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Fog.
It was the last thing you remembered. It censored your vision, either shielding you of what was to come or protecting you from seeing anything at all.
An eerie silence occupied it, a silence so deafening, you wondered if you had actually gone deaf, hearing nothing but the blood rushing through your ears and your shortest of breaths.
The odd thing with this type of fog wasn’t how thick it was or how many miles it reached; but how warm it was to be lost inside it like it was welcoming you. Encouraging you to go deeper and lose yourself completely.
You actually wondered if you were dead, in a coma, or vividly dreaming.
You remembered calling out, but your voice came out dense, like the screams of a moth trapped inside a glass. Your voice didn’t carry or echo, but simply existed.
You hesitantly carried yourself through the unknown with the cement beneath your feet being your only visual stimulant.
You were a punctuation mark on an otherwise empty page.
You felt completely alone as if you were the last—or rather, the first human wondering around a universe that hadn’t yet come to be.
You found yourself running eventually. Blind sprints in the white abyss. Panic sent an unhealthy dose of adrenaline through your body, fuelling you to go further. If you were to hit something or someone, then you would know you weren’t alone.
You knew you weren’t alone. It’s impossible to be alone in a world with an occupation of nine point eight billion people.
Still, you needed reassurance.
Not even the thumps of your feet carried much sound.
Even if something collided with you such as a car or another person running, the pain and embarrassment would be an improvement of this purgatory.
You wondered for what felt like hours until your feet and legs eventually screamed at you to rest. Shockwaves of exhaustion bolted through your limbs with every extra step but you couldn’t tell if you were somewhere safe to simply stop and sit.
You stilled, slightly bent and heaving like a runner on a winter’s morning with Jack Frost’s burn in your throat and chest.
You called out for a final time, screaming for a reply until your voice cracked.
Nothing.
Nothing but your pulse; A simple mantra of madness.
You set your gaze ahead of you as you fell backwards in resignation.
A sound so simple broke the silence and reassured you. A gentle sound like a kitten with small bells attached to a new velvet collar running somewhere in the distance ahead.
You froze and strained your eyes at nothing but the achromic blanket. Resentment for the phenomenon had you cursing, for it was nothing more than ghostly hands covering your eyes. You held your breath with hopes to hear it again. Everything about you frantic now.
Nothing. An anomaly of sound perhaps, a trick of your bored brain to keep you sane.
You slumped your shoulders and sighed in defeat, averting your eyes to your feet for something to set your gaze upon that wasn’t a monochromatic eyesore.
The gentle bounce of bells sounded again causing your head to snap back up.
Then you saw it, a splash of colour in the distance. Something that was trying—and had just succeeded in robbing your attention.
Barely visible and slightly blurred by the fogs ominous density. A single red balloon occupied by a dark silhouette.
You quickly found your feet in a burst of hope and waved your arm high in the air. The figure raised a stiff arm and moved only the top half like a marionette.
You called out.
Nothing.
You called out again.
The hand beckoned you to come to it.
You hesitated. The voice of reason shaking its head at you like an angry parent warning you not to do something. Your feet remained rooted and you continued to stand, allowing yourself more time to run should you need to.
The figure stared back, motionless and patient.
Neither of you had intentions of moving and both of you knew it.
Luminous Tuscany orbs opened abruptly and gazed upon you like two small searchlights dead set on a target.
You recoiled, taking a step back.
Run
You couldn’t. Fear paralysing you as well as curiosity. That wasn’t something humans could do; make their eyes become so vibrant, like the reflection of a feline in the dark. No human even has that eye colour unless they have jaundice, but even so, they wouldn’t be vividly glowing from a long radius.
Run
The balloon popped, but despite the distance it hovered, the sound travelled as if it were inches away from you and your body flinched with your blood turning into ice momentarily.
Then you passed out.
Or did it get you?
***
Your eyes fluttered open, to be welcomed by nothing. The complete opposite of a coma white world. Surrounded in darkness so heavy, that it was suffocating. For a moment, you believed you were blind, frenetic fingers scrambling to your eyelids for confirmation.
You relaxed when your suspicions weren’t true, but only for a moment. In a place as dark as this, had to mean someone or something had gone to great lengths to take you, to conceal you from everyone else.
You sat up, having woken on your side and scanned wherever it was you were for a source of light. You rotated yourself on your knees as you searched, finding nothing but a dark mass. No windows, nor a door allowed moon or sunlight to seep through its cracks.
You weren’t even certain if you were alone and frankly, a part of you didn’t want to find out. You tried to adjust your eyes, hoping to find the outlines of furniture as if you were taken back to someone’s home or even a cell. You even waved a hand over your face and saw nothing, ignorant to which you should be; claustrophobic or agoraphobic.
The loss of sight had heightened your other senses, leaving you feeling like a feline with an arched back and porcupine fur in preparation, uncertainty and upmost fear.
You palmed the floor, hoping to get a feel of where you were. The floor seemed to repel every time your skin barely grazed upon it and it was then you realised how much you were shaking. You pushed a hand on the floor and felt wooden planks beneath you.
Floorboards. Chipped and partial with age.
It was dark and silent, a silence so heavy and ironically loud, it made you want to cover your ears to muffle any sudden sounds—a pin drop could sound like a bomb detonating and you knew your body would flinch at the sudden noise.
Instead, you focused on the beating of your heart and the blood rushing through your ears. It was at this moment, you were expecting something to reach out and grab you, be it gentle or rough—you weren’t sure which would be worse, especially knowing that you couldn’t see who or what would reach out. You wanted to back away, but by doing so, you could have inched closer to whatever it was you felt yourself wanting to back away from.
