[insert standard disclaimers here]

******

Elmyra looked around as she entered the new reality.  A recent addition
by the owners of her own meta-reality, this was a bit more exotic than
most, but was said to be filled with small, cuddly creatures just
begging for her attentions.  Other rumors said that these same creatures
were - at least, in the fan sections - subjected to tortures far worse
than any she, the meta-reality's resident torture expert, could dream
of.  The whole situation just screamed for her to investigate, so here
she was.

After entering with, and quickly losing, the official tour, she set to
work on her own tour without delay.  First stop was a large, colesium-
like building near the center, which was currently holding some kind of
sporting event.  Although the place was filled to capacity, television
monitors repeated the action for those not fortunate enough to get a
seat.  The girl blended into the audience, and watched.

Several minutes later, she finished throwing up.  That was not torture;
that was bloodsport, plain and simple.  No subtle insinuations of pain,
no effort to keep the victim alive and suffering as long as possible;
those in charge sought merely quick, brutal death from their opposition.

Even worse, the bodies' bones had been extracted, and shipped back to
Official Continuity for use in Cubones and Marowaks...whatever those
were.  Gods, was there no END to what people would do to link their
stories to that which started the reality?  Of course not; she knew
that.  Some viewed these links as matters of life and death to their
creations, and acted accordingly.  She did no less on the extremely
infrequent occasions when someone other than her threatened harm to her
charges; what fun was her craft if her victims were not scarred for life
- or, worse, cut short her pleasure by dying or passing out quickly?

Moving on, she found herself in what had to be the red light district.
One prominent brothel was named, unimaginatively enough, "Pokerape".
Try as she might, though, she could not summon a single tear in response
to the screams of pleasure and pain - mostly pain - that echoed from
inside.  She had been written into their same situation more than once,
and bestiality just was not that popular.  What they were being
subjected to was tame, compared to some of her own memories.

Chanting attracted her attention next.  Caution guiding her actions, she
observed from afar, using high-powered vision scopes she had lifted
during a Star Wars parody cameo some years ago.  Robed figures were
doing a ritual dance around a statue holding a book.  Her first zoom
setting let her make out the book's title: "Pokenomicon".  Zoomin out a
bit...

She shuddered.  Even with what little she knew about Pokemon, she knew
that combining water and electric types in the same one like that was
just...*wrong*.  But, why did the chant of "Pikathulu" ring a bell?

Creeping along, she found a Pokemon out on its own.  It was cute, fuzzy,
pink, and with its back to her.  Time to go into action.  "C'mere, you
fuzzy-wuzzy..."

"Jiggly!  Puff?"

Elmyra quickly snatched the pink baloon and cuddled it.  "I'm gonna love
you and hug you and squeeze you and love you all to death!"

"Hmph!" the Jigglypuff honked.

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*

A suddenly charred Elmyra looked at the newly empty space inside her
embrace.  Since when did Jigglypuffs know how to explode?  Oh, well,
maybe a Pikachu would be more cooperative.  Grinning, she brought out
her grounding-wire lasso...