GROSSX

Akoni swayed his legs softly over the edge of the couch, heels tapping lightly against the upholstery as he hummed a gentle, sugary tune. The melody was light and repetitive in the quiet air, aside from the soft hum of 90’s anime on the flat screen in the living room. A bright lollipop rested between his lips, the stick tilting each time he smiled around it.

He had invited you over after weeks of messaging. Of course, online, his name carried rumors; threads whispered about strange vibes and documents of odd behavior, but none of it came with proof. It was just noise; jealous competitors, maybe. And you were new to the cosplay community! Fresh. Eager. You had not expected someone as established as Akoni to respond to your small Reddit post asking for beginner tips.

Yet he had, and you couldn't have been more grateful to the universe!

He wrote paragraphs of tips and links to the best contact lens shop with detailed advice about styling synthetic wigs so they looked natural. He even had names of local fabric stores that sold quality material for cheap. The conversation stretched on easily, but then became personal. That was how you learned he lived nearby; that’s how he suggested you stop by sometime. He was kind, explaining how he could help refine your stitching and show you proper seam finishes, teaching you every little technique he knew.

It felt slightly condescending at times, the way he phrased things. But every time doubt crept in, he soothed it with reassurance.

“You have potential.”

“I just want to help you grow.”

“We all start somewhere!”

And now you stood in his living room, surrounded by carefully organized bins and racks of costumes. Akoni popped the lollipop from his mouth with a soft sound and smiled as you sifted through layered fabrics and detailed accessories.

“Wow,” you breathed, fingers grazing over intricate embroidery. “...You have such a huge collection.”

Bundles of clothing spilled across the coffee table. You studied tight stitches, clean hems, layered armor pieces crafted from foam so smooth they looked molded. Everything felt so professional. Which made sense…. He was.

“Impressive, right?” His voice was light and airy, almost musical. A small giggle slipped from his lips as he slid off the couch and padded closer. “You’re pretty cute like this, you know?”

Your hands paused mid-motion. “Huh?”

Compliments were not foreign to you, but the tone caught you off guard. It was soft. Almost indulgent. When you looked up, his smile remained, sweet and unwavering. He leaned in slightly, licking the remaining sugar from his lips as though in thought.

“Hm? Oh,” he said, feigning innocence. “I just think it’s cute seeing baby cosplayers. That’s all.” He crouched near you, close enough that you could smell the artificial strawberry perfume wafting off him. “You can look through everything if you’d like. We can go through some tips. Or… lessons.” His voice lingered on the last word. “I can teach you a few things too!”

You placed a strip of fabric back into its bin, forcing a light laugh. “I’ve never heard someone call me a baby cosplayer.”

Akoni’s smile widened just slightly, settling into his features.

“Mhh. Well, now you have.” He stepped around you, painfully slow, until he stood behind you. You felt his presence, his eyes, before you saw him again. “Could have sworn it was common.” His gaze lingered on the back of your head, observant, measuring. “You can just look at this as you being my baby that I have to teach. Cosplay baby, of course.” His tone softened further. “Right, baby?”

His hands settled on your shoulders, gentle at first. His thumbs traced small circles through the fabric of your shirt, almost absentmindedly. The humming resumed under his breath, the same soft tune from earlier.

The room suddenly felt smaller, air heavier.

You tried to brush it off... Maybe this was just his personality. Playful, theatrical, and dramatically cringe in all the odd ways. He was a performer, after all! Cosplayers leaned into personas; maybe this was one of them, maybe this was normal.

He leaned closer, though, his voice lowering near your ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure you improve properly. Every little step.” His fingers tightened just slightly before relaxing again. “You just have to listen.”

Across the living room, white shelves of figurines stared down like all-seeing witnesses. Neatly labeled. Carefully maintained. His reflection in the glass display case showed a smile that did not quite match the sweetness in his voice.

“Let’s start simple,” he whispered. “I’ll show you how to behave like a proper little beginner...”

—

Time with Akoni passed almost too smoothly.

He kept his promises. He corrected your grip when you held the styling scissors wrong. He guided your fingers through the wig fibers, showing you how to tease the hair into volume without tangling. His hands would cover yours from behind, steady and precise. His chin occasionally brushed your shoulder as he leaned in to inspect your work. Soft praise spilled from him whenever you followed his instructions correctly.

“See? That’s better. You learn so much faster when you listen.”

It was oddly easy to fall into the rhythm with him; cutting, layering, flat ironing.

