THE HIGH TABLE

SKIN MUSCLE:

The underworld was designed to consume the will, but for Skin, it was merely a nightmare gymnasium where his hatred grew denser than iron. After turning Al Ghratos into a statue of inert stone, Skin burned every last drop of his divine essence to tear a rift in the veil of the dead and re-emerge into the land of the living. The man who climbs from the earth is no longer the supernatural being of before; the magic has evaporated, leaving behind a warrior of pure flesh, hypertrophied muscle, and predatory agility. Skin now walks the city shadows, stripped of his tricks but driven by a thirst for vengeance that makes his blood boil.

Meanwhile, Dream Breaker, confident in his past victory and restored to his full physical glory, has returned to his old ways—stalking abandoned places like basements and theates and turning new victims into his personal trophies.

DREAM BREAKER:

Time is a strange thing. It allows us to heal and carries us into a new life, often helping us forget the painful details of the past. My strength had returned—I’m talking about my physical strength now. The magic was gone, but I wouldn’t need it anymore. Skin was far away, a prisoner of the void, and would never return. I now rule the underworld with an iron fist.

My spies and informants brought me news and kept me up to date so I could react to potential threats in a timely, ruthless, and severe manner, eliminating them or turning them into my whores. Or both. HAHAHA. But then, one Sunday morning, one of my best spies reported with concern that Skin had probably escaped from the Void. I don’t find the news very credible, but it’s always good to be on guard. SKIN MUSCLE might have tricks up his sleeve to escape even from the Void, but time will tell. Right now, I’m just thinking about taking a bath with my new toy boy, a rookie cop with a godlike body and such a great ass.

SKIN MUSCLE:

I let those pathetic spies catch glimpses of my shadow in the ruins, feeding them just enough "hope" to run back to their master with trembling lips. Dream Breaker thinks he's ruling an empire, but he's just warming the throne while I sharpen my teeth. I’ve heard all about his new "toy boy," that little rookie cop with the godlike physique and the tight, unblemished skin. It’s almost poetic—I’ll make that pretty boy my first offering to the darkness, breaking his spirit and his body until he’s nothing but a screaming message delivered straight to Dream's doorstep. While he’s soaking in his bath, I’m already in the pipes, a ghost of muscle and hate waiting to turn his sanctuary into a slaughterhouse.

DREAM BREAKER:

I love to have my bath with a bit of almond oil, oil of the green almonds. It doesn´t just leave that soft scent but also is a great stimulator, keeping all the right places aroused. But where the fuck is that cop? I send my servants to check around, to make calls. I don´t like the idea my toyboys come late. I sink beneath the warm, fragrant water, letting it cover my hair until I rise back up and lean against the edge of the hot tub, placing a warm face towel soaked in almond oil over my face while I stroke my thick cock underwater. "Bring him here, even if you have to drag him from the ends of the earth," I mutter to my servants from under the towel.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The rookie cop won't be coming—not in the way you expect. Intercepted him two blocks from your place. He tried to reach for his gun, but I was faster, my 20-inch arm snapping his wrist before he could even scream. I didn't kill him then; I wanted him to feel the weight of the Void I just crawled out of, so I dragged him to a nearby basement where the air smells of old copper. I unleashed months of buried rage on his "godlike" body, my bare fists turning his pretty face into a pulp of violet and red until he couldn't even beg for mercy. Then, I heated a rusted steel bar until it glowed a bright red, then orange, finally white. I took my time, the scent of searing flesh filling the room as I crushed his pride and his stones with the white-hot metal, ensuring he’d never be anyone’s toy again. He was now a vessel for my message.

The knock at the door is heavy. When you open it, there is no one, only a single, elegant bottle of green almond oil sitting on the threshold. But as you lift it, the liquid inside isn't clear; it’s a murky, swirling crimson, and bobbing against the glass are two charred, shriveled lumps of flesh—the balls of your toy, scorched black by my steel.

