Chapter Text
Eddie stares down at the small pot of water that sits on the makeshift fire he's made out of scraped wood scavenged from the small courtyard Waylon frequently looked down upon, repeatedly looping the steps he's planned out for the upcoming procedure as he taps his foot against the snow-sprinkled ground: Recline the patient, wrap their lower stomach and thighs tightly to prevent hemorrhaging, cleanse the member, severe it all with just one cut—one clean slice, stuff the urethra to prevent it swelling shut, apply paper dampened with chilled water to the area, to then wrap it all together into one big gift for me to unwrap when three days are up. Only leaving the last dreadful task, hoping Waylon has healed correctly to be able to pass urine freely; if not.. I mustn't worry myself on such nonsense at a time like this—
Eddie smothers his already dampened rag against his mouth and nose to flush away any residual pre-surgery anxiety with the sweet treat of chloroform's embrace around his lungs. Flashing his teeth in a wide smile along his blushed cheeks as his mind wanders to imagine finally having a warm place to store his seed, filling his chest with a warmed sensation as he imagines unwrapping his eagerly awaited gift to use on their wedding night. Finally giving into his urges to deflower his untainted bride once she's been perfected by his own two hands, Eddie huffs his fogged breath in an excited sigh as he watches the water roll into a boil. Enticing his grip to encase the large pot's handle with his clothed right hand and the small mug of water he submerged in the snow to chill with his other hand to scurry back inside up to his workshop to meet his lover, who is tied to his table eagerly awaiting her surgery.
Eddie places the steaming pot and small tin mug on the small metal tray that cowers near the end of the table opposite the saw to position his body in between her feet to yank the limp womanly figure closer, positioning her buttocks nearly on the edge of the table. Eddie eyes the vulgarity that taints his fiancée's pelvis as he spreads Waylon's thighs apart, throwing his knees over either side of the plank of wood she lies on, momentarily leaning away to retrieve a thick rope to quickly tie her lower thighs in place before he roughly awakens Waylon by slapping her resting face on the right cheek with his left hand, cupping her waist with his right forearm to pull her into a reclining position as he continues to slap his fiancée until she acknowledges his actions. Waylon squints in response to the blinding light flooding her retinas, sending the faint memory of his chest being opened and stuffed into its current state back into sight, prodding those horrid sensations deep into his chest once more as her breasts are smothered against her as her lover lifts him up. "You must stay just like this, okay? We don't want to mess this up; we can't ruin you now—we've already come so far; I can't afford to lose you, dear. Lean back and spread your legs as wide as you can; you're going to be perfect in no time."
Waylon sits up as Eddie discontinues to support her, leaning his torso against his hands, watching over his shoulder as Eddie wraps a thick rope around her wrist and ties it to the table's leg that hides under where his palms rest. She silently watches Eddie position his large body to the other side of the table while the numbing ripple of adrenaline creeps around Waylon's heart, easing her into an easily noticeable panicked state as her chest begins to hyperventilate, listening to her overwhelmed mind, which's whistling with the past emotions and prodding of her flesh her last visit to Eddie's clinic tainted her with. She begins to mumble a hushed plea as his eyes begin unfocusing against the harrowing sensations her chest reminisces on, "Please, Eddie, put me to sleep—I can't handle this. I'm so scared—please, darling, please put me to sleep—I don't want to do this. I'm so sorry I can't handle it—" Eddie brings his index finger up to Waylon's rambling lips as he tauntingly whispers over her, "Now, now dear don't start; you must be awake to remain in the position I need you in; don't worry, I'll make the cut fast—think of it as a reward for coming this far. I know you must be eager to finally be rid of your source of sin, but be patient, dear—it'll all be over before you know it."
Eddie plunges his handkerchief into the hot water as he kisses Waylon's lips over his silencing finger before slapping the steaming rag onto her penis, seeping an almost chilled bite deep into the soft, sensitive tissue of her groin as the piping water gushes all over her cooking flesh. She suddenly straightens her back and slams her knees against the table's sides as he struggles against the restraints and overly panting chest she seemingly can't soothe, whimpering rushed heaves of pain as she yanks her burning, slashed palms against the itchy rope, worsening the panicked sobs that escape his mouth. Further filling her with a confusingly unlocatable, licking pain that stems upwards from her out-of-sight palms as she pulls against the restraints. Eddie cups Waylon's throat, keeping her still for a moment as he looks into her eyes, "Dear, if you move like this while I do the cut, it'll be uneven—unsightly; you don't want that, do you? Stay still." Waylon sits still as he looks back into Eddie's eyes, seeping the faint yearning of perfection back into her mind as she reminisces on her incomplete figure, she looks down as Eddie retreats his grip away from her neck, staring down at her burning pelvis with a revitalized outlook. She gulps as he hauntingly yearns for the procedure, as she must be perfect for Eddie, yet the overwhelming fear remains lingering behind him, whispering about the abundance of pain he knows will accompany such a harsh correction.
Eddie redirects his attention onto the reddening member he's smothering in his sopping wet handkerchief, venturing the hidden crevasses of Waylon's groin as he occasionally dashes his eyes over to the open book that lies on his easel to his right in order to scan over the steps repeatedly. Jolting between the opened book and his noted steps he's written on the anatomically correct phallus illustration he has plastered behind it, he wrings his rag back into the steaming pot before plunging it back into the boiled pond, washing Waylon's groin two more excruciating times until the peeling, vulgar flesh is seen as pure.
Waylon's eyes and trachea begin burning with anticipation as she watches Eddie wrap a thick bandage around his lower abdomen, tightly smothering her scarred womb and sucking in his stomach with each passing layer before Eddie uses his knife to jaggedly sever and tuck the remaining gauze away. She attempts to silently weep through her chest's jagged, uneven gasps as Eddie moves down to tightly wrap her left thigh, scanning the bulging fat that puffs out against the edge of the bandage as Eddie continues to tighten her leg into the slim figure she could only yearn so deeply for. With a deep shame prickling her adrenaline-numbed flesh, Waylon watches as Eddie's hands finally abandon her thinned, perfected left leg to her remaining wide thigh, mimicking his previous wrapping job onto the unsightly mass of fat to conceal it just as he did moments prior.
"Spread your thighs, relax, my sweet; I know you can handle this. Now on the count of three. One.. Two—" The deep, moist thwack of Eddie's knife slashing through the tissue that blankets Waylon's pelvic bone licks the couple's ears until the blade snaps into the wooden table, pushing Waylon back as the pain submerges his groin in a hellscape no amount of thrashing could free her from. Shoving him back onto his elbows as he releases a gurgled sobbed scream drowned by her puking over the side of the table, thrashing against her restraints as the lava-like licking of castration prods deep within her. He feels the blood pump throughout her tightly wrapped appendages and torso, squeezing the nauseating laceration Eddie's blade inflicted upon him into an explosion of bile choking her from within as she continues to puke up the agony her body can't comprehend. Her legs thrash as the sea of crimson washes away all of her vulgarity, wiping her slate clean of all imperfections as Eddie shoves a small prong of metal into her urethra before dampening a precut square of paper. Eddie submerges the small word-riddled paper into the chilled water as he listens to Waylon's symphony of suffering, he steadies the spread bandaged thighs apart with his elbows in order to cover the flowing waterfall of her renewal. He holds the paper in place while his free hand reaches to the nearby table another roll of gauze to wrap around Waylon's shuddering hips, pushing his fingertips against the paper as he impatiently commands while looking away, "Hold still; it'll only make it worse for you if you continue thrashing about; do you want that? Do you need more pain? I will—" Before Eddie could finish, Waylon shouts as she straightens her arms, lifting her torso back up to look into Eddie's annoyed expression as she interrupts, "No, no, no—I'm sorry, I'll be good—I'll be still."
