Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Caligula sits at his throne, watching a man forced to saw his baby in half while his wife holds the baby in place. As the baby writhes and whines, its blood runs down a groove in the stone altar and falls into a golden chalice. The man collapses to his knees as soon as he hears the baby's spine snap under the weight of the saw and his wife runs off to a corner. Caligula laughs and points to a goon who had both hands replaced with foot long, spiked dildoes and the goon nods, then shoves the KILLDOES up the woman's ass and vagina, lifting her into the air.

"You said you wouldn't hurt us if we killed our baby!" the man yells out.

Caligula's scribe places the chalice of baby blood in his master's hand. "Eh, changed my mind when I saw what pussies you two were. Rapist #1, rip her open."

The killdoes are pulled away from each other, and her twat and asshole stretch and then burst open. The woman screams as her genitals and rectum are destroyed, leaving her to fall on her face. The man tries to run to her, but another goon grabs his head from behind and slams him chin first to the floor.

"Excellent," Caligula whispers, licking his lips. "Now she's got a hole big enough for my cock."

The woman, barely conscious due to blood loss, is carried over to Caligula, who literally fucks her guts out. Organs slip out around his massive donkey dick and even after the woman dies, he keeps fucking her. Finally, he grunts and jizz flies out of her dead mouth.

"Gouge that pissant's eyes outs, I want this to be the last thing he ever sees," Caligula walks toward the man with his wife still hanging on his dick, semen running out of her mouth and across her wide open eyes. The goon sticks his fingers through the man's eyes just as Caligula shakes his dick, sending semen into the man's face. Clapping echoes through one of the corners of the throne room.

"What a heartwarming display," Deimos says, creeping out of the shadows.

Caligula pulls the limp body off of his dick and holds it up. "If you don't mind sloppy seconds, you can take it."

"No thanks," Deimos says with a slight look of disgust. "I just came to tell you I finished the job."

"And the prophet?"

"Dead. And all of the cultists, too. Didn't run into a single hitch."

"Excellent, excellent. We can't have those vestiges of the old world challenging my position as America's new God."

Deimos sits on Caligula's throne and picks out a tibia. "Listen, I don't give a shit why you wanted me to kill them. I just want the money and their souls."

Laughing, Caligula slaps his belly. "If you weren't a man after my own heart, I'd kill you for your impudence. It's always good to have a man like you on my side. But if you don't get the fuck up, I'll rips your other arm off and shove it up your ass, then roast you like a goddamn pig."

"Fair enough," Deimos stands. "I'm going to train for the big match, but if you need me to kill anything, I'll be around."

The scribe speaks up as soon as Deimos leaves the throne room. "Sir, you've killed men for less than what that ... that MERCENARY just did."

"What make you think I won't kill you for questioning me now?"

"I apologize, sir."

Caligula wraps his fingers around the scribe's skull and then crushes it. "Apology accepted."

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Deimos stomps out of the throne room and down the corridors of Castlevania. The crescent moon shines through the broken and cracked windows, giving the hallways an unsettling, dim glow. The echoes of footsteps ring out, but none of the atmosphere seems to affect him. A rough voice next to him speaks up.

"That was awfully ballsy of you," Phobos says while temporarily making his face visible. "From what you humans say, that Caligula is one not to be trifled with. Of course, I could disembowel him in seconds."

"Do you have a point?"

"No, not really." The floating face stares Deimos in the eyes. "Just explaining my plans for after you kick the fucking bucket. Every human I see will know unfathomable suffering and when you're all dead, I'll go back to Hell and torture you some more."

"Your companion has quite a pleasant attitude," a man with a British accent says. His footsteps make no sound. "Mr. Alexandros."

Deimos pulls a gun and points it at the Brit. "Who the fuck are you?"

"The real question, Mr. Alexandros, is where are you."

The Brit raises his arms and looks around. Deimos' head turns and the hallway has become a labyrinth, every direction is either a wall or a path. He steps forward slowly, unsure of what has just happened. And then the disembodied voice of the Brit fills his ears.

"You made a fatal mistake, Mr. Alexandros. Well, it doesn't have to be fatal. Not if you agree to certain terms."

"What are the terms? Me sticking a shotgun up your limey ass and pulling the trigger? Because that I can arrange." Every way Deimos turns is another dead end. He kicks a wall and then grunts in pain. That shouldn't have hurt, he thinks.

"Just as crude as I expected." The voice is no longer far away. "I had been led to believe that you were a much more reasonable man. Then again, would a reasonable man sacrifice the life of a woman he loved for a small bit of power?"

The Brit is right behind him. Deimos turns and fires, but no one is there.

"Did I hit a nerve, Mr. Alexandros? If so, I'm deeply sorry. And I'd rather not talk to your backside, so could you please turn around?"

Deimos' feet pivot and the Brit stares him in the eyes again. Before Deimos can aim, leather straps wrap around his wrist and ankles and then pull him backward, piercing each extremity with a steel spike. Deimos screams out in pain as he's crucified, and the blood runs down his boots and onto the floor. He doesn't lose his grip on the handle of his gun. His torso sags forward slightly.

"My word, I forgot about your little handicap," the Brit says in mock concern and then waves his hand. A strap wraps around his throat, pulling his head against the top of the crucifix. "It was a joke, I knew you were missing an arm. I'm sure you would laugh if you had sufficient breath in your lungs to perform the necessary motions. But, alas .... Though it is fortunate you cannot speak because it would be unfortunate for me to give you a matching right arm.

"I'm straying from the purpose of this visit. I'm here to deliver a message."

Deimos coughs out, "The ... Secret ... President?"

"You're remarkably well informed, Mr. Alexandros," the Brit says. "Of course, you're familiar with the Secret President due to your dealings with the individual we've come to know as the Black Judge. But this has nothing to do with that. I'm here to advise you to vacate your position as retainer to Caligula Lightning. Things are coming, things that mere years ago would seem beyond imagining, things that will end quite badly for those who choose the wrong sides.

"Mr. Alexandros, join our side and you'll have a new arm. You'll have everything you've ever dreamed of. Your demon will be exorcised. The Black Judge will die at your hands for what he did to you. What has Caligula offered you? Nothing. Not a single thing he promised you has been delivered. Did you sign up to face the inhuman army of Zeed? What about the elite forces of Blackland? Not to mention the Secret President. Caligula has made grave mistakes and he will answer for them."

The Brit walks up to Deimos and wipes the sweat from the bound man's forehead. Holding his fingers up to Deimos' nose, the Brit looks him in the eyes again.

"That is the smell of fear. You promised yourself you would never feel it again. You don't have to join us, but I advise you to stay out of our way."

The Brit places his fingers in front of Deimos' eyes and snaps. Suddenly everything is back to the way it was. The wounds in his wrist and ankles are gone. The maze is gone. The Brit is gone. All that's left is the empty hallway.

"Fuck you," Deimos spits out. His throat is sore.