the voices

You stare deeply at the Annoying Orange. The urge is irresistible. His soft body his lack of mobility he is THE textbook ideal victim. You do not merely want to violate him you want to violate his very being. You pick up the orange and immediately shove your throbbing member into his tight mouth, only to exit shortly after hit him against the kitchen counter while you make autistic pig-like noises and he yells in agony. You jam your thumbs into his eyes and do what would be considered skull-♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ to humans, though the orange has no skull. By the end of the brutality, he is nothing more than a mass of pulp on the ground and a hollow peel still bearing his trademark face, tightly wrapped around your ballsack. But you can feel the peel squirming. Vibrating. Writhing, even. Hes still alive. You are shot dead by the police, and your death is reported in the news as a meth-addicted homeless man high on datura raping an orange in broad view of a crowd at a supermarket. But it doesnt matter. You had your little orangey. And in the afterlife, you shall violate him for all eternity.