Chapter Text
Dwight/Hillbilly – Outdoors, Stuck in a Fence, Breeding kink
By Dwight’s count, about two days had passed since his last encounter with a Killer, and he was still feeling the effects. The last few eggs the Unknown had so kindly deposited in him were still seemingly stuck deep inside him. They didn’t hurt, nor did they seem to be growing or trying to hatch, and he had no idea what to do about them.
He could feel them every time he moved, gently rubbing against one another and sending a delightful, hazy tingle through his body each time. He didn’t know if he should try again to get them out, or if he should just… leave them alone. It felt kind of good, although the constant feeling of being horny was mildly annoying. He wasn’t even sure if what he was feeling was still Entity’s ‘gift’, or the Unknown’s. Either way, he wasn’t going to seek it out to ask…
Deciding to take a walk to look for supplies and just kind of see what might happen along the way, Dwight wandered out into the woods without a real destination in mind. He kept his eyes and ears open for any signs of pursuit, be it a Killer or one of the twisted, malformed creatures that also roamed the woods, but nothing appeared to try and grab him.
Eventually coming to a sudden break in the trees, he paused for a moment. After about six feet of clearance, a wooden post fence stretched out in both directions before turning to box in the rest of the sunny property. Although he hadn’t been intending to go to a Killer’s specific Realm, he wasn’t too upset to see Coldwind Farm again. It was a great place to look for supplies, but he still needed to be careful.
The Hillbilly was an incredibly territorial Killer, and there was no telling if he’d be affected by Dwight’s weird magnetism. After a Trial with the Pig where he’d felt absolutely zero urge to try and sleep with her, nor her showing any interest in him, he guessed neither he or the Killers would be affected by it unless they would have already been compatible or interested to begin with.
Peering past hanging cow corpses and rancid hay bails as he crept closer to the fence, he was able to shift his focus to something other than his body’s insatiable needs for a few minutes. Starting to climb over the fence, he quickly stepped back when the top rail shifted, threatening to break under his weight.
Looking up and down for a break in the fence or possibly a gate he could go through, he realized he was on the wrong side of the map for that. He’d either have to crawl through the fence, or he could walk around to the actual entrance.
‘I’m already technically trespassing,’ he thought, snorting at the idea of just boldly walking up the Hillbilly’s front walkway. ‘May as well go all in.’
Awkwardly ducking under the top bar, he managed to get his arms and legs over the lower rail without falling over. Standing up, he quickly ducked back down as he remembered why he was crawling through a fence in the first place.
Staying low, Dwight crept closer to the main house. He had no intention of trying to go in there, but peeking through the windows might give him an idea if the Hillbilly was home or not. Rarely, he could be found passed out in front of the small TV in the living room as it played nothing but static.
Peering through the cloudy, scratched up glass, he didn’t see any sign of the Killer. He didn’t trust that to mean he wasn’t there on the property somewhere, but he wasn’t about to sneak inside to try and check upstairs. Between the creaky floorboards and lack of vaults to put a couple of seconds of distance between them, he wasn’t going to do anything so risky.
Sneaking around the house, he checked a couple more windows before breaking off and heading for the barn. There was almost always something worth taking back to camp in there. Old tools, rags they could tear up and turn into strips of gauze, bits of rope or the occasional fresh corn cob or two.
David had once made it all the way back to camp with three of them, only to bleed out from a huge chainsaw wound in his back. They’d saved the food for him until he revived since it was rightfully his, but he still insisted they share it, and in the end they’d added it to the stew pot at the campfire.
“Ah, that was the best eternal stew we’ve ever had,” Dwight lamented to himself as he squeezed through the cracked barn doors. The thought of some less awful food made his mouth water, and he quickly wiped a hand across his lips.
Once he was inside, he made his way past a few stacks of hay bales, checking between them for anything that might have been placed on top and fallen between the cracks. Nothing that time, and he moved to a large grain bit against one wall. There was no grain in it anymore, but the Hillbilly often tossed leftover junk into the bin and forgot about it. It was hit or miss, but when the findings were good, they could be really good.
Lifting the heavy wooden lid, he winced as old metal hinges creaked loudly. Pushing the top all the way up to rest against the wall so it wouldn’t slam shut on his head, Dwight waited a few seconds to see if the sound had drawn any unwanted attention before leaning into the bin to search.
