#leather slaughter
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watched texas chainsaw massacre 4 (new generation) with @seraphhija
my head hurts /srs
it did not get better the second time i watched 💀
Leather in camo shirt and a mullet shocked me to my core. I still love Darla and Leather . CANT STAND VILMER I LITWRALLY HATE HIM SO MUCH Is he an alien???? the illuminati plot???? Who. made this kovie
#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm 4#texas chainsaw massacre the next generation#darla slaughter#leather slaughter#haunting’s thoughts💋🖤
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Doodles for a fanon inverse AU. Where Nightmare is the twink instead of Dream.
#utau#the bad sanses#dreamtale#nightmare sans#dream sans#bara dream's name is Blithe btw#cloud creations#undertale au#blithe sans#vex sans#ive seen both bara and twink versions of horror#but ive NEVER seen a bara dust#so it was a nice challenge to design him like that#killer is the serious one#horror is more erratic#horror sans#dust sans#killer sans#can you tell i based slaughter's armor off the champion leathers from totk#vex is 4'11" btw
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I MISSED YOU BIG BACK
#the way I had to scream when I saw the jacket LIKE#sir imma need you to make like that snake and flex those mf pythons for me in that leather. thank you.#so violently down bad#johnny sawyer#Johnny slaughter#tcm Johnny#tcm game#I'm just gonna pass away if he's got a matching hairstyle with it too I'M JUST GONNA --#tcm update#tcm#tcm rush week#uhh#that could possibly be a tag soon. why not hdkdhsksb
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I think Darla should care about Leather. I think she should be nice to her from time to time. I think these two can be friends. as a treat.
#Darla Slaughter#Leatherface#tcm4 leather#ppl should really make a tag for Leather and Leather specifically so i can actually find any content with her.#texas chainsaw massacre#texas chainsaw massacre the next generation#tcm 4#is there anyone in read3r x slasher community who even writes for Leather...#with she/her pronouns#i could care less about b1bba(<-lies) all i want is to give Leather a kiss#art tag
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"I was actually kind of fond of that girl, i-i didnt really wanna hurt her! But as they say, family first. Y'know?"
(More under cut)
(Ayo! So this is gonna be a Johnny Sawyer (Slaughter) rp account. Basically anything is allowed thats legal- dms are open, asks are open, nsfw is allowed, oc's are allowed as well. This is for your enjoyment and entertainment. I respond daily as well. So please have fun!)
#johnny sawyer#johnny slaughter#texas chainsaw game#texas chainsaw massacre#sawyer family#tcm#tcm game#horror#horror rp#tcm rp#dms open#rp friends#nubbins sawyer#leather face
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Me with all the Rush Week Johnnys~
Will say, Rush Week has been stupid fun. I love it~♥
#tcm the game#johnny slaughter#virginia#tcm rush week#rush week#so much Johnny ass in leather running around
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sad hc discussion time, but here’s how i think the victims would die.
I think Connie would die first, i actually think she would make it out of the basement before anyone & not even get the chance to see her friends for the last time. She’s the most quite & thinks she wouldn’t get caught, so she roams around the home trying to find an exit & her friends. She most likely get caught scooping out the house and working on the front door, probably getting caught by the cook. Next i think would be Sonny, they’d probably would all be together by then having seen Connie’s body & decide to go for another exit. Sonny would mention seeing a generator & hypothesize how it connects to the power of the home. He’d volunteer to run out to the generator as he’s the fastest. I think Sissy would eventually get to him after he’s able to turn it off. He would be the distraction for his friends and have him chase her before being cornered with her poison. I do think that Julie would be next, having the iconic chase scene. She would be getting chased by the hitchhiker through the home & eventually drops back into the well. She would then be met with leather face who would be chasing her non stop, she’s able to loose him here and there almost making it out before coming face to face with hitch hiker and leather face coming out of nowhere with his chainsaw. Next would be Leland, he would go out a hero. Wether or not he dies in this order i do believe he would go out protecting someone else. They would probably be getting chased before Leland suddenly turns around running towards the family member to take them out. I do think he’d put up a good fight but would eventually be over powered yelling at his friends to keep going. Finally we have Ana. I personally would love to see her be a true final girl but unfortunately that’s not the case. I think she’d be taken out by johnny. After seeing what they’ve done to her friends and finding out what he did to her sister, she would make it her mission to kill him. She wouldn’t even care about surviving at that point. She would confront him bone scrap in hand maybe trying to ambush him, she would go out fighting and what a hell of a fight it would be. Taking gashes like it’s nothing because her pure determination and hatred for him. I think she would add to his scar collection, announcing that each slash she gives him is for each of her fallen friends & sister, “THIS IS FOR MARIA” “THIS FOR JULIE” etc. Johnny unfortunately would get the better of her, I do believe she would have the iconic hook hanging scene we see at the beginning of the matches.
