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Four Stories Down	By : anacsadder Category: +S through Z > Super Mario Brothers Views: 2796 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Mario or any of the associated characters, and I make no money from writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Toy
- 2-Cigarettes
- 3-Sabatoge
- 4-Bitch
- 5-Help
- 1
- 2
- 3
Waluigi knew something was wrong when he found Wario waiting for him on the front porch. Wario only waited like that when he was angry. The thin man ran through a mental list of possible reasons as he made the long trek up the front walk. He'd made Wario's lunch before he left, so that couldn't be it. He hadn't forgotten Wario's shopping list. He'd cut the lawn yesterday. He hadn't been out any longer than usual.
"What'cha got there?" Wario asked with a nod toward the shopping bags in Waluigi's hands.
"Just the stuff you told me to-"
Wario snatched the bags away and rifled through both of them aggressively. He glared suspiciously at his cohort as he placed the bags roughly by the front door. "Is there something you want to tell me, Walu?"
Waluigi fidgetted, glancing side to side. He couldn't decide if running was a worthwhile option or not. For small tresspasses, flight meant Wario had time to calm down. For larger offenses, fleeing only gave Wario time to think of punishments to inflict when Waluigi came back. Waluigi always came back eventually. There wasn't really anywhere for him to go in the long run. "I don't think so," he answered quietly. Wario could've been mad about anything. No need to incriminate himself further by confessing the wrong thing.
A thick fist caught Waluigi's upper arm in a bruising grip. It yanked him off the porch and around to the side of the house. Wario pointed up. "Who's window is that?"
"Mine," Waluigi answered.
Wario yanked him to his knees, grabbed the nape of his neck, and forced him to examine the grass at the base of the trelis. "And what are those?"
Waluigi flinched as he stared at the trash inches from his face. How could he have been so careless? "Cigarette butts," he answered in a shaky voice.
"Now why," Wario growled, "are there cigarette butts under your window?"
"They must be old-"
"Don't give me your shit, Waluigi! You're a lot dumber than you think you are!"
"I only smoke 'cause you're stressing me out all the time!" The word 'stress' was the understatement of the year, but he was afraid to say anything else. Even after the words he did choose left his mouth, he knew he shouldn't have said them.
"Stress? Poor little Waluigi can't stand the <i>stress</i> of hanging around my house like a useless leech while I go out and do all the hard work? Unless you've battled your way across half a dozen worlds to save some stupid queen and didn't even get to keep the treasure, you don't get to tell me about stress!"
The hand was all the way around his throat now, tightening slowly. "You're right," Waluigi wheezed. "I'm sorry."
Wario snorted and pulled Waluigi into a kneeling posistion. "I hate repeating myself every time you try to get smart. Come on." He gave the man's arm a jerk to get him crawling back toward the front door. "We're gonna make sure this is the last time I have to tell you."
"But I won't smoke anymore," Waluigi stammered as he tried to keep up. He was used to crawling up stairs, but that didn't make it much easier. "I promise."
"You're a goddam liar," Wario snapped. He brought his cohort all the way up to Waluigi's room and slammed open the door. Then he pointed at an empty corner. "Park your butt there and don't move."
Waluigi crawled into the corner, sat down, and hugged his legs to his chest. He never liked it when Wario invaded his room. It was supposed to be his safe place. Wario went to the closet first. He found the three cigarettes in the shoe quickly. Waluigi's stomach tightened.
Wario held them up. "Are there more?"
Waluigi stayed quiet. Wario couldn't find all of them, could he? The shoe was only there for convenience. The others he'd hidden were a bit harder to reach.
"You're gonna make me waste my evening playing your stupid games, huh? Fine. I got time." The stocky troll proceeded to tear the room apart. He rifled through Waluigi's clothing, casting each article to the floor when he finished. All he found were some coins. He pocketed them. The bed was stripped, the mattress flipped, and the pillow ripped open. He yanked the drawer out of the night stand and dumped it on the floor. Then he checked the hole where the drawer once resided. Hiding spot number two compromised. Three more cigarettes confiscated.
Wario paused in the middle of the mess and put his hands on his hips. The bathroom was next. Waluigi held his breath when Wario yanked open the medicine cabinet, but the man only paid the contents enough mind to check the box of laxatives for hidden contraband. Then he dropped it in the sink and moved on to checking around the toilet.
