Got Talent? - Part 3 - Finale: Is THIS What Your Teachers Meant When They Said “Use Your Words?” (Pixiv Fanbox)

Got Talent? - Part 3 - Finale: Is THIS What Your Teachers Meant When They Said “Use Your Words?”

Based on an idea suggested by Mister "D Not" Mod.

Contains: Underwear, Knockouts, and Wetting

Toya belongs to @dragonman.net

—

The set had transformed once again, this time into something resembling a kid’s TV kitchen show. There were bright pastel counters, two mini easy-bake ovens shaped like smiling animals, and Charmy Bee and Bradley the Husky standing behind separate baking stations. The two rivals eyed each other like it was a warzone. That wasn’t cake batter you’re smelling. It was the fires of war.

Hermes Vermillion glided towards center stage.

“Finalists!” he announced with theatrical flair. “Your ultimate task is simple… and by simple, I mean soul-crushingly difficult if you’re dumb and you suck. You must host this baking segment while our darling chaos agents, Charmy and Bradley, prepare delicious desserts! All while the other team does everything in their power to ruin your performance!”

Hitbox and Toya exchanged a smirk.

Donovan nudged Vergil. “Ever dreamed of hosting Masterchef?.”

Vergil stared at the table of eggs and flour. “I... don’t hate the idea. Do we get to sample the products?”

Hermes raised a velvet-gloved hand. “And remember, you’re being judged on poise, clarity, and composure under pressure. Begin!”

FINAL ROUND!

Donovan and Vergil stepped forward, mics clipped to their collars, each trying to strike a host-worthy stance. Behind them, Hitbox was already whispering to Toya with mischievous intent.

Donovan cleared his throat, holding his mic confidently.

“Today, folks, we’re witnessing a classic culinary rivalry. To my left, the ever-energetic Charmy Bee, known for mixing up his sugar with unintentional self-sabotage–”

“--And to the right, Bradley the Husky,” Vergil continued, “whose smug face has probably never even seen a mixer until today but will likely find a way to prevail.”

Charmy stuck his tongue out at Bradley. Bradley rolled his eyes, already pouring batter with annoyingly perfect form.

The audience giggled.

Donovan grinned. “See? Look at that chemistry. Beautiful chaos.”

Vergil pointed to the table. “Charmy’s using a whisk with both hands now. I don’t know whether to be impressed or afraid.”

But just as they hit their stride-!

SPLAT!

A cream pie hurled across the stage and smashed directly into Donovan’s face. The crowd burst into laughter.

Donovan stumbled back, covered in whipped goo.

Hitbox strolled into frame, smug as can be. “This segment was getting boring. Let a real host show you how it’s done.”

Toya, laughing behind him, gave a mock salute to the camera.

Vergil turned to Hermes, voice rising. “Are there rules against throwing actual pies at people?!”

Hermes sipped his tea. “There are no rules. This is television.”

FCC? What FCC?

Donovan wiped cream out of his eyes, furious. “Ohhh, it’s on.”

He reached behind him, grabbed a banana from the prop table, peeled it, took a bite… and flung the peel underhand with scary, perfect aim.

Just as Hitbox raised an arm to gesture grandly to Charmy’s intense egg-cracking action he stepped down onto the peel.

“Now Charmy has started to stir while doing a weird butt wigg-YEEEEEEK!”

His foot shot out. He windmilled in place. Then he crashed…!

Hitbox flew backward and his head collided squarely with Toya’s temple.

BONK!

Toya instantly went cross-eyed, wobbling as his tongue lolled slightly. “Duckies! I like... ducks...” he murmured into his mic before collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

Hitbox landed flat on his back, his legs twitching in the air. The banana peel landed and got stuck to his forehead.

Both of them lay there, dazed and drooling.

Donovan adjusted his mic, panting, eyes still a little gooey from pie cream.

“Well, looks like the competition’s... peeled out.”

Vergil cracked his knuckles. “Now back to the baking. Bradley’s folding his batter with surgical precision while Charmy’s beating his like it owes him money.”

Charmy shouted, “HEY!”

Vergil shrugged. “I said what I said.”

Hermes leaned over from his seat, looking amused. “Ten minutes remaining, gentlemen. These kids bake fast. I suggest you keep pace.”

Donovan saluted. “Yes, sir. Just try not to get hit by a rolling pin. Or a husky ego.”

