Chapter Text
In hindsight, the kitchen was a terrible idea for a hiding place.
So, when a thick hand wraps around your ankle to pull you harshly from the low cupboard which you have so pathetically tried to stuff your body within, you really only have yourself to blame for the shitty choice.
The graceless scream which bursts from your lips is very quickly silenced by the appearance of a wide greying hand wrapping around your throat, lifting your flailing body easily to your feet to pin you hard against the nearby kitchen wall.
Eyes blurring due to the pressure of pure terror which fills your head, you blink away the disorientation as you fight against the pressure around your throat to continue to take in shaky breaths and stare up at your ongoing pursuer with open fear.
Victor Gideon stares back at you with a casualness which has the audacity to spark the faintest hint of irritation in the small space which wasn’t currently occupied with anxiety or thoughts of how to get the hell out of this predicament.
“Foolhardy girl.” The monster speaks, his voice gentle in a placating way which throws you off as you pause your fruitless struggle for only a moment. Still pinned by the throat, your toes are only just able to scrape the linoleum as you try to gain some decent purchase to keep the pressure off your struggling windpipe.
Your eyes dart across Victor’s face and body as this new close positioning allows you take in his terrifying, inhumane appearance.
The metal visor which covers the upper half of his head does little to hide the discoloured skin below, the shade an off-grey which looks cold and rough to the touch. His hair, long and dishevelled at the ends, is a mixture of silver and white – the strands overlapping and clearly in need of at least some basic care. The only other uncovered skin, aside from the hand which covers your throat, comes at his collarbone where the black shirt is low enough to expose an odd ragged scar which runs down his neck; the twisted skin furling and pitted where the scar seems to have punctured the deepest.
A lack of warmth lives in the skin which encircles your neck with little pockets of added chill where the ornate, gaudy rings which decorate his fingers lay flush against your throat. His clothing is surprisingly human. A black shirt, the fabric fastened by odd-looking hooks, and black pants mostly covered by the pale leather snakeskin coat which shrouds his massive frame.
Everything about him feels unnatural, from his height to the very real strength which allows him to hold you in place as though you were little more than a paperweight in his hands.
And here you were, trapped.
However, as the seconds tick by without any violence or motion, you realise that Victor is studying you with about as much intensity as you are him.
“Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Not here, not in my clinic, and not from me.” He tuts loudly, the sound cutting through the velvety tones like a bullet. “Even if you do put on quite the display.”
Eyes flicking down at the weird comment, you take in your apparent state of undress with a wild choking noise.
When you had first slipped within the cupboard as you bounced from the corridor into the filthy kitchen, the metal edge of the cupboard door had caught your shirt but in the flurry of movement you hadn’t given any real thought to the tearing sound which filled the space which wasn’t occupied by your panicked breathing.
But now, looking down, you realise that the tear is particularly grim as the torn flap of shirt sits open, exposing the dark material of your cotton bra. Your tits are barely contained, heaving chest and frantic movements having shifted the material so much that both areoles peek free of the simple bra.
Even through the greyed skin, the slight flush which rises into Victor’s cheeks is unmistakable as his unseen gaze flicks between your chest and face – only the slight movement of his head telling you where he’s looking. The appearance of the blush only makes you struggle more against his hand, unable to deny that he’s noticed the display and horrified at what he might do because of it.
“Well,” his voice is soft, so soft that certain words seem to dissolve into nothing as he continues to speak more to himself than anything else, “that’s something I haven’t seen in some time. If this is a wild attempt to distract me from the fun of the chase then congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”
The way he speaks, so calmly rational despite how utterly batshit his actual words are, sparks a terrible consideration in your chest – one which repulses you as much as it gives way to an even more terrible hope, a flicker that you could survive this encounter with your life intact.
Maybe you could use this.
He smells of hospital, of that forced antiseptic cleanliness which is forced over every surface to give the illusion of hygiene. It, plus the lingering scent of leather which clings to the snakeskin coat which fills out his wide frame, is almost enough to cover the scent of decay which lies beneath – something uncanny which alerts those most primal parts of your brain which can recognise the presence of death.
But maybe you could use this.
Going suddenly limp in his grasp, you drag your hands from their clawing motion against his clothed arm and instead bring trembling fingers to the buttons of your shirt, undoing the highest button as your teeth appear to bite at your lower lip to keep it steady.
