Bible 2: The Sequel to the Bible
“You ever think about how your last breath will go?”
DeStevenson Jackson popped the question to his partner after several hours of silence. The partner in question, LeJackson Stevenson.
“What you mean? Like how am I gonna die?”
The two were holed up in a lookout post located deep in the Rocky Mountains. They were the first line of defence for the Bisney Empire.
Many moons ago, foreseeing the oncoming tidal wave of vore, Bisney executives had purchased the state of Colorado from the United States government. Needing a place to move all of their workers and make sure they couldn’t escape, Bisney executives had decided on the remote and easily defensible location of the Rockies.
Deeper into the mountain range, thousands of animators were currently working on creating the source material for the next live action blockbuster. That main animation compound was housed within the hollowed out mountains and surrounded by a much larger military complex.
DeStevenson and LeJackson were stationed right on the edge of Bisney territory, armed with a sniped each and binoculars. They were to report anyone who approached back to HQ and had orders to shoot on site.
“Not exactly.” DeStevenson said. “Think about it this way, how do we breathe?”
“By contracting the diaphragm.”
“Not in that sense, I’m talking about the form.”
LeJackson wondered if DeStevenson had been sniffing on the shift again but he didn’t bring it up, lest they have a repeat of the incident.
“Yeah, it’s like, what does a breath consist of? We breathe in and we breathe out but are they distinct forms of breath or two halves of a full breath?”
“I- I don’t know…” LeJackson said, stunned.
“I don’t suppose it matters for my query. We inhale, we exhale, sealing and then releasing lungful after lungful of air. We come into this world breathing, and before we die we’ll breathe one last time. But will it be in or will it be out? Will I die with a lungful of air or will I do so reaching for the next one?”
LeJackson could tell that DeStevenson had been having those dreams again. They had been locked in this outpost together for years, their only other human interaction coming when other Bisney employees delivered them their monthly supplies.
Mortality was always on the mind when you worked for Bisney. Whether that be your own unavoidable fate or the impermanence of something more abstract.
“I don’t know man, and I’ll never know. At the moment of death, I won’t have time to register whether or not I was breathing in or breathing out. But what I do know, is that I’m breathing now, that’s all that’s relevant.”
DeStevenson felt all the tension in his body disappear when this was said. LeJackson was right after all, he was over thinking this. He realized he had, in fact, been holding his breath this entire time.
All of his worries washing away in words and white powder, he exhaled loudly. Then he ceased to exist, LeJackson went likewise.
While the two had been having their little discussion on breathing, they had failed to notice Vorelando sprinting directly at them. He had run directly through their outpost with his mouth open, voring it in the process.
He had been sprinting in a straight line from Atlana for he last 3 days straight, voring everything in his path. The two lookouts had simply been on that path, an unfortunate consequence of working for the company. Somewhat of an occupational hazard.
Back up at Bisney tower, Lyle Kafferty, head of security, was alerted to the deaths of the two guards at the foot of the nearby mountain. Every Bisney employee was required to have a heartrate transmitter fitted in their bodies so that Bisney could monitor whether or not their staff were being lazy or just being dead.
When he got two alerts at the same time, and after confirming it wasn’t the start of another spree killing, he dropped everything he was working on and marched straight to the CEO’s office.
Trying to walk directly into the office, the CEO’s secretary put her body in the way to block him.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going Lyle?”
“I need you to schedule a meeting for me and the CEO right now.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, he’s in another meeting right now.”
“This is urgent Karen.”
“Not as urgent as the current one.”
“We’ll see about that.”
As he said that, he roundhouse kicked Karen out of the way and opened the door to the CEO’s office.
Inside, the CEO of Bisney was shaking hands with another bald, suited man.
“Lyle, what is the meaning of this?!”
“I’m sorry CEO sir, this can’t wait.”
“It better not be able to, you’re lucky I was just finishing up my meeting with the CEO of racism. If that wasn’t the case I’d have you killed on the spot.”
“I’ll see myself out.” Said the CEO of Racism before gliding out on his heelies.
“So Lyle, fucking spill it before I spill you. And make it quick, I’m meant to be dropping some orphans into vats of acid at 12.” Said the CEO of Bisney, who I must stress is not the same person as the CEO of Racism who wore heelies. The CEO of Bisney did not wear heelies, they were not the same.
Lyle placed his tablet on the CEO’s desk and brought up some video footage of the outpost being destroyed.
“Moments ago, lookout outpost delta niner Cinderella word count was completely obliterated.” Lyle said.
He used his long, dexterous fingers to enhance the image, zooming in on Vorelando’s face.
“This is the man that destroyed it, and he’s on a collision course with us.”
