🔪💕

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Hello. I am back again, even for a short bit.

I ended up making it a bit angsty though, since I left the ending so open if the obsession was taken by the fog somehow as well or not. I leave that thought open to you and the other readers.

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Warning!: Mentions of gore and the like! NSFW.

The Cannibal

The Texan sky blazed with a fierce burnt-orange as the sun set, casting a warm glow over the vast landscape surrounding the Sawyer's home. Although the searing heat had subsided slightly, it was still overwhelming for those unaccustomed to such sweltering temperatures.

Amid the familiar heat, one large, imposing figure waddled anxiously throughout the house. This man could only be known as Bubba Sawyer, his inner fretting visible through the holes of his mask. His older brother Drayton should have already returned home. 'Why isn't he here?!'

As Bubba anxiously awaited Drayton's arrival, a pristine car with a sleek, modern design suddenly pulled up in front of their house. The vehicle stood out from the rustic surroundings and came to a stop a few feet away, just within view but partially obstructed by a small tree as he already peered out from the second floor window.

The sight filled Bubba with fear, but also an instinctual urge to protect his home.

Nubbins wasn’t home right now, and played somewhere out and about instead. The local pet cemetery would be the most likely option.

His heartbeat quickened even further, and he barely kept himself together from slapping his large hands against the side of his covered cheeks. What if it’s a police officer? Should he hide in the house and hope the locks are enough to deter them from entering?

His fear quickly turned into panic, and just as he was about to turn around to grab his tools and confront whoever was outside, he saw something that he couldn’t believe. His inner questions were answered before he could act.

The passenger side door swung open, revealing a pair of crutches which froze Bubba in place. His heart raced with a mix of relief and added concern of a different kind as his brother's head popped into view, struggling to hoist himself out of the vehicle.

His breath suddenly escaped him in the form of an over-awed pitch of the voice as a beautiful woman rushed in to help by jumping out of the driver’s seat and by circling around her car. They exchanged words, these sounds partly muffled by the distance between and the glass of the window he discretely peered out from, but still decipherable to his sharpened ears. In summary, you were obviously worried about him falling over purely by the way you react to each and every movement that he makes. Knowing his brother, he was toughening it up and feigned the fact that he doesn’t require any more of your help.

Drayton’s figure came further into view as he hobbled himself towards the white swing seat that was but a stone’s throw away from the old house. His left leg is now in a… strange white thing, indicating that something had happened to him in the time he was away.

But what exactly had happened to him? And when did you start to play a role in it?

Despite his rather grumpy protests, you carefully helped the man down on the swing seat after you’d rushed after him. A simple task made just a tad bit harder by the fact that the seating wouldn’t exactly sit completely still the moment he put his weight on it.

“Thank you sweetie. You’ve been a real help today,” the man grinned the moment after he nestled himself properly upon the swaying furniture. At first glance, the grin seemed warm and genuine. To a certain degree, it was, but there was something dissuasive lurking about in his overall expression as well. 

You closed your eyes for a second before you nodded your head with a kind, but weakened smile. “It's my pleasure. I just couldn’t keep you laying there after you were hit like that in a hit-and-run accident.”

He chuckled. “Nothing that police report can’t fix.”

An awkward silence followed for a short bout.

“I tell you what; you are free to have a large helping of my famous, reward-winning chili the next time you come by at my gas station. The one to the left and further down the road once you leave my property. It will be on the house.”

“Thank you. I’ll have to think about it, but I truly appreciate your gesture either way.” Your smile never faded as you turned to leave. “A pleasure meeting you, mister Sawyer.”

“Likewise sweetheart.”

Of course, the large behemoth genuinely felt his heart drop the second you turned and walked away towards your car. Soon disappearing inside of it.

Bubba rushed down the stairs and launched himself onto the porch, squeaks and rumbling yells escaped his thick lips. He watched in shock and dismay as the woman who helped his older brother left just as quickly as you had come, practically leaving him in the dust. It didn’t take long for his attention to turn to Drayton, though. He kept you in the back of his mind ever since.

Not long after, the break-ins started.

Bubba had always known his world wasn’t like others. His family, his home, everything he loved. It was different. It was sacred. And when outsiders started trespassing, digging around, looking for secrets, his fear only grew. He did what he had always been taught to do—protect his family, protect his home. But it wasn’t enough. Not this time.

Everything had been taken from him.

The house was no longer safe. His family was no longer whole. The trespassers, the police, the outsiders. Everything that threatened his family’s security was a danger to Bubba. His world began to feel smaller and more suffocating. Every corner of the house he had once felt safe in now felt like a trap.

But even though he did his best, one of the kids got away.

Bubba chased her as fast as his heavy, lumbering body could carry him, but you had help. A truck. Another outsider. An evil trucker, who had come out of nowhere. He watched in horror as the trucker swerved and ran his younger brother down, flattening him with the force of a speeding machine. Bubba’s heart lurched in his chest as he saw his brother’s body crumple beneath the wheels like that of a possum's, his life snuffed out in an instant.

