One-Night Hitch: Boosh slash Fic
This was my first Boosh slash fic written, it was finished early February 2011. Occasionally, once or twice a year, I write a large one-shot slashfic of my favorite OTP at the time. This is of my newest one, Hitcher/Howard.
As soon as I'm brave enough I'll see if I can submit this properly to the blue_boosh community. I'm kinda scared to...
Pairing: The Hitcher/Howard Moon
Rating: NC-17. Smuttysmutsmut porn basically.
Genre: Slashfic, crack-fic. (not 100% serious)
Includes: Dub-con, bit of urine, a good bumming and light bondage.
Summary: AU of the 'Eels' episode season 3. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, Howard retorts back to The Hitcher insisting he's not that old, which gives The Hitcher a good-enough reason to actually rape him on the counter.
“... lotta nutters. But I'm gonna protect you boy. 'Cos I love you. In fact if you weren't a geezer I'd be rapin' you behind the counter right now.”
When the cockney nutjob glared at him, smiling that hideous grin, Howard knew that he should just shut his mouth and not correct the kindly-green gentleman that he was not an old geezer, he was at the prime age of 32 and must not attract this man's attention even more than already being loved by The Hitcher. His mind, jumbled already with fear, did not unfortunately have common sense in the moment.
“A-Actually I'm only th...thirty two.”
The Hitcher, already having fun playing around with this poor besotted man stopped mid-turn to the piano. Even a mortal like Howard could tell there was some very bad JuJu going to happen.
The Hitcher turned back at him slowly, the face that was previously moving to say something about a pie and mash shop turned back into the familiar grin. With double the nasty.
“Are you really, boy?”
Silence as Howard's face paled and The Hitcher's brows furrowed in a very different emotion than casual annoying evil. Something was downright vile. Something wrong. Very wrong.
“I've always loved ya boy, poppin' up in my business in all these years with your fairy princess. But insolence from my favorite face? Correctin' me intelligence are you now boy?”
“No not at all!” He backed up, now completely pressed against the sales counter. Strangely that the anger that spitted from the hideous green man did not reflect on his face; in fact the smile increased its evil grin.
“Well well well squire, retortin' to your elders!” The villain licked his lips, head cocked mischievously as he brought the cane up right into Howard's nose. His space invaded Howard could even tell what the monster had for dinner in his breath. It wasn't a pleasant dinner at all really.
“I'ma have to teach you some lessons boy.”
With a yelp the green man's hands were on him! Howard had little time to react before he was pushed back, being shoved and pushed up on the counter, squirming like a fish as his back and body hit and spread objects around him. What's going on? Is he going to cut me up diagonally? Thought Howard as he screamed like a girl. His thrashing hands found little contact with the dank black sleeves of his enemy, instead only working to push objects away and destroy stationary village. This only helped The Hitcher as he pushed the cash register away and other little doo-dads that could be used against him in case Howard was smarter than he looked.
Our dear Moon continued flailing about for a few more seconds, increasing his struggles as The Hitcher no longer groaned when he was pushing him up on the counter but instead made his keening evil cockney laugh. This unsettled Howard.
He didn't calm down (in comparison to the previous panic of 3 seconds earlier) until The Hitcher grabbed his arms and pinned them down, right when Howard had enough sense to reach up not around to get to the thing that spread him off his feet on Naboo's property. Now he was left to squirm his body like a drowning hamster, increasing his struggles at the feel of his enemy rather touching him.
“Ooooh!” Howard's eyes shut tight as The Hitcher bellowed his geezer laugh. Whenever that baleful, throaty sound was heard he and Vince knew he was in a sort of triumphant glee. “For such a man you're such a wriggling piece of piss-stained eel bait, eh boy?”
The villain's victim began shaking and cringed his eyes shut in the desperate attempt to avoid the rank and gloating face. “L-let me go! I've got so m-much to give!”
“Ah, mah boy, you DO have so much to give. That's why I'm not gonna kill ya laddie.”
Howard ceased his squirming to properly heave for breath, staring into the vile blue eyes of his eel-faced captor. “R-really? G-good y-you can have the money! All the money! Everything I got! Just leave me alone!”
“I'm afraid I'll be takin' that in due time, along with the thousand Euros you're going to owe me at midnight.”
“Midnight?” Howard gulped and turned his tiny eyes away from the polo-eyed freak. Not only was he pinned down on the counter for some nefarious purpose besides being slashed up (which his mind at the moment couldn't conclude the reason at this moment) he was asked to owe this eely cockney a thousand Euros. “If you let me get up I can interest you in something else of s-similar value...”
“Oh yes my boy.” The green man licked his lips in a slow fashion as if eating something tart. “I know what you sell here, says so on the front of your window written by some cheeky prankster. Come on' then, give an ol' man a good time...”
Howard's words were turned into muffled spitting sputters and a loud 'nngghhh!' when the geezer gave a lustful look in his drooping eyes and leaned in for a lick. Or two. Or three. All over Howard's face. Howard started to struggle again but the man knocked Howard's fedora off and knotted his greasy fingers in his hair, holding Howard's head down for him to disgust with his slimy tongue.
“VINCE! NABOOOOO!” He wailed. To no avail. Oh MY GOD! STOP LICKING ME! NNGHH! AUGH!
“I'm n-not a PROSTITUTE!” Squeaked Howard, his lips narrowly missing the feel of the tongue.
“I know that lad. But you've got so much to GIVE...and you've been a naughty Howard haven't ya?”
He recalled apparently bugging him by telling him his age which was why in the first place he was pinned down and prone on his shop counter. Then the fact the green man was now VERY leaned in between his kicking legs, hands on him and his tongue was licking his stubbled-face with lewd manner was attesting to the mention that he was a ball-licking prostitute.
Howard felt like he was able to breathe better when The Hitcher leaned off of him, standing between his legs. He heaved for breath as he couldn't stop trembling, wondering if The Hitcher's tongueful experiments were indeed leading to something quite new to Howard's mind. He watched the darting eyes look him over, feeling those eyes pour over his body in a way that felt more violating than it should. He tried to sit up again but his wrists were still pinned down by the supernaturally strong strength of the green man. He was forced to use the last free part of him left, kicking his legs and bucking in his last real chance for the bid for freedom.
Unfortunately it seemed the Hitcher enjoyed it, laughing sadistically.
“Oy boy, a lot of spirit in ya? I like that, it makes it much easier when you're in a tizzy. OoOooh! You're like that dolphin I raped last week...”
Before Howard could finish stammering a complete sentence of 'Dolphin?' The Hitcher yanked both his wrists to the front of him, held in one hand as his enemy fished for something in his pocket. It was a pair of white polo-shaped handcuffs, which were promptly clapped on his own wrists. Letting go Howard instinctively tried to wrench his hand apart, but found he could not.
“Bug your eyes out all ya want squire...” The green hand snaked into his pocket yet again, and with a click of the handle produced his darling little knife. “...no one's going to save you when you scream. You might even like it me boy!”
Since he was already looking at his helpless hands in such circular white cuffs, he was also vision to the sharp knife. But the sharp knife wasn't stabbing him repeatedly. It was snaking up the line of buttons keeping his print shirt together, popping them with, perhaps, practiced ease. Gasping his shirt was soon ripped open, buttons scattering cross the counter and the floor, vulnerable to whatever deviousness the man-witch desired.
“S-Sir I h-have a question on w-what you're going to do with me, sir, yes sir...”
His question was answered.
With a snarky grin the man leaned in, putting his knife away and snogged the JuJu out of Howard Moon.
Howard grunted and muffled his cries of surprise, struggling and bugging his eyes further as a thick tongue and contact with green lips and diseased teeth violated his mouth. It seemed ages for Howard, as his fingers curved and clawed the itchy red scarf, as he felt every sloppy contact with a salty tongue, twisting and making God-knows-what noises. Tasting The Hitcher even. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes; his tiny eyes grew with horror, creamy pools of brown in ocular-terror at the two beady blue ones. Eyes blue like the sky, like happy places, think happy places...like blueberry cream...yes...cream...t-think about cream...not...not this...he thought, his hands doing little but yanking and itching past the scarf and feeling the black shirt and chest of the man grunting and 'ooohhh'ing as the smiling bastard Frenched him. His blue eyes, Howard was realizing as the green hands, free from pinning him down, wandered down his ribcage...were certainly not blueberry cream. They were cold as ice. Yet vibrant with an evil so red it WAS blue.
