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posted on 20 May 2025

All of her holes get used, and she must always be ready for him. His VR headset is on while he fucks her. It always is. The voluptuous, perfect women created from 3D modeling software that he penetrates in his virtual landscape make her look like an accidental genetic defect.

They never look each other in the eye when his headset is off. He doesn’t speak much, either. He hasn’t had a proper conversation with her in a long time.

She exists to provide him with holes and this is the end of it. She is nothing, a placeholder.

She’s on hormonal birth control even though it makes her suicidal to a greater degree than she already is. He doesn’t make nearly enough money from disability to support a child, yet he wants to cum inside of her because he feels like he deserves it, so he insisted on this.

She has no idea why she still stays with him. More broken ribs would be the only thing she’d have to look forward to back home. At least he doesn’t hit her. He doesn’t rape her, either; she consents to the process somewhat - a small but significant technicality.

His cock stinks of garlic and fish and his cum tastes vile and infected. He makes her swallow it each time he fucks her in the mouth. She can hear the high pitched moans of his favorite character through the speakers in the headset. He seems to be enjoying himself quite a bit. Unlike with her, he can’t seem to get enough. She’s seen this particular character; in fact, he has her hanging on the wall. As he lays into her, she looks at the disproportionately feminine curves of her body, her flat, faintly ab-lined stomach, her gigantic breasts and ass and perfect face that he’s enjoying so much.

It twists her intestines and makes her feel like she’s going to vomit. It makes her cover herself. It makes her want to destroy herself.

Because of his desensitization, it takes awhile for him to ejaculate these days, and not much really comes out besides some semi-clear dribble. Not that he was exactly a star shooter in the first place. They’re barely scraping by, so they can no longer afford lube. She certainly can’t get wet and hasn’t been able to for a long time. Recently, he resorted to using a stale cooking oil in the kitchen. The ensuing yeast infection was like nothing she had witnessed before. It hurt and she felt embarassed and dirty. He bitched and complained, but fucked her anyway. And for the first time in their relationship, it looked like he might hit her from the anger when she resisted.

He’s withering away. He looks like a lowly gremlin. Whenever she sees him and his bloodshot eyes and bare, pale face, unobscured by his headset, she feels like she could kill him. He’s the most disgusting, fetid boil that she’s ever seen in her life. He’s significant enough that she wants to end him, but he’s so insignificant as to be nothing more than a piss stain on the withered carpet of a decaying house that no living soul has seen for centuries.

He grabbed her and fucked her in the ass this time, making sure to properly position her beforehand. This was an important step, as it helped to emulate the posture of the girl in the animation sequence. He couldn’t get off otherwise; she had to be spreading her ass in a very deep doggy-style position like the girl, supposedly. The alignment had to be right. He was angry when she couldn’t bend to such an unnatural position. There was no more oil now, either; his parents had used the last of the dirty bottle this morning for the liquid eggs. This was no issue, of course, as she would have to take it anyway.

She screamed during the assault and shit blood in the toilet after. She felt as if the stem of her brain had been severed from her spinal cord.

For days after, she dissociated almost to the point of unconsciousness while he used her in all of his predictable ways.

She had reached that point where she felt nothing. And because she felt nothing, because she no longer cared, because she had severed those strings binding her to other humans, she was finally free.

He was showering for perhaps the first time in a week and a half. When he walked out of the bathroom door, the bat hit him in the side of the face, caving in his orbital bone and making his eye bulge out of the socket. The second hit was delivered when he lay on the floor screaming and partially blinded. This one took out his left premolar and the entire row of front teeth with a viscious crack. The hit after this took most of the bottom teeth as well.

He choked on the blood and broken little bones with their roots which had been dislodged from his skull.

Luckily, he was still alive and thus felt pain, although his time was perhaps numbered from the brain trauma; there was no doubt some hemorrhaging at this point. In other words, she had to make this quick. It was important to make the most of the precious resources she had been granted.

She ripped the towel off of him, his sagging balls and cock hanging between his legs and against the backdrop of the stained tile floor. The strikes from the screwdriver were a satisfying combination of blunt force trauma and puncture wounds, and she found it fun to hit his testicles in a way that pierced them perfectly in the middle without them shifting left or right such that it was as if they were pinned to the floor by an arrow. For good measure, she also found it enlivening to ram the screwdriver up his anus at an angle. If the strange colored blood combined with shit was any indication, she had driven a few holes in his colon walls.

She hoped the feces contaminated the rest his insides.

Alas, their time together was drawing to a swift end. The supposed final blow of the bat against his head induced the fencing posture in his arms and legs while he convulsed. She didn’t really enjoy the sight of this and found it rather anticlimactic, so she swung a few more times as hard as she could.

The agonal breathing sounds coming from a face that now dipped inward was like the singing of an angel.