That was…until your stomach growled.

The sound cut through the quiet hum of the styling dryer. You froze in embarrassment, but instead of laughing, Akoni stilled behind you. Very slowly, he leaned closer. You felt the warmth of his breath near your ear.

“Mm,” he murmured, voice dipping lower than before. “Are you hungry?”

The way he asked made something prickle along your spine. It was gently laced, the sort tone someone used when checking on a child who had skipped breakfast. You nodded anyway, much too sheepish to deny.

“Uh, uhm, yeah…I guess that protein bar earlier wore off.” You forced a small laugh, more self-conscious than before.

He laughed too, light and melodic, as if you had said something adorable rather than ordinary. He slipped off the stool behind you and placed the lollipop back between his lips with a soft pop.

“Okaii,” he sang. “Let’s go eat then. I have some really yummy food in the fridge.”

He did not ask what you wanted. He simply beckoned you with two fingers and glided toward the kitchen.

You followed.

The kitchen looked like the rest of his home. Soft pastels blended with sharp blacks. Plush charms hung from cabinet handles. Decorative jars shaped like animals lined the counter. It was charming and intentional, like some pink cottage doll house.

You sat at one of the stools by the island while he moved around the space with practiced ease. He leaned against the counter for a moment, studying you.

“A sandwich sound good?” he asked.

You nodded.

As he began preparing it, you pulled out your phone, scrolling absentmindedly. But your eyes drifted up now and then.

He took out plates decorated with pastel cartoon characters. Rounded edges. Plastic. The kind you were almost certain were meant for very small children. He placed one on the counter. Then another.

Your fingers stilled on your screen as you watched him open the fridge again.

“Milk, apple juice, or orange?” he called out to you simply.

You glanced up, noticing soda cans and bottled tea clearly visible on the shelf inside.

“Can I have, uh… some soda instead, maybe?”

He hummed. Then clicked his tongue quietly, so soft you could have missed it. When he looked at you, his expression had not changed much. He was still smiling, a smile so sweet it could have hurt. But there was something in his eyes now. A mild alteration.

“Mhh, no. You can’t. Sorry.” His tone was airy but firm underneath. “Saving that for something else.” He tilted his head slightly. “Now, do you want milk, apple, or orange, baby?”

There it was again.

‘Baby’…

The word settled heavy in your stomach. The sweetness in his voice felt layered, like frosting hiding something bitter and dense beneath it. For a moment, you considered pushing back. Instead, you swallowed.

“Apple juice is fine.”

“Apple juice it is,” he replied softly.

It took longer than it should have for a simple sandwich and drink. You could hear careful slicing. The deliberate placement of pieces onto the plate. Clinks of glass. A faint hum under his breath, that same tune from earlier. When he finally set the plate in front of you, your confusion surfaced immediately. The sandwich had been cut into small, neat squares, almost bite-sized, the crusts removed. Next to it sat your choice of drink.

In a sippy cup.

Or something disturbingly close to one. Soft spout lid. Rounded handles. The whole deal.

Your brow furrowed. “Why—”

“Oh,” he interrupted smoothly, already anticipating the question. “I have to get new cups soon. That’s all I have at the moment. Sorry~” He dragged out the apology in a coo, as if soothing rather than truthfully explaining.

You were about to say something wrapped in disapproval but your stomach growled again, louder this time. You hesitated only a second before reaching for the food. You were hungry. It did not matter how it was presented.

Right?

You picked up one of the small sandwich pieces and ate, chew after chew. Across from you, Akoni rested his chin in his palm, elbow on the counter. Watching. His gaze lingered on your lips as you chewed. On the way your cheek rounded slightly with each bite. On your throat as you swallowed.

“You look really cute,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You ignored it and reached for the cup. The soft plastic pressed against your mouth as you tipped it carefully. There was a faint suction sound as you drank, sound echoing through the kitchen. For just a second, you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch.

When you looked up, his smile had deepened once again, settling within his features. His eyes traced the movement of the cup in your hands, the way your fingers wrapped around the small handles without thinking.

“...Good,” he whispered the simple word, yet it did not feel at all like that the moment you saw a pleased glint in his eyes.

—

Time went on with you and Akoni in a way that almost allowed you to forget the strange undercurrent humming beneath everything. If you pushed aside the infantilizing comments, the way his praise sometimes sounded more like approval than encouragement, the day could have passed for productive and even enjoyable.

