𝓛𝓲𝓵𝔂⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Such a sweet little lamb, leaving her curtains pulled back just for him so his eyes could scan over your body, which was stripped down to nothing but a pair of black lacy panties and a t-shirt. God, his jeans were getting tighter by the second and his glove continued to palm against his half-hard cock.

The only thing that ruined it were the markings along your body, various cuts and faded bruises, all of them formed by your supposed lover. Toby already couldn’t stand the fact that you were giving your affection to someone else, but to learn that Derrick even dared to lay his hands on you only doubled it.

Once he got his hands on you, he would wipe every memory you had of the man, making sure the only thing you thought about was him.

Toby daydreamed about following after the man, waiting for the perfect moment, then splitting his skull down the center with his axe. Alas, Toby had to push the fantasies away, just for now.

As much as you didn’t know Toby, you had actually been around him more than you thought. You wandered into the woods sometimes, taking photos of the scenery, sitting along a blanket and reading, and every time Toby would be just out of sight.

However, he started to leave things near your spot, pretty crystals, little trinkets, stuff to catch your attention. Soon enough, you caught onto the gifts and left a small piece of folded paper, addressing the mysterious person who continued to leave things for you.

This was interesting, since most people would be creeped out that someone knew about your secluded spot, but you seemed to be desperate for a connection; no matter how it conjured. Notes were passed back and forth, Toby becoming more attached with each letter you wrote down. Unfortunately, Derrick continued to drag you away, and it had been awhile since Toby had the chance to gaze at you from the trees.

Instead, you were trapped between your boyfriend's arms, pressed into your mattress and looking hardly pleased. Derrick clearly didn’t care about getting you off and Toby almost felt pity for you. The man would get his fix, then promptly walk off, not even checking if you were satisfied.

Toby could please you far better than Derrick ever could. He desperately wanted to show you how good he can fuck you, how good he can treat you, all he needed was to take your boyfriend out of the picture.

.⋆♱

You let Derrick pull you closer, his tongue bullying its way into your mouth and he pushed you back into your room. His hands were tight around your forearms, making you wince but he wasn’t letting up. The only thing you could do was stand there and let him do what he wanted, fighting would just make it worse.

Derrick was harsh, relentless, and abrasive when it came to having sex. You couldn't plan on feeling that fluttering in your heart, but you could plan on tears falling from your eyes by the time he pulled out. Out of pain? Out of sadness? You weren’t sure.

It used to be so good, but suddenly, he changed. Derrick became more irritable. The first time he hit you, he broke down, crying about how sorry he was and how he never meant it. Stupidly, you trusted him. Continued to stay with him even as it continued to bite you in the ass, over and over.

Hope was a tightrope, worn down and thinning, and with each step you made across it, it was just another test to see if it would snap.

If you just obliged, played the role of a good girlfriend, maybe he would get better. So you stayed quiet as he pulled away, stepping back and reaching down at the edges of his shirt.

Crack! Warm liquid splattered across your face, making you jump, and you stared at your boyfriend–eyes locked onto the axe lodged into the crook of his neck. Everything went quiet and you watched as Derrick looked over, mouth opening to scream, but he was suddenly kicked down. In the doorway, holding a similar axe that had been placed in Derrick’s flesh, was a man covered in thick layers.

Orange goggles were pushed up into his messy brown hair, a mask covering his lower face, and his eyes were wild with something dark.

“H-hey sweetheart,” His head jerks to the side, followed by a sickening pop of his joints.

He swiftly bent down, yanking his weapon out of Derrick who screamed out. Blood pooled at the flooring and you continued to stare. What were you supposed to do? The intruder was taller and bigger than you, he had two axes, and he was blocking your only exit. His eyes wandered over your frozen body and then he looked down at Derrick, who was trying to crawl away.

“Wh-where do y-you think you’re go-going?” His voice was laced with something sinister and he only confirmed it as he slammed his blade onto his outstretched arm.

Another crack and Derrick’s piercing scream shot through your house. His arm sat divided from his body, already forming a puddle of metallic blood. The sight was horrific and you couldn't help yourself from turning and doubling over. Bile rose up from your stomach, acid stinging your throat. You gagged and stumbled backwards, trying to decide if this was some sort of fucked up dream.

You hadn’t noticed the killer had walked over, now landing in front of you and pulling your face toward him. Shockingly, his hold on your jaw was gentle and there was a crease in his brows. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you swore there was something…soft in the way he looked at you.

He lifted his hand, making you flinch, but he only used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe away the excess of your vomit.

“Everyth-thing’s going t-to be okay,” He reassured, making your head spin,”I’m h-here to help y-you.”

When Toby pulled away, he had to pretend like he wasn’t freaking out. That was the first time he had touched you.

“D-don’t fucking hurt her!”

Of course Derrick had to ruin the moment with his bitching. Toby spun on his heel, watching as the man’s eye grew wide with fear. Derrick would act strong and brave, but he was still the one bleeding out.

“Why, De-derrick?” Toby’s arm jolted, tics working with a new found anger,”Y-you do it all th-the t-time,”

Your boyfriend's face fell with something closer to realization than terror. Toby walked in front of his body, crouching down so he could grab onto Derrick's hair and yank it up. The man groaned in pain, thrashing around but Toby’s grip only tightened.

“T-tell me w-why I sh-shouldn’t kill you r-right n-now?”

Derrick's mouth fell open, making up some bullshit answer as he started to cry. His words were slurred and the blood loss was catching up. Toby sneered under his mask, disgust running up his core and he slammed his head into the floor.

“S-shut the fuck up,” It was as if Toby’s ears were ringing anytime the man talked,”I’ve se-seen what y-you’ve done to he-her,”

Toby’s eyes flicked instinctively to yours, where you're looking ill and tears have gathered in your eyes.

“Im…sorry,” Derrick's body was shutting down one by one, but Toby was not going to give him the satisfaction of dying with the final word.

Toby scoffed, letting his hold up, and standing above him,”Too la-late n-now, man.”

Silver shimmers against your lamp and it comes swinging down, a large thud that sounds like someone snapping twigs in half echos across your room and then it goes quiet.

There, laid out on the floor, was Derrick. Blood creating a sea around him, staining his clothes and your floor. Toby’s axe sat on a pedestal—snug in the backside of Derrick's head—but it was ripped out a moment later.

Your eyes shut in an instant, knowing if you even peeked you would be hurling again. Heavy steps wandered over to you and a new, colder presence fell in front of you.

Wincing as the man’s finger brushed your hair back, you opened your eyes, terrified that you were going to be next.

“D-don’t you rec-recognize me?” He tilted his head, brown eyes full of curiosity.

Timidly, you shook your head, praying it didn’t enrage him. Thankfully, Toby could brush it off.

“T-that’s ah-alright,” He hummed, sliding his fingers into your cheek and his thumb caressed your warm skin,”I-i’m Toby,”

You gasped, eyes instinctively glancing at your nightstand. Toby followed your gaze, heart speeding up as he saw various items he had collected for you, resting on a small decorative dish.

“D-did you r-really like m-my g-gifts?”

Maybe it was the shock that coursed through your body, making you delirious to the outside world and who you were talking to—but you nodded to his words.

His eyes crinkled at the side, showing an obvious smile. You felt sick, mentally and physically. Derrick’s dead body was just a few feet from where you stood and here you were, talking to your supposed penpal who liked to drop off little presents.

Toby lifted his hand, slowly pulling down his mask and when it dropped to his neck, you didn’t gasp or make a sound,instead you just stared. A long gash stretched at the corner of his mouth, revealing his teeth and the inside of his mouth.

The skin was tattered, scared, and to you…it was almost beautiful. Despite the wound, Toby couldn’t find a single ounce of disgust on your face.

Without even realizing, you lifted your hand, thumb gently swiping over the scar. As Tony shivered under your touch, it snapped you out of your dazed state and you went to pull back, only for your hand to be caught by a much more calloused one.

Somewhere in the sick part of your mind, you were reeling in the love struck look in Toby’s eyes, he had worn it ever since he barged into your room. Derrick never stared at you like that, like he couldn’t live without you, like he loved you.

You had learned about Toby through your letters, venting about your days at work or how stressful school was, and Toby was always there, reassuring you that it would get better. Maybe it would, if he stayed with you.

Your entire life had been spent with people who never cared to express their feelings and now Toby was here. He didn’t hesitate to kill for you, to kill someone who you swore wanted you dead some nights.

In this room, standing in front of this killer, a fucked up part of your mind thought of how safe Toby would make you feel. He hadn’t hurt you and even now, his hold on your face was gentle. Not cruel, no purpose behind it except he just wanted to hold you.

Your mind was filtered with such blinding thoughts, you didn’t push him away as he leaned in.

Toby’s lips found yours and after a second, you let yourself succumb to the warmth. There was no wild heat that Derrick kissed you with every time he wanted to have you laid out on his bed.

The only thing you wanted was for someone to love you with no uncertainty and damnit, you were tired of waiting. Derrick made it clear he only stuck around because you were a decent fuck.

You were still scared, about sixty five percent sure he wasn’t going to drive his other axe into your side, but the one thing you were definite about was the fact Toby was going to give you the intimacy you craved.

When you pulled away, the two of you were panting, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sheepish smile on his face.

However, the moment was broken by the sound of sirens in the distance (Toby might have been a bit sloppy when breaking into your home). He turned back to you, reaching out a hand.

“R-ready to g-go?”

As your eyes found his open palm, there was a second of hesitance and you couldn’t help but glance over at Derrick. His body continued to rot and you asked yourself if you were truly ready for what you were getting into.

Toby was a killer—a skilled one at that—so how much could you truly trust him?

Your hand slipped into his, squeezing tightly,”Let’s get out of here.”

Well, there was only one way to find out.

I watched his hands, large and rough, as they slowly sloughed off the dead cells along the patient's arm. It was a precise and meticulous procedure, nobody dared to breathe as the doctor worked—we were never to interrupt. For such a large and imposing man, his movements were always so careful and deliberate—a tenderness tended to linger, even as his pulled back layers of skin and tissue. Every one of us wore gloves, face masks and scrubs that had once been white but were stained pink and grey no matter how thoroughly they were cleaned. At most he wore a lab coat, but his hands were always bare, the only thing on his face was that strange visor—for his damaged sight, the lead researcher, Doctor Richardson, had said. His mouth, split and cracked was always in a thin line as he concentrated, taking skin and blood samples back to the lab to study before he returned to his private office up on the third floor.

Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Centre was not the place to work if you were faint of heart. A sanatorium posing as a long-term care facility for those with physical injuries and psychological disorders—I knew it was posing. Nobody ever seemed to improve, I'd been here six months and not a single person had been discharged yet people had disappeared. The Head Nurse had shrugged, saying the Director had them relocated. I'd been sent here as a trainee nurse as part of my placement, shadowing the Head Nurse in daily tasks until one day she'd told me to take over for the surgical assistant—she was ill, she said.

That assistant never came back.

I'd been given clearance to access Security Level 1 areas, mostly so I could access patient files. I had to help prep for surgery, I'd been told, and had to assist the surgeon while he worked. For what type of surgery? I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. The things I had already seen had made my stomach twist with unease but nothing had prepared me for Doctor Victor Gideon.

At first I had recoiled, glad that my expression had been partially covered by the mask over my face when he had come in with the Lead Researcher, towering over the other man and his hulking frame barely fitting through the operating room door. My breath had hitched and his head had turned toward me ever so slightly before he had held a large hand out, requesting a scalpel. I had been repulsed then, as his large fingers slid through tissue, the blood leaving traces on the rings he wore before the other hand was using the sharp blade to slice deeper and remove whatever sample he had wanted. I'd watch him wash the blood off his hands after, as if it were merely dirt and not the bodily fluids of another human but I wasn't even sure if I could call Victor Gideon human.

Immune, Doctor Richardson had told me that first day in the operating room when Doctor Gideon had left and I had given the researcher a questioning look. There had been an understanding that I did not talk about what happened. I kept quiet and did as I was told. But I wondered, immune to what exactly?