Just then, you heard a slow creak in the putrescent floorboard, or was it a door opening? You looked around expecting to see a light beam to confirm any suspicions of an open door. But saw none and began questioning your own sanity as a result; had you heard that, or was it a hallucination?
The hairs at the back of your neck stood up, like the onset of lightning. A warning, but not of the weather, of something approaching you slowly and silently. All of this could have been the result of an overactive imagination, you were always told you had one when you were younger, perhaps it never left.
Nevertheless, you found yourself waiting in anticipation as if you were expecting something to happen with an unwanted montage of every scary scene from those horror movies playing in your head.
Then you remembered those eyes and your attempt to rationalise seconds ago; if monsters aren’t real, then what was it you had seen?
When you were brave enough, you came up with a plan. To stand and feel for a wall and trace your way to a door or a window.
Something gentle touched you causing your open palm to smack your arm harshly as the small hairs skittled downwards. Maybe it was a stray hair. Maybe it was a spider.
Maybe that wasn’t real either.
Either way, you shuddered and crawled away so that you were back where you were.
The sting on your arm was real. That was absolute.
Your heart began racing, thundering harshly against your chest painfully. It wanted to do something you couldn’t— escape. The jump kick to your senses proved the calmness was only a false sense of security you had unintentionally created for yourself. The adrenaline hadn’t left. Your chest heaved, the fabric of your clothes clinging to your sticky, salty skin.
You were rooted in the mute room, a place so still you unintentionally mimicked; unmoving and silent. But quickly became overwhelmed and clasped your hands over your ears as the silence was murdered by the piercing screams of men, women, and children. Blood-curdling, bone-chilling, final screams of agony and protests from phantoms which lingered blindly. Your stomach turned and your head spun as you made yourself as small as possible, adrenalized eyes skittishly searching nothing as the voices seemed to be drawn to a specific area in the vicinity.
You turned to the corner where the awful sounds were drawing towards and felt your stomach lurch in abject horror. You were met with the gaze of those yellow orbs in the dark, splashes of colour which hadn’t been there before.
Your body stilled and became stiff, blood turning cold and your anxious gut close to retching; one of many normal responses to fear.
At first, you assumed an animal had somehow gotten in, but the eyes never shifted or averted. Yellow was supposed to represent happiness, to fill your mind with positivity like soaking up a shy sunbeam on a chilly morning. If that was so, then why did this make you feel like Death himself had gazed upon you? Stared straight into your soul and judged every decision you had ever made with a callous look. You froze, unable to talk, certain your heart was going to stop.
Before you could react, the eyes disappeared as quickly as the blink of an eye and so did the screaming.
It was silent again, but your ears rang with a high pitched whine.
“Please just let me go!” You blurted with the emotions that brewed within you, finally erupting. You knew you weren’t alone. You didn’t need to be in the dark for that despite feeling like it figuratively as well as literally.
“No!” A voice bellowed from seemingly everywhere but nowhere in the room. As if the voice were being played by speakers in every corner—although that wasn’t the case. “You’re mine! I have you now and I’ll keep you.” Your breath caught in your throat, you weren’t expecting a response. Although, for some reason, speaking to your captor had made you feel as ease somewhat. “Are you the one I saw earlier—the one with those yellow eyes, I mean?”
No answer.
“Well, how long are you planning on ‘keeping’ me for?”
There was a while before you had a response but in that short time, you rested your chin on your knee and waited. “ Forever .”
Your head jerked away from your knee as you sat in alarm. “Forever!” The voice continued, “I’ll keep you forever. I’ll be the only voice you hear and the only thing you see… forever ! I promise.”
A cold sweat trickled lightly down your back and behind your legs. The last you perspired this much was when you were bedridden with the flu. “Why?” you whispered but received no answer.
“Are you going to kill me?”
Another moment of silence passed as your question was left unanswered, again. You waited for the reply you wasn’t sure would come, but instead was greeted with silence almost as heavy as the darkness.
You shuffled nervously, wondering if you were alone or not whilst tapping your fingers against the floorboards to create a form of sound to break the silence. You must’ve drummed your fingers for what felt like hours.
Just when it felt like your heart rate had finally managed to calm down, your drumming digits stopped as quickly as they began. You held your breath, not wanting to mistake what you thought you were hearing for a sound you were making.
The snarling of a dog somewhere in the room. The belief you had over your silence meant that it was possible to go unnoticed by the pack of dogs waiting for you to announce your location in some way. Respiring heavily, you placed a trembling hand over your mouth and tensed every muscle possible to keep yourself still, only to have your adrenalized muscles shake in rebellion.
The soft pads of canine feet plodded around their surroundings whilst snarling and sniffling for a trace of the human who had unnoticeably trespassed their home had twisted the eerie silence into subtle sounds of suspense.
You felt something ooze onto your hand and you backed away instantly with a disgusted gasp. Scuttling backwards quickly on your hands and feet, you continued backing away from the suspected dog until your back found a wall.
But the wall did not come, instead, you bumped into someone—or something which was quick to wrap their arms around your small frame, hushing you in mock affection.
With a startled gasp, you attempted to squirm free but the hold it had on you wasn’t forgiving, thrashing you around like a ragdoll to imitate and mock your attempts to escape. A malevolent chuckle bounced in his chest, gentle bells singing as he did.
Your body went rigid upon hearing those bells. Nostalgic rings from a hazy memory. Rings that you had mistaken to be from a kitten trying to find its way home in the fog. A domino effect of memories began to fall in your conscious. The bells, the balloon, those yellow eyes, they were all from one person—one thing.
“You.”
