Echo Park

[TTFN]

Tucker is just a hole to take what ever the top wants, be it cock or fist shoved in as far as the top wants. This is real fisting.

Tucker should be ready to take a horsecock now.

[asslikker]

6. Ouroboros

Sunrise approaches. There is an oblique orange glow in the southern facing windows. In the early dawn only Riggs and Duncan are left in the tower. Riggs wanted to get Duncan alone and talk to him about the prospects of moving with him to San Francisco should he receive the Artistic Director position for the SF-based company. A teaching and company member position; fight instructor he's thinking. First, though, he wants to see Duncan's professed skills while he's tied to the St. Andrews cross.

Brenner excused himself, saying he's tired. As he made his way to his room in the dark, through labyrinthine passageways in these early hours, hearing the echoes of a whip's crack and then Riggs' bound screams from the tower. A pair made for each other, he thinks. Truth is, he wants to be alone and imagine (and beat off to) what Duncan and Tucker felt when they took the eel. Once he finds his room buried deep within the mountainside, Riggs' muffled cries are only background while he concentrates his mind, dick flapping in hand, around the sensation of what a four-foot creature traveling through his body would feel like. He'll bargain with Elijah to have the experience when everyone is up and parting ways in the afternoon, but Elijah will turn him down, telling him it's only meant for a select few. Brenner will leave in a huff, and it will permanently mark him, compel him to find other ways to over-compensate for the slight. But that will only manifest itself in many years to come.

Which leaves Samuel, Elijah, and poor depleted Tucker making their way back up to the aquarium room. The men park the exhausted boy back in the cowhide barber chair. Samuel scoops a glass of water from the tank and gives Tucker a much needed drink. Tucker downs the glass in almost one gulp. He doesn't see Samuel dipping into the tank a second time in an effort to slake his thirst. The water tastes odd, is not satisfying his thirst, but he begs for a third nonetheless. Samuel obliges. The other ex-Jesuit has gotten out his barber tools and comes up behind Tucker and massages his shoulders. It's as much tenderness as he needs, and melts into the chair. The electric blades click on.

Samuel is spreading foam on his arm. It feels good to have a slow, soothing sensation of fingers going over his bicep and forearm. Elijah's electric blade buzzing through his hair also feels good. He feels he's shedding skin, carefully orchestrated by two men who know exactly what they're doing. Samuel moves to the other arms while Elijah finishes the first phase of denuding the boy's entire body.

The chair is tipped back and Elijah sits on a stool in back of Tucker washing his stubble with warm water. He then soaps the scalp and with a sharpened straight razor starts scraping the sides. Now the top. Tucker's totally into it. The more his body is shaved the more alive he feels. Elijah turns his head to one side. Tucker can't help but give in to whatever the men who attend him want. Elijah lays bare one side of his neck, then tilting his head the other way, strips the boy of any remaining scalp hair. The man takes a warm cloth and wipes his head clean.

Samuel has soaped the boy's legs and is scraping them clean from thigh to toe. Once smooth, Samuel moves on to his public hair, first using scissors to remove the large swath of dark hair, then after foam is applied, the straight razor scrapes against the grain and makes him new-born smooth. Elijah is busy at his arm pits, making sure there is not one hair left on his torso. Both armpits are clean, then Elijah removes the boy's eyebrows.

Both men anoint his body with water from the tank, then turn him over in the chair so his butt is folded highest in the chair. There is a lot of hair to remove back here. Elijah takes the butt crack and the patch of fur at the small of his back, while Samuel works on making his legs completely hairless. When both are satisfied with the result they run their hands over his body, ensuring not one hair remains.

Tucker takes a hand and examines himself. He is rock hard as his hands run over the course of his completely shorn body. "Why?" he asks Elijah far back in his brain, as if he's looking up from a hole dug six feet deep.

"We are removing the animal you were born into, to become something better, more pure." Samuel applies olive oil to his skin. Elijah joins in. Tucker sees an silver urn pour out liquid onto his chest, his groin, his arms and legs, and the lubricant is massaged into his pours, joints, pits, hole. In fact, as he now sits back up in the chair, an inordinate amount of attention is being placed on pouring a lot of oil into Samuel's hand and then cupped inside his hole. He feels like one slimy fucker and is squirming his hand onto the outstretch palms of the men greasing him up. This is like no other sensation. It's as if he himself feels what it's like to be a greased up dick slipping within a firm fist, that his body is a dick made out of his complete form. He can't get enough of their touch. If they keep up their stroking his head will explode in a volcanic orgasm.