My horrified fascination led me to always watch Doctor Gideon's hands when he performed any surgery or even while he worked in the Blood Lab. I wondered if he was responsible for his own scars—had he tested on himself? No, I thought. He was skilled but the extent of the incision that ran from his neck down his torso was certainly too large to have been done himself, surely. I wondered what it was, it reminded me of an autopsy incision. I tried to never look at him too long but I couldn't help myself. It was a strange fixation that manifested over time. I couldn't help watching him or listening to his quiet words as he carefully sliced open the cranium of some poor patient.

Occasionally there would be other students that would come to the centre. To learn. To study. Doctor Gideon would shadow us sometimes, from afar. I now had access to Security Level 2 and had seen far more gruesome experiments than I could dream of. I was a permanent hire now and I guided them through the facility, showing them the patient wards and theatre rooms. I always felt Doctor Gideon watching as I led them through the charade of medical care we were trying to perpetuate. The students rarely noticed the looming shadow but I did. I could always feel the weight of his presence, the vibration of his footsteps as he lingered somewhere nearby—perhaps watching through the one-way mirror in the large operating room, or otherwise lingering in a dark corner. If anyone noticed him, there was always that audible gasp, the quick suck of air through their nose and a stuttering sound. I did not blame them, he was terrifying. Grey skin, grey hair and the lenses on his visor glowing red as they homed in on you, assessing and cataloguing each movement and breath from his great height.

They would huddle together then, like sheep. Thinking that were safe in numbers.

They were not.They needed to be smart, to not balk at the task at hand—they needed to not ask questions they didn't want an answer to. You didn't last in the sanatorium if you asked too many questions. If they did, Doctor Richardson would have me take them into the Isolation Ward. Like a Judas goat I would lead them through and I would be the only one to come back out. Their endless bleating used to carry over into my dreams, I would see them with their red eyes and pleading, bleeding mouths. I barely dream now.

When I would come out of Isolation, he would be standing there. The red light of the ward flashing and glinting off him as he stood, large and imposing with his hands behind his back. He wouldn't say anything, just nod approvingly and I would follow, hating how that sliver of approval would make me smile. I clung to it, this tiny scrap of acknowledgement from a monster. I was as foolish as the frog, hoping the scorpion wouldn't sting me but he was already upon me—under my skin, ready and poised to deliver a fatal drop of poison. So I kept going, letting myself want his trust and his approval, hungering for it.

I was as sick as any of the patients I tended to, I thought. But it was my way of surviving. In those early weeks I had thought of never returning but something kept bringing me back, this terrifying siren call of horror and fascination. And there was something about Victor Gideon, something that told me I would be found if I didn't come back of my own free will.

Perhaps my days would have continued to the same if I hadn't been for my morbid curiosity and the way he made my skin crawl with a sort of horrified arousal. I felt attuned to him whenever he was nearby but during an operation I could never tear myself away from him.

It was a rainy day in November when something changed. That morning I had prepped the operating room for an operation on one of the hysterical patients. When he walked into the brightly lit theatre, I tried to contain my grotesque excitement. Fingers parted skin, gliding through tissue and I watched, avidly, as he did so. It was macabre, yet I stood there, silent and obedient, passing across surgical instruments without being prompted all the while watching his fingers. My feet shifted as I felt my body cramp and felt the wetness of my monthly suffering, earlier than anticipated. I bit my lip and shifted again, trying to ignore it. The doctor paused then and turned, passing me a bloodied scalpel though his many eyes fixed on me. I could hear the slight hum of the visor as it zoomed in and I looked down at the tray I held in my hands a moment, feeling my heart begin to pick up as my cunt throbbed with another cramp but also something else that I tried to ignore. I looked back up as he plucked the hemostat from my tray, his gaze still watching me. I swallowed, feeling stuck to the cold floor of the room, the lights feeling far too bright. His tongue flicked out, the forked muscle tasting the air quickly before it was gone and he was turning back to the patient tied and sedated on the operating table. I made myself breathe, and I squeezed my thighs together before I focused back on the doctor, watching and wondering what those fingers would feel like between my legs, parting my folds and slipping into my bloodied heat.

I tried to not let me thoughts stray any further, part of me feared that he could hear them, the other part—the part that did not dream and cherished any bit of praise—hoped that he could.

Squeezing my thighs again, I busied myself with cleaning the dirty instruments, knowing that I wouldn't be needed for a while. He would be done soon and then I would have to clean the rest of the room and monitor the patient until he was stable enough to move back down into the Rehabilitation Ward. Perhaps I let myself think these perverse thoughts as a distraction to what it was we were doing. I did not question the strange behaviour of the patients, nor that they disappeared frequently; staff too, like the nurse I had replaced. I let this fascination with Victor Gideon fester, constantly scratching at it so it would never heal. I was always watching him whenever I saw him within the main part of the centre. I would busy myself nearby, listening to the sound of his voice as he spoke in that careful tone of his to someone else. I would make myself useful if he came into the Blood Lab to request another document and I would offer to take reports to him if the Lead Researcher was busy—delivering them to his office with the reverence of an apostle surrendering some slaughtered creature to the altar of the Gods.

It became an obsession.

Doctor Richardson was pleased with my work, recommending that I move over to their Research Labs. I was dedicated and thorough, and not squeamish. I had never considered research before, it had sounded dull and I had wanted to help people. Ha. Those idealistic values I once had were gone, I didn't care about anyone else but myself. And him.

I'd been working more in the labs than with the patients for the last several weeks. I saw Doctor Gideon more often, watching him out of the corner of my eye as I noted down blood tests results from the patients in the Rehabilitation Ward while in the lab. The back of my neck would prickle but I would keep on working, trying to focus on what I was doing. Sometimes I could feel him approach and then see the glint of his visor in the shiny metal of the microscope I was working at. He always stood so close, looming over me. I would squeeze my thighs together under the desk and try to focus on my work.

Today was no different. Surgery had been hours ago and my shift was nearly over. There were no windows in the Blood Lab but I could tell the time by the ache in my feet and shoulders. And I was desperate to get home and shower. I had done my best earlier to clean myself in the bathroom, trying to wash away the menstrual blood and hastily shove a pad onto my spare pair of knickers. I felt irritable and my entire body ached but I would continue on.

I didn't want to disappoint Doctor Gideon.

I heard a hum from him as he picked up a report next to me, the only sound the whirring of the hematology analyser and the flick of pages being turned carefully. I only faltered a moment before I continued typing on the computer, trying to focus on the data. My body cramped and I shifted in my chair, trying to will it away. When he was so close to me it was hard to concentrate, he carried with him a heavy scent of patchouli but it didn't quite mask the strange metallic, chemical scent he seemed to exude.

"Hmm." Another flick of the page before he settled it back down on the counter next to me. "Come bring this to my office when you are done."

"Yes, Doctor."

The heavy footsteps signalled his departure and I strained to hear them until there was nothing but silence as the analyser finished processing. It beeped at me and I flinched.

Had I done something wrong? I hadn't been able to tell whether he was satisfied with my report or not. I didn't want to rush but I also didn't want to keep him waiting too long, there was hardly anyone else except the overnight shift in the clinic now. I had no idea what hours Doctor Gideon kept and was not brave enough to ask anyone. The thought of him staying back and waiting for me had me working as quickly as I could.

I ran the machine again on another sample from the same patient, wanting to check it across the data it had just spat out at me. Cross-examining it and meticulously typing it out, my eyes blurred as I stared at the screen. Usually, I would leave it for Doctor Richardson to check over before it was given to Doctor Gideon but I couldn't do that now, not when he had requested it. I didn't want to waste anymore time, I could feel my heart starting to race with a restless anxious energy as my foot tapped against the floor, waiting for it to print out. If it was wrong, I would do it again until he was happy with it, I told myself, as I took the warm pages out of the printer and carefully stapled them together.

Carefully placed in a manila folder, I turned the hematology analyser off along with the lab lights and locked the door with my security pass. I made my way towards the West Wing, ignoring the sound of Selena Corey singing as I passed the bar lounge and headed for the third floor. Someone else could take her back to her room, I had more important things to do. Besides, I wasn't a regular nurse anymore. I was a research assistant. I'd bought myself a nice new pencil skirt and a matching jacket, trying to affect an air of professionalism. I was irritated that I'd had to throw my bloodied stockings in the bathroom bin and the skirt chaffed against my thighs as I walked. When I reached the third floor, I briefly paused outside the door, checking my reflection in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable and that my jacket was straight before heading inside.

There was usually a table in the lounge area of the Director's office where I would leave reports, this is what I had been instructed to do by my team lead so I had never ventured very far into the room before. The main office was always shut and the one window that peered inside usually had the blinds partially closed so I could only catch hints of the doctor while he sat at his desk. The blinds were completely drawn today however the door was partially open. My heels clicked loudly against the tiled floor and I paused at the door to his office before gently knocking. Unlike the rest of the care centre, the Director's office was lit with lamps that emitted only gentle orange light.

"Come in."

He was still working, writing something in what looked like a diary as I entered. The desk he sat at was massive, made of dark wood panelling that matched the walls and shelves of the rest of the office. It had to have been custom built, I thought, to accommodate for his size, along with the chair he sat in. He didn't even glance at me as I entered and I was grateful, he was not wearing his usual visor and some of his grey hair fallen forward across his scarred face as he worked.

"Shut the door."

I did as I was told, the gentle click of the door closing very loud in the office. There was an old gramophone in the corner and it was lightly playing some classical music, and there was also the smell of cigarettes—the butt of one gently smoking on a glass tray that was filled with ash. I moved deeper into the room, my footsteps silenced against a thick rug. I placed the report on the desk, in what I hoped was not a meek manner, trying to retain a semblance of formality—as if I had done it a hundred times before. Nervously I smoothed down the front of my skirt.

"Please," he said, still not looking up at me but gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his large desk. "Take a seat."

I sat, ankles crossed and my eyes flicked around the room taking in the green leather couch, many books that lined the shelves and the medical illustrations on the walls. It was warm in here and I itched to take my jacket off but the doctor was still wearing his usual snakeskin coat, clearly unbothered by the warm room. So I didn't move. It felt like an age that I sat there in that dim room, waiting for him with my stomach twisting in to knots. When he clicked the pen he was using and looked up at me I swallowed. The corner of his lips quirked at he closed his journal and dragged the file I'd brought toward him and opened it, flicking through it.

"Hmm."

My anxiety spiked again as he read through the document. Though I could see his face I couldn't discern his expression. He didn't spend much time on it before dropping it back on the desk.I kept my hands in my lap, trying not to fidget. I felt like a rabbit, paralysed in front of his gaze and not wanting to make a sudden movement lest he strike at me. I'd never seen his eyes before, they glittered in the low light. It was hypnotic.

"You've shown great promise."

Soft words. I let them wash over my skin and revelled in the pleasure they gave, some of the apprehension sliding away at his praise.

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Victor."

I hesitated a moment but then managed to reply, "Victor."

Victor.

I savoured the name like it was the finest wine. It tasted like victory an the feeling spread though me immediately. It made me feel special, better than the rest. He could trust me and I would be worthy of his trust. My heart raced and I couldn't help the flush that bloomed across my cheeks and that my lips quirked into a smile. I tried to not let it affect me, to stay objective and sensible. But I was a silly little rabbit.

He smiled back at me, his large hands clasped together on the desk as he leant forward. The lamplight caught on the gold of his teeth—I'd never been able to study his face so openly before and only now noted the additional incisors. I shivered.

"You are very observant," he said. "I've not had an assistant nurse last this long, nor one be recommended for promotion so swiftly." He smiled again, though it wasn't a particularly reassuring expression, it was a lot to have the full intensity of his attention on me and I subconsciously shifted in my seat. His tongue darted out then, so briefly sliding across his lips before disappearing. "You seem to anticipate my every need."

"Thank you," I said and added, "Victor." My breath shuddered out of me as I went on, "It's a pleasure to work with you."

"A pleasure?" The tongue flicked out again. "It is, isn't it."He stood then, the chair sliding back against the rug. Moving with deliberate slowness he came toward me. I didn't dare move, swallowing my nervousness and ignoring the ache deep within me. How I despised that my body was making me suffer when I was alone with him. But I wouldn't be rude, I would not say anything. The satisfaction I felt from his praise was enough to ignore my clenching cunt and the way my lower back ached. I didn't need an opioid injector, I just needed him to tell me again that I had done a good job.