“Interesting.” Victor breathes the word out, his head tilting as his metallic eye mask clearly continues to rove between your expression and your uncovered chest as you undo more buttons. “Now that is an unexpected move.” He hums. “I was growing tired of the bratty insolence and had planned to dispose of you kindly. However, this,” he paused, shifting his bodyweight from one leg to another as he leans in closer to your trapped frame, “is perhaps slightly more preferable.”
Putting on a brave face even as your chest tightens, it takes every inch of your control to not pull away in disgust as his head drops to your neck – his fingers spreading and loosing enough to allow him unfettered access to your skin as you feel him sniff at your skin and inhale sharply at the soft remnants of the perfume you had sprayed on the area earlier in the morning.
His mouth is hot against your neck and the shock of it makes your body stiffen as a distinctly non-human tongue flicks across your pulse point in such a way that you cannot help but shiver with heated revulsion. It feels almost serpentine, dual sensations telling you it might even be forked, but your thoughts are short-circuited as the tongue is quickly replaced by teeth which are so sharp and uneven in pattern that you can’t help the pathetic noise which snaps free of your lips.
It’s a noise which rises into a strangled cry as those sharp teeth press even more roughly into your neck – not hard enough to break through the skin but with enough strength that you know it will leave vicious little unmistakable imprints. The threat of the teeth remain as chapped, rough lips join to suck heavily at the skin, the lazy sensation going straight to your groin as your erogenous zones and body betray you to confuse anxiety with horrific arousal to pull a stunted groan from your chest.
His hulking body freezes at the sound, mouth pulling away from your neck as his face comes to peer into your own – the garbled mess of your reflection mirroring back at you from the dulled shine of his metallic visor. He doesn’t ask permission, perhaps knowing that you would never consciously force yourself to give it, so the shock of his free hand sliding up your outer thigh as he shifts attention to slip his hand up within your modest skirt is something which passes without comment as you momentarily appreciate that his slightly loosened grip of your throat is enough to allow your feet to sit more steadily against the floor.
You bite the inside of your mouth to keep any more noises from spilling free as his hand creeps higher to its intended target. A part of you wants to attack and defend yourself at the humiliating situation but a larger part of you, the part that wants to live to see another day, strangles it in the crib – instead forcing your attention to look at the intricate belt which loops through Victor’s pants as his hand finally reaches your inner thigh to brush against your panties.
Thick fingers curl around the fabric and you momentarily fear that he’s going to rip them from your ass like a beast. However, after a moments indecision he simply tugs them off to the side and pushes forward to cup your cunt with his hand, the size difference painfully clear as the cool touch of his skin engulfs your entire sex with ease. His touch is almost experimental, fingers delving past the trimmed pubic hair to prod along your slit, feeling the lack of dampness with the slightest frown as his head tilts back down to brush against your ear.
“Try to relax, pet. I’m sure you know how this works.”
His knuckle pushes up to graze your clit and the sensation is so sharp and unexpected that you can’t help but pull heavily against his hand and unthinkingly renew your struggle to be free of him; despite your unspoken acceptance of his touch.
“I can’t. It’s- this is all- fuck!” Sudden clarity hits you, the reality of your own foolish choice and betraying arousal making your mind fracture into pure panic, “Let me go.”
“Now?” Victor muses, his hand remaining around your throat as he carelessly keeps you flush against the wall, “I don’t think so. You’ve captured my attention which is a rare, rare thing these days. My work consumes so much.” With that he shifts his hips forward and you gasp as the stark evidence of his arousal presses roughly into your hips.
Even unseen, you can feel the size of his cock through his pants and it stills you into submission once more – fresh fear forcing you more into a freeze mentality than the original flee. Victor continues to speak as he feels your body relax in place once more, “It’s nothing pretty to look at but since we are sharing what we have under the hood…”
His hand falls from your cunt to drop to his pants, deftly loosing his belt and freeing his cock as you keep your eyes above his shoulders, too afraid to look down and accept the reality which you had sold yourself into. However, the choice to stay ignorant clearly irritate him and you can see it in the way his face tightens and his hand takes a moment to shake your throat in warning, a gentle reminder that – should he wish it – he could snap your neck with shockingly little effort.
Tilting your head down, you take in the exposed sight of him with a frozen look of pure terror and concern. His cock, much like the rest of him, is huge – much bigger than anything you’ve seen before, even in the scant few porn films you’d enjoyed. The terror came not just from the length, but in just how thick the heft of his cock is as it juts proudly from his opened fly. The colour is just as terrifying, boasting a similar shade of grey to the rest of his skin. Whatever other secrets his genitals hold are thankfully covered by his fly as the fabric sit in such a way that it hides everything else away from sight.
