So in the movies and I’m pretty sure in the comics Thomas never speaks, not once, and I was wondering if there is an actual reason for it or if it was just done for the “silent slasher” trope that was popular in slasher movies.
I've always had a personal head cannon for why he doesn't speak, but of course, if there is an official reason, I’d love to hear it!
sorry for the short and rushed chapter, I wanted to push this one out because I have asks I need to work on☺️ I saw someone write the Tea lady’s name as Katherine and loved the name so I used it. I’d love to hear your guys’ thoughts on my stories in the comments! I appreciate each one💗
The room slowly begins to fill up with light as the hours tick by and night fades. You’ve been in and out of consciousness trying desperately to keep yourself awake which proved to be quite difficult, but the stinging of your wrists helped you stay awake, and the very possible idea of one of them doing something to you while you sleep keeps your eyes from fluttering shut. You tug once more at the binds at your wrists, and you're met with searing pain. They've dug into the skin until it’s been rubbed raw, another tug and you yelp this time, you seem to never learn, thinking another pull and the binds will come loose, but the intensifying pain reminds you of your reality and it’s just a silly wish of yours. The door opens and the hinges groan, you’re instantly on high alert as your head whips back to the door. It’s Luda, and she’s carrying clothes in her hands as she walks over to the bed. “M’ so sorry about the binds sweetie, you understand don’t you?” Her frail hand rests on your cheek like a mother would soothing her child, to not upset her you nod along in agreement and thankfully she behinds to undo the knots. A big sigh of relief slips past your lips once you’re freed and you gently rub your red ringed wrists. She places the folded clothes on your lap and pats your thigh. “Put these on once you’re ready okay? I’ll have Thomas get you once breakfast is ready, we have a lot to discuss today” and with that she turns and leaves, you’re left alone once again.
You unfold the clothes and hold it up out in front of you. It’s a dress, and again, it definitely does not belong to Luda. Are they taking their victims clothing? You don’t even want to think about that, it definitely seems a little old fashioned, but you didn’t really mind, as long as you are alive and well you don’t care what they make you wear. Minding your foot you stand up and start to slip on your dres and look at yourself in the dusty mirror. The red cotton fabric pushes your boobs up and grips your waist a bit too tightly, the skirt swishes each time your turn and is once again a bit short. It could be worse you guess, at least it isn’t ugly, but the last thing you want is any of those perverts eying you up. Looking into the mirror you look at your foot, it doesn’t seem broken, you don’t think you’d even standing if it was, it’s bruised for sure, and you’ll have to make sure not to put any pressure on it. You’re not a medical expert or anything but you can tell you definitely damaged it.
The door opens and you turn back around, this time it’s Thomas, his eyes leave yours to look at your body, they widen and he freezes up. He acts like he’s never seen a woman before, you want to scoff but you bite your lip and hold it back. His eyes leave your chest and return back to your eyes, but he can’t hold eye contact for long before he’s looking to the ground with shame. He shuffles toward you and grips your hand, he’s about to lift you up again but you place your hand on his chest, he jolts from the feeling. “I can walk.. please?” He steps back and allows you to step out into the hall, you shakily walk out and down the stairs, you feel his hand on your lower back, making sure you don’t fall. You don’t even know why he cares if you do, you’re probably just a nuisance to him.
As soon as you step into the dining room all eyes are on you, Monty and Hoyt eye you up, their eyes on your chest for a little too long, Luda smiles brightly at the sight of you with Tommy. Thomas guides you over to the table and you sit down. Thankfully Hoyt and Monty’s eyes leave you and they return to eating, but Luda keeps her eyes set on you and she begins to speak. “You have a big day ahead of you, we have lots to talk about. Now, eat up sugar.” You look down at your plate, eggs, grits, and what you pray is normal bacon steams on the ceramic. You avoid the meat at first and pick up the eggs, shoveling them into your mouth. You can’t lie you are pretty hungry. You’re brought back to last nights dinner, and you grimace. Just the thought of it and your appetite is rightfully ruined, but you won’t dare upset them, so you keep eating, saving the meat for last.
Thomas stands up, his chair screeches against the floorboards and he makes his way to the front door, slamming it shut behind him, he seemed to be in a hurry to leave. You’re soon left with just the meat, you pray what you’re looking at is pork. With a shaky hand you stab into the meat and raise the fork to your lips, you have to swallow down your anxiety and eat, you don’t even risk tasting it and instead swallow it down. Hoyt stands up, hands placed firmly on his waist “what do you want to do with her now?” He asks her, not even looking your way. “Well I needed to talk to her today, tell her what her duties around here are going to be.” She smiles as she looks at you, your skin crawls with fear. Hoyt rolls his eyes but doesn’t buck her about it, her rather not start another argument again. “Im going to be on patrol today, so if anything happens call for Thomas.” His eyes finally lands on you, and his stare makes you shrink. He looks at you with nothing but pure disgust in his eyes, like you’re worthless, scum on the bottom of his boot, and you really feel like you are. You don’t belong you, you never will, you want to be back home, you want to be with your family again.
He leaves, and Monty soon follows, rolling himself over to the living room where you can hear the tv faintly playing. Luda stands up and moves around the table to gather the plates. She goes into the kitchen and sets them in the sink before quickly returning. She sits across from you, her gaze on you feels suffocating. “Now, there are some things that I expect of you if you want to live.” You can’t bare to look at her and instead keep your eyes trained on your hands placed on your lap. “Now, while you’re living here I expect you to pull your weight around here, I wont ask you to do the hard work, thats for my sons to do, but you will be doing house chores, cleaning, washing clothes, cooking, that sort of thing.” You listen carefully, nodding along to her words “and another thing, you will be marrying Thomas.” Now you’re looking at Luda with bewilderment plastered across your face, she said it so casually like the words were nothing. It finally clicks and all makes sense, no wonder why she kept saying all those things about how Thomas will just think your so pretty or so sweet, she wants you to marry him!
“Tommy is such a lonely boy, I always worry about him, he needs a good girl like you to keep him happy.” She keeps talking but you can’t pay attention, not with the panic settling deep in the pit of your stomach, or the anxiety wrapping around your heart and squeezing it tightly. Death almost seems like a better choice by now, but you know it’s just the fear that makes you think that way. You listen to the rest of her words while trying to stop yourself from having another panic attack. Soft knocks at the door take both of your attention, she beams happily. “Katherine is here!” Katherine? Probably another person from this messed up family. She stands up and shuffles her way out to the front. You hear another older woman’s voice and they both come back to the dining room, she follows behind Luda, she’s not as old as Luda but she’s still not young, when she sees you she gasps and smiles. “Luda who is this?” She asks as she sits down, her eyes squinting as she studies you. Luda rushes in the kitchen to turn on the tea kettle.
Luda comes back and sits down, quickly beginning to gush all about you. “This is going to be Tommy’s wife, ain’t she just so pretty? Such a sweet thing too.” She laughs both of their eyes seem to be burning into you. Katherine smiles “why she’s beautiful! And she seems so well mannered, behaving better then your pasts guests.” They speak about you like you’re not even there, it feels so dehumanizing, but you don’t speak. Katherine’s eyes brighten and she turns to Luda. “Well I bet her and Tommy would make the cutest babies.” You have to hold back a gasp, your shocked, almost disgusted. You didn’t want things to be this way, not like this at least, your whole future is being decided for you and you don’t even have a say in it. You’re forced to listen as they both talk about you and Thomas, making weird comments about you and him, you don’t even know the guy, hell, just last night he was chasing you down with a roaring chainsaw, ready to slaughter you, and now they are talking about you having his babies? It all seems to crazy to be true, you wish this was some twisted dream you were trapped up, but you could wish all you want, it wouldn’t change what’s happening and will happen to you.
…
Finally after hours they stop chatting, Katherine leaves to wherever she came from and Luda goes into the kitchen to prep dinner. Katherine was almost sickly sweet, she fawned over you like you’re a broken puppy, she minutes her wishes to have her own baby. You regret the moment she left because now you’re forced to hang out in the living room with Monty. You scooch as far away from him as possible on the couch and try to focus on the black and white show in front of you, but it’s hard to do so when you feel his eyes on you and cigarettes smoke blowing towards you. You glance over to him once and immediately regret doing so, because now he begins to talk. “Damn Thomas is lucky, mama shoulda’ sent you my way.” You can just tell he’s staring at your body, you don’t even have to look back at him. “Damn right on that.” You hear Hoyt’s voice behind you, he must have returned and now they both are making pervy comments on you. You keep your eyes trained on the small tv screen, and right when you think they’re done Hoyt speaks up once more “just look at that rack” he chuckles, his laughter quickly dies out, and now you finally turn back and look over the couch.
Thomas stands tall behind Hoyt, breathing heavily, sweat beads and rolls down his neck as he huffs. Hoyt quickly makes his way out of the living room and Monty pretends to be focused on the tv. His black boots thud heavily against the wooden flooring, walking towards you and Monty, but he pays him no mind, instead he walks over to your side of the couch and watches you, his bulky frame taking up most of your vision. He makes you feel so small in his presence, he bends down to be at eye level with you, his heated stare makes you tremble and a whimper slips past your lips, he’s scary, there is no doubt about that. You let out a small gasp when he drops to his knees in front of you, shuffling between your now spread legs, and he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your lap. You can’t even muster up any words or sounds that could leave your lips, why is he doing this? You look over and out the window, maybe he’s tired, he must’ve been working outside all day, out in the blazing sun. You awkwardly wrap your arms around him and he lets out a low groan, you don’t want to anger him, so instead of bucking back you comply. He’s definitely making himself comfortable, Luda must have told him that you were his now because now he’s treating you like a stuffed toy or emotional support animal, hugging you tightly without any warning. You don’t even know him and he’s already holding you, he probably hasn’t dated before, he seems super inexperienced and maybe that’s why he’s already so clingy.