Eddie freezes mid-breath as he hears the voice he forgot long ago call out to him, shuffling a scene long-forgotten, shoved deep into the pits of his stomach as Waylon begins to beg through the shadow of agony that surrounds her pelvis in a crimson wave. Unenlightened of Eddie's forced nostalgic visit, Waylon peers over her chest at the statue as she begins to beg out to his deafened ears, "Please—you've done the part I needed to be awake for, right? Please, Eddie, please put me to sleep." Eddie's face is flashed by the camera taking a picture; the cold air nips along his bare body as his father commands, "Perk up, straighten out your back and look forward, or I'll have to get the belt again. Do you want that? Do you need that? Just say the word Eds and I will gladly beat some sense into you."
Eddie crosses his hands over his behind while shaking his head, lowering his gaze to stare at his feet as he straightens his posture. "Can't you hear? Stupid bitch can't even do one thing—" Eddie's jaw is snatched up by his uncle's grasp, yanking his head to look into the looming eyes who linger above him as his uncle slaps his palm against Eddie's left ear. Flooding his eardrum with a deafening gust of wind as he wails out, "No, no, no—I'm sorry, I'll be good—I'll be still."
He reminisces on the later attempts the men made at bonding, aching his quickening heart with the anxious anticipation of the camera to be sat down and for the pain to trickle in. Snapping his focus back onto the red pond that seeps through the paper, inking onto his fingertips and palms, luring his hand that holds a roll of gauze towards the bloodied paper to bandage away the saturated paper. Smothering the erupting gash in uncountable layers as Eddie focuses his attention onto the lethargically weeping woman who lies on his surgery table, sending jolts of urgency as he realizes the amount of blood Waylon has lost has finally caught up to her. Eddie unties the three bundles of rope without acknowledging Waylon's slurred pleas for sedation, grabbing her by the underarms to lift her heaving body towards his chest as he takes a step away from the table. Dragging Waylon's freshly chopped member along the hard wood until she's supported by her numb feet, sending a nauseating throbbing up her abdomen as her wound scraps along the rough surface over the abrupt edge. Stumbling her into Eddie's grasp as her shivering legs fall downward to meet the floor, sending her mouth to produce an inhuman sobbed shriek into Eddie's sternum as the deadly pain sinks its teeth into her flesh. Her injured calf pops and shifts with as her weight sinks into the floor, digging her jagged nails into Eddie's biceps as she drowns in the inescapable punishment all her vile actions have led her towards. Shrinking her smaller into the grip of the very man who put her in this predicament as he supports the fragile form he's molded her into.
"Now we walk, only for two or three hours. My love, you can do that for me, right?" The riveting task of separating her legs seemed impossible; the mere thought of moving her thighs from their frozen position deepens the throbbing within her flattened pelvis. Eddie takes a wide step backwards, yanking Waylon forward, moving her uninjured leg to take a wide step away from her left foot, sending all the blood to rush out of Waylon's head to search for the pain's origin. Her body falls limp in Eddie's grasp from the intense surge of pain, sending an exasperated sigh to escape Eddie's mouth as he lies his lover's body onto his table to seesaw her bandaged thighs, attempting to mimic the motions she would make walking as he waits for her to awaken once more. He stands staring at the twitching unconscious body in front of him, his gaze lingering over the healed scars he meticulously took care of as his patient slept the time away. Examining the long keloid snake that cups the stiff breasts sings a soft hum of excitement to Eddie as he imagines their wedding day, lingering on the eagerly awaited wedding night he could spend consummating their love, pondering on how good Waylon's insides would feel wrapped around him. Eddie clears his throat as he quickens the pumping of Waylon's bandaged thighs slightly, relocating his eyes down to the completely bandaged area he made for his seed. Curling his lips into a warped smile as he stalks the flat area where Waylon's tumor once sat, stuttering his breath as he tries to imagine how his work would heal over the following months.
An owl howls amongst the swaying trees surrounded by the night as Waylon snuggles alongside his wife's sleeping body, spooning her for warmth to sigh into his fatigue after a long day. His eyes and head slowly sink into the pillow as he feels Lisa turning over to face him, cupping his heart with her daggerlike nails as she begins reciting her muddled vows. He opens his eyes to meet hers only to be met with Frank's lifeless mask dressed in all white, staring into Waylon's devoted soul before a herded audience. The sight pries open Waylon's mouth to scream, but his mouth has been muzzled by the dark blue handkerchief who sung the most beautiful tune of freedom, sinking his knees into the hardwood floor in front of all his guests. Overflowing his throat with the sweet taste of honeysuckles as he hears his childhood peers giggle amongst each other. Guiding themselves in a line through the rough brush to find more sweet flowers to defile in order to satisfy their hunger with. As he runs along the stampede, a root catches his foot, tumbling his body abruptly into the dull grasp of adulthood, slamming his back against a plank of wood as his ligaments are trapped down to his sides, listening as a faint whacking begins to form around him as he watches an angled blade fall onto his pelvis. Drowning her in a euphoric ease as her of all the shameful feelings her past form shoved her full of dissipate along with her sinful mass. Waylon looks up from the freeing sight, taking in the vast plains he, Lisa, and the boys have set up their picnic up at, watching as the two small children scurry through the thick grass with faint shrieks of joy. The approaching hammering thud that steadily increases in volume continues deafening her ears as his hands find a soft patch of grass to anchor himself onto, massaging his fingertips into Frank's scalp as his hands begin following the pounding's beat, slamming the screaming man into the window frame until Frank's cold hands cup Waylon's cheeks. Whispering only to her ears as she begins to awaken, "Was my harvest bountiful to you?"
Waylon's eyes creep open as the loud banging of a hammer slams repeatedly above her, flickering her eyelids as she watches the noise come alive as Eddie hammers a wooden board onto the window Waylon killed alongside Frank. She gulps, swallowing the thick feeling of shame as he eyes the blood-riddled mattress her knees rest on. The harrowing screams of Frank's creep back along her neck through his scalp as she stares at the deep ruby puddle, "Oh? My darling is awake, I thought the sedatives would make you sleep through all this. Well, thanks to you, I must board this up; as you know, it isn't safe to have such sharp glass next to my sleeping girl. Although I really admired the view we had," Eddie pauses as Waylon drifts her squinting eyes to meet his distant face, "Alas, soon I'll have my perfected bride to admire instead of this lowly sight." The mention of perfection jolts Waylon's heart into a tapping drum as the creeping pain from her unmoved groin seeps through her bone, filling her mind with hints of doubt about her nightmare being just another horrific thing her mind conjured up. The distant cramping that licks her groin provides her the much-needed clarity as she hesitantly gathers the askew blanket that covers her bare body, lifting it to reveal the strangely compact gauzed area. Her eyes stumble over all the overlapping layers that hug her from her waist to mid-thigh as she looks for her mass of vulgarity, the nostalgically haunting sight of all of his flaws bundled into one mess of tissue Eddie taught her to find repulsing, but it's nowhere to be found.