Fury burned in Bubba’s veins. His saw roared to life as he ran toward the truck, desperate to avenge his brother, to protect what little family he had left. But the trucker was too quick, too clever. He swerved, knocking Bubba aside with ease, and in a flash, the trucker turned his own saw against him.

As the trucker sped away, leaving Bubba to writhe in the dirt, the weight of the situation crashed down on him like a wave. His brother. Gone. His family. Shattered. His worst fears had come true. The police would come, and they would take his family away. His remaining brothers and his Grandpa. They would all be torn from him. Without them, Bubba was nothing. He had always been their protector, their servant. Without their commands, without their guidance, what was he?

A sob choked in his throat as he realized the truth. Without his family, without their love, he would wither away, lost and forgotten in this cruel world.

The thought consumed him. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t be alone. He couldn’t let this happen.

In a blind rage, Bubba spun in circles, his saw slicing through the air, desperate to fend off the imagined threats that closed in on him. He wasn’t sure what he was fighting anymore. The world had become a blur of pain and anger, and the only thing he knew was that he had to protect what was left of his family, even if it meant tearing the world apart.

But the more he swung the saw, the more the reality settled in. He was alone. The trucker was gone. His brother was gone. And the fear, the deep, aching fear that had always haunted him, now felt like a suffocating weight on his chest.

Bubba dropped to his knees in the dirt, the saw still clutched in his large hands, his chest heaving with each labored breath. The rage had turned into grief, and the grief was slowly drowning him. The thought of losing his family, of being left alone, was too much to bear. His heart felt like it was breaking all over again, and he couldn’t see a way out of it.

Then, like a phantom from the past, the memory of you surfaced— your kindness, the way you helped his brother despite his gruff exterior. You were a fleeting moment of tenderness in a world that had always been harsh, a gentle hand amidst the outside cruelty. You weren’t like the others, and for that, Bubba couldn’t let go. He hadn’t even realized how much you could have meant to him until you were gone.

And it struck him. He never got to see you again.

The memory of you, so brief, so precious, haunted him. He had never gotten the chance to thank you for your kindness, to show you the world he had known, the family that had raised him.

And now, you were gone too, just like everything else.

The world around him seemed to vanish, swallowed by a fog, until all that remained was the thick, suffocating mist closing in around him.

The Hillbilly

The air inside the small, dimly lit room was thick with the scent of old wood and dampness. It was the kind of smell that lingered long after the source had been forgotten, just like the Hillbilly’s existence.

He sat hunched in the corner, his thin frame barely visible in the shadows, the only light coming from a crack in the wall that let in the faintest sliver of sunlight, and from the old TV in front of him. The walls were cold to the touch, and the stone floor beneath him was hard, unyielding. It was his world. This small, confined space that was his prison and his only refuge. The hole in the wall, just big enough for his eyes to peer through, was his one of two escapes. His view into the outside world.

For as long as he could remember, this room had been his home. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he last saw daylight, but it felt like a lifetime. He knew only what he could hear; his parents' muffled voices drifting through the walls, their harsh words often tinged with disdain. They spoke little of him, except when they did so in disgust or anger, as though he were some sort of burden too shameful to acknowledge.

Max’s disfigurement, the reason for his isolation, had never been discussed openly, but he could feel it in their every glance, every whispered word. He had learned early on to avoid their gaze, to keep his head low, and to stay hidden in the shadows until he had to kill for them.

Today, like every other, the silence was broken only by the sound of his father’s footsteps outside the door, the scrape of the keys in the lock as he came to check on him. Max flinched, pulling his knees closer to his chest, instinctively trying to shrink even smaller. He knew what was coming. His father would feed him, perhaps yell at him for being a nuisance, and then leave. But today, something felt different.

There was a sound outside the door that he had never heard before. A soft knock. A polite, delicate knock that made his heart race.

His ears strained, listening carefully, his fingers trembling as they gripped the edges of the hole in the wall. His heart beat faster, a flutter of hope rising in his chest. Was it… someone else?

The knock came again, followed by a voice. It was a woman’s voice. Soft, sweet and so unlike anything he had ever heard.

"Hello? Mr. Thompson? Are you home?"

Max's breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in years, he dared to look through the hole from different angles, desperate to catch a glimpse of the voice that had interrupted his monotonous world.

He saw her then.

Pretty hair contour a face that almost seems perfect to him, as if chiseled carefully by the angels themselves. You are a stranger, but to him, you were already something extraordinary. Something alive.

Your eyes flicker in his direction for a second, your smile faltering slightly. He stops breathing on instinct.

He watched, motionless, as you spoke to his parents. His gaze never left her, his eyes wide with fascination.

It was the first time in his life that he felt something other than fear or rage. It was wonder. Something deep inside him stirred, something that had been buried for so long.

His father noticed…

“Must be the mice. We have a bit of an… infestation at the moment, but we’re doing everything in our power to resolve it.”

