He was shocked when he saw her on that beach, a little scared even, but he was not afraid. He felt like men do, when their wives and mothers learn about that little mistake they did for fun long ago. It was the fear of a man, that knew exactly what he did wrong, but didn’t expect the consequence to last. It wasn’t before that bitch Amelie betrayed him, that he was truly afraid.
For the first time since he left that goddamn bunker, his actions met with consequences.
At least the consequence was a nice chick, even if she was ugly from the neck down, thanks to him.
She touched his face and it confused him. The touch was way too gentle for a revenge. And for a moment he thought, that there might be a good time ahead. Who knew what the chick was thinking about. Stockholm syndrome was a bitch after all and he was quite a handsome man.
The first punch took his naivety away.
“You’re nothing but damaged goods.”
She mocked him and he only laughed. Whatever she says, whatever she does, she will always be the mutilated girl, broken and useless, as the only worth part of her has been ruined forever by him.
“Go on, hit me! Kill me! It won’t get you any prettier.”
She punched him again, hitting his nose. Tears filled his eyes as it broke and blood flowed down to his lips. He licked it. Mixed with his sweat and mud from the previous fight it had gross salty taste.
“You will still think of me every time you undress, darling. You can’t escape it.”
“I can promise you.” She said. “You will think of me ‘till the end of your life too.” She punched him again and again. Not that it could compare to the punches of the Bridges man. Maybe he should have kept the gun. Fist fights were less fun than the Fight Club promised.
It felt like she managed to hit all the parts of his face that hurt the most. But she was Fragile. She couldn’t last long. Soon she stood over him catching her breath. It didn’t matter that he was lying in a blood pool by the time, he still felt like the victor.
“Tired already?” He smirked. “You know I’m still willing to forgive you. Gods need to be forgiving.”
“Don’t worry.” She said, as if she was trying to hide her anger behind the words, but her face was betraying her emotions. “That’s not even the half of what I’ve planned for you.” She hit his chest, but instead of simple punch, a sharp pain ran through him, as if dull rods pierced their ways through his chest, from where her hand landed.
The unexpected pain made him gasp and in return, she smirked. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the shivers creeping up his spine. Hell, his whole body was shivering. There goes his image. But his image wasn’t really the thing he was worried about now.
The ground under him grew softer. He looked down, seeing it turn dark.
“No..” He breathed out. “You are not that far.”
She smiled. “Surprise.”
Wet hands reached out of the ground, wrapping themselves around him, their hold uncharacteristically strong, as they forced his hands down to his sides.
“Don’t worry.” She said. “They are only here to hold you still.”
He knew she was threatening him, trying to scare him by cheap play on not knowing what is to come. The bad thing was, that it worked. He was afraid of what she had planned, of how much pain she prized her body for.
“There are different things you should be worrying about.”
The hands holding his legs moved, forcing them to spread further apart. It didn’t take the omniscient God to see what she had in mind, but somehow he couldn’t believe she would have the guts to do that.
“Is this what you have planned?” He asked, forcing himself to laugh.
She moved between his legs.
“Oh, honey, I don’t think you have the tools for that.”
She laughed in return and he didn’t like that. “I don’t.” She shrugged. “But he does.” She moved so he could see behind her. There, the ground grew unstable, like a boiling water.
The hands uplifted his chest, giving him a better view on the monster that grew out of the tar . It was unlike his own beasts, it hardly kept its form, changing its shape as it moved towards them. If he was in different position, he would mock her for failing to summon no more than a formless tentacle blob. All he could mock her for now was hentai addiction.
“I hoped to learn one of the dogs, before this day comes. But this will have to do.”
Maybe the hentai addiction was the kinder option. He couldn’t really blame her for not reaching to his powers, after all what was she in comparison to the particle of God.
“I had to borrow this.” She spinned his knife in her hand.
The hands pulled him down again. Holding him firmly, as she lowered the knife to his abdomen.
He swallowed, uncomfortable memories creeping their way into his mind. It was not his first rodeo, no, in apocalyptic world one does not simply walk around looking like overgrown hitlerjugend propaganda. Plus he was not always overgrown. No, he knew very well what he was doing, when he let her keep that pretty face. The only difference with his experience was the position. He guessed that it would be a girl thing to rape people on their backs.
The knife dug into his pants. Cutting through the fabric as if it was nothing. It was a good knife, he valued it when it was still his. She cut slowly, as if she was enjoying the moment. She let the knife scratch his skin, or maybe she just didn't care that it did. It didn’t matter, it hurt the same.
As soon as she could, she torn his pants away. Then with far less theatrical charm, she cut off his underwear too. It might as well be one of his wet dreams, but those would exclude the thing that crawled behind her. No, this was a nightmare and he knew it.
“You don’t have to do this.” He said, as the monster reached them.
“You know what?” She let it climb on her, perhaps to show it off. It was just as ugly as before. The only difference was that he could now see, that the end of each tentacle glimmered with gold. “I don’t have to, but I want to.”
