Took a while to analyze some lines from 2003-2006, I really wished we had a series of young Thomas with other family members, Jedidiah, Henrietta and Kathy (tea lady) since some lines clearly confirm that he's known them since he was little.
(Photo of young Thomas and what I can only assume is baby Henrietta)
"no he won't, he knows better than to be messing around here...Everybody knows that...Poor sweet boy...Skin disease, it started when he was a little boy, didn't you see his face?"- Henrietta (tcm 2003)
I only took that as she knew him since she was little, especially because Luda and Kathy were friends since little etta was small.
I can make a theory that Kathy used to kinda babysit Thomas and Henrietta, and maybe they even had playdates since Henrietta was probably the only one to accept him, aka not beat him to a damn pulp everytime she saw him.
Not to mention Kathy said "Sweet Boy" after Henrietta said her line, you're telling me we get a film called the beginning and yet we get NOTHING of his childhood, so that is why I am here my children đ.
I would've loved to see more of his childhood, rare friends he would have had and shit maybe even a crush that he never got to talk to. Maybe I'll touch up more on his childhood, bye my lovelies!!
stockholm syndrome being a "rare psychological disorder" is some bullshit because I feel like it's very natural to watch a horror film and want to fuck him.
This is my reaction when I find a cool fanfic but don't look at the header. And then I realise it's unfinished and the last chapter came out several years ago.
Authors note: wrote this at like two in the morning drunk, and itâs written on my phone my computer is still brokenđ I couldnât respond to the ask so I took a ss. Thank you anon for the requestđnot proofread.
Your whole body is tense, fear pumping deep in your veins and through your body. Youâve been running along the highway for quite some time now, adrenaline is the only thing keeping your wobbly legs up and from collapsing. A simple road trip traveling from state to state with your friends had quickly turned out to be the worst thing youâve ever agreed to. There were a few other people you hadnât known who were accompanying you and your friends on this trip, it was all going fine until it wasnât. The driver got lost, deep in the twisting dirt roads of rural Texas. No one was in a good mood because of this, and the searing hot air of the Texas sun was not helping. Hope was brought back seeing the road sign, âTravis Countyâ in faded bold lettering. A couple of miles down the road passes, and then there is a parked cop cruiser on a small dirt road, as soon as the van passes its overhead lights flash on and the siren begins to blare, making the driver groan, cursing under his breath as he pulls over on the side of the dusty road. âEveryone act cool okay?â He instructs everyone as the sheriff begins to walk up to the van.
The cop was an asshole, there was no doubt about it, and the driver's attitude was definitely not helping the sheriff's temper. The man was completely pissed off and combative, leering at everyone in the vehicle with pure disgust on his face and muttering under his breath something about hippies. The bickering continued before the sheriff seemed to have enough, but what you would have never expected was him to raise his gun and put a bullet into the manâs head. Blood, flesh and bone spray over the van, covering everyone's faces and clothes. It wasnât long before the initial shock passed and everyone scattered, screaming as they launched themselves out of the van and onto the asphalt, shooting up and running off in all directions. You dared not to look back as you heard their screams cut short after each bullet was shot, fearing any moment spent not escaping would be your end. Each second mattered. Your shoes kick up dust each shaky step you take, the promise of death keeping you from slowing.
The sound of a distant engine roaring up to life is heard in the distance behind you, youâre certain you're the last one standing. Other than the car there are no signs of any others alive, their screams have long since been silenced. The sheriff is hot on your tracks. Seeing that heâs speeding right towards you, you bolt into the steep ditch. Your shoe catches over a loose rock and before you know it your face first tumbling down into the dusty ground below. The car comes to a screeching halt, barely missing the ditch as he turns away from it. You canât even pick yourself up in time before heâs on you, swinging the door open heâs rushing out of the car, and sliding down into the ditch. You lift your face from the ground and pick yourself up with your arms before youâre shoved right back down into the dirt, you feel cold metal pressing and digging into the base of your skull. The sheriff keeps you down with just the gun alone, making it clear that if you make one sudden move, heâll show you no mercy and shoot. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, beating and constricting with fear, wanting so desperately to flee but you're stuck, stuck by the threat of this man blowing your head off with his shotgun.
His lips curl in a cruel, snide smirk, yellowed-crooked teeth bared, his breath hot with the faint smell of tobacco. âYou just get up nice and slow now.â His eyes roam over each dip and curve of your body perversely, he has no shame as he practically undresses you with his eyes. âSir please-â the barrel digs harder into your skull, forcing your face into the ground more, you shut up and comply with his demands. A couple of moments pass, the gun is still pressed against your head but not as painful as before, allowing you to stand up. Shakily, you rise to your feet, being as slow as possible to not trigger his wrath, heâs shown that he is not a merciful man, and youâd rather not test his patience any longer. You keep your hands raised in compliance. His weathered hand grabs the back of your shirt, tugging you back then twisting your body forward and towards the car, pushing you roughly into the back. As you tumble onto the leather seats the door slams shut, and all you can do is watch as he brings the bodies back into the trunk. The bodies of your once best friends, the kind strangers who helped you in your travels lifeless. You regret looking though, your eyes catch sight of the hole shot in through their heads, causing you to recoil in disgust, bile rises and burns in your throat and before you can stop it youâre puking on the floor of the car. Your eyes scan the car for any way to escape, but there is none. The leather seats are torn, covered in dried-oxidized blood that crusts over the aged leather. Scratches along the seats shows you that many before your group have fought for their life here.
