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Creepy Explorations: Volume 3

Chapter Text

"Hey guys, Noah here!" the internet personality greets, zeal finally returned as he walks down a cold suburban road. "Great news! The doctor says Grandma is gonna be back on her feet by the end of the week! Maybe your prayers helped after all... Oh, and I never even mentioned where we were headed in all of this. Chicago! That's right, I've been from Massachusetts, to Louisiana, to Illinois all in just two weeks. My legs have went dead so many times I'm surprised I'm not paralyzed for life yet! So half a week in the Midwest, whatever shall I do?..."

He tilts the camera up a bit to show off a green street sign right as he passes under it.

"YOU ARE NOW LEAVING HADDONFIELD"

"Haddonfield...I mean, I'm not gonna do Haddonfield, I meant..." He sighs. "Whatever...Anyways, enough about that, Happy Halloween! I might be too old to Trick-R-Treat but that's not gonna stop me from dressing up and celebrating the most wonderful time of the year! You know you're a real geek when you look forward to Halloween more than you do Christmas! This is actually a really highly requested location so hopefully I'm making a lot of you guys' Halloween with this. But for the few of you who don't know the story, Haddonfield's a small rural town in the outback of Chicago, sisters with Smith's Grove. On the surface, it seems like a perfect little utopia, and for the most part you'd be right, but there's one little stain on its history that the locals try to forget. Mikaela Myers. Exactly 17 years ago today, Mikaela snapped and went on a killing spree in her trick-r-treat costume. How old was she? Ten. Crazy, huh? She's been in Smith Grove's Sanitarium ever since. Her psychologist actually released a book about it recently, 'The Devil's Eyes', I think it's called. I'm not really a reader but I guess I recommend it...Sucks I couldn't celebrate my favorite holiday in my hometown but the locals here are just as cool! Even after the tragedy, Haddonfield still has an awesome Halloween spirit! And speaking of Halloween spirit..."

He zooms the camera out a bit and does a head-to-toe scan of himself as he talks. He's crossdressed as a slutty witch, in a skirted corset with striped stockings and matching arm-warmers, as well as a witch hat and lace-up boots. The outfit is primarily black, with bright orange accents. You just barely catch a shapely silhouette stalking him in the background. Must just be a seasonal lawn ornament.

"I told you I dressed up! Now, I get it, a witch isn't the manliest costume in the world but I had a growth spurt and outgrew all of my old stuff, so I had to use one of my sister's hand-me-downs! But hey! Girls dress up as boys for Halloween all the time and no one bats an eye, so if you make fun of me, you're sexist! Anyways, I was planning on just doing a video on the scene of the tragedy, the Myers House, but that was before I realized how beautiful Haddonfield is on Halloween night! So the journey will be just as pretty as the destination. I've always wanted to tick that cliche 'creepy house on the edge of town kids dare each other to knock on' box!"

Noah reverses the camera's direction so you can see what he's seeing: a slender neighborhood street that's boundless in length.

"Lampkin Lane," reads another road sign.

Trick-r-treaters not much shorter than the cameraboy can be seen galloping around in the distance, dressed up in mummy rags, vampire capes, and zombie makeup with candy buckets swaying from their wrists. It seems like there's hundreds of Jack-o-lanterns bursting out of the many surrounding households like cornucopias, some cheap and plastic while others actual pumpkins expertly carved into wicked faces. Whether they be real or fake, they all certainly burn through All Hallow's Eve with their candles for hearts, lighting the whole street up with an atmospheric orange contrasting with the indigo starlight. Crisp leaves of reds and browns whip and dance in the air, carried by the cold night breeze that makes Noah shiver in his skimpy costume.

Some dead trees are draped with ghosts, others with toilet paper rolls thrown by mischievous pranksters. Porches are decorated with witch animatronics and bat silhouettes, while front-yards are strewn with skeletons, coffins, and spiders the size of horses. Over-the-top creepy ambiance haunts the entire street, distorted by the cheap voice-boxes they come from. Thick fake mist pouring from fog machines sweep the sidewalks Noah slowly walks down, amazed by every pixel of this seasonal landscape. He's ripped straight out of his wonderland, however, when he bumps into what seems like a drab brick wall at first, one that materialized out of no where, as if your eyes just adjusted to the darkness cast by the trees.

"OOF!" Noah stumbles back before reorienting himself.

Like a roadblock on the sidewalk, it's a denim boiler suit a few sizes too big for the lofty body it dresses, said body a mixture of thick and athletic. The collar is popped to the extent of seeming Dracula-esque, and the baggy one-piece is unzipped a bit to show a glimpse at the white t-shirt underneath, and the ensuing big bosom behind that. The muted coveralls are based by a pair of black boots and crowned by what seems like a cheap rubber Halloween mask, just as colorless as the rest of her clothes, that's withered away in storage for decades, judging from all the cracked grimy weathering. It casts black gaping eyes and a permanently stone cold expression on the assailant's face, or lack of therefore, really.

"Oh...Hello!" Noah greets.

The stranger remains dead silent and dead still, a statue.

"Are you a trick'r treater? If so, rock on, girl! Screw what people say, you're never to big to have fun! Speaking of big, holy crap...You're like...six-three! You must make most guys seem like little girls! Of course, just about everyone makes me seem like a little girl..." He coughs. "So uh, I'm a witch. Obviously. Not the manliest thing I could've dressed up as but I outgrew all of my old costumes and all I could fit in was my sister's," he almost word-for-word repeats the same excuse he told you. "...So what are you supposed to be? Don't get me wrong, the mask is creepy, but it's a pretty random getup. Is it just something you threw together at the last second, or like a movie villain or something? Man, I'd be embarrassed if it was. You see, I pride myself on how much of a horror aficionado I...Oh my gosh, I'm talking so much you haven't even had the chance to say a single word! Oh, I'm so sorry, I get nervous around strangers, especially girls, and when I get nervous, I talk a lot...So uh...the floor is yours!"

The stranger remains idle, like an AFK player in a co-op game. The uncomfortable silence is broken by a vibration coming from Noah's skirt.

"Oh, uh, sorry, let me take this," he jumps on the first chance to escape the awkward situation by checking his phone.

It's an automatic text.

"NEWS ALERT: Mental patient Mikaela Myers, also known under the serial killer alias 'The Shape', escaped from Smith's Grove Sanitarium at approximately 7:45 PM earlier this evening. Convict is EXTREMELY dangerous, still at large, and was last spotted at a truck strop right outside Haddonfield. Stay inside and lock all of your windows and doors. Convict is also disguised as a trick'r treater. DO NOT APPROACH UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES."

Noah looks up from his phone screen and the stranger is no where to be seen.

Chapter Text

All of a sudden, as if the world itself suddenly shifted, the densely packed, beautifully done-up district becomes a cold empty husk Noah shrinks up in the middle of, alone and helpless like a young woman in Jack the Ripper's territory. He clenches up as the chill of Samhain creeps up his spine, and he slowly but nervously scans Lampkin Lane, cold breath blowing from his chapped lips. He takes a shaky, nervous step forward, then another, then another, his timid stroll escalating to a power-walk. Then a jog, then a run, as his breathing picks up in sync. Before you know it, he's broken out into a sprint upon realizing he's bumped into a psycho that's at large, mind too clouded with a primal fear to do anything else but fly. He looks behind him and sees a black Shape far off down the road, calmly following him from a distance.

"Ahhh! AHHH!! AHHHHH!!!" Noah's breathless cries of fear pick up in volume along with the lightning fast stomps of his boots.

At first, Haddonfield's profusely decorated streets made for an eye-catching representation of the Halloween holiday. But now, all the billows of fake fog, wind-blown naked trees, and store-brought props form a mind-twisting obstacle course for Noah to helplessly skitter through like a terrified rat as he's pursued by The Bogeywoman. He finally remembers he's in a populated neighborhood and thinks to call for help, being drawn to one of the many clapboard homesteads at each of his shoulders. Despite looking just like all the other houses on this street, there's something about this particular two-story estate, sky blue with black trimmings and marked by a white-and-red "Strode Realty" sign, that puts a pit in your gut. Regardless, Noah is chased right into it, desperately hoping that its resident is home and merciful enough to shelter him from an escaped lunatic. Upon sprinting up the overgrown front-lawn's sidewalk and onto the porch, Noah rattles the knob and bangs on the door with all of his might.

"SOMEONE! ANYONE! HELP ME! HEEEELP!" he screams at the top of his lungs, hoping that the lights will come on.

Noah looks down at the welcome mat.

"MYERS"

Something slaps down onto the back of his neck, then all hell breaks loose. There's a massive "CRASH!" and the camera goes ape-shit as dozens of glass shards fly through the air into the dilapidated living room of the Myers House. Noah tumbles across the old carpet, costume completely ruined with scratches that show off the bloody gashes underneath from going through a jagged glass blender. The Shape, with her freakish strength and only one hand, just threw Noah into her old house through a window. Knocked nigh-unconscious, Noah is laid out on the carpet, helpless as Myers suddenly appears over him like she just teleported in. Inexplicably, she's holding a...pumpkin, in her hands.

"Oh, God, please no, don't take me from my family, PLEASE!" Noah begs at the figure looming over him as he crawls out of a pile of broken, crackling glass.

Myers only moves a single muscle - one in her neck as she curiously tilts her head at the ruined mess that's supposed to be Noah, like a detached child inspecting an injured animal. She lowers to her knees and sets the pumpkin down on the floor, unsheathing a kitchen knife with a blade so big it could almost count as a machete to use to carve the great big squash a wicked face. Fortunately for Noah, it's already gutted so there's no stench to haunt him with. Mikaela digs a lighter out of her pocket and flicks it on, giving the pumpkin a flaming heart that casts the Myers House with fireplace-like lighting. She pinches the zipper dangling from her breasts, dragging it all the way down to her abdomen so her upper body can be shed from her ill-filling jumpsuit. The excess denim thus hangs from her hips like a hoodie tied around one's waist. She hooks her white undershirt on the roof of her F cups, further revealing her naked curves and flat abs. Her undone jeans sag down a couple inches to denude her untouched cunt. She flops her tits down on the pumpkin's roof, its stem slipping into her cleavage, to show off how her bosom is almost as big and rotund as the 20 pound jack'o lantern.

Realizing he's in for some late night fucking, Noah tries pulling himself backwards across the floor in an escape attempt. Mikaela slowly chases after him with a brisk stroll and plummets down to her knees with a fall that shakes the whole house. She gets a handful of Noah's hair in her fist and smothers him with the sharp chiseled edges of her midriff, forcing him to muscle worship all six of her abs with panicked and resistant kisses. As his head approaches her chest with his lips ascending her torso ab-by-ab, Mikaela gets her giant milk jugs in a choke from her left hand, making her nipples burst out their areola like a stress toy's eyes. The Shape mercilessly crams both her tits into Noah's mouth at once, making his cheeks bloat up as far as they can go. He tries spitting the breasts out, but they're stuck in his mouth for whole minute until he's finally able to pry himself from Myers's chest with a flesh-sucking "POP!". Mikaela punches her fist into the pit of Noah's skirt and gives one ferocious yank. Black fabric and white elastic soar up into the air like confetti, and everything between Noah's corset and boots are completely exposed.

"Aw, I just tailored that!" he whimpers with tears already in his eyes, sounding genuinely miserable rather than merely annoyed.

The Smith's Grove patient seizes Noah by his right shin, then yanks it up onto her left shoulder, mounting it and hugging his leg. This hitches their genitals together and allows Mikaela's vulva to envelope Noah's flaccid shaft with one little wiggle forward. She begins working her hips back and forth. You can see a cock swell into an erection up underneath the skin of Myers's groin, which she promptly exploits as a toy for her pleasure and her pleasure alone. Noah persists in his attempts at dragging himself away, but his tip is barbed in her tight pussy like an anchor, plus she's clinging onto his thigh with superhuman strength. She churns her hips around and around, starting off gently before crescendoing into a fuck that rocks the whole damn rickety house. She grinds his cock to the point of ejaculation, as evident by all the bubbly-sounding gurgling noises belching from her crotch. Even before she detaches, cum can be seen profusely seeping down into her buttcrack. But when she rises to her feet, it's a downright mess.

Her clit and Noah's dickhole are connected by a thick, gooey string of fluid, a stew of pre-cum, semen, and vaginal discharge. It snaps once Mikaela get high enough, which makes a huge pool on Noah's smooth-as-silk crotch. Myers slips the other half of her jumpsuit back on, though doesn't bother with the zipper, so her fat bulging nipples are still shamelessly hanging out on full display. She rolls her sleeves up to her elbows and snuggles with Noah, creepily stroking his chin and almost gouging his eyes out with her razor sharp nipples as she dips down and forces her boobs in his face. Noah buries the back of his head in the floorboards in an attempt to resist, where he notices the camera, Peeping Tom you, and remembers he's supposed to be hosting a show here. He addresses his audience upside down and at a dutch angle.

"Well, I guess this is how I'm spending the rest of my Halloween," Noah looks aside with a 'sick of this shit' scowl in his eye as The Shape molests him in the background. "Hopefully your guys's night was better than mine. Late-"

His sendoff is interrupted when Myers once again forces herself onto him, making him kiss her juicy teats and dancing muscles. Noah reaches his hand out to you and scrambles it around the camera, blindly looking for the off button whilst a pair of tits are flopped down onto his face. After a couple seconds of fingering the camera, Noah finally finds what he's looking for right as blood returns to his cock and a boner is erected in the backdrop. Since his mouth is occupied, he instead gives his goodbyes with a peace sign formed from his fingers before ending the video at 10:31.

The final shot of the video is the jack'o lantern crackling in the background. For most of the time, it seemed to be watching Noah and Mikaela like a creepy voyeur, but just this once, it feels like it's watching...You.

Happy Halloween.

Chapter Text

"Hey guys, Noah here! As you can tell by my lack of a gut, I didn't get to pig out on Halloween candy this year, as I'm sure you could've already guessed..." he sighs, still bitter over getting fucked all last night by the world's scariest trick-or-treater. "We were just about to leave Chicago but then I stumbled upon this beauty and begged my parents to stay just one more day. They said yes! Gosh, they're so cool! Though, for all they know I'm just checking out Buckingham Fountain. Man, thank God my parents don't know how to use YouTube, 'cause if they found this channel, I would be SO grounded!"

Noah fleshes out his surroundings with some pretty good camerawork to reveal he's in a corridor that seems to go on forever, all surfaces made of stained cracked concrete. The walls are lined with rusty old pipes, heaters, and pressure tanks, implying this week's locus was once a boiler station before being abandoned.

"Now, this place isn't terribly interesting like most other locations we've explored. No elaborate backstory, no creepy urban legends or serial killers tied to it, just your typical underground tunnels."

Sure enough, Noah walks a few paces down the hallway and hits an inner section of identical-looking aisles, revealing that you are, in fact, deep in a whole labyrinth of subterranean utility corridors.

"But I look at all of the other urban explorers and they always have at least one underground tunnel video so I figured my series could use one too. So if this video is boring, it's peer pressure's fault, not mine! Another thing, it's my DREAM as an urban explorer, heck, it's EVERY urban explorer's dream to some day do a video on the Catacombs of Paris, but that'll NEVER happen, so I guess I'll just settle for this." He gives an aside glance and a disappointed sigh. "Good thing I'm easy pleased... Don't expect a banger this episode guys, just think of this as a quick chill epilogue to the exhausting Halloween special."

And thus, like a mouse in a maze, Noah begins his aimless exploration of Chicago's basement. It's not quite as badly lit as Site-19's maintenance tunnels, at the very least. Like sewers, the only ambiance is the echoey dripping of the pipes, and maybe a desolate breeze or two blowing through. Well, that and the slow pitter-patter of Noah's shoes. After not very long, he comes across a horizontal shutter door, eyeing it for a couple seconds before pouncing on the chance of something actually interesting. He grabs its handle and heaves to the left with all his measly might, throwing it wide open. Whatever it is, something instantly hits him like a train, making Noah recoil back and cough.

"AW, what the heck is that SMELL?!" he nearly gags, protecting his nose by burying it in his bicep like he's about to sneeze.

You can hear insects buzzing from the black void of the opened, apparently foul-smelling room. Noah swallows his cowardice and takes a couple careful steps forward so the lens is submerged in blackness. You can hear his hand blindly feeling up and down the wall in search of a light-switch, and he eventually finds one. With a plastic "click!", everything is immediately flooded with a clinical fluorescence that stings your eyes, casting an excess of milky light on the room's interior. It's a workers bathroom, as all the surfaces are made from pearly white tiles, some peeled off the wall or the floor to show off the filthy mortar beneath. A pool-like bloodstain sits in the very center of the room. Ugly rusty piping run all along the corners, as do shattered sinks, urinals, and mirrors. Chained to one of those pipes is a pile of swarming flies.

And beneath that swarm, the rotting carcass of a person.

The millisecond he registers it, Noah lets out a huge gasp, which happens to suck in the tainted air of decay and makes him choke on the horrendous stench. He's sent barreling backwards out the bathroom to escape the murder scene.

He slams his back up against the corridor's wall. "JESUS CHRIST! THAT'S A REAL BODY!" he screams at the top of his lungs, the echoes of his voice carried for miles throughout the crypt of Illinois. "I HAVE TO CALL THE POLICE!"

He starts racing out the tunnels as he gracelessly unpockets his cellphone. He gets one thumb mash away from dialing 911 before realizing something.

"Wait...if I call the cops on my phone...they'll know I was trespassing...I'd get sent to juvie!...I'll just have to go to the nearest pay-phone instead," he reluctantly relents, though he doesn't falter once in his sprint out the sunken network.

Noah runs and runs and runs, the boiler equipment mere grungy streaks in the corner of his eyes as he almost makes it to the exit.

That is, almost.

Chapter Text

A shadow explodes out from around the corner, nearly tackling the cameraboy as it seizes him. He screams and the camera goes flying, hitting the hard floor with a sound that makes you wince. From down here, you can from a wide angle as Noah is grappled by a figure from behind that tries viciously to blood-choke him. You also notice countless bloody footprints staining the concrete... He manages to wrestle out their grasp, but loses his balance and hits the floor right after, making his escape irrelevant. Now that they're no longer just a humanoid blur manhandling Noah, you get a better look at the tunnel-dwelling assailant, though there's not much to comment on, especially by the fantastical standards of this series. It's just some creep dressed up in all black: boots, gloves, cargo pants, and a coat with the hood thrown over a creepy rubber pig mask, so worn its pink latex is almost white.

As usual, the person maintains a curvaceous figure that throws all ambiguity of her gender out the window. Well, hey, they might be a trap. They reveal a Beretta M9 out from underneath their coat and aims it at what would be the camera's center, if it were still in Noah's possession. Just to prove the gun is loaded, the Pighead mashes down on the trigger and there's an earthshattering "BANG!" that would've blown the mic out had Noah not recently upgraded. The muzzle flash is blinding and the warning shot is so startling that Noah is glued to the floor and reduced a shaky mess, hitting the ground just as quickly as the spent shell casing. The Pighead unbuckles their belt and lets their fly plummet, soon followed by the pants to their knees as to expose their thick pallid thighs.

Oh, nope, definitely not a trap.

She buries her knees into the ground around Noah's waist and straddles him, fitting her pussy around his cock with one hand and holding a gun in his face with the other so he won't even think about moving a muscle, let alone resisting. Her ass starts using Noah's lap as a trampoline, giddily bouncing up and down whilst in the process getting rawdogged by a cock that erects on its own. You cringe at every second of this, as throughout the whole thing, the Pighead has her index finger wrapped around the trigger and the barrel pressed against Noah's temple. It's a wonder she doesn't blow Noah's brains out on accident, with how deep and frisky she's getting in her rape of him. It gets even worse when she stuffs his mouth with the slide, shutting him up as the cold black metal fills his cheeks. In the midst of the rape, another pair of boots stomp into the frame. It's a second Pighead with her arms crossed, simply enjoying the view just like you. She slips two hands into her waistband, the right to film the rape with her phone and the left to pleasure herself to it. The first Pighead unzips her hoodie to let her tits peek out so she can crane her head back and squeeze them in ecstasy as two orgasms go off in her bowels; one belonging to herself and the other belonging to Noah, spit leaking down his chin.

Her orgasm is as modest as possible; not a peep is heard from that freaky ass pig mask. Noah's is quiet too, only because he's sucking on a gun barrel. It hasn't even been a day and Noah has already failed No Nut November. After that, she finally stops stuffing the poor kid's face with the pistol, putting you at ease. Half the slide is so swathed with his spit you would be surprised if it even works anymore. The second masked attacker returns her phone to her pocket and withdraws her now soggy hand from her cargos. After rising and buckling her pants back up, now stained with all kinds of cum, the first Pighead grabs Noah by the collar then yanks him to his feet and shoves him into her counterpart in a single sweeping motion. His face lands in the cleavage of the second Pighead, who reveals a syringe that was hidden away in her sleeve. She brings the needle down on Noah's neck and sedates him into unconsciousness after a yelp of pain. The boy already melting into her arms, she drags him up onto her shoulder and begins carrying him away. Just before you think the camera will be left behind and the next ten minutes will just be the still frame of the tunnels, the other Pighead just barely notices it out the corner of her eye right before exits the shot. Her boots stomp into the foreground. She squats down and picks it up, holding it like she's about to take a selfie. After eyeing it with an unreadable expression, she takes it with her by tucking it into her coat, following her fellow thug to God knows where next.

The blackness of the coat's interior persists, interspliced with glitchy, VHS-like digital waves surfing and fidgeting across the screen. This goes on for a while, but the camera is finally able to settle on something as it buzzes back to life. In the center of the shot is Noah, deathly slump in an electric chair he's strapped to and in another rundown bathroom. The only difference from the last one is the lack of a rotting chained up corpse, and the fluorescent lighting is much dimmer, almost dying and flickering at times. Most horrifyingly, however, is the...thing on his face, but we'll get to that later.

To his side is an equipment cart tilted to an angle so both you and Noah, if he were awake, can see the screen of the old television box that sits atop it, plugged into the chipped tiled wall. It shudders on, quality terrible, but its contents are distinct enough for you to describe in detail. It's the headshot of a photorealistic female ventriloquist dummy painted snow white except for its eyes, which have big black circles around them that make its bright red irises pop out. Also bright red are the targets drawn on each of its cheeks, and curtaining the whole thing is an unkempt black mane. Then it starts talking. And that doesn't mean its blocky wooden jaw begins flapping up and down either, the woman emerges from her mannequin-like stillness to reveal she's a real person, just done up with makeup to look like a creepy puppet.

"Hello, Noah," her voice growls, artificially deepened by a voice changer. "I wanna play a game."

Chapter Text

Finally, let's get to Noah's new iron maiden-esque headgear. It's a helmet, you suppose, but it's more like a black hefty cage for his skull, the only part of his face left to see the light of day his eyes through a window as they flutter open.

"Unnmhh, mhm-...MHMMPH?!" he squeals, voice muffled by the smooth metal tightly choking his head.

Said eyes immediately go from lazy and slurred to almost popping out of his skull in fear upon realizing his grim situation. He thrashes against the leather restraints and screams at the top of his lungs for help, but it's all in vain thanks to the freakish mechanical contraption on his head.

"Calm down. I'll go easy on you. Most of my victims, I handpick, for the crimes that they've done, but you... I have to say, you're the first one who wandered into one of my deathtraps yourself. The smart thing to do would be to just kill you, since you found my hideout and know all too much about my...hobby. But that defies my code, so I'll at least give you a fighting chance."

"Mhm...MHM-MHMMHM?!" Noah screams, but this time you can kinda make it out. It sounds like he said...

"Jigsaw"...

"I'm glad my reputation precedes me. I never was good at introductions. At least, I assume you recognize me. You don't have the clearest of voices."

