Brok3n Butterfly's writing

Stan was the average American white collar working class man. He worked from 9 to 5 on weekdays and enjoyed weekends at home with his lovely wife Sara. The two were a perfect pair. They loved to do everything together and had been married for 4 years.

At least that's how Stan wanted them to look to outsiders. Stan was a fairly conflicted person. He loved breasts, he gawked at large breasts everywhere he saw them. He hid piles of boob-themed adult magazines in the attic. Sara was the person Stan loved but Sara did not have the "hooters" that Stan craved. Yet he still loved her, or at least convinced himself he did.

In lieu of Stan's view, Sara was still an admirable woman. In her late 20's and 160cm tall. Her body gave off the image of a seasoned track athlete. Her body was skinny yet muscular, tough yet delicate, and powerful yet innately feminine. Her shoulder length black hair and fringes that mottled her forehead showed a majestic and toxic beauty.

Somehow none of that really processed in Stan's brain. At times he would think "Pfft, shes only B's" and try to act satisfied with that. It was a tiny crack in a seamless relationship and all Stan had to do was control himself. Simple enough.

Following their 4th anniversary in June, things started to change. At first it was just a little bit of "stuck in a rut" frustration but that collected up little bits and pieces. It wasn't long before this growing snowball was too much to handle. Things at home became more tense and something as petty as which way the pot handle was turned sparked an hour long argument.

"Its just a pot handle you flat-chested Nazi!"

"!!!!!"

A silent, shocked response escaped Sara's closing throat. Her eyes widened and seemed to boil with rage. Conversely, she said nothing and picked up the longest, sharpest kitchen knife in the house. Holding the blade in-front of her in a swordsman's stance, Sara lowered her head, her bangs hiding her face except for her lips.

"Get......out...."

Needing no further warning, Stan stumbled and ran out the door.

"I'm going to die! Shes really going to kill me in my sleep!"

Stan hurriedly got in his car and locked the doors. With his heart throbbing in his throat and his head splitting apart he could almost see the bad omen coming from that house. Following his instincts he drove away.
Stan stayed in a hotel near his workplace that night. He wanted to call Sara, he got as far as scrolling to her name in the contact list but everytime he did he heard her say those words in an increasingly satanic way. Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Before he knew it December was already here. It had been 8 weeks since he fled Sara and she didn't so much as email him.

Stan's evenings were much less eventful after he left. He started drinking more and spending more time at strip clubs. Naturally his undying love of breasts helped keep him cheerful. Miraculously no one at work noticed any change in his behavior, or they were too afraid to ask. Stan thought he was a flawless actor.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, but Stan decided to do things a little riskier that night. He called an escort service., it seemed his hands and toilet paper centres just weren't doing it for him anymore, and asked for the girl with the biggest breasts. Tonight, Stan wanted to hump his misery away between the right breast of alcohol and the left breast of lust. After waiting about 90 minutes a knock came from his door. Stan who was only wearing a robe and had been "preparing" himself opened the door after a bit of trouble trying to get close to the peep hole due to the "handle" being in the way. He saw a woman there and opened the door for her. As she walked in his eyes led over her curves.

"How big are they?" Stan unconsciously howled.

The woman seemed a bit surprised at this question but quickly gathered herself and responded. "M"

Stan's whole body twitched. His gaze was focused solely on the biggest fall harvest watermelons, Santa's early presents, the twin mountains of heaven, the paired 10 gallon jugs and bounced just feet away by some act of God held in by a tube top. He never noticed the woman's mid-back length hair, warm hazel eyes and shy yet inviting disposition.

The woman noticed the clients dumbfounded stare and pulled down her tube top letting out a gentle sigh as if thinking "Here we go again." That simple motion was all Stan could handle. He ran up to the woman and buried his face between her breasts. His sudden speed made the woman take half a step back, grab onto Stan's head, and shove him away.

Contempt flashed through the woman's face and she immediately turned to the side covering herself. Stan was thoroughly confused and a bit irritated at being denied by nothing more than a hooker.

"What are you doing?" Stan's voice was like that of a parent about to scald a child.

"What am I doing?" the woman repeated. As if asking herself the same thing. ".....I'm sorry, its okay" she whispered to him.

Stan felt satisfied in that and lowered his head back to the level of the woman's breasts and stared. The woman glanced down at him and saw drool starting to drip from his mouth. She then turned her whole body swiftly and her breast slammed into the side of Stan's head. Stan fell unconscious to the floor with blood running out of his ear.

The woman took a gold band off her finger and slipped it onto Stan's left hand ring finger. Standing up and pulling back up her tube top she glared down at his body, her bangs covering all but her lips and in a stare of death and beauty she spoke to the room.

"I'm not a Nazi"

“You’re my favorite prey, you know that?”

