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50,000 volts straight to your braciole. Zap. Nothing but taint left down there.
Okay, admittedly the idea of going back to Wide Wale’s place was making his skin crawl, but this was more important than dumb fear dang it! This was for love. The fate of his girlfriend depended on it! Like a hundred messages and forty missed calls later and Sirena still wasn’t answering!
If Hank knew anything, it was that something had to be seriously wrong. She still texted him even when she was in class normally. Freaky, body swapping ninjas must have gotten her, or her dad went completely crazy awol and confiscated her phone, or she was spirited away by evil wizards— something.
Well, if you lost something, look in the last place you had it. The last place he had… Sirena was in her bedroom, in her Dad’s creepy T tower lair next door. Even if she wasn’t there anymore, Hank was sure he could detective up some clues as to what happened. Just getting in was probably the biggest challenge.
Naturally, Hank had snuck in there plenty of times before, but unlike before he didn’t have the go-pod after Wide Wale’s stupid goons junked it. That meant he had to go more… incognito.
Getting up to the penthouse wasn’t actually all that hard, it was all just random apartments for super-tenants or whatever below it. Normal doormen you could slip past if you went in with a group of people like you were meant to be there. Before Hank even knew it he was catching an elevator up to the top floor.
The thing about really tall buildings is, the elevators don’t actually take forever like they do in jokes for movies. They just go faster. Sure it is longer than the average ride up two stories, but Hank also had one of those super long elevators in his own home.
Took a day or two to get used to that stomach-dropping feeling. You’d think a shorter ride up would’ve been nicer, less time to think about how stupid of an idea this was. Or how much danger Sirena might be. But it was like the ten pound weight attached to his heart was replaced with a ten ton one.
The Henchmen guarding the penthouse door usually slacked off around their lunch break. Crowded around a pizza box, Hank could sneak by them. It took a little finesse but he was in. A few heads snapped back towards the elevator when they heard the door open, but Hank was already ducked behind a conveniently placed potted plant by then.
He slid his feet with his back flush against the wall, as fast and as quickly as he could. Hey it wasn’t the fanciest tactic but it worked! Bingo. There she is, Sirena’s bedroom door. Just down the hall and barely out of reach. He would have to use his years of Samson-certified training for this very moment…
Still shuffling against the wall of the hallway, ducking into unlit, empty rooms when able. It felt like a scene right out of a secret agent movie! Hank had to refrain from humming the Mission Impossible theme. Expertly, he crept towards the door.. Closer, closer, almost there, and…
He was torn away. A large hand caught hold of the back of his snowsuit, and at breakneck speed he was pulled back just as soon as his fingers graced the doorknob. So close.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” Rocco dangled him up into the air by his collar. Or was his Zacco? Hank hardly ever caught his name when he wasn’t already being held down and tased. It’s not like the fella was too friendly with him.
Whatever, Chocco Taco was staring a hole through Hank’s head that could out burn the sun times a thousand over. Hank gulped.
“I thought I had made myself clear the last time.” He nearly growled, jostling Hank as he attempted to wriggle from his grasp.
Hank’s eyes fell down to his feet, desperately trying to touch his toes to the ground, his fingers coming between his collar and throat so he didn’t choke anymore than he already was.
“Aw dang it…” Hank mumbled, still kicking at the carpeting beneath his feet.
He usually got out of these things, he was Hank Venture! Not some two-bit damsel-in-distress so-called boy “adventurer”. He didn’t need someone to save him, and he wasn’t about to drop his can-do attitude now, he was almost there! That would not be very Hank of him. He’ll figure something out… He always does.
“Oh you’re gonna be a lot more than just ‘aw dang it’ in a second. I think somebody needs to be taught a lesson.” Rocco tossed Hank to the floor, his back hitting the ground with a hard thump.
Before Hank could scramble away, Rocco was back on him, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and dragging him towards the other guards.
