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Fixed versus Broken	By : anacsadder Category: +S through Z > Super Mario Brothers Views: 3978 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Mario franchise and I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter List
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A/N: One of the things I like about not being totally attached to this story is that I feel like it gives me free reign to make Wario as gross as I feel like he should be. Fair warning, this chapter has some maybe (?) weird food fetish stuff in it. If you just wanna hit the psychological/character development points, maybe just skim the three fifths in the middle.
On the evening of the fourteenth day, Wario entered the room carrying a rope. Waluigi swallowed hard and shifted into position to get his shot.
“Last one,” Wario said as he pushed the plunger.
The rope caressed the slender neck from behind. Waluigi stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you cooperate.” He tied it into a makeshift leash.
“I always cooperate,” Waluigi said as Wario urged him to his feet.
“Yeah, we'll see,” Wario said. “Come on.”
He opened the door into the hall. Waluigi glanced nervously from side to side. Maybe Wario was taking him to his room? He didn't like the idea of getting into Wario's bed. At least Wario wasn't getting into his bed. However, Wario continued down to the first floor and led him into the kitchen. He tied the loose end of the leash to a chair and sat at the table.
“I'm thinking garlic bread, mashed potatoes, and a nice steak,” Wario said.
So he wanted him to make dinner first. Of course. He'd probably been living on take-out for two weeks. Waluigi nodded and went about the kitchen collecting everything he needed. Dragging the chair around encumbered his movement. He imagined that was the point. Wario still thought he might run. Like he would make a break for the yard looking like this, with nothing to cover him. Of course, he didn't know exactly what he looked like. The distorted glimpse he caught when he picked up the metal pot was the closest he'd come to really looking at himself since the second night. He glanced away quickly.
Wario watched him intently the whole time. Waluigi avoided looking at him, as well. He tried not to think about Wario's cock. He tried not to think about the fingers inside him. He focused on cooking the food, and plated it, and brought it to the table.
“I'd be annoyed by how long it took if watching you wasn't so much fun now,” Wario teased. “Get me some butter.”
Waluigi dragged the chair to the fridge, got a stick of butter, and dragged it back to the table. Wario plopped a large square into the center of his potatoes and started chowing down noisily. The taller doppelganger stood by uncomfortably, fidgeting. After a bit, he moved to sit in the chair that anchored him. Wario considered him.
“Face me,” he said around a mouthful of steak.
Waluigi stood, rotated the chair, and sat down again.
Wario swallowed and gestured with his knife. “Kneel on the seat and bend over the back.”
Waluigi hesitated, half-confused, half-concerned.
“What happened to always cooperating?” Wario asked sarcastically.
The thin man turned around and got on his knees. Bent over with both of his holes presented to Wario, his heart beat faster. He felt sick. There was a pause, and then something cool and slippery pressed between his lower-lips.
“Be still,” Wario warned when Waluigi cast a startled look over his shoulder. “Just buttering you up for later.”
Waluigi suddenly recognized the solid, gooey substance. A grubby finger shoved the stick of butter deeper and deeper, until Waluigi felt his entrance close around it. He bit his lip and squirmed after the digit withdrew.
“Keep it in there,” Wario said. “I want it all wet and warm when I fuck you.”
He waited, listening to the clink and scrape of silverware. The butter melted quickly. He felt a drop or two escape down his thigh before he covered the hole with his fingers. When Wario finally finished eating, Waluigi heard the familiar sounds of clothing being discarded. Wario untied the rope from the chair and wrapped it around his fist.
“On your back. On the floor,” he commanded eagerly.
The lustful gleam in his eyes only made Waluigi feel sicker. He laid himself out on the cold tile. Wario loomed over him. The harsh glare of the kitchen lights lit up every scar and bruise on Waluigi's skin. He hated feeling so vulnerable. Wario grabbed his knees and pushed them apart and up. He settled in between the long legs and the hand with the rope grabbed the back of Waluigi's head.