The Hitcher's prey jerked, pushed and whimpered during the entire mouth invasion. Whatever it was about this child-man it was certainly interesting to his rapist. It amused The Hitcher that he would unblinkingly stare at him during the entire kiss instead of shutting tight or screaming like a panicking warm kitten. The man took himself too serious sometimes, building up mental boundaries, bluffing and stammering when the fortress of not-raped was threatened. Which only made it more attractive for the evil man to eat those boundaries.
“Did you enjoy that boy?” He groaned out in an entirely inappropriate cheerful voice. Howard was gasping, sputtering for air as his tongue and mouth spittled out the anchovy-taste of the man-witch. His knuckles were already white as they clutched the red scarf, shaking as he didn't like what one green hand was doing grabbing the side of his face and the other hooking into his belt.
“N-no s-sir...!” Was all he could say until he heard the sound of his own zipper.
“That's right, but you're gonna get it anyways.”
Howard let out a strangulated yell as The Hitcher pulled away to watch his handiwork. He began humming and singing a lollygagging little Olde English tune, whatever it was, as he un-looped Howard's belt and finished dismantling the poor man's pants. With a little murmured 'upsie-dasiy!' he pushed his prey's legs up to grab each kicking, spazzing leg. Howard couldn't do anything but struggle and flop about on the counter-table, wrenching his arms in the cuffs in his futile escape, starting to shiver as the breeze hit his legs. The face on The Hitcher was also truly terrifying by itself; the polo-eyed villain was quite happy taking his time enough to give an amused expression, whistling a few bars of the tune as he wrenched off Howard's shoes and then subsequently those pesky pants.
Moon was shaking now in his little tweed utility boxers, legs crossed and squirming like, well, an eel. He unceasingly blinked, watching every move as The Hitcher stood still for a moment. But his eyes and face...no, they were not still. They were positively evil.
“I can't wait to get inside you boy...” He tossed his hat off, his neck craned as he loosened his scarf.
Howard immediately shoved his cuffed hands down to his 'jewels', hoping that the ingenuity of the tweed utility underwear-option had protections against being raped. While he cried for help again.
“Naboo? Vince? VINCEEEEEE?”
“Down boy or I'll cut ya...and shove my little 'screwdriver' into your gums, eh?” His hands grappled the willowy-legs he apparently desired so much and, with a lurch flipped Howard over. Howard was distracted by his body thumping on the counter, his face almost smashed against the edge of the counter. It was already unfortunate the counter provided the perfect width and height for a dicking.
“My little Willy 'eelson wants to play Moon. Not as painful as those wriggling wangers I could be usin' right now...” The Hitcher narrated as he began messing with the straps and zippers of the complicated underwear, soon pulling it down with a swift motion. Howard soon realized why he was flipped this way unto his stomach, his behind at the edge and currently arms, genitals and legs dangling over the edge. Oh he knew why. He was even more defenseless than he was before, as if he was actually doing anything that helped him get out of this predicament.
“I'll get you the money!” He cringed at the sound of The Hitcher's rhyming zipper. “Just please don't rape me sir! Sir please no sir sir SIR SIR!”
“Ahhh that's more like it, beg fer me like the little gutter pig you are!” He promptly groped Howard's moons, handling the flesh of the behind with gusto. Moon responded appropriately; bucking and letting out pig-like squeals. The death-knell of being a mature and calm adult for Howard Moon and a new 30 minutes of sexual harassment.
Please...please...please...no...no...no...he chanted in his head till it was the consistency of thick cream. His bucking hurt his hands, so he stopped to begin wriggling them free. But that wasn't the only thing wriggling...
“.....hnnngggg....!!!”
Chills went up his spine when something was spat upon and his entrance was probed by a very green finger. The Hitcher had plunged his spit-lubed digit inside the virgin hole, thrusting it and wriggling. This did not please Howard.
“Lucky little bitch to get a bit prepared eh? Its because I love you Howard...” His voice had long since lost its ignorant-Cockney manner. Oh no, it was downright silky. Like smooth, molten slag. “...and that I'm evil, by the way!”
Howard was too busy arching and hyperventilating from the home-invasion to respond 'You already mentioned it, s-sir!'
“Ahh...” His finger continued, milking the man's reactions with glee. “Ever since you picked me up in the woods...I've imagined me thumb deep inside, buggering you while you writhed in your special 'ittle prison cell in that box...remember that lad, the prison I used to run? Ahh good times...”
“M-Make it stop!” Howard was having trouble paying attention to the off-tangent monologue of The Hitcher, seeing that now two wet fingers had slipped inside.
“You better be jolly that my thumb had shrunk, otherwise you'd be SCREAMIN'...” He spat and spanked his unruly prey, hearing a satisfying raspy squeak. “Damn twins, they shouldn't had been playing with my knives...”
NO NO AUGH AUGH OW OW Howard chanted loud enough in his head to miss The Hitcher's subsequent speech explaining how the Piper Twins cut his thumb off and the particulars on how to grow one back. Howard had more important things to do, like catch his breath, shaking and getting used to the two digits scissoring him. He could only pant and remain rigid where he lay face-down.
Without another word The Hitcher slipped the fingers out, leaving Howard to sputter and choke in response. The pain was a bit intense seeing how unrelaxing being raped was. His sputtering intensified when his head was yanked back and twisted. Before he could finish his cry of surprise he was snogged again.
“That's a good boy now...” The green man growled as he slathered his tongue all over in and out of Howard's mouth. Howard coughed and yelled, crying out as the kiss ended quickly and the mouth moved elsewhere. With a THUNK his left-side was crushed against the table and his body crushed even further. He groaned at the pressure, wincing as the cuffs hurt his trapped wrists, not to mention how crushed his exposed genitals already were. The Hitcher was definitely on top of him, definitely biting his ear rather hard. Moon shook even harder at the chills from the tongue's travels in and around his ear and the smelly, throaty chortles from the dominating villain.
“Augh!” The Hitcher's victim coughed and groaned. No matter how hard he struggled he still wouldn't be able to escape. His efforts still continued, spurred by the sound of the voodoo-man pausing to lube himself. Howard didn't need to see what was making the goopy, schluping sounds, the panting breath at the back of his hair and the sight of something long and green.
“S-sir...!” A hand grappled his behind again, hurting as his behind was pried apart. His virgin hole stung still from the fingers that tried to relax him. Regardless if they did or not The Hitcher certainly wasn't one to reconsider or slow down.
“Shut your cock-hole Harold I'm trying to bum ya!”
“H-Howard a-actual...ly...”
The hot slippery dick was pushing its way inside. Howard did not certainly remain quiet, regardless if The Hitcher was joking about as he grunted and went through. His prey writhed and yelled in an undignified manner for a man. Of course it wasn't dignified at all to be a man raped by a magical green villain that threatened to kill him in several instances of his life. He was totally unrelaxed as he arched and jerked his legs from the uncomfortable, stretching sensation of violation. If anything, Howard was truly stiff and shaking as the human body could ever be in a painful episode of rape.
But that didn't last long.
Howard was a little man. One who didn't even notice how seamlessly he wove bluffing and lies of strength and vigor through his vocabulary when threatened. Vince and his encounters dealing with the supernatural, the evil, and the Bainbridge brought up his want to defend himself and others rapidly. Until his bluffs were called he didn't even think about it. Constantly he thought, no, he thought he knew he was a gallant, stinging Northern bullet.
All except for The Hitcher.
It was always The Hitcher that silenced his instinct to pretend he wasn't scared pissless.
The pain lessened when Howard was beginning to feel the natural state of mind and body of giving-up. He had continued gritting his teeth, neck craned as his rectum was being slowly violated. The thick green was moving deeper and deeper, pushing and fighting against the tightness of a man who didn't want something thick and green up his ass. Each push was one more shove into hopelessness.
“Mmphf...! Hnng...nnnnggg...!” The Hitcher's cockney accent huffed and grunted with pleasure. “How does it feel boy, my faaaaaavorite eel inside ya?”
The 'boy' was panting. His face was screwed up as he could feel his pumping blood through his ears, his crushed arms and arse.
“I SAID...” A hiss snaked into his ear, painful as much as The Hitcher pulling back and accentuating with a deep thrust. Howard couldn't help but gasp and wheezily squeal.
“I..nno...no...”
“No? Mmm...mfff...ooh...” The Hitcher paused to moan, flexing his body as he slipped in till the hilt. “...mm...usually I would take 'no' as an answer lad, when doin' the rapin' sort of business...”
