Work Out Break Down

Something deep kicks in my core and my orgasm starts. I roar and grunt and scream and my sack contacts and tightens as everything collapses to detonate my seed. Everything shrinks and tightens and grows and scours my insides as it erupts and paints the stall with thick white seed, splattering in the walls and the glass and the ceiling. The roar turns to laughter, pure joy at the fact that I have given up. I see Louise's face covered in my seed mouth open in awe over the display of virility. She submits, opens herself and silently waits for the inevitable. More pulses that rattle my spine, more cum, thick, viscous, potent, and white, too much for the shower head, too much for the civilized world to recognize, too much for anything to make sense anymore. There is only the dark impulse of pain and hurt to drive me deeper and deeper into pleasure. Seconds turns to minutes and I do not run out. More cum, covering me, anointing the bathroom with my scent, pooling around my ankles, rocketing from my member. A hand finds my chest and rubs my seed in, marking myself as a slave to the impulses. Louise is there, hurt, and submissive and beaten, ready to accept the fact that I am no longer human, and she is at the mercy of a monster. More shots and pulses until I lose count and throw myself into the fog of pleasure.

The pulses and the urges stop, and sanity comes back, however slightly. I stand in the hot water, milking the vestiges from my member, adding to the puddle. It's still red and angry, and even as the pool around my ankles thins and drains away, it demands more. It always demands more and more and more, more savagery inflicted to grow strong and brutal. Again, I start stroking and pumping, trying to break myself to please the dark urges rampaging through my core, the monster unleashed.

---

"Alright," I say, "So it's called ⸢CRAZY TALK⸥, and its whole gimmick is that I say something and then I'm retroactively made wrong. But I can't control it, so it goes off at random."

"You have put way too much thought into this," said Louise, "Like, way too much. How did you even find out about this show?"

"One of those things that just kind of seeped in and then I checked it out, and that's it. I don't really remember."

She takes a long sip from her beer and I lean back in the booth. The soft guitar drifts over the dim room. I play with my glass, running my finger over the rim. Through the bruise, yellow and purple-green, she smiles and laughs at my stupid obsessions I indulge when nothing else is going on.

"Okay," she says, "I think I have one. ⸢LONELY ROLLING STAR⸥. It's just a rock that rolls around, and when it touches you, it kills you. But it's super slow.

"Already taken. Sorry."

"God damn it. Alright then I got nothing for you. That's it. This is a stupid game you play and I can't say anything because I used to write fanfic in high school."

She takes another long, long pull from her glass and she goes silent for a moment, and then another. Graceful, slender neck, long, and swan like, almost begging for a hand around, squeezing just enough to give the threat of danger. I look away from her, and scan the room. Lord & Lady is under a thick blanket of purple velvet and flickering candlelight, both simulated and real. We sit in our little booth, a staked-out corner of the world impervious to outsiders. Louise has slipped off her shoes and had been playing footsie with me more or less as soon as we both sat. She never ventured further than my knee, and every single time she tried, I'd give her a look and she'd back away, ratcheting up the tension. My glass is empty, the dregs of something strong and dark brown swilling at the bottom.

"Okay," she says, "Okay, I am now officially drunk enough to do this now. What the fuck happened at the gym last week?"

I regret finishing my own so fast. She may be drunk enough to ask, but I do not know if I'm drunk enough to answer.

"I got problems, alright," I say, choosing every syllable carefully, "Problems that aren't really first date material. If you want more than that, then that's going to cost you something."

"Oh, so this is a date now, right?" I need to choose my words better, apparently. But subtlety is not something I am good at. Even when my beautiful little monster isn't threatening to flip a table.

"I want you. Like that. If that's not what you're in for, then that's fine. I know that all of this is a lot. Like a lot, a lot, and I'm just laying out everything way too fast, but it works better this way, trust me."

"I figured you wanted to fuck me. Maybe a little rougher than I like, but I looked back right? And I invited you out here. I know what's on the table. And I'm playing right? So where did these problems come from?"

"I'm working on them. They're just not the kind of problems that go away. I was a Marine and that probably didn't help, but I don't want to lay it all on that."

