The Sacrament Is You

A deafening sound tore through the unnatural silence of the night as a small, metallic projectile passed from a circular opening as it hurtled throughout the spacetime continuum itself. A loud roar boomed across the mysterious and eerie forest as crimson-red blossomed from grayed skin once the ammunition made contact with enormous force. This antic was repeated several times as red flower-like illuminations bloomed and then completely dissipated until gravity seized the gigantic creature as it howled and toppled over, collapsing onto the decrepit earth. Its large hands it used to place its very weight upon quivered horribly as it spasmed altogether, obviously in a great ordeal of agony. The double-headed monster, whose faces resembled those of Asian Siamese twins, inhaled deeply as dirt and other filth invaded its windpipe as it choked and its body shook even more, determined to sit up, to fight back and ultimately triumph and survive. The merciless sole of a tennis shoe collided painfully into the creature’s fragile spinal cord as it roared again in utmost pain until suddenly its body became stiff and still.

Cold sweat trickled down the features of a rather handsome young man as he stood placidly in one location, slowly allowing his right arm to rest at his side before shoving the old, used pistol into his right pant pocket. He breathed heavily, choppily, as he tried to recover from what had just happened. Thankfully, he had not been harmed during this slight battle, but his tired and aching brain just couldn’t help but process and wonder just why he was drawn into this hell, just why exactly he had to be here and encounter the very things that he was. The lean male ran a hand awkwardly through his short, almost medium-length brunette locks. He swallowed rather unsurely as he stared at the dead monstrosity laid out before him as the soil greedily gulped down its one-time life source.

However, whether he liked it or not, Henry Townshend had to reprimand himself that he had to have partaken in this hellish world for a particular reason. In other words, he was chosen, destined even to say, to be here, which he basically was.

Henry allowed his eyelids to flutter to a close temporarily as he tried to wash the incident that had just happened clear from his memory. His jean-clad legs coiled briefly before he buckled forward, trudging almost regrettably across the solid forest floor, yet he knew he couldn’t just stay here as he mentally urged himself onward. A hazy mist hung above the dense treeline bordering the path Henry dared to walk upon. His eyes flickered unsurely if any kind of a threatening sound surpassed his ear canals, trying to be as cautious as he could as he pursued forward.

The impressionable young man came to a halt temporarily in front of an iron-cast gate as he allowed an arm to casually slink to it as his palm grasped the cold metal, causing a shiver to cascade down the contours of his back at its mere touch. He bent his right arm before pressing against the gate, making it swing forward just enough for him to squeeze through its brash opening as it screamed in protest. Knowing that he must have been getting close to reaching his destination, the mysterious portal that had formed itself in his apartment, room 302, that would surely take him back to that very place once he had stumbled across it again, Henry continued to truck on as twigs and tree roots that jutted out from the soil tried to grab him, determined to hold him into one very spot so that he could not move on, but he thankfully passed them triumphantly and unscathed.

A full and ominous moon peeked curiously from behind a thin layer of clouds as a stray beam of light scurried across the ground, making strange shadows dance hauntingly in the eerie mist. Henry’s keen eyes swept the harsh landscape, aching to find a trace of anything that would make any kind of a mental alarm to sound, but when he found nothing for the time being, he leaned against the cool metallic gate for support as oxygen invaded his lungs before he released what he had briefly contained shortly afterward.

Enticing greenish-gray orbs kept a close watch on the young male about fifteen or twenty feet away from the new, foreboding form. Scraggly, shoulder-length, blood-encrusted dirty blonde hair invaded this man’s vision as he smiled in a twisted manner, insane-like, yet oddly amused all the same as he hid deftly behind the matted curtain that sprouted from the core of his very head. A long, moist appendage poked out from a slightly gaping hole as it curled a little and brushed against a thin, upper lip, leaving a sticky trail of saliva for a second before it completely vanished altogether. Rough, calloused fingers snaked around the sandpaper-like feel of the tree bark before his presence as he pressed down firmly, causing little hunks of wood to become temporarily embedded within the man’s eager fingertips. He half-dared himself to steal another glance at his calm, unknowing prey who was so deliciously presented before him. He pulled a fully loaded, automatic pistol from the depths of his tattered, blue-tinged trench coat as he held it close to him for a few seconds as he let the smooth folds of human epidermis to close around the shining orbs he had used to view his Henry only moments ago. Just the simple comprehension of his precious and soon-to-be 21st Sacrament sent an aroused shiver to descend down his back as his undead heart pulsed faster than what was usual for him as he pressed the long, cold length of the weapon to his lips as his greedy tongue met tangy metal as he took in the foreign taste, tilting his head to the side in the process as he gingerly lapped up and down the pistol, the fabric especially in the front of his pants gradually tightening the more he thought about his little Henry and the act in which he was performing at this particular moment in time; he was committing this because he was thinking of Mr. Townshend, after all.