The counter creaked as he brought a knee up against the counter edge, grabbed his cane and slipped it underneath Howard's arching throat. With a jerk The Hitcher gripped his cane and, the counter as a lever lifted an angle upwards. Howard coughed and wheezed some more with his head back, trying to breathe. It made it much easier for the rapist to lean in for another lick before reeling back to totally dominate the unfortunate soul.
“But this time...I think I like you a little too much fer that.”
His prey was now being choked. Both hands gripped the cane, crushing Howard's windpipe. The Hitcher enjoyed those desperate sounds, and with the grip he was having it was perfect for keeping a good steady hold as he began to rut like a beast.
Howard tried to scream but couldn't. Air was a thing of the past now, the only thing he could feel was the throbbing in his head and his legs kicking even madder. His body fought for air, trying to move but it only made it hurt worse. The monster wasn't taking his time this time, he was full out fucking him. He felt like a dying twitching hospital patient, who certainly didn't want the doctor to continue giving his form of 'resuscitation'.
“I love you Howard.” He groaned in a stomach-churning way, the way the lips went back and his evil eyes closed. “And you're going to be my bitch.”
Howard wailed and choked when the pressure was released. All the blood rushed back to his head once the cane was dropped, clanging to the floor after almost killing The Hitcher's bitch.
“N-no...s-sir...”
“Yes sir, VERY much sir!” The Hitcher continued his paced unslaught, shaking the counter with his thrusts into tight warmth. “So you're going to like it like the little whelp you are!”
Howard was very, very afraid. Of all the villains that freaked him, scared and made him want to run it had to be THIS one that had to have an obsession of the more violent nature. So far the only thing done to him was choking to confuse his body, no knifes slashing him up into little bits. The Hitcher had even started out gentle, careful to not make him bleed too much at least.
“B-but...hnnn...” He whimpered as his heart fluttered and skin crawled. Wincing he noticed he was feeling rather achy no longer in the head but down below...
“No amount of money's going to take it boy.” The green man gripped Howard's heaving shoulder tightly, the other planted on the table to steady his old man's self. “I know you love it, maggot.”
Tears filled his little birdie eyes. The stinging had gone as his body choked, his breath shaking that the fear was now utterly here to stay. His body surrendered. With a shaky moan of despair he finally succumbed.
“O-Ow...nn...nnnnn...”
“What's that boy?” He yodeled as Howard gave a sigh and slumped, shaking as he sobbed. Tears dribbled unto the counter as the childman shook and moaned, crying like a baby. Once more the witch's tongue had darted to his face, tasting the salt of his sadness in its own delight.
The pace was quickened, fueled by The Hitcher's desire to ruin Howard's little mind.
“Speak up boy...unfhh...Uncle Hitcher can't year ya!”
Howard wailed.
“WHAT WAS THAT? LOUDER!”
Another wail...no, a scream, a yell, a loud guttural one accompanied by an avalanche of tears.
“THATS it me boy, let it alll run out...like a liquid puddin'...mmphf....Oohh THERE she goes!” The monster was momentarily satisfied with that. His knee dug back into the counter, able to thrust wildly. The receiver continued to cry, shaking and clenching his fists as his insides, being pummeled by a throbbing cock, were receiving the wet organ.
Just when he thought all he needed to do was just breathe and try to ignore it, the tip was brushing against something he didn't know he had inside him.
“....urk...hnnnggg!” Howard lurched as strange new pleasures crawled up his spine. It felt like an electric knife had slipped all through his blood stream and muscles all the way to his brain, and then back down to his....
Oh...nnooonnnghhh...
The Hitcher noticed as well.
“This is my favorite part of the business besides my own satisfaction.” He began with licked lips, clicking his tongue as he watched Howard's face betray all the emotions he needed to prove the man's shame.
“Its when I make the lucky fella scream my name.”
The Hitcher flexed his hips, gyrating circles in the tightness. Howard now was fully comprehending what he was doing, that his rapist wasn't going to let him go fucked-free, oh no...he was going to cream the counter side.
“B-but...hngn...S-sir...!”
“Yap yap yap, not one 'please sir, make me your piss-pot!'” He mocked with a high laugh, female witch-like even; the pleasure was getting to him as well.
Oh...no! NO! Each thrust was driving his body insane! It was pleasure, he knew it well. It was burning, aching pleasure, burning in his loins. Whatever this madman was doing, he was doing it good. Inside his body, there, in the rhythm of the thrusts was a weakness The Hitcher found to exploit.
“I WASN'T joking boy...” This times thick green hands were on his neck instead of the cane, digging into Howard's windpipe. “I want you to ask me to make you my little chamber pot”
Howard's brain, dying from lack of oxygen while his nervous system still sent sensations of pleasure would have done a spit take if he was swallowing, well, something liquid. Hopefully that liquid wouldn't be urine.
He had two options. One was keep fighting, coughing at the medium-amount of pressure on his windpipe and bloodstream as The Hitcher not only would choke him harder but continue to grunt and hiss as the pain, not pleasure, was continuing from being raped violently till eventually he would die from lack of oxygen.
Or he could suck up the tears and hack out how much he would like to be The Hitcher's receptacle for urine.
He chose the latter.
“....hn...hucchhhhkk...p...p-p...”
The choking eased a bit, but Howard's tearing eyes, wincing shut as he blushed with shame, were not unnoticed.
“Pleeeeeeease what luv?”
W-why am I doing this...why...
“P-please sir, m-make me your...ch-ch...chamber...chamber pot!”
His last words rushed out of him as air entered his lungs. The relief from finally able to see without blacking out (through blurry, watery vision) made his brain jump for joy, but at a shameful price.
I really did say chamber pot, did I?
“Thatta boy! Oy you're bloody well fun!” The fucking continued at the previously pleasurable pace, a rapacious reward for Howard's behavior. Howard bent over and arched, busy coughing and catching his breath. But there was little time to calm down and think so much at the boundary normal humans, to his standards, he just broke in begging. In fact all the times when he was asked to do demeaning things he would quickly buckle and follow those orders: dress like Bollo, fight a Killeroo...
Perfect target for Daddy Hitcher.
“Mmm you be likin' this boy!”
“AHHH!”
Green hands went down and found evidence of Howard's indecisiveness about what he was feeling. They stroked his manhood, making Howard cry out and twitch, bucking as they sloppily caressed and, with a rough squeeze, yanked.
Ahh! AHH! OH! Oh..oh...oh boy...
His heart fluttered and gut twisted with revulsion. His arms, long since fallen numb from being crushed now didn't matter as a distraction even. The rhythm of the thrusts in and out of his body, and what was being touched deep inside, and this...this...
“Like that boy? Cockney cock deep inside ya?”
Howard was shaking with a strange combination of sobbing and panting breath. His moans were getting more and more audible as the dirty fingers half-haphazardly gave Howard a constricted hand job. His aching weakness was throbbing against the counter, trapped against the pressure there and the pressure of The Hitcher's knobby digits. Occasionally then, as he squirmed and moaned about in this bad-touch ecstasy The Hitcher's cock-ney would hit home inside to that other sensitive place.
His body demanded more and more, more of the sparks going through his brain. His eyes closed, no longer wincing with futile resistance but scrunching up when thrusts and hand hit home. The throbbing and the pounding were becoming one welcome sensation instead of several, blending and taking over rational thought. It was enough to take over his normal sensibilities and affect his speech in fact.
“Answer me!” He slapped Howard's thigh like he would riding a filly. “I asked if you LIKE it! You will ANSWER me, and call me sir, is that clear boy?”
The counter creaked as The Hitcher reeled back, almost slipping completely out of his disobedient Howard Moon, ready to strike again if he still got any resistance.
“Y-yes sir, I l-like it sir!” Howard sputtered out with a whine when the thrusting had stopped.
“Mmmm...you slag...dirty little alley jazz-cat, are you?”
“Y-yes...nnghgh...sir!” The thrusts picked up, at an even pace again. A pace no longer causing Howard pain, now that he was relaxing and falling into a sexual bliss...
“Do you want some more boy?” Pace quickening, burning growing. The hand was once again warm and caressing his member, quick grasps and touches being that The Hitcher was moving back and forth thrusting into his table-top jazz-cat.
“M-more...” The pleasurable electricity was being converted into a warm energy...getting warmer...
“Do I get a please?” He growled, thumb caressing Howard's aching sac.
“Please sir, m-may I have some more?” He barely uttered the sentence because his aching grew stronger! He felt like his blood was on fire in his aching, dripping organs. The pleasure pulsed from two sources as The Hitcher, a disgusting rapist player in the age's old dance of mating, continued to do his despicable form of the 'dance'.
