THIS IS ENTIRELY A WORK OF FICTION for entertainment purposes only. No real-world ill-will is wished upon any of the types of people depicted and absolutely nothing in this blog should be acted out in real life. Also this entry has a political slant to add to the drama but DOES NOT reflect the views or behaviors of actual people. Please exit now if the phrase 'libtard' triggers you. ;)
Nineteen year old Travis Pakman sat, back straight and head held high on a short stool in the middle of a large, brightly lit room. Around him was a circle of twenty evenly spaced empty chairs. The handsome teen was well dressed in a pair of tan slacks that hugged his disproportionately meaty thighs, his white button up shirt showed off his fit upper body. A thin black tie and large square glasses rounded out his hot-nerd aesthetic. He ran a hand through his shaggy red hair and his face was calm yet smug.
Travis had build up nearly a million online followers thanks to his snarky and unapologetically liberal political commentary and now he had been invited to be featured in a video where he would debate 20 Trump supporters at once. He'd be surrounded by them, each holding a flag, and whenever someone wanted to say something he'd call on them and the two would have five minutes to debate whatever topic was on the table. There wasn't a moderator, and no one could 'win'; it was just supposed to be an open civil discussion, the optics of a single young man surrounded my 20 opponents making for a click-bait worthy thumbnail on YouTube. The only rule was that Travis nor his opponents were allowed to make personal attacks against each other, a rule Travis had no intention of breaking but he just knew the ignorant MAGA idiots he was going to be debating wouldn't be able to stop themselves from violating.
Suddenly, Travis heard the sound of a door opening followed by indistinct chatter and dozens of footsteps. He turned to see twenty people ranging in age from teenagers like himself to retirees enter the room. Travis was admittedly surprised by the diversity; so not all MAGA is White, he smugly thought.
After the group entered and took their seats, an announcer, a tall man dressed in a well tailored suit, stood in front of Travis and gave a warm smile. He explained that tonight’s event would be very close to the original viral video "Liberal Teen Versus 20 Trump Supporters", with each Trump supporter going against the liberal teen in a battle of ideas, only with the added twist that it would be a live event. The host motioned to the four cameras positioned around the room and everyone, including Travis, clapped.
The host looked at Travis and smiled, a coy smile, and his eyes seemed to be undressing him - which Travis found ironic considering the hosting organization was a well-known ultra conservative group. “Guess the heart wants what the heart wants," he thought. Soft music played over loud speakers as the host went over the rules of the event, frequently using the phrases ‘civil’ and ‘polite’.
“I think it would be nice if we all introduced ourselves and maybe take a minute to ask Travis a question about himself. Afterall, liberals are people, too!” the host laughed. Travis’ face flushed with indignation and his posture became even more erect.
One by one the twenty Trump supporters introduced themselves. There were doctors and lawyers and business executives. Stay at home dads, students, junior sports league players. They also got to ask Travis one question each as an ice breaker. By the end of the introductions several of the Trump debaters felt genuinely more relaxed and viewed Travis as more of a person than a 'liberal stereotype'. Travis wasn't so open; instead he had boxed off each one into cliche stereotypes. The stupid farmer, the clueless immigrant who doesn't realize he's part of the joke, the entitled 'Karen.
As a glowing red light on the camera in front of him indicated the stream was about to go live. However, just as suddenly as the light turned on it deactivated, as did the other cameras that had been positioned to record the audience. The host gave an odd smile upon looking up from this tablet as he approached Travis.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the confusion but it looks like Travis here was actually supposed to be in Group B...”
“But we’re group A...” a Trump supporter shouted out in confusion.
Travis couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the woman’s inane observation.
The host pecked out a quick message into his tablet and smiled in genuine delight at the response which must have come back almost instantly.
“Travis, please come with me,” the host gestured for Travis to stand and follow him toward the door.
“Aww, bye Travis!”
One of Travis' would be debaters, a farmer, gave an enthusiastic wave and smiled broadly as Travis was escorted toward the door. Travis arrogantly assumed the man was being sardonic, totally oblivious to the fact that he was actually looking forward to a rousing debate and had spent the last two weeks brushing up on facts to be prepared.
Travis was lead out of the room down a long hallway to an elevator. The host motioned for Travis to get inside.
