Mankiller–Finale (?)

Tony leaned back on the bed, his breath ragged with anticipation.

Nick was finally gonna fuck him.

He’d fantasized about this since the first time he’d seen Nick online, his balls drawing up and dick getting hard at the thought of the hard alpha dude fucking him brutally and mercilessly. It was why his videos were so popular; he knew the perfect angles to catch Nick’s angry domination of his victims.

Tony was something of a coward. He wanted to be dominated like the rest of Nick’s victims, but he didn’t want to die. He’d been afraid to let Nick fuck him, afraid that Nick would take it too far.

Now, though, Tony had the control. He was the producer and distributor of the snuff videos; he was Nick’s meal ticket.

Tony felt confident. He could just lay back and enjoy every moment of Nick’s erotic anger, safe in the knowledge that Nick wasn’t stupid enough to derail the gravy train.

Right here, right now. It was finally gonna happen, and it was gonna happen on film. There was no problem there; both of them wanted it recorded. At any rate, Tony had insisted—he’d wanted it for his own private viewing, but Nick had agreed unhesitatingly.

So here Tony was, nude except for his white tube socks and black Nike hightops with red laces. He turned his head and grinned at the camera on the tripod, giving it a big thumbs-up just before Nick walked into the room, also nude, his thick construction boots clumping loudly on the metal floor.

Nick’s huge, well-developed muscles were already shining with sweat; he’d come straight from the gym, without showering once he’d gotten Tony’s text that everything was ready. Looked like he was just as horny as Tony was.

Nick stood by the bed, breathing heavily, looking down at Tony’s slim, smooth body, his thin but long cock standing straight up like a weathervane. Nick caught the gleam of triumph, of arrogance in Tony’s eyes.

He didn’t say anything; there really wasn’t anything to say.

He reached down, his strong, massive paw grasping Tony’s dick firmly. As he began to tug on it, feeling it swell and throb in his hand, Tony reached out and grabbed Nick’s shaft—just as long as his own but considerably thicker; a truly fearsome weapon.

Tony groaned in pleasure and arced his body in response to Nick’s jacking. Closing his eyes, he gripped Nick’s swollen, vein-wreathed penis. “I want it in me,” he moaned, writhing on the bed, “I want your fucking huge tool shoved into my ass, dude!”

Nick smiled down at Tony as he climbed onto the bed and spread the smaller man’s legs, parting the firm, smooth thighs with his muscle-bound arms, pulling them up so that Tony’s new Nike kicks were hanging in the air over his face; Tony’d get to watch them flex as his toes curled while he got fucked…

Tony moaned again as he felt Nick’s weight settle on top of him. Then the pain started.

The pressure against his sphincter, yes, he expected that. But it just kept going. It was bigger than anything Tony’d had shoved up his ass before, and he wasn’t prepared. He began whimpering before the huge, dripping, purple head was completely inserted.

He opened his eyes wide and gasped, Nick was grinning evilly down in him; he’d known that Nick would enjoy hurting him, but he hadn’t realized that just the fuck itself would hurt this bad. “Oh please,” he squealed, “it fucking hurts, slow down, dude, for fuck’s sake slow down, you’re tearing me open, fuck, ya shoulda used some lube!”

Nick chuckled down at Tony, slowly withdrawing his shaft until just the head remained buried within Tony’s quivering asshole. “Ya want some lube? No prob, dude!”

Nick gave a deep snort and spat into his hand. He wiped the spittle on his swollen, ridged dong—then slammed himself back down on top of Tony, shoving it in so far his pubic hairs tangled with Tony’s ass fur.

Tony’s yell of pain vibrated throughout the metal structure and out into the factory basement, echoing off the masonry walls. It also vibrated along his colon, causing the silky smooth rectal lining to flutter over the sensitive head of Nick’s dick.

