Hard Candy chapter 2
Here's a sequel to the Horrible Short Hard Candy
posted on Hentai Foundry
and based on an old Daily Flash Fiction from way back when. It has strong 'L-word' themes but Candy is still a badass.
5 years ago.
Little girls couldn’t normally stare at him for more than a glance before burying their faces in their mother’s skirt, but the one that rang his doorbell that night had a puffed chest and fire in her eyes like she was sizing him up for a fight. Otis’ face was a track of deep scars with one eye sewn shut. He could not afford a prosthetic hand and his spaghetti-stained wife-beater had no sleeves to hide his stump in.
“I don’t want any cookies,” he told her, not really convinced that a girl scout would go door to door in her pajamas, but eager to return to his bottle.
“I’ve seen them too.” That’s all she said, but also all she needed to say. Otis could not believe the words he had longed to hear for eight years came from a girl half his size, and a fifth of his weight. The reversal was complete when he fell on his knees and cried like a little girl. Though she resisted far longer than him, Candy cried in his arms too and squeezed his chest with all of her tiny might.
She had followed him from the police station, snuck away from the officers debating what to do with this delirious girl who spoke of monsters having sexual intercourse with her older sister before eating her whole, bones and all. No trace. Almost as if she... ran away.
During Candy’s daring escape, she overheard a man with a similar story. An old story he was tired of repeating to a detective who was tired of hearing it. Fiends. He called them Fiends. He had fought such creatures twice and been left for dead twice. Fists, blades, bullets, nothing could dent their black skin, even when it lied dormant and invisible under the human disguise.
"All black. Once transformed, they are blacker than the night, eyes and all," she heard him tell the bored detective pretending to take notes. Candy knew this statement to be a partial truth, for, in her vivid recollection of that night, the dark eyes turning bright white was what stood out the most. If that was a Fiend’s weakness, only the dead girl in their arms could take advantage of it.
Otis took no pleasure in taking Candy’s virginity with a cock as big as her arm. It was with his eyes closed and his thoughts purposefully clouded with revenge that his one working hand wrapped almost fully around Candy’s waist, and he pushed his member deep into the hairless slit, then deeper still. He could barely fit half of it without hitting the neck of her underdeveloped uterus, but she begged him to push on, to break her, to ruin her. This was only a small first step, for a Fiend would turn her inside out if she only prepared with human penises no matter how massively incompatible with her youthful parts.
Day or night, whenever he could muster an erection, Otis put all of his energy in reshaping the girl’s birth canal and rectum with deep, violent thrusts that made the furniture rattle. Through clenched teeth, the girl endured, following every moan of discomfort and groan of pain with “more” and “harder” to keep her coach focused.
When his penis wasn’t enough, he used his stump. When his stump wasn’t enough, he used the fist of his good hand. And whenever he wasn’t loosening her holes, he forged a studded metal cock with dimensions from his repressed memories so that Candy could continue her training even after the grief and guilt took him.
One day, when Candy was testing the final adjustments of the homemade sex machine, Otis walked up to her side and coiled his large fingers around her slender neck with tears and killing intent in his eyes. Candy’s mind was already clouded by the pain of the machine’s two-foot-long anal bulge untwisting her guts. She couldn’t understand, couldn’t fight back.
Otis stump and the massive weight behind it immobilized the girl’s left wrist against the workbench. Candy’s legs were numb from the piston grinding against her lumbar nerves, not that her kicks had a chance to even annoy a man of that size. Her right hand pushed, punched, and clawed, but every choking second sapped her strength until it went limp and fell on the wooden deathbed.
Candy’s crashing hand made an object spin. The screwdriver’s handle found her grip and brought a grim clarity to her dire situation. Otis had put it there. Otis, who had spent months acting like a Fiend against his every instinct was ready to die like a Fiend to give Candy her final lesson. He needed her to know she was capable of taking a life before hers was taken.
He missed his girls so much.
10 years later.
The sweet irony was making it harder to appear vulnerable and dejected; after years of hunting, Candy felt the winds of change. The Fiends knew something out there was killing their kind, so they went out in pairs. Now their hunter had a way to tell which pervert was a true monster in disguise. It reeked of desperation. Candy’s panties were getting wet just from the thought of their whole misbegotten race being on the brink of extinction.
From the corner of her eye, Candy watched two men study the bus station, looking for a trap, but she knew they couldn’t resist the sight of her bare legs for long. The strength of a god but the self-restraint of an addict. Pathetic.
“So sorry to bother you, little miss. My brother’s drunk and can’t remember where he parked his car. Do you know where Main Street is?”
“It’s two streets that way.” The timid little girl returned to staring at her shoes after pointing.
“Awesome, you’re a lifesaver. Hey, do you think you can walk with us there so I don’t get lost? I’ll give you a ride anywhere for your trouble. Don’t worry, I’ll drive. He’s probably going to pass out on the back seat.”
In some moldy basement Candy was squeezed between two hairy chests, getting double stuffed. She was reminded of her first time when she didn’t know if she could survive the cock of a Fiend. She religiously trained both holes but never both at once. Would her pelvis snap like a wishbone when the cocks engorged inside her? If she survived, would she be able to walk again? Candy shook the doubts away and moaned deep into the chest of bachelor number one to hide her smile.
As long as I get to stick a needle in their brain before I die. And if I end up paralyzed, I’ll roll my fucking wheelchair to the bus station tomorrow to kill them all the same. It’s starting... the two cocks are growing, fighting for space in a body that shouldn’t even hold one. I’m... fine. I’ll be fine. Time to cry and scream for help. I know how to behave exactly like a terrified, powerless girl in pain because I see your final struggle whenever I close my eyes. I’m not hiding in the closet this time, Amanda. Watch me.