Reclining and slightly slouching in my green velvet chair I took a long relaxing breathe as if I just took a swig of MD. I stared up at the matte white ceiling and noticed mild striations in the paint. It seemed the painters made a mistake and used a brush to cover it up. In the mirror next to me I noticed a faint halo above me. It made me feel warm. Smiling, I stared back at the imperfect ceiling. Counting the striations amused me but I lost track from your pleading.

“I told you, that’s not happening”

It appeared they used a two inch brush. I don’t know why they didn’t use spray paint like they did for the rest of the ceiling. Looking back down I let my eyes roll over you. A moderately tanned body, a few extra pounds on here and there and shiny black hair. I didn’t notice what color eyes you had but I did see your tattoo of some weird looking design. Sitting at your head didn’t give me a great view of your legs but it didn’t matter anyways. Picking up a small box I glanced at your hands that began to flush to a warm, loving pink color. You must have been making a fist too long. I sighed and shook my head at the sight of your hands trying so hard to break their restraints.

I carried my box over to you and moved my brilliant blue stool next to your table. Putting on silky vinyl surgical gloves, I placed the box on the table and flipped it open.

Seeing an opening you barked, “what are you going to do to me you fucker? When I get out of here, I’ll chop you into little bits and feed you to a dog. I’ll make you pay so badly for doing this to me. Kiss my ass and drop dead you prick.” Silently I took out a needle and placed it next to your head. “What are you going to do with that? Look if you let me go I promise I won’t say anything to the police.”

“That’s interesting. A second ago you were threatening me, now it seems you’re begging me for freedom. How interesting…”

I took out a spool of nylon from my case and threaded it through the needle. I noticed the look in your eyes while tying the knot. It seemed you were helplessly confused at the sight and the glistening sweat on your chest proved that fear filled your mind. My nose tingled at the scent of….lust. A quick glance between your legs proved that some part of you was enjoying this. Humans are such complicated things.

“What are you going to do with that? Please don’t hurt me. Please.” You started to bawl like a 3 year old. Watching you I just shook my head and lightly petted your hair. It felt nice between my fingers, your roots were healthy, and the hair was strong and seemingly unbreakable. It felt like I had a handful of beautiful carbon fibre.

Digging my hand into your skull I turned your head toward me and placed a weight on top of it to keep you from moving. Realizing you couldn’t move your head your expression turned terrified. Would it be strange to say you actually looked nice like that? I took hold of your pink upper lip, applying enough pressure to make it turn white. Your eyes began to well up, the first waves of futility breaking the banks. Holding the corner steady I pushed the needle into it making a soft popping sound when it burst your skin. You let out a scream in pain and tried to wriggle away as the tides receded. To keep everything clean, I stopped and removed my hands letting you thrash about with your legs and arms with a needle stuck in your lip. Repeatedly your wrists and ankles collided with U-shaped restraints that went through the table and were screwed on. You were getting bruises from fighting them so hard. The one on your right wrist was especially bad. It seemed there were two bones pushing against the skin instead of one. The whole area had puffed and turned darker than the surrounding skin. Your wrist was broken. I wondered how long it would take before sepsis developed.

When you stopped moving around, I took hold of your lip again. It was still bleeding but let up when the needle exited your lip. Pulling the string through the hole to the knot at the end, I felt your blood on my fingers. It was slightly warm and clung to my glove, feeding off it. Moving my hand to your lower lip, I looked into your hazel eyes as I pressed the needle into your lower lip, more blood bursting out this time. Keeping my eyes in contact with yours I quickly forced the needle out, making you wince and close your eyes. Still the tides remained in check. Straightening my back for a moment, I thought it was strange that in your eyes were thoughts of confirmation.

Following those first punctures, you grew accustomed to the pain. Was it Stockholm syndrome? Acceptance? Surrender? No. It could not be any of those. Your incisors with three vertical lines and a mild tinge of yellow each had a small amount of powder at their bases. They were being ground into confectioners’ sugar. You were thinking, plotting, dreaming how you will assert your revenge.

Making quick work of the procedure, I tied and cut the cord. Removing the weight and raising a hand mirror to your face you tried inspect your new silence. Your eyes focused in the mirror but you didn’t appear to see yourself. Looking at you in the mirror I gazed upon the paired points protruding from your head. They were black with filth, pulsating with your heartbeat and embodied your allegiance with him.

Standing up and stretching again, really need some Advil, I looked down on you. Your eyes only said “why?”I peeled off my gloves and threw them away before going back over to the velvet recliner I loved so dearly. Taking a seat I began to stare at the ceiling again. Even though I saw the striations they never perked my interest.

“You know why you’re here? Don’t bother to answer that.