Victor takes your silence for what it is, his body closing in another few inches as his cock twitches, untouched, at the attention.
“You’re anxious.” He grunts, low tone filled with mock consideration. “That’s understandable. Touch it, touch me, touch and feel the choice you’ve made.”
Understanding that it wasn’t a question, your shaking hand drops from his forearm and slips into the space between you to wrap around the heft of his length. He’s cool to the touch, the surprising temperature making your hand flinch away for only a moment before returning. The texture is very odd, almost as leathery as his hands but not quite as rough and it’s easy to forget exactly what it is that you’re doing as you run your hand along his length, feeling the ridges and pits of his tarred skin.
The effects of your touch are immediate as Victor’s mouth falls open, exposing even more sharpened teeth, as a low, hissing noise slips free of his lips. His body is steady but you can feel the thrum of barely concealed excitement in his stance; his upper body curling over your own like a weeping willow as he effortlessly fills the space around you.
“Delicious little thing.” He says and you gasp as his hand wraps around your leg, raising the limb to give him easy access to your cunt as he pushes his body forward fully – his massive frame now engulfing your own without any hope of escape. His movement knocks your hand free of him as his cock shifts to press up roughly against your hole, a shocking sensation as you really start to feel just how thick he is and how woefully unprepared you are to receive him.
“Can you,” the words come like acid against your tongue as you finally allow your pride to break enough to ask something of him, “touch me?” You feel heat flare in your cheeks at the question, “It’s too-too much like this. You’ll hurt me.”
“And what if I want to hurt you?”
The question is mumbled and comes with a muted curiosity. Regardless, it still sparks fresh moisture in your eyes as your body tenses at the thought of being forced to stretch around him without any prep. You can feel his gaze on your own as you fight the urge to cry, his visor still hiding away his eyes, but relief floods your gut as his free hand releases your leg and acquiesces to your ask as it instead returns to your cunt.
Without preamble, he thrusts two fingers within you and the sudden stretch makes your back go rigid against the wall as you bite back a cry of discomfort. His hands much larger than a normal man’s, the two fingers feel thicker than any cock. You try to widen your thighs to alleviate some of the pressure as Victor begins to shift the digits in place; curling them against your walls almost experimentally as he enjoyed the tightness of you clenching around him.
You try to cling to the barest hint of pleasure which creeps along the discomfort, a slight dampness – your body’s natural reaction to events – making his touch easier with every passing moment as he continues to stretch you around his fingers. The room is surprisingly silent, the only noise to breach the peace being your muffled grunts and the quiet noises which huff free of Victor’s lips as he claims his prize with surprising enthusiasm.
The peace wasn’t to last though and after a few moments, Victor’s impatience is quick to flare. “Delays will only irritate me, silly girl.” He announces, his voice carrying a hint of something sharp which instantly sets you on edge, “Let’s not bother wasting more time.”
His cock returns to your cunt, rubbing along your slit to gather the subtle arousal which is only really beginning to coat the skin as his hand grips your leg once more; lifting it high to the side to allow him to fuck you without any barrier.
The first thrust is brutal, the blunt intrusion so shocking that it steals the breath from your lungs as your whole body tenses at the sheer girth of him – scant arousal only just allowing his thick cock to stretch your opening without tearing the skin beyond repair.
The hand around your neck tightens ever-so-slightly and you whimper as Victor’s head drops to press into the wall just above the side of your own. His breath floats down to your ear, the erratic rhythm saying more than his words ever could as his body tenses with tightly-held control. The strength you can feel in his arms is terrifying, his fingers around your neck able to snap your bones with about as much effort as it would take his other arm to crush the spine which it quickly settles around to allow him to control your every movement.
“Unbelievable.” He huffs, voice trembling with arousal and the need held within is so apparent that it’s almost reverential. A strange fact which soothes that little part of your psyche which is terrified that he’s still going to kill you when he’s finished.
Surely, if you’re letting him do this then…well…it had to count for something.
You decide to beg, sensing that maybe he’ll be more merciful if you show a willing submission to his wants, “Please, it- it hurts.”
“Yes, I suppose it will. Such a small body to be kicking up such a big fuss. What the nerves require is stimulation.” Humming at his own assessment, Victor’s tone quickens into a gasp as he gives a shallow thrust to roughly bully another two inches of cock within your hole.