Rummaging around, he was careful not to jab himself with any of the loose rusty nails or broken bits of bone saws. They were useless to the Survivors, so there was no point in taking them. Moving a few bits and scraps aside, he did a double take when something shiny caught his eye.
Leaning further into the bin, he reached out until he could grab the object with his finger tips. Giving it a small tug, he grimaced when it turned out to be a lot heavier than he’d first thought. Stretching out as far as he could without climbing inside the bin itself, he finally managed to get a good enough grip on it to give it a sharp tug.
The object caught for a moment, then popped free with a clatter. Not expecting it to come loose so suddenly, Dwight stumbled backwards a couple of steps, a shiny gear held victoriously in his hand. A brand new gear! They could use that on a generator! Holding it up, he did a little victory dance. Finally! A trip out returned something! Not just good, but pretty damn great!
“Haha, yes!” he whispered, shoving it into the side pocket of his cargo pants. He rarely wore them, but he was running out of clean clothes and wasn’t ready to subject everyone at the campfire to his snow white legs in shorts…
Leaning back into the bin, he rummaged around a bit more, but only managed to find a few scraps of cloth and a particularly bouncy spring. He decided to keep it just in case, and it disappeared into his pocket along with the gear and cloth.
Deciding that was pretty good for a trip he didn’t even really plan, Dwight turned to go back out the way he’d come, only to smack into something. Stumbling back a step, he looked up, eyes wide and jaw hanging open slightly.
Staring down at him, the Hillbilly looked furious. The lack of chainsaw was no comfort when the man was fully capable of tearing a cow in half with his bare hands, and when he leaned down slightly to glare at Dwight, the Survivor panicked.
“Oooh!” he gasped, bolting to one side. A hand snatched through the air, nearly catching the back of his shirt before he could get out of reach.
It wasn’t luck or skill that caused the near miss. Although the Hillbilly wasn’t blind by any means, his eyes were partially obscured by the twisted skin growing over his face down to his shoulder, and it messed with his depth perception.
An enraged bellow close behind him added a burst of speed to Dwight’s steps, and he slammed into one of the smaller side doors with a crash. It popped open from the force, and he didn’t stop to look behind him as he charged for the fence. He could hear the Killer’s uneven footsteps close behind and the rustle of corn stalks as he passed between them.
He was almost to the fence! Just a few more feet! Crap! No time to clamber between the bars, he’d have to jump over it! At least it was no different than a vault during a Trial. If he could haul his ass through a window at mach speed, he could get over a fence just as quickly! Okay, it wasn’t that fast. But in the heat of the moment it might as well have been!
Throwing out his hands to grab the top beam of the fence, Dwight put all his weight on his arms, legs coming up as–
CRACK!
Dwight let out a startled shriek as the wood snapped under him. His stomach hit the second beam, knocking the wind out of him with a pained wheeze before something smacking him across the back. Hanging over the beam like a dead fish for several seconds as he tried to catch his breath, the sound of feet thumping up behind him had him squirming and writhing as he tried to push himself over the fence post.
Something pressed down on his back and he yelped, assuming it was the Killer grabbing him. Huffing and panting, he dug his toes into the dirt as he tried to push himself forward while grabbing the bar under him for leverage. He went nowhere, and the pressure on his back only seemed to increase, pinching his sides and keeping him in place over the fence.
Pausing for a moment to try and catch his breath and maybe figure out why he hadn’t been dragged back onto the property and strung up along with the rest of the unfortunate victims of the Hillbilly’s rage, Dwight’s breath caught in his throat when he noticed a pair of dirty boots right in front of him…
Lifting his head, he bit his lip with a small squeak when he found the Killer standing over him. He didn’t look as angry at least. Arms hanging by his hips, he was staring at the Survivor with an almost curious expression, head tilted to one side.
Blinking a few times, Dwight slowly craned his neck to look over his shoulder. Ah… That explained that…
He wasn’t stuck because someone had grabbed him. He was stuck because the fence beam he’d broken had fallen over him in an X shape, pinning him in place over the second rail. Letting out a small ‘Ahh’ he looked back up at the Hillbilly with a nervous smile.
“Um… S-sorry about the property damage?”
