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Idea taken from Foxfire’s Torture series, Number 25 to be exact. It was changed slightly, but I think that it still qualifies as the same idea. As always, the Biker Mice from Mars are not my creation, and I’m am in no way making any money off of this. I hope you enjoy! ^_^
Torture #25
Biker Mice from Mars
By Kat
"Are you sure?" Charlie asked looking hesitantly from one Martian male to the next.
"Of course sweetheart! There’s nothing we can’t handle," Vinnie bragged.
"I don’t know…" Charlie hedged, not wanting to give in.
Throttle chuckled, "Don’t worry, Charlie-girl. It isn’t like we haven’t done it before. We’re a little out of practice, but I’m sure we’ll manage just fine."
"Besides, my gray furred momma made sure I knew a thing or two about taking care of myself," Modo said, trying to comfort his human friend. Charlie still didn’t look too convinced, so Modo decided to step up the charm a bit. Vinnie wasn’t the only one that knew how to handle the ladies.
Modo took Charlie’s hand in both of his large ones and placed it over his heart. "You have my solemn word that I won’t let them ruin a thing."
Charlie smiled and lightly tugged on Modo’s breastplate, "OK. But I’m counting on you to keep those muscle heads in line," she said, wagging her free index finger at him.
Modo grinned back and ignored the sour looks from his bros. Charlie glanced at the mound of clothes in the middle of her floor. She had been surprised when the guys had rolled up this morning, full to bursting trashbags strapped to their bikes. Charlie had been buying the guys clothes from thrift shops and Goodwills since they got here, but she had no idea that they had accumulated so much! Where had they been washing their clothes until now? Charlie shuttered, not really wanting to know the answer.
"OK. You guys can use my laundry room, but I better come back and find my garage the same way I left it. Is that understood?"
All three mice snapped their heels together and saluted her with a resounding ‘Yes, Ma’am’. Charlie laughed and playfully swatted them out of the way, so that she could retrieve her tools.
"I’ll be gone a couple of hours. That truck broke down just outside the city limits, so it will take me a while to get there and back," she reminded them as she threw her stuff into her truck. "Oh, by the way, I have a basket of clean clothes in the laundry room. Just turn the basket upside down on the bed so that the clothes will stay folded and you can use the basket, OK?"
"Sure. No problem, Sweetheart," Vinnie grinned and Charlie got nervous.
"Are you guys sure? I can…"
"GO!" all three yelled at her.
"All right, all right… I’m goin’… I’m going…" Charlie started the truck, gave them a parting wave and drove away.
"She worries too much sometimes," Throttle commented as he watched her go.
"Can you blame her after Tornado Vinnie blew threw her kitchen last month?" Modo asked, pointing accusingly at his white furred comrade.
"How was I supposed to know that eggs don’t cook well in the microwave?"
Throttle thumped Modo on the back, "Remember the look on Charlie-girl’s face when that egg went whizzing by her head at Mach 3."
"It wasn’t half as funny as seeing Vinnie’s face when she made him clean up the mess," Modo chuckled.
"Hey, that wasn’t funny. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get yoke out of white fur?" Vinnie complained.
The guys just laughed and Modo put his arm around Vinnie and Throttle’s shoulders. "Come on lets get goin’."
The other two agreed and they set off to work. Each took their own bag of clothes and started to separate them. Since all three of them had an aversion to wearing shirts there wasn’t much to separate but jeans, socks and underwear. Looking at their piles Modo made a decision.
"Well, between the three of us we have enough white for one load. If we do those first the dryer will be done faster for our jeans."
"Whatever, Modo," Throttle shrugged, "You’re in charge."
"’You have my solemn word that I won’t let them ruin a thing’" Vinnie mocked in the worst Modo impression the gray mouse had ever heard.
"’Oh Modo’," Throttle continued in a high falsetto, "’I’m counting on you.’"