"Wait. You were in the Marines? That's awesome."

"No, no it wasn't and again, not first date material."

"Can I at least ask where you were?"

"Did some time in the Middle East. Some time in Okinawa. That's all you're getting."

"I mean the travelling part, that was cool, right? You got to see some cool places."

"I would really appreciate it if we didn't talk about this anymore. It's not something that I like to think about, not like this. I'm better now than I was, but that doesn't mean I'm good. But you, how about you? What led to you getting punched by me?"

"I mean that's not really first date material either, but I can give you something. My sister had a rough time for a while and that made me realize that I needed to learn some things. The last place I went to closed down, so I went to RTL's, after I saw who was running it."

"Rob's a good guy. Understands a lot of things. Not how to run a gym, but a lot of things."

She laughs and angels sing of warmth and acceptance and love, and I can only look at my hands, the callouses and scars that bring me back from thinking I am human. I can smile and laugh and do all the things that people do. Society and civilization flow through my veins just the same as every once else, and that makes me nice and sane and in control.

"How'd you two meet anyway," she asks.

"Another thing that's not first date material. He helped me figure some other things out that are part of my problems, but not all of my problems."

"Is that one of the things I won't get to know about?"

"You might get to know more about that one if we keep doing this."

"How fun."

She smiles again, a little darker this time, something glinting in her eyes, something primal and dark and brutal. The moment passes and she is bright and happy, sitting comfortably in a small dress, bright red that is almost impossible to be comfortable. Almost everything in her spilled out onto the table, drawing my eyes to soft inviting flesh. I did not wear that. I wore a jacket and pants, trying to blend into the deep shadows of Lord & Lady, trying to figure out what my next drink will be, trying to figure out if we will go get something to eat afterwards, trying to piece together how Louise will walk home with that tight piece of fabric in tatters and her stomach full of heavy, virile seed.

"Are you," she says, "and I'm sorry if this is crossing lines, are you trans?"

"Not technically," I say, "Secrets, not first date material."

"I have to ask, what is first date material?"

"Jobs, hobbies, favorite songs, things like that."

"HR at Summit Mortgage, some experience DJing and making music, and pretty much anything by Annette Biedermeier. My favorite TV show is the classic Captain Solar cartoons from the 80's. Do you want anything else? Or is it your turn?"

"Work for Taskmaster Movers. I like fighting and fitness. And I guess I like a little bit of everything, but I like the Mid Knights. I don't, I don't really watch TV, though."

"Can we move on to 2^nd date stuff? Is that like, politics or something, because I have no interest in that. I should, but I just don't. I know that's bad, but can you blame me?"

"No, that's not what I'm talking about. What are you hurrying this for? I don't understand."

"I don't want to hurry you for anything, I really don't. I'm just kind of done playing the game, y'know? That slow ratcheting of tension, see who breaks first. Like it's kind of fun, but I just want to see everything up front now. And you don't have to share what you don't want to. I get that. And I'm not going to push. I just think that we can sit here and talk for a while, get some drinks in us, and see what happens. And if nothing happens, that's fine. I'll certainly be bummed about it, but that's life. I wanted to see if you played the game, and by now I'm guessing you really don't want to."

I take a deep, deep breath, trying to focus my will into something meaningful.

"I want to fuck you," I say.

"You've said that," says Louise.

"Now."

"Well then, what are we still doing here?"

---

Another disturbed Uber driver, or a Lyft, or maybe just a plain yellow taxi, a set of traffic lights that did not change fast enough, all the while, I feel flesh, soft and pliable and malleable and willing. It felt right, as my hand found her hip and squeezed, hard and soft, flesh and muscle and everything wonderful sensation combined together. She presses into me as I press into her, and our lips meet and the hunger begins, the most beautiful hunger I have, the one about to be sated and nourished and gorged into something incredible. I have the meat in front of me and it gives itself willingly, eagerly even.

The car comes to a stop at her place and we bolt. She tastes good, lipstick paint and hints of salt and sweat and desire. She's pure lust and want and need and that's all she is. This creature is just solidified lust and desire and want and need and that's she is, all she ever is and will be. I drag, carry, pull, and push just as she does to me, further and further into the building, up the elevator, hands pawing and ripping and tearing at one another. She is flesh, willing and able, and I am flesh, ready and willing to tear into her.