In the back of your head, you recognized her too. Noah hasn't been abducted by any old psycho this time. This episode it's a proper celebrity in the world of maniacs. One of the top fugitives on the FBI's most wanted list. The Jigsaw Killer, with a body-count of 60, soon to be 61...

"Mhm-mhm-mhm, mm hmph mm-mm-mmph mmph, MHPM MMN MHPH MNPH MHM MHMMHMH! MMHM MHMMHM MHMM!" he screams, sounding like something along the lines of "I swear I won't tell anyone".

"Only when you survive my game will I think you're worthy enough to walk with what you know. Don't fail me, Noah. For your sake."

The TV devolves into static and all Noah can do is miserably sob as he waits for whatever fresh Hell awaits him. You can hear a shutter door open off-screen. Noah's head snaps up at it, and immediately starts bawling at whatever enters. You hear three sets of footsteps behind you, two clearly made by ridged boots and one made by bare soles. You're scooped up off your mount, a tri-pod, and returned to the hands (and shaky wrists) of a Pighead. The new handheld camera angle lets you see that while Noah's top was kept on, he's completely naked from the waist down. To both the Pigheads' shoulders is the woman from the TV screen, dressed in nothing but a black bathrobe with red trimmings. Jigsaw creeps over to Noah and takes a seat in his lap like she's about to give him a lap dance, loosening the restraints that tie his wrists and ankles to the electric chair's arms and legs as she talks to him. The expensive black silk of her robe swoops around his naked legs and massages the skin.

"I hope my apprentices didn't rough you up too bad on the way over here...because you're going to need a lot of strength. Now let's play a game, big boy," her voice scrapes in his ear, with the Pighead filming them over her shoulder. "That machine on your head will pry your skull open in 180 seconds unless you loosen it with a key. Easy, right?... So where's the key?"

She grabs Noah's face and whispers deep in his ear.

"Inside me."

Jigsaw throws Noah out of the chair's pit and onto the floor. As he squirms on the cold tile in her shadow, she dramatically rips her robes away and reveals the milky white naked body underneath. She really went all out with the makeup. She made sure to fill in every last crease in her body, a body that's thick beyond any adjective. Bust and hips forty inches in circumference, if you had to guess. You know for certain that whatever that massive measurement is, her waist is only half of it. That temple of hulking beauty lowers down to straddle Noah, wrestling him on top of her. She laces all ten of her fingers through his and tightly holds his hands, bounding them together not just hand-in-hand, but dick-in-pussy.

"And don't even think about cheating," she warns.

Her threat is backed up when the other Pighead drags her jacket open, brandishing the pistol holstered in her panties' waistband and pulling the hammer back.

"My girls hate cheating. Now...Let the game begin."

The camerawoman mashes the thumb of her free hand down on a remote she had in her pocket, flicking the TV on and revealing an 180 second countdown. The second a number twitches, Noah rushes to fuck like he's never fucked before. No foreplay, no slow burn, no lube. Just straight to pounding Jigsaw's brains out in the missionary position, banging her like his life depended on it...Oh, wait.

"Ohh~...mnf~..." she moans modestly...at first.

For every second that counts down on the TV, Noah pours 3 messy balls-deep thrusts into his captor's pussy without a hint of dexterity or mercy, just raw fight-or-flight passion. Sweat starts trickling out of Jigsaw's pores, washing away her makeup and showing streams of peach skin underneath. The Pighead holding the camera makes sure to get the best angles possible, zooming in, out, crouching down, and doing slow thorough scans of the two love-birds from all sides, with the theatricality of a porn director. For all the shots she manages to pull off, however, very few of them manage to capture the countdown.

"Ohhh...yes...yes...Yes!" Jigsaw starts vocally unfurling. You're beginning to think it would be wise to turn down your volume...

Quite creepily, you can faintly hear some labored breathing in your ear, definitely Jigsaw's minion enjoying the show. It's strange seeing Noah get fucked so dynamically. Almost always, the camera is static and at a fortuitous angle, but now you get to see every inch of his and his "lover's" hot bods. The thunderclaps are headache-inducing, but even they don't drown out the 80 decibel howls of Jigsaw having the time of her life.

"YES-YES-YES, OHHHH!" she buries her unkempt black hair into the white tiles below as she cranes her head back.

For once, Noah's moans are drowned out by his partner's, though that might just be because he's essentially gagged by the tightness of the Reverse Beartrap. A high-velocity volcano of pussy juice erupts between Jigsaw's legs, and it's made even messier since Noah is balls deep, his dick trying and failing at plugging the leak. All he has to do is withdraw a couple inches and a silver key fires out atop a water spout like an exploding manhole. With quick reflexes Noah tries catching it mid-air but the thing is so damn slippery it pops right out his fist, landing on the edge of a nearby drain. Noah throws his arm out for it but the second his fingertip grazes his only chance at survival, Jigsaw grabs him by his collar and forces them nose-to-nose, yanking him away from the key and back into the proxy rape.

"Never. Stop. Fucking me," Jigsaw rasps in a tone split between begging and demanding, seizing Noah's wrists and locking him into round two.

It seems The Jigsaw Killer's so high on her own libido that she doesn't even care about her own rules anymore. As she grinds her hips with Noah's dick still slotted deep in her vagina, all he can do is stare at the key as it precariously totters back and forth between the bathroom and the drain like a seesaw, his survival chance hanging by a thread. If a fly landed on it, Noah's fate would be sealed. He tries screaming but it's all just muffles. He looks up at the TV screen, and the sight makes him whine like a baby. The camerawoman pans up to see what's finally broken his spirit.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

"OOooOH, GOD, IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN!" Jigsaw squeals, sounding like she almost fears the might of the climax over the horizon. "YES! YES! YEEESSSS!"

This video could've really used an earrape warning... Her whole body tenses up like a statue. The second orgasm racks her body so bad her bone-crushing grip on Noah's wrist is shaken. He's able to slip out thanks to the pouring sweat, swipe up the key, and pop it into his temple right as the clock hits "one". The Reverse Beartrap unlatches from his head and deactivates, since his brain isn't gutted when three big zeroes display on the screen. His relief sinks into a flustered, messy embarrassment however, when his dick starts uncontrollably spasming in Jigsaw's belly.

Looks like plowing his captor wasn't such a chore after all. His body shakes like a dog drying itself as he just barely has the strength to hold himself up. Meanwhile, the woman who was so desperate for a squirt she beartrapped a guy's head lies underneath him, in a puddle of sweated off makeup. She's half paintless from the neck down at this point, though most of the white on her face remains, keeping her identity a mystery. She slows her borderline hyperventilation down to mere strained breaths, and is just barely able to mutter out two more words before going limp.

"Game over."

The Pigheads seize Noah by his shoulders and heave Noah out of Jigsaw to reveal that his cock is still cramping and projecting cum like a flamethrower, far outracing Jigsaw's climax so her exterior is stained as well, replacing much of the white paint she sweat off. The Pigheads then drag Noah off like a couple bouncers, manhandling him out the bathroom and down a tunnel. There's little-to-no struggle from him, for he's crippled by the exhaustion of fucking a woman to two orgasms in only 3 minutes with the threat of a cruel and unusual death hanging over his head the whole time. The three emerge out through a cellar door and into a trashy, night-sunken back alley. Jigsaw's apprentices throw Noah onto the concrete. You can't imagine how cold he is. Half naked, on the freezing city floor, during a Midwestern November night. The Pighead gives the stolen camcorder one final scan before getting in a pitching position, aiming towards the ground.

Looks like she's about to dispose of the evidence.

In the span of a millisecond, Noah's dead, detached eyes fill up with a fiery fear as he scrambles forward in protest.

"Wait-Wait-WAIT, PLEASE N-!"

You're smashed to the concrete at the Pighead's feet, the last frame you see a mess of colorful corruption through a shattered lens before the camera shuts off for good, forcibly ending the recording.

Well, there goes Noah's second camera...

Chapter Text

The second the video begins, you notice that the resolution is a couple pixels smaller, Noah's voice sounds less crisp, and there's a big ugly crack running alongside the screen's upper-right. A very familiar crack...

"Well guys," Noah says with a sigh. You think this might be the first time he hasn't started a video with his signature catchphrase. "I've been away for a while. Almost 3 weeks, that must be...the longest hiatus yet! Half because we're on another vacation, the other because...well, this!" he whines, pointing at the crack and smudging the lens doing so. "This isn't the camera from last episode, that thing's PIECES! Thank God I was just barely able to salvage its memory card so it wasn't all for nothing...No, this is my old camera. The first one. It's been packed away for months, never thought I'd ever use it again, but my cheapskate parents won't buy me a new one this time! Said it's too close to Christmas and they already bought me a new one in October. Oh well. I think my cousin has one anyways, I'll try to borrow it from him when I can. For now, just try to ignore it. Anyways, with that out of the way, let's start over."

"Hey guys, Noah here!" There it is. "The whole family's spending the next few weeks in the Mountains for Thanksgiving and I just couldn't miss the chance to do a video on Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane!"

Noah takes a couple seconds to scan the facility's face as he shrinks in its hulking shadow amidst its swallow of the parking lot. The campus of a vast, castle-like hospital made up of several buildings, all composed of red brick and crowned by olive conical roofs. Even with the crappy camera, you actually feel like you're in the asylum's courtyard its presence is so powerful. There's just something about the way Noah holds a camera that makes the locations he explores feel so real, like VR. Only now do you realize it's not the camera, but the cameraman. Or rather, cameraboy.

"This place was shut down in the 70s when the patients went crazy and attacked the staff. Well, according to Wikipedia, anyways," Noah says a little more quietly as he begins his walk towards the asylum's main entrance, a couple of big security doors only a few notches of enforcement away from being straight up blast doors.

"Should I even bothering checking to see if it's locked?" he ponders aloud. "I guess it's tradition," he exhales as he approaches it to give it a tug. Nope. "Awesome..."

Noah circles around to one of the hips of the facility's Gothic architecture and tries a couple of the shrubbery-surrounded side doors, climbing over some railing to get there. But even those have been locked shut for decades.

"Crap..." he curses as he starts running out of options.

He takes a lot of steps back to get a wider look at the main building's outskirts and finds a tower of wooden scaffolding running up alongside its windows, traced by a variety of rusty red ladders. A construction site? Apparently this place was being renovated at the time of its closure, ironic.

"Guess this is my best bet," Noah moans before mounting one of the rungs and scaling the steeple of planks, strapping the camera around his head to do so. "I've never cared for heights..."

It's at this first-person angle you see that Noah's sleeves are rolled up all the way to his elbows. Upon reaching the top of the ladder, he tosses the camcorder up onto the next "floor" so his hands are free to seize the ledge and climb up onto it, heavy breath blowing out of Noah's mouth as he gets some unexpected exercise in. Now at the top of the scaffolding, our explorer still seems at a dead end. He might be up next to the windows but all of them are just as the doors: locked shut. That is, except for one. It's as wide open as its hinges allow, its curtains dancing in the cold breeze, almost as if they're beckoning Noah to enter. The only problem is that there's a 3 meter gap between it and Noah. He looks down and even you get vertigo. You're a whole two stories up, nothing but the rock hard pavement below.

"Oh man...sh-should I...try to make that jump?" Noah asks, his voice getting shaky. "I mean, I came all the way out here, it'd be such a waste to just give up now...Okay...Okay, I can do this!" Noah hypes himself up, shaking the chill off his heart rate and blood pressure.

He takes a couple steps back, the scaffolding creaking and wobbling beneath him. He takes one final gulp before sprinting straight forward and diving off the edge. The camera goes flying through the gaping window and tumbles onto the floor of Mount Massive. It'd be pitch black if it weren't for the moonlight pouring in through the window. You get a faraway shot of Noah's ten fingertips dug into the sill before he pulls himself up into the room with you, plopping down onto the beige carpeting with a hard thud. He pants and recomposes himself, brain surely buzzing wild with adrenaline, before he scrambles for the camera like a safety blanket.

"Jesus Christ...I am NEVER doing that again!" Noah pants as he walks over to the window. "Good thing I don't have to worry about breaking this camera anymore," he dryly quips while he's at it.

He glances down at the ground back outside and sees a flashlight lying atop the pavement.

"Ah crap, my flashlight must've fallen out my pocket! It better not be broken like the last one..." Man, BB was a bitch. "Good thing this camera has a night vision setting!"

The navy wash of the dark night becomes an emerald green, and as for the dark itself, it's almost flushed from existence so you can see that you and Noah have landed in a recreation room that was probably cozy...back in the day. Noah nabs the door knob that lies at the foot of the lounge, gives it a twist, and opens it. He's up on a hallway-like balcony wrapping all the way around a vast lobby, at the base of it the other side of the main entrance Noah tried opening earlier and in the center of it all a reception desk. He spends a couple seconds basking in an overhead view of the lobby before descending down a nearby rickety old staircase to get a closeup. Each step painfully creaks underneath his weight as he makes his way down to the main floor.

"You know, this place is looking pretty good for a building that hasn't been touched since the 70's," Noah notices.

Now that he mentions it, he's right. A hospital that's apparently been abandoned for over 40 years should be swamped with dust and riddled with decay. Yet the interior is as grand and pristine as its exterior, though the nooks and crannies are still badly maintained. It's like a beautiful person with bad acne.

"I heard that some mental health corporation, Murkoff I think it was, tried buying this place out for a reopening a couple of years ago, but obviously that fell through. Maybe that's why it looks renovated. It would sure explain that construction scaffold..." Noah's thought is interrupted when he catches a scent in the air, sniffing to trace it. "Ew, what's the smell? I can taste...metal..."

For every downwards step he takes, the louder a sharp buzzing gets in the background. Sounds like flies. Finally, Noah reaches the bottom of the stairwell, passing a gated door and turning the corner. He finds the source of the smell and the buzzing.

A pile of corpses.

Fresh corpses.

Chapter Text

In a great big puddle of blood, all dressed in riot gear and most of them fucking decapitated. Noah slaps his hand over his mouth and his cheeks puff up so much you can see his puckered lips hanging over your head. The stomach tension is lessened, however, when it turns one of the corpses isn't so dead after all.

A bloodied and battered woman dressed in the torn rags of black military clothing, gasping for breath and choking on her own blood like her lungs have been pierced by her jagged ribs. "They killed us!" she feverishly warns, holding her hand out for mercy. "They got out! The Variants! You can't fight them! You have to hide! You have to get the fuck out of this terrible place!"

"V-Variants?!" Noah backs away from the bloodbath in a mind-rending disgust and shock. "Oh my God, I-I'll... go get you some banda-!"

The soldier goes slump. Eyes wide, blood pouring out of her mouth. Dead.

"Holy crap...holy crap oh my GOD!" Noah panics, seeking shelter from the traumatizing crime scene by mindlessly running down the stairs into the basement, without light and flooded up to his ankles with water. "I THOUGHT THIS PLACE WAS ABANDONED! I have to call the cops!" he gulps, scrambling his phone out of his pocket.

Right before Noah dials the final digit in 911, a snarl painfully whispers down the corridor with an omnipresent, dreadful presence, alongside the tromping of boots and rattling of chains.

"Little pigs...little pigs...no more escape..."

A burly shadow is cast from around the corner, lumbering closer and closer. Sensing the death that nears, Noah reluctantly abandons the call and instead retreats to the nearest door, which happens to at the foot of a rickety wooden staircase. The room is dark and you hear a splash. Noah has to turn the night vision to reveal he's been chased into a basement flooded up to his ankles. Chains can be heard dragging down the staircase from above that pick up in pace upon noticing Noah. The two hefty combat boots relentlessly pursue the cameraboy through the halls of Mount Massive, forcing him deeper and deeper in the endless-seeming facility. Two sets of splashing footsteps rage from beneath you, in the blackened yet green-tinted bowels of a sprawling maze. The situation only becomes slightly easier to breathe in when Noah returns to the ground floor after bolting up another flight of stairs, though that also means he has more disemboweled corpses belonging to the medical and security staff to nearly trip over.

When he passes a directory sign that reads "PRISON BLOCK", the polished wood and carpeted architecture of the hotel-like Admin Block gradually transitions into dark cement and rusted jail bars. It's not very long until Noah's camcorder is out of his grasp once more as the second he steps foot into a cell block, another figure tears itself from the shadows and catches him by the back of his collar, which launches his camera straight out his hand, as well as his shoes straight off his feet, and safely onto the cushioned floor of a padded cell. She's a crazed-looking woman wearing a buzz-cut and an orange broken open straitjacket, likely another escaped "Variant".

"HEY! Where the fuck are you trying to go?!" she snarls right up in Noah's face, squeezing a blood-stained baton in her other fist.

"We have to contain it," scrapes that same echoey voice in the distant. "Can't let the contamination reach the local town..."

The Variant turns her head to the stomping chains once they get to loud and too near to ignore, and her sadistic scowl immediately dips to a terrified gawk.

"Oh God, no, not Walker...not her..."

She drops Noah right as she's snatched up by the throat by a six foot monster. Frozen in terror, all Noah can do is skitter into the corner of the cell with you and watch from the ground the silhouette of a bare-handed decapitation. You don't think you'll ever forget the sight of that poor Variant's tendons snapping one by one as her head is pried straight off her neck. The hulking shadowy shape admires the severed skull as its headless body crumbles to the floor with a wet thud. Then the brute drops her trophy upon noticing she's being watched by the cameraman.

"Little PIG!" she growls as she begins tromping right for him.

Upon finally entering the light cast by the cell's interior, this "Walker" woman looks like The Tank's mini-me. A hundred pounds lighter and a foot shorter, but still a superhuman beast with muscles that put most male bodybuilders to shame, showed off by her skimpy clothing of nothing but a pair of pants that barely fit. They even both have clouded eyes. Though her bottom is a pair of orange inmate cargo pants unlike The Tank's blue jeans, and she's in muddy black combat boots instead of barefoot. Her wrists and ankles are also shackled in manacles, and her cracked open face is mutilated into a gruesome Glasgow Smile. Her boots, face, and hands are all soaked in fresh blood, likely the same gore Noah got a strong whiff of when he stepped in that pile of corpses. With literally no where to run, cornered in a closet-sized cell, all Noah can do is scream and thrash as the alpha Variant punches her hand into his throat and wraps a fist around his neck, swooping him up in the air with such ease it implies he's as light as a feather. He kicks his feet like a dying insect and helplessly chokes on what could be his final breaths. But then, Walker's demonic glower slackens up into a face of sorrow and reluctance. She looks aside and sighs, as if it pains her to tear such a pathetic creature to shreds.

"I want to give you one last moment of pleasure before I make the pain stop," Walker raspily whispers into Noah's ear, with a lisp thanks to her messy Glasgow.

Instead of tearing his head off, Walker yanks the waistband of Noah's clothes down so they pool around one of his ankles, then turns around and fastens him to her posterior like a backpack. Then she gets down on her hands and knees, revealing her torn prison jeans are especially destructed on her rear. As a matter of fact, thanks to three huge gloriously-placed tears, her asscheeks are essentially dangling out of the tattered remains of her inmate jumpsuit, including the anus that lies in between. Due to clinging onto her back and being completely bottomless, Noah's little penis flops down onto her taint. The prison's top dog reaches her hand around to press down on it and pop it into her anus. It swells up inside her rectum and Noah starts hammering his balls up against her backside, spanking her with his scrotum and plowing her anally.

Walker lets stilted exclamations of pleasure escape her cracked lips. Rasps, gasps, and growling "fuck..."'s. Noah, propping himself up on her shoulders, is a lot more lighter-sounding and PG-rated in his sex dialogue, though much, much louder and less modest. He gives one final balls-deep thrust, letting every inch of him sit in Walker's anal canal for a couple seconds before withdrawing. Doing so releases a cascade of cum from her buttcheeks that's splattered down the thighs of her pants. Her loosened starfish breathes in and out with the rest of her, giving you a glimpse at the webbing of cum in her rectum every few seconds. Slicked with sweat, Noah smoothly slides off Walker's back and onto the white cushions of the padded cell. Mount Massive's nastiest inmate pulls herself to her feet and stands with Noah's head in between her legs.

"Don't worry, baby," her voice grinds out her throat. "You won't have to kill yourself."

All of a sudden she once again tears Noah from the ground to several feet in the air by his throat, this time with clear intentions on ripping him in half. He sends the tip of his foot flying into Walker's crotch with a bone-shattering crunch that makes you lock your knees. Her eyes go wide and Noah slips straight out of her choke. She plunges both of her hands into the lap's waistband of her prison pants and clutches her bruised groin, roaring in pain before the agony shifts to rage. Noah hurriedly grabs the camera by its strap and bolts. The chase from before resumes, but is ten times more intense now that you know Walker is pissed and psychotic beyond measure. It's shown in her speed alone, right on Noah's heels despite her clumsy lumbering size.

Noah slams the door shut behind him, and it's immediately met by 300 pounds slamming up against it. Walker starts bashing it down with her bare hands like a battering ram. Noah darts his head around the room, which turns out to be a kitchen, for an exit. There isn't one.

BASH!

One way in, one way out.

BASH!

A dead end.

All of a sudden, an empty and open dumbwaiter is lowered down a laundry chute-like elevator shaft built into the kitchen's wall. Just Noah's size.

"Who's down there? You're not one of them, are you?!" the well-adjusted voice of a normal-sounding female pants from over the intercom. Another survivor! From Noah's shoes, it must sounds like the voice of God himself. Or, herself. "Quick, get in the dumbwaiter if you want to live!"

BASH!

The door finally explodes into splinters under Walker's force and she bursts into the room with another roar. Noah follows the PA's orders without question, skittering up into the 2½ by 1½-foot elevator and smuggling himself within its snug confines. He's so tiny there's still enough elbow-room for him as the caged door shuts behind him and the dumbwaiter is shot up its shaft like a capsule in a pneumatic tube, leaving Walker several floors below in the dust. The food elevator comes to a screeching halt and finally reaches its destination. With Noah lured into her web, the intercom voice drops all pretenses of sanity.

"You made the right choice here, buddy!"

Chapter Text

Five knuckles smash into the camera and the two of you, connected by the camera strap, come chaotically tumbling out the dumbwaiter like a landslide. Out of the frying pan and into the fire...

"You must be exhausted," a sharp and haughty voice dances around Noah as he writhes dazed on the kitchen floor, nose broken and bloody.

Two bare feet slink to view, the legs they're connected to curtained by a blood-stained green apron. They crouch down so the woman they belong to lowers into the shot. She's ass naked aside from the smock as a couple of gorgeously plump breasts shamelessly hang out its window. Are clothes just hard to come by in this asylum or something? Her hair is a stringy mop of solid silver, which is quite the juxtaposition since the rest of her body is in its prime. Well, her face may not be, you're not sure, since the upper half is censored by a cracked pair of old timey bifocals and the lower half by a tattered surgical mask. She looks like a surgeon...a homeless one that lives in an alley.

"Let's take a break, huh, buddy?" She sounds like a slimy wall street yuppie. "The old two martini lunch, have a little confab," she teases all sing-songy as she wraps her arms around Noah and drags him up into the seat of a wheelchair.

"Heavier than you look!" she strains while seating him. "A little cardio wouldn't kill ya! Okay. Here we go."

You have to admit, she has so much superficial charm she already feels like your best friend. The camera slips his hand and lands in his lap. Right before Noah finally shakes out of his daze, it's too late. The "doctor" has already tied his wrists to the wheelchair's with a couple of tight leather straps, and slotted his feet into the two heel loops in the leg-rests.

"Arms and legs inside the car at all times," the bespectacled surgeon quips, giggling at her own stupid joke under her breath. "Oh, and, for future reference, name's Doctor Trager but you can call me Doc, or Rach. We'll get to introductions later, we're in for quite a ride."

