X Over Maximus

Optimaximus slapped The Japester in the back of his head with a gigantic metalic hand.
‘Shut the frak up ya green haired Niding-schlong!’

The Japester cackled. This was because he had sustained a very seriouse brain injury and would now be a dribbling Niding-schlong for the rest of his life.

AngelChickInMetalArmour looked on with horniness as the giant robot continued with what he had been saying before the comicsbook villain had interrupted.

‘And so we find ourselves in a very non otpimax position, my friends. As per the discopveries of PurpleGuyWithSpikeyHairFromComicWeDontRecognise, last Tuesday’ Optimaximus pointed a throbbing digit at the Purple Guy with spikey hair from a comic that even you wouldn’t recognise, standing in the corner, ‘we are in fact toys!’

Termin8OR gasped. He had heard this news before but he was a drama queen.

‘The play things of a human child.’ Otimaximus contined.
Termin8OR gasped again. Otimaximus punched him so hard his head and shoulders snapped off.

‘Og for fruck’s sake,’ said PurpleGuyWithSpikeyHairFromComicWeDontRecognise, ‘that’s the fourth guy you’ve killed today. You’re such a vad tempered bastard Otimaximus! If you’re not careful we won’t have enough toys left to mount some sort of mission to-‘
PurpleGuyWithSpikeyHairFromComicWeDontRecognise’s speech was cut short as Optimaximus rammed some sort of Space Wars goblin toy up his bottomhole.

‘Aaaargh’ said Optimaximus, as if it was his bottomhole that had just been invaded.

‘You make me so sexed up’, said AngelChickInMetalArmour. ‘And now we’re all alone.’
She looked around.
‘Kinda’ she corected herself as she looked around and surveyed the half-destroyed toy collection which had been the result of the big Transformax robot’s rage.

‘Well gimme some loving then honey. It don’t matter if we’re toys, as long as we got each other!’

The Japester wiped his Syngende against the broken toy corpse of GuyWithNoFaceMaybeFromAn80sHorrorMovie as AngelChickInMetalArmour and Optimaximus rutted against little Tommy’s dresser table.

And that’s when Little Tommy’s mum and dad came in. Of course, by th eimmutable power of toys they imediately fell silent and stoped moving too.

‘Holy crap!’ said Little Tommy’s dad as he look at the Japester’s Syngende, PurpleGuyWithSpikeyHairFromComicWeDontRecognise’s extended bottomhole and AngelChickInMetalArmour and Optimaximus having some sort of wambam using their very limited points of articulation.

Little Tommy was 19 by the time he got out of therapy.

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Schmurgen Jonerhaffs

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