Vergil snorted. “Or a bee tantrum.”

Charmy and Bradley, oblivious to the chaos, had started pouring batter into mini cake trays.

In the background, Toya groaned as he stumbled back up, alongside Hitbox. They both looked really upset.

The set was practically vibrating now. Charmy and Bradley continued frosting their cakes with intense, almost competitive elegance while two teams of wannabe hosts circled like wolves in a slapstick warzone.

Hermes sat casually sipping tea, legs crossed, letting the madness unfold.

As Donovan and Vergil adjusted their mics, ready to deliver actual commentary for the final stretch, they were too late to notice the string of twinkling Christmas lights snaking across their feet, courtesy of Hitbox and Toya, who had rigged it to a hidden power switch near the judge's panel.

Hitbox grinned like a villain. “Light 'em up.”

ZZZZZZZZT!

Sparks flew. Donovan and Vergil jolted upright in synchronized stiff-back agony, eyes wide and glowing, teeth clenched as lightning bolts zapped through their skeletons. Their hair stood on end.

“YIIIIIIIIIIIKES!!” Donovan screamed, flailing.

Vergil’s tongue flopped out, his eyes rolling comically as his legs kicked out beneath him.

PPPSSHHHHHT.

They both slumped to the floor with little splash sounds as dark wet stains bloomed across the fronts of their pants. The crowd roared.

Donovan twitched. “I didn’t know… I could wet that hard…”

Vergil whimpered, “I think my teeth are clacking in Morse code…”

Hitbox stepped back into the spotlight, smug and mic-ready.

“Sorry folks, we’re taking back control. No need to worry, we’re the real professionals here.”

Toya strolled beside him, arms crossed and cool as ice. “That’s right. No more jokes. Only clean, calm hosting.”

Donovan’s body jerked once, then twice, then suddenly snapped into motion like someone hit his “on” switch. He looked across the stage at Hitbox and Toya’s smug expressions.

“Vergil,” he said breathlessly, “...drum them.”

Vergil’s dazed eyes flickered. He stood like a man possessed and cracked his knuckles.

Then he air-drummed like he’d never air drummed before!

It started as a small, rhythmic motion. Snare hits, a few kicks. Then it exploded into a full-body air percussion explosion. His arms blurred. He headbanged. He spin-turned and tossed an invisible drumstick into the air, catching it behind his back and slamming down on an air cymbal with a foot kick that sent a burst of wind into the audience.

Toya started giggling while commentating over the baking competition.

Hitbox cracked a grin, watching his friend go and being unawares of what was about to happen to them.

Vergil added a backflip spin into his finale, dropped to his knees, and finished with a dramatic BA-DUM-TSSHHHHH.

The shockwave hit.

WHOOSH!

Toya and Hitbox’s both flung back in a slot motion wobble! Their clothes flew off their bodies like they were fired from a cannon. Their hoodies, pants, and even gloves scattered to opposite corners of the stage, leaving both boys standing center spotlight in their respective undies,Toya’s Wonder Woman underwear, bright as ever, and Hitbox’s gamer D-pad briefs slightly twisted from the spin.

The crowd gasped, then howled.

Hitbox froze, eyes wide, covering himself. “Wha—?! That wasn’t physics!”

Toya’s face turned beet red. “N-not the pants! MY BEAUTIFUL PANTS!”

Still panting from the electric shock, Donovan picked up his mic and stood tall in his soaked pants.

“Let’s talk about hosting,” he said, pacing dramatically behind Hitbox and Toya. “Hitbox is great at commentary…if you like someone who sounds like a broken vending machine.”

SMACK!

Hitbox flinched as if he’d been slapped across the face.

“Toya tries to act cool, but we all saw what happened the second someone called him cute.”

WHACK! Toya’s head jerked sideways, dazed.

“He hosts like a deer caught in headlights… except the deer’s already in its underpants, hanging by his briefs, from the headlights!”

BONK!

Toya stumbled, spinning in place as his eyes crossed and he drooled.

“Meanwhile,” Donovan continued, “me and Vergil are out here electrocuted and wetting ourselves, and we still haven’t given up!”

Vergil gave a hazy thumbs-up from the floor.

The crowd was enamoured. Donovan was defeating them with words. They were getting knocked silly with a pure, verbal, takedown~!

Toya wobbled once more, then fell over with a thud, twitching in his briefs.

