A day in the life of one Corey Cooper. No, not that one. The dark and twisted one that likes to go by the name Harrow.
Content Advisory: As with last year’s Harrow story, Blackout, this story contains depictions of violence, blood, and significant abuse. Please do not read this story if you find those elements offensive.
It was a good day for coffee.
Not every day was, but it just so happened that today was a special day. Corey Cooper needed the extra hit of energy. Otherwise, he wasn’t going to get anything done.
Corey snapped his fingers and reclined in his high-backed chair. He planted an elbow on the luxurious, velvet-padded armrest and leaned his cheek on his fist. Some would have called it a throne, but Corey didn’t really care. He was above all that old-world nonsense.
A thin smile tugged at the corners of Corey’s mouth as he watched a set of pale hands carefully set a steaming mug on the table in front of him. He didn’t miss the slight tremble of the fingers, the way that the hands shook as they pulled away from the mug.
Corey leaned forward to examine the pristine white tablecloth. It was apparent that not a single drop of coffee had been spilled in the process. That was good. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed.
That being said, credit where credit was due, Corey’s new maid was doing her job rather admirably. It was almost a shame. He’d been looking forward to administering a little punishment.
The maid had taken to her training quite well. She had been standing behind and to the left of Corey for hours without a peep. As soon as she’d set the coffee down in front of him, she’d pulled her hands away so as to be seen as little as possible.
On this occasion, however, before the maid could pull her hands away, Corey reached out and lightly tapped his fingers on her delicate wrist. The maid flinched. A tinge of pink blossomed under her pale, almost-translucent skin.
Corey ignored her visceral reaction. He had that effect on the people under his employ. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy it.
The maid went deathly still. She froze halfway through the motion of pulling her hands away from in front of Corey. Lips pressed into a thin smile, Corey walked his fingers over the back of her pale hand and threaded them between her slender digits.
With a gentle tug, Corey pulled the maid’s hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. He chuckled and traced the tip of his tongue along the peaks and ridges of her knuckles. The way she shivered was delectable.
"Come here, baby," said Corey, tugging on the maid’s hand with enough force to make her pitch forward and stumble over her own feet. She came around to stand in front of him, and he raked his eyes over her smooth, svelte body.
Corey patted his lap.
The maid knew better than to hesitate, lowering her head as she clambered onto Corey’s lap.
Corey smiled. He let go of the maid’s hand and placed his on her waist. He cupped her supple ass with the other. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her flat chest, as he tongued her erect nipple.
A soft, almost-desperate sound escaped the maid. Corey could but grin as he let his teeth graze the sensitive nub on her chest. She arched her back and rolled her hips into him, helpless to the whims of her body as he let a faint electric current buzz through her nipple from his teeth.
Corey sighed as he leaned his head on the maid’s firm chest. He rubbed his left hand up and down her flank, caressing her hip as he squeezed and kneaded her ass with his right. "You’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?" he murmured.
The maid could only whimper in response.
Corey chuckled. That was to be expected. The maid wasn’t meant for intelligent conversation. If he’d wanted to talk to her, he wouldn’t have removed the bits of her brain that made her all blabby and annoying.
The maid cried out in desperation. Corey was rubbing her ass-cunt with the tip of his index finger and he could only imagine how desperate she was for his cock by now. He’d been denying her just to see how long it would take her to break and go against her training to beg him to fuck her, but the stupid bitch had been more resilient than he had expected. He’d trained her too well and he could almost find no faults in her performance anymore.
"God. You just look so fucking hot in your uniform," said Corey.
Not that the maid had much of one. She wore a thin leather collar around her neck that had the word "fuck-bitch" printed on it in bold type. Other than that, Corey sometimes made her wear a pair of frilly old lace panties that had a hole in the4 back and front for easy access. This wasn’t one of those occasions.
"I think you deserve a reward," said Corey. He was hoping that the maid would slip up just this once. "What do you think?" he said.
The maid mewled and bucked her ass into Corey’s hand.
The bitch hadn’t fallen for the trap.
As soon as Corey moved his hands behind the maid’s knees, she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was good, he had to admit. He laughed as he rose from his chair and took her with him.
Corey set the maid down on the table and let go of her legs. She let go of his neck as he did. He grinned and buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing kisses to the area just above her collarbone.