Once the elevator doors closed, the host pushed a button marked B1, which Travis took to mean the building's basement. The host, who had been the epitome of a generic, polite talk show or TV news host suddenly became visibly more relaxed, his shoulders slouched, his polite omnipresent grin vanished and he turned toward Travis with a withering glare.
"You stupid fucking liberal..."
Travis was taken aback by the man's sudden abrupt outburst and his face started to turn red.
"Listen here! I didn't agree to..."
SMACK
Travis held the side of his face and stared at the host with a mix of fear and confusion. The host had just slapped Travis across the face - hard -with the back of his hand, glaring at the arrogant teen.
"Wha..."
SMACK
The host slammed the back of his hand into Travis' nose. The teen hadn't even registered the blow before the host's fists were punched into the side of Travis's head, directly at his temples. Travis let out a scream and rose his arms to protect himself, backing up until his back was pressed against the elevator doors.
The host laughed as he balled his fists up again, taking aim at Travis' adorable face, but the elevator doors suddenly opened causing Travis to tumble out onto his back. He tried to stand up but was quickly pounced on by two men who had been waiting outside of the elevator.
"Help!" Travis screamed. He felt a sharp pain in his neck as if he had been jabbed with a needle then immediately started to feel dizzy. And tired.
"What are you... what's..." Travis barely managed to get to his knees before collapsing in to a heap of well-dressed teen muscle.
An unknown time later Travis awoke in a room nearly identical to the first studio only this time he wasn't just sitting in the chair, he had been tied to it. He was still groggy from whatever drug he had been given so his vision was blurred but he could see he was again surrounded by twenty chairs, only this time instead of 'everyday' citizens wearing their cheesy Trump attire twenty very athletic young men who seemed to range in age from their early twenties to mid thirties were sitting in the chairs. All of them were wearing plain white T-shirts, unassuming blue jeans and crimson red caps with the phrase 'Make America Great Again' on them. The lack of diversity was a far cry from the first audience, as all of the men were mean looking white men. Travis instinctively started struggling against his bonds, and though it seemed in his mind he was making a solid effort, the drugs had rendered him pretty defenseless so all he was actually doing was moving meekly in his chair.
Even if his hands weren't tied behind his back or his legs shackled to the floor - forcing his legs wide open - Travis probably wouldn't have been able to stand, let alone break free, in his current condition. The teen's pathetic attempts made several of the watching men chuckle, filling the room with their rich baritone laughter, the contemptuous sound echoing in Travis' confused brain. What was happening, he thought. As he slowly became more cognizant of his surroundings he abruptly realized he was naked. His clothes lay in a heap in front of him, torn to shreds as if the men had literally ripped them off of his body. Travis' entire slim, muscular body was on full display.
Travis did go to the gym a few times per week but didn't follow a strict exercise regime or a diet plan; most of his fitness came simply from the fact he was so young and his over-active metabolism melted off calories faster than we was eating them on his busy schedule, making his body fat exceedingly low, so low in fact that every muscle was perfectly outlined under his pale, freckled skin. Travis wasn't ripped but was quite toned so easily could have had a career as an OnlyFans model if his political commentary career didn’t work out.
The teen's pecs mounded slightly, the result of hours at the gym. Travis had been afraid his laissez faire approach to working out, just randomly using machines at the gym without following a strict plan, wasn't going to work but the opposite seemed true. Under his pecs, his impressive abs were perfectly etched, showing off every ripple which tapered to his waist. Between Travis' legs his fuzzy sack was packed with a pair of huge nuts and his flaccid fuck stick was drooped over them. It was no wonder his slacks always bulged. His thighs were thick and muscular and even his calves were rock solid. Indeed, freed from his clothing, Travis' body was a mix between a svelte twink and a muscular otter, a showcase of teen muscle so impressive even some of the watching toxically straight men were unironically impressed especially since it juxtaposed so sharply from Travis' otherwise nerdy exterior.
As Travis' head slowly cleared, his grogginess turned to confusion and terror and his struggles against his binds became more earnest yet just as useless.
"You ain't gettin' out of them knots, son," a ripped blonde twenty-something chuckled as the horrified liberal continued to struggle. Indeed despite thrashing his limbs as hard as he could, Travis was still held firmly in place, hands behind his back, legs spread and totally exposed.
The room was filled with the sounds of the audience's laughter and insults.
