of Cher, surprisingly
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of Cher, surprisingly
resilient with silicone
implants that cushioned
her supine form.
But Cthulhu was
not to be
distracted by the
surgically enhanced charms
of the aging
, velvet-voiced contralto.
He ate her.
The world rejoiced!
"We love you
Cthulhu, oh yes
we certainly do!"
Suddenly, with a
speed that amazed
the non-squamous Baron,
Cthulhu leaped upon
him and did
his best to
violate him.
This
was not a
typical horrific violation,
it was far
, far, far, far
worse.
It was
nothing short of
soul defiling, mind
you, for a
horrible eldritch moment.
But the Baron
was not about
to be frightened,
no matter how
perverse Cthulhu's defilement
became. This was
War.
All the
tentacular violation was
beside the point;
he was here
to win for
all time, even
against all odds.
The Baron snarled,
"Hah! You call
those tentacular violations?
I've been violated
better than that
by Squidward, that