Taped to the back is a scrap of blood-stained parchment with a single address and a jagged scrawl: "He's still warm, Dream. Come and get your toy". When you arrive at the derelict basement, the scent of almond oil is suffocating, masked by the heavy, metallic stench of an open slaughterhouse. There, under a single flickering bulb, sits a rusted clawfoot tub overflowing with a thick, pinkish froth of soapy water and gore. Your "godlike" cop is slumped inside, his beautiful face a distorted mask of purple hematomas, his eyes rolled back in a permanent stare of terror. A macabre doll used by me several times.

DREAM BREAKER:

I can tell right away what those chunks of meat floating in the bottle are, even though they’re burnt to a crisp. I’ve sent similar messages in bottles to mafia bosses and other decision-makers myself. The balls of the 25-year-old son of the city mayor made the father to bend to my will when I threatened to send a similar message using his 20-year-old son’s testicles. I also know who’s behind the message. SKIN!

I step into the musty basement and look at the lifeless body lying in the rusty tub, completely covered in its own blood and semen. I recognize the man immediately: a rookie cop. So Skin managed to escape the void. I also know for sure that he’s watching me; he’s probably hiding in the shadows somewhere, as is his custom. I turn to look toward the center of the room. “I got your message and I get it. You can come out now and face me like a man if you’ve got the balls to do it!”

SKIN MUSCLE:

As you prepare for a duel, a series of heavy clicks echo from the darkened corners of the basement—dozens of red laser dots suddenly dancing across your chest and forehead. From the gloom emerge the very mafia bosses you once terrorized: the Mayor, the Cartel leaders, and the men whose sons you mutilated. I didn't just escape the Void, Dream; I brought their vengeance with me. I spent my first nights letting them know exactly where to find the "King" who broke their bloodlines.

Leading the group is a massive, scarred brawler in a blood-stained leather apron, his knuckles white as he grips a heavy, serrated meat cleaver. To his left, a wiry, silent tactician in a matte-black combat harness keeps the red laser of his rifle centered on your throat, while a mountainous giant in a sleeveless denim vest rests a ten-pound sledgehammer over his shoulder like a promise of shattered bone. Finally, a muscled guy in a sharp, black trench coat steps into the light, her face a mask of grief-fueled rage as she levels a silenced submachine gun at your kneecaps. They don't speak; they just tighten the circle. Your business is over, and now is time for the first round before WE MEET.

DREAM BREAKER:

I watch you leaving the place with a nasty smile on your face. "Yes, pussy, we will meet sooner than you think." My voice is calm, almost threatening, as I turn my eyes back to the pretty group standing in front of me. "Hey guys, Lady! So good to see you after all this time. "How's life treating you?" I mock then as I step closer, giving a shit about the laser spots on my throat and that fucking guy pointing at my knees. I grab the barrel of the machine gun with a firm grip and raise it into the air, while my other hand grabs the barrel of the rifle equipped with a laser sight, bending it sideways.

Their surprise lasts only a second, maybe two, before they open fire... shooting at each other... eventually, when the machine gun’s roar dies down, four bodies lie on the ground. Only the man dressed in a leather apron appears to be alive. I take a massive steel sledgehammer from the dead man’s hand and smash the last surviving man’s skull against the floor. A hollow, wet sound and the mixture of blood and crushed brain matter slowly seeping onto the floor confirm that the last man is dead. “Where the fuck did Skin go?”

SKIN MUSCLE:

The moment the sledgehammer finds its mark with a sickening crunch, a distorted, metallic hum crackles through the basement’s rusted PA system. "Always so eager to break things, Dream" my voice rasps from the speakers, a recorded sound.

The silence is broken not by my voice, but by the distant, rhythmic wail of sirens converging from every direction. While you were clawing your way out of the pit, I was feeding the city’s hunger, leaking the encrypted coordinates of your private "playgrounds" to the authorities and the very cartels you once humiliated. By the time you reach the street, the flickering blue and red lights reflect off the shattered glass of your empire; the police are raiding your warehouses. Your empire is ruined, no more spies, no more money, no more power. You are ON YOUR OWN.