You seem a bit doubtful about his reasoning, seen that the sound doesn’t exactly compare to the squeaking or pitter patter you’re normally slightly familiar with, but you nod anyhow. “I see... Well, I won’t take up your time any longer, mister Thompson. Feel free to visit my father and mother’s bureau when you find the time. I won’t be present, as I’ll be studying back in my home country, but I’m sure they’ll welcome you with open arms in my stead.”

“Such a well-spoken little doll, you are,” his mother pipes in. “If you ever return, be sure to visit us together with your parents. I’ll cook up somethin’ real special for you before dining out in the back yard. Away from the house, preferably.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“The mice may still be around. They often do. This old home has nooks and crannies that can’t be easily boarded up or closed. We’d have different kinds of problems otherwise.”

You look even more doubtful than before, but nod a second time anyway. “Alright… I’ll let them know. I think they’d be happy to visit during a good day.”

The beautiful smile returns, warmer now, and for a brief moment, the Max almost forgets where he is, what he is. “I have to go. Have a nice day, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.”

What? No… Wait...

And so, you were gone.

Months later...

There was blood everywhere. There were guts thrown about like loose ropes at a shipyard. The once-sweet scent of the hay had been replaced by the metallic tang of death, mingling with the sharpness of bile in the air. His hands, caked in blood, trembled as he wiped his face, leaving streaks of crimson across his disfigured skin. The animals that had once been the only creatures to share his existence lay mutilated, their bodies strewn across the barn like discarded playthings. But even amidst this chaos, he had felt worse for wear. The violence- his violence, had still pulsed in his veins, had still driven him to savage acts, but now, a memory gnawed at him.

He wiped his bloody hands on his pants and stared at the carnage around him, feeling the same sick thrill that had once surged through him when he first took the life of his parents. But now, it was different. The hunger was there, but it felt somehow less satisfying, less complete.

He knew why. Max perfectly knew why.

You.

You, you, you.

It had been months. Two, three, four. He hadn’t kept track of the days anymore. The sun had never seemed to rise or set in his mind. All he had known was the void that had taken root in his chest since the last time he saw you. You had never come back. You had never returned to the farm, never came back to the house.

Not. Once.

Only your elders had come, carrying the same polite, rehearsed words, but he didn’t care about them. They meant nothing to him. They did not hold his attention, hadn’t stirred anything within him.

But you… You were different.

You had been the first thing to make him feel alive in a long time, the first to show him that there was something else beyond the walls of his prison. Your kindness, your voice, your smile. Everything about you had been a promise, a glimpse of something he could never have, but desperately craved. And then, you had vanished.

His mind flashed back to the last time he saw you. Your smile, warm and beautiful, as you bid farewell. Your eyes. Had they been sad? He couldn’t remember, only the way your presence had lingered, the way your scent had still clung to the air long after you left.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

But now, he was alone.

The violence. The chaos. It was never enough. The blood of his parents. Of the Chief and his men. The pigs. It never filled the hole you left in him.

He stepped forward, his gaze still fixated on the place near the entrance of his house where your image had once been, the place where his hope once lied.

Max didn’t need to speak to know that it would never come back. The violence that had coursed through his veins, the rage that consumed him. It all felt so futile now. It felt like it had all been for nothing.

Because you were gone.

And the emptiness inside him would never be filled by any kind of carnage. Neither by the mists that now surrounded him.

Moans filled the cabin as you move yourself up and down on Max's cock. He feels so fucking good, filling you up so nicely after teasing you with just rubbing his cock between your thighs earlier. His fingers were pressing down harshly on the delicate flesh of your hips, trying to get you to stop—

"Ah- angel- slow-- 'mm slow down.. Ah'm gonna-"

He squirms beneath you, trying to lift you up as he fights himself from cumming too early again. Letting out garbled moans and whines as he desperately pleads you to calm down. You coo, clenching around him as you continue the relentless pace.

"Max- mm- it's alright baby, I promise. You feel so good- it's okay.."

He lets out a choked gasp, gripping your hips tighter. "Angel.. 's not.. right- Ah've only made ya' cum once.."

You squeeze his arms, leaning to look down at him, moaning in short breaths as his cock hits you nice and deep. Hands trailing down to his, you lift them up and intertwine, pressing it back against the mattress at the sides of his head.

"It's okay, Max. You're making it up to me by feeling- mm- so good.."

You lean down, swallowing him up in a desperate, wet kiss, tongues sliding past each other as he drools. You feel him tense up more than before, hips stuttering as he weakly thrusts up into you at last.

You can feel his hot cum fill you up as you slow your pace down. Broken whines come from his lips as the last of his spend enters you. "Angel.. 'm sorry.." He hiccups.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise." You cup his face, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Lifting your hips carefully, you settled on his stomach to catch your breath.

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you move to lay on top of him, tracing your finger on his chest. "I think it's cute, and definitely flattering that you cum so easily because of me, hm?"

He huffs, moving to rest his arm around your waist. "If ya' say so, angel.. but I wann'ah make ya' cum too.."

"Hun," I peck his cheek. "I came with you."

You giggle at his now widened eyes.

"Oh- mm- well.." He murmurs, turning his head to the side in embarrassment.

You feel his cock harden against your thigh.

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