cover of the Cookey Eye'd Girl PT 3 \"That Warlock Will RAISE THE DEAD!\"
A pick your path adventure featuring Hannah Bamma Tolgolalopus as “THE COOKEY EYED GIRL” a character created by AJR. (Alexander J. Rule) Hannah Bamma Tolgolalopus is The COOKEY Eyed Girl In: ‘That Warlock will raise the dead!’
By AJR.
*A warning from the writer; do not attempt to read this story from the beginning to the end. The choices you make at the end of each section may mean the difference between success and failure. Based on what decisions you make the ending of this story may not be the same.
Forward:
Hannah Bamma Tolgolalopus is by no means a normal person. Her fellow students refer to her as “that boo bitch” or “the witch” or the “The Cookey Eyed Girl” surprisingly she takes more offence to the “witch” comment as she considers herself a warlock, being cognoscente of the promises of GOD but nevertheless making a pact with the devil.
Hannah is malefic, negative and destructive. Her knowledge of the art and the occult gives her tremendous power and she can change the course of events and people’s lives but only to do harm. Her goal is to accumulate power, great personal wealth, and fame which she can only achieved by injury to others. She causes suffering, sickness, injury and even death to those who for whatever reason have offended her. However, she is too quick tempered, ill mannered, and too much a prick, for her own good. She does not think that others are smart enough to stop her diabolical plans and believes that no one is actually at her level or equal enough to be her partner, in short, she masturbates a lot. People tend to like her for being bisexual but she is inclined to expect too much for too little and is constantly disappointed for what life offers her. Like most witches of old or modern day warlocks she a cheap selfish bastard, easily set off, impatient and scornful of any advice, stubborn, bull-headed, often called a goddamned communist with an intense love of whips and chains.
Hannah tends to thrive on incest, she is vain, a bully, and cannot tolerate honest criticism. She is a thieving bicycle seat sniffer who kisses mirrors. She is not sympathetic, is never understanding and she thinks everyone else are suckers. She tends to put things off a lot and her ambition is to be on welfare.
Hannah cannot be trusted and has a complete lack of ethics. She might have achieved greatness, being a warlock except for her tendency to rely on luck and has zero self discipline for training or planning. Like most Pisces she believes the F.B.I is following her and when she is not picking her nose she tends to screw animals, as they do not seem to be offset by her poor hygiene or lack of effort in lovemaking.
Keep all these things in mind as you attempt to guide her through this adventure. Remember the “right” thing to do might not be the right thing for her to do. Hannah is notorious in the North Country for making terrible decisions, a-moral choices and being outright disgusting. If you drive through the North Country and stop at a public restroom you no doubt will find a message about her: “For a good time, call Hannah….” Keep in mind these were probably written by her; however the limericks are written by those who have known her:
“Hannah pursed her lips for a selfie, like a duck!
Taking multiple pictures while getting ass-fucked!
Such a gold digger
She banged all the N****RS
No that’s not true, some of them she only sucked!”
Limericks like this are written on various bathroom walls with drawings and further exploitative descriptions of Hannah and her funk all throughout Upstate New York where Hannah resides.
Hannah Bamma is a lying cheating cunt
She said she washed her ass but me thinks she don’t
She stank so bad that I puked
Right into her coochy what could I do?
Then we all fucked her anyway even though we knew we shun’t
How do you navigate this story? Simple, you will read a section then make a choice and go to the number you chose.
EXAMPLE:
Does Hannah help the old woman cross the road? (Go to 11)
Does Hannah push the woman out of the way and jump on the bus? (Go to 14)
Now this is a trick question because you know if you have read anything so far that Hannah would never ever assist the old woman. And if you have read any of the comics on REDDIT.COM then you know there was the exact scene where she pushed her own grandmother out of her way and into traffic.
Alright, the stage is set; the story is in place all the decisions are now up to you, Good Luck! -AJR
(01)
The beginning…
It was a great dream, not a good dream, a GREAT dream! You had found a dragon, ‘seduced’ it and gave birth to a baby dragon that you could communicate with, fly on, and breathe fire down on the earth with. You had scorched Briar Hill, Morristown, and Ogdensburg NY, destroying all those pesky people who constantly annoyed you! However, it was only a dream and now, awake, you stare up at the broken plaster ceiling and the chipped cracking walls with peeling wallpaper with exposed trim boards. From your rusty metal spring bed you pick at the plaster on the wall where you had drawn a cacophony of zombie and cannibals with crayons and markers.