Do you know the difference between good and evil? Have you ever wondered why there is more evil than good? Why is it that with everything humankind has created, there are still people who lack even clothes? Because you are evil. Because you are selfish and don’t stop to consider how someone else feels. But that’s not what you see on Cinemax now is it? Of course not. The evil people spread the lie that good is the true winner and make us think that no matter what there will be a smiley-faced happy ending. Religion is the same way. God is here to protect us from evil. He would never let evil triumph right?

You know Clarity from our class right? Three days ago she was gang-raped. I happened to be passing nearby. I didn’t see her but I heard their voices. Do you know what sound a man makes when he climaxes? Have you ever been suffocated by a cock and forced to swallow rank semen? ……No. You haven’t. You know as well as I do that, rape is common here. The police don’t give a shit as long as they get some money or vag every now and then.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I know it was Clarity. I got a call from her last night. She told me to come over to check out the sequel to her favorite game. When I got there I found her console on and her body hanging from the controller cord that she tied to the chandelier. A dead person never looked so beautiful.”

I made my way back over to you. You were beaming with sympathy. You made tight fists and was chewing on what your teeth could grab of your lower lip. Your irises had a wedge shape cut out of them, I could have sworn it wasn’t there 10 minutes ago. Looking into them I continued, “You knew Clarity too. You know she was a really sweet person. Yet it happened to her. I can think of a handful of assholes who deserve it more than her. Why? Because people are evil. Where were the police when she needed them the most? Where was God? Fuck God. No one came to save her. No one wanted to protect her. Yeah yeah I bet you’re wondering why I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t always a drinker you know.

I’m going to eliminate every evil person so that no one will get hurt or killed anymore. I know at the very least I am not evil.” Glancing at the mirror I saw the faint yellow ring still above my head. “You are lucky number one.”

Your eyes still gaze back at me, becoming emptier with every blink. Making my way over to the counter I put on white latex gloves that made a snapping sound when put on and a pale blue surgeons mask. Your eyes follow me, still failing to understand the fate before you.

I picked up the hot knife and plugged it in to the wall socket and set it on the table next to you. While it warmed up I took a marker and drew the lines for incision. It seemed you had finally made sense of what was about to happen since your gaze was transfixed on the hot knife.

Smiling and laughing to myself I placed the cap back on the marker and tossed it aside. Moving my hand to the hot knife finally provoked a reaction out of you. Moaning through your lips you tried your best to plead with me; somehow images of Clarity flashed in my mind just then. Don’t believe it.

Leaning down over your chest I was about to make the first slice into your flushed pink skin when I glanced up at you. The waves had broken their banks and now poured down your cheeks. It seems you finally understand. Turning my attention back to your skin, I bit my tongue gently and pressed the knife into you. The odor of burning flesh ever so nicely accentuated the MD and sweat already hanging in the air. You didn’t physically react. No convulsions, no anger, not even a fist. You quietly dealt with the pain only letting out a whimper and litres of tears.

There was no blood to feed on my hands this time. The knife was hot enough to cauterize blood vessels as they were cut. I sliced about one centimeter deep in a straight line down the center of your chest then across your rib cage and back up the sides to where I started. Gently I peeled back the flaps of skin and cut them off. My nose started to sting with the scent of searing fat. Finally, with your chest fully exposed I sat back and marveled in my work. I could see all of it causing the breath to flee my lungs.

First there was a layer of strong red muscle with lighter semi-opalescent white regions of tendon, ligament, and fat that hid eight pairs of ribs. I could see it expanding and contracting in rhythm with your pants, every so often vibrating as waves of fear must have flown through your body. Now louder than ever, I heard your heart pound. In perfect formation it marched forward despite having the tempo of a scalded dog. Its location was instantly visible as the whole surrounding muscle jumped and danced with its pace. I saw the arch where your diaphragm expanded and contracted with every inhale and exhale. It denoted the start of your abdominals where the almost silent “whish” could be heard. Seems you just ate. Your liver, pancreas, and the back and forth undulation of your small intestine continued on beyond the world my knife exposed.

Catching my breath I looked up at you. The waves were still rushing down your face. Biting my cheek I turned away. Did I just…? No. Turning away I unplugged the hot knife and placed it on the table. I grabbed the scalpel, rags, cordless drill and 50-grit sandpaper pad. Coming back over to the table I took a seat next to you and assembled the drill and sandpaper pad that was the same diameter as my thumb. The whole time I made sure my eyes remained transfixed on the drill, was I scared to look at you?

Standing back up I leaned over your exposed chest and ran a finger along the hot shaking muscle until I found a rib. Claiming my prize I immediately cut the surrounding muscle, exposing the bone. Blood poured out which I absorbed with my rag turning it a vibrant crimson. With most of the blood out of the way your exposed rib looked something like a snowy island adrift in a raging red ocean.

