You'd been home alone for nearly an hour already and you were still pissed.
It was just like your boyfriend to get an attitude before doing anything fun and ruin, what was otherwise a good night. He went to your friend's Halloween party alone. You were supposed to go as a pair, Mario and Peach, but when you decided to stay home, he threw on his last year's costume instead.
Ghostface.
You thought it was dumb. Everyone went as Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason, or some other masked weirdo in a slasher film. Sure, Peach and Mario wasn’t exactly innovative, but it was cute, at least you thought so. Before he left he made a point to slice the plastic blade over his throat and point at you as a way to emphasize how pissed you'd made him. You rolled your eyes and gave him the finger before the door was slammed and he was gone.
Now you were leaning over the sink, doing that thing you did when you were madder than you could fathom, cleaning every inch of the house until you calmed down. You were just about to finish washing the last of the dishes when you felt the presence behind you accompanied by a stiff bulge prodding against your ass as he pushed your hips against the counter. You jumped and gasped, trying to turn but the figure kept you in place, bringing a massive hand around to cover your mouth.
"Shhh," the man leaned in and shushed you.
That's when you noticed the white of the signature Ghostface mask out of the corner of your eye. You laughed and let out a sigh of relief. It was your f*cking boyfriend. The hand lowered from your mouth, tracing over your shoulder, down your spine and resting on your hip.
"Jesus, you scared the sh*t out of me. Thought you were out enjoying the f*cking party, did you come home to give me more sh*t?" You tried once again to turn around but he wasn't letting you move.
Without responding to your question, he pulled down your pajama shorts and panties. You gasped, quickly feeling excited by this weird turn of events. It was hard to stay mad when your boyfriend had come home from a party just to give you attention. You made a point to brush your bare ass against his bulge. Why did it feel so…big. Your boyfriend wasn’t exactly ‘well endowed’. You shrugged it off. He rarely gave you attention anyway, so you weren’t about to protest.
You felt the fabric of his long cloak come up, allowing the warmth of his bare co*ck to glide along your already slick folds. You whined with the sensation, eager to feel him inside of you. This was so hot. It wasn’t that you didn’t love your boyfriend, and of course you liked f*cking him, but something about right now had your body dripping with desire. Was it the stranger in a mask fantasy doing it for you?
“Oh f-f*ck,” you muttered.
Did he actually buy that penis pump he'd been talking about for the last couple of months? - The one that HE suggested buying and then called you a whor* when you agreed and thought it would sound fun. -
"Wow, you really...that thing really works huh?" You asked, feeling the thick head prodding at your entrance.
Then you felt the slow glide forward, and then the stretch.
Too big, you thought, eyes going wide.
"W-why is it so big? God babe did you...f*ck," you wince, feeling it push in further.
That large hand from before rested on your shoulder, and an unmistakable growl erupted from the man behind you. In a quick jolt your c*nt went from empty to full, his co*ck stretching you more than ever. You gasped, grabbing onto the sink for dear life, grateful that he didn't start thrusting yet. Your jaw fell agape, breaths shallow while you tried to bring your mind back to the present. It wasn’t painful necessarily, but your body was being pushed beyond its usual threshold to accommodate this new feeling.
"Oh my..." you choked on the words you wanted to say.
"Shh," he said again, fingers caressing the side of your neck.
You felt your walls settling around him, making room and adjusting to this new size. It felt good having something so big inside you, so good that you closed your eyes and started moving your hips on your own, desperate for that friction; desperate to feel him deeper.
The sharp cool feeling against your throat made you jump, eyes shooting open in a panic. You looked down slightly, seeing the very large and very real knife against your jugular.
"Woah w-what the hell are you doing?" You asked, terror rising in your chest. "T-that's a real knife!" You shouted to your boyfriend as though he didn't know that already.
The pressure of the blade pushed further against you, and you stopped speaking, taking the motion as a threat to keep your mouth shut. The man started moving his own hips, his body shaking as he did. He felt more desperate and needy than ever before, free hand grabbing onto your waist so he could leverage his co*ck even deeper inside of you. You could feel your stomach bulging against the counter while he pounded harder.
He leaned over you, large body easily encasing yours in his massive frame. That's the moment you realized that this wasn’t your boyfriend. You felt a little suspicious before, but now it was confirmed.
This behemoth of a man was not your boyfriend.
But you couldn't do anything about it. Even if there wasn't a knife pressed right against your throat, there was the fact that the man was quite literally humongous. He kept moving, and now the plastic mask was against your left ear, his voice rasping deeply with every thrust. You whimpered, fear starting to settle down in your gut.
But the fear was mixed with something else.
It was mixed with that deep, satisfying feeling that you hardly ever felt with your boyfriend; that warm buzzing that pooled in your abdomen before sending you into an explosive euphoria that made your breath go shallow. The large man behind you made one more hard plunge into your soaking wet c*nt before your org*sm ripped through you.
"Oh f-f*ck, oh god yes!"
Miguel felt your tight little puss* squeeze the life from his dick with every wave of your climax. Such pretty sounds fell from your lips while you moaned into the kitchen. After all the times he’d watched your boyfriend f*ck you, he never heard you quite like that. Miguel was right there too, so close to spilling his seed deep in your fluttering c*nt…but your goddamn boyfriend came home just before he could.