The ache of the old, sprung, fence-like wire bed which sway and drooped nearly to the floor when you were in it reminded you that you were completely awake and not at all the ‘mother’ of a dragon.
Further, you had been so enthralled with your dream that you wet the bed again, and pissed all over yourself as you overslept for school!
Do you take your clothes to the washer and shower before putting on your grey dress for school? (Go to 02)
Do you hide your clothes in your closet before changing and going to school? (Go to 03)
Do you just kick your mother’s shorts (which you borrowed) under the bed and leave your Georgia Bulldogs shirt on the bed, pull your grey dress on and run down the stairs for breakfast? (Go to 04)
(02)
You peel off your “lucky” Georgia Bull Dogs shirt, which you have had since your early stint in the children’s psyche units. This requires great effort as the urine soaked shirt is virtually glued to your skin. Smacking and sucking noises are made when you pull the shirt away from your large breasts which nearly push through the yellow stained, almost transparent t-shirt. In contrast, your mother’s yoga shorts come off quick, “Just like they do on her.” You muse, gathering the stinky wet bundle in your arms; you sprint out the unhinged doorway to your room. One of your mother’s boyfriends had removed the door from your room, but that is another story! Sliding to a halt at the 3rd story bathroom door you find it locked and a deep voice grumbling “Occupied!” “Duh!” sometimes your mother’s lovers can be so stupid! You continue down the stairs, passed the 2nd floor library, down, passed the first floor living room, down passed the old crematorium and slide to a halt at the laundry room where the machines hold mostly your mothers various thongs and leggings but now give rest to the lump of wet urine soaked clothes that you mash on top. Spinning around, hopping over an empty rat trap, you bound back up the stairs, your long hair getting caught in the cellar door as it slams shut behind you and for a moment you are horizontal and naked in the first floor hallway before gravity finds you and plucks you to the ground with a thud.
Using the phone table to climb back up to your feet you have to put your foot on the wall to pull the door open and release your long, very long, black hair which drags on the floor and flicks at the railings once you are back to running and heading up to the 3rd floor bathroom, empty now but filled with that sweet putrid fecal fragrance and a gagging cloud of hot muggy “Grungy man and mom cunt” as you call it.
The putrid fragrance escapes from the broken window by the time you are done with the lengthy, hot, shower which invigorates you. You empty the entire bottle of shampoo into your hair, which had been without a wash for the past 8 days and had built up an oil resistant to the shampoo at first but with great effort and 45 additional minutes of hot water usage, you emerge, fresh, renewed and ready to face the day with a single mind…
“TODAY IS THE DAY THAT I RAISE THE DEAD!”
(Go to 05)
(03)
Peeling the wet clothes off takes great effort as you roll the tight Georgia Bulldogs shirt up over your face and pull it through your hair you are left with the heavy scent of your own urine, soaked and smeared into your face and spread evenly from your crotch up through to the ends of your long, very long thick black hair. The aroma of urine quaffs around you as you strode to the closet, like your bedroom door, missing a door, and pulling the curtain aside toss the urine soaked wet t shirt into the dark corner while kicking off your mother’s yoga shorts, also soaked with urine, into the same dark corner.
The closet is filled with abandoned projects of yours, some had broken, some forgotten, some still slowly rotting.
Among the bones and forgotten dolls stirred a man, a man who had been sleeping quite peaceably until you threw your filthy cloths on him.
“You fucking cunt!” the man tossed a newspaper which he had been using as a blanket to the floor and stood up. His molding dirty bunny-bodysuit looking awkward on his big bellied frame, his unshaven and cigar stained face drew a familiarity to you and then you remembered “Oh Hairy I don’t have time for these games.”
“Games?” he growled, “I was sleeping fine, dreaming of big things, BIG things!”
Dirty Hairy, the homeless rabbit had followed you home from the grave yard last Halloween when your mother made you wear that God Awful pink bunny suit. Since then he has been your side kick on many a hijacks however he tended to be short tempered and rude and very time-consuming and crude, “No time for jibber jabber Hairy I am late for school!”
“You are going to be late aright as in the late Hannah Bamma Tolgolalopus!”
Now you will have to deal with Dirty Hairy the homeless bunny before you hope to have any plans to RAISE THE DEAD!