Monty starts to mockingly laugh, looking at Thomas on the floor, “already in her lap like a damn mutt.” that seems to set him off. Thomas stands up in the blink of an eye and towers over Monty, he doesn’t need to speak for you to know how he’s feeling, the silence makes him more threatening. His laugh quickly dies and you can feel the fear dripping off of him like sweat. You can’t help but be scared yourself, his emotions can switch fast, and his size definitely helps in making him more scary. Before anything can happen though, Hoyt steps in. “Boy you better quit it!” He commands, and he quickly obeys his command, stepping away from Monty. This whole family dynamic confuses you, you’d think Thomas would be the one in charge, he’s big, strong, and scary, but that seems far from the truth. Luda and Hoyt seem to be the leaders of this house, their word is law and Tommy will obey without a second thought. You don’t know where Monty fits in, but Thomas seems to not respect him as much or at all. You still don’t want to mess with him though, it’s clear he can be set off very easily and you don’t want to be the one doing so.
Hey guys I have a quick writing question for Thomas Hewitt!
It’s been a while since I’ve watched the movies, and was wondering if his condition was something he got after birth like an infection or if it was genetic and he was born with it. I tried looking it up but everyone has different takes on it. I don’t want to mess up his character while I’m writing so lmk💗
IM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE CHAPTER😢 I’ve been sorta depressed and haven’t been writing💔 the next chapter will be out either tomorrow or Tuesday.
Faint echoes of agonizing screams, the tearing of flesh, and maniacal laughter fill each crevice of your unconscious mind, the souls of the tortured past victims worm their way into your psyche, the ones who lost their lives now haunt this basement. Nothing but their bones and damned souls left for eternity. You hope you join them, that you’ll never wake from this slumber so you’ll never have to have this wretched family of cannibals again. Your family would never be able to find you, your flesh chewed and swallowed until your entire being filled their stomachs full. You’ll join the plethora of people who lost their lives here, and you just hope that one day someone will escape their clutches and have them arrested. All you can do now is pray your fighting is over.
…
A harsh crackle of stinging pain tingles across your face, and you’re woken up sharply by a smack to the face, your cheek reddening and already swelling. Your eyes jolt open, your hand raises to your hurt cheek, panicked eyes shifting around rapidly, and you’re met with Hoyt. You prayed you wouldn’t have to deal with them any longer, but it seems like your suffering has yet to end. His dry thin lips spread open in a dirty smile, “there she is.” he clicks his tongue while looking down at your body. “The bitch puked all over herself” he calls out over his shoulder, your eyes shift away from him and lock on to who he was talking to, Thomas. His bulky body stays hidden in the shadows, but there is no doubt in your mind that it’s him. No one in this house has his stature, he's so unbelievably tall and thick. You weakly muster the courage to let pleading words spill from your wet lips, “Please, let me go” tears bead at the corners of your eyes, your eyelashes clump wetly together as wet tear drops slip down your cheeks and collect at your chin.that bastard just laughs in your face, lips curled in a shit eating grin, he roughly grabs you by your shoulders and drags you up on to your feet. “Well I just can’t let that happen, Luda has plans for you and Tommy.” he pushes you and you stumble right into Thomas' grasp, you yelp from the pain of your foot is almost unbearable. His meaty hands planted on your hips to keep you steady on your feet. “Bring her upstairs and wash her off Tommy, she fucking stinks”
You stand still in his grasp, eyes switching from Thomas to the gore strewn around the basement. That could be you if you don’t comply, your flesh torn from bone, blood mixing with the murky water splashing around the damp basement. That thought alone keeps you still, if they have a plan for you that doesn’t end up with you as their next meal then you have no other choice but to comply. He bends down and wraps his arms around your hips, easily hoisting you up in the air and on his shoulder as he carries you up the rotted basement stairs. Hoyt stands at the base of the stairwell, you both lock eyes and he laughs at your appearance. Your eyes are red from crying with no more tears to shed, the struggle you had is shown on your skin, varying from purplish yellow bruises littered across your body and harsh red cuts that bead up with blood. Your half digested dinner smeared across your shirt rubs against Thomas’ shoulder, crusting onto the yellowed cotton fabric.
He carries you through the hallway, looking through the living room door you see Luda and the man in the wheel chair, they both watch you as you pass themthem, the man shakes his head and grumbles to Luda, probably opposing this whole ordeal that's been thrusted upon you. He brung you up another set of stairs up to the second floor and into the bathroom. You’re roughly set down onto the tile flooring, tumbling and hitting the base of your skull against the ceramic tub. He stands up quickly and turns to look at you on the floor, he's just standing there awkwardly, not making any kind of move. He seems nervous? Since the basement he hasn’t made eye contact with you and it seems like it would stay that way, he seemed eager to hunt you down but without the order to kill or butcher he seems unsure of himself.
Finally he moves, reaching over you and twisting the metal knob on the tub, the pipes groan and creak and it’s not long before lukewarm water spurts out into the bath. His attention leaves the bath and his eyes roam over your bruised form and dirty attire, he grabs you by the wrists and yanks you back up on your feet, he seemed to have forgotten about your foot because your yelp of pain surprised him. He seems to focused on his task to deviate from it, so he continues, he bunches the fabric of your top in his hands and a harsh rip sounds in the room. He ripped your top in two! Now he is doing the same to your bottoms. It’s not long before you're bare naked, you’ve retreated to a safe space in your mind, trying to disassociate from the reality in front of you, once the tub has filled enough for his liking he twists the knob back and the steady flow of water abruptly stops. This time, he minds your foot as he sets you down into the lukewarm water, but his gentleness ends as quickly it came.
With a soapy wet wash cloth he begins to roughly scrub your body, wincing each time he passes over one of your many wounds, he goes over your arms, and back, then down to your thighs and calves before wandering back up your body, and his calloused hands start to grope at your chest, definitely getting way to handsy for your liking. He paws at the soft mounds of doughy flesh but the door swings wide open. His hands snap away from your chest like it burnt him, he backs away from you and you both look up at the door to see Luda with a not so pleased expression plastered on her face. In the crotch of his jeans is an evident bulge and it becomes clear he was getting off on your naked body even if not intentionally. With hands planted firmly on her hips as she shakes her head “I saw that you pervert! Don't you think you can start groping her now, you shouldn’t even be bathing her! get out of here!” Shuffling over to the side she points at the open door and like a sad puppy with its tail tucked for being bad he scurried out of the bathroom in a hurry.
“You poor thing. I’m sorry about him, he’s not any good with women, ‘specially ones as pretty as you.” She utters soothingly, sighing as she closes the bathroom door and locks it closed. “Don't worry, sweetie, mama will help you.” She smiles and rolls up the sleeves of her weathered night gown. She starts to gently pick out some small twigs that were stuck in your hair, once that is done she pours a reasonable dollop of shampoo into her wet palm and emulsifies it before lathering the sudsy liquid onto your scalp. “I’ve always wanted a daughter, and you’re so sweet, just perfect for my little boy.” Those words at face value weren’t horrible, but in this situation it’s the last thing you want to hear. The weight your feeling has increased ten fold, and mixed with the oppressive feeling of her hands all over makes the walls you tried to build come crashing down quicker than they were built, the facade of bravery snuffed out. Ugly sounds bubble up in your throat and fall from your lips, salty tears drip from your face down into the soapy water beneath. This is the last thing you wanted, you should have never come here, their offer seemed too good to be true, and it was, now you're stuck with this sick family of twisted psychopathic red necks. With your current injury chances of escaping seem slim to none.
You’re brought back out of your head when she pulls you up by your armpits, the water spiraled down the drain and she’s finally done. The tears have long since stopped flowing, you can’t produce anymore, now your hiccuping and hyperventilating trying to greedily suck air into your lungs. you would have preferred to do it yourself, but there was no chance of allowing that when your attempt to flee is still so fresh. You flinch as she dries you off with a towel. Once you’re dried off she tosses the damp towel into a laundry bin. “I’ll go find you something to wear, you stay right here now.” Her voice is soft but her demand is clear, it’s not like you would want to leave the bathroom naked anyway. She unlocks the door and leaves the room, leaving you cold, alone, and afraid. Shivers wrack your body as you stand alone by the tub, goosebumps rising on your skin.
It feels like hours before she comes back, but you know only a few minutes have passed, your mind is off kilter from the amount of stress this night has caused, and the thought of your now future has you trembling. They were planning on giving you to Thomas, offering you up like you aren’t a living human being. Two sharp knocks to the door has your brain snapping back into the present, Luda opens the door and shuts it quickly behind her, the clothes bunched up in her hands. “I couldn’t find much.” She hands you the clothes and you're quick to put them on, hurriedly slipping the night gown over your body, the soft cotton fabric tightly grips your curves and you quickly realize that it’s a little too short and a bit tight, the fabric taut around your chest and tight around your waist. At his doesn’t seem to belong to her, or She puts her hand on her chest and praises you so sweetly like a mother would, acting like you weren’t their captive. “aren’t you just so pretty! Oh Tommy will just love you.”
Grabbing your shoulder she pulls you out of the bathroom and you hobble weakly down the hall “Tommy!” She calls out, Thomas comes rushing out of his room at the sound of his mothers voice. His eyes lands on you and he goes rigid, you can feel his gaze roaming over you and it makes you shiver. “Tommy, I need you to tie her up to the bed okay? We can’t have her running off again.” He snaps out of his daze and nods his head, he follows her orders without hesitation. He once again picks you up, instead this time he holds you close to his chest, his hand drifting from your lower back down to your ass where he squeezes the supple flesh tightly. he looks down at you and seems to immediately regret what he did because his hands instantly shoots back up to your lower back once more. The last thing you want right now is some cannibal copping a feel, but there is nothing you can do about it, he could do anything he wanted to right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, and that terrified you.