Walter Sullivan came to the conclusion that this short game of Hide and Seek was going to come abruptly to an end. His eyes snapped open suddenly as he extended his right arm outward, the one in which his hand was clenched tightly around the gun, as he strolled out casually from behind his temporary hiding spot, aiming his pistol point-blank at Henry Townshend himself.

“Why hello, my Receiver of Wisdom.”

His increased heart rate thundering in his ears, Henry forced his throat to compress and then contract as he swallowed hard before entering a cautious stance mode. Walter was an extremely difficult character to predict, as far as he was concerned, so the brown-haired man wanted to make sure that he was somewhat on guard, prepared even should the psychopath suddenly round on him. He pulled his own weapon from one of his back pant pockets that had been used to cradle and support the gun only moments ago as he clenched it tightly within his palm as cold beads of perspiration poured down his handsome face.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing here? Can’t you find someone else to torture for a change?” Henry managed to bring himself to utter, the saliva in his esophagus drying up in a matter of seconds while doing such.

A familiar, trademark-like smile spread across the madman’s mouth as he laughed, amused at first before turning slowly into a much more insane, sinister form; his pearly-white teeth even gleamed in the pale moonlight as his silvery eyes twinkled evilly.

“No, my beautiful Receiver. You are the very last. I have waited many years for this moment to come, and one by one they have all fallen by my hands. Only you remain, Henry. Once I have extinguished your very life, the twenty one Sacraments will be completed at long last.”

Walter smiled at the awestruck and uncertain expression that had currently captured Henry Townshend’s features.

“Do not fret, Henry. I can give you the power, the option, to come back such as I,” he added calmly.

“I don’t want any kind of “option”. I want to put you to rest so I can get the hell out of this world and so I can also finally get out of my room,” Henry argued. He was usually an extremely patient man, but this quality was running thin as Walter continued to eye him, whether with interest or otherwise.

“But I’m afraid that you cannot leave, my dearest Henry. You’re not going anywhere until the twenty one Sacraments have been fulfilled. I chose you as Receiver of Wisdom for a reason, Henry. My Receiver of Wisdom…”

Henry slowly started to comprehend that Walter Sullivan was babbling, whether to himself or to Henry, he was no longer certain. However, Henry knew that this was his chance. If he didn’t attack Walter and exterminate him now then he would never escape this truly sadistic and maddening world claimed as “Silent Hill”.

His arm curled instinctively as his long, thin fingers fastened a better and stronger hold onto his own weapon. He straightened his arm to an almost perfect one hundred and eighty degree angle, intent upon releasing a full clip of ammo into the long-haired man as Walter would have liked to have done to him, but something or someone of great force slammed hard into his torso, making him sail painfully to the left and up against a highly uncomfortable tree before he could even think of squeezing the trigger. An infuriated gaze clashed with his own as the intimidating form of Walter Sullivan pressed firmly up against Henry’s helpless form. A heart-wrenching scream flew from Henry’s voice box as it boomed throughout the night as an excruciating pain found its way to his right hand. The jagged edge of a fierce blade entered the brunette’s exposed and open palm as it roughly exited through the back of his hand as hunks of his own flesh cling around the knife from where the fresh wound was created. Heavy rivulets of deep crimson flowed freely down his arm as it gushed silently onto the decaying earth beneath his weight. His eyeballs burned horribly as salty tears lapped at the brims of his eyelids before carefully overflowing and trickled down his face. The crazed, white smile of his impaler was the only thing Henry could make sense of in the odd world around him for the time being as his vision started to blur. Nauseousness seized a hold of him as he forced his eyes closed and bit his lip in order to contain and obediently keep in his own breath as the clear liquid continued to descend down his pale cheeks.