Nick bent down, laying his hard body, rippled with muscles, over top of Tony’s smaller, smoother form, letting Tony feel the way Nick’s body thrust and contorted as his muscles worked away, pumping his cock up Tony’s stretched-out fuckhole.

This close, Nick’s scent was overpowering; the hot erotic manreek of sweat and testosterone flooded Tony’s nostrils, reinforcing the masculinity of the alpha dude spearing his ass and triggering a deep-seated fuckpig response in Tony’s already willing body.

He bent backwards, thrusting his pelvis forward and up to accommodate even more of Nick’s tool up his ass, feeling his buttcheeks planted firmly against Nick’s straining groin, loving the erotically agonizing pain of having his tender rectum reamed out by Nick’s massive, merciless dick.

As he bent back, he turned to the camera. Remembering that his performance was being recorded, Tony began to writhe and moan, making sure that the camera had a good view of the pleasure reflected in his face.

As his back bent, his cock, already straining, erect, and oozing a thin trickle of transparent precum, began bobbing and pulsing. Nick looked down at it, grinned again, and grasping it firmly, began jacking it again, warmly and wetly pulsating.

“Fuck, dude, I’m gonna cum,” Tony grunted, his face contracting as orgasm approached.

“Oh no, you’re not,” snapped Nick, “I ain’t anywhere near ready to blow my load. You gotta work harder than that to get my spunk, bitch.” And leaning forward, he wrapped one huge, strong hand around Tony’s throat and began to squeeze.

“What—“ Tony managed to gasp before his air was cut off. Clawing frantically, he managed to get both hands wrapped around Nick’s fingers and was able to relieve just enough pressure to be able to speak.

“What—“ gasp, grunt, “What the fuck are ya doin—“ cough, gasp, “Dude, you can’t—“

Then his fingers slipped and the crushing, vise-like grip closed off his windpipe again.

The next few minutes were some of the most terrifying in Tony’s life–and some of the last.

Nick leaned down, smiling tenderly in Tony’s face. He let go of the smaller dude’s dick, bringing his hand up to stroke Tony’s face and smooth his tousled hair. With the same gentle, loving expression, Nick began kissing Tony’s face—delicate touches on his cheeks and his brow, while carefully and caringly stroking Tony’s face.

Tony’s swelling, blackening face.

As Tony’s eyes, already wide with panic and befuddlement, locked onto Nick’s, the alpha top started speaking. “Gotta thank ya, Tony, your films were a serious springboard. I couldn’ta made such a big splash without ‘em. But ya see, I got an offer. Foreign, but lotsa money behind it.”

Nick closed in on Tony. His face filled the punk’s field of vision, his sweat and pheromones filling the atmosphere, emphasizing Tony’s utter helplessness in the situation he’d thought he controlled.

Now he realized, he’d never had control—he’d been under Nick’s complete control from the beginning of the fuck. Nick, however, made certain to drive the point home along with his cock.

“Ya get it, Tony, ya worthless fuckin’ cunt? I don’t need ya anymore. Yeah, thanks for getting’ me started, but hey—whaddaya done for me lately, know what I mean? Anyway, my new distributor says this snuff will make me even more money through his network. So you’re gonna die on my dick to help make me rich. Hope ya enjoy the ride, bitch—but I could really give a shit, as long as ya die and make me cum…”

Tony couldn’t tell if the tears streaming down his face were from the betrayal or the physical trauma. Nick’s hand was clamped like a bear trap around his esophagus. He couldn’t afford the luxury of wallowing in self-pity; he was dying and needed to fight. But the deep sense of shock undermined his efforts; part of him simply couldn’t believe that he’d die like so many of the useless whores he’d filmed.

And Nick was treating him just like one of them. Tony’s frantic reaction, triggered by the instinctive will to survive, was amplified by his anger—not a whore! Not a whore!

But it didn’t matter. The dominating muscle top had Tony under complete physical control and was working his body as a sex toy, using him to masturbate with.