“Because this cazzone here can’t get a warning through his thick skull, I think we need to show him a real threat.” A murmur of laughter echoed back from the anticipating henchman.
It’s not likely they’ve got much else to do, Hank was probably the only one just about stupid enough to mess with Wide Wale. The level ten supervillain Wide Wale. The things Hank will do for love was starting to bite him in the ass.
Before he knew it, Hank was being slammed against the wall. His back took another hard thud as Rocco pinned him under his weight, everyone else looking on. Right now, Hank couldn’t think of anything else other than kicking at the knees of his suit.
“Heck.. stupid.. power suit… buudge.” Hank whined, shoe scuffing up the kneepads as if the metal armor was just gonna crumble under his weak kicks. Rocco grabbed Hank by the jaw instead.
“Uh-uh, ragazzo, eyes up here.” He shook his face in his grasp, making sure Hank was looking him in the eyes. In the other hand, the taser spear Hank was already all too familiar with. Oh bother. “Now, you might remember this, but I recall saying that if I ever saw your sorry mug here again I was gonna sear your little pishadeel clean off. Isn’t that right?”
Hank felt a shudder go straight to his crotch. Geez, this was actually going to happen, wasn’t it? Rest in peace Hank Venture, died of crotch lightning and not in an innuendo kind of way. Rocco shook him again once Hank was doing too much staring and not enough answering.
“I said, isn’t that right?” His voice was dripping with a kind of acid Hank had never heard from before. Like, man the guy hated him, but he sounded really pissed off. Like really really pissed off. Did the dude’s girlfriend just dump him before this or what?
Hank aptly nodded the best he could with the man’s fingers and thumb clamped around his cheeks. He met Rocco’s eyes with a look of shaking, childlike terror. But even still Hank couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, hoping for Sirena to come barging in and telling Rocco to lay off or ask what the hell they were doing to him. Damn, maybe Hank Venture did need saving.
“That’s better.” Rocco mocked, his grip on Hank’s face tightening. “Y'know kid, normally I’m a nice guy, I don’t like to be angry. I don’t do this for fun, y’know. But you’re really starting to piss me off!” Rocco let out a low chuckle, his teeth gritting.
“I could just castrate you and be done with it, but I’m feeling… Mad. Yeah, really fuckin’ mad. So you’re gonna sit tight, while we do this over, and over.” He spat, tapping the blade of the spear against Hank’s inner thigh. And tap, tap, tap, up to Hank’s groin. His legs instinctively clamped around it, producing a squeak from Hank as it sent another shiver straight through him.
“Any last words for your cojones before I make it so you’ll never have kids?” Rocco pressed the dull side on the spear hard against the crotch of Hank's snow pants. He was just thankful it wasn’t the bladed edge, because… Ow. Not like it wouldn’t be hurting like all heck in a few seconds though.
Where was he getting all these weird slang words from anyway? Eh, not that Hank was at all one to talk out of any other Tom, Dick, or Harry. Even if he had to guess that most of the other ones meant dingus, Hank at least knew very well what cojones meant.
“N-no, you don’t get it! I was only looking for Sirena because I thought m-maybe she was in trouble, like a bunch of pirates ninjas might’ve kidnapped her! Or she’s been doppelgänger body snatched!” Hank’s lower lip was quivering. “She wasn’t answering my calls, I was just trying to save her—“
the last words were nearly choked out of him as Rocco scoffed, “Yeah, right, and I’m the Easter bunny. Sirena’s fine, capish? She ain’t your problem, you know the real reason she isn’t answerin’ you?”
Rocco looked at Hank with a narrowed precision, his thumb clicking over the dial on the handle of his spear.
“N-no… why?” Hank gasped out, his eyebrows knitted up, his whole body shaking.
Suddenly, sharply, and painfully a shock like nothing he’d ever experienced before. His crotch lit up like it was on fire. No, worse than that. So much worse than that. Hank cried out, dropping to the floor as soon as Rocco let go of his face. Hank choked back a few sobs, just barely having caught himself on his elbows and knees. It all happened so fast he didn’t even realize he was sobbing. That was nothing like accidentally touching the electric fence at the old Venture compound.