He charged into the house, clearly still mad as he mumbled about the reason he’d left the party.
"Forgot my wallet and we need more booze, did I leave it in my–"
He walked into the kitchen, and Miguel was standing there, still balls deep inside of you, seconds from coming. He pulled out, turning to face the guy, pissed beyond belief that this moron you called a boyfriend ruined, what was about to be, the best org*sm of his life.
"Who the f*ck are you?!" The dumb motherf*cker asked, stepping toward Miguel like he was going to do something.
Standing nearly seven feet tall, there wasn't much that could shake Miguel, and your little puss* of a boyfriend wasn't going to ruin his night any further than he already had. He heard your panicked little whimper from behind himself, and your mad rush to find a place to hide. He would find you when he was done gutting your boyfriend like the pig that he was. You couldn’t hide from him…not really.
There was nothing more beautiful than the terror in that f*cker's face, - except maybe you -, as Miguel wrapped one large hand around his frail neck, lifting him off the ground with ease.
"W-what the f*ck?!" He asked, voice cracking in fear while Miguel stared him down.
He removed his mask, a sinister smirk playing across his lips. The plastic disguise clacked against the floor when he dropped it. Slowly, Miguel brought the tip of the blade to your boyfriend’s stomach and pushed it through his skin. It was a smooth, even slice, sliding in easily, no more difficult than cutting through paper.
That wasn't enough for Miguel though.
He'd been watching for months, seeing how this guy treated you. He was a f*cking asshole to put it lightly. He was always gaslighting you, making you feel like you were worthless, more like you were a burden to him than an asset.
"I should've killed you months ago, pendejo, but I'm a patient man...had to wait for the right time." He snickered softly, enjoying the sounds of your boyfriend struggling to stay alive, gasping to catch the breath that would never come. "Now I'm going to go f*ck my cum into your beautiful girlfriend until she's begging me for more. Gonna make sure she knows just what a good girl I think she is."
Watching the life leave your boyfriend's eyes was one of Miguel's greatest joys. He almost came from that sight alone, knowing that this man couldn't touch you anymore, treating you like such sh*t for someone with a little pencil dick. You deserved to feel good, and Miguel was going to make you feel good.
With blood on his hands, face, and everywhere else, Miguel went looking for you. If you'd been thinking clearly you might've run outside instead of deeper into the house. At least then you would’ve had a chance of escaping. Your house wasn’t very big, and there were only two places you could've been in that small two-bedroom home. Your whimpering gave you away in your bedroom closet all too easily.
Nearly tearing the flimsy bifold door off its hinges, Miguel opened the closet in your room to see you curled up and trembling on the ground. You jumped, cowering back into the corner of the closet.
"Oh sweetheart, you don't need to be afraid," he cooed, reaching forward and grabbing your tank top tightly, ripping you out of the closet.
You shrieked, wriggling and begging for him to let go. Wasting no time on formalities, Miguel slammed you chest first onto the hardwood floor, knocking the wind out of you. You breathed in, hiccupping so hard from the endless crying. It was such an adorable little sound and he loved hearing it from his pretty girl.
You were his pretty girl now.
"You should be thanking me," he said, taking the sharp blade of his bloody knife and slicing the fabric of your shorts with ease. "That guy was a f*cking asshole."
You sobbed, but it seemed like you were giving in to him, no longer trying to fight him. Miguel pulled up his robe, letting his fat co*ck rest against the crease of your ass cheeks. He was honestly impressed you fit him so well in that snug little hole of yours the first time. He'd never felt anything so good in all his life, and he was trembling with the prospect of feeling it again. His dick twitched, precum dripping out into your crack.
With his free, and bloody, hand - the hand not wielding his knife - , Miguel jerked his co*ck, making it nice and slick for you. He chuckled at the thought of f*cking you with your boyfriend's blood covering his co*ck. It was a final 'f*ck you' to the asshole who didn't deserve to be with you.
"Looks like that little sh*t wasn't useless after all sweetheart. He’s helping us now…see?"
You were still so slick from before, perhaps even more so now, that he didn't need the blood, but it felt like a poetic touch. He liked the wet sound the tip of his co*ck made when he slipped it into your c*nt and then pulled it back out again. You whined, sobbing harder while he played with you, but the way you parted your legs ever so slightly as he did this didn't go unnoticed.
"You can cry, mi vida, I love that sound, but you can't deny that you want this co*ck," he thrust forward, punctuating his sentence by stretching you out around him once more.
You gasped, ass arching upward, but Miguel couldn't tell if that movement was meant to get away from him, or to prepare and beg for more. He brought the knife back to your throat, much like it had been not long ago in the kitchen. His other hand grabbed onto your shoulder, leveraging you down on his dick harder, deeper, and faster.
He f*cked you so good you were drooling. This was probably the best dick you'd had in years, and he felt honored to give it to you. Your tears even stopped after a few minutes of him splitting you open around him. Miguel leaned over you, bloody lips leaving a crimson trail on your bare shoulder where he kissed you softly.
