Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the familiar whirring of intricate machinery was the highlight of tom's day.

the heavy metal door sliding open, and mister stepping inside with today's treat. hard candy, crayons, painkillers.. some of the few gifts thomas had recieved since being brought here.

"turn around."

tommy looked up from his coloring pages, blinking at the norski almost dumbfoundedly— as if he wasn't commanded the same string of words day after day after day.

the child shut his eyes tight, nose wrinkled and face scrunching up to display that his eyes were truly closed. "i can't see," tommy replied softly, a playful grin pulling at his plump lips. instead, he was met with a heavy hand against his cheek. the action resulted in a startled cry from tommy, and the boy scrambled himself into a different position: facing away from tord, hunched over, with his hands cast over his eyes for the additional reassurance that he was not looking.

a passcode was entered, tommy subconsciously humming to the beeps of each key. the metal door slowly shut, and tommy peered over his shoulder. his eyes were already locked onto the bag in mister's hand.

"is that for me?" tommy's personality slowly returned, seemingly able to recover remarkably well after the abuse he had previously endured.

tord stepped over thomas, taking a seat at his workbench.

tommy stood, stumbling over the crayons scattered on the floor. the boy limped with each step he took, clutching at his stomach as he approached. finally, he took a seat on the floor next to tord's chair, looking up at him hopefully. those wide, black orbs stared up at the man. tommy looked so full of life despite the reality he was subjected to.

"can i see it, please? is it food? did— did you get me a toy?" tommy sat up on his knees, peering up at the man from his lap. he rested his hands upon tord's knees, and the norski slowly set the bag down on the papers stacked upon his workbench.

he cupped the boy's cheek, where he had previously hit him. the area was still red, a welted hand print forming over the fat. still, tord held him so adoringly. he watched as tommy melted into the simple affection, cooing gently over his pet before his hand left his face and trailed up towards his temple. the previously gentle hand now grabbed ahold of tommy's hair, anchoring him in this one place.

the man jerked his head towards himself, pushing his face into his groin with a cruel snicker.

tommy didn't seem to mind nor care— unsure of mister's intentions. he gave a hesitant sniff, nose wrinkling at the stench. musk and piss.

tommy heard tord's zipper go down, and assumed he would have to work for his reward. the boy pouted his bottom lip, eyes cast up towards mister's face as a way of silently pleading for an alternate option.

tord tugged down his pants some more as well as his boxers, just until his underwear was dipped below his balls. he pushed tommy's face against his cock, watching the boy's plump cheek make contact with his girth. holding the boy there for a moment was enough contact for tommy to make the first move, gently moving away from tord's hand and opening his mouth.

tord guided his dick into his mouth, watching pink, plump lips close around his member. tommy seemed disgusted eith the taste and smell, his nose wrinkled and tongue rolling forward as if to fight the urge to gag. a shaky sigh, the creaking of a chair.

tommy leaned forward, the tip poking at the back of his throat. his adam's apple bobbed, and tord tossed his hips forward.

two hands were now planted on either side of tom's head, tommy instinctively trying to pull away. choking, gagging, retching, sobbing, snorting. tord now had to stand, pumping his hips forward and simultaneously rocking tommy's head into his dick like a cocksleeve. small hands pushed at tord's thighs, and tord watched breathlessly as his little pet took in his cock. eventually, something came up: vomit.

but did that stop tord? no. despite the contents of tom's stomach being washed over his dick, he continued to fuck into the little vermin's throat, refusing to stop until he was completely satisfied and his pet was all red and snotty in the face.

that taught knot broke, and tommy's lips were pressed flush to tord's public hairs. tears and snot streamed down his face, vomit and saliva and cum sticking to his mouth and chin. the fluids were now entangled in the man's pubes as well, and tord rocked a few shallow thrusts into tomm's throat before finally pulling out.

immediately, thomas doubled over. choking, sobbing, vomiting onto the floor. dry heaving and spitting. five minutes passed, and tommy brought his hand up to his mouth. he wiped, sniffing and getting to his feet.

he looked to tord expectantly, then to the bag.

finally, the man brought it into his lap. he settled the bag upon his limp, dripping dick and pushed down the plastic to reveal a box.

a set of knives.

tommy couldn't help but express disappointment, sitting back down on his knees and staring at the floor. but then something dropped in front of him.

directly into his pile of vomit.

a candy bar.

his eyes lit up, and tommy hurriedly retrieved it from the puddle of sick. he squealed in excitement, unwrapping the colorful plastic and peeling it open to take a wonderful, savory bite.

tord gave his head a simple pat, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head back towards the ceiling.

he lowered his chair, spinning his finger around to direct tommy to turn. the boy did so, nodding his thanks towards mister and finishing his candy bar. he licked his lips, humming with delight and laying down on his stomach.

he raised his ass into the air, and tord could still hear him sucking his teeth and licking his lips and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth for the remaining chocolate.