He was rewarded. The Hitcher slipped himself out with a loud groan deep from his belly, harmonious with Howard's own moan from his tightness being unfilled. However the warm and aching lack of Hitcher waited a bit more as, thankfully, he was flipped unto his back. With a slam he was rolled back, his arms stinging and free from their crushed constriction and head over the edge. He couldn't help but sigh, in a bliss and suffering from the pins and needles in his arms. Fingers flexed and his arms up in an almost begging position, his fingers curling into fists, sweating as the seconds ticked past.
“Mmmphf you little man-slut...” Green hands ran all over Howard's panting face, touching and feeling the sweaty skin of the burning man. Howard's body was alight with fire yet again; he couldn't stop quivering. His insides previously invaded felt empty without the green man inside, puckering as he wriggled to alleviate that pulsing throb aching him so badly. He didn't care if he looked miserable, basically naked, wincing and whimpering like some baby. It was just feeling too. Damn. Good.
“Look atcha, a filthy whore.” The man-witch commented with a husky accent. “You're practically begging me boy! What are ya some horn touter? Getting it on with that French bird of yours eh?”
Howard tried to reply, but he was breathing erratically through seething teeth as his chest was pushed and groped, nipples tweaked till purple. A strange ecstasy swept through him like a sinister rain cloud, reminding him that he was originally non-consenting for this sort of 'intimate conversation' in the first place. That only excited him more.
“I...n-no...V-Vince...he's...AHH!”
“I bet you would like to have a go at him, bum him right up the arse like I'm doin' you now...” A loud schluuuuup was heard as The Hitcher spat on himself, lubing up more before schlurrrrping back inside. The receiver groaned with welcomed pain as his rectum was invaded again, wincing as the slow thrusts quickly lulled his body back into pleasure.
“N-No I'm n-not gay! No sir!” His toes curled in, his fleshy legs pushed up and back by The Hitcher. He only kicked momentarily before he soon felt that he was able to thrust deeper and easier.
“Then what's this about your little winky eh?” Laughed the polo-fiend, grabbing Howard with a yank.
His attention returned, letting loose an explosive moan and a grunt. Howard was truly floating in his mind and body; his head had gone back. He stared at the cabinets and shelves that were behind the counter happily upside down.
“...w-well...w-when a...I...” Howard promptly sputtered and drooled a little. He couldn't finish his sentence coherently. It ended with a soft cry. Then another. And another.
“Don't lie to me boy.” The green hand wrapped around the shaft pumping fast and hard, slick with pre-cum. “You're quite enjoying this you bloody queer.”
He was enjoying it.
“Don't worry boy...” The thrusts picked up, the handjob sloppy and irregular. “After all we're gunna be doin' this in and about for a long time Moon while you're still alive...oh...oyyyyy! OH YES.”
The Hitcher had buckled over. His yellowed teeth bit over his lip as he sucked in a hiss of breath. The cane clattered from where it rested on the counter as his other reached and grappled Howard's lump of a body. The light sweat from Howard's spread body dampened his coat sleeve as he leaned in, thrusting like an animal, spitting and grunting along the way. Howard's head only pulled up to stare for a moment at the forest-green fingers pleasuring his throbbing manhood...only to fall back with a great wave of sexual dizziness, in bliss as his body burned and boiled. His body was so warm, tingling all over, aching down below that he didn't even fully notice The Hitcher grabbing his handcuffed wrists and shoving it down. A sly smile and laugh issued from The Hitcher's mouth in between his grunts and 'oyyy!'s as Howard began jacking himself off. The cries from poor 'abused' Howard were much louder now, almost mewling as he whined and neared his eventual release.
“Dirty little squire...you bastard...MY bastard...” Huffed The Hitcher, smiling, gripping Howard firmly. The counter shook and rattled its contents now, The Hitcher planting his boots down and jack-hammering into his said-bastard.
“Hng...s-sir....H-Hitcher...” His thighs and body rippled from the force of the thrusting man between. A slight smile spread across his face, before melting into a limp open mouth, crying out like a little girl.
“Who's your Hitcher boy? WHO?”
Howard was almost crying again, but for a different reason. It felt like he was going to...to...
“M-m...m...mmmore...oh...YOU ARE...g...good...so...”
“Because you're my slut Howard. Because you're my whore.”
With a loud cry Howard came.
He couldn't do anything except give in. There was nothing in the world but hot flashes of white behind his closed lids, scrunched to make his eyes even tinier. His dick throbbed, spurting all across his chest while ears, stoppered with his blood pumping and the explosion of orgasm did not hear The Hitcher grunt and laugh wickedly as he too came. Howard's writhing tightened the green cock inside of him. Sucking him in, making The Hitcher himself almost buckle.
“Filthy faggot.” He panted and groaned in his cockney way. “What a mess ya made.”
They panted together, one green the other red, flushed with heat. Both their manhoods throbbing, slick with their cum. Some of it was dripping from around The Hitcher's own heat, still impaled firmly in Howard's rear. It dripped to the floor as Howard quivered, recovering from this writhing climax. His toes soon stopped curling, and his breathing slowing as he covered. He watched from limpid eyes as the one who gave him this sinful pleasure withdrew from his tightness.
“Well boy you were a better fuck than I imagined!” The Hitcher wiped his dick clean on the descending thigh that had remained up and spread for so long. The man finally sighed and feel limp, moaning with a stinging rear end and a satisfied body. His arms that were deadlocked on his own erection slumped to the side, their trembles ceasing, his body covered with gobs of sticky.
The Hitcher reached and uncuffed Howard, having no need to keep him tied up like that. He was as limp as a carcass, gasping and making soft noises like a little girl. It amused him more than he thought, and if he wasn't already spent, would arouse him again.
However Howard startled back into a state of agitated-hopelessness again. The Hitcher was now urinating on him, spraying his yellow witch-juice all over Howard's chest. It puddled and ran down his sides to the counter as he groggily flopped about again, sputtering as it made some contact with his lips. Now he was sticky, salty, sweaty AND wet...
He sat up, gasping and dripping wet, leaving a puddle and mess all over their corner of the shop. But like a true Cockney nutjob, he was soon pelted by some coins and paper bills fluttering about him, thrown from the pockets of his rapist, guffawing at his lemon-wet nudity.
“Keep the change boy! You're definitely worth a thousand euros! Forget about payin' me later in currency!” He yodeled and zipped himself back up.
Grabbing his hat and cane, The Hitcher went round the counter. Howard's tiny terrified eyes turned and followed him. He barely moved where he was, spread-legged, wet and generally naked half-sitting on the counter. Staring at the green fiend.
“I'll be back, don't you worry boy.” He hissed and ran the knob of his cane along Howard's jawline, relishing the little man's trembles even more. The paper bills quivered, stuck to his wet body, and his face paling exquisitely like a fading flower. “Whenever I need a good ol' time boy, you better be ready for me. It might be tomorrow, or might be next month.”
Howard wished he could just shut his eyes and run blindly to the shower to wash all the wet off. But he couldn't with those big, evil blue eyes in his own face. Once again he felt the familiar pressure against his throat as the cane tilted his head back and towards the man-witch.
“But when I do come fer you Howard...” Husked The Hitcher against Howard's speechless face. “You'd better be a good boy.”
As soon as he had said this he released his prey. He swung the cane as he stormed from the counter, destroying a chunk of Stationary Village, what was left of it that still stood.
The wicked laughter grew louder and louder the further the man clicked his heels away from him.
Howard Moon, formerly a pressed salesman, was still naked, wet, cold, aching and hurt on the counter. Watching the man leave.
The Hitcher only turned back to smile and chuckle, winking his non-polo eye at him. This made Howard slide and collapse off the counter, on the ground quivering in the puddle of bodily fluids in his version of swooning with terror.
The Hitcher walked out into the night the way he came in leaving his dirty man-whore where he was, in a puddle of urine, in the former pie and mash shop. Confused as hell why he enjoyed what just transpired.
Howard lay there, on his side, shaking with shame. He had been raped. And he liked it. The green man from his nightmares just went up and raped him on the counter. It was a legitimate cause for concern of course, which troubled Howard. He would have to clean up the mess before Vince could see his shame.
And he's going to come back and rape me again.
Again Howard began to cry a little. A grown man shouldn't be feeling this way, but Howard had just been fucked back a few levels into a state of fear and goosebumps.
Vince mustn't find out. He mustn't. No. No he shouldn't. No...
“Hey Howard, where are you?...and what's all this piss on the floor?”
