Anonymous
06/29/2025 (Sun) 17:43
[Preview]
No.150949
del

In the stuffy haze of Doomâs cluttered bedroom, somewhere in a nameless American sprawl, the air reeked of stale beer and lizard terrarium. Doom, a hulking forty-something with a sweat-slicked gut, loomed over Max, his breath ragged. âThe Mossberg 500âs loaded, darlinâ,â he rasped, grinning as he thrust, his manhoodâs nickname spat with pride. Max, eighteen and rail-thin, lay beneath him, her Nine Inch Nails t-shirt stubbornly clinging to her torso, her dark eyes fixed on the ceiling, lips pressed tight in disinterest.
A skittering noise broke the rhythm. âGoddammit, Reznor, quit eatinâ your own shit!â Doom barked, twisting to glare at the lizard scuttling in its glass cage. Maxâs face twitched, annoyance flaring as she shifted, her body tense, barely responding to Doomâs heavy groping. He turned back, muttering, âMossbergâs still primed,â and resumed, oblivious to her sigh. Reznor scratched again, and Doomâs head snapped around. âReznor, I swearââ Maxâs eyes rolled, her patience thinning as the bed creaked on.