Rolling his eyes with a disgruntled huff, he crossed his arms but made no move to free him. Or hurt him, which Dwight was honestly grateful for. Admittedly, the situation was starting to feel a lot more embarrassing than life threatening, and he blushed.
That… wasn’t the only reason he was blushing. Now that the intense ‘fearing for and running for his life’ was kind of over, something else was starting to take its place…
“Um… I- I’m stuck,” he finally admitted, growing more and more flustered under the Hillbilly’s unblinking staring. Good lord, how could he still be so awkward while failing to run for his life? How was that even possible?
Head tilting the other way, the Killer finally moved. Walking up to the section of fence next to Dwight, he put his hand on the post instead of the rail, and effortlessly hopped over the high barrier.
“H-hey, wait!” he yelped, trying to twist around to see what he was doing.
A deep grunt answered him, followed by a hand brushing over the small of his back. Dwight squeaked again, eyes widening as his shirt was pushed up a few inches, exposing his skin. Fingers trailed over the area and he bit his lip, trying to hold back a soft moan.
God, he was such a cliché. Stuck in a fence of all things and coming undone at the slightest touch. At least… he hoped that was the direction things were taking and he wasn’t about to feel a chainsaw cutting him in half like a failed magicians assistant.
A low laugh made him jolt, and he once again tried to look back over his shoulder. A hand slapped his ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh through his pants and pulling a shocked, desperate sound from his lips.
“Hmm,” the Killer grunted, sounding pleased by the reaction. Squeezing Dwight’s ass again, he listened to him pant and whine for a bit before giving the Survivor’s pants a tug.
“Oooh,” Dwight groaned, caught somewhere between embarrassment and sheer relief. Warm air cooled the trails of slick beginning to leak down his thighs, and he gasped when a finger was experimentally dragged through the transparent fluid.
“Huh?” came the almost questioning grunt, and he blinked. No one besides him had really questioned it until now…
“Ah, it– it’s… It’s safe,” he finally mumbled. “Um, th-think of it as all natural… Um, lube. I- I guess. A-at least it saves time! R-right, Billy?”
There was a very long pause before a shadow fell over Dwight from behind. Craning his neck, he jolted slightly when he spotted the man leaning over the fence to peer down at him with a deep frown.
“Wha… Oh, um… I-is your name… something else?” he asked, absolutely mortified to have just used the shortened name the Survivors called the Hillbilly on the Hillbilly.
Huffing a short, annoyed breath through his teeth, the Killer rolled his eyes. Then, in a raspy voice, grunted, “Ma… Max.”
Max disappeared before Dwight could offer another awkward apology, and another sharp smack on his now bare ass cheek made him yelp. He felt it was kind of deserved, considering he’d broken into the guy’s barn, stolen his trash, broken his fence, and called him by the wrong name.
Before he could get too worried about his social mishaps, he was thoroughly distracted by something blunt pressing against his rim. A finger pushed into him a moment later and he moaned at the welcome intrusion.
Behind him, the Hillbilly grunted, once more sounding pleased. Either by the reaction it got or the ease with which his finger found entry. A gush of slick welcomed his first, rough thrust, and Dwight let out a louder moan. After a few knuckle deep pumps, he felt Max pressing a second finger into him. His legs kicked slightly, muscles twitching as sparks of pleasure burned through him.
Dwight’s moans and whines grew unashamedly louder with every rough thrust of the Hillbilly’s fingers, and he seemed excited by the sounds; Only becoming rougher with each movement until finally, his own needs won out. Pulling his hand away, he yanked his belt open with a clack before grabbing one of Dwight’s hips. The head of his cock butted up against the Survivor’s rim, catching a few times before finally pushing past the clenching ring of muscle.
“Holy fuck!” Dwight groaned, spit flying from his lips as Max bottomed out with one hard thrust.
His other hip was grabbed, giving the Hillbilly more control as he began rocking his hips. His movements were almost shy and experimental at first, as though he knew what to do in theory, but not in practice.
It didn’t bother Dwight in the slightest. Honestly, he was slightly grateful, as it gave him time to adjust to the sudden girth stretching him open. Although he hadn’t really noticed it at first due to the overwhelming sensation of being entirely filled so suddenly, the next time Max pulled back and bottomed out, he hit something. It wasn’t the Survivor’s prostate, although with his girth he was pressing against that as well. No. The head of his cock was bumping something Dwight had somehow momentarily forgotten was even there.