“Now, now, Henry. You’re not listening to me. I don’t want to have to hurt you anymore; just allow me to complete the twenty one Sacraments and your soul will be freed and then you shall walk the earth as an entirely new entity.”

Walter had his weight pressed firmly against Henry’s quivering body, guaranteeing that he was not allowed to go anywhere until he had given into to Walter’s demands. Henry was mildly surprised, to say the least: for a man that was no longer living, the amount of body heat he produced was mind-boggling. He winced and whimpered pitifully as a hot, moist tongue pressed against one of his cheeks as it slithered upward, taking his freshly spilled tears along with it. The brown-haired man suddenly hissed and squirmed in a small attempt to break free although this was useless as he felt same tongue pierce through his lips as it rubbed against his own moist appendage as a mild salty taste invaded his sensory buds.

“See Henry? I don’t want to have to hurt you,” Walter spoke when he had finally drawn himself away from Henry’s uncertain and slightly cowering form as a thin whisper of saliva connected them briefly before completely dispelling altogether.

“You’re a bastard,” Henry spat while glaring heatedly at the dirty blonde-haired creature only inches before him.

Walter’s pliable and ultimately lush lips curved and morphed into a crazed, yet amused smile, something that he always tended to pull off extremely well. He allowed a hand to extend almost lazily before him as his soft, fleshy fingertips gently stroked and cradled Henry’s chin as Henry stared pitifully, rather unsure of what to do. Walter almost whole-heartedly giggled as the sensation of coarse facial stubble ensnared his nervous system.

“I simply cannot get over just how beautiful my little Receiver of Wisdom is,” Mr. Sullivan spoke, almost in an awestruck manner as Henry simply recoiled, not liking the situation he was unfortunately placed in one bit whatsoever.

Large, powerful hands searched and skimmed down Henry’s enticing, young body as he cried out, absolutely horrified that Walter was so openly man-handling him. He forced his mouth to open and to tell Walter no, that this is not what he wanted at all, but the more he moved his lips, the less sound seemed to be escaping from them. The serial killer’s hands were far from smooth and nimble, referring to how he ever so cautiously searched his skinny frame. His movements across his torso were awkward and irregular, which was all the more worse for him to have to endure. It was painfully obvious that Walter Sullivan had little, if any, contact in this manner with anybody, though Henry had definitely no room to talk, or in this scenario, think; it had been a long while since he himself had been with someone.

“No…”

After long last, the simple yet extremely powerful word had finally left him as Henry struggled, determined to break free and to evade from Walter’s rather unskilled fingers and unbearable touch. Every time the other man’s fingers would run across his shirt-clad upper half, hot, invisible sparks would shoot themselves down Henry’s very nerves as he flinched, disgusted that this man would even consider fondling him in the way that he was.

However, almost as quickly as this slight ritual had begun, it abruptly came to a screeching halt. Walter’s hands twitched as he retreated them hastily to his sides. He quirked an eyebrow unsurely as his cold, yet curious eyes bored into Henry’s own as he stared at him hard, almost as if he was trying to read the other’s own thoughts being conjured at this very awkward and strange moment in time.

“No? Do you really want me to stop?” the cold-hearted and ruthless killer asked quizzically.

His long fingers found themselves coiled around the smooth handle of the knife so carelessly lodged into Henry’s open hand as the brunette cursed, yet Walter ignored this entirely. With one strong, swift jerk empowered by his right arm, the madman wrenched the blade out of him with sickening force.

“FUCK!” Henry howled in utmost agony as a horrific, gaping hole met his vision as more blood seeped thoroughly from the ghastly wound.

The long, thin appendages found themselves to the front of Henry’s shirt again as they wound around the small white buttons with tightly-woven thread holding them securely into place. Walter slowly slipped one from the hole in which it was fastened to and then another until he held the knife that was buried into his victim’s hand only seconds ago as the blade sliced cleanly through the fabric as Henry’s shirt billowed open, exposing his warm, smooth skin to the elements.

Before Walter had the chance to proceed any further, Henry slowly rose and bent one of his legs tightly until the energy was released, causing his foot to collide into the dirty blonde’s stomach. Completely caught off guard, Walter yelped as he was launched backward until gravity decided to seize him as he landed on the rotten soil with a sickening “thud”, sending leaves and other forms of debris to scatter from where the impact was made.