He returned to his workbench with renewed focus, walking you through advanced layering techniques that gave costumes depth on camera while maintaining comfort during long convention hours. He explained hidden stitching, weight distribution, and how subtle shading in fabric could create dimension under harsh lighting. His knowledge was meticulous and undeniable, and you found yourself drawn in despite yourself, watching the fluid confidence in his movements as he crafted, trimmed, and assembled pieces with almost surgical precision.

At his insistence, you tried on a few accessories to understand how they sat against the body. Arm warmers lined with faux fur swallowed your forearms in softness, a fitted choker rested against your throat, and a cropped jacket hung slightly oversized on your shoulders. When you spotted a pair of black cat ears adorned with tiny silver bells, you slipped them on playfully, adjusting them in the mirror with a small grin. The bells chimed faintly when you tilted your head, and the sound seemed to delight him far more than it should have.

Akoni giggled behind you, the sound high and airy as he stepped closer, his reflection appearing over your shoulder. He leaned into your space without hesitation, smiling as though he were admiring something precious. “Aw, you look like a kitty,” he cooed, his tone light but saturated with something heavier beneath it. “A very, very kawaii one.”

You rolled your eyes and played along, giving a half-hearted “meow,” expecting him to adjust the ears or smooth the faux fur as he often did when something was even slightly out of place.

Instead, his fingers drifted upward and caught a loose strand of your hair.

The motion was unhurried with purpose. He twirled the strand around his finger and lifted it toward his face, and before you could fully register what was happening, he inhaled deeply, the sound soft but unmistakable in the quiet room. His lashes lowered slightly as he breathed you in, as though committing the scent to memory.

“Ohwww,” he murmured, the syllable stretching with quiet satisfaction. “You’re starting to smell like me.”

A chill threaded down your spine as the meaning settled. The faint sweetness in the air, the detergent, and the artificial strawberry that seemed embedded in the walls, in the fabrics, in him. Had it transferred onto you? The thought, the way he spoke it, made your stomach twist.

You shoved backward on instinct, the sudden movement causing the bells on the cat ears to jingle sharply. “What are you doing?” you demanded, but even as the words left your mouth, you heard something wrong in them. They slurred together slightly, the edges dulled, your tongue lagging half a beat behind your thoughts.

Akoni did not flinch at your reaction. He remained where he was, watching you with his head tilted slightly to one side, studying you the way he studied his craft. There was no anger in his expression, nor embarrassment. Only patience, though it looked more like a mask than anything.

“Are you okay…?” he asked gently, forcing something darker deeper into himself.

Your heart pounded, yet your limbs felt strangely heavy, as though gravity had intensified without warning. You reached for the edge of the table to steady yourself, your fingers curling around it a second slower than they should have. The room did not spin, but it felt distant, softened at the edges, as if a thin veil had been drawn between you and everything else.

“I’m fine,” you tried to say, though it came out thick and sluggish and more like “‘M fin…”

His gaze flickered to your mouth as you spoke, then back to your eyes, tracking the delay in your response with unsettling attentiveness. He stepped forward painfully slow, closing the distance you had anxiously tried to create.

“You’re swaying,” he noted softly, merely stating it like he knew this would happen.

You had not realized you were until he said it. The faint rocking motion betrayed you, subtle but there, like a boat that was poorly anchored. Warmth pooled in your limbs, a creeping heaviness that felt like unnatural exhaustion.

“You’ve had such a big day,” he continued, voice lowering into that same syrupy cadence. “Learning so much… Trying so hard,” he mockingly pouted.

Your thoughts felt tangled and difficult to separate; however, a thought hovered somewhere in your mind, something about the apple juice, about the way your tongue felt thick, about the way your knees seemed unreliable beneath you, but the idea would not fully form.

He reached up and adjusted the cat ears carefully, straightening them with meticulous precision as though nothing at all were wrong. The bells chimed again, softer this time.

“There,” he whispered, smoothing a hand over your shoulder. “Much better….”

You fumbled to step back again, but the movement was delayed, clumsy, your foot barely sliding against the floor before stopping. A flicker of realization sparked in your chest, though you could do nothing to stop it.

“I told you,” he murmured, brushing lint from your sleeve with tender care. “I’ll take good care of you. You just have to listen.”

Your mouth opened to respond, but the words became tangled before they could escape properly, dissolving into half-formed sounds. His thumb grazed your cheek lightly, testing your reaction, and when you failed to pull away as quickly as before, his eyes softened with quiet approval.

