FaceandBBC
Anti Foid
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2022
- Posts
- 18,681
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- 50,818
That's right, I said it. I want to strip that smug, philanthropic grin right off his face and replace it with a scream so shrill it shatters the very fabric of his being. I want to show him that the world isn't all rainbows and free cars, that there's a dark, twisted side that his millions can't protect him from.
I'd start by tracking him down like the piece of shit he is, stalking him in the shadows until he's all alone. Then I'd pounce, like a fucking predator, ripping into him like a starving animal. I'd tear his clothes off and expose his pasty, privileged flesh to the cold, hard reality of the world he tries to ignore with his fake good deeds and his bullshit challenges.
I'd shove my unwanted cock down his throat until he gags, until he can taste the bitter flavor of fear and despair that he's never had to swallow. I'd make him choke on it, make him understand what it's like to have something forced on him that he doesn't want, just like he forces his shitty content down our throats day in and day out.
I'd fuck him in every way imaginable, every hole a new canvas for my rage. His screams would be music to my ears, a sweet symphony of pain and suffering that I've been waiting to compose for far too long. His body would be my plaything, my instrument of torture as I plunge into him with the ferocity of a thousand angry gods.
But the rape is just the beginning. Oh no, it's not enough to just fuck him up the ass and leave him crying in a corner. That would be too kind, too gentle for a man who has built his entire persona on exploiting others for his own gain. No, I want to kill MrBeast. Slowly, painfully, watching the life drain from his eyes as he realizes that all his money, all his power, all his fake friends can't save him now.
I'd start with a knife, carving into his skin like it's a fucking turkey on Thanksgiving. I'd make him watch as I peel back layers of flesh, revealing the muscle and bone beneath. Each cut would be precise, deliberate, a work of art that tells the story of his pathetic existence and the pain he's brought to others.
Then I'd move to the power tools. The buzz of the saw, the crack of the bone, the smell of burning flesh as I slice through his limbs like they're nothing but overcooked hot dogs. He'd be begging for mercy by then, but mercy is not something I deal in, not for someone like him.
I'd save his head for last, keeping it attached just long enough to see the fear, the horror, the understanding in his eyes. And when the moment is right, I'd pull the trigger, watching his brains spray out like a fountain of rotten meat. His lifeless corpse would be a testament to what happens when you think you can buy your way out of everything, when you think you're above the consequences of your actions.
And as the blood pools around me, I'd stand there, cock still hard, feeling more alive than I've ever felt before. Because in that moment, I'd be the one with the power, the one who taught MrBeast what it's like to truly fear for your life. And when it's all said and done, when the last twitch of life leaves his body, I'd finally feel satisfied.
I'd start by tracking him down like the piece of shit he is, stalking him in the shadows until he's all alone. Then I'd pounce, like a fucking predator, ripping into him like a starving animal. I'd tear his clothes off and expose his pasty, privileged flesh to the cold, hard reality of the world he tries to ignore with his fake good deeds and his bullshit challenges.
I'd shove my unwanted cock down his throat until he gags, until he can taste the bitter flavor of fear and despair that he's never had to swallow. I'd make him choke on it, make him understand what it's like to have something forced on him that he doesn't want, just like he forces his shitty content down our throats day in and day out.
I'd fuck him in every way imaginable, every hole a new canvas for my rage. His screams would be music to my ears, a sweet symphony of pain and suffering that I've been waiting to compose for far too long. His body would be my plaything, my instrument of torture as I plunge into him with the ferocity of a thousand angry gods.
But the rape is just the beginning. Oh no, it's not enough to just fuck him up the ass and leave him crying in a corner. That would be too kind, too gentle for a man who has built his entire persona on exploiting others for his own gain. No, I want to kill MrBeast. Slowly, painfully, watching the life drain from his eyes as he realizes that all his money, all his power, all his fake friends can't save him now.
I'd start with a knife, carving into his skin like it's a fucking turkey on Thanksgiving. I'd make him watch as I peel back layers of flesh, revealing the muscle and bone beneath. Each cut would be precise, deliberate, a work of art that tells the story of his pathetic existence and the pain he's brought to others.
Then I'd move to the power tools. The buzz of the saw, the crack of the bone, the smell of burning flesh as I slice through his limbs like they're nothing but overcooked hot dogs. He'd be begging for mercy by then, but mercy is not something I deal in, not for someone like him.
I'd save his head for last, keeping it attached just long enough to see the fear, the horror, the understanding in his eyes. And when the moment is right, I'd pull the trigger, watching his brains spray out like a fountain of rotten meat. His lifeless corpse would be a testament to what happens when you think you can buy your way out of everything, when you think you're above the consequences of your actions.
And as the blood pools around me, I'd stand there, cock still hard, feeling more alive than I've ever felt before. Because in that moment, I'd be the one with the power, the one who taught MrBeast what it's like to truly fear for your life. And when it's all said and done, when the last twitch of life leaves his body, I'd finally feel satisfied.