“ ’ You’ .” The larkish voice mimicked.
You released a shaky breath and swallowed the bile of fear in your throat. Every time the small flicker of fear was small enough to be snuffed in seconds, this being was gasoline; pouring onto the spark and accentuating what was already there, making it come alive and more powerful than ever, with a fiery vengeance. The bombarding flames of scorching pyre made you sweat from every pore and your survival instinct to kick in and scream at you to run; but here you were, helpless and in the arms of the reaper who snatched you, stole you away selfishly.
“This is the part where you kill me now, isn’t it?” The question came out before you could think about it; the words filter-less and sad. He gasped in mock-shock, wrapping his arms tighter around you.
It wasn’t uncomfortable or painful, but secure in a twisted way, “why would I want to destroy the prettiest doll I’ve ever seen? Mine, mine, mine. You belong to me now. Yes, the prettiest doll is all mine and nobody shall have her— nobody but me. Careful not to break you, unless you want to be broken.”
Your back found his chest, three vertical pompoms pressed against your clothed spine. Ruffles of his attire sitting gently atop your head, conjuring a few wispy strands here and there.
You placed your hands on either side of you, only to unintentionally grasp his thigh due to his outstretched legs alongside you. You felt your face heat up and pulled your hand back, clasping your hands together in front of yourself instead.
With one of your legs bent back and the other laid straight in front of you, you thought about what your captor had said, “Why would I ‘want’ to be broken?” A dark chuckle emitted his throat and you could have sworn you felt him drool slightly on your head.
“What happened to the dogs?” You followed, suddenly alarmed. They weren’t real; a mere extension of the power that the eldritch concocted to gain the rise it needed from you; fear. It wouldn’t tell you that. If you knew, you wouldn’t be scared. Fear was its drive to concupiscence.
There was no denying, It felt something for you. It could have stalked you as it did to previous victims but when It saw you, it became overwhelmed with selfishness, more than usual and that became its drive to take you.
The sensation of formication caused your arm to spasm outwards in the attempt to rid of a suspected bug. Your heart raced with your breathing appearing being its competitor, “So many darn spiders! Can we go somewhere else, please? Anywhere—we can even be alone again. It could even be dark if that’s what you want.”
The sensation occurred again, a quick trail of scuttling limbs ran down the same arm that had been jerked around only seconds ago. You screamed and jerked your arm, backing away, backing closer to the clown behind you.
At first It found your fear amusing but caressed your arm with a soft gloved hand as it believed the initial reaction you had to distance yourself from its phantom insects were a ruse to seek its affectionate side; the way a guy would yawn and pretend to stretch to hide the arm that was to snake its way over a girl.
You flinched from him at first but found an unexplainable comfort as It continued. Your breath caught in your chest as you attempted to slow your racing heart, your body trembling and on high alert. His other hand landed on your thigh— gently at first but when you experimentally shifted to escape him, the long digits which almost wrapped around your entire thigh had become an iron grip.
You gently bucked into his grip, hoping he would trail a little further upwards and then scolded yourself shamefully when you realised what you were unintentionally doing, wondering why you were reacting the way you did.
The voice chuckled again.
Shit. He knew.
You drew your bottom lip in and clamped down hard. “Such a naughty little thing you are.”
The hand around your thigh rewarded you by slowly trailing upwards until the thumb barely touched the zip on your jeans. What a tease, a swing, and a miss. But now, it needed more of your fear. You had a dose of It, now It needed a dose of you.
The hand caressing your arm disappeared and was quickly replaced by the sickening pain of the sudden breach above the skin's surface. The sharp breach made you gasp—mostly in shock. “Did you just fucking inject me with a needle?!” You yelped, a hand smacking onto the vice around your thigh in retaliation before quickly clasping over the area on your arm where you were poked.
Your head began to spin, the darkness being helpless in the state of urgency you entered. Anything could have been coursing through you right now; something that could have made you lose control or something that could have killed you in seconds. Or maybe it was a paralysing agent, so you could be trapped inside your own mind and be the perfect motionless, seemingly inadequate doll.
It wasn’t real, but you didn’t know any better. It didn’t want to harm you, only scare you and it worked a treat. A deep vibration was felt in Its chest which reverberated against your back. Your bones rattled and shook with the selfish purr of approval.
“Why are you doing this? I thought you wanted to keep your ‘perfect little doll’ safe!” You snapped, fear and adrenaline being your two motivators. “Yes. You’re safe. Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. Yes, you are.”
“Then why are you torturing me?” He mused your distress, chuckling sadistically as the hand that wasn’t possessively gripped around your thigh raked through your hair.
You were trapped in a state of mind which was consumed by fear, something which had stopped you from noticing something important. Arousal and fear share the same tell-tale signs: a rapid heartbeat, sweating, flushed skin, increased breathing—all of which, you were experiencing. You were scared and essentially, extremely lustful in a way you couldn’t imagine was even possible. Ignorant and blinded by fear, the mere thought didn’t cross your mind.
Its voice made you jump slightly, “Silly ol’ pennywise, this is why nobody wants to play with the clown.” The fingers raking your hair came to a halt as it pouted. Your hand found his, the one gripping onto your thigh to reassure him, “Pennywise, huh? That’s your name?”
“Mm-hmm.” He whined.
“Well, my name is-“
He cut you off and finished your sentence for you. Yes, he knew your name and where you lived.
You exhaled a shaky breath and found yourself talking before you could register the words first, “I do want to play, Penny. Maybe you just need to learn how to treat your possessions with care.”
The hand the laid motionless upon your head, trailed down between the valley of your breasts, past your stomach before finally stopping on the dent of your waist. You shuddered and frowned at his promising trail, yet disappointing destination.
