Death Fucking

HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNNNN TO CELEBRATE HALLOWEEN MY FAVORITE DAY IN THE YEAR, I COME TO CELEBRATE WITH ALL OF YOU PERVERTS! SO I SHALL BE RELEASING 3-5 STORIES TODAY, PLEASE ENJOY, READ THEM ALL AND HAVE A SPOOKY DAY, OOOOOOH!!!

https://linktr.ee/SomeFucker123

TW: Violence and death mentioning, bloody descriptions, small death descriptions but nothing too gorey nor disgusting nor bad taste, Ghosts, Ghost fuckers, Karma is a bitch, Femboy, Male on male, Male on femboy, Big breasts, big ass, Futanari.

It was another normal night at a street with no name, one of those low-income neighbourhoods: no cameras, no proper public light, and most people live in cheap motels and one-bedroom apartments where their sleeping quarters are also the living room and, on strange occasions, the kitchen as well; it was basically where the poorest of the poor come to live, abandoned by the government and by God itself.

But we are not here to talk about the social status of them but rather the insecurity there is in this place, from drug users and crackheads that can blow up any moment to thieves and robbers. There are also the most perverted types of criminals, killers; whether it's due to some satisfaction, sexual desire, bloodthirst, or getting high on power by taking another's life, a killer is usually the strangest thing to see in this neighbourhood.

And they are not wrong; there are no killers in this place, not living here, at least.

Just victims.

And today our lucky victim was currently struggling to fight for their life. They weren't the best person; actually, they were someone who had fallen into a strange pit of obsessiveness over the occultist but not a bad person, not bad enough to get killed, but not everyone can choose their fate.

She had been lured in by the killer through a dating app. He had shown a lot of promise in occultism, but what she liked was the spells and taboo behind it, not the actual murdering of it, and he, of course, tricked her with so much ease by taking advantage of her loneliness and desire for connection. It was not the first time he had done this either, and eventually, after so much struggle, she wasn't capable of fighting back against him.

Maybe it was the fact she had some malnutrition, that she was the 'weaker' gender, or that he was just more prepared than she was, but this is the story of how she died. The killer cuts clean through her neck; some of her blood splatters against the wall. She feels herself losing consciousness due to the blood loss; she doesn't feel her body; she just feels coldness.

She refused to go out this way; she really didn't want to die like this. She had always been slightly sceptical when it came to curses or spells, but regardless of everything, with her last breath, she cursed him, drawing a symbol on the ground with her finger, a last action of vengeance against him.

Of course, magic is not real; witchery is all bullshit, and this guy has been going on a rampage since he was 20, really. He goes by Nick nowadays, but he has had so many names that he has forgotten his own by now – someone who was disturbed in the head, someone whose only way to connect with people was through taking their lives away.

But he wasn't some psycho that thought that after every kill they would become their slaves for the afterlife or that every kill made him stronger or that he had some passion unknown for biology and anatomy or some crazy shit. He just murdered people because of the rush; it was like getting hit with some dose of drugs, and he has always been such a huge true crime fan. Hearing about these serial killers, he had always wanted to become some well-known serial killer on a rampage before he died; he wanted to beat the person with the most murders in history, at least the recorded ones, not counting dictators or something like that, with actual kills with his own hand.

He wanted to surpass all of them, and with today's witchy girl victim, it was so far his 87th confirmed kill. He felt relieved; he wanted to smoke, but he knew doing something like that was a terrible, stupid idea, so he decided it was time to clean up the place and plant some fake evidence. He had done some good research about this neighbourhood before coming; he found out there are many drug addicts, so he planted some cocaine around the place where she struggled, made it look like the guy was high, and the knife he had used was spotless when it came to fingerprints, as he had used gloves, no spit either, and had a tight face mask and even a hairnet, although he keeps his hair fairly short too.

But going back to the knife, he disposed of it inside some homeless guy's shopping cart, hiding it deeply between the trash as it slept. Going back home was the hard part; he wasn't going to take a bike or car. This was the part he hated the most; he had to walk. He headed out of the street. Took some homeless guy's shoes and left his own in their place and made it out of there.

The neighbourhood was next to a small lake; he wasn't the best swimmer in the world to get to the other side in less than 30 minutes, but he was really athletic and had worked up a sweat, so he went in and started to swim and, after a good while, got to the other side, and from there he followed the woods, walking to a much further location, and once he was there he reached a spot where he had laid some clothes he bought recently, and as for the clothes he was wearing.