“See?” he whispered, close enough now that his breath ghosted across your skin. “You’re already getting quieter.”

The faint jingling of the bells marked the slow dip of your head as your balance wavered again, your body betraying you in small, humiliating increments.

Akoni exhaled. “Good baby,” he breathed.

The warmth in your limbs thickened once again without warning, spreading downward like molasses, and before you could properly brace yourself, your knees buckled beneath you. Your breath hitched sharply in your chest as your body refused to respond the way it should have, fingers slipping uselessly against the edge of a nearby table. The room seemed to lurch sideways, colors bleeding softly into one another as the edges of reality had been smudged by careless hands, his hands. You caught a final glimpse of Akoni stepping forward, and then your vision dimmed from the corners inward until the delicate blur of his house dissolved into painful nothingness.

—

Consciousness returned back to you in fragments, drifting back in slow, heavy waves. At first there was only warmth. A smothering softness that cradled your body from every side, and truthfully, you had expected hardness when sensation sharpened, expected tile or wood or the ache of a fall, but instead you were sunk deep into layers of plush bedding. Cream and pastel blankets cocooned you, tucked tight around your limbs with careful precision, almost like a baby would. The air smelled faintly sweet, powdered, with artificial berries, clinging to your senses before your thoughts could fully form.

As your eyes grazed and blinked, you noticed something plastic rested near your cheek. When your eyes finally fully opened, sluggish and unfocused, you made out the blurred shape of a rattle lying beside your head. Its pastel beads were translucent, catching the warm yellow light softly. Just beyond it sat a pacifier, placed neatly on the blanket as if set there with intention rather than accident, like a movie set.

You tried to inhale deeply, to steady yourself, but your mouth would not cooperate.

It was already full.

Something soft yet firm pressed past your lips, occupying the space completely, forcing your jaw into a stretched, unfamiliar position. Your tongue felt pinned and useless beneath its flesh surface, and that’s when your hearing finally came through. Wet, lewd squelches rang through your head, slow but present.

“M-mh… Ah.. fuck..” you heard the same syrupy voice slip its way towards you, and as your eyes found their way upwards, that's when you noticed. There Akoni was, face framed by the soft lighting, hair tousled, pastel shirt pulled halfway up his frame, depraved arousal crossing his once-soft features. His moans continued, and although you wanted to move, hit, or run even—you realized that was not happening any time soon, as your limbs remained heavy and sluggish by your sides.

Panic clawed into your psyche as he noticed you stir awake; he simply pushed his hips towards you, pushing his thick flesh deeper into your unwilling throat. With each thrust, the bells on your faux kitty ears jingled mockingly. His eyes twisted with sadistic desire, flourishing in the fact that you were trapped here with him and under his mercy. The next words hardly matched his expression, “Ahw…did I wake you up, baby?—n-ngh… D—Daddy’s sorry—fuuu…” he trailed off, breaking his eye contact with yours and indulging in the heavenly feeling that was your slick, warm mouth.

Minutes stretched slowly into what felt closer to hours. Your consciousness flickered in and out like a dying light, brief moments of awareness swallowed by the heavy fog still clinging to your mind and muddied by pumps of sweet and salty loads. You were no longer sure how long you had been lying there in that sick excuse of a crib, wrapped in suffocatingly soft blankets, the pacifier occasionally forced between your lips while the rattle sat waiting beside your head like some cruel joke. Hell, you were sure he’d even thrown aside the now-humiliating cat ears at some point.

Every time your thoughts surfaced, they circled the same realization before sinking again.

You weren’t going home.

That quiet promise of leaving his house safe and sound had already rotted away, replaced by something far colder. Whatever Akoni planned, it did not include letting you walk out the door.

Your future felt disturbingly simple now. Either you would spend your days like this, drugged and dulled until you were nothing more than something soft and obedient for him to play with. Like a doll.

Or…when the novelty wore off, you would be discarded just as easily.

Like a cheap child’s toy he no longer wanted.

Coming into consciousness, Dollie’s vision slowly cleared, allowing her to see where she was, barely. It was cold and she felt that she was on a hard surface. Was it the ground? Where was she? Did she fall asleep on the bus? Her head spun with questions as she caught the sound of footsteps approaching her. There was a voice, but she couldn’t make out what it was saying or who it belonged to. The person was shrouded in darkness as Dollie laid on her back, leaving her front completely exposed. She was able to get a glimpse of the person’s face before she began to panic. She wriggled about on the hard ground only to realize, her hands were tied behind her back and she was gagged with a cloth that made her choke on her own tongue.