DREAM BREAKER:

"SKIN YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS WITH YOUR LIFE - AGAIN", I say to myself as I disappear in the shadows of the backstreet, getting away from the patrol cars. I need to find Skin as soon as possible. Or thinking better, I don't need to do anything.. he will come to me! I smile and continue my way to my shelter, where I can relax a bit and think about how to recover my business but most of all how to get rid of Skin for good this time. But it seems the luck is not on my side today. Just a few meters later, a couple of cops appear in front of me. Staring at my face in the dim light of the dark alley, they stop me, asking me to show my documents. One of them is an overweight fatty; I wouldn't like to touch him even with my fingertip, while the other one, well the other one could be hot around my shaft with his trimmed beard. I am sure he has a hairy ass too.

I pull my ID card out of my pocket and hand it to the more imposing officer, who begins to examine it intently by the light of his flashlight. The chubby cop stares me down from head to toe, perhaps wondering what he would do if my 196 cm, 140-kilogram frame were to throw itself onto his 170 cm, overweight body. I don’t let the man live in suspense and speculation for a moment longer; without saying a word, I slam my elbow into his temple with tremendous force. There’s just a hollow thud as the man’s eyes roll back in his head and his hat falls to the ground, followed by the burly officer. The man groans, half-conscious.

The younger, bearded officer reacts as his partner falls to the ground. At first, the man doesn’t know what to do with the flashlight until he finally lets it drop to the ground, wasting precious seconds. To me, those seconds feel like minutes, during which I calmly go about my business. A powerful kick with my knee to his groin should be enough to crush his balls, but the dry thud tells me the officer is wearing a groin protector. The blow is painful, however, and causes the man to bend just enough that I can easily slip my arm behind his neck to push his face against my approaching knee. His hand reaches for the gun at his belt as my knee smashes into his face. I snatch the gun from his hand, breaking his wrist, and shove the barrel between his legs, firing the gun five times. “I don’t like unfair fights. Your protection is useless.” The officer falls to his knees, blood trickling from his mouth. Most likely, several of the bullets passed through his balls all the way to his internal organs. The fat officer sits up, his mouth agape in astonishment as I turn toward him. “I haven’t forgotten you; I have something nice for you too,” I chuckle and shove the barrel of the gun into his mouth, emptying the magazine. “Skin… I know you can hear me. Show me your pale face!” I shout into the darkness and continue on my way to my shelter.

SKIN MUSCLE:

I watch the slaughter with a heavy, rhythmic intensity. Seeing you shatter that rookie's wrist and systematically hollow out the fat officer with his own service weapon sends a jolt of dark electricity through my veins; it's like watching a reflection of my own malice in a mirror of pure muscle. My hand grips my own thick, aching length, stroking with a rhythmic, feverish intensity as I witness you embrace the very brutality I used to break your world. I let out a low, ragged groan as you shout my name into the void, my release slicking my palm just as the life fades from the officers below. I don't step into the light yet; I want you to stew in this newfound savagery, to feel the weight of the bodies you're piling up in my honor.

DREAM BREAKER:

I am already about to leave the bodies of the two dead officers behind when I turn around and return, squatting down next to the younger officer. I look around to make sure nobody is around when I open his pants, torn to shreds by the impact of the bullets. Pulling out the damaged, shattered groin cup, I move it in my hand, watching it from different angles, and finally lick the inner walls of the cup, feeling the taste of his destroyed ball meat and his blood. I slide the cup into my back pocket and get out from the scene before anyone could see me.

My shelter is not any fancy, posh place, but it's safe. The walls are reinforced from the inside with 20 cm of steel; the two rooms have no windows and the place is located underground. The door is like a vault door, even though from the outside it looks like a normal wooden door. Numerous sensors constantly monitor any changes occurring in the room. Nothing could surprise me here. Not even Skin. I chuckle at the thought and lightly rub my crotch, licking the dead cop’s groin cup as I move to my bedroom, turn off the lights and take a nap, trying to think how to finish Skin who seems to be always a step ahead of me.