As Tony sank back into the mattress, trying to retreat as far as possible from the crushing agony in his throat, his groin thrust up. As Nick leaned over him, his grip on Tony’s neck never slacking in the least, the alpha top’s other hand grasped the thrashing boy’s still-erect dick, pulling and tugging it with a grip as strong as that crushing his throat. Even as Tony struggled violently—and futilely—to escape, he was aware of the swollen pleasure of his shaft. Despite the fear and the anger, the pain and the betrayal, Tony could still feel sperm boiling up in his scrotum.

And that was the biggest betrayal of all. He was being murdered, and it was making him cum. His own death was cause for his own orgasm. Somewhere deep inside his cringing pig soul, this was what he’d always wanted. It was why he’d enjoyed filming it; he’d been subconsciously putting himself in the place of the victim.

But he hadn’t known the fear. He hadn’t known the pain. The pain, oh fuck the pain…

It was an all-encompassing sense of pressure, burning inexorable pressure. It centered in his chest and head, different than the grinding pain caused by Nick’s iron grip on his neck. But the pressure was spreading; there was an unaccountable pressure in his balls too—faint, but growing.

But right now, Tony wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t thinking at all; his brain was a white-hot flame of panic. This wasn’t happening. If the pain had not been so overwhelming, he’d have done his best to deny it existed at all; the mind is capable of remarkable feats when it finds reality too terrifying to deal with.

Tony had expected this to be the best night of his life, not the last.

His head was full of silent screaming and pitch-black light; a hot, numbing iciness flooded his body, percolating along his tight muscles. Turning to the camera, Tony made one last attempt to cling to life. He reached desperately, pleadingly towards the camera, as if hoping that those who saw the film would somehow be able to help him—but then he remembered being on the other side of the camera.

No one was going to help him. The guys who watched this would see him struggling—and it would make them cum.

No one was going to help him. Everyone wanted to see him die. They’d shoot a wad watching him die. There was no help.

Nick sneered down into Tony’s horror-filled eyes and began whispering. “You know what’s happening, don’t ya? You’ve cum to this kinda scene before, so you know the drill, Tony. You’re dying like a little cunt on my cock. Your face is already black. Fuck, man, I can see the tip of your tongue peekin’ out. Dude, you are totally fucked and it’s totally hot…”

Tony clawed frantically at Nick’s face, his manicured nails digging into the alpha’s cheeks. Without breaking the rhythm of his pumping, the muscled stud let go of his victim’s dick just long enough to deliver a roundhouse blow to the punk’s face. The force of his muscle-bound arms was enormous; Tony’s jaw snapped like a strand of spaghetti.

The boy’s slim, lithe body rocked back on the mattress, his face contorted out of all recognition in his agony. His swollen, bulging eyes, swimming in tears, stared mutely into the face of his assailant, begging for release.

Tony had had his epiphany. The deathpig part of his twisted little soul had finally bubbled to the top under the needed stimulus of pain—as Nick knew it would. Tony was ready. He wouldn’t fight his fate any longer. He was ready to give up his life and his seed so that he could receive the dominant bull male’s spunk.

“Fuck yeah, ‘bout goddam time you realized what a fuckin’ favor I’m doin’ ya, you worthless faggot. Every one of them bitches I wasted I imagined was you. Ya like that, slut? Ya like knowin’ that I been plannin’ to kill ya from the day we met?”

Tony strove to remain conscious, to hear Nick’s words. But he was losing the battle; as his eyes bulged grotesquely from his twisted deathmask of a face, he could no longer see Nick’s hard cold eyes leering down at him. Horrible icy pain wracked his limbs; his nervous system was compromised to the point that he couldn’t feel his legs kicking and jerking involuntarily or his arms thrashing about uselessly one the bed, no longer a threat to Nick.

He couldn’t feel it; he could only feel the pain. And his vision was horribly distorted—but enough remained for him to see a large white circle in front of him—Nick’s face—and two small dark irregular shapes shuddering and bobbing next to the circle.