He walks in the room and to the bed, tossing you onto the bed like a sack of potatoes and you bounce on the mattress with a groan. Before you can blink he’s back on you, his one big hand holding both of yours in place, he tugs the sheet out from below you and begins to bind your wrists together and to the bed frame. He ties your wrists together way to tight, but he doesn’t seem to care, he quickly pulls back to stare down at you. You watch as he fidgets anxiously and looks back towards the open door then to you, he reaches towards you and you realize his hands are going straight to your chest. His palms warm your skin, he holds the pliable mounds awkwardly. Has he done this with his other victims? Right before he slaughters and ate them? He seems to inexperienced for that to be so, but as quickly as his hands were there they left. Shame is written all over him, guilt practically oozing off of him, and he quickly makes his way out of the room and slams the door shut, leaving you alone in the dark room. You lay in the bed with your eyes glued on that door, there is no way you will be able to sleep knowing your in a house full of serial killer cannibals, you would be crying right now if you had any tears to shed, you may still be alive but it seems like your life was already robbed from you, and there is nothing you can do about it.
Can you write a Tommy Hewitt story where reader LOVES his pudge and he doesn’t understand it like reader wants him to put his weight on her a lot and he’s like “hmmm??”
Thank you for the request! Sorry if it's not that good, I wrote this on my lunch break😅 let me know if you want me to expand on this i will most likely anyways when I get home from work. I LOVE PUDGY THOMAS
SMUT MDI
Thomas has always been insecure about his body, whether it be his face, or his bulky frame. He’s always been unsure of himself, so he felt truly stunned when you came along. He's never been so flustered in his life, it’s not uncommon to catch you staring at him, especially when his bloody butchers apron is off, and you get to see the way his stomach pudges and spills over his jeans, or how his thick biceps push against the tight sleeves of some of his moth eaten button ups. Your loving and intense gaze makes him squirm where he stands, looking at him all starry-eyed like he's the sun your very world orbits around.
He notices the way you start to frequently come outside during the afternoon, watching him do his daily chores, the heavy and intense labor that was dumped on him by his family daily. Under the searing hot sun, he unbuttons his shirt, slinging the sweaty fabric over the chipped fence, and you get a perfect view of his body, the heat rising to your cheeks not only caused by the sun, but the sight of his hefty frame. Dark hair clings to his sweaty chest, trailing down his soft stomach, thickening as it disappears into his jeans, you have to remind yourself to suck in humid air into your lungs. After breakfast, his belly always seems to bloat, albeit very subtly that it’s unnoticeable to the rest but clear to you, and god do you love just how perfect his body is, even if he can’t realize this for himself. Sweat beads and starts to roll down his torso, getting caught in the soft hairy trail on his belly.
Your favorite part of the day begins to creep in. The sky is painted in a mix of crimson red and tangerine, the reds and oranges are stunning to see. When everyone starts to make their way to their rooms, you get to spend time cuddling Tommy, and that’s what makes this time of night so special. You're left alone with each other, no disturbances, no expectations for working, just the two of you with your last bit of free time for the day. After hurriedly cleaning the dishes you speed up the stairs and beeline straight to your shared bedroom. The rusty hinges creak as you open the door, your eyes immediately search for him, and you’re met with a breathtaking view of your beloved. He's lying down in bed, soft tummy and legs on display because he prefers sleeping in his boxers, or naked. He's nearly dozing off to sleep already, his drawn-out and labor-intensive days make him quite drowsy, he likes to go to bed early, but this is the time you have plans to keep him up for a little while longer tonight.
“Tommyyy” you whisper sweetly, your fingertips delicately move up his arm, the soft touch sending tingles up his arm, settling at the base of his spine. He languidly turns his over to face you, with the mask off you really get to see your lover finally. He waits for you to continue speaking, to listen to your soft voice. Your hand trails down to rest on his stomach as your lips softly caress the column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs softly. “Cuddle me” you whisper against his sun-kissed skin, trailing light kisses up to his jaw. Blush rises and warms the skin of his cheeks, and he happily replies with your request, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight. Your arms curl around him as well, head resting against his hairy chest, soft and inviting like a pillow for only you. His eyes slowly start to flutter shut, he can always fall asleep so easily.
“Tommy?” he hears you whisper against his chest, he feels you squirming against him, trying to maneuver him up with your legs, but he doesn't understand why, he lets out a low questioning groan that rumbles in his chest, he feels like a purring kitten when doing so. “Can you lie on top of me?” You whisper, your soothing voice reaching your ears, and as soon as he registers your words, his eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head questioningly. He’s utterly confused about why you’d want that, he’s always been insecure about his bigger build, so tall and broad that he has to be careful everywhere he goes. So much thicker than his family that Hoyt always scoffs when he reaches to serve himself another plate. He’s convinced himself that if he were to accidentally roll over in his sleep he could seriously injure you, so to see you begging him to lie on top of you has him perplexed. When he meets your gaze once more he's met with your expectant and pleading stare.
Nervously he rolls over onto his knees, bracketed on each side of your legs. He hovers above you, his palms digging into the shabby mattress on the sides of your head. It’s not nearly enough for you, his belly hangs down, grazing the skin of yours, and you whine at his actions. “No not like that silly” Your arms make their way from his ribs to the large expanse of his back, fingers pushing into the muscle as you tug him down. Your legs are stretched wide by his hips. His hips are blanketed in a nice layer of pudgy fat, just like his stomach, biceps, and thighs. Underneath the cushion of fat is a layer of hard-earned muscle, built up from years of intensive farm labour. He tries to scramble back up, scared that he could have hurt you when you pushed his body onto yours. Your arms tighten around him and he looks at you baffled. You explain to him how much you love his body, especially when he’s wrapped around you snugly like a thick blanket. He’s hesitant, years of telling himself he’s too big have made him scared to show you his body, but with you by his side, he's happily able to unlearn all the horrible things he has said to himself, one step at a time. His hefty frame nearly swallows you whole as he eases back down on you, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips as he holds you closer to him. His body is like a heater, he keeps you warm no matter how cold it is. His weight keeps you pinned down, inescapable if you tried, you didn’t want to though, his body on top of yours felt like home there was comfort in being held like this.
Your hands wander slowly up his back, feather-light touches skimming over muscle and warm skin. Your fingers continue their delicate trail up his spine until they find his thick brown tresses, your fingers slipping into the loose curls and tangling there. Your nails graze his scalp in a light, deliberate scratch, and he exhales a shaky breath. The fingers still resting against his upper back begin to move as well, making idle, random patterns across his upper back. Each movement sends tingles racing through his body, spilling down his spine until he shivers beneath your touch, caught between comfort and pleasure. Your head nestled in the crook of his neck. His heart speeds up, smiling happily and huffing loudly. He’s so cute when he gets excited, panting happily against you. He only gets this way around you, a rare side of him reserved for only your eyes. Slowly you both begin to fall asleep, finding comfort in each other's tight embrace.
The sound of soft groans and panting fills your ears as you slip back into consciousness. You feel first, you feel him rutting against your pelvis, the rough fabric of his boxers rub against the cotton of your underwear, his cock pulses against you as his hips hump forward. You open your eyes, a stream of sunlight makes you wince, and your eyes adjust to the brightness of the morning sun. Your vision clears, and you’re met with the sight of Tommy still asleep and humping you. His mouth lies open against your chest drool dribbling past his pink lips. His eyebrows are pinched together and raised, pleasure written across his face. “Tommy” you whimper out, softly shaking him awake. It succeeds and he jolts awake, half-lidded eyes staring sweetly up at you. These early mornings are best for you two to make love, most of the time he is much too tired during the night, and too busy during the day. He grumbles softly, his lips parting to suck and nibble at the skin at the tops of your breasts. He loves to mark your skin, hickeys are almost constantly littered across your skin. He makes sure to place them in places you can’t hide, likes to make a trail of them from the column of your throat to your breasts so that everyone can clearly see it disappear under the neckline of your tops.
Once he’s satisfied with the work he’s done on your skin, he gently paws at your hips, letting out breathy moans against your skin. You gasp when he suddenly grabs at your panties, yanking them down your legs with urgency, moving to do the same with your bra. Grabbing at the waistband of his boxers you help him out and toss the boxers to the floor where they join your undergarments, left forgotten. He grabs your hips once more, except this time he rolls you over on your stomach and pins you down, laying his weight back on your once more. His stomach squishes against your back, his thick thighs coated in fuzzy hair keep your legs spread nice and wide for him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, the way he manhandled you and is pining you down under his pudgy body has you wet, slick dribbling out. He reaches down and grabs his dick, and just like the rest of him, it’s thick. He nudges his fat cock through your slit, pushing through your pussy lips from your hole to your sensitive clit. He coats his cock in your juices to aid him in slipping in, because no matter how many times he fucks you senseless your cunt struggles to take the girthy dick. You always seem to be stretched taut around the meaty shaft of his cock, his uncircumcised tip nudging against your cervix each thrust in and punching the air out of your lungs
Your breath hitches when his cock starts to push in, your cunt already clamping down against the tip, trying to milk his fat dick dry. His lips trail soft kisses on your shoulder blade, trying to calm you as he stretches you nearly beyond your limit. He finally bottoms out inside of you, the untamed bush of thick curly pubes at the base of his cock rubs against your ass he grinds his cock up deeper into your gooey cunt. His bicep gently curls around your neck, and he begins to fuck you hard and fast. His cock slams into you repeatedly, the air being forced out of your lungs in loud moans. He pulls out until only the tip remains, then quickly brings his hips back down on you, using his weight to fuck in you harder than he ever has. Your cunt struggles with letting him bully his dick in you, but clings on like a vice when he tries to pull out, almost begging in a way to keep him inside where he belongs. “Thomas!” You moan as he fucks you silly, eyes rolling into your skull and he guides you to your climax, humping your pussy in rapid thrusts. It only takes a couple more harsh pumps of his hips before you’re cumming. Your pussy wrapped so tight around him his steady pace falters, pushing the tip deep inside and spilling his seed into your farthest depths.