SKIN MUSCLE:

You believe you are safe behind 20 centimeters of reinforced steel, but you’ve forgotten one thing: a vault is only as secure as the person who designed its blueprints. I didn't need to break your door; I simply walked through the service tunnel I had bribed your contractor to install years ago. While you lay there in the oppressive silence of your bedroom, licking the copper-tasting ruin of that officer’s groin cup, I am already inside. I move with a ghost-like agility that belies my massive frame, my bare feet making no sound on the cold floor as I slip through the shadows of your living quarters. I don't attack. Instead, I stand in the corner of your room, a dark, hypertrophied monolith watching you "relax." I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, smelling the salt and iron on your breath.

DREAM BREAKER:

I erupt my thick, white seed—which smells strongly of ammonia—into the shattered cup and drink it as if it were the elixir of life, which, after all, it is. With the sense of security provided by this sanctuary, I can close my eyes in peace and sleep for a moment before I begin refining my plan. Tonight, Skin’s story would end in my hands. Then the curtains of twilight close, and a gentle sleep carries me away as I drift off on my black satin sheets.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The scent of ammonia and old copper hangs thick in the air. I reach down with a slow, deliberate motion, my gloved fingers hovering just inches from your throat, savoring the heat radiating from your "restored" body

With a sudden, explosive surge of power, I drive my knee into the center of your mattress, pinning your hips to the black satin while my hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your startled awakening. I don't want a fair fight; I want to feel the moment your "security" turns into a tomb.

DREAM BREAKER:

My eyes fly open as a blunt, powerful blow strikes my lower abdomen, flattening the head of my cock against it and pressing my hips tightly against the mattress as my upper body tries to spring upright. Your gloved hand clamps over my mouth, stifling my moans. “SKIN.” Adrenaline surges through my veins, rousing it from slumber into full operational mode. I raise my arms to either side of your head, slapping my palms against your ears with all my strength. Before you even have a chance to scream, I slam my fist into your side again and again, trying to break your ribs.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The shockwave of your palms slamming against my ears rings through my skull like a deadly bell. But the underworld taught me that pain is just another form of fuel; I gritted my teeth, the copper tang of blood filling my mouth as your fists thunder into my ribs with the force of a hydraulic press. I hear the dull, sickening crack of bone. I tighten it, my forearm snaking under your jaw to turn your explosive momentum into a suffocating struggle. my face inches from yours as I breathe the scent of your adrenaline and ammonia back into your lungs. "I've missed that touch, Dream"

DREAM BREAKER:

"I know you did Skin as I am sure you missed my kisses too", I mumble feeling your forearm choking my trachea. I move my face closer to yours pretending to kiss your lips, when all of a sudden a nasty grin appears on my face, and I hit my hard forehead into your face. I can feel that little crack as the fragile cartilage in your nasal bridge breaks and your nose starts bleeding. The crimson blood against your pale skin is a thrilling sight, and it makes my cock harden into a stiff rod beneath the thin sheet and your ass. I hit my elbow into your temple trying to make you fall down.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The impact of your forehead against my nose is a sharp, wet crack. Blood immediately coats my upper lip and chin, dripping onto your chest. My head snaps back, and the follow-up elbow to my temple sends a jolt through my skull, making my vision blur. I lose my grip on your throat as I slump sideways, but I quickly roll my weight back onto you to keep you pinned. I grab your wrists and slam them against the steel floor, using my knees to lock your thighs down. I lean my face inches from yours, letting my blood drip onto your lips. I lick the blood from your chest.