These were things he had stolen from a charity box in a homeless centre.

He put on his normal clothes and dried himself off and, from there, walked home. Out of all the things he disliked after killing, having to hide all his tracks was the worst, but this was the way he had to do it if he wanted to keep going on a rampage.

Once he got back home, he went to a notebook he had – no dates, no words, no nothing, just a bunch of lines and numbers – and added a new one with the number 87 above it. He heated up a nice warm bath, placed his clothes in the laundry, took a nice and long bath, shaved himself and got rid of any body hair he had and, feeling so exhausted that he could pass out at any moment, went back to sleep with such a huge smile on his face.

He loved his life for as messed up as it was.

However, soon, karma will arrive.

After a successful night of murdering, he felt something strange in the air; suddenly the TV went on, full volume. He woke up to see it was just pure static, but he wasn't going to go to sleep like that. He took the remote and tried to turn it off; however, the TV didn't seem to go off, probably something with the remote's battery. Begrudgingly, he stood up and turned it off himself. He was ready to go back to sleep, but the TV went on again, making him turn around. A bit shook by that, he came close and unplugged it, and that got it to finally shut off.

He just hoped he didn't need to buy a new TV or have to fix it; that would be quite bothersome after all. Then the breeze came back again, but this time it was cold, too cold; he sighed and could see his own breath. He looked outside of the window, and it was still night. Perhaps a surprise winter was coming? He would need to gather better supplies if he wanted to go out there.

He made sure to get an extra-large blanket and try to fall asleep, but it was hard; something or someone was keeping him awake. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was struggling, trying his hardest to go to sleep. That's when he felt something shaking the bed. He woke up again, but this time in panic. It felt like an earthquake, but it was only the bed that shook. He must be having some heavy nightmares or something because this felt quite unreal; I'm not sure why. He has never had trouble sleeping after killing someone, so why would he this time?

He lay on the bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, noticing a wet spot where it shouldn't be, like there was something moist. He focused his vision there for a while, but before he could try and make something out of it, that's when he noticed his bedsheet suddenly having a strange shape, like there was something lightly lifting it.

He was sure it wasn't his knee; both his knees were on the sides of whatever it was between them, but instead of lifting the sheets, the sheets lifted themselves, the shape changing to something large. It was like something coming out of the bed, something slightly wet; he started to think he must've caught some bug or fever when swimming in that lake to get out of that shit neighbourhood.

But this thing felt incredibly real; the sheet started to slowly fall down, letting him see someone that had their bangs over one eye, an incredibly intense blue gaze coming from it, and wearing a white dress that was barely translucent, letting him see the shape of the body of the thing that was currently on top of him. At first he thought it was some rando that came inside his house, but the person was too similar to someone they knew, and that's when it hit him; it must've been years ago. He remembers it – his first kill.

It was some cute guy that was so into him even when he had shown he was not interested; he had never shown interest in his victims. The femboy guy was so excited to take him to his bedroom back at college, but he couldn't just wait; he was so tired of how cute his voice was, like a puppy, and he remembers that he killed him out of sheer rage that night, a clean stab on the neck in the woods. It was probably the day he realised he was built for this; this ghost even had the same mark where he got stabbed in the form of a scar.

However, staring more at him, his hair was slightly wetter, his face sweaty, and his teeth sharp, almost as if it were a copy from the real person, but without a doubt, this was him, his first victim. He also looked more pale, and his body was absolutely cold; he did ditch his body in a lake that same day too to try and go unnoticed. They found his body 2 months later, apparently. And all because no one reported him missing the first 6 weeks.

He was probably a loner too.

And now he was here, with him. He was trying to think of all the things that could be possible; he was never one to believe in demons or ghosts. This had to be a really bad nightmare, but then the ghost suddenly crawled, his hand landing next to his hip. He noticed the bed sink perfectly with the weight of his body. There was no way this was a nightmare, and that's when he panicked. He tried to get to the gun that was in his drawer, but the ghost basically jumped at him, biting him on the shoulder and pinning him down with his arms, making sure he couldn't move.

He tried to get him off of him, but he really couldn't; he had the upper hand right at that moment. He was worried he was going to rip his throat with those sharp teeth of his. It would've been quite poetic instead of feeling him munching and mauling him down, but the little feminine ghost just keeps biting on his shoulder, nibbling on it, really not too hard, and when he did bite down, he wasn't strong enough to pierce his skin; he just left bite marks that were quite visible on him.