She swoops out of sight behind Noah and begins wheeling him out the kitchen down a ragged and decayed mess hall. It feels like you're on a slow rollercoaster ride through this hellhole of a hospital. You can hear Noah weakly sobbing above you, tears plopping down onto his bare legs and sliding down all the way to his ankles.

"Please let me go, please let me go..." he sniffles so softly it's almost inaudible.

The three of you ride through another reception center, just as barren and rundown as the last. But this time, you hear...rain. And not just Noah's tears. Water pouring from gutters, drizzling from the sky, gusts of wind, thunder!

"You know, I love the mountain air up here at night," Doc reminisces, as always with a cheesy inflection. "You wanna head out, take a stroll? Go ahead, I'll wait here," she taunts with a condescending snarl in her voice as she gestures Noah towards...

A giant gaping door beautifully titled "EXIT". All Noah would have to do is walk a couple paces forward and this hell would be over. Shame he's quite literally wheelchair-bound.

"Go on, run free!" the doctor rubs it in. "I'm in no hurry!"

Upon realizing escape is right before his eyes, Noah's quiet sobs instantly escalate to wild bawling, trying to shoot out of the wheelchair and pry himself from its restraints.

"NO-NO! PLEASE! PLEASE LET ME GO! PLEEEASE!" Noah begs as he violently but uselessly squirms in the chair.

"No? Alright. Nose to the grindstone! I like that! Okay, then. Right this way," Trager mutters, sadistically dragging the wheelchair away from the exit and Noah with it, from his one chance at escape.

"NOOOO! NOOOOOO!"

"Heard you the first time, buddy!"

Instead, Trager wheels him into a small lift. Pretty much the king-sized version of that dumbwaiter. She parks Noah in the center while she tends to the control panel. The cage doors scrunch close and the elevator takes the video deeper into Mount Massive Asylum than you could ever imagine. From this angle, the heart of the shot is the doctor's heart-shaped bubble butt as it hangs from the back of her waist, and you almost get mesmerized by it as it gently jiggles along with the rattling of the lift's descent.

The extent of Trager's depravity is revealed once she and Noah reach their destined floor. The most hospital-looking part of the facility yet, called the "Female Ward" by a plaque you catch in the corner of your eye. It's a female ward, alright, with a woman chained to each and every one of its patient beds. Patients, inmates, doctors, nurses, guards, it doesn't matter. They're all women and they're all mutilated beyond repair. Eyes gouged out, tongues cut out, chests cut open and left out for the rats and flies to enjoy. But all alive. Alive, thrashing, and screaming, begging not for mercy, but for death.

Man, fuck this place.

"Shh! Shhhh!" shushes Trager to the loudest of her "patients" as they pass her. "You weren't putting that tongue to any use anyways!... Truth be told, I was just getting tired of licking my own stamps," she semi-jokingly whispers into Noah's ear to gross him out.

You can only assume his eyes are clenched as hard as they can as he desperately fills his mind with happy thoughts, trying to cognitively escape the worst situation he's gotten himself into yet. Two red tracks stain the vanilla-and-forest green checkered floor, trailing into a bathroom. The four-eyed lunatic almost perfectly traces them in her wheeling of Noah to her "operating theater", what first seems to be a black nothingness. You hear a switch click so some dying fluorescent lighting weakly flutters on, revealing a decrepit blood-splattered bathroom very similar to the one from last episode. Trager's personal torture cellar.

"Here we are then," Doc sighs as she feels up Noah to make him squirm, her perversion of a medical exam. "Thanks so much for coming by. We'll begin your consultation in a moment, I'll just need a second to wash up and...Oo!" she chirps as she notices the camcorder and scoops it up out of Noah's naked lap. "Home movies!"

She mounts it on the porcelain brim of the sink, making dramatic director-like gestures while assuring it's at the best angle to capture as much of the "physical" as possible. She at least has the decency to wash her blood-stained fingers under the faucet first.

"Now...Let's get to that check-up, shall we?"

She squats down in an Anaconda pose and pries her "buddy"'s thighs open like a bear-trap.

"Oh! Cute little thing, aren't you?" She teases. You hear her flick Noah's sensitive member and him shudder accordingly. "Bet you're a real devil with the ladies!"

She has no idea...

She snaps her mask off to denude her lush lips so they can paint Noah's ears and the nape of his neck with spit, slowly crawling up his body to do so. By the time she's done licking him like some sick sexual predator, she's sitting in his lap. She reaches her hand around and digs around in the dark pit between her ass and Noah's crotch, dragging his cock out and wedging it into the crevice of her buttcheeks. You can't even tell what hole she stuck it in, but whatever it is, it must feel like heaven on earth, because not even a minute into her working her hips, Noah's fingers and his toes all squeeze up into balls as he already disgorges a profuse amount of semen into her asscrack. Trager stops bouncing and glances back at the gooey mess dribbling down her legs with a frustrated glare in her eye.

"That's it?" she asks, disappointed. "Oh no no no, you are NOT getting off that easy, mister!" You're surprised it took this long for a girl to put her foot down with Noah's premature ejaculation problems.

She dismounts her captive and wheels him to a nearby ward, taking the camera with her.

"Think you can cum before I even get wet, unbelievable!" she grumbles.

Trager parks Noah behind the green curtains of a patient bed so they have privacy from all of her other victims and prisoners. She loosens the four restraints keeping him stuck in the wheelchair and flops down onto the mattress with a squeak. She lays out perfectly flat in her belly, which pops her ass out like she has two hills growing out her waist.

"Now fuck me again and do it right!"

You can see in Noah's eyes that he wants to make a break for it, and there's nothing stopping him. But of all the asses Noah has gawked at, squeezed, and fucked, Trager's is the incontestably best. Huge, taut, round, and so jiggly it's as if they're not even connected to her body. They're so gelatinous, they're jiggling even though she's laying completely still! The white moons hypnotize him and force him to abandon all logic and mount her like a dog. You don't blame him. He starts thrusting into her, but they are deep thrusts. He's arching his back rearward while arching his waist forward, jabbing her colon as deep as his small penis can possibly go. It seems Noah's gotten really good at this by now.

"Ohhh, shit..." Doc swears under her breath, surprised by Noah's evident experience.

The surgeon lays lazily out on the bed, but starts instinctively tensing up at all the brutal sensations invading her from behind. Even though he's doing her anally, Noah hits some real sensitive pit in her rectum, like a secondary G-spot. She fires up from the pleasure, hugging and clinging onto the first thing her hands find: an X-ray machine hanging from the ceiling. This unintentionally drags it down and turns it on, so you get a live infrared screening of what's going on in Trager's insides. She hops off the machine and instead desperately clenches the bedsheets. The grey outlines of their pelvises zealously frenching each other fills the radiograph's otherwise black void. Noah's penis saws back and forth in the woman's rectum, making its lining writhe and shudder.

"Yes...Yes! YES!" her moans pick up.

Buckets of white come pouring out the drab appendage parked in Trager's canal, completely flooding the bottom fourth of her intestinal tract with what looks like glue. Her fuck-buddy tries resting from the muscle-splitting cumshot, however the doctor barks "MORE!" and scares him into tirelessly continuing the plunges. He reluctantly does so, albeit much sloppier and weaker. All that ultimately matters, however, is how deep he goes. It's certainly enough to satisfy Rachael.

"MmmMMMM!" she tries muffling herself as her eyes go wide and a big stupid crooked grin can be seen piercing through her mask.

Noah seems to get a burst of second wind and starts pounding away with unrelenting masculinity again, getting faster and faster, stronger and stronger. From behind her glasses, Trager's eyes roll into the back of her head as the whole thing goes crimson red, with drool pouring out of her mask.

"YES YES YES, OHHH FUCK YEEEES!" she howls as a torrent of her own sexual juices is expelled from the tract beneath the one Noah flooded, spraying his balls down in a fiery squirt.

The wannabe surgeon buries her face into the pit of the bed, her back surging up and down from her heavy breath as it gradually slows down. Both pornstars are blood red, drenched in sweat, and practically hyperventilating. Noah withdraws, his cock completely cocooned in cum, and stumbles off the bed, almost losing his balance and tangling himself in all the surrounding life support equipment. After finally catching his breath, he notices that Rach seems completely incapacitated. Looks like he's finally earned his freedom. With every last hormone expelled from his body in that cyclonic climax, his libido no longer chains him to his mate and lets him escape. (does it even need to be said that he didn't forget the camera?). In a fever dreamish state, Noah drunkenly saunters through the halls of the Female Ward, on the verge of passing out from fatigue and stress. He's not out of the woods yet, however.

"FUCK!" a voice bellows in the distance so fiercely and abruptly it makes Noah physically jump. "FUCK, REALLY?!" Then you hear a growl of frustration. "If there is one thing, I CANNOT GODDAMNED STAND, IT'S A QUITTER! C'MON!"

The terrifying silhouette of an already-back-on-her-feet Trager rears around the corner, threateningly snapping a pair of gnarly-looking bone shears together. She breaks into a sprint towards Noah with speed like you wouldn't believe, her apron following her like a cape. Noah is just barely able to match her tempo.

"PLEEE-HEE-EEASE LEAVE ME ALOOONE!" he whines, just plain tired at this point of getting bullied by psychos.

Noah barrels through a wooden door and slams it shut behind him. It's a private patient room, with nothing but a couple cabinets and another bed. You can hear Trager's bare feet drumming closer and closer. Stood up against the wall, to the door's shoulder, is a metal storage locker. Through its rusty caged walls, you can see a couple hundred pounds worth of spare pipes. Thinking fast, Noah buries his shoulder into the locker's side and with all of his might starts pushing against it as hard as he can. He clenches his eyes and his face goes blood red with strain, hopelessly elbowing an immovable object. As least, for a weakling like him.

But by some miracle, he actually manages to shove the locker over just as Rach busts open the door, the blades of her scissors entering the room before she does. Bars and pipes clamorously spill out over the top and roll across the floor as the door is barricaded, trapping Trager's arm in the doorway and audibly breaking it. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream from the other side of the door and tears her limb back out the crack in the door, finally fucking off. Noah collapses to the floor, physically and emotionally spent. At last, he's escaped Doctor Trager...and cornered himself in a dead end.

"...Now what?" he pants.

Chapter Text

Just when you think the video will end right then and there, you both notice a glint in the darkness. The shine of an air vent cover! Noah tries prying it off with his bare hands, but that goes about as well as you'd expect. He sits in silence for a while, thinking...Then it hits him. He reaches down into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a handful of spare change. He plucks out a quarter and slots its edge into the grooved slit of one of the vent's screws. He twists and twists, managing to loosen the bolt so it clatters to the floor.

"Yes!"

He removes another bolt and the vent flops open, revealing the 6 by 12 inch duct it protected. Noah tosses the camera in so he can skitter up in after it. The audio immediately becomes metallic, echoey, and claustrophobic, which emphasizes the sounds of Noah crawling through the cramp steel channel in his belly.

"I've always wanted to do this..." he sighs as he mimics an action movie spy, or Gordon Freeman. Normally, it'd be with a childlike giddiness, but at this point, it's sarcastic, exhausted, and bitter.

He drags himself through the hot network of metal burrows, finally reaching the end of the line in the form of another vent cover. One that seals the duct up tight, with Noah in it. Alright, so he's in the duct...now how is he gonna get out? After registering the problem for a little while, he rolls over onto his back and manages to awkwardly twist himself the other way around with some impressive flexibility allowed only by his lithe figure so his feet are aimed at the vent. He stomps his bare sole down on the cover, sending a metal "CLANG!" to rattle throughout the entire vent.

"OW!" he cringes, cradling his bruised foot. "God, I wish I didn't lose my shoes! Alright..."

He revs up for another kick and lets it fly, this time managing to dent the slits and stifle his "ouch". He locks his soles together, pulls his knees to his chest like he's doing a yoga pose, and lets both his legs explode forward in a burst of might, finally knocking the vent cover clean off a couple of its bolts. It still dangles from the wall, pinned up by a single bolt, but Noah is able to drag himself out of the duct and into freedom nonetheless. His sore feet hit the rickety floorboards of what looks like an attic that been abandoned for decades. The kind of decay you were expecting going into this not-so abandoned asylum.

The camcorder's night vision automatically activates and fleshes out your surroundings. Creaky old wooden rafters hang over the cameraboy from above, and the attic is done up like a sweatshop, with all sorts of worktables and shelves draped with tailoring equipment that form a maze for Noah to navigate through. He deactivates the infrared filter once he steps into the naturally illuminated part of the block. Moonlight is cast through the boarded up windows, spotlighting the air made heavy by a cloud of dust, filthy air that makes Noah cough. Once more, a plaque nailed up on the wall reveals what part of the facility the video's filmed in now: The Vocational Block. Then the mic picks up the last thing you'd ever expect to hear in a macabre situation like this.

...

Singing.

"♪When I was a boy, my mother often said to me...Get married son and see...how...happy, you will be...♪"

It's a woman with a frankly gorgeous voice. Soft but strong, a perfect mezzo. Noah is entranced by the lovely acapella and starts hopefully following it, the eerie echoes getting louder every creaking step he takes.

"♪I've looked all over but no girlie can I find... Who seems to be just like the...little girl I have in mind... I will have to look around until the right one I have...found...♪"

Then she hits the chorus.

"♪I want a girl, just like the girl that married dear old Dad...She was a pearl, and the only girl that Daddy ever had...A good old fashioned girl with heart so true, one who loves nobody else but you...♪"

The singing sounds right around the corner...

"♪I want a girl, just like the girl that married dear old DAD!"

Noah is tackled from the shadows and a wet cloth cups around his mouth from behind like an oxygen mask. A powerful, tangy, intoxicating stench irradiates his nostrils at point blank range, and an armlock clasps around the upper part of his torso for added restraint.

"Fancy that sweet aroma, darling?" a perverted whisper slithers into his ear. "Because you're going to get a lot more of it soon."

His pupils, trembling and dilated, dart downwards and come to a crashing realization: what you both assumed to be chloroform is actually just the giant soggy stain of pussy juice on the Variant's white wadded underwear that she's leaked over him. Regardless, it works just the same and the forced panty-sniffing rolls Noah's eyes into the back of his head, knocking him out cold. He's been lured into the spider's web by a siren song, quite literally. And holding him in its arms is the Siren. A well-aged milf crossdressed and scantily clad in old rags stitched up to a handsome black-and-white tuxedo. She's dressed like...a groom. Half her scalp is buzz-cut, while the other holds luscious black bangs swooping over and hiding a face filled with brutal second-degree burn scarring that dents her beauty, running so deep her eyes are permanently bloodshot. Her sleeves are rolled up, her tired hands are masked by fingerless gloves, and a black bowtie bounces above the milk-laden bosom beneath her waistcoat.

She notices the camera hanging from his limp hands by its strap and gives it a demented smile, before cupping the lens and pausing the recording. It automatically resumes what could be hours later in a completely different setting. Still in the dusty, dilapidated remains of the Vocational Block, but in a workshop turned into some cellar-like butchery. You could tell a bloodbath happened here despite The Groom apparently doing her best at scrubbing all the stains out of the wood. Chains and meat hooks hang from the rafters, and buzzsaws and paper guillotines are scattered about, their blades dull from excessive usage. Noah is nowhere in sight. The shot is just The Groom tailoring some unfinished white dress into completion with a sewing machine as she hums "I Want a Girl", putting the Vocational Block's props to good use. You can hear the distinct moans of Noah from offscreen, probably awoken by the machine's obnoxious drilling.

"Oh good, you're awake!" The Groom chirps. You notice some kind of... weird Transatlantic accent in her voice, so she sounds like a 1950's radio host or something. An erotic one.

The crossdressing bride quickly abandons her tailoring to readjust the camera on Noah. He's laid out ass naked, his final article of clothing having finally bit the dust. That sweatshirt had a good run. Now all that remains is that silver cross necklace he always wears. His ankles and wrists are tied to the frame of a worktable. He immediately snaps out of his grogginess upon realizing he's chained up in some creepy serial killer's torture dungeon, and starts thrashing against the four black ropes. Color yourself surprised, but it doesn't succeed in even loosening the restraints. The Groom scurries over to his bedside like an attentive and caring nurse.

"Awfully sorry I had to be so...graceless, in my approach to seducing you but, to be frank, I haven't been so successful with love recently. Call me a hopeless romantic. Every woman I've come across so far only runs, and betrays, and breaks my heart...But those were whores. You aren't. I can see it in those big beautiful brown eyes of yours," she smiles, lightly caressing his face. "No, you're different, darling. You're the one. You're mine. Right?"

Not in the position to speak a single word that might agitate this unpredictable ticking time-bomb of a person, all Noah can say is "R-...Right!"

The Groom giggles and coos at his response as her hand moves down his naked body, creepily feeling him up.

"Not to boast, but I've laid with a great many of women. They were all just cheap sluts compared to your perfect body though," she says dreamily, getting lost in the canvas of Noah's moist, naked chest. "How lucky am I that my soulmate happens to be the most beautiful angel God ever sent?"

"W-...Woman?" Noah asks.

So now Noah's at the mercy of a schizophrenic lesbian. Lovely.

"Oh, don't be so humble, darling. You're not just a woman. No, you're the woman. Your eyebrows and cheekbones so thin, your lashes and lips so thick...Hell, you make me jealous...I wish I could be as soft as you..." her voice quivers with desire. "...Oh, forgive me, darling."

She takes off her black dress shorts so ravenously she almost rips them, and doesn't even bother with her boots. Too thirsty to merely admire Noah for another second longer, The Groom jumps onto the bed with him and straddles the boy as tightly as she can, hugging him close and deep. She grinds her waist back and forth, enticing his flaccid worm into an erection that swells right into her pussy. She works her waist up and down like pistons, but the brunt of her passion is focused on frenching Noah with zeal you've never seen before in your life. Her tongue invades his mouth and violently wrestles his, using his gums as the ring. Her eyes clench shut while his eyes nearly burst out of his skull, getting his entire soul manhandled by a single tiny muscle. Their lips finally unhitch, and it takes The Groom rising all the way up to her hands to snap the ensuing spit line, so she's on all fours.

"I just wanted to see your face again," The Groom's voice melts into her darling, explaining why she stopped making out with him. She certainly hasn't stopped humping him though.

Her mind gets lost in the ocean of emotion raging on Noah's face. His eyes jumping from wide, to crossed, to clenched. The sweat pouring from his temple, the blush scorching his cheeks, his jaw hanging open as wide as it'll go. The look on her face at the sight of her partner squealing is a textbook example of ecstasy. She fucks him so hard one of her tits slips out of the neckline of her vest, peeking out over the buttons and jiggling fiercely as it hangs over Noah's face. The Groom notices the breast bouncing up and down on her chest and squeezes it, pinching the quarter-sized nipple while she's at it. The malfunctioning camera's night vision mode glitches out and gives the sex session a unique filter that flickers on and off, back and forth. It doesn't last too long, thankfully.

"Don't be shy about the camera over there, darling," Noah's sweetheart tries to make conversation, strained by all the raging passion. "I just wanted to practice for when we record our- HONEYMOON!" she finally reaches her climax.

It's not as "no holds barred" as Trager's explosive squirt, for she is a lady and ladies don't raise their voices, but she can't help herself but whimper as she writhes awkwardly atop Noah for a couple of seconds, looking like she's got the worst stomach cramps ever. After recomposing herself, she inverts positions so Noah's face is completely stuffed with her large yet taut ass. His cock throbs atop his crotch in front of The Groom's face, darkened by the thick coat of pussy juice shining on it so brightly the camera gets minor lens flare. The lovey-dovey mental patient vanquishes it by biting down on Noah's dick in a deepthroat and slurping her own uterine nectar off his shaft. It takes a lot of effort to finally pry her lips off the base of his shaft with a plunger-sounding "POP!", and his boner jiggles like a doorstopper below her chin.

She pants with a look of finality in her face. "Phew...sorry about that, darling, I couldn't help myself! I'm only human, after all," she says, climbing back off of Noah so she can loosen his four restraints.

Greased by buckets of perspiration, he naturally slides off the makeshift bed and onto the floor, rubbing his bruised wrists. The Groom steps off screen for a few seconds and returns with a big beautiful bridal gown presented in her hands. Now that you think about it, it must be the one she was tailoring earlier. Just like her tux, the fact that it's homemade is clear, but you can't help but gawk at its immaculate pearly fibers and waterfall-like skirt. Even Noah is spellbound.

"What do you think? Divine, isn't it? I've been stitching this one for days!"

"It's...it's beautiful," Noah gasps sincerely.

"You don't know how much that means to me," The Groom closes her eyes and gets off on Noah's happiness. "Try it on, try it on!"

She unzips the back and holds it open. Genuinely enticed by the dress, despite the fact it's being offered to him by someone who roofied, tied up, and raped him, Noah nervously approaches and dips one of his feet in, then the other. The Groom pulls up and swathes the boy with the gown like a baby's bundle. You can just tell by looking at it that she used only the richest silk in the whole block.

"I hope you don't mind that I did your measurements in your sleep," she admits as she dresses her bride. "I was able to get it done so fast because I was already working on a size 8. As if God himself intended it..."

She zips it back up and swoops a wedding veil over his head, masking his face. The bodice squeezes his torso and proves to be a perfect fit, while the skirt sways beautifully from his waist down to his toes. The Groom nearly passes out at the sight of her creation.

"I-..." She's almost speechless. "An angel. You're an angel," she concludes matter-of-factly with tears in her eyes before embracing, groping, and smooching him under the veil.

She slips out of her boots and lowers down to the ground, the hug and kiss never once loosening. Her fiancé's bubbly asscheeks jiggle out once his skirt rides up far enough, so The Groom wraps her legs around his back and buries her heels into his butt for leverage, crossing her ankles. She digs five of her fingernails into the back of the boy's head and smothers his face into her beanbag-chair-like breasts, forcing him to bite down onto one of her nipples and start sucking like her nowhere-to-be-seen baby would. So much milk is rushed into his mouth at once that some of it escapes his ring-shaped lips and starts trickling down his chin. This "loving" choke around his whole body lets her puppet the rest of him effortlessly too, so she can force his body enter hers and start fucking in the missionary like there's no tomorrow. She takes a firm handful of the tit that's being slurped from and squeezes with all her might, sending a giant torrent of milk careening down Noah's throat; too much for him to handle. He pries his head out for a couple moments and coughs up a mouthful of thick milk, some of it even spewing out his nose in a fucked up bastardization of the old cliche.

"PLEASE STO-!" Noah gurgles as milk pours out of almost every hole in his face.

He's soon shut up, however, when his fiancée forces him to suckle from the other tit. And don't get distracted by all the breastfeeding, Noah is being forced to fuck her just as hard as he's forced to suck. His ass jiggles wildly as it's smashed again and again into The Groom's crotch, each thrust sounding louder and grosser than the last. Noah's head being thrashed back and forth swipes the veil back over his head, at the very least hiding his face from the shame. At around this time, another orgasm begins building in The Groom's loins, as signaled when her toes scrunch atop his waist and she stops looking in his eyes so she can bury the back of her head into the floorboards. Her legs start mashing down on her darling's waist even faster, and it's all climaxed by orgasms dueling inside her uterus. Once more, like the trooper she is, she's able to keep mostly quiet, so Noah's screechy cries are alone in their echo throughout the Vocational Block. Noah's wife-to-be cuddles with him on the fabric-ridden floor for the next couple minutes, both sweethearts too weak to move. The Groom gains her strength back first and uses it to continue molesting her bride after pulling her pants back up and putting her shoes back on.

"This little...quirk of yours works wonders in bed," The Groom compliments Noah's penis with a smile as she kitchy-kitchy-koos the shaft, playing with it like a dog. Her smile immediately dips with the next sentence. "But it's got to go. Futanari is so unladylike."

"WAIT, WHAT?!" Noah panics.