“It’s because she don’t love you.” Rocco applied a swift kicked to Hank’s middle when he tried to move, to get out of here.
Hank hacked when all of the air was forced out of his diaphragm, coughing roughly and clutching his stomach. Okay no going anywhere. Just staying still, staying still and praying for this to be over. His arms were so wobbly it was a struggle to just not fall flat on his face, let alone think.
One of the other henchmen hoisted Hank back up, his legs so unsteady the only thing keeping him upright was the fact he was being held by his coat collar again.
“Oh c’mon, that was just a little kiss on the cheek.” Rocco goaded, “I even turned the voltage down, all non-lethal and stuff.” He chuckled, waving the spear around in the air mockingly, a sadistic grin on his face.
“Think you can handle another, big man?” Hank had never shook his head so hard in his life. He could barely move his legs, let alone defend himself from another blow between them.
Just as horribly as the first time, another jolt of electricity was sent through his groin. He choked on whatever sound was trying to come out of his throat, a scream trying to force its way out. His body stiffened as volts of electricity were sent jolting through him, practically turning to jelly once it was over. Tears streaming down his face, his knees weakly knocking.
There was this noxious smell of burnt plastic, undoubtedly his snow pants melting under the heat. Shit… Hank could only whimper. If his could even feel his crotch over the unrelenting stinging pain, his body thought a good idea would be soaking through his underwear. Not that it had consulted Hank any, like, ever. All he could hear in his ears were his heartbeat and the uproarious laughter of Wide Wale’s henchmen.
Hank’s head lolled forward, his vision briefly turning to colors. He was slumped back against the wall, most likely when whoever got tired of holding him. It was better than being thrown, at least. Rocco tapped the edge of his spear against Hank’s burning nethers again. He prepared for the worse.
“Hey I don’t need you passing out on me, ragazzo.” He barked, still berating Hank with a mind-numbing tap, tap, tap.
“Let’s turn this down a notch or two and keep you bright eyed and bushy tailed, eh?” He kneeled down to Hank, an absolutely demeaning smile beaming at Hank through discolored vision.
“S-sorry..” Hank gasped, “stop, please.” His voice trembled and barely coherent, Rocco only shook his head. Hank’s heart sank. He didn’t want this to be the thing that breaks his spirit, but it was looking bleak.
The third time wasn’t as bad, Rocco probably did turn the voltage down seeing as it only forced a pained groan out of Hank instead. A notable improvement, although it still burned like nobody’s business. Maybe he could grit his teeth and stomach this, like being harpoon-tazed back at the park. Hank tried to close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else. It was hard enough with that awful burning smell, to speak nothing of how he felt.
“Aww is that better?” Rocco chided, “Can the big boy hold his liquor now?”
When Hank went to speak he only gasped for air. Barely able to over his hiccups and sobs. His stomach was heaving, he wanted to curl in on himself. He couldn’t even think about what Rocco said. Even if Sirena not loving him anymore was true and not some taunt made up by the guy whose job it is to keep them apart, it was so far removed from where Hank was right now. This would be so much better if he passed out, why did he always have to be awake for these things.
The fourth zap was about as bad as the third, the shooting pain was there as ever and turning Hank’s brain into soup. He could still feel it deep in his bones, he threw his head back and nearly bit a hole in his lip.
“Ahhhahgh!” Hank cried, his hips tensing against the flat of the spear, almost bucking into it against his will. Rocco tutted, administering another shock almost directly after. Hank groaned, doubling over onto the long handle of the spear, his legs twitching and shaking.
“Hm?” Rocco teased, “what was that?”
There was growing laughter and indistinct ridicule being swapped amongst the henchmen. Hank still could barely hear it. Even worse, Rocco began to move the spear back and forth slightly, rubbing against Hank’s sore and red raw sensitive parts through his destroyed snow pants. If this went on for any longer Hank knew he was going to hurl.
