Gas Station

Its 2 a.m. and you are exhausted, and need a drink. You decide to stop by the gas station to get some booze for when you get home. The gas station is on the outskirts of the city and is never very busy, especially at this time of night. Little do you know whats in store.

A sensor beeps when you walk in. The guy behind the counter puts his phone down and pulls his hand away from his crotch, then gives you scowl. You grab a blue Gatorade, your go-to for a hang over. When you get to the counter you get a better look at the guy working.

He's wearing a tilted backwards baseball cap that hangs on top of big ears, which stick out to the side more than most peoples. His black cargo pants are baggy. A name tag that says Tyler, sits on his large loose grey t shirt. He's muscular, with tight pale skin, the kind of tight where you can see every muscle flexing and relaxing.

His face is gaunt but muscular at the same time. He has a solid jawline. A thick silver chain hangs around his strangely long neck.

You put the Gatorade on the counter and ask what kinds of whiskey they have, knowing it's kept behind the counter. He stands and you realize he is taller than you thought, almost a foot taller than you. He glares at you and rather than listing off the available whiskey options, he says "They are under the counter. Get back here an' pick." He has a deep voice and weird hick accent.

You go behind the counter, and kneel down looking at the whiskey selection. Finally you find one and turn around to stand up saying "I'll take...".

"My dick!" He says, as he grabs your head and jams his large limp dick into your mouth.