She lies there for a moment, listening to the hammer resume affixing the many wooden boards onto the window's howling frame as she emotionlessly takes in the change she thought she desired so badly, the procedure she needed to become complete; essential for her to be wed. Soaking in the pain her haste decisions caused makes Waylon's flesh attempt to turn the pain into a kneading kiss of livelihood, transforming the agonized licks into an undeniable feeling that proves to her that she was, in fact, awake and alive. Her head is lifted once more by the sound of Eddie's passing footsteps, allowing her to notice a small vial labeled "Brevital Sodium" that sits to her left on the nightstand beside a small syringe. The bottle's gentle glass curves whisper the sweet murmur of freedom, shoving Waylon's hands towards the table, subsequently sending a jolt of agony up her stomach as her hacked vagina brushes against the mattress, wrapping her fingers around the vial as her other hand fiddles with the tightly secured cap.
Just as Eddie turns back from putting the hammer away in the small box that sits on the further side of the room near the front door, he watches as Waylon gulps the last chug of the nearly full 500 mg bottle of methohexital. Eddie bolts over to the chugging woman as his mouth opens to scold her hysteria, only to produce a loud gasp as he begins hastily running his left fingers through his hair to confusingly soothe his fraying nerves. His hands jolt in front of him to caress Waylon's cheek as he barks, "Why? Why would you—how could—spit it out! Spit it out now; you'll die with so much!" As Eddie shouts his thick finger index and ring finger shove themselves down Waylon's throat to harass his uvula, erupting the two in a performance of grunts and coughed gags as Waylon fights against Eddie's assistance.
The violent tussling ignites a deeply embedded memory within Eddie as he shoves his fingers further down Waylon's throat, mimicking the fateful night his last bit of protection was revoked from him. His eyebrows furrow with the sight of his mother slumped over herself by the toilet; the rush of knowing something was wrong but being too ignorant on how to help laughs in his ears as he grabs his mother's pale face by the cold cheeks. The lack of movement on her part sends shivers through Eddie's seeping sobs as he hugs his mother's lifeless body close to him, burying his face into the soft, vomit-soaked fabric that coated her abdomen while his mind races for ways to resurrect his poor mother. His arms tightly squeeze around his mother's tainted torso with each stuttered sob as his eyes scan over the empty vodka bottle to the small labeled empty vial of Cafergot near the trash, shooting his body upwards as he faintly remembers his mother coaching him on how to make her puke to sober her up if she ever divulged in too much before an important outing. Without much thought, his small fingers cram themselves down her throat to scratch and claw at her uvula in a vicious attempt to rid her of all the poison she chugged, only to be greeted with nothing. No gagging, not even her arms trying to shoo him away; only Eddie looking down at her regurgitated last meal that resides on her dress as he confusingly buries his fingers further into her tonsils.
As he digs into this mother's throat, his mind begins to conjure up the only thing he knew she'd wake up for, sending his eyes to look around the room for the carton of cigarettes his mother never went without as he begins yelping out to his mother's bluing face, "Mommy, please—wake up. I've got your smokes, mommy; it's okay; please wake up—I'm scared. Mommy—" Eddie shoves the cigarette into her slightly parted lips, cramming the paper in on itself as it hits his mother's right canine. He scrambles to the nearby pack of matches to strike one, smothering the end of the crumpled cigarette in the flame as he looks into his mother's glazed-over eyes that stare hauntingly through his desperate shrieks. His hesitating match ignites the tip, building the flame as it conjoins with the now lit paper. Singeing his eyebrows on the growing flame that takes over his mother's chilled face as he helplessly backs out of the bathroom's door away from the growing fire.
As Eddie's voice cracks out, "Throw it up, damn it, I can't lose you like this! Not again—I'm sorry, pl—" Waylon grabs the empty syringe off the nightstand, stabbing it into Eddie's upper right thigh as the clear fluid spews back out of Waylon's mouth onto Eddie's face, torso, and thighs, interrupting his meekened pleas into angry shouts of pain. With the frustrated rage from being harmed by the very person he was attempting to save, Eddie shoves Waylon's chest down onto the bed after he takes his fingers out of her throat, grabbing her from above by her bangs to shove her forehead into the nightstand's edge repeatedly until Waylon's frantic movements cease. Eddie stares at the crooked needle that protrudes out of his thigh, taking it by it's empty barrel to unearth it from his flesh as he tosses Waylon's head back onto her pillow while throwing the syringe down on the floor, shattering it as it makes contact with the hard wood.
The rush of seeing his mother again in such a state sends after all these years resurfaces the past sentiments of abandonment her death provoked within his childhood, leaving him all alone in his abuser's unsupervised care. Leaving nobody to stop them molesting him every moment they had him within their grasp, the forced reminiscing quickens his breathing as he looks down at the limp body that had the audacity to fight back against his aid, drawing his fingers to nest within his own hair as he continues to heave heavy gasps at just another woman who'd rather drug herself to death than stay alongside him for one moment longer.
His hands lunge to release the bottled-up rage his conclusion doused him in, grabbing the bedside table by two of the four corners to send it into the distant wall. Splintering the wood all over the room before he darts into the walk-in closet he made for his list of ungrateful brides. His heart calls out for the comforting touch of his mother's skirt; just like all the other times he was upset, forcing his hands to rip the drawers out of the wardrobe as his voice cracks into a wailing sob, searching for a gown with the perfect texture to soothe his wrecked nerves. One after the other, each gown is taken from their hiding place to be rubbed against his cheek before he frustratingly shreds the fabric as a consequence for not feeling maternal enough.
His vast body slams against the wall to slide down onto the floor as his left hand molests his hair, grabbing a fistful to yank as his right fingertips trail over the grooved scars sprinkled over his right side of his face. Eddie crumples over his knees as he continues to sob, feeling the indents of his face as the dripping of shame penetrates his ears, listening to his own wailing as he crumples further into himself. Alone in a room he made for his fleeing fantasy, his failed works haunt him in each gown he made for his repeatedly renewed bride, the one he could never keep by his side; never keep alive long enough. His fingers absentmindedly reach into his breast pocket, snatching his rag-wrapped vial of chloroform into his hands to snuff out all of his panic with a deep whiff of the spilling fumes. He holds the rag onto his nose and mouth as his chest takes deep heaves of air in between his muffled sobs, yet it's not numbing enough. The deep inhalation of the fumes that have saved the day countless times isn't itching the scratch his memories have unleashed onto him, abandoning all rationality as he twists the cap to take a hearty swig of the fluid.
After Eddie finally calms his torturous waves of panic by chugging the virtuous fluid, he wanders towards Waylon and takes her left ankle to drag her off the bed onto the floor all the way to their regularly visited shower room to rid the couple of their shared filth. Placing her limp body haphazardly underneath the waterfall as he silently, through puffy eyelids, begins unraveling the many layers of bandages off Waylon's thighs up to her waist to cleanse the swollen tissue with the ice-cold water before wrapping her groin back up and set her aside. After Waylon's person has been cleansed thoroughly, Eddie takes his time to peel his soiled garments off to scrub them against the cracked tile as he stares at his slumped-over fiancée. Scrubbing his clothes from their filth before he rings out the revised cloth, slapping it over his shoulder as he sighs and he bends down to transport Waylon back home to lay in their bed. Making sure to chain her ankle up to the bedframe before he retreats into the disheveled closet to locate his long brown robe to drape it over himself as he swiftly disappears out the front door. Tying his robe together as he trails down the winding hall to retrieve his sewing table to relocate into his home in order to repair the damage he's inflicted onto his innocent works of art whilst standing guard over his comatose companion, protecting her from the only beast who still remains within their edifice womb.
