Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Peach's Bad Day	By : agroofus Category: +S through Z > Super Mario Brothers Views: 22711 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Mario franchise nor any of its characters, nor am I making any money off this silly little enterprise.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Bowser wasted no time; he didn’t allow Peach any rest. He hoisted her up, again causing her soft titflesh to become impaled on two of his wicked shell-spikes. This time, the pain was a thousand times worse – her already badly tortured tits screamed with agony, causing her entire body to convulse as she uttered a strangled yell. Tears ran down her face and the small part of her mind which wasn’t consumed by the pain was terrified at what might come next.

Bowser carried her out of the throne room, every heavy step of his causing her poor mammaries intense pain. She wailed and howled incessantly, wordless, childish cries of terrible pain, and her shrieks echoed through the corridors of Bowser’s castle.

After an indeterminate time, Peach was lifted off the hateful spikes, her vision blurred with tears, gasping piteously as every small motion set her aching breasts shaking, sending shocks of hurt coursing through her entire being. Bowser threw her down, rudely but with careful precision, making sure that her breasts took the impact of her entire weight on the rough stone floor. She screamed like an animal, a thin keening, for a moment caught in a terrible hell where, with her breasts squeezed flat underneath her, her every struggle caused her breasts immense pain. Finally, after an agonizing few seconds, she finally managed to flop over on her back, groaning and shuddering with the pain of her poor tortured breasts.

The figure of Bowser, standing over her, blurred into view through the tears in her eyes. Waking up in the cell before, she had been cocky, cool. She regretted it now – what if her attitude made him torture her more? She wailed at the thought and began babbling – “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry…”

Bowser barked humorless laughter. “Sorry? For what? You think I’m doing this as some sort of revenge?” His voice was quiet, dangerous. “No. I’m doing this because I want to. Because I love to see you like this, Peach. In pain. Helpless.”

Her gabbling broke up into wordless sobs and wails as the meaning of the words sank in. There was nothing she could do to stop this treatment – nothing to offer, no bargains to strike. The hateful barbarian king was doing this for his own amusement! Tears streamed down her face as she heard him say: “You may begin.”

Her body tensed up in fear – she whimpered and drew her knees up, and rolled over on her side. That was a mistake, since it sent her tit dropping down on the stone floor. It wasn’t a hard fall, or long, but it was enough to make her moan piteously. She was acutely aware of footsteps approaching her, and stopping right behind her. She waited for something to happen, but nothing did – finally, she rolled back onto her back, very gently, and opened her eyes, blinking to clear them of the tears, and was faced with a terrible sight.

Standing over her, dangerous grins on their faces, were two Hammer Bros, hefting their heavy weapons. She whimpered and began to beg, but she was unheeded. The Hammer Bros grabbed her by her upper arms, and together they dragged her uncomfortably across the cold hard floor, the minute imperfections in the stone making her breasts judder painfully. She was hoisted bodily up and strapped efficiently to the wall. Small, pathetic moans escaped her and her heart beat like a jackhammer in her chest. She was sweating profusely with fear and her wild eyes jumped from one Hammer Bro to the next, to the large, impassive figure of Bowser, watching her from the doorway.

The two Hammer Bros stood back, gazing at her in silence. She shook her head, trying to will them away, but to no avail. They were as real and present as she was, and so, unfortunately, were the hammers they carried. They turned to each other with cruel smiles, raising their hammers high and bringing them down at the same moment. They were professionals, soldiers trained in their weapon of choice; their hammers were like extensions of their bodies. They knew what they were doing. The hammers struck Peach’s tortured titflesh with sickening whacks, and Peach screamed silently in horrible agony. She’d never known such pain could exist. She’d rather die than feel it.

And then … and then … horribly, unacceptably, impossibly… their faces aglow with malice, the Hammer Bros lifted their hammers again and brought them down in tandem. The same pain exploded through her tits again, the same unreal hurt. Her body convulsed in paroxysms of torment, but her bonds held her securely and there was nothing she could do to get away. Peach’s mind was aflame with the pain, her only, animal thought was that she had to get away. But she couldn’t. She was trapped, trapped with the pain.