“Pretty little thing wants to play with the clown,” the hand gripped your waist hard, the thumb above the hipbone and pressing firmly until you gasped, “Pretty little dolly wants to be broken.” The hand moved to cup your clothed sex. You bucked into his hand, wanting to feel his soft glove circle the bundle of nerves that had unknowingly been building up.
You needed to grab onto something, but all you could find were his legs sprawled out on either side of you. It gave a quick chuckle, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine and made your hairs stand up on end.
The hand that was tightly clasped in a proprietorial way around the top of your thigh released, leaving your muscle lonely and throbbing.
The hand on your cunt pawed, grinding roughly until your head fell back on his chest and frustrated pants escaped your mouth. Your head arched back, hoping to make out a silhouette or see those eyes again. Eyes that had scared you but made your thighs tremble all the same.
Nothing.
“Stupid little thing wants to be played with, wants to be corrupted and taken care of. Soft, delicate little thing of mine,’ and with that, the arched neck you displayed was poked by the cold tip of Its nose before a tongue—one that seemed to be pointed at the tip darted out greedily to lick your quivering skin.
It wasn’t intentionally sending sparks of need to your core or wanting you to want more, but tasting the fear lingering on the surface of your skin like a thin layer of sweat. Simply tasting the marinade on the meat. A low growl rumbled approvingly, hungrily in its chest and making your back rattle slightly against it. “My delectable little thing, all mine. Ooh yes.”
You moaned at his words, tensing your thighs around his hand, ushering him to rub you rougher only to hear him chortle from your growing arousal and silent demands- demands which weren’t to be filled unless he authorised them. Your hands wrapped around the arm in front of you as he stroked you, pulling him closer to you indulgently; like a kitten capturing the playful arm of its owner during a belly rub.
“Such a responsive toy for ’Pennywise. My favourite plaything. What a good little girl you are, my sweet, tasty thing.’ You felt the warm breath settle onto the shell of your ear as his words were barely a whisper.
In the dark, somewhere, something grabbed your ankle abruptly. You screamed and kicked at nothing, the grip disappearing suddenly as if it hadn’t been there at all. “What the fuck?!” You drew in your knees, bending them and making them touch as you subconsciously continued to squeeze his hand further against you, moaning at the rush, fear, and adrenaline making your head spin and need boil within you.
The voltage had been turned up a little higher on your fear and it wafted from you instantaneously. Penny hushed you gently whilst the soft material of his free hand covered your mouth, a growl barely audible emitting from his chest as he sniffed the air.
You rested your forehead against his arm and squeezed your eyes shut, scared you’d see something suddenly in the stygian blackness in front of you.
Despite the scare, you imagined what it would be like for his soft gloved hands to trail wondrously, curiously over every crevice of your skin. Making you shiver as his unpredictable trails found sensitive areas and made your muscle dip involuntarily, hiding away shyly from his gentle fingers. The thought of being so open, so much more vulnerable to the dark, to the things that could grab and touch you, made you terrified but it was a type of scare you had grown to crave.
You tapped the arm front of you to gain his attention as you struggled at the hem of your shirt, indicating you wanted the item of clothing gone. “Small thing wants to rid herself of such pointless clothes—just like a dog or a cat. Perhaps Pennywise should treat you like his little pet instead.” He patronised, his hand left your mouth to give you the freedom of speech to respond with.
“I… just want to feel… the soft material of your hands wondering my skin,” you whispered, shyly. “Naughty little thing you are. Naughty, naughty little thing indeed. My naughty thing. Sweet, small, tasty thing.”
The feeling was urgent, you needed to feel him on your skin, even if it wasn’t skin-on-skin contact just yet. You shuffled momentarily in an attempt to rid your shirt off. You discarded your shirt to the side, not knowing how far away from you it landed, did the same to your bra and reached for your trousers.
You kicked off your shoes and socks as your hands fumbled blindly for the hem of your trousers, Penny mused at your efforts as he managed to rip them off within seconds. The sound of fabric ripping impatiently came before the sudden exposure which bit your skin. There was no turning back now and in knowing so, you took in a sharp breath. Scared, but finding general enjoyment from it in a masochistic sense.
A hand landed over your mouth, a fabric so soft against your lips, it could have easily rivalled luxury fabrics. But that was something this being had all over—something pleasant concealing something monstrous.
The other hand was nowhere to be felt and you began to wonder if he was going to touch you at all. Completely exposed to Penny and the darkness, your body screamed to be touched, for that reassurance that you weren’t going to be startled or harmed. Was he going to graze you delicately, so barely that you would have missed it? Slap you instead? Anticipation had you clinging onto the soft fabric of his pantaloons as you muffled a few begs underneath his hand, your warm breath catching underneath the fabric and warming your face.
A low laugh gently bounced in his chest, a hellish sound of nightmares. He seemed to be delving deeper into his true self. Something which was once easily dismissed as joyous bursts of laughter had turned into something that made your stomach tighten in anxiety and dread but the sinister tone had you craving more until you were forced to press your thigs together to relieve some tension. Penny mocked your muffled begs, sounding like the whines and begs of a harmed dog.
“Should I start here?” You couldn’t see or feel where he hovered his hand; he moved slowly to ghost his location. “Here?” Not even his bells sang as you felt him shift slightly to indicate a new potential area, “-or here ?” He gave a demented sort of laugh and a carnal desire born from fear travelled straight to the heavy knot in your stomach
You attempted to speak, incoherent begs and words such as ‘anywhere’ and ‘please’, but the tight hand around your mouth prevented your jaw from moving normally.