"thank you, daddy! that was really good. i made you something.." he pointed towards the paper and crayons he had discarded earlier, and tord paid absolutely no mind to the mess.

he pulled down tommy's shorts, viewing the dried blood streaming down his leg and his swollen anus. his small dick poked out from between his thin thighs, and tord could see that the head of his penis was swollen as well. bruises scattered his ass and rectal area, a large tear that had now healed connecting his scrotum and anus. tord held tommy's left asscheek in his hand, rubbing gently over it with his thumb and admiring his ruined genitalia.

such a pretty pink hole, now ruined with blood and internal hemorrhaging. he could only imagine the pain that tommy was in on a day to day basis, and now understood why he requested a pillow to sit.

tord dragged him closer, and leaned over the small child. a string of saliva was spat onto his swollen anus.

"you know, tommy, i think i would enjoy fucking you more if you had a pussy. some pretty, puffy lips wrapped around my dick.. maybe we go to the park next week." he trailed on, and the sting of metal was caught on tom's flesh. "think you can find me a little girl to play with? i wouldn't mind taking a knife up her cute little pussy after i finish fucking her cervix open. suck on her clit a little... pink and pretty. your fuckhole is, well.. fucked."

he snickered, the blade slicing open a thin line of red on tommy's asscheek. it didn't seem to phase him.

"or a little boy. i can cut off his tiny dick and fuck him while he screams and cries— but try to find a girl for me. i want to break her little hymen. shove a stick in her womb— impale her on it. i'll even let you play with her.. maybe. maybe i just leave you naked on the floor for any man to rape your ruined shitter."

the blade traced down tommy's spine, over his rectum and stopping on the head of his penis. it twitched, pre bubbling at the tip.

"maybe."

Chapter Text

there was an unsettling tranquility in tord's absence.

the atmosphere had shifted into an empty buzz and the hum of shaking metal. tiny fingernails flicked the bars to his enclosure, listening to the quivering vibrations. a song, almost— it was like playing an instrument.

he paused, listening to the dying tune as it emptied into the air. he felt the bar, muting its fading melody with his touch. tommy's attention shifted downward, casted towards the array of papers and crayons scattered within his enclosure.

a red crayon was held tightly betwixt his fingers and palm. the glossy finish had enveloped each digit in a thick film he insisted on scraping with his teeth. the wax collected behind each tooth, and tommy would tongue at it within his mouth until it had found its way down his dry throat. finally, he unwrapped the layer of paper surrounding the small crayon. little teeth marks had been imprinted from gnawing brainlessly upon the object, and now the delicacy was in its full, nude glory. thomas prodded the crayon on his plump bottom lip, maneuvering the crayon between the teeth occupying the side of his mouth for a more satisfying bite.

he bent the crayon downward, and the half in his mouth broke off onto his tongue. tommy dropped the half in his hand now, and began to chew the wax. it piled in his teeth, filling his cavities. the bits that had not found every nook and cranny in his mouth now pushed back into his throat as the child swallowed it down. for a moment, the chewed up ball of wax had stuck to his dry throat. tommy's eyes watered, and he hastily flexed and swallowed the muscles to get it down.

a finger reached into his mouth to scrape the remaining wax in his teeth, getting stuck beneath his nails.

his stomach growled, eating away at his insides. he was blind to the insatiable feeling by now, but his body commanded him to eat. it was uncomfortable, but the longing of something unattainable was satisfactory to little thomas.

every sound echoed within the bathroom, and thomas wss grateful for the ventilation red leader always flicked on before leaving. the sound of air circulating the room wss enough to keep the buzzing of lights out of his ears, and the thoughts from his head. his only task wss to mindlessly chew the crayons tord has gifted him.
at this point in time, tommy would assume to have eaten around six crayons since his arrival. crayons, medication, cigars, semen, ashes.. anything he could get his hands on; it was almost as it red leader was hiding every crumb of food in his possession.
oh, but the nights when tommy was allowed to curl up in red leader's bed with a tray of food from the soldier's lunchroom were just heavenly.. a slab of warm meat, mashed potatoes, peas, and a carton of milk. it was everything he could ever want and more.

Chapter Text

every little rattle sent thomas over the edge.

the metallic bars shook, quivering and reverberating their distant, humming echo. soiled newspaper crumpled and crunched, and every sound forced a twitch from his eye. he sat slumped against the bedframe, his figure hunched over from where he was located on the floor; if he could, he'd make himself comfortable on the red leader's bed.

but, in his words: "no dogs allowed."

he locked eyes with the mutt pacing its enclosure, little bare feet kicking gently against the bars and making that little noise that seemed to anger thomas so deeply. he knew that telling it to stop would be pointless, and possibly make the kid kick even harder and crumple the newspapers more and hum his stupid little songs.

it sat up on its knees, hair gently gracing the ceiling of the decently sized cage. he peered down at the purple crayon gripped in his hand, delicately peeling the paper from the waxy treat and parting his lips to take a bite.

