Tom sits down on the city, hundreds die through his actions. This thought alone makes him hot like back when he and Cynthia only dreamed if this.
Needless to say, he was up for some fun, looking an his wife, she clearly felt the same
Cynthia:"Tom my godly lover, how about we go have the fun of our lives?"
Without and answer he plucked up a building and handed it to her
"With or without toys?" He asks
As she takes the apartment block into her hand, holding it like it's nothing she answers: "with hundreds of toys"
Thus she pulls down her clothes and shoves the survivors in the block where they belong
Her moaning turns on Tom enough to be half done already, but he needed more victims to finish.
And so he leans forward and lies down onto the park nearby, his head hovering over a plaza. He looked down with a sinister smile, the people below it utter desperation has his drooling got many stuck on spit.
Then a single motion later all those below were stuck on Tom's tongue, a building and many cars joined them.
All stuck so helplessly, screaming at the top of their lungs with nobody to save them.
The thought made Tom hotter still, he looks over at his wife who is plucking up people from the ground.
Cynthia is doing the best she can to shovel up one fleeing terror filled crowd after another, her other hand which she uses to hold the soon to be toys is swarming with little coloured dots.
The individual clothes making up the outfit of each mant on her hand giving the swarm colour.
Once the bodies pile up she lies down on her back, careful to crush a suburb. The people in her hand falling off in droves as she moves about, dying as they impact her body or the floor.
She hovers them over her mouth first, let's some sprinkle down into the abyss, her teeth covered in red spots of lucky souls who die on impact.
The rest she dooms with a single gulp.
Anyone left on her hand would end up in her private parts, survivors are few and far between, having all their bones shattered for the rest of their short lives.
Tom thinks about the people on his tongue and mushes them against the top of his mouth, turning them into paste.
Watching his wife made him cut already, the streets flooded with a white substance that drowns many who can't escape its sticky nature...
Copyright 2000 - 2025 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.13 seconds at 12:13am on Apr 24, 2025 via server WEBX2.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author