Again and again the hammers came down, and every time the pain was as overwhelming, as impossible. This was no pain you could get used to. Peach bucked and screamed and howled, her poor ravaged titflesh bouncing under the savage blows of the Hammer Bros, tears streaming down her face and splashing against her brutalized chest. The Hammer Bros worked with fervent precision, striking for maximum pain, and they succeeded.

After a while, one of them tapped the other on the shoulder and, instead of striking the princess’s poor tits again, he lifted it up in his free hand. Peach cried out weakly and writhed against the wall. Holding her breast in a firm grip, the Hammer Bro took his hammer and dug the claw part savagely into Peach’s soft flesh. Peach’s scream was deafening. The other Hammer Bro grinned evilly, grabbing the princess’s other breast and giving it the same treatment with his own hammer.

The constant, cruel, biting pain of this was more than Peach could bear. She screamed and screamed, begging mercy that she knew wouldn’t come, jerking and shuddering, losing control of her body and mind at this onslaught of horrific, impossible pain.

She wasn’t even aware that she was screaming words, but what came out of her mouth sounded like: “NONONONOHELPNOPLEASENONONONOOO…”

After a while of this, Bowser lazily lifted a hand and said, “stop.” He stepped forward, standing in front of the shuddering princess, her tits beginning to turn from red to an ugly bruised purple – it was a testament to the severity of her torture that she was bruising despite Kamek’s spell. He grabbed one of her boobs roughly in his clawed hand, hefting it experimentally, and Peach howled, throwing her head back like a wolf, her golden hair flying. “A fine effort,” Bowser rumbled to his soldiers, a cruel smile twisting his features. “You will be commended.” The Hammer Bros smiled back at him and high-fived each other.

Peach lolled against the straps holding her to the wall. The Hammer Bros unstrapped her as efficiently as they’d bound her to begin with, and she collapsed to the floor, her battered tits once again taking her full weight as she went down. She keened painfully and flopped over on her back, her head lolling, her hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. “I don’t think she can take much more,” one of the Hammer Bros opined, though his voice was mostly amused. Bowser growled as he looked down at the pitiful princess. “Oh, I’ll make her take it, don’t worry. Fetch the Spinies.”

The Hammer Bros hurried out. Peach lay on the floor, her eyes unfocused. Time had lost its meaning – she didn’t know how long she lay there. All she knew was that her tits were screaming, howling with pain, and she could do nothing to alleviate it, and more was to come. She was entirely at Bowser’s mercy. The Hammer Bros brutal treatment made every beat of her pulse feel as if someone was stepping on her poor tits. They throbbed and ached and she sobbed piteously, tears and snot running down the sides of her face.

After a while, she became aware of the returning steps of the Hammer Bros. Her sobs redoubled as she realized that more torture was probably about to come. She was right.

Bowser grabbed her under her arms and lifted her easily to her feet. She moaned shrilly as her battered tits bounced. Through the tears and the pain, she became aware of two red blurs. Her mind screamed with horror as her eyes slowly focused and the meaning of Bowser’s words occurred to her. The Spinies. Fetch the Spinies. The two wickedly spiked Koopas stared at her with their usual menace and Peach sobbed and begged Bowser not to do this as he forced her forward step by step. As she came inexorably closer, the two Spinies turned around to face the door and took up position right next to each other.

“Please, please, no, please,” Peach wailed as Bowser silently forced her down. “Please, don’t—AAAAAAAGH!!” Bowser, with savage strength, forced her poor mammaries down on the Spinies’ shells. The cruel spikes pressed agonizingly into Peach’s soft titflesh, causing her breasts two scream and her mind to go blank except for the utter, utter pain. The angled spikes on the sides of the Spinies’ shells poked wickedly into the flesh on the sides of Peach’s boobs, but most painful of all were the central spikes, which pointed straight up. Peach’s weight pressed her down mercilessly on these half-foot spikes, which speared her poor, tender nipples. She screamed and screamed, crying and gibbering half-words mindlessly, praying for mercy. In her addled mind, Bowser appeared – the one who had the power to liberate her, to save her. She screamed his name again and again, her voice garbled with shattering pain.

Bowser just grinned cruelly and, his voice little more than a growl, commanded the Spinies: “Forward march.” In tandem, the two spiked Koopas began trooping forwards, dragging the helpless princess along by her tortured tits. Bowser followed along behind them at their torturously sedate pace, marvelling quietly at how well Peach screamed, even after a good while of merciless torture.