The humming of Waylon's brain against her skull draws her to lift herself off the thin pillow as she faintly whimpers in pain, squinting through the foggy headache her mind is shrouded in to see if Eddie was still present after their altercation. The movement lulls her groin to be attacked by the painful licks of castration as her full bladder is compressed by the tightly wrapped bandages around her womb, despite the painful retaliation, she continues to sit up to get a better look of the room in hopes of catching a glimpse of her missing lover. Her eyes fix onto the corner of the room engulfed in a small light coming from a dying candle near the end of the bed, looking over the deformed mass bunched as she listens to the beast growl a low mechanical snarl. The mattress squeaks a pitched moan as she adjusts herself, calling the figure to cease their snarling to turn around and face her as she continues to stare in an attempt to identify the person. "Why?" The mass slowly leans forward to stand and walk towards Waylon as they softly lengthen their question, "Why would you try to leave me in such a horrid way? How could you do such a thing to me? I do so much to keep you satisfied—keep you entertained, yet you try to leave me. Time and time again, that's all you do to me."
Waylon's strained voice perks up after a few silent seconds spent pondering about her own strange actions, "It hurts, Eddie; I was in so much pain," Waylon pauses as her bladder sends a cramp of agony up her abdomen from its fullness, forcing her bandaged wound to throb with more force, "I still am—I just want it all to end. Just a few moments free from it all." A soft scoff accompanies Eddie's nearing stature as he sits close to Waylon, tracing his index fingertip along the upcurve of her lips to travel up along her cheekbone to her temple. Eddie's voice cracks as he tries to take on a more calming tone, he brushes his fingertips against Waylon's welted forehead as he hushes out, "Oh darling, beauty is pain, and my sweet, you are divine. I have made you into a beautiful work of art I must show off—are you requesting I call off the wedding? If you need more tim—" The threat of going through such invasive procedures all for naught fills Waylon with a tsunami of flooding thoughts to drown out Eddie's taunting: After all this effort, he wants to call off the wedding? How could someone do such a terrible to his future bride—after all I've done for him—our family? I deserve a wedding for all I've gone through—it's the least he could provide after all I've sacrificed for him—for us. I get hacked and gouged only to be disregarded as just a lowly fiancée? I can't have this happen—
"No! No, I insist—please don't call it all off! If I can't wed you, then what am I to do?" Waylon smiles softly as she caresses Eddie's wrist, petting his rough flesh as her senses twist her painfully full bladder into the warm hue of affection towards the distraught man who cradles her. Filling her womb with butterflies as she admires his marked face, sprinkling small kisses along the tear tracks that stain down his cheekbones before she stares into his bloodied glare. Waylon subconsciously softens her voice, filling Eddie's ear canals with it's soothing tone as she attempts to composedly beg for redemption, "I have no other purpose than being your wife—the mother of your children, Eddie, think this through. I was made to be your bride; I couldn't bear missing our special day. Please don't call it off—I'll be done healing soon enough, then we can finally be together, my love, you want that, don't you?"
Eddie nods with his eyes closed, huffing a stuttered sigh as he begins pushing against his thighs into a standing position off the bed. Looking down as he distances his face from Waylon's to scan down her body, relishing in the curves of her hips as he begins rolling Waylon's marbled words around in his head. Lingering his attention on the desperation that coated Waylon's throat as she whispered the sweet nothings she knew he wanted so dearly, fluttering his heart as he ponders their wedding ceremony and the more sultry events that are planned after for the couple. Going through the long list of things to do before their fabled day as he slips a small vial out of his pocket into his hand, popping the lid off to pour into his handkerchief as he sweetly asks through a tense smile, "Are you in any pain? Here, let me help. You need all the beauty rest you can get before your big day." Eddie smiles as he pushes the rag against Waylon's nodding mouth, moving her hand over it to hold it in place as he retrieves his small vial of methohexital from his sewing machine's built-in table. Drawing a predetermined amount into his syringe before stabbing the needle between two folds of bandages into Waylon's pelvis, pushing the plunger to empty the barrel to fill her with the sedating fuzz of relief as her pain is slowly lifted into the hefty rag that lies on her mouth.
Waylon lays back down and looks over to the boarded-up window, moving her head slightly to peek through the small gap that was left for her entertainment as Eddie leans back from her side, sneaking a small kiss onto her welted forehead before he tucks himself into the dimly lit corner to continue sewing. Her eyes take in the crevasse of midnight as her ears listen to her lover's mechanical purring, soothing her drunken senses further into the pillowy embrace beneath her. Eddie's faint breathing turns into soft hums as Waylon's eyes desperately fight against her tiredness to peek into the void outside, digging the replayed memory of his past crime back to resurface as she fights off her sedation to peer into the starry sky.
The faint confession Eddie poured out to Waylon as he lay motionless replays continuously, unmuddling the whispers Eddie poured onto Waylon's mummified body gradually as she continues to replay the varying sounds that came from his mouth to form his past apology, "I'm here now; I'm so sorry—please forgive my poor judgment. I was mistaken; I was wrong for doing this to you." Her mind laps around what that string of words could mean, closing her eyes as she ponders harder to make it understandable to her foggy cranium. She snuggles her cheek into the pillow as her thoughts jump through hoops much like sheep jumping hurdles: My Eddie knows—plotted Frank's and I's encounter? Well—if.. It must mean this was all his divine plan, the destiny he as written for me—it's all planned, carefully crafted by Eddie to intertwine us within the confusing cosmos. I should be grateful and show my appreciation for him saving me from all that mayhem. It was all arranged to happen, meticulously planned, just like everything else he's put me through. Eddie knows best—knows all; all I have to do is sit back and have faith in him. If I just listen to him—follow his guidance, obey his commands—all will go smoothly. Don't think, just let it all go; we have resting to do before the ceremony. We must be perfect for Eddie—
Eddie hums as he presses his foot against the pedal that sits underneath the sewing machine, guiding the fabric into the needle's roaring path as he attempts to form new gowns out of the works of art he shredded during his fit of hysteria. He looks over the flowing fabric as he connects the faded navy fabric to the grey scraps he recovered from the wreckage, slowly forming the mess together into a gown for Waylon to wear once she has recovered. Eddie attempts to align the freeform fabric bits together to form a baby doll gown, instead stitching the scraps into a jumbled grey and blue smock with no help from the fading day and candlelight. When the candle nears its end and smothers itself out on its own puddle of melted wax, Eddie's vision is overcome with shadows, prompting him to call it quits for the day. Standing himself into a long stretch which loosens his robe's grasp around him slightly as his arms and chest stretch away from each other with a gasped yawn. He tightens the small belt around his waist as he slinks into the sheet Waylon hides under to rest his forehead into the crook of Waylon's neck as he slowly slips into sleep, pondering countless designs for all the new gowns he must gift his bride on their wedding day due to his obscene outburst.