(Go to 06)
(04)
“MOTHER OF FATES!” you jump up out of bed with a start, “I have no time for this!” you exclaim, slipping off your mother’s yoga shorts and pealing, rolling and pulling the tight fitting urine soaked Georgia Bulldogs t-shirt off over your head and through your long, very long, and thick, very thick, black hair. Balling both in your hands you toss them under your bed where they make a smacking sound when they hit the pile of other clothes that has been tossed under there. You fetch your grew nylon dress from the floor and step into it, pulling it up over your body, snug light a clove. It stretches over your butt, hips and breasts, your nipples poking through and then it is loose at the top, falling back down over your left shoulder and when corrected with a tug, the right. Your dress always loosens up after a few days without washing or drying. “I will just have to keep an eye on both you guys today!”
You do a quick scan around the room but you do not have any other grey dress, this is the last one, the rest must e in the wash and “Mum is solo lazy!”
“I will just have to keep adjusting my neck line today so I do not show too much cleavage.” You wink at the mirror and give yourself a kiss, “No point in giving any of this away for free!” with a giggle you spin, trip over your hair and crash into the mirror then the bed and the floor but picking yourself up promptly, shake off the cobwebs and dust bunnies: “I spent all of the weekend looking for the right corpse, and now that I gots it, tonight, I AM GOING TO RAISE THE DEAD!”
Bounding down the stairs you just catch your mother before she leaves for wherever it is that she goes to during the day, “Mum, mum, mum, mum! May I have a toast?”
“Sure kiddo.” With one hand on the door handle and the other holding up a beer, she smiles: “May all your bread be wheat!” then downing the beer she tosses it back towards the kitchen table and leaves in her flip flops.
(Go to 07)
(05)
Late for school, you missed the bus and now you have to walk. The early heat of the day helps to dry your long black hair which tends to curl when wet but with the help of the sun and the long walk, dries and straitens with its own weight. Your grey dress which was wet from your hair and body is nearly dry as you reach the school and walk directly to the principal’s office.
Do you lie and say that you are only late because you were doing something nice for someone? (Go to 08)
Do you lie and say that there was another death in the family (you have used this one just last week, but it tends to work) (Go to 09)
Do you argue with him and try to use your powers? (Go to 10)
Do you tell the truth and say you overslept? (Go to 11)
(06)
Dirty Hairy leaps up from the corner his old crumbly cigar dangling, ashes fall from his chin as he hooks your jaw with his meaty right hand. The blow, though sudden and catching you off guard is softened by the old smelly rotten bunny suit. Surprised, you fall back, completely taken off guard. “Just where I want ya, on the floor ya filthy little cunt!” he growls standing over you, leering down, smoldering ashes falling from his cigar as new life is breathed into the embers at the end of his cigar due to his temperament and heavy exhaling and inhaling.
Bending over, drool and spit falling from his mouth he reaches for you.
Do you try and fight him off? (Go to 14)
Do you pull him to you? (Go to 15)
Do you call for help? (Go to 16)
(07)
THE TOASTER!
On the counter, staring down at you:
Dominating its corner and staring down at you! The Hotpoint Electric Toaster! The abacus of toasters with its elaborate matrix metal grill work and molded pull down sides for “Easy access to the toast” You cast it a leering glance, knowing the dangers before you, but the toast is MMMMM soooo good!
“Consequences” you tell yourself putting on the oven mitts so that you can plug in the toaster. There is no on or off switch, it just plugs in and heats up and unplugs to cool down. Once it is going you can toast copious amounts of bread with it. If not for the oven mitts the cord would be too hot to touch as your mother had clearly made toast for herself this morning in addition if you did not slip your step father’s rubber work boots on then you would be shocked by the old cord as well.
Safety measures in place, you plug in the toaster and hope for the best!
Reveling in your genius you carefully lower the two sides and put the pumpernickel bread in place then lift the sides, stepping back carefully watching and sniffing the air for the sweet smell of the toasting bread.
“I shouldn’t have to do this stuff myself.” You tell your absent mother as you kick off the rubber work boots and open the fridge. There is some Chinese food, some beer, some opened beers and a packet of your lollipops. “SCORE!” you snatch the packet and tear 2 from it, then another one, and an additional one, “You can never be too sure what the day will bring!”
Closing the fridge door you open it again and suddenly sneak attack the packet of lollipops for another one and put that one in your mouth immediately, “Take that!” you toss the wrapper over your shoulder for good luck and leaving the fridge door open swirl like a ballerina to where the toaster is waiting and without pause, lower the lids to remove the toast and then unplug the toaster ZAP!