Finally, a hand, much like the soft one clasped around your mouth, landed on your waist with a predatory grip—a dangerous grip which was ticklish at first but was quickly replaced with an uncomfortable ache—bearable sure, but slightly uncomfortable as the fingers delved deep into your sensitive muscle.
Like a moth to the flame and wanting more, you melted into his touch angling your body to lean into him and allowing a moan to rumble in your throat, the sound was an indication of your discomfort but it was also the seal of approval. Not that it mattered if he had it or not.
A hand landed on your exposed breast, fingers lightly skimming the erected nub in unpredictable patterns. You froze and questioned why you were feeling three hands. You tried shaking your head in the desperate attempt to shake off the hand and tell him that the two of you weren’t alone but his hand secured you firmly in place.
The two of you were alone, this was just another scare tactic. You didn’t know that you were being held by something that wasn’t human, let alone a shapeshifter. Something that could and did conjure up things in the belly of the dark to selfishly get himself off.
You reached for the hand silencing you and pulled frantically to warn him about the ‘other one’ in the room with you, but the filter never budged or loosened. Adrenaline travelled you your accelerating heart and gave you the strength to struggle—and you would have won if it wasn’t superior in almost every way.
Instead of wasting more of your time struggling against the grip around your mouth, your hand swiped to the one on your waist, but instead of feeling what had made you squirm seconds ago, you were met with bruised flesh and the confusion of never feeling the hand leave.
Your chest heaved as your body became rigid—sat up and trembling from the rush of adrenaline and trepidation. Large puffs of air left your uncovered nostrils as your heart was a caged man, banging on locked doors with both fists.
Penny found your bursts of panic amusing and gently laughed in the background, “You’re so adorable, I could eat you up . And I will .”
You ignored his attempts to scare you further, stopping you from steadying yourself.
You could smell it now; the sour secretion that had been lingering and dripping on your skin, trailing like small wondrous bugs. You patted yourself down gently with the palm of your hands, the skin gently sticking to its contact like weak Velcro. The fear is torture in your guts, churning your stomach in tense cramps and making you want to claw at your own skin to cease the threat of lurching.
A string of something oozed between your shoulder blades, adding a slight weight to the strands of hair in its wake. You knew it was Penny drooling over you in a literal sense but you couldn’t help but flinch and arch your back away from the feeling as it ran down the dip of your back, sending a shiver as the nerves were slowly stroked like the strings of a guitar.
The hand that had been caressing your breast vanished, allowing Penny to quickly and harshly, pull you flush against him as you once had before. Those pom-poms greeted your back with a familiar feeling and his costume soaked up the drool and sweat from your pores, bells chiming at the sudden impact.
Something, however, was new as; you could feel the bulge hardening against your lower back, something he had no shame of when he pulled you close seconds ago.
You squirmed where you sat, purposely egging him on. A low rumble rattled against your back and when you stopped, he began purring gently. You smirked against his palm, now knowing which buttons to push.
Your hands trailed further down, to confirm a curiosity you had about yourself this time, a finger poking through your untouched, yet somehow swollen lips to estimate the wetness of your cunt, the audible squelch almost echoing in the silent room as you underestimated your arousal. Each stripe was as sensitive as the next, feeling as though a layer of skin had been stripped away to reveal the nerves.
That hand that had barricaded you to the Penny like ropes around a hostage had vanished and reappeared around the wrist between your legs in a sudden clamp, pulling your arm by your head to rid you of any temptations should he release you later on, his warm breath on your neck, “You don’t have play by yourself, silly.”
The warm, wet muscle glided up your neck for seconds, collecting the nectar from your skin and purring appreciatively as he did, the white palm pulling you just a little closer to him in the process. Your body shivered as a strangled moan escaped you. Teeth grazed your skin as drool cascaded down onto your shoulder, teeth which seemed to have formed into individual points.
The teeth would have normally scared, you but you knew that the being who insisted on calling himself ‘Pennywise’ wasn’t human to begin with.
“Naughty, tasty little thing should be eaten. Eaten as punishment,” he hissed, hot breaths against your skin. He nipped a few times, each grab harsher than the other, planting more seeds of fear into your head as you wondered if he was going to rip out four throat and consume you where you sat.
Instead, a low chuckle vibrated against your bruised skin as if he could feel your body tense. “I’m going to eat you, my little lamb. Fuck you first. Fill you up good until you’re no longer sentient and then I’ll consume you .” The vibrations of his voice rumbled through you, rattled your bones and shot to your core.
“Yes, I’ll twist your mind. Slowly drive you into insanity.” On the final word, he gave a giddy shake, bells chiming and making you jump in the process.
You swallowed, only just becoming aware of how dry your tongue, mouth, even teeth had become. Attempting to swallow without any saliva did nothing but send a sharp pain through the muscles contracting around your throat. Fuck, it hurt. You almost choked and coughed into his hand.
“You want that, don’t you, my little plaything?” You wanted to shake your head, of course you didn’t want to be insentient or eaten alive, but you did want something from him and shame washed over you like a bucket of water when you realised what it was.
The hand around your mouth left to close around a fistful of your locks before harshly yanking your head back, sometimes drooling onto your face. His other hand around your wrist released; so that he could lightly trace an invisible trail from your chin, slowly down the centre of your neck, the small space in between your collarbone, past the valley of your breasts, further down your stomach, and swerving across your navel so he traced your thigh instead, teasingly.
You shivered and sighed in annoyance which only elicited a deep rumble of a chuckle from behind. You felt his digit ceases and land on your navel again, slowly ghosting further down until this time, he skimmed your lips, but barely.