He waited for a moment to see if he did something else, and after biting on his shoulder for a while, he actually did, letting go, biting his shirt and ripping it off. He truly had the strength to kill him but didn't for some strange reason. It was odd to see him act like that.

The ghost femboy started to lick his chest, up and down, thinking he was just tasting his skin, getting a taste of his meat, and the closer he looked at him, the more he noticed he was rather cute. Even when he was alive, he looked really cute; he was so into him when he was alive, yet he never felt bad. Maybe this spirit was also into him?

Nick tried to move back, but he was pinned down again, as if the ghost were establishing who was in control this time. He looked down to see his dress; it was oddly wet, but not from a fluid – it was from something else. Maybe it was just his body, but then there was his silhouette under that white dress; he could see perfectly his dick getting erect right on top of him.

Maybe if he gave him what he wanted once he was alive, he would leave him alone.

He pressed his knee closer to the femboy's ghost dick, making him yelp and close his mouth as the ghost looked down to see that his cock was being pressed; instead of killing Nick, the ghost lay down, calming itself and slowly starting to hump his leg. He brushed it harder against him as he made a whimpering sound, his hands slowly letting go of Nick as instead he hugged him.

"You really were always a fucking slut, huh?" He said, getting more into it, perhaps to appease the ghost, 'This is what I had to do?' However, the slutty ghost had ideas of his own as his hand started to rub against his pants, trying to get him horny. Nick wasn't some asexual killer or something like it, but his libido was so low that it was almost non-existent, but having his former victim rubbing his cock so willingly felt really good.

The ghost grabbed the pants with his teeth, unzipping them, his tongue wrapping around the waist and pulling them down, letting his cock free. It was nice to see it so long and erect for him, and like expected, the ghost was horny for it as well. He was sucking that dick so eagerly, but he was doing it with such dexterity and hunger that it was scary; if the thing wanted to kill, it would've done so already.

And the fact he didn't bite his cock off yet was working perfectly.

He smelled his cock for a moment, almost as if inspecting it, and then slammed his face down, taking that cock to the last inch almost as if it were instinct. Nick reacted by grabbing his head, gripping his hair, and starting to grind his hips against those feminine lips of his. Even if his mouth felt cold like a freezer, his extremely wet tongue, so slimy and wrapping around his dick and swirling all over it, and the sloppiness of his mouth made him perfect to start fucking him.

He started to move on his own, not letting the ghost have all the fun for himself, fucking his face as hard as he could, noticing him going cross-eyed as he struggled to take all of it. "Don't look at me like that, you stupid whore! You are already dead, not like you will die from cock asphyxiation, but if I knew you were that much of a whore last time, I would've thought of ending you like this." The ghost didn't seem to react negatively at the mocking of his murder. In fact, all that came out of him was a loud, needy groan as he was cock-muffled, showing he enjoyed this.

His overly long tongue came out of its mouth, even as it was still wrapped around its cock and started to lick those salty nuts of him, making sure they were clean and tasting every bit as it kept moaning like a whore.

He was going to fuck the brains out of this ghost. His tongue was being blasted at first with some precum, stimulating and waking up his taste buds, getting his senses ready for his dick, and trying to push as much of his fluid down this guy's mouth. He could see him drinking it so eagerly as well with his legs spread like a whore, showing how his smaller cock enjoyed it, shooting his own 'ectoplasm' all over his mattress.

And this goes on for a little while, getting himself sucked, chapped, licked and slobbered all over his dick, acting like a cock-hungry whore and trying to swallow as much of his precum non-stop, all while he shivered and trembled; however, that thing relaxed his jaw, letting more and more of his cock meat go in. Nick could swear even his balls could go inside but decided not to push his luck.

His tip felt absolutely amazing, and with the way he was licking all over his crotch back and forth and tasting everything with his lusty tongue lapping all over his body with hungry licks and a sultry look, it was like he was made to be used and fucked through his mouth; however, Nick had other ideas in mind, and that was to ruin this ghost for scaring the shit out of him. He didn't want to feel like he was being forced to do so.

He grabbed him by the hair; the ghost suddenly gurgled and gagged as he went harder on him, and that's when he started to slam his cock in and out of his already bulging throat that was having trouble sucking that dick, stuffing him full with that cock and trying to almost break his neck with how hard he was slamming against him. The ghost was sweating more and more, dripping wet from whatever fluid he was leaking – ectoplasm, water, cum – he didn't even care; he just wanted to keep fucking the ghost until he was nothing but a high-pitched moaning mess.