One of the men, a dark haired thirty-something, stood up and strolled over to Travis.
"Looks like the little fag has a big pair of stones on him,"
"Stop!" Travis tried to jerk away but was completely helpless.
"Nice cock!" the man laughed, reached down and roughly grabbed Travis' dick, giving the fat organ a vicious squeeze. Travis let out a high pitched squeal that made the audience erupt into laughter.
"What's the matter, libtard? Dick too sore from fucking your boyfriend?"
Travis yelped as the man squeezed his shaft as hard as possible, causing this mushroom head to balloon and turn purple. As the laughter in the room reached a fever pitch, Travis' girlish squealing turned into desperate pleas which the brunet ignored as he squeezed Travis' cock harder and harder.
"Please! Stop!"
The man eventually relented, dropping the bruised, reddened flesh, laughing when Travis gasped for air. The reprieve was shorted lived as the man knelt down and balled his fists. Travis could see the man's enormous bicep flex, stretching the fabric of his white tshirt, as his large fist hovered just inches from his crotch.
"No! No!" Travis was hysterical as he knew what was about to happen.
"Fuck him up!" Someone shouted from the crowd and just as the man drew his fist back to deliver a lineage-ending blow he stopped and turned toward the sound of an opening door.
"Ah, I see you got started early," came a familiar voice. The man who had been about to crack Travis nuts gave a shitface grin, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and retook his seat.
The host of the show walked in, only this time he wasn't wearing a suit. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt emblazoned with the iconic image of Donald Trump fist pumping the air after his assasination attempt. The shirt was form fitting, showing off the host's impressive upper body. It was clear that he hit the gym hard, and Travis had no doubt he could easily beat him to a bloody pulp, especially if Travis couldn't fight back.
The host stood in front of Travis and looked down with him with a look of disgust so absolute it was actually terrifying to Travis. It was obvious the host regarded Travis as garbage, barely a human and certainly not worthy of any respect... or mercy.
"You worthless sack of shit," the host growled as he slapped Travis across the face.
"So we have something special setup for you, you little prick. We're gonna call it One Liberal Dickhead vs. 20 Real MAGA Men,"
Travis started to shake in terror.
"P..p..please..."
"Please!" the host mocked him in a high pitched voice. The audience roared with laugher as the host mocked every teary word Travis was saying as he pleaded.
Suddenly, the host pivoted from mockery to rage, his face turning red. He stared ruthlessly pummeling Travis' face, instantly blackening both eyes and breaking his nose. As Travis' had feared, the man's obvious upper body strength was formidable and he could only scream as the host unloaded on him with a crazed look in his eye for at least five minutes, the louder and more raucous the cheering men around him got the more focused the host became to rearrange Travis' face. Rabid dogs had been beaten with less viciousness. Finally the man seemed to snap out of his rage and retained some composure.
"See fellas, that's what happens when I can't just beat down every fucking liberal I see. It all gets pent up...."
Everyone laughed. Except Travis of course who was sobbing and pulling at his constraints with wild desperation. The host pointed around the room; it had been outfitted with cameras just like the original studio only they wouldn't be filming a debate. They'd be filming a 'slaughter'. Travis' blood ran cold. The man had tossed out the word 'slaughter' with an air of casualness one could almost forget he was literally implying a teenager was going to be beaten to death for fun.
"No! Please! Let me go!"
The host knelt down so he could be at eye level with the terrified liberal commentator, smiling at himself at Travis' bruised, swollen and bloody face.
"Awww, don't worry lit' lib. We won't actually, what's the term you use, un-alive you. I mean maybe, but don't worry Obama care will save you,"
"Fucking nigger!" Someone in the audience shouted out almost like a reflex.
As Travis begged and screamed at the top of his lungs, the host casually explained the rules of this twisted game. Each audience member would get to go to town on Travis until - or unless - someone else 'objected' at which time the two would swap places. It would be a gentlemen's agreement such that no man got to have too much fun with Travis and actually snuff him out before his brethren had a turn. The only limitation on hold long Travis was ravaged was at the host's discretion.
Travis wailed in terror as the door opened and a man wheeled in a long cart full of all manner of brutal instruments; metal and wood baseball bats, hammers, mallets, pliers and other tools the men could use however they liked.