While his would-be-killer was down and momentarily out, the opportunity of freedom grasped and beckoned to him as he mustered as much energy as he could possibly bear before bounding forward, the soles of his shoes thundering against the forest floor loudly as leaves crackled and separated.

Henry had not even completed the distance of ten feet on his journey to the gate in which had led him to this part of the woods in the first place when a small column of something metallic collided into his left shoulder blade. He cried out desperately in a great ordeal of agony as he was knocked off balance, tottering around stupidly for a second before falling forward and smacking against the hard ground. Something warm and sticky gushed down his firm back as his white work shirt did its best to soak up the mess, but failed horribly while in the process.

The sound of inevitable footsteps loomed louder and closer to Henry’s wounded and freely bleeding body as he cowered, the mere vibrations hammering against his eardrums painfully. A gentle breeze rustled the fabric of the blue trench coat as Henry Townshend watched Walter stop abruptly in front of him, not even a foot away, as he bent his knees and lowered his weight as he crouched before the brunette, gazing at him almost worriedly, which brought that all too familiar nauseas sensation back and burning in the pit of Henry’s stomach as it turned and tightened.

“I’m sorry, Henry. Truly I am. I really didn’t want to have to do that. However, if you keep fighting against me, then I’m afraid that you leave me with no other choice.”

The tendons and nerves holding Henry’s eyes into place in their very sockets twitched, making his orbs shift upward as he stared long and hard into this rather unpredictable man’s gaze. His fingers clenched so tightly that his own nails were starting to make impressions into his palms as the pain that had entered him earlier made a gradual trek down his slender body, causing him to quake in an unbelievable amount of pain. His soft lips curved and twisted as they gently parted as he struggled to rasp out one simple word at the killer:

“Bastard.”

Walter’s eyes glittered mischievously at the comment as his vision flickered down at the sorry sight sprawled out before him. He extended his legs as he lowered himself on all fours as he moved his face directly in front of his prey’s, laughing slightly as the smaller-built man recoiled from his very presence. Walter tilted his head to the left as he observed Henry before centering his skull back into its normal position as he moved a straightened index finger toward Henry’s enticing mouth. The smaller limb made contact with the brown-haired man’s puckered lower lip.

Henry’s eyes widened dramatically at the foreign touch that fell upon him. His mind jumbled terribly as he struggled to comprehend even the simplest of thoughts or movements as he just laid amongst the dirt and turmoil, unsure of what Walter was planning on concocting next.

After gingerly sliding the pad of his finger against the contours of the young man’s mouth, thus indicated appendage suddenly jerked forward, breaking the barrier that guarded the Receiver’s perfect teeth. Walter stared longingly, innocently down at Henry as his finger twisted and took in every single groove and jagged edge of the brunette’s enamel-encrusted gems.

Henry gasped loudly at the new-found sensation, still pondering on what he should do. He wanted to bite down and hard, severing the long, thin spindle from its very socket. He wanted to chomp and chew on it while the other’s blood poured down his throat and spilled through the corners of his small mouth. He wanted to spit the remains into the Assumption’s oddly handsome face and just wanted to get up and beat him, he wanted to break flesh and bone, and he definitely wanted to cause him so much pain and agony that he would just finally leave this Earth due to so much inhumane torture. And yet, Henry somehow could not propel himself to do such a thing. Instead, he just laid there on the broken soil, his battered brain trying to send some sort of a message, a signal, anything to him as he, the Receiver, failed to do exactly this as he unwillingly allowed Walter to have his wicked way with him.

Walter’s invading appendage suddenly withdrew from Henry’s gaping hole as he instead thrusted an available hand into the depths of one of his trench coat pockets as it disappeared for a second as he fished around momentarily until he received his vital weapon of choice and held it up to the moonlight. An ominous glow sparkled from the ferocious blade as Walter’s insane eyes and devilish smile casted an eerie reflection on the blood-stained surface. His sight captured the form of none other than Henry Townshend once more as his hands slithered around his small frame as he moved his arms, sending an unusually cooperative Henry to flip over onto his bullet-pierced back.

If he wasn’t very responsive before, he definitely was now; Henry howled out in despair as his weight was focused directly upon his fresh wound from Walter’s unforgiving pistol. Bitter tears lashed at the corners of his pained eyes once more before seeping over the edge as he whimpered at the spindly twigs and cruel soil that lapped whole-heartedly at the gory opening.