The Groom fetches a paper cutter that's within arm's reach and places the flat edge of its surface underneath her fiance's floppy junk like a platform. She grabs the blade's handle and revs it up for a chop. You wince and protect your own crotch instinctively at the sight of Noah's helpless dick about to get stomped on by the shine of a well-shone guillotine.

"I know, I know, it'll hurt, but it's best to just grin and bear it. Like ripping off a band-"

Noah kicks The Groom so hard in the head he breaks her nose and busts her lip, completely ruining her pretty little face.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU SICK FREAK!!!" Noah screeches as he skitters away from the paper cutter and into the corner, protecting his crotch as if it's his baby. That's the most foulmouthed thing you've ever heard Noah say.

The Groom clutches her face as it absolutely pours with blood from every orifice, taken aback her "darling's domestic abuse", as she probably sees it. Any trace of manners or composition drain from her broken mug as it lights up with a primal rage.

"YOU FILTHY SLUT, I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL RIP THE WOMB FROM YOUR ROTTEN GUTS!" she roars like a demon as she breaks the blade off the paper cutter and wields it akin to a machete.

Noah tumbles to his feet, almost tripping on the trims of his skirt as he rockets into a sprint. He has to pinch his gown and hold it up with his one free hand so his pattering feet don't get caught in the train. He looks behind him and sees The Groom in pursuit, following him with a queenly stride. You haven't been this scared of someone so slow since Halloween. Noah is chased through a gymnasium, and is caught so off guard by what it holds that he completely forgets he's running for his life for a couple seconds. Corpses. Dozens of them. Oh my God, there's so many...Fifty...seventy five...a hundred...All strung up from the gym's wooden trusses like skinned rabbits, their breasts, genitals, and faces mutilated down into bloody nubs. All of The Groom's divorcees... Noah's really stumbled upon one fucked up nutcase this time...

Slathered across the wall in blood are letters reading "L̘̖̩ͅO͈V̤̰͇͜E̞ ̢̥͕͟M͕A̝͟K͕̗͙͚ͅE̢̤̳S̝̱̞̬ ̡̖̬͟A̼̬̣̞͜ ͕͍̺H͚̟̗͖OŲ̜͙͕S̪͍͓̦E̡̮̩ ̧͚͈A̦͟͜ ̙̲̳H̡̯̺O̬̰M̱̬͙̪̩E̡̖̱̖".

In the background, you hear more music. Sounds like some old timey barbershop quartet crackling out an ancient phonograph. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the melody and lyrics as "I Want a Girl". In any other setting, it'd be cheerful and lively. But the nightmarish and sinister interior of the Vocational Block and the manic serial killer in hot pursuit twist the song into a surreal score for Noah's endless torment, rhythmically syncing up in some places. The Groom hunts Noah all throughout the attic's many studios, creepily strewn with mannequins draped with the unfinished prototypes of Noah's bridal gown. They get so deep in the forgotten block that Noah has to turn night-vision on just to see beyond 3 feet from his face.

"Darling!" The Groom soulfully pleads from behind. "...WHORE!" she whiplashes right back into psychosis within seconds.

The cameraboy sees the empty passageway of a pair of double doors torn clean off their hinges and makes a run for it. However, his toes just barely manage to stop on the dime of the doorway's ledge upon realizing it leads to an elevator shaft, claustrophobic in width but gigantic and fatal in height. Noah glances around and sees The Groom mere feet away. He looks back down at the bottomless pit below, realizing his only escape is a leap of faith. He braces himself by gulping and presumably closing his eyes.

"Wait...STOP! NO!!" you can hear The Groom in the background, begging her 'lover' not to jump.

Noah ignores her pleas and dives into the bowels of the chasm, screaming on the way down to finally escape all the domestic abuse.

"WE COULD'VE BEEN BEAUTIFUL!!!" is the last thing you and Noah hear echo down the shaft as the two of you are enveloped in black.

Chapter Text

On the way down, Noah's skirt gets caught on the crooked rung sticking out of a maintenance ladder. The gown is torn clean off his body, stifling his fall only for a second before his now naked husk is sent right back down into the abyss. Looks like Noah is just destined to never have clothes, apparently. You hear all sorts of racket. Noah colliding with something, sounds like rusty metal torn off its hinges...and there's of course always the sounds of the poor battered kid tumbling around and the camera with him. Noah's landed in another elevator, crashing through the roof's emergency hatch to get there. Despite his incredible luck that he was caught the soft carpeting of the elevator's floor, he still suffered a fall that would've killed him had his dress not gotten caught on that ladder. And the elevator is moving...

Downwards.

The ride lasts so long that by the end of it, there's not a doubt in your mind the lift has reached the bottom floor...the Admin Block! Mount Massive is only seven or so stories, after all...

Right?

Around the time the elevator reaches the end of the line, Noah squirms back into consciousness. He weakly writhes around on the floor, not seeming to have quite any broken bones but sure as hell sore all over. He rubs the places that hurt the worst, but doesn't have time to mend his injuries before realizing where the elevator has landed.

It's not the Admin Block.

It's a...tunnel. A tunnel screeching clinical fluorescence into your eyes, its barrel-shaped walls made of jagged, carved out ice. Built into the frost are air conditioners and blue piping, and the floor is white marble so polished and shiny it may as well be a mirror. It's like some...laboratory, sculpted out of the glacial caves hiding in the belly of Mount Massive. It's a complete juxtaposition from the rest of the asylum, hell it might not even be connected to the asylum aside from a flimsy elevator. Mount Massive was a dimly lit, dilapidated prison hoisted atop the second highest summit in the Rocky Mountains, this place is a blinding subterranean research facility of some sort, not unlike Site-19.

"No, no, NO-NO-NO-NO, WHAT IS THIS?!" Noah panics, and rightfully so.

First the Admin Block, then the Prison, then the Female Ward, then the Vocational Block, and now the Underground Lab. Noah snaps. He curls up in a ball in the corner and buries his head into his knees, bawling up a storm of exhaustion, frustration, and terror. Not even the Foundation was this bad... But then something enters the elevator with him. A black, ghastly gust swoops down through the service hatch from the shaft and exits the elevator, billowing away and into the Underground Lab like a cloud carried by the winds. Disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as it appeared. It looked like vague mist, but it was very dark and moved with sentience, like a swarm of black locusts. Noah didn't entirely notice it, since he was too busy having a mental breakdown, but the faint ghostly screeches of The Swarm were enough to perk him up. Or maybe he felt the presence itself, its cold, darkening aura. The atmosphere certainly did dip the second it manifested.

Beckoned by The Swarm, Noah slowly pulls himself together and ventures forward with the camera just out of sheer curiosity as to what lies beyond. It's not like he has anywhere else to go anyhow. He steps a single foot outside the elevator and immediately cringes as his sole is stung by the freezing marble floor, like hot lava. He sighs before trudging forward through the tunnel, shivering against the clinical coldness of the laboratory. He goes through the double doors The Swarm went through, beyond it a large lobby. Its surfaces are all pristine, yet completely smeared with giant streaks of blood. Yet another bloodbath. This one doesn't even seem like it was perpetrated by a human. For God's sake, there's bloodstains on the ceiling. Atop the receptionist desk is a blue Murkoff file bursting with papers. Noah opens it like it's gonna bite him or something, so at the center of the shot is one top secret government document of many.

"Murkoff Psy...Psychiatric Systems...Project...Wal-rider?" Noah awkwardly reads like a C-student in English class. He begins skimming it aloud, stumbling over a couple big words and having to sound a few of them out. "Experiment to manufacture a super-soldier...using Mount Massive Mental hospital as the laboratory and its patients as the test subjects...That must be what the Variants are!...The...Morph-o-gen-ic Engine...generates...sen-ti-ent nanite swarm...codenamed 'The Walrider'...needs host present to take physical shape...That big inmate that tried ripping my friggin' head off was talking about some contamination reaching the local town...and she seemed really hesitant to hurt me...I think she was trying to kill everyone so this Walrider thing wouldn't have anything to possess! Poor misguided girl..."

He continues after regaining his place. "Let's see...Warning! The Morpho-genic Engine also...precipitates low doses of radiation as a side effect. Uh oh! The concentrated frequency has little effect on estrogen, but is poisonous to male hormones and can...induce sterility! That explains why the staff and patients are all girls. I gotta get out of here before I get cancer or something!"

Noah politely returns the document to its rightful place and travels into the next room: a chamber of humbling scale, so big you can tell it was once a cavern now dug out by Murkoff and plastered with marble and metal. Noah is docked in a control room, with desks and computers surrounding him from all sides. The control room is actually more of a catwalk with yellow guardrails spectating from afar...It. The center of not only the shot, not only the room, not only the lab, but the center of everything. The Engine. A mechanical sphere the size of an entire building, suspended in the air by all sorts of giant tubes and wires running through the cave's walls it's hooked up to. It's as if Murkoff has kept one of Cybertron's moons chained up in their basement. It's surrounded by glass bubbles and mainframe computers showing off neuroimaging readings and writhing Rorschach patterns that gives Noah a migraine. You can't even begin to unpack what kind of fucked up human experimentation took place here, and you don't want to either. All you know is it must've turned Walker, Dr. Trager, The Groom, and all the other patients into the superhuman freaks they are now. The Variants. The presence dips again.

Everything becomes...darker. Something seizes Noah by his wrist and telekinetically body-slams him to the ground, taking the camera with him. Smashing into the hard rock floor does not do the barely functioning mess of a camcorder any favors. Its crack worsens and it starts glitching out, going into night vision mode. A green filter flushes the green, and finally, only through infrared light, can you see this otherworldly creature that's been terrorizing Noah and likely the whole asylum. The black cloud takes shape, its particles and molecules latching together to form a solid being. Well, kinda, it's more like an astral projection. It looks like a black mannequin, a humanoid with realistic contours and muscles aside from the complete lack of features on the head and genitals. Its build is much like Walker's: nearly two meters in height, at a physical peak, and with two small breasts, though at least Walker had nipples...This vaguely feminine apparition manhandles Noah with superhuman strength, dragging him across the floor, so clean it squeaks against his skin. The only reason you have the luxury of a close-up view for the whole thing is because Noah's fingers are tangled in the camera's strap.

He's thrown up entire yards into the air and hits the ground with another wince-inducing thud, the footage almost giving you motion sickness. At this point, his naked body is battered and bruised all over, so he doesn't even struggle when The Swarm takes shape as The Walrider, parking her buttcheeks on his chest and pinning him to the floor with her ass. Her smooth, featureless crotch stands over his neck and the cracked camera lens, and she dismissively looks down on the pathetic little thing between her thighs like the Goddess she is, crossing her legs in haughty fashion as she reckons what to do with Noah. Despite having no holes on her body, The Walrider still manages to figure out a way to get off using Noah as the toy. She elegantly lowers herself down onto a floating sitting position and grabs Noah's head, forcing him to go down in her...feet. His lips are forced onto the cuticles of her toes, having to kiss them and worship them to prove his submission to his new Goddess. His tongue has to trace the balls of her soles and the bottom of her heels, making her toes scrunch up at the wet cold tickling her soft sensitive soles. The spit painting her black skin makes it shine like leather as she moves Noah up to her ankles so he slurps and licks them like a couple of ice-cream cones.

Once both of feet are completely cat-cleaned, she descends down onto her back then encases Noah's cock with her silky smooth soles. She laces all of her fingers through her ten toes and gets a very firm grip on both of her feet, digging her nails into the four balls. Finally, she starts working her elbows and knees back and forth, pumping up against Noah's shaft so the squeeze of her now well-lubricated feet feel like a fleshlight. She forces him to fuck her glistening feet as the knees he sits upon wobble with a blissful weakness. Like with The Groom encounter, the camera's night vision mode starts glitching out again, flashing between green and normal. This time, however, whenever the night vision deactivates, it looks like Noah is fucking the air. The sheathe of his foreskin scrunches up and down his shaft like a pump, or a slinky, until three thick ropes of cum swirl out in between The Walrider's toes with volcanic velocity, dousing her entire body and a little bit of her "face" with white that looks even gooier when contrasted with her pitch black skin. The infrared switches off for a second and shows Noah's cum magically hanging in the air. Looks like the Morphogenic Engine had absolutely no effect on Noah at all. It was only cancerous towards testosterone...maybe he's so girly that the radiation couldn't even recognize him as a guy. Or maybe his nuts are so overactive not even radiation could exterminate all his sperm cells.

The Walrider swoops up into the air like a graceful swan behind Noah and buries his face into the floor, bending him over and sticking his ass up in the air. She spreads his cheeks as wide as they can go and starts evaporating, returning to a vaporous form. These smoky vapors are forcibly inhaled into Noah's asshole, filling his bloodstream with billions of nanites. Black veins start branching up his body as the science experiment gone wrong begins possessing him. Thinking fast, Noah seizes his dick, still having control of his left arm. He starts furiously masturbating his leftover boner whilst its veins go dark. A premature ejaculation saves his life when, in seconds, he expels the demon from his body out his dickhole. Man, this series is getting weird. The black gasses tumble across the ground and solidify into one pissed off Goddess, not happy about being rejected by her new host. The contours in her face squint and twist in rage before she lashes forward, half her body still not completely formed. What's felt like the millionth chase scene so far kicks the video's final stretch into high gear. Noah stampedes out the Engine room and through a hallway when all of a sudden, a plexiglass door slams shut in front of him.

Before the confusion and horror can even set in, he's sprayed down with a cloud of green gas, making him stumble around and cough. When the chemical bath finally relents, the door does as well, slotting right back open. Noah looks around in confusion and realizes the hallway is a quarantined airlock. The door behind him shut too, but didn't open, stranding The Walrider on the other side. She lashes out up against the see-through door, making Noah jump and smushing her tits up against the glass. She tries burying her nails into it as well, staring Noah down with a fiery but unreachable want. She silently pouts before turning around and dematerializing, evaporating back into a gaseous state. The fourth and final near-death encounter of the night is over with. With no where else to go, Noah wanders forward, into a massive but mostly empty military hanger, with nothing remaining but a couple catwalks and beige jeeps. But cast down on Noah is a gorgeous bath of golden sunshine leaking in through a crack in the hanger doors. He's frozen by the warm glow before rushing towards it like a child reuniting with its mother. He steps through the slightly agape doors and sure enough, it's morning. The sun rises over Mount Massive right as Noah steps his first foot outside the asylum all night. He's free. He's escaped. He collapses to his knees and sobs with joy.

"Yes...YES! Ohhh, thank GOD! Jesus Christ, thank GOD THAT'S OVER! IT'S...!" He manages to just stop another emotional explosion with a series of deep breaths to calm him down. "Okay...okay...That was the longest night of my life...Oh my God, that was the longest night of my life...There's not much battery left on this thing anyways...Christ...There's not much to say guys, I'm just...Gonna go rest for a while..."

"Later."

Chapter Text

The camera starts rolling and you immediately notice an uncracked lens and better quality. A shame too, you were just warming up to the old broken one.

"Hey guys, Noah here! We're still in the Rocky Mountains and I cannot get enough of them! They're just so beautiful..." he gets locked in a trance where he wistfully scans the outline of the Rockies, silhouetted by the setting sun in the background.

"Man... so anyways, my cousins and I are on a weekend camping trip near Oakside, a national park that was shut down a couple years ago. Back in its heyday, it was chock-full of "Slender Woman Sightings". Remember the Slender Woman? Back in, what, 2013, 2014, she was allegedly spotted all around the Great Lake region. That Creepypasta scared the heck out of me as a kid! I lost a lot of sleep over The Operator...Anyways, I was hesitant to come out here because I couldn't imagine a bunch of trees being all that creepy. But lucky for me, Oakside Park is also home to the Kullman Mines! Every urban explorer needs their own obligatory mine shaft episode. There's nothing terribly interesting about this place, but c'mon, it's an abandoned mine, I'm sure it'll be all sorts of scary! Oh and, if you saw last week's video you'd know I was stuck with a crappy camera. Thankfully, one of my cousins was cool and let me borrow his!"

Noah defocuses from the mountains in the distance and takes you into the foreground; a forest, which he starts hiking through by climbing up a hill. He looks down at the soil to show how bustling it is with tall, dark grass almost reaching his knees and blowing in the gentle wind. The camera pans back up, and now he's standing before a rather generic black building, with a gigantic open entrance, like hanger doors. The second Noah steps foot in the mine, the sun sets, so only black surrounds him from all sides. No turning back now... He flicks on his flashlight to show that the entrance is a huge hallway with the dimensions of a whole auditorium.

Everywhere you look, it's just grimy stone, and Noah has to snake his way through an obstacle course of giant steel shipping containers, each painted maroon to at least provide some color, before ending up in a locker room. He passes a bulletin board and almost skips over it, but does a double take when he notices something...unusual pinned up on it. A piece of loose leaf paper torn straight from a notebook, wrinkled and so completely consumed by a creamy discolored stain that it looks like it's been dunked in water and left out to dry. Loudly scratched down across the paper with a black pen reads:

"A̴LW҉AY̶S ͡ẀA̢TCH̶E͡S̵ -́ NO̶ ͜ÉY͝E͟S͏"

"WATCHES" and "NO EYES" are violently underlined, and in the middle of the paper is a circle with two X's, almost like...a face.

"Hang on a minute," Noah says, snatching the paper down off its pin for a close-up. "What the heck is this? Yeah, that's totally not creepy at all," he snarks. "Not sure what to make of this...I'll...hang onto this...I guess..." Noah says, hamburger folding the sheet of paper and slipping it into his pocket. "Oh, what?!" he gets defensive. "It's not like anyone's using it now!"

He steps back out of the workers's room and into the rest of the mine shaft. Noah shrinks down in the ocean-like might of the industrial facility's atrium, something you'd assume to be a hundred miles underground if you didn't know any better. From its floors to its walls, it's all made of old cracked concrete. You'd bet the ceiling is to, but you can't tell from all the way down here, thanks to the bulky metal rafters supporting it. Below those rafters is an entire second floor hanging over your head in the form of catwalk bridges. As for "decoration", the mines are done up like a warehouse.

More cargo containers and forklifts carrying wooden pallets, and when Noah steps out of the main hall into a maze of corridors in the outskirts, cardboard box and wooden crate forts caged by metal fencing. Lockers and air ducts line the walls, and one of them is vandalized with some kind of scratchy graffiti. The symbol is an X'd out circle; looks to be drawn with black chalk. It blends in with the dark so well that Noah misses it and continues forward. He passes a handful of the old yellow generators that once powered the facility, each still glowing with red, just about the only thing to burn through all the darkness aside from Noah's light. Speaking of that light, it then falls upon something nailed to the wall. Another page.

"L̡E̶AV̵E ́ME ̴AĹO͡NE͜"

"...Another one?" Noah asks, snatching that one down too. "Man...Maybe one of the workers went crazy down here or something. Miners have it rough, dude. This place is cool to do a 10 minute tour of, but imagine slaving down here all day every day. I'd go nuts in a week!"

All of a sudden, some heavy pitter-patter is thrown down the hallway in an echo. Noah instantly snaps everything towards the direction of the noise: his head, the light, the camera. Noah freezes in that pose, with a terrifying silence washing over everything. Eyes wide, all he can do is matter-of-factly mutter something.

"There's someone in here..."

Chapter Text

More rapid footsteps, which Noah once again catches with the beam of his light. This time he's even faster, and catches a split second glimpse at some black silhouette darting around the corner.

"Hello?!" he shouts, voice shaking. "Who's there?!"

No response.

Another volley of footsteps, in your other ear. This time, a sheet of paper flies off the shadow before it disappears. Noah jumps to chase after it but is too distracted by the sheet it left behind to pursue. He crouches down to scoop the dirty page off the floor and use his torch as a nightlight to read it.

"H͘͜É̶L̡͡P̕ M̛E̶̸͘," Noah reads aloud before folding the third page away.

Once the creepy patter stops, Noah takes a couple slow and careful steps back before making a break for the exit, thankfully having not gotten too deep in the mines to get lost. However, he slips on something and hits the hard floor with a fall that nearly knocks him out. He writhes around on the concrete, groaning in pain. He shines his flashlight down by his sneakers to see what he slipped on.

Another page. This one is stained by his dirty shoeprint and reads:

"NO ̴NO NO ̷ŅO҉ ͘N͠O̡ ̧NO N̡Ò ŃO͝ NO̕ N͞O̸ ͜NO̡ N̸O"

Noah sits up so he can reach for the paper and put it with the rest, in his pocket. It's almost like he's...addicted, to collecting them. Like some unseen force is compelling him. Before he can even stand up straight, the footsteps fill the ambiance again, going from faint and distant to right up in your ears in a second. He's tackled right back down to the floor, pounced on by a shadow. Wouldn't be the first time. It fills the whole shot in a close-up, so it can be described in excruciating detail. It's all swathed in a white sweatshirt, with the hood drawn over its head. A blank plastic mask with three holes, much like the Marionette's, lurks in the shadows of the hood, curtained by strings of black hair spilling out from the unseen scalp. The arms and trunk of the hoodie are dyed with bloodstains, and you mistake their hands for red gloves at first. Dark worn jeans straddle Noah's thighs and keeps him nice and tight in the mine-dweller's grasp. The Chaser's build is small and lithe, but just enough to keep Noah pinned. Their breath rattles, shivers, and rasps, sounding less like a human and more like a sick, rabid animal, and their black gaping eyes stare down into Noah's soul as their dried crimson fingers gently run up his cheek.

The Chaser bends backwards to dig around in the seat of her jeans and give herself a wedgie so hard she rips her panties straight out of her buttcrack. They're utterly sopping with an excessive, almost inhuman amount of pussy juice. Not a single fiber of the drably-colored cotton is spared from the soak. She gets down on her knees and straddles Noah, fastening the lingerie around his head like a wet muzzle, leaving nothing but his two wide-open eyes uncovered. You can faintly see his mouth through the fabric trying to scream, but it all comes out as a muffle since it's hugging his face so tight. She wiggles both their pants down off their thighs and starts raping Noah in the cowgirl position, pinning his wrists to the ground so any form of resistance is impossible. You can hear the muscles in her wet vagina stretching and crackling as Noah's cock expands and delves into it. Even though her bounces start off as gentle, her cheeks still jiggle furiously as they kiss Noah's bare thighs. The kisses become slaps, however, then straight up slams when it doesn't take long for her riding to ramp up into overdrive. The demented and perverted rasps from before return, this time to fill the entire Kullman Mines with her adrenalized and lascivious echoes.

You close your eyes and can just hear imminent orgasm in the stilted snivels of The Chaser's voice. Her sore, child-bearing hips slow down to a crawl, but she doesn't stop to cuddle with him, dutifully withdrawing once the deed is done. Noah's deadening member slips out of her pussy and hits the ground with a wet splat, making a puddle of cum. So Noah came too; you didn't even know. Usually you have the unmissable indication of his girly shrieks. She takes a folded-up fifth page out of her hoodie pocket and slides it into the waistband of Noah's underwear like a wad of cash for a stripper. Then she scampers off into the darkness, akin to a cockroach retreating from light. Noah peels the soggy lingerie off his face and takes a huge inhale, followed by a small coughing fit. He buries his shiny, dripping head into the back of his elbow and dries himself off with his sweater sleeve. After steadying his breath, the boy plucks the crumbly paper out of his tighty whities and unfolds it with the jerk of his wrists.

"D̵O͜N'͜T͜ ͜L͏ÓÓK͞...̢O͜R͡ SH̕E̶ ̵TAK̷ES ̕YO̴U"

Chapter Text

He slips the page back into his waistband, which he then pulls back up to his midriff whilst similarly pulling himself back to his feet. Noah backtracks out the mines, but rather at a slow and investigative pace like before, now at a fiery and disorienting one. Outside isn't much better; it's just as dark thanks to the recently set sun. Trees encompass Noah as far as the eye can see, hundreds of them, thousands of them. During the day, this would be just another typical Rocky Mountain tourist attraction. But with nothing but the moon to provide any morsel of light, it's all just a bewildering maze your host instantly loses himself in. No matter where he turns, everything looks the same. This is supposed to be a park, isn't it? Where's the visitor center? The tents?! The directories?! He sinks down into the sea of leaves, sticks, and grass to hopelessly weep, broken by the unforgiving scale of nature and the traumatizing encounter in the mines.