DREAM BREAKER:

The impact of my elbow is enough to push you down to the floor as I try to follow you. I step onto the floor and slip in your blood, falling back onto my back with a hard thud. Before I even have a chance to lift my head, I slam it against the hard floor again. Drops of blood fall onto my face and lips as my tongue laps them into my mouth. "This is a good start, Skin, but I want your whole body, not just a few drops of blood." My boner is all the time more and more visible and almost rubbing now your jeans covered ass. "And now what, pale boy?", I chuckle.

SKIN MUSCLE:

I drop onto your chest, my knees pinning your shoulders against the cold steel. I lean down, my face inches from yours, and try to focus on the familiar heat of your blood. I attempt to draw in your essence, to feel that surge of stolen power and watch my broken nose knit back together in seconds.

But nothing happens.

The skin on my face stays torn, and the throbbing in my head only intensifies. There is no rush of energy, no instant healing. For the first time, I feel the true weight of the magic I burned to escape the underworld. I am just a man of muscle and bone now. And now almost all my blood is near my crotch.

DREAM BREAKER:

I see the confusion on your face; it's almost like panic is running through your body. "What is it, Skin? You got out of the void but lost your vampire powers? " , I laugh wickedly. "Didn't you know that if you manage to get out from the void, you will leave all your powers there? It's the price of it", I cannot stop laughing.

SKIN MUSCLE:

I let out a frustrated growl, my fingers digging into the flesh of your neck as the reality of my loss sinks in. The laughter echoing in this steel vault vibrates against my chest. I don't pull away; instead, I lean closer, my weight pressing down on your lungs to cut off that wicked sound. "The powers were just a shortcut, fucker. I don't need magic to snap your neck." Meanwhile the blood still draining from my broken nose fillin your entire face like a creepy mask.

DREAM BREAKER:

It’s kind of amusing to watch you try to hide your frustration at the loss of your supernatural powers by pretending they didn’t matter. It makes you forget your strategy and act on impulse, releasing your grip on my wrists and desperately grabbing my throat. The irritation on your face only grows, and you lift your ass off my hips, pressing down to try to increase the pressure on my windpipe and lungs. With the taste of your blood in my mouth, I grab your jawbone in a tight grip, holding your head in place as my other arm rises into the air, bending at the elbow.

You can’t turn your head, but from the corner of your eye you watch as my 24-inch bicep bulges and my elbow strikes your temple, twice in a row. Your eyes roll back in your head as my legs rise from the ground, wrapping around your hips like two hungry pythons that begin to squeeze deep into your core. I spin around, pulling you with me until you’re pinned between my heavy body and the metal floor. “The roles have reversed, Skin. Why are you so pale all of a sudden?” I growl as I grab your wrists and pin them on either side of your head. My thick cock in my tight pajama shorts greets the bulge growing in your jeans.

SKIN MUSCLE:

My breathing is ragged, and the blood from my nose smears across both of our faces as you growl your mockery. Since I no longer have the supernatural speed to simply slip out of your grip, I have to rely on the brutal physics of our weight. As you pin my wrists to the floor, I stop pulling away and instead drive my elbows outward, using the floor as a solid base to create a mechanical lever against your thumbs. I release my hand, make a fist and goes directly to your groin. I'm trapped by your legs but you are going to suffer a deep fisting in your peritoneum, forcing my hand past the guard of your stiff rod to find the soft, vulnerable nerve endings beneath. I can feel the massive muscles of your thighs trembling as they try to keep me crushed, but the sheer, agonizing pressure of my fist sinking into your core makes your grip falter.

DREAM BREAKER:

Your blow to my groin hits a sensitive spot, and I straighten my back while still sitting on your lower abdomen. I try to tighten my crushing grip on your sides with my knees, but you know exactly what you’re doing as your bony fingers sink beneath my skin, finding those nerve endings that many wouldn’t even know existed. It’s as if an invisible force is coursing through my body as an electrical impulse, opening my thighs in a painful way. I roar like a frustrated beast as I fall from atop you onto the metal floor, finally freeing myself from your torture. The muscles in my legs are numb, but I can bend my left leg just enough to kick it toward your chest as you begin to rise from the floor.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The kick catches me squarely in the center of my chest, slamming me backward into the cold steel. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and for a second, my vision turns completely black. I hit the ground hard, my back arching as the breath rattles out of my lungs in a wet, jagged gasp. My ribs, already fractured from your previous assault, grind together with a sickening crunch that echoes through the silence of the vault.

