Patreon Compilation – Fic#100 – Hanzo/Reaper/Soldier; McCree/Hanzo – pumpkinking!Reaper; slasher!76; feminization; Halloween – Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary

“You’re not afraid, are ya?” Jesse cajoles while his friends in the background are howling with laughter; like making Hanzo go into the bathroom for their asinine little joke was the most hilarious thing they could imagine.

Maybe they hoped he would run back out in tears, mascara smeared over his cheeks, looking to be rescued by one of them. Maybe they tried to imagine how it would be to fuck their friend’s… wife… as he was freaked out of her mind.

Jesse’s big hand slides down his back and grabs his ass hard as they stand in front of their open bathroom door and look inside.

“It’s not difficult. You just gotta stand in front of the mirror and say the words. You know ‘em, right?”

Hanzo swallows hard, nerves strangely fluttery after all. He tries to wipe his sweaty palms against his thighs without being too noticeable about it, and can’t do anything about Jesse’s fingers rucking up the back of his little skirt to show off his pantie clad ass to the drunk men behind them.

“An’ when you’re done, you come back out and get your reward,” Jesse croons into his ear, alcohol laden breath fanning over Hanzo’s cheek and tickling his jaw. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is… really turned on by their drunk shenanigans. He kind of wants to get this over with so he can go back there and be felt up by the lod. Of course he’ll pretend not to want it so they can feel more naughty, but…

“Alrighty then, sweetheart.” Jesse gives his ass another squeeze, then pushes him roughly in so Hanzo stumbles on the high heels that his husband really wanted him to wear tonight so he could better show his slutty wife off to his friends. “We’ll be right here. Protectin’ you from the evil ghosts.”

There’s a round of breathless laughter around. Hanzo glances behind him one last time to stare at the few men it cheap Halloween costumes and with very obvious erections tenting the front of them before the door is closed in his face and he hears the key being turned from outside.

“Lights out, babe!” Jesse’s sonorous voice easily travels through the thin divide. Hanzo rolls his eyes and sighs. He wishes they could just all be in the living room right now. He’s sure that if they hadn’t thought this was such a hilarious idea, he would be on his knees know sucking some unwashed dicks and getting his tits fondled by the group outside.

Instead he has to be in here and wait for a few more minutes until they finally get over the ‘obnoxious horny teenage boy’ phase and finally get on with assaulting him properly.

He shakes his head and makes his way over to the mirror. Better get it over quickly.

He stares at himself, fixing a bit of make-up, then says loud enough so the snickering men outside can hear: “Bloody Slasher. Bloody Slasher.”

His hands are on the lip of the sink, and his fingers suddenly curl around it tighter when he feels like the temperature around him… drops. He gasps, goosebumps running through his body and having his nipples stay at attention, pressing into the lacy fabric of his bra.

This was a trick of his mind, of course. There was no way the temperature could suddenly change. Or… was he seeing his breath fogging up? Hanzo felt a little faint, but pushed on.

“B… Bloody Slasher,” he says breathlessly, and everything around him seems to… shift. The cajoling and laughing from outside the room cuts off. The very air around him changes. The energy in the room is completely different… as if the room had been cut out of the apartment and placed on a completely different planet in the span of two seconds.

He’s panting, breath coming in little short bursts, the hair along his arms standing on end. Something shifts behind him in the reflection of the mirror. When he twists around fast enough to hurt his back, he is suddenly grabbed from behind and pushed forward… right into a hard, unrelenting chest.

There’s a split second in which he marvels about the boys’ ability to pull something like this off when they were clearly drunk, which is chased by the realization that neither of these men are anybody that he knows. The smell of wet earth and blood fills his lungs.

When he pulls back to slowly stare up, he is met by the sight of a wide, naked chest with a few metal bolts digging into the flesh. Further up still, the stranger is wearing an expressionless hockey mask, slits glowing in a hellish, unnatural light.

“How-” Hanzo starts, stomach dropping and dread rising. A hard body presses up behind him, crushing him against the man in front. Cold washes over his body. None of the drunk bastards outside could pull a prank like this off. None of them were this tall or this broad, hard muscles squeezing Hanzo in from both sides and making it nigh impossible to breathe.

“You called us, little lady?” the man from behind croons. His voice is smooth… erotic… and strangely ethereal. “It’s been a while since we could play with such a gorgeous piece of meat…”

A large hand grabs his ass, squeezing hard enough to let Hanzo feel the unnatural claws digging through the fabric of the short, slutty skirt he wore tonight.

“J-Jesse!” he cries out, elbow jerking back, jabbing into the man’s stomach while he tries to writhe his way out from between the two strangers that had somehow broken in. There is no response from outside. Not a single sound that would let him know that he is not completely cut off from the rest of the world.

The elbow jab has no reaction at all; just a low crooning laugh as his hands get grabbed and gently but relentlessly pulled back. He is struggling, crying out for help yet again, trying to defend himself against the two assailants, but… nothing works. Hanzo is not weak. In the past he’s fought more and came out winning, but these two… They are inhuman.

The man with the hockey mask is not making a sound, the glowing from the slits brightening and dimming in irregular intervals. All he does is suddenly reach down and under Hanzo’s short skirt, his large, fever warm hand cupping Hanzo’s junk in the little slip of underwear he is wearing.

When Hanzo twists again with an angry cry, he sees something glinting in the silent monster’s hand. It’s a large knife. A machete. His insides freeze. The man behind him chuckles right into his ear.

“There you go. Stay nice and still. We don’t want to hurt you… you’re too pretty.”

A clawed hand gently trails along the line of his jaw. They have shifted somewhat, and like this, Hanzo can see their reflection in the mirror. His mouth drops open, eyes going wide when he sees the pumpkin head of the one behind him, the jagged grinning mouth having two strangely large protrusions as if mimicking a vampire.