“Who is this, why isn’t he wearing a shirt?” The CEO of Bisney asked.
“This is Vorelando Jones, sir. He’s not wearing a shirt because he’s absolutely drippin’. An aspiring vorer out of Voregia state, he’s been in the news recently for his comments about feet and unprovoked vorings of several women. But most concerningly, we have reason to believe he is the ‘Subject V’ referred to in that special Oceania report we recently obtained from the FBI.”
When Bisney shareholders had seen that income projections had suddenly dropped fractionally without explanation, they had done everything in their power to find out what was going on. A few raids on FBI offices later, they had found their answer.
According to the files, an unnamed country near Australia had been vored out of existence by a person referred to as ‘Subject V’. So thoroughly had Subject V vored this nation, that the report wasn’t even able to provide a name for it, referring to it only as ‘the country assumed to have formerly existed.
The prospect of losing markets terrified Bisney but now this renegade foot fetishist was heading for them.
He pressed a button on the intercom and spoke to his secretary.
“Karen, cancel the orphan tossing at 12 and then clear my schedule. Something more important just came up.”
Down with the rank and file, word about Vorelando’s imminent arrival was beginning to filter through. The rumors about him were spreading like an unaddressed wildfire.
One particularly rampant tall tale concerned the length of his schlong. The debate amongst the soldiers was whether he measured in at twenty five inches or fifty two inches. All of them felt emasculated by the mere thought of him.
One of the men right at the front lines was a man called Begginby Madcon. Begginby was the child of two senior Bisney animators but it became apparent in his youth that he wasn’t cut out to succeed them, on account of him being a complete fucking moron.
Those who did not create Bisney protected those who did, that was he rule for people like Begginby. He threw himself into his training. Bisney ‘worker’ village forty seven was all he had ever known. It was here that his dreams of drawing the freshest doujins were born and crushed. It was here he had found his first love and hoped to find his next. It was here he had first eaten bread.
He didn’t care about some hotshot vorer with a vendetta against a megacorporation. He didn’t know alternatives to capitalism and he didn’t care to. He’d kill Vorelando if he came close enough to the defensive barrier that he could see him.
“Come at me, Vorelando Jones. The market will decide your fate.” Begginby said.
“Market decided, it said suck my dick.”
Begginby’s eyes didn’t even have time to go wide before he was swallowed whole by Vorelando. The crown prince of Vore had breached their defenses, and no one had even seen him do it.
The commander screamed on his megaphone and every single soldier in the compound trained their sights on Vorelando. They sprayed him up and down, all around. They shot through walls, cars and even their fellow soldiers. Some of them just shot blindly.
But it was futile. Vorelando began sucking up all the bullets headed towards him and held them in his mouth like a squirrel. He kept doing it until every single bullet in the compound had been shot at him.
The small, now unequipped arm stared at him. No one dared speak as they waited for him to move. He held all of their lives in his mouth. And he started spittin’.
The bullets that he had sucked up started getting shot out of his mouth like a machine gun.
“Do do do!”
Vorelando disliked that his mouth bullets didn’t give off the same noise as a regular conceal carry sub machine gun so he started adding some of his own.
“Braap!” He said.
“Skeet!” He overenunciated.
“Pew pew pew.” He lasered.
When all was said and done, not a single person other than Vorelando was left alive in Bisney ‘worker’ village forty seven. There existed no words in the English language to describe the carnage. The closest one could get was to audibly pronounce the joy emoji.
Vorelando justified it to himself with the notion that these people had lived their entire lives within the Bisney system. They were complicit, they had lived in a society and failed to reject it.
He looked up and saw the helicopters over head. He screamed up his message towards them.
“I know you’re hiding him in there, and I will find him!”
Back up at Bisney HQ, the CEO of Bisney started sweating buckets. He was watching the scenes unfolding live from the Bisney Bunker, and he knew exactly what Vorelando meant.
“What’s he talking about?” Lyle asked him.
“CEO, if there’s something about this company you haven’t disclosed to me, you need to tell me right now. I can’t protect what I don’t know, who are we hiding?”
Deciding he had no other choice, the CEO of Bisney squeezed his balls firmly, reveling a hatch to a hidden room underneath the Bisney Bunker.
“What I’m about to show you is way above your clearance level.”
The two of them climed the ladder down hundreds of feet to an ice cold room. When Lyle finally got off the ladder, he came face to face with the visage of a god.
“My god, Malt Bisney in the flesh…”
Of course he recognised Malt Bisney, founder of Malt Bisney Studios and not known for anything else, certainly nothing bad.
By the looks of things, Malt was being cryogenically preserved by some kind of advanced Bisney technology.