Her heart rate rose as she became a bit more aware of the situation and immediately, tried to use the tricks that Zander had taught her, to at the very least free her wrists, but her body felt like cement and the more she struggled with her hands, the more pain from her wrists being bound so tight shot through her body before she eventually gave up, heaving with labored breath. Each move was strained and heavy, leaving her exhausted.

“Hey Dollie,” she heard a voice a bit more clearly. Wakey Wakey!” She knew that voice. She knew that voice.

With a new sense of urgency, Dollie tried her best to move her still heavy body, but she couldn’t find the strength to even let out a muffled scream. As a set of footsteps approached her, she forced any strength she could, and kicked her feet in Avon’s general direction. She must have almost hit him because he let out a scolding ‘hey!’ before leaping to the side. Somehow, Dollie managed to roll over onto her belly when she noticed her bag through her blurry vision, thrown haphazardly onto the ground, was lighting up. Her phone. Someone was calling her phone. Zander. Forcing her heavily drugged body to move, Dollie felt her heart pound as she inched closer and closer to the bag, phone still vibrating. Zander was still calling. She just needs to touch the answer button with skin, that’s all. She accidentally operated her phone with her nose multiple times, it’ll be easy. She just need to get a bit closer—

“Oops!” Avon said, feigning remorse. “My bad!”

Dollie’s body went limp as her bag skidded across the room, further away from her. Avon had kicked it. With a sick giddy grin, he crouched down to Dollie’s level, watching as she turned over on her back, tears streaming down her face and into her ears.

“Awe, don’t cry Dollie.” Avon cooed. “You should’ve expected this to happen!”

Avon gently petted his victim’s head, causing them to flinch away from his warm hands. Giggling, he placed his hand on her head anyway. It was firm yet gentle. Like one would touch someone they loved. It made Dollie sick.

“You're always so rude to me, you know?” Avon said, touching the rainbow beaded hair tie that held Dollie’s space buns.

“Always wishing horrible things to happen to me. Always starting shit.” His voice, although gentle, was laced with venom.

Dollie shook her head, trying to get Avon’s hands off of her as the buzzing of her phone in the distance grounded her. This was real. This was really happening. Avon had drugged her, but how? He wasn’t even at the train station.

“You really shouldn’t wear a headset in public. Especially when you're alone.” Avon said, like he was giving her advice.

A second set of foot steps caught her attention as she craned to look at who they belonged to. In front of her was the man with the red beanie. He had a hand on the back of his neck, with a bored expression as he made eye contact with Dollie. Then all at once, it hit her like a truck as she slowly turned her head to see Avon’s stoic face, twist into a manic grin. She had heard someone calling her. It was the man with the red beanie. He called her name and when she wasn’t looking, Avon slipped something in her drink. But why would soap make her so…heavy?

“It was GHB.” The man said, seeing the fear and confusion on her face. Dollie’s head snapped to the stranger.

“While you were busy looking to your right; at me. Avon slipped it in your drink.” He explained like it was the simplest thing ever.

Dollie couldn’t help but be confused about this man. Who was he? Why was he here? Why didn't he help her?! Avon, roughly gripping her jaw, forced her to look at him again, hurting her neck in the process.

“Don’t worry about him, you focus on me, little mouse.”

Hearing Avon call her something Zander used, made her stomach churn and burn with fear and hatred all at once. Standing up, Avon walked over to the stranger and whispered something in his ear. His eyes dilated as his face seemed to get flushed. He said something as he paced in the opposite direction away from Dollie and Avon. He was still in the room, just…at a distance. He sat down in a chair as Avon stepped back into his victim’s line of sight, blocking the stranger from view.

“Look at you,” Avon purred. “So cute. You really are like a mouse.”

The rings in his eyes piled as he positioned himself on top of Dollie, straddling her hips. He reached for the hem of her dino printed dress as Dollie, bucked her hips, enough for Avon to fall backwards. He hit the ground with a thud and turned his head towards the sound of the stranger stifling a laugh. Now he was annoyed. Getting up to his feet, he watched as Dollie tried once again to stand on her own feet, but couldn’t seem to keep the balance enough to actually stand. Eventually, she tried inch worming her way towards the man sitting in a chair. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, begging him for help. The stranger stared back at her with dead eyes, as he watched the girl on the ground let out gagged pleas. Her tear stained face rubbed against his leg as he jerked his leg back with a disgusted sneer.