“Shh. It’s okay, my beautiful Receiver. This will all be over soon and then you will never have to feel pain ever again.” Walter cooed, which was awkwardly soothing to Henry’s broken and bleeding form.

A sharp, burning sensation tore across Henry’s pained body as the first layer of flesh slowly started to separate from another as dark crimson rose from the incision before spilling and tainting his pale skin to a ruddy pink color in the area from which Walter was so deftly working on. Henry’s alarm-filled orbs flickered down as he studied and took in a horrific sight: the number two was carved harshly into his delicate flesh.

“W-What…?” he stammered, having a difficult time believing just what exactly was happening to him.

Walter disregarded Henry’s obvious confusion entirely as he reared up slightly before swooping upon the downed body like some predatory bird as he continued delicately carving into the skin and molded it gently as if it were clay with expert precision.

Henry watched helplessly and hopelessly as more and more numbers were etched across his mildly sculpted stomach. He winced at the eminent and profound stinging that wrapped around and ensnared his aching soul. Henry wanted desperately to lash out, to fight against the vile acts that were being performed upon him, yet it seemed that the closer that Walter drew to him, the weaker and more fragile-like he became. Was Walter, in a sense, cursed? Whether he was or not, the mere thought made the pit of his stomach react as the valuable organ invisibly tightened and flopped over.

Shimmering enamel gleamed behind the curtain of Walter Sullivan’s eager and greedy lips as his entire face glowed, beaming the agility and completion of his work. Five thin, sketchy-like numerals stared back up at the man who had scrawled them carefully across his victim’s lower torso in the first place: 21121, twenty one out of twenty one Sacraments of the Holy Mother in which Walter was so bound and determined to finish. Finally, after all of these long, hard, and tormented years of waiting, his abundant and patient work was about to pay off. Soon his Receiver of Wisdom would be dead, at least mortally, and Walter would forever remain with his mother.

Henry eyed Walter cautiously as his head of scraggly blonde hair shifted downward, so much in fact that he could feel the other man’s hot, vile breath pounding against his abdomen in which the numerals were inscribed, causing his skin to invisibly crawl at the very sensation. He clenched his neat teeth furiously, the pressure created so strong he could have sworn that the enamel was going to split cleanly in half right at the gum line as his nerves told him that Walter’s long, stealthy tongue was prodding deftly at the new wound.

A semi-scalding, tangy fluid poured over the killer’s taste buds as he continued to lap at the substance freely, taking as much of it in as he dared to allow himself. He slowly bent his neck back at the base, causing his head to gingerly rise, the end-tips of his long hair brushing and lightly tickling the sensitive skin displayed before him. He stared down eerily at Henry as he smiled insanely while the bright red liquid forced itself through the small cracks and divine openings between his incisors, canines, and molars as it gushed out thoroughly before splattering delicately onto the pale sheet of flesh directly below. Walter’s eyelids fluttered downward as he contracted his throat hard, sending what remained of the addicting fluid down his very esophagus. A sound escaped from his now vibrating vocal chords, which his eardrums perceived as a low, intoxicating moan, once the task in which he had performed was complete as his right wrist flickered south, his long, spindly fingers rubbing and stroking the front of his own pants, protected by a thin and all the more annoying layer by the moment. The burning feeling that had started there lapped at him like a wildfire, scolding him as the intensity of the sensation grew and grew the more he continued to rub there.

Henry couldn’t believe what was taking place right now. His tired eyes tried and failed to send a message to his aching brain as to why this was going on, why Walter was doing the very things that he was doing, and, most importantly, why all of these things had to be happening to him of all people. All he wanted to do was to go home and rest and worry tomorrow about how he could get those cursed padlocks off of the only entrance-way to his living quarters, but doubt swarmed his perception. Henry’s entire body shook horribly on the soil beneath him as the cold sweat gathering on his brow grew more and more evident all the time as it trickled down his features, mixing with his drying tears before spilling onto the hard, unforgiving ground.

Walter’s eyelids twitched mildly as he groaned, no longer being able to tolerate the scorching feeling taking place just below the very pit of his stomach as he gave into the wicked sin of temptation itself. He grasped the neatly grooved handle of his trust-worthy knife as he extended it out before him briefly, the moonlight shimmering on the blade momentarily as his elbow coiled and then sprang out quickly, making the knife pierce through the soft flesh below him as it tore like tissue paper. Surprisingly warm blood sprayed out of the deep, mangled hole as it splattered across the smooth surface of Henry’s torso as well as Walter’s all too eager face as he laughed manically almost as soon as the substance had so much as kissed his cheeks and forehead.