An obvious question came to Lyle’s mind.
“We unfreeze him every few decades when we’re losing our grip on culture. He always has the solutions we need to reassert control. So ahead of his time, that he’s ahead of time ahead of him.” Said the CEO of Bisney.
“So that’s how we’ve been able to dictate the zeitgeist for over a hundred years, it was all thanks to the supernatural powers of Malt Bisney. So Vorelando wants to get to Malt but why? That report we ‘borrowed’ said that his conceptual vore abilities only work as part of his signature reverse vore and, as far as I know, Mr. Bisney’s powers are exploitation based, not vore based.” Said Lyle.
“You’re right Lyle but it sounds like that mad man has a plan, and if he does manage to vore the concept of Bisney, everything is over. For all of us.”
Vorelando scaled the face of the mountains, using his hands as pickaxes. He had vored 30 villages worth of soldiers already and he didn’t feel like he was getting any closer to his target. The Bisney compound was so massive, it was like trying to find a needle in a bigoted haystack.
Vorelando heard the voice of Benedict Eggmond calling out his name. He must’ve been going delirious he thought. He hadn’t had a box of Father Francis’ Fuckoff Fries I days, and it was getting to him.
“VORELANDO JONES, HEAR ME.”
“What do you want from me Eggmond, I’m busy.”
“VORELANDO JONES, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO THE PEOPLE OF BISNEY?”
“Because they deserve it Benedict.”
“WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO DESERVE YOUR WRATH? THEY ARE BUT IGNORANT SERVANTS OF THE BEAST, NOT THE BEAST ITSELF. YOU ARE PUNISHING MANY A PERSON FOR THE CRIMES OF BUT A FEW.”
Vorelando reached the top of the mountain he was climbing and peered over the edge. The snowstorm made it difficult to see anything but he thought he could see the outline of Bisney Tower to the north. He started sliding down the mountain on his washboard ass.
“You can’t get rid of the wasps nest without burning a few wasps in the process. It might be the queen who reaps the rewards but the workers are all complicit in that profit.”
“THIS IS NOT THE WAY OF THE FALCON, VORELANDO JONES! YOU MUST RECONSIDER!”
“You can see what they’ve done Benedict! In your life time, only one film was released! The same film your father surely paid to see dozens of times when he was a kid! They have eliminated the very concept of alternatives through the powers afforded to them by the belief in money! Do you remember the genre of horror? Neither do I, I read about it in an online encyclopaedia. Did you know encyclopaedias used to come physically?!”
“VORELANDO JONES, I UNDERSTAND YOU ARE ANGRY BUT THIS IS NOT THE WAY.”
“This is the only way. I’m doing what has to be done. I’m reclaiming culture.”
“THEN YOU SHALL DO SO WITHOUT ME.”
As Vorelando continued to slide down the mountain, he felt Benedict’s presence disappear from his mind. He shed a frozen tear.
He was doing what he had to do, but that didn’t make it hurt any less to lose a friend.
“Keep working, worms!”
In the middle of Bisney studios, a soldier whipped an animation lead to make an example. This particular animation lead had tried to escape when she had heard the news of Vorelando’s impending arrival.
The animators weren’t made aware of this until the soldiers had rolled into their workspace. The film they were working on was nearly complete, and Bisney wanted to get all of the keyframes down before Vorelando ate their employees.
Dadrian Balen was one such animator being held at gunpoint. He had moved to Bisney from Voreway on a working visa, hoping to get some of that Bisney clunge he had heard so much about. But when he arrived they had stripped him of all his belongings and cuffed him to a workstation.
His hands were cramping like hell and he was pretty sure he had appendicitis. For the last week straight he had worked with no sleep. His job was to take the keyframes from other artists and add in the studio mandated phallic imagery.
It was a tough job. He needed to make it subtle enough that the public woudn’t catch wind of it, but arousing enough that the executives could jerk off to it.
After finishing up making an anthropomorphic plane look sufficiently penetrative, he dropped his pen as his hand seized up.
“Hey! Get back to work!” a soldier beside him screamed as he pointed a gun at his head.
“No, please, my hand is cramping! I literally can’t pick up the pen!” Balen cried.
“Why should I care, bozo?”
“The next thing I have to work on are the scenes from that kids movie set in Hawaii we’re working on. If I work while my hand is cramping, I may not be able to make the palm trees look sufficiently cock like!”
The soldier narrowed his eyes and then dropped his gun.
“You have two minutes! If I don’t see cocks with leaves after that, there will be a bullet in your brain.”