First Master Eli bends and kisses him, then Samuel's sunken face bends over and sends his tongue into the boy's mouth. "Time to take him downstairs," Elijah signals to Samuel.

As they descend the stairs, Tucker hears the muffled screams of Riggs from the tower. "What's that?" Tucker asks.

"A story that's not part of yours. Yours is a much more interesting tail," says Samuel as they enter the master bedroom. They're escorting him cautiously between them, but as they cross into the bedroom sense the boy has no intention of running, which is usually the case. Elijah lays him on the rubber sheets and moves him to the center of the bed. "Ready for one more shot?" Samuel's asks. Tucker nods his head up and down, and then sinks face down into the rubber. "And one for you, brother?"

"Give him the same as me. Seven," says Elijah. 

"He'll lose his mind after all he's had."

"The general idea, isn't it?" The men smile. Elijah crawls naked onto the bed. Once he positioned against the headboard, he cradles the boy's head in his meaty palms. "Do you have enough light, brother?" Elijah asks in the dark room who's only light comes from the dirt-covered windows in the back of the house.

"Plenty," says Samuel, taking two syringes from the dresser. He takes the vial of speed and fills both syringes to point seven, and takes a third for himself at the same level. Elijah folds the boy's head into his hairy crotch. The boy sniffs and laps his tongue in the bush. "Hold him still." Elijah grips his head while Samuel find one of the three useful veins in his neck. He gets a draw. "Enjoy this, boy. Totally give in to how you feel. You, too, brother," and Elijah holds his neck to the side. Samuel feels for a vein then pops the point into Elijah's neck. Emptying the syringe elicits a deep, massive cough. Samuel sits on the side of the bed and shoots up in his neck, too.

Tucker hasn't moved since he's been injected. His breathing is locked and has paralyzed his brain. He suddenly jolts upright gasping for air, then coughs, rasps another breath and hacks again. Samuel reaches out for him and puts his skeletal fingers around the boys cock. The sensation sends Tucker into a tailspin, falling forward bumping his head against Elijah's erect monster. "Oh, fuck, Sir, I want to drain your cock," he says, he brain fried of all thoughts save one: lust.

Elijah's eyes are rolled up in his head and speaks from a far away place, saying, "Go ahead, boy. Take it all in." Tucker's head turns as he inhales his Master's meat. "All the way down. All the way." He pushes Tucker down on his cock. Tucker takes it to the bush and Elijah holds him there. Samuel is stroking Tucker's cock and playing with his heavy P.A. causing Tucker to writhe on the slippery rubber. Samuel's feeling his butt, sticking in a few fingers as Elijah sticks a finger, then a second also into Tucker's hole. He's bringing him up to his face so he can see, out of flickering eyes, how Tucker's gape is fairing. With Samuel's fingers and his in the boy's ass lips, they're tearing him apart. His hole is wide open being pulled in different directions.

There are no longer men in the room, only three animals. Elijah rips the boy from Samuel who growls at the side of the bed, like a wolf who's dinner's been ripped from him. "Brother, get the speculum. The boy's not going to take my fist as he is." Samuel snarls. He knows he could take the boy but Elijah is claiming ownership, and circumstances being what the are, he has the right to be the one to take the boy. He careens over to the dresser and out of the bottom drawer produces the forearm-length horse speculum. All he has to do to lube it is draw some of the excess oil smeared over the bed, most of which leaks out of the boy's ass, which he does and hands it to Elijah.

Elijah has gotten Tucker's ass to face his. His tongue is inside the boy's rectum and his long tongue is licking the boy's inner walls. Soon he will want to see the beginning of a prolapse before he's done tonight and will eat it before the metamorphosis. He takes the huge speculum and aligns it with Tucker's hole. "Boy, don't stop sucking my cock. If this begins to hurt, suck me harder." Tucker agrees in a grunt with Elijah's cock buried in his throat. The speculum's base is held next to Elijah's ear. He begins to slide it in and feels the boy's head bobbing up and down more rapidly the deeper in he goes. He must be feeling discomfort or pain and he pushes it in to its halfway mark, for Tucker's head is at his cock like a jackhammer. Right past the halfway point, Tucker's head collapses across his body, his head's buried on his cock, and he's not moving. The boy shudders lying on top of him. He slaps the boy's ass hard. The smack seems to wake him and he once again is deep throating him. Samuel is sitting crossed-legged in front of Tucker's head. He holds a bottle of poppers to his nose. It accounts for the short pause from the boy who's now very receptive to the speculum's penetration and the enthusiasm of the sucking is at a peak. It's all Elijah can do not to cum down the boy's throat.