"don't eat that," tom spoke coldly, his expression scrunched. he leaned forward, reaching out his hand and holding it before the cage bars. "give it to me; you can't eat that. it's not food. i can find you food if you want it, but you can't eat crayons."

tommy turned his head to look at his older counterpart, still clutching the crayon like a life source. his eyes flitted down to examine what the purple crayon had scribbled onto the paper: a stick figure— sought to resemble thomas. it appeared laying on the floor, while a red box holding himself sat only a few inches away. he glanced up at the other man, slowly reeling his hand back.

"no!" he shrieked, slamming his foot into tom's direction. the latch popped open, and tommy quickly reached to close and lock it again. "it's mine. you can't have any!" the boy bared his teeth, swatting his hand at thomas and hissing as if he were a cat.

the little hope in tom's eyes diminished, and he sat back ultimately defeated.

"god, why the fuck do i even try with you anymore?" he growled under his breath, head hanging back against the mattress.

tommy had a victorious grin sprawled across his lips, turning to face tom and taking a bite of the detectable crayon. he chewed the waxy film between his teeth, choking it down and pushing his thumb into his mouth to scrape at the remaining bits stuck in his teeth.

thomas slowly raised his hand, middle finger raising to flip the boy off. tommy returned it happily, and slammed his foot into the cage again. only, this time, he opened his mouth to scream.

the shrieking filled the entire room, echoing and seeping into the noisy halls. thomas brought his hands up to his ears, teeth gritting together.

clashing. banging. screaming. more clashing.

god, he couldn't take it anymore.

thomas lunged forward and the screaming ceased, fighting with tommy to open the cage door as the boy kept it closed on its hinges from the other side. thomas ripped it open, the boy nearly falling forward out from the cage before tom grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out.

he had gotten to his feet, picking the boy up and slamming him back down onto the ground. tommy tensed, then fell limp. he kept his arms cradled around his head, cradled in a fetal position and peering up at thomas from between his arms.

tom circled the child, nudging him with his foot. "get up. hey, up," he grunted, reeling his leg back and crashing his foot into the child's stomach. tommy curled in on himself, wheezing and letting out a defeated little cry. in the heat of the moment, tom couldn't feel bad. in fact, it gave him a rush. a really good rush.

he crouched, forcing his arms away from his face and wrestling with the boy to keep them planted beside his head. he leaned over him, shuffling into a position that planted himself atop tommy.

his thighs rested at either side of his small body, one hand keeping both wrists pinned above his head.

he leaned in close to his face, grip tightening against his wrists. "you're such a fucking brat, you know that? so fucking… shitty to me all the fuckin' time!" he yelled, spit flying against tommy's face. the child's expression had shifted to terror, and tom had begun to strip him.

he pulled his shirt over his head, keeping the boy pinned all the while. next he wrestled with him to get his pants off, carelessly discarding them to the side and turning his attention to his own fly. he unbuttoned and unzipped, getting back into the straddling position. he pumped his limp cock in one hand while holding tommy's wrists with the other, pausing for just a moment to grab ahold of the boy's small length. the little thing squirmed beneath him, kicking and hissing and screaming as tom's nails sunk into the sensitive flesh.

it left red marks engraved in his skin, the child fighting to close his legs and shield his sensitive region from thomas. his hand took his balls in his hand as well, offering a fairly harsh squeeze and forcing a yelp from the boy's throat.

"AH! OW— TOM!" he screamed out, his entire body going rigid and back twisting into a painful arch. tom pushed forward, pushing the tip against his lips and gently slapping it against the plump fat.

tommy turned his head away, lips taught before tommy delivered a hard slap to his face. his lips parted, tongue lolling out over his bottom teeth as thomas bucked his hips forward.

there was a sickening gagging and choking that followed, tommy's eyes squinting shut. tom moaned loudly, planting his hand beside his face and leaning over his head. his hips dropped against his face, pumping into his throat and coating it in a thick film of pre.

"ah.. ah.. oh, god.. oh, fuck.." he panted, skin slapping on skin.

plap, plap, plap, plap.. it wss all the two of them could hear. his cock was filling the boy's entire mouth, eyes teary and pre bubbling out from the corners of his mouth. his weakened limbs had stopped fighting,

tongue pushing against the intrusion in his mouth and mindlessly exploring as his throat was filled. soon, the boy was trying to turn his face away for a breath asth of air.. but tom grabbed him by the hair and kept his head facing foward.

his thrusts were becoming more and more sloppy, coughing and sputtering sounding from the boy's mouth as he began to choke on the cum and pre in his throat.

"oh, fuck.. 'm gonna cum! hah— ah.. fuuuck.. yeah, t.. take it.."

tom's hips pressed flush to his lips, pubes pushed against his face and filling tom's nose with an unpleasant aroma. cum and snot dribbled from his nose, bubbling and foaming at his chin and creating a thick mess on his face. tom relaxed, muscles loosening as he sat doubled over panting atop the little mutt.

