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#Post#: 3734--------------------------------------------------
The Tortress
DIR By: S. Criminal
Date: July 29, 2024, 4:36 pm
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You're sitting in your best friend's dimly lit basement,
surrounded by the smell of popcorn and the glow of the TV. The
walls are plastered with posters of your favorite monsters and
heroes, their bright colors peeling slightly at the edges. The
clock on the VHS player ticks past midnight as you and your
buddy, Tom, watch a cheesy marathon of old monster flicks. A
sudden plot twist sparks an idea—what if you guys could create
the ultimate villain? You scribble down notes on a napkin,
sipping soda and munching on candy. You come up with a name that
makes you both snicker: the Tortress. She's got the power to
torture anyone and a penchant for turning the most mundane
situations into utter chaos.
> The boys resume watching their movie when the power goes out.
The sudden darkness catches you off guard, plunging the basement
into an eerie silence as the TV flickers and dies. The only
sound is the muffled thump of the VHS tape rolling to a stop.
You and Tom exchange wide-eyed glances, your hearts racing from
the jolt of surprise. The air feels thick with the scent of
burnt electronics. "What the—?" Tom whispers, fumbling for the
flashlight you keep by the couch for emergencies like these. The
beam cuts through the dark, revealing the dust motes dancing in
the air. You both laugh nervously, trying to shake off the
spooky vibe. "Guess it's time for a break," you say, trying to
sound casual as you stand up, your knees popping from being
cramped for hours. You both head upstairs, leaving the basement
shrouded in darkness, the napkin with your villainous creation
lying forgotten on the coffee table.
> The Tortress awakens and corners the boys upstairs.
As you and Tom reach the top of the stairs, you notice the door
to the kitchen is slightly ajar, and a faint blue light emanates
from the crack. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as a
low, guttural laugh echoes through the house. The sound is
unmistakable—it's the villainous cackle you'd scribbled onto the
napkin downstairs. You share a look of horror as the realization
sinks in: the Tortress has come to life. The basement door
creaks open, and the sound of heavy footsteps ascending the
stairs sends a shiver down your spine. You both scramble to find
a place to hide, the flashlight beam bobbing wildly as your
hands shake with fear.
> She corners the boys in the living room
You and Tom dart into the living room, pushing aside the
curtains to peek outside. The flashlight beam catches the glint
of something shiny—a pair of menacing eyes peering back at you
from the shadows. The Tortress has cornered you, her silhouette
tall and monstrous in the moonlit room. Her laughter fills the
air, a chilling sound that sends cold waves of terror down your
spine. You can almost feel her hot breath as she moves closer,
her steps deliberate and taunting. The room seems to shrink
around you, the furniture and knick-knacks now obstacles in your
desperate search for an escape route. Your heart hammers in your
chest, and you grip the flashlight so tightly your knuckles
ache. The only thing standing between you and the terrifying
reality of your creation is the flimsy curtain. You know you
can't hide here forever.
> The Tortress gives them both wedgies.
The Tortress lunges forward, her arms outstretched. You and Tom
yelp as she grabs the waistbands of your underwear and yanks
them upward with superhuman strength. The wedgies are
unbearable, a sharp pain shooting through your lower body as she
cackles in delight. The fabric digs into your skin, and you
struggle to break free, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.
The room spins as you dance in pain, trying to alleviate the
wedgie while keeping your dignity. The Tortress looms over you,
her shadow growing larger as she prepares to deliver another
round of humiliation. Tom's eyes are watering with pain, and his
face is a mask of horror. You know you can't let this continue.
You need to come up with a plan to escape and somehow return her
to the napkin she was born from. What will you do next?
> The Tortress gives the boys a good spanking over her knee.
You and Tom squirm and struggle as the Tortress, relishing in
your discomfort, hoists you both over her knee with surprising
agility. She delivers a series of firm, stinging spanks that
echo through the room, each one making you gasp and yelp. The
pain is intense, and you can feel the heat rising in your
cheeks—both from the spanking and the embarrassment of being
dominated by your own creation. Tom's face is red and scrunched
up, his eyes tightly shut as he tries to hold back tears. The
Tortress's laughter only grows louder, bouncing off the walls
and filling the room with a sinister glee. As she releases you
both, you fall to the floor, rubbing your sore bottoms and
glaring at her in anger and humiliation. The room seems to spin
as you try to stand up, your legs wobbly from the pain. You know
you can't take much more of this. You need to find a way to
regain control of the situation and somehow send her back to the
napkin. What will you do next?
> The Tortress gives the boys swirlies.
You and Tom, reeling from the painful wedgies, are now subjected
to the humiliating fate of swirlies. The Tortress grabs you both
by the backs of your heads and forces them into the toilet bowl.