If he wasn’t already throbbing down there before, another zap traveled across his pubic area made sure of it. Hank inhaled sharply. Riding along the pulsing electricity, a moan shuddered out of him as some gushy kind of liquid flooded from his body, warming the already burnt seat of his pants. Piss or jizz or whatever, Hank didn’t have the brain power to even acknowledge it anymore. Regardless, it was leaking out of the snow suit and pooling in a gross, warm puddle between his legs.
“Hey, look who’s excited.~” Rocco hummed, an almost sing-song tone to his mocking. “You pissing your pants like a baby or just enjoying yourself? Right fellas?”
That earned even another bout of laughter from the other men. Hank couldn’t think anymore, the thinking department in Hank’s brain had closed up shop and skipped town.
He grasped at straws, trying to imagine his warm bed in the morning, or the adventures he and his brother would go on when they were younger. Dean’s smiling face, playing catch with Brock, eating his favorite food. Nothing would stay for too long.
Another pulse rocked into Hank’s crotch, this must’ve been an even lower voltage, either that or he was just starting to get used to it. Or his nerves were so shot he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. But just when Hank expected it to stop, it kept going, and it went on for so. Long. Excruciatingly long. It was like he was being fucked with it. Hank’s hips rutted into the metal, twitching uncontrollably when his body seized up, coughing out sobs and whines as Rocco kept moving it against his body. Waves of zaps hitting him like he was being pounded into. Like he was being raped by a dingus made of fiery, hot sodering iron.
His hand steadied himself on the pole of the spear, holding onto it like a mast in a storm as he rocked with the weapon. His body tensing with each shock, more wetness dripping from between his thighs. Hank tried to beg for it to stop. He tried to cry “please”, but it probably came out more like “pl-ahhah-ahgghff— hff.. hff.. -Mnngghf!..” Or something like that.
Finally the torture stopped, Hank heaved and panted while he had the chance. He nearly tumbled forward, probably would have if the spear wasn’t there stopping him. He didn’t notice how soaked he was until he had the chance to breathe. His body still shaking, Hank was about as stable as a house of cards.
Then, he was being hoisted up again, one of the guards had him under the armpits, someone else was peeling his burnt snow pants off of him. Then his jeans- then his jeans?? Hank wriggled and squirmed with all the might he had left.
“W-what the dilly!?” He croaked, kicking his feet felt like pins and needles. They were undressing him, they were totally undressing him.
Hank whined weakly, “get your hands off me ya… ya mo’…” Hank gave a defeated kick, Rocco caught his leg.
“Let’s get you more comfortable, bud, since you can’t seem to keep it in your pants anyway…” he mused, wedging himself between Hank’s unwilling legs. His fingers hooked around the waistband of Hank’s briefs, the last shield of his dignity.
“C’mon, show us how tiny it is!” Hank could finally clearly hear one of the other henchmen chiming in, not that he was any better for it. It was followed by a series of ‘yeahs’ and other encouragement. He felt like a zoo animal.
“You heard the fellas, big boy, let’s see- oh you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Hank’s underwear weren’t even halfway down his thighs when Rocco’s face dropped. Staring him directly in the cunt. Then a laugh cracked across his face. An awful, mocking laugh. “Are you serious? You- you don’t even! Bahahahaha! Lorenzo, would ya look at this shit?”
He elbowed his buddy, faces crowding over his injured slit. The cool metal of Rocco’s spear met his burns, parting the lips of his pussy. Rocco craned his neck to the side, like he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A low whine creaked out of Hank’s throat.
“Talk about a hen in the fox house, huh? Listen bud, Sirena isn’t a friggin’ clam smacker, so I don’t know who you think you’re foolin’ with this.” Rocco pressed the tip of his spear with insistence.