The creature laughs as if it had heard his thoughts, but does not comment. At one point, his wrists have gotten tied by a length of silk, rendering him helpless against their grasping, grabbing hands. They are inhumanly strong, pulling him up and spreading his legs even though he is fighting it the whole way through.

“Gorgeous little lady,” the one behind him croons as Hanzo’s skirt is being pushed up and his underwear down, showing his cock and balls off to the two of them; everything nice and smooth because he likes the contrast to Jesse’s hirsute everything.

The silence of the brute in front is even worse than the cajoling little pet names from behind. He feels… dangerous. Like he wants to fuck Hanzo just as badly as he wants to rip him apart and carve something into him with the large knife he has put to the side with surprising care.

The atmosphere in the room has his skin pebble, and his breath hitch. They are too strong for him. Too fast. They are gentle but relentless as they rip open his blouse to grope his tits and spread his thighs to get access to everything between them.

There is absolute silence from outside. He knows for a fact that neither Jesse nor his fuckboy friends are there anymore. I can feel it in his bones as surely as he can feel the big, rough hands of the masked man in front, digging bruises into his skin.

It is like stepping into the bathroom has transported him into another dimension. Fear has his heart racing in a pathetically fast pitter-patter. His legs tremble. He tries to close them, but the man, the… the thing between them is steady and unmoving. It refuses to let go of the machete, the cold metal pressed against Hanzo’s hip as he uses one hand to hold him more or less steady while the other reaches between his cheeks, thick fingers probing rudely.

He does not want to get hard… but his body is starting to react, and there is nothing he can do about it. The monster behind him chuckles again.

“Your body is as slutty as your clothes… what a delight. Look at that gorgeous little clit…” Hanzo is heaving in sharp, wheezing gasps as he watches a gloved hand snake around him from behind, easily cupping his cock and squeezing it until he feels like his eyes are about to pop out of his skull.

It distracts him from the rude fingering spreading him open and preparing him for the wildest ride of his life.

Jesse is a lazy bastard during sex. His cock is big and ruddy and easily enough to give Hanzo something to play with even when the guy himself is almost snoring away as he uses it. He loves Jesse.

But this… this.

The maniac in front of him is leaning forward, his mask nearly touching Hanzo’s face. Hanzo can feel the inhuman heat radiating off of him. He can hear his rattling, wheezing breaths as he presses forward relentlessly until he just forces the fat tip of his cock to pop into him.

Hanzo’s ears are filled with static after that, his mouth open. He’s unsure if he’s still breathing, but he probably has to because he doesn’t lose consciousness despite his body trembling between them like a feather in the wind.

The darkness crowds in all around them, oppressive and frightening; his two otherworldly assailants two points of hellish brightness as they lean over him from both sides, manipulating his body like a doll.

The monster with the hockey mask saws through him in sharp staccato bursts of pleasure pain that have dots dancing in front of Hanzo’s vision. The creature behind him… the man with the devilishly grinning pumpkin head… it, too, forces its way into his body when its patience runs short.

Hanzo is sure he has to be tearing... but if he does the sensation is overshadowed by being filled, filled, filled, the burn rushing through his body like a wildfire. He sees his panties hanging ripped from his right ankle, bouncing in the air like the little bitch he is being made into. There is no breath in him to scream, or to moan. He is folded into a V between the two monsters and made to take their impossibly big cocks while their hard muscled bodies make sure he can’t go anywhere.

He turns his head and stares at himself in the mirror above the sink. His make-up is smeared, streaks down his cheeks that he is not sure are from tears or sweat. His mouth is hanging open. He looks like a stupid bimbo during some kind of porn shoot, and the fact that that turns him on even more also has him disgusted at himself.

His skirt is flipped up. The man with the hockey mask has his head tilted to stare down; as if he is watching Hanzo’s cock, fat and plump, bounce against his own belly.

The monsters are as silent as can be; only the occasional grunts accentuating their thrusts as they somehow manage to cram themselves into his trembling body over and over again.

The sharp pain lancing through his neck catches him by surprise. It dashes the fog of lust that had descended over his mind for but a second before the smoke comes back again, thicker, seemingly fanned by the pain that has dulled into a thick, delicious throb.

Hanzo makes an inarticulate low sound, more animal than anything else, and manages to roll his eyes so he can see in the reflection what is happening. The monster behind him has lowered its pumpkin head to the juncture of his neck.

As he keeps staring, the man in front of him begins to grunt and rut harder; fucking him like a rusty engine. It occurs to him, as he feels their cocks twitching and throbbing inside his clutching hole, that the creature behind him is sucking his blood.

They don’t stay to enjoy their afterglow. They pull out, leaving him gaping wide and dripping, his cock a hot, swollen wound bouncing against his belly. Their cum, slimey and weird, begins to drip out of him immediately, pooling beneath his ass as they let him down on the floor surprisingly gently.

“N-No,” he drawls desperately. He sounds and feels as if he’s drunk. He tries to grasp onto the leg of the pumpkin king but the creature pulls the fabric easily out of his weak fingers. “N-Not yet, p-please,” he whines, cock so hard, body thrumming, primed, so ready to shoot.

They laugh at him, voices deep and reverberating.

They are gone. The light flickers on. The dimension has shifted so quick and seamlessly that Hanzo feels a rolling wave of nausea crush over him.

The door opens with the laughter of Jesse and his party guests spilling inside.

“Hey Hanzo, did you finally do-”

He cuts off. Hanzo closes his eyes, feeling for the sluggishly bleeding wound on his neck. He wishes the two monsters were back and would finish their work.

Oh, how cruel they were...