The hunger and the darkness rise and consumes me until I am nothing but that. I do not recognize the hall as anything other than a passage I cannot fuck her in, some last little vestige of sanity and decency left trying to assert itself. The populace would marvel at the show, the display of primal mating. Some may feign shock or disgust, limp objections based on preserving decency or innocence, but they are wrong. They love this, love every second of the inevitable couple, envious that we have shed the thin veneer of humanity to embrace what we all truly are, mindless beasts full of rage and hate, taking it out in any way we can possibly imagine.

The inevitable happens as Louise fumbles with her keys. My pants split as my slick hardness erupts, too large, too massive, too impossible brutish to contain. A thick surge of pre escapes in a body wracking pulse, splattering across the door. And it hurts so bad. More pre, thick and heavy, shoots from my tip. Thick veins pulse and throb as more and more inches are added to its length. Her eyes, brown and dark and deep go wide, with fear, alarm, confusion.

"Is that..." She does not get to finish the sentence.

"Get inside," I growl.

Her hands start shaking even more, the clatter of the keys pounding in my skull. That's one secret out there, and the voice of civility in my head pounds against its cage. She eventually opens the door and I rush in, picking her up on the way, slung over my shoulder. She does not resist as I leave a slick trail of pre across her floor. I find something suitably soft to set her down on and finally the sensibilities kick back in for one moment. A couch and a glass wall, open to the city. I don't care. The world can watch and if it's smart, it will not get in my way.

"Are you okay with this," I managed to stutter out. The dark hunger in my core roars. It does not care about the answer. There are lines I will not cross. I have already broken one of those with her and I will not do it again. I am a monster, but I have lines and rules and as much as the hunger in my core rages at the prospect of limitations, it understands that there are bigger things than itself, sometimes.

Louise's eyes darken, almost going pure black in the dim light of her apartment. On hands and knees, she crawls over, slowly, like a cat on the prowl, eyes on my head as it drips and drools and spits in time with my heartbeat. She uses me for leverage, slowly coming up to standing, sandwiching my member between us, lathering her flat, toned stomach with my essence. I stain the dress that kept her contained and decent and civilized. She looks down, tracing the outline of the tool against her own body, following the pulses and the veins, circling the tip before going back down the base on the other side. I would hit her sternum, crushing her insides as I invade her.

And she smiles a savage smile of sharp teeth, glistening and glinting in the darkness.

"You're going to fucking destroy me Rachel," she purrs, "You better fucking destroy me. This thing is amazing."

I growl and I let go and the hunger roars. Ripping fabric and deep laughter from Louise and gasps turning into slow groans.

She's slick and eager and open and willing, and I try to take it slow, let her get used to my size, spreading more and more and more of her open, gouging her, taking her, invading her as she hissed through clenched teeth.

We are incapable of words, grunts and moans and pounding flesh singing the song of pleasure. Beasts, locked together, joined as one, and the hunger and the hate flows through me, slowly taking over the movements, turning them harsher and sharper and faster and faster and faster until I am slamming into her hips with every thrust. And she is laughing, low and deep and utterly transfixed with the changes in her body.

Tremors start as I finally crush in the last few inches and by the time I hilt, she is screaming, announcing to the world that she is mating. She tightens around me as it breaks her muscles, breaks everything inside of me and claim it as my own. She is mine. This hole is mine and the world beyond the window knows and cannot stop it. She cums, hard, screaming and convulsing so hard I think she is going to break bones. Seconds turn to minutes and the world falls away until she goes limp, shaking and trembling and staring dead eyed at the ceiling. I stop.

I hurt her again, made her sleep as my hunger consumed her and devoured her and left her with nothing expect sleep and dead eyed existence that truly overrode every instinct and made her dull and dead. It wasn't fun to rampage through something that didn't resist. I sigh and want to hit her as she sleeps. She denied me pleasure, something terrible and awful and I feel terrible shame over the urge. She lasted longer than most and that alone should be something to be lauded. I settle for hitting the cushion next to her head.