(Go to 12)
(08)
“Miss Tolgolalopus!” the Principal growls, “This is not the first time I’ve had to deal with one of your calamities!”
He removed his spectacles, a practiced move that inspired nothing on the observer but contempt. After a long moment of staring at you he says flatly, “I see that despite the letter Mrs. Grabcrotch sent to your mother you are still refusing to wear shoes to school. “This is an infection control issue Hannah.”
“What is the difference between me walking into these rooms with shoes like everyone else, tracking that dirt all over the place or me being barefoot, can you’s tell me that?”
“Er well, it has something to do with that I think, regardless.”
“I’m a nature child.”
“I know you are a witch, EVERYONE knows that Hannah.”
“No! Not like these pussy ass fake witches that are all Wiccan and shit I mean the real deal. You cannot call me a witch; people will think that I am Wiccan. I am a warlock- there is no grey with me… except my dress and sometimes my eye shadow and lipstick but mostly that is black.”
“Hannah!”
“What? That matches my nails right?”
“Hannah we are talking about you being tardy!
“Oh right I know school is impotent Mr. Coldfax.”
“Do you?”
“Absolutely, Knowledge is power and as a warlock I LOVE power!” you lean forward pulling your dress back up off your shoulder where it had slipped revealing more than cleavage every time you make a gesture. You catch his eyes wandering and step up your game, gesturing with each expression and you are constantly adjusting your dress to keep your breasts covered as you do so but the effect works and he is mesmerized: “Oyez! Yes you’s know education is impotent to me.” (Chuckling to yourself about pulling off the wrong word now twice) “I am only late because on the way to school I uh… um…” you scan his room and quickly spot a picture of his grandmother, “I stopped to help this elderly woman…”
“Really?” he leaned forward, trying desperately to not stare at your bulging breasts which keep exposing them every time you twist turn and gesture.
“Oyez! Yes you’s know she was um…” you scan the room to see a set of buck horns on the wall behind him, “hunting and…” your eyes cross attempting to think of anything but there was nothing, with a blank stare you finish: “Flying kites.” It’s all that comes to mind.
He wipes his eyes and leans back in his chair and you gulp.
“Well that is really good of you.” He nods wiping sweat from his balding head and hairy neck, “So good for you such a good girl.”
“Thank you Mr. Coldfax.”
“Alright Hannah now get to class and don’t be late again!” he leans and stares at you sideways as you get up from the chair leaning forward as a final reward and then sweeping your hair around with a shoulder turn, walk out slowly swaying your butt to the left and right musing that he is locked in a flat out glare until you bump into his coat rack, trip over his walking stick, step on his hat that you knocked to the floor and fall out the door into the secretary’s office.
(Go to 21)
(09)
“Miss Tolgolalopus!” the Principal growled, “You are always causing some sort of calamity!” He removed his spectacles, a practiced move that inspired nothing on the observer but contempt. After a long moment of staring at you he says flatly, “I see that despite the letter Mrs. Grabcrotch sent to your home you are still refusing to wear schools. “This is an infection control issue Hannah.”
“I’m a nature child.”
“I know, a witch, EVERYONE knows that Hannah. It is written on all the bathroom stalls, that and other things!”
“No! Not like those pussy wiccans and shit I mean the real deal. Please don’t call me a witch; people will think that I am like them. No, I am a warlock.”
“Hannah!”
“What that matches my nails right?”
“Hannah we are talking about you being late!
“Oh right I know school is impotent Mr. Coldfax.”
“Do you?”
“Absolutely, Knowledge is power and as a warlock I LOVE power!” you lean forward pulling your dress back up off your shoulder where it had slipped revealing more than cleavage every time you make a gesture. You catch his eyes wandering and step up your game, gesturing with each expression and you are constantly adjusting your dress to keep your breasts covered as you do so but the effect works and he is mesmerized: “Oyez! Yes you’s know education is impotent to me.” (Silently musing at your own clever play on that word twice) “I am only late because on the way to school I uh… um…” you scan his room and quickly spot a picture of his grandmother, “My Grammy grams!” you sniffle. You pretend to sob and cover your face secretly spitting in your hands and rubbing the bottom of your eyes so there are tears, “Oh my Grammy grams boo hoo, hoo!”