The next morning marks the 72nd hour from Waylon's procedure, allowing Eddie to unwrap his patient and free her groin from its suffocating bandages and the metal prong that was homed in her urethra. As the sun rises, Waylon's shoulders are latched onto and pulled forward to sit her up, forcing her eyes to shoot open as her torso is yanked forward to meet Eddie's gleeful mask, "Now, my darling, after three long agonizing days, all you must do is pass urine freely, and you're through the worst of it! If you can't," Eddie clears his throat with a thick cough into his right fist before he continues, "We mustn't think about such bad luck. Come, I can barely hold myself still." Waylon's pain-riddled expression hangs out of Eddie's sight as her hand cowardly raises to rest on the back of Eddie's left hand, pausing his joyful exclamation to exchange it with a furrowed brow and pursed frown, "Eddie, I don't—can't walk. I don't feel good; please carry me. Or.. could you just put me to sleep to do this? It would be ea—"
Eddie's thumb presses under Waylon's clavicle as he sternly lectures her through clinched teeth, "No, darling, pain is part of the process—the main aspect in your transformation. You can't just sleep through your awakening—miss it over some pain; it's a valuable thing for you to witness alongside me." Waylon's body is lifted by her waist off the mattress, folding her legs over Eddie's left forearm to carry her out of the front door through the halls all the way to the distant showers once more to free Waylon from her cramping bladder. Eddie carries Waylon's tensed body all the way through the darkened corridors and through the shower's doorway in silence as he drowns his mind in overlapping worries and excitement about the upcoming test, only pausing when his feet neared the slick tiles. Allowing his freed attention to be called upon as he places his fiancée down to the right of the erupting water spout, laying her motionless body against the tiled wall as the icy cascade's water droplets lunge at her.
Eddie quietly kneels over the seated body as he reaches into his waistband for his knife to drag the sharp blade along her hip, splitting the sea of gauze into two halves as well as lightly slicing her concealed flesh. He sets his knife onto the floor by Waylon's thigh as he begins to free her from the layers that blocked the final product from being seen, allowing himself to relish in the unwrapping of Waylon's newly perfected form as he easingly lifts each layer while his lungs gather a slow breath. Igniting a small eruption in his lungs as he finally reveals the thick, pinking red scar that now signifies Waylon's upcoming maternal duties.
Waylon closes her eyes as she feels her womb being unearthed from the hug of gauze she grew to find comforting, patiently awaiting the moment Eddie freed her urethra from the metal prong that it is adorned with. With a quick inhale escaping Eddie's lips, Waylon feels a slight tug on her groin, then the uncontrollable warmth of urine along her thighs as Eddie retrieves the prong he stole from the same fork Waylon's left hand was impaled with to secretly tuck it into his pocket for safekeeping. "Good job, my love; you've done it—you've survived your final test of purity. I'm so proud~" Eddie stands, walking to Waylon's shoulder before he bends at the waist, patting her on the shoulder as she relieves herself. Waylon writhes as her abdomen is twisted with the strangely masochistic feeling of her overextended bladder finally relieving itself out of her castrated groin, filling her with a disgraceful satisfaction as she dispels all of her pent up sense of unworthiness, basking in the euphoric joy of Eddie's validation as she's finally seen as pure.
Eddie cups his hands under Waylon's shoulders, dragging her into the chilled waterfall to cleanse her of all her filth and vulgarity, stripping the final layers of the dastardly coating Waylon's self-image was incased in before their wedding day. As Eddie washes and shaves the prickled legs Waylon has grown out over the past couple days, Waylon scans her eyes over her barely opaque pale flesh. Looking through Eddie's eyes as she views the procedures he's perfected just so she'd stay within his grasp, following the sharp blade that shaves along her injured shin as she squints through her eyelashes. Flinching as he continues his blade's path over the raised, irritated gash Frank left her calf with, slowly ridding Waylon from her pesky flaws in just a few swipes of his blade. Her heart flutters at the simple act that took so little yet amplified her femininity tremendously; the lack of thick brown hair scattering along her pale flesh fills her with a sense of renewal; a wave of pride puffs goosebumps along her arms as she lovingly basks in the throbs of pain that radiates from the water-berated wound that opens her pelvis, sinking a feeling of accomplishment as the pain numbs her mind further from any rational thinking.
Over the course of many comatose months Waylon continues to heal the open gash that sits on her pelvis, lying in their bed peacefully as Eddie finally perfected the altered ratio needed to keep his doll in an obediently comatose state. He remains perched beside his hostage, whirring his machine by foot as she rests behind him, pedaling his apology with the limited day and candlelight he had available to him. Gradually conjuring a festering of guilt as he ruminates about the absurd actions his frazzled nerves are making him act out. The shameful whispering causes him to drown out all his sorrowed thoughts with the slick comforting taste of chloroform, only worsening the spiral of deterioration to his vessel as he forms the various scraps of fabric into a bundle of misshapen gowns to accentuate his soon-to-be bride's figure. Clearing all the ruined fabric from Waylon's dresser drawers and replacing them with his various attempts at a new perfected wardrobe through his drunken senses, continuously passing the dull days with his worsening drug dependency as he awaits for his fiancée to be healed enough to attend the nearing ceremony Eddie has planned so meticulously. Maintaining upkeep on his beauty's appearance in fear of any potential guests by shaving and sponge-bathing her as she lies motionless in her drugged imprisonment.
Once the final bundle of lilac is secured onto the chairs the many guests that wait for the ceremony sit on, Eddie wipes his hands together as he admires the lively chapel he's made for his final wedding. The one true ceremony to join him and his suitable love into one being after all this time spent waiting. Uniting him with his lovely bride after so many failed attempts, in front of all their peers and colleagues, leaving all his rotting mistakes to cheer on for their replacement's prosperity. After stripping the long white gown from the mannequin that foolishly took Waylon's spot, Eddie carries the fill-in bride's husk to tuck away in the far corner before giddily spinning around on his heel to glide down the short hallway, lunging up the stairs and down the twisting hall to his awaiting damsel.
Eddie eagerly barges into their home after unlocking their boarded-up front door to throw the white smear of cloth onto his side of the bed haphazardly as he retreats into the closet to unearth the suit he mustered up for this special occasion. Holding it up to his chest as he peers down upon it, imagining Waylon's white fabric-covered waist to reside next to his muscular build in front of all the harlots who wished they were as refined as her. Their hushed envy draws his eyes into the phantom crowd that stands to his left, meeting each failed masterpiece he painfully kept around in fear of moving on too soon. Terrified to abandon an important piece of himself, the bit of his devotion, which he drained into his work; allowing the rotting artifacts of his past to bestow the shameful life he led before he met his other half through their presence within the vast audience. Only filling his chest with a creeping empty hue as his mind begins inserting Waylon's face among the desecrated crowd, abjectly observing as Eddie weds yet another harlot mother wouldn't approve of.
As Eddie finishes replacing his everyday uniform with the exquisitely stitched black suit he lovingly calls out to his fiancée, "Have you gotten ready yet, my dear? We only have a few more moments before Father Martin expects us; it would be blasphemous to waste the holy man's time, darling. I need this to be perfect—" Just as he peeks his head out of the doorway to see Waylon in an attempt to see her before the audience, he only sees her lying in the same spot he saw her in when he came home. Her lack of excitement for such an important day sends a prickle of anxiety through him, forcing him to stomp over to the foot of the bed to sink his fingers into her covered calf in punishment for causing such a vile feeling within him. Yanking her and the blanket down around his waist to place her legs on either side of his hips, rubbing Waylon's pelvis along Eddie's groin as he purrs next to Waylon's awakening face while his left hand molests her cheek, "Oh, no, no—darling, not before our wedding day; we've been so good keeping your purity. We mustn't waste all my hard work; get dressed—" He cuts himself off with the planting of his chapped lips onto Waylon's soft neck, suckling as he massages her right hip with his left hand. Pushing his torso onto her chest while his bulging cock massages into the recession of her pubis bone as he stealthily takes her left hand with his right, guiding her to shield herself from his perverse motions.