Eggs. There were still several nestled deep inside him, and the Hillbilly was bumping into them with each deep thrust.
Dwight thought he should probably warn him. It was the courteous thing to do after all. Eggs weren’t something generally found inside a person, but when he opened his mouth to try all that came out was a wordless moan as waves of pleasure washed through his body.
Behind him, Max let out a low groan, fingers digging into his skin. His breaths were short and sharp, matching the pace he was moving his hips. Each rough thrust was accompanied by a grunt, Dwight letting out higher pitched sounds of his own as his head filled with static.
It didn’t take long for him to barely notice the beam pressing into his stomach or the weight of the broken post across his back anymore. Nails pressed crescent shapes into his skin, the pain mingling with the pleasure as the Hillbilly ground into him.
Hands tugged at his hips, not enough to dislodge him from his position stuck in the fence, but enough to make every shallow thrust feel much more intense. He could feel Max’s pace falter slightly, feet shifting as he readjusted his stance a bit. Then, with a couple more thrusts, the Killer was cumming deep inside him. It felt unreal, the eggs seeming to heat up slightly as the two substances met.
Cumming with a strangled cry, Dwight slumped over the fence post. His muscles felt like rubber, and he was grateful for the support underneath him.
Low, heavy breaths puffed behind him as the hands on his hips moved. Max didn’t pull out, instead placing one palm flat on the small of the Survivor’s back. The other slid around, reaching underneath him to rub over his belly.
A satisfied grunt reached Dwight’s ears before the Hillbilly shifted his hips back. He couldn’t help but twist his neck at a painful angle when the man pulled out all the way, but to his surprise, the Killer was simply admiring his work for a moment.
Head tilted to one side as he watched a mixture of slick and cum dripping out of the Survivor, he looked incredibly pleased. Lifting his hand from the others back, he used two fingers to scoop up a glob of the mess before pushing it right back into him.
Dwight’s entire body reacted, shuddering from head to toe as his dick twitched. Cum beaded at the tip, already leaking again despite having just finished only minutes before. Fingers once again disappeared, the Hillbilly’s cock quickly taking their place.
That time, he seemed a lot more confident. Pulling back more each time, his thrusts were deep and rough. If not for the fence holding Dwight in place, he would have been knocked down by the force of each one.
He couldn’t help but cry out with every slap of the Killer's hips against his ass. Every time his cock would plunge into him, he could feel it bumping the last few eggs he hadn't been able to get out. It felt so good, and his mind spun with pleasure, and with the possibilities.
He wanted to feel that full feeling in his belly again like when the Unknown had egged him. He wanted his belly to feel plump and round. Wanted to feel rough hands caress his stretched skin as his stomach swelled with the result of their time together.
Bred. He wanted to be bred. With the way the Hillbilly was touching him, one hand on the small of his back, the other curled under him to hold his tummy, it almost felt like he wanted the same thing. Could he feel the eggs inside him? Was he hoping to fertilize them, and breed him with a combination of Killer spunk?
A small part of his fucked out mind felt a moment of dissappointment with himself for passing so many of the eggs in his previous moment of horny panic. He could only imagine how good it would have felt to be fucked like that with his belly so full.
Not that he didn’t feel good now. He felt incredible, the combination of eggs and the Hillbilly’s cock pistoning in and out of him was taking him to highs he’d never imagined. It almost felt like the Unknown’s mind altering slime was in his system again.
If he’d been able to look back far enough and see the purple ooze slowly dripping down his thighs and staining Max’s cock, he would have realized they were both starting to feel exactly those effects as the eggs inside him burst and spilled their precious, concentrated contents.
Every nerve ending was buzzing with pleasure Dwight never wanted to end. Stuck in a fence, over a hay bale, on the filthy barn floor; he didn’t care. He just wanted to feel the heat of the Hillbilly’s cum warming the eggs left inside him.
Could he have that? Could Trial’s just be him getting fucked by a different Killer every week instead of getting killed? He could live with that! He would gladly participate in that instead of cursing and bitching at the damn Entity every time he was swept up by swirling black fog! Ugh. Why couldn’t she have been a sex god? He could see himself serving a sex god if this was the altar at which he’d worship.