“Move your hand,” Wario breathed.
The delicate hand slid reluctantly away from his crotch and took up a place on the floor by his hip. It twitched and shook. It balled into a fist when the tip of the other man's erection passed through his feminine gates. Waluigi's chest heaved as he tried not to panic. Wario held eye contact as he jabbed forward, and suddenly the whole thing was inside. Waluigi's face contorted unhappily, but he forced his eyes to stay open.
“Good girl,” Wario purred as his weight settled on top of the smaller body. “Good girl.”
Melted butter oozed down Waluigi's ass and puddled on the floor. Waluigi tried not to cry. He might get in trouble for crying. But Wario was so heavy, and close, and breathing in his face, and the inward force of each thrust hurt something inside of him. When Wario finally turned his attention from Waluigi's face to watch his chest bounce and jiggle instead, a few tears managed to escape. He hid behind his hands. The hand in his hair moved to grab both of his wrists and pinned them above his head.
“I wanna see you,” Wario hissed. “I love the face of a virgin taking her first dick.”
Waluigi cringed. At one point, Wario released his wrists, hooked his elbows under Waluigi's knees, and pinned Waluigi's hands on either side of his head. He threw all of his weight into really driving his thrusts home, until the lubricant started to go a little sticky. He propped himself up on his arms and studied the pale, whimpering figure underneath him. Waluigi sobbed breathlessly, trying to find his wind after being so compressed for so long.
Beady eyes wandered the kitchen. “Crawl with me.” Wario stood up and tugged on the leash.
Waluigi rolled awkwardly onto all fours and followed him to the fridge. The pain in his abdomen didn't fade in the absence of the pounding. Even if he hadn't been shaking all over, he didn't think he could stand or walk if he wanted to. Caught up in his thoughts, he didn't pay much attention to what Wario was doing. On a deeper level, he didn't want to. On a deeper level, he was barely keeping his conscious mind from collapsing in on itself.
There were some noises. Doors. Drawers. Wario passed the rope between Waluigi's thighs and yanked so that his chest was on the ground and his ass was in the air. He knelt between the splayed calves and pinned them with his shins. Then Waluigi felt a similar gooiness, but much much colder. His hips tried to jerk away from the cold, but the position left him very little forward or backward wiggle room.
Wario worked the ball of ice cream between the labia and pushed it against the hole with the palm of his hand. Some went in. A lot squished out the sides and fell on the floor. “Spread your pussy,” he ordered.
“It's too cold,” Waluigi moaned. A smack across the hind quarters lit up his skin with a vibrant, contrasting heat. Ultimately deciding that being violated with ice cream was better than being beaten and violated with ice cream, Waluigi complied with shivering hands. The butter had melted. This would melt, too, and it wouldn't leave bruises for a week. This time, Wario shoved the ball in with the scoop and used a finger to work the frozen treat loose. A second scoop shoved the first one deeper still. “Wario, please, it's too cold!”
“I know it's cold,” Wario grinned. “It'll keep me from finishing too quickly. I'm not done playing with you yet.” He gripped the slim hips and penetrated him again.
On and on it went. Waluigi was exhausted, physically and mentally. The melting ice cream made him sticky. The stickiness made the thick, fleshy intrusion grate uncomfortably on his sensitive inner parts. Wario jammed more of the frigid stuff in and kept going.
Finally there came a point where Wario withdrew and Waluigi didn't immediately feel the chill of the ice cream scoop. The fridge door opened. The microwave buttons beeped. Waluigi tucked his chin to his chest and wrapped his arms around his head. When would it be over? He just wanted it to be over.
Wario flipped Waluigi onto his back again. He opened a bottle of chocolate syrup and upended it over Waluigi's breast. The hot liquid hit the peak and drizzled down the sides. Waluigi winced. It probably wouldn't leave any lasting marks, but it wasn't comfortable. His other breast received the same treatment. Then the bottle traced a single trail from between the hills, down his stomach, to his pelvis. Waluigi realized where it was going before Wario shoved the nozzle into him and squeezed. He felt his inner cavity fill to its limit, and then overflow.