Holding the drill I flipped it on to make sure it worked. The sound filled the room as if another presence had joined us. It was enough to get you to jump and struggle against the restraints. Taking a deep breath I touched the sandpaper to your rib and pulled the trigger.

The drill spun at full speed, the sandpaper driving through your rib sending fragments of bone flying into the air. All the agony and misery in the world was concentrated on this one part of you. Making sure I didn’t press too hard I forged onwards, extending your anguish as much as possible. You were fighting and struggling so desperately to break free I used my whole body to hold you down. I was going to kill the evil inside you.

Continuing to press the drill onwards I was surprised when the bone shattered before I drilled all the way through. Unable to stop, the drill pierced your chest cavity sending a large splash of blood onto my face and arms. The pain became too much as you screamed louder than the drill, your mouth being opened by the Titans, ripping out the thread that held it shut and unleashing a tsunami of blood that clogged your throat. Choking and gagging on it, you turned your head and vomited on the table. Blood, bile and breakfast coated and stained the wooden table. No longer was there the smell of MD and sweat, it was just vomit, blood, and burning flesh.

Trying to tell if you are still alive I stared at you waiting for you to turn your head. Somehow you are still alive and you turn to stare me directly in the eyes. Your eyes no longer resembled what they once were. Your irises had vanished along with your sclera. Both appeared to have been swallowed up by your demonic pupil. Looking inside them made mine grow wide in realization of what I was seeing. Above your head was a faint yellow color. But how could that be? You are the problem. You are evil. You must be removed. Shaking my head free of problems, I reached for the blade to finish this. My hand trembled and shook so violently I failed to grasp the device. What’s going on? This doesn’t make sense. I put my hand to my face trying to focus on the task at hand. That’s when I felt it pouring down my face. Getting off the table I stumbled over to the desk and picked up a mirror. My skin had become a steely gray, chipping and flaking off exposing a darker gray underneath. My eyes had lost their irises and became engulfed with the pure white sclera. There were no visible arteries yet I was crying blood. Poking out through my hair they stood, twin forces of what I despised most. Horns. Both were sinister black with red cracks that glowed as if storing the lava of hell itself.

Throwing the mirror on the table it landed near your head and cracked. Collapsing to my knees my whole body went through a seizure and repeated convulsions as my crimson tears went on. This can’t be real. I’m trying to protect someone. I’m the good one. The tears waned to a close along with my thoughts.

Your head fell limp to the side as the sun rose in the window. Its light was afraid to enter the room. The crack in the mirror displayed your face as if it has been cleaved in two. One side was lightly yellow above your head; the other was pointy and dark.

The Black Eyed Peas blared from a car radio as Shain passed by, almost punctuating that tonight would be a night not to be forgotten. Putting on his leather jacket as a brace from the brisk fall breeze he swiftly walked up to the house of the party. Shain is no stranger to house parties, by just raising his head slightly he knew exactly what drinks were offered and how many people had “studied” upstairs. The whole house was saturated with so many different odors; spiked punch, chocolate lube, roofies, weed, and tequila salsa stood out the most. His nose tingled with the scent of the greatest night of his life.

In the living room, Helen's hands trembled as she tried to clasp her drink. She felt entirely isolated, even though she was dragged here by her friends, they all left to go upstairs.

What on Earth got into them? As soon as they start talking to some guys they start babbling like idiots! What are they even doing upstairs? I haven't seen anyone come down from there all night. What am I doing here anyways? I should just wait here for them, its not like they can be up there all night.

The living room was fairly empty, Helen sat alone in a corner of the sofa, a group of people were playing cards and chatting around the coffee table and a couple were snuggling in the recliner. Most of the party-goers were in the family room downstairs with the pulse pounding dub-step, black lights, and semi-coordinated screaming. The newest addition to this serene setting was Shain who was on his tour of the house. He noticed everyone in the room in an instant, even Helen.

Shain took a seat on the couch, sprawling across it. Helen felt his presence on all sides of her as if enveloped in a cloud of hair gel and leather. She felt eyes probing through her clothes and waves of light perusing her pale skin. Her hands squeezed the plastic cup that was now elliptical in shape. She was being strip searched by someone with their eyes sealed.

W...Who...Who is this? I can't move. Why can't I move? It feels like he's watching me like a lion. I feel like a cow being led to slaughter. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me.