"hnn.. hah.. ah.. mmn.." he hummed pleasantly, eyes fluttering shut as he relished I the afterglow of riding out his high into tommy's tight throat. then pain shot through his body.

his eyes went wide open, and he glanced down to see tommy's front teeth sunk down against his dick. instinctively, tom yanked back with a yell of pain.

he fisted his hair in his hand, unsure of what to do with his other hand out of fear of the kid biting down even fucking harder.

"JESUS— FUCK— LET GO, YOU FUCKIN' BRAT!" he would bark, seething in pain as those little teeth sunk down harder.

he brought his fist down on tommy's nose, and his jaws parted to scream in pain. blood poured from his nostrils, and he turned over to hold his nose in his small hands. blood pooled at his face, followed by hoarse sobs and cries and shrieks that were occasionally gargled with cum and pre.

tom sat back on his knees, groaning in pain and holding his softened dick in his hand. present bite marks were engraved against his cock, one little tooth mark even oozing a bit of blood. god, that fucking brat.

his head hung back, and he looked to the ceiling. in the distance, he could hear the rattling locks and the scanning of a keycard.

and the floorboards creaking beneath heavy boots as light from the hallway poured over the bloody mess before red leader.

Chapter Text

"'night."

a kiss was pressed to his forehead, leaving the residue of a faint gloss. a blanket was tucked against his shoulders, followed by an additional peck on the cheek that had his lips curving into a little grin. his rounded face shown a bright smile, the blue hue of the moonlight washing over his expression. a few missing teeth were scattered around his mouth, leaving gaps and exposed gums. his tongue poked out from between his small teeth, squinting up at his mother lovingly.

"goodnight. love you.." he hummed, turning over onto his side. the small mattress creaked underneath the movement, and thomas settled himself into a comfortable enough position. his mother ran a slender hand through his curls, and the boy leaned into her gentle touch. plump lips parted in a yawn, and his eyes began to flutter close as she slowly eased her weight off of his bed and trailed over to the bedroom door. it closed with a subtle click, and thomas opened his eyes to meet darkness. only the moonlight illuminated his bedroom, reflecting off the untidy floors of his small sleeping space. his room was compact — but easy to navigate. it was good enough for a boy his age. small closet for small clothes, small furniture for a small body, etc. the only furniture really occupying his room, though, was a little desk he enjoyed drawing on. papers were scattered around the desk, scribbled on with markers and crayons. drawings of people, animals, buildings. it appeared he favored the blue crayon.

the boy waited for the familiar closing of his mother's bedroom door, or perhaps the sound of a man's voice ringing out in the distant hall. the faint rocking of a bed.. strange noises. thomas heard the door close, and slowly uncovered himself. the boy slid out of bed, his feet hitting the hollow floor. the ground vibrated, floorboards placed above a wide deck. they lived in an rv, and even his tiny, little footsteps seemed to shake the ground. the boy paused, gnawing anxiously on the innerflesh of his cheek and waiting for his mom's footsteps to lead up to his door.. but they never came. the boy exhaled a breath of shaky relief, walking over to his desk and sitting down. the boy pushed a little button on the desk that illuminated the surface in an artificially yellow light. he grabbed ahold of his blue crayon, spreading the paper out on the desk.

he tapped the blue crayon inquisitively against his bottom lip, looking up in thought before bringing the crayon down onto the paper. he gripped it with poor motor skills, dragging it over his desk and leaving scratchy blue marks in his wake.

the boy hummed gently, sitting up in his knees and leaning over the little desk. a few moments passed, and the boy leaned back to admire his work.

a picture of him— or rather, a small figure— holding hands with a taller figure. two arrows pointed to them each, labeled 'me' and 'mom.'

the boy seemed to think he did an excellent job, squealing excitedly and clasping his hands over his mouth to muffle the noise against his palm.

thomas picked up the paper, contemplating running over to his mother's bedroom and presenting the drawing to her. but, that would likely result in him being in trouble. so the boy refrained, and instead placed the drawing back down for him to remember to collect in the morning.

he eagerly scrambled back over to his bed, practically jumping into the mattress and burying himself beneath the covers. he popped his head out now, resting it on his pillow and turning over onto his back. the boy bundled the sheets into his tiny fists, staring up at the ceiling wide eyed and hyper.

It began with a simple question: If you could go back in time and do one thing, what would you do? Preorder rare figures, invest in a stock, say a final farewell? Sexual deviancy the answer. To rekindle that adrenaline of wrongdoing.

That notion lead the red clad man to stand in front a trailer. His head was never in the right place, but he felt fine. Street lamps briefly illuminating the park, it revealed the shabby camper’s crooked set up. Litters of beer and other nefarious goods covered the dead grass. Tord doesn’t pay the outside much mind.

With a soft click, the door is pressed open— unlocked.

A small flashlight permeates the darkness and green, sinister eyes appear. The youthful dreamland of Thomas is invaded by a rugged brute. The man’s wearing a wife beater tank with grease and pit stains, long laced military boots, and cargo pants with several metal bits sticking out (screw drivers, wire cutters, knives). In one hand, he’s holding an empty duffle bag. The other, the light.