The drive is painstakingly long, at least thatâs what it feels like. Each turn on the road, each bump that jolts you in your seat makes you realize just how screwed you are. His eyes briefly check to make sure you arenât up to something in the back, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. This man is not a cop, that was clear the very moment he shot the first bullet into the driver's head. Heâs getting off on your fear, palming himself like the damn dog he is as he looks at your teary face. âYouâre really pretty when you cry like that.â He says in a sleazy voice, licking his dry lips as he stares at your breasts, blood spots spattered over your low-cut top and breasts. After a couple more minutes of this torturous journey passes the car comes rolling to a stop in front of an old house. He steps out of the car and starts to walk to the back, opening the door he grabs your arm, tugging you out and throwing you to the ground. Before you can get up he hits your head with the back of the gun, black spots fill your vision, you hear the man calling out for someone before you go completely unconscious.
Your eyes adjust to the dark room as your blurry vision clears, no longer are you outside, this place is dark and damp unlike the unforgiving Texas heat outside. A blurry figure stands in the middle of the room, the only light a small overhead lightbulb that flickers weakly. The memories of what happened before come rushing back to you, quickly you try to get up but your arms and legs come to a halt, chains rattling from the movements. This alerts the man at the table in front of you, muddy water sloshes as his bulky frame quickly turns towards you. The man is tall, and big. His bulk covered the light behind him, now his features were hidden in the shadows. Your breathing starts to pick up again, lungs burning from each gasp of air you greedily suck in, the fear makes it nearly impossible to calm and slow your hyperventilating, each gulp of air never enough to sate your body. Looking around the room youâre met with gore, gutted bodies dangling on meathooks, bones haphazardly strewn about each tabletop, shelves filled with human parts, and oh how much blood coats each surface. Meat is packed in butcher paper and wrapped up, stacked, and labeled on the manâs work table in the middle of the room, what little is left of the remains of your lifeless best friend beside it. You whine under your breath, confronted with the fact that everyone from before is dead and you will soon be next.
The shadowy figure wastes no time and starts walking straight towards you, his strides long and heavy, boots thudding with each step he takes to get to you. The small window above you illuminates his face, showing off his grisly appearance. Long matted black curls cling to his forehead, stopping just at his shoulders. A black-leather mask hides the lower half of his face, straps tied around his head tightly. Tattered worn clothes cover his hefty frame, a brown butcher's apron drapes from his neck and is tied tightly around his thick waist, under the apron is a dirty button-up and a sloppily tied tie. He squats down, grabbing your jaw roughly, turning your head to the side, and then back again, inspecting you like a piece of meat. Tears fall from your glossy red eyes, streaming down your cheeks, and slide onto the manâs grubby fingers. His face inches closer to yours, you try to look away, but his grip tightens and snaps your head back forward and forces you to stare back at him.
âPlease⊠Please I'm sorry, just donât hurt me.â Your voice croaks, throat dry and burning from screaming and the lack of hydration for however long youâve been trapped down here unconscious. Meekly you beg with the man, traumatized so deeply from the past incident with the sheriff you can no longer fight, just beg pathetically. He stares questioningly, his guard raised. Normally the victims brought home shout and curse at him, they see him nothing more than just a nasty mutt, a filthy degenerate, no matter how hard he tries to pretend those words donât matter, each time theyâre said they cut deep, festering in the depths of his mind, repeated over and over until his anger boils over and he tortures them cruelly. Any moment he expects you to start screaming at him, itâs what heâs used to, he almost wants it so he doesnât have to face his selfish feeling of want, of need. What throws him off though is you, your lack of anger, your words are different, soft. He craves softness.
His palm rubs your cold cheek, his skin leathery against yours, and you lean into it. He recoils back up as soon as you do so, wrenching away like the very act of you leaning into his touch burned him. He stumbles back and out of the room, his boots thud loudly as he quickly escapes up the stairs. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone and confused in the damp cellar. You slump back against the brick wall, trying to ease the burning sensation of your arms raised and cuffed against the wall. It feels as if your arms are going to pop out of the socket, the tension bubbling deep in your very bones. Panting fearfully you tug and pull repeatedly, fear overtaking you once more. The very room seems to be closing in around you, the blood-curdling screams seared into your mind. Thrashing around you try to forget, but now that you are alone it haunts your mind-your very being. There is nowhere you can look without being met with death, bodies, bones, and limbs strewn about in a macabre manner. You donât want to be alone, but also you canât bear being in the room with that man, the one who butchered your friends like animals, and just the very thought of seeing that corrupt sheriff makes you recoil and shiver in disgust. Tears wonât stop flowing, and you canât help but mock yourself, how pathetic you look trying so hard to escape, when you look weak as you thrash your shaking limbs. You canât help but laugh, wondering how things would be if you just said no, if you never agreed to tag along on that stupid road trip. Thinking about what-ifs is pointless now.
Thomas slams the door shut behind him, hurrying to get away from the basement. Luda sees his rigid frame and his quick pace. Sheâs quick to concern and fuss over him, always so worried about her troubled son. âTommy dear you alright?â She asks warily. His legs come to a halt, he is never one to ignore his mother, turning around he looks over to her, her eyes are deeply concerned beneath her glasses, she takes a step closer but he backs away, causing her more distress. Before she can question him any more Hoyt comes sauntering in, rooting around in the fridge for another beer. He slammed the fridge door shut, twisting off and tossing out the bottle cap. He scans and takes in the scene before him, he couldn't care less about whatâs happening. âYou done with the meat boy?â He grumbles out, taking a long sip of the amber liquid, guzzling it down. Thomas nods, quick for the manâs approval. Hoyt wipes his lips, grinning wickedly. âGood. Now, get yourself cleaned up, you reek boy.â Pursing his lips and his nose wrinkles is disgust. He doesnât need to be told twice, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the upstairs bathroom, slamming and locking the rickety door shut.