The fat of his stomach squishes against your sweat-slicked back as he grinds his cock against your battered cervix, his hairy body blanketing yours. He shoots rope after rope of creamy pearlescent cum, filling you up until it feels like you're bursting at the seams. Finally, the streams stop flowing, his soft cock plugging you up, but it doesn’t last for long though. “Quit fucking and make me my breakfast!” A gruff angry voice calls at the bottom of the stairwell, Hoyt’s voice heard through the thin decaying walls. Thomas turns his head to check the time on the small clock just to see it’s forty minutes past the time he started his day. He whines softly against your skin, kissing your neck and jaw as he slowly pulls out. You hiss at the lost contact, his cum pooling out of your battered and swollen hole. He coos softly as he tries to comfort you, even if he’s way late to starting his day he makes sure to check up on you, love and comfort you. “I’m okay, how about I start breakfast hm? I bet my big boy is ready to eat” he nods his head eagerly, ready to start his day with you. As you both get ready for the day you make sure to pepper his body in feather-light kisses. You’ll make sure to stack his plate high with food.
Thomas Hewitt- an unashamed and unabashed cunt eater.
Thomas Hewitt is plain filthy when it comes to you, a feral animal in a not-so-hidden disguise. It’s not unusual for him to get touchy throughout the day, especially after his grueling chores. You’ve had to scold him numerous times about groping and pawing at your body around his family or in public, no one except Luda scolds him about his behavior, but it doesn’t do much to deter him from running his hands up and down your soft body, every dip and curve memorized deep in his subconscious. Hoyt encourages the behavior, finds it funny and will say a few nasty words as well.
He truly doesn’t have an ounce of shame in his body when it comes to his desperation—his want for you. Not when his face is buried between your legs, head under your sundress slurping and licking at your pussy under the clothesline. The soft linen bed sheet does nothing to hide his ministrations. his thick grimy fingers caked with blood and dirt grip the soft flesh of your outer thighs, the pads of his fingers making indentations on your soft skin, a bruise likely to form in purple ovals where the pads of his fingertips gripped you, possessed you.
Anyone could discover your little tryst happening in the backyard, he can’t seem to give a single care in the world, he couldn’t if he wanted to, his brain muddled and unable to form a single thought. If you could see them you'd be able to see his baby blue eyes glazed over, pupils dilated as he drags his tongue through every crevice of your pussy, drool mixing with your fluids. The pink muscle wriggles against your wet flesh, the harsh grip on your thighs fades as he reaches behind his head to untie the black strings of his mask. His large frame unfolds as he slips out from under the skirt of your dress to toss the mask to the side, and the sight of him nearly makes you orgasm.
The evidence of your arousal is smeared all over the mouth of the mask, which he eagerly brings to his mouth to run his tongue along the hole. (just like he was doing to you moments before) Not a drop of your slick goes to waste as he licks at the leather, then his lips. The mask is left forgotten in the grass, he gives you no time to recover as he hunches over to get back under your dress, kissing up your legs as he inches closer to his goal. His thumbs gently spread the sides of your pussy, exposing as much of your folds to him, the sun illuminated his favorite cunt under the thin fabric. His lips smush against your clit, wet from your arousal as he kisses your cunt like he's worshipping it, and maybe he is, but you have no time to ponder on it as his tongue wiggles its way into your sensitive pussy.
He gets off on getting caught, it deeply excites him. Nothing makes him more horny than someone walking in on your intimate time together. Hoyt has been the victim of this numerous times, walking into his room without knocking just to see his brother shoving his face against your pussy. He likes others knowing you’re his, but hates anyone seeing you naked. In more public spaces he likes to slip under your dresses or skirts, pull your panties aside, and go to town on your delectable cunt.
Don’t even get me started on face sitting. He's always had a sexual fantasy of his face getting sat on, pussy dripping right into his mouth, your ass suffocating him and thighs strangling him. Of course, the first time he gripped your hips and maneuvered you to hover against your face you were hesitant. You don’t want to hurt him, especially because of his skin condition. Your concerned muffled ramblings go in one ear and out the other, how could he focus on anything when your pussy was mere inches from his pink lips? Those soft lips part and his tongue lolls out to catch the sweet juices that drip from your pussy. You gasp and blush as he wraps his beefy arms around you and pushes you down on his face. He won’t let you leave until he’s finished, keeping you trapped against his mouth. When you reach your climax, a soft muffled whimper coming from his wet lips vibrates against your pussy. Looking down you see he cummed in his pants when he got to taste your release.
Even if he's already finished, he hasn’t stopped. You’re going to be stuck here for a long time…
Authors note: wrote this at like two in the morning drunk, and it’s written on my phone my computer is still broken💔 I couldn’t respond to the ask so I took a ss. Thank you anon for the request💕not proofread.
Your whole body is tense, fear pumping deep in your veins and through your body. You’ve 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 you’ve ever agreed to. There were a few other people you hadn’t known who were accompanying you and your friends on this trip, it was all going fine until it wasn’t. 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, ‘Travis County’ 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. “Everyone act cool okay?” 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 man’s head. Blood, flesh and bone spray over the van, covering everyone's faces and clothes. It wasn’t 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, you’re 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 he’s 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 can’t even pick yourself up in time before he’s on you, swinging the door open he’s 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 you’re 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, he’ll 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. “You just get up nice and slow now.” His eyes roam over each dip and curve of your body perversely, he has no shame as he practically undresses you with his eyes. “Sir please-“ 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, he’s shown that he is not a merciful man, and you’d 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 you’re 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 that’s 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 aren’t 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. He’s getting off on your fear, palming himself like the damn dog he is as he looks at your teary face. “You’re really pretty when you cry like that.” 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 you’re 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 man’s 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 man’s 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.
“Please… Please I'm sorry, just don’t hurt me.” Your voice croaks, throat dry and burning from screaming and the lack of hydration for however long you’ve 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 don’t matter, each time they’re 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, it’s what he’s used to, he almost wants it so he doesn’t 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 don’t want to be alone, but also you can’t 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 won’t stop flowing, and you can’t help but mock yourself, how pathetic you look trying so hard to escape, when you look weak as you thrash your shaking limbs. You can’t 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. She’s quick to concern and fuss over him, always so worried about her troubled son. “Tommy dear you alright?” 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 what’s happening. “You done with the meat boy?” He grumbles out, taking a long sip of the amber liquid, guzzling it down. Thomas nods, quick for the man’s approval. Hoyt wipes his lips, grinning wickedly. “Good. Now, get yourself cleaned up, you reek boy.” Pursing his lips and his nose wrinkles is disgust. He doesn’t 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 he’s liked to fantasize, keeping his mind busy to distract himself from his pain, his loneliness, it was the same pitiful fantasy he’s 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 wasn’t 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 she’s so stuffed full her body can’t 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 he’s 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. He’s 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 hasn’t killed you, he hadn’t 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. You’re 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. He’s 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 don’t 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? You’re not sure, but the texture is off and instantly alarms you, it’s unlike any other meat you’ve 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 he’s 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 he’s given.
“Tommy!” You recognize the voice of the man calling from upstairs, it’s 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 it’s short lived as he drags you over to some closet, sliding a 2x4 into the handles so you can’t 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. “Damnit boy you forgot to feed the hogs and they’ve been squealing out there for hours!” He shouts, when Tommy doesn’t move he slams his foot down making both you and Tommy jolt “Boy get your ass out there! You ain’t too old to get your ass beat you remember that now.” With that he's quick to hustle up the stairs. You’re 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. ‘Hoyt’. 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. You’ve come to learn a lot about him in this short time frame, even if he doesn’t speak. Tommy is like the family’s 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. He’s like a puppy really, begging for the attention it won’t receive, and he sees nothing wrong with it because that’s all he knows, but now that you’re in the picture, he can’t 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. She’s 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 you’re 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 don’t know how long it’s been, you don't know anything anymore, it’s dark outside of the window but knowing that it's night outside doesn’t do anything to calm you, left alone with nothing but your thoughts all day and all night. After being alone for so long you’re 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 don’t 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 he’s taking you to your death, ‘but it doesn’t make any sense’ you try to tell yourself ‘if he wanted you dead you’d be dead.’ 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 that’s for sure. Hair coats his arms, dusted along his chest, and a trail leads down to his soft tummy and into his boxers. Soon he’s completely naked save for his mask, and he’s moving to take off your clothes. He’s eager to tug off your pants, he rips your shirt in two and you can’t help but scold him. “Hey!” 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. He’s 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 he’s 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 isn’t 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 it’s 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, that’s 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. “Hey, let me help” 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, it’s past his shoulders, all brushed out you notice jagged cuts in an attempt to shorten it. “Would you like me to give you a trim as well?” You ask him, your tone soft. You have no idea why you’re being so nice to him, you should hate him, should scream at him and the man who’s killed your friends, but you don’t, 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 don’t, you don’t 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 couldn’t even if you wanted to. You trim back to the length he likes it, shoulder length. Once you’re 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 you’re 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, it’s 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 he’s smiling, then you look down to see hes hard again ‘when is he not sporting a boner around you these days?’ He grips your hips, tugging you close to him. He likes you in dresses, that’s 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 can’t 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 don’t want to fight it, don’t want to leave. Trying to rationalize it in your head over and over, the same thoughts pop up each time. He’s a broken man, he needs healing, he needs love. And maybe you’re the one who has to give it to him..
Upstairs Thomas is spiraling, he feels guilty that he’s hiding her from his family, oh how selfish he’s being, but it doesn’t 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 she’s alive, her heart pumping blood into her veins, she’s breathing. His left bicep covers his mouth as he strokes his cock to her, he’s 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 can’t stop, won’t 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 he’s 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 won’t 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. she’ll love him, he knows it, he’ll make her love him, she’ll give him everything he’s ever hoped for, and she will do it with a smile on her face. He's so overstimulated, he hasn’t jerked himself off this much before, but he’s doing it for her he believes, he’d do anything for her, because in his mind they are in love, they are together. He hopes that one day, she doesn’t 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 he’s 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, he’s 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 isn’t 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 won’t stop, he can’t 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. “Mornin’ dear” 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. “Charlie, something's wrong with Thomas, he spends all his time in the basement nowadays, he's even forgetting to do his chores more frequently.” 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 “ma it’s Hoyt, he’s just being weird, himself you know, he ain’t 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.” He returns to eating. Luda just shakes her head, hands pressed against her hips, “you’re his brother, maybe you need to have a heart to heart with him, he listens to you, you know that.” 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. “I’ll get around to it” 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 that’s for sure.