Stretching his arms, Shain opened his eyes and took in Helen. She was fairly short, 5ft 3in in his estimation, her hands were small yet a vein pulsed rapidly in them. She must have been crushing that poor cup like a beer can in a trash compactor. Helen was not dressed to party in the least; Shain was turned off by her navy blue quilted dress, that even when sitting down stopped at mid calf, and her black long sleeve tee with a large gold star embroidered on the back. Her skin was a brilliant pale white which starkly contrasted with the shirt at her neck. Her breasts were too small to even cast a shadow on her lap, sub B's most likely. Helen's blonde-stroked cinnamon hair was tied into a small pony-tail, even loose it wouldn't make it to her shoulders, Shain surmised. Her black framed glasses were the only color on her face, and the upper frame line was intermittently broken by the tips of her fringes. Shain could not see her eyes from this vantage point. Helen had drawn both lips in and seemed to be gnawing at them incessantly.

The girls playing cards in their mini-skirts got more attention from Shain's other mind. Yet he was curious about the quivering leaf at the other end of the sofa. Shain greeted Helen with his usual, “Good evening!” to which Helen only swallowed hard to the metallic click of a Model 3 to her head being cocked.

He just said hi to me! Say something! You idiot say something! What do I say? My heart is pounding out of my chest, its going to give out at any moment. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Hes just a person. How can I be calm when I feel like I'm being groped by a rapist?

Helen's lack of response made Shain move closer to her. She probably did not hear him. Moving closer to her, Helen squeezed further into the corner of the sofa. Slightly perplexed, Shain would not let his advances go to waste. Repeating his greeting, this time loud enough he was sure she heard, received no reaction from Helen. He did notice the cup start to wobble in her hands and heard her panting.

Why did he move closer? God I can barely breathe! My head feels like it's spinning. What's this feeling coming from my lower abdomen? It feels leaden and angry like something about to burst inside me. Why is he still near me? Go away. Go away. I still can't say anything. Can't he take the hint that I'm ignoring him?

Helen raised the cup to her lips, which were finally freed from her teeth as once slim pink lines emblazoned on her face that had now been chewed into rough blood red trails from cheek to cheek, to take in a sip of the electric blue drink in her cup. The artificial dye and flavoring coated her mouth and slicked down her throat, sending a chill through her body. Shain took in Helen's sip with more enthusiasm that he normally has for mundane activities, his gaze was transfixed on Helen's every move. Shain introduced himself to the stonewall person next to him.

Say your name! Say it! Please don't mess this up...

“Helen” escaped her lips in a pitch even a whisper would struggle to hear. Smiling, Shain felt more confident that Helen said something and pushed on to start a one-sided conversation about himself.

My head hurts. I can't even follow along with what hes saying. Just shut up already. My tummy feels worse, it feels like it's growing and filling me with some evil concoction. I must be really hungry. What is he even saying?

Shain leaned his head towards Helen's field of view where he noticed her deep blue-violet eyes. Slightly surprised, Shain's monologue halted mid-sentence. In that instant a karmic shift occurred inside him. His conscious was left utterly unaware of the influence he was under. His mindset and party experience drove him forwards. Without saying anymore he placed his hand on Helen's, easing her nervous vibration.

He touched me! He touched me! Get off me! I never said you could touch me! I'm going to kick his ass! …..Why can't I move? Am I scared or attracted to this guy? I can't say no to him but I hate him I know it. Just his touch is making this feeling worse. I will get him back......I can't think straight. My head is throbbing and my vision is going cloudy. Was I just roofied? No...it can't be...ugh that thing inside me is making it worse.

Despite Shain's advances, Helen's stare remained focused on the cup on her lap. She never once looked at Shain, her eyes remained almost out of focus. This pair barely knew more than each others name, yet Shain stood up, holding Helen's hand and motioned upstairs.

Has my face turned red? I can't tell...Did..Does he want to go upstairs? Oh god I can barely breathe. I'm panting like I ran 50 miles, the thing in there is about to devour my heart. I think I'm going to give in to it. Get him away from me. What even happens upstairs? I just want him to go away.

“Okay”

Shain lightly tugged at Helen's hand and slipped through orgy of bodies littering the stairs. Helen silently trotted behind him. On the way up, Shain noticed Helen had the gait of royalty. He wondered if she ever went to a finishing school and what the “proper position” was in a brief lewd daydream. Reaching the top of the staircase Shain hung a left and went to the third door, revealing the master bedroom.

The room itself was nothing outside of the run-of-the-mill middle-aged parents private space to nit-pick with each other. Drab gray walls, standard sized windows, and a lovely feather bed. Locking the door behind him, to ensure privacy, Shain took a seat on the bed next to Helen, his hands turning her head as his lips met hers. Helen's eyes were as cadaverous as they were downstairs. To an outsider it must have appeared as if Shain was locking lips with a manikin.

He...He's kissing me! Why did I follow him up here? I could have just as easily broken out of his grip and left, instead I'm here kissing a fish! His lips are making it stronger. I'm at my limit.....

