Dr. Masscrik was a simple man. He liked to hurt things, to destroy. But he also enjoyed the art of creation. He'd been trying for years to create something living- something to worship him, to be weak to him. And he hadn't yet succeeded.

Until two days ago. The boy was soft, sweet. Easy to manipulate- easy to take from. Masacrik had sewn him a very cute outfit, made sure his legs were weak and brittle, so he couldn't run away, and made sure to give him his love pills every day to keep the boy compliant and weak to him.

Masacrik couldn't be happier. He sat on the couch in his house, creation in his lap, watching TV.