The speculum has hit a barrier before it's almost in. He signals to Samuel to give the boy another hit. Samuel's raising the boy's face up enough to place the bottle under his left nostril, then his right, then once again under each. Tucker goes back to swallow his Master's cock and luxuriating is the smell of his Master's rancid bush. He pauses in the bush on every decent. It makes his Master leak but doesn't distract him from his objective. The last of the instrument is in and he's now spreading the two duck blades apart. He's got it open several inches. The boy sends out a loud moan of pleasure and torment. Samuel gives the boy another hit then pushes his head down under Elijah's balls and orders him to eat. The boy's head's buried in Elijah's taint and he's rutting like a pig to get down further to his Master's bunghole.

"Come here and look at this," Elijah says, entranced. "Flick on the lamp." On his way to his brother, Samuel flicks on a side table lamp, enough to display Tucker's enormous gape. It's spacious enough for Elijah to ram his arm up to his elbow. Samuel can even add his arm and grab Elijah's hand. "Halfway there, brother. We might be able to do this together."

"It'll be a welcome first, brother. Let's get this out of him," Samuel suggests regarding the speculum. Elijah reverses the processes slowly so as not to pinch any sensitive internal skin. Once they have it removed, they work the boy around so his head's up at the top of the headboard. They tie his hands. The boy's face is brown from wallowing under Elijah's hole. He seems excited judging by the size of his dick, which is a good sign of success for the metamorphosis.

The men tie each of Tucker's legs to the top eyelet at the bottom bed posts so his torso is straining in the air, the better to have direct access to his quite open hole. Elijah allows Samuel to go first while he takes up at Tucker's head with a fresh box of amyl nitrate caps.

Samuel greases up his arm and slowly lowers it into Tucker. Tucker cries out not know where he is anymore, only senses what his body is going through. Samuel feels the cobwebs between colon chambers, fine webs that he's destroying as he penetrates the boy. I'm sure if you've ever fisted someone you've felt the heart beats when you've found a new area to penetrate. Your fingers feel like your touching harp stings directly coming from your fistee's heart. Samuel's feeling Tucker's heartstrings once he gets to the elbow. Every few inches the coursing of blood rushes through the thin fibers separating the chambers. Each time he slides into a virginal area, Tucker calls out from somewhere lost inside his body.

Tucker's unmoored again since the needle shot into his neck. He has no idea where he is. He barely remembers who. He only knows how much he's enjoying his body being ripped away from him. He feels his legs in the air and a skeleton of a man looming above him. Someone, a man with a black beard is feeding him vapors that allows and encourages the skeleton to drill into him deeper. Each inch the skeleton takes, a memory bubbles up and washes away. The skeleton is scratching at a door like a dog wanted to get in. Tucker resists but the aroma hits his brain not only sabotages his defense but makes him complicit in betraying himself. He shows the skeleton the rift, the keyhole, the clue where he can be unlocked. The skeleton is keen on finding these weakness and exploiting them to his advantage. A memory of the face of his fourth grade school teacher, Mrs. McCullough, the oddest collection of consonants and vowels he'd ever encountered, bubbles up. Her black horn-rimmed glasses, her watery eyes, her times tables and cursive handwriting on the green chalkboard, is right in front of his eyes. Then as a price for the sense of pleasure of deeper penetration, he must choose between her memory or this new pleasurable sensation. He chooses pleasure each time and her face fractures and is swept away to eternity; a new depth of penetration bears down inside his body, replaces self with erotic pulp of mindless ecstasy. There is something telling him to stop the slide but it weakens every moment.

Samuel stand over the boy, his arm inside Tucker's hole's up to his bicep. "He's starting to resist. I think he knows what's happening."