Throttle batted his eyes prettily over the rim of his shades making Vinnie snicker. Modo growled and threw a couch cushion at his tan furred friend.
"Go ahead and laugh, but who do you think is going to have their favorite breakfast tomorrow?" Modo asked as he walked away, his arms full of his own white laundry.
"You know he’s right," Throttle told Vinnie. "Charlie will give him all the credit if this place isn’t trashed when she comes back."
"I can take care of that!" Vinnie said excitedly, looking around for something to demolish.
"Oh, no you don’t," Throttle said, stalling Vinnie’s jets. "If this place is a wreck she’ll blame us for not listening to Modo. Face it bro, he has us licked."
"Ah man," Vinnie complained throwing his socks on top of his pile. "How come he gets all the brakes?"
"What can I say? Ladies love the strong silent type."
"Hey, they love the buff, good-lookin, studdly types too," Vinnie told his friend as he flexed his muscles and puffed out his chest.
Throttle chuckled, "Yeah, Vinnie. You’re a real class act."
==
Modo came to the laundry room door and gave it a push with his hip. Since his hands were full he had to pass through the doorway quickly before the swinging door caught his tail. Looking at the two olive green appliances, Modo quickly determined which one was the washer and shoved his clothes in. He turned around to see if he dropped any socks on the way over, because you always seem to drop socks more than any other article of clothing. After retrieving two AWOL foot coverings, Modo looked over the array of detergents before him.
"With bleach, without bleach, regular bleach, bleach for colors, spring flowers scented bleach, detergent for delicates, fabric softener, spot remover, pre-treater and ‘extra heavy duty when absolutely nothing else on earth will get it out’ detergent."
Modo just shook his head. Charlie sure does plan for every contingency, he thought to himself as he grabbed the detergent with bleach. He carefully measured a cup, and dumped it in. He put that back and pulled down the regular bleach and poured a generous amount in the washer. He turned the dials to hot wash/ hot rinse, large load and started the washer.
"Move over Big Fella. Dirty laundry coming through," Throttle said as he came barreling through the swinging door.
"Just put your stuff with mine," Modo told his bro.
"Gotcha," Throttle responded as he watched the large mouse leave.
"Cheese, Modo. You’d swear I’d never done this before," Throttle complained under his breath as he tossed his own socks and underwear in.
"I bet he forgot to put the soap in," Throttle theorized seeing none of the detergent boxes pulled down from the shelf above.
The tan furred leader of the Biker Mice glanced at the impressive selection and whistled low. Charlie knows us a little too well, he thought as he pulled down the detergent without bleach and the color safe bleach, since some of his sock had those colored rings on them. He dispensed a sizeable amount of both, measuring by eye, and placed the containers on the dryer so that Modo would know that he had already put the soap in.
Throttle went to reach for the door when Vincent Van Wham made his grand entrance by kicking open the door. Throttle, not expecting the door to open with such force and velocity couldn’t react fast enough to stop the door from impacting with his face. With a muffled crack, the door and Throttle’s muzzle connected, causing the older mouse’s specks to fly from his face.
"Ah man, Throttle. I’m sorry! Why were you standing so close to the door?" Vinnie asked innocently.
"If you weren’t one of my best bro’s I’d…" Throttle threatened, glaring at the cringing white mouse.
Vinnie quickly looped his tail around his friend’s glasses and gave them back. Throttle yanked them from Vinnie. The younger mouse tried to give, what he hoped was a disarming smile, but it didn’t do Jack-diddlely on Throttle. The tan mouse gave him a parting glare and push through the door.
"Cheese…," Vinnie said guiltily. "It wasn’t like I did it on purpose."