His little dick was even starting to shoot some fluid as well, making Nick grin. In fact, why should he only enjoy his mouth? This femboy ghost had an ass to die for; it was so much bigger than most girls', each ass cheek being absolutely huge and jiggly. He wasn't going to only fuck his mouth; he was going to rape this ghost slut all the way.

He grabbed his head, pushing him out, his tongue still stuck to his cock and balls wrapped around him; it was like his tongue was one metre long. But Nick was never caring for his partners in murder, much less would he be about sex. He grabbed him and threw his entire body down on the ground; however, surprisingly or not, his tongue was still around his cock. "What's wrong, whore? You love sucking on your killer's fat cock?" He came close, his foot pressing against the ghost's smaller one, rubbing it harder and harder with the sole of his foot, and suddenly the ghost made a low-pitched and soft screech as it suddenly came all over it. Being so sensitive down there, Nick stared down at the sole of his feet covered in what he would like to think was cum right before rubbing it all over the ghost's face.

"Stupid bitch, getting me all dirty." He suddenly kicked his face and stomped on it, making 0 damage; the ghost didn't even look bothered or angry at the abuse, much less look like he could feel pain – only pleasure, really. He realised by now there was no point in attacking them, as they weren't feeling any type of pain, but there was something else he could do with their bodies for certain.

He got off of the bed, lying on top of the femboy-looking ghost, his tongue slowly retracting back into his mouth as he was grabbed and turned around, his wobbly fat ass meat shaking all over his fat dick, Nick grinning as he was about to clap those wobbly butt cheeks.

He started to push his dick inside, having trouble not because of how tight it was but rather the wetness of his body making it really slippery for him to get inside of him; it was practically just teasing over and over his anal hole, trying to stretch it and missing as he kept rubbing against all that wobbly meat as best as he could.

The ghost was even whining and whimpering like a slut, which made Nick angrier, almost as if he were begging him not to when he didn't deserve the right to choose. "Shut the fuck up, bitch." He was now panting and huffing. "You think I give a fuck; I'm not sure if your soul is mine after I killed you, but—" He gave his arse a good smack, making his bum jiggle all over the place. The ghost screeched again from the feeling. "This ass is mine, just like you. I think my only regret was not fucking you when you were still warm enough, you little fucksleeve. Now start cumming for your fucking god."

His arsehole was gripping him so hard; it was so snug and soft but also wet, which was the only thing off-putting, like the rest of his body, most likely due to where his real body ended up, but regardless of all of that, his arse was gripping hard on his cock; it was almost like there was a hand inside squeezing on that cock so hard, and every time he gave him a good spanking, his arse would ease up and go back to tightening, making the ghost yelp in a cute manner.

He couldn't even see him as a scary being anymore; in his eyes the closest thing he was at this point was just another victim he could take advantage of. He was going to fuck his brains out and keep fucking him non-stop until he was cumming his brains out; the ghost kept shrieking here and there as he felt that massive cock scramble his non-existent guts, extreme pleasure and aching ass slaps punishing his ethereal body.

His asshole was gripping more and more, as if trying to wring him dry of his seed, and if it wasn't enough, every time he pulled back, he could feel his lovely plump asshole gripping him back in, tugging him inside as if to not let go, which made him slam harder against the floor over and over again, a symphony of claps being heard all over the place, over and over again.

And to top it off, Nick lay on top of the weak ghost femboy, putting him in a headlock as he started to go harder and harder, his arms gripping tighter, trying to choke him or break his neck even though the creature he was fucking had been dead for a long time now.

His arsehole and entire body were so overstimulated that he started to violently shake and convulse, shuddering. Nick thought for a moment he was dying a second time or perhaps going crazy from lust or angry from how he was treated, but to be honest, he really didn't care; he didn't even think about how it felt. In his eyes, this ass was made to cum, and if he wasn't even able to do that little thing for the man who ended his life, then there was no point for a ghost like him to exist.

The stinging pain and anal fucking he was receiving were something out of this world. He kept shuddering, panting, and whimpering softly, barely able to even prop himself up on his knees with the weight on top of him; it was like he was trying to shred him apart with every thrust, and the ghost simply took it all with no complaints whatsoever, but what Nick loved the most was the way his body felt. There were no bodies to crack, no necks to snap, no organs to hurt, and no cervix to crush, so all of his body was simply plumpness and softness, like fucking a cloud, just a wet one, and watching him and hearing him collapse and shriek into deranged ecstasy and unfathomable pleasure that his ethereal soul couldn't understand.