“Now there, there Hannah!” the principal comes out from around his desk and sitting on the edge of his desk reaches over and pats your shoulder. The dress falls but you pull it back up slowly, lifting up your fake tear soaked face, “Oh thank you Principle Coldfax!”
“Look Hannah this office is a safe place okay, if you need to come back here at any time today you just do so alright?”
The principal wipes his own eyes, “I can’t imagine how if anything happen to my grandmother how I would be. Be strong Hannah. It’s what your Grandmother would want promise?”
“I will Principal Coldfax, thank you.” You take the tissues and wipe at your eyes as he walks you back to the door to his office.
(Go to 21)
(10)
“Miss Tolgolalopus!” the Principal growls, “This is not the first time I’ve had to deal with one of your calamities!”
He removed his spectacles, a practiced move that inspired nothing on the observer but contempt. After a long moment of staring at you he says flatly, “I see that despite the letter Mrs. Grabcrotch sent to your mother you are still refusing to wear shoes to school. “This is an infection control issue Hannah.”
“What is the difference between me walking into these rooms with shoes like everyone else, tracking that dirt all over the place or me being barefoot, can you’s tell me that?”
“Er well, it has something to do with that I think, regardless.”
“I’m a nature child.”
“I know you are a witch, EVERYONE knows that Hannah.”
“No! Not like these pussy ass fake witches that are all Wiccan and shit I mean the real deal. You cannot call me a witch; people will think that I am Wiccan. I am a warlock!” you take a breath then stand up bellowing, “I don’t bow or yield to the Holy Principalities of God or man! I am a warlock! A heathen! A pagan!”
Principal Coldfax jumped to his feet, “That’s it!” coming around his desk he grabs you at the arm and opens the door, “Mrs. Grabcrotch will you come in here please?”
“Yes Principal Coldfax.”
“I need you to stand at this door and witness this!” he pulled the paddle from the wall-mount beside his desk and with one hand keeping you in place over the corner of the desk laid the board into you backside with three solid whacks! (WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!)
“Enough of that trash talks Hannah! Get to class!”
Sore, walking slow and on your tippy toes, rubbing your ass as you did so: “Oh that stings!”
(Go to 22)
(11)
“Miss Tolgolalopus!” the Principal growls, “This is not the first time I’ve had to deal with one of your calamities!”
He removed his spectacles, a practiced move that inspired nothing on the observer but contempt. After a long moment of staring at you he says flatly, “I see that despite the letter Mrs. Grabcrotch sent to your mother you are still refusing to wear shoes to school. “This is an infection control issue Hannah.”
“What is the difference between me walking into these rooms with shoes like everyone else, tracking that dirt all over the place or me being barefoot, can you’s tell me that?”
“Er well, it has something to do with that I think, regardless.”
“I’m a nature child.”
“I know you are a witch, EVERYONE knows that Hannah.”
“No! Not like these pussy ass fake witches that are all Wiccan and shit I mean the real deal. You cannot call me a witch; people will think that I am Wiccan. I am a warlock.”
“Like literally casting spells?”
“Yes!” you lean forward to his desk, leaning over the top towards him allowing your cleavage to hang down in front of him. Your hand touches his, “I have powers.”
Instinctively he brushed your hand away, simultaneously and quite unbeknownst to either of you, the intercom was switched on. “So you have powers?”
“Indeed. It was my intention to do a ceremony tonight where I will invoke the holy names required to bring about a resurrection of the dead.”
“Really?”
You nod solemnly, however in my excitement I pre-celebrated with some of the stray dogs around the graveyard, you know how it is. A little bit of peanut butter.” You trace a long fingernail over the dress along your cleavage, just over the edge between your milk white breast and the grey nylon spandex dress, “Oh we warlocks are always doing bestial things.” You smile coyly at his shocked expression. “Any way, exhausted, I overslept and wet the bed, a lot, I mean a lot.”
The principal gave a curious glance, something did not sound right, “Hannah.”
“I mean I pissed a bunch BUCKETS of piss. So I was late to school because I had to clean up and all that.”
The principal puts up both hands to stop you. “Hannah the speakers are on.”
“What?” desperate you jump to your feet.
Mrs. Grabcrotch enters the room, “That disgusting business is echoing down every hall of this building you should be ashamed Hannah Bamma Tolgolalopus you are nothing more than a filthy deviant!”
The Principal pressed down again on the button but the system kept ringing though the halls, every word repeated, amplified and carried throughout the entire school.