Elijah rises from cradling Tucker's head and comes over to the end of the bed. He takes a stance next to Samuel. Samuel withdraws his hand. His arm is covered in pink grease with bits of red at his fingernails. "I'll punch him for a while and see if he regresses. Lower that leg." They each lower a leg laying Tucker's back to rest on the rubber sheet, but still leaves his legs hoist mid-way up the post. Samuel greases Elijah’s hairy black arms. Tucker's focusing on him in a way that he hasn't before. He's starting to see the man's not on his side; giving him pure pleasure is a ruse. His eyes are bobbing above a sea of complete pleasure, a last attempt not to drown. There's more at work here that he starts to fathom, that with each new pleasure, a part of himself is traded away. He knows his name but can't remember how he got here or who these men are. He only knows they pleasure him but at what cost?

If Duncan's hands were extra large, Elijah's are twice as big. Elijah finds it difficult to make the hurdle through his first sphincter. Samuel quickly cracks a cap and makes Tucker forget what's possible and only allows what's desired. His mind is blank again and he pushes his asslips onto Elijah's closed fist. Once inside it's literally downhill from there. Elijah doesn't stop till he's buried to his elbow. Tucker's eyes are rolled up into his head, as hears Elijah order, "Open your eyes and watch me!"

He does. Tucker sees an entire forearm of black hair pull out of him. His ass farts as the air deflates out of him. "Push," Elijah orders. He does, and the man's telling him he's a good boy. That's it, push it out. The man then plows back into him with a force that propels the arm past the elbow. He feels stuffed as he's never felt, feels an object buried so deep a collection of grade school friends he barely remembers show their faces and blow away like sand across a schoolyard. He looks up and sees the skeleton next to him snapping a caplet, holding one nostril, telling him to inhale, while his ass flairs open even deeper on the wrist of black hairs. The man above him plummets down into his gut.

"What are you doing to me?" he asks as more with his eyes than with his voice.

The man only acknowledges he doing something to him. Grunts yes. Tucker pleads again, and the man explains what he's doing, again more with his mind than voice. He's straightening out his colon. The man greases his other hand and is now alternating his fists and arms into Tucker's hole. His hole will never close completely again once the man pushes both hands in together. He bears down inside him, pushing and straining as deep as both hands will reach. He suddenly pulls both out and Tucker feels his guts following them out beyond his asslips.

"Yes!" shouts the man. "Push, fucker! Push it out!" He doesn't exactly know what the man wants but it feels like he's shit or farting, but all he can see in the mirror above is petals of red blooming out of his asshole. The man's fingering it causing bolts of electricity from his hole to shoot to the rest of his body. He's on fire, his asshole is electrified. Whatever he's sacrificing is worth this sensation. He pushes again and the bloom that's coming out of him is being eaten by the man. He's licking not just his asshole but the walls exposed from inside. It's as if he's turning inside out and the more he does the more the man is pleased. He wants to please the man because it's all tied up with the pleasure he's feeling—circular logic, the snake eating its tail. Ouroboros. 

His guts appear to be shy and retreat well within his colon. The man stands. Both arms in him has stretched his opening wide, allowing the man easy access to pile drive one arm then the other again and again, over and over, in a huge power punch into his colon. Within the rapture, there is a final, vague image he has of standing in a crib. He sees his own tiny hands grip the rail. Two figure are in bed asleep. He loses his grip, and the memory slips away like smoke. He doesn't need the amyl now, he needs the man to destroy his hole. Since he's lost his grip on words, he's mouthing nonsense but the intent still comes through to the standing man. Wreck my hole, begging between each punch, annihilate my cunt, obliterate my pussy. He doesn't even know where these ideas are coming from, but he feels Samuel at his side, playing with his dick and nipples, coaxing him to deeper and darker imaginings. The standing man's in a frenzy, as is Tucker imploring the beast above to delve deeper and deeper into his soul.

"That's it, boy. Give up everything to your Master and to His Master." Elijah pushes both arms deep into Tucker, stretching apart his ass, his enormous boulder-like shoulders bulging, veins popping, and then he yanks both arms out at the same time. Both fists pop out bring with them inches of Tucker's intestines. Elijah wraps as much as he can in his mouth and sucks the entire red bulge into his maw. He bites and chews the boy's entrails, gnaws into the center, sticking a tongue deep inside the prolapse. His dick is charged and he holds the prolapse steady and slips in his metal ring, then his cockhead, into the center orifice. He humps the prolapse, holding it like a small animal, while his cock slips deep inside. Tucker's fucked internal and externally. Elijah's rough hands are driving Tucker wild, while the cock buried deep is making him craven.