"NGHGHHH FUCK, I AM GOING TO CUM INSIDE OF YOU, YOU COCK POCKET GHOST! I WISH I COULD'VE RAPED YOU WHEN YOU WERE ALIVE. WHAT A FUCKING WASTE OF A BODY!" The poor femboy was so lost that his shrieking became lower and lower until he was just growling and grunting in quietness, snarling and sounding so upset at the murderer, but his asshole just kept taking more and more of his cum, and eventually he felt the throbbing alive dick inside, making him feel warmer and warmer, and in a matter of seconds he could feel his body, the ethereal part at least, getting filled up by cum.

But it wasn't even just a small load; it was a gut-wrenching, stomach-punching cum shot. He had been so pent up for years; he doesn't even masturbate, so the moment he reached an orgasm, it was explosive. His ass split the fuck open as more orgasmic shockwaves hit all at once, massive gushes of cum and globs filling up his asshole and sealing it with hot cream.

His body was absolutely beyond repair.

Then again there was nothing to break; the femboy obediently kept his ass close and lifted for Nick to destroy and fuck in the nastiest and most brutal backshot he had ever given someone, the poor femboy cumming all over the floor and wasting his ectoplasm that was so minuscule in comparison, and the more he came, the harder the grip on his neck became; he could swear that at this point he would've broken the neck of the ghost, and once he let go and was finally able to pull his cock out of that tight ass, he was able to see the destruction he had made.

The ghost was lying down on the ground with a neck that looked snapped but was still breathing heavily as if it had not been hurt, its arse leaking out so much of its thick cum on the ground and that adorable small cock he had going limp.

It was like watching his first murder all at once again; he felt some sort of bliss doing this. "What were you supposed to do? Kill me?" He chuckled, mocking the ghost who started to crawl underneath his bed. "Going into hiding? Yeah, you better fucking disappear out of my sight; I will be killing you and raping your body every night from now on." His body disappeared, leaving a slimy trail behind it, the whole floor wet wherever it went.

That made him angry.

He wanted to release some more of this anger on him.

He went and tried to grab him out of the bed but found nothing. He tried turning on the light to see him, but nothing happened as the bulb didn't turn on.

He went for his cell phone, not working either.

The only light that helped him see something was the one from the moon, as the light from the street wasn't visible due to him living on the second floor. But there was a problem too; his window and door didn't open. He could still feel the cold breeze freezing him; it was annoying him but also worrying him.

What if this was his punishment to freeze or die of hunger? That was absolutely worse. He tried looking for the ghost underneath his bed with much more effort, but he was gone, gone. He even tried to remove the mattress, but there was nothing there, and that's when he heard the TV turning on again.

He looked back to see the static. "Okay, come here, bitch; I am not done with your ass." However, the hand that came out of the TV was not the same as the femboy's body; for starters, the arm was long, quite longer than his, and their nails were sharp, almost like claws. The head came out; it had very long, silky hair, but the face was smooth, clean, and expressionless as well, with both eyes covered. The ghost that came out this time wasn't his first victim; it was rather the second.

He remembers her height; she was taller than him, and the ghost, of course, was as well – a very successful businesswoman who glared at him with hatred on the street just because he crossed her path by mistake. He remembers following her home, making a plan to also kill her, and doing so as well in the apartment too. It was such a lucky streak as well because she had reported a vacation month that day; they didn't discover the body in her large home until a month later, as there was no contact from her. Lonely people really are the best to kill, in his mind.

But this woman just stood there, menacingly, naked as well; she had some nice massive tits and an unshaven pussy, however, and a stab right on her neck as well, but unlike the femboy, hers was more visible and larger, as she really had made a mess out of her real body. "God damn, did you have such tits before?" he said, grabbing them and fondling them. They were so heavy, and her body felt surprisingly soft.

Nick opened his mouth to grab on her tits, biting them, nibbling on them, treating those massive tits of hers like they were stress relief toys with how harsh he was being with them, slapping them, and teasing her nipples. He was hoping the slut would squat down and shake her waist like a desperate slut, but nothing happened; the woman just remained silent. He moved her hair aside to see her eyes, and there he saw something that upset him: that same condescending gaze she threw at him when alive. What he hated the most were those eyes that looked down on him like he was trash.

Even when she was dying, she never gave him the satisfaction of pleading for forgiveness or begging for her life; she just kept insulting him over and over again. She was the worst kill he had ever made, and here he could finally claim back some of his pride by breaking that bitch.

