School for the Magically Gifted

The man shoved his cock into the little bitch bent over the bottom bunk. The top bunk rattled as the woman below was brutally by an unknown assailant. Brenda Martin cowered under her blanket as she heard her cell mate cry and whimper As the took her for the second time.

Brenda had been hiding motionless on her top bunk, her fear palpable as the best cell mate she ever had was violated. A few minutes later, she heard the man orgasm again, and a small silence, and then He began again. This went on for 6 hours. The repeated screams slowly quieting to a numb acceptance to her fate. It was near 6 in the morning when the silence finally took over, no more sounds of rutting, crying, or the slap of pelvis to ass cheeks that she had grown morbidly accustomed to.

Daring a peak, her eyes inched out from under her blanket as she lowered it with her clenching hands.

Black eyes. It was dark, nearly pitch black, but somehow she saw his eyes… and then a shining of white teeth as the monster that her friend smiled at her.

Brenda immediately hid her eyes back under the blanket, her heart beating in her head as she waited for it to be her turn.

Why? Why had no guards come? Why had she not heard the shouts from the other prisoners? Why had it picked her friend of all people?

Nothing happened. A few minutes later she peeked out from under the blanket again to find that the lights were on, it was time for the prisoners to wake up.

Shaking, she laid there a few more minutes.

It was a dream. A terrible, awful, nightmare. Brenda slowed her breathing as she calmed, only moving when she heard the guard call for Roll call. She slid out of her bunk, feet bare feet slapping the floor before trying to take a step, only to trip and fall, nearly breaking her face against the steel bars.

What the fuck did she trip over? Brenda stood, scrambling to turn around to see what her legs had hit, something soft but sturdy.

It had been no nightmare. Her legs had tangled with her cell mates. Her cell mates smooth legs nearly straight as the top of her body laid comatose face down on her bunk. Her legs seemed powerless, the smooth skin marred with bloody gashes where the nightmare had cut her as he violated her over and over. Her beautiful pussy, a warm and normally beautiful sight to Brenda on many cold nights was gaping and weeping copious amounts of seed. Her buttocks was also bleeding from gashes, and abundantly covered with an obscene amount of pearly white cum.

But it was her waist that drew Brenda’s attention. Symmetrical Mark’s on both sides of her body showed Brenda what made those gashes in her friend’s body. It wasn’t a knife that the had used to his victim, it was his hands. Brenda realized then that the couldn’t have been a normal man. The had actual fucking claws on his fingers that had dug into her cell mate’s formally perfect flesh.

Brenda didn’t have a nightmare. A nightmare had been in the cell with them.

Brenda cried out when she heard a sharp gasp from her cell mate, followed by intense sobs.

Brenda began screaming. Screaming for a guard. Screaming for an angel. Screaming for a god to come make sense of it all.

Brenda barely slept after that night. The nightmare coming to her every time she closed her eyes and saw his. It got worse, quickly over time until finally Brenda decided she had to know. She had to know what he was, and why he had done what he did to…her.

The only way to know, she decided, was to meet him. Her fear of the man with the pitch black eyes had changed in her madness. It had changed to some twisted adoration of the monster that had defiled her friend.

She needed to meet him and so she needed to prove her loyalty.

Brenda stood on the upper walkway of her cell block. Six feet from where her friend was violated she took a makeshift shank from her pocket and quickly stabbed into the soft flesh of her lower abdomen.

With a fit of strength only the mad can possess, Brenda violently her hand to pierce the small hole created by the shank and grasped a squishy yet firm portion of her own entrails. Pulling out a few feet of her lower intestine, she quickly wrapped it around the steel railing in front of her, one quick wrap around before she lost strength. With her the intention being to jump, Brenda instead tripped and fell over the railing, one hand still grasping her entrails as she fell to the concrete floor.

She landed on her back. One hand still grasping her intestine even in her while the rest of her intestine created a rope of sorts to the 2nd floor.

Brenda Martin died horrifically.

But this isn’t her story.