Im gonna be thinking about helen "teaching him to hunt" forever now ohh my god. Showing him how to really scare someone. Showing him how to be more dangerous. Feeding those impulses and thoughts he's so ashamed of. Encouraging them. Doesn't he want to feel better?? Why hate himself so much for it when he knows he's gonna do it again. Should be so delighted when he starts going behind the others backs more,, feasting on her victims fear and who would believe them?? Helen should coo over him when he's fresh off a statement,, ask him doesn't that feel better. Jon begrudgingly admits he does. He doesn't bother to keep up his insistence evrytime that this is the last time he does this. That he'll do better. They both know he won't. He sits outside her door after feeding, feeling full enough to think for the first time in weeks, and she runs her hands down his back, cooing over how sensitive he gets like this,,, I just think. They
- skiesandcandy
@skiesandcandy Have my possessed ramblings
Jon felt sick, no that was a lie, it would be easier if he still felt sick after tearing the fear out of someone. Instead he just felt full, like he had eaten the perfect dinner, it should be horrifying. It wasn’t. He wished feeding come with sudden clarity, it was easier when he was operating on instinct, he just wants to forget.
Considering the tracks of his thoughts he isn’t even slightly surprised to feel the brick wall behind him is no longer that, smooth wood replacing the rough bricks. Though he couldn’t possibly know when that change had actually occurred, maybe the door had always been behind him. Without conscious thought he reached behind himself pushing the door open, so his back now faced an empty hall.
Well not empty, as Helen embraced him from behind, wrapping herself around him. Size was never consistent from the distortion, but Jon could always count on feeling enveloped be her. Not like the buried where he felt crushed, just cradled and held, safe.
He probably shouldn’t feel safe, Helen was a monster, but well Jon was one too wasn’t he? Hadn’t he just proved that?
“Twisting yourself up nicely I see,” Jon had long ago stopped flinching at the echoing quality of Helen’s laugh, finding it more of a comfort than anything. He did flinch as one of her knife-like fingers caressed his stomach. The flesh there no longer concave, but swelling slightly, especially so soon after a meal.
“Doesn’t it feel better though? Not to be hungry?” Jon just let out a small whimper and didn’t struggle as she pulled him back, sliding out of the alley, and into what appeared to be a room straight out of a catalogue, if the person who had designed it had also been the embodiment of mental illness. Helen had no trouble maneuvering him, settling the pair of them on a couch, well it was a couch if Jon didn’t focus on it, he didn’t want to get a better look at what he saw out of the corner of his eye. Jon let himself be cradled in her lap on the not-couch, one of her hands continuing to stroke his stomach.
“Such a good boy, taking care of himself,” Jon blinked, it was always so hard to focus inside Helen, it was nice, like all the thoughts in his head were popping like soap bubbles. He tried to correct her, but the bubble that had the reason why he wasn’t good was particularly delicate and metaphorically popped before he could grasp it. Or was it literal, he was inside the distortion, maybe his thoughts really were bubbles. “So proud of you hunting all on your own instead of mummy having to bring you food.”
“Let me reward my special boy,” The thought of whether his brain was made of bubbles was forgotten as Helen’s gentle caress turned sharp. He could see blood dripping down his stomach now, when had his shirt been removed? The thought popped as well as Helen dig the tips of her fingers deeper, making Jon keen. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but the part of his brain that was twisted up and confused was purring.
“So cute like this, without all those confusing thoughts,” Jon whimpered as she traced a spiraling pattern over his skin, her expression soft, even as she tore into him. Jon tried to move his arm, to press his own fingers into the newly made cuts, but the not-couch seemed to have developed restraints, keeping him pinned, as the world shifted around him. He wasn’t on the not-couch anymore, or maybe he was and it was now a table, though a soft one, and had never been a couch in the first place. He still couldn’t move his hands, and squirming produced nothing more than making Helen’s fingers go deeper.
“Careful, just be good for me,” Jon leaned his mouth to complain that he was being careful, she was the one cutting him, only to yelp as something less sharp, but insistent, pressed between his legs. Jon had no idea when his pants had gone the way of his shirt, but Helen’s tongue had no boundary between it and his cunt.
Jon couldn’t do anything to muffle the string of moans and whimpers he made as the Helen’s tongue, which was suddenly far too long, or maybe it had always been that long, slipped inside him. The contrast of her fingers still slicing into him and her tongue pressing deep inside him had him clenching up, and when her other hand, luckily not the sharp points of it, tugged on his clit, his organism hit him like a train. His thoughts all popping at once, leaving him weak and pliant, even as Helen didn’t stop.
“Such a good baby monster,” It wasn’t even surprising at this point that Helen was speaking when her tongue was pressing so deep inside him Jon was concerned he was going to break. After all Helen was all around him, and something so simple as speaking with her mouth full was not even a consideration. Jon tried to comment on it but only nonsense came out of his mouth, and Helen cooed, clearly delighted that his brain wasn’t working. The nonsense syllables were replaced by gasping moans as her fingers sunk deeper through his skin. The last coherent soap bubble thought now gone he let himself fall into the ten sensations of pleasure and pain, everything else falling away.
“It’s okay baby, you don’t have to think here, just let yourself enjoy your reward.”