He implores Master Eli to take him. Elijah is jacking his cock in his extended hole like a wild dog, unable to stop, unable to think. He's locked into Tucker as Tucker is with him. Elijah erupts like a geyser flooding the boy's depth with cum, a stream, a river, a tsunami of sperm flushing out of him. He pulls out and his arm travels along the river of cloudy seed down deep into the boy's body. Samuel whispers to him, "Fisters claim the heart of the boy is the goal. Not us—we say it's the soul. Give him yours." Tucker feels Elijah's shoulder resting at his hole. He feels the massive bush of black pit hair tickling his hairless sphincter. There's no fuller feeling he could possible have, no more feeling of belong to someone than this moment. He nods to Samuel, then nods up to Elijah. Elijah feels the boy's heartbeat, then feels the soul surrounding it, grabs it, and rips Tucker inside out.

 

[Guest Somebody]

This just gets better and better.  Tucker is the luckiest guy in the world.

[Guest Somebody]

As I slept on this, I had to wonder if the somewhat oblique reference to Duncan's whipping of Riggs is not foreshadowing of what is to come for Tucker.  If so, all the better.  It would be nice to see the hairless Tucker strung up and whipped by Duncan while other members of the group deeply fist him, tit torture him, and inflict genital torture transforming him into a pig that craves pain as pleasure.

[TTFN]

Maybe Elijah can tickle Tuckers tonsils from the bottom.

[boy4you]

There is nothing like having your hole fisted deep. 

[fisterm8]

i so want to be Tucker taking these huge fists while flying..............absolute heaven.

[Dukewolfe]

Wow! What a fantasy, wish I was in it

[Guest Deviantlad]

One of the best story's ever posted. Such a great writer with a wonderfully sick mind ;@))

[asslikker]

7. The Eel (Epilogue)

You can check out any time you like,
But you can never leave.

—Hotel California, Eagles, 1976

 

It lays there on the bed solidifying its epidermis, from pink flesh to grey skin. It will ossify in a matter of minutes if it's not coated with mucous or put into water.

All the guests have dispersed. The clock ticks in the empty house.

Its ends have sealed, eyes and small dorsal fins developed, but it's gasping. Elijah picks it up. It's larger than the previous one. Maybe over five feet in length. Surely it will beckon a more pure soul. One not so small and bitter as what was once called Tucker Broderick. Elijah carries it up to the aquarium and let's it slide in.

The doorbell chimes. It will take him ages for him to descend the two staircases to answer.

The front door creaks open and Sergei is staring at the ancient owner leaning against his cane. He's always a little creeped out by the man the few times he's met him. His snow white beard and long grey hair is incongruent with the short-sleeved leather shirt and pants he wears. He's like a relic from vintage porn websites he's visited: he's a study in black and white. Ashen skin, black eyes that are surprising alive. "Yes, Sergei?" the man inquires.

"I'm sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but I received a call from the parents of my worker. He never comes home Friday and they worry. I  see his truck here and wonder if you have seen him. Long brown hair, very tan, blue eyes?"

The man blinks at Sergei several times before speaking. "Yes. No, a backpack. Yes. There was a strange backpack in the bathroom. Please, come in." Sergei thinks better of it. The man is large, solid, but old, hunched, and he's concerned with Tucker's whereabouts. "I get so few visitors. Would you share a tipple of wine with me?" They have made it to the dining room level, where a half-filled bottle of white wine sits, surrounded by several liqueur glasses.

"I can't, sir. My family is waiting Sunday dinner."

"Pity. Let me get the backpack." Since they've gotten to the dining room, the old man seems a little sprier, leaving his cane leaning on a chair. He disappears into the dark of the bedroom.

Sergei fidgets close to the staircase. Looks at the curious bull paintings, the large Chinese lanterns in a side room, the play of dust through light streaming from the great room a level above. He wonders about the bulls. Is it accidental that their penises are so pronounced? Sergei is a little embarrassed even thinking about it.

The man returns holding Tucker's backpack. His beard is different as is his hair. Streaks of grey run through it that Sergei was certain weren't there before. Maybe it's the light. "Would this belong to the young man you're looking for? I did not look inside."