For Peach, the pain suddenly reached a new level of impossible intensity as the Spinies began moving. She hardly understand what was happening – she only knew that her poor mammaries were not only speared by the Spinies now, but that they were also pulling her weight, causing the brutalized tissue to howl with agony and making the spikes press even harder into them. The Spinies walked slowly through the corridors. Guards stationed throughout the castle leered at the princess and mocked her loudly, but she couldn’t hear them. All she could focus on was the screaming agony of her tits.

And then, Bowser hunkered down behind the sedately marching Spinies and grabbed the princess by the ankles. He held her in place while the Spinies continued forward – as a result, her bruised tits, snagged by the cruel spikes, stretched out even further, and the spines dug into them brutally. Peach’s reaction was immediate – a terrible, ululating wailing issued from her lips and her raw throat, a wounded banshee scream. Tears sprayed down her cheeks. Bowser chuckled deep in his throat, his eyes aglow with cruelty as he watched the struggling, tortured princess struggle and shake her head from side to side.

After a while he let go. He let the princess get dragged along a few feet, babbling and yelping pathetically, before repeating the process again, and again. Every time he’d let the Spinies stretch Peach’s tits out a little farther, their sharp spines hooking her hurt titflesh, and Peach’s wails would grow more and more wounded, more and more deafening and terrible for every time.

At long last, the Spinies had made their leisurely way through a maze-like succession of black corridors, reaching their destination. They stopped at a heavy door, made of wood hardened over the years into the color and resilience of stone. In the door, at eye height, was an iron hatch, closed. Below it, a plaque hung. It said: GREENHOUSE OF PAIN. Bowser smiled toothily, reaching down and gently lifting Peach from the Spinies. The princess gave a sob of relief as the brutal spines finally left her savaged tits, nonetheless tempered by the immense pain that shocked her with every little juddering movement of her pliant boobs.

Slowly, slowly, her head lolling, the princess came to, her eyes slowly focusing on the sign on the door. She read it again and again, trying to make sense of it, but she was distracted by the huge, dull pain in her tits every time her pulse beat, and her poor wounded mind couldn’t make any sense of the words. After a while, when Bowser judged that she was aware enough, he reached over her and pushed the heavy door open. He turned to the Spinies and the Hammer Bros, who had followed to watch the princess’s agony, and dismissed them with a wave. Then he jostled Peach into the room.

Peach moaned and sobbed with every step as her poor tits bobbed, sending shocks of pain through her system. “Please, please, stop this, stop this,” she moaned piteously. She was taken by sudden panic and her voice rose jarringly. “STOP!! PLEASE, PLEASE, STOP!!” And, absurdly: “HELP!! HELP!!” Bowser, a huge presence behind her, laughed hugely and mockingly. “Nobody is here to help you, your royal sluttiness,” he growled into her ear. “And nobody will be coming. Your precious plumbers are dead.”

That shut her up. Peach’s mind reeled, and she was filled by a black chill. It couldn’t be true. She went into denial – it had to be a lie. It had to. She didn’t have much time to reflect on the veracity of Bowser’s statement, however. Bowser quickly jostled her over to a wooden rack by the wall of the room, undid her manacles and strapped her spreadeagled to the hard wooden surface. Then he stepped back, and let her get her bearings.

She looked around the room. It was not very big, for Bowser’s castle – perhaps ten, twelve feet from floor to ceiling, and perfectly cubical. It was very bare, lit by torches spaced around the walls, and apart from the rack, contained only one thing: a large, green pipe in the center of the floor. Bowser, seeing her attention fixed on the pipe, grinned his predator’s grin and rang a bell by the door. Then, hurriedly, he stepped out of the room and shut the door. Peach heard the sound of the iron hatch sliding open and lifted her head tiredly – she could see Bowser’s burning eyes staring at her from the door across the room.

When Bowser rang the bell, at first, nothing happened. Then, as Peach waited fearfully and Bowser watched her, there was a sound from deep in the pipe. Something was rising out of it. Peach realized with a jolt of horror what it was even as the red, white-spotted head rose from the pipe. GREENHOUSE OF PAIN … it was a piranha plant. The carnivorous plant rose slowly, hissing menacingly. It had many stalks, all ending in spotted, toothy heads. The central head was huge; the stalks were a verdant green and covered in wicked thorns. Peach struggled against the bonds, yelling, “NONONONO…” but the bonds held. She was at the thing’s mercy.