As the maid tilted her head back and moaned, Corey rubbed his hands all over her tight abs. They had gotten softer since the first day that she’d come into his possession, but that was what he wanted in the first place. He’d forbidden her from doing any manual labor so that she’d look like the perfect little flower for him to defile.
Corey’s cock throbbed in his pants. He wasn’t sure he could wait much longer. He rubbed the space just under the maid’s navel, enjoying the way that she moaned from the sensation of it. Then, he let his hand wander further down, fingers brushing lightly over the smooth mound where her cock had once been.
With no warning and no preamble, Corey jammed two fingers into her sopping cunt. Not that it was a proper pussy, just a crude imitation put there by his on-staff surgeon. The bitch at least knew to keep herself constantly lubricated and ready, even if he hadn’t touched her like this in months.
The maid moaned.
Satisfied that the maid was sufficiently prepared for him, Corey wasted no time on foreplay and pulled his cock out of his pants. It was always such a power trip to fuck the maid. It reminded him of how she’d been before he found her, a paragon of good and justice for all, and how she’d begged him to take away her manhood so that he could use and abuse her all he wanted.
Corey laughed as he rammed his rock-hard cock into the desperate cock-whore’s cunt. He didn’t know if she got any real pleasure out of this, but he didn’t care. If anything, the degenerate freak probably got off on the fact that he was using her like a living sex toy.
In and out. In and out. Harder and harder with every thrust. The maid squirmed on Corey’s cock, moaning and mewling like a cheap whore as he rammed her with all his strength.
Corey kept it up. In and out. In and out. Harder. Faster. Until—
The maid froze. Her bright blue eyes looked into Corey’s, wide with terror.
"Oops," said Corey, a devilish grin spreading across his lips. It had gone exactly as he’d planned. "Looks like you spilled some coffee on my table cloth," he said.
The maid’s eyes shone as she trembled.
Gods. Corey could never get tired of seeing the look of utter horror on his doppelganger’s face. "You know what that means," he said, voice low and dangerous.
The maid whimpered.
"I hate to do this. I really do. But you know I have to punish bad girls who make a mess, don’t you, Corey?" said Corey, with an icy-cold grin.
Shivering as the tears fell from her eyes, the maid nodded. She bit on her lower lip so hard that she drew blood.
"Good. Good. This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me. I’m so very sorry," said Corey, sardonically.
With one last violent thrust, Corey stabbed his cock into the maid’s cunt and unleashed a torrent of electricity into her body.
The maid screamed.
It was music to Corey’s ears.
Once he was satisfied, Corey pulled his cock out of the bitch with a wet squelch and a rush of cum. He let go of her and she fell backwards onto the table, twitching. He was hoping to hear the crunch of the mug under her, but she was too light to do any real damage and the mug instead shot out to the side and smashed against the floor.
"What will you say?" said Corey, returning to his seat with a smile as he tucked his cock back into his pants.
"T-thank y-you," stammered the maid, voice weak.
"Thank you, what?" said Corey, grinning widely.
"T-thank y-you m-m-master H-H-Harrow…" said the maid, voice scarcely a hair louder than a whisper.
"You’re welcome, baby," said Harrow, with a cold laugh.
Harrow whistled a merry tune as he made his way to the basement. Today had been quite the productive day. It was always so much easier to travel between the worlds on Halloween. It was almost like the gods wanted him to succeed, making it so pathetically trivial to pry apart the threads of the veil and step through.
The thick metal door that led to the deepest parts of the manor clanged shut behind Harrow. It was pitch-black in the staircase, but not for long. The circuits here were isolated from the rest of the house, but that wasn’t a problem for him. With scarcely a second thought he called on his power, lightning buzzing at the tips of his fingers with a pleasant tingle.
Harrow could provide all the power that this area of the manor needed. As he sent electricity coursing through the wires embedded in the walls, lights flickered to life overhead. It was better this way, anyway. It made it that much more difficult for his playthings to escape.
There was a rhythmic thump, thump, thump that followed Harrow as he made his way down the stairs. He didn’t mind it at first, but it got really old really quickly. He could scarce believe how incompetent his newest catch was being. Sure, it was the guy’s first day at the manor, but this was just beyond the pale.
"Hey," said Harrow, letting go of the toy’s hair. Its head thumped against the steps as its body remained limp.
"Hey!" Harrow repeated, louder. Still, there was no response. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stood at the side of the staircase and looked down at the toy.