…dammit...
----
“Well then...” Hummed the green man tromping off. “Now we'll pay a visit to that little bird-friend of his sometime....”
As soon as I'm brave enough I'll see if I can submit this properly to the blue_boosh community. I'm kinda scared to...
Pairing: The Hitcher/Howard Moon
Rating: NC-17. Smuttysmutsmut porn basically.
Genre: Slashfic, crack-fic. (not 100% serious)
Includes: Dub-con, bit of urine, a good bumming and light bondage.
Summary: AU of the 'Eels' episode season 3. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, Howard retorts back to The Hitcher insisting he's not that old, which gives The Hitcher a good-enough reason to actually rape him on the counter.
“... lotta nutters. But I'm gonna protect you boy. 'Cos I love you. In fact if you weren't a geezer I'd be rapin' you behind the counter right now.”
When the cockney nutjob glared at him, smiling that hideous grin, Howard knew that he should just shut his mouth and not correct the kindly-green gentleman that he was not an old geezer, he was at the prime age of 32 and must not attract this man's attention even more than already being loved by The Hitcher. His mind, jumbled already with fear, did not unfortunately have common sense in the moment.
“A-Actually I'm only th...thirty two.”
The Hitcher, already having fun playing around with this poor besotted man stopped mid-turn to the piano. Even a mortal like Howard could tell there was some very bad JuJu going to happen.
The Hitcher turned back at him slowly, the face that was previously moving to say something about a pie and mash shop turned back into the familiar grin. With double the nasty.
“Are you really, boy?”
Silence as Howard's face paled and The Hitcher's brows furrowed in a very different emotion than casual annoying evil. Something was downright vile. Something wrong. Very wrong.
“I've always loved ya boy, poppin' up in my business in all these years with your fairy princess. But insolence from my favorite face? Correctin' me intelligence are you now boy?”
“No not at all!” He backed up, now completely pressed against the sales counter. Strangely that the anger that spitted from the hideous green man did not reflect on his face; in fact the smile increased its evil grin.
“Well well well squire, retortin' to your elders!” The villain licked his lips, head cocked mischievously as he brought the cane up right into Howard's nose. His space invaded Howard could even tell what the monster had for dinner in his breath. It wasn't a pleasant dinner at all really.
“I'ma have to teach you some lessons boy.”
With a yelp the green man's hands were on him! Howard had little time to react before he was pushed back, being shoved and pushed up on the counter, squirming like a fish as his back and body hit and spread objects around him. What's going on? Is he going to cut me up diagonally? Thought Howard as he screamed like a girl. His thrashing hands found little contact with the dank black sleeves of his enemy, instead only working to push objects away and destroy stationary village. This only helped The Hitcher as he pushed the cash register away and other little doo-dads that could be used against him in case Howard was smarter than he looked.
Our dear Moon continued flailing about for a few more seconds, increasing his struggles as The Hitcher no longer groaned when he was pushing him up on the counter but instead made his keening evil cockney laugh. This unsettled Howard.
He didn't calm down (in comparison to the previous panic of 3 seconds earlier) until The Hitcher grabbed his arms and pinned them down, right when Howard had enough sense to reach up not around to get to the thing that spread him off his feet on Naboo's property. Now he was left to squirm his body like a drowning hamster, increasing his struggles at the feel of his enemy rather touching him.
“Ooooh!” Howard's eyes shut tight as The Hitcher bellowed his geezer laugh. Whenever that baleful, throaty sound was heard he and Vince knew he was in a sort of triumphant glee. “For such a man you're such a wriggling piece of piss-stained eel bait, eh boy?”
The villain's victim began shaking and cringed his eyes shut in the desperate attempt to avoid the rank and gloating face. “L-let me go! I've got so m-much to give!”
“Ah, mah boy, you DO have so much to give. That's why I'm not gonna kill ya laddie.”
Howard ceased his squirming to properly heave for breath, staring into the vile blue eyes of his eel-faced captor. “R-really? G-good y-you can have the money! All the money! Everything I got! Just leave me alone!”
“I'm afraid I'll be takin' that in due time, along with the thousand Euros you're going to owe me at midnight.”
“Midnight?” Howard gulped and turned his tiny eyes away from the polo-eyed freak. Not only was he pinned down on the counter for some nefarious purpose besides being slashed up (which his mind at the moment couldn't conclude the reason at this moment) he was asked to owe this eely cockney a thousand Euros. “If you let me get up I can interest you in something else of s-similar value...”
“Oh yes my boy.” The green man licked his lips in a slow fashion as if eating something tart. “I know what you sell here, says so on the front of your window written by some cheeky prankster. Come on' then, give an ol' man a good time...”
Howard's words were turned into muffled spitting sputters and a loud 'nngghhh!' when the geezer gave a lustful look in his drooping eyes and leaned in for a lick. Or two. Or three. All over Howard's face. Howard started to struggle again but the man knocked Howard's fedora off and knotted his greasy fingers in his hair, holding Howard's head down for him to disgust with his slimy tongue.
“VINCE! NABOOOOO!” He wailed. To no avail. Oh MY GOD! STOP LICKING ME! NNGHH! AUGH!
“I'm n-not a PROSTITUTE!” Squeaked Howard, his lips narrowly missing the feel of the tongue.
“I know that lad. But you've got so much to GIVE...and you've been a naughty Howard haven't ya?”
He recalled apparently bugging him by telling him his age which was why in the first place he was pinned down and prone on his shop counter. Then the fact the green man was now VERY leaned in between his kicking legs, hands on him and his tongue was licking his stubbled-face with lewd manner was attesting to the mention that he was a ball-licking prostitute.
Howard felt like he was able to breathe better when The Hitcher leaned off of him, standing between his legs. He heaved for breath as he couldn't stop trembling, wondering if The Hitcher's tongueful experiments were indeed leading to something quite new to Howard's mind. He watched the darting eyes look him over, feeling those eyes pour over his body in a way that felt more violating than it should. He tried to sit up again but his wrists were still pinned down by the supernaturally strong strength of the green man. He was forced to use the last free part of him left, kicking his legs and bucking in his last real chance for the bid for freedom.
Unfortunately it seemed the Hitcher enjoyed it, laughing sadistically.
“Oy boy, a lot of spirit in ya? I like that, it makes it much easier when you're in a tizzy. OoOooh! You're like that dolphin I raped last week...”
Before Howard could finish stammering a complete sentence of 'Dolphin?' The Hitcher yanked both his wrists to the front of him, held in one hand as his enemy fished for something in his pocket. It was a pair of white polo-shaped handcuffs, which were promptly clapped on his own wrists. Letting go Howard instinctively tried to wrench his hand apart, but found he could not.
“Bug your eyes out all ya want squire...” The green hand snaked into his pocket yet again, and with a click of the handle produced his darling little knife. “...no one's going to save you when you scream. You might even like it me boy!”
Since he was already looking at his helpless hands in such circular white cuffs, he was also vision to the sharp knife. But the sharp knife wasn't stabbing him repeatedly. It was snaking up the line of buttons keeping his print shirt together, popping them with, perhaps, practiced ease. Gasping his shirt was soon ripped open, buttons scattering cross the counter and the floor, vulnerable to whatever deviousness the man-witch desired.
“S-Sir I h-have a question on w-what you're going to do with me, sir, yes sir...”
His question was answered.
With a snarky grin the man leaned in, putting his knife away and snogged the JuJu out of Howard Moon.
Howard grunted and muffled his cries of surprise, struggling and bugging his eyes further as a thick tongue and contact with green lips and diseased teeth violated his mouth. It seemed ages for Howard, as his fingers curved and clawed the itchy red scarf, as he felt every sloppy contact with a salty tongue, twisting and making God-knows-what noises. Tasting The Hitcher even. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes; his tiny eyes grew with horror, creamy pools of brown in ocular-terror at the two beady blue ones. Eyes blue like the sky, like happy places, think happy places...like blueberry cream...yes...cream...t-think about cream...not...not this...he thought, his hands doing little but yanking and itching past the scarf and feeling the black shirt and chest of the man grunting and 'ooohhh'ing as the smiling bastard Frenched him. His blue eyes, Howard was realizing as the green hands, free from pinning him down, wandered down his ribcage...were certainly not blueberry cream. They were cold as ice. Yet vibrant with an evil so red it WAS blue.