Waylon begins to groan and adjust herself underneath Eddie's crushing body weight, pushing her weakened right hand against the wide chest that crushes into her, preventing her from breathing correctly. "You're right, you shouldn't—couldn't ruin our special day with our lust. Control yourself, darling; desperation doesn't look appealing on unmarried women." Waylon hides her gaze as her lover raises off of her, taking in the carved scar below her holy gift of a womb her past captors blessed her with as Eddie distances himself. Her lips curl into a soft smile as her fingertips gently caress around the indented scar, guiding her nails to hesitate over her assumed vagina Eddie has formed for her as her mind wanders about the whereabouts of her rotting tissue. Yet, before Waylon could greet her healed incision with decorum, Eddie snatches both of her wrists to hover them above her head, "Here, stay still. Let me dress you up."
His hands retreat from hers to bundle the waves of cloudlike material above her, drowning her face as her hands find their way through the mid-length puffed sleeves, leaning her torso towards Eddie as he guides her head through the ruffled v-line the bosom of her dress was adorned with, pulling the gown further down her back to cover her figure until her husband could unwrap his present that upcoming night. Shrouding her figure in an abundance of ruffled fabric that reaches her lower calf with a delicate ruffle, arranged amongst various white scraps of slightly different hues to form a luminescent illusion. Awaiting like a flickering flame for the moment the couple's shame could blend amongst the shadows to lustrously deflower Eddie's creation he brought to life purely for his pleasure, uniting the pair in their matrimony after all the suspenseful months they were forced to spend waiting for this unification.
Eddie continues their dress-up session by covering her claves with a pair of compression socks adorned with a short crocheted frill, which attaches an array of small paper beads to the garment in petal-like bundles just below her knee. Waylon passes her fingers over the fragile pale beads that are stained with various letters remaining from the books Eddie ruined for this beautiful sight, hiccupping her happiness in her throat as she begins to weep tears of appreciation for her lover's talent while her eyes jolt around the wedding dress that mummifies her. Drinking each painstakingly devoted detail Eddie hid among the sacred gown before she reaches out to hug him, wrapping her arms below his arms as he stands up. Lifting the couple to their feet as Waylon squeezes Eddie's ribs tightly against her, praising as she slightly rubs her cheek over his clothed pectoral, "Oh Eddie, I am so beautiful. You were right—you're always right; I should've never doubted you. You've made me into something I thought I could never be—wasn't worthy enough to become, thank you." The quiet encasing of Eddie's arms around her swells Waylon with a sickening flutter within her stomach as the foul beast who once hunted her wraps his paws around her back, instilling a drunkenly devoted feeling into the pair as their body heat jumbles against the harsh winter air. Waylon's cheeks blush as she basks in the doting feeling of beauty her new body would allow her to feel for the first time in her unfortunate life, flooding her senses with a rewarding ecstasy as she slinks deep into the unnatural enwrapment of the muscular arms who usually incase her in moments of torturous punishment.
"Only two more things, dear, then you'll be complete. Wait a moment, let me get them for you." Eddie guides Waylon to sit onto the bed as he slinks behind the closet's doorframe. Hunting for the small bouquet of paper lilac and heliotropiums he tucked on top of the wardrobe out of his companion's reach, along with the veil he's made out of varying strips of gauze stitched together to form a lengthy curtain. The corner of his lips wrap into a wide smile, flashing his shoddy teeth as he trots out into his lover's sight once more. Holding out the veiled flowers as he examines Waylon's facial expression the gift invoked from her, taking in her blushed smile as she cups his artwork into her frail hands. Diligently retrieving two small flowers from the bundle to sweetly jam into Eddie's breast pocket, positioning the flowers amongst Eddie's navy handkerchief to resemble a matching boutonniere from her bouquet as she hums out, "Eddie, I'm going to be so lovely." Her hands begin lifting the veil up to her head before Eddie joins her to fix it into place, slipping a small bundle of fabric out of his back pocket to reveal a small spool of thread. He draws a couple inches of thread away from the spool before he drags it along his knife's blade to free it, hiding the blade back into the side of his waistband as he tucks the spool back with the small needles within the fabric bundle before he puts it back into his pocket to free his hands. With only his panting breath above her, Eddie secures the veil to a strand of Waylon's hair by tying it with the sewing thread near her scalp, positioning it to cover her face as he takes a step backwards to view all her glory.
As the afternoon's snowstorm calms outside the howling window, the couple interlocks their fingers with one another while Eddie opens the front door. Guiding his blinded fiancée down the lengthy hallway towards the chapel once more, filling the two with a concoction of gleeful anxiety as they make their way towards their final destination. Squeezing Waylon's heart as her weakened legs stumble along Eddie's wide gait to the hallway outside of the ceremony, swelling her mind with the eager thoughts of matrimony as Eddie lectures her in the gym, "Darling, once the music begins, start walking down the hallway and wait by the entrance until the song sings: I will have to look around until the right one I have found. Then make your appearance, okay? You can do that for me, correct?" Waylon nods as she squeezes the paper stems that reside in her grasp, gulping as she watches Eddie walk into the thick, murky shadows towards the chapel. The distant howling of the windy afternoon that sits outside the indestructible walls of her home lifts her head to the ceiling as she tries to imagine the sky that looms above the distant roof on her very own special day. Her eyelids flutter closed to imagine the soft flurries of snow sprinkling around her as she and Eddie interlock hands, looking into each other as Father Martin raddles on about matrimony to the smiling pair and the compersion-filled crowd that sits besides them.
The faint crackling of music snaps Waylon's head forwards, drawing her feet to glide down the hallway while the radio begins nasally singing the beginning lyrics of Eddie's favored song, "When I was a boy my mother often said to me, Get married boy and see, how happy you will be," Waylon turns the corner as the man continues to upliftingly belt out, "I have looked all over, but no girlie can I find, Who seems to be just like the little girl I have in mind." Her heart bursts with seemingly overlapping beats as the next lyric was her entrance, she stands next to the chapel's doorframe, just hidden enough so no one could see her but she could hear them. She listens to the faint whispers of excitement as the radio crackles out, "I will have to look around until the right one I have found." Stumbling her white-gowned form down to mix into the white-lined aisle between the pews lined with guests, despite her mind screaming to look at her upcoming husband, she looks down to her side to see the identity of her guests, peeking over the edge of her blinding veil to soak in the hacked naked women who sit next to her. She continues to step down towards Eddie as she swivels her head past her euthanized sister-wives to face her lover. Looking through her veil at the blurred, black mass who awaits her presence as she creeps along the upbeat song down to meet Father Martin and her husband.
Her left foot trips over the lifted lip Eddie and the burnt remains of Father Martin stand on, lifting her gaze to watch as Eddie reaches over to the priest's breast pocket to retrieve a reflective screw before lifting the murky veil to lay over Waylon's blonde shaggy mullet while she watches Eddie nod in appreciation to the dead man. He then takes her left hand into his right, maneuvering her ring finger over a wide gap between his ring and middle finger as Waylon takes in the beauty of the cleanest item she's had the honor of seeing in such a long time. She feels him takes her chin in between his left index and thumb to ask in a gruffled impression of the priest's voice, "Do you, Waylon Park, take Eddie Gluskin to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Eddie's eyes widen as he nods Waylon's head for her with an overly excited smile before he continues while prematurely nodding to his own question, "Do you, Eddie Gluskin, take Waylon Park to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Eddie looks down to the sprawled fingers in his grasp before he stabs the screw into Waylon's ring finger, applying an overwhelming amount of pressure down onto her bone as he begins screwing into her. The bizarrely non-rusted screw instills a second-hand sterility as it punctures through her bettered flesh, cracking through her in an almost sympathetic manner as its presence conjoins itself with her phalange. Waylon tightens her grasp onto the bouquet while her lips pucker into a pinched smile as she watches her finger get impaled by the reflective riveted post, dripping crimson drops down her finger onto the distant wooden floor as her lover twists the metal further through her finger, allowing its sharpened tip to poke through the opposite side. Her eyes welt up with tears as her throat gulps the spiney ball of wedlock into her butterfly-ridden stomach, reminding herself of the crowd who watches her every move during such a memorial moment in everyone's lives as she straightens her back, easing her shoulders in case anyone decided to flash a picture.
