. [[Inspect the book.->book1]] [[BACK.->Lockers2]]

You open the locker. An impressively, stupidly large bra is inside, along with a framed photo. [[Inspect the bra.->Bra end.2]] [[Inspect the photo.->photo2]] [[BACK.->Lockers2]]

You sit in one of the modern chairs. It hurts, you lose 8 health points. [[Keep sitting.->chair end 22]] [[BACK.->Chair and coffee2]]

It's a small white note. It's written in blood. It says the word "MURAL" on it. Whatever. [[BACK.->Chair and coffee2]]

It really hurts. You lose another 15 health points. [[Keep sitting.->chair end 32]] [[BACK.->Chair and coffee2]]

You can't take anymore of this. It's a genius idea from corporate, but you've personally had enough. [[Keep sitting.->chair end end2]] [[BACK.->Chair and coffee2]]

Your health reaches zero. You have a heart attack and die. <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRoiGn2XcFo?autoplay=1" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe> GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You admire the mural in closer detail. The employees are lucky to have something like this, despite being underground. With the TV as a new light source, you see a key jammed into the middle of it. You're amazed you didn't notice it any sooner. You have a feeling once you grab it, you'll be stuck on that path. Grab it? [[Take the key.->Key ending]] [[BACK.->EL inspection2]]

You grip the key confidently and yank it out of the wall. It has two tags on it, one says EL and the other says WH. It's a key for both rooms, you assume. Your bladder returns. You ignored it during all that investigating. It's ready to burst. You can feel the kidney stones forming. You make a mad dash for the door and open it up with the key, it opens without a hitch. You slam it open in desperation and turn immediately to your left. It's the washroom door, and you're finally ready to piss. You slip the key into the socket and turn. *Click.* It opens. [[Enter the bathroom.->bathroom finale.]]

You open the door to the bathroom. You need to piss urgently. Inside is a metallic, sci-fi like room. A massive near-volcano-found rat is working on a computer with over a dozen monitors. Each one is a camera, fixated on a different part of the WcDonald's, including this room. A series of buttons and keys fill his desk, each one corresponding with a different event. "No..." The rat turns to you. "Well done. You've made it." "This can't be." You mutter to yourself. "It's just the Silent Hill 2 ending...? You’ve been in control the whole time…?” "Yep." He's eating a piece of cheese with one hand. You fall to your knees. "But there's no special requirement. This could be the first ending the player finds!? What will they think?" The rat chews and swallows. "Yeah, the writer is a real hack. This is the last major ending written and he couldn't think of anything better." The rat and the player character turn. The reader of this sentence can feel their eyes on them. They speak in unison. "Just because you call the cliche out, doesn't make it good." GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

You grab the bra and inspect it. It's the biggest you've ever seen. Your lips quiver and hands shake. It's. It's really impressive. You wanna get a lot closer. But you don't know if you can step back if you do. [[Inspect it further.->fap ending]] [[BACK.->Lockers]]

It's a photo of two women kissing. The frame looks expensive. The photo seems to be taken in front of a major landmark, but you aren't worldly enough to know which one. A woman with jetblack hair is kissing a brunette with glasses. It's hard to make out many details with the quality of the picture and angle. There's a kiss mark on the corner. Next to it, writing that reads "I'll be waiting for you, forever." You admire the true friendship only women seem to be able to form, and toss the photo over your shoulder. You grab the bra and inspect it. It's the biggest you've ever seen.Your lips quiver and hands shake. It's. It's really impressive. You wanna get a lot closer. But you don't know if you can step back if you do. [[Inspect it further.->fap ending]] [[BACK.->Lockers]]