Weeks pass, the longer Thomas is away from you the more you crave his presence, you don’t 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 don’t 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 don’t matter in the long run, they aren’t 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 can’t 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 couldn’t see before you spread it out, it’s 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. It’s a tight fit, definitely a little too short to be proper, the neckline low, it grips your torso making your boobs push up. It’s 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, you’ve seen him look at you sexually a lot of times, but this is the first time that it’s 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 can’t stop your begging from slipping out of your plump lips.
“Please take off the mask, I need to see you. All of you” 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, he’s reluctant, but oh he just can’t 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 don’t 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 he’s 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. “Please” you beg under your breath, he hasn’t 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. “Tommy please!” You're reduced to nothing more than a puddle in his grasp, even in his inexperience he has you wrapped around your finger. It’s 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. You’re 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 don’t care anymore, you need him, only him. His tongue wiggles and probes at your entrance, beckoning for more of your pussy’s sweet nectar. It’s 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 it’s 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 it’s yearned for, and that you both have it, you won’t 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. He’s a little longer than average, but what makes you quiver is his girth. It twitches, bobbing down from its weight. It’s so thick that you’re sure your hand wouldn’t fit around it, you’d 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 weren’t prepared for how quick he’d 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 he’s 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 you’re 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. It’s not long before you’re approaching your second orgasam of the night, your moans heightening in pitch, panting rapidly. He’s 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 can’t 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 it’s right where you want to be. For the first time in his life, he’s been truly loved by another. And for once, he’s truly at peace.
“Tommy!!”
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. “It’s okay, I’ll be here when you come back, it’s best not to make him wait.” 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 aren’t zipped all the way up. He hadn’t cared before about Luda’s concerns, now he wasn’t worried, but he is suspicious of him. Watching as he locks the door hurriedly, and eyebrow quirks up as he watches him. “Mama needs you in the kitchen boy, and zip your fly up” 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 isn’t a day that goes by where Tommy isn’t stuffing you full of his seed, breeding your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll 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 he’s wanted for so many years. A woman in love with him and stuffed full of cum, swollen with his baby. Even if you’re already pregnant he makes sure to fuck you full of his cum every morning, noon and night. He can’t stay away from you, he doesn’t want to, all he wants is to keep putting baby after baby in your stomach, watching you swell up. Even if it’s 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 he’s 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 wouldn’t 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. “Are you finally done with your chores?” 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. “Hoyt has been overworking you, you need a break don’t you baby?” 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 you’ve 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 you’ve haven’t 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 you’re with him you’ll 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. “Oh Tommy” 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 isn’t focused on your talking right now, looking at your body filling out your red sundress. Pregnancy hadn’t 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? It’s like he can’t get enough of you. “So that’s the type of relaxing you came in for huh big guy?” 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, he’s 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 isn’t 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.
“God damn it, what's taking him so long!” Hoyt is pissed off, he’s been waiting for Thomas to get back up from the basement, it’s been over an hour and he's had enough. Luda Mae just shakes her head and sighs “I told you what’s been going on with the boy, you just refused to talk to him.” She tuts, wiping down the dining room table. Hoyt tries the door but as expected it’s locked, like it has been the past half year. “Tommy!” He shouts again, and as expected he doesn’t 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. “Boy thinks he can skip out on his work huh, well let’s just see about that.” 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. “Thomas Brown Hewitt!” He screams, he’s in so much shock he for once is at a loss of words. You squeak in embarrassment, trying to cover your body, even though Thomas’s bulky frame does a pretty good job at doing so. “Put your clothes on and bring that hussy upstairs immediately!” With that he steps away and up the stairs, out of the basement.
Luda watches as Hoyt storms up from the basement. “What’s wrong Charlie?” 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. “You don’t want to go down there ma, just wait.” He straightens up. She asks him worried questions, he doesn’t answer, the last thing he expected was to see Tommy down there with a woman. He wasn’t 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. “Look at the slut he’s been hiding from us.” Hoyt grumbles, when his eyes lock with yours and it clicks, he remembers you. “Oh I remember this one, didn’t put up a fight now did ya? Look at you, sleeping with him just for survival aren’t you?!” He steps closer, but Thomas puffs up, not allowing him to touch you. He instantly does not like the defiance. “Don’t you challenge me boy!” He shouts, slamming his fist against the counter. Luda just watches in shock, disapproving with the sinning her boy was doing behind your back. “You better remember your place in this house!” As he yells he grabs your wrist, yanking out and away from behind Tommy. You help in surprise, and that’s when they see it. Luda gasps and covers her mouth, Hoyt just closes his eyes and groans. “You just had to get the bitch pregnant didn’t ya? Couldn’t help yourself!?” He gestures to your round swollen stomach. Luda touches his shoulder “we can’t hurt her Hoyt, she’s expecting!” He rolls his eyes at his mothers words, stuck in a position where he can’t do anything. “Well shit!” 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. “Well see Hoyt ain’t she just the prettiest thing?” 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. “I’ve always wanted a daughter” she ushers, it scares you how calm she is, guiding you to sit as she starts the stove. An older man’s 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. “Who the fuck is she?” He eyes you up, Luda responds in a cheerful tone. “She’s the new addition to the family, Thomas’s wife!” It’s clear she’s 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 woman’s back. As long as Tommy is happy, she’s happy, so she guesses she’ll just have to get used to a new member of the family, with another one the quickly on the way.
Tonight is Halloween night. About two hours ago, you finished passing out candy to the neighborhood kids. A big thunderstorm swept Haddonfield, making most retreat indoors. You’re now lying back on your couch. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre plays on your small TV set. Screams from the movie fill the quiet living room as you unwrap and eat the remaining candy. Your eyes stay locked on the screen, too engrossed in the film playing before you to hear the back door ever so slowly opening.
You're snapped right out of the movie when you hear a loud crash, head whipping around to see what exactly happened, except the kitchen is pitch black, all the lights are off in your house, and the only light is emitted from the small TV screen. Your anxious mind blames it on the cat; they've knocked over various items plenty of times before. Thunder booms ominously from outside, rattling the old house. You grip your mug of cocoa tightly.
A long, drawn-out sigh slips from your lips as you stretch, bones quietly cracking after release. After pausing the movie, you walk over to the kitchen., You can't see anything, and shivers crawl up your spine as you stare into the void. Curtains are closed, and not even the streetlamps' light filters in. “Kitty Kitty Kitty,” you call out softly for your cat, the silence after feels like it stretches on for eternity, the only sound heard is the rain and thunder. You reach over, hands hovering over the light switch.
A harsh, resounding boom of bright white lightning cracks through the air, penetrating the lace curtains and lighting up the room for only a brief moment, but it's enough time to show you what is in your kitchen. A large man stands tall in the center of the room, his figure dark compared to everything else. He wears a white latex mask and mechanic coveralls. You let out a loud yelp of surprise, dropping your ceramic mug onto the tile, pieces of it flying everywhere.
You're quick to move, turning on your heel and running out quickly. You slip on the living room rug as you run, but are quick to rise back up as the adrenaline in your veins pumps through your body. Barely seen in the dark room, your cat is lying on the ground. You grab them, keeping them close to your chest as you now run to the door. Hope fills your body as you can now get away from the creep because you acted fast.
Your throat is grabbed, your body halted, and thrown against the wall. The cat hisses and jumps out of your arms, quickly padding down the hall and shooting up the stairs. You cough and sputter as he keeps your body still, tilting his head and studying you. From the TV screen, you can ever so faintly see his face, except it's not his, a whit, emotionless mask in its place, the eyes black, hollow pits. Your hands reach up to scratch and claw, desperately trying to get out of his hold, only for him to tighten his grasp.
Black harsh dots fill your vision as you soon start to slip away from consciousness. With a last-ditch effort, you reach the end table, picking it and smashing it against his head. He barely makes a sound as it shatters, a muffled groan slips through his lips, and his breathing gets heavier. He stumbles back, blocking the door to your freedom, so instead, while he's momentarily distracted, you bolt up the stairs. You cough, trying to suck air back in to your lungs.
You're at the top of the stairs, but he quickly follows behind. His recovery was quick, but his strides up the stairway are quicker. You run to your bedroom, slamming the door shut hands shakily attempting to lock the door. Everything goes quiet, your eyes locked onto the doorway, thunder rattles the foundation of your house. He hasn't tried to enter. A long sigh passes through your lips, and you move to the end table, picking up the rotary phone and dialing 911.
It’s dead silent, no off-hook tone, nothing. You dial again, and again, and again. Still, there is nothing. “Fuck fuck fuck!” Dread fills you as you come to realize that it won't work; the raging storm must have caused a power outage, you were just watching a movie, and it must have gone off when you were getting chased. A resounding crack comes from the door, your head whips around, and you see the wood of the door splintered.
You flinch when he does it again, this time his hand breaches through, wood shatters, and falls against the carpet, a fist-sized hole in the doorway. His hands reach for the metal handle, unlocking the door. Panic falls over you once again, you have no weapon, no defense against this dangerous man who's entered your home. His hand retreats, time falls to a stop, and movement happens; you wait anxiously for him to continue forcibly coming into your room.
It’s barely noticeable, he door slowly opens, you can't see anything, the storm slows, the sudden bolts of lightning that had allowed you to see briefly have vanished, leaving you in a pit of darkness that seems to envelope your very being, swallowing you whole. You can't see anything as you back away, gasping as your back hits the cold sheetrock wall. You can't see him, you can only strain your ears as you listen, listening as the door creaks on the rusty hinges as it opens, your entire mind feels like it stops when his breathing can be heard.
You start to scream when he roughly grabs you, this time shoving you face-first into the bed. You try to flail your arms back and hit him, but his calloused hands catch hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head and your other hand on the back of your neck. Desperately, you try to kick at his legs, he pushes his pelvis against your lower half to stop you from hurting him more, your backside pushing and rubbing against his front.