The cold porcelain kisses your cheeks as the water swirls around
your ears, muffling your protests and the sound of her laughter.
You fight against her iron grip, trying to break free, but she's
too strong. You feel the water sloshing around your face, your
nostrils filling with the scent of bleach and fear. Tom's
gurgling sounds beside you are a grim reminder of your shared
predicament. Just when you think you can't take anymore, she
pulls you out with a cruel twist, leaving you gasping for air
and feeling utterly helpless. Your shirts are soaked, and your
hair is plastered to your faces. The Tortress looms over you,
her cackles echoing through the bathroom. She's enjoying this
entirely too much. You wipe the water from your eyes, glaring at
her with newfound resolve. There's no way you're going to let
her keep doing this to you. It's time to turn the tables. What
will you do next?
> The Tortress holds them down and farts in their faces.
You and Tom lay on the cold, hard bathroom floor, your faces red
and your eyes watering from the foulness of the Tortress's
farts. The smell lingers in the air, making it difficult to
breathe without gagging. You can't believe she's gone this
far—turning your home into a personal playground for her twisted
sense of humor. But as you lie there, panting and trying to
recover from the assault on your senses, you feel a spark of
anger ignite in your chest. This has gone beyond a joke; she's
crossed a line. You look over at Tom, his face a mix of disgust
and determination. You know what you need to do. You need to put
a stop to the Tortress's reign of terror before she thinks up
something even worse. You both push yourselves up, wiping your
mouths and glaring at her with a newfound resolve. She's still
laughing, but there's a hint of surprise in her eyes. She didn't
expect you to fight back. The question is, how do you plan to do
it?
> The Tortress beats the boys to a pulp, knocking the resistance
out of them.
You and Tom, fueled by anger and the need to regain control,
lunge at the Tortress. Despite your efforts, she's too quick,
too powerful. She swats you aside like pesky flies, sending you
crashing into the sink and knocking over a tower of towels. Tom
fares no better, his swing at her massive frame resulting in a
bruised fist and a mouthful of air. She towers over you, her
eyes gleaming with amusement, as she delivers a swift kick to
your side, sending you sprawling. You taste blood and your ribs
ache. You're no match for her brute strength. The room spins as
you try to catch your breath, your body bruised and battered.
You watch as Tom is lifted off the floor by his shirt, dangling
like a ragdoll in her grip. He's crying out in pain, his face a
mess of snot and tears. The Tortress throws him onto the floor,
and he lands with a sickening thud. She turns to you, her
expression a twisted mix of glee and malice. She's won this
round, and she knows it.
> The Boys defeated, The Tortress puts them in Diapers and makes
them sleep in a crib.
You wake up with a start, your cheek pressed against the cool
bars of a crib. The last thing you remember is the Tortress's
overpowering strength and the impact of the floor against your
body. You're groggy and sore, and the unmistakable feeling of
being confined in a crib sends a new wave of embarrassment
crashing over you. The room is still dark, but a sliver of
moonlight cuts through the curtains, illuminating the pile of
discarded clothes next to the crib. Your friend Tom is beside
you, also dressed in a soggy diaper, his breaths deep and even
in sleep. You squirm, trying to adjust to the uncomfortable
plastic underneath you, and feel the wetness seeping through the
material. You've been in this situation before, but never like
this—never with the fear that you've created a monster that can
actually hurt you. The smell of baby powder fills your nose, and
you gag. The Tortress has left you here, helpless and
humiliated. Your mind races with thoughts of escape and revenge.
What will you do next?
> The Tortress wins. The Story Ends.
You lie in the crib, defeated and utterly humiliated. Your body
aches from the Tortress's brutal beating, and the diaper she's
put you in is a constant, uncomfortable reminder of your
powerlessness. Tom's steady breathing beside you is the only
sound in the room, the moon casting long shadows across his
peaceful, sleeping face.
> The Story Ends.
You lie there in the crib, seething with anger and
embarrassment. The Tortress has proven to be more than you and
Tom could handle. You can feel the stickiness of the diaper, and
the smell of baby powder makes your stomach turn. The cold, hard
bars of the crib press into your skin, a constant reminder of
your defeat. The room is quiet except for Tom's gentle snores.
The house seems eerily still, as if it's holding its breath,
waiting for the next round of torment to begin. You know you
can't stay here like this. You need to escape and somehow find a
way to banish the Tortress back to the napkin she came from. You
start to formulate a plan, your mind racing with ideas. But
first, you need to get out of this crib and find a way to free
Tom without alerting her to your escape. You listen carefully
for any sign of movement outside the room, waiting for the
perfect moment to make your move.
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