Travis sobbed as first man took his place in front of him. He looked a lot like the farmer Travis had been so dismissive to before the real debate audience. He was a tall, muscular man in his late 20's with a buzz cut and pale blue eyes; he was handsome and had a blasé expression, looking almost bored at the prospect of beating the teenage captive to a pulp.
"P...please..." Travis pleaded with the man as he cracked his knuckles.
"Don't worry, baby," the man smiled. "It'll be over quick. But don't expect no mercy. You fucking liberals get what you deserve..."
Travis closed his eyes as the man wound up, and screamed out loud as the man punched him with a massive, ham-sized fist. He didn't stop there, instead the man's fist kept slamming into Travis' face over and over and over. The men whooped and hollered around him.
"Look at this little bitch cry!"
"I wanna hear him scream!"
"Get his fucking face!"
Travis' face was soon a broken, bloody mess. Blood sprayed all over the floor and Travis' naked, well-muscled body. Travis' attacker had a mix of rage and indifference as he continued to pummel the horrified libtard. Each punch felt like Travis' skull was going to crack but it was obvious that the strong man was holding back yet he end the fun too early.
"Looks like someone else wants a turn!" the host announced.
A blonde middle aged man with a grizzled beard had raised his hand and, being polite, the 20 year old who had been pounding Travis stepped aside and took his seat. The blonde - holding a wooden baseball bat - looked at Travis, his swollen face already barely recognizable, and for a moment felt a twinge of guilt. He had known what he had signed up for but hadn't realized the libtard he'd be beating down would be quite so young...
Oh well, he thought as gripped the bat and took a batter's stance.
"P..p..." Travis was becoming too dazed to even beg as the man rotated his torso in preparation for the strike.
"Get ready, kid," the man muttered under his breath.
SMACK!
The man's powerful swing knocked the bat right into Travis' gut. The teen would have doubled over had he not been tied up. The men around him cheered.
"Yeah! That's it!"
"Get 'em, Hank!"
Travis' abs were horribly compressed by another powerful blow. Then another. And another. Travis thought his lunch was literally going to be knocked out of him as he started to gag between screams. He was terrified beyond words and pleaded with Hank to stop.
Travis screamed as the bat down across his shoulder.
"That's the ticket," Hank muttered as he continued his attack.
"Fuck him up!"
"Yeah, Hank, you do it!"
"Beat the little bitch!"
Travis sobbed loudly and tried to speak, tried to plead but couldn't manage to get anything coherent out.
CRACK.
Hank's alternating slams of the bat between Travis' abs and his shoulder were doing real damage to Travis' acromion and filling the teenager's brain with incomprehensible agony.
"Next player!" the host announced.
In reality, barely ten minutes had passed but for Travis it felt like hours.
The next audience member up was wiry yet fit young lad who didn't look much older than Travis. In fact, in different circumstances the two would have made a convincing stock photo for 'two teenage friends hanging out'. But that was far from what the black haired attacker holding a 2x4 board had in mind. The board was heavier than a baseball bat but the kid's confident pose and surprising upper body strength made it look as effortless as if he was holding a feather.
CRACK
Travis wailed as the board was slammed into his upper chest. He could feel his rips vibrate from the impact, but at least his organs had some protection unlike the bat that had been sinking into this stomach earlier. The black haired teenager was literally roaring in anger as he used Travis' fit pecs as target practice, wielding the heavy wooden board with reckless abandon. Travis swore he felt - and heard - one of his rips crack under the assault but it hadn't. The pain was just so intense that it might as well have.
CRAAACK
Travis nearly blacked out as the long wooden board collided with the side of his head. His neck snapped violently to one side as his head was used like a baseball target. The black haired teen was about to do it again when the host announced that someone else wanted a turn.
The next audience member to come up was a short, average build twenty-something holding a ball ping hammer.
"I'm gonna' bash your brains in, libfuck," he growled into Travis' ear as he pressed the hammer into his forehead.
"No! No! Please!" Travis was hysterical as the man arched his arm back in preparation for the blow.
This is it, Travis thought. He didn't know a ton about anatomy but was pretty sure a hammer to his forehead would cause unfathomable damage if not outright death. Am I gonna' be paralyzed? Is dying going to hurt? Were questions Travis' panic stricken mind parsed through as the man prepared to snuff out the cocky liberal.