He scans the room briefly and makes his way to the coloring station. The realization of his wrongdoings begin to settle in as he stares at to innocently scribbled pictures. The letters and figures are a jagged mess yet still encapsulate a child’s narrow world view. Something Tord hadn’t kept for very long at all. He traces the waxy outlines with his fingers, smearing bits of color onto his cracked hands.

tom's mother had always been protective of her son.

despite their hardships, thomas has remained blissfully unaware of the gravity of his situation: a whore alcoholic for a mother, and an impoverished lifestyle. it was a combination of his mother's determination to lead him a normal life, and good spirits— pure childlike wonder, or whatever they prefer to call it. tom's positive outlook into the majority of conditions rendered him defenseless to the teasing and bullying his classmates insisted. instead, thomas chose to disregard the ceaseless taunting, and his peers chose to pin thomas as an oblivious freak. not many kids with black eyes, abnormally spiked tousled hair, and the same five outfits that always smelled of cigarettes and liquor.

though, despite his mom, and his living conditions, and the bullying.. tom believed he had things pretty good.

unfortunately for him, things were about to take a deadly turn.

the front door opening and closing had seemingly slipped from tom's mind, and the boy assumed it was his mother going outside for a smoke— though, thomas hadn't heard footsteps leading *out* to the door. however, tommy didn't appear to dwell onto he fact. he hugged his blanket to his chest, turning over onto his side and closing his eyes in case his mother appeared in his bedroom after her smoke break.

and although thomas was anticipating it, he still jumped slightly when the door creaked open. the boy pushed his face into the bundled sheets in his fists, steadying hus breathing and attempting to pass as sleeping. however, he did not know the individual in his room was not, in fact, his mother.

no, the breathing was off. labored, unsteady.. kind of.. *manly*?

his eyes flitted open, and his breath hitched.

tommy stared at the man for minute, slowly beginning to sit up in his bed. he raised a feeble hand to point at the wall. "m.. my mom's room is over there.." he mumbled, lowering his hand now to watch as tord traced his fingers overthe blue streaks.

the boy slowly shuffled himself out of bed, walking along his wall to avoid any close proximity to tord— well, to avoid it the best he could. the child tiptoed around the norski, pausing beside him.

".. do you like the drawings? i made them. i can show you how i did..?" he offered innocently, joining tord at his side and grabbing ahold of a small crayon. the boy took a seat, getting comfortable with the stranger already.

"want me to draw you?" he hummed, looking the man up and down before releasing his blue crayon. he took ahold of a red one, and pushed it to the paper unsteadily.

"don't tell my mom i'm awake, though.."

The extreme lack of danger, derived from innocence, was a feature Tord treasured. It was like a gift, that only Tord got to unravel and ravage from a young Thomas.

He could hardly contain the temptation to beat fright and constant anxiety into Tom, just as had happened to him years before. Reclaiming his sorrows as a motivator for dismay… Thomas was his prize to claim.

The gears in his head wound up, stringing together a facade. “Is it now? I mean, if you’re here, I might as well stay just a bit longer. You’d let me, hm? You look like a rather sweet boy.” he remarked, an unfamiliar accent rolling off his tongue. Eyes scanning the room, he took a few steps towards the small child’s closet. His finger brushed against the colorful and few garments, stopping to open a drawer.

Pairs of underwear were tossed into the bag, Tord examining each and everyone. Few pairs edge near his face, if almost to sniff it. “Your pictures look very, very nice.” he remained turned away to Tommy, no attempt to seem impressed. “How old are you? Surely you’ve been drawing for a long time now.” He mindlessly appraised the boy.

His face perked up at the mention of rules. “You’re not meant to be awake?” His body turned, the bag being tossed to the bed. Suddenly, Tord appears behind the engaged child. His broad figure looms over, pure cruelness in mind. In close contact a foul stench of machine grease and gasoline oozed off Tord, a wading sign of danger.

“That means you’ll have to be quiet.” his words, laced with malevolent malice, continued to entrap little Tom. His palms moved to trail on the boys shirt and pull at the fabric. His mouth edged into Tom’s ear and gave a soft lick.

the wax dragged carefully over the paper, thomas driving a tense force against the sheet as to make a clear enough outline. he kept looking back at tord, though clearly not paying any mind to the fact that the man was looking through his closet. he figured tord was curious— and that's not a crime, is it?

tommy took note of his hoodie and long horned hair, quickly scribbling it onto the paper. eventually, thomas had a satisfactory drawing of tord that he seemed to clearly admire. he sat back in his small chair, sitting up on his knees and grinning at his little masterpiece.

pure innocence was the only fathomable explanation for such a small action. it was the idea of being able to take such great pride in simple tasks that made thomad so blissfully unaware of his current circumstances. if he had only run, or screamed, or fought.. then maybe he could've escaped the following actions tord forced upon the small child.