His mind replays that moment over and over. Like the pathetic mutt he is, he's hard. Over the years heâs liked to fantasize, keeping his mind busy to distract himself from his pain, his loneliness, it was the same pitiful fantasy heâs been dreaming about since he was in his teens, since the days he was working in the slaughterhouse. Her even just giving him a lick of affection-even if he knows it wasnât what she intended-has him spiraling into a deplorable, lust-fueled mess. His mind muddled with the vision he had, now with her. His hand trails down his stomach, pushing the apron aside so he can grind his palm against his thick length tenting his pants. Oh how grateful he is that the apron hid it from his mother, the last thing he wants is for her to think of him in a bad light. His cock chubs up in his pants as his mind conjures up sick thoughts of that woman, oh how he wishes he would get the guts to take her, fill her up until sheâs so stuffed full her body canât take it. He stops briefly to pull his cock out, the metallic hiss of the zipper can barely be heard over his panting, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his thick cock. He wishes it could be different, that he could have her, and she would want it, could take her as his own, like how heâs always wanted, but he knows it will never happen, even as he begins to stroke his cock fervently he knows deep down he is the dog everyone says he is. The rabid animal everyone called him back in his younger days. A freak, a beast that needs to be put down. Heâs confronted with his debased actions as he cums in his hand, spilling rope after rope of creamy cum, wasting it when he could be stuffing a woman full of it. He knows no woman would want it, women look at him with pure disdain in their eyes, that girl down there surely is no different, she would never love him. As he comes down from his high, his mind slowly returns back to normal, he sheds his clothes to bathe himself like instructed. He has no time for feeling, his life purpose is to serve, not want.
The sun has long since set, the man hasnât killed you, he hadnât even come back down yet, you wish he would at this point, to stop the suffering quick then whatever those two men have planned for you. Youâre brought back out of your thoughts, you gasp when you hear the door atop the stairwell creak open, heavy footfalls thump loudly against the aged wood, dust rising from each step. Heâs back, his eyes never leaving yours with each step he takes. He stoops down to your level and sits in front of you, holding out a plate of food as he anxiously waite for your approval on it. When he sees you donât recoil back from him, he picks up the fork, cutting up a piece of the sausage and bringing it up for you to eat. Your obviously hesitant, who knows what that meat is from, even if you wanted to not eat it, your stomach growls and constricts. You part your soft lips and close in around the fork, taking and chewing the meat as he eagerly starts to cut up more. It almost tastes like pork? Youâre not sure, but the texture is off and instantly alarms you, itâs unlike any other meat youâve had. Your lips purse as you try to hide a reaction, who knows how he would react if you slipped up and acted disgusted by the food he gave you. You're lucky heâs giving you food at all, and besides, he looks happy that you even accepted it, almost like he wanted your approval on what he brought you. After finishing the sausage he scoops up some mashed potatoes and shovels it into your mouth sloppily. He picks up the last of the potatoes and when some slips off and plops on to your breast with a wet smack He leans down, lowering his face onto your chest, the leather mask scraping against your soft skin and his tongue licks and nibbles over the spot. You're taken aback by this, trying to push him off your breast, he groans, tongue swiping and licking his lips as he stares up at you through half lidded eyes. He grabs the porcelain plate and licks it clean, feasting on any scrap heâs given.
âTommy!â You recognize the voice of the man calling from upstairs, itâs that sheriff again. Your whole body goes cold, fear building up from the base of your spine and crawling up your whole body giving you goosebumps. The man you know now as Tommy whips his head back, looking up at the stairs, he's quick to rush and grab the keys, pushing them into the lock that cuffed your arms. You hiss out a sigh of relief as your arms finally fall down to your sides, but itâs short lived as he drags you over to some closet, sliding a 2x4 into the handles so you canât open it. The sheriff is marching down the stairs, peaking through the cracks of the closet you watch as he angrily trudges over to Tommy. âDamnit boy you forgot to feed the hogs and theyâve been squealing out there for hours!â He shouts, when Tommy doesnât move he slams his foot down making both you and Tommy jolt âBoy get your ass out there! You ainât too old to get your ass beat you remember that now.â With that he's quick to hustle up the stairs. Youâre more confused than anything, how could a man of that size be the one getting yelled at by him? Why would he take orders from that filthy sheriff? Your eyes catch on the name tag glinting in the light. âHoytâ. Your lips curl in disgust, you just know he gets off to the feeling of power he holds over people, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he saunters up the stairs. A sigh of relief slips from your lips as he leaves, now you are left to await Tommy's return.
Over the next few days a routine is built with Tommy, you spend most of your days trapped in the basement, waiting for his return, he spends most of his time either butchering, sewing or doing laborious chores outside. Youâve come to learn a lot about him in this short time frame, even if he doesnât speak. Tommy is like the familyâs guard dog, eager to please, working hours throughout the day, protecting them when any intruder should come through, all just for a scrap of affection, affection only his mama gives. Heâs like a puppy really, begging for the attention it wonât receive, and he sees nothing wrong with it because thatâs all he knows, but now that youâre in the picture, he canât help but spend all his free time begging for your attention. His mama is concerned for him, seeing less and less of him over these few days. Sheâs always been the one doting over him, if she was out of the picture she knows no one would care for him, she shivers at the thought of leaving her poor boy alone with Hoyt and Monty, she knows how cruel they can be sometimes.