But something manages to perk him up.

Another page.

Nailed up onto the bark of a tree trunk, a sixth page.

"CAN̢'͢T́ RUN̛"

He wipes his tear-drenched face with his sleeve and drags himself up off the ground to rip the sheet off its pin and pocket it.

"I have an urge to collect these pages," he admits, sounding like he's dead inside, in some depressed or tired trance. "...I don't know why..."

Twigs and pebbles crunch beneath the soles of his tennis shoes as Noah aimlessly hikes through the forest. Crickets chirp and cicadas drone. The ray of his flashlight washes up across the patches of grass and tree trunks, filling the void with at least some imagery, no matter how minimalist. He huffs and swallows nervously, a thick paranoia hanging over his head that carries over to you. There's something in these woods...You can feel it lurching in your gut. For minutes on end, all you see are black, green, and navy, but off in the distance, over a hill, you spot a baby blue porta-potty stood erected in the woods. Noah jogs over to it, making the grass blades crunch faster and louder against his ankles, and it brings him closer to a seventh page. The camera focuses along with Noah's eyes so its creepy, vague, and ominous saying can be read.

"FOLL̷OWS"

He plucks it from the nail drilled into its forehead and continues his unsettlingly silent trudge towards, hopefully, the park's exit. In the background, along the treeline, you catch a glimpse at a tall and lanky silhouette, so tall and lanky in fact it almost looks like a tree itself. A blank whiteness burns through the fog of black, but Noah doesn't notice so you don't get a good look. Normally you'd mark it off as nothing, but this time... He stumbles across a disembodied tunnel, in the middle of nowhere. The boy wanders in and it seems to stretch for forever, but his light just barely manages to catch the crumpled edge of another page, this one on the ground. He ventures into the dark and claustrophobic underpass to fetch it, and only when you see it close up do you realize it's actually connected to a journal, both its covers solid black. Noah scoops the book from up off the ground, and each and every page is torn straight out the spine. Except for one.

Unlike all the other previous pages he's collected, this one has no words. It's instead just a scratchy doodle of a faceless female stick figure blending into a forest's trees. T̢h͟e ͏S̢le͏nde͟r ̢W̴òma͞n͡... Now, eight pages fill Noah's pants, and he's seemed to have found the source of all these weird notes scattered about: some crazy person's diary. With the scariest scavenger hunt of his life apparently over with, Noah continues onward down the tunnel. Just before he can reach the other side, the footage becomes corrupted. The screen starts thrashing and wobbling around in the raging tides of a static storm and the RGB layers begins splitting to nauseating extremes.

"Hang on, is this thing glitching out?" Noah notices. So it's not the footage that's corrupted, it's the camera itself... "Oh Gosh dang it! I knew my cousin would've cheaped out...I just can't seem to get away from scuffed equipment!"

As he inspects the busted thing, he happens to turn the camcorder to a headshot perspective, the first time you've seen his face all video.

The digital interference relents so you can get a clear image of him. Blood is pouring from his nostrils. He finally feels the cold wetness stinging his lips and dabs them so he can see the red for himself, staining a couple of his fingertips.

"...That's weird...I don't feel all that horny right now..."

That changes when Noah turns around. The fright of seeing what's behind him tears the camera, now all of a sudden screeching and blaring with distortion, out his hands and to the ground. For once, one of Noah's camcorders gets a soft landing in all the straw. From a worm's eye view, with blades of grass looming in the foreground, you shrink in the might of a female mannequin, chalk white and completely featureless. The Walrider's albino sister, maybe? She towers over the cameraboy by an entire foot, and you can see her marble-sized nipples peeking out her skintight blazer. Despite being such a freak of nature, the most inhuman thing about the Slender Woman is her impossibly narrow, razor-thin waist.

That, coupled with her exaggerated 30 pound bosom (red tie almost sinking into her massive cleavage), means she shouldn't even be standing right now. She really lives up to her name. You can hear the cashmere fibers of her black skirted business suit wheezing and straining from here as they can barely hold her wide hips, bubbly assets, and milky thighs as thick as the tree trunks encircling her. Her feet are tipped with classy high-heels and her hands are masked with leather gloves, both sharing a shiny sheen. And as if she couldn't get anymore otherworldly, six black slimy tendrils entire meters in length sprout from the Slender Woman's back like branches on a tree. Four of them seize Noah's ankles and wrists and eagle-spreads him up in the air as if he's to be drawn and quartered, and the fifth coils around the lower half of his face to silence his cries.

You wonder what the sixth tentacle is for...

It violently reaches into Noah's taint with the velocity of a fire-hose. Completely bound and gagged, the only thing he has to emote with are his eyes, wide and bloodshot as a snake the girth of a firewood log pumps into his rectum. Meanwhile, a feral figure foaming at the mouth shambles out the shadows cast by the many trees. It's The Chaser, the one from the mines. Working with the Slender Woman as some sort of proxy, she swallows the head of Noah's cock, uncontrollably bloated into an erection, through the mouth-hole of her mask. She doesn't even have to crouch down since Noah is suspended so far up in the air. The Operator assists her minion in the genital stimulation by giving him a reacharound with her cold, shiny glove, groping his balls and wagging her fingers across the trunk of his shaft. All throughout the threesome, the footage jerks and glitches and skips ahead, as if the Slender Woman's otherworldly presence is scrambling the camera. The sharp tip of her tail cocoons Noah's prostate and starts relentlessly tugging on it so hard that you can see a walnut-sized bulge trying to burst out his perineum like a tumor. You couldn't fathom in a million years the sensations Noah is feeling right now. Completely naked and helpless, all joints bounded and gagged by the unbreakable lock of the Slender Woman's tendril, genitals getting mangled by two separate pleasures and rectum by a third. It makes for the second biggest cumshot in the Creepy Exploration series by far.

Cum gushes out all three of The Chaser's mask-holes and she stumbles back, blinded and choking. Noah busted a nut so hard it was essentially a self defense mechanism, like an octopus squirting gallons of ink. The cum of Noah's cock continues relentlessly spraying her hoodie down from several feet away, and that's just the half of it. The Slender Woman withdraws the sixth tentacle so you can see another thick milky substance gushing out of another one of Noah's holes. Alkaline fluid, pouring just as profusely out his buttcheeks as the cum from his tip. Never have you ever imagined you'd see a boy cumming buckets from his rectum. The two torrents finally stop and reduce to a meek trickle from his anus and urethra. The rest of The Operator's tendrils reel back in, dropping Noah to the floor in carpet-sized puddle of semen and prostate secretion soaking into the grass. The Chaser loosens her mask for a second so the remaining bucket of cum he shot in her face can fall to the ground, and you get a quick glimpse at the damp and succulent lips that were just snacking on Noah's cock. She begins walking towards her prey as he wallows on the ground in the overwhelming afterglow, still hungry to make him suffer with relentless sex. However, the video shorts out again and once the static flees, the Slender Woman is towering over her proxy's shoulder, gently placing her hand upon it.

This stops The Chaser dead in her tracks and calls her off like the tethered dog she is. She looks at her master with an unreadable scowl before the two of them are swallowed by Oakside's darkness, never to be seen again. You can see Noah's defiled asshole gradually shrink back to its normal size with his dick, the starfish-shaped orifice surging in and out in sync with his labored breaths as it continues to dribble with milk. The breaths stifle and choke, and Noah begins writhing and gasping. He struggles around on the ground for breath. Something's wrong...He helplessly scrambles around the back-pocket of his pants, still slump around his knees, and pulls out an...inhaler. He plugs his mouth with its nozzle and mashes down on the canister, flushing his respiratory system out with decongestant that saves his life. You didn't know Noah had asthma...It's a miracle that with all the times he's had to run for his life and get his brains fucked out, that this is the first time he's been pushed to an asthma attack. This encounter must've been on a whole other level. Relieved, he goes slump back on the ground, completely laid out on the dirty forest floor, dead still aside from his writhing chest. All he can muster is a weak peace symbol as his way of signing off from this awful, awful camping trip vlog. The video ends at exactly 17 minutes.

Chapter Text

"Hey guys, Noah here! Day three in the mountains," he narrates dramatically. "...But not the Rockies this time! No, now we're in the Arklay Mountains! And what are the Arklays most known for?..."

Noah zooms out and does a swerving scan of his surroundings. The dark slums of a city, newspapers swept across the asphalt by a cold breeze and car pile-ups clogging the streets. The setting of a post-apocalyptic-seeming downtown calls all the way back to the Mercy Hospital episode.

"Raccoon City, Home of Umbrella...In case you don't know, it was victim to a HUGE zombie outbreak back in 1998. That's before I was even born! And it was even worse than the Green Flu! Unlike Fairfield, Raccoon City never even remotely recovered. It's a complete ghost town, even twenty years later. Now, I am NOT attempting to explore another whole town again! You remember how Silent Hill went. No, for now," he pans to the center. "We're just sticking to the police station."

Beyond the gate he stands before is a wide, four-story building crowned by a clock tower, patriotic flags, and a sign reading:

"R.P.D.
RACCOON POLICE"

"This place was considered the safe haven during the outbreak. But even it was overrun, just like everything else...Those poor people. It might've been a long time ago but never forget the one hundred thousand Raccoon City residents that lost their lives to this tragedy."

After the moment of silence, Noah opens the creaky gate and takes a slow, tension-building walk down the entrance aisle. He grabs one of the double doors' handles and gives it a shove, but it doesn't budge. He pushes harder, and it opens a crack. It's not locked; something must be forced up against it.

"Barricaded...I think I can get it though. Hrrghhh!" he strains as he buries himself into the door and pushes with all of his might.

Surprising for a weakling such as Noah, he actually does manage to topple the obstructions through sheer stubbornness and willpower, dramatically flying into the Raccoon City Police Station. Noah shrinks in the presence a grand and vast chamber, made of sheened marble and worn concrete. A second floor, constructed entirely of wood, hangs over Noah like a trio of balconies, looking down on the main desk and garish decorative fountain in the center of the room, with a stone woman stood atop its podium. The cameraboy looks down and realizes he's standing upon the R.P.D.'s gigantic coat of arms stamped across the floor. Noah has entered the Main Hall.

"Whoa," the boy is taken aback by the building's gaudy scale. "This was a police station? It's more like a mansion! You know, coincidentally enough, I read somewhere that this place used to be a museum. So I guess it's used to tours!"

Most of the doors are long barricaded by desks and filing cabinets, so his only option is going up a ramp and entering the East Wing of the complex. His flashlight stretches down a long and dark hall, and he follows his beam down to the nearest door, into an office. The desks, some missing, are still strewn with mountains of police paperwork. Weird seeing an office with no computers, but remember; this is from 1998. Windows peer out into the cold windy streets of Raccoon City, blinds either mangled or boarded up. Yep, this looks like a zombie apocalypse holdout, alright. Out of the corner of the camera's eye is a glint, which Noah notices too and focuses on. It's a badge, a distinctly lurid one, hidden in a half-open desk drawer. Noah inspects it.

"S.T.A.R.S"

"Holy crap! A S.T.A.R.S. badge!" Noah geeks out as the tactical ornament gleams in his hands. "S.T.A.R.S. was this awesome law enforcement unit exclusive to the RPD! They were like SWAT but even cooler! They're long defunct now though. But this badge must be worth thousands! It's like an antique! This is going straight to eBay," he mutters cockily, clipping it to his waistband.

Throughout this S.T.A.R.S. rant, Noah has been exploring the rest of the building, squeezing through the cracks in barricades and other obstacles to better navigate the former museum. He descends down a flight of wooden stairs and into a darker, basement-like part of the station. He tries the first door he sees, and enters a very cramp and simple room that resembles a cell. Just a table, a chair, and a large window. Noah tries seeing what's on the other side, but it's one-way; all he sees is his reflection.

"Oh cool! This must be the interrogation room. You know, my dad used to be a cop, and he always said tha-JESUS CHRIST!"

Chapter Text

A red blur crashes through the window with the firepower of a cannonball, sending a hurricane of jagged glass everywhere and your heart exploding out your chest. You can't even imagine how bad it must've scared poor Noah, though you get a pretty good idea. He's on the floor, frozen, shivering, and weeping like he's lost in a blizzard. The crimson haze that barreled through the observation window reveals itself. It's a couple of beefy humanoids with hunched, animalistic postures. They look like humans...but flayed alive. Skin cleanly picked from their muscles, leaving just the thick scarlet meat underneath. Their jagged, mutated bones are sprouting out of all twenty of their nails like talons, and their brains have swelled so badly they've burst clean out their skulls, destroying their eyes and leaving just their mouths. Two unhinged, Cheshire-like maws lined with barbed teeth and filled by foot-long prehensile tongues, much like the Smoker's or the Molded. As a matter of fact, these nightmarish mutants look like the Carnage to the Molded's Venom.

They get down on all fours and snarl and hiss as they cautiously investigate Noah like a couple of wild dogs, probing his body with their mouths. Their seemingly endless tongues slip into his clothes like tentacles. Into the neckline, waistline, and cuffs of his shirt, and up under the waistband and pantlegs of his loose-fitting trousers. He tries to remain as quiet and still as possible as to not alert the Lickers, but can't help but whimper and squirm as two tongues fill up underneath his clothing. They finally relent, reeling their fleshy probes back into their mouths. One of them grabs Noah by the ankles so she can whip off his pants like in a tablecloth trick, stripping him down to his underwear, which she promptly tears straight off his waist. His naked legs sparkle with zombie slaver whilst his dick and balls flop out onto the floor. His cock is swollen to the brim with blood and his balls are shriveled and rotund with arousal. That little shit enjoyed every second of that molestation, who's he fooling. And he enjoys every second of the ensuing double paizuri the Lickers pamper him with.

Their four size-K breasts flop down onto his waist and sandwiches his meat steeple between a couple of cleavages. The red mutants grab each other's bosoms and start grinding them up and down his shaft. Their giant tongues slither back out of their mouths to tickle Noah's urethra with, slurping up the profuse precum leakage. From this first person perspective you can see his toes scrunch in his socks in the background and his legs twitch and bend as the Lickers titfuck him stupid. You can hear him giggling and gasping behind the camera before his dick goes into violent convulsions. Noah's raw, rug-burnt member looks like a fire hydrant getting cracked open and spewing a geyser of cum into the air. The evolved zombies drink from the fountain and bathe in its thick white juices as it rains down onto their faces and shoulders, pooling around in their cleavage. They then catclean one another, putting those tongues to good use to lap up every tear of Noah's seed. Once the white is cleansed from their muscle, the Lickers then taste Noah's face, one for each cheek, before nuzzling their brains into his ribs and snuggling up by his side. The boy rests, but his cock doesn't. It continues to obnoxiously bounce and throb in the background, demanding attention. He's still horny? After all of that? Noah is getting spoiled. The brat huffs, unsatisfied, before trying to stuff his fat dick back into the trousers he was stripped from.

"I still need to explore the rest of the building," he grumbles. Which is of course code for "I still have a stiffy and need more to relieve it."

He leaves the peacefully slumbering Lickers behind to instead wander aimlessly across the police station, providing no commentary whilst trying to keep his needy boner from springing out of his trackpants. This isn't a very good exploration. He trudges through a new slice of the building, passing the wooden counters of reception desks and getting spooked by the creaky ambience as he reluctantly does another lap around the R.P.D. Dislodged tiles hang by a thread from the dilapidated ceiling to demonstrate the building's post-apocalyptic rot.

"Man, I sure do hope I don't get any more distractions," Noah thinks aloud, purposefully tempting fate. He has to raise his voice. "...I said 'Man, I sure do hope I-"

The wall suddenly explodes into chunks of plaster as someone busts through it.

Chapter Text

Like an aftershock, your heart is hit by another attack. Two jumpscares in a row?! Standing menacingly in the human-shaped hole is a two meter tall beast of a woman. Her muscles are completely shrouded by a trenchcoat that reaches all the way down to the tips of her steel-toed boots, and her clenched fists are masked by fingerless gloves, all three articles of clothing a leathery black. The woman herself is bald, her skin an inhuman grey, and her face so void of emotion she's like a mannequin. That, coupled with her clothing and build, earns her a "Scariest Motherfucker in the World" trophy.

"Yes!" Noah celebrates the arrival of his new mistress under his breath. "I-I mean, ah!"

Not wanting to come off as too obvious, he makes a break for the station's entrance. Mrs. X pursues him down an L-shaped corridor, but without a trace of haste. While Noah is running for his life, Mrs. X walks with a casual stroll, like The Shape. Speed turns out to not matter, however, for Mrs. X gets him cornered against a door that won't budge.

"Oh no, the door is locked!" Noah pretends to be scared as he lazily tugs on the door. He's not even turning the knob! He accidentally opens it a crack but hurriedly shuts it again. "Crap...Somebody help me!" he continues to phone in the horror.

The Tyrant stares him down with an unreadable expression. Pulse not beating, chest not breathing. Then...Mrs. X gives it to Noah. She gets down on all fours and spreads her ashy buttcheeks wide open. Huh. Who would've thought Mrs. X was a bottom? He's confused at first, but is hypnotized by her anus as it winks at him, so he skitters over to her and has to stand on his tip-toes just so his dick can reach up into the enticing hole with a tight squelch. He digs five fingertips into each of her hips and starts fucking away, his little balls pounding on her buttcrack like a hammer. Mrs. X is dead silent and emotionless; a complete juxtaposition to Noah quivering, sweating, and howling. However, she can't help but crack a barely noticeable smirk as Noah starts fucking her so hard the friction between his cock and her rectum starts making a squishy plunger noise.

Noah's legs wobble as he unloads a fat load into her colon, and he stands weakly as he steadies his breathing, holding himself up on her huge ass. However, much to your surprise, the boy gets a second wind and continues bucking into her fiercely. The lubrication of his seed still sloshing around in X's insides transcends the lovemaking to another level of pleasure. Noah starts pouring sweat so hard he looks like he was just dragged out of a swimming pool, and he shrieks as high as a dog whistle as he lets out one last humongous cumshot into Mrs. X's asshole. Energy in the negatives, he slips right out of her. Doing so releases a cascade of cum from her buttcheeks that's caught by her pants spread out across her thighs like a hammock. A white lake is formed in her pants.

Noah passes out from exhaustion and collapses, but forward, so he's cushioned by the Tyrant's all-leather exterior. You hear a faint crash in the background, like a window being broken. Thanks to those damn Lickers, you know that sound intimately. X hears it too, and rises to her feet in response. She pulls her pants back up, and you can hear the gallons of cum splashing around under her coat. You can't even imagine how big of a mess that just made. She tenderly brushes her hand across Noah's face, before tromping off into the darkness. Weird. Since the cameraboy is unconscious, the video remains still for a couple of minutes. Couldn't have edited this out, Noah? But then the ceiling starts flaking as distant footsteps, much heavier than Mrs. X's, begin shaking the building. The tremor-like racket finally stirs Noah awake.

"Ughhh...What happened?"

"STARSSS!"

Chapter Text

The shapely silhouette growled as she stomps out of the dark, her voice sounding about as deep and beastly as you'd expect. This time, it's Mrs. X's sister. Boots, fingerless gloves, and trenchcoat, all black, but this coat is a little shorter, only going down to her knees. She's also even taller, almost twice the height of Noah. The hairless woman's skin color is a pallid Caucasian flesh color, but despite having a more human skintone than the ghastly Mrs. X, she's much more monstrous-looking. Her lips are torn off and her eyes are clouded out, harking back to the big girl from Mount Massive, and her bald head is sewn up like that of a brain surgery patient's.

"S-'Stars'?!" Noah repeats as he twists onto his belly and pulls himself together, looking down at his waistband and realizing he still has the S.T.A.R.S. badge on him. "No-no-no-no, I'm not S.T.A.R.S., I was just wearing this, honest!" he insists, discarding it into the darkness in a desperate attempt to quell the monster's rage. Welp, there goes a priceless collector's item, good job, Noah.

Her angular brow ridges and gritted teeth don't lessen, her face permanently fixated into a furious scowl. Noah stumbles back as he's consumed by the beast's gigantic shadow, and he yelps before making a run for it. He bolts down a long R.P.D. hallway, feeling confident in his escape from Nemesis. He glances back and sees her...Sprinting at him full-speed. Looks like this Tyrant is an upgrade from her sister.

"OH CRAP, OH CRAP, OH CRAP!" He tries to pick up the pace as he barrels through an office door.

A big meaty hand snatches Noah up by his head, holding him a whole eleven feet in the air by his face. His feet kick and his muffled voice screams up against Nemesis's palm as it buries up against his mouth. Through her fingers, you can see his eyes instantly go goggled and bloodshot when something unseen enters his skull. His cheeks puff and his legs begin shivering, before suddenly, a giant pink tendril, much like the Lickers' tongues, sprouts out his buttcrack. She's flossing his entire body with tentacle rape, mouth first, ass last, travelling through his whole 30 foot long digestive system within seconds. The tendril that's budded out of his asshole is gleaming in a mixture of spit and anal lubricant.

After letting him suffer and dangle for a couple seconds, Nemesis reels the naughty appendage back into her hand, letting Noah drop to the floor in a story height fall. Even though she fell second, Nemesis hits the ground first, dropping down to the West Office's aqua tiles to shake the whole building so she can sit with her legs crossed. Noah lands in the seat of her lap. His butt sinks down into the pit as shiny liquids run down his leg and he coughs harshly from the tickle in his throat. After getting over his coughing fit, he tries scrambling out of Nemesis's lap, but she seizes him by the crotch and gets his whole package in two fists, gently but firmly wringing his balls and cock. The heavenly sensations completely disable his struggles. He melts into her leather and his eyes roll back into his head as she gives him one hell of a handjob.

A rope of cum the length of a yardstick spits out of Nemesis's fist. Then another, only a foot long. Then a third and final one, a mere squirt. Noah goes completely slump in Nemmie's arms. She inverts positions by crawling around onto him and mounting him like a horse. Noah reaches for his camcorder and puts the video in a first person perspective, where you truly get a feel for Nemesis's towering height and hulking dominance as she straddles the cameraboy and shoots him dirty looks with her one eye. She plants her palms on Noah's moist trunk for leverage, before she starts pistoning her hips up and down. You can only imagine the sight of her gargantuan buttcheeks slapping down on Noah's body to almost crush it. The sounds alone paint you a vivid picture.

"Staarsss...Staaaarsss!" she raspily moans with erotic inflection.

Needing something to clench, Noah clings onto the camera for dear life, almost crushing the cheap little thing with his bare hands. This at least gives you a very steady angle of Nemesis as she fucks his brains out, and you feel so immersed that you almost forget you're not Noah for a second.

"Staaars! Staaars! STAAARRSSS!~" Nemesis squeals at the top of her lungs as she reaches a climax of her own.

You don't see it, but you hear the unmistakable hiss of a high velocity squirt coming from the two locked genitals. Overwhelmed by the body-racking orgasm, Nemesis collapses down onto Noah, peacefully passing out and snuggling with him. Noah, tears boiling in his eyes, pouts and cringes with pain. He tries to get up to his feet but he falls down right back into Nemesis's clutches, whining in agony.

"Oh my God, my hips are so sore! I can't even...I can't even stand..."

A warm glow flashes upon Noah's face as he breaks into a weak and painful laughing fit.

"Holy crap, I just got my brains screwed out by a nine foot tall monster," Noah giggles adorably during his little moment of clarity, fascinated by, proud of, and yet humbled by his wild life.

