Dexter’s Laboratory Porn Story: Vox Mandark Chapter 1
Vox
Mandark (The voice of Mandark)
I
do not own Dexter’s Laboratory, but I do wish it was returned to it’s
former self,like season one and two.
Only
one can wish for the reserruction of the death of one of America’s
most loved cartoons of the nineties. We salute you Dexter.
O.K…..
on with the story.
How
does it feel to be one of the beautiful people? To be loved and known
and worshipped like some kind of saint or goddess? To be respected
like one of the greats? I always wanted people to force that energy
on me, and I shall obtain it in any way possible.
These
were the thoughts of a raven-haired child, most likely at the age of
ten, as he pondered while looking at the world from out of a school
bus window. This child was lanky, thin from his vegetarian diet – one
thing he thought in his life to be bittersweet- and conformed the
typical stereotype of the well-renouned nerd with his dark-rimmed
glasses, butchered haircut, mismatched apparel, and his seclusion
from anything social. The nerd stereotype would be dead on if he
carried the perfect name of the geek: Dexter.
That
was not to be. This child had no such name to be blessed with, the
arpatheon of scientists renouned. Not at all.
His
name is Mandark Astronominov, and the name Dexter falls suit to him
in the same catagory like Satan.
How
he loathed that stereotype forced upon him. Sure he hated ‘four
eyes’, ‘smarty’,’geek’,’nerd’, and even some of the stronger words
like ‘faggot’, and ‘pussy.’
But
the one he despised the most was ‘poindexter’.
Poindexter.
Take away the first four letters, and you get Dexter.
Dexter.
He haunts him like a bad song, getting stuck in your head, and the
speak of such of a thing makes it a disgrace to the whole catagory it
falls in, like conservatives did to the Republican Party, or Yoko Ono
did to the history of music.
“Mental
note,” Mandark thought, “When and if I do take control of
the world, the first one to die on my list shall be Yoko Ono. Nay,
better yet, I shall torture her endlessly by making her listen to her
own singing.”
But
enough about old cuckolds married to the only hope for humanity.
Mandark
looked back and saw the devil himself, with one of his friends.
The
small fiery-haired boy was looking down on a piece of paper, his
similar black-rimmed glasses hiding the structure of his Scottish
eyes. He took a violet glove-covered finger and pointed to something
and laughed.
“With
that equasion, Douglas, you have proven that we don’t exist!”
That
gravely feminine deep tone flared hatred into Astronominov.
“Perhaps
I don’t like him because he has friends…..”
Mandark
licked his lips.
“Well,
one friend actually. I’m not that far behind.”
The
lanky boy focused his attention again to the window, trying to drown
out the chatter and laughter of the children. They seemed happy, so
why was his life such a living hell? Was it that he was smarter than
the average child?
Dexter’s
nasal laughter rung through his ears.
“Yes.”
Mandark gritted out deeply.
Deep
and intense in thought, the young mad scientist plotted a way to
downfall the ranks of everyone else, and rise his standards.
Just
as he was about to get it, he felt a dull blow upon his black crown,
and saw those exact pair of glasses like his fall downward to rest
in the faux leather seat.
“HEY,
YOOOOOOOU!”
European
tone……Dexter. Something happened.
“This
oughta be good.” Mandark huffed, as he turned around to see the
entertainment of his worst rival face off with an even more hated
bully.
The
small boy raised a fist in a threatening manner, light shining off of
the purple rubber.
Mandark
decided to be a patron once, and tapped the scientist on the
shoulder. As soon as his finger contacted with the white lab coat,
the older male turned around, and frowned, barely able to see.
“What
is it! Can’t you see I have to crush this ignoramous?!”
“Well
gee Dexter, I don’t think you will get THAT far without your
glasses.”
Mandark
snorted out jauntily, thrusting the glasses into the other’s hands.