Thankfully these past few days he took off those painful chains, he knows youâre not stupid enough to try and leave, the fear of facing Hoyt keeping you down here, death would be certain the moment you step foot out of this basement. You donât know how long itâs been, you don't know anything anymore, itâs dark outside of the window but knowing that it's night outside doesnât do anything to calm you, left alone with nothing but your thoughts all day and all night. After being alone for so long youâre starting to crave any human contact, you even start to yearn for Tommy to be around you, being alone so often is starting to get to you mentally. You donât even notice he's returned until he's hoisting you up and off the ground, interrupting your train of thought. one of his hands is on your lower back and the other on your bottom keeping you up, you try to ignore him pawing at the fat of your ass. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, fisting the fabric of his dirty button-up. You watch as he takes you upstairs, now fear boils over once more, fear that heâs taking you to your death, âbut it doesnât make any senseâ you try to tell yourself âif he wanted you dead youâd be dead.â He cautiously steps foot out of the basement and into the kitchen, listening for any movement. He heads down the hall, each step he takes he makes sure not to make a noise, snoring can be heard through one of the doors he passes. Soon you both reach a bathroom and he sets you down on to the sink counter, pushing past the yellowed shower curtain and turning on the shower faucet. A shower would feel so good right now, your body caked with sweat and grime, your hair greasy.
He starts to take off his clothes, undoing every button and shrugging off his shirt. His body is littered with scars, pink healed cuts adorn his tanned skin. His bulky stomach pudges over his jeans, which he is in the process of taking off, your eyes flick back up so as to not stare at his dick. Your eyes roam his upper body, his body is thick, a thick layer of fat covers his hard earned muscles, and he's a hairy man thatâs for sure. Hair coats his arms, dusted along his chest, and a trail leads down to his soft tummy and into his boxers. Soon heâs completely naked save for his mask, and heâs moving to take off your clothes. Heâs eager to tug off your pants, he rips your shirt in two and you canât help but scold him. âHey!â You whisper at him, he groans and huffs loudly, leaning against you. You let out a small sigh and watch as he takes off the rest of your clothes, tossing them carelessly to the ground, you stare up at him, his hands fall to the sides. Heâs too embarrassed to take off his mask in front of you, expecting you to scream as soon as he does so, instead he covers your eyes, you hear the rustle of the mask and it being placed on the sink beside you. Keeping your eyes covered he leads you inside the shower, the water lukewarm as it sprays against you. He uncovers your eyes now that heâs behind you and wraps his arms around you, panting happily, his face nuzzling against the back of your shoulder, you try to ignore the feeling of his cock rubbing against your ass, feeling it slightly harden. You're shocked to feel as he rubs his face against you, his nose isnât there, even at the feeling you dare not to turn around and anger him, instead you pump shampoo into your palm and begin to wash your hair, he does the same. After you're done with shampooing and conditioning your hair you reach for the wash cloth he brought in for you, grabbing the bar of soap to rub it against the wash cloth and suds it up. Once itâs soapy enough you set the soap down and start to rub the soapy cloth all over your body. He finished cleaning himself before you and is now watching from behind, you swat at his wandering hands that kneed and squeeze your tits, he lets out a breathy moan from the back of his throat, keeping his hands to himself for the time being.
You bend down to begin washing your legs, which you quickly regret. You feel him grip your ass, pawing at your wet, malleable flesh. He can't keep his hands to himself for more than a few seconds, thatâs for sure. He groans at the sight of you bent over, his cock nudging and slipping around and through your pussy lips. You speed up washing yourself, and as soon as you're done you shoot back and straighten yourself up. Your fingers grip and turn the faucet until the water stops pouring, now left in the cold air as water droplets clinging and dripping down both of your bodies. He's the first to leave, drying off, the first thing he puts on is his mask, then he opens the shower curtains and hands you a clean towel. As you dry yourself off he puts on his new clothes, jeans and a stained tank top, it clings to the heft of his stomach, your left with the tattered remains of your dirty clothes. You watch him as he brushes his hair, wincing at how he does so. The brush rips through his hair roughly as he tries to get the knots out, he lets out short grunts as he does so. âHey, let me helpâ you offer, his blue eyes seem to light up as he enthusiastically hands you the brush, you sit on the toilet and he sets himself down on the floor between your legs, waiting oh so eagerly for your attention. You start gently from the bottom and make your way up, the knots start to come out, his soft hair curling lightly into waves.
His hair is starting to get long, itâs past his shoulders, all brushed out you notice jagged cuts in an attempt to shorten it. âWould you like me to give you a trim as well?â You ask him, your tone soft. You have no idea why youâre being so nice to him, you should hate him, should scream at him and the man whoâs killed your friends, but you donât, instead you gently rub his shoulder and wait for his approval which he is quick to give. You dig through the drawers and find a pair of scissors, you cut his hair, trimming the ends, you have the opportunity to hurt him, but you donât, you donât even think it crosses his mind that you could stab him and run, because right now he's so happy that the attention is on him. You couldnât even if you wanted to. You trim back to the length he likes it, shoulder length. Once youâre finished he holds you again, keeping you up in his arms as he brings you back down into the basement, the rickety steps creaking with each step he takes. He sets you down on the pile of pillows he set up for you earlier this week, he scans you, his eyes landing on the dirty ripped clothes youâre wearing, he turns and starts shuffling through boxers. You watch as he pushes a bunch of fabrics aside to find something, he tugs out a sundress, itâs pink with floral patterns on it. He grabs your clothes completely shredding them from you, he shoves the dress into your hands and waits, wanting to watch you put it on.
When you put it on you turn to look at him, you see that his eyes crinkle softly and can tell heâs smiling, then you look down to see hes hard again âwhen is he not sporting a boner around you these days?â He grips your hips, tugging you close to him. He likes you in dresses, thatâs for sure. He stares at you for a long time before he stands up, turning and heading up the stairs as quick as he can, he shuts and locks the basement door behind him. You sigh softly, leaning against the wall and dropping down onto the pillows below you. You canât help but be sick at yourself, instead of fighting to escape the clutches of your captor you stay, stay in the jaws of the predator. Your friends surely would be pissed, but you donât want to fight it, donât want to leave. Trying to rationalize it in your head over and over, the same thoughts pop up each time. Heâs a broken man, he needs healing, he needs love. And maybe youâre the one who has to give it to him..