Vinnie crammed his clothes into the washer on top of his bros’ and noticed Throttle had left out the detergent for him. He picked up the soap without bleach and shook it. Not much in there, Vinnie thought as he poured the entire contents in. Scanning the shelf he selected the ‘extra heavy duty when absolutely nothing else on earth will get it out’ detergent and threw some in. Remembering that he had some mustard stains on his socks he grabbed both the spot remover and pre-treater and squeezed some in thinking that it couldn’t hurt. As an after thought he snagged the bleach and poured in half a bottle, not noticing that he had grabbed the spring flowers scented bleach. Everything, including the empty box, was put back in its place by the time Modo came back in.
"You all set Vinnie?" Modo asked.
"Yep, everything’s in and running."
"Good. I’m gonna go take Charlie’s clothes up to her room," Modo told him indicating the basket on the floor.
"I wonder what Charlie-girl’s got in there," Vinnie thought out loud, and got his hand smacked while attempting to find out.
"Stop that Vinnie. It isn’t polite for a gentleman to go though a lady’s things," the gray mouse informed the curious mouse as he hauled up the basket and walked out the door.
"Gentleman? Who said I was a gentleman?" Vinnie joked as he followed him out. "A babe magnet definitely, baddest mamajamma unquestionably, and without a doubt the studdlyest mouse this side of Alpha Centory, but a gentleman…" Vinnie laughed, "That’s your department bro. You can make friends with them and be the big brother they never had if you want, but being some pretty young babe’s brother is the last thing I want to be."
"That’s why your single," Modo commented as he started up the stairs to Charlie’s room.
"What’s wrong with being single?" Vinnie asked, sounding a little defensive. "I like being single. I can have the pick of any girl I want. I don’t have to settle for just one."
"Probably because ‘one’ won’t ‘settle’ for YOU," Modo teased.
Vinnie took offense to his big bro’s words and launched the couch cushion that Modo had thrown at Throttle earlier. The chocolate brown seat cushion hit Modo square in the side. Since he was ascending the stairs sideways, because the basket was too wide to go straight, the impact of the foam rubber rectangle made him lose his balance. His left elbow hit the stairs with a sick thump, striking his funny bone hard enough to make him let go of that side of the laundry basket. His bionic hand held firm, but he damage had been done. Without both sides being supported, the basket tipped and all of Charlie’s clean and folded clothes fell in jumbled disarray down the stairs.
"What happened?" Throttle asked as he emerged from the kitchen with a freshly made sandwich.
"He did it," both mice accused the other, fingers pointed. "Did not," both of them wailed.
"Hold it, hold it," Throttle yelled at both of them before they could get into a real fight. "It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, but Charlie will kick all our tails if she sees this."
Throttle looked around for somewhere he could put his hoagie. Seeing nothing, he dragged three drink coasters over, laid them in a row and put his lunch on top. After inspecting the mess that Modo and Vinnie refused to take responsibility for, Throttle sighed and shook his head.
"Well, I don’t think any of it’s dirty, so all we have to do is fold it and put it in her room and she’ll never know."
The other two agreed and the three of them began to rescue Charlie’s clothes from the stairs. Modo was starting to wonder how many blue mechanic’s shirts Charlie could possibly own when Vinnie elbowed him in the ribs. Modo turned, ready to brain the white mouse, when a lacy, double-cupped, blood red garment was dangled in his face.
"I think Charlie-girl’s been hiding a lot more than the TV remote around here," Vinnie stated with awe and admiration as he examined the red article of clothing and its black twin.
"Yeah, I don’t think Victoria is the only one that has a secret," Throttle commented holding up a deep purple teddy complete with garters and stockings.
Modo could feel himself blushing furiously, thank the Goddess for fur. He snatched the intimate apparel from the other two mice and searched the stairs for anything else that his bros would find ‘interesting’.
"I don’t think Charlie-girl will appreciate you mouse-handling her unmentionables," Modo growled, realizing suddenly, as he collected her undergarments, that their Charlie ‘one-of-the-bros’ Davidson had very little that didn’t fall into the sexy category.
"Do you guys smell something burning?" Throttle asked the others.