He accepts it and rifles through the contents. A black hair band, black silk shorts, a pair of jeans and a rebel flag tee shirt he's seen Tucker wear. He smells Tucker's sweat and tanning lotion on the shirt. Keys, wallet, driver ID of Tucker with his usual wary smile. "And you haven't seen him?"

"No, Sergei. I believe I would have noticed a stray workman wandering through my house," chuckles the man. "He's a young man you say? Maybe he has found a desperate housewife in the neighborhood." If the client is kidding he's not too far off from how Sergei fantasizes about Tucker in his spare time. "Are you near to finishing the roof?" The man pulls out a chair for Sergei. "Please," he indicates the chair.

Sergei raises a hand to decline. "We finished. Tomorrow my brother and I clean up."

"Then I must pay you." He exits to the room with the red Chinese lanterns, rumples through a desk drawer. Sergei notices the staircase next to the bedroom. He doesn't remember it from when he and Tucker were searching for a bathroom a few weeks ago. The man is suddenly next to him, laying a surprisingly solid hand on his shoulder. His other hand holds a check. The man's beard definitely has streaks of greyish-black where it didn't before. "For you and your workers, with a little extra for you. We must toast to a job well done." The man is about to pour the wine into liqueur glasses.

"No, sir. I'm afraid I am not a wine drinker."

"Ah. Vodka, yes? You must. One toast. I have delicious Kalashnikov upstairs."

Sergei is impressed. He's not had it since he left Kiev. "I must get home soon, though. To my family."

"You mean your brother's family." The correction stings Sergei. It also makes him suspicious how his client would know that. He has never spent much time with him, nor does he wish to. "Humor an old man. One toast to a lovely afternoon. It will make the day less solitary for me." Sergei considers again while he holds the check. He feels compelled and acquiesces, and they mount the stairs to the great room. There's two decanters on the silver tray on the coffee table. From the clear decanter the man pours out a good amount in the crystal glasses. "Nostrovia!"

"To your health," Sergei says, downing the whole amount at once. It doesn't sit right at all with him. He coughs loudly. When he turns to the man, he's shocked by the transformation. He appears no more than forty, dark beard, not hunched at all but upright and strong. Muscles bulge under his short-sleeved shirt. Sergei suddenly feels a little woozy. The man pushes him back.

"Sit, Sergei. Sit." Sergei isn't sitting so much as trying to get his bearings and not fall over. He's sails back onto the sofa. His eyes blur. As quickly as he can he puts his wire-frame glasses over his ears to try to focus. Then, the strangest thing, he feels he's getting an erection for no discernible reason. Looking out the window at a view he sees it cuts down straight to the ocean. It's even more stunning than the roof. He's comfortable, feeling increasingly euphoric. Bells go off. This isn't any high from vodka. He doubts it was vodka. He can't seem to move, yet his dick keeps rising. Blue ocean, his mind drifts, blue like Tucker's eyes.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it, Sergei." Elijah bends over. Unlaces, then takes off one of Sergei's shoes. "Tucker is going to love having a visitor so soon." He unlaces and takes off the other shoe. "Especially one with such a good and gentle soul. I can tell these things, Sergei. I was with the church for a terribly long time. A terribly long time to be held in such servitude. Let's unbind that demon so it can breath." Elijah unbuckles Sergei's jeans and let's his large and growing penis bounce out of his fly. Elijah starts stroking it. Sergei flinches, the last movement he'll make of his own volition. "Oh, you're a virgin. I had no idea, child." His dick is leaking precum like a faucet. Elijah, a relic from ages ago, out of the pages of The Inquisition, slows his stroke to a barely discernible crawl. "No. You're right, boy. We should just sit here quiet for a while and take in the view. Tucker's not going anywhere. And neither are you."

Edited March 17, 2017 by asslikker

[bottomboyam]

The supernatural angle makes this so intruiging. 

[TTFN]

I guess Sergei is not going to make it home for lunch.

[rawmansf]

delicious, wicked, sexy, nasty, beautiful

 

[Googy]

A little bit late to the party maybe….but, what a fantastic story!!!  
so well written, and fucking hot!!

[Toxxic]

I’m so grateful to Googy above for having brought this story to “the surface” again, absolutely intriguing, beautifully written, dead nasty in the best possible way, I’m going to be wondering about this for the foreseeable future - and to think I might never have read it 😱