"oh, i'm very sweet, thank you.. my mom says most boys my age are mean..." he would mumble, still lost in thought as he browsed every little outline on his paper. any imperfections, cracks, wrinkles in the paper.. none. "you talk funny," the boy suddenly spoke, looking over his shoulder to find tord holding an article of clothing up to his face. were those shorts? a shirt, perhaps? thomas gently took ahold of his paper, holding it between hair fingers at the corners to prevent any damage being dome to it. the praise was most delightful, and tommy raised his chin proudly at the empty praise. his mother told him this all of the time, though hearing it from whom he assumed to be another one of his mother's friends had the boy puffing out his chest. he set his paper down, and held up eight fingers to signify his age. although, tord didn't seem to be turned around to see this.

he waited a moment before replying, picking his paper back up. "i'm eight years old. my birthday is, uhm.. a week ago?" tom hugged the peice of paper to his chest, relaxing into hischair and awaiting for tord to return to his desk so that thomas could show him beneath the light of his lamp. he watched tord with no hint of weariness or danger, though he did seem a little startled when tord threw the bag upon his bed. it looked a little heavy, but collapsed on itself as if it was soft on the inside. full of clothes. was tord staying the night?

tommy looked down shamefully at tord's question, assuming that he was now in trouble. he cowered upon his little chair, looking off into the other direction and sulking with his paper in hand. "yes.. are you going to tell? please don't. she'll give me a talking to.." the boy pleaded gently, placing the little paper beneath the lamp. he looked up at tord now, and the close contact between them was enough for thomas to catch wind of his.. odor. the smell burned his nose, and thomas turned his head as to not blatantly offend the norski. the boy didn't quite understand what tord meant, but nodded anyhow. "i'll be quiet," he whispered, and soon tapped lightly on his drawing.

"do you like it?" a smile laced his words, and you could hear the happiness on his breath.

and then he felt a hand crawling up his shirt. and lips against his ear. tom froze, his breath hitching. what was he to do here?

stranger danger, no-no square, say stop— all of these things he was told to say.. none of them made sense in his mind. he felt powerless in the moment, and tommy felt tears prickle in his eyes. his head jerked, the boy pushing his ear into his shoulder with a faint whimper. "n.. no.. please stop." his voice shook, and tom outstretched his palm while facing the man. "mmnno.. please stop. stop, please. i— i'm saying stop..." he pushed gently at tord's chest, looking around the room wildly. if he screamed, he could be hurt. badly.. and tom wasn't stupid enough to try.

instead he sat there and whimpered, squirming against the hands roaming his tiny ribcage and pursing his lips to prevent tord from entering his mouth.

softly crying and still whimpering "stop" and "mama" under his breath.

Chapter Text

pulling out was always a bit of a scare.

the red leader got carried away at the best of times, and it usually ended in tommy being a limp, unresponsive little boy or grabbing his throat and gasping for air. sometimes, tord went so far he thought he'd killed the child. pulling out to see a gaping, bloody hole oozing cum attached to a little thing like tommy was such a grotesque sight, you can't help but to wonder if he was even able to take it.

in fact, there were a few times when tord had nearly fucked him to death.. mostly around the times they'd first started. the red leader could remember holding him by the ankles and rapidly pumping his cock into his little stomach, watching him scream and grip his stomach and try to force his legs closed while his body handled the intrusion far less than ideally.

the bland shower water did little to help the severity of the rawness of his throat, but he appreciated it nonetheless. the artificial taste of it helped clear away the saltiness of tord’s cum. so, he gulped it down without a complaint, because he literally couldn’t complain.

at least tord promised him some more treats! that made it all worth it…kind of. he smiled meekly, backing up a little when tord agreed to help clean him out.

he knew what was next when tord sunk down, inhaling sharply when the norse ordered him to wash his hair; while kissing his fucking clit.

of course the boy had to oblige, especially when he heard the suggestion of a nap. he reached up, clumsily grabbing a shampoo bottle from a little shelf and squirting some into his hand. he decided to clean tord, first. after setting the bottle down, he buried his little hands into tord’s hair, scrubbing gently and watching the soap bubble up in his caramel locks.

he ran his fingers through his horns, finding the scent to be pleasant. he made sure it it didn’t get into tord’s eyes, cupping a hand against his forehead to stop the drip.

he could feel tord’s predatory breath against his cunt, those large hands gripping the minimal fat of his thighs possessively. his legs already shuddered from…everything before.

but he focused on his task, rubbing his fingertips into tord’s scalp, his little cheeks beginning to flush red.

the red leader could feel the trembling muscles of the boy's thighs, his hands gripping what little fat tommy had on him to anchor him in place. it felt as if the child's legs were going to give out at any moment, so tord got entirely onto his knees. he lowered his rear against the back of his calves, pulling tommy over him until the child's thighs were against his shoulders. the man was looking straight up, eating tommy entirely up. his lips were parted to take his whole pussy into his mouth, nicking his teeth on his clit every now and then but otherwise doing a very fine job at burying his entire tongue inside of tommy. his tastebuds were almost prickly against his sensitive insides, tord working to drag all of the cum out of his little guts soley with his tongue.

he pulled his head back to swallow, panting hotly against his cunt before delving back in. ohh, and tommy was doing a lovely job at taking care of him as well. he could feel his little hands stopping the soap from trickling into his eyes, and the way they massaged and scrubbed his scalp to get the sweat and dandruff out of his hair.

red leader pulled him closer, humming softly. his eyes were closed, and he moaned against his leaking entrance dripping with spit.

when he'd finally decided tom was clean enough, he pulled back with a little pop. the man swallowed thickly, looking up at little tommy with flushed cheeks.