Harrow gave the toy a sharp kick to the side. It flopped about, but didn’t make even the slightest bit of effort to be useful. "Gods," said Harrow, looking up at the ceiling. "It’s so hard to find good help these days. Hey. Are you still not going to help me out here? Are you going to make me carry you all the way down the stairs like a sack of potatoes?"
There was no response. Harrow was getting frustrated. "I know you’re unconscious, but that’s no excuse," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is hard work, you know. The least you could do for me is help take yourself down the stairs."
Harrow stomped his foot at the silence, mood souring even further. "Gods. I slaughter your friends, family, and the people you love and this is the way that you show me gratitude? Yikes, man. That’s so fucking selfish."
Harrow huffed. "Well," he said, looking down the rest of the flight of stairs, "there’s one way I can think of that will make this easier for me, but I don’t think you’ll like it."
Nudging the side of the toy’s face with the tip of his foot, Harrow said, "So, what will it be? Are you going to help me?" He waited for half a heartbeat. "Ugh. Fine. If you’re going to be that way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Shaking his head, Harrow retreated a couple of steps up the stairs. Bracing himself against the narrow walls, he kicked the toy’s limp body with all of his might, sending it tumbling down the steps. He half-expected that it would stop before it reached the bottom, but it just so happened that it managed to roll all the way to the landing, stopping face-down and limbs akimbo at the foot of the stairs.
"Ah. That’s so much better," said Harrow, dusting off his hands as he followed down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he looked down at the toy and tilted his head. Blood was starting to pool around it, glistening in the overhead lights.
"Aww. Look what a mess you’ve made," said Harrow, gingerly stepping over the limp body of his newest toy. "You know you’re going to have to clean that up, right?" he said.
There was only silence.
"I’ll take that as an ‘I understand, Master Harrow. I’ll do what you say!’ because I can’t imagine you’d like the alternative. Well, I would like it, if that counts for anything," said Harrow, with a toothy grin.
A shaking, disheveled young man, wearing the tattered remains of a lab coat crawled over to the toy’s limp body. He was cute. Harrow had almost forgotten about him, which was a shame since he was so useful.
"Aww, helping your new brother out? That’s adorable! What was your name again?" said Harrow, watching with an icy-cold smile.
The young man in the lab coat looked at Harrow, eyes wide and lip quivering. He seemed confused. "C-C-Cor—" Harrow held up a hand. The young man who had the same face as him choked on the air.
"No. No. Don’t tell me. I’m not interested in that name. Of course you think you’re Corey Cooper, but honey, you’re not worthy of the name," said Harrow.
Harrow rubbed his chin as he pondered it. "I want your real name. The one I gave you. It’s on the tip of my tongue but I just can’t…"
The Corey in the lab coat was clawing at his throat, lips turning slightly blue.
Harrow’s eyes widened in realization. He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah! You’re Doc!" he said. He looked up, saw the desperate look on Doc’s face, and laughed. He waved his hand and, in the next moment, Doc took a deep, desperate breath. "Sorry. I forget that you need to breathe. It’s so much fun watching you choke that I sometimes get carried away."
"Y-yes, M-Master H-Harrow," Doc stammered, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. "W-Would y-you l-like me t-to h-help him?"
Harrow waved his hand dismissively. "Do what you want," he said. "Just make sure he cleans up after himself."
"Y-yes, M-Master H-Harrow," said Doc. He crawled over to the newest toy and held its head in his hands. A soft glowing green energy flowed over the unconscious toy, yet another doppelganger that Harrow had brought home for his own amusement. With every pulse of the energy, the toy’s wounds and injuries healed.
"Hm…" Harrow hummed. The healer version of himself was more useful than he remembered. He had to make sure he didn’t forget Doc in the future. There were many fun things he could think of that would be so much easier with Doc around.
Harrow strolled down the hallway, letting his fingers run across the cold stone walls while he hummed a happy little tune. He’d managed to get another Corey to add to his collection today but he just wasn’t sure where to put him.
Interspersed at regular intervals along the length of the corridor were large rooms where Harrow kept his toys. Each one had a floor-to-ceiling polyglass window along its front, leaving nowhere to hide. The only entrance to each room was a thick, reinforced door set into the stone wall.
Harrow didn’t think the toys had the will to break themselves free, but a number of them were certainly strong enough to do it. It was never good to be complacent, anyway, so he’d made sure to put a lot of time and effort into making sure that escape was as difficult as he could, if not outright impossible.