Lying Helen back on the bed, Shain wasted no time with her clothes. He was right about her breasts, 32A, hidden by a padded black push-up bra no less. Black and white striped boy-shorts slipped off as well, fully exposing Helen's body. Almost involuntarily Helen let out a gentle exhale of lust. Her pale white skin had now flushed pink around her nipples and split. Shain's senses were overwhelmed, the scene, scent, and savor of Helen were too much for him to bear, doggedly he manhandled his jacket and shirt to the floor.

Helen's eyes were closed as her body lay motionless on the bed. Shain would never have seen the red rings growing around her irises. Her mind wavering between chaos and blank, she could only manage to allow a sliver of light to refract onto her retina. The sliver was encompassed with the image of Shain's fully erect member. Complete with a glistening cloudy drip of his essence on the light rouge tip, and an independent pulse his piece was in immaculate condition. Without a word, Shain demonstrated knowledge of its nuances, functions, and maintenance that rivaled professionals.

That thing...he is....Am I being raped? But its so big...Get away. Its going to take me. Get away.

“Put it in”

With a glance of agreement and happiness, Shain positioned himself to slide inside. Helen's rosy pink eyelid drooped over her dark magenta eye and let herself be taken. Shain knew he was impeccable in the sack, and used his talents to make the once silent Helen, pant softly with his rhythm. His snaking, coiling, tongue made concentric rings around each of her erect nipples, widening to stimulate her aureola before sucking on the whole area making it glow a vibrant pink. Completely engulfed by the feeling inside her, Helen's thoughts became it's thoughts.

More...more...I need more...I need it. Give me more.

Shain leaned up from Helen's body, showing his smooth yet robust chest, and using her ankles as handles he impaled himself on her reaching the hilt with every pass. She was tighter than he had planned for and the whole time had been undulating herself around him, draining his stamina. Helen's once meager breathes had grown into ravenous moans, Shain could do no more to control the tempo of his hips when he heard her voice. Increasing his tempo he realized his breaking point was rapidly approaching and closed one eye in ecstasy.

MORE!

“Inside...and kiss me.”

The most Helen said all night was followed by several viscous ropes of Shain's liquid, coating her slick tunnel. Shain moved to lock with Helen as they both convulsed, but instead of kissing Helen gorged on his neck drawing blood that she savagely gulped down. Helen's hands clutched the base of Shain's throat, closing his trachea only enough to allow for respiration. Cries for help were stifled to a silent whisper. Sighing in relief like she had just chugged a cool drink on a summer day, Helen inspected four finger-tip size puncture wounds she left on Shain's neck. He looked into Helen's eyes and noticed how they transformed into an abysmal seemingly satanic crimson, matching the color of the blood stained on her teeth.

Shain tried to escape from Helen, but his member was being clamped down on by the teeth of her slit. Moving in any direction but inside threatened to sever his masculine prize. Helen sunk her teeth back into Shain's neck, whip-lashing her head like a werewolf she returned with a chunk of tanned opaque flesh dangling in her teeth. Blood gushed out of his neck and onto Helen's angelic body. The next bite put two pairs of holes into his windpipe before Helen's head performed a grotesque corkscrew like motion, tearing it out along with his vocal chords.

Blood stained the blonde streaks in Helen's loose mane, it dripped in her eyes yet did not produce even the slightest irritation. Fine droplets sprayed from the remains of Shain's trachea into the air, a mono-chrome rainbow before her very eyes. Every exhale he made formed a new unique rainbow, like a snowflake each one had its own intricate pattern. The view from his lungs was much the same, except that alveoli are designed to use air and blood, not blood and blood. The red liquid beads that disappeared with her inhale returned clear with her exhale as if her whole being was feeding on Shain. His body became sparse for blood and devoid of life. In some foggy haze Shain must have wondered how on Earth did he get himself into this surreal mess.

Finally his arms and whole body collapsed onto Helen's, feeling his weight for only a moment she rolled him over. Shain's prize was missing from both the handle and the sheath. Helen mounted his body and continued to render flesh from his neck leaving nothing but the spinal bones. Periodically Helen would pause to chew and play with the trails of blood that trickled down her body. Her fingers teased her sensitive skin started tingling chills spiraling up her blood-streaked torso that converged at her lips in the form of childish giggles.

Helen's fingers held her sword and only toyed with her sheath. She liked how her short wet hair wrapped around and clung to her fingers. The warmth of Shain's blood added to the intensity of her pleasure and the prickling of his chest hair against her sword made her bite his lower lip tightly as she climaxed. Helen's moaned deeply onto his lip and sunk her teeth into it to silence her squeals as her fingers satiated her sword repeatedly. Finally she tore the teeth-marred lip off and savored the taste of blood, sweat and saliva that clung to the late hors d'oeuvre.

