27th Batch Of Fics: 11th Fill
Reaper/Soldier76 – slasher76; pumpkin king Reaper; trans Reaper; mentions of corpses/killing/fucking corpses... all that jazz, but not too over the top (I think) – Reaper is looking for a henchman and has specific job requirements.
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Nothing is more frustrating than a hunt that didn’t result in some heads rolling.
No… nothing is more frustrating than a hunt that almost resulted in some mayhem but had the flesh get away at the very last second.
Slasher does not well with denying himself. He does not well with getting all riled up and eager just to stand there with nothing to show for the erection down his thigh, heavy enough to make him limp.
He lumbers back to base, shoulders curled, ready to rip some unsuspecting soul apart with bare hands if they just had the decency to stumble into his path. He doesn’t meet anybody, of course.
Frustrating.
He flings his machete down and it rams itself into the soft soil in front of his rundown cabin. There are ants crawling underneath his skin. There’s a fire lit in his belly and roaring through his body until he can see the shadows thrown against the shabby walls inside.
He can feel Hell trying to claw its way out of him mouth first and there are no nice warm bodies anywhere to fuck and get the need to calm down.
Slasher grabs at the front of his threadbare shirt and rips on it. It is already loose but it feels impossibly stifling when he’s got an erection like a baseball bat. It rips just a little bit more.
He can’t move properly. His frame is held up by metal bolts and they dig into his skin and bones when he moves too much- and his fucking cock is too fucking hard!
Slasher howls and kicks at a chair. It slams into the wall and a leg breaks off. He leans down and grabs the table, intent on flipping it over when he sees the thing that’s sitting on it.
He’s not left the pumpkin here.
Who did?
It’s big and ripe and perfectly orange. Someone has carved a menacing grin into it.
It looks warm from the inside like he does. It is glowing softly without a source to be found. It looks like it could make as a substitute for a nice dead body at least.
.o.
Reaper’s body has its pants around its thighs while he watches the Slasher get his dick out. This is working well. Really well. The creature is as dumb as a box of rocks and outplaying it to fill his… needs… is hilariously easy.
He almost makes a sound when he sees the fat cock swinging from the open latch of Slasher’s pants.
It’s the widest around the middle, and the tip is a deep, delicious red.
Outside, behind the cabin, Reaper gently spreads his labia, fingers slipping up and down his warm gash. It’s already slick and feels very silky because of it. He holds the plump lips open with one hand and slides two fingers of the other into himself.
Aaaah… that’s the ticket. That’s the spot. It’d be even better if he could ride Slasher’s cock until it hurts deep in his guts, but it is better than nothing.
There is a feeling of vertigo as Slasher reaches for him and lifts his head up with both hands.
For a moment he is lifted up to the man’s face, covered by a mask. He can see the Hellfire that sustains him glowing out of the slits across the mouth and the eyeholes. Oh yes… this man is on the verge of becoming something very special.
He won’t be a human for much longer.
Reaper’s body is nearly vibrating with excitement. He shuffles his feet farther apart; as wide as they will go, pants digging into his thick thighs as he tries to give himself more room to maneuver.
His fingers reach nice and deep even so. When he crooks them, he can rub them up right against the spot that makes his whole body tingle and try to clench up.
Slasher is lowering him, giving him a nice view of the tightly muscled body; a nice pair of tits visible above the deep, slutty neckline of his ripped up shirt.
Fuck, that guy is a whore and he doesn’t even know it. It will be delicious to train him into a henchman. Make him realize that there are other thrills to be had than killing off stupid teens.
Reaper’s thighs clench around his hand when he’s finally eye to eye with his prize. He wants to open his mouth nice and wide but he’s not in the mood for Slasher to maybe have a brain cell rolling around after all and pause to think about the weirdness of the strange pumpkin moving.
He doesn’t have to fake the grin, at least. Outside, his body is sliding a hand beneath his shirt to gently pinch a nipple. The sensation zings through his body sharp and bright and has his cock throb in time with the quick, heaving breaths he is taking through his neck stump.
And then finally Slasher slots that delicious fat cock between two of the sharp juts making up his jagged grin, and gives Reaper the treatment he’d been angling after.
He can’t make himself open his thighs again; they are clamped around his hand in a death grip, holding his fingers deep in his needily spasming cunt while his mouth gets used good by the madman.
He fucks like a man possessed – hah – and Reaper is sure that if he had a conventional nose, he’d have broken it against the Slasher’s sharp hip bones as he gets face fucked deep and hard and rough.
Slasher is huffing above him, grunting like an old truck. He fucks like one, too; a rusty piece of shit that only runs anymore out of spite. He roots around inside Reaper’s head dick first like he wants to make a fucking smoothie out of him.
He doesn’t complain.
He doesn’t complain at fucking all.
.o.
The insides of the pumpkin are as warm as they had looked to be. No… not merely warm, but borderline hot.
It feels like Slasher is sticking his dick into a body – a living one – and for a moment it short circuits something and leaves him reeling.
The pumpkin looked to be carved and gutted just fine, but as he fucks inside, a squishy warmth surrounds his cock. That’s… pretty good. Like fucking some guts through a hole he’s carved into a victim’s tummy.
Like really getting in there and fucking shit up.
He leans the back of the pumpkin against the side edge of the old desk to get more leverage as he grunt fucks into the broadly grinning mouth. There are wet sounds, almost like sucking as he drags his cock through the innards of the pumpkin.
It’s like there is a nice mouth on his dick. Like someone is actually putting in some effort and producing a nice vacuum to service him with.
It’s better than fucking corpses, that’s for sure…
Outside, against the back wall of the cabin, Reaper is fucking himself on his fingers, trying to mimic the nice fat cock he’s suckling on. He can’t wait to put a spell over this idiot and make him his henchman. His brainless, submissive fuckdoll.