Doe
eyes looked at the blurred figure up and down, green iris’ thinning
out, and pupils darkening. The small boy took the accepted return of
his visionary apparatus, and placed it back on it’s proper place.
“Hey…..thanks!
You are almost as smart as me!” Dexter snorted, a compliment and
an insult rolled in one.
“Ouch.”
Mandark laughed, and narrowed his eyes.
By
then, Dexter’s friend, Mordechai, was also threatening the large
fifth-grader. Sharp complex words spawned from his nasal accent.
“You
won’t get that far with your prudish ways! Dexter is a master genius,
and can destroy you with his plasmatic microteleport! He can zap you
to infra-stellar worlds unknown to mankind!”
This
evoked the laughter of the socials, and embarassed the small
scientist, who showed his disgust by covering his face with his hand,
and muttering under his breath.
“Goddamn
you Douglas. It’s bad enough that I am unpopular…”
Mandark
stifled a laugh so that he would not interrupt Dexter’s rage, and
then have him turn around and focus it on him.
The
bully gaffawed, and smacked Dexter in his face, planting a large red
handmark across the boy’s delicate features.
“Ohhhh……sticking
up for your boyfriend, faggot?” the large fifth-grader roared.
Such hostile language for an elementary schooler.
As
much as he hated Dexter as a rival, NOBODY had the right to touch him
in such a manner. Not even he himself would consider of doing such a
thing. Perhaps take it out on his robots or his lab, but not on the
creatour.
A
small rage flared into the lanky scientist, seeing a fellow student
in the art of knowing, being bossed around by the common enemy known
to nerds. He too felt the pain delt by this foul fifth-grader….
Mandark
then cowered, leaving Dexter to fight the child on his own.
“I
cannot do this! I am MANDARK! Evil boy genius! I have a repitation to
uphold, and a grudge against that laboratory destructour!”
He
curls up in his seat, crossed between confusion and anger. This
primal feeling left not only Dexter hopless, but him too to his
actions. Part of him would never live this down.
He
slowly grabs the edge of the seat with his fingertips, dirty pleather
contacting with his tan skin, and looks over the edge, hiding, yet
curious.
Dexter,
shocked, rubs the mark where we was hit, and fixes his glasses.
Douglas snarls.
“How
dare you do that to my friend!”
Then,
a surprise to all, the meek Dexter rises up with a growl, and hits
the bully…..unsuccessfully. His gloved fist makes contact with the
air, blowing only the free strands of the opressour’s sable hair, as
his short stature prevented him from being in the beast’s range.
The
last thing Dexter sees is the paleness of the fist and the
mountain-like knuckles, before he is knocked back in return.
A
sickening crack echoed through the bus, enlightening the socials with
some gruesome viewing pleasure.
Dexter’s
glasses drop down onto the dirty bus hallway for everyone to see the
outcome:
Cracked,
shattered glass, and flecks of the male’s precious blood.
Mandark
saw it and cringed. The glasses he gave his rival earlier now lay
upon the floor, shattered like the little boy’s soul.
This
ignited the fuse.
“You
son of a BITCH!”
The
younger, taller scientist bellowed out in an enraged nasal tone, and
stood up, disregarding the bus rules, and setting a fighter’s stance.
Brown
eyes curiously fell from the threat to the pathetic heap which was
now his rival.
Dexter
cried out in pain, a noise Mandark never heard the boy emit, even
when he defeated him. Such a foreign noise prodded him further into
stretching his sanity, considering a physical fight with someone.
Douglas
was in shock, his brunette hair covering the face of the fellow
scientist and obstructing the view of the real damage….that was
until he moved.
Mandark
gasped mentally.
Blood
and parts of the shattered lenses were implanted in his cheeks. Tears
mixed with plasma ran down and streaked the child’s face like some
morbid mascara. A large patch of darkening skin surrounded the impact
area.
“What
are you going to do? Protect that little mick? Yeah…faggot.”