Out of idle curiosity, Harrow peeked into a handful of the rooms. He couldn’t help but smile. He loved playing with his toys. He particularly enjoyed the room with the pups. They were always so precocious. He was glad that they’d adjusted well to their new reality, always loyal and playful with their master. He would have hated having to punish them. He’d always loved dogs.
Even so, none of the rooms particularly caught Harrow’s fancy. Each one had its ups and downs but none of them inspired him. Not today, anyway.
At least, not until Harrow got to the end of the long hallway. He shook his head as he peered inside the room. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten all about the Living Garden. He usually let one of his other playthings take care of the maintenance of the collection. It had been some time since he was last here in person.
Harrow placed his hand on the steel door and opened it with little effort. As soon as he walked into the room, thick, slimy tendrils swarmed toward him. They were fast. Aggressive. Just like he wanted. But the moment they tasted the faint hum of his black lightning in the air around him, they flinched and retreated.
"Hello there, Flower," said Harrow, with a small smile. He walked up to the mass of slimy tentacles in the middle of the room and reached out. He traced a finger along the back of a thicker tendril. It went rigid at his touch and seemed to almost quiver. "You must have missed me. Poor thing."
"Have you been well?" said Harrow. "Has the Little Gardener been taking care of you?"
The squirming mass of meaty tentacles merely shook. It didn’t have any capacity for speech, though Harrow liked to think that it understood him. "You’ve grown so much, Flower. I’m so proud of you," he said.
Flower had been quite small when Harrow picked it up from a dead world in the shit end of the multiverse. He’d called the planet Earth-IV—IV as in ‘ivy,’ because the planet had been covered in hyper-aggressive cannibalistic omnivorous plants.
The species was rather remarkable, really, if the Earth-IV Hall of Heroes logs were to be believed. After arriving on a meteorite that crashed somewhere in Nebraska, the species exploded across the continent. Allegedly, the heroes managed to stave it off for a few years, but ultimately it overran all of human civilization on the planet. The remnants of humanity fled to the moon where some other crisis killed them off. Harrow had lost interest in the logs by the time he reached that part.
Though he laughed about it now, Harrow remembered how pissed off he’d been when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to pick up a Corey from Earth-IV. He’d gone on a rampage to vent some steam, exterminating the entire species but for a single specimen in the process.
It was pretty funny, now that Harrow thought about it. He managed to do, in a few hours, what the combined might of Earth-IV’s mightiest superheroes failed to do in decades. More proof that he was just that awesome.
Harrow wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. It was nice to reminisce. "They grow so fast," he muttered, under his breath. To think that Flower had fit in his arms all that time ago when it now filled up most of the massive room that he’d given it.
Slime-slicked tentacles wrapped tenderly around Harrow’s hand. Thicker ones slid up his wrist, gently kneading the slime into his skin while smaller, slender ones threaded between his fingers and rubbed his hand.
"Ah. Ah. Ah. Don’t think I don’t notice what you’re doing, trying to bribe me with a massage," said Harrow, pulling his hand away and swatting at the thickest tentacle. "I still haven’t forgotten our last talk. I’m very disappointed in you, Flower. How many times do I have to ask? When are you going to give me grandchildren?"
The mass of tentacles visibly deflated. "I mean, is there something you want to tell me, sweetie?" said Harrow. He sat down on the slime-slicked stone floor next to Flower’s main mass, patting the tentacle that slid over his crossed legs onto his lap. "You know I’ll love you no matter what," he said, tenderly.
Harrow leaned down and gave the tentacle a kiss. "I won’t mind if you’re gay," he said.
A moment of silence passed.
"You’re not?" said Harrow, frowning. He was starting to get pissed off. He’d asked for one thing and this stupid plant wasn’t giving it to him. "Well what the fuck, then? Are you even trying?!" he said.
The tentacle on Harrow’s lap shrank away.
Harrow threw his hands up. "I even gave you the perfect set of brides. How haven’t you knocked them up yet?" he said.
Flower was still, for a moment.
Harrow squinted at the plant. He had to trust that his precious Flower would do no such thing but still, this behavior was suspicious. "You better not have eaten them, Flower. I’ll be very angry if you have. And I know you don’t like me when I’m angry."
The tentacle shrank away even further. It almost looked like it wanted to shrivel away and die.
"Well?" said Harrow, getting back on his feet and planting his fists on his hips. "Show me them," he said.