The three of you stood in silences as the last of Mrs. Grabcrotch's words echo to a fade, “Deviant… Deviant… Deviant!”
The school erupted with laughter, now they will have all now stories to write about you in the bathrooms and to each other, “Hannah the dog fucker!” “Hannah the gross disguising filthy deviant!”
Being followed by crowds all day will not let you do the research needed to raise the dead, not tonight, maybe not ever.
The end
(12)
When you come to, Jerome, one of your mother’s ‘friends’ is helping you up from the floor. Yu would thank him but by the position of your dress and a certain uncomfortable seepage from your vagina you are pretty sure he got his reward.
He turns away and gets a beer from the fridge, closing the door, “This was open when I came down the stairs.”
“Sue me.” You break the lollipop free from your large buck teeth where it had melted from the electrical surge that had run through your body. Once again, you had pissed yourself but there was no time to do anything about it now. There was simply too much to do today!
The toast is cold to the touch and the clock on the stove is blinking, “How long was I out?”
“I donno when I came down the stairs Eugene was just leaving.” Jerome pulled out one of your mother’s cigarettes from the fridge.
You consider the etiquette for asking someone like Jerome who just took advantage of your unconscious body if the guy before him did too. There was no precedent for such a dialogue; “You’s owe me a smoke” is what comes out of your mouth.
“Girl you are still smoking.” He laughed and pointed at your head.
You touch your hair, it is warm, but you are completely dry now, even though you had pissed yourself again, except the seepage which was not slowing down. You pull your dress up and swipe yourself with your hand then sniff it; semen, al lot of it. “In fact both of you will owe me something!”
“I’ll let him know, but here lets even up now.” He opens the fridge and gives you one of your mom’s cigarettes. “Square?”
“More like a triangle with an eye in it.”
“Ha! Ha! Girl you are a cray-cray boo bitch!” Jerome is still laughing when he says “I gotta go I got a 10:00 appointment with my probation officer.”
“BUCKETS its ten o’clock already?”
“9:30 now but I got to catch a ride so I have to go now.” He pushes his chair in and turns to you before going, “We square though right?”
“Buzz buzz I don’t have time for this.” You wave him off,
Do you go upstairs and wash off the filth from the two men, and your own piss before going to school? (Go to 13)
Do you just go to school? (Go to 17)
(13)
STOMP! STOMP, STOMP! Back up the stairs you go, all the way up to the 3rd floor bathroom which still smells obscenely foul, and the origin of said stink remains afloat in the toilet. You put your foot on the lid and hike your dress up to examine yourself running water over a washcloth in the mean time. Under scrutiny you can detect 3 distinct different pubic hairs in your soft mound, 1 was very familiar, it was brown and must belong to the stray dogs that you had ‘celebrated’ with last night. Who could blame you, you researched and discovered the ancient spell of resurrection and then you also found a fresh grave to try this on. It was too much to not share with well, with anything. So that pubic hair you set back on your thigh, the other two are obviously from black men, one longer one shorter, “Bastards” you are just about to get the washcloth and wipe yourself as the door opens and in walks the homeless man who lives in closet, Dirty Hairy, in his yellowish stained grey bunny suit carrying a news paper: “Oh shit girl I thought you would be gone? Aren’t you supposed to be in school by now?”
Do you say yes I am and brush past him, pulling your dress as you go? (Go to 17)
Do you attempt to clean up first still? (43)
(14)
“That will be the day that you stand between me and my magic!” you push up at him with your large bare feet as he comes down on you, lifting him up off the ground: “I told you Hairy I gots no time for your jibber jabber today can’t you’s see this?”
For a moment the large man flails in the air helpless but then his bulk and sear weight overcome you and he collapses down you, right on top, with a crash! His cigar fell right into your open mouth, burning end first causing you to yelp and gag. He covers your mouth with his smelly stinking rabbit mitten covered hand and growls in your ear, “Shut your mouth filthy whore!” with the other hand he works his zipper loose and yanks it up to allow his member to get exposure, "I love your … upper body, not your face, certainly not your face!”
You gaff still choking on his cigar and force out the words “Fuck you!” as you bite into his rabbit-mitten.
“Hush, a lady shouldn’t cuss!” then he holds you down with the hand to your mouth, which is wrapping around your long black hair to keep you in place while he unleashes a tirade of insults on you:
When I push into you, you need to thrust back at me you got that you fucking ugly cunt?