The Hitcher's prey jerked, pushed and whimpered during the entire mouth invasion. Whatever it was about this child-man it was certainly interesting to his rapist. It amused The Hitcher that he would unblinkingly stare at him during the entire kiss instead of shutting tight or screaming like a panicking warm kitten. The man took himself too serious sometimes, building up mental boundaries, bluffing and stammering when the fortress of not-raped was threatened. Which only made it more attractive for the evil man to eat those boundaries.
“Did you enjoy that boy?” He groaned out in an entirely inappropriate cheerful voice. Howard was gasping, sputtering for air as his tongue and mouth spittled out the anchovy-taste of the man-witch. His knuckles were already white as they clutched the red scarf, shaking as he didn't like what one green hand was doing grabbing the side of his face and the other hooking into his belt.
“N-no s-sir...!” Was all he could say until he heard the sound of his own zipper.
“That's right, but you're gonna get it anyways.”
Howard let out a strangulated yell as The Hitcher pulled away to watch his handiwork. He began humming and singing a lollygagging little Olde English tune, whatever it was, as he un-looped Howard's belt and finished dismantling the poor man's pants. With a little murmured 'upsie-dasiy!' he pushed his prey's legs up to grab each kicking, spazzing leg. Howard couldn't do anything but struggle and flop about on the counter-table, wrenching his arms in the cuffs in his futile escape, starting to shiver as the breeze hit his legs. The face on The Hitcher was also truly terrifying by itself; the polo-eyed villain was quite happy taking his time enough to give an amused expression, whistling a few bars of the tune as he wrenched off Howard's shoes and then subsequently those pesky pants.
Moon was shaking now in his little tweed utility boxers, legs crossed and squirming like, well, an eel. He unceasingly blinked, watching every move as The Hitcher stood still for a moment. But his eyes and face...no, they were not still. They were positively evil.
“I can't wait to get inside you boy...” He tossed his hat off, his neck craned as he loosened his scarf.
Howard immediately shoved his cuffed hands down to his 'jewels', hoping that the ingenuity of the tweed utility underwear-option had protections against being raped. While he cried for help again.
“Naboo? Vince? VINCEEEEEE?”
“Down boy or I'll cut ya...and shove my little 'screwdriver' into your gums, eh?” His hands grappled the willowy-legs he apparently desired so much and, with a lurch flipped Howard over. Howard was distracted by his body thumping on the counter, his face almost smashed against the edge of the counter. It was already unfortunate the counter provided the perfect width and height for a dicking.
“My little Willy 'eelson wants to play Moon. Not as painful as those wriggling wangers I could be usin' right now...” The Hitcher narrated as he began messing with the straps and zippers of the complicated underwear, soon pulling it down with a swift motion. Howard soon realized why he was flipped this way unto his stomach, his behind at the edge and currently arms, genitals and legs dangling over the edge. Oh he knew why. He was even more defenseless than he was before, as if he was actually doing anything that helped him get out of this predicament.
“I'll get you the money!” He cringed at the sound of The Hitcher's rhyming zipper. “Just please don't rape me sir! Sir please no sir sir SIR SIR!”
“Ahhh that's more like it, beg fer me like the little gutter pig you are!” He promptly groped Howard's moons, handling the flesh of the behind with gusto. Moon responded appropriately; bucking and letting out pig-like squeals. The death-knell of being a mature and calm adult for Howard Moon and a new 30 minutes of sexual harassment.
Please...please...please...no...no...no...he chanted in his head till it was the consistency of thick cream. His bucking hurt his hands, so he stopped to begin wriggling them free. But that wasn't the only thing wriggling...
“.....hnnngggg....!!!”
Chills went up his spine when something was spat upon and his entrance was probed by a very green finger. The Hitcher had plunged his spit-lubed digit inside the virgin hole, thrusting it and wriggling. This did not please Howard.
“Lucky little bitch to get a bit prepared eh? Its because I love you Howard...” His voice had long since lost its ignorant-Cockney manner. Oh no, it was downright silky. Like smooth, molten slag. “...and that I'm evil, by the way!”
Howard was too busy arching and hyperventilating from the home-invasion to respond 'You already mentioned it, s-sir!'
“Ahh...” His finger continued, milking the man's reactions with glee. “Ever since you picked me up in the woods...I've imagined me thumb deep inside, buggering you while you writhed in your special 'ittle prison cell in that box...remember that lad, the prison I used to run? Ahh good times...”
“M-Make it stop!” Howard was having trouble paying attention to the off-tangent monologue of The Hitcher, seeing that now two wet fingers had slipped inside.
“You better be jolly that my thumb had shrunk, otherwise you'd be SCREAMIN'...” He spat and spanked his unruly prey, hearing a satisfying raspy squeak. “Damn twins, they shouldn't had been playing with my knives...”
NO NO AUGH AUGH OW OW Howard chanted loud enough in his head to miss The Hitcher's subsequent speech explaining how the Piper Twins cut his thumb off and the particulars on how to grow one back. Howard had more important things to do, like catch his breath, shaking and getting used to the two digits scissoring him. He could only pant and remain rigid where he lay face-down.
Without another word The Hitcher slipped the fingers out, leaving Howard to sputter and choke in response. The pain was a bit intense seeing how unrelaxing being raped was. His sputtering intensified when his head was yanked back and twisted. Before he could finish his cry of surprise he was snogged again.
“That's a good boy now...” The green man growled as he slathered his tongue all over in and out of Howard's mouth. Howard coughed and yelled, crying out as the kiss ended quickly and the mouth moved elsewhere. With a THUNK his left-side was crushed against the table and his body crushed even further. He groaned at the pressure, wincing as the cuffs hurt his trapped wrists, not to mention how crushed his exposed genitals already were. The Hitcher was definitely on top of him, definitely biting his ear rather hard. Moon shook even harder at the chills from the tongue's travels in and around his ear and the smelly, throaty chortles from the dominating villain.
“Augh!” The Hitcher's victim coughed and groaned. No matter how hard he struggled he still wouldn't be able to escape. His efforts still continued, spurred by the sound of the voodoo-man pausing to lube himself. Howard didn't need to see what was making the goopy, schluping sounds, the panting breath at the back of his hair and the sight of something long and green.
“S-sir...!” A hand grappled his behind again, hurting as his behind was pried apart. His virgin hole stung still from the fingers that tried to relax him. Regardless if they did or not The Hitcher certainly wasn't one to reconsider or slow down.
“Shut your cock-hole Harold I'm trying to bum ya!”
“H-Howard a-actual...ly...”
The hot slippery dick was pushing its way inside. Howard did not certainly remain quiet, regardless if The Hitcher was joking about as he grunted and went through. His prey writhed and yelled in an undignified manner for a man. Of course it wasn't dignified at all to be a man raped by a magical green villain that threatened to kill him in several instances of his life. He was totally unrelaxed as he arched and jerked his legs from the uncomfortable, stretching sensation of violation. If anything, Howard was truly stiff and shaking as the human body could ever be in a painful episode of rape.
But that didn't last long.
Howard was a little man. One who didn't even notice how seamlessly he wove bluffing and lies of strength and vigor through his vocabulary when threatened. Vince and his encounters dealing with the supernatural, the evil, and the Bainbridge brought up his want to defend himself and others rapidly. Until his bluffs were called he didn't even think about it. Constantly he thought, no, he thought he knew he was a gallant, stinging Northern bullet.
All except for The Hitcher.
It was always The Hitcher that silenced his instinct to pretend he wasn't scared pissless.
The pain lessened when Howard was beginning to feel the natural state of mind and body of giving-up. He had continued gritting his teeth, neck craned as his rectum was being slowly violated. The thick green was moving deeper and deeper, pushing and fighting against the tightness of a man who didn't want something thick and green up his ass. Each push was one more shove into hopelessness.
“Mmphf...! Hnng...nnnnggg...!” The Hitcher's cockney accent huffed and grunted with pleasure. “How does it feel boy, my faaaaaavorite eel inside ya?”
The 'boy' was panting. His face was screwed up as he could feel his pumping blood through his ears, his crushed arms and arse.
“I SAID...” A hiss snaked into his ear, painful as much as The Hitcher pulling back and accentuating with a deep thrust. Howard couldn't help but gasp and wheezily squeal.
“I..nno...no...”
“No? Mmm...mfff...ooh...” The Hitcher paused to moan, flexing his body as he slipped in till the hilt. “...mm...usually I would take 'no' as an answer lad, when doin' the rapin' sort of business...”
The counter creaked as he brought a knee up against the counter edge, grabbed his cane and slipped it underneath Howard's arching throat. With a jerk The Hitcher gripped his cane and, the counter as a lever lifted an angle upwards. Howard coughed and wheezed some more with his head back, trying to breathe. It made it much easier for the rapist to lean in for another lick before reeling back to totally dominate the unfortunate soul.