The sound of metal scrapping on concrete caught both of their attention as they saw Avon slowly creeping towards Dollie with that sick grin. He said nothing as he stopped at Dollie’s feet, causing her to curl up and away from him. His eyes, pulsing and hungry, never left Dollie’s dark ones as she lifted the metal bar above his head. Dollie, before she even had a chance to register what or why this was happening, felt sharp pain shoot through her body. With each hit of the metal bar, Dollie could feel her arms and legs going numb with each hit. She writhed, releasing muffled, piercing screams. Tears streamed down her face as each hit either landed somewhere new, or in the exact place it had already hit. Dollie didn’t know you could feel bruises forming until today.

Just when her brain couldn’t handle anymore, everything went black. But only for a second. She watched as her body seemed to move on its own, despite the pain. She thrashed around seemingly not of her own accord, but managing to kick Avon in the stomach. It did little to help her as he recovered quickly, and straddled her hips again. This time, ripping open the crotch of her leggings and ripping off her underwear, leaving her exposed to the chilly damp air. She attempted to close her legs but Avon had her pinned. Placing himself between her legs, he unbuckled his pants, pulling out his fully erect cock.

Dollie’s body bucked, writhed and twisted, desperate to get away from the man on top of her.

“Zander gets to have this pretty pussy anytime he wants,” Avon said, looking up at the man in the chair.

“I think it’s my turn.”

Dollie heard a slight chuckle leave the stranger's mthroat, as Avon shoved himself inside of her vagina. She felt as if she was being torn apart as the seating pain left her unable to move and rendered silent. The pain only lasted for a second before Avon began to move again. Moaning at the feeling of Dollie’s walls clenching around him.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed.

“So fucking tight! Zandi has been keeping this from me?” He groaned, getting more and more rough with each thrust.

Dollie had gone limp at this point. She stopped moving entirely, much to Avon disappointment.

“Awe, c’mon, mousie,” he cooed, leaning down to her face.

“Make those pretty sounds for me.” He purred, grinding his hips into his victim.

Suddenly, Dollie’s head shot up, hitting Avon's forehead.

“Fuck!” He shouted in pain.

He started down at his hands, eyes wide with surprise as he saw blood on his fingers. He felt his eye twitch as a manic grin formed on his face.

“You fucking cunt.” He hissed. “You actually made me bleed. Lucky you, huh?”

Dollie didn’t answer or rather she couldn’t, due to the cloth still in her mouth. Instead she sent her assaulter an angry scowl. If looks could kill, Dollie hoped Avon's heart would freeze on the spot. However, this only seemed to excite the manic rapist more, as he saw his victim’s teeth practically pierce the fabric with so much anger. He’d never seen Dollie so mad. It made the blood rush through his veins and straight to dick. Feeling him twitch inside her, Dollie winced as the tip of his thick member grazed her cervix.

“So deep inside of you…I bet Zander doesn’t have to do all of this, hm?” Avon mocked.

“You’d spread your legs wide open if it were him, wouldn’t you? Always tripping over yourself for him, god it’s pathetic.”

Muffled words came from Dollie's mouth, saliva completely drenching the cloth and even sending some outside of her mouth. Avon chuckled, pulling the cloth down to her neck with a finger.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, mousie.”

“I said,” Dollie started. “Fuck. You.”

The roughness of her voice caught Avon off guard as he’s used to her saying even the meanest things with a sweet voice. Regardless, Avon grabbed a fist full of hair, so tight Dollie thought he would rip her scalp off. Letting out a yelp that quickly turned into a string of screaming and insults, Dollie felt her stomach churning as bile rose up into her throat, before it spilled out of her mouth, pooling at the side of her head. The stranger, still watching, looked away with disgust, while Avon laughed, enjoying the feeling of her involuntarily clenching around him. She was so fucking wet and her pussy made the most beautiful sounds.

“Fucking disgusting.” The man with the red beanie grumbled.

The stranger rolled his eyes as he continued to watch the display in front of him, palming at his own crotch before unbuckling his belt. He huffed as he pumped his cock, making sure to make full eye contact with Avon, who seemed to enjoy the show in front of him as he rammed himself inside of Dollie’s hole even harder. The stranger threw his head back in pleasure with a grin. Watching Avon completely ravish some defenseless woman made him so hard. He was hard the second she looked up at him with tearful, pleading eyes. He could see it all. The begging, muffled sounds. The screams of pain as Avon pumped himself inside of her. The sheer fear in her pretty face. It was all too much. It drove him insane.