He knew what he was doing, that evil son of a bitch. You could practically imagine him smirking as he worked you with the upmost softest approach as if you were a human landmine, threatening to detonate with the slightest bit of pressure. Yet, despite the gentleness of his touch, it felt like he was holding himself back as if he were the one that would detonate.
He teased your cunt with the silk of his digits. Holy fuck , he barely touched you and you’re squirming and moaning. The index and middle fingers coated themselves in your slick juice before ghosting over your puffy lips, swollen with need. You bucked into his hand, moaning against the velvety palm.
Two digits easily sunk slowly into you, stimulating the roof of your core as if he were scratching a cat under its chin. You hummed lustfully.
“What a good little girl you are.”
His thumb applied a teasing amount of pressure on your clit and fuck you were close already. Your cunt throbbed and ached around him, muscles twitching before the climax.
A third hand, which was also accompanied by the same fabric of the glove pushing into you, clasped around your mouth.
If one of his hands was the core of hair he grabbed whilst the other was deep in your guts….At first, your blood turned cold as you pondered on the other person being in the vicinity again, but this quickly disappeared. The mystery of the things that usually go bump in the night touching you in the most heinous, salacious way was oddly arousing.
A feeling to pull you away from your lust—bring you back down to earth as your blood went from hot and needy to cold and hyper-aware in a nanosecond, the way fear does. But lust wasn’t going to go down easily, it came back with a vengeance, quickly overpowering the fear and bringing you back to the slight grind of your hips—the ever-changing emotions made your head spin and your climax draw close enough to almost tip you over the edge. A thought could make you cum, a smack, a command, claws to need your flesh; anything.
You didn’t know it, but this was his hand. A third hand that he had fashioned himself thanks to his shifting ability. How were you meant to know this? It was so otherworldly to even think about, to even comprehend. It wouldn’t have been a thought to any sane person.
Another muffled moan escaped your lips and reverberated onto the barrier before you. You arched your back, pushing him further into you until he reached your cervix. You cried out, the water almost being tipped over the edge of a cup, runners waiting for the gunshot to be heard, orgasm climbing but not yet reaching. It was as if his fingers were beckoning your orgasm, luring it to himself the way he’s skilfully good at.
Then he stopped.
Actions on pause and you wondered if something had startled him for a change. You whined and rotated your hips, the orgasm that never came fading away quickly. Burning up on the inside for the need to scratch the itch that had been promised to satisfy moments ago broke you out in a feverish sweat. Shit, you ached for him . Ached for the climax you were almost granted.
Then he continued and the climb began once again. The fingers beckoning you from the inside, wearing you like a glove puppet to control your movements and making you talk. A carnal fire burned from deep inside your cunt and grew to your core, signalling a promise of an intense release.
Then he stopped again.
You forced a vociferate grunt from deep in your throat and began fidgeting in annoyance.
He tuts at you, “Now, now. I have a new toy, I’m not done playing with her yet. Gonna play with my toy until her batteries have fried. Wind her up and watch you go. Gonna make her pretty little cunt ache !”
The hand around your hair was released, the digits inside of you retreated with an audible, soft squelch which made you moan into the hand that was last to leave, your face chilled instantly. Two hands cupped underneath your arms, lifting you effortlessly like a child so that you could be rotated to face him and straddle his waist.
You squinted in the void, gently feeling your breath bounce back onto your face as it hit someone or something in front of you.
Within the blink of an eye, a painted white face emerged instantly from some vibrant, orange lights—lights that hadn’t been there before—
“ Boo !”
You instinctively jumped backwards but the hands holding you kept you in place. A guttural chuckle bounced eerily between the two of you as your body processed the jumpscare. Although it wasn’t true, your heart felt as if it had stopped briefly and every cell in your body turned to ice for a fraction of a second. Fear was the knife twisting in your stomach and the failed muscles in your limbs. You covered your face in your hands as you were certain you would burst into tears from shock.
Another chuckle as the clown pulled your small, fragile, trembling frame close, pressing your skin against the silk of his suit. Arms tightly wrapped around you, deer caught by an anaconda. Tears didn’t come, the abrupt embrace throwing you off. Your nose met with the ruffles, three vertical pom-poms softly poking the middle of your chest and you eventually relaxed.
He smelled like salty popcorn and nostalgic memories, bringing you back to those times when you would attend carnivals and circus acts when all you wanted were those seizure-inducing toys that would spin rapidly on a stick whilst you held onto a cheap, skinny hot dog between the rough textures of a single serviette.
You felt your heart and your breathing steady, something which had happened so often that you hadn’t noticed sped up in the first place. You backed away as if to gaze up at him again, but the lights were no longer there and you were met by the darkness once again.
The threatening poke of a sharp claw followed the dent in your back, traveling upwards until your hair was yanked backwards. Lips crashed onto yours, the shock making you gasp and back away into the clawed hand grasping your hair, the mouth never retreating or allowing you to do so despite your apposing body language.
A protruding set of buck teeth sunk harshly on your bottom lip, earning a soft crunching sound as the tissues tore. Your jaw opened to release the startled and pained cry as the taste of iron mixed between the two of you. He took the opportunity to deepen the forced display of affection by expelling a long, narrow tongue down your throat.
He tasted of blood and charred candy and you gagged when a thick line of saliva pooled from the tip of his tongue and slowly oozed at the back of your throat. Your throat closed around his inhumanly long muscle, futile attempts to back away only caused him to laugh in your mouth, the heat and the vibrations making the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention and sparks to burn— like those firebugs you had seen before, deep in your core.