I push myself up onto my forearms, my blood dripping onto the steel, and glare at you through the haze of pain. My hands are shaking but I scramble toward you on my hands and knees, my muscles burning with lactic acid, and tackle your legs before you can fully regain your footing. I don’t care about the agony; I grab your ankles and pull with everything I have left, aiming to drag you

DREAM BREAKER:

You approach me on all fours like some kind of beast, like the possessed bastard from a horror movie, and grab me by the ankles just as I was about to get to my feet. I fall back onto my back with a huge thud, slamming the back of my head hard against the floor. I struggle and thrash to break free from your grip as you pull me closer, but your hold is firm; you have no intention of letting go.

I try to get a hold of you by stretching out my arms, but I can’t reach you. Instead, my hand grabs hold of a spear hanging on the wall, and I try to rip it from its hooks as you continue to drag my body. Finally, the ancient spear comes loose and clatters to the floor right next to me. I grab it with both hands, pulling it over me and raising it just enough to aim its blunt tip at your face, hoping you’ll release your grip on my ankles.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The moment the heavy, cold iron of that spear clatters onto the steel floor, a violent shiver surges up my spine, a piece of sharpened metal is no longer a toy, but a definitive end. The sight of the blunt tip leveling toward my face breaks my predatory trance, replaced by a frantic, human survival instinct. I don't wait for you to thrust. I release your ankles with an explosive snarl, twisting my torso and digging my heels into the floor to throw my weight sideways. The air in the vault is thick and suffocating, a heavy fog of salt, copper, and the sharp, masculine musk of two massive bodies pushed to their absolute limits. I can taste the metallic tang of my own blood mixing with the bitter ammonia of your sweat on my tongue.

With a surge of desperate energy, I spring from the floor, my muscles screaming as I close the distance before you can set your grip on the shaft. I ignore the agonizing grind of my broken ribs and launch my entire 90-kilogram frame directly at your chest, aiming to smother the weapon between our bodies.

DREAM BREAKER:

I don’t have time to make further use of the spear before you lunge at me, thrusting the ancient weapon between us. Its long, hard shaft swings between our legs, making our struggle rather awkward, while the rust-stained tip of the spear scrapes against both of our upper abdomens. I try to find a way to bend the angle of the weapon just enough to drive it into your pale chest. We eventually roll around on the cold surface of the steel floor, each of us trying to get the upper hand. At some point during the struggle, the spear slips from between us and rolls out of our reach. I try to grab your arms to stop our rolling and smash my forehead into your blood-stained face.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The impact of your forehead against my already shattered nose is a sickening, wet thud that sends a spray of crimson across the floor. . The spear is gone, lost in the shadows, leaving us with nothing but our hands and the raw weight of our bodies. I can smell the heavy, pheromonal musk of our sweat-soaked skin and the iron scent of the blood pooling between us. I don't pull back. I lean into the pain, my teeth bared in a red-stained snarl as I wrap my arms around your massive neck in a desperate clinch. My muscles are trembling with exhaustion, but the lack of my powers has replaced my old elegance with a frantic, animalistic rage. I drive my shoulder into your jaw, trying to pin your head against the steel while my legs scramble to find purchase on the slick floor.