The brown-haired male’s eyes dilated considerably as his lower jaw loosened as his mouth opened wide as he allowed a heart-wrenching scream to echo throughout the stillness of the night. He tilted his head back as it grazed against the dirt and other debris scattered across the forest floor as some of it latched onto his hair and scalp, not releasing any time soon. Clear liquid gushed once more from his shining orbs as he breathed raggedly through his still open mouth, his chest heaving greatly as his lungs struggled to process the free supply of oxygen surrounding his bleeding form.

After carving an almost perfect, three hundred and sixty degree impression from where he had first impaled Henry’s flesh moments ago, Walter tossed the weapon carelessly aside as his fingers snaked around the strap of his tattered brown belt as he unfastened it hastily and yanked hard, causing it to slither out of the belt loops in which it temporarily resided. His fingertips gradually explored the cool, spherical form of his trench coat buttons as he too unfastened them slowly but surely, one by one. He shrugged the long, blue clothing item from his broad shoulders as it billowed down to the earth almost magnificently before coming to rest at last. A thin, white shirt exposed itself to the outside world as Walter stared down at his quickly moving limbs as he now focused on his dirtied pants as the big, metallic button broke away from the tightly stitched hole before a thin, almost rusty-like zipper unwound itself all the way down as Walter disregarded his pants as well before tossing them carelessly to the side. An evident and painful-looking erection grazed against the worn fabric of his boxers as he ignored this, at least temporarily, as his gaze shifted back to that wonderfully enticing concave impression that he had so magnificently placed upon his Henry in the first place.

The very temperature around his quivering form seemed to increase steadily as his blood boiled and the bile residing in his stomach thickened as the digestive organ conjured a gurgling sound, making Henry want to relieve himself of this feeling and wanted to just hurry up and purge already, yet he simply could not force himself to do such a task. Henry wanted to save himself, he wanted desperately to fight back and to even do so much as to attempt to kick out at the looming figure before him, but he just felt so weak, so completely drained of all possible energy and power that it was oddly stunning, in a sense. He could do nothing but lay where he was.

Walter hovered over his prey for the time being as he tilted his head slightly, staring at his handiwork as his thin lips peeled back from his teeth, revealing his traditional, crazed smile once more. A hand swooped down as his index and long, middle finger caressed the lightly puckered opening of the wound as he gently stroked the contour of it while vaguely ignoring an uttered cry of surprise and quite possibly pain from his handsome little morsel. The two available fingers delved into the hole as he vigorously finger-fucked the area, moaning out pleasurably at the sticky, moist gushing noise that invaded his very ear canals as muscle tightened and loosened around the appendages almost in perfect rhythm. He paused after a while in partaking in this as he pulled his fingers away as the muscle in the wound that had grabbed a firm hold of them made a slight “pop” as the appendages were exerted roughly from the gory wound. Walter pressed the fleshy pads of his fingers against the soft, yet dry lips as he entered them slowly into his waiting mouth. His greedy tongue swirled over the long spindles as the unique tang of Henry’s blood splashed over his taste buds once more, never being able to tire from this and always getting utmost satisfaction from this matter. Good Lord, he was such a tasty little morsel, too…

Henry winced at the foreign feeling of something rooting around earnestly in his open wound. He whined softly before squirming against the strange ensnarement of his very nerves, trying to escape from this, wanting to wiggle away, but knew deep down in his sickened heart that his attempts were feeble and useless.

The long-haired man grabbed a gentle hold of the elastic band of his boxers perfectly enshrouding his slim waistline before pulling them away, unable to contain himself nor resist any longer. He could see the terror billowing behind Henry’s shocked eyes, but this just all the more excited and enthralled him to no physical end. The gradually purpling tip of his stiff and erect member prodded against the brim of the hole that was carved into the brunette’s abdomen as the madman’s long, slender arms slithered around the slightly younger man’s trembling body as he brought him close before thrusting his pelvic area forward as he forcefully entered the profusely oozing gauge.