The monster crawled to her hips and down between his legs. With all his strength he tried to pull away, but the hands around him didn’t let him. The more he struggled the firmer was their hold.
He felt the monster touch his inner thighs, it felt like slime with something warm and alive deep underneath. It was disgusting and he really didn’t want that near his body. When its tentacles crawled under his ass, he started to panic.
“No! No no! Don’t do this! Nothing but this! Please!” He cried.
But she wasn’t listening to him. Instead she reached over the monster, forcing it into obedience with the motion of her hand.
“It might hurt a bit.” She said, her voice full of irony. “I haven’t mastered the power quite yet.”
He felt it move under him.
“Please don’t.” He plead. “You- You don’t understand.” He could hardly speak over his sobbing. “I- It happened before! My- My own father..”
She stilled, looking at him. Her eyes met his and he thought, that it really worked, that the painful confession made her change her mind. He told her about daddy before after all, she had to put two and two together and realize he told the truth, that he couldn't take this.
She lowered over him, body on body, her lips to his ear.
“You know what?” She whispered gently.
“You deserved it.”
It was then, when he realized there was no redeeming for him. At least not in her eyes. She didn’t care of the pain he suffered in the past, no, she only wanted to take her revenge. Like the cold bitch she was. Maybe daddy was right, the world was bad and he should have stayed in the bunker. His daddy loved him, he meant good, he just couldn’t express it differently than with his hands. Unlike like the men that came after him and unlike the bitch that towered over him now.
Back in her position above him, she maintained control of the beast again. Then with a move all too quick she jerked her hand over his abdomen. The beast followed her command. He screamed as it entered him, sharp pain tearing him apart. He tried to push it out, but he couldn't, it was stronger than him and if he was to be honest, in far better position than him too. Tears ran down his face like streams.
She only smiled, as she moved her hand and it followed her, moving back and forward inside of him, but she didn’t let herself be limited by that, she made it twitch inside him, moving it in ways he was sure will tear him apart.
He screamed, pleading for forgiveness, promising things he didn’t really mean. He hoped that she will get bored soon, after all she was there only for his pain, she had nothing to gain from it but that.
He felt press on his stomach, worse, it felt like he was being torn apart. He opened his eyes, unsure when he closed them and then he saw it, the tentacles popping from the skin of his stomach like moving tumor. He thought that it was not possible, that it had to tear him apart from the inside and now it was only matter of seconds until it tears his skin.
And then it did.
The golden tipped tentacles ripped through his skin, taking everything on its way with it, splashing his blood and guts to the red skies.
And then he blinked and there was nothing. Well, there was her, still raping him and the pain that came with it, but his stomach was still there. And the sky was blue.
“What the fuck-” He tried to curse, but he choked on his sobs.
As if she saw his struggle she pulled away and so did the monster. He was about to let out a breath of relieve, when he saw it crawling on her. It wrapped itself around her hips, merging into her, creating a different kind of monster. Now it looked awfully similar to hentai and he was sure he have even seen that one.
She pushed into him with the monster around her hips. Making the act much more personal, than it was before. But it hurt the same. Maybe even more, as it became much more similar to what he wished to forget. She pushed back and forward and even as the sharp tipped tentacles inside him were unmistakable for a penis, he still had hard time not to let himself slip away into the bad memories. It grew only worse when she hit that spot inside him, that he liked to have a good time with, but at this very moment wished it didn’t exist.
At least she didn’t comment on the color of his public hair, that was quite refreshing change to the situation. Judging by her visible color scheme, it may be caused by her sharing the same feature.
She leaned down on him, almost as if she was about to kiss him. He didn’t judge her no, everyone had their fetish and if playing romance during rape was hers, he was willing to go along with it. But she didn’t kiss him. She missed his lips and lowered to his neck and then she bit. Tore skin away from him, drops of his blood were falling from her mouth, as she chewed his meat. And she didn’t stop there, she took more and more, tearing his chest with her teeth, chewing on his meat until there was nothing but gore where his torso was. The sky was red again.
He blinked, as she pulled away from his head. He was screaming and he wasn’t sure when he started. His chest was whole, clothed even. If he was in his bunker this would be the time when he would start looking for a gas leak. But here, he could think of no better explanation that the Shore fucking up with him. Of course she would, girls always held together, didn’t they?
It felt like ages before she stopped.
He hardly even registered it at that point. He thought that getting killed now would be a mercy. Even as she pulled out it felt like he was being gutted from the inside. He felt so empty he was sure she had to take the better half of his guts out along with that thing.
The hands no longer held him, but he couldn’t move anyway. He was in too much pain. She pointed a gun at him. He wanted to speak but he couldn't find words. He just looked her in the eyes waiting for her to end it.
She dropped the gun on him instead.
"You do it." She said. "Or don't. But I'm not taking you back home."
He was about to reach for his BB to take him back, when he realized she was holding it in her arms.