Just as the screw's flathead hesitates a few millimeters away from being flush with her bloodied flesh, Eddie takes his rag to wipe away all the unsightly blood, leaving a small gap between the shinning metal and her skin to accentuate the size of the jeweled dagger her husband has punctured her with. Without a second wasted, Eddie quickly relocates his left pinkie to rest against the horizontal wooden board that supports the burnt remains of Father Martin by his underarms and wrists. Taking his knife out of his waistband to devotedly hack away his left pinkie's distal and middle phalanges, presenting it in his palm to his bride with a prideful smile, "Here. You must rinse all the other men from you; only I shall remain in your life," Eddie pauses as he cups Waylon's stomach with his right hand, holding his blade along her womb as he whispers, "In body and in mind."
Waylon feels Eddie's fingertips pry her jaw open to shove his pinkie finger on top of her tongue; the weight of it causes her jaw to instinctively snap closed, dousing her tastebuds with the addicting metallic hue of her lover's blood as she swallows the thick nub in one gulp. Keeping eye contact while the finger purifies her body from any remaining guilt her past actions may have plagued her with, numbing her from her stomach outwards as she imagines her husband's very own flesh providing sustenance to her growing sacred temple. Relishing in the rejuvenating feeling her almighty husband's self-sacrifice instilled upon her, inching her further closer as Eddie cups the nape of Waylon's neck with both of his hands, interlocking their eyes before dragging her towards his lunging lips to share a harshly eager kiss as the song continues to serenade the newlywed couple and their swooning audience, "He steals a kiss, a dons embrace, while ev'ning breezes sigh."
Eddie's hands swiftly assume their positions by grabbing Waylon by the waist, aligning his left forearm along the curve of her lower back as his right palm rests between her shoulder blades, to dip her over as their lips continue to mettle into one in front of all their peers. Filling Waylon with an oddly comforting feeling of being owned, wanted, almost paraded about by her lover's huge charade of love he's orchestrated just to celebrate their union in front of everyone they knew. As Eddie bends his bride's back to parallel the ground, she wraps her arms around his waist to interlock her hands together with the blood-stained flowers that linger around the raw, impaled finger that throbs as a reminder of Eddie's growing infatuation. Merging the pair's tongues in a drawn-out kiss as they relish in the competition of the fabled ceremony meant to form a sense of completion within them, finally allowing one another to give into their desires to become one as Eddie's left hand stealthily creeps down to Waylon's behind to grab onto the minimal fat that still resides on her malnourished body underneath the plump skirt of her wedding gown.
Eddie separates their faces, drooping Waylon further down as he leans back to make eye contact with his new bride to eagerly ask with a taunting smile, "May we retreat into our chambers? We must consummate our marriage as soon as we can, my love, I can barely wait to examine every inch of you—I'm eager to become one after waiting for so long." Eddie straightens his back, setting the couple in an upright position in front of their adoring audience, looking over their subtly jealous stares as they walk down the aisle with their fingers intertwined. As the pair make their way through the gym's doorway towards the stairs Eddie snatches Waylon up to carry her like the true bride she has become, pushing her tightly against his chest as he makes his way up the stairs to consummate his inexpugnable marriage. His pupils ignore the bland surroundings that pass him as he quickly trots home, instead focusing on the flowing fabric that pours off the pond of white that Waylon has been bestowed. Strangely filling his mind with a deep sense of tranquility as his heart gives into the final ownership of the one doll he never got to play with when he was younger, pridefully taking in all the soft, delicate features his bride's presence allows him to gawk at as he unlocks the disheveled door to retreat into their homemade sanctuary.
Waylon leaves soft pecks along Eddie's cheek as he rests her against the edge of the bed, leaving her socked calves to dangle freely. Keeping her in sight of the door left wide open for anyone to witness the private unwrapping of Eddie's plaything. Eddie starts by removing her clothes from her socks upward, taking a few moments to kneel as he slowly lowers the tight fabric, remaining silent in awe while gawking at the pale flesh that reveals itself as he drags his tongue and sock along the hairless pink puffed scar Frank tainted Waylon with. Waylon feels the gentle prodding of Eddie's fingertips tickling up her inner thighs, gradually creeping underneath the seam connecting the gown's bodice and skirt, to lift it along Waylon's torso until it hovers near her shoulders while Eddie busily leaves faint kisses up her abdomen until the bridge of his nose brushes against the underside of her left breast. She grabs the gown from her groom's grasp, lifting the dress off herself to drape the treasured garment off the side of the bed beside the scandalous couple. Allowing Eddie to use both of his hands to massage her chest as he suckles on her left nipple, looking up into Waylon's eyes as she winces in gratification. Swooning her left hand to smooth Eddie's hair back until her palm caresses the back of the flattened part of his skull, "You make me feel so good; thank you for everything, Eddi—" The swift yet rough muzzling of Waylon's mouth forces her eyelids to flinchingly flutter as Eddie's right hand slaps her mouth closed, shoving her face onto the mattress while he spits through a clenched jaw, "I need silence from you now; I've been waiting for this longer than you can imagine. We can't have you ruining such a holy affair, now can we?"
Eddie stands up and knocks open Waylon's thighs with his left knee, sliding himself onto the mattress in a kneeling position as he begin to lightly frot his pelvis against her while she shakes her head no to his question, throwing his suit jacket behind him before he fiddles with the buttons that line his shirt. Eddie leans back to peek down at Waylon's naked groin, watching as his bulging black fabric squishes against her pale vulva. Waylon leans forward to guide Eddie's waistband down his thighs, sending his knife to clatter against the bed onto the floor as the black fabric falls past his knees. Just as he's finally freed from his shackle-like shirt, Eddie sighs in relief, leaving his body just as bare as his companion who lies in front of him. The smoothness of her hairless figure draws his rough fingertips along her gentle curves as he purrs out, "Dear, you are such a sight for sore eyes; your divine figure confuses my mind as it thinks you are a figment of my imagination; I still can't comprehend how something so beautiful could end up wed to something like this." Eddie's fingers abandon Waylon's smooth canvas to gesture up towards himself, lifting his fingers to molest the scars that linger upon his face with a fogged-over expression as he kicks his pants off his ankles.
Eddie leans over Waylon, placing his hands momentarily to cup her chest into his wide palms as Waylon caresses her nails up Eddie's happy trail, tickling up around his waist to pull him closer as she circulates her hips around the hardening cock that massages against her taint. Digging her left ring's sharp point slightly into her lover's flesh as Eddie's hand guides the tip of his dick along Waylon's taint down to her assumed vagina, spitting onto the tip of his thick cock before he smears his slobber along the entrance of Waylon's behind. Pushing into her as he looks into her flinching eyes, moaning softly with her vexed yelps as he watches her cheeks gradually blush in response to the painful stretching of her deflowerment. He relocates his hand along Waylon's right thigh, spreading her legs more apart so he can push himself into her pelvis further, stretching her virgin ass with Eddie's thick shaft as the sun slowly slips behind the wooden boards that linger on the nearby window. The overwhelming shadows lure Eddie to disappointingly shake his head down at Waylon, pausing his hips to suck his teeth in disapproval before mumbling out, "No, no—this is all wrong. I can barely see you anymore, just one moment—allow me to make this right."