The three mice stopped and sampled the air. Vinnie wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"It smells like burning rubber."
"You don’t think…"
They looked at each other, then with the horror of realization sinking in, they looked at the laundry room door. Rolling across the ceiling was a thin layer of blue gray smoke emanating from the for mentioned laundry room.
"Ah man," Vinnie cried as he followed Throttle at brake neck speed towards the disaster zone.
They burst through the door to find Charlie’s laundry room filled with the same smoke that was now marking her ceiling. Coughing and gagging, Vinnie made his way to the room’s only window and yanked it open. Thankfully the wind started to pull the smoke from the area even as Vinnie was scooping handfuls of it and tossing it outside.
"What happened?" Modo asked, coughing. Not really realizing he stood there with Charlie’s delicates draped in his arms.
Throttle just shrugged and flipped open the washer’s lid. Inside he found a white, gray and blue taffy like material churning slowly. It would later be analyzed and discovered to be the strongest polymer known to Man or Mice. The combination of the synthetic fibers of the socks, the three different types of bleach, the spot remover, the pre-treater, and the ‘extra heavy duty when absolutely nothing else on earth will get it out’ detergent (that if any of them had bothered to read the label would have found that it was a cleaner for cement floors to remove grease and oil and should under no circumstances be combined with any other form of cleaner, EVER) had created a substance that could rival Plutarkian glass steel for strength and durability.
The smoke, however, was not coming from the sock and underwear goulash. The poor twenty-year-old motor to the ancient washer that Charlie had lovingly maintained since she got it at a yard sale four years ago could not handle the sticky, fibrous matter that was created inside. After hearing the low whine of the engine that almost seemed to cry, ‘Please God, put me out of my misery’, Throttle looked over the back of the appliance and barely got his handsome face back in time as the motor’s prayers were answered and it burst into flames.
"Water, water. We need…"
Throttle didn’t get to finish his cry for help since Vinnie had just doused him in a bucket full of the water he was so desperately requesting. The white mouse had correctly realized that where there’s smoke there’s fire had already filled a fire bucket with water from the kitchen sink. Unfortunately he had incorrectly assumed that Throttle had moved out of the way.
"VINNIE!" Throttle screamed as he approached the white mouse.
Vinnie started to back away holding out his hands in a futile gesture to stall his angered leader. Realizing that he held out the guilty bucket in his equally guilty hand, Vinnie tried to hide the bucket behind him, but it was too late. Throttle pounced, pinning Vinnie to the floor as he tried to choke the life out of his younger friend. Modo looked from his tan furred friend attempting to end the life of his white furred friend and the fire behind the dead washer. He was trying to decide what to do when the decision was taken out of his hands.
The hose that brought the water to the washer finally broke, spurring water. Thankfully the water put out the flames, but as fate would have it, the water fountained in a perfect arc across the room over the three mice. Thank the Goddess, it was the cold water line. Modo stood there getting increasingly soaked unable to move with the shock of the situation. Throttle stopped momentarily from choking Vinnie to look around him. He threw up his hand and groaned as if to say, ‘What else could go wrong’.
"Guys? Do you know where…"
That was as far as Charlie got. The human mechanic had realized as she was half-way to her destination that she had forgotten her extra battery pack for her hand tools. Since she didn’t want to drive all that way out there and then find out that she couldn’t complete the job due to lack of power, she had come home to retrieve it. Never in her wildest, woollyest nightmare could she have ever imagined the sight before her.
Her laundry room floor was covered in an inch of water and wisps of smoke still clung to the beams of the ceiling. In front of her stood her sweet, lovable teddy bear Modo holding an armful of her lingerie with water raining down on him from the busted hose. At her feet Throttle sat on top of a dazed and slightly conscious Vinnie. He probably didn’t realize that draped across his left ear was her favorite tiger striped thong panties.
"I don’t want to know," she said as she turned around and left.
--
The End