“But this time...I think I like you a little too much fer that.”
His prey was now being choked. Both hands gripped the cane, crushing Howard's windpipe. The Hitcher enjoyed those desperate sounds, and with the grip he was having it was perfect for keeping a good steady hold as he began to rut like a beast.
Howard tried to scream but couldn't. Air was a thing of the past now, the only thing he could feel was the throbbing in his head and his legs kicking even madder. His body fought for air, trying to move but it only made it hurt worse. The monster wasn't taking his time this time, he was full out fucking him. He felt like a dying twitching hospital patient, who certainly didn't want the doctor to continue giving his form of 'resuscitation'.
“I love you Howard.” He groaned in a stomach-churning way, the way the lips went back and his evil eyes closed. “And you're going to be my bitch.”
Howard wailed and choked when the pressure was released. All the blood rushed back to his head once the cane was dropped, clanging to the floor after almost killing The Hitcher's bitch.
“N-no...s-sir...”
“Yes sir, VERY much sir!” The Hitcher continued his paced unslaught, shaking the counter with his thrusts into tight warmth. “So you're going to like it like the little whelp you are!”
Howard was very, very afraid. Of all the villains that freaked him, scared and made him want to run it had to be THIS one that had to have an obsession of the more violent nature. So far the only thing done to him was choking to confuse his body, no knifes slashing him up into little bits. The Hitcher had even started out gentle, careful to not make him bleed too much at least.
“B-but...hnnn...” He whimpered as his heart fluttered and skin crawled. Wincing he noticed he was feeling rather achy no longer in the head but down below...
“No amount of money's going to take it boy.” The green man gripped Howard's heaving shoulder tightly, the other planted on the table to steady his old man's self. “I know you love it, maggot.”
Tears filled his little birdie eyes. The stinging had gone as his body choked, his breath shaking that the fear was now utterly here to stay. His body surrendered. With a shaky moan of despair he finally succumbed.
“O-Ow...nn...nnnnn...”
“What's that boy?” He yodeled as Howard gave a sigh and slumped, shaking as he sobbed. Tears dribbled unto the counter as the childman shook and moaned, crying like a baby. Once more the witch's tongue had darted to his face, tasting the salt of his sadness in its own delight.
The pace was quickened, fueled by The Hitcher's desire to ruin Howard's little mind.
“Speak up boy...unfhh...Uncle Hitcher can't year ya!”
Howard wailed.
“WHAT WAS THAT? LOUDER!”
Another wail...no, a scream, a yell, a loud guttural one accompanied by an avalanche of tears.
“THATS it me boy, let it alll run out...like a liquid puddin'...mmphf....Oohh THERE she goes!” The monster was momentarily satisfied with that. His knee dug back into the counter, able to thrust wildly. The receiver continued to cry, shaking and clenching his fists as his insides, being pummeled by a throbbing cock, were receiving the wet organ.
Just when he thought all he needed to do was just breathe and try to ignore it, the tip was brushing against something he didn't know he had inside him.
“....urk...hnnnggg!” Howard lurched as strange new pleasures crawled up his spine. It felt like an electric knife had slipped all through his blood stream and muscles all the way to his brain, and then back down to his....
Oh...nnooonnnghhh...
The Hitcher noticed as well.
“This is my favorite part of the business besides my own satisfaction.” He began with licked lips, clicking his tongue as he watched Howard's face betray all the emotions he needed to prove the man's shame.
“Its when I make the lucky fella scream my name.”
The Hitcher flexed his hips, gyrating circles in the tightness. Howard now was fully comprehending what he was doing, that his rapist wasn't going to let him go fucked-free, oh no...he was going to cream the counter side.
“B-but...hngn...S-sir...!”
“Yap yap yap, not one 'please sir, make me your piss-pot!'” He mocked with a high laugh, female witch-like even; the pleasure was getting to him as well.
Oh...no! NO! Each thrust was driving his body insane! It was pleasure, he knew it well. It was burning, aching pleasure, burning in his loins. Whatever this madman was doing, he was doing it good. Inside his body, there, in the rhythm of the thrusts was a weakness The Hitcher found to exploit.
“I WASN'T joking boy...” This times thick green hands were on his neck instead of the cane, digging into Howard's windpipe. “I want you to ask me to make you my little chamber pot”
Howard's brain, dying from lack of oxygen while his nervous system still sent sensations of pleasure would have done a spit take if he was swallowing, well, something liquid. Hopefully that liquid wouldn't be urine.
He had two options. One was keep fighting, coughing at the medium-amount of pressure on his windpipe and bloodstream as The Hitcher not only would choke him harder but continue to grunt and hiss as the pain, not pleasure, was continuing from being raped violently till eventually he would die from lack of oxygen.
Or he could suck up the tears and hack out how much he would like to be The Hitcher's receptacle for urine.
He chose the latter.
“....hn...hucchhhhkk...p...p-p...”
The choking eased a bit, but Howard's tearing eyes, wincing shut as he blushed with shame, were not unnoticed.
“Pleeeeeeease what luv?”
W-why am I doing this...why...
“P-please sir, m-make me your...ch-ch...chamber...chamber pot!”
His last words rushed out of him as air entered his lungs. The relief from finally able to see without blacking out (through blurry, watery vision) made his brain jump for joy, but at a shameful price.
I really did say chamber pot, did I?
“Thatta boy! Oy you're bloody well fun!” The fucking continued at the previously pleasurable pace, a rapacious reward for Howard's behavior. Howard bent over and arched, busy coughing and catching his breath. But there was little time to calm down and think so much at the boundary normal humans, to his standards, he just broke in begging. In fact all the times when he was asked to do demeaning things he would quickly buckle and follow those orders: dress like Bollo, fight a Killeroo...
Perfect target for Daddy Hitcher.
“Mmm you be likin' this boy!”
“AHHH!”
Green hands went down and found evidence of Howard's indecisiveness about what he was feeling. They stroked his manhood, making Howard cry out and twitch, bucking as they sloppily caressed and, with a rough squeeze, yanked.
Ahh! AHH! OH! Oh..oh...oh boy...
His heart fluttered and gut twisted with revulsion. His arms, long since fallen numb from being crushed now didn't matter as a distraction even. The rhythm of the thrusts in and out of his body, and what was being touched deep inside, and this...this...
“Like that boy? Cockney cock deep inside ya?”
Howard was shaking with a strange combination of sobbing and panting breath. His moans were getting more and more audible as the dirty fingers half-haphazardly gave Howard a constricted hand job. His aching weakness was throbbing against the counter, trapped against the pressure there and the pressure of The Hitcher's knobby digits. Occasionally then, as he squirmed and moaned about in this bad-touch ecstasy The Hitcher's cock-ney would hit home inside to that other sensitive place.
His body demanded more and more, more of the sparks going through his brain. His eyes closed, no longer wincing with futile resistance but scrunching up when thrusts and hand hit home. The throbbing and the pounding were becoming one welcome sensation instead of several, blending and taking over rational thought. It was enough to take over his normal sensibilities and affect his speech in fact.
“Answer me!” He slapped Howard's thigh like he would riding a filly. “I asked if you LIKE it! You will ANSWER me, and call me sir, is that clear boy?”
The counter creaked as The Hitcher reeled back, almost slipping completely out of his disobedient Howard Moon, ready to strike again if he still got any resistance.
“Y-yes sir, I l-like it sir!” Howard sputtered out with a whine when the thrusting had stopped.
“Mmmm...you slag...dirty little alley jazz-cat, are you?”
“Y-yes...nnghgh...sir!” The thrusts picked up, at an even pace again. A pace no longer causing Howard pain, now that he was relaxing and falling into a sexual bliss...
“Do you want some more boy?” Pace quickening, burning growing. The hand was once again warm and caressing his member, quick grasps and touches being that The Hitcher was moving back and forth thrusting into his table-top jazz-cat.
“M-more...” The pleasurable electricity was being converted into a warm energy...getting warmer...
“Do I get a please?” He growled, thumb caressing Howard's aching sac.
“Please sir, m-may I have some more?” He barely uttered the sentence because his aching grew stronger! He felt like his blood was on fire in his aching, dripping organs. The pleasure pulsed from two sources as The Hitcher, a disgusting rapist player in the age's old dance of mating, continued to do his despicable form of the 'dance'.