DREAM BREAKER:

You are persistent, perhaps even more so than before, when you still had your strength at your disposal. My head tilts backward, exposing my neck more fully and making it an easier target for your choking grip. I feel the veins in my neck and temples bulge as you make it harder for me to breathe. Your tight, muscular body pressed against mine and the obvious lack of oxygen make my cock grow into a stiff, throbbing rod in my pants as my vision begins to blur and my strength wanes. But the beast inside me disagrees. It spits its venom into my blood, filling my veins with adrenaline and letting the rage continue. I raise my arms and strike a straight right against your temple, my left hook closing in on your jaw, hoping that be enough to make your release my throat.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The impact of your right hook against my temple sends a white-hot flash through my brain, nearly short-circuiting my consciousness. Before I can even register the pain, your left hook slams into my jaw with the force of a sledgehammer, snapping my head to the side. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth intensifies as my teeth graze the inside of my cheek. My grip on your throat falters for a split second, my fingers sliding over your sweat-slicked skin as my ears ring with a high-pitched drone.

I can feel the frantic, hard pulse in your neck beneath my palms and the heat of your stiff rod pressing against my thigh through our tangled clothes. Even as my vision blurs, the friction of our massive bodies and the raw violence of the moment fuel a desperate, final surge of energy. I slide my hand down, past the heat of our stomachs, and shove my palm deep into the front of your soaked pants. I wrap my fingers firmly around the base of your stiff, throbbing rod, squeezing with a grip that is more about dominance than pleasure. With a slow, heavy rhythm, I begin to pull and slide my hand upward, mimicking the rough, mechanical motion of milking a cow.

DREAM BREAKER:

I can finally fill my lungs with air, and the pressure on my temples eases as my vision returns to normal. Your face is right in front of me, looking slightly dazed from the blows I’ve dealt you. It’s time to turn the tide of this fight, bring you under my control once and for all, and end your miserable life. I lift my thighs to wrap them around your hips and let my hungry pythons devour your core. Your hand wanders somewhere between us, as if searching for a target to strike. Even though the space between us is far too tight for punches, I tighten my abs until they’re rock-hard—just to be on the safe side.

You’ve probably realized yourself that aiming my flexed abs is a waste of time when your hands keep moving away from my stomach. I grin as I increase the pressure below your ribs, preventing you from filling your lungs to their full capacity. Suddenly my eyes widen as your long, bony fingers wrap around my entire stiff cock like an octopus's tentacles, beginning to milk it with expert strokes. I try to focus on the squeezing grip of my thighs around your hips, but you know perfectly what you’re doing. My cock soon begins to throb uncontrollably under your seductive strokes, significantly weakening the python's grip on you. I start to pant as I feel that hot wave approaching while you push me closer to the edge. I bite my lip; this can’t end like this—me dying because I come into your hand. Fighting against the lust, I close my eyes and tighten my thighs around you again, trying to knock you unconscious or at least break a few of your ribs.

SKIN MUSCLE:

My ribs groan under the renewed pressure of your thighs, the sound of cartilage straining under your massive frame. Each breath I take is shallow and sharp, but I don't stop the motion of my hand. I dig my heels into the steel floor, bracing myself against your crushing strength while my fingers maintain that heavy, relentless rhythm. I lean my forehead against yours, our sweat and blood mixing into a single, warm mask. I can smell the heavy, sweet scent of your musk peaking, a stark contrast to the cold, metallic smell of the steel beneath us. "Come for me, King," I rasp.

The moment I feel the rhythmic throb of your pulse reach its peak and your thighs begin to quiver with the impending release, I shift my intent. The seductive rhythm vanishes instantly. I lock my fingers around the base of your shaft in a crushing, white-knuckled grip. I stop the strokes and instead start pulling... I’m not milking you anymore; I’m trying to tear the muscle and sinew from your pelvic bone. "Let's see if my forearms and biceps are strong enough" I whisper at you

DREAM BREAKER:

My body starts to tremble as I feel a new kind of sensation. I know well your intentions are not to cause me any pleasure but kill my masculine parts, rip them off, literally talking. But the human body, the human mind can be tricky. I spread my legs wide open releasing your ribs and core as I try to pry your hand away from my trapped cock. "You fucking bastard! Pull out your hand!", I scream as I feel my heavy large balls rising in my sack, getting closer to my body. "I will fucking kill you!", I spit on your face and shoot a massive thick load into your hand, erupting like some fucking geyser emptying my seed with a high pressure.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The roar of your scream echoes off the cold steel as your body finally betrays you. The geyser of hot, thick fluid coats my hand, but I don't let go. I use the slickness of the seed to gain a deeper, more lethal purchase. With one final, barbaric heave of my entire weight, I feel the wet, sickening pop of ligaments snapping and the heat of arteries rupturing. I wrench your manhood free from its roots, leaving a gaping, crimson ruin between your thighs.