At the last moment, the man dropped to his knees and instead smashed the hammer into Travis' foot, crushing two of his right toes. Travis wailed and the watching audience cheered in a growing frenzy of hatred as the man repeatedly sent the hammer up and down over and over onto Travis' right foot.
"Fuck him up!" someone shouted.
"Stop!" Travis sobbed, tears streaming down his bloodied face.
The man just looked up at Travis and smiled as he proceeded to break literally every bone in Travis' right foot, most of them fracturing in multiple places.
The next man was a forty-something balding redhead wearing a pair of brass knuckles.
"Time to knock you out, lib," he growled as he swung at Travis.
THWACK
Travis screamed in agony as the metal dug into his already broken, swollen nose.
THWACK
The redhead was laughing maniacally as his fist collided with Travis' nose over and over again.
THWACK
"He's gonna' break kid's fucking skull," someone shouted gleefully.
THWACK
The audience roared and the redhead didn't stop. Travis' entire face was a bloody mess.
"Come on, fucker," the redhead said through gritted teeth, pounding into Travis' face over and over.
Travis felt like we going to literally die as the man's fist connect with, and broke, his jaw.
"P... plea..."
CRUNCH
Travis' mind panicked. The redhead's aim had shifted from his face to his neck, the man's blow landed with nearly-deadly force, almost pancaking Travis' pronounced Adam's apple and making the teenager think his airway way been crushed. Travis let out a pathetic whimper has his neck was punched over and over, it was getting hard to take it breaths. Travis tried desperately to lock eye contact with the man, hoping some semblance of humanity would connect but that only made the red head grunt, grab Travis' throat with both hands and squeeze. Hard.
Travis' eyes bugged out in soul wrenching panic, it felt like his airway was going to collapse, he was starting to pass out and his vision was blurring before the man stopped and retook his seat. Not even ten seconds later another blonde young man was in front of Travis, using his toned abs like a punching bag. Travis' stomach was turning a rosy shade of red but that only seemed to fuel the man's horribly strong punches. Some of them were so violent Travis thought he was going to throw up...
The handsome lad leaned in and whispered into Travis' ear, "You're pretty hot for a liberal," before licking his lips and resuming his relentless pummeling.
"P...p...." Travis moaned. His cheeks bulged reflexively as he felt himself starting to throw up the pain and the direct impacts on his stomach.
"Oh yeah, liberal's gonna puke!"
Travis thought he was going to die as the man alternated fists, slamming them as hard as he could into Travis' belly. His stomach, the actual organ, was starting to bruise under this abs. Travis could feel his guts convulsing.
"Oh yeah, puke for me, faggot!"
Travis' eyes crossed as he started vomiting up his lunch, the blonde dodging out of the way just in time. Everyone laughed as the remains of a turkey sandwich, and at least a cup of blood shot out of Travis mouth, covering the floor and his upper body. Travis knew he was being seriously injured by the site of blood being puked out like that and his panic level increased tenfold. These guys were really going to hurt him badly, this wasn't just some dude's going wild only to dump him at an emergency room in the end.
"Stop! Please!"
Travis screamed in vain as man after man had their way with him. One gentleman used Travis' head like a pinata, slamming a baseball bat into the side of his face until nearly all the teeth on that side were either knocked out or loose, his jaw was an unrecoverable disaster. Another man took a mallet to Travis' fat nuts, slamming it down full force until they burst in his sack. Not to be outdone, the next man grabbed the base of Travis' bruised dick and yanked until he felt something give way. Travis' eyes rolled into the back of his head. He was barely conscious but could still feel every punch and hit with merciless resolution. It was like he was in a hyper realistic dream he couldn't wake up from.
A particularly built middle aged blond held a sledge hammer like a bat, effortlessly wielding it as if it weighed nothing, and slammed it into Travis' chest. Three ribs instantly cracked unleashing so much pain that Travis was jolted back to reality.
"Help! Please!" Travis screamed but even the scream hurt. It was so blood curdling that, even though none would admit it, at least a few of the MAGA men reflexively shuddered.
What kind of damage are they doing to my insides? Travis thought. He started crying as the man used his weapon again, only this time slamming it down onto his lap. Travis let out a soprano wail as his entire nut sack collapsed into mush.