Almost instantly, the force keeping your hands locked lessens, his grip on your neck loosening. Hope fills you. Taking this as a chance, you push back against him to attempt to break free once more, except this time his hand shoots towards your hip, gripping it tightly, and under the latex mask, a moan is released from his lips. His breathing deepens, grip tightening once more, his hips mimicking the movement from before.
Embarrassment fills your body, heat rising to your cheeks as you realize what he's doing, his hips experimentally roll, pushing his pelvis against your ass before doing it once again, harder this time. He audibly sucks in his breath, letting out quiet moans as he rubs himself on you. His inexperience shows, hips sloppily thrusting and twitching, his rapidly quickening pace, and his unashamed moans that fill the empty room. Shame fills you next as heat fills your core, your lace panties soon begin to dampen.
Maybe if you let him continue his lustful ministrations, he will spare your life. You don't make any moves to object as he grabs your hips with both hands, moving your body with his as he sets a hard, punishing pace. His cock throbs angrily, the rough fabric creating a delicious friction each roll of his hips, his head lolls to the side as he quickly starts to reach his peak. Reluctantly, you begin to enjoy the bolts of pleasure that crackle through your body like the very lightning outside. You decide to help him, putting a hand against his stomach.
He huffs loudly, clearly not pleased that you're trying to stop him. A nightlight turns on at the power outlet on the other side of the room, illuminating his latex features. The power is finally back on, but there isn't much you can do now. There is no stopping his lust fueled actions. You continue, pulling down your shorts, your underwear quickly follows. His head tilts to the side as he watches curiously. He's eager to do the same and quickly pulls his zipper down, pushing off his boots carelessly, then shrugging off the mechanics' overalls. The mask stays on, he makes no move to remove it.
Your gaze lowers and your eyes are met with his large cock, you’re not surprised to see that he’s commando under his clothes, but surprised at the fact of his dick so huge. He’s thick, his cock bobbing down from its weight of itself, but what shocks you is his length. You can't make an exact estimate, but you can see he's around seven inches, prominent veins pulse along his shaft like a heartbeat, with a deep pink tip. He grabs and hoists you up, his grip like steel as he tosses your body on the bed like a rag doll, and he follows quickly after.
He hovers over you, bracing himself on his forearms as he studies your face, looking at how you try to hide the fact that you're enjoying it. He scooches closer, his meaty cock now pressed against your stomach. He reaches down and holds it in his hand, unaware of what he needs to do. You take it upon your self to guide him, anf with an eager touch you guide his cock against your entrance. Slicking his cock up against your pussy, you lube him up so you can easily take him. You know that it will be a challenge taking his cock.
He gets impatient, swatting your hand away and thrusting against your pussy. Humping through your folds, his tip nudges against your engorged clit each pump of his hips. He lets out a breathy whimper, head resting against your chest. He finally manages to catch against your entrance, the tip sliding in. He's panting, body wracked with pleasure as he uncontrollably shakes against you. You can't help but join him in letting out drawn-out moans when he pushes in deeper. He’s barely two inches in your pussy and he already needs to stop to breathe. His chest rising and falling rapidly each shaky breath he sucks in. His body is so unused to this feeling, never once has he felt something so pleasurable in his life, and he's like putty in your hands.
His body glistens with sweat, rubbing against your front as he pushes down on you. The air feels hot and heavy as he pants like a mutt in your ear, hes as eager as one. The mask is a hindrance to him in this moment, the white latex rubbing against his sweat-slicked face, the air damp and humid in the mask. Annoyed, he tugs and rips the mask off to breathe, sweat beads down his forehead and drips off his nose. you gasp at his handsome features. Your hands reach up and latch onto his short brown tresses, the umber colored curls soft in your hands. His eyes clamp tightly shut as he pushes another inch in. his adam apple bobs in his throat, breath hitching and heart pounding in his chest, pushing in deeper and deeper.
Your pained whimpers do nothing to deter him from pushing in all the way, his cock parting your gummy walls that seem to clamp on to him like a vice, your pussy gushing around his cock, slick dribbling down his penis and into the thatch of curly dark pubes. Sharp teeth clamp down on the crook of your neck, he tries desperately to keep his moans quiet. Soon his dick is speared all the way in your pussy, the muscle clinging tightly to his cock in a way that punches the air straight out of his and your lungs.
He braces himself up on his forearms, positioning himself so that he can hump in to you. Your pussy clings tightly on his cock as he starts to take it out, massaging and rubbing against his tip like a lovers embrace. “Please” you beg, he’s unsure of what you mean, but eager to do what you say in this moment. Before his cock can fully slip out hes pushing it back in, his hips jerk and twitch, his inexperience shows in the way he sloppily uses your pussy like a cocksleave.
After he gets used to the first couple of thrusts in your pussy, he’s like a wild beast. No longer taking his time, he pumps himself deep each thrust, battering against your cervix rapidly. “Sl..Slow down!” You whimper out, your poor cunt wasn’t prepped enough for the way he’s practically abusing it. His teeth that had been sunken into your neck release from it, strings of saliva and blood connecting his mouth to the bite mark. The feeling of his meaty cock pummeling your gooey walls. Saliva drips from his mouth and on to your tits that bounce from the way he fucks you.
His nose nudges against yours, your eyes open, wondering what he’s doing, you watch as he licks and nibbles against your face. You can barely tell what he’s doing through the haze of pleasure and the feeling of his giant dick. His tongue, slick and wet with globs of saliva lick all over your tits, your neck, and your mouth. His mouth on yours in a primal kiss of raw unbridled passion. Teeth clash against yours, his moans and whimpers like low vibrations against your skin. Your hands trail down the soft skin of his back, fingers running along his spine. Shaking as you try to find purchase on him, trying to keep ahold of him and your mental as you get fucked into rapture beyond your comprehension.
Your release is approached rapidly, building up in your core and in the pit of your stomach. You can’t help but cling desperately on to him. the way he fucks you like a damn wild animal, dick jamming in to your pussy over and over, it has you seeing stars. You babble incoherently, your pussy over sensitive from your first orgasam, and yet he keeps going until he will inevitably cum. He fucks you like he owns you, and maybe after this he does. “Oh fuck!” Light trails of white cream slick his cock even more, making his thrusts into your slippery pussy even easier. Your eyes clamp shut once more, nails scraping down his bare back. The pleasure is white-hot and searing and it ripples through your body. Your nails have left red welts along his back, leaving crescent shapes on his shoulders as they dig into his skin. It doesn’t deter him, in fact it sounds as if he gets pleasure from the pain. Low whiny moans and whimpers escape from his throat. His hands move and paw at each dip and curve of your body, trying to anchor himself, to gain some control back, but your pussy has him whipped.
It’s not much longer before his hips and jerk sporadically, his body shivering from the pleasure that builds from his cock, deep into the base of his spine and shoots through every nerve of his body. He can’t keep himself up anymore, body collapsed on yours. His eyes, once blank, controlled with no ounce of emotion breaking through, look deep into yours, glossy with tears he won’t let fall, brows raised as he looks down at you with pleasure written all over his face. He shudders as he shoves his dick as deep as it can go, tip nudging against your sweet spot. Your eyes widen, hand on his chest to push him back but it’s too late. “Wait-“
You gasp when you feel hot, thick cum filling the deepest depths of your wet cunt, teeth gritting together at the pressure of his load fills you up. Rope after rope, it’s unending, like he’s been keeping it in all his life and everything is coming crashing down on him, his grip on your hips sure to leave bruises long after this moment. His body tremors and shakes from the weight of his first orgasam, the room smells of the heady scent of sex, your sweaty bodies rub against another. After what feels like forever you both come down, breathing back to normal. Your eyelids slowly start to close, after getting fucked so thoroughly, you can’t stay awake any longer, the same goes for him.
His head lays on your chest, the beast within him stated. Through half lidded eyes you look down at the man before you, his breathing has slowed, his hands which once were on your hips now wrapped around your torso. You’ve awakened something inside him that he can never forget. As you both start to sleep, you realize allowing him to fuck you might have saved your life and many more. The boogeyman’s plan to kill tonight halted, instead he’s now balls deep in your pussy, cock plugging and keeping his spend in your deepest depths. Unknowingly your pussy had saved the lives of many tonight. You are undoubtedly his.
You jolt awake suddenly, sweat beading at your forehead as your heart pounds in your chest. Sitting up quickly, you wipe the sleep from your eyes, trying to figure out what woke you. A beam of harsh light suddenly strikes your face, and you wince, instinctively raising a hand to block it.
Your gaze shifts toward the source of the light, and fear shoots up your spine when you realize what you’re seeing. The door is open again, no mistake this time. You remember distinctly closing it before you fell asleep, yet now it stands ajar, as if inviting something or someone inside.
Even though your mind screams that you closed it, a small part of your brain tries to rationalize. Maybe the door didn’t latch properly; maybe it just naturally swings open after a while. You hesitate, then slowly reach out. You jolt awake suddenly, sweat beading at your forehead as your heart pounds in your chest. Sitting up quickly, you wipe the sleep from your eyes, trying to figure out what woke you. A beam of harsh light suddenly strikes your face, and you wince, instinctively raising a hand to block it.
Your gaze shifts toward the source of the light, and fear shoots up your spine when you realize what you’re seeing. The door is open again, no mistake this time. You remember closing it before you fell asleep, yet now it stands ajar.
Even though your mind screams that you closed it, a small part of your brain tries to rationalize. Maybe the door didn’t latch properly; maybe it just naturally swings open after a while. You hesitate, then slowly reach out and close the door again, pushing it shut with deliberate care. You wait, holding your breath, but this time, the door stays closed.
Just as you’re about to give up and settle back into sleep, you hear hushed whispers coming from the room on the other side of the hall. Soft, urgent voices, barely loud enough to be understood. “Luda, we need to get it over with already,” Hoyt whispers, his tone low but tense. “Now’s our chance.”
You instinctively edge the door open just a crack, cringing at the incessant creak of the hinges as it swings. Your ears strain to catch what they’re saying, trying to make sense of the hushed voices.