Belching loudly Helen lay back on the bed in satisfaction, and stared at the ceiling. Her eyes darkened and seemed to turn back into a deep blue-violet.

It's gone? Hes gone? I guess I was dreaming. I'm glad. I was so hungry....

“Can you feel this?”
These are the words that make us smile
“I am barren, fruitful, bored but rarely useful”
These are the words that us cry

They are our home, our shelter, our escape.
“A day without you is like a year without rain”
They make us feel strong and confident—
“I am a world before I am a man”
—rebellious—
“With a fist in the air and a finger in their face”
and consoled.
“Your tears won't bring him back”

These are the sounds that make us feel justified
“Fuck you!”
These are the sounds that bring us together
“I’m a sinner to most but a saint to some”

Their every pitch resonates perfectly with ours.
They know us better than we know ourselves.
“You put your arm around me for the first time”
They understand that feeling in our heart
“I'm supposed to be strong and have all the answers”
They know that emptiness in our soul

These are the words that make our ears ring
“For comfort, for solace”
These are the words that time cannot harm;
“In my head they'll always last”

My mind was in a foggy haze. When I finally got out of it I realized my hands were handcuffed in behind me and I was wearing nothing but a collar and a skirt from some school uniform. I was leaning up against a wall sitting on what felt like a bed.

“Where am I?”

(3 hours earlier)

The last days of the semester had finally arrived. It was a bittersweet feeling as everyone is looking forward to not having lecture 5 days a week but loathing finals. I was studying with Mio in the library when she asked me.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“The same thing I'm doing right now. Studying until I draw my last breathe or pass, whichever comes first. What about you?”

“I have to run some simulations for my report. It's due in a couple of days so I'm hoping I can finish tonight and focus on other stuff. I'm going to head home to get on that now so good luck with studying”

“Thanks, see you”

With that she left and I continued to study.

A few hours later I was pretty worn out and sleepy. My watch read 10:30pm and the library was closing at midnight so I decided to go home before the library forced me out. On the walk back I took a shortcut through a small street. I heard a the splash of a puddle then a zapping sound.

(Present)

The room I was in appeared to be a simple bedroom. There was a closet, curtains over the window, and a desk that was very close to the bed I was sitting on. The room had a fragrance that seemed somehow familiar but I couldn't––––

“I see you woke up”

The door opened, Mio came walking in and sat on the desk. I noticed she was wearing the complete sailor uniform, we were wearing the same skirt after all. Her expression was cold and stiff. Almost a complete 180 from her usual kind self. Despite sitting on the desk that was about a foot away she never once looked me in the eye.

“Mio, why am I here and why am I wearing this?”

“.......................”

“Mio, whats going on?”

“..................”

“Hey, Mio?”

Mio turned her gaze towards me. She looked possessed. Anyone who knew Mio would say the Mio in front of me right now had been possessed by Satan. Her eyes gave the glare like I was sub-human. She stared at me as if I was an annoying mosquito ready to be killed.

“Shut up”

“What did you say? What's wrong Mio?”

“I said shut up”

With a swift motion she slapped my face with the back of her hand. The impact made me lose my balance and fall to the side. My face was searing in pain and my head started throbbing. My cheek felt a hot pain with a nice tingling sensation spreading through my body. I felt Mio's hand grab my arm and her nails dig into my flesh as she pulled me back up. I felt something hot between my legs.

“Look at you. You got all excited just from a slap. You're such a masochist.”

I looked down and noticed my erection. I couldn't do anything to hide it so I just looked away from Mio in embarrassment. I feel something start to rub my cock and I look back to see Mio rubbing her feet on it.

“I'll tell you why I brought you here. It's to make you my toy. To make you completely subservient to me. From this moment onwards you will do everything at my command. Any insolence will bring severe punishment. Do you understand?”

“Why would I agree to such a thing?!” My hard-on feels like it wants to cum already.

Mio laughs softly. “I thought you would say something like that.” She then puts her lips to my ear and whispers, “I am fully prepared to break your will to make you my toy. You will come to enjoy it soon enough.”

Her words make my whole body throb in excitement.

“What did you mean by 'fully prepared'?”

Without saying a word Mio simply clapped her hands. At that moment the door opened again and two men wearing masks on their heads walked in. They were both erect and huge. Without saying anything one of them grabbed me leg and dragged me to the end of the bed. I tried to kick at his hands but his grip was far too strong. He pulled my legs apart and unceremoniously plunged his erection into my ass. I screamed out in pain, or what I thought was pain, and my head started to pound and feel fuzzy. Mio could not help but laugh at the sight.

“You let out such a cute scream. You sound like you enjoy being raped by a man!”