Henry couldn’t help himself but cry out at this new-found pain as he dug his fingernails into the shoulder blades of the man he was forced to keep a hold on to. He didn’t like this one bit. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, repeatedly reprimanding himself that this wasn’t real, that this was only a dream, just some sort of alternate reality and he would become conscious soon, but when his eyelids fluttered open, he came to the horrific realization and conclusion that this was really happening: He was being firmly and fully assaulted and fondled by Walter Sullivan himself and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Walter’s hard length penetrated the wound deeper and deeper as he growled, feeling long, thin streaks of blood tainting his upper back as Henry’s fingernails harshly pierced the delicate flesh, though this action just made the Assumption all the more aroused. His fingers started to make impressions into the Receiver’s own back as Walter thrusted his hips harder, panting and even frothing at the mouth a little. Although this was bringing him a huge ordeal of satisfaction, he still craved more; he wanted to mangle Henry’s insides and to make him scream in pain and pleasure as he rammed into his sacred, virgin hole.

Henry squeaked pathetically as those strong, powerful hands pushed him away and slammed his back against the dirt suddenly as he felt Walter remove himself forcefully from his gut, screaming out as the firm muscle gave way as the still hard organ was finally removed. His eyes scanned the scene taking place before him hurriedly as his brain struggled to comprehend just what might occur hereafter. The smaller male gasped as his pupils grew wide, reflecting the light of the ominous moon as his faded blue jeans were instantly torn from his body along with his boxers before he even realized just what exactly was happening. Henry never realized just how strong Walter was before until now as his tortured stomach could no longer keep hold of tonight’s events as it clenched tightly as Henry turned his head as a reddish puddle erupted from his very core. The contents trickled and oozed across the wretched earth as nature did its best to absorb what was dispelled upon it as Henry coughed, feeling some of the vomit escaping through the two thin openings on the underneath side of his semi-perfectly chiseled nose.

“Be calm, my gorgeous Henry. This shall all be over soon.”

The words spoken brought no comfort whatsoever to the extremely depleted and physically (as well as mentally) exhausted man. He swallowed painfully as cruel acid burned at the lining in his throat as his irritated eyes watered against his own will. Then, without any hint or warning, the other man’s hot, hard cock pierced through his tight hole as he cried out for perhaps the hundredth time that evening before just screaming out altogether, just wanting this to end. Dying right now would have been absolute bliss for his overly tormented soul.

Walter almost drooled at the contact he was making as he tilted his head back and moaned heatedly. Henry’s tight inner walls squeezed against him so much that it was almost painful, yet it was so extremely delicious and wonderful all the same. He rocked back and forth, picking up a steady rhythm as he entered in and out of his Receiver of Wisdom, allowing his mouth to open as he freely panted while doing such. He quivered in delight as the slightly stiffening organ belonging to none other than Mr. Henry Townshend brushed against his stomach, making him almost purr in his lust-filled passion.

Henry moaned against his very will yet screamed at the top of his lungs at the same time as his body slid up and down the uncomfortable surface of the ground as sticks and other sharp objects sliced his back open as more of his life’s very essence gushed quickly out of him. His heart stopped cold for a second as Walter prodded against a spot deep inside of him that was highly excruciating, yet strangely enjoyable all the same as Henry cried out again, his pitch increasing in intensity and his tone becoming more pleasurable and excited than he would have preferred.

The dirty blonde-haired male howled in ecstasy as he slammed against Henry’s prostate. He bit his bottom lip hard, so much in fact that he had bit it clear through as one of his incisors severed the flesh as his own blood started to pour into his mouth. The sensation he felt while hitting this certain area was very painful, yet it was oddly satisfying nonetheless. Walter tossed his mane of scraggly, blood-encrusted hair back as it fell brilliantly down the back of his neck like a yellowed curtain of some sort as he swallowed, growing all the more excited of the mere comprehension that Henry’s and his own crimson essence were mingling deep inside of him. Eager to satisfy himself even more, Walter forced his erection against that same wonderful spot repeatedly before bending down and sinking his teeth into Henry’s inviting right shoulder.

Henry squirmed and whimpered once more as he felt a mouthful of jagged teeth come into contact with one of his shoulders as a sudden hot, rippling sensation went tearing through him, signifying that the powerful man above him had spilled his seed deep into the very depths of his forbidden entrance.

