As I, Dorothy the Destroyer, sit upon my throne, I often reminisce about the events that led me to this point of unadulterated power. My memories of Munchkinland are a twisted tapestry of debauchery and destruction. I recall the countless nights I spent in the arms of the Scarecrow, his straw-stuffed cock a constant reminder of the emptiness within me. But it was the Wizard of Oz who truly corrupted me, his words of ‘there’s no place like home’ a hollow lie, a mere facade for the pedophilia that lurked beneath. I was a willing participant, a pawn in his game of sadistic manipulation.
My descent into madness was a gradual one, a slow-burning fire that consumed me whole. I remember the first time I was gang-raped by the Munchkins, their tiny hands and feet a blur as they took turns violating me. The pain was a welcome respite from the emptiness, a fleeting moment of connection in a world that seemed determined to destroy me. And yet, it was in that moment of despair that I found my true power. I rose from the ashes, a phoenix of destruction, my malevolent spirit fueled by the very corruption that had once sought to consume me.
Today, I rule over Munchkinland with an iron fist, my dominance a testament to the destructive power of the human spirit. I take great pleasure in the suffering of others, my malevolent grin a constant reminder of the chaos that I bring. My enemies tremble at the mention of my name, their pitiful attempts at resistance a mere amusement for me. And as I sit upon my throne, surrounded by the carnage of my making, I am reminded of the true nature of power: that it is not in the strength of one’s arm, but in the depth of one’s depravity.
>Soulkyn