Upstairs Thomas is spiraling, he feels guilty that heâs hiding her from his family, oh how selfish heâs being, but it doesnât matter, not when the images of her naked body cloud each crevice of his depraved conscience. The flesh from her body could be feeding his family, instead sheâs alive, her heart pumping blood into her veins, sheâs breathing. His left bicep covers his mouth as he strokes his cock to her, heâs been at it for so long the tip of his cock near red, cum coats his hand, lathered on his cock each stroke, some sticking to the long wiry pubes from his bush of pubic hair. He canât stop, wonât stop. He needs her like the air he breathes, Her being fills up his body like the oxygen fills and stretches his lungs. His family would think so low of him, how heâs bringing shame to the Hewitt name for being so selfish, taking away food from their mouths just so he can stroke his cock to her, dress her up in pretty clothes, and hump her in the shower. Remembering the feeling of slipping his penis between her pussy lips has him whimpering out, thrusting his hips in the air, bucking wildly as he cums hard again. He pants like a beast, cock throbbing incessantly, his boner wonât go away, almost mocking him with how hard he is. Soon enough he's back at it again, showing no remorse as he jerks himself silly. sheâll love him, he knows it, heâll make her love him, sheâll give him everything heâs ever hoped for, and she will do it with a smile on her face. He's so overstimulated, he hasnât jerked himself off this much before, but heâs doing it for her he believes, heâd do anything for her, because in his mind they are in love, they are together. He hopes that one day, she doesnât care what he looks like behind the mask, she accepts him for who he is, she will gladly do anything for him, love him, let him fuck her, let him put his babies in her- he cums again, the hardest he has, he yelps as he shoots thick ropes on his stomach. Babies⊠he wants to give her babies, that thought had him orgasam faster then he has ever before. He wants it now, craves it. His grip on his cock softens, post nut clarity hitting him like a freight train, and now heâs ashamed once more, tears brimming his red eyes.
The morning comes fast, after such an intense night he slipped into slumber quickly. The morning sun peaks through the window and casts warm rays against his skin, which is coated in dried cum that crusted onto the hair of his stomach and bush. A low groan rises in his throat, he has to clean himself up before going to see her. He blushes at the thought of her, god how disgusting he was last night, heâs ashamed of himself, how pathetic he was for her, she would surely think of him as a perverted mutt, she would never look at him again. Now that he isnât excruciatingly horny, the intrusive thoughts of self doubt and hatred seep back into his head, seeping into his skull like a poison. What a lame excuse of a man he is, but then again, he wonât stop, he canât stop himself from acting like this, he wants her so bad it hurts. He just wants her acceptance, her approval, her love. Those thoughts are pushed away though, he forces himself to put on his clothes and trudge down the stairs. Seeing his mama always makes him cheer up though, he could never be mad around her. A plate of sausage eggs and toast sits in the table, steaming just for him. âMorninâ dearâ she smiles brightly, inching the plate closer to him, he grabs it and nods thankfully, heading down the stairs and into the basement. Luda frowns, turning to look at Hoyt as he shovels forkfuls of his breakfast down. âCharlie, something's wrong with Thomas, he spends all his time in the basement nowadays, he's even forgetting to do his chores more frequently.â Her voice is laced with deep concern for her boy, she sets the tea kettle on the stove before turning back to Hoyt. He grumbles correcting her first âma itâs Hoyt, heâs just being weird, himself you know, he ainât young no more he likes to be alone. What needs to stop though is him forgetting his chores, sick of having to yell at him more often.â He returns to eating. Luda just shakes her head, hands pressed against her hips, âyouâre his brother, maybe you need to have a heart to heart with him, he listens to you, you know that.â At her words he's rolling his eyes and groaning, but before he can protest she corrects him with a sharp glare. He might see himself as the man of the house but he listens to his ma. âIâll get around to itâ he huffs, his eyes flickering over the newspaper he's reading, the conversation now ending. Luda just sighs and returns to her cleaning. Her boys are definitely wild ones thatâs for sure.
Weeks pass, the longer Thomas is away from you the more you crave his presence, you donât care anymore, you need him, need him so bad it hurts. You wait anxiously in the basement for him, unable to read the books he brought you because your mind is so focused on him. What if he gets hurt? What if more victims come around and they win? They hurt him? God you donât think your mind can bare the thought of him getting hurt, possibly killed out there. You ease-drop to the conversations that happen upstairs, ear pressed against the ceiling trying to hear anything about the man that feeds you, bathes you, you even begin to think he loves you just as much as you are starting to love him. Guilt is pushed into the back of your mind, how could you care about what anyone thinks? They donât matter in the long run, they arenât the one who cares for you, he does. Another hour passes before he returns, he pants, sweat covering his arms in a light sheen, dripping down his forehead. Waiting was worth it in the end to see him like this, like a love sick puppy, his gaze roams over your body with pure adoration, rising from the chair he trails his eyes up each swell, dip and curve of your luscious body. He trudges over to the box of clothes hes gathered from his victims, he picks out a cornflower blue dress, with a white lace hem, he sifts through another box before grabbing a simple pair of white heels, he's carrying something else you canât quite see.