The room is absolutely swirling with hot, steaming clouds of thick sexual muskiness from having fucked the femboy a moment ago, so he is still capable enough to continue more with the domination. He moved his hand to start fingering her pussy, noticing it was wet already, almost as if it had been prepared for him, but that didn't stop him from fingering her cunt, trying to get a reaction out of her – a grunt, a frown, a word, anything – but nothing happened. She just remained motionless where she stood in front of the TV that was permanently on static.

Nothing seems to get her to move no matter how much he teases her breasts or pussy or spanks her ass or tits, even insulting her or spitting on her face – not a single sound, not a groan and not a moan. He was becoming angrier every second he spent trying to make her react; she just remained the same way as before, with bloodshot eyes and a condescending look that watched him as if he were trash.

He was going to teach her some manners. With his cock already slobbered and wet enough, he got close, wrapping his arms around her hips and grabbing her ass right before pushing his cock inside of her cunt, going as hard as he can. "NGHHHHHH TAKE THIS WHORE! "He looked up to see no reaction from her, not enjoying how he went ignored even right now.

What he thought would be shocks of bliss from having her cunt wrecked ended up just being him diving inside of her cleavage and letting his face be smothered by her breasts as he gives strong pushes and slams against her cunt to pry it open and also ruin it in the process, slapping her ass as much as he can and biting on her tits as if he were some sort of wild beast, leaving marks of his abuse behind on that pale body of hers. He was practically beating her body up with every action he made, wanting to pulverise her into a ruined mess. He eventually grabs her and carries her into the bed, throwing her down as if she were some sex doll, and goes back to fuck her as hard as he could.

He presses her legs back as hard and far as he can; there is no reaction again from this, and he starts to slam in and out of her while keeping her in a mating press, watching that enormous stomach bulge inside of her ghostly shape. He even goes as far as to squeeze her belly to try and give himself more tightness while fucking her cunt, but no matter how rough he treats her body and aggressive he is, not a sound comes out of her.

He was feeling more and more frustrated, fucking her tight pussy and nibbling on her ridiculously big tits as much as he could. The girl, however, seems to wake up out of this as he is getting too into the rough fucking; no sound is made, but at least she moves, not the way he would expect as she suddenly wraps her legs around as he is balls deep slamming against her cervix, not expecting her to trap him like that. Then her arms go and claw his back, making him feel so much pain, but she isn't clawing him in a way to cut him or kill him; it's more like something you would see in some rough sex.

And he wasn't going to just lie there and take it; he was going to teach her he was the one in control, not caring about this bitch thinking that she had some control over him just because she was already dead. Riling her up and fucking her as hard as he could was getting her in the mood, it would seem, or that's what he thought with how she was scratching and clawing all over his back as he kept blasting her cervix with a speed that would surprise anyone that was watching. Watching her tits bounce all over the place made him want to stop them, grabbing both her tits and squishing them against her body, but she retaliated by suddenly biting him as well.

"You whore, I knew you were always just a slut for pain, a stupid bitch like yourself thinking you were over everyone. I just crossed your path, and you looked at me like I was trash! I bet no one misses you." No sound, no grunt, no reply came from her, just the bites and scratches.

He was starting to get exhausted of her, so with all the power inside of him, he decided to go as hard as he could on deranged pleasure by showing how savage and aggressive he could be, pushing her body to the extreme and trying to stretch her body to the limit while feeling how intense he could be even in such a dire situation.

With her pussy clamping and squeezing so hard and wildly, it just felt almost impossible to ram it in; if it wasn't because he was on top, he would be incapable of pulling out, and her legs wrapped around him didn't make it any better; he didn't want to start cumming without at the very least building up some more pleasure. He wanted to show her that she was nothing but garbage, but at this rate it was going to be hard, as she didn't even bother reacting to any of the things he made; no matter how many slaps, punches, or insults he gave her, there was no reaction.

Perhaps it was time for something more extreme. Losing control, he went and grabbed her by the neck to try and choke her like he did with the femboy slut from a while before, feeling how her oddly warm pussy was wrapping around his dick the harder he choked her, becoming so tight it was like he was grabbing his own cock, but she still didn't give in; no matter how relentless he was, she didn't seem to be making any type of sound.

Maybe she was feeling pleasure and she couldn't speak due to the scar?