Nothing behind it. He lifted the lid off the tank. Waluigi swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched Wario's back. Nothing in the tank. Wario started to put the lid back. Waluigi almost had time for his mental sigh of relief before Wario stopped and checked the underside of the lid. Half a pack of cigarettes, wrapped tightly in a plastic bag and ductaped to the white porcelain. Waluigi pressed his forehead against his knees. He felt sick.
"Is this it?" Wario demanded.
Waluigi didn't move. Nothing he said or did could matter at this point. Wario was going to smack him around whether he volunteered the information or not. He heard the sound of porcelain shattering on tile, but he kept his head down until Wario grabbed his arm again.
The troll dragged him away from the wall and pushed him onto his back. The purple hat dislodge itself from Waluigi's head. Wario grabbed it, shook it, and then tossed it over his shoulder. Waluigi tried to sit up, but Wario was on him. Sweaty hands groped roughly at the scrawny torso. Wario on top of him. Wario on top of him meant bad things. Waluigi panicked. He struggled, trying to push the flabby bulk off of him. The back of a meaty fist connected with the side of his head and the next few seconds were a dizzy, throbbing blur.
His arms were wrenched up over his head. His vision went purple. Breathing was difficult.
Waluigi managed to roll over and distangle himself from his shirt. As soon as his vision cleared, he pushed himself up on his arms and looked for the door. Before he could make a break for it an elbow slammed into his back. He collapsed on his stomach.
"Stay down or I'll make you stay down," Wario growled.
His chest scraped across the floorboards as Wario jerked the form-fitting overalls down the long legs. "You don't have to do this," Waluigi protested.
"You're making me do this, beanpole." The article of clothing got stuck on the orange shoes. Wario yanked until everything came off together. "You think I like strip-searching you?" He shook the shoes upside down, turned the pockets inside out, and then tossed it all in the general direction of the hat.
"Maybe," Waluigi muttered.
Wario kicked him. "Shut up." He finished stripping off Waluigi's underwear and then moved to stand over his back again. "Get on your knees."
Waluigi squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't have-"
Wario kicked him again, in the ribs this time. "Get on your fucking knees!"
He studied the floor intently as he slowly lifted himself into a kneeling position. Rage, embarrassment, and fear chased circles in his gut, churning his stomach. A hand at the back of his neck forced him onto all fours. He choked back an involuntary whimper when he heard Wario spit. "You're not gonna find anything, I swear!"
"I think you'll understand if I don't take your word for it." Wario shoved two thick fingers into his cohort's asshole--a heartless stab straight to the last knuckle.
The thin body spasmed once and then squirmed. "No!"
"You protest a lot for someone with nothing to hide." Wario pulled his fingers out just enough to spit again and add a third. They went in slower, but only because three created more resistance than two.
"You can't do this... Please, you can't!"
"Aw, are my fingers too thick for your preteen-bitch ass?" He got his other hand under Waluigi's throat and pulled him up where he could whisper in one of the scrawny man's pointed ears. "That's a problem, because I'm thinking they're too short. I'm thinking I'm gonna need to get my whole hand up in there. Have a good feel around to make sure you're not screwing with me."
"Please, don't..."
"Well what do you think we should do about this, huh?"
Waluigi gulped as best he could through the grip Wario had around his neck. "The kart trophy..."
"What about it?" Wario followed Waluigi's gaze to a shelf that only the taller of the two doppelgangers could reach. The trophy was bronze with a green, glass turtleshell. Waluigi cherished that ugly thing.
"The- the base unscrews... It's hollow..." There was an edge of a sob to his voice, but he wheezed deep breaths to keep it at bay.
"And that's where the rest of your cigarettes are?"
"Yes! And my lighter! If- if you let me go I'll get it down... Please..."
"I don't think so. You stay right here and keep your hands where I can see 'em. I'll get it."
As soon as he was allowed, Waluigi sat back on his heels. His palms remained flat on the floor and his wary eyes tracked Wario's movements around the room. The fat man grabbed the nightstand and dragged it over to the shelf. "Please be careful," Waluigi whispered. "The base-"
"I didn't ask you," Wario snapped as he climbed on top of the furniture. He jumped and gripped the edge of the shelf with one hand. Then he pulled himself up just enough to snag the trophy in his other fist. The nightstand shuttered under the impact of his landing, but it managed to stay intact and upright. The fat man shook the prize next to his ear as he hopped down. Sure enough, something inside rattled. He smirked sideways at the naked man on the floor.