You shed your clothes, tossing them to the floor as you wait for him to give you his chosen attire. He does, grabbing what you couldnât see before you spread it out, itâs a washed pair of scandalous lingerie, a grin spreads across your face as you realize what he wants. He wants you to dress up for him, let him watch your body in different clothes, like an erotic dress up. Slipping into the lingerie and coming back out, his eyes widened, you decide to give him a little spin, letting him get a full 360 of your body is his chosen set. You see him sporting a boner in his pants, looking just happy to be here. You let him touch and grab at your body, pawing and grouping at the fat of your tits, his thick and long fingers grabbing the whole of your chest, his dirty mits rubbing grime all over the pristine clothes. Pulling back you slip the dress on, the back zipper open he stands and swivels you to turn around, his hands grasping the small zipper and pushing it up. Itâs a tight fit, definitely a little too short to be proper, the neckline low, it grips your torso making your boobs push up. Itâs tight around the mid section, and the skirt flows down to the middle of your thighs gripping your waist. When you turn around to face him you freeze, youâve seen him look at you sexually a lot of times, but this is the first time that itâs so intense his gaze almost burns. There is nothing but lust in his deep blue eyes, his hands shoot up to grip your waist, pulling and hoisting you up, walking you over to his work table he sets you down on the edge. He lowers himself on his knees, grabbing your foot so he can slip your heels on. The moment is charged with a deep sexual tension, you want so desperately to see all of him, and you canât stop your begging from slipping out of your plump lips.
âPlease take off the mask, I need to see you. All of youâ your voice weak as you beg frevorishly, his eyes widen and he looks up at you. The fear of rejection settles deep within his bones, heâs reluctant, but oh he just canât say no to you, even if he will regret it. He reaches back and loosens the straps of the leather, tugging it off clumsily. Once he sets it down he waits for your rejection, his frame shaking, but your disapproval never comes. He's shocked when he looks up, he sees your eyes full of⊠acceptance, you donât pull away from him, the scars, lost tissue and nose, cleft lip does nothing to deter your love for him, and for the first time he cries in front of you. He tries to stop the tears from flowing but heâs just so happy right now, a whine builds from the back of his throat, he wipes his tears with the cuff of his shirt and focuses back to the present, on you, and it calms him. Reaching down he grabs and puts on your left heel, slipping and strapping it on. He grips the back of your ankle in calf in his big meaty hands, raising it so he can kiss it, kissing above the strap around your ankle, slowly trailing up your leg. His lips are so soft as they trail up, above your knee cap he kisses your thighs more reverently, his head disappears under the skirt of your dress, he nips and suckles at the sides of your thighs, you gasp at the sensation of him getting closer and closer to your wet pussy. His fingers grip the damp cloth covering your pussy and tears it open, then he softly holds the tops of your thighs as his lips ghost over your pussy. âPleaseâ you beg under your breath, he hasnât even touched you there and already you are a mess, moaning under him, he kneads the meat of your thighs tenderly.
You gasp as he gently kisses your folds, cunt clenching around nothing as you beg for more. âTommy please!â You're reduced to nothing more than a puddle in his grasp, even in his inexperience he has you wrapped around your finger. Itâs not long before he shoves his face into your pussy, licking long strips on and down your wet cunt, slurping up the juices that leak from your entrance. Youâre unable to hide your sounds, moaning out like a bitch in heat as he sloppily eats your cunt. You could laugh at yourself, spreading your legs and letting a cannibal eat your pussy out, but you donât care anymore, you need him, only him. His tongue wiggles and probes at your entrance, beckoning for more of your pussyâs sweet nectar. Itâs like he's been starving his whole life, thirsting, and your pussy is the only thing that can quench that hunger. He eats you out like itâs his very first time feasting. Crooked teeth mash against your folds, grazing your puffy clit, the feeling only turns you on more, when his lips finally circle and latch on to your clit and sucks hard, you lose it. Cumming all over his face he accepts it eagerly, lapping at your pussy with an eagerness that makes up for his inexperience. He drinks from you like you're the earth's sweetest honey, and he's the selfish man that will keep it all to himself. Your untouched pussy is finally getting the attention itâs yearned for, and that you both have it, you wonât stop, not now or ever. Hses from under your skirt, and the fucked our expression on his face makes you wet all over again. Your juices cover his face, a sticky damp shin coats his cheeks, mouth, and chin, and he licks at what he can reach. He pushes you down on the table, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, your eyes burn into each other as you stare with deep lust for one another, your face flicks down to his cock, and what a sight to behold. Heâs a little longer than average, but what makes you quiver is his girth. It twitches, bobbing down from its weight. Itâs so thick that youâre sure your hand wouldnât fit around it, youâd need both hands to deal with a monster like that, and to have that be the one taking your virginity had you shivering in arousal. He tugs at his cock, the skin pulling back and revealing his thick pulsing tip, and he grabs and spreads open your thighs.
You werenât prepared for how quick heâd try to hump his way into your pussy, hand pushing down your stomach as he nudged the tip inside, just the tip along had you scrabbling to find purchase on any surface, and there was so much more to go. Your head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut as his cock slides in, parting your gummy walls. He moans loudly, the feeling of your pussy resisting his entrance has him weak in the knees. Half of his cock is in before he has to stop, if he keeps going like this he will cum before heâs fully in you, the way your gooey walls clamp on him has his eyes rolling into the back of his skull. After he calms himself he thrusts himself to the hilt inside your pussy, the air is punched right out of your lungs, you struggle to breath, so full of him youâre seeing stars. Heavy balls rest against your ass, and before you know it he's pulling back out, he whimpering under his breath, your pussy trying to draw him back in, clinging to him but resisting each push in, and finally, he snaps. Pounding your cunt into submission with his eager thrusts, the cellar filled with moans and the repetitive thwack! thwack! thwack!.