His new Nike kicks. He was gonna watch his toes curl as he got fucked. Now he was getting to watch them convulse as he died…

He could still feel on the inside, though. Despite the pain and pressure, despite the loud buzzing sound that drowned out all other noise, despite the icy numbness in his extremities, Tony could still feel Nick’s cock relentlessly thrusting deep into his guts. Indeed, his ass seemed to have gotten more sensitive as his body shut down; Nick massive rod seemed to fill Tony’s abdomen and torso. For a brief moment, Tony’s oxygen-starved brain had an image of him hollowed out, nothing more than a receptacle for Nick’s sperm.

He knew that was what he wanted. It was what he was meant to be. He’d never had another purpose. He accepted it, finally letting the excruciating agony of death wash over him, flooding his body and flowing out through his cock.

As Nick bent over Tony’s thrashing, convulsing body, he spit in the slut’s face. He was about to taunt Tony again—arrogant little motherfucker needed to know his place—when he saw the light fade from Tony’s bulging eyes. As foam bubbled up from Tony’s swollen, purple lips, his body went rigid. Feeling the fucker stiffen under him, Nick realized that Tony has sustained too much brain damage to understand his words.

That was ok. While there might not be any Tony left, there was still a hot, firm, thrashing, tight, moist hole working Nick’s dick. And Nick was so close to blowing his wad…

He threw himself into overdrive, his hips thrusting so fast, they almost blurred on camera. As he took advantage of the way brain trauma tightened Tony’s anus, he bent down over the black, spittle-covered face of his victim and, spitting on him one last time, clenched his killing hand as hard as he could.

The crunching sound of Tony’s esophagus collapsing was louder than Nick’s grunting; it reverberated audibly off the metal wall. As it did, Nick felt the body’s sphincter cinch up tightly around the base of his dick, functioning like a cock ring.

Nick gave a loud, strangled cry as he unloaded his genetic material into Tony’s rectum. The others had been fun, but this—this was something else. He’d fucking hated Tony. Bitch had tried to take advantage of him.

“Fucking cunt!” he screamed. “Take it, bitch, take my spunk, you worthless whore!”

Despite all his experience, Nick was wrong about one thing. Tony’s brain was past the point of recovery, but there was still some consciousness left. He heard Nick’s words and responded in the only way he had left.

As Nick’s huge, developed body shuddered in erotic ecstasy on top of the dying youth, he became aware of a hot, sticky, fluid sensation on his abdomen. Looking down at his furry belly, rippled with muscles, Nick could see that it was covered in cum. Tony’s cock was erupting like a geyser, spewing his spunk in solid pearly jets. Nick took one look and came so hard his entire body convulsed. “FUCK YEAH! FUCK YEAH! FUCK YEAH!”

Nick collapsed on top of Tony. The smaller kid was dead, nothing now but a quivering corpse. Nick lay gasping on top of him, enjoying the feeling of Tony’s smooth body twitching involuntarily.

After a while, Nick gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. He slowly withdrew his cock, still massively erect, from the corpse’s ass. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment to catch his breath before getting up and walking to his gym bag, where he grabbed a towel and wiped himself down.

Tony’s body remained quivering on the bed, spread-eagled, violated, covered in semen, with a gruesome swollen black face streaked with saliva—his own, and that of his killer.

After Nick cleaned himself up and dressed, he approached the video camera. He was already familiar with this model; it was no trouble to remove the memory card.

As he walked out of the metal structure, he slipped the card into the pocket of his tight jeans. He walked up the stairs and out into the light, the sound of his thick-soled construction boots echoing rhythmically above the sound of his whistling.

He had an appointment later today with his new distributor. He had no doubt that his latest feature would improve his bargaining position; it was sure to be popular.

Behind him, Tony’s body continued to twitch as it cooled and stiffened. At some point, the gas for the generator ran out. Tony was left to rot in darkness.

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