The
biggot’s taunt rung like an alarm bell, and that’s all Mandark
needed.
The
youth slung his brown backpack, and decked the bully clean across the
face.
Oh
yeah, and the science and math books didn’t soften the blow either.
The
next thing the socials saw was a former threat of a fifth-grader
heaped upon the floor in defeat, and the tall nerd left standing,
panting from swinging such a weight.
Mandark
couldn’t help but smile and laugh internally, but a state of shock
covered his external features.
“The
ultimate role-reversal.” he mused, looking down at the saguine
puddle spurting from the boy’s nose.
All
of the kids seemed thrilled in a shocking upset.
A
nerd? Beats up a jock?
All
of them seemed enthusiastic about the outcome…..except for the bus
driver, who just seemed to notice.
“Hey!
How many times do I have to tell you kids NOT TO STAND UP ON THE
BUS?!”
Mandark
snapped out of his unexpected shock, and took a seat next to the
injured boy.
Douglas
looked up in awe at the anti-social taking place next to Dexter,
mainly of what a courageous thing he never thought someone like him
would do, especially for the young injured scientist that was his
rival.
“I
cannot believe you did that.” the pimply Mordechai eeked out,
then looked down at the casuality of the bully’s wrath.
Dexter
gave out small whimpers, and tried to dig the small shards out of his
cheeks.
Mandark
looked down at they boy and sighed. “Nor can I.”
He
bats Dexter’s gloved hands away from his own scarred cheeks.
“Dexter,”
he hissed sharply, regaining his irritability of the rival, “you
do that, and you are going to make the cuts even deeper.”
Dexter
growls, realising who was next to him besides Douglas.
“Mandark!
Don’t you DARE hurt ME! That would be unsophisticated out of a fellow
scientist, though I HARDLY doubt you fall in THAT catagory.”
Dexter
still composed his razor-tongue and caustic attitude even when
injured.
Mandark
snorts, then digs through his backpack, unzipping a front
compartment.
“Dexter!
He’s only trying to help! He saved you from that bully! Show some
gratitude!”
Douglas
scolds the scientist, peeved on the outcome of his attitude.
“Help
my ass.” Dexter grinds out under his breath.
Mandark
finds a pair of tweezers, and starts probing the pallid flesh around
the glass, and plucks it out. Dexter feeling the cold metal, and not
being able to see clearly started to panic, knowing that this was
Mandark; whom he always thought that he wanted to kill him, was
making this opportunity to finish the job, or even inserting
something that will.
“Kill
me off, why don’t you!” He snarls, awaiting for Mandark to lash
pain out on his feeble body.
Douglas
furrows his brow and huffs. “Dexter! He is removing the shards
of glass! He’s NOT trying to kill you.”
Mandark
sighs, taking out another piece.
By
then, the bus driver saw the collapsed biggot in the hallway, and
pulled over haistily.
“What
happened back here?” she yelled, rushing over to the fallen kid.
“WHO
DID THIS?” She barked, making the children cringe.
“Ma’am,
this boy is hurt. Ma’am! Hey!” the raven-haired genius screamed
out.
However….the
startled woman interpeted it as someone admiting to the incident.
“I
knew it had to be YOU!” She grabs the scientist by the arm, and
pulls him up to the front.
“HEY!
DEXTER’S HURT! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”
Mandark
protested, alongside with Douglas, who pleaded that he was not the
perpetratour, and that Dexter needed some serious medical attention.
The
childern took sides, and yelled out accusing Mandark of this heinous
crime. They didn’t care, after all, to them he was inexpendable, and
most were friends of the bully.
Mandark
did take a blow to the bully, but only in self defense. How could
that be a crime?
Mandark
shouted out “TAKE THE TWEEZERS, DOUGLAS!” over the ever
growing roar of the socials, and internally cried.
The
pimply nerd nodded, barely able to make out the boy’s words, and
contiuned where Astronominov left off.