What the FUCK are you doing!? Are you just gonna sit there and take it? Shit, Ricko, I know you sucked dick in your time, but you bend over too easy, kid...
There was a hand in his choppy hair that could easily have wrapped around his entire head, pulling him back into an arch, pushing his stomach and muscles out as if he were on display. Beneath the mask, the young man snarled like a savage beast, but all he managed was a strangled cry of protest as he felt the mangled stumps where his arms had once been bleeding, bleeding, bleeding so much that he was light in the head and heavy in the dick, his shorts already far too small without his rock-hard erection making things worse and so uncomfortable, clinging to him awkwardly. His arms would come back soon enough- he knew how it worked and so did the giant motherfucker, who'd delighted in tearing him limb from limb and grinned so darkly when he watched them come back. Bone, then blood, then so much muscle and skin stretched so tightly, it could tear any minute, only to be wrenched back off again.
Rick Taylor was a mess and he knew it- the stress made his stomach churn and his knees weak, head flying somewhere far away with a voice inside him screaming- FIGHT HIM FIGHT HIM FUCKING KILL HIM MAKE HIM PAY- to pull himself together when he could barely- MAKE HIM YOUR BITCH WE CAN DO THIS I WANT THIS YOU WANT THIS WE BOTH WANT THIS SHOW HIM WHAT YOU CAN DO- keep his eyes focused for the blood and the fists.
There would be bruises on the biker's body, and his split lip spat blood. He could take a fucking beating, that was for certain.
He'd fought with all of the power he had in him; it wasn't Cayman's size that scared him, but his steely, cold eyes and the hard-on in his leathers, like he knew what he wanted and what he was going to get from the outset. Their grapples made him falter and a metal fist crushed his pitiful flesh, bone and blood that it cracked and popped and bled. He didn't let go. Rick was trapped, pushing with bullish strength against his crushed hand, but all he could hear was heavy breathing- YOU LISTENING TO ME, FAGGOT? KICK. HIS. ASS. YOU CAN DO IT, COME THE FUCK ON- and when the smirk cracked over the older man's face, Rick knew he was fucked. He was thrown down, kicked in the groin with steelcaps and left with tears beading the corners of his eyes, until the son of a bitch grabbed an arm away from him. Jack was strong, almost lifting the hulking boy of a man straight up by his mangled hand- FUCKING PUSSY, THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?- and then...
The chainsaw revved.
How was it possible that only another man could reduce him- Because you're weak, kid. You're a fucking pussy, I knew it. I fucking knew it. - so?
When the toothed blade hit his flesh, he tried to squirm away and only drove it off-course. Blood and flecks of flesh covered his bare skin and splattered Cayman's leather and gigantic arms, smattered his poker face with viscera. Rick's screams only made his assault slower, the young man doing the worst of the work for him.
"You're just a big-muscled bitch, aren't'cha?"
"Wh... What did you say?"
Rick's voice snapped, an embarrassing gaffe he couldn't control, words shuddering as he tried his hardest to sound tough. His arm was still being pulled, though the chainsaw fell back, motor chugging as it fell still for a moment and he could see Jack's arm lurching in expectation. It was pure torture, the bone broken and so much weight, too much weight on half of his arm that it was tearing so slowly that he howled and tried so fucking hard not to move, but it was being pulled up gradually, gradually--
"You look tough, kid," a voice of pure grit, broken glass, cigarettes and motor chains. "But you don't stand a fuckin' chance. Just a bitch,"
His own weight was torturing him, all the bulky muscle that had warped him and broken him and gave him so much...
Rick's bark made Jack pull.
His arm tore free and Jack threw it aside. A glance down had the biker's upper lip curl back- dark blue, almost black was spreading out from the muscled brawler's crotch.
I don't believe it. I don't fucking believe it. I hope he rips your dick off, Ricko, you're just pathetic.
The corners of Jack's mouth pulled up and he was smirking cruelly down, palming his cock through his leather as Rick's control of his own body left him. His breath was desperate, every part of his quivering with the adrenaline of battle turning into pure fear, shaking out of shame as his burning face started to spread to his neck. Thank fuck he was masked, his expression unreadable as he tried to move his legs to stand up, disgusted with himself- Don't shit yourself, pussy, ohhh, look, he's sooo big, sooo scawwy, it's a FUCKING HUMAN, you make me so fucking SICK- and with every process in his fucked-up little brain as his blood rushed down seeing-
And now you want to suck his dick?
"You want this?"
A kick sent Rick sprawling in his own blood and piss, nipples grinding into the floor. A boot held him down too fucking hard when the chainsaw revved and he thrashed. A mixture of bile and blood poured from the rungs in the Terror Mask when the blade went straight down through his other arm, and dripped onto his wide, powerful chest when he was yanked up by the hair.
"N... nn... n-no..."
oh, gross, now I just feel fucking dirty, shitlick-
"Faggots don't have girlfriends. Tell me about her."
thump thump thump, each slam of their bodies was leather against flesh and rough intrusion slicked only with spit and blood.
"H-Her name's... Her name's Jenny-"
Rick's voice was so small and all of him shook, mask to concrete and two voices in his ears.
"Jenny needs a real man. Not some snivelling kid,"
He's got a point, you know.
His hole was tighter than Cayman could have asked for, stretched obscenely in the tightest ring around a thick cock that pushed well past the limits of his muscular bitch. Tight ass cheeks were pried apart so he could see his work and see the blood from where he tore, virginal and untouched. Nothing had been there, and Jack revelled in the power, in the slick red coating his beastly manhood.
"I was-" Rick's sentence hitched, his prostate ground into punishingly hard- his dick drooled in masochistic pleasure. "... g-going to ask her to marry me-"
Why aren't you telling him to stop, fuckwit?
"What makes you think she'd say 'yes'?"
Ohhhh, he's got you, Ricko, he's got you...
What would she say if she saw him then? He felt filthy, completely foul, soiled and vile as the bones began to reform with mystic power that he just didn't understand and burnt him to the very core.
Sick to enjoy it, Rick came before Jack, resting his throbbing head on fresh, huge arms just as tough and vascular as before. He ached and groaned into the ground, sourness on his breath making him dizzy and the sensation of emptiness suddenly foreign, followed with a slimy wetness that drooled from a hole that gaped lewdly, subject to admiration.
That's it. I'm disowning you.
I'm not going to talk to you any more.
Heavy bootsteps faded into crushing silence.
Didn't even get his fucking number. Fuckin' useless.