You give in to your impulses and get closer. You steal a whiff. It smells. Nice. You start forgetting about the outside world a bit. You aren't exactly sure why're you're in this room, but you're here. You take another sniff, and another. You get really close and take deep, long sniffs. It's not enough. You stick your head into one of the cups and just stay there. You can feel your jeans get tight. You huff, and sniff, and lick the inside of the bra cup. Holding it with one hand, the other reaches down and unbuckles yourself. Without missing a beat, you rip the belt off from your pants and kick them off. You pull your underwear down and take your erect cock into your hand. You jerk off like an animal while gorging on a woman's bra. You feel absolutely no shame in this activity. You're disgusting. And it turns you on further. It's scent blocks out your former life. Your job, your family, friends, whatever you may have had before is gone. You scoot onto the hard floor and continue masturbaiting. You've already orgasmed, but you won't stop. The bra is glued to your face. You spend the rest of your natural life jerking off in the room, with unending. You do not stop, you do not give yourself a break. You rip the very skin off your penis and keep going. You forget about the bathroom, food, water. It doesn't matter to you. You die a miserable death in a fast food basement. No one discovers the body. GAME OVER [[Try again?->The start]]

It's a photo of two women kissing. The frame looks expensive. The photo seems to be taken in front of a major landmark, but you aren't worldly enough to know which one. A women with jetblack hair is kissing a brunette with glasses. It's hard to make out many details with the quality of the picture and angle. There's a kiss mark on the corner. Next to it, writing that reads "I'll be waiting for you, forever." You admire the true friendship only women seem to be able to form, and toss the photo over your shoulder. You grab the bra and inspect it. It's the biggest you've ever seen.Your lips quiver and hands shake. It's. It's really impressive. You wanna get a lot closer. But you don't know if you can step back if you do. [[Inspect it further.->fap ending]] [[BACK.->Lockers2]]

You lick the residue off your finger. It tastes like a chicken nugget. You smack your lips and roll your tongue around in your mouth. It tastes, somehow, like a really good chicken nugget. With fries as an aftertaste. And is that some Dr. Penis there too? It's good, very good. And it makes you feel even better. [[Rip the bag open and drink it.->Acceptance2]] [[Put it back, everything in moderation.->Denial2]]

You grab the book, it's weighty. It seems to be a collection of short stories. The title reads "Short Stories." You open it up, there's a bookmark placed in the middle. You open it up to that page, it's the start of a short story. Whoever this is must have just finished it. The title reads "Trouble at the smallest town in the world." [[Read it.->book2]] [[Put it back and move on.->Lockers2]]

You begin reading. This story takes place on an unspecified date in the 20th century. It takes place in a town with no name. No one's ever bothered to come up with it. It's placed on the furthest most east spot in all of Canada. The residents total no more than 33 people. There is only one form of every establishment. Only one doctor, at one clinic. Only one sheriff, at one jail. Only one teacher, at once school. All the kids are in the same class, and all the adults work either out of town, in a much larger city for a job, or are a fisherman. The town is situated directly in front of the Atlantic, right next to a beach. The buildings sit on a cleared out grass field, surrounded by dense forestry. There is no main road, just a well walked dirt path. There is no grocery or goods store. Once a month, a shipment truck drives in and drops off all the necessaries, split amongst the villagers. It's paid for by the town's fishing industry, and whatever money pours in from the people working outside. It's a quiet, peaceful, relaxed town. Everyone knows each other, everyone trusts each other. Kids burst out of the sheriff's office at full speed, giggling and laughing. The sheriff clumsy runs out after them, with a big red hand print across the face. "QUIT RUNNIN' YA DAMN BRATS!" They don't listen to him. He gives chase as best he could, but the children are trained well. There's not much to do besides run around. The sheriff gives as good as a chase as he can before collapsing onto his knees from exhaustion. The town doctor steps outside from his dusty, old shack. The door loudly creaks. He leans against the open door frame. He's wearing his signature white lab coat, dress pants, a white dress shirt contained within a button up vest. He has circular, thick rimmed glasses and a soft chin. His hair is parted down the middle, to each side. He's too young to call it gray, silver. With a hint of purple. "Got ya again, didn't they?" "Oh can it, William." The sheriff gets back on his feet, he dusts off his beige trousers with his cowboy hat, before re-fixing it back onto his head. He re-adjusts his bad, fastened to his light brown shirt. His outfit can only be referred to as outdated. The red handprint does not do his chiseled features justice, a strong jawline and deep, thin eyes. He dons a spattered beard, somewhat similar to what many teens do once they hit puberty. It somehow suits him. Whenever he isn't wearing the hat, he has slightly long brown hair in a mullet-like style. He does a good job hiding it. "Don't see you running after 'em, do I?" "Well," William says. He begins walking towards the sheriff. "Don't see me wearing that badge, Joe." He gives Joe a light push. Joe pushes back. They both laugh. [[Keep reading.->book3]] [[Put it back and move on.->Lockers2]]