Waluigi's eyes widened in helpless, horrified anger as Wario gripped the trophy like a hammer and raised it over his head. Waluigi shook his head slowly, afraid to protest lest he make things worse.
Wario laughed and lowered the trophy to chest level. "I'm not gonna break your piece of shit trophy." He unscrewed the bottom and shook the glass shell until the contents fell out--four more cigarettes and a cheap disposable lighter. "I know you like to think I'm just an asshole, but I'm doing this to help you." He tossed the two pieces of trophy lightly onto the mattress and returned to stand infront of Waluigi.
Waluigi eyed the yellow grin like a frightened dog waiting to be kicked. "I- I won't do it anymore. I mean it. I do."
Wario made a dismissive gesture with his empty hand. "Of course you mean it, but I don't believe for one second that you won't do it again." A muscular arm slung itself around the thin neck.
Waluigi's shoulders tensed. He was still naked. But he didn't resist. Nor did he speak.
"I don't blame you or anything," Wario explained. "You're addicted. And it's hard. I get that. It's okay. Like I said, I'm going to help you this time." He held up one of the cigarettes. "You've got all kinds of positive associations with these things, right? You think they make you feel good. We are going to reprogram that."
Angular grey eyes regarded beady blue ones nervously. What was he going to do?
The limb resting around Waluigi's shoulders brought a cigarette to his mouth. "Open."
"W-"
Wario forced the filter between the thin lips without waiting for cooperation. He struck the lighter and brought the flame to the end of the paper stick.
Waluigi wasn't sure exactly what to make of Wario's intentions. He took a quick sip of air to light it, though. Wario took the lit cylinder from him and grabbed a boney elbow. Waluigi realized what was going to happen just before Wario jabbed the ashy embers into the senstive flesh at the back of his upper arm. He jerked his face away and bit his free arm to stifle his groan.
When it snuffed out, Wario grabbed Waluigi's jaw and forced him to face front again. "Light it," he commanded in a flat voice.
Waluigi shook his head. "Wario..."
"We are going to get through all sixteen of these if it takes all night. Light it."
"I can't smoke six-"
Wario drove a knee into Waluigi's gut. "Next one's gonna be your balls. Light. It."
It was harder this time. The blow to the stomach had knocked the wind out of him, but he managed to obey Wario's command.
By the time Wario discarded the second butt he'd developed a more efficient technique of lightly dragging the smoldering sticks across Waluigi's skin. Waluigi would feel two or three stings before Wario's fingers pressed across his mouth and forced him to inhale from the smoke again. It didn't take long to lose count of the butts littering the floor. When Wario finally moved away from him, Waluigi couldn't decide what hurt worse; the backs of his arms, his head, or his chest.
Wario grabbed the pointed chin and asserted eye contact. “Things are gonna be different around here. You don't get to leave the house with money anymore, for one, unless I say so. When you come back from shopping, I wanna see the receipt and count the change. I'm also gonna conduct random searches of you and your room.”
Waluigi shuddered.
“Don't be like that. If I don't find anything, you don't have anything to worry about, right?”
He didn't answer. There wasn't anything to say. How could the guy that thought it was okay to use him as a sex toy ever understand how not-okay random strip and cavity searches were? If that was what Wario wanted, that was the way it was going to be. No point in arguing over the money in Wario's pocket, either.
“We'll kick this habit. You'll see.” Wario put his hands on his hips and glanced around the room. “I'm gonna let you have some time to clean up this mess, but if dinner's late you're still in trouble.”
Waluigi didn't watch him leave. He craddled his head in his hands and waited for the ache to subside. He couldn't find the will to do anything about the mess. It wasn't his space. Not right now. Wario was a lazy fuck, though, and Waluigi doubted the rules about counting change and random searches would last for more than a couple months.
He tried to dress himself. His shirt irritated the burns dotting the backs of his arms. The idea of forgoing a shirt crossed his mind, but the idea of displaying the damage Wario had done to him over the years was intollerable. In the end he decided any scrap of dignity that he could salvage from this day was worth a little discomfort.
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