His calloused hands grip your thighs, holding you still as he fucks deep into your pussy, his cock nudging and battering against your cervix each push in. The bulk of his stomach pushes against yours, keeping you pinned beneath your body.Sweat collects on his furrowed brows and drips down on your chest. His duck pummels your pussy, your release from before dribbling down the length of his cock and into the thatch of wild curls the rub and tickle against your puffy clit. You feel each ridge and vein as he pulls out, just to hump right back in and make you feel it all over again. Itâs not long before youâre approaching your second orgasam of the night, your moans heightening in pitch, panting rapidly. Heâs nearly there too. His thrusts begin to change pace, becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. He used his weight to fuck into you harder, and when his cock rubs against your sweet spot for the last time you lose it. Your walls clamp so tight around him he's unable to move, cock seated deep in your pussy. Your vision whites as you cum again, harder, and you scream out his name. He follows quickly after, pumping his searing hot creamy cum into the deepest depths of your very being, ropes of the white fluid searing inside of you, pushing so deeply inside of you it feels as if he's in your throat. He makes sure not to move, afraid that his release will spill from your fertile womb, he grinds his hips down into you, his body collapses on top of yours. Whimpers escape the back of his throat as the last of his cum empties inside of you, your legs locked around his pudgy hips, so wide that your ankles canât lock together. His arms wrapped around your middle, nuzzling against you softly, tears begin to slip from his shut eyes. Your tone is low as you usher sweet words to him, fingers playing with his dark tresses, scraping his scalp softly with your nails ever so often. You're held captive in his loving embrace, and itâs right where you want to be. For the first time in his life, heâs been truly loved by another. And for once, heâs truly at peace.
âTommy!!â
Hoyt's voice cuts through the air, calling for him upstairs. He groans, not yet ready to leave your warmth. He really knows when to ruin the moment. You smile as Tommy whines and tightens his hold on you. âItâs okay, Iâll be here when you come back, itâs best not to make him wait.â You hiss as he slowly slips out of your tender pussy, his cock soft and covered in his and your release. He stuffs himself into his pants, haphazardly securing the mask on before dragging himself up the stairs. As Tommy locks the door behind him Hoyt scans him, his mask is slightly askew, a few buttons popped like they had been opened by force, and his jeans arenât zipped all the way up. He hadnât cared before about Ludaâs concerns, now he wasnât worried, but he is suspicious of him. Watching as he locks the door hurriedly, and eyebrow quirks up as he watches him. âMama needs you in the kitchen boy, and zip your fly upâ he grumbles, eyeing him warily as he shakily zips up and walks over to the kitchen with a new found pep to his step he's never had before.
There isnât a day that goes by where Tommy isnât stuffing you full of his seed, breeding your pussy like itâs the last thing heâll do, and sure enough as the months tick by your stomach starts to swell round and plump. He's ecstatic, how could not be? He finally has what heâs wanted for so many years. A woman in love with him and stuffed full of cum, swollen with his baby. Even if youâre already pregnant he makes sure to fuck you full of his cum every morning, noon and night. He canât stay away from you, he doesnât want to, all he wants is to keep putting baby after baby in your stomach, watching you swell up. Even if itâs only been 5-6 months your belly has swelled up, it was expected, carrying his baby. He eats less just so he has more to bring down to feed you, he will starve for days if it means you and the baby are well fed. Hidden in the back of the cellar is his old crib heâs been spending time trying to restore, around the basement are toys strewn about, hand carved by him in his free time.
You're laying on the laid out pillows reading one of the many books Thomas snuck down for you, he wouldnât want you to be bored all alone in the basement. You gasp, feeling soft fluttering kicks of the baby in your stomach. Your soft palm rubs the swell of your abdomen, a comforting touch for you, knowing that your baby is alive and well. The door creaks open at the top of the stairwell, you recognize his footsteps immediately. He saunters over happily. âAre you finally done with your chores?â You ask softly, he falls to his knees before you, like a worship, a worship of your body, your soul, like you're the only being in his world that matters. He nods softly, much more focused on your stomach. He massages your tummy, a grin spreads across his face and he feels a kick against his calloused palm. Gently he rests his forehead against the bump, his scalp tingles as your fingers brush against it and through his dark tresses. âHoyt has been overworking you, you need a break donât you baby?â You coo softly at him, he nods eagerly, he's grabbing your hand rubbing your soft fingers. Your skin is so unlike his, your back grounds, your past lifestyle shows youâve never had to work like he has, or at least to the extent that he does. Your palms are silky smooth, soft to the touch, like youâve havenât experienced strenuous labor each and every day of your life, he wants to keep it that way. His mama raised him to be a gentleman, there is no doubt he is a traditional man. As long as youâre with him youâll never have to lift a finger. You watch curiously as he holds your hand and splays it out. He turns and rifles through one of his back pockets, pulling out a small object. You gasp when you realize what it is. He holds a wedding band up, slipping it on to your ring finger, then returns to nuzzling against said hand. âOh Tommyâ tears well up in your eyes, already so hormonal from the pregnancy this will have you bawling.
He abruptly stands up, gently grabbing your ass and setting you down on the table. He really isnât focused on your talking right now, looking at your body filling out your red sundress. Pregnancy hadnât only affected your tummy and mood, your breasts filled out more, round and ripe for him, and they are only to get bigger. Your curves plumped and hips widened, it turned him on. Your words go in one ear and out the other, unbuckling his belt, tugging down his pants. You stop speaking when you realize he's in the mood, when is he not? Itâs like he canât get enough of you. âSo thatâs the type of relaxing you came in for huh big guy?â You grin as he nods, your hands roam his chest, then you go to undo every button of his shirt, you grab his tie and pull him down into a kiss, he whimpers softly as he inches in between your spread thighs. He grabs the hem of your dress, flipping up and bunching fabric up. Your arms wrap around his broad, muscular shoulders and your legs around his plush hips. Your lips mask and lock together, our smacking and slurping loud and filthy. His other hand slowly trails down your stomach and down to your dripping folds, heâs gained a lot of experience since your first time together, now he's eager to please with his skillful fingers, cock and tongue. He grabs his cock, giving it a few tugs before lining it up with your entrance and sliding in. His hands move to your hips, holding you still as he humps into you softly. He grunts, this position not giving him the best access, not allowing him to plunge fully into you, he has to be mindful of your baby bump. You moan as he bucks his hips, thrusting into your gooey tight walls, his fat tip battering against your cervix, but it isnât enough for him. He huffs, cradling you safely in his arms as he brings you over to the make shift bed, ready to fuck you silly.