I clasped my hands tighter as he came to stand behind my chair and I felt him place both large hands on the top of it, his knuckles barely brushing the back of my shoulders.

"The thing about being very observant," he said, his words floating down to me and sliding down my spine, "is that you need to be subtle. You are not the only one who is watching."

I heard him take a deep and slow breath as one of his hands gently came to rest on my shoulder. It engulfed it completely. His thumb touched the side of my neck. It was cool as it slid slowly against my skin, my pulse thundering under it like a raging fire. I licked my lips, they were dry and I bit at my bottom lip in an effort to rein myself in. Had I fallen asleep in the lab? I must have. Or the drugs I had taken earlier had not been inflammatory relief but some hallucinatory substance.

But the heavy scent of patchouli mixed with cigarettes and that peculiar underlying scent of his was more than enough for me to know it was real. It filled my nose and I tried to breathe, it was cloying but I wanted to breathe in more of it. I wanted to cling to the smell and memorise it.

"You seemed a little tense today," he said and though I could not see his face I hear the lilt behind his words that made me know that he was smirking at me. His thumb brushed behind my ear and touched a sensitive spot that made me shiver with pleasure and I subconsciously squeezed my thighs together, my own fingers clasping my hands tighter. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Yes.

"No," I said. "Thank you for your concern," I added with sincerity, "It's nothing. I will try not to let it interfere with the work."

His fingers had crawled across my shoulder and were on my neck, idly stroking my hair like I was some sort of pet. The music softly playing from the gramophone came to a stop and Victor's fingers paused before they slowly retreated from me and he was walking towards it and carefully flipping the vinyl over. The notes filled the room again and I reminded myself to breathe. I hadn't been dismissed, I knew this, so I stayed seated with the anticipatory feeling in my chest while I stared at his back. It was so broad and the top of his head was only a foot away from the ceiling. I had often wondered what the rest of him looked like, his hands were large—I was certain one would have easily been able to wrap around my neck. My eyes briefly flicked to his leather pants when he turned before I looked away, mortified with myself. It was one thing to think about his cock in the privacy of my own apartment but another to do so right in front of him.

I had daydreamed about holding his full attention but now that I had it I didn't know what to do with it. I felt too small in his presence, scared I would say or do the wrong thing and I would be the lamb led to the Isolation Ward, never to be seen again. I recognised there was something twisted within me, that I didn't just want his approval but all of him. But he still scared me.

Victor moved back to me then and I briefly caught the smile on his cracked lips. He didn't seem angry—I had only ever witnessed his displeasure once, at a junior researcher that had contaminated a blood sample. It had been an icy sort of rage and I had never wanted to hear it again.

He was holding something out to me, it was a wine glass filled with a dark red liquid. I took it, my fingers briefly touching his. Still cool despite how warm the room was. I sniffed it, it was a very rich wine. I was no sommelier but there was something about it that reminded me of Victor and I glanced at him.

"I found that in a little village in Eastern Europe," said Victor pleasantly, coming to stand behind me again. "It will help you relax."I sipped at it, it sat heavy on my tongue but I would drink it all anyway. At least it gave me something to do and a reason to not speak, I did not trust myself and was worried I would say something stupid. I sipped at the wine again, it made my head swim a little though I hadn't had much of it. My muscles cramped again and I grimaced, covering the action by mindlessly taking another sip of the wine.

Sweat was starting to bead on my forehead and I wiped at it without thinking. My arm felt heavy and it dropped with an ungracious thump at my side.I blinked sluggishly. Was I that tired that half a glass of wine but causing me to feel like I'd drunk half a bottle instead? Surely not. My grip slackened on the wine, the glass slipping from my hands but it didn't fall. The doctor was catching it and placing it on his desk. I went to move forward but I felt the world around me spin with the movement and leant back, a gasp leaving my lips in my confusion.

"Shh, shh, shh…" I heard him say.

All of a sudden his hands were under my arms and pulling me up to stand with such ease it took my breath away. I felt like a child's doll and I swayed on my feet. All my thoughts were feeling slow.

"This room is quite warm, I do apologise."

He didn't sound apologetic at all. His fingers undid the two buttons holding my jacket closed and was pushing it off me, leaving it forgotten on the ground. It was a slight relief to have it gone but I still felt overly warm in the room, I knew he'd put something in that wine he'd given me. I wasn't stupid. It must have been some kind of sedative. I felt like a puppet with half of its strings cut so my movements were clumsy and awkward. Those larges hands of his were on my blouse then and I couldn't look away as he undid them, fingers brushing against my skin as he did so. They felt rough and still so cool, it felt delicious against my own heated flesh. My heart was fluttering like a mad bird in my chest as he parted the fabric with the same ease and precision he did to a patient's chest cavity. I madly wondered if he'd rip out my heart and eat it, and if I would mind.

The shirt hung loosely on my shoulders, exposing my bra clad breasts to him, his hands ghosted over the skin and my nipples hardened in response. It was such a feather light touch, and I couldn't help but moan when his hand delved into one of cups and caressed one breast, thumb running over my nipple to make me moan again. I felt dizzy with the sedative but also with want, feeling wetness flood my knickers in response. I heard his slow hiss of breath before he picked me up again, walking over to his side of the desk to sit me on it and push me back.

I fell back slowly as if in a dream as I felt him push my skirt up my legs so it bunched around my waist.My head lolled to the side and through half lidded eyes I watched his large hands wrap around my thighs and slowly open them. I tried to shy away, not because I was repulsed—I should have been—but because I was embarrassed that I was bleeding.

"Victor…" I tried to speak but he shushed me again, squeezing my thighs before sliding up them to my knickers.

His hands rested there a moment and my gaze flicked to his, I felt pinned by it and it alone. He sat in his chair and drew close, leaning over me and pressing his face against my clothed cunt. I both heard and felt the deep breath he took alongside the flick of what could only have been his tongue as it pressed against me. I shuddered at the contact unable to help the way my hips bucked in response.

"I can smell it," he murmured against me, once of his hands releasing their grip to grab something I couldn't see. I felt something cold against the skin of my hip. It was a blade. I tensed but all he did was slide it underneath the fabric of my underwear. He leant back slightly so I could see his face, his strange tongue darting out again as the blade slid under the other side of my knickers until the became loose. A clink as the blade was discarded and he was pulling my ruined underwear away and shoving it into a coat pocket. I instinctively went to close my legs but he held me open, studying me like something under a microscope. He breathed in again and smiled at me. "I can also smell you when watch me work." He sucked at his terrifying teeth in a mocking but amused fashion as he looked at me. "Naughty."

I flushed at his words. Of course he had noticed, how stupid I had been to think he wouldn't have. But he had smelt me? I was mortified at the thought but not much, my deranged obsession made swell with pleasure for it had clearly pleased him.

"I've wondered what you taste like…"

The grip on my thighs tightened, not that it needed to. I could barely move with the sedative in my veins, and even then, I wouldn't have wanted to—not when his mouth was upon my cunt. The slide of his tongue had me keening and my clumsy arms knocked something off the desk—I think it was my wine—but he didn't care. His mouth was too busy devouring me, the wet sound of his tongue sliding through my bloody folds, lapping at it like a starved beast. There would be imprints from his fingers on my skin, bruises left like lingering kisses. I didn't care, there was no room for it—just like there was no room for my disgust. I should have been appalled at the way he supped greedily from my cunt, not missing any of my shed blood. It felt too overwhelming good, my entire body shuddering and sweating, my back was drenched and the fabric of my blouse clung to both me and the desk. He groaned against me, his diabolical tongue slipping into me, searching for more and I pushed my hips up against his face so his nose was pressing against my clit making me moan.

He gave me one last lick and leant back in the chair, though he still had his hands on my legs, keeping me there in place. I lifted my sweaty face to look at him, his mouth was covered in blood and I watched his tongue slide out and lick as much of it as he could.

"Divine." His voice had taken on a darker quality that sent a fresh wave of shudders down my spine and made the space between my legs throb. "Certainly the most enjoyable meal I've had in a long time."I didn't know what that meant and I didn't really want to know. But I could hazard a terrible guess. My body tensed at the thought but he was standing then, hands sliding up my legs and holding my waist where my skirt was bunched up around it. He towered over me and I was once more hypnotised by his reptilian gaze. One of his hands smoothed down across my chest and over my cunt, the heel of his large palm pushing against my clit. I keened at the contact.

"There you go, little rabbit," he said, voice as captivating as his gaze, "I won't hurt you."

It was foolish to latch onto those words but I did. I was greedy for survival but also his touch, I wanted more of it. And I received it, when a large finger flirted at the my entrance before sliding in, teasing and searching within me before another joined, stretching me open. My eyes closed at the feel of it and my hands reached out, gripping at the arm that still had its hand on my waist. My fingers dug into his coat sleeve as his fingers thrust into me; stretching and filling me as his thumb circled my clit, drawing out the threads of pleasure until it was knotting together deep in my gut. I writhed under it, my arms flinging to my sides and fingers digging into the wood of the desk with sluggish movements as I arched my back.

I could feel the pleasure about to burst, my walls clinging to his thick fingers before the knot was unravelling and threads snapping. I felt the gush of warm blood and my release, the slick sound of it filling the room as he kept thrusting his fingers within me. My body went lip, the rush of endorphins slicing through my body like lightening while I lay there, half-lidded eyes watching as Victor removed his fingers from me and licked them, fork tongue darting over his grey skin. I sighed, eyes closing as the gramophone continued to play. There was a clink and a rustling sound, something thudding lightly to the ground. I opened my eyes again and focused, trying to push myself up on my elbows but I was easily pushed back down by one large hand.

The doctor had removed his trousers and was grabbing my legs again, pulling me down the desk so my ass was nearly hanging off the edge of it. I'd caught a brief glimpse of his cock, monstrous in size and grey like the rest of him—though the surge of blood had it looking a pallid red. I tried to move back, there was no way that was going to fit inside of me.

He was hushing me again, like one would a frightened child scared of the monster under the bed—like I was being silly.

"You shouldn't be scared, don't be scared," he cooed at me and I could feel the large head against my cunt, wetting itself against my release and blood. "It'll only hurt if you're scared, little rabbit."

It did hurt. The monster wasn't under my bed, it was in it—in me. I couldn't help it, I tried to relax but the stretch burned me like I was being split open. His fingers were on my clit again, coaxing me open. The stretch of him had me opening my eyes in shock but I felt like I was going blind, that I was going to pass out. It was overwhelming. But then as quick as it had come the pain started to ease, probably due to whatever drug he'd given me and the pleasure was building again.

I was rising to meet him now and he leant over me, the smell of cigarettes and that strange metallic, chemical scent washing over me. It was not the sort of smell you'd find in a perfumery, but I breathed it in deeply as if it were the most intoxicating thing I'd ever smelt. And it was intoxicating, I couldn't explain it. I wanted more of it and I tried to wrap my legs around him to bring him closer but I struggled. I felt his soft laughter as his face loomed over mine before his mouth was on my neck, licking the sweat as his cock slid deeper into me. A mangled moan escaped me when I felt the sharp coldness of his golden teeth scraping against my skin and then I whimpered as I felt him bite at the soft skin.

Those teeth shouldn't have been able to pierce my skin without ripping me apart, I felt the sharp stab of them and I knew he'd drawn blood. It felt like the prick of two needles and something cool flooded my system. Still buried in me, he was then leaning back, the angle causing another moan to leave my lips and I saw his grin in the low light, watching the two fangs on either side of his additional incisors disappear back into the grey gums before his mouth was on me again. My head spun at the loss of blood and I felt like I was teetering on the edge of oblivion as he drank me in, fucking me harder as he did so, the desk protesting under the weight and force of his body colliding with mine.

I couldn't tell where the pain ended and the pleasure started, it was all blending together and making me feel like I was transcending anything my body had been built to feel. A flick of his tongue over the wound on my neck, the skin feeling tight and bruised before his mouth moved to claim my own. I could taste the blood as his tongue slid across my own, as well as the cigarettes. His mouth was the only warm part of him, his kiss burned me as it devoured. Teeth nipped at my bottom lip and his hips pounded erratically into me, I could feel he so close and my walls were clamping down on him at the thought.