She was terrified of more of that crushing, murderous pain, of course… but there was something else, a terrible realization through the fear that only deepened it. Piranha plants weren’t intelligent. How could this thing know that only her tits were impervious to damage? She would be mauled to death by it, eaten alive. Her wild eyes flickered to Bowser, but he was only standing there, calmly watching. He must not have realized the danger.

She was just about to scream out to him, warn him of his mistake, when the piranha plant lunged. It was one of the smaller heads which whipped out, baring its cruel fangs even as it rushed towards her. Her scream of terror became one of terrible pain as the thing’s wicked teeth closed about her left tit. It was a short bite – instead of digging its fangs as deep into her titflesh as it could, the thing only bit down halfway, scraping its sharp teeth horribly along her brutalized boob, ending with the teeth clamped, for an insane, maddening, hellish second, around her nipple.

She hardly had time to draw breath for a second scream before another head was on her. It pounced on her other tit, repeating the scraping motion of its sibling and ending at her other nipple. Peach was in hell, struggling against her bonds, praying for mercy, praying for death, none of them coming, her tits screaming in agony that had no end. As a third of the heads lunged at her, she lost sense of time, lost sense of the individual bites of the small piranha plants, only knew a second or an eternity of horrible anguish.

She became aware, gradually, that she was slumping in the rack, and that the bites had stopped… though not the pain. The pain was still fresh, and her tits screamed from it – looking down at her brutalized mammaries she could see individual stripes, angry red streaks where a piranha plant fang had ripped her impervious tits as best it could. She moaned and shuddered and eventually gathered enough strength to lift her head weakly and look up at the plant.

It seemed to be regarding her eyelessly, stems gently snaking about each other, the central head bearing a wicked grin. As she watched, sick with horror, a huge, pink tongue licked about its white lips and over its cruel fangs. It had waited for her to regain her senses, it seemed, and now it advanced on her. As she writhed, moaning and whining, unable to gather enough strength even to scream, the two biggest heads aside from the huge central head advanced on her. She could not get away. She could not escape. The two heads stopped just an inch from her brutalized tits, which were rising and falling rapidly as she hyperventilated in abject terror.

And then, instead of baring their fangs and biting her tits, they snaked forward, coiling their sinuous stalks around each of her tits. Peach howled as the plants’ hooked thorns dug into her tender, tortured flesh. Soon, the stems had coiled fully around the bases of her tits, the barbs deforming the soft flesh, spearing her titflesh with brutal pricking points. She struggled impotently against the dual bonds of the rack and the snaking plants, howling wordlessly, her eyes rolling back into her head. And then, suddenly, at some unknown signal, the dual stems snaked around her tits began to constrict.

The pain was shattering, incredible. The barbs dug into Peach’s tortured flesh, nearly meeting in the middle as the alien strength of the coiling stems compressed her tits at the base. As she thrashed and bucked, screaming bloody murder, the huge, impassive central head of the piranha plant suddenly made its move. It advanced on her, unseen, and she didn’t become aware of its presence until it clamped down with its huge mouth on both her tits at once.

It was too much. Her voice shut down – it hurt too much to scream. All she could do was wheeze, half-mad with pain, as the massive teeth of the plant savaged her poor titties. She thrashed, shaking her head back and forth, her tousled blonde princess hair whipping. Time stretched out – every second was an eternity – she couldn’t take it anymore – and yet, and yet, impossibly, she was still conscious, still in agony, and it kept escalating. She was in hell.

Until the mad savaging fangs about her breasts disappeared, and the coils of wickedly thorned stem around her tits gradually loosened and snaked away (causing her to jerk spastically and cry out as the barbs dragged across her skin). She hung limply, her eyes eventually focusing on her breasts. They were nearly purple, now, and she felt the blood rushing back into them, sending them prickling with discomfort that was agony in her current state. She moaned piteously, jerking half-heartedly at her bonds, unable to get away, unable to do anything, willing everything to just stop.

She heard the piranha plant descending into the pipe again. There was a moment of silence, and then, the click of the door opening. Dimly, Peach registered that this meant that the torment was about to begin anew.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Peach's Bad Day