âGod damn it, what's taking him so long!â Hoyt is pissed off, heâs been waiting for Thomas to get back up from the basement, itâs been over an hour and he's had enough. Luda Mae just shakes her head and sighs âI told you whatâs been going on with the boy, you just refused to talk to him.â She tuts, wiping down the dining room table. Hoyt tries the door but as expected itâs locked, like it has been the past half year. âTommy!â He shouts again, and as expected he doesnât open the door and comes to do his chores for the day. He stomps over to one of the drawers and starts digging through the piles of keys, trying to find the extra one they kept for the basement. âBoy thinks he can skip out on his work huh, well letâs just see about that.â He sneers, a snide grin on his face as he twirls the key around finger, fuming as he marches over to the door, twisting the metal key through the lock, it opens with a loud click! He huffs angrily, mumbling curses under his breath as he swings the door open and stalks down the decrepit staircase. He stops halfway down the stairwell because of what he hears
Thwack Thwack Shlick Thwack!
Wet slapping and moans reverberate in the cellar, at first he thought he just walked in on Tommy jerking himself off, but his jaw drops when he hears a female voice, breathy moans in a high pitched tone. The initial shock passes before a whole new wave of anger and disgust boils over. He stomps fully down the stairs, and as his eyes adjust he's met with a sight that makes his lips curl and nose wrinkle in disgust. His thick, pudgy body laid on top of yours, his bicep holding you in a headlock, all of his clothes off as he humps you like a wild animal from the back. The dress bunched up around your mid section, hiding your belly, tits swinging with each jerk and buck, pummeling your pussy, mashing his cock in your gooey gushing insides. âThomas Brown Hewitt!â He screams, heâs in so much shock he for once is at a loss of words. You squeak in embarrassment, trying to cover your body, even though Thomasâs bulky frame does a pretty good job at doing so. âPut your clothes on and bring that hussy upstairs immediately!â With that he steps away and up the stairs, out of the basement.
Luda watches as Hoyt storms up from the basement. âWhatâs wrong Charlie?â She asks, Hoyt is in too much shock to correct her, angrily pacing back and forth in the kitchen, wiping his face he lets out a sigh, stopping at the counter. Luda starts to walk over to the door, her hand gripping the handle. âYou donât want to go down there ma, just wait.â He straightens up. She asks him worried questions, he doesnât answer, the last thing he expected was to see Tommy down there with a woman. He wasnât pissed off that he was getting laid, more so that he was hiding food down there, probably feeding her his hard earned dinners as well. Both of their heads turn as the knob twists and the door creaking open, Tommy steps out, no butcher apron, some of the buttons undone from sloppily trying to get himself dressed as quickly as possible. His tie loose around his neck and his hair clings to his forehead. Luda gasp when she sees you step from the basement as well, hiding behind her son meekly. âLook at the slut heâs been hiding from us.â Hoyt grumbles, when his eyes lock with yours and it clicks, he remembers you. âOh I remember this one, didnât put up a fight now did ya? Look at you, sleeping with him just for survival arenât you?!â He steps closer, but Thomas puffs up, not allowing him to touch you. He instantly does not like the defiance. âDonât you challenge me boy!â He shouts, slamming his fist against the counter. Luda just watches in shock, disapproving with the sinning her boy was doing behind your back. âYou better remember your place in this house!â As he yells he grabs your wrist, yanking out and away from behind Tommy. You help in surprise, and thatâs when they see it. Luda gasps and covers her mouth, Hoyt just closes his eyes and groans. âYou just had to get the bitch pregnant didnât ya? Couldnât help yourself!?â He gestures to your round swollen stomach. Luda touches his shoulder âwe canât hurt her Hoyt, sheâs expecting!â He rolls his eyes at his mothers words, stuck in a position where he canât do anything. âWell shit!â He turns around, strides across the room and toward the fridge, looking for a beer.
You flinch as the older woman eyes you and caresses your soft skin. âWell see Hoyt ainât she just the prettiest thing?â A soft smile is plastered over her weathered skin, wrinkles curling as she grins. Hoyt raised his hands in defeat, and for once, he backed out, dealing with his anger by drinking. His boots thud against the cracked tile, stepping out of the room and into the living room, he will undoubtedly drink himself black out drunk, you just hope it puts him in a better mood, praying that he will let this all slide. âIâve always wanted a daughterâ she ushers, it scares you how calm she is, guiding you to sit as she starts the stove. An older manâs voice comes from the hall, your head whips around to see a man in a wheelchair, his legs gone as he shakily wheels himself over, alerted by all the racket. âWho the fuck is she?â He eyes you up, Luda responds in a cheerful tone. âSheâs the new addition to the family, Thomasâs wife!â Itâs clear sheâs still trying to process it all. The man just rolls his eyes and wheels himself into the living room. Her head turns and she watches as her son gently rubs his womanâs back. As long as Tommy is happy, sheâs happy, so she guesses sheâll just have to get used to a new member of the family, with another one the quickly on the way.
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