"Good little rabbit," he whispered against my lips and the carnality of his tone had me shuddering beneath him as my vision teetered into blackness.

I felt the intensity of his seed spilling inside of me, his hands digging harshly into my hips as he leant back to furiously drive into me. My body felt shattered when he pulled himself from my shuddering cunt, I felt sated yet empty. Spasms still wrecked through my body as I twitched. I couldn't open my eyes, I felt like I'd been glued to the desk. A pitiful whimper escaped when I felt something sharp prick on the inside of my thigh.

A lifetime seemed to pass before my breathing started to even out and I managed to open my eyes, the blurry blackness slowly ebbing away from my vision. Victor was watching me carefully, his leather trousers back on. More life was flowing back into me and my head was starting to feel clearer. I managed to sit up on my elbows, awkwardly closing my legs—they ached, my entire body did. The doctor moved toward me again, fingers lightly pushing my hair out of my sweaty face.

"Very great promise," he said and pressed a cool hand against my forehead as I managed to sit up fully, my shirt hanging open and stained with blood. I saw he had an empty med injector in his hand, remnants of some unknown liquid still clinging inside it.

Awkwardly I nodded, sliding off the desk and teetering on my feet—one of my heels had fallen off. I felt like a newborn foal as I tried to walk but his hands were on me again, lifting me with ease as he placed me on a nearby leather couch.

"No, no, no," he said in that same sing-song voice that had me feeling like an errant puppy. "You can't leave just yet, we have to keep an eye on you."

An eye on me? I wondered what he meant but I didn't protest. I felt too tired. My entire body was exhausted and I felt an odd sort of hunger in my stomach. It niggled at me but ignored it for the moment, too focused on getting comfortable. I could feel him watching me carefully, not knowing that I would never leave the clinic again and the strange craving in my stomach was one that would irrevocably keep me at his side.

Because it was the sort of hunger that is never quite satiated.

Not even in death.

Your boyfriend was nothing if not a fashion fannatic. He's almost forced to customize his own clothing, as being a 7ft tall snake-man-hybrid puts quite a limit on his shopping choices. But nevertheless, each piece of his polished leather was adorned with stainless steel jewelry. Clasps to fit his vest, a custom snake belt buckle, and even engraved rings to match: Victor couldn’t be caught without his metal swag. 

So when you decided to get your navel pierced, you were dying to show him your new jewelry. One that you never told him you were getting done. 

Victor knew you had an interest in jewelry, but you wanted this to be a cheeky surprise for him. The kind that he wouldn’t discover until he unwrapped you before taking you to bed. 

That of which, lead you here, pushing Victor onto your shared bed. Where his hands clenched around your waist as you pressed one last kiss to his swollen yet cracked lips. 

“I have a surprise for you, my love. Why don’t you help me out so you can see?” You repositioned his hands on the hem of your shirt, encouraging him to take it off. 

His large fingers dipped beneath the fabric for a moment, dosing himself with your plush skin that he’s itching to expose. 

Knowing how greedy Victor’s gaze can be, you press a slow kiss under his jaw so he couldn't wander his eyes until the shirt was completely off. He lets out a soft hum at the gesture.

Sitting back so he can slip your shirt fully over your arms, you puff your chest to emphasize the lacy lingerie you had hidden from him. Victor lets out a gasp, softly chuckling to himself as he runs his hands down your body, riding your curves under the delicate fabric. 

“You can be quite the vixen sometimes, little one. You know that?” Victor tuts, too busy eyefucking you to look down and see the REAL surprise. He gives your chest a soft squeeze before lowering his touch to grab your waistband. On the way down, he bumps the fresh navel piercing yanking a wince out of you. 

Victor pauses for a moment, mentally evaluating you for a source of the pain. His eyes land of the piece of stainless steel perched inside your navel. “Oh…..I see…..” His expression remains unfazed. Disdained, almost.

“I know how much you like your jewelry, and dressing me up in it……so I thought I’d get this piercing I’ve always been wanting. Do you like it?” You fold your arms behind your back, fully baring yourself to your boyfriend.

He scrunched his mouth, as if we were swishing words around in his mouth to conjure a less than hurtful response. 

“I can’t help but feel jealous, little one. You subjected this precious body under someone else's needle…….instead of my own?” Victor stands, slowly circling you until you’re the one sat on the bed. “I don’t know what kind of expertise these…..professionals have. Where they got their tools from, how long they’ve been practicing….if they even know how to disinfect a simple wound......”

You just roll your eyes at him. It’s not unlike Victor to get jealous, but you just wish he wouldn’t do it at a time that you were trying to relax and have fun with him. 

But, he’s a perceptive man. He notices your defeated demeanor and shifts his angle. 

“Tell you what, little one…” he lifts your chin to meet your gaze, still standing over you. “…the body can handle up to three new piercings at once. Are there any other…particular placements you’ve been wanting?” His free hand brushes against your navel, slowly trailing up your sternum to softly tug at your nipple through your bra. Silently trying to coax you into a very specific answer.

Good thing you already wanted your nipples pierced. And him trying to play coy? Two could play at that game.

You smirked at him and leaned backwards out of his grasp to sprawl yourself against the bed. Putting on a bit of a show, you trail your own hands on the path his just took: circling your navel and running up your torso to fish your breasts out of your lacy bra. “I have been thinking about two piercings in particular…..ones that..... only you could see?” You trace your nipples with your thumb, physically outlining your answer. 

Victor returns a smirk, briefly flashing his golden teeth. “That’s my girl.”

He unclasps your lingerie bra, circling his hands to pinch your nipples under the fabric before removing it completely. “I can’t help but imagine these perfect tits with MY jewelry in them. Just when I suspected you couldn't get more beautiful.” Snaking one hand under your skull and the other around your waist, he lies you back against the plush bed.

Anticipation prickles your skin, but you can't form goosebumps due to Victor keeping the room way too hot to accommodate to his cold-bloodedness. You’ve had plenty of piercings before, but it’s different when you know that your piercer looks at your body through an anatomical, professional lens. Victor’s used to ravaging you, leaving your body in shambles and unable to hold its own weight. He’s borderline glued to your flesh, always sinking his fingers into your skin and sucking the plushness into his mouth the second you’re alone. Being under the needle is already so vulnerable, and you don’t even have clothes this time to hide under. Victor always has your best interests in mind, but despite him wielding a needle, you know he’d look at you with nothing but lust. 

You’re not going to question that he keeps a set of surgical tools in the bedside drawer. There are far stranger things about Victor (his appearance and stature for one). But you watch regardless as he squeezes his oversized hands into latex gloves. The squelching of the straining rubber reminds you of how oversized and abnormally strong he really is. 

The bed dips around you as he crawls to straddle your torso. You can’t help but be reminded of the other, more sensual times he’s taken you beneath him. You lean up on your forearms to see the tools he’s brought over, but he quickly ushers you back down.

“Ah, ah, ah, just lie back for me, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.” He gives a soft smile, tilting his head to admire you.

Right. Like he’s ever been gentle about anything. Your cunt would beg to differ. 

Your chest heaves slightly, adrenaline pumping your heart in double time. The rubber of Victor’s glove barely graces up your side, the near absence of his touch making you shiver. 

“What’s wrong, you don’t seem cold, darling. Your nipples are far too full for you to be shivering.” He softly thumbs a circle over your left breast, almost methodical in the way he gropes the tissue. 

“I do, however, need them a little more taut so my needle has something to slide through.” Victor carefully sets the needle back onto the tray on the nightstand, not wanting to prick you during the prep. He leans down to rest his chin on your ribs just under your right breast, purposefully fanning hot air across your skin. Maybe he just wants to see you shiver again. 

“May I?” His split tongue darts over his lips as he nods towards your breast. You let out a sigh and nod, thankful that the needle wasn’t coming just yet. 

Victor swallows your nipple in an instant, enveloping the peak between his split tongue.  Pleasure rushes to your head as you arch deeper into his touch. 

“A-ah….Victor~”

You thread through his hair to grab his scalp, guiding his head to where you feel the most sensitive. He pulls his head back, slipping your nipple out past his lips just for him to suckle it back in again. Each pull perks the flesh while pooling warmth in your core. 

Just as he felt you rub your thighs together to ease your swelling need, Victor pulls back completely off your chest. 

“fuck, Vic, c’mooooon.” Your hand still hangs loosely from the back of his head.

“I don’t know what you mean, little one. I’m just trying to prep your body for the procedure. That’s all.” Victor gives you a knowing look, being purposely dense just to get you more riled up. 

“Yeah, a-huh. Sure. I bet you treat all your patients like this.” 

“No, not all of them…..” Victor leans over you, pressing his nose to yours. “….just my favorite ones.” His eyes flick to your mouth, grabbing the needle off the nightstand before sitting back up. 

He’s lucky he’s such a good boyfriend.

Victor quickly swabs your right nipple with an alcohol pad to clean off his saliva. You were already sensitive from his mouth, so the cool cotton dragging across your skin sent shivers down your spine. Just the alcohol alone twinges your skin, and you haven't even gotten the needle yet.

“You’re so....extraordinarily reactive, what am I going to do with you? I trust you’ll stay still, but we both know what will happen if you don’t.” As appealing as it sounds to be tied to the bed, now was NOT the time.

Victor pinched your nipple, smirking at your soft grunt before placing the clamp around it. Your blood instantly went cold as you watched him align the needle with it. Stomach churning in on itself, you were pouring every ounce of your focus into taking steady breaths in fear you’d pass out. Supposedly getting your nips done is one of the most painful piercings, and it’s the main reason you haven’t gotten yours done sooner. 

Victor paused for a moment, and you watched as his eyes trailed over your near-squirming, naked form. You felt his bulge start to grow against your stomach as he towered over you. 

“You look so beautiful with my tools on you, little one. Flesh quivering and desperate to be pierced, I’m not sure whether you wish to lean in or pull away from my needle.” 

Victor paused again, taking a deep breath to reel his own excitement back in. “I’m going to have you count for me, mmm? I won’t pierce you until you tell me to, how does that sound?” 

You hummed, your voice cracking as you nodded. You were quickly failing to appear calm to the large man. 

“Whenever you’re ready, my dear.” 

Both of Victor’s hands were steadied over your breast, busy with tools. But you needed something…..HIM to grab onto. You gently brushed the back of your fingers against his scarred face, settling once you trailed to the back of his neck. You took a few more steadying breaths, careful not to expand your chest so far that it would collide further with the needle. “Ok. Just-………on three.” 

Victor gave you a curt nod. 

“One….."

"Two……” 

Another deep breath.

“THREE”

Your flesh instantly screamed around the needle, feeling like trails of fire bloomed in its path. It sunk through you as quickly as it slipped in, yet the coldness of the metal constricted your skin so tightly it felt like the instrument was forever trapped inside. 

Your exhale came in small bursts, with your teeth grit to keep yourself from screaming. You couldn’t even swallow your own spit, your body forgetting how to function around the searing pain. Your eyes stayed squeezed shut, not even because you were horrified to look. Rather, in hopes you could blink the pain away. That by the time you opened them, it would all be over and Victor would be cuddling you while you wore your new bling. 

But nothing happened. 

The pain pulsed throughout your breast, and your body slowly regained awareness as it radiated through your chest. You tapped the back of Victor’s neck, hoping it would signal him to hurry up. 

Still, nothing happened. 

You started to feel lightheaded, fingertips tingling the foggier your brain felt. The pain had literally ripped the air from your chest, and kept you chained in an exhale. Your body decided it for you, worried an inhale would expand your chest into the source of pain. 

The only thing that grounded you again was the soft roll of Victor’s hips into yours. 

“Victor, what the fuck??” You cracked open your eyes, squinting at him in disbelief as he purposefully kept both hands off the tools that were sunk deep into your flesh. His jaw was slack, his wide eyes looked down at you in awe. While you were paralyzed by pain, he was paralyzed by admiration. 