The mass of tentacles quivered. A section of tentacles slid apart. Glistening strands of slime linked the parting ends of the tentacles, criss-crossing over the entrance of a hollow chamber in the deepest part of the writhing mound.
Light from outside the room shone inside. There were three young men inside Flower. Each one wore the same face as Harrow, though their expressions were wildly different from his. The other Coreys’ eyes were blank and glassy, drooling liberally around the thick tentacles that were wedging their mouths open.
Harrow chuckled at the sound of his doppelgangers’ quiet gurgling moans. "Well, I can’t say you haven’t tried," he said, with a laugh, patting a nearby tentacle.
All of the Coreys looked heavily pregnant. Each one had a round, distended abdomen. Their stomachs bulged so large they looked stretched taut over the round, shifting lumps visible underneath.
One of the Coreys was on all fours, legs spread far apart, ass in the air, hole puffed and twitching as it leaked a steady stream of clear slime. Harrow rubbed his cock through his pants as he watched a tapered, pale green object poking out of the twitching pucker.
That Corey groaned, rubbing his distended stomach as his muscular ass and thighs flexed. The object, which Harrow could only assume was a seed, slowly pushed out of the Corey’s ass. It was big, and probably thick around as his fist at its thickest point.
With a shuddering, desperate moan, the Corey on all fours managed to push the seed all the way out. It dropped to the ground with a wet thump as the Corey’s cute little nub dribbled weak, white cum onto the floor.
The other two Coreys were half-embedded in the wall of tentacles that surrounded them. The upper parts of their body were all but obscured from sight. Their arms were buried in the writhing mass and their faces were framed by the thick, slime-slicked tendrils that squirmed and slithered over their bodies.
Other tentacles sawed in and out of their asses, their outlines visible on the Coreys’ taut stomachs. Each one had a number of smaller tentacles fucking them and a single larger tentacle that did not move as much as the others.
The larger tentacles seemed to be an ovipositor of some description. As Harrow watched, large round lumps traveled up their lengths and pushed into the Coreys’ asses. Each one was accompanied by a muffled groan and a rush of slick from the Coreys’ stuffed holes.
"I’m sorry the incubators I gave you are defective," said Harrow, patting a nearby tentacle.
The Corey that was on all fours continued pushing Flower’s seeds out of his ass. Another one popped out of him with a wet squelch, sliding across the floor on a thick puddle of slime. Harrow watched as the thick green scales on the seed slowly turned a lifeless gray upon exposure to the air.
Harrow sighed. It looked like his dream of being a grandfather wasn’t going to come true any time soon, at least with this group of useless whores. He clenched his fist, black lightning crackling along the backs of his knuckles as the dull, pleasured groans of the Coreys turned into pained grunts and whimpers.
After a moment, Harrow took a deep breath and released his powers. He didn’t want to do too much damage. There was always the chance that one of the doppelgangers would surprise him in the near future. "Alright," he said, stepping out of the hollow in the middle of Flower, "get them out of my sight."
The tentacles slid shut over the small chamber as Harrow reached out to stroke the writhing tentacles. "Don’t worry, little one, I’ll have a new one for you soon, I promise. And I don’t know, but I have a good feeling about this one."
Harrow chuckled to himself as he climbed the steps to the master bedroom. His newest Corey had given him a bit of trouble while he was dragging him to Flower’s room, but that was the kind of thing that he liked, anyway. He enjoyed it when they struggled—loved the panic in their eyes when they realized that there would be no escape. In fact, he liked it so much it never failed to arouse him.
Coming up on the second floor landing, Harrow adjusted himself in his pants. He was hard and horny as all hell. Even though he had been tempted to have a go at Flower’s incubators, and he would have been within his rights because they belonged to him, he hadn’t wanted to be rude.
Harrow was tired, too. He didn’t have to exert much effort for most of the year. His adoring army of doppelgangers usually took care of most of the grunt work in the manor for most of the year. Today was one of the few occasions every year that Harrow really had to give his all.
It was worth it. Harrow had come back with a new Corey and had more clues about the book. He was going to unlock the secrets of traversing the worlds without having to rely on All Hallows’ Eve.
A cold little smile pulled Harrow’s lips into a thin line. He couldn’t wait to get to play with all the other versions of himself throughout space and time. He did so love the way that they screamed.
Harrow slipped quietly into the master bedroom, rolling his shoulders as he did so. He took a deep breath and sighed. The whole manor was his, yes, but nowhere felt quite like home as the master bedroom.