Mio was right. I was still visibly erect while having this man fucking me. It hurt a lot but it also felt amazing. I tried calling for help but Mio seemed to realize what I was going to do since I turned my head to the window. Before I could let out a sound she climbed on top of me and pushed the hard collar into my throat, choking me.

“Now now, toys don't call for help. Toys only do what I say”

I couldn't breathe. The lack of oxygen made me shiver for a second and the man raping my asshole started feel better and better. My eyes started to water and my vision started to go dim. My head began pounding to the rhythm of my man fucking my ass. Mio released her hands and I took several gasping breaths.

“Ha ha you're such a pervert. You enjoy being choked too? That's great!”

Mio sounded like she was genuinely amused with this.

“If you enjoy one this much I wonder how you will do with two?”

Mio motioned to the other guy. He grabbed my hair and put his cock in my mouth. It tasted salty and smelled a bit like semen and urine. His body stank of musty sweat. Somehow I found myself sucking at his cock. My tongue was circling around the head as if I had been practicing my whole life. Mio was laughing even harder.

“I can't believe it! You're like a born cock-sucker!”

The man pulled out of my mouth and Mio grabbed my head and made me face her. My cheek had a clear stream of drool and I was panting like an animal in heat. My head was completely blank. Mio moved her waist backwards on my torso, I could feel that she was not wearing underwear. My cock was pulsating and leaking fluid and she touched her hot opening to the tip then pulled away. Every time she did I involuntarily tried to put it inside her. Her eyes held that same superiority like I trash that was pestering her.

“Oh you want to be inside me that badly you sick fuck? Why would I want to let someone who gets off on being raped by two men be inside my precious space? You must be dreaming if I would let you do that.”

I just continued panting, unable to formulate a reply.

“You are my toy. You serve no other purpose than to do what I say. Your penis is a filthy disgusting useless thing that I will use to satisfy my lust. You are a hopelessly perverted masochist that will abide to my desire. If you want anything you must beg for it”

Mio then placed her lips next to my ear again, “I am...your God.” Mio then bit and nibbled at my ear as she pushed her hips back driving my cock inside her. The feeling made my back arch. Her insides were so hot and the man in my asshole started pounding me faster and faster; I could not contain my voice any longer and started combining moans with my pants. I started to make too much noise which made the other man shove his cock back into my mouth.

Mio was giggling and panting as she thrust herself onto me. “See, you're a good toy. You're already doing a good job of satisfying God's lust.”

The man then grabbed my hair and forced his entire length into my mouth. I was powerless to resist, at that point I did not want to resist anyways. It was like I was being choked from the inside. Tears were still pouring down my face. The thought of him being inside me made my cock throb inside Mio.

“I felt you get harder! You'll gladly suck anyone's cock won't you, you stupid slut.” Mio was thoroughly enjoying herself and I could see her face flushing with color.

The cock in my mouth begin to pulsate and the man pulled it out and came. He shot thick masses of hot semen onto my face and in my mouth. I swallowed some of it and felt Mio tighten around my member.

“You look....*pant*....so funny covered in a man's semen like that. Did you enjoy it?”

The contraction on me made me squeeze on the penis in my ass. Both Mio and I let out sighs of lust.

“I'm going to come now. I have no intentions of getting you off after I am done with you.”

While saying that Mio pushed the collar into my windpipe again. I bit down on my lower lip and tightened my ass even further. The man inside me came and I felt his hot spurting liquid all the way up to the back of my head. I tried to yell out but the collar kept air from exiting my lungs. My eyes lost focus and I released a powerful orgasm as Mio yelled out then passionately kissed me.

Releasing her grip on my throat send a second orgasm shooting through me. Mio's nails dug into my chest as I came again with out lips locked together.

“I am your toy”

Mio smiled at me. Her eyes still held that terrifying mood but something made me feel love in there as well.

Suspension of disbelief aside, this piece makes no real sense.

For starters, I don't know if you aren't native to the English language, but fighting over "which one was the pot handle was turned" sounds moot. The pot handle is the handle that is attached to the pot in question. If you meant "which way the pot handle was turned", it'd be just as irrelevant, as the answer is absolute.

Secondly, maybe I'm simply underestimating the statement, but flat-chested Nazi shouldn't be the kind of remark that elicits a knife to be pulled on the perpetrator. They had been married for four years, let alone the time they spent dating. If she's that crazy then I think their relationship would've ended a while ago.

Breast growth of that magnitude that quickly is also questionable. I don't think plastic surgeons would put that much silicone into a person.

And did she get implants and join an escort service just on the off chance that one day the man that apparently ruined her life by calling her a flat-chested Nazi would call that exact escort service?

This wasn't really scary, nor sexy. It was a display of stupid standards and insanity. I didn't feel the apprehension it looked like you were trying to convey when Stan ran away and I felt absolutely no empathy for either character.