“I do apologize, little one. I can’t help but admire how beautifully vulnerable you look with my needle inside you.” He emphasized each sentence with another roll of his hips, soaking his bulge with your slicked cunt. Since when did he remove your underwear?

“~fuck~ Victor, please….I don’t know if i can stand it much longer….” He just rolled his hips in response. A steady string of whines leaked from your clenched jaw. You both couldn’t tell if they were from his heavenly grinding or from the pain of the needle. 

Your cunt started tingling with pleasure, each slow drag of Victor’s hips upping your sensitivity. Your head spun from the stark difference between your pierced nipple and your slick cunt. Both were testaments to how much power Victor held over you; how instantly he could make you succumb to him. Your mind didn’t know where to focus or how to feel, settling on a strange blend between pleasure and pain. 

“I’m so sorry, little one, I really am. But I simply must feel you while I pierce the second one.”

Fear returned to wrack through your body. He wasn’t going to remove the first needle before doing the second??

He quickly zipped down his leather trousers, fishing out his swollen cock. 

“Victor, wait-“

He spread his sticky pre along your slit, borderline just toying with you now. Victor knows you wouldn’t move with the needle in you, and he fully planned to use it to your advantage. 

You could never resist an opportunity to fuck Victor, very rarely telling him 'no', but you needed that needle out NOW. Needle now, dick after.

“Aren’t you gonna take the first needle out? It hurts so bad, PLEASE. I can barely feel my nipple anymore, I think it’s going numb.” It wasn’t even supposed to be in this long to begin with…..who knows how badly your body would react to the prolonged pain.

“I will, darling…….~nngh~….I promise…..~nngh~……I just need….~nngh~…..you to count me down again…” He could barely pull his gaze from the needle piercing your flesh as he rutted his thick cock through your pussy lips. 

You took two deep breaths as he rested his wrist on your breast, mentally preparing for the jewelry switch. 

“One……"

"Two……"

"THREE, PLEASE, THREE”

Victor sank his cock into you, bottoming out instantly. His hand left your breast, the needle neglected and still in tact.

You started begging, borderline screaming at him as his thrusts repeatedly stole your breath. “VICTOR…….W-W-WHAT  THE  F-F-F-UCK??!??!!” Tears rolled down your cheeks that you didn’t even realize were welling in your eyes. 

“God, I’ve never felt you this tight, little one…I’m starting to think you like this…..”

“I thought you were going to take the needle out, not fuck m-“ Victor cuts you off with a rough thrust, consequently jiggling your breasts by sheer force. The pain quickly resurfaced as the needle jolted around under your nipple. Pain that quickly became tingly, stimulating your nipple from the inside. Still a, maybe conditionally delicious, sting that had you whimper nonetheless. 

“See? I knew you’d like it. It's because I understand you better than anyone could fathom, little one. I don’t want any piercer’s grubby hands over your precious body, understand?” Victor maintained shallow, soft thrusts to keep the needle rolling in your bouncing breasts. “Your body is mine to dissect. Mine to customize and tear apart at my will. I will give you whatever you want, dress you however you want, but it cannot be provided by anyone but me.”

His prodding at your gummy walls empties your brain completely. But soon enough, all you can equate the sensations to, pain or pleasure, is Victor. 

He gives a slight tap to the side of your face, attempting to ground your consciousness again. “Answer me, dear…..I need to hear you say it….”

“Yes, Victor……all…..yours.” 

“What is mine?” He slows his thrusts so you can focus well enough to speak.

“Me…..my skin….however I dress…..my body, my mind….all of it, just......please. I need more, Victor.” You don’t even know which sensation you’re begging for at this point. 

“So good for me, little one. Such an obedient listener. Now, one last time, count down for me."

What for? It didn’t matter. Whatever he wanted from you was already his anyways. 

“One…….."

"Two…….."

"thr-EE”

The second needle jabbed into your unoccupied nipple. Ten times more sensitive than the first time, you felt all the blood in your body flood to the sight of the injection. Whatever daze your head was swelled with quickly dissipated, all focus honing in on the searing tunnel underneath your left nipple. 

You just squeaked at the pain, and Victor moaned at it. 

“Uugh. Your cunt grabs onto me so tight when I pierce you. Do you know that, little one?” He thumbs soft circles under both of your stabbed nipples, acting like the needles aren’t even there. 

“You act like I can think about anything….nngh….anything under than how fucking bad this goddamn needle hurts….ughhh” you thrash your head back against the now tear-stained pillows. 

“I couldn’t ask for a better patient, or even a better lover…” he continues his shallow thrusts, this time using his thumbs to intentionally nudge the needles to wring more whimpers from you. 

There’s something exhilarating about being under Victor Gideon. A near 7ft tall monster of a man, if he even is man anymore, who could easily dismember you if he wanted. Someone with extreme medical expertise that would know exactly how to hurt you, and exactly which places would hurt the most. Knowing that there’s even a possibility that he could care for you. But on the alternate, he has the medical knowledge to cure people and heal them. He’s never been physically abusive to you, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of it. That doesn't mean whenever he raises a hand too high, that you won’t flinch in fear he could knock your lights out. So to be pinned beneath him, willingly submitting everything to him, fills you with overwhelming excitement of which option he’ll choose. Especially under his needles, pinned down like a taxidermied butterfly, it’s exhilarating to know that you won’t get the chance to leave until HE says so. Putting your head in the lion’s mouth just for the thrill of what happens. Even if you know the lion will coddle you and pamper you afterwards. Nonetheless, doesn’t mean that lion still won’t have the innate instinct to bite. 

Victor borderline purrs at you as he finally grabs the jewelry off the nightstand. You’re too caught in overwhelming, whatever you're feeling, to catch him snapping a photo of you trapped under his needles. “You’re doing so well for me, little one, I just have to switch the jewelry out then the procedure is complete. 

The dual stinging amps as the metal slides under your flesh, the rims of the barbells catching your skin as they enter the fresh wounds. Only an aching, throbbing pain remains as Victor screws the ends onto the jewelry, his nails gently scratching the flesh beneath it as he does. Each nipple receives a soft peck from the doctor, inflicting once last ounce of pain before he fucks the pleasure back into you. 

For the first time in, however long this process has been, you fully open your eyes and feel mobile enough to raise your arms and wipe away the tears. But subconsciously knowing you can move your chest freely, you break back out into heavy sobs. Almost as if the rollercoaster of emotions finally plateaued, releasing the floodgates. 

Victor, the deviant that he is, just grins down at you and punctuates each of your sobs with a strong thrust. Sculpting your breath into hiccups as soon as you can manage another inhale. You don’t even have the energy to reach out and touch him as he relentlessly fucks you. You just splay your arms across the pillows above you, like a dog rolling onto its tummy to submit to a trustworthy predator. 

Victor stares down at you, eyes riddled with lust as he gathers the needles into one hand. The other digs into your hip to direct his groin into yours. You watch helplessly as he rolls out his split tongue, dragging the instruments across it to savor your blood stained on them. He lets out a deep groan. 

“That is one thing I love about my medical tools, precious. It’s comforting knowing that we’ve both been inside the marvelous wonder that is your body.” He lulls out his tongue again, dragging the needles between each muscle to get another taste. You swear his length twitches against your walls as soon as the metal graces his tastebuds. Victor, getting a little too reckless with fucking you, knicks his tongue with the needles. He doesn't even flinch, the taste of your blood mixing with his own only turns him on more. Victor pounds harder into you, pummeling against your spongey sweet spot. It wells heat in your core, and radiates the remaining pain in your bouncing chest. 

“I feel a bit envious, that even an inanimate object such as these needles have the fortune of penetrating you, my dear. But at least I get to be the one holding them.”

Victor tossed the instruments back onto the nightstand, leaning completely over you to drive into your impending orgasm. 

“Victor…..please….you’ve been teasing me for…..~AH~ so long…..s'close...please….”

He draws a hand over your cheekbone, so delicate that you almost can’t believe they are the ones that stabbed your nipples earlier. “shhhh, sh, sh, sh. I know, darling, I’ve got you. You’ve been so patient, I’ll reward you.” Victor feverishly devours your neck, suckling the sweat and tear stains off your skin. Running your hands along his back, you grasp desperately onto his leather vest. His lower belly grinds across your clit with each thrust, sending hot pleasure crackling up your spine. This time, you do clench onto his length intentionally. 

“That's it, little one, let me have you.” 

And just like that, your whole body constricts around the man, pleasure ricocheting throughout your muscles and making your head spin deliciously. Victor followed shortly after, pumping heavy ropes of cum into you with deep grunts. Each spurt sent another wave of tingles throughout your cunt. 

You’re just happy to be filled with him, whether it’s with his needles or his hot cum. Your body will bend to it, feeling whole either way. 

Victor keeps a very strict healing regime for you. He helps you flush all three piercings with saline every morning and night. He can’t help but make comments that if the navel heals weird, it’s because you 'so foolishly' chose someone other than him to perform the piercing. 

The strangest of all, however, is that he won’t let you wear a shirt. 

“We can’t risk anything, even clothing, snagging against your fresh wounds. If I can’t so much as brush over them without you recoiling in pain, no fabric should come anywhere close to your piercings.” 

But you swear he was just doing it to fuck with you. Especially when he knows that having your tits out turns you on. That he does it so that every day when he comes home after work, you’re always topless and wet enough that he can slide right into your awaiting cunt. 

To be frank, with how painful getting them done was, you’d rather not risk them healing wrong either. Personally, you’d opt for some baggy shirts….but you also know you’d get your ass handed to you if Victor found you disobeying his post-op instructions. 

That doesn’t mean you were thrilled with the situation, especially when Victor practically begged to bring you to work to keep him company. It started with sharing lunch in his office, and maybe sorting through a few of his documents while he was attending appointments. But quickly, it became a time for Victor to drag you around like a trophy wife for all his staff to see. Topless form and all. Given that the ends of your barbell jewelry were made to resemble snake eyes, ones to match his ring, it was like he was demonstrating to the whole hospital that you were HIS. 

You had only met the nurses on a few occasions, maybe knowing two or three by name. But they all felt like an uncharted sea once you walked, topless and exposed, hand in hand with their superior. No matter how hard you tried to inconspicuously cross your arms over your chest, giving yourself even the slightest bit of decency, Victor would always coax you back out of your shell. 

"There's nothing to be afraid of, little one, I assure you. Out of all the horrors my staff has seen, from zombies to rotting flesh, you think some cute tits will be what deters them? Be the good patient....the good girl I know you can be."

Seeing Victor grin to himself as he guided you, his prized possession, through the halls did give you an odd sense of pride. All of the patients and nurses to make their way through Rhodes, endless options falling under his power, and he still chose you? 

And Victor did nothing but inflate your ego whenever a conversation did strike with his colleagues. The way he’d rave about your ‘procedure’ to them, tracing your exposed wounds as your nipples pebbled in the cold, sterile air. How he’d compliment how well your flesh took to his needles, claiming you’re healing ‘quicker than expected’. Because of course, he wouldn’t choose 'anyone but the best, most promising candidates' for his procedures. 

Even the soft way he’d ask you to ‘show them for me, darling’, prompting you to clasp your hands behind your back when you met a different nurse…….it all felt strangely intimate. That you were special to be praised by such renowned medical professional. Even if you knew deep down that he just loved showing off your body; showing off what HE owns to others, it was still flattering nonetheless. 

And whenever you passed an empty closet or waiting room in Rhodes, Victor would always reward your compliance by suckling your new piercings. From the outside, you wouldn’t believe the soft man begging to kiss your nips was the same that sadistically sunk needles into them while fucking you. 

“You’ve been so good to me, sweetheart, can I return the favor?” His hands on your waist twitched, giving away his quickly welling need. Victor couldn’t help it, after staring at you topless for an entire shift. 

“Victor, baby, you know how sore they’ve been today. And you must’ve yanked on em a hundred times with all the nurses we’ve talked to.”

He bent down, sitting on a nearby container to get eye-level with you. “Of course, little one, but I fear you don’t realize how…..irresistible your tits look. Especially when fitted with that shiny jewelry. They’re practically calling my attention glimmering under this light. And you know we must always listen to what our body is telling us.....” Victor’s goggles were already torn off so he could give you his biggest puppy dog eyes. 