Hitbox, now stammering and swaying, reached for the mic. “I... I... I host... better... than... bzzzttt—” and then collapsed backward with his legs in the air.

Hermes clapped daintily and addressed the audience with a smile.

“Contestants, you now have five minutes left to impress the judges. I suggest someone wake up Toya before his nose gets frosted by the stray cake batter flinging about from Charmy’s station.”

The stage was chaos. The cakes are baking, the confetti cannons were loaded, and the audience is on the edge of their seats as the last seconds of the challenge ticked down.

Hitbox and Toya managed to get back up… and stumble around, dizzy and disoriented, their bodies still twitching from Donovan’s savage commentary. They're soaked, red-faced, and swaying like balloons in a breeze, barely able to hold their microphones.

Toya mumbled, “I... we got this... hosting... masterclass...”

Hitbox, cross-eyed, staggered forward. “Victory... is... glitch-free...”

Then came the final blow.

Donovan and Vergil stood center stage, both still in their wet pants, but with the confidence of kings. They exchanged a glance, nodded, and together delivered one final synchronized insult:

With a vibe that told the audience he was actually cool, Donovan closed his eyes, grinned, and pointed ahead with swagger he’s never had before. “You two, when it comes to this job, are like a bad signal. Static, scrambled, and totally naked.”

Vergil smirked with a wink. “Game over, briefs boys.”

BOOOOOOM!

A massive, invisible force of comedic karma blasted out from them.

Toya and Hitbox were caught mid-step and lifted off their feet in a perfect arc. Their arms and legs flailed like ragdolls as they screamed in slow motion.

“NOOOOOOooooooo—”

IS THIS WHAT YOUR TEACHERS MEANT WHEN THEY SAID “USE YOUR WORDS?!”

CRASH!

They collided midair in an embarrassing tangle and tumbled off the stage with a final SPLAT onto the hardwood floor below.

There they lay: one crumpled tiger and one floppy Bombay cat. Both twitching, soaked, and snoring softly, their soaked, embarrassing briefs on full display. Toya’s leg kicked reflexively. Stars and chirping birds circled their heads.

Hermes stepped forward, now holding a golden envelope and a single velvet rose.

“Ladies and gentlemen... it is my honor to announce the winners of Mobius’s Got Talent…”

A spotlight beamed down on Donovan and Vergil, still panting, bruised, and wet.

“DONOVAN AND VERGIL!”

The audience erupted.

Meanwhile, Bradley casually piped up, “Oh, by the way. My cake’s done.”

He stepped aside, revealing a gorgeous three-tiered strawberry cake topped with chocolate roses. Charmy gasped, his own cake still half-frosted and looking like the leaning tower of Pisa.

“Wait, no! I wasn’t done yet! I–I–! UGH! YOU JERK! YOU CHEATED OR SOMETHING PROBABLY RIGHT?! JUST LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO WHENEVER WE–!”

Bradley turned to him with a smirk.

WHAM!

He grabbed the back of Charmy's head, enjoyed that slight look of wide-eyed panic on his face for that half-second it was there, and slammed his face into his own half-frosted mess.

Charmy let out a silly squeak and slumped forward unconscious, frosting oozing out from under him.

Bradley nonchalantly shimmied off and held up Charmy’s pants like a trophy flag, waving them as he exited the stage to roaring laughter. Charmy was left drooling, conked out and face submerged in his cake on the table in his My Little Pony briefs.

Hermes summoned a pair of golden microphones. “For surviving sabotage, slapstick, and sabotage again, I now crown you... the new superstar hosts of Mobius’s newest hit reality series…”

He pointed to the new LED screen behind him.

SONIC SURVIVOR ISLAND!

The logo blazed across the screen. It even came with its own shiny graphic.

Donovan’s eyes widened. “We’re... the actual hosts?!”

Vergil blinked. “Oh wow. We’re actually… gonna be on TV.”

Confetti rained from the ceiling.

Donovan and Vergil stood victorious in their soaked bottoms,, waving to the audience, both blushing furiously but still grinning.

Donovan whispered, “We’re stars now.”

Vergil whispered back, “Stars in need of some dry-cleaned, steamed and pressed pants... but yeah. Stars.”

They raised their hands in triumph as the stage lights flashed in celebration in the storm of confetti, the two losers snoring off-stage, getting covered in it.

Donovan smirked. His dream was finally beginning.

THE END.