His uncontrollable tittering subsides and he's finally able to end the video properly.

"Well, I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did," he sighs quietly with a truly content smile. "Later."

A familiar pink tendril slithers out of Nemesis's palm and ominously licks Noah's cheek like a tongue right before the video ends. The last shot is Noah's eyes firing open.

Chapter Text

This one begins with a bang: Noah sprinting through the woods, apparently running for his life. His camerawork is frenzied and nonsensical, like a shaky-cam found footage film, so you feel right there with him in the action. You hear a pack of rabid dogs barking in snarls as they nip at his heels. Oh God, what has he gotten himself into this time?! On the edge of the forest, colored navy and white by the Full Moon's sky, lies a grand, castle-like manor that looks straight out of a Gothic horror story, which seems to be what Noah is racing towards. He barrels through its brassy double doors and immediately slams it shut behind him, pushing up against them just as they begin to budge fiercely from the dogs trying to force their way in.

One of their snouts, full of froth and bloody fangs, tears through the crack in the doors for a second when Noah's measly strength begins to falter. He almost gives up as he sinks down the doors and begins sobbing, as it seems he'll soon tire so the dogs can barge in and maul him. But he's just barely able to reach a wooden board stacked in front of the nearest window without leaving the door, so he can stick it through their handles to create a makeshift lock. He steps back to see if the barricade will hold, and the dogs can't seem to break through, their ravenous barks and howls eventually fading out into the night. Noah's breathless heaving finally begins to slow.

"Hey guys!" he pants feverishly. "Noah here! So uh, sorry for an adrenaline rush that early on but," He loses his breath and takes a couple seconds to catch it. You can feel the burn in his lungs from here.

"Okay...I'm okay...I'm okay!" He swallows and composes himself. "I'm sorry...So! I was hiking through the woods on my way back from Raccoon City...when this pack of wild dogs started chasing after me! I think they have...Rabies or something, I dunno. They looked all...rotten and matted! Christ... Okay, well, now that I'm trapped in this place, I figured I might as well make a video on it. It's not too often you get to explore a textbook haunted house like this. I'll do a quick Google search so I'm not completely lost."

He pulls out his phone, pecks in some characters, and skims the top results.

"Okay...The Spencer Mansion. It was the estate of Oswalda Spencer, CEO of the Umbrella Corporation, blah blah blah, let's explore it already!"

Noah turns the camera on the manor's main hall, and it's even more magnificent and striking than the R.P.D.'s. The high up ceiling is garnished with archangelic imagery that makes you feel like you're in the Sistine Chapel, centered by a chandelier that hangs over the Entrance Hall of the Spencer Mansion like the Sun. If the floor isn't tiled marble so glossy Noah could be mistaken for standing upon a mirror, then it's carpeted with a red velvet rug drawn with excruciating detail. Paintings surely worth thousands hang from the walls, and the stairwell leading to the second floor are guarded by two candleholders taller than Noah. All that can be seen of this second story from this humble camera angle are the polished wooden guardrails held high by decorative joists. If this place was still maintained and well lit, its beauty would surely be awe-inspiring. But alas, it's an unmistakably forgotten and decrepit old mansion.

"Wow...This place must've been incredible to live in...20 years ago."

Noah zooms in on the expensive art draping the walls and ceiling for a few lingering seconds before moving onto the Dining Hall. This chamber is just as grand as the first. Concrete joists, works of art, stained glass windows, chandeliers, checkered floors, and a long slender dining table draped in ornamental tablecloths that stretches across the whole atrium. The wallpaper continues to be immaculate and impeccable all these years later, and the seating would look most inviting if the tapers in the three strategically placed candelabra still burned. Far off in the back is a normal window, boarded up like all the rest to stain the mansion's otherwise elegance. It's not the only stain though. You and Noah can hear flesh tearing and chewing coming from one of the corner's shadows.

"Is that someone...eating?"

Chapter Text

You both spot a black mass in the darkness. Noah doesn't shine his light on it, too scared to face the full picture of what's gotten in the house with him. He instead approaches it warily so more details could be made out. It's a figure, a woman judging from its hips, hunched over on the ground like an animal as it feasts on something. Well, it is the Dining Hall, after all. Noah takes a deep breath before shedding his beam onto its back to get its attention. She stops eating. An icy cold silence sweeps over the manor. Her head begins to steadily crane around, like a door creaking open, and lightning crashes through the skies to reveal her appearance. She's in the rustled, tattered, bloodstained remains of some dress clothes, their pigmentation completely worn out, just like her skin, which is a sickly green and flaking away to reveal the pink muscle beneath.

She wipes her lips and her jaw clean of the fresh blood pouring from her mouth; she's been feeding off someone's remains like a wolfish cannibal. As she pulls herself out of her crouch to fully face Noah, it's made obvious her dry eyes are glassy to the point of almost complete whiteness. She lets out a moaning, gurgling hiss, outstretches her arms to reveal her black nails, and begins shambling towards the camera with bent and crooked joints, her posture so stiff it's like she's already gone through rigor mortis. No pulse. No breath. It's a living corpse! A walking dead! A Zombie! A textbook Zombie, slowly but surely staggering towards Noah with its iconic gait. Her bare feet, toenails blackened too, lurch forward to leave bloody footprints behind on the otherwise squeaky polished floor.

"Uh, m-ma'am?!" Noah tries to talk the Zombie down while backing away from it, towards the boarded up window. Isn't this guy a fan of horror movies? How is he so genre blind?

"Y-You look sick...I think we need to get you to a doctor or something..."

Once he gets close enough to the window, four green hands suddenly burst out through the boards and grab Noah by his shoulders, pulling him back up against the window with a sissified shriek so the two Zombies outside can peek their heads into the Spencer Estate and begin devouring him. One of the Zombies chomps down on his neck, but instead of screaming in agony as his jugular is feasted upon, Noah closes his eyes and moans girlishly with pleasure as the Zombie playfully bites his nape and gives him a hickey. The other Zombie shuts his shrill cries up by guzzling the spit out of his mouth with her tongue. The third Zombie's legs give out and she awkwardly topples to the floor to her knees. She grabs Noah by the middle of his pantlegs and pulls his joggers down, baring his thighs and exposing his cute pair of tighty whities. She bites on its waistband and pulls it to his knees too, drooling all over his underwear in the process. Noah's already erect cock juts out upon being freed from its tight elastic prison, which the Zombie promptly chomps down on with her gums.

Drivel and pre run down his shaft as the Zombie lazily tries giving him head with her sluggish and decayed motor control. You can hear his muffled squeals aggravate as he's bitten, frenched, and fellatio'd all at the same time. Gag reflex long rotted away, the Zombie can deepthroat Noah effortlessly; then again, it's not a very large portion anyhow. She slobbers and slavers over the tasty little piece of meat until its juices come pouring out down her parched throat. The Zombie's balls-deep kiss on Noah's shaft slowly reels out, revealing it's been cloaked in a slimy mixture of cum and spit. Her lips are covered in the stuff too, which she promptly sucks off glob by glob, eventually getting his groin sparkling clean. She gives his pink tip a harmless little lick, and it makes him shrill with hypersensitivity. The Zombie continues to kiss and tongue the numb and tender gland, which overloads Noah's senses and causes him to squirt a little bit more, spritzing her green face with even more milky splats.

Getting overwhelmed by the swarm of affection, Noah finally grows a spine. He shoves and elbows his way out of the Zombie Horde, swipes up the camera, and films them as he gets some distance. The two in the window crawl through the boards and clumsily hit the floor. You can't help but chortle at the brief moment of slapstick. After all three of them rise collectively to pursue, Noah makes a break for it, escaping the Dining Room back to the Main Hall so he can fire up the scarlet-colored stairs to the second floor. He twists the first knob he can get his hands on and shuts the wooden door behind him. While catching his breath, he backs away from the door, expecting any moment for a trio of rotting corpses to bust through. Not looking where he's going, he trips on something and his butt lands on what sounds like the keyboard of a piano, scaring the shit out of the both of you with disharmonious thunder. Noah catches himself on the piano, and before he's able to steady himself, a bookshelf in the room slides aside through the machinations of an unseen antique contraption. Hidden behind the bookshelf is a secret passageway to an elevator lift, activated by a chord Noah's buttcheeks accidentally played.

"Wow, this haunted house is even more cliche than I thought," he mutters as he creeps towards the lift once its doors scrunch open to beckon him.

Chapter Text

The cameraboy pushes the "Down" button on the control panel and it drags him down to what looks like a mad scientist's underground laboratory. This is Mount Massive all over again! Advanced biology equipment spill out from the walls, and all sorts of failed biological experiments kept shriveled away in jars decorate the long abandoned lab like some fucked up art gallery. Noah carefully tours the treasure trove of scientific conspiracy, passing arrays of bubbling glass containment pods still lit up with LED all these years later, casting a dim and ominous glow upon the otherwise pitch dark unethical workshop. Noah grabs a clipboard hanging off one of the desks.

"The Tyrant Project," he reads softly. "T-103...Codenamed 'Mrs. X'...The Nemesis-T Type Variant...and the prototype...T-002..."

He looks up.

"This must be her."

He lets his audience in on it by turning the camera on a ten foot tall test tube plugged into the wall and filled to the brim with a sky blue fluid. And floating in that mysterious fluid is what looks like a specimen of humanity's next evolutionary stage. That, or Frankenstein's Monster. Similar in appearance to Mrs. X - a hulking photorealistic grey female mannequin - but completely naked and as tall as Nemesis. Looks like Nemmy was only the middle child; this here's the elder. Noah isn't standing before a Tyrant like Mrs. X or Nemesis; this is the Tyrant. Half of her upper body looks scorched and unfinished, so she has a black elongated claw hand for a left arm. On the right side of her chest is a slate-colored tit so flat it could be mistaken for a man's pec. Parallel to it is a heart on the outside of her body, freakishly oversized to the point of looking like a red balloon taped to her breast. A "human" that big would need a heart of such bloated proportions.

"First the Walrider, now this! Greedy corporations and their super-soldiers...Wait a minute..." Noah squints his eyes and gets a closer look at the genetically engineered bioweapon that's been in a 20 year stasis. "That heart...It's beating."

The test tube shatters when the Tyrant's claw punches through it. The shower of jagged glass slices Noah up a bit and the tank's fluids flush out onto him. He's soaked from head to toe and blast of the jumpscare has the boy crippled. He clenches his heart in pain as it pounds violently in your ears, and writhes on the ground at the awakened Tyrant's mercy. The bloodied Noah slowly crawls away on his back from the towering monster in a puddle of the spilled fluids. With a dark and unreadable expression he stares up at the beast. Not too many episodes ago, he'd bolt without a moment's hesitation. But now, he seems to be testing his terrorizer of the night, seeing what it'll do. The Tyrant's external heart flutters so hard in Noah's presence that you can audibly hear the blood sloshing around in it like a jug of milk. She seizes a handful of Noah's hair and tosses him across the room, his butt landing in the seat of a step stool.

She stomps over to him, the mansion's basement trembling with her weight of her bare feet just like the R.P.D. underneath Nemesis's platform boots, and she stares him down as he recoils in her imposing shade. But instead of tearing him in half with that gigantic claw of hers, she turns around and drops down to her knees, which causes a mini-tremor. She buries her facial cheek into the floor and arches her back, aiming her exercise ball-sized buttcheeks up at Noah's dick. Using the step stool to give him that needed extra foot to reach her, Noah tries grabbing two handfuls of her waist, but there's not a fiber of fat in her entire statue-like body, so he has to settle on just planting his palms on her back as he burrows his groin into her cheeks. His hips work gracefully in plowing the Tyrant, his posture perfect, his execution flawless. He's come a long way since his sloppy fucking of the Plague Doctor all those months ago. Though the Tyrant's stone-cold biology prohibits it from many expressions of pleasure, the sharp grin on its face and the way it thrusts its hips back against Noah's to meet his passion speak volumes.

"OoOoOoH, GOoOd, you're even tighter than your sisteeeers!~" Noah whines in ecstasy as his pleasure reaches its tipping point.

He lets out one big groan of relief as he unloads the...let me count, seventh orgasm of the night, of course not one cell smaller than any of the previous, as it congests copiously and loudly out her lips even whilst Noah remains parked in her balls deep. After catching his breath, he plants a big sloppy kiss on her buttcrack as a sign of gratitude for such a good fuck.

"Good girl," he sighs happily, playfully slapping her bottom and giving it a red handprint.

Noah withdraws from the not so monstrous after all monster, and his still-throbbing boner is swathed by a thick glove of cum. He grabs his shaft by its base and slowly husks the slime away like he's peeling off a condom. His dick is left spotless, and your stomach churns a bit when you hear a wet splat off-screen. The Tyrant lumbers over to Noah and gets him in a great big cuddly bear hug that nearly snaps his spine.

"Alright, guys," he whimpers to the camera, voice straining. "I better end this video before she pierces a lung. It was an exhausting night but, I'm glad I could get you guys two videos in one go. Hope you enjoyed them. I have something special planned for next episode, so look forward to that! See you lATER!" he squeaks as the Tyrant's embrace tightens.

The recording ceases at 15:46. Looks like it ended with a bang too.

Chapter Text

The haunting songs of crickets and frogs open the video with some indelible atmosphere right off the bat. But wait, it's not a video. It's a livestream! He did say he had something planned last episode. Now you have viewers just like you at your shoulders.

"Uh...Can you guys see this?" Noah begins awkwardly, staring stupidly into the camera.

Messages begin crowding the chatroom at a modest rate. From here on out, you only glance at it occasionally to see what the rest of Noah's fanbase is saying.

"Skiddzo: FIRST
Dragonheart: Hey
TheliteralunitJakob: hi
Oppyrational: Howdy.
TheRustedBlade: Hey, Noah!"

"Alright, great!" He clears his throat. "Hey guys, Noah here! This is my first livestream so please, bear with me. I just wanted to mix things up a bit. So, we're back in my home state and I haven't felt this relieved in forever! Let me tell you, the last couple months have been CRAZY! We've been to the Mid-Atlantic, the South, the Midwest, the Mountain States...We've pretty much toured the whole friggin' country! But now, we're finally back in Massachusetts. And ironically enough, it might turn out that despite all the travelling, the scariest place in the world was here at home this whole time. I'm not gonna lie, I'm usually not a scaredy cat (yeah, sure), but honestly, the reason it's taken so long for me to get around to this even though it's in my backyard is because I've been consciously avoiding it. I truly dread this place. When I was a kid, our school bus would pass this place every morning and every afternoon. My blood would go cold two times a day on the hour, because of all the stories my classmates used to tell. I don't care if they were just dumb schoolyard ghost stories or not; I will never NOT be creeped out by this place. What place, I'm sure you're all wondering? Well, probably not, you read the title... I'm talking about Miskatonic County."

"But we called it Lovecraft Country."

"This place is...weird. Every acre of it. Dunwich...Arkham...Innsmouth. If you live in Eastern MA you know what I'm talking about. I don't know what it is but there's something...wrong with it. You'll feel it once we get deep enough, trust me."

"Neverking: Lived in MA for a while, heard some stories about cults and shit but never actually believed it, but after watching your work I pretty much can believe anything.
yesboss21: isn't this the place arkham asylum was based off?
Sholhar: I have a cousin in MA
Lynkoln: Hey, if any of ya'll are interested in stuff like this, check out "Weird Massachusetts" by Jeff Belanger."

Once the exploration begins, it becomes obvious Noah has chosen to explore the depths of Miskatonic's muggy backwoods. Much like Louisiana's Baker Family Ranch, but nightly. A sultry marshland shrouded with fog, some thin, some thick. There's just as much water as there is land, and said water is covered with thick blankets of algae. Even the pockets that don't have green scum floating over it are murky and impossible to see through.

"Robynhood131: This place just screams hillbilly rape
TazalTerminals: Didn't we get that like ten episodes back?
CosmicCell: this is making me anxious, jesus christ"

"There were all sorts of rumors about this region," Noah continues. "Still are, I think. Inbred fish people coming out the water, artists killing themselves after painting the things that supposedly haunted them, and of course, swamp monsters. One story that really disturbed was how it turned out we were all just the dream of a sleeping God, and when it woke up..."

Noah stops dead in his tracks upon remembering the cosmic horror stories that apparently haunted him as a child, and a poignant pause follows.

"Sorry. It's not healthy to think about stuff like that." He fills the ensuing awkward silence with trivia. "Uh, so right now we're in the Miskatonic Swamp, which connects Arkham with Dunwich...Fun fact, the Arkham Sanitarium was the inspiration for Arkham Asylum from Batman...So that's kinda cool, how I live near the real life Arkham Asylum. I might've had the balls to visit it if it wasn't torn down in 2007. Oh well. It actually looked strikingly similar to Mount Massive, so maybe I dodged a bullet there...Hey, Emily, I'm doing good, thank you," he answers a question from chat.

The swamp is so flooded that only the very tops of trees can be seen, so moss sways all around Noah like drapes. You tense up whenever he gets close to one of the many ponds in his hike through the bog, afraid an alligator or something will pounce out.

Noah is tricked into reading a mean message in chat. "'How can you live with such a micro d-'...Hey!" His face reddens. "Shut up, jerk! Ugh...Anyways, another fun fact, I was actually born in Arkham. I was raised in Middlesex County though, so I have no memories of it and pretty much have never been. Maybe I should visit it some day, check out my birthpla-..."

You hear some distant chanting echo past the trees.

"...What's that noise?"

Chapter Text

He jogs in the direction of the sounds so they get louder and louder. Even once he's close enough to hear it clearly, you still can't understand a word of it. Something about "Cthulhu" and "R'lyeh". Must be a different language. Noah is perched up on the top of a hill peering over some type of...ritual. Eight people are gathered around a campfire as it burns through the mist, praying to the smoldering ash. Worn yellow cloaks shroud their curvy bodies, tattered hoods thrown over their heads to cast shadows upon their...what looks like octopus-decaled ski-masks, from up here at least. It resembles the secret gathering of some Satanic religion, a Paganistic congregation.

"Rejoice, sisters!" celebrates one of the Cultists. So they do speak English... "Today is the day we summon our Goddess with an offering of faith. It's been prophesied that our immaculate lamb will fall from the skies and deliver us with a most fruitful sacrifice; enough blood to satisfy our Goddess and awake her from her perpetuity of slumber so she may grace us with her presence. The brief visit shall be but an infinitesimal nothing to her astronomical being, but for us, an eternity of ecstasy."

"D3m0nm4n: Get the hell out of there!
Linkskingsolomon: All religious people sound this crazy to me tbh
Kranon-the-Deathclaw-Human: *tips fedora*
Autreus: I wonder what they're going to do to him"

"Man, these people sound crazy!" Noah whispers as he observes the Cult from afar. "Do they really believe in this st-"

Noah loses his balance atop the steep slope and trips on the disheveled swamp greenery at his feet, barreling towards the ritual. He violently tumbles down the hill with a mighty fall, hitting rocks and tree stumps on his way down. The camcorder races him towards the bottom and wins, so you get to see him, through a dirtied lens, land right before the Cult. All eight of its followers stare at him silently. His clothes are torn and his skin is riddled with bloody gashes and blotches of dirt from the hard fall. He shakes himself out of his daze after groaning in pain and freezes like a deer in headlights upon realizing he will be the sacrifice.

"Uh oh."

The chat explodes with excitement, dozens of messages careening across the screen. You're only able to register a select few.

"Death-Battle-Trooper: Run you dumbass!
Germz24: That's what you get for making fun of their religion, Noah
ladykiller2221: Holy shit that prophecy was right
Smiling Lemon: okay finally to the good shit"

"There!" the Cult's priestess points and shouts. "There's our sacrifice! Seize him, sisters!"

"Crap!" he curses under his breath as he scrambles to his feet and makes a break for it with the camera.

The devil-worshipers chase him through the swamp like a pack of hungry wolves, and not even with his trademark speed can Noah outrun a whole Cult of thirsty psychos. As Noah is chased deeper into the woods, his connection worsens, making the chase seem all the more nightmarish with the scratchy quality. They tackle him to the ground, and the dog-pile happens to land in some type of pentagram circle sketched across the forest floor. Noah tries to wrestle out of their clutches but he's no match for their collective strength. He's forcibly stripped and held down by a couple apostles, one for his arms and one for his legs, eagle-spread across the star and left at the mercy of the other six.

"Autreus: Alright place your bets now boys!
BAD KARMA: Hmm...My money is on pegging
MiniatureAnon: please be cock and ball torture, please be cock and ball torture"

Geez, did you stumble upon the Red Room on mistake again?

"We must arouse our Goddess by purging our glorious degeneracy onto this boy," preaches the priestess. "She will hear our choir of shameless wickedness and emerge from R'lyeh to partake in the promiscuity. May our debauchery be our Goddess's wet dream, one so powerful it stirs her awake."

"Lone wolf: This sounds like some Scientology shit
DomTheFriendlyNerd: Get some popcorn and lotion boys, we're in for another ride
BeautifulNightmares: I'm a girl
Kairo1005: sure you are"

The Pagans swoop aside their cloaks and begin masturbating over Noah with hive mind-like synchronization. Six swollen clits are flicked, twelve glistening lips are fingered. Noah flinches and whimpers as the vaginas periodically drool on him, dotting his naked and defenseless body with drops of wet shed hedonism. Moans, shudders, groans, gasps, whimpers, quivers; some boisterous and fervent, others soft and tender, all mixed together in a noisy hellish chorus of filthy ecstasy. Their voices rise, the speed and strength of their self-fingering escalate, the whole atmosphere of the bizarre blood orgy intensifies tenfold over time. It's all one crazed, dreamlike flash of guilty pleasure. You hear a variety of profane mutterings among their mad mid-coitus whispers.

"Oh, fuck yes, my Lord~," "Let me glimpse at your Heaven, my Goddess~," "In her house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming~," etc. Weird dirty talk, but okay.

Noah's irregular and labored breathing worsens alongside the cries of rapture swelling surrounding him, his eyes nervously darting between the six vaginas looming him menacingly. A crescendo of wailing howls echo throughout the Miskatonic Swamp as six showers of pussy juice come spurting down onto Noah with freakish force, each with their own distinct hiss of vaginal walls contracting and discharging. His feet, legs, waist, trunk, arms, and head are all washed with a tidal wave of tangy sap. His head thrashes around and his mouth sputters as he's drowned and waterboarded by the relentless tides. His nose gets so plugged with juice that he has to breathe through his mouth, gasping for air. The chat's tremendous speed still has yet to slow down.

"SkyDrive101: I can't fap to this, there's no penetration
greensparkyboy: I can
HiddenSix: god i wish that was me
HavocOrder0999: so where can I sign up for this cult?
GhostHippie123: shit I gotta clean this mess now
Omanbo: hey noah, can u give me a shoutout"

30 whole seconds of violent spewing eventually slow the Cultists's geysers down to weak trickles, before finally, nothing. Now that the roaring fizzles of their discharging vaginas are gone, all that remains to fill the silence are their heaving breaths. The Lovecraft Cult has bukkake'd Noah as their way of 'purifying' him. After their knees stop wobbling, they each take a step back from their human sacrifice and see what they've done to him. Noah gleams beautifully as if he just got out of a bath full of lube, which isn't far from the truth. Just as foretold, this "lamb" looks immaculate and pure, but somehow in a filthy way. The head priestess hurriedly sweeps her cloak back over her naked frame, with a slight hint of embarrassment in her body language as she quickly recomposes herself before her Goddess.

"Our sacrifice has been cleansed by the sinful release of our inner desires," she raises her arms and begins chanting at the bay. "Now, take him, our Goddess! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!"

She repeats the gibberish over and over again in a chant, which her fellow Cultists join in on. Their insane mantra sweeps across the bay's surface and makes it start to rumble and bubble. Something's down there...