#texas chainsaw game#tcm game#leland mckinney#ana flores#johnny slaughter#julie crawford#connie taylor#sonny williams#sissy slaughter#leather face#nubbins sawyer#drayton sawyer
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my bootleg copy of songs for a child a compilation tribute to pier paolo pasolini
#pier paolo pasolini#cds#bootleg#industrial#industrial music#coil#bahntier#spiritual front#ah cama-sotz#alo die#teatro satanico#in slaughter natives#condanna#black sun productions#nueva germania#the frozen autumn#sandblasting#wertham#catholic boys in heavy leather#goth#goth music#cultreslut
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POV: Johnny Sees Leatherface
#cosplay#closet cosplay#tcm johnny slaughter#tcm johnny#tcm hcs#tcm video game#johnny tcm#tcm bubba#tcm#tcm game#tcm fanart#texas chainsaw#texas chainsaw game#texas chainsaw massacre game#texas chainsaw massacre#bubba sawyer#bubba slaughter#leather#leatherface#tcm leatherface
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rush week.
Hey Johnny wanna do a rush week rp with me?
make it a lil… spicy… please?
-🐇
Oh? Y'want me ta dress up in my best leather an' grease my hair back fer a lil fun? Heh, I may be inclined ta oblige ya jus' give me an' idea'a what ya want, darlin'~
#johnny slaughter#johnny sawyer#tcm game#ask the badman#johnny rp#the man does look good in leather#and black
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ghost trick spoilerz (in the tags too)
there were two entries on tvtropes- both clearly written by the same guy- absolutely shitting all over yomiel and saying that it didnt make sense that the game tried to make you feel sympathy for him because He Is Inexcusable. and one of those entries was on the headscratchers page (the one page people can argue on) and nothing brought me more joy than seeing every mother fucker gang up on and murder this guy from every direction at once
anyway i love u yomiel i too got my life stolen from me and now desire revenge. they dont understand u like i do. their soft hands have never known strife . but we are built different
#MR JUSTICE MINISTER GET HIS ASS!!!!!#absolutely slaughtered in the tvtropes headscratchers page#face down ass up in da headscratchers page#ghost trick spoilers#anyway idk why He gets so much shit from Incredibly Wrong Tvtropes Man but like#most. of the characters . have done horrible things#every single aspect of his argument got debunked#ALSO HE IS NOT A DRACO IN LEATHER PANTS IF THE **FANDOM** DOESNT **WOOBIFY** HIM#ITS CANON#LITERALLY EVERY '''WOOBIFYING''' THING THE FANDOM DOES IS CANON!! THE GAME WANTS YOU TO THINK LIKE THAT#DRACO IN LEATHER PANTS IS A FANDOM TROPE#'THE GAME DID SOMETHING I THINK IS STUPID' IS NOT DRACO IN LEATHER PANTS !!!!#YOU JUST HAVE GOD AWFUL MEDIA LITERACY SKILLS!!! ITS NOT MY OR THE GAMES FAULT THAT YOU HAVE WILTED CABBAGE IN PLACE OF AXON-DENDRITES#axon dendrite more like.... shat on termites.... haha epic send tweet
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When's the "moodboard for when you're fucking transphobic"? /j
anon asks that kill me on impact
#cream simcardiac found DEAD i am NO MORE i am OBLITERATED#i’ll admit it’s a little funny. But you fucking murdered me. slaughtered me#if anything i’d make a moodboard for when you’re fucking trans and it’d just be those cool skeleton in leather jackets images#with text on top of them like I USE ANY PRONOUNS THANK YOU FOR ASKING#cramswering
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i bought myself actual clothes irl for the first time... like i've bought them before with my sister and stuff a few times or like i've bought one jacket like a year ago but before i moved out all my money was stolen by my parents and they refused to buy me food much less clothes so it was all secondhand stuff from friends and clothes i'd steal off my parents lol. i always feel mortified trying on clothes and shoes and stuff like ohhhh look at me honking my clown nose to make sure something fits me before i buy it. but well i have my first few pairs of cheap shoes that aren't secondhand docs or tennis shoes from when i was like 15 so that owns. i'm extremelyyyyy fucking poor now though i saved up for months for some clothes lol
#working out adulthood is scary when you have no family to help you but well i'm working it out bit by bit#i'm kind of embarrassed by how many life skills i was lacking in before i moved out but it was all a direct result of abuse so.#i can't be too hard on myself for that#and i mean i got my own skills from surviving so i know a fuck of a lot about things that normal people don't soooo#like yes i can slaughter and butcher an animal and forage plants and mushrooms and hunt all my food and mix chemicals and make leather#and weave and make fur hides and taxidermy and cook everything from scratch and sleep on the streets and shoot a bow and raise animals#BUT i will borderline cry if i have to book a taxi ride or talk to a stranger or get clothes orsomething due to Generalised Anxiety Disorde#so it balances out /s
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Random take no one ask for: being vegan is by no means more ethical than sustainable farming/hunting but a lot of the time it can be a good median of sustainability and more affordable for low income households like mine.
Being vegan for me is foraging wild garlic and mustang grapes and dandelions which I can all find right outside the suburbs in wooded road medians. It's buying rice and beans and various home grown veggies and eating well while not sacrificing extra $ for protein and iron.
I feel like a lot of the time veganism removes humanity from the food chain when taken to extremes but really it's the best thing I can do for my family when the price of un-tortured chicken eggs are that high.