You bucked your hips, hands fisting his hair as roughly as he did you, pressing him even closer; challengingly. Your heart pounding viciously, adrenaline surging through you and igniting a sudden wave of confidence in result. A low rumble reverberated through the skin on your face, the muscles in your throat and igniting core as he growled sinfully inside you; humourlessly.
Fuck , those guttural chuckles. They did things to you. Not one sound he made so far sounded even remotely human but you didn’t care.
Despite you burst of confidence and the belief that you could somehow overpower or make him feel as uncomfortable as he made you, you quickly became aware of the slight sting in your throat as your breaths struggled against the tongue blocking your airway. Your attempts to back out of the kiss were pointless and the lack of oxygen made your lungs burn and your head spin.
You attempted to pull him back with the fingers entwined within the soft tufts of his hair but he didn’t budge. Your hands dashed to his shoulders where you pushed and beated at his clothed chest but he didn’t respond.
The more you struggled, the more scared you became and the more scared you became, the more his arousal grew. You could feel it, the tent hardening against your thigh. Feelings of arousal becoming mutual as a slightly damp patch sticking to the silk of his pantaloons developed as you struggled.
A sort of pressure began building up in your head and pinpricks of colourful lights dotted your vison of black. Your body felt light and you knew wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer if he didn’t hold up. You stopped struggling, not wanting to use up what little energy you had and for it to be in vain.
Just before you passed out, he broke the kiss. You coughed and spattered, gagging when his tongue retreated slowly; purposely, feeling the etch of saliva pool at the corner of your mouth and down the middle of your chin from the tongues trail, your throat felt like you swallowed shards of fiberglass, a thick trail of drool connecting the two of you, although you didn’t see it, it was definitely there.
It wasn’t unbearable, but fuck —your body screamed for him. You needed to be filled, even if it were his gloved fingers. Even if it was from something in the dark. Your cunt throbbed for him and your heart drumming heavily in chorus. “I can smell you, my little human. I can feel you, feel how wet your cunt is for little ol' me.” You could hear the smile in his words and swallowed nervously.
You were barely conscious when he entered you, brutally forcing himself inside with one quick thrust. Disorientated, a pained, yet, gentle moan seemed to have slipped past you before you could think twice about it. You were so out of it, you hadn’t realised he had positioned himself before you, but as you swallowed to soothe your throat, you did realise the layer of slime Penny had left you and tried not to gag at how slippery your throat felt.
His cock didn’t even feel human if anything it felt very similar to his tongue. The tentacle seemed to be shifting inside of you, growing until your muscles pushed back in rebellion—knowing fully well you couldn’t accommodate such a huge mass. Your body writhed and contracted, making Penny growl lustfully in the dark.
The room spun for a short while until your back smacked against the cold, chipped wood of the floorboards, stray pieces digging into your back as you fell. You could feel Penny had moved with you, hovering himself over you as you laid down with his cock deep in your guts.
His hips moved quickly—instantly, almost cartoonish-ly fast as if you were the match to ignite his frenzy. He pounded into you relentlessly, floorboards squeaking and bells singing with each thrust. Those stray chipped pieces of wood digging and scratching at your back with every brutal hit, each one making your body inch further back.
The way he pounded himself into you was almost cruel, barbaric even. The sheer severity of his hips smacked yours every time he pulled all the way out just hit that oh so sweet spot made your cheeks flush and your breast bounce, happy he couldn’t see the mess he was making of you.
Jesus fuck, yes !
Your heart raced, beads of sweat dripped down your legs and underneath your soft mounds. It was sauna hot, and you struggled to keep up with this guy’s stamina.
“I’m begging you,” you whined, urging him to slow down.
“ I-I’m beh-ging you ,” he chortled, making you wince, “just a little while longer plaything, and then I get to eat you. Promise, promise, promise .”
Your attempts to object his threats only came out in inaudible pants and moans as if you were speaking gibberish. It was too much, he was too much.
Your hands pawed the air for something to grab onto until you found the puffy shoulders of his costume. You moved them upwards to explore the extravagant layers of ruffles before slipping them underneath his clothes altogether, raking your fingers up his skin. Skin impossibly smooth, not a mole, scar or even a hair.
You took off his collar, throwing it over his head and Frisbee-ing it to the side before delving further, exposing half of his chest to the darkness. Your shaky hands caressed the skin to find it to be as perfect as the skin below his neck. The guy didn’t even have nipples.
Being a shifter, something you still weren’t aware of, meant that he could have nipples if he chose, but assuring you he had none, would make you question him further, subconsciously adding to those fears and confirming to you in his own way, that he wasn’t human.
You gasped and retreated your hands, having them pinned down with scary accuracy by your head instantaneously with such skill that made you ponder if he was able to see in the dark. You felt his hands grow and heard the fabric of his gloves tear as talon-like claws wrapped completely around your small wrists to hold you down with.
You looked up at what you assumed to be his eyes, hoping you were wrong about him being able to see the mess he was making of you. Until a pair of luminous eyes blazed open abruptly, staring, through you. You recoiled into the rotting planks of wood beneath you and turned your face so your cheek rested on the boards.
A hand left a wrist to harshly push your face closer to the floorboards as his violent rhythm continued mercilessly. The palm of that monstrous hand against your cheek whilst the fingers extended over your face.
The floor creaked vigorously beneath the added weight, adding to the chorus of skin clapping against each other. The enthusiastic applause of a single fan. “I can make you insane, tiny thing. Make you utterly incompetent. It’ll be easy. So easy .”