“Charlie, I want to keep this one,” Luda Mae’s voice replies, equally quiet but firm. “I’m not getting any younger, and with you and Thomas so busy, I don’t get much help around here. It’s starting to take a toll on me. Honestly, it would be nice to have a young woman around here, and I know it would do good for my Tommy.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, as you stand frozen in the dark doorway, the weight of what you’ve just overheard sinking in. The color drains from your face, fear settling deep into your stomach and shooting through your bones. Were they talking about you? Were they considering taking you? You hear Hoyt speak up again before your brain can make up another excuse to rationalize the situation.
“Stop calling me that. It’s Hoyt Ma, and dont give me that bulshit, I can just get the boy to help you more, and why would keeping some slut around do him good anyway? It would just distract him more.” Their hushed bickering continues, your hand falls from the handle, your eyes wide as you take a shaky step back. “We can just go up there and get it over with,” you hear him say, you feel sick to your stomach, covering your mouth as bile rises in your throat. You have to do something, and quickly. They will be up here soon.
Your eyes frantically search the room, there isn't any safe place to hide, they would expect you to be under the bed or in the cramped closet. Your sight gets caught on a window, tiptoeing over to the windowsill, you try to open it. It resists but opens. Along the house, going up is old lattice, aged and most likely rotten. You hesitate, being on the second story means the drop could be fatal if you hit your head, but all apprehension is quickly forgotten when the sound of muffled footsteps comes from inside the house.
Your body is filled with adrenaline, you're quick to crawl through the window, you grab the window for stability, setting your foot on the aged lattice. Soon your whole body is through the window, the lattice barely holding on do to how old it is. By the time you’re halfway down, they are in the room, Hoyt’s voice can be heard as he realizes you've disappeared “Damnit! The bitch is gone! Tommy! Tommy wake your ass up!” his voice is urgent as he calls through the house.
The wood creaks and groans under your weight as you quickly try to descend. As your foot rests on the next hole, it breaks, your balance is thrown off, and the sudden movement causes the part you're holding on to break off as well. You’re sent tumbling to the ground, falling into dead brush, it doesn't do much to lessen your fall, pain shoots through you as you hit your foot, a sickening crack sounding through the air, a pained yelp following shortly after.
The man peeks his head out through the window. Upon seeing your body amongst the shrubs, he grins, “There she is!” his body leans back in, and he's no doubt going to come out here. Even as the pain emanating from your food wracks through your entire body, you stand up and limp away. Adrenaline courses through your body, and you can feel the fear pumping in your veins, causing you to run faster. Far behind you, the front door slams open, and the revving of a chainsaw can be heard; there's no doubt in your mind they are coming for you.
Every part of your being shakes with fear as you run, your mind struggles to comprehend that this is reality. The entire time you were there, they were plotting to kidnap you and do god knows what. Tears prick your eyes at the sound of loud footsteps hitting the ground rapidly, in your terror-stricken mind, it feels as if the entire earth shakes under the man's steps, each time his boots hit the ground feels as if it sends a painful anxiety through your very being. His chainsaw is revving behind you, like a constant purr emitting from the engine; it's so loud that it feels like it's right behind you. You wince as small branches thwack against your face, your scalp burns as your hair gets caught up in twigs, you push on, you can't afford to stop running.
Suddenly, everything stops as you come crashing down against the dirt, your injured foot had gotten snagged in the vines under you, causing you to tumble to the ground. Before you can pick yourself, Thomas’s hand grabs at the back of your skull, tugging you backwards, your pained yell reverberates through the cold midnight air.
Before the man can do anything, Hoyt comes up from behind him, a 12-gauge resting against his shoulder. A shit eating grin spreads along his face. “Now, now Tommy, let's just bring her back. Gonna show her what happens when a little birdie thinks they can just fly away.” You so desperately want to scream, to yell, but the pain coursing through your body hinders you from doing so.
Tommy stops his chainsaw, casting it aside on the ground, and goes to reach you. His calloused hands grip your waist, and he hoists you on his shoulder. Even as you fight against him, it's impossible to escape his iron grasp. After he places you on his shoulder, keeping his arm wrapped around you, he leans down and grabs the chainsaw with his free hand. You become lightheaded from this position, causing you to feel drowsy as he makes his journey back to the house with you on his shoulder.
Even though you're locked firmly on his shoulder, that doesn't stop you from trying just about anything to get out. Your fingers claw and dig into his back, and then you sink your teeth into his arm, which causes him to let out a pained groan and stumble, but before you can take advantage of it, Hoyt smacks you. A searing slap that causes your mouth to let go. “I will pull out every one of your fucking teeth with a pliers if you do that to my nephew again.” his words cause you to immediately stop.
They reach the porch, dread fills you as you are once again brought into this house, tears drip from your eyes and onto the back of Thomas’ shirt. Luda Mae sees them carrying you, she instantly starts to complain to Hoyt, “Hoyt, I told you I wanted to keep this one, look how roughed up she is!” he sets his gun down in its case before turning back to Luda, they seem to argue a lot. “Ma, you can't be serious.” She keeps a stern face, and he groans. Their argument quickly continues.
You can feel your heart pumping, your consciousness barely hanging on as pressure builds up in your brain from hanging like this for so long. Their words are muffled in your head, and just when you're about to slip into unconsciousness, you're tossed on the ground, you cough and sputter as you try to sit up. Your wrists are quickly grabbed. “Get her in the basement, Tommy,” he sharply orders.
His grip on your wrists is bruising, his grip like steel as your body is dragged behind him against the dusty wooden floor. He tugs you down the stairs, your body bumping down each step. Your back is submerged in the cold water on the basement floor. You kick and scream, trying to get out, but to no avail. The air is knocked out of your lungs when he shoves you against the stone wall, his hot and heavy breaths hitting your face as he looks down at you with anger. Before he could do anything to you, Hoyt called out for him from the top of the stairway. “Get your ass up here tommy.” He calls out to Tommy, the argument upstairs between him and Luda still going. Tommy’s gaze turns away from your thrashing body to look up at him.
“I said, get up here, boy!” Hoyt barks out impatiently. Thomas is quick to move; he grabs the rope sitting on top of a shelf and is quick to get you tied up. He binds your wrists together swiftly, the tight knots keeping your hands behind your back. He then grabs your ankle, pain shoots through your foot as he ties your ankles together. After he's done, he's quick to leave you abandoned in the murky water that covers the dank cellar floor. Turning and heading up the stairs, Thomas is quick to go to where he is needed without question. Hoyt keeps his eyes on you the entire time, licking his lips lke a damn dog. “You just sit tight now, Darlin’.”
The door slams shut and rattles ominously. You squirm in the water, trying to get up from the ice-cold water. You manage to set yourself upright against the cellar wall. You cough and sputter from the muddy water. After finally managing to catch your breath, you let out ear-piercing screams. “Please help me!” you screech, fat salty tears rolling down your cheeks, dripping off your chin. Even as you try to fight against your horrifying circumstances, you know deep down there is no one out here to save, not anything for miles. Your screaming subsides, your throat scratchy from the previous drawn-out screams as you sob quietly.
Everything hurts. Your mind is filled with nothing but the agonizing pain of your body and the terrifying truth of your situation. The pain is so deep, spikes of aching, throbbing pain shoot through each bone in your body. Without a doubt, you know you at least fractured your foot, and with the adrenaline rush dissipating from your body, the pain only increases to an agonizing degree. Their shouts of disagreement are muffled, barely heard in the foul-stenched basement. As your eyes adjust, you can now see everything scattered across the basement, and you wish you could unsee it. You wish this would all disappear.
A large table is illuminated by a small lightbulb hanging above it, blood and meaty residue are strewn across the table, alongside tools which were no doubt used in the carnage. Meat hooks are lined on the farthest wall, ones that are still occupied. A skinned corpse hangs from a hook, being bled out into the bucket below it. Gone are its skin, eyes, and hair. Some limbs are missing, a leg missing from all the way up to their thigh, fingers snapped off, and the meat of the breasts is completely gone. The sight sets a deep pit into your stomach, the image is something you can never forget, even if you push it into the deepest parts of your mind.
Even when you turn away, you can't stop the fluid from pushing up and out of your mouth. Chunky puke splatters across your chest and into the water below, and you grimace at the feeling. You turn away successfully as you heave out another wave of vomit, rising in the water that you're forced to be in. Even turning away didn't help, looking up to the shelves, you see jars of different body parts of humans and animals alike. Eyes, teeth, fingers, ears, and things you can't even tell what they are. Your eyes clamp shut, you wail in agony, you want nothing more than for all of this to end. “Please,” you beg to no one. “Help me!” you scream in agony, a futile attempt in the end.
Time seems to stretch on forever in this basement, a cold, painful truth that this i your reality, and there is nothing you can do about it. The words of their yelling from upstairs soon just become a buzzing noise in your mind, and your eyes stare blankly ahead of you. This is all real, the blood, the meat, the ropes digging into your wrists and ankles, the very people upstairs who have kidnapped you are real. Your chest heaves and your breathing quickens as you are forced to take in this reality. You crawl deep into your mind, trying to forget that this is all real.
“This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real.” You repeat. Soon, your eyes flutter shut, tears flowing just as quickly as they were earlier, as your body starts to shut down. Gone is the adrenaline, the push to keep on trying; your body is worn out, and pain is your only feeling and emotion at this instant. You can't keep up with everything that has happened, and you slowly begin to fall back asleep.
Sorry for slow updates! There will be another chapter very quickly. Not proofread.
Your leg jitters nervously beneath the table, nails tapping softly against the cold oak surface of the large, rickety dining table. The kitchen is quiet, only the faint sizzle of meat in the pan breaks the stillness. The air feels thick, heavy with unspoken words, as if the silence itself is oozing with tension. You catch yourself drifting back to that man from earlier, Tommy, was it? Luda Mae had said she lived here with her sons, but they were older than you expected.
Glancing over, you see her standing over the stove, stirring a pan of meat with slow, deliberate movements. Deciding to break the silence, you finally speak, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the quiet: “So, you said you live with your sons, yes?” She turns her head slightly, flashing you a gentle, knowing smile before returning to her cooking. “Yes, I sure do. You’ve already met them. Hoyt and Thomas.”