“Oh fuck,” the stranger moaned. “Fuck yeah.”

Pumping faster he looked back at Avon making sure to aim his cock straight at him.

“Open.”

Without missing a beat, Avon opened his mouth wide, welcoming the white ropes that shit from the man’s cock. Some of it landed on his tongue, but most landed on Dollie’s face. Manic laughter and screams of protest and disgust echoed off the walls, as Avon can to slow halt.

“Ah,” he moaned. “Gotta slow down…can’t forget who I’m fucking right now.” He said, giddy and drooling.

“Renée would be so upset if you got pregnant from this.”

He stopped completely as vomit, saliva, snot and cum splattered on his face. Some landed in his mouth as he let it slowly fall off his skin. His eyes panned down to Dollie, who gave him the nastiest look he had ever seen her give him.

“I hope you burn in hell. You and you’re fucking whore.” Avon slowly wiped his mouth while Dollie craned her neck to the stranger behind them.

“And I hope your brains get blown out.”

The stranger said nothing. He just arched an eyebrow and looked off to the side. Completely uncaring of her words, which only pissed Dollie off more. But before she could express her contempt, she felt two warm hands grip her neck. Looking above her, she saw a seething Avon. His smile was gone. The only thing she saw in his eyes was complete unfiltered rage. Dollie kicked her feet as she felt her air supply slipping away. She could feel her eyes roll back as Avon leaned in close.

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. I should've bashed your head in the day you stepped into business that didn’t involve you.”

With what little strength she had, Dollie lurched forward and sunk her teeth into Avon’s nose. The taste of iron covered her tongue as the sound of Avon’s screams filled her ears. The stranger chuckled at the show before him. He knew this chick was gonna struggle, but damn. He didn’t think it was going to be this hard. And apparently neither did Avon. Finally able to pull away from his victim’s teeth, falling in his back before rolling on to his hands and knees, he clutched his nose as Dollie finally got to breathe. It didn’t matter to her what the air smelt or tasted like as she felt her lungs burn, eager to receive oxygen. She managed to think fast as Avon lunged at her first raised in the air ready to make impact with her face, only for it to meet hard concrete. The man sitting on the chair wincing at the sound of impact and Avon's screams of pain.

She must have put too much force into her rolling off to the side, because she somehow managed to get a good distance away before stopping on her belly. Lifting her head, she saw her bag. It was so close and Avon was so far away, now writhing in pain about his possibly broken hand while the stranger just sat and watched, smirking at the sight of Avon hunched over, clenching his fist into himself, an attempt to ease the hot pain no doubt. Silently, Dollie managed to wriggle her way to the bag once more. The stranger saw this, but didn’t say anything. He wanted to see how this would play out.

Finally, finally reaching her bag, she used her mouth to tug the phone out just enough to be used, stuck out her tongue and used it to open her contacts. Avon, hearing a snapping of fingers, lifted his head to look up at the man he brought with him. Lazily, the man nodded his head in their victim’s direction before Avon turned his head to see Dollie. By her bag, and heavily panting due to the drug still being in her system. Slowly he stood, pacing over to the same metal pipe that he had used earlier, picking up off the ground and making his way over to his difficult victim. Why couldn’t Dollie just stay still? Why couldn’t she just comply? Now he has a bloody nose, a busted wrist and a lot of explaining to do when he gets home. He zeroed in on Dollie’s form, only the sound of his own heartbeat, heavy breathing and the searing pain in wrist letting him know that he was conscious.

He was pissed off, and he was gonna make sure Dollie regretted ever challenging him. He had one hand down, but he could still use his other one. Raising the metal bar, he slammed it down on the back of Dollie’s skull. When she went limp, Avon tossed the metal bar to the side, before allowing his body to lean his side against the concrete wall. Spitting out the pooled blood and saliva, he slid down to the ground, completely out of breath. Stupid bitch didn’t even let him finish before she decided he wanted to cause trouble. Whatever. He pressed his back against the wall as a set of foot steps approached him. He didn't say anything, the man he invited got on his knees, taking note of Avon's limp member.

“Move your legs.” He said.