Immediately after that two men, a blonde and brunet, stood behind Travis and cut his hands free from their ropes, making sure to 'accidentally' slice his hand with the knife as they did so. Had Travis had his druthers he could have leveraged his freed arms to fight back but he barely had the energy to breath, which now hurt like fire thanks to the broken rip pressed against his lung. The blond grabbed Travis' right arm and the brunet grabbed his left before giving each other knowing glances. This clearly wasn't the first time they had done this maneuver.
Travis' destroyed jaw struggled to open wide enough to scream as the men began pulling and twisting his arms with all of their might. Travis's tone arms were being yanked and twisted by four pairs of strong arms and he could feel his shoulders start to dislocate..
"Aaaa!"
The men grinned wickedly as there was a disgusting popping sound from Travis' right shoulder that had ripped completely out of its socket. The two men laughed as they took their seats, Travis dumbly trying to move his right arm that he could barely feel anymore.
"Next up!" The host called out. Three men circled Travis.
Whatever pathetic look begging for mercy was on Travis' face was totally lost; his once handsome boyish face was totally unrecognizable, his nearly toothless mouth was hanging open, his right eye was permanently swollen shut, both cheek bones had caved in though you couldn't tell under the swelling. Travis weakly moaned - though he could still feel everything in excruciating detail - as all three of his attackers assaulted his back and chest with metal bats. Rips cracked, his spleen and stomach ruptured.
"Oooh!"
Travis felt a sharp pain like nothing he had ever experienced as his right lung collapsed. One man took the sledgehammer to his knees until they were utterly pulverized. Travis mercifully passed out, the last thing he remembered was the horrifying feeling of suddenly no longer being aware of his legs.
"Nighty night, idiot!"
The host walked up to Travis who was barely breathing and laughed.
"Well boys, looks like we put him to bed. But I bet he'd be proud of our love of 'democracy'. We're gonna hold a vote to see what to do with him."
The audience cheered.
"Show of hands who says untie him and drop him off at the hospital?"
Surprisingly, several hands went up. The host seemed bemused and annoyed as he counted 6 hands raised to show Travis some modicum of mercy, an ironic sight considering all of the raised hands literally had Travis' blood on them.
"...And who thinks we outta' turn this liberal into a pile of chunks?"
The rest of the hands shot up with a whoop of delight.
The host leaned in and whispered into Travis' ear, the passed out liberal's breathing was labored and heavy. The host knew full well that had they gotten Travis to a hospital right now he might be able to mostly recover. The liberal idiot was totally at his mercy and the thought filled the host with primal lust.
"Hey, Travis. We're gonna' kill you now, okay?"
Travis' mind registered the threat and was trying desperately to reboot to cry out for mercy but all he could register was a soft, defeated grunt.
"You wanna know how we're gonna do it, lib?" the host continued.
"We're gonna' chop you into pieces. How's that sound?"
"Oh, you're gonna' love it, man. I promise. And your family's gonna' love watching the video!" The host ran his hand with ironic tenderness through the young man's blood-matted red hair before turning to the group.
The host seemed to almost lovingly caress Travis' hair, feeling it through his fingers. Admiring its thickness and remembering how handsome and fun loving Travis used to be. He had a strange look on his face as the gravity of the situation sank in; he was going to be the last person to ever touch Travis with anything resembling a loving touch. An extremely tiny though bubbled in the host's head; Travis had seemed pretty nice in the green room when they met before the real debate, plus he was young enough that maybe his ideals would shift and he'd join the right side.
The tiny voice became pronounced as the totally straight host eyed the battered and bruised body that was about to be totally destroyed. He knew he could stop this right now. The power he had over Travis was almost getting him hard. But Travis was one of 'them', an enemy of the people and with that thought any shred of mercy that had been growing in the host for towards the defenseless nineteen year old vanished.
"He's all yours, boys!"
The six men who had voted to take Travis to the hospital didn't participate in the ensuing debauchery, not wanting to take their hatred of liberals quite so far, but everyone else reveled in it. The first man used a razor blade to pierce Travis' purple and swollen abs, carefully carving away the flesh until his muscles were exposed, he then rubbed the wound with handfuls of salt - that elicited a mild reaction from Travis though the teen was still blacked out - before grabbing a small blow torch and running it over Travis' exposed abdominal muscles. It was obvious the man wasn't trying to cauterize the wound, that was just a side effect, he was boiling Travis' muscles until they were a dark purple, then a layer of black char started to form.