Hank squirmed, fearing the sharp point of the blade, it was gonna cut him any second now. His cunt was leaking into the spearhead, an utterly inappropriate response to the tingling pain that’s seized his groin.
“What you got nothin’ to say? Did you ever think you had a chance with her, really?” Hank’s eyes only fell to the floor.
Rocco dropped the spear, replacing it with a hard grasp on Hank’s inner thigh. His thumb dug into his soft flesh, practically bruising him. “You’re not man enough to date ‘er. And you never will be, will you?”
Hank took a shaky breath, “No…” he said with defeated resolve, responding before his assailant even had the chance to shake it out of him. Rocco’s hand connected with Hank’s face, cupping his cheek. Gross. Hank flinched away from the touch, he’s pretty sure he threw up in his mouth a little.
“Now I could just wreck this little cunt, but since we’re already teaching lessons here, why don’t we show ‘em what a real man looks like first?” Before Hank could even process, he was flipping onto his hands and knees, his face being smushed into the floor. Embarrassingly ass up.
Pain radiated across his face, most likely from being plopped onto the ground so carelessly he was too blindsided to notice. Though it would be stupid to say his entire body didn’t hurt at this point. Something thick and blunt rested against his cunt, it wasn’t the spear, but any touch was still making his pussy burn.
“And you’re already all nice and wet too. Since bein’ a pizza delivery boy didn’t shape out I’m sure you’ll make a great whore.” A rough hand spread the lips of his cunt, as if it burned before.
“Nn-nggfhh!!” Hank gritted his teeth, his groan muffled by the carpeting shoved in his face.
Something foreign and uninvited shoved its way into Hank’s cunt. Shoved was an understatement. Tearing its way through injured skin. Forcing its length inside him. Pushing each slow inch in second by second, Hank’s body seized. Tightening around it. He must’ve been so puffy and swollen.
“Super… dang it..” Hank groaned into his folded arms, savoring the very few seconds before he started moving.
Boy, did he start moving. He could barely process what was happening between the pounding in the base of his belly, the slapping of hips against the backs of his thighs, and the searing pain ripping through him. This was worse than Sergeant Hatred from way back when. At least Uncle Vatred was gentle then.
Hank gagged, his whole body rocking with each thrust. It was nauseating. He was going to start crying again, wasn’t he? His cunt twitched and squeezed around Rocco’s member. Flinching with pain. It was Rocco, right? He didn’t even know anymore. Whoever it was had him by the waist, unkind hands holding him like they were wrassling a wild animal. Hank wasn’t going anywhere though, even if really wished he was.
Deep in his gut was horrible pleasure, as if it could almost start to feel good. His body sparked with the sensation, his hips bucking with each thrust. His body moving on its own accord. Just about the one thing that could make this even more humiliating.
“Sh-shit~!” Rocco grunted, strangling a stilted moan from Hank that he didn’t want out.
“Wow you’re like a regular puttana, aren’t you. Fuck you’re tight, Aahh~…” Rocco shoved deep into Hank’s cunt, shooting thick ropes of cum into him. Hank cried out again, the tears that were pricking his eyes beginning to stream down his face. Ew, he could just about feel this douchebag’s jizz filling him up… gross.
“Aah-hhahh!!” Hank yelped, with about as little love and grace as possible the intrusion was ripped out of him.
Before he could even take a breath, another one was forced in. Maybe they had loosened him up a bit, it was almost more bearable than the first time. He still wanted to throw up though. What a disgusting thing to think about. Hank’s head was reeling. If Sirena really was in trouble, Hank was in no state to save her. He just hoped she won’t be too mad… and that she’s okay… oh god Sirena.
Hank was almost proud to say he didn’t throw up until the third round. It took hell knows how many zaps and a third dick fucking his insides to make him whimper out “oh geez I’m gu-gonna ralph all over th—“ between mind-numbing thrusts. His body evacuated his stomach of its contents all over the ground in front of him.