Avon didn’t question him as he saw the man bend down before taking his cock in his mouth. Avon moaned as he relaxed into the feeling. He got so pent up but he couldn’t even touch anything with his other hand. The pain was too distracting. While the man he brought along serviced him, he glared down at the woman lying unconscious on the ground. He hated her. He hated her and he wanted nothing more than to cave her head in.

“Fucking cunt…” he growled. “Made me lose my fucking boner.”

The man still sucking him off, looked up at him.

“But that’s alright,” Avon purred. “Next time, we’ll make sure to use a stronger dose.”

Avon ran his fingers under the man’s red beanie, pushing back his bangs to show his dark eyes that were filled with lust.

“Won’t we, Warren?”

The man on his knees moaned at the thought of doing this again. The adrenaline, the urgency. The sheer excitement of it all made him suck off Avon faster and harder, desperate for his cum to go down his throat.

“Renée won’t be happy about my wrist. But that’s alright,” Avon said, pushing Warren’s head down.

“We’ll bring her along and she can have her own fun. While we sit and watch the show.”

Avon smiled as Warren’s hips bucked forward.

“And then, when all is said and done…maybe you can play with our little fighter too…and maybe Renée if she is up for it.”

Warren continued to suck Avon off, uncaring of the unconscious body next to him and only thinking of getting Avon to shoot his cum down his throat as soon as possible. Even after cumming his own pants, Warren kept going. He kept sucking, moaning, licking and jerking off Avon until finally Avon couldn’t contain himself, much to Warren’s delight. He swallowed everything, never letting a single drop slip from his lips. Letting go of Avon’s cock with a loud ‘pop’, Warren licked his lips.

“I’d do more but…we should get you to the hospital.” Warren said, standing to his feet before shoving his own dick back in his pants. Agreeing, Avon stood up, leaning against the wall. He allowed Warren to help with his pants, before cradling his hand with a sharp inhale.

“What about her?” Warren said, curiously.

“Just leave her there. She can die for all I care.”

Warren shrugged as the both made their way out of the abandoned concrete building, completely unaware that someone had seen and heard their plans for Dollie next time.

Dollie woke up in a cold sweat and a racing heart. She looked around at her surroundings, noticing a gaming set up across from her was lit up in a soft purple light. Zander? When did she get here? Where was Zander? What happened? A door opening caught her attention as she looked up to see the man she was waiting for at the train station.

“Zander?” Dollie said, voice horse. “What happened?”

“You were drugged waiting for the train.” Zander lied.

“Some assholes tried to kidnap your ass. They knocked you out and I had to carry you here. I didn’t have the key to your house.”

Dollie looked down at the crochet blanket she had made for Zander so long ago. The slight glow from it helped her eyes focus as she looked at her wrists. They looked like they had been bound.

“I had a nightmare…it was horrible but it…felt so real.” Dollie said, still looking down at her hands.

“Yeah, well GHB will do that to you.”

Dollie didn’t say anything. Her scalp kinda hurt, and she felt lingering pain on various parts of her body. Her eyes wandered her skin as she saw bruises. Large ones. They were really painful at even the slightest touch. So instead, she zeroed in on her wrists. They looked like they were nearly rope burned. They were really tender and stung a lot. Then she noticed her crotch felt a bit… uncomfortable. Not on her labia, on the inside. Why? Why did it feel like something had hurt her there? Why did it feel like…something was—

“Hey. Pay attention.” Zander said, trying to keep Dollie focused on him.

“Huh?”

“You need to eat something. Just sit there and don’t move.” Zander said, turning to walk out the door. “Okay?”

“Okay…” Dollie said. After Zander left the room, Dollie laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling. Her mind wandered as she dissociated from reality. There was crying in her head. Someone was hurt. She couldn’t make out the voices, but she knew they were in pain. She tried to remember what happened at the train station, but was met with a sharp headache.

‘Don’t think about it.’ she heard a voice say. ‘That’s not for you to remember. All you need to know is that you’re safe, and I won’t let anything happen to you.’

The voice, although rough, was gentle with its words. Had Dollie split off a new headmate because of this? She felt her chest tight as she took in a deep breath.

“Thank you…” Dollie said. “For protecting me.”

For a few moments she heard nothing. Only the sound of Zander coming back in his room with tomato soup and a grilled cheese. It was when she took a bite of the sandwich did she hear a pained ‘your welcome’.

My first real dark fic. It was fun! I hope you enjoyed it!