He very well could’ve just taken you however he wanted, but deep down he knew he shouldn’t play with them and just let them take the time to heal. But if Victor baited you into asking for it yourself? Well then he could never say no to you. 

“Vic, honey, I thought you said they had to heal?” You already knew this song and dance, but any opportunity to get a little power over him you’d steal in an instant. You softly cupped both of your breasts, kneading the flesh in front of his face. 

“See? This one even looks a little swollen today. It's got a little bit of pus, too.” You pressed closer to him, rubbing gentle circles around your left nipple. You felt like a god watching such a monstrous man sit and drool in front of you, waiting for the order to pounce. 

Victor suddenly snapped out of it, and he met your gaze under hooded eyes. His thumbs replaced yours as he pretended to maneuver your breasts to examine your wounds. “Hmmm, this one does has some fluid today. I’d be a poor doctor if I didn’t give a proper inspection.” 

His warm breath fans over your nipples as he speaks, intentionally sending a chill up your spine. "See? They even appear to have an increased sensitivity today." He knows damn well you're reacting to his touch and not the jewelry. 

Victor held eye contact with you as he licked the pus from your wound, consequently easing the dull pain that your breasts have been banking throughout the day. 

Your soft moans rung from outside the closet as Victor nibbled on your flesh with extreme care and precision. The Rhodes staff were, unfortunately, accustomed to hearing your shenanigans at this point. 

When face to face, you could tell they were tired of it. Most of them just nodding mindlessly at Victor, hoping he'd get the hint and wrap it up. For you? The pleasured thrill of it all just kept you indulging. 

-a week ago-

Starting a new job in Raccoon City never was the safest life decision of yours. Not that you had a particularly dangerous position, as you settled for an office receptionist position. It just so happened to fall dead center of the city that held the highest crime rates across the country. But you stayed mindful as any adult would, opting to run errands while there’s still light out, always carrying some mace on you, and never restricting your hearing with headphones in public. The kind of stuff you’d have to do in any city, right?

It wasn't 100% intentional to pick this one……one that’s 700 miles away from your childhood home. You just needed to get out of there. Anywhere would be better than there, at this point. Tired of being lugged around like a burden to your parents, you were only ever supported so they could feel like they accomplished something. Too ofteb you felt like a box to be checked, nothing more. Everyone grows up to start a family of their own. Just because it was a right of passage didn't force anyone to actually treat their kids well. Growing up in that house felt like a cage. Curfews purposefully were set far too early, forcing you to stay locked up immediately after the school day ended. You were never allowed to have friends over, so there went your social life. Puposefully chained to a place that never wanted you there to begin with. It’s a miracle you had a job back then. But how else would you build the funds to find a way out?

You went never-ending years where your words fell on deaf ears. Years of being on mute in your own house hurt, but being kept from experiencing your own world hurt more. How were you legally allowed to drive and vote, but couldn’t tell your own parents “no”?? You’re certain you would’ve died suffocating in that house if you didn’t move out.

So when one of the hundreds of job applications gave you an offer, you were moved out before even signing the contract.

It didn’t matter where you went, because anywhere that wasn’t home was freedom.

It was intoxicating, exploring so many new places at once. You could feel the desert of blank space in your mind illustrated over with each new destination you mapped out. You’ve been shopping before, sure, but even something as small as deciding WHEN you went shopping and for how long? It was weightless. And, it was only the tip of what’s to discover.

So every night coming home from work, you’d take a new route to get back to your apartment. Routine trapped you your whole life, so why not add a little daily whimsy? Besides, it gave you an excuse to mentally bookmark the unseen niches of Raccoon City.

Always, still, being mindful not to wonder too far, and always driving......most of the way home. You’re often lucky enough to clock out before darkness can shelter the crime.

That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t get a little bold every so often, parking a few streets down so you could saunter along new sidewalks you haven’t quite breeched yet. Sidewalks are meant to lead you through public eye, so it was still safer than most places....right?

Soon the exceptions moved from sidewalks to walks in the park, and eventually cutting behind buildings. There’s a lot that goes on back there that most people don’t realize. It’s like walking through sets on a theater stage, passing the cardboard fronts to see everyone couped up behind and itching for their shot in the spotlight. Stray cats were always a fun pit stop, and sometimes you were lucky to catch people on their smoke breaks at nearby businesses. Never joining in, but walking ever so close that you could hear the latest work gossip. Nevertheless, every alleyway was surprisingly bustling despite the dangerous reputation of the town.

By the end of each night, you figured your nerves get the best of you, and that’s why the explorations didn't last long. Maybe you fell into the classic trap of parents insisting that home will always be safer than the world outside, training their children to fear anything that isn’t family. Living 700 miles away from them, and they still had their talons in you? Absolutely not, you had to break that habit immediately. Even if you couldn’t see it happening, the thought of being so powerless makes you go red hot. Skin boiling, your mind claws everything in its path just to be back on top.

One particular night, you couldn’t shake that fear from sucking you back in. Taking a new alleyway to your apartment, something started to feel off about the unfamiliar route. Stomach butterflies aren't out of the ordinary when making a new exploration, but this batch you couldn’t subdue. So of course your mind traced back to WHY you felt so nervous. Replaying lectures in your head, you flitting through every memory where you insisted you were strong enough to experience the open world. Suddenly you're plagued by every time you knew you were missing out on big life skills, all because your so-called protectors felt selfish and childish.

The thoughts swimming rampantly throughout your head, it drew your gaze inwards as you walked. The narrow walls of each brick building aided to your claustrophobic anger, a physical reminder of how exactly it is to feel trapped. Frustrated tears begin to cloud your eyes and coat your face, your self awareness now long forgotten. All you could think about was your home life.

You thought you had finally gotten out, so why did you still cave in on yourself? Were they right that you weren’t ready for the real world yet? Had the big city life finally gotten to you, or had your emotions trapped you in the cage you thought you escaped?

Your shoe caught an exposed pipe on the ground, your body thwacking onto the cold pavement.

“~Nngh~   Fuck….” Jesus, you really are helpless, not even able to walk straight without fucking it up. Head pounding and ears ringing, all you can worry about is finding a quick way back to your apartment where you can sulk out of public sight. You scramble to get your hands under you, pebbles digging into your flesh as you struggle to lift your chest off the ground.

Turning your head as you sit up, you felt the blood drop from your head, vision instantly spinning out of control.

“No, nonononono, SHIT.”

Your hands tremble and skid out from under you, too unable to tell left from right to grab onto anything for support. Tingles spreading up your limbs, you felt nothing but weight and shame. The panic really set in as you were forced to stare helplessly at the lamppost above you, black spots seeping into your vision like ink.

-------------------------------

The bright light that ripped you out of your sleep starts to kickstart your brain. Most mornings send panic through you, always perking your ears to search for your parent's footsteps. Always wishing to wake up home alone so you could finally breathe. The light that would trickle through your blinds reminded you of the bright opportunities waiting for you outside the confines of that house. Maybe that's why early morning dreams always pictured you living alone, finally making it out. You've been forgetting that recently, you really have been.

But this isn't your apartment. Hell, you'd never sleep with the lights on bright enough to wake you up like this. Forcing your brain to work overtime, you last remember falling in the dark alleyway.

Shifting to sit up, your arms are jolted back against the ground with a metal clink. Your eyes flick around frantically, but they’re no use as they continue struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Electronic beeping suddenly blares through you, and dozens of hands are on you in an instant.

That’s when you notice the loose, white surgical gown that engulfs your frame.

You’re at the hospital. Someone must’ve found you and called an ambulance.

But did they really need to strap you down just because of a fall?

“W-w-what happened…..w-w-where am I?” You stammer at the faceless silhouettes that hover over you. Their latex gloves make your skin crawl as they prod at every tender muscle in your body.

The panic from your fall earlier sinks deep inside your chest, that desperate need for control becoming unbearable.

“The fuck are you feeling me for? Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

None of the, from what you assume are, nurses speak. Some even circling you to pump a mysterious liquid into your IV port, almost as if you aren’t even there.

Was this some hallucination from your fall? You did hit your head pretty hard.

You fling a knee off the table, quickly escaping their grasp in hopes they’d notice you.

They just pin you down harder.

Something still didn’t feel right. Why did they need so many nurses on you, and why did nobody pay you attention until you woke up? Shouldn’t they have given you the new IV while you were asleep?

“Hey, let GO of me!” Each kick out of their hold has you scurrying up the bed, only to be pulled back down under a new hand’s hold. The nurses have to be murmuring to themselves above you, but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears.

A sharp pinch hits your left side, numbness fizzling out from the sight. Still scrambling, you look to your side to see a large, black syringe pulled from your skin.

Fuck.

Sweat beads across your skin, and the left side of your body grows too heavy to hold.

“I-I-I can’t move my arm….my leg…..what did you give me??” You continue thrashing your right leg while it’s still mobile, purposefully kicking everyone else off you.

Being physically restrained is one horror, but now you can't even have control over your own body?

They all had to be holding syringes that you couldn’t see beyond the light. And if they did, how would you even know what’s in them? What could have possibly happened to you while you were out that you needed a shot like that?

“Please….please answer me…..my right side…it’s- I can’t move……….please.....please don’t hurt me…”

You hear pens scribble across clipboards, but still get no vocal response.

You were used to being ignored, but this was a little more pressing than a petty fight from your parents. These freaks won't even let you have control over your own BODY. You had to get out of….wherever this was. Someone had to be within earshot that could help. You start screaming at the top of your lungs, voice rasping as you choked back tears. Desperate pleas were drowned out the beeping monitors, and still, the nurses were nothing but silent shadows looming over you.

You swear you heard one start to talk you down, maybe ask a question, but they’ve long since lost your trust. The arm restraints clanged above your head as you rolled side to side, hoping that you’d flip the table.

A latex hand shot into view, sticking your IV port with another mysterious liquid…..and you were out again.

---------------------------------

That’s how most of your days went by now. Waking up at random intervals, injected with a mysterious liquid, begging for answers, and ultimately faced with nothing but the threat of death. You hoped the outside world would be different than your childhood home, that maybe your words and actions would mean something now more than ever. But every time that they turned their noses up and ignored you, you choked back one less question.

It didn’t mean you stopped trying, though.

Some days, you’d wake up before anyone was in your room. If being raised sheltered taught you anything, it was how to be sneaky. Currently, you were chained in ankle cuffs rather than to a bed, as your door had a hydraulic lock that bolted you in. So naturally, you bunched the chains in your hands behind you, muffling the noise that would usually alert the nurses of your wake. Always walking on the tips of your toes to get around, you made note of every nook and cranny in the room. It was all solid concrete, but maybe hope turned you a bit delusional, wishing that someday there'd be a crack you could chip at to escape.

Incoming footsteps quickly approached your room, interrupting your investigation. There weren’t any windows to see outside into the hallway, so you’ve retrained your ear to listen for incoming people. It almost felt like you were right back at home again.

You tiptoed back to your bed, lying down to feign sleep as they walked in.

It was another nurse, but you still couldn't decipher any physical features behind the surgical mask and scrubs.

Although pretending to still be asleep, you always 'woke up' as they entered. The last thing you wanted to do was let them think their actions went unchecked.

Her breath noticeably hitched as she saw you staring at her, probably not used to operating on conscious patients. Her eyes instantly avoided yours, shuffling through some paperwork in her hands. She didn’t make it far past the door, quickly patting her pockets to grab something she clearly forgot to bring in. The nurse was a relatively slender woman, one that may not be strong enough to hold you down herself.

You watched her slide back out of the doorway, keeping it propped as she sifted through a filing cabinet outside the door.

Propped? They never leave the door open without someone inside. You didn’t even have to weigh the options before you quietly crept to the doorframe, chains in hand, and bolted for the hallways.

You didn’t know where to go, but anywhere had to be better than locked up in there. Your bare feet slapped the tile floor, and you winced with every echo in hopes it wouldn’t alert the staff.

The hallways were just as dreary as your room, the tall ceilings and walls that were yellowed with age. There’s no way this place is sanitary enough to treat patients.

It didn’t matter. You kept running.