But it didn't make sense, as she wasn't moving either, just clawing at him with so much hatred behind her eyes. He was sweating bullets; no matter how intense he was being, she didn't seem to budge a little bit. Then the last thing he had left was to show her the force of his cock when pumping cum inside of her. "I will make you pregnant, you ghost whore! You will have a bastard with the guy who killed you, not so high and mighty anymore, right? You broad, disgusting fucking bitch, I hate you, I hate you so much."

He did get her to move for a moment; he thought that maybe she had reacted to his request, but what he saw next broke him – she yawned. A long, exhausted, and annoying yawn. "Aaaaaaaaaa..." The yawn, although very human-sounding at first, ended up becoming something like the guttural sounds of someone whose neck was having trouble breathing, similar to the sounds the girl from The Ring made.

But that didn't matter.

He was angry now; he started to rail at her nonstop, not caring if she was feeling pleasure, pain or anything at all. He wanted to crush her body, abuse it, fuck it, and rape it like the weaker woman she once was and still is in his eyes, violently grabbing her breasts and starting to slap them around, punching them, and slapping them, all while he builds up to an intense orgasm that would break anyone's pussy, especially with the size of his cock, hitting her womb so fucking hard that the boards underneath were creaking with how aggressive he was. "Die fucking die bitch!!! Drown in my cum! Worthless whore, stupid fucking worthless good-for-nothing corpse!! And like a vulgar animal in heat, he started to cum inside.

Shooting rope after rope after rope of thick baby batter cum that would be searching for eggs to impregnate, but even as he came, he didn't seem to stop; he forcefully pulled out, feeling how her hands clawed his back. Most likely he was bleeding too, but he moved closer to where her chest area was using those big fat milk jugs she had for tits and mercilessly started to pound them as he was pumping non-stop gallons of super thick spunk, shooting it all over her breasts and face.

He was grunting and snarling more like a beast than a man at this point, shooting all of his cum everywhere around her face, wanting to paint her white and humiliate her, even suddenly giving her the hardest face slap he could, not leaving a single bruise behind and the woman not reacting to him at all; no matter how much cum he had pumped out, she never gave him the satisfaction he was looking for.

Just like when she was alive.

He stood up, spat on her face and stomped on her breasts. "How's that? That's what you are good for, having babies. Not even you could've done that right, could you?" The ghost woman slowly stood up, pushing his feet away effortlessly as he stepped back, thinking she was going to hit him or attack him, or anything, really, but instead she just moved him aside and started to climb inside the TV again, but right before leaving she gave him a smirk.

Almost as if to make fun of him again, she went inside head first, then those massive tits went in, and as she was about to leave, her hips were grabbed. Nick hadn't had enough; his sanity was collapsing, but he wanted to make sure that she was somehow turned into a sloshing cum tank.

He pushed his cock inside of her battered cunt again, letting some of the cum he had inside fall out as he started to slam harder and harder against that ass that was stuck outside of the T.V. Ass ripples wiggled back and forth with every thrust, and the amounts of cum inside of her, like tidal waves, started to leak out more and more on the ground as he kept fucking her with so much anger.

His finger dug inside her ass, pushing it as deep as he could with his thumb, all while he made her ass bounce on his cock, trying to show the domination he desired, to show that she was worth nothing, but right now all he was doing was making a fool of himself as he looked more addicted to fucking her cunt and bashing her ass than actually violating her. Even if he were fucking her in a brutal and rough way.

No matter all the slaps he gave or how hard he went on her juicy ass cheeks, she didn't seem to react to his cervix-crushing, cunt-busting slams that repeatedly tried to rape her and destroy her body. No matter how hard he hit her, no bruise was left behind; she didn't look tired or pleased at all; she just felt like a sex doll. A very lewd and luscious sex doll that couldn't feel anything with him.

Eventually Nick got tired of her body and pulled out, and she calmly went back inside of the TV. His heart felt heavy, exhausted, and tired, but his mind was boiling; he felt dizzy and had a hard headache, just feeling an intense heat.

A click was heard to his left as his door was now unlocked, but instead of opening it himself, someone else opened it. A third creature entered the room, this time a woman with a cock between her legs – a futa. He remembers well; that was his third victim, was she not? Some girl that was looking to hitchhike and Nick, who was crossing states with a rented car and a fake name, picked her up.

Some soppy story about her wanting to travel the world before she turned old ended up with her getting killed as she fell asleep and her body being dumped in a desert somewhere on a route whose name he had forgotten; it was quick, it was clean, and the stabbing scar was right on her chest. Out of most victims, she went out without even noticing.