You try to roll over and get out from under him but he pulls you back, “Stop! Why do you keep interrupting this? I could be done already if you didn’t fight so damn much, you filthy horse-face loser! You are lonely, unhappy, and very miserable! If I am going to finish missionary with you I will have to put a bag over your ugly face, preferably a plastic one drawn tight at the neck! Awe god this is some awfully poorly rated pussy!” he grunts slapping into you with a force that drives your buttocks into the hardwood, unforgiving floor. “Oh bitch you are getting schlonged!” he gasped “What you gotta say about that? What you gotta say about that!” with each thrust. “Uh oh ahaha-uhhh! I am cumming inside this ugly filthy skanky nasty girl!” he gasped letting go of your mouth at last and taking hold of your shoulders.
“Get off!”
“I am trying and you are not helping!”
“BUCKETS! I mean you’s get off me!”
He put both hands over your face and pushed down smothering you again in his stink, “Shush! Don’t ruin it.” He looked away with a few more thrusts and grunts then fell still, passed out, right on top of you.
Even if you could climb out from under him, you know that if he woke up he is just going to do the same thing all over again. The best thing to do now is wait until he has to go to the bathroom and then sneak out, but that could take hours… clearly you will not be RAISING the dead tonight!
The End
(15)
“OH BUCKETS! You’s know I always got time for a ‘quickie!” you grab at his rabbit ears and yank him towards you down to the floor.
“Get off me smelly girl, let go!” he pulls away from you and kicks down at you to break his release: “You know I don’t like fast women!”
“C’mon Hairy! Bunnies are supposed to be horny all the time!”
“Hannah you couldn’t get me excited if you put 4000 volts through me! You are an extraordinarily low IQ person and I am a man who appreciates intellect. But you are so low brow and unattractive both inside and out that I fully understand why your father left you and your mother for a man.” Hairy scooped his newspaper up from where it fell and stomped back into his closet.
Now you just have time to pull on your grey slick nylon dress and slip out the doorway to your bedroom then bound down the stairs just in time to hear the kitchen door slam shut, “Bitch was my ride!” you squeal to a stop. “No use in trying to hurry now it looks like I can get some breakfast or at least burn my own toast!”
(Go to 07)
(16)
In most worlds calling for help is good solid sound advice. But when you try to call out for help your voice is muffled instantly as Hairy shoves his lit cigar into your mouth and then covers it with one hand while he chokes you with his other, then taking hold of your hair, your very long black hair he wraps it with his mitten and strangles you with it, using your own hair as a ligature. He spits in your face before turning you around, “I’ve had your nasty pussy before, it’s used and beat!” growling he forces you back to him, still choking you and ins you to the floor with the bulk of his belly and the weight of his body, “This is going to be very unpleasant, for me.” He grunts.
Gagging, gasping, your eyes bulge and you can feel your tongue swelling.
He enters you easily from the back and, still choking you, warns: “Do not to make a mess on me you filthy little THOT!”
Hard and fast he thrusts into your anus driving you down into the hardwood floor. Your hands reach out before you clawing at the wood reaching for anything and at last getting hold of Sylvester your teddy bear you pull him to you, using him as a cushion under your chest as he puts a heavy hand on your back and continues to thrust (SLAP, SLAP, SLAP!) his body beats yours. There is no air coming into you now and you are sure that your face as to be blue, this is confirmed when he laughs: “Even as a Smurf you are fucking ugly!”
At long last he finishes, unloading himself into you back side then he lets you fall to the floor, crumpled in a heap. He rests, gasping, breathing heavy and whispers: "Bimbo and sadly you will never be a 10, not even a low 2 you are deeply troubled, and therefore not the worst in bed, or on the floor. How come the deeply troubled women — deeply, deeply troubled — they're always the best in bed? Like your mom? Your mom is good, but you, no, I had to do all the work.”
you hear him search his pockets then light another cigar and you can smell it burn. The cloud, he blows that at your face, “There that will help with your stink.”
You twitch and move to get up, coughing for air.
“I wouldn’t.” he blows another cloud at you. “See I am going to finish this cigar than fuck your ass again. I will have to take a Viagra because you are so fucking ugly, but I will be able to keep it up all day, you aren’t going anywhere now.”
It looks like today will not be the day that you RAISE THE DEAD!
The end
Submitted November 18, 2019 at 09:01PM by AJR-RULES https://ift.tt/2OmY8AG
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