Your eyes widen, surprised. They looked nothing alike, not to mention their noticeable age difference. Still, you remain polite. You don't want to go assuming things. Her expression shifts subtly, and her tone softens to almost a hushed whisper, like she doesn't want anyone else to hear. “Tommy’s my youngest. He’s a quiet boy, doesn’t talk much. But I promise, he means no harm, just had a hard life, that’s all...” Her voice trails off, and her aged hand grips the pan handle a little tighter, a flicker of sorrow crossing her features.
You bite the inside of your cheek. Wanting to ask more questions, you hesitate, unsure if it’s appropriate. You don’t want to pry; whatever she was hinting at earlier seemed serious, maybe even painful. “Is that why, when I walked in, he was wearing that... mask?” Your voice is soft, cautious, trying not to sound judgmental, and you’re genuinely curious about the man you saw earlier.
She looks over at you again, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies you, as if weighing your intentions. Her gaze lingers, searching for any signs of judgment or misunderstanding. The silence stretches between you two, thick and heavy, until she finally speaks.
“He was born with some facial... problems,” she says lightly, almost dismissively, as if it’s nothing. “But that doesn’t mean anything to me. I love my boy all the same.” Her tone is defensive, a shield to protect her feelings and her son, and you can sense the deep well of love and pride behind her words.
You notice the slight tremor in her voice, the way her hands tighten on the edge of the stove, and you realize she’s protecting herself as much as her son. You nod slowly, understanding more than she might realize.
“I understand, ma’am,” you say softly, looking down at your hands on the table.
Time quickly slips away, and before you know it, you’re helping Luda Mae set the table. You carefully place the porcelain white plates and arrange the silverware accordingly, seeing you work makes Luda still, and she gently ushers you to sit down.
“You're our guest. Why don’t you just sit for a bit, and I’ll handle the rest,” she says softly, her voice calm and reassuring. Before you can respond, she quickly turns and leaves the room, heading back into the kitchen.
You sit at the table, your leg bouncing anxiously beneath you. The silence stretches on, thick and heavy, until suddenly the floorboards creak loudly, an abrupt, sharp noise that seems to cut through the stillness. Your head snaps up to see who has entered the room.
It’s Hoyt, standing in the doorway, his expression bitter as he looks you up and down. His tone is blunt and short, lacking any politeness. “Where’s Luda?” he asks, his voice edged with impatience, clearly not interested in engaging in conversation. His eyes search the room briefly.
You shakily clear your throat, trying to gather your nerves. “She went into the kitchen, sir,” you reply softly. His eyes linger on you for a moment, his eyes flickering down to your body a couple of times too many, before he offers a thin, almost mocking smile and turns away, leaving the room. A shiver runs down your spine from that interaction, and you find yourself gripping the edge of the table tightly.
More time passes, the ticking of the clock filling the silence like a slow, steady drum. You hear faint voices from the other room—murmurs and grumbles, whispers that sound strained and tense. You hesitate, unsure whether to check on them, but you tell yourself there’s nothing wrong with offering a quick check to see if everything’s alright.
Carefully, the chair legs scrape against the dusty floor as you slowly get up from the table. You start to move toward the kitchen, but something makes you pause. You freeze in place, listening intently. You can now hear them—hushed whispers, low grumbles, almost like arguments.
“Just let me get this over with already, damn it,” Hoyt mutters in a hushed, frustrated tone, his voice tense with impatience. “It’s been going on long enough.”
Luda Mae quickly interrupts, her voice sharp but controlled. “Oh, you just stop it, Hoyt. You know I don’t get much socializing these days. Besides, this is the only one I somewhat like.”
Your ears strain to catch more of their conversation, but suddenly, the sound of heavy footfalls can be heard coming down the stairs cuts through the hushed voices. You straighten up instinctively and take a step back, backing away from the doorway. You stand perfectly still in the dim, drab dining room, your heart pounding slightly as you listen to their footsteps fading into the distance.
The large man from earlier enters the room. He wears a tattered, dirty striped button-up shirt, stained brown work pants, sturdy black boots, and most prominently, a black leather mask tied tightly around the lower half of his face. Tommy stands tall and rigid, his gaze scanning around the room with a tense aura around him.
You speak up once more, your voice cutting through the heavy silence. “They’re in the kitchen still.” The words hang in the air briefly before the quiet returns, thick and oppressive. You can't help but cringe at the palpable tension filling the space. A small wave of regret passes through you. Maybe you should have just stayed at your truck instead of bothering this strange family.
Feeling awkward and out of place standing in their home, your thoughts are suddenly interrupted as Luda Mae and Hoyt enter the room. Hoyt mutters something under his breath, a low, grumbling sound that’s quickly silenced by a sharp glare from Luda Mae. Without another word, he heads toward the living room, but not before returning and wheeling in an older man in a wheelchair.
Everyone takes a seat at the table. You notice Thomas’s eyes almost burning into your skull, staring deeply and unblinkingly, making you slightly uncomfortable. Luda Mae begins serving generous, heaping plates of food—mashed potatoes topped with gravy, warm biscuits, and what appears to be pulled pork.
“Thank you, Luda,” you say softly, expressing your gratitude. “For this dinner and for letting me spend the night.” She waves your thanks off with a warm smile. “No need to thank me. Now, go ahead and eat,” she replies kindly, her tone light and welcoming.
You grasp your fork and stab into a piece of the meat. As you bring it to your mouth and take a bite, your expression shifts. The taste is unfamiliar, almost strange. The texture feels peculiar, almost like pork, but not quite. It’s different from anything you’ve ever had.
“What meat did you use for this, if you don’t mind me asking?” you inquire, lifting your eyes from the plate to the others around the table. Once your gaze lifts, you see everyone staring at you. A small knot of anxiety tightens in your stomach, but you quickly dismiss it. They haven’t seen you before, that’s why they’re staring. Or so you tell yourself.
Hoyt, with a creepy smile, bares his teeth slightly. “That’s a family secret,” he says proudly.
Luda Mae nods and grins. “Tommy here handles the meat, used to be a butcher at the slaughterhouse,” she adds, her voice tinged with pride.
A heavy silence settles once again. The man in the wheelchair hasn't spoken a word, instead shoveling food into his mouth quietly. You glance over at Tommy, who remains silent, eyes cast downward toward his plate. He doesn’t like the attention.
You decide to break the silence, speaking softly to Tommy. “Well, it’s very good, Thomas.” Your tone is gentle and polite, careful not to come across as rude. Luda Mae’s gaze flicks toward you, her expression warm but with an undercurrent of pride. She smiles, proud of her son. “That’s right. My Tommy’s a great butcher, slaughters everything himself, just like he used to at the slaughterhouse.”
Thomas keeps his gaze low, eyes fixed on his food. He doesn’t enjoy the spotlight, that much is certain. The room settles into a quiet stillness once more. Suddenly, Hoyt clears his throat, breaking the silence. “So, what are you doing around these parts, girl?” he asks bluntly, his tone direct and uninviting.
You swallow quickly, your stomach tightening as you hurriedly finish the bite you were chewing. “My grandfather left me his house, so I came to Texas to check it out,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.
He nods slowly, then begins to look you up and down, as if weighing you like a piece of meat. “Mhm... you tell anyone you were coming to Texas?” he asks, his tone casual but with an edge that makes you uneasy.
His sudden, personal questions catch you off guard, surprising you. You hesitate for a moment before responding. “No, I don’t see the point, considering I wasn’t going to be gone for long. Why do you ask?”
He just shrugs, dismissing it. “Nothing, just… good to know,” he says, and the line of questioning abruptly ends. The air remains thick with unspoken tension, but the conversation moves on, leaving you with a lingering sense of unease. That man gives you the creeps.
Dinner quickly ends, and you help bring the dishes to the sink for Luda. She smiles warmly. “How about I bring you upstairs, hmm? It's awfully late. Your eyes flicker over to the window, and no light streams in from the old lace curtains, now pitch black outside. You turn back to Luda. “Okay, thank you again for letting me stay.”
her hand is on your back as she leads you upstairs, a large grin on her aged face “Belive me, its our pleasure to have you hear, were really glad you came” she voices ina strange manner, not quite understanding but you cant question it because she leads you in the room and closes the door, leaving you alone in your thoughts.
You analyze the room, it's outdated, and clearly not kept in good condition, but nonetheless, you're thankful. Your brows furrow, noticing your bag left on your bed. You had left it downstairs earlier this evening, someone must have brought it up. Most likely Luda or Thomas
After such a long day of driving, you're ready to finally go to bed, your body aches from stiffness. The past two days have been nothing but driving, and a nice warm bed is what you need. Opening your bag, you reach into it, rummaging through your clothing looking for something nice to sleep in. You decide on a pair of soft sleep shorts and a thin tank top. You take off your top, then your pants. You look into the mirror as you take off your bra and toss it into the bag, a long sigh of relief leaves you after finally being able to take off your bra.
You bend down to take off your cotton panties, and then you hear a loud thump in the hallway. Your gaze shoots over to the doorway, which is now slightly ajar. Didn’t Luda Mae hastily close it after guiding you up here? You walk over to the door and only open it slightly, just enough to poke your head out.
You can see in the open bathroom door a reflection of Thomas, his eyes shooting around as he haphazardly tries to busy himself; you could feel shame radiating off of him from here. Did he open your door? You shudder just thinking that, but you push those feelings aside. You're probably just being paranoid. It felt wrong to blame the poor guy.
Quickly putting on your clothes for the night, you are finally ready to sleep. Turning off the light, you head over to the old spring bed, the springs creak as you lay down, this bed has seen better days, it sags in the middle because of the ruined frame, the mattress is flat and sad looking, and their is strange marks on the top of the bed post.
Your eyes start to droop, and it's now hard to stay awake. After such a long and demanding day, you've earned this rest. Finally, allowing your body to succumb to sleep, you can now drift off to slumber.
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