I fall back against the metal floor, panting, as you collapse into a shock-induced silence. I look down at the severed trophy in my hand, still twitching and dripping with that high-pressure eruption. Driven by a desperate, ancestral hunger and the fading hope of reclaiming my lost divinity, I bring it to my lips. I lap at the hot, salty cream as if it were a frozen treat, my eyes locked on yours with a wide, manic stare. I suck the remaining warmth out of the tissue, searching for that spark of power, that surge of underworld energy, but I only taste copper and salt. The power doesn't return. I remain mortal, stained, and furious.

With a low, guttural growl, I crawl over your shaking body. I use my blood-slicked fingers to pry your jaw open, forcing your mouth wide until the hinges creak. I take the cold, heavy length of what I just tore from you and shove it deep down your own throat. I use the heel of my palm to drive it further, pushing it past your tonsils and into your esophagus, forcing you to swallow the very essence of your pride.

DREAM BREAKER:

The mix of orgasm and pain is quite a bewildering experience. I can feel my balls still throbbing, sending out my final spurts of semen into my cock—the very cock you just made me swallow. Only a warm stream of blood remains where my massive cock was just a moment ago. I look at your face, that look of schadenfreude on it... the look of a winner. But this isn’t over yet.

I writhe in agony on the metal floor until my back slams into something hard. A spear! An antique spear! In my agony, I grab it and lift it into my hands. Your tongue is still licking the remnants of my semen from your lips as I kick your chest, throwing your body to the floor. My eyes blaze with rage and the realization that my strength is waning by the moment. I thrust the spear deep between your legs even as you try your best to dodge it—the spear catches at first, but with my last ounce of strength I shove it forward, deeper, until I feel its tip emerge from your upper abdomen. The spear’s tip tears your skin apart and pushes its way out, accompanied by a spray of blood.

SKIN MUSCLE:

The cold iron of the spearhead shears through my groin with a sound like wet leather tearing. I feel the serrated metal carve through my internal organs, a white-hot trail of agony that erupts out of my upper abdomen. My back arches violently against the steel floor, and a massive spray of my blood coats the shaft of the antique weapon, mixing with the drying semen and musk already staining our bodies.

Desperate to end this stalemate of agony, I reach out with a trembling, blood-stained hand and grab the heavy iron chain dangling from the wall—the release for the massive industrial cargo hook overhead. With a final, agonizing heave, I wrench the chain downward. The rusted mechanism shrieks, and the thick, iron beam it held snaps free from its anchor.

The heavy iron beam, a solid mass of industrial steel, shears off its remaining hinges and plummeting downward. It strikes you squarely across the back with a bone-shattering thud, crushing your spine and pinning you directly on top of me. The force is so immense that it drives the spear deeper through both our bodies, effectively sewing us together in a vertical stack of meat and iron against the cold floor.

DREAM BREAKER:

The spear emerging from your side pierces my chest, piercing my heart as I collapse onto you, my back crushed beneath a steel beam. Blood flows from your mouth, slowly trickling down your pale skin. I feel life beginning to vanish from me as I stare into your fading eyes. Just before my last breath, I feel you finally impale me twice as your stiff cock penetrates my new hole, staining itself red with my blood and finally stemming the flow of blood between my legs. My head falls onto your chest, I hear the sound of your heart... then it stops... everything is just dark... The scent of green almonds lingers for a moment until everything fades away...

Published: 2026-04-15, viewed 80 times.