Chapter Text

The Cult's perverse religion is proven true when a Leviathan rises from the waters, like the Creature of the Black Lagoon. Through the night's murky fog, you can just barely make out its shape. A humanoid figure the height of a T-Rex, just as opulent and curvaceous as it is rugged and muscle-bound. A downright Olympian body, something straight out of Greek Myth. And speaking of Greek Myth, dreadlocks made of serpentine tendrils fall from its head like Medusa. But its head isn't humanoid. No, it's too angular and rigid to be humanoid, it's more cephalopodic, enforced by the beard of tentacles across its cheeks that matches the one of its scalp. Her size 36 foot, brine pouring through her toes as it ascends out the depths, stomps down onto the grassy shore and shakes the whole swamp.

"Lazychamp: T-H-I-C-C
PancakeMan: What the living fuck
Goddess_Of_Angels: I have never been so frighten yet aroused at the same time
yolomaster6909: Okay so there is a god... I need to start going to church...
Beretta42: I JUST JOINED, WTF IS HAPPENING"

She drags herself up out of her watery resting place so the rest of her appearance can be discerned from this angle. Her thighs are thick and her soccerball-sized nipples so juicy they make your mouth water just looking at them. Every surface of her body is rubbery, like whale blubber, and forest green in pigmentation to blend in with the surrounding wetland. This quintessential temple shines gorgeously from the grease of her Atlantic bath, like a hot babe stepping out of the shower. From beneath her sharp-cornered brow lies two large inhuman eyes with a predatory fire to them, scleras black, irises red, and pupils missing. Just in case she didn't look eldritch enough for you, two dragon wings hatch out of her back and fan out dramatically akin to a cape being whisked, sending a shockwave of wind rippling across Massachusetts in all directions, and a tail to match wags behind her. The Queen has finally awoken from her eon-long slumber.

The Goddess of the Cult. The Sleeper of R'lyeh.

Cthulhu.

Noah and the Cult cower in her shadow as it's cast upon the swamp and consumes the entire thing like an eclipse. Noah can't help but look up at the cosmic monstrosity that stands before him and have his whole world torn asunder by its existence. His warm brown eyes immediately dip to an icy and glassy grey, the windows to his soul desaturating upon registering Cthulhu. His wide and awed expression sinks down into something cold and blank, as if he's been hypnotized and entranced by the sea creature's stare.

"Sparky824: Erm...Is Noah okay?
superfanman217: lol noah looks stoned af dude
Oppyrational: Is the stream lagging for anyone else?"

Cthulhu turns so her back's facing Noah, then gets down on all fours so what lies between her legs can draw him closer. A pussy so big he could probably hear his echo if he shouted down into it. Hell, he could nestle himself in the thing if he really wanted to. Noah robotically marches into the shadow cast by her two hill-sized buttcheeks, telepathically puppeteered by Cthulhu's omnipotent will now that he's under her control. Noah's always been a boytoy, but now he's literally nothing but an empty, mindless husk with only one goal in existence: to pleasure his Goddess. Despite its size, Cthulhu's vagina is still clearly unblemished in its tautness, as expected from a Goddess, though Noah has no trouble squeezing into her. He never does. And getting lubed up from head to toe by the Cult's...donation certainly helps. This is like a little Chihuahua trying to mate with a huge St. Bernard. For leverage, Noah hugs the giantess's waist, and since she's so large, his arms are just barely long enough to wrap around her all the way.

Embracing her lower body so tightly involves burying his face into her upper crack. And so begins the working of his hips, feverishly pounding away with a fiery zeal. Noah skips all at foreplay or pacing and goes right to fucking her as hard as he can, likely too crazed by her brainwashing to know any better. Despite this lack of grace, Cthulhu sounds more than satisfied with Noah's lovemaking. You'd think it'd feel like getting fucked by a toothpick but judging from her shrill alien murmurs, Cthulhu is deeply content by the sensation of Noah as deep inside of her as the laws of nature allow. Then again, this thing clearly doesn't abide by the laws of nature, so who knows what's going on on there. Noah's dick could be in a pocket dimension for all we know. His balls patter pitifully up against her buttcrack with every thrust he forces past her labia, her juicy flaps almost enveloping his entire body. The kaiju is so big Noah is face-to-face with her gasping anus, so he's able to rim and fuck her simultaneously.

While holding her wide open, his tongue traces across the four arm-like creases of her starfish-shaped asshole as his hips drum against her massive lips. The Cultists huddle around the two like they did their campfire and once again begin messily fondling themselves as a group of filthy voyeurs, mixing prayers into their masturbations. All eight of their collective blissful wails are completely drowned out by Cthulhu's downright thunderous murmuring. And while you're on the topic, for once, Noah is dead silent, quietly plowing his girl of the week in an emotionless trance. Then he abruptly stops, withdrawing his cock and tongue from Cthulhu's holes. She twists onto her back and recoils her gargantuan legs so her plaything can resume in the missionary position. Now Noah is at eye level with her grapefruit-sized clitoris, which he precedes to hold in both hands and begin making out with, throwing and slavering his tongue all over the swollen pink nub.

"Icyfire88: jeez, you got a big pussy. jeez you got a big pussy.
Killercole: this is pretty...lovecraftian
XirTedak: Chat would you eat gods ass?
d4rknight12: YES.
jeff4life: Bet
NineDavis: lmao none of us are going to heaven"

Cthulhu's tentacle beard wriggles and writhes as otherworldly coos bellow out from between them to echo for miles. He gropes and frenches her clit passionately, making it jiggle, slosh, and bounce in his loving hands whilst railing her. He manages to make the beast crumble and wither in ecstasy at his feet even though it's three times his size and an incomprehensible deity that transcends space and time. The Earth itself trembles once the Leviathan finishes, throwing her head back and roaring with pleasure at the volume of a foghorn. You can see trees falling down in the background as the shockwave of the Great Old One's howling climax sails across the East Coast. Noah is blasted clean out of her and up into the air by the firehose-like velocity of Cthulhu's torrential squirt shooting out between her man-sized lips. Especially since she happens to be laid out on the shore, this squirt is, for all intents and purposes, a tsunami crashing down onto New England's coast. Blasted back a good two meters, Noah hits the swamp floor with a splash upon landing in the ditch of vaginal sap linking him and Cthulhu's still quivering pussy. He writhes around in the grass, coughing up mouthfuls and rubbing his sore sternum for it was nearly broken by the sheer force of the gush. Noah is the only guy in the world who gets so much pussy that he gets deluged in squirt juice twice in one day.

The seismic explosion of Cthulhu's euphoric energy possesses each of the Cultists and passes the volcanic squirts onto them in a memetic virus. They all synchronously cum so hard that they pass out, slipping into deep comas just like their Goddess. Their wet legs continue to twitch as they lie half-dead in a splash of pussy juice alongside Noah. The High Priestess of the Great Ones weakly stands, hunches down, and nuzzles Noah lovingly with the feelers hanging off her face as her idea of a goodbye kiss. Ritual complete, Cthulhu turns around and stomps back towards the Atlantic Ocean, lowering down into the bay. First her feet are swallowed by swamp water, then her legs, torso, and finally, her squishy cephalopodic head sinks down below the surface. The basin remains quiet and still as the sea monster swims back to her underwater abode of R'lyeh. Only Noah remains. With Cthulhu's departure to Atlantis's twisted sister city, the influence of her black magic spell fleets from his system. He flutters his eyes and shakes himself out of it, color and expression returning to his body as he wakes up and goes back to normal. He ogles the aftermath of the messy orgy, likely with no recollection of it.

"T H I C C B O I: So is anyone going to report these fucks to the cops?
Duwang5: Local police arrest elder god after raping a minor, I'm sure that's going to work out fine
BAD KARMA: This stream is getting archived, right?"

"Oh my gosh! What the heck happened?!" Noah looks down at himself, nude body so wet and pruny he probably thinks he had a swim in the loch. "Ughhh, why do I always come out of these videos naked and wet?! Whatever. Hope you guys enjoyed visiting one of my childhood nightmares. It was certainly a...surreal experience, after all these years, but I think I overcame my fear, a little bit. I've noticed that I'm becoming a little bit more confident and comfortable with myself as of late. I feel...Stronger. And I like to think it's because of this series. So thanks guys, really, for watching me grow. I really appreciate it. And I hope you enjoyed my first stream! I think it went really well, what about you guys?...Aw, I love you too, IceWallowCome!"

After skimming the chat with a smile on his face, he tries picking up the camera so he can shut it off.

"Alright then, I'm heading out, late-"

It slips out of his greased hands. He sighs angrily before trying again and succeeding, chuckling to himself a bit.

"Later."

"Noob-Smoke: Goodbye!
Black Hawk Omega: bye
Icyfire88: Aw, over so soon? Bye...
Kafyui_Arrdmugar: gb
pheonixfire12: WAIT I JUST GOT HERE"

The stream goes offline.

Chapter Text

"Hey guys!" Noah basically shouts into the microphone, as excited as you've ever seen or heard him.

Judging from the acoustics, he's indoors, specifically somewhere cramp, but thanks to the closeup headshot, you can't make his surroundings out. What you can make out, however, is his attire. He's in an unusually heavy grey jacket and an olive beanie with his unkempt hair spilling out the brim, and a matching scarf resting around his neck.

"HUGE news for the series! For the first time ever, we've left mainland America! And I'm not in an Aloha shirt so that must mean we're in..."

A car door being popped open can be heard in your right ear, revealing the cramp interior Noah's been in belongs to a vehicle. Both your ears are then assaulted by roaring winds as the cameraboy steps out of the parked vehicle and into a nightly storm. Gust-driven snow dances and swirls all around the dark sky above. He gives a brief scan of his environment: a desolate landscape that'd be a solid crystal white if it weren't for the indigo filter cast by the moonlit clouds. Through the tempest you can see a large compound a few paces north, a couple of grey snow-encrusted buildings surrounded by orange snowcats, likely like the one Noah was just in, and watchtowers spotted with red emergency lights that burn through the sheet of pouring snowfall.

"...ALASKA!" he tries talking over the wind as he turns the camera back on him. "LET'S GET INSIDE SO WE CAN TALK!"

After pulling his scarf over his mouth, he hurriedly trudges through the snow and lets the camcorder hang so you can see his olive cargo pants and black winter boots heavily race across the white with a hard crunch each step. So he doesn't get lost or blown away in the swelling tides, he buckles his belt to a life line with a harness that safely escorts him towards the outpost. He follows the safety ropes across the snowfield and detaches once he's close enough to a backdoor. The howling wind is sapped away once he enters one of the buildings and shuts the door behind him. He gives a hard "brrr!" as he shakes off the hundreds of snowflakes clinging onto him. He lowers his scarf so he can speak.

"SO!" he inhales, heavy breath spilling out his mouth with every syllable like a fog machine. "My dad's on a weekend-long business trip to ALASKA! I begged and I begged for him to take me with him and he finally said yes!" he coos, so excited he's bouncing up and down in his boots. "Okay, I need to calm down... Anyways, my dad's also old friends with a local musher that knows Juneau's outback well, and he took me out here for a quick sled ride! But what I'm ACTUALLY out here for is Outpost 31! Story-time! Back in 1982, a crew of 12 women were stationed at this US research camp, and after it was hit by a harsh winter, they were never heard from again. This place was then classified as a black site that the government and military had a tug of war over for decades, like Area 51, but by now it's forgotten history. Until today! So let's give this place a good Creepy Explorations sweep!"

He confidently steps forward but immediately curls back into a freezing ball once the icy air of Outpost 31's interior hits him, apparently not much different from the blizzard you can faintly hear still roaring on outside.

"Dang, it is COLD in here! Well, I guess electricity hasn't run through this place in like a century...maybe there's a generator around that'll heat this place up a little...Anyways, to address the elephant in the room, sorry I've been MIA all month, I've been celebrating Christmas with my family. I'm late, but, if it means anything, Merry Christmas! Plus, I wanted to try to top my livestream, and I think flying 4,000 miles across the friggin' continent did it!"

The camera goes first-person and the exploration at last begins. He's in a long claustrophobic hallway, the ground carpeted in golden hay and the walls mostly just cages keeping several animal pens inaccessible.

"This must've been the dog kennel," Noah narrates as straw crunches beneath his boots just like the snow, peering into the empty doghouses he passes. "My dad's musher friend had one of these in his shed...I wonder if Outpost 31's dogs disappeared like the crew did too..."

At the end of the kennel is a cluttered storage corner housing a gas-powered portable generator with a chipped yellow paint job.

"Oo, lucky break!" he chuckles, cold breath still blowing out into the frame. "Cross your fingers! 'Cause I can't feel mine..." he sighs as he sits the camera down on an oil barrel so he can get a firm grip on the generator's starter cord handle while also getting leverage with his boot and other hand.

He gives two hearty yanks and it gives him two mechanical snarls in response.

"Come on..."

Noah does a third and final heave so hard the recoil sends him stumbling backwards into a supply shelf, causing a toolbox from its top sill to crash down onto the ground and almost squash him in the process. Meanwhile, the generator roars to life, shaking the whole maintenance slice of the facility with its rumbling might.

"Ah! Let there be light!" he cheesily quips with a cocky smirk after shaking off the shock of nearly killing himself with that toolbox. He returns the camera to his possession. "I'm feeling toasty already. Now let's continue the tour!"

Right before he moves on, he notices something that spilled out of the toolbox in its fall. A flat, black, plastic rectangle that could fit in your palm.

"Is that a...tape?" he asks as he reaches out for it, scooping it up with the hand filling his snow-caked black glove. "I think we have a cassette deck in the attic at home. I'll hang onto this..." he footnotes as he pockets it.

He ascends a wooden two-step staircase, and just before he abandons this area, a bark of all things echoes throughout the outpost. Noah freezes (ha), before turning around and looking back at the kennel. There's a single dog locked up in one of the cages: a silver husky, tail wagging and tongue panting happily as it stares up at the camera. Noah lets out a big dramatic gasp before immediately freeing the thing.

"OH MY GOSHHH, IT'S A HUSKYYY!!" he squees at the top of his lungs as he crouches down so he can pet and hug the everloving crap out of it, who meets his affection with a big lick to the cheek. "Oh my gosh, why is there a dog in here? Did someone leave it behind? But this place has been abandoned for decades!"

He peeks between its legs real quick.

"Are you hungry, girl? You don't look hungry. You look big and strong! Oh my gosh, guys, I was NOT expecting this! I don't know why the heck there's a dog here but there's no way she has an owner anymore. I'm gonna get her back to my dad's friend. That means you can come explore the rest of the outpost with me! You wanna explore with me, girl?!" he teases in his doggy voice as he rustles the fur on its neck.

The dog barks and bounces in excitement.

"Okay!"

Noah departs from the kennel with the dog following him loyally. The pitter-patter of four little paws accompany him throughout the rest of the exploration. They travel through a featureless mess hall and into the nucleus of the facility: a long and narrow corridor stretching across the entire building, seeming much like the inside of a ship. He begins making his way down it, possibly a bit disoriented by its sprawling, endless-seeming length. He takes the first opportunity to escape it: a doorway leading into a small office off to the side. An ancient tape player rots atop a desk tucked into the corner.

"Oh...Guess we won't have to wait until I get home..." he nervously mutters as he hangs over it and brushes its blanket of dust aside.

He then fumbles with the controls like a kid his age would, blindly pressing buttons until the compartment is popped opened, stuffed with the tape, and that tape begins rolling.

"I'm going to hide this tape when I'm finished," somberly growls the voice of a grizzled but defeated and exhausted-sounding woman, further distorted by the recorder's low quality. "If none of us make it, at least there will be some kind of record. The storm's been hitting us hard now for 48 hours. We still have nothing to go on. One other thing: I think it rips through your clothes when it takes you over. Windows found some shredded and bloody Long-Johns in the trash but the name-tag was missing. They could be anybody's. Nobody trusts anybody now, and we're all very tired. There's nothing more I can do. Just wait. This is R.J. MacReady, helicopter pilot, US Outpost 31."

The tape stops spinning with another plastic crunch.

"Whoa..." Noah whispers as the camera goes back into vlog mode. "The Army must've never found this in all their years of searching this place! It's crazy to think that this thing was recorded...30...carry the...34 years ago! The woman that was talking had to have died decades ago... Rest in peace, Ms. MacReady. But what did she say about something ripping through your clothes?"

Someone rises into the shot behind Noah. It's the dog, sprouting and mutating into an anthropomorphic husky with a voluptuous figure and hefty bosom. Her silver pelt is crazed and matted, fangs hang out of her snout, and her eyes pierce with scarlet to make for an unmistakably malignant and sadistic scowl. Four fleshy tendrils violently explode out of its back. It's one hellish but freakishly sexy monstrosity, something you don't even know what else to call. It's just a...Thing. One of the tendrils wrap around the bottom third of Noah's head with slimy and slinky fluidity, gagging him.

His eyes widen.

Chapter Text

The camera clatters down onto the tabletop and Noah is soared up in the air like a beanstalk sprouting from the ground. He kicks his feet and tries prying off the tendril hugging his face as bloodcurdling screams are muffled from underneath it. Two more tendrils explode out, one for each of his wrists as to spread his arms out and completely restrain him. Finally, a fourth tentacle is extended to undo Noah's belt, hook on his waistband, and drag his green pants and white briefs down to the ankles of his black boots, baring his legs but most importantly, his cock. Just as MacReady promised, his clothes are torn into. The slimy pink tendril slowly but fiercely licks at his junk like a tongue, making his balls bounce in his sack and his cock flap up and down, getting thicker and longer every down it slaps down onto his scrotum. Once it's hardened into a throbbing erection, the tendril coils around it like a stack of tires, beginning to violently tug and jerk at the member swallowed by its firm grip. You can only imagine how that slick alien flesh must feel like on such a sensitive part of his body, but however it feels, it's enough to drive Noah into three consecutive orgasms in less than a minute, each painting the camera's lens until only a fourth of the view is left.

He stops struggling and goes completely cross-eyed as the otherworldly ecstasy forced upon him cooks his brain like a fever. The three tendrils restraining and suspending Noah retract, dropping him to the ground in a splash of his own cum. You hear clothes shifting and tearing, boots rapidly stomping across the floor, and The Thing letting out frustrated snarls, all accompanied by Noah gasping and panting. You can see perpetual movement in the bottom right corner of the screen but that's about it. For a while, most of your vision is just cum-stains coating the lens, but Noah finally notices and wipes it off. Now he's in some kind of employee lounge, indicated by the big green pool table and bar tucked away in the corner. The couch is draped in the rags of torn rope, and there's a human-shaped hole in the wall leading outside, which tell quite the story of what happened here in the winter of 1982. Noah makes a run for the makeshift doorway and snatches a fire-axe off the wall on his way out, but his foot is caught by a tendril and he's torn to the ground.

"NOOOO!" he screams as he's reeled across the floor back into The Thing's slimy grasp.

His axe slips from one hand and his camera the other, giving you a wide view of the whole lounge as it hosts Noah's struggle with The Thing. His pants still lie around one of his ankles along with his jangling belt buckle, and unfortunately for him, this makes it all too easy for one of The Thing's tendrils to spread his legs and stuff itself into Noah's exposed buttcrack.

"OOF~!" he squeals as his face is infested with red.

Another one coils around a part of his head like a constrictor and blindfolds him, trapping him in darkness so all he has is the feeling of his digestive system getting invaded. He screams wildly with a whiny and sniveling inflection, and you can see the tendril writhing underneath his belly as it fills him up. Noah is able to blindly feel around for the axe and get its handle in its grasps as he wrestles out of the two tendrils' chokeholds. In a surprising burst of badassery, he's able to roll over up to his feet and bring down a ferocious thwack down onto one of the tentacles. The Thing lets out an unearthly roar so loud it seems omnipresent as the fire-axe's head chops one of its appendages in half, severing it so it can spasm around on the floor. The tendril regenerates...

But The Thing doesn't grow a new tendril.

The tendril grows a new Thing.

An entire other female werewolf burgeons from the severed appendage cell by cell, identical to the first. Noah's only succeeded in doubling his problem. So much for a badass moment...

"Oh, you have gotta be KIDDING ME!" he whines, thoroughly defeated as he drags himself backwards across the ground towards the hole in the wall.

He's stopped when the new Thing pins his wrists to the floor with two tentacles, then lowers herself down so they're face to face. She snatches his scarf by its tail and wraps half of it around her own neck so they're sharing it, bound together. The Thing grabs his face and gently nuzzles Noah's nose moving in for a couple sweet kissy pecs on his lips and cheeks. This climaxes with a passionate makeout session, shoving her snout into his mouth and licking it out. This, coupled with the two of them being lightly drizzled with snowflakes leaking in from the outside, would actually be quite cute and romantic...if, you know, one of the parties wasn't a horrendous Lovecraftian freakshow.

It's made a little less weird when The Thing retracts her tentacles now that Noah is tamed by her gentle treatment. He's still making out with a dog though. His tensed-up legs naturally ease open as he melts into The Thing's silky fur as it warms and protects him from the winter's bite leaking in, which happens to stab her in the stomach with his swelling erection. Feeling the sharp bulge, The Thing rolls off him to see what it is, which allows his boner to stick perfectly upright in the air. The other Thing's eyes go wide and sparkling at the entrance of the hardened cock. Her tongue flops out to drool at it incessantly. She gets down on all fours and races towards Noah with blinding speed so she can worship his dick. Her twin sister joins in on it, slurping his crotch with the eagerness you'd expect from a canine.

"Oauuhhh, good girls! Good gi-MMPH!~" Noah's body twists and his joints bend as they make him squirm.

Their mouths feverishly dig into his loins, making his legs twitch and his mind melt with indulgence. The fourth cumshot of the night comes spiraling out of Noah's cock to whitewash his belly with, which The Things lap up like the adorable dogs they are. You're getting flashbacks to Foxy. Then, holding hands, The Things begin...changing. Mutating. Fusing. Their molecules dance and mingle, intertwining one another's DNA. Noah crawls away slowly as the otherworldly transformation unfolds. Their strains of organic matter twist together similar to pipe cleaners, multiplying the organism's size. The five-and-a-half foot tall shadow cast upon the snowfield doubles in height and width, so Noah has to behold the might of an almost four meter tall husky girl looming over him like a newly erected watchtower.

"Oh...Crap..." Noah mutters in utter disbelief as a furry giantess blooms before his very eyes, too taken aback to even run or be scared.

Before he even gets a chance to make a run for it, The Thing reaches down and swipes Noah up by his trunk, like King Kong kidnapping a pretty girl. With the squirming boy seated in her palm, The Thing drags her tongue in between his legs to sedate him. His lower body is covered in slobber as the huge pink appendage rakes up his naked crotch. He lets out an unrestrained moan of pleasure and his groin is left sparkling with spit. The Thing flips him around onto his belly and begins making out with his asshole, forcing him to squeal like a little girl. Noah hugs her fingers just for something to cling onto as The Thing's huge snout burrows into his balls, taint, and ass. He goes slump and cross-eyed, tongue hanging out his mouth with a big stupid grin on his face as she rims and blows him simultaneously. He buries his face into her finger and you can hear his muted whimpers of bliss as his wet legs tremble. He takes a deep huff of satisfaction before sitting up, facing The Thing, and firmly ordering her.

"Okay, down, girl!"

Breathless with anticipation at what he's gonna do, The Thing obeys her new master and gently sits him back down on Outpost 31's grounds.

"Now roll over!"

Without hesitation, she twists over onto the ground and gets down on all fours, presenting her pussy to him as it swelters in her heat, as well as her tail as it fiercely wags back and forth. So his hands are free, Noah sits the camcorder down on the ground and squishes it into the snow to make for a fixed angle of the upcoming mating. The camera's been out in the cold for so long that its lens is starting to ice over. Noah climbs up onto The Thing's ass, grabbing a few handfuls of her silver tufts to get there, and mounts the beautiful beast so he can lock asses with her. He digs his boot soles into the fat on her thighs and gets a firm grip on her waist with one hand for leverage.