His stomach lurched again, pouring another flood of hot pain out of his throat. Saliva dripped from his lips, panting. He hardly thought it was ever going to stop, even if he must’ve only thrown up two or three times. After a few moments, his stomach heaved again but nothing came out. Talking just sounded like ringing in his ears.
He was scruffed by the jacket hood again. Hank was long past wishing he wasn’t wearing this hot, sweaty thing anymore. His throat burned, spit up dripping down his chin. Rocco pulled Hank to him, his chest touching his back, his mouth right by his ear.
“Now I’m gonna really make sure you ain’t never comin’ back here, coglione.” He spat, his spear sturdy in his hand.
Gently at first, the tip lined up to Hank’s cunt. Already battered and abused, even that had him shaking. It inched in, it almost wasn’t bad at first, before Rocco twisted the blade to be horizontal to his slit. Hank yelped, involuntarily squirming against the blade only made it worse. The sharp edges already began to slice through his labia, Rocco forced the blade in and out with short strokes, cutting him up inside and out. Tearing through his skin, blood soon overpowered the jizz that was already leaking out of him.
Hank screamed. His lungs hurt from screaming already. It didn’t carry that sick pleasure as before. Or at least it shouldn’t, Hank still yelled a hoarse moan, his head too full of cotton to know if that was from pain or otherwise. Hank’s leg’s clamped together, seizing up as if that would save him at all. Blood replaced the other fluids streaming down his legs, pooling beneath him on the carpet below. Oof, that was going to be a tough stain to get out, Hank hoped that Rocco wasn’t expecting him to pay for the rug shampooing as well.
The speed in which the blade tore in and out of his slit was taunting. Slow, purposeful drags, slicing new wounds and going back over previous ones. His throat was getting too raw to yell anymore. Even when it hurt too much to scream, a pained rasp still rattled through him.
He was barely a person at this point, a twitching and shaking body merely responding to maiming with flinches and sobs. He couldn’t fight back anymore. It all just seemed unfair, Hank would ask what he’d done to deserve this if he could even think at all.
Blood gushed out of him, trickling down his legs to the point that Hank could smell it. It’d be noxious to the point of throwing up again if it didn’t almost smell better than the burnt flesh and snow suit.
That… that was a lot of blood, Hank’s been lightheaded but he may actually pass out this time. Geez, that was so much blood. Hank keeled over, toppling into something wet on the floor he’d rather not think about.
Just when he thought maybe, just maybe it was over, the taser shoved into his battered slit again and turned on. His vision went black and purple and red and splotchy and green and—. He couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open or closed anymore.
He trembled until the jolt of electricity stopped. Until the harpoon was sluggishly pulled from the cunt one last time. His own heart was just about the only thing he could hear. Everything was sticky and wet, and everything stung, and his whole body was sore. And he swore the last thing he heard was Rocco saying
“The funniest part is Sirena ain’t even here.”
Go figure.
When Hank came to, he was back in the blizzard again. Suppose they just tossed him outside the building with his burnt and swiss-cheesed snow pants back on. At least they actually did put his snow pants on, even if they were soaked with blood and other yuck. Hank exhaled,
“Eww…” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Discarded and lying in the snow. Staining the white beneath him red. At least the snow was kinda pretty. It made everything quiet and peaceful. The cold felt nice too, like the whole world was his ice pack.
Hank thought maybe he'd just lie in the snow for a while. But if Sirena isn’t here… where is she? She really could be in danger still? Like what if she had been kidnapped from class? Hank could hardly bear to think about it. What if something like this had happened to her..?
On unsteady legs, Hank pulled himself from the throes of what had just been, to find his girlfriend. She was out there in the blizzard, somewhere. He could do this, for her. He had to. Beats freezing to death in this snow bank.
He had only made it about a good few steps onward. Moving his legs any amount felt like hot hellfire. But those eleven odd steps really felt like he made it. Eleven odd steps before he fell headlong back into another snow bank. Right back where he started.
Although Hank might’ve cracked his head this time. He wasn’t getting up.