The next MAGA brute took a heavy bonger in each hand, positioned them over Travis' temples and proceeded to mercilessly slam them into the sides of Travis' head. There was a cracking sound as his skull started to fracture.
The fracture turned to a crack as the next man took a metal bats to Travis' face.
The last thoughts that rocketed through Travis' swollen brain were a phantasmagoria of agony and terror. He remembered how nice the host had seemed before the debate...
Travis' life ended with a loud CRACK. His fractured skull split as multiple men used mallets and bats on Travis' head until it cracked open like a melon. His brain, the organ that was supposed to guide him through an innocent debate, bulged , oozing out of his cracked open dome, his eyes dangling by their cords.
The crowd untied Travis and his corpse unceremoniously landed on the ground on his stomach.
"Nice ass!" One of the bros sneered, looking down at Travis' untouched bubble butt.
There was a sickening squelching sound as Travis' hole was violated by a hammer - head first, until the hammer and half the man's forearm were buried in his guts. As the man proceeded to shred Travis' intestines, kidneys and liver there was a loud crunching that echoed through the room.
Someone had been stomping full force on Travis' already split head and it finally collapsed into a pile of chunks, pieces of his splattered brains dripping off the sole of the man's boot. No sooner had Travis' head collapsed then a man swooped and plucked Travis' lifeless eyeballs from the pile, the thick muscles that had once attached them to the back of his head were still hanging off off them. He proceeded to use them like ping pong balls, gleefully paddling them back and forth with one of his buddies until they lost all shape, turning into nothing but gooey stains against the paddles.
Meanwhile, the host had revved up a chain saw and motioned for the blood soaked MAGA faithful to stand out of the way. Using his foot to roll Travis onto this backside, he made quick work of slicing Travis completely in half, starting at the dead pundit's destroyed genitals. Travis' already pulverized testicles exploded into goo, his dick blew into pieces just a fraction of a second before the chainsaw sliced into his guts. The release of pressure caused Travis' abdomen to erupt open like a giant gut-filled pinata. The host and several men were getting showered as the chain saw sliced through Travis' ribcage before finally existing through his neck.
"Grab his leg!" Someone shouted as he took Travis' right foot in his hands.
Two other men grabbed his left leg and the three yanked Travis' split in half body until the two meaty halves were a yard apart with a trail of viscera and entrails between them. A large blob, Travis' heart, caught the red head's attention and he quickly turned it into a patty under his feel. He could feel each ventricle and muscle burst as he continued stomping Travis' heart until it was in pieces. The rest of the men were using everything at their disposal to flatten and mutilated the rest of Travis' body.
His arms were chain sawed off, his right thigh was jumped on like a trampoline until the meaty muscle split open. Boots, sledge hammers and bats were whizzing through the air. Two men were playing a corrupted game of 'football', tossing one of Travis' broken, severed feet around like it was a toy. Two men were sword fighting with Travis' arms, the limp, broken wrists looking especially comical as his arms were swung through the air.
The host let the debauchery continue unabated; the more unrecognizable the pile of crushed organs, broken bones and mutilated flesh became the happier he seemed to get. Finally though it was time to wrap up.
"Let's get this piece of shit outta here!" the host announced. "His boyfriend will probably be worried about him soon."
The larger pieces of Travis were thrown into a large box followed by gallons of entrails and gore that had to be literally scraped up with a shovel. In the end Travis fit into a box barely larger than a carry on suitcase, and for the bits that didn't fit those were just stomped and hacked until they did.
"This is for you, faggot," the host spat into the box before closing the lid and wrapping a rope around it.
The box, along with a hard drive containing the complete video of the slaying, was thrown out in front of a Harris campaign office.
The media erupted into high minded debate, painting all Trump supporters as degenerate garbage. The video went viral online with one especially pompous liberal commentator posting on X:
"THIS is what happens when the trash is allowed to vote!"
The next day he was discovered stuffed into an even smaller box than Travis', since his body was mutilated to the point of liquefication. Pictures and video's of his demise were quickly posted on X, tagged with the man's name along with all of his family members to make sure they saw it. It was copied and went viral before any moderation could occur, not like Elon would.
To the lame stream media's horror, @RealDonaldTrump replied back "Thanks for the support!"
Trump won in a landslide.