"Well, what've they run you for this time? Judging by the mark it must be somethin'" William lightly taps the seething red mark on Joe's face. Joe winces in pain and pulls his head backward. "What, I just touched it." "Yeah, well. It hurts alright?" Joe takes a few feet back. They're both standing now in the heart of downtown, between the sheriff's office and the doctor's office, in the middle of the dirt path. The forests lay directly behind them, and the sea directly ahead of it. "Jimmy just stole some candy, s'all. Tried to make him give it back, but he just gave me, well, this." He points to the mark. "Well, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal to me. Kids eat all the candy early and they gotta wait till next month, seems like a lesson in itself." "That ain't the point. I'm not gonna let some kids just not get their share some months thanks to local sugar grubbers taking it all. Just want em to learn how important it is to share." Joe sighs deeply, he digs his heels into the dirt road. William stares off into the sea as Joe talks. "They'll learn." He looks at Joe. "I hope so. My dad were still wearing the badge, this wouldn't be an issue." William walks a few paces, uptowards Joe. He gives his badge a decent poke. "He ain't, and he ain't ever going to, long as he's six feet under." Joe doesn't offer any resistance, he stands there, relatively meekly despite his large frame. "Yeah, I know." "Come on," William pats Joe's shoulder with the back of his hand. "I need some help with a few things and you're the only one free." William turns around, facing the doctor's office and begins leisurely strolling towards it. Joe stares at him for a few moments, before hanging his head down and laughing. He pinches the ridge of his nose and looks up. "Not like he bothered asking anyone else." Joe follows after him. It's a relatively standard, but relaxing job. William shuffles through powdered and mashed up drugs, inserting them into some sort of machine that shoots them out in pill form. Joe takes the pills and puts them in plastic bottles, affixing the label to the outside. It's tedious, but tedious is good. It's a break from chasing kids and solving classroom disputes. They get into the usual rhythm, banging out bottles with speed. It breaks when someone bursts through the door. "JOE!" She exclaims. Both Joe and William glare directly at it. William remains frozen in his seat, but Joe springs upward. "IT'S, IT'S THE BEACH!" Joe stares directly into Barbara's eyes. She's terrified, more than Joe has ever seen. She's the school teacher, a portly woman, older. She has curled red hair and a sweet, gentle face, rosey cheeks and caring eyes, though not that you'd be able to tell now. She's dressed in her usual sundress. She's beginning to hyperventilate, she's struggling for her words. It knocks William out of his confusion and he jumps forward as well. Joe reaches her, he grips onto her shoulders and stares into her eyes. "Just slow down, what happened?" She struggles with this, still trying to force words out. She breathes in and out, trying to collect her thoughts. She closes her eyes and places her heart on her chest. "It's, it's the beach. There's a body." [[Keep reading?->book4]] [[Put it back and move on.->Lockers2]]

