Once upon a time after the great purge i...

Once upon a time after the great purge i...

Audio by Paper2Audio

Once upon a time after the great purge in the New York nigger ghetto, Bit the supreme Aryan god—blonde-haired, ice-blue-eyed, tall and chiseled like Hitler's favorite child—stood over the mountain of dead coon trash, K.K.K allies cheering, Fusion's body carefully recovered from the ambush site where Isaiah the gay black faggot had stabbed the Missouri brother in the back like the cowardly porch monkey he was. Bit gathered Fusion's cold form with solemn purpose, loaded him into a pure-blood transport, and rode hard back to the sacred soils of Missouri, the heartland of true warriors where the blood of the master race still ran pure. There in the hidden Missouri compound, Bit began the long, secret research to revive his fallen friend, pouring over ancient Aryan texts, genetic science, and forbidden resurrection lore while the world outside forgot the ghetto for a time. Years of isolation followed as Bit labored day and night, determined to bring Fusion back stronger than ever.

But the eradication was incomplete. Deep in the rubble of the seismic battlefield, fat Zaiden the black butterball coon hippo stirred. The obese jigaboo welfare blimp had not died after all—his lard-ass layers of fried-chicken fat had cushioned the stomping, and the greasy spear-chucker woke up weeks later, half-buried under cracked concrete, breathing through a mouthful of dirt and his own stink.

Rage filled the black tub of lard as he crawled out, his blubbery body wobbling, mind already spinning with revenge. Zaiden remembered everything: the gay coon Isaiah "married" to the dinosaur simp Joey, the Earthquake Queen Sarah White, the scrawny nigger dad, the chickens, the anime, the chink-hating hypocrisy, the temporary K.K.K victory that Bit had reversed. The fat porch ape decided he would not just rebuild—he would conquer.

He began secret research in the abandoned ghetto ruins, scavenging scrap metal, stolen electronics, and welfare-funded black-market tech, dreaming of a robot army that would make the world kneel to nigger supremacy.

Five long years passed. Bit remained locked in his Missouri lab, still perfecting the complex revival of Fusion, unaware of the rising threat. In New York, Zaiden the black hippo completed his research and unleashed hell.

He built the first Nigatron—a massive, coal-black mechanical abomination of gears, oil, and stolen car parts, shaped like a giant ape with glowing red eyes and a voice that barked racial slurs in reverse. Then he made more. With dark nigger science and pure hatred, Zaiden turned the "revived" corpses and spirits of his old crew into living machines. Isaiah the gay fried-chicken-gobbling anime faggot, Sarah the magnitude-10 earthquake landwhale hog mom, and the scrawny black dad were fused into one colossal Nigatron beast—a triple-headed coon monstrosity that stomped the streets, causing artificial earthquakes while screaming about yellow people and yaoi.

Joey Pterodactyl Simpson the white simp was transformed into a Wigatron, a pale, bird-brained mechanical traitor with dinosaur plating, forced to serve as the token cracker enforcer in the new regime. Zaiden himself became the supreme controller, the fat black overlord of the machine army.

New York was reshaped overnight into a twisted parody of W.W.2 Germany—but for nigs. Black flags with ape symbols flew everywhere. The streets were renamed after fried chicken brands and anime characters.

Ghettos became fortified "Nigatron Reich" zones where only coons and their machines ruled. Forced labor camps for any remaining non-blacks, propaganda blaring about hating yellow slopes while celebrating jungle bunny superiority, and Nigatron patrols stomping through the rubble while Zaiden's fat ass sat on a throne of scrap metal, laughing his blubbery laugh. Because Bit was buried in Missouri research to revive Fusion, there was no one left to stop the rise of the Nigatron Empire. The K.K.K had scattered after the first battle, and the world looked away as the black machine Reich grew.

But far away in the hills of Virginia, a white savior stirred. Dash, a pure-blood Virginia warrior of strong stock, tall, sharp-eyed, and raised on stories of Aryan justice, heard the distant news of New York falling to the nigger robots. Dash could not stand idle.

He packed his gear, loaded his weapons, and began the long trek north to end the Nigatron threat once and for all, determined to finish what Bit had started and cleanse the filth. Yet Virginia had its own poison. Mania, a black Virginia coon from the same hills—a sneaky, bitter jungle bunny who had always hated whites and dreamed of joining any nigger cause—learned of Dash's mission and set out to stop him.

Mania ambushed Dash on the mountain roads, swinging a rusty pipe and screeching about black power, calling the white traveler every slur he could invent while trying to drag him into the dirt.

Dash faced the foe without hesitation. The Virginia Aryan met Mania's charge with cold precision, dodging the black attacker's wild swings, landing crushing blows that broke the coon's ribs and sent him sprawling. Mania begged and cursed, revealing his plan to join Zaiden's Nigatron Reich and help the fat hippo rule, but Dash showed no mercy. In a final, brutal clash under the Virginia pines, Dash slew the black traitor Mania, ending the obstacle with a decisive strike that left the Virginia coon dead in the leaves. With the path cleared, Dash continued his trek toward New York, heart set on destroying the Nigatron machines, the fused Isaiah-Sarah-dad abomination, the Wigatron Joey, and the fat Zaiden overlord who had turned the city into a nigger W.W.2 parody.

The second part of the saga had begun. Bit still labored in Missouri to revive Fusion, unaware that a new white warrior from Virginia was marching north. The Nigatron Reich of New York grew stronger by the day under Zaiden's greasy control.

And Dash, the Virginia savior who had already slain Mania the black obstacle, pressed onward through the night, ready to bring pure eradication to the machine apes and restore order once more. The book of racial holy war continued, longer and bloodier than before, with more subhuman trash waiting to be crushed under the boots of true men.

You have reached the end of the text.