"hah... you like when daddy eats you out, don't you? god, next time we're going to do something new. how's that sound, hm? i'll get a nice muzzle on you, maybe a little tail to go in that cute ass of yours; i don't think i explore your asshole as much as i should..." he hummed, giggling almost childishly at the very thought.

Chapter Text

a taught grip captured dirty brunette hair in its iron fist. all the boy could hear was the desperate rocking of wood against the concrete walls surrounding them, and the way his skin slapped against his predator's hips.

the little fat of his ass had grown red and bruised, and all he could think about was the rapidly pumping heat being forced in and out of his struggling little body fighting to keep him awake. his eyes were hooded, drool collecting in a puddle beneath his chin and the silky blue sheets of their bedding in his tiny fists.

"i.. it huuurts," his quivering voice choked meekly, pushing his face into the mattress and stifling the following pained whimper that eased from his raw throat. his muscles burned, and his insides stung. cold air whipped at every open cut and slash and scratch and bite, and all he could do was hope for his daddy to soon cum.

the norski violating the child paused to examine his.. *less than ideal* state, and eased his hips flush to the boy's ass. he could feel his twitching hole struggling to take the rest of him in, and then the heat of his insides pulsing around his cock.

"i know, puppy.. it will be over soon," he promised idly, and gave the tuft of hair captured in his fist a harsh tug. his hesd jerked back, spine twisting into a painful arch as the man brought his foot to the edge of the mattress.

"mnnhh.. pleaaase, daddy, you're h.. huuurting meee," he whimpered softly, grip tightening on the sheets as he realized the new position the norski had slipped into. he was preparing yo be rapidly fucked into, and that's exactly what followed.

the red leader's thick cock pumped into the boy at desperate speeds, his stomach meeting the boy's back and the head of his dick meeting the sensitive bundle of nerves of the boy's prostate. soon enough, little tommy was seeing stars.

he screamed, squirming wildly and clawing at the mattress. he jerked forward, and the norski dragged him back to take every inch of his girth. he pinned him down, rutting shallow thrusts into his puffy little fuckhole until warmth exploded deep in his ass.

tommy's squirming began to die down, legs twitching and body shuddering with each ragged breath.

the red leader pulled out, cum pooling out of the little boy's anus. he whimpered softly, laying there until tord gave him the impending demand to *scram*.

but it never did come, and instead, his legs were pushed back open and needy fingers hooked into his little hole to open him up a bit more.

a tongue met his leaking asshole, and tommy let out an exasperated breath. he looked over his shoulder to see thomas eating away at his insides, tongue buried deep in his ass and a bruising grip upon his buttocks. little tommy moaned quietly into his fist, lips parting to now welcome the red leader's still-throbbing appendage into his throat.

the boy hoped he'd still be getting his little treat after all of this was over.

Chapter Text

"ffuuuucking take it.." he hissed into the boy's ear, desperately pumping his cock in and out of the little's rear.

the boy was flattened against the mattress, pinned by the disgusting fat brute behind him. he could feel his stomach spilling over his back, and the way his balls slapped against his own privates with each rutting thrust. the child twitched, eyes rolling back before he fell limp again.

"you like that? huh? huh? you fuckin' like that, you little slut?" he hummed,  bottom lip catching between his jagged yellowing teeth. "ohh, good boy.. good boy, baby! taking my cock like you're just fucking made for it..."

tommy could only whimper softly against the bedsheets, every muscle tensing and flexing beneath his brittle flesh. all the while he was being ripped open.

god, this hurt.

Chapter Text

the disarray of scattered thoughts and trances and emotions brought the boy to a numbing state of decay. at this rate, he was the shell of a boy who was shaken back and forth between innocence and reckoning before being thrown forward into the torture chamber of tord's mind.

exposing an adolescent—a boy no older than nine—to matters that would be hard to comprehend to even an adult, brought forth.. questionable effects. some days the boy sat curled under his master's desk, eye twitching and flesh flinching away from the grace of that man.

that man who sat crouched opposite of his safe haven. that man who would violate his supposed corpse with his cold, dead eyes reflecting a tormented mind. somehow, even at his age, he understood his place as the man's outlet. he was a rag. a dirty rag, now.

his name was tommy, he believed. he wasn't sure anymore. he could run his chubby little fingers through his tousled brunette hair, and stare into the shattered shards of glass beakers discarded on the floor (that he carefully tiptoed around to avoid cutting his feet), and he knew that he *was* tommy. it was a name mister called upon upon many others.

