Haven’t written in so long but lots of people write on here so why not give it another try. I do bounce from one part to another when writing so apologies for that, I’ve been on JanitorAI way too much :)
Hopefully you enjoy this somewhat or get inspiration from it.
Sweet, glassy eyes of a cow stared up at the bolt in the cage — innocent, full of life — but you had to kill the damn thing. That was the job. Raise it, feed it, then put it down, red cherry blood running down after the shot. Wiping your apron clean, you turned back to the metal tables. Through the racks of knives and tools, you watched the heavy men move with skill and routine, every motion practiced and precise. Hell, you’d only been here three months, but with your father’s experience behind you, you knew enough: kill the cattle, hang ’em. That was all that mattered.
“Fuckin’ retard, get that goddamn cattle over there!” Paul barked at Hewitt — the odd one among the men.
Hewitt never said much. Hell, he never said anything. A huge man, quiet, with a timid, twitchy demeanour that didn’t match the power behind him. He stood at the table with his hands hanging near his stomach, eyes fixed on you — those steel-blue eyes that never seemed to look away. Then a grunt rumbled from deep in his chest as he lumbered toward the carcass you’d just dropped. Without hesitation, he heaved it onto a hook and dragged it over to start cutting.
You lingered, watching. Blood poured from the neck as his blade worked. He sliced with a rough sort of rhythm until the hide peeled free. Head, tail, hooves — each fell with a heavy thud. The floor was sticky, the air hot with iron, but he moved like he belonged in it, like he was born for it. You caught yourself staring too long — admiring, though you’d never admit it. His mask clung eerily close to human likeness, yet not quite, paired with those ragged clothes and pale skin that only showed in flashes.
“Y/N! Fuck are ya doin’? Get killin’, bitch!” Paul’s eyes burned at you.
You jolted, trembling as you turned back to your work. But before you looked away, you caught Hewitt again — still watching you. And you knew it wasn’t just your imagination.
Clawing off your apron and shoving it in the locker was always the best part, especially after being forced to stay late and clean as punishment — all because you were “slacking” for a single minute. Before leaving, you glanced down the other row of lockers and spotted Hewitt standing there, just breathing, still as stone.
Your right boot slammed against the metal by accident, and his head snapped toward you. You froze, staring back. For five long minutes, neither of you moved — just watching each other. Finally, you forced a small smile.
“Just saying bye. See you around, Hewitt.”
A little wave, and you were gone, then he followed, taking the same turns as you, and speeding up when you did. By the time you got to your car, he slammed into you. Bodies clashed, your clawing and scratching did little to nothing. Your screams ripped from your throat as he tried to grab at you. He played along, small teeth sat on his bottom lip, creating a disgusting smile, but then he put his calloused hand over your mouth, keeping you quiet. Footsteps walked past before he let his hand drag slowly from your lips, to your neck, then your chest, gripping onto your baby blue blouse. “Hewitt-” you grunted, kicking him hard in the crotch, which got him to topple over you, but as you rolled over trying to desperately crawl away, his hand gripped your ankle tight before pulling you slowly towards him. Your eyes stared at his while he held that smile, his hand rubbing his apron, lingering around his crotch.
His thick fingers fumbled with his apron as he let it drop to the side; his hands came to his pants, which he unzipped, showing off white briefs that made your eyes widen; you knew what was happening.
He pushed his hands roughly onto your jeans, rubbing the light blue material before he popped off the button. Your dry throat swallowed down saliva that formed, but it didn’t relieve you; it just made it drier. His breathing was heavy and smelt off as he unzipped the jeans to reveal a black bow on laced panties. He made a quick inhale in shock as he pulled the jeans down more, taking seconds until he was lying down with one leg bent up, rubbing and licking down there. The moon blurred with the stars as you gripped the hair on his mask, attempting to take it off, but his hands grabbed yours so tightly you let go. Trying to get him off failed each time, but you didn’t give up; you just kept trembling and weakly hitting his head. Hewitt snapped his head up at you suddenly and sat on his knees, pulling his pants down with his briefs. You couldn’t look but saw it anyway, a probably 4-inch pale uncut cock, your eyes making him grunt and stroke his cock roughly and clumsily. His touch caught you off guard as his fingers dragged your lace panties down, splitting your lips apart to immediately force his cock into you. He missed the first time, which made you yelp, but the second time, he got it in, and you groaned in pain. He smiled at your sounds and awkwardly thrust into you before pulling out all the way just to force himself back in. He didn’t even know how to have sex, but decided to fucking rape you, what a psycho.
When his cock came out, you grabbed it, twisting it before his fist slammed the side of your skull, making the night sky fuzzy and high-pitched sounds in your ears. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support and letting him continue unwillingly, you started to feel good. He went faster and grunted manically. “Uh, Jesus,” you mumbled, letting your hand slide up to your cross necklace, gripping it for the last bit of innocence you had. When your hands let go and fell on your head, he groaned, and warmth spread inside you rapidly.
He didn’t even stop to enjoy the moment, just let semen drip off his uncut penis. You stared at his parts for a moment before his blue eyes connected with you, which made him stand up to pull his briefs and pants up. He tied his apron back on and bent down, putting your panties on along with your jeans. He thumped over to your car and opened the door before coming back to hold you and set you in the driver's seat. Hewitt quietly shut the door and lingered his eyes on you before slumping forward and walking away. He slipped through the trees into the darkness that also spread in your vision from exhaustion. Hewitt, the only name you say in this forgotten shithole town, “what a horrible man you are,” you whispered to yourself.