Balen breathed a huge sigh of relieve. For the first time in months, he had some time to think for himself. Briefly, he thought about whether or not he should just not pick up the pen again, and let the soldier shoot him. It might be better than continuing to endure this hell.
But he thought better of himself. It wasn’t that he was afraid to die, no, he wanted to die. But he had a stronger desire, the desire that pushed him to move to Bisney in the first place.
Sure the conditions weren’t ideal, but he had his dream job. He aspired to do nothing other than make illustrations more phallic in nature.
Looking at his tablet, he saw he still had twenty five or so seconds left of his break.
He turned to the person working beside him.
Dalen had never felt better.
Right, back to doing what I love! He thought to himself.
He loaded up the frames he had received from management. The palm trees were… less than impressive.
Some good form to the shaft, but it’s really not the full package.
Picking up the pen in his trembling hand, he crudely drew two beach balls resting at the palm trees base.
And that was the last thing he ever did. Vorelando Jones came crashing through the ceiling and crushed him like a hydraulic press.
Instantly, all guns in the room were trained on Vorelando.
“This is the private property of Malt Bisney Animation Studios! You are trespassing and we have the legal right to shoot!”
Despite saying this, all the soldiers had seen the footage from throughout the day, they knew what that man could do.
“Animation studio eh? Then why don’t you animate yourself some bitches?”
This angered the soldiers, every single one of whom just happened to be a virgin, and they opened fire.
Vorelando employed the techniques he had picked up from his time with Ballendistro and danced his way around the bullets. His technique was flawless, not so much as a single bullet even grazed him during the ten minutes he salsa’d all over the corpses of animators.
By the time he was done, every person in the room was dead except for him. He was positively gaming.
Vorelando knew that the animation studios were connected to Bisney tower through the ventilation systems. He knew it would be a tight fit with his voluptuous ass, but he’d make it work.
He leapt up to the ceiling, ripped a cover off the vents and squeezed on in.
“Someone give me an update on that bastard’s position right now!”
“We’ve lost visual, he’s in the vents!”
“With that ass? How????”
“I don’t know, he must be clenching like a psychopath!”
There was pandemonium at Bisney tower as Vorelando approached them through their blind spot. They could hear him scuttling through the vents like some sort of bloodthirsty arachnid demon.
“He’s right above us!”
Vorelando stopped clenching his cheeks and brought the ceiling down with him, killing several people down below.
“He’s breached the tower, I repeat, he’s breached the tower!”
One of the operatives managed to scream down the comms to the Bisney Bunker before being unceremoniously vored.
“Mr. CEO, you have a decision to make.” Lyle said.
The CEO of Bisney, at this stage more sweat than man, slammed his fist against his desk.
“Fine! Raise the Pac-Man defences!”
Suddenly, dozens of floors above them, where Vorelando stood slurping up intestines like spaghetti, the floors and walls began to contort until his surroundings resembled nineteen eighties arcade classic, Pac-Man.
This had been implemented a couple of decades earlier in case something exactly like this happened.
Vorelando heard the signature music. He saw his main ghost Drippy rounding the corner, ready to destroy him. He saw those tasty tasty pellets right in front of him.
And he laughed.
“You fools! You think a simple Pac-Man defence could stop me? I’M A GAMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Vorelando ran down the corridors with the skill of a seasoned pro to find that big pellet that lets you eat the ghosts.
The chief executive officer of Bisney and Lyle Kafferty sat horrified in the Bisney Bunker as they watched Vorelando munch his way through floors and floors of their Pac-Man defences. It hadn’t even seemed to slow him down.
He was only one floor away now.
Lyle turned around to the nearest wall and slammed his head so hard off it that it exploded. The CEO of Bisney considered doing the same but decided that he was the captain of this ship and he was going down with it.
He took a pistol out from his drawer and waited.
A couple of minuets later, he watched Vorelando kick down the blast proof door of the bunker. He shot every bullet he had at the monster but he caught every single one between his fingers.
“How?????” the soon to be former chief executive officer of Bisney cried.
“I am simply, built different.”
Vorelando spun around and clapped his cheeks at the CEO of Bisney exploded into a million pieces.
After an extensive search, Vorelando found the secret hatch and made his way down to where Malt Bisney was.
Gazing upon Malt’s body, he had to admit he was hung. But not that hung.
It took Vorelando quite some time to figure out how to thaw Malt but eventually, he managed to do so.
Dragging his wrinkly body out and laying it on the ground, Vorelando tied up the old man’s body. Then, he grabbed the inside of Malt’s mouth with both hands and then stepped inside, one foot after the other. Using the leverage he generated by pushing against the two rows of teeth, he jammed himself down Malt Bisney’s throat.
He had successfully been vored by Malt Bisney.