Endless doors were shoved open as you slammed your bodyweight into them, revealing endless doors that seemed farther from the outside.

“shit shit shit shit. There’s gotta be an exit around here somewhere.” You mutter to yourself, frantically looking for red emergency exit signs. Even that was giving too much faith in the safety of the facility.

You ran past an open door, making eye contact with a nurse treating an unconscious patient.

Fuck.

“HEY. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOURE DOING OUT?”

No no no no no…..

The nurse slams a button, triggering alarms to ring through the halls.

You felt tears well in your eyes as you desperately hoped you would make it out this time.

The sprinting footsteps of nurses echoed through the halls, coming from every direction. You glanced behind to make sure nobody was close, and one grabbed you from the front. "c'mere, you brat."

You thrash your shoulders in their hold, still hellbent on making it out. “Get OFF of me, you freak.” A needle twinges your bicep, and chills engulf your body in an instant. Your weight smacks against the floor lifelessly.

"Just wait until Dr. Gideon hears about you"

--------------------------------

“Extra-strength harnesses and a stronger sedative?” Dr. Victor Gideon raised a brow at the nurses stood in front of his office desk. It was rare for them to admit failure to the head doctor, as the stubbornness ran deep at Rhodes Hill. But given your recent escape, it quickly became one too many for them to handle. The nurses successfully sunk their claws into you, and refused to reward their prey with freedom after such defiant behavior.

“Normally I’d be eager to fulfill such a request, but....I’d prefer to try my own hand at our little deviant.” Victor gave a condescending snarl as he rose to tower over his seemingly incompetent nurses.

“Bring me to them.”

-------------------------------

You can’t remember which came first; waking up or sobbing. There were so many times you had almost made it out, why couldn’t this time be the one? Your body began to fold in on itself, whether from the exhaustion of your escape or from the foreign drugs in your system. Even your lungs felt claustrophobic the way they struggled to pull even breaths. Especially after tracing a clear path to freedom, as sterile as the scenery was, it felt even more confining to know the exact square footage you were chained to. You weren’t sure if you wished it were bigger, or so small that it swallowed you whole.

When a knock rumbled your door, you didn’t bother feigning sleep or tugging at your chained ankles. Although it wasn’t like the nurses to knock.

“Mind if I come in, dear?” A tall, older man with textured skin slid into the room. Victor was clear two feet taller than the nurses that followed him, his large hands made his briefcase look doll-sized. The sharp clacks of the nurses’ heels were smoothed by the gentle swishing of his snakeskin labcoat. A bit odd for a doctor to wear, especially given that he was the only one without any sort of face covering.

Quieting your sobs as you assessed the situation, you let your angered tears fall in silence as you studied the new man. Was this the doctor that the nurse warned you about?

Victor hunched over a nearby table, clearly not made to accommodate his monsterly size, as he sifted through his briefcase. You couldn’t help but scoff at the nurses, acting like suck-ups for bodyguards as they shielded the table from your view. Given how any other interaction went, you were sure today called for another unwarranted syringe.

It doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try to fight it.

As you blinked the cloudy tears from your eyes, you were met with Victor’s triple-lensed goggles peering straight into your soul from across the room. The red flashing lens complimented his shiny gold teeth as they flickered at you, almost taunting and begging you to pull a stunt as he inched closer to you. The reflective lights broke through the darkness, bringing you back to all the times you woke up to the sunlight shining through your blinds. How those memories were quickly overwritten with instances in this hospital where waking up to bright lights meant you'd be strapped down for observation. Funny in retrospect, as although they were different settings, you were still pinned down nonetheless. Maybe you were wrong in the past for associating bright lights with freedom.

Victor didn’t even crouch to your level when he snatched you off the ground by your throat.

Your vision splitting double, heart pounding in your chest as you muster every last ounce of your breath to choke out some pleads. “n-n-no ~ucghh~ p-p-p ~ucccgh~ -lea-s-s-e”

“awww. how cute that little mousy tries to play innocent all of a sudden.” He tilts his head, almost pouting at you as the nurses mockingly laugh behind him. The way he looks at you is akin to a child peering through the glass at a puppy in the pet store: fascinated by your behavior and eager to play with you.

“My lovely nurses tell me that you haven’t been cooperating with them very well…..is that right?” He jolts your body, trying to shake an answer out of you.

You scrape your fingers against his leathered skin, desperate to loosen his suffocating grip on your throat. No matter how hard you dig, you can’t seem to break skin or draw any blood. You really were doomed. You’ll give him an answer, just not the one he wants. If that’s all the autonomy he’ll grant you, then you’re going to exploit it.

A new flood of tears stain your face as you shake your head ‘no’ in response.

Victor’s devious grin drops instantly. He slings your body to his right as if you weighed nothing, slamming you up against a nearby wall. Both of his hands hang you by your shoulders. Dr. Gideon needed your throat free for more answers.

“I gave you a chance to obey me, pet. I won’t refuse the opportunity to drug you for answers.”

Having the wind knocked out of you left your legs numb, so you couldn’t try to kick him away if you tried. Your eyes darting across his rusted goggles, you were desperate to get any read on the man. What kind of person would run these kind of experiments anyway?

Being in such a vulnerable position kicked in some instincts you thought were long forgotten. Memories flooded back of the times at home where you desperately tried to confront your parents about how manipulated you felt. How you begged them to sit down and just talk to you, hoping for them to understand how trapped you felt in a place where you were supposed to feel loved. You remembered how each time, just a simple side eye from your parents was enough to paralyze you with fear, and remind you that they’ll never truly listen anyways. The feeling that it would be more effective to talk to a literal wall of your bedroom than talk to your parents, because at least then you could get your emotions out without them being twisted against you. As much as you wanted to bury those memories and move past them, there would always be reminders to keep yourself shut in. Reminders like the nurses, who no matter how many questions you answered or how many punches you’d throw, you’d always be met with the same blank stares and lack of comfort.

Maybe your parents were right, and the real world wasn’t all that different from home. Maybe they were right to ignore your opinions, simply preparing you for the world to treat you the same. Or maybe it was your fault for wanting to ask such questions in the first place.

But you had to ask, just one last time.

You took a second to still your breathing, dropping your hands from clawing at Victor’s.

“Will it even make a difference if I really tell you the truth?”

Victor’s breath caught, his hands unconsciously loosening their grip on your shoulders. You, a helpless empty chasm that used to seep with energy and determination, just blinked up at him. There weren’t many tears left to shed, but you let the last few slip past your reddened eyes.

Wearing his goggles or not, you still couldn’t read the man. Inside, you were horrified he’d just sling you across the room or start screaming at you. But on the outside, you were too exhausted to stop it, having been down this road too many times before. Victor simply licked his lips and took a deep breath before responding.

“……….go on…….”

“I just-……….I don’t know where I am or what…this place is. I just want to know what’s going on. All I remember is tripping in an alleyway and now I’m………..here? And I keep getting knocked out by these weird shots that I’m begging to know what they are and-“

“stop.”

Here it comes.

Victor’s lip twitches before biting it with a snarl. His nails break the flesh of your shoulders, your skin sizzling as he lowers you to the ground. His hand shoots up over your face, pausing with a small hesitating tremble. You can’t even look up at him, terrified of what he’s contemplating on doing with that hand.

His brittle nails trace your cheek, delicately thumbing over the tear stains before tucking your hair behind your ear. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

You peek open your eyes to see him storming over at the nurses.

“YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM? A SUBJECT……MY SUBJECT IS CURIOUS OF MY WORK AND YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM? No wonder they’re desperate to get away from you imbeciles. I want you out. All of you. NOW.”

The nurses fled for the door in an instant. Some big talk they are for fleeing the second their boss orders them around. You can’t say it didn’t bring you a sense of relief, watching your tormentors for the past- who knows how long- scramble away in fear.

Still, you’re curled with your knees bunched against your chest, propped up against your spot in the wall. Subconsciously digging at your nails, studying every inch of movement from the doctor. You’ve played this game before, too. Someone playing nice around others just so they can get you alone and reveal their true self.

Victor huffs large, frustrated breaths as he makes his way back to the table with his briefcase. He’s mumbling to himself something you can’t quite make out, but you can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he’s pissed.

You’ve given up on making a run for it, at this point. Not just because your ankle is chained to the floor, but after feeling Victor’s strength once? You know he could break every bone in your body just from the lift of his finger.

The doctor pulls syringes out of his coat pockets, shoving them into the briefcase. A couple belts and fasteners find their way out, too. Your breathing finally stills once he removes the goggles, once again exposing his cracked face. He just stands, propping his body over the table with his arms, hanging his head low for a moment. Victor grabs a small pouch and a tube of antiseptic from the briefcase before making his way back over to you.

Your anxiety bubbles back through your chest the closer he gets. It reminds you that although he defending you, he still nearly choked you out with his bare hands.

Victor crouches in front of you, your eyes now level with his chest. You can feel his red eyes staring down at you, but you’re too scared to meet them. All you can notice are the deep, chiseled scars carving a path up his throat. Were they from something in this hospital, too?

“I am……so sorry, little one. I take great care in keeping my patients aware of all the treatments we administer them.”

‘Patient’…..didn’t he refer to you as his ‘subject’ just before?

“Please forgive me for letting those…..vermin that I call ‘staff’ ignore you for so long.”

Still, you can’t get your breathing to still, unsure whether or not he’s actually being sincere or just trying to manipulate you into compliance.

“Sweetheart……” Victor returns his large hand under your chin, guiding you to meet his gaze. He holds you there for a moment to make sure you see the gentle smile spread across his face. His eyes flick to your lips, rubbing a small circle into your chin with his thumb before pulling his hand away.

For such a monstrous man with scars littering his face and gray skin pulled tight across his scaly complexion, his smile grants nothing but warmth. Not everyone would be so willing to show scars like that out in the open. He definitely could hide them if he wanted to, there being turtleneck sweaters and good-quality makeup at his disposal. But he seems like the type of man to bear every shortcoming and emotion with pride: Victor didn't want to hide himself, even if he tried.

You both sit in silence for a moment, simply readjusting to the situation.

“Now, why don’t you ask me anything you’d like about the work we do here. You’ve spent more than enough time otherwise, and I’m nothing but pleased to hear your interest. It’s not often we get.....patients like yourself that are willing to learn.”

Does he really think you’re only asking questions to learn? And not, like………because you’re scared the drugs they pump you with will kill you?? Sure. Great. Whatever, patience is patience, and it’s more than you’ve been gifted before.

“Ok……um……I guess let’s start at the beginning? When I fell and how did I get here?”

Victor shifted to sit next to you, not wanting to sandwich you between himself and the wall behind you. As he moved to speak, he lifted one of your hands into his, softly tracing the wrinkles of your palm.

He explained that someone had found you unconscious in the alleyway and called an ambulance, which took you here. Upstairs is a fully-functioning, normal hospital. Which, of course, is where you were treated and monitored for the first day or so. No long-lasting injuries, just some bruising and a residual migraine.

“I must admit, dearest, you caught my eye during that first 24 hours in my facility.” You don't know when you decided to rest your head against his arm. Both of your gazes were now fixated on your palm in his hands. That confession, however, quickly snapped you back to reality. “How so?”

“You heal rather quickly for someone so……human. I promise, neither my staff nor I have administered anything dangerous to aid your healing process. Some individuals recover quicker than others, but there was something different about you. I simply had to know more.”

The sudden appraisal did help you ease into the man's affections, and the long-awaited clarity was nice to have too.

Victor set your hand atop his leg, patting your wrist before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It choked you up a bit, not being able to remember the last time you’ve been held by something other than leather restraints.

Hearing his heartbeat softly thump through his chest into the shell of your ear felt oddly soothing, and was a stark contrast to his chilled skin. Your face still burned with heat from the earlier tears, so you didn’t mind his skin cooling you down a touch. Victor twirled your hair between his fingers, every so often catching it on his chapped skin. He instantly became mindful the second you winced with the first accidental pull.

The doctor explained that he never intended to poison you, but simply wanted to study why your body was such a fast healer. The nurses were meant to ask you questions and, hoping for your enthusiasm, run a few tests to watch you heal in real time. Nothing absurd, maybe a paper cut or soft bruises to your knees. At least, that’s as far as he was willing to admit.