My lap is stained with her, so absorbed in my task, I didn't even notice. It dampens the underside of my breasts. I lean back in the puddle of our emissions and catch my breath, a lazy finger drawing patterns in her claim on me. Not even that tired, and the red angry head of my penis throbs and spits onto Louise's comatose torso. I smirk. At least I get to lay a claim to something tonight. I can tell myself that this is mine, and I can come back to it later.

I throw my head back and laugh a bitter laugh. Again, and again and again. This is what I am. This is what I do. I don't know what Louise thought I was, thought I would do. But she knows what I am, what I can do, now. I do agree that playing the game is a waste of time, at least for me. They all learn eventually. And as I sit here, idly playing with myself over the comatose body of a nubile woman, soft and hard and lithe and flexible and warm and tight and velvety smooth, for the briefest of moments, the masks fall. I am a monster, something wild and uncontrollable and untamed, something to rampage through everyone and everything. I am not happy with that fact. But it is what it is and fighting it has just made everything worse.

I stroke myself harder, doubling down on my pumps and my strokes, fist over fist, up and down, tensing my abs and my arms to get more power into my body. It's not the same. It's not what I need and with the meal over there, lying comatose and still, ready for the taking, just made me angry. It wasn't working. It wasn't enough.

I get up and stop, shredding the last of my clothes on the way, to raid her fridge. I need fluids, something cold in me, to help calm me down. I don't know if it'll work this time, but the interruptions have broken the hunger's hold on me. Maybe a cold shower after this to get it all out and I'll figure out a way home, or something. Another failed excursion, although one that had potential.

"Could you get me some juice, please," says Louise, "There should be some OJ on the top shelf."

I laugh. I like this one. She comes back for more punishment, again and again, and then shrugs it off like its nothing. Her voice is hoarse and strained and tired, but it's clear enough.

"Doing alright over there?" I ask.

"Oh fuck no. I have no idea where I am. I vaguely remember you. And my entire torso aches with the imprint of a literal horse cock, but that's alright. It aches in the good way. The really, really good way. Are you a robber by the way?"

"No. I'm the person that's knocked you out twice now."

"Oh. Hi Rachel. Was I out long this time?"

"Couple of minutes. Your juice is coming."

She gives a soft 'yay' and settles back down. The anger simmers a little. Delayed, certainly, but still there, everything is still there, ripe for the taking. It should know that nothing it ever that simple with me, but it's a dumb thing, barely able to put more than one sentence together that doesn't involve fucking or fighting.

"Why am I all slimy," Louise murmurs as I extend a cool glass to her outstretched. I sauntered over, feeling her eyes glaze over me in confused worship, still trying to put together what her life had become in the late hours of the night. I had lost track while I was sawing into her and seeing her try to get a handle on everything killed the mood, much to my member's rage. The masks came back on and I sat in a chair that didn't seem to mind my foul presence.

"That's just how it is with me."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but what the fuck are you?"

"I'm Rachel. That's it."

"Cute, no. Seriously, what are you?"

"I'm telling the truth. Just Rachel. Human, probably. There are a lot of terms for what I am, and I don't really like any of them, so I'm just Rachel."

"Alright. Alright. Alright. Ow. Whatever you are, it'll be a miracle if I can walk tomorrow. Did you at least finish? Is that what this is?"

"I did not. That's just pre."

"Okay. Wow. I want to ask that question again, but I think I know what the answer's going to be. Jesus. Puberty must have been terrible."

"There were some good times in there."

"Like what? Ramming it through a brick wall? Fucking the whole cheer squad? Or volleyball team? Or basketball team? Or some other sports team? I've heard some weird things about softball."

"No, that's not quite right. I only ever did it with one cheerleader and she ran off before we got to this point. I did cum in the back of the quarterback's pickup at a football game after he tried something with my brother. That was fun."

"What'd he do? Or is that not first date material?"

"I think we've gone farther than that by now. I'm not quite sure what date number we're on at this point. They just kicked his ass because he made the correct guess that one of the running backs was gay. Super in the closet about it, but I think he moved to San Francisco, so there's that."