"P-please..." you whimpered.
"Please what sweetheart?" He asked, hips rolling into you at a steady, strong pace.
"D-don't k-kill me," you begged, your little voice growing hoarse from all your cries.
"Oh, mi vida, I would never," he promised, kissing the side of your face. "You better stay still for me though, I can't guarantee my knife won't slip on accident. That idiot's blood made my hands pretty…wet."
You let out a frightened whimper at his words. Miguel loved your fear, co*ck growing harder at the sound of your crying as it started up again. His breath huffed in your ear, lips pressing against your cheek some more just to feel closer to you. You smelled so good, better than he’d imagined you would. Being in you like this was like something out of his wildest dreams.
"You were busy hiding from me sweetheart, so I'll tell you the promise I made to your boyfriend right before he died...do you wanna know what it was?" He smiled against your cheek.
Your c*nt clenched around him, so despite your saying 'no', Miguel knew you were dying to know the vow he made while your boyfriend took his last breath.
"I told him I was going to make you mine. I told him that I was going to f*ck you full of my cum until it was spilling out of you and you were begging for more." He slammed his hips flush against your rear in one final jolt until he felt your puss* squeeze around his dick.
His balls tightened, hot cum shooting out in ropes and filling your c*nt to the brim. A choked growl escaped him at the feeling of his release washing over and relaxing his body. Your breathing quickened, hands tightening into balled fists in front of yourself as you came too, puss* gushing and throbbing around him in waves. That was twice he gave you something your boyfriend couldn't, and he'd done it in under a half hour...
"I told him..." Miguel breathed in deeply, unable to finish his sentence until his mind came back from the fog of his org*sm. "I told him that I would make sure you knew what a good girl you were, and how proud I am for you taking me so well mi vida."
He exaggerated the exact words he'd said to your boyfriend while he died, but the sentiment remained the same. Miguel filled you full of him, and you were his good f*cking girl for it.
Pulling back, his dick fell out of your hole with a pop, and your puss* started dripping his cum onto the floor.
"Ooh no no sweetheart, can't have that," he cooed, bringing his knife from your throat and resting the flat edge of the blade under your dripping puss*.
Your legs were still shaking, - either from fear or as a result of the ecstasy -, as Miguel watched his spend trickle out onto the knife.
"That's it, atta girl, keep pushing, I know there's more in there," he urged, watching you tense up and squeeze to get the rest of him out.
Your compliance told him one thing...he'd broken you into obedience. He stuck a thick, bloody finger into your c*nt, curling and dragging to pull out what was left in there, making sure to get as much of it onto the blade as he could. He was careful not to let any fall on the floor as he brought the sharp edge to your lips. He grabbed the back of your neck with his free hand, holding your head in place firmly.
"Make it clean," he demanded, lips twitching into a smirk, anticipating your likely protest.
"Wh-what I...my boyfriend's blood is...y-your...I can't, I–"
"Shut up," he spat, holding the blade even closer to you, "I don't want to have to make you sweetheart," he threatened.
Shaking, and still sniffling from the onslaught of tears, you stuck your tongue out, lapping up a small bit of the sticky white spend from the metal. He bit his lip watching you, feeling himself getting excited again at such a pretty sight.
"That's it, keep going," he cooed, tipping the knife to make it easier for the cum to drip into your mouth. "You better swallow every last drop, I made all of that just for you mi vida."
You groaned, hating yourself for enjoying this even a little bit. You finished all the cum off the blade and then looked up at him expectantly. There was no way he meant for you to clean your boyfriend's blood off the knife...right? You’d cleaned up all the cum, surely that was all he wanted from you…right?
He chuckled, "all of it."
A chill ran down your spine as you lapped the weapon clean, filling your mouth with the bitter iron taste. You shuddered, nearly vomiting as you finished the last bit. The man finally released your neck, letting your body drop to the floor where you lay, f*cked out and spent, unable to bring yourself to stand.
You didn’t know how long you laid there, motionless and trying to gather the strength to see what damage had been done, and to call the police. You couldn't get up though. Your arms felt like they were made of gelatin, and the rest of you was frozen in terror. Was he going to come back in there and finish you off too? Would he use your body again? Was it better to stay there or try to run? If you tried to run would he be angry?
At some point you must've fallen asleep. You only recalled closing your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again the daylight was pouring through your bedroom window. You stretched your arms, sitting up in your bed and looking around. It seemed...normal. It felt...strangely normal.
If not for the ache in your c*nt you might think last night was a dream. Your shorts weren't ripped anymore, but your ribs still ached. You were in your bed but...but your boyfriend wasn't.
Oh god...your boyfriend…
In a mad rush you ran to the kitchen, expecting to see a gruesome, gory sight, but instead you were met with a pleasant, clean scent. There wasn't a spot of blood on the floor, or anywhere else for that matter. You grabbed your head, taking a step back. How could this be? You stumbled back again, only to feel your back hit what felt like a brick wall. That brick wall had arms; big muscular arms that wrapped around you and pulled you closer against it.
"Good morning mi vida, can I get you some coffee?"
