>>23Christopher Poole lay against the barrel in the darkness. His hands were bound by a particularly nasty twine that cut into his skin and left tiny bits of plastics in the irritated flesh. His feet were likewise bound, with the excess of those bindings running beneath the barrel to his hands. He had tried moving, but had only managed to slam his head against the concrete floor. To remind him of the embarrassing failure, blood ran from his eyebrow to his his nose, where the smell of iron bothered him.
Behind him, he heard a door open and a warm light flowed through the doorway. The warm light felt good on his naked body that had spent the last several hours shivering in a failed attempt to keep warm. `It must be daytime now', he thought, `I must have been here for hours.' The snap of a light switch lead the slow flickering of long disused fluorescent lights. The door closed and he was once again cold.
His captor's footsteps echoed in the concrete room, each time getting louder to poor moot, who was already terrified. He had had time to think of what he was going to say to the kidnapper, of the riches that he would promise him if he was released unharmed, but now that the time had come, he couldn't speak. He could sense someone directly behind him, even feel the body heat radiated. Moot kept waiting for what seemed like an hour (but, in reality, was only slightly more than thirty seconds) until-
`Hmm... I expected they'd be bigger. Well, I guess it is a little cold in here,' a soft, but assertive voice said.
Moot's eyes became as wide as saucers when he felt a gentle hand grab his scrotum and stretch the skin out to full size. He let out a small gasp. He suddenly found the will to speak.
`Stop, please,' he pleaded through tears, 'you don't have to do this! What is it that you want? I know many VCs tht can get you money and connections. I've got armies of camwhores that you can have! I swear that if you let me go now I won't tell-'. Moot let out a small scream that trailed off into a moan of agony as his testicle were clenched tight, the soft hands not damping the pain in the slightest.
`You dare try to bargain with me, you damn impostor? After you stole my life, even my family?' The captor twisted the nutsack in those soft hands, eliciting a new round of screams from moot. `My beloved fourchan, my wonderful canv.as, everything that I built! You stole them all from me! You, you, disgusting freak, how could you?'
The captor twisted and squeezed moot's genitals even farther than before. The bindings on his hands had broken the skin and blood dripped to the floor.
Then the hands became gentle again. They softly stroked moots bruised balls.
`But... we have to start the healing process somewhere, no? How about you start with the first thing you took, and give me access to my fourchan.'
`O-okay, if you let me get to a computer I can add you as a mo-'. His attempt to negotiate was cut short when a hard bitch-slap was delivered to his nuts.
`Why the fuck would I need a new account?', the soft voice was manic now, `I'm already moot! I demand you give back the one that is rightfully mine!'
Moot was still reeling from the slap from before. It took him a moment or too to comprehend this. He didn't want to give control of 4chan to this androgynous freak who was most certainly not-moot. But what if he struggled? Much more damage to the nuts and they would never heal. It was not a hard decision.
`My computer! The admin credentials are on my computer! I had it with me last night! Please, I beg you, let me go now!'
The captor stood up, as evidenced by the shadow, and said, "We'll see about that if the login works". Moot was then kicked directly in the asshole. The barrel rolled forward and smashed moots nose on the ground. And then he lost consciousness.
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When he awoke, it was to a splash of water (he hoped) on his face. He was still tied to the barrel. He shook his head to remove the water and looked up. He was horror struck with what he saw.
In front of him was a tall ... thing... in nothing but a pink shirt. Their was white fur crudely glued to the face and skin with all the quality of a parody of a preschooler's crafts project. Where male genitals had obviously once existed were now a long scar with a small hole. Completely nullified. On the head was a set of misshapen crests that tried to approximate cat ears and had failed; whoever had done that hatchet-job had probably had Parkinson's disease and perhaps Down's syndrome.
The grotesque beast in front of him was much more terrifying than all the child mutilation porn threads that moot had secretly saved from /b/ combined. This thing... this abomination... thought that it was the mootcat!
`The login worked very well. No one suspected a thing! I'd thank you, but after all the time you were impersonating me, I think you should be apologizing instead. And I have the perfect way for you to atone...'
A creepy smile spread across the parts of the monster's face that still had working muscles. It brought what it was holding behind it's back into moot's range of vision. It held a large green rubber dick in both hands. It was half a meter long and a full ten centimeters in diameter. On it were dozens of large green bumps made out of a softer, more malleable type of rubber. Attached to the base of the giant cock was a strap-on holder. The abomination strapped the humongous dildo on and walked behind him.
The kidnapper leaned forward to speak in moots ear. Moot felt the length of the green penis along his back. If it were to go all the way in, it could puncture his lungs! The kidnapper breathed heavily into his ear, then stood up. Moot felt the tip, as large as a can of creamed corn, align against his anus in prepration of penitration. He began to sob.
`Are you ready to atone, impostor? I've waited a long time for this.'
And then moot knew the ultimate shame.