Joe's grip tightens, but he's careful not to hurt her. Barbara begins to cry, tears form under her hazel eyes. "Stay here, okay." He gently guides her inside, walking her into William. "Will, take care of her." Joe's face is grim, he looks into Will with an immense amount of trust. Will returns the look, he nods silently and directs Barbara to a seat. The doors to the doctor's office slam open and Joe runs outside in a full sprint. He aims directly for the beach. He sees a small boy standing over a very large, hard to see object. He quickens the pace. "GET AWAY!" Joe yells. The boy doesn't hear him. Joe strides off the dirt path and enters the beach. Sand kicks up behind him with each powerful kick. He can see the "body" now, a landed sea creature. He runs towards the boy and scoops him up into his arms. He supports his rump with his forearm and hoists him to his chest, he spins around, putting the boy's POV away from the creature. The boy seems unfazed. Joe closes his eyes and catches his breath. He pats the boys back. "Junior, oh Junior..." Joe holds him tightly. Junior stays unfazed in his grasp. Junior is only about 7, he has short dirty blonde hair that sticks up. He has circular glass and a long, almost droopy face. He's wearing a bright red shirt, with yellow stripes, and green cargo pants. "Oh fuck I thought I was gonna have a heart attack..." Joe whispers to himself. "Uncle Joe?" "Yeah" Joe responds. He's not really his uncle, but all adults in the town supervise the kids. "What's wrong with that man?" He asks, with an inquisitive town. Joe chuckles softly. "Oh that ain't a man, Junior, it's just a -" The sheriff opens his eyes and looks down towards the sea creature. His pacifying bouncing stops dead in its track. What lies before him is something he's never seen before. It's a man, or it looks like one, body wise. It has a toned, muscular body, and it is tall, very tall. Well over 9 feet. It's a deep blue, decorated in tiny little scales. The head is that of a fish, with forward facing, beady eyes. It has red fins sticking out of the top of his head and across the cheeks. "What the..." William says. Joe turns to him, still holding Junior. "That's my line." Joe thinks to himself. William approaches the beastman with apprehension, pushing his glasses back towards the ridge of his nose. He places a hand up towards Joe and speaks to him, but his eyes remain fixed on the newly discovered species. "Barbara is okay, I have her in bed. She's stable. She told everything to me, but I didn't expect... this." Joe puts Junior down and stares at him, directly into his eyes. He grabs onto his shoulders. "Junior, listen to me. I need you to go home, okay? Tell the other kids it's not safe out. Tell them I told you to say this." He takes his right hand off and ruffles his hair. "You're a good kid, they'll listen." Junior responds with only a simple nod and runs off, leaving Joe and William with the body. They both stare at it for a while, not exchanging a word. The cool sea breeze nearly makes Joe's hat fly. He grips it in place, eyes still fixated. The only thing that can be heard is the sound of the ocean. After a few minutes, William is the first to speak. "Well, gonna need some help carrying it to the lab." He places his hands on his hips, his eyes still glued to the fishman. Joe stands there for a while, mimicking his posture without seeing it. He turns his gaze towards William but doesn't say a word. [[Keep reading.->book5]] [[Put it back and move on.->Lockers2]]

The door to the doctor's office flings open, smashing against the inner wall. The glass shatters instantly. "Ah, FUCK!" "You okay!?" William yells. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. You need a new window." Joe backs into the office. In his hands is the fishman's torso, being carried like a couch. "OKAY, WE NEED TO GO LEFT." Joe exclaims. William begins turning the lower half, they're trying to get him through the door. "NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT." "Sorry!" William turns the other way. Joe pulls as Willaim shoves. It's a tight fit, the counter lays just before the door, so they need to come in at an angle. The beast's scales rub against the door frame, shredding the wood into dust. The sheriff's strength fails him for a second, he drops the beastman into the floor. His shoulder lands into the wooden floor, breaking a few beams but not landing a scratch on him. Joe pants, hands on his hips. He catches his breath for a second. William still is holding up the other end, hoisting the creature by his legs. "Fuck. SORRY!" Joe squats down and digs his hands into the broken floor board, he gets a good grip with the work gloves he's wearing and lifts with his entire body. The veins in his neck bulge and strain against his collared shirt. His face is deep red. He hoists him back up. "I'M GOOD!" Joe announces. William pushes, and Joe continues backing up. "YOU'RE GONNA NEED A NEW FLOOR TOO!" "FUCK YOU!" The two of them eventually get him into the clinic and placed into a bed. It thankfully supports the creature's weight, even if his legs stick out from the bottom. The body weighs a ton, and doesn't budge an inch, no matter how hard you push. The two men pant and gasp for air. William clinging to the handrail that runs across the clinic, and Joe, bent over, pushing down on his knees. Catching enough breath to talk, Joe stands back up. "Well, fuck me. We got 'im in here... at least, right?" He gives William shoulder a pat, William topples over. Wind funnels into the chilly office through the broken window as Joe and William sit and rest, huddled around a full, large pot of coffee. Both men sit on the floor, neither having the mental energy to care much about anything besides being seated. They gulp down mug after mug, filling each other's cups when empty. "So." Joe takes a sip. "Wha-, what do you plan to do with, it?" "Study it. Is there anything else to do?". William stares deep into his cup. "I." Joe is having a hard time with his words. Both of them are, William just hides it better. Neither can explain whatever they're feeling well. "Yeah. Guess so. It's not fake, right?". The sheriff chugs his mug, William pours him a new one. "You carried it, just as I did. It can't be, at that weight, or that sturdiness." "This is gonna change a lot, you know." Joe states. William chugs his mug down and Joe fills it. "Yeah. Yeah it will." [[Keep reading.->book6]] [[Put it back and move on.->Lockers2]]