Then with the other, he reaches down to effortlessly squeeze his cock into her asshole as it sops with lubricant. Using his practice from Cthulhu, Noah succeeds in pleasuring the building-sized babe with his meticulous pelvic motion. The Thing's large tail fans her mate in its zealous wagging and keeps him from overheating from all the fiery passion engulfing the scene; then again, there's really no risk of that seeing how it's below freezing out. Noah hugs and cuddles with her tail to keep it still and starts lusciously running his fingers through its bushy bristles. Her happy whimpering shifts to ecstatic howls into the night as he massages her sensitive brush while fucking her raw.

"You like that, girl?" Noah tries throwing his voice over the dog's arched back with a giggle.

She barks, her inflection a mixture of strength and weakness. Strength from the passion but weakness from the surges of pleasure Noah sends rippling up her spine with every wet thrust. He nestles into her fur and writhes for a good long moment, waist going into convulsions as he unloads a downright freakish orgasm into her rectum. His tightly tensed-up body posture collapses into limpness from exhaustion, and Noah's boner withers up to retire from The Thing. This unplugs her hole and lets what looks like a gallon of glue gush out of her rectum, spilling down her legs and blending into the snow below. After taking a deep breath, Noah hops down off The Thing, pulls his pants back up to his waist, and buckles his belt back up, finally sexually satisfied. He stands on his tip toes so he can reach up and pet the good girl by groping and rubbing her ass.

"Alright girl, thank you so much, but I have to get back to my dad! Byeee!"

The Thing's tamed expression twists into an angered scowl within a second, emphasized by a low growl. Noah steps back in surprise and fear at his new pet snapping at him.

"Whoa...G-Girl, I'm sorry but...I have to go..."

Rising out of her submissive position and into a hostile posture, she starts barking ferociously at him. And given her mountainous size, her barks send shockwaves billowing across the tundra, blowing Noah's beanie off.

"Uh oh!"

He makes a break for it across the arctic wasteland encircling Outpost 31, narrowly swiping the camera up on his way out. It seems as if all of Alaska rumbles with each her stomps as The Thing chases after him with her slow and heavy strides forward. Noah races along the face of a glacial mountain, but he slips on some ice and is sent careening down into a crack in the mountain's side. His screams and grunts echo all throughout the mountain's cavernous belly. The fall is cushioned by the blankets of snow that have spilled into the underground cave. At least, you assume it's a cave. There's so little light it's nigh-impossible to see anything. On the bright side, The Thing didn't follow Noah down into the mountain's abyss, which she couldn't possibly fit in anyways. You hear him groaning in pain off-screen, followed by a flick of a flashlight and a sudden gasp. He hurriedly scrambles up the camcorder, almost hyperventilating in alarm, fogging up the shot with his cold, heavy breath.

"Oh my God...Guys..."

The video ends before you get to learn what Noah found in the cave.

Chapter Text

The video picks up right where the last one left off.

"Hey guys..." the host addresses quietly and cautiously. "Noah here...Sorry, I had to reload the camera for a sec there...So uh...last episode I got myself tangled up in...well...This."

He swings the camera around and shows that he's tumbled into a hollowed out portion of the mountain; a cavern, fogged up by a perpetual blue mist. But rather than being made from solid rock, the cave is instead lined with some type of...beige hardened slime. All of it. Every inch. The floors, the walls, the ceiling, every surface cocooned with some strange dried amber. Even the stalagmites and stalactites are wrapped with wreathes of thick alien webbing. Cavities riddle the walls like honeycombs, so it feels like you're in some nightmarish insect hive.

"Hopefully I'll be able to...navigate out of here..." he gulps. "It looks cool and creepy at least, so maybe it'll make a cool...bonus episode..."

Noah explores the viscous tunnels with a slow caution unlike any other he's shown throughout the series. It's like he's entered another world entirely. Every step he takes induces a gut-churning squish beneath you. The fleshy grotto seems to stretch on forever. No matter how many mushy footsteps Noah takes, no matter how many sarcous rock formations he snakes through, he seems lost in a maze from another world. Just when you think he's doomed to wander this empty labyrinth of wax for the rest of his life, he comes across a...field, of oval-shaped pods, each coming up to right below Noah's waist. Their texture looks leathery, and they resemble beanbag chair-sized eggs of some sort.

"Okay, this has GOT to be an alien nest! What's with the Arctic and aliens?!"

Noah approaches one of them, and when he does, its crown peels open, enticing him to get a closer look at its mysterious insides. When he does, a blur fires out the egg and into Noah with bullet-like velocity. He gasps and drops the camera to the floor, so you get a worm's eye view of what's happening. You can see something skitter into the cuff of his pants and climb up his leg with blinding speed, slipping into the waistline of his jacket and slithering around underneath his many layers.

"No! HAHAHAHA! STOP! GET IT OFF!" he jerks and thrashes around as the unseen creature happens to brutally tickle him as it explores his body from under his clothes.

The creature finally settles on his crotch, and Noah's laughter abruptly stops. An appendage slips up out his waistband and drops his pants to reveal that some type of crab-like organism is latched to his crotch. It looks like a hand reaching out and seizing a handful of Noah's junk. The "arm" is a two foot-long tail, the "palm" is an armored thorax, and the "fingers" are eight arachnoid legs wrapped around his waist. The creature is outfitted with a beige exoskeleton, and you can hear a flesh-sucking noise purring from underneath. Noah's mouth is hanging wide open, apparently in so much ecstasy he can't even muster a squeak as the alien spawn goes wild on his boyhood, immediately submitting to the alien's grasp as it gives him the best head in the galaxy. Meanwhile, two more eggs shave open, followed by another couple parasites skittering out.

"Wait, no-no-no!" Noah holds his hand out in surrender, knowing he can barely handle just one feeder, let alone three.

One of the creatures leap out of its egg, ties its tail around Noah's outstretched arm mid-air, and swings around behind him, latching to his buttcheeks to give the lucky son of a bitch a rimjob parallel to its sister's blowjob. He topples to his knees in mind-rending bliss once a proboscis fires up his ass, so he begins wailing with pleasure with tears streaming down his face. The third hatchling shuts him up by hugging his face, lunging out of its pod and onto his head so it can french him. The brood collectively rapes Noah's holes and breaks his will with their irresistible tongueplay. They parasitize his fluids for nourishment, feeding off his cum, ass lubricant, and spit. After apparently strawing enough milk from his cock and prostate like breast pumps, the two Facehuggers locked to his waist detach so they can slink to the ground.

The third and final one wraps up its makeout session and goes after its sisters, and Noah follows by collapsing to the floor's webbing. There's three giant red spider-shaped imprints stretched across his face, crotch, and ass. His hair is rustled, his shriveled dick is hanging out, and he has a face of pure tired satisfaction as he gathers all three aliens up in a hug so he can cuddle with them like they're his teddy bears. They each coo at his loving embrace. The calls are gurgling and alien, but admittedly affectionate and cute. Noah looks content with snuggling with the Facehuggers for the rest of the video, but something drips down onto his shoulder. It's a slimy, clear leak from the ceiling. The Facehuggers let a shriek and skitter out of Noah's squeeze and into the shadows. Noah almost chases after his new cuddle-buddies, but another drop bleeds down onto him, this one hitting him in the eye.

"Ow!" he cringes while rubbing the slime off of him and scrambling around for the camera to help get his bearings.

After getting it nice and comfortable in his hands, he pans the camcorder up. The lens is immediately met with a great maw of razor sharp teeth, each soaked in the wet drool that's been oozing down onto Noah. The maw opens and reveals another smaller mouth within it.

Chapter Text

The mini-jaw leaps out at Noah, and the rest of the shadowy creature follows right behind it. The camera spills across the squishy floor in a disorienting tumble, and when it finally slides into place to see Noah wrestling with the alien, he's already lost. Pinned underneath it in an inverted position, all Noah can do is squirm helplessly as the two of you behold another example of alien life. Huge shocker, the beast is humanoid and feminine, albeit impossibly huge and muscular. She looks nearly 7 feet tall and 300-ish pounds of solid muscle. Her twenty nails are all flawlessly-honed talons, her buttcrack is capped by a segmented tail the size of a constrictor, and her head is a silky smooth, elongated dome with no features aside from the two mouths.

Every inch of her tight exoskeleton is black and shiny, like rubber, making her look almost insectoid, like an anthropomorphic Warrior Wasp. Her ass and chest could be mistaken for four inky pumpkins at a glance that must be crushing Noah underneath their weight. The alien's shark-like maw curls in sadistic delight as it smells the musk emanating from his cock, and it opens wide before swallowing it whole with its inner mouth. Its black shaft is a perfect fit for Noah's boner, and the heels of his boots immediately begin grinding into the floor of wax as the alien goes down on him. She wants her share of the pleasure too though. While sucking Noah's dick, she spreads her cheeks wide and serves him her huge gaping pussy. He stirs away from the hole as it drools just as profusely as her mouth, and the alien gives him the needed encouragement by locking her ankles around the back of his head and forcing his head forward with her feet.

This smothers him with her crack and completes the other half of the 69. Noah gurgles and sputters as alien pussy lubricant drains down his mouth and bubbles out his nose. He manages to pry himself free for a gasp of breath, but an inner pussy sprouts out from in between the alien's buttcheeks, just like her mouth, and seizes Noah's tongue to reel him back into the cunnilingus. The Xenomorph's tail soars far up in the air to wag slowly but happily as she experiments with another species. You can hear Noah's wet muffled moans as his cock is once again slurped from by an alien. You can see the muscles and veins of his cock surge and convulse as it fills the alien's inner mouth with load after load of his thick juices. Noah manages to pry his mouth out of the Xenomorph's pussy and twist his head to the side just as she cums. Instead of squirting the watery drool she's been wetting herself with, she instead sprays a steaming fountain of lime green acid that almost immediately melts straight through the floor upon hitting it.

With wide eyes, Noah watches the Xenomorph's pussy juice burn a hole into the ground. "Well, thank God I didn't trying swallowing that," he quips dryly.

Done with this position but far from done with Noah himself, the beast stands, revealing a hunched, digitigrade posture. It grabs Noah by the collar and shoves him up onto the wall with Herculean strength, hocking up four mouthfuls of spit onto his wrists and ankles. The saliva instantly dries into a hardened paste identical to the rest of the nest's leathery lining, effectively webbing Noah up on the wall like he's the helpless prey of a spider. Her prehensile tail reaches up towards Noah's crotch and its tip coils around his boner before it can wither back down to flaccidity. It then begins jerking him off, tugging on his groin mercilessly like one of The Thing's tendrils. He lets shuddery moans wheeze out his throat as his already sensitive and tender cock begins once again working on another orgasm. The Xenomorph lowers down to its knees and bows down to Noah like a loyal pet, further enforced by the way its inner mouth hangs out of its jaw like the panting tongue of an excited dog. Though her slinky body language and hunched posture seems more feline than canine.

He clutches his fists and painfully stretches his neck around as his boner gushes cum down onto the Xenomorph, giving it a white shower it clearly enjoys. It cranes its neck back and lets the cock snot leak into its creases and crevices, painting its bosom and pooling in its cleavage. The Xenomorph hisses in satisfaction as it fondles itself, watching how the countless drops of Noah's cum frolics across its smooth carapace. Noah groans in exhaustion as he hangs from the wall, getting sick of all of these orgasms, but is distracted when he feels a sudden heat burning between his eyes. Three red laser-pointers appear on his forehead.

Chapter Text

The laser sight shifts to the Xenomorph's head at the last second, who leaps out of the way just in time as a blue laser beam fires out of the shadows. It narrowly misses Noah, and explodes upon impacting the wall he's strung up on, sending him flying across the nest in a great big explosion that fills the cavern with smoke and makes the mountain rumble ferociously. Tumbling across the resin-coated floor, Noah slaps his hand down on the camera and chokes on the fog of dust as he scrambles to his feet and darts his head around, dazed. The smoke parts to reveal the one who lit up the Hive. A humanoid just as towering and hourglass-shaped as the Xenomorph. You first notice that she's helmeted by some sort of black tactical mask with dreadlocks spilling out the top, its expression a permanent mouthless scowl. Her chest and waist aren't quite as well-endowed as the Xenomorph's, but she makes up for it with her extra buff physique. Man, Noah has been swimming in muscle girls as of late. She's dressed in skimpy black body-armor that only protects about a fourth of her, so most of her leathery, ashy-yellow skin is shown off in its full-body fishnet suit. She has some sort of net sack slung over her shoulder, and tosses it to the ground so her hands are free. It hits the floor with a hollow, bony clatter, because the bag is filled with...human skulls.

About five of them, polished to a sheen. Trophies, like the pelts a hunter would keep. Noah whimpers in fear at the morbid sight of a pouch of severed human heads being plopped down at his feet. A futuristic plasma cannon is perched upon the Hunter's left shoulder, its barrel drawn and smoking. He whimpers again as he stares down the thing, tensing up as it seems to power up for another blast, which would surely disintegrate him. However, the cannon instead retracts back into her shoulder armor, confirming she doesn't regard the boy as a threat. The Predator makes a purring noise that sounds like a cross between an alligator's growl and a cicada's shrill. A freakish and otherworldly sound to say the least. You're not sure what to make of it but it sounds terrifying. She marches over to Noah, and the patter of her feet sounds like the tromping of boots even though she's barefoot. She sizes Noah up and eyefucks him with the infrared vision of her mask lenses, scanning his biometrics up close and personal. Leaning sideways up against a nearby wall, the Predator throws her leg over Noah's shoulder and uses it to shove him into her in a forceful embrace. He's barely able to grab her by the thigh and hold her up as her leg alone weighs him down, which spreads her pussy wide and puts him at the perfect elevation to fuck her once he stands on his toes.

He looks at her labia as it throbs and glistens with anticipation, which makes his face glow happily. Noah has gotten the series down to such a routine that the Predator doesn't even have to ask. Her leg is like a log he's hugging, but the little brat quite inspirationally manages to hold up the 400 pound-beauty while making her cum at the same time. He jerks his dick for a couple seconds to get it to chub up, before cramming it into her fleshy opening and beginning to buck his hips fiercely inward. It takes him a while to adjust to the awkward positioning, but soon enough, Noah is in a sexual rhythm that gets them both high on elation. He whines and groans in pleasure as his crotch repeatedly rams into the Predator's. She curiously tilts her head, apparently intrigued by this alien species's mating call. Then all of a sudden, it sounds like there are two Noahs moaning. The Yautja has recorded his sounds in the sack and is playing it back to him with a feature on her mask, though with a creepy and haunting digital filter over it. It looks like the Hunter is trying to be a good house guest to Earth by mimicking our mannerisms. With her other hand, she reaches down towards her pubic mound and begins schlicking to multiply her pleasure twofold. Her alien cunt squelches as she twists and mashes her bean with her fingers, and she continues to moan with a feminine adaption of Noah's voice.

As she begins getting close, her talon-tipped toes scrunch whilst her foot hangs off his shoulder with the rest of her leg. Noah's ass jiggles and his legs quiver as he empties his little balls into her gaping snatch, clenching his teary eyes and trying to stifle his shriek of pleasure in what looks like a conscious effort to seem more masculine. After taking a couple deep breaths so he doesn't have another asthma attack, Noah pulls out, and his ropey cum wad is expelled from the Predator's vagina when she follows his example of an orgasm by squirting it out onto the floor. At least this one doesn't cum acid. Noah lets go of her leg and nearly collapses in exhaustion, surely sore beyond belief from having fucked a quarter-ton beast. The Yautja Warrior bends down and makes Noah giggle by playfully scratching the underside of his chin as a little reward for making her cum. She makes that strange clicking call again, but in this context, it seems more like an affectionate coo rather than an intimidation tactic. She also imitates his adorable giggle with her mask's vocal mimicry app. A familiar and nasty-sounding hiss ruins the mood however, snapping the Hunter into combat mode on a dime. The Xenomorph is back upon skittering out of the shadows, ready to defend her hive from her natural predator, like a honey bee attacking a hungry bear.

With the speed of a cheetah, the Xeno races on all fours at the Predator. Her shoulder cannon starts firing off shots, filling the cavern with explosions and sparks. However, the Xenomorph's reflexes and speed gives it the illusion of nigh-teleportation, dodging every shot until she's hanging from the ceiling like a spider. She leaps down at the Hunter and slashes her side with her knife-like talons. The Predator yelps in pain in something of a roaring hiss, clutching her scratched ribs. Lacking natural talons, the Predator clenches her fists and grows some technological ones instead to make for an even fight. A pair of gnarly serrated blades sprout out of the Yautja's gauntlets with a startling "SHING!". Intimidated by the wristblades' shiny edges, the Xenomorph Drone keeps her distance and hisses angrily. Instead of getting close to the Hunter, she sics her tail on her like a scorpion. But the Predator catches her "stinger" with her other hand and pulls her in for killing blow. She throws a haymaker forward, intending to skewer the Xeno with her blade-spiked punch. Going against all logic, Noah interferes with nature and casts himself between the two brawling warriors.

"STOP FIGHTING!" he pleads.

Chapter Text

The Predator's wristblades stop within an inch of his face, so close he can surely smell the metal, and the Xenomorph almost chomps down on his head. However, the monsters' primal furies cool at the sight of their boytoy. Noah opens his mouth to speak, but realizes the two of them certainly can't understand English, if even language at all, in the animalistic Xenomorph's case. Instead, he communicates his "make love, not war" philosophy the only way he knows how. He softly grabs the Xeno by her head and stands on his tip-toes so his puckered lips can plant a sweet peck on her shiny done. Then, with those same lips, he reaches up and smooches the Predator on her mask, to prove to them how similar they are by having them share a kiss. The Yautja shoots the Xenomorph an expression, unreadable due to her mask, before reluctantly holstering her weapons. Her plasma cannon withdraws into her pauldron and her wristblades slide back into her gauntlet. In response, the Drone stops threateningly baring her fangs. An interspecies truce is made. And soon, an interspecies threesome.

"There, isn't that better?" Noah asks with a smile.

The Predator gets comfortable by demasking. Her ballistic helmet hisses with steam as it unlatches from her head, and what lies beneath is finally revealed.

Let's just say she's a butterface and leave it at that.

"Oh," Noah's face dips upon the unmasking. "...You're beautiful!" he squeals, expression bursting with joy at the Predator opening up to him.

He gives the Hunter a great big hug, accepting her for who she is. The Xenomorph growls jealously, so Noah gently detaches from the Predator and gives the Xeno some love as well.

"You too!"

The Xenomorph purrs and nuzzles him like a cat. Now that all three are completely secure and comfortable in one another's presence, the lovemaking begins. The Xeno gets down on all fours, spreading her vagina and welcoming Noah to explore it. He licks his lips at the sight of her labia flex enticingly, so he gets down on his knees and aims his boner into her. However, before he can thrust inward, the Xenomorph's inner-pussy springs out, grabbing Noah by his tip and pulling him in herself. He yelps in surprise as the Drone's alien biology gobbles up his dick. Sparing him the trouble of thrusting, the Xeno starts working her lower back, rhythmically slamming her buttcrack up against his crotch. He moans quietly at the feeling of her multi-layered reproductive tract grinding back and forth across his meat scepter. The Yautja Warrior joins in to make a three-species orgy.

She crouches down behind Noah, grabs two handfuls of his buttcheeks, spreads them wide, and starts eating him out with her pincers. He jolts and squeals, giggling infectiously at the sensation tickling across his anus. He's used to rimjobs by now, but not with mouths like that. Aww, the Alien and Predator have learned to share! On one side of his waist, Noah's dick is being ridden by a pussy, and on the other, his ass is being rimmed by a pair of alien "lips", if you can call them that. The blacks of the Xenomorph's exoskeleton clash with the yellows of the Predator's skin, but they're blended together in harmony by the light pinks of Noah's rosy paleness. While feasting on his crack, the Hunter reaches past Noah's taint and starts fondling the underside of his balls with her black pointy fingernails. She gets the whole scrotum in the palm of her hand and squeezes delicately but firmly, which ignites a gratifying, gnawing sensation in the pit of Noah's belly. The Drone twists over onto her back and throws her legs over her head, Noah's dick never unplugging from her ass.

This switches the position from doggy to missionary, allowing Noah to take control. Instead of the Xenomorph slapping her cheeks up against Noah's crotch, Noah begins slapping his crotch up against her cheeks after getting some leverage by grabbing the back of her knees. The Yautja flips over too, getting on her back so her head's parked between Noah's thighs like an underpass. Her mouth and fingers swap positions, so instead of rimming Noah while groping his scrotum, she gargles on his nuts while fingering his ass. Judging from Noah's shift in reaction, the Predator's six pincers feel even better nuzzling his balls, and she can taste the hot, heavy orgasm brewing in his testes. Noah starts becoming overwhelmed by all of his senses being stimulated at once, but manages to keep his cool for the sake of properly plowing the Xenomorph. That is until the Xenomorph adds the cherry on top; the stick that breaks the camel's back. She reaches up and starts twisting and churning his cold, hard nipples.

He goes blind immediately. In the same way furious people go blind with the red of anger, Noah goes blind with the red of ecstasy. A fire rages in his chest through his nipples, a fire rages in his groin through his dick, a fire rages across his taint through his balls, and a fire rages across his insides through his ass. Blistering waves surge and pulsate up his body, pinching his atoms and climbing his hormones. His brain is roasted in his skull by a fever of sweltering bliss. He loses all control over his existence, becoming a puppet to the cosmic power of pleasure and enjoying every second of it. Motor control completely evacuates his body, leaving it to sweat, shudder, and contract endlessly. Then, he breaks. Every orgasm he's ever had hits him at once. The vivid muscle memories of every past sexual encounter in this series flood into Noah's head all at once, filling up his skull and making it burst with overstimulation. His mind is blown with pleasure.

"OHHHH FUUUUUUCCKK!!!~" the sound of Noah's profane climax echoes throughout the cave.

Uh oh, now he's gonna get demonetized. That's one for the swear jar. He tries keeping the hysterical ejaculation contained by burying balls-deep into the Xenomorph's pussy, but her belly starts to painfully swell from the overabundance of cum filling up her insides and Noah is forced to pull out for her sake. His cock sprays like a stuttering garden hose, hocking up dozens of long, thick ropes of cum onto the Xenomorph's head and belly. Noah feels terrified and helpless as he completely loses control of his own penis. It won't stop spasming, each contraction and discharge sending a lightning bolt up his crotch to his mind, so overwhelmingly pleasurable it's painful, essentially tasing the synapses in his brain. Finally, after a minute of torture, his cock has mercy. It stops seizing and instead parches back up into a flaccid little thing you would've never believed to have unleashed such a monster if you didn't see it with your own eyes.

His urethra weakly dribbles with the last few drops of cum, then Noah hits the ground like a lead balloon, going completely slack. His fingers twitch and his chest heaves gently as he mindlessly gazes up at the ceiling, his brain still cooking behind his eyes. He felt like he could feel his melted brain oozing out of his ears in the form of grey matter, having been literally fucked stupid by certainly losing some brain-cells in the process. More than satisfied themselves, the Xenomorph snuggles up with Noah like a cat would, while the Predator joins the cuddle in a more human-like position. A warm and quiet resolution ensued the fiery, howling climax. During all of this, the camera has been sitting off to the side like always, a curious observer to its owner's perverted escapades. Noah, in his tender daze, just barely notices the camcorder's red recording light. He reaches out for it and pulls it up to his face so he can address his audience.

"Hey, guys. I uh, hope you enjoyed the double feature. I know I did. But um, I think...I think I need to take a break...for a while. But I promise: I'll see you guys again," he swears with a weak but sincere smile.

"Later."