[pullquote]“Fuck Bill Clinton.” ~ Justin Bieber[/pullquote]The hooded figure’s glance darted fearfully from behind mirrored shades, as if the white picket fences contained some menacing invisible hell hounds. The heat and humidity of Arkansas’ summer was oppressive, and under his heavy hoodie Justin Bieber sweated and stank. He felt like Trayvon Martin, just minutes before a paranoid neighborhood watchman shot him to death, smiling wryly as he popped Skittles in his mouth and sucked on them obsessively. A door slammed open, and Bieber winced automatically at the shriek of a teenage girl.
She knew the name of every piece of clothing Justin Bieber had ever worn, and she recognized his gait from a long, scientific study. She instagrammed a photo of Bieber to her neighborhood friends who helped her track him on his suspicious walk. Texting furiously at her smartphone and pausing only to swipe her hand dramatically across her moistening nether region, she drew up airtight plans to accost Bieber.
The girls assembled in the hollow of a shrubbery, tittering and moist with excitement. Their supernatural attention focused on small beams of light piercing the bush, and with one bright flash of sunlight from Bieber’s mirrored shades, the quivering girls whispered shrieks and shook each other in disbelief. “It’s him,” she whispered, regaining some sanity, “Remember the plan. Wait until he’s right next to us, then Jenna, you grab one leg. Norah, grab the other. Petra, Elisa, get his arms and I’ll jump on his back.” Olivia swiped her hand between her thighs reflexively and went a bit cross-eyed, her attention still focused on the approaching figure outside the bush.
With all the seriousness and practiced efficiency of a SWAT team clearing a compound full of armed militants, the girls latched onto Bieber, who swung around in a futile attempt to escape their clutches. The girls shrieked at first and then moaned deep heaving gasps interspersed with cries of elation. As Norah and Jenna wrapped their legs tightly around his they ground their hips desperately into his shins. Elisa and Petra separated their small, firm breasts between his shoulders as they groped his chest, and Olivia leaped onto his back letting loose an agonized yelp from the totally unexpected first sexual climax of her life.
Justin Bieber’s wiry frame bulged into something resembling a professional bodybuilder fresh off a starvation and dehydration cycle, his skin nothing but a thin sheet barely concealing the heavily striated muscles beneath. Bieber roared like Goku ascending to Super Saiyan. A gust of wind, which may or may not have been generated by his transformation, blew back his hood and set perfect golden hair waving free in the wind. Norah and Jenna came at the same time, sobbing tears of joy which streamed down the skin exposed by the torn jeans on his powerful upper legs. He cupped his hands between Elisa and Petra’s crotches, lifting them with another triumphant roar, and they too went limp with satisfaction.
Olivia and the other girls felt a bit disgusted now that they were relieved of their primal instinct and tried to let go or at least loosen their grip a bit. Bieber’s laugh, deep and punctuated like M. Bison or Ganondorf, echoed through the suburbs, causing at least ten dogs to go into fits of terrified barking. The girls began to cry and scream in terror, and Bieber’s bellowing laughter grew deeper and louder, and his muscles expanded around the girls, who quickly became silent as their faces went dark. The bodies of the girls contorted into unnatural postures and responded to Bieber’s body as if a part of his musculature. The new hulking body twitched and then flexed. Bieber stretched his new gigantic body before striding out of the balmy Arkansas suburbs and into hills dotted with gleaming white plantation homesteads.
Justin Bieber, having absorbed the powers and bodies of the teenage girls, stood well over fifteen feet tall and left a path of destruction just as wide. One man was killed after Bieber picked him up and smashed him into the pavement, three cats were trampled to death, and a child was killed when Bieber punted him over his roof. Justin Bieber’s voice rang with perfect pitch across the hills of Arkansas, “We will never-ever-ever be apart. I was like Baby, Baby, Baby. Ohhhhh. Like, Baby, Baby, Baby. Noooo. Like, Baby, Baby, Baby. Ohhhhhh. Thought you’d always be mine, mine.”
Bieber’s loping casual stride was no different than the one that had allowed Olivia to identify him, as she would later recall under hypnosis. Unconscious, she had acted only to augment his back muscles, an especially fortunate position which allowed her to escape the disfiguring trauma inherent in acting as the arms and legs of a rampaging monster. In court, it was later determined that this killing spree was simply a lead up to the attempted murder of President Bill Clinton, giving the jury leeway to convict Bieber of first degree murder. Olivia told the court that she had remembered, under hypnosis, that Bieber stopped in front of Clinton’s house for several moments and made “repeated motions, like he was jacking off or something,” before smashing a hole in the front of the house. She told the court, “I could see everything from over his shoulder and I helped him, like my arms were his arms kind of. I remember smashing Elisa and Petra through the top floor above the porch and feeling him kicking Norah and Jenna through the front door, where he found Bill Clinton in a panic. Justin grabbed Bill Clinton and held him up to his dick, rubbing him there for a second I guess. Then he threw Bill Clinton on the ground and peed on him. I didn’t remember any of this without the hypnosis, but I did remember kinda waking up when Justin’s muscles started to let go of me. It was like the piss stream onto Bill Clinton was emptying out his muscles or something. Justin was doing that creepy laugh, only it was getting quieter and smaller.” The terribly disfigured girls who had been Justin Bieber’s arms and legs cried at this moment, convincing the jury that capital punishment was entirely appropriate for this case.
Bieber had also taken the stand to claim the girls did not act as victims but rather as conspirators, both before and after the transformation and the murders. He pleaded to the judge, “I remember as little of the events as the girls do, but when I came to I wasn’t just peeing my multi-platinum piss on Bill Clinton. In fact, no matter how hard I tried I could barely get a drop of piss on him because the girls were jockeying for my urine with their mouths wide open, like baby birds in a nest. Most of their faces were smashed and bloody, but I just remember being so mad I couldn’t get a drop of piss on Bill Clinton. Fuck Bill Clinton.”