"It ain' real!" Jimmy screams. Spit flies and coats Junior's glasses. "It is. I saw it." "Monsters aren't real!" Jimmy gives Junior a shove, enough to almost trip him over into the sand below, but Junior finds his footing. Him, Jimmy, and a group of other kids are huddled around at the beach, where the body was found. Jimmy stands a good head taller than Junior, older, bigger, stronger. His hair is a buzzcut light brown, tanned peach skin from being out all the time. He has a ragged white shirt on with black basketball shorts. "How can you see something that can't exist!?" Yells a member of Jimmy's posse. "Cause I seen it. With my eyes." Junior replies. His posture is stiff, upright. He digs himself into the sand. You begin to notice how long you've been reading. Your bladder really hurts. You decide to put the book back and continue on investigating. You give the book a final look, maybe you'll get a chance to finish that story someday, maybe you won't. [[Move on.->Lockers2]]

You begin reading. This story takes place on an unspecified date in the 20th century. It takes place in a town with no name. No one's ever bothered to come up with it. It's placed on the furthest most east spot in all of Canada. The residents total no more than 33 people. There is only one form of every establishment. Only one doctor, at one clinic. Only one sheriff, at one jail. Only one teacher, at once school. All the kids are in the same class, and all the adults work either out of town, in a much larger city for a job, or are a fisherman. The town is situated directly in front of the Atlantic, right next to a beach. The buildings sit on a cleared out grass field, surrounded by dense forestry. There is no main road, just a well walked dirt path. There is no grocery or goods store. Once a month, a shipment truck drives in and drops off all the necessaries, split amongst the villagers. It's paid for by the town's fishing industry, and whatever money pours in from the people working outside. It's a quiet, peaceful, relaxed town. Everyone knows each other, everyone trusts each other. Kids burst out of the sheriff's office at full speed, giggling and laughing. The sheriff clumsy runs out after them, with a big red hand print across the face. "QUIT RUNNIN' YA DAMN BRATS!" They don't listen to him. He gives chase as best he could, but the children are trained well. There's not much to do besides run around. The sheriff gives as good as a chase as he can before collapsing onto his knees from exhaustion. The town doctor steps outside from his dusty, old shack. The door loudly creaks. He leans against the open door frame. He's wearing his signature white lab coat, dress pants, a white dress shirt contained within a button up vest. He has circular, thick rimmed glasses and a soft chin. His hair is parted down the middle, to each side. He's too young to call it gray, silver. With a hint of purple. "Got ya again, didn't they?" "Oh can it, William." The sheriff gets back on his feet, he dusts off his beige trousers with his cowboy hat, before re-fixing it back onto his head. He re-adjusts his badge, fastened to his light brown shirt. His outfit can only be referred to as outdated. The red handprint does not do his chiseled features justice, a strong jawline and deep, thin eyes. He dons a spattered beard, somewhat similar to what many teens do once they hit puberty. It somehow suits him. Whenever he isn't wearing the hat, he has slightly long brown hair in a mullet-like style. He does a good job hiding it. "Don't see you running after 'em, do I?" "Well," William says. He begins walking towards the sheriff. "Don't see me wearing that badge, Joe." He gives Joe a light push. Joe pushes back. They both laugh. [[Keep reading.->book A 3]] [[Put it back and move on.->Lockers]]