However, he never stripped her or anything like it and didn't know she had a cock between her legs; her body was quite chubby with breasts that were saggy, and her red hair was messy. Her skin was white, but right now, like all the other ghosts, it was pale. Her cock suddenly turned erect as she saw Nick. He knew what was to come next; he didn't care anymore about the logic of these ghosts, but he was going to fuck this one too.

He remembers her attitude, so shy and nervous when they were travelling together, like a scared puppy, and right now her ghost shape was pinned against the wall, being fucked in a standing doggy position, Nick behind her ramming against her ass while his hands worked her cock, masturbating her with such aggressiveness, going as fast as he could with his hands to please her fat cock while also squeezing on those balls, feeling them churn with some thick 'ectoplasm', and almost as if in command, she started cumming against the closet.

"Urkkk1!!" Ghuuuughhh hahaaaaaaaa nghhhh nooouuuuh~" She was able to vocalise some of her thoughts, unlike the others, but it did not matter; Nick was not going to stop even if she were going to ask him. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. She had such a pretty young face; out of many, she was very pretty. Huffing and panting, he took her lips. They tasted like bubblegum, remembering that's what she was chewing on most of the road.

Probably the thing that bothered him the most was how loud she chewed; although, whether he had done something to upset her or not, she would've ended up dead anyway, like right now. Not even sure if her body was ever found.

He grabbed onto one of her tits with one of his hands while his other kept working out her cock, feeling how sweaty and steamy they were, so soft and puffy too, almost swollen like she had milk inside of them, but nothing came out of them, so all he kept doing with those tits was grab them, fondle them, and abuse them some more.

"Who the fuck needs that stuck-up bitch when I have this stupid cow! If you think about it, you got lucky! Another guy would've raped you for ages, but I will be raping you for all eternity, you ghost, stupid-looking bitch." He was getting close to cumming again, and right at that instant he slammed as hard as he could, hearing how the closet suddenly broke down with the ghost girl's face hitting the wall as her ass was blown apart by that demolishing cock that was trying to rape her guts; a relentless flow of cum started to be shot inside of her as she started making some strange sounds.

"GUuuughghh aaahhh hdhaaahahhh aaaaah." He shut her up by placing a hand on her mouth and started to cum while forcing her to stand up; her own dick was swinging all over the place, shooting her thick fluid into Nick's clothes. Her hand clamped down and bit him as she was getting tired of being used like this, but Nick didn't stop; the idea of being more powerful than all his victims was what got him going.

That's what he loved about killing, to be stronger than them.

"Take my fucking kids, you dumb futa whore." The torrent of cum he was pouring inside of her started to leak out of her ass all while she kept cumming the same amount he filled her with, and even as she had a satisfyingly round belly to show how much cum she had inside, he didn't seem to stop. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her on the ground. Frotting his cock against hers, her being larger by plenty of inches, but he didn't care; she just kept humping against her own sex.

"I bet you were a fucking virgin too. How's it feel to know you will never feel what I am feeling, huh? "You stupid, weak, breathless, chew-glomping bitch!" He grabbed her tits, stretching them, and then went to bite them, sucking on them. Her whole body tasted like bubblegum, really. He was feeling too exhausted right about now; his cock suddenly splurged some more cum on her cock as well, but he did it so weakly that some drops clung to his dick and simply fell out of the tip with some weakness.

"Nghhh, fucking – damn you." He rubbed his head, feeling too tuckered out, and then something grabbed him by the shoulder. "The fuck?" Looking to see his fourth victim just standing there, some girl he had killed after she went out of a mall at night, she had some high school uniform, some slutty girl who liked wearing mini skirts, but his eyes froze as he saw behind her, on the open door, his fifth victim being some muscular guy, then his sixth, some old lady, then his seventh and then his eighth and then a hallway full of ghosts that kept coming inside his room. He got up, standing, and moved to the drawer to find his gun, taking it and shooting some bullets, but none of the bullets seemed to hurt the ghosts. He tried to run away by shooting at the window, glass shattering, thinking he could escape.

He cut his hand trying to get away but felt his hips being grabbed by his first victim. "What the fuck?! I already had fun with you moron!" His second and third victims pulling him inside the room, he started to scream, to beg for help, for forgiveness as he was buried under the bodies of the multiple ethereal creatures that surrounded him; no matter how hard he shouted, none of his screams reached the ear of an alive person.

The next day it was reported some shots at midnight, and his apartment was explored just to find the broken window and a gun on the floor.

No body was ever found.