#I have this essay bonking around in my brain maybe one day I'll straighten it out and back it up with research#that being said I still eat honey and support local farmers and beekeepers#$40 a pound local beef isn't in my budget but $10 a pound for pecans is#Also leather shouldn't be wasted all parts of the animal should be used if its life is taken for humans#I mean if you hunt a deer you process all the meat and give the bones antlers and fat to your dogs if you are unable to use them yourself#not to mention skins hold up incredibly well for a lifetime#it should be the same for other animals#also dont even get me started on migrant workers conditions/ wage withholdings in massive corporate slaughter houses#or how corporate farms impose a modern form of indentured servitude on smaller farmers#Much love to those who can afford sustainable omnivore living#Will probably expand on this as I think about it more#veganism
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The Spread
PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader
WORD COUNT: 3.5k | SERIES | MAIN MASTERLIST
SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.
WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.
SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.
You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.
“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”
Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.
“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.
While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.
Finally, there were no more screams.
Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.
You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.
“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.
Tommy grunted.
“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.
-
The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask didn't cover his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.
Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step.
The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.
He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.
He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.
Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.
You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.
He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.
“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.
Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.
He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.
You sat there frozen, afraid to run.
-
Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.
As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”
He dropped his head and looked back.
“Thank you,” you said.
Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.
After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.
You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.
Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.
After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.
Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.
He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.
You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.
You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.
You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.
Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.
He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.
When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.
You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.
“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.
He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.
“Please,” you begged.
He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.
“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.
He huffed and put the mallet away.
You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.
He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.
“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.
He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.
You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.
He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.
Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.
He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.
He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.
He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.
After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.
“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.
His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.
He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.
He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.
The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.
He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.
He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.
Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.
Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.
You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.
He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.
You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.
He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.
He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.
“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.
Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.
You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.
His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.
With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.
Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.
When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.
Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.
His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.
He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.
You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.
He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.
He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”
He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.
He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.
“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.
He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.
The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.
Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.
If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.
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=> Joel: Do what must be done
You are doing what must be done when you are very rudely interrupted by a short shouty man,
Bdubs: Hey. HEY!!! Stop that. What do you have against horses anyways! They are beautiful creatures… and don’t even drop anything worthwhile - just leather!!! You wanna' know where else you can get leather?! Cows! They drop beef too!!! All horses drop is sadness and a pained death scream…
The horse you were punching lets out it’s final neigh in a melodious cadence,
Bdubs: See?!
Joel: Music to my ears-
Bdubs: Don’t tell me you enjoy that sound?! No sane person enjoys that sound!!! It’s horrible… like you. You’re horrible.
Joel: Well, would you look at that, it dropped a leather. Don’t you need three of these to craft a saddle?
Bdubs: ...maybe
Joel: Do you want it so you can make one and ride a horse in the SINGULAR DIRECTION that isn't immediately blocked off by blummin' water!?
Bdubs: ...
Bdubs: ...I don’t want your dirty horse leather!!! I refuse - on moral principle!
Joel: Fair, you need all the high ground you can get-
Bdubs: ARE YOU MAKIN’ FUN OF ME?!?! You’re shorter than I am.
Joel: Only if you count the hair, lad. It constitutes at least a third of your height.
Bdubs proceeds to make some kind of unintelligible grumble and starts punching the two cows you saw earlier, looks like he does want leather after all.
As for you, while you would love to finish off the job you started, Bdubs did raise one good point: horses don’t drop food… begrudgingly you pause your equestrian extermination in favor of sheep slaughter.
However you don’t get that far on mutton mutilation before your communicator goes off a ton of times. You keep getting interrupted…
As Doc’s message goes off you lock eyes with Bdubs’ uncomfortably large ones. Those things are uncanny... Well, it looks like neither of you are paired with the cyborg goat man.
But since you two were so close to where he fell you decide to check up on (read: tease) one of the servers newest members after he made such a ruckus in chat.
It turns out his soulmate was right there at spawn, and it just happened to be the other newbie. What are the odds of that?
Bdubs: Pssht, what amateurs. Don't they know it's traditional to check soulmates with the ol' fashioned punch test?
Joel: Punch test?
Bdubs: Yep. Like this-
Joel: What was that for?!
Bdubs: I told you, a punch test.
Joel: That’s not what I meant! Why so many times!?
Bdubs: I had to be extra sure that I wasn’t soulbound with horse punching' scum like you.
Joel: …
Bdubs: HEY, OW! EXCUUUSE YOU!!!
Joel: Sorry, double checking... I had to make extra sure I wasn’t soulbound with a stupid horse lover like you.
Bdubs: …yooouuu-
Joel: at least now we definitely know we aren’t linked,
Bdubs: For goodness sakes. If I was linked with you, I might’ve just ended my series right then and there!
Joel: Just to take me out with you!? You are an idiot.
Bdubs: To save myself from suffering. Not everything is about you!
Joel: Yes it is.
Bdubs: No it isn’t.
Joel: Yes it is.
Bdubs: No it isn’t!!! And to prove that, I’ll stop talking to you!
=====>
Start Over -- Go Back
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