“Ah, god,” he moaned, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. He didn’t notice, too enraptured by the feeling of being filled again and again until he was cumming for a second time. His body tensed and trembled, walls squeezing around Max’s shaft like he never wanted to let him go.
The Hillbilly threw his head back with a deep groan, fingers curling and nails scraping at the Survivor’s skin. Even without words, it was clear he was enjoying it just as much as Dwight. Chasing the high, it wasn’t long before he too was emptying his second load in the trapped man, and both of them let out prolonged moans.
Hands rested on Dwight’s hips as they caught their breath, although it was difficult for the Survivor. He could feel every small twitch of Max’s cock, only made more intense when he shifted his feet again. The small movement was enough to make him whimper, body shuddering again as the man’s cock dragged against his walls again. That time, it was slow and deliberate, as if the Hillbilly were reluctant to lose the tight, soft heat so sweetly enveloping him.
Patting the Survivor on the ass in a silent ‘good job’, he lazily hopped back over the fence so Dwight could see him. His belt was still open, zipper down and cock hanging out, dripping a mixture of slick, cum, and translucent purple fluid.
Raising his head as Max moved around to stand right in front of him, Dwight didn’t need any encouragement to open his mouth. He knew exactly what was required, and he was happy to comply.
A sweet, salty taste spread across his tongue as the velvety smooth head of the Hillbilly’s cock was pushed between his lips. He moaned at the taste, head spinning as the lingering aphrodisiacal properties from the Unknown’s eggs muddled his senses.
He could feel his body relaxing further, allowing him to take more into his throat then he’d been expecting. Max was quite thick, and the extra girth would have been a terrible challenge if not for the help. As it was, Dwight’s eyes still watered from the strain, small, muffled sounds dripping from his stretched lips along with strings of drool.
A hand gripped the back of his head, fingers flexing as he was held in place to allow the Killer to set his own pace. Thankfully, he was more gentle with the Survivor’s mouth, keeping his movements just slow enough that he could keep up.
Max’s expression was one of pure bliss, eyes half lidded, lips parted to allow soft breaths to escape unhindered. His free hand rested on the fence post, not taunting, simply helping him keep his balance as he explored the new source of pleasure.
Choking mid-moan when something hot and thick suddenly spurted down his throat, Dwight swallowed as best he could. There was just too much for him to take, and he coughed when the Hillbilly finally pulled back. Cum dripped from his lips as he panted, struggling to catch his breath, but grinning happily nonetheless.
“Hmm,” Max grunted contentedly. Tucking himself back into his pants, he zipped up and buckled his belt again before reaching down. Easily pulling the broken fence posts off of Dwight, he tossed them aside like they weighed no more than a couple of toothpicks.
“Thank you,” Dwight mumbled gratefully, crawling the rest of the way over the beam digging into his stomach. Holding onto the nearest post for support, he managed to pull himself up on shaky legs. His thighs were a mess, cum and slick still dripping from his ass as he pulled his pants back up, but he didn’t think it would be wise to ask for a rag at the moment.
Max watched him impassively, anger having dissipated, but now unsure what to actually do. That had been incredibly fun, but now he wanted to be left alone again. He considered grabbing his hammer and threatening the Survivor to make him leave faster, but if he hoped to do that again, maybe scaring him immediately after finishing would be a bad idea…
Finally, Dwight looked up at him again, expression slightly wary but not nearly as scared as when the Killer had first started chasing him. Wiping the back of a hand across his mouth, he cleared his throat before offering awkwardly, “Um, I… Thank you. And, y-you know… S-sorry about the fence.”
The Hillbilly’s response was a one shoulder shrug, and a tilt of his head towards the woods. Dwight’s head was still foggy, but not so bad he couldn’t take a hint, and he nodded quickly.
“R-right! Um, thanks. Bye for now!”
Nearly tripping as he turned to scurry away, he managed to catch himself before face planting. That didn’t stop the Killer from letting out another deep, raspy laugh, and Dwight blushed. Maybe someday he’d figure out how to leave after an impromptu hookup without it being awkward as hell… but that was not the day.
Either way, he was pretty happy with the results. The eggs were finally gone, his head was starting to feel a little clearer, and he was definitely not actually pregnant. The thought had him turning red from his neck to his ears, and he silently thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t said any of that out loud.
One thing was for sure. Banging Killers sure was teaching him a lot about himself… And honestly? He was perfectly okay with that.
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