It had been a good and productive—if tiring—day. It was about time for Harrow to wind down and enjoy himself. The master bedroom, his personal sanctum, was just the place to do it. There was just something about the faint scent of musk and sex in the air, and the quiet tremulous groans of his favorite Coreys that made the atmosphere so cozy.
Harrow stuck a hand into the collar of his suit. It was a fairly easy affair to undress when he was in uniform. He found the seam down the middle of the skin-tight suit. It was near-invisible to the eye and typically kept closed by the nanites threaded into the fabric.
Sliding his hand down his torso in a single smooth motion, Harrow pried apart the two halves of the upper section of the suit. Pulling his arms out of the sleeves, he let the fabric fall around his waist, only grabbing it to peel his legs out.
Harrow sighed. Nothing could compare to the sensation of being fully naked in his most sacred of places. The balmy air was almost electric against his skin, and his cock was glad to be free of the confines of the tight suit, bobbing happily up and down between his legs while he dribbled pre-cum onto the floor.
Once undressed, Harrow made his way over to the bed. He climbed in. For a moment, he lay on his back to bask in the softness and warmth of the mattress underneath him. Once he’d had his fill, he shuffled over to the other side of the bed, wrapping an arm around his favorite pillow.
"Hey, baby," Harrow murmured, burying his nose in the pillow’s thick, luscious hair. "Did you miss me?"
A quiet whimper, a groan, and a wiggle.
"Aww," said Harrow. He was touched. Genuinely touched. "That makes me so happy, baby. I know it’s tough when I’m away for most of the day, but it makes me glad to know that you’re always here waiting for me to come back."
The pillow moaned.
Harrow stroked the side of the pillow’s face. "Look at us," he said, struggling to fight back tears. "We’ve come so far in just a few short months, baby," he said.
Just two months ago, Harrow would never have expected such a positive response. His favorite pillow used to be much more strong-headed, belligerent, and hateful.
"I know that it’s been a tough adjustment, baby. It probably wasn’t easy at all to let go of that delusion that you hate me, and that you’re a hero, but I’m glad that you’ve been able to move past all of that," said Harrow, pressing a quick kiss to the nape of the pillow’s neck.
Harrow smiled. Taking the pillow to therapy had been the best decision of his life. "I know in the beginning you had this weird fixation about getting away and killing me just because I killed all your friends and loved ones… But didn’t I tell you? You’d thank me for it, eventually! And look where we are now," said Harrow.
The pillow whined, pushing back into Harrow’s naked body. It was so eager. Harrow loved it. His cock loved it, wedged as it was between the ample asscheeks of the pillow.
"As your therapist, I’m proud of all the progress that you’ve made. I’m so happy that you chose to take my advice and have that operation to get rid of all the dead weight in your life!" Harrow smiled, tracing his fingers over the smooth fleshy stump of the pillow’s severed arms.
"See? Didn’t I tell you that I would cure you? Honestly, baby, I don’t even know where you got the idea that you were a person!" said Harrow, stifling a laugh in the pillow’s hair as his hands moved down to gently massage the stumps of the pillow’s legs. "Aren’t you so much happier now that you’ve accepted the truth?"
The pillow nodded and whined.
"Shh. Shh," said Harrow, tapping the leather mask that covered the bottom half of the pillow’s face. The pillow had also become rather more docile ever since he decided to plug its mouth and throat with a thick dildo gag.
Ever since Harrow had the pillow’s excess body parts removed, and ever since he made sure the pillow could neither speak nor see, he hadn’t had any issues with aggressiveness. It was wonderful. Some days, he’d either lie in bed or stand nearby, watching the pillow squirm on the bed for hours.
"Don’t worry, baby. I know you’ve missed me. I won’t keep you waiting for much longer," said Harrow, rubbing the head of his cock up and down the pillow’s crack. Slowly, he pushed into the pillow’s warm, velvety ass. However many nights he slept with his cock firmly embedded inside the pillow, it remained wonderfully tight, almost as if it were made for his cock.
"Doesn’t that feel so much better?" said Harrow, grunting as he slowly pumped his hips.
"Alright. Enough talk. Time for bed." Harrow pushed his cock as deep into the pillow as he could. As much as he wanted to give it a mighty pounding, he didn’t really have the energy.
Quietly, as he slowly rocked his hips forward and back, Harrow murmured, "Good night, baby. Happy Halloween."