Damp and putrescent wood flooded your nostrils as you panted and cried out before them. “Is my lamb scared? Is she sacred? SCARED YET? WELL , ARE YOU ?” A manic laugh drowned out all sounds for a few seconds.
With your free hand, he allowed you to shove off the paw on your face so that you could look into those eyes again. They stared down at you and tilted to the side, growling at your defiance to show fear.
His lips found your collarbone, teasingly pinching at the bone between his teeth and pulling the skin back. You shivered and moaned, with the original thought that he was going to rip your throat out as punishment.
Before reaching that sweet release, he knew and he stopped. He would continue and stop, just before you were thrown over the edge into an earth-shattering ecstasy. He continued to edge you until your body burned from the inside and you were almost crying with how hard you were begging, despite the warnings he gave you. Warnings of regret when he would allow you to come.
Once he finally let you come, the sensation hit you like a freight train. But it was over as quick as it started, your moans turned into small yelps as he never allowed you to ride out your orgasms, his hips continuing a vigorous, feral pace until you came again and again and again, until your body was convulsing and covered in sweat, with his drool pooling from your mewling mouth.
You tightened around him continuously, spasmodically and cried out tiredly in the void. The shrill ringing of the bells stilled as Penny did, shooting his warm come incontinently inside of you, coating you with a generous amount of himself.
After he stilled and every muscle tensed, he would continue his pace without waiting for you to recover, making you and himself come over and over and over again until your cunt was dripping around his cock, copious amounts as thick as glue promised a slick fuck each time.
When your body couldn’t come anymore, Penny would impatiently stimulate your exhausted nub with the pad of a claw, forcing you to climax and spasm around him.
It made the nub of your cunt ache horribly with a pain that you couldn’t help but hiss and yelp during each thrust. But the more he hit that spot , the spot that made your ankles dig into the silk of his costume; the more you craved the horrible sharp sting. The vexation of overuse became warm and challenged, as your body piqued, turning the discomfort into something carnal.
The guy is a fucking beast. The stamina was godly.
As the lowest part of your back arched off the wood greedily, you wondered how long had he planned on fucking you like an insentient doll for. “Needy, greedy baby,” he teased, referring to the arch of your spine and the slight tilt of the hips. “Gonna fill you up until you burst. Gonna devour you.”
You knew humans had smells, body odor was one of them—but as the clown continuously slammed himself inside of you, as scared as you were, there were times when you believed you could smell the wafts of fear. A scent that was sour and rotting. It was just a thought, and smelling what could have been the very essence of potent fear, only increased the emotion and made Pennywise growl like a carnal lion. Your stomach lurched but you couldn’t stop, not when you were close. Your head began spinning upon the conflictions.
His claws wrapped around your waist, talons growing until they just about met in the middle. He raised himself on his knees and fucked you a few inches of the ground, ramming into you.
A red ring faded into view around his luminous iris. He seemed to be delving deeper into a carnal, insidious state. Demonic and animalistic, inhuman noises of growling and purring as he bucked into you relentlessly.
It was in that moment, you truly feared him and he smelt that—a groan, almost a roar shook the room as another load shot inside of you, as enthusiastically as the first time, overflowing from your cunt and coating your thighs.
Then he continued bucking into you, his pace never faltering, your creampie-cunt squelching every time his hips met yours and you stared up horrifically at the monster looming over you mercilessly. You were close but you were scared.
You felt a hand abandoned your waist to grip your throat, claws meeting. A cold sweat reached the surface of your skin as he closed off your breathing, those unnerving orbs burning into yours.
Just knowing he could snap your neck effortlessly at any second terrified you to the core. But fuck, it was hot.
Pressure began building in your head and your lungs began burning for air, your body tingling in the process. Being on the absolute edge like this made you giddy and lightheaded—thankful in a way that you were lying on your back because of how fast the fucking room span.
Each hit from penny's hips made you want to gasp as you began tightening around him but the hand around your throat forced you to drink in each movement and feeling.
He chuckled at your expression, a deep, twisted sound and that was all you needed to help you cum around him, nerves buzzing in awareness. It seemed to almost distort your reality.
A hand found his wrist and barely wrapped around half of the thickness.
“Good,” Penny purred, “such a good girl for Pennywise. Good little girl.” And his hand left your throat as he allowed you to ride this one out, circling his hips slowly in brutal encouragement.
You coughed as your chest heaved in the attempt to draw in as much of the hot air around you, replacing what you couldn’t before.
Penny drooled into your gaping mouth as he began pumping you back onto his cock, deciding that a few seconds was all you needed before having his way with you again.
Without becoming aware of it happening first, tears slid down the corners of your eyes; joining the sweaty clumps of stray hairs by your hairline and collecting amid your ear. Sadness and pain were not the reasons for it, but rather another way you could regain some control.
A simple sniff had the clown stop, “did Pennywise brake you?”
Christ, he didn’t even sound out of breath.
“Please…” you began weakly, “I don’t think I can handle anymore.” Your voice was a whisper, barely audible and weak.
A deep chuckle bounced in his chest as his glowing eyes zoomed closer to your face, tongue lapping up the salty trails on your face.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, ridding the drool from both you and him. Penny retreated his hips, his cum oozing from your beaten cunt and you winced.
“A-are you going to… going to eat me now?”
“Is that what you want, plaything?” He mused.
You huffed in the attempts to catch your breath. Throat as dry as it was when you were lost in the fog.
Lost and found.
“No. I want to stay here. With you. If you’d allow it. I can’t be lost again.”
You felt his tongue caress your cheek in one long lick. It wasn’t much, but it was his way of showing his comforting side, the way he observed humans and their pets do.
“Forever, sweet thing. You’ll be mine forever .”