"Well, what've they run you for this time? Judging by the mark it must be somethin'" William lightly taps the seething red mark on Joe's face. Joe winces in pain and pulls his head backward. "What, I just touched it." "Yeah, well. It hurts alright?" Joe takes a few feet back. They're both standing now in the heart of downtown, between the sheriff's office and the doctor's office, in the middle of the dirt path. The forests lay directly behind them, and the sea directly ahead of it. "Jimmy just stole some candy, s'all. Tried to make him give it back, but he just gave me, well, this." He points to the mark. "Well, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal to me. Kids eat all the candy early and they gotta wait till next month, seems like a lesson in itself." "That ain't the point. I'm not gonna let some kids just not get their share some months thanks to local sugar grubbers taking it all. Just want em to learn how important it is to share." Joe sighs deeply, he digs his heels into the dirt road. William stares off into the sea as Joe talks. "They'll learn." He looks at Joe. "I hope so. My dad were still wearing the badge, this wouldn't be an issue." William walks a few paces, uptowards Joe. He gives his badge a decent poke. "He ain't, and he ain't ever going to, long as he's six feet under." Joe doesn't offer any resistance, he stands there, relatively meekly despite his large frame. "Yeah, I know." "Come on," William pats Joe's shoulder with the back of his hand. "I need some help with a few things and you're the only one free." William turns around, facing the doctor's office and begins leisurely strolling towards it. Joe stares at him for a few moments, before hanging his head down and laughing. He pinches the ridge of his nose and looks up. "Not like he bothered asking anyone else." Joe follows after him. It's a relatively standard, but relaxing job. William shuffles through powdered and mashed up drugs, inserting them into some sort of machine that shoots them out in pill form. Joe takes the pills and puts them in plastic bottles, affixing the label to the outside. It's tedious, but tedious is good. It's a break from chasing kids and solving classroom disputes. They get into the usual rhythm, banging out bottles with speed. It breaks when someone bursts through the door. "JOE!" She exclaims. Both Joe and William glare directly at it. William remains frozen in his seat, but Joe springs upward. "IT'S, IT'S THE BEACH!" Joe stares directly into Barbara's eyes. She's terrified, more than Joe has ever seen. She's the school teacher, a portly woman, older. She has curled red hair and a sweet, gentle face, rosey cheeks and caring eyes, though not that you'd be able to tell now. She's dressed in her usual sundress. She's beginning to hyperventilate, she's struggling for her words. It knocks William out of his confusion and he jumps forward as well. Joe reaches her, he grips onto her shoulders and stares into her eyes. "Just slow down, what happened?" She struggles with this, still trying to force words out. She breathes in and out, trying to collect her thoughts. She closes her eyes and places her hand on her chest. "It's, it's the beach. There's a body." [[Keep reading?->book A 4]] [[Put it back and move on.->Lockers]]

"It ain' real!" Jimmy screams. Spit flies and coats Junior's glasses. "It is. I saw it." "Monsters aren't real!" Jimmy gives Junior a shove, enough to almost trip him over into the sand below, but Junior finds his footing. Him, Jimmy, and a group of other kids are huddled around at the beach, where the body was found. Jimmy stands a good head taller than Junior, older, bigger, stronger. His hair is a buzzcut light brown, tanned peach skin from being out all the time. He has a ragged white shirt on with black basketball shorts. "How can you see something that can't exist!?" Yells a memeber of Jimmy's posse. "Cause I seen it. With my eyes." Junior replies. His posture is stiff, upright. He digs himself into the sand. You begin to notice how long you've been reading. Your bladder really hurts. You decide to put the book back and continue on investigating. You give the book a final look, maybe you'll get a chance to finish that story someday, maybe you won't. [[Move on.->Lockers]]