With the hollowing pain mostly concentrated at the entrance of your hole, his deepening thrusts only spark a real fresh discomfort when the head of his cock glances off your cervix before sitting flush against the tissue. Glancing down, you immediately regret the choice as you spot the remaining few inches of cock which had absolutely nowhere to go without tearing a fresh hole through your punished sex.
Stuffed beyond belief, it’s only the fear of being trapped by such a monster and the complex mixture of pain and whispering pleasure which keeps you focused as your hands scramble along the fabric of his coat. The leather makes it impossible to gain any real purchase and, if anything, the desperate clawing movements only seem to excite him further as Victor tightens the grip of his arm which laces around the base of your back to keep you impaled on his cock.
“So tight around me-” Victor grunts, cutting off his own words with a suffering groan, “It’s almost painful, you know. Perhaps I should have spent more time opening you up…”
Not trusting your voice, you squeak out something incomprehensible as you try to relax as much as possible for your own comfort. Despite it all, the pleasure was there; creeping steadily with a growing strength along the discomfort with every stroke of his cock – his girth forcing every nerve to spark to life as his oddly textured cock dragged along them.
“Release will be difficult, given my state, but your body is enjoyable. Sensations I haven’t felt in-” Victor cuts himself off, his voice dissolving into a self-satisfied hum as he makes considerations you aren’t privy to.
Something viciously delightful ignites in your chest as you realise that he’s not going to come inside you, soothing a fear which you hadn’t even truly realised was knocking at your psyche. He was barely human and what kind of mess such a…thing…would produce was a scary thought which you quickly push away as you refocus on the traitorous pleasure which his cock is wringing from your punished nerves.
His rhythm is slow and commanding, a careful control which feels somehow worse than if he’d just let loose and use you like the monster you think him to be. He is being cautious, meticulous in not breaking the fragile thing in his hands as he jerks his hips and pushes his cock enough to fill your cunt without causing any real, unfixable damage. And the more he pushes, the more you had to confess that it feels kind of good. Too good.
You come around his cock with nothing but pure shame roiling through your veins, the event inevitable given just how wickedly his length is able to stroke along all those delicious spots within your walls. Your release is silent, the tension snapping with a swallowed groan as your fingers clutch tight into the arms of his leather coat and you bite at your lips desperately to keep your moans hidden away. For his part, Victor seems perfectly aware of your delight – his rhythm stuttering only slightly as his fingers tighten against your legs with such a grip that you know small purple bruises will soon decorate the skin.
Eventually, Victor pulls his cock free after a few more lazy thrusts and the sudden emptiness after such a large intrusion feels strange, a pathetic emptiness making your brain feel immediate disgust and self-loathing. Your cunt aches as he releases your leg and allows you to stand back on both feet – a hollowing discomfort which you know will take at least a day to begin feeling better.
The mess against your thighs, all of your own making, feels cool in the chilled air and your hands are quick to adjust your panties and smooth your skirt out to hide your shame. The heave of your chest is noticeable given the still-opened shirt and you don’t bother to try and readjust the buttons given the torn state of the fabric.
As Victor fixes himself, tucking his still-hard cock away into his black pants, your attention once again falls to the odd scar which cut down from his throat to his chest, it looks almost like something they would give a corpse and the thought makes your shudder – fresh revulsion making your gut roil and bile threaten the depths of your throat.
Something soft hits you in the chest and you inhale sharply as your hands automatically clutch at the fabric which Victor had just casually plucked from the wall behind your head and tossed in your direction. Looking down, you take in the chef’s coat with some confusion before realising that he probably meant for you to wear it.
“My office is free of danger.” Victor offers, his voice as soft as even if a little more strained than you have heard it previously. He straightens the lapels of his coat as he turns from you and swiftly makes way towards the nearby corridor, clearly possessing no interest in continuing any kind of conversation or action. Pausing at the door, his head tilts over his shoulder as he surveys you through his visor. “Perhaps I’ll find you once more when my masters work is completed and the world is thrust into new understanding of his brilliance.”
Finally exhaling as he disappears into the dark depths of the care facility, the deep breath comes shakily and erratic as your entire chest shudders with relief. You pull the chef’s coat over your ripped shirt and fasten it up as your shaky legs begin to carry you – almost automatically – towards the map which you could remember seeing on the wall by the stairs.
An area free of danger wasn’t something you could afford to pass up with so many monsters patrolling the care facility and, despite everything, you trusted the honesty of Victor’s claim.
A foolhardy girl indeed.