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Neon Genesis Phijkchu

Lifecycle
July 17, 2020 – Present
Snapshot
Through August 30, 2026
Preserved messages
June 19, 2020 – August 30, 2026
Members
712
Messages
1,098,506
Channels
43

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Rusp general
Back at his apartment, Matt changed into a baggy T-shirt and a pair of elastic-waisted pajama pants. Tomorrow he would have to go shopping for new clothes. But what could he wear while he shopped? Was he going to turn into one of those tacky people who wore pajamas in public? The pressure in his stomach was getting worse, and the weird knot on his head was hurting where it was stretching the skin of his scalp. Maybe he had some medicine that might help him. He went to the kitchen, chewed up a couple of antacid tablets, and drank a glass of water. He waited for relief, but it didn’t come. Instead, the pressure increased. Even the soft T-shirt he was wearing felt irritating. He took it off and looked down at his watermelon-shaped belly. The pressure from inside was pounding, pummeling. He looked at the skin of his belly. There was movement underneath. When he felt the pounding, a faint imprint of an indeterminate shape showed up on his skin. Matt stifled a scream as he realized the truth: something was inside him, and it was trying to get out. The painful pounding became more insistent, a drumbeat of agony. If it was out of him, whatever it was, the pain would stop. Get it out, get it out, he thought as he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. He grabbed his discarded T-shirt and bit down on the fabric just to have some kind of outlet for the pain. If he got it out, the pain would stop. But how? There was no place for it to go.
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Rusp general
Another surge of pain hit him, this one crushing. He doubled over and grabbed the kitchen counter for support. His gaze turned to the kitchen knives hanging on a magnetic strip on the wall. He could cut it out. Cutting would relieve the pressure and get whatever it was out. He would be free of whatever this burden was. He wanted to be free. He grabbed the largest, sharpest kitchen knife and lay on his back on the floor. Starting the incision was the hardest part, but the pain inside him was greater than any pain he could cause himself. He sank the knife’s tip into the top of his abdomen and then drew the blade downward, biting down on the T-shirt so the neighbors wouldn’t hear him scream. There was pain, but there was also relief. The pressure stopped, the blood flowed, and Matt saw, emerging from the incision, one long green rabbit ear. The whole rabbit emerged, wet and slimy with mucus, a perfectly formed Springtrap the size of a healthy, newborn infant. But unlike a newborn infant, the rabbit could pull itself out of the incision, land in a kneeling position on the kitchen floor, and then rise to stand. The blood loss was making Matt fade in and out of consciousness, but even in his addled state, he could see that the creature he had spawned was Springtrap but somehow not Springtrap. This one was realer, more organic than the one in the video game. Matt’s mind drifted back to a story his mom had read to him when he was little about a stuffed toy rabbit that had wished so hard to be real that it became real.
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Rusp general
The Springtrap that stood over Matt’s bleeding body was not an amalgamation of code that somebody like him had programmed into a computer. This Springtrap was real. The green rabbit sat down on the floor beside Matt and rested Matt’s head in its furry lap. It felt nice. Matt was losing so much blood. Could a person lose this much blood and still stay alive? The rabbit stroked Matt’s cheek. Matt didn’t know if he heard the word come out of the rabbit’s mouth or if it was only in his own head: Daddy.
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