He was rewarded. The Hitcher slipped himself out with a loud groan deep from his belly, harmonious with Howard's own moan from his tightness being unfilled. However the warm and aching lack of Hitcher waited a bit more as, thankfully, he was flipped unto his back. With a slam he was rolled back, his arms stinging and free from their crushed constriction and head over the edge. He couldn't help but sigh, in a bliss and suffering from the pins and needles in his arms. Fingers flexed and his arms up in an almost begging position, his fingers curling into fists, sweating as the seconds ticked past.
“Mmmphf you little man-slut...” Green hands ran all over Howard's panting face, touching and feeling the sweaty skin of the burning man. Howard's body was alight with fire yet again; he couldn't stop quivering. His insides previously invaded felt empty without the green man inside, puckering as he wriggled to alleviate that pulsing throb aching him so badly. He didn't care if he looked miserable, basically naked, wincing and whimpering like some baby. It was just feeling too. Damn. Good.
“Look atcha, a filthy whore.” The man-witch commented with a husky accent. “You're practically begging me boy! What are ya some horn touter? Getting it on with that French bird of yours eh?”
Howard tried to reply, but he was breathing erratically through seething teeth as his chest was pushed and groped, nipples tweaked till purple. A strange ecstasy swept through him like a sinister rain cloud, reminding him that he was originally non-consenting for this sort of 'intimate conversation' in the first place. That only excited him more.
“I...n-no...V-Vince...he's...AHH!”
“I bet you would like to have a go at him, bum him right up the arse like I'm doin' you now...” A loud schluuuuup was heard as The Hitcher spat on himself, lubing up more before schlurrrrping back inside. The receiver groaned with welcomed pain as his rectum was invaded again, wincing as the slow thrusts quickly lulled his body back into pleasure.
“N-No I'm n-not gay! No sir!” His toes curled in, his fleshy legs pushed up and back by The Hitcher. He only kicked momentarily before he soon felt that he was able to thrust deeper and easier.
“Then what's this about your little winky eh?” Laughed the polo-fiend, grabbing Howard with a yank.
His attention returned, letting loose an explosive moan and a grunt. Howard was truly floating in his mind and body; his head had gone back. He stared at the cabinets and shelves that were behind the counter happily upside down.
“...w-well...w-when a...I...” Howard promptly sputtered and drooled a little. He couldn't finish his sentence coherently. It ended with a soft cry. Then another. And another.
“Don't lie to me boy.” The green hand wrapped around the shaft pumping fast and hard, slick with pre-cum. “You're quite enjoying this you bloody queer.”
He was enjoying it.
“Don't worry boy...” The thrusts picked up, the handjob sloppy and irregular. “After all we're gunna be doin' this in and about for a long time Moon while you're still alive...oh...oyyyyy! OH YES.”
The Hitcher had buckled over. His yellowed teeth bit over his lip as he sucked in a hiss of breath. The cane clattered from where it rested on the counter as his other reached and grappled Howard's lump of a body. The light sweat from Howard's spread body dampened his coat sleeve as he leaned in, thrusting like an animal, spitting and grunting along the way. Howard's head only pulled up to stare for a moment at the forest-green fingers pleasuring his throbbing manhood...only to fall back with a great wave of sexual dizziness, in bliss as his body burned and boiled. His body was so warm, tingling all over, aching down below that he didn't even fully notice The Hitcher grabbing his handcuffed wrists and shoving it down. A sly smile and laugh issued from The Hitcher's mouth in between his grunts and 'oyyy!'s as Howard began jacking himself off. The cries from poor 'abused' Howard were much louder now, almost mewling as he whined and neared his eventual release.
“Dirty little squire...you bastard...MY bastard...” Huffed The Hitcher, smiling, gripping Howard firmly. The counter shook and rattled its contents now, The Hitcher planting his boots down and jack-hammering into his said-bastard.
“Hng...s-sir....H-Hitcher...” His thighs and body rippled from the force of the thrusting man between. A slight smile spread across his face, before melting into a limp open mouth, crying out like a little girl.
“Who's your Hitcher boy? WHO?”
Howard was almost crying again, but for a different reason. It felt like he was going to...to...
“M-m...m...mmmore...oh...YOU ARE...g...good...so...”
“Because you're my slut Howard. Because you're my whore.”
With a loud cry Howard came.
He couldn't do anything except give in. There was nothing in the world but hot flashes of white behind his closed lids, scrunched to make his eyes even tinier. His dick throbbed, spurting all across his chest while ears, stoppered with his blood pumping and the explosion of orgasm did not hear The Hitcher grunt and laugh wickedly as he too came. Howard's writhing tightened the green cock inside of him. Sucking him in, making The Hitcher himself almost buckle.
“Filthy faggot.” He panted and groaned in his cockney way. “What a mess ya made.”
They panted together, one green the other red, flushed with heat. Both their manhoods throbbing, slick with their cum. Some of it was dripping from around The Hitcher's own heat, still impaled firmly in Howard's rear. It dripped to the floor as Howard quivered, recovering from this writhing climax. His toes soon stopped curling, and his breathing slowing as he covered. He watched from limpid eyes as the one who gave him this sinful pleasure withdrew from his tightness.
“Well boy you were a better fuck than I imagined!” The Hitcher wiped his dick clean on the descending thigh that had remained up and spread for so long. The man finally sighed and feel limp, moaning with a stinging rear end and a satisfied body. His arms that were deadlocked on his own erection slumped to the side, their trembles ceasing, his body covered with gobs of sticky.
The Hitcher reached and uncuffed Howard, having no need to keep him tied up like that. He was as limp as a carcass, gasping and making soft noises like a little girl. It amused him more than he thought, and if he wasn't already spent, would arouse him again.
However Howard startled back into a state of agitated-hopelessness again. The Hitcher was now urinating on him, spraying his yellow witch-juice all over Howard's chest. It puddled and ran down his sides to the counter as he groggily flopped about again, sputtering as it made some contact with his lips. Now he was sticky, salty, sweaty AND wet...
He sat up, gasping and dripping wet, leaving a puddle and mess all over their corner of the shop. But like a true Cockney nutjob, he was soon pelted by some coins and paper bills fluttering about him, thrown from the pockets of his rapist, guffawing at his lemon-wet nudity.
“Keep the change boy! You're definitely worth a thousand euros! Forget about payin' me later in currency!” He yodeled and zipped himself back up.
Grabbing his hat and cane, The Hitcher went round the counter. Howard's tiny terrified eyes turned and followed him. He barely moved where he was, spread-legged, wet and generally naked half-sitting on the counter. Staring at the green fiend.
“I'll be back, don't you worry boy.” He hissed and ran the knob of his cane along Howard's jawline, relishing the little man's trembles even more. The paper bills quivered, stuck to his wet body, and his face paling exquisitely like a fading flower. “Whenever I need a good ol' time boy, you better be ready for me. It might be tomorrow, or might be next month.”
Howard wished he could just shut his eyes and run blindly to the shower to wash all the wet off. But he couldn't with those big, evil blue eyes in his own face. Once again he felt the familiar pressure against his throat as the cane tilted his head back and towards the man-witch.
“But when I do come fer you Howard...” Husked The Hitcher against Howard's speechless face. “You'd better be a good boy.”
As soon as he had said this he released his prey. He swung the cane as he stormed from the counter, destroying a chunk of Stationary Village, what was left of it that still stood.
The wicked laughter grew louder and louder the further the man clicked his heels away from him.
Howard Moon, formerly a pressed salesman, was still naked, wet, cold, aching and hurt on the counter. Watching the man leave.
The Hitcher only turned back to smile and chuckle, winking his non-polo eye at him. This made Howard slide and collapse off the counter, on the ground quivering in the puddle of bodily fluids in his version of swooning with terror.
The Hitcher walked out into the night the way he came in leaving his dirty man-whore where he was, in a puddle of urine, in the former pie and mash shop. Confused as hell why he enjoyed what just transpired.
Howard lay there, on his side, shaking with shame. He had been raped. And he liked it. The green man from his nightmares just went up and raped him on the counter. It was a legitimate cause for concern of course, which troubled Howard. He would have to clean up the mess before Vince could see his shame.
And he's going to come back and rape me again.
Again Howard began to cry a little. A grown man shouldn't be feeling this way, but Howard had just been fucked back a few levels into a state of fear and goosebumps.
Vince mustn't find out. He mustn't. No. No he shouldn't. No...
“Hey Howard, where are you?...and what's all this piss on the floor?”
…dammit...
----
“Well then...” Hummed the green man tromping off. “Now we'll pay a visit to that little bird-friend of his sometime....”