FSE

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Why do I bother trying to escape this place. Might of as well stay in this apartment, since a way out is anything but. Lately, the fog has gotten thicker, the metal more rusted, and the plaster more cracked than a old person's heel. From where I lay on the bed, the grimy window let out a blue light. Heck I was blue. The death of my wife plunged me here, where I reside in my own living hell. The radio was switched to the only song I luckily found by Henry Hall.

"Hush hush hush, here comes the boogeyman! Don't let him come too close to you he'll catch you if he can...*static*"

Well, that was the end of that. I turned on my other side to better swim in my thoughts, when I saw it. The dreaded creature, the dictator, the alpha of this insane world. He stood there roughly 2.7 meters in height, full of his muscular glory, a meter or so away from the bed. His body held a metal helmed so large, it could make do as a chair. The lower half was draped by a leathery beige skirt. The rest was pure flesh. His white fur etched with scars all over him. Although he didn't have his knife with him, which he lugged everywhere, he was still a danger. But didn't want to fight him, not after all I've been through.

I brushed my blonde hair back with my paw, before sitting up to comfort the old fiend, "Hello Pyramid Head." He still looked menacing, not even twitching to my monotone greeting. Looking at his muscular torso was getting me flushed. My pants began to get uncomfortable. I never thought I'd feel this feeling again. All the horror here has driven arousal into exile, until he showed up.

"What!" I said, jumping on my feet with annoyance. When he took a step, flinching as he did so, he stopped as if he did something wrong. Cautiously, he continued in a slow, gradual pace until I could feel my breath ricocheting off of his pecs. My heart fluttered, my back chilled, my legs trembling. Why was I feeling this attraction to the most feared creature in all of Silent Hill? Then, he did it. He sat down on the bed, making it groan, and plopped me on his lap; as if he were santa. His arms wrapped around my legs and back, holding me like a baby. He rocked forward and back, in a motherly fashion. Did he want to make me calm? If so, he was doing a good job. His warm, furry chest felt nice on my face. The smell wasn't noticeable because I was lost in bliss.

As I lay on his lap, something bumped my rump, consistently. I guess we both were stiff. So full of lust, I decided to naw and tug gingerly at his grey buttons. He softly moaned in his helmet. Poor guy, not having any love, until now. His arm under my legs slid further out, so his hands had a good distance to my face. But his hand didn't go to my face. Instead, they went under my shirt, and to my buttons. My jaw dropped in nostalgic pleasure. The large hands rubbed and massaged me. It was getting too intense for me. I needed something more. Unexpectedly, he started tickling me.

"No! No!" I screamed, stuttered with laughs. This tickling was beyond his normal standard of cruelty, and some things he does are very morbid.

After a minute of tickles, and trying to catch my breath, he slowly massaged the lump on my pants. I moaned as his masculine hands groped my sensitivity. I sat up to straddle him. Clearly, he liked this position. My hands stroked his neck and shoulders, squeezing here and there. As my hands wandered him, he wandered me. From hips, to waist, to chest went up my shirt. I guess he was antsy. Briefly getting off, I pulled of my shoes and jeans to be more comfortable. Then, I resumed my delicate touching of his neck. My snout rubbed his Adam's apple, particularly my wet nose on the tip.

With immense force, he pinned me on the bed, and laid flat on me. However, he didn't crush me. He gave me enough room to breathe, which was like breathing pleasure. For each breath I took was a two second connection of our buttons clicking a wave of erotic moans. Our hearts beat into one, merging this extraordinary moment. The two lengths ferociously fought over one another, emitting a playful shove every once in a while. Eventually, when shove comes to punch, his hips stopped bucking and started pounding. We were a cloud, each smack made the thunder; and I felt the electricity run through every vein, artery, nerve, fiber, and cell in my body. Our hands were held tightly over my head, revealing our underarms. The dark hair was sweaty, flowing his musty man smell onto my hungry nose. At one point, he bowed down close to me, as if smelling me now. Then, he backed off, ripping off his skirt to reveal his true great knife. It seemed to say 'stabby stabby' to me, as it went up, and flopped down on my shank. The comparison was so far off the spectrum, it was no brainer why the other monsters feared pyramid head. He had a battering ram. Then, he took my undergarment, and ripped it off like a Christmas present. Like a jack-in-the-box, i sprang right up into his falling knife. This made me cry a soft moan as I instinctively jerked forward.

My bum slowly tilted up, both feet in the air, and tail wagging. With me in one of his hands, and the other holding my hands over my sweaty head again, he began to mimic the movement he made within the bowels of my gut. Pain and pleasure took over. The pain felt like sub-zero air nipping your ears and nose while you climb Mt. Ecstasy. Sweat soaked our fur, flying around as the bed creaked and shook violently. Soon, he began moving even faster. I trembled, afraid I may not resist any longer. As he slipped out of my throbbing insides, he wielded dual knives, and began to swipe. Like it was perfectly timed, we both began to shake and crumble as our dams buckled, erupting a tsunami of moans and twitching. Each pulse made my heart ache with how intense this was. By far, this was his worst punishment he has ever given to anything. With a mess all over my chest and face, Pyramid Head collapsed on me, hugging me in hopes of preserving the relaxing aroma of our post-orgasmic fragrance. Unfortunately, all wasn't to be good for long in Silent Hill; for perhaps a dozen nurses were huddled over the bed, ready to strike in the slightest noise audible from us.