Eddie darts to the edge of his sewing machine as he continues to mumble about the holy affair he mustn't ruin, leaving Waylon to lie still on the edge of the bed with her legs spread open as she watches her whispering husband gather a small candle and a packet of matches. Waylon's knees stay repelling like two identical magnets, as they were too afraid to give off the terrible impression of not eagerly awaiting her lover's return, leaving her groin to shiver in the chilled air as she lies watching the dark figure strike a match against the box a few failed times. The sound of an erupting match illuminates Eddie's focused face as he ignites the candle then blows the match out with a huff. Keeping the candle within his right hand as he nears Waylon once more, positioning his pelvis in front of Waylon's buttocks as he drools a thick drop of spit onto Waylon's taint, eagerly collecting the lube with the tip of his cock before plunging into his bride once more. Watching as he slowly closes the gap between the couple's hips, burying himself balls-deep into Waylon's guts before hastily retracting to form an ecstasy-filled rhythm, the inky pleasure that surrounds him knocks Eddie forward. Causing him to slam his left fist against the wall to steady himself over Waylon as he orchestrates the couple's slurring moans into a fine tune with the squealing springs of the mattress as their leading beat.
Waylon's hands frantically search for something to grip her pleasure onto, latching her right hand onto the bundled sanctified dress that coats the foot of the bed as her moans pick up desperation. Looking into the distracted eyes of her lover as she feels her womb swallow up all of Eddie's shaft, slowly overwhelming her senses to tears as she tries to process the euphorically painful prods that buries itself deep within her. The candle, who still hesitates between the couple's distant chests, drips its hot wax slowly over Eddie's knuckles onto Waylon's breasts and stomach to slightly burn their flesh as Eddie roughens his thrusting. Fluttering the flame with his grunted moans as he repeatedly rams his hips against his companion's, forming the inky urge for more sadistic acts as Eddie's lustful thoughts snowball in the undeniable yearning for more suffering from his partner. Eddie smiles as he slaps his palm against Waylon's cheek, almost knocking her unconscious, to hold her jaw to face him as he forces eye contact while thrusting into her harder, "I love it when you cry; you are just so ethereal when you're suffering. You wear pain so well, darling—"
Waylon's eyes shut out of humiliation from Eddie noticing her suffering during such a delicate part of their marriage, prickling her mind with the hushed idea of ruining the sanctity of such a fragile atmosphere with her selfish sorrows. Yet, against her better judgement, she forces her tears to form friends through reminiscing on painful memories just to please her one true love, flooding her mind with the painful memories of being chained by the ankle with no where to go while death knocks through her only barricade. Her chest steadily picks up speed as he watches Frank rev his saw towards him, sucking the air out of her lungs as he anticipates the painful slicing the jagged teeth would inflict on him, drawing out sighed sobs as he welcomes the agonized grasp of euthanasia. Only for her right cheek to be punched, flooding her senses once more with delightful licking Eddie's cock shoved deep into her as her face is shoved into the mattress. Tickling her skin with the threat of climax along with the distant painful prodding of Eddie's thick cock distending her lower abdomen, bulging her crossed womb with each rough buck Eddie's hips stab into her. Flashing the cross's subliminal value of purity through Waylon's moldable mind alongside the pleasurable knocking against her g-spot, blending into a desperate need to worship the being that gifts her the enlarged sense of piety.
Eddie's left hand takes ahold of Waylon's right bicep to swiftly turn her over onto her stomach, moving his hand on the back of her head to smother her face within the mattress as he continues his rhythmic thrusts. Eliciting a pained, muffled moan out of Waylon as she feels Eddie bury himself deep into her as the dripping wax dances up her spine. Waylon's head is yanked back by her shoulder-length mullet before Eddie places his hand to squeeze her throat as his rhythm begins stuttering, "I can't wait until you bless me with my very own children—my very own legacy." Eddie brings himself closer to Waylon, sinking his teeth into her boney shoulder to suckle sightly as he listens to Waylon's agonized moans, absentmindedly dropping the candle to lay in the closing divot of space between Waylon's back and Eddie's stomach. Scorching their flesh lightly before the lack of oxygen smothers the flame against their bubbling epidermis, yet the only feeling Waylon can focus on is Eddie's rough fingertips pinching onto her nipple as he drags his teeth further into her shoulder blade. Mixing with the other speckles of agony her body is kissed by with the stretching of her guts around Eddie's throbbing cock into a drunken potion only the two lone survivors could indulge in.
The pattern of deep and whining moans from the two slowly fade into panting gasps as they inch closer to the tantalizing urge to repopulate their vacant colony, busying their minds with the task of refilling the empty halls of Mount Massive once more with variants pure enough to remain within her walls. Eddie's grip tightens around Waylon's breast as his hips slam for the final time against Waylon's gyrating hips, pumping her womb full of his seed as he shutters a guttural moan into Waylon's neck. Drowning in the overwhelming feeling of Waylon's walls tightening as he presses against her buttocks, dropping himself onto her back as his chest heaves with deep sighs. Smothering her into the pillowy surface as he takes deep gasps into the curve of her trapezius, sniffing her natural body odor their vulgar dance drew out of her pores. "Hmm.. Darling, you smell like home. You fill me with the stickiest of feelings, one I can't name. It consumes me in ways I can't comprehend—can't word," Eddie shudderingly gasps into a faint weeping against Waylon's flesh before continuing, "please never leave me; I don't know what I'd do without this feeling—without you."
Waylon takes a deep breath as Eddie eases himself off of her after a few moments of shared silence, slowly taking his flaccid penis out of her as he backs off the edge of the bed. Allowing his sperm to slowly ooze out of her as he slaps his hands onto her hips, yanking her towards the edge of the bed. Forcing her into a wobbling standing position until he grabs her hand to guide her into the closet, "Close your eyes." Eddie's right hand lets go of Waylon's to open all the dresser drawers to confirm they were in an orderly manner before his bride could open her gift, one which took Eddie three long months to perfect. "I have a gift to celebrate our unity. Since you've become something completely renewed just for your role as my wife, I believe you deserve a revised wardrobe to settle you into your new life." Waylon's eyes creep open to see all the drawers slightly ajar, welcoming each folded garment to pull her in a different direction until her hands decide to open the far left one that stands next to Eddie.
She fingers the fabric's soft texture as she lifts it against her chest to reveal its full form, eyeing the light grey scraps sewn into the white lab coat material that build a puffy long-sleeved gown which barely brushes against the top of Waylon's knee. Eddie holds out his hand, awaiting Waylon to hand over the gown once she finishes admiring his work so she can move onto the others, "Every drawer is filled; go on. Look at them all; tell me what you like about each one—what I can fix." Waylon quietly passes the fabric over as her eyes move along the filled wardrobe, lifting each one to her body before she meekly admits what she favors most about it. Praising her lover's neat stitches one garment, the beautiful color pairings another, and when all else fails to be appreciated, she would compliment it's comforting texture. Brushing it against her bare body to show her appreciation for the long operation he undertook as she lazily slept the days away.