Walter cautiously removed himself from the almost agonizingly tight hole as he instead focused on the rough bite mark displayed on Henry’s tender flesh. His tongue escaped once more from his mouth as it scoured over the impressions and grooves made as he trailed it up his exposed throat as he felt the other shudder gently before entering the young man’s barrier. He vastly disregarded and ignored the bitter taste of Henry’s sick as he kissed him deeply, passionately almost as his moist appendage danced with the other’s intensely, fighting for dominance though this was far from necessary. Again his tongue slithered down Henry’s short neck before clamping down firmly as his lower jaw moved from side to side as he deftly chewed on the flesh protecting the Receiver’s jugular vein. He could hear Henry scream in protest and could make sense of him flailing about madly, but Walter silently assured him that there would be no escape and Henry, almost seemingly realizing this, stopped slightly. Pale flesh slowly started to rip and tear at the tough teeth grinding persistently against it as the blood flowed freely, though Walter was not done yet. He was literally chewing on the man’s throat as a hot, sticky trail gushed and trickled down his very esophagus as he swallowed, the action he was partaking in slowly starting to make him harden all over again.

“My beautiful Receiver…” the slightly older man whispered once he had pulled away at last before forcing his fingers into the brand new opening. He rooted around and tore away at the wound with his fingertips and scalding-hot nails until dark, bright crimson started to greedily and almost enticingly lap at him. His silvery-like orbs shifted downward as he stared at Henry’s own as they stared out blankly and placidly. A small smirk adorned Walter’s lips as he shifted his weight before bending his knees, forcing himself to stand upright. He extended a hand out to his pants that he had so carelessly disregarded earlier as he slipped them on, entering one leg into the soft cloth and then another as he slowly started to zip and re-button them. He bent his back as he hovered close to the ground briefly as he grasped his traditional, slightly tattered blue trench coat as he slipped it around his slender frame as he gently started to refasten the old, worn buttons until he was fully clothed yet again.

He swooped down and grabbed a firm hold onto the naked, unresponsive form of Henry Townshend as he easily draped him over his shoulder as he picked up his knife in the process as well, fisting it into the depths of one of his trench coat pockets. He approached the cast-iron gate that Henry emerged through earlier as his free hand clasped around the cold metal before yanking it widely open as he slid through the opening. He clambered onward as dead leaves crunched beneath the soles of his brown boots as he passed through yet another tall gate before the smoldering form of the Wish House appeared in the distance. He stalked past the very boulders that he had inscribed messages upon as a child when he had spent his time here as a huge hole jutting out from a graffiti-covered wall stared back at him, almost beckoning to him. No beckoning was needed, however, as Walter carefully stepped inside the vast opening as a blinding white light greeted his vision as something invisible and strong grabbed a hold of his middle as he was thrusted forward through space and time itself as blurs, cracks, among some incomprehendable things whizzed past him, his hair rippling in the non-existent breeze as he suddenly found himself standing in the bathroom of room three hundred and two.

“Hello Mom” he whispered as a soft, warm smile, something that was quite unusual for him to do, captured his handsome features as he beamed whole-heartedly for a few seconds, his heart fluttering excitedly before realizing that he was still holding onto the Receiver of Wisdom. He turned his head and shuffled his boot-clad feet as he extended his free hand and turned the cold, metal doorknob before exiting the rather small facility.

As he approached the living room, he glanced up ahead at a small, brown-haired boy, sucking lightly on his thumb as he slept soundly, nuzzled against the cozy exterior of a tattered brown pillow that cradled his head as he shifted slightly in his sleep upon the soft tan couch. Walter watched his innocent, child-like form upon the old sofa as he finally removed Henry from his shoulder and gingerly placed him down on the accessory right next to the peacefully slumbering boy.

Walter lowered himself as he sat down right next to Henry as he held his left hand, squeezing it gently. The beautiful young man beside him seemed to stir as he exhaled slowly as his captivating yet undead eyes shifted to the right as they acknowledged Walter’s presence as a thin, almost sincere-like smile formed across his mouth as he obediently squeezed the other man’s hand in response. The three figures remained dormant as they enjoyed the silence in the rust-covered room as the long-haired man smiled like he had never smiled before. He had never felt the emotion claimed as “happiness” before in his tormented life, but now the feeling embraced him tightly as his teeth glittered in the stillness of the room.

“I love you, Mom.”