pet, toy, thing, bitch, slut, faggot, fatass.

two weeks felt like two months. that's how long it had been since he was captured and violated in the same bed his mother would tuck him in at night. he could still faintly remember her perfume clinging to his bedsheets, and the way her slender fingers caressed his plump cheeks to kiss him goodnight.

mister's hands were rough and cruel. his calloused palms met his cheeks with an aggravated bark, followed by a beating or talking to. his fingers were bony and often dirty, coated in a thick film of some sort of oil or gasoline fluid tommy had to presume was from his experiments. sometimes his fingers would be coated in something sweet, too.

peanut butter, whipped cream, ice cream, milk, strawberry syrup.

they'd slip between his glossy lips, sneaking down his throat and forcing coarse gags and retches. then they'd reach into his pants, pulling at the spandex rim of his cartoon panties that confined his dick to an irritating rash. mister would open him up, and slip his squirming, smelly dick inside of him.

the little boy shuddered at the thought, shaking it hastily from his mind and wrapping his arms around himself. he sat beneath the man's desk now, staring at his legs and his tapping black boot against the tiled floor.

his foot scooted closer, feeling around for the boy. he wearily grazed the toe of his boot, and eased out a faint whimper.

tord reached blindly beneath his desk to ruffle his hair, and then felt over his crotch to fiddle with his belt.

it slipped out from the little straps of his pants, and tommy froze at the sound of the buckle hitting the floor.

every hair was on its end. it's terrifying. it's horrible. he wanted out. it wasn't fair.

he wanted his mother.

Chapter Text

Red Leader lay sprawled on the bed, his body limp and unresponsive. His eyelids fluttered weakly, and his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. The pungent aroma of tequila and rum emanated from his mouth, clouding his thoughts.

Thomas, atop the intoxicated man, was stripped of his military uniform. His work pants lay discarded on the floor, and his collared shirt hung open, revealing his flushed and disheveled appearance. Mumbled curses spilled from his lips as he bounced atop Tord, focusing solely on his own pleasure. “G-God you. Stupid f-fat fucking…” he grunted, his breath shaking with each movement.

Beside the creaking bed, a small figure huddled, clutching a stuffed animal tightly. Little Tommy's heart ached with jealousy as he listened to his daddies play. Tears streamed down his face, his knees pressing together as he witnessed the intimate scene unfold.

Tom's hands gripped Tord's chest, his torso leaning forward as he struggled to maintain his rhythm. The burn in his legs forces his hips to make shorter, slower movements. Head hanging down, his collared shirt exposes bruises and piercings dotted along his chest.  “Ah-h… Just move. Come on please, please.”

Tommy's small hand gripped the edge of the bedsheet, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the fabric. His heart raced, pounding in his ears as he listened to the grunts and moans above. With a surge of courage, he stretched his neck, peering up the bed. His wide, innocent eyes took in the sight of Tom pleasuring himself against a limp Mister.  Tommy's stomach twisted with a confusing mix of curiosity and revulsion.

“S-Stop fucking staring. I… we deserve..”  Tom’s words heavily slurred. Clearly, he’d had his fair share of booze too. “f-fun”. Drool oozed from his lips between pants, eyes scrunching closed “Mhm…”

The boy’s head is facing the floor. A flurry of guilt and curiosity gnaw inside his tummy, and a trembling hand reaches for Mister’s forehead. “…Mister’s warm…” his small voice murmured, lost to the pleasured grunts echoing throughout the room.

Shakily, the child’s nightgown is tugged at with a bawled fist.  It exposes his wounded thighs and tiny tummy, bunched around his waist.  His undies are kept on, and lowered onto Mister’s face.

It feels wrong to be in control for once, pleasing himself without Daddy’s guidance. It just wasn’t the same as Red Leader lapping his cunt -tongue massaging his insides- But the friction was enough to make tommy continue.

Whimpers ease out with every rut against Tord’s sharp nose. The point of Mister’s nose is prodding against the little’s clit. It’s a strong sensation, enough to dust an embarrassing pink onto his chubby cheeks.  “S-Sir…” a hand stabilizes on Red Leader’s chest as his cries continue.

“He… d-deserves this” Sweat beads down Tom’s chest and his movements are shallow. “B-Bastard all he’s done” Each jerky thrust pains his weak legs, but the pumping inside his guts begs him to continue.

A newfound confidence persuades Tommy to grind his hips.  He moves with caution, but relief that Tom won’t be able to tattle. “I-It feels g…” he stammers, unable to form complete thoughts “good”

Suddenly, a kiss is planted between the pair. Tom had leaned forward, lips meeting his younger selves.  Their hips rhythmically rut against Red Leader, and tongues melt into each other.  The thick air between is filled with heaving pants, easing near a climax. With a final, shuttering movement, Tom’s head arches back and forces tommy’s stubby face into the crevice of his neck.  Their bodies convulse in unison, muscles tightening  around Red Leader.