Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios

Special Chapter: Milestone Mayhem! (Part Dachshund)

[Hugs and apple juice for all of you! Please scroll back to part one of this special, if you haven't read it yet. I'm so happy a month's of work has been read by you! Psst! Smirky snogged someone!]

P a r t T h r e e (scroll back twice for part one!)

"Don't go in there!" Yvion begged. "He's crazy!"

"We're all crazy here," Smiley assured her gently, double checking that his syringe was holding the antidote. "It won't take but a minute."

He faced the bathroom door.

Through the ajar crack, he set his sights on L.J. The monochome clown was visibly growing bored of BEN's antics.

BEN had adapted to the temperature (an extreme creepypasta ability - do not attempt at home), and was now taking a long soak in the sink.

His brain still wasn't working right, you see. Either that, or his crippling fear of water wasn't quite as extreme as made out to be.

Smiley crouched in the doorway, mentally counting down the seconds before he was due to carry out his surprise attack.

"I hope you die," Smirky wished cheerfully, ruffling his hair as he walked past with an empty vial in hand

"If you die, can I sell your stuff?" Jeffykins asked, poking his bottom. The crazy killer was now a preteen, aging with speedy grace.

("No!" exclaimed Smiley in response).

"If you die after all this, I'll kill you." Evelyn deadpanned.

Shaking his head earnestly, Smiley rolled his eyes to the ceiling and mumbled something about how none of them had any faith in him.

From the corner of his eye, he spied Sally tugging on the back of Zalgo's billowing black cloak; the demon curiously turning his head to regard her with reptilian eyes.

"Yes, little one?"

"Psst! Is Doctor Smiley gonna die?" whispered she.

"... All signs point to yes," the prince of ducknut answered in a casual drawl, glancing up dubiously.

Smiley diverted his eyes elsewhere. An indignant huff left his lips, and then he slowly made his move, breezing through the bathroom door.

With a thumb placed carefully on the syringe's release plunger, he crept calmly behind L.J.

The monochome clown's gaze darted to the corner of his eye, then back towards the scene of the bathing nude midget.

BEN, in all his brain-scrambled glory, reached for the wall-mounted soap holder and grabbed its contents.

In a sloosh of water, he lifted one leg over the sink and started scrubbing away at his foot, loudly singing the Smurf song, his privates obscured by steam.

Smiley turned away aghast, clapping a hand over his eyes in silent horror.

After a few passing seconds, in reluctant jerky-like movements, he forced himself to look again.

It was just as bad the second time around, if not worse.

The not-so-good doctor gathered up his remaining dignity and threw it out of an imaginary window.

Calm down; at least there's no wrecking balls involved. This time.

Knowing how lucky it was that the creepypasta mansion wasn't situated near a construction site, filled him with fresh determination.