“Like two scoops of vanilla,” Wario teased as he grabbed the thin thighs and speared Waluigi one more time. His mouth and tongue sucked and slobbered the dark, viscous treat from the body under him as his hips bounced up and down. He pushed himself up and watched the sticky mess squirm and whimper and wince. He hammered the abused orifice, grunting and growling and sweating until he ejaculated.
Waluigi never thought he'd be glad to hear those sounds. He sobbed a little in relief and tried to get his shuddering body under control. The thick coating of sweat, sugar, and grease had glued him to the floor.
“Look at this mess you made,” Wario chastised.
Waluigi pushed himself up on his elbows and found the troll sitting with his back against the wall and his legs splayed. His upper thighs and crotch were as gummy as Waluigi's torso and pelvis. His stomach churned. He knew what was coming before Wario gave his next command.
“Clean it up, like a good girl.”
Waluigi crawled over.
“Thighs first, then balls. Save my cock for last.”
Why did he have to be so fucking hairy? As Waluigi started licking, he realized he would probably never be able to eat ice cream again. At Wario's behest, he sucked one ball, then the other, and then did his best to fit both in his mouth while Wario laughed at his stretched lips and puffed cheeks. His face was smeared with chocolate and spit by the time he finally got the simple part. Sucking Wario's cock was an old, easy trick.
“That's right. Make sure you get under the turtle neck,” Wario teased.
His ability to take disgusting situations and compound the grossness was a marvel. The long tongue found its way under the foreskin and work around while Waluigi tried not to retch. At long last, Wario tugged the rope on his neck to indicate that he could stop.
“Good girl,” he praised with a wide grin. There was chocolate in his teeth.“Very good girl.”
Waluigi sat back on his heels and said nothing. Good girl. Yeah. Be a good girl. The best, most obedient girl he could be. The reaction seemed to please Wario.
“After you clean up the rest of this mess, you can go to bed. We're going to start you back on your normal routine tomorrow morning.”
Waluigi nodded and pushed himself to his feet. Something deep between his legs hurt. A lot. He didn't know if it was possible to bruise in his inner parts, but he hoped it wouldn't last too long. He started toward the kitchen door, but Wario grabbed his arm.
“Where do you think you're going?”
Waluigi's voice came out very small. “I just... clean up first...”
“Don't go tracking that mess through my house, dip shit. There's a hose on the back porch.” As he watched Waluigi head out the screen door, he grumbled, “Dumb fuck never thinks...”
Waluigi pretended not to hear him. His knees buckled when he reached the spigot, so he stayed there as he turned on the water. He rinsed out his mouth first, letting the icy, coppery water run down his chin and neck. Then he turned the stream on his chest with one hand while the other carefully scrubbed each breast. His nipples hardened and goosebumps rippled across his skin. His teeth were chattering by the time he reached his thighs and pelvis. Numb fingers scrubbed between his labia as he worked up the courage for the thing he had to do next. Closing his eyes, he inserted the metal tip of the hose into his—what, his vagina? There was a brief shock of discomfort as the frigid water filled him and splashed out, but he forced himself to keep the hose there until the stark illumination of the security lights showed that the water ran clear.
Normal routine. How normal would the routine be now that Wario actually wanted to fuck him? He didn't know Wario's reload time. It couldn't be more than once a day. He tried to remember his own reload time, for reference. He hadn't even masturbated since Wario started raping him... two years ago? And with a breathtaking crash, the wave of realization that he never would again crushed him, and then his eyes felt warm, and then his face, and his jaw shook but not from the cold. The intensity and suddenness of these feelings paralyzed him. He might've sat out there until hypothermia claimed him if the irritated pounding on the window overhead hadn't shaken him out of it.
Wario glared and made a 'get back inside' gesture.
And Waluigi obeyed. Again. Like a good girl.
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