Madwoman Without a Box

“I’m a REAL boy!” A Pinocchio x Tina Turner fan fiction. As requested by youreallyshouldkneel.

Pinocchio was once a wooden toy. And not the usual “toy” that you find in the back of Spencers. Nope. One with wood. Real wood.

Pinocchio, being only a wooden boy, and not a real one, as he so wished to be, thought that going to a concert would be something “real boys” did. Hopefully this being a better decision than gauging his ears with a pair of hedge clippers like he did last week. How was he supposed to know that’s not how you gauged your ears?

Unfortunately for him, the only concert he was able to get into was a Tina Turner concert. Third to front row, where apparently you could “really see the wrinkle-sweat glisten.”

As he stood there he watched the crowd with a sadden expression. He was hoping to go somewhere hardcore. Like… “ICP”. Somewhere “cool”. Fuck what he thought was cool, he was only made of wood. Poor thing didn’t know shit about how ICP was, indeed, shit. So he stood there, not enjoying the music because his other wooden peers had told him that Tina Turner was “uncool”. He watched the others dancing. Or at least what they could do of dancing. Half of them were old. Sometimes middle-aged. And at least five of them had walkers, so he counted from the one direction he looked in. After all, he couldn’t move about easily. He’s wood, remember? Surprising that he can stand up straight without a “hand”, but who knows.

He wasn’t old. He wasn’t “uncool”. Was he?

“NO! I’m not!” he screamed as he grabbed his wooden penis and ripped it in half to prove his manliness. The crowd then turned in awe and forgot all about Tina, turning full attention to Pinocchio’s maimed shaft.

Pinocchio then screamed the yelp of one thousands suns (one thousand and one would be too obscene to mention, but in actuality… that’s what it was). As he did this he threw is penis to the ground. Shattering its wood-ness into a billion splintered particles, They flew out and imbedded themselves in the eyes and ears of all the Tina Turner fans. He felt accomplished.

Acknowledging the fact that her crowd was ignoring her performance, Tina Turner scanned the funeral home-sized room for what could possibly be a better show than she. Suddenly there, right near the front row, was a small wooden stump-looking boy. Wailing wails that she’d never heard in all her 140 years of living. She then knew what she was to do.

There was an abrupt silence that fell over everyone when suddenly, out of no where, there was a loud, yet soft, angelic noise that sounded like a raptor and two angels getting it on. It was Tina Turner’s true form: The forgotten 5th Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. She spouted purple, razor-sharp wings from her damaged turtle shells and cawed like some kind of bird in heat. She started flapping them wings before she lifted from the stage, angelically of course, and flew down, picking up Pinocchio by the nose with her turtle beak. She flew off with him as the rest of the crowd threw rotten eggs at her for taking away the only clear talent in the room.

She took him to her nest in Taiwan. It was quite a long trip so as they landed she half-heartedly tossed Pinocchio into the Technicolor nest filled with eggs long-since hatched.

“Let me alone, Tina Turner! I am too cool for your bird wings! I will not take this turtle shit from you!” Pinocchio yelped, taking a moderately manly stance. She squaked at him, flailing her wings about the place.

“I have looked for real talent all my years of living! I needed to breed with real talent. If I do not breed soon, my wrinkles will grow even bigger and engulf my entire body if I do not quickly!”

“But you have children!”

“MY CHILDREN ARE LIES!” Tina Turner spat, crying enough tears to drown a whale.

“I would! But alas I tore my wood pecker off at your concert! I am but a wooden boy!” he cried with her. Creating a pool in her nest of clearly one talent.

“I have the power! I shall turn you into a real boy!” She spoke words of wisdom as she chewed heavenly on a chopstick sticking out from her nest. Where she got it, the world shall never know.

“Then do it! And I shall breed with you!”

“She ruffled her turtle feathers and puffed out her bosom before dancing the dance of life, squaking and pissing all over the place. Literally. This shit got EVERYWHERE.

“LOVE ME!” she screeched like a death-band lead singer. Suddenly, there was a ray of light and Pinocchio turned into a true boy.

Unfortunately for him, (and Tina Turner!), his penis did not grow back. Instead, he grew a tiny stump, where it used to be. It was, indeed, an angry inch.

“I apologize, Tina! I have no peni-” He couldn’t get the rest out for before he could finish, Tina Turner roared a roar louder than a moose’s mating call and picked him up with her talons, shoving his entire body inside of her vagina.

She squaked yet again as she flew into the sunset.