With your hair dutifully brushed off your shoulder, Victor reached into his coat pocket to grab the pouch and tube of antiseptic from earlier. You opened your eyes after feeling him shift, insistent to anticipate his next move.

“Oh, don’t worry, little one, I only wish to soothe your skin from my mistakes earlier. Here, you can even read the ingredients if you’d like.” Victor handed you the tube first, letting you take as long as you like to examine the label. You even tested the cap, feeling the telltale crack that it hadn’t been opened before.

“Such a clever little patient, aren’t you? I assure you, I wouldn’t be so devious as to swap the contents with a different drug. I may look so, but I really am no monster.” He swept a hand from the top of your head down your shoulder, smoothing your hair before pressing a soft kiss to your scalp. You're so caught up in reading the medication label that you almost didn’t register it. Was it strange because your DOCTOR had kissed you, or because you hadn’t gotten affection in a long time? You still felt comforted all the same.

You handed the tube back to him, swapping it to examine the pouch next. It was a shake-activated ice pack.

With your eyes still glued to the pack, Victor scooped you up and planted you on his lap, legs straddling his wide hips, to face him.

“I need full access to treat your wounds, my dear.” Your wide eyes met his focused expression, the reminder of his brute strength stringing anxiety back within you.

“Your safety absolutely must come first. But do tell me if you’d like me to administer it in another fashion. You'll be receiving my treatment either way.” Victor poured some antiseptic into his palm, then paused a moment to give you the chance to find a more comfortable position. You simply returned to examining the cold pack.

Victor gently pushed your collar of your hospital gown over your right shoulder, exposing the already blooming bruises and scratches. His cold fingertips almost sizzle against your overheated skin as he traces your collarbone, mapping out each of your wounds. Finished with examining the ice pack, you turn to look down at your injured, exposed shoulder.

“Ah, ah, ah….” Victor tuts, grabbing your jaw and angling your head opposite of it, revealing your neck to him. “I’ve been told you’re a bit squeamish. My nurses may be asinine but they are attentive, noticing you grow faint at the sight of needles and blood. I can’t have you passing out on me, little one.”

Is this what it feels like to be noticed?

Your gaze has nowhere to wonder except the doctor’s face. His eyes slightly hooded as they dance across your wounded skin. Using his empty hand, he moves to grab an alcohol pad.

“I know you can’t see, but I’ll be sure to tell you every step that I take, yes? Bear with me a moment, I need to disinfect these scrapes. It might sting a little.”

The twang of the alcohol was nothing in comparison to how his nails punctured you earlier. But, it was a sting nonetheless and still had you reeling into his palm that held your jaw.

“Shhhh, sh, sh, sh. I’ve got you. Just a little more, then I’ll administer the antiseptic.” With each circle of his thumb into your jaw, your neck eased its tension, gradually trusting him with the full weight of your skull. It felt strange, being supported while being taken care of, as compared to the nurse's restraints that forced you under their so-called care.

“Thaaaaat’s it, just relax for me, we’re almost done.” Victor massaged the ointment across your shoulder, his delicate touch almost making you forget he was the one who tore your skin to begin with.

For the first time, you trusted someone enough to hold you. Victor’s attention felt like a cozy hug, but more likely of a coax to allow him to treat you. You weren’t sure if he could turn violent again down the road, but for now, you’d relish in his kindness. You didn’t realize that your eyes had closed until the chilled ice pack was pressed to your shoulder.

Victor guided your hand to hold the pack in place so he could grasp your face in both of his. “How does that feel, little one? Good?” You softly hummed while nodding your head. His lips audibly crackled as he beared a smile, pressing a quick peck to your forehead before bending you to your alternate side.

This side of your neck was littered with bruises, reminders of where his fingers wrung your throat. The punctures in your shoulder were shallow like the last, but still evidence of his strength nonetheless.

Victor moved in silence, understanding that his actions currently outweigh his words. They are what injured you in the first place, and you’d have to consider the physical reminder every day until they were healed. Nevertheless, the doctor couldn’t help himself from praising you through it.

“You know, most patients usually don’t make it this far, either. The ones that run, I mean. But not you. You’re incredibly strong-willed. Such a quick healer, no wonder you are such a determined individual. I'm sure your emotions heal just as fast. Your optimism is just……extraordinary. A body unlike anything I’ve ever seen, constantly working for the upper hand……..and a marvelous mind to match.”

Victor had long since finished tending to your shoulder, he still couldn’t help but run his hand across your flesh. He was fascinated with your skin that he needed the sensation of it under his hand warped on repeat. Brushing the back of his hand along the side of your throat, pausing to catch your pulse, then smoothing his palm down the curve of your shoulder to admire your bone structure. Although his ministrations were surface level, you swore you could feel him cradle your soul.

“I do hope you understand why we…..why I as the head of this facility have chosen you as our prime subject. I trust you will perform beautifully for us, providing data that most scientists only dream of working with.”

You opened your eyes, cheek still smushed against his palm. You find Victor’s eyes on yours, caught in the act of him mentally dissecting your expression. And still, nothing but admiration swells in his maroon and amber eyes.

“Can……can I-….” You pause a moment, wanting to make a request but not wanting to push the intimidating doctor’s limits. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to make a request, but….”

Victor keeps running his hand along your side, grip and stare unfazed. He gently nods you to continue. “I can’t promise I can grant you every wish, but I might be able to make some exceptions for my star patient.”

“Can you be my doctor from now on? It’s just-….I hated feeling so helpless under those other nurses. Maybe they meant well but I’ve never felt as valued as I do right now, with you.” Victor gave a warm smile, instantly delighted with your request. He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his meaty arms around you in a tight hug. It seems he hasn’t felt this valued before, either.

“And I can’t stay here forever. I have a job, a-a-and a life outside of here......I just hate feeling trapped is all.” You start to ramble a bit into his chest. Still pushing the boundary, but you had to make it known that you weren’t going to be his prisoner. The little bit of autonomy and control he’s granted you the past half hour, you couldn’t let it disappear.

“We’ll have to see about that, little one.” He pressed another kiss to your forehead. Not quite agreeing to your wishes, but also not just saying something to shut you up. Victor just seemed ecstatic that you specifically requested his care above the others. He wasn’t usually in charge of patients at Rhodes, moreso working on experiments. But something about you shifted his obsession ever-so-slightly, and now he’d burn the place to the ground before letting you out of his sight.

“Don’t worry, little one, I mean nothing but the best for you. No matter what, just remember that I work to keep you safe.”

Whether or not it was an empty promise, you’re still grateful to even be considered. And damn, is it nice to be held.

Victor hoisted your hips up his lap, pressing your chest flush against his. He rested his chin atop your head, stroking along the curvature of your back. Through such cold skin, you felt nothing but warmth and adoration across every inch that your body met his.

Tears pricked at your eyes again, as you couldn’t sort through the array of emotions your body has wracked through since waking up this morning. The only thing that seemed concrete was the adoration and care that Victor poured through you. Especially after demonstrating how easily violent he can be, why would he choose to be so kind to you? He, much like most people with his build, could just force you to his wishes through brute strength. Victor chose to be kind to you. He even had the drugs and hardware to knock you out cold, so the fact he spent the time to talk you through his thoughts felt extra special.

The man's height still towered over you, even with both of you sitting. You repositioned yourself to look up at the doctor, consequently arching your spine just to lean back far enough. Just as you tilt your hips to reposition, you get a little too close to Victor, accidentally brushing against the prominent bulge in his pants.

Fuck.

Hopefully he didn’t think you were trying to come onto him. You finally got the care and attention you were craving. please don’t let this be what fucks it all up.

“……oh? what’s this? Is my little sweetheart craving a special kind of attention?” Victor carded his hand back through your hair as he gazed down at you lovingly.

“No, I swear I wasn’t trying to-“

Victor snaked his hands around your hips, tilting them back against his core just to hear you wince.

“I-I-I just wanted to thank you for being so gentle with m-“ He rocks your hips against him again, drawing an ache from your own core.

“Shhhhh, it’s ok, little one. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, really. You don’t have to tell me if you’re too embarrassed. I'll treat all of your needs, it's no worries. Even the sexual ones, I’ll take care of you all the same.” Victor maintained the slow rock of your hips against his, fixating on any particular angles that had your muscles tensing under his hold.

It wasn’t what you were intending to get from his, sure. But you’d be lying if you said his initiative didn’t turn you on. Nobody had shown you this level of attention, let alone care before. Was it really so bad to read between the lines and associate Victor's behaviors with affection? It had been a long day already, your body and mind already screaming for a break. The subtle grinding was already enough to distract you from the horrors this place had put you through, your head already foggy with pleasure.

Victor had to of been packing two cocks with how prominent his bulge was. His squeaky leather pants were extremely unforgiving, pronouncing every ridge and vein of what hid underneath. You swear you could feel the ridge of his tip catch against your underwear with each thrust, fabric be damned.

“Just relax, sweetheart, you know I’ll take care of you. I got you.” Victor manipulated your limp head, guiding it to rest on his chest so that all of your weight was angled against him. You felt so soothed by his touch that all you could do was nuzzle your face into his sternum, hoping that his vest would swallow up any whimpers that dare escape your lips.

His large size overlapping each other, digging into your plush ass as he ground you into himself. Each tilt sent another wave of shocks through your body, and each rock back allowed more arousal to leak from your core.

“You’ve been so good for me today, do you know that?” He picked up speed on your hips, finally coaxing a groan from your lips.

“So precious, so attentive. Your eagerness captivates me. Even now, I’m so proud of you for taking what your body needs. Not many of my patients are smart enough to vocalize what they want.” Victor removed a hand, tilting your chin off his chest so he could press his forehead against yours, the other still quickly slotting your core against his. Each brush against his bulge grew overwhelmingly sensitive, yet burned with a need to keep going.

“I hope you know how special, how important you are to me.” His face was barely an inch from yours. Both of your mouths hung open, deperately panting at the pleasure. Your lips just barely graced one another, growing dry from the hot breath passing between you both. That familiar build in your stomach became almost painful as it begged to be sent over the edge.

“I’d never let anyone hurt you ever again, sweetheart, you’re mine now.” Victor’s lips crashed against yours as you spilled over, energy crackling rampant throughout your body as you came. His tongue swallowed your moans, cracked hands sweeping anywhere and everywhere along your body to keep you upright. Even now, with passion akin to fire, Victor’s fingers danced across your skin with care rather than pressure.

He kissed you through your high, granting you control back over your hips in fear he’d overstimulate you. Each slotting of your lips gentler than the last, his split tongue savored the taste of you as you drifted apart. You were instantly spent, your orgasm spending the last of your energy banked from resisting Victor this morning. Your arms in comparison are too small to wrap around the large doctor, but you still slumped into his chest desperate for a hug.

Victor returned to brushing your hair through his fingertips, mentioning something about bringing you a change of clothes. It all felt like a blur as you quickly fell asleep in his hold.

----------------------------

Rhodes Hill certainly became more tolerable after your meeting with Victor Gideon. It wasn’t pillow talk when he claimed to never leave your side. Every time you left one room to visit another, he was right by your side. It didn’t matter if he was mid-experiment or knee-deep in paperwork. If you sent a nurse for him? He was there in an instant.

Even for the scheduled meal breaks, he always brought you to eat together in his office. It felt nice that someone truly wanted your company, not just tolerating that you’d be in their proximity.

Whenever you asked, he would walk you through paperwork for the next study he prepared for you. Mostly over lunch, or even over a midday snack, but he would always beam with excitement that you were curious about his work.

It took a few days, maybe even a week or two, before Victor let you off the premises. Once you opened up to him about your home life, and that you moved to Raccoon City for some independence, he gave in under one condition: he had to escort you. He was too protective to let you out of his sight. Victor knew firsthand how well you could fend for yourself. It wasn't about that. Maybe deep down, he wanted to build your new memories with you, pouring himself into your life while exploring the city that he never paid much mind to.

Even if it was a late-night walk to clear your head, Victor was always there offering to hold your hand and walk through it with you.