Crackhead Chronicles Novels & Stories

Two massive cocks were freed right in front of my face. Damien’s was thick, heavy, and slightly curved. Victor’s was longer, with a fat mushroom head already leaking precum. Both of them were rock hard and way bigger than anything I’d ever taken. Victor grabbed a fistful of my hair and slapped his heavy cock against my cheek. “Open that fucking mouth, little slut.” I barely parted my lips before he pushed the head past them, stretching my mouth wide. He didn’t ease in — he shoved half his length down my throat in one thrust, making me gag hard.

Nothing feels loose. I turn my head and look back up at Broken Nose. "I'll ask you one more time," he says, cracking his scarred knuckles slowly. "Who did you tell?" I lean forward as far as the duct tape allows, then I spit a mouthful of blood directly onto his shoe.

Three days later, Harrison told me I could come over to reclaim my apartment. When I got there, Anna had just been driven out. She and her repulsive mother were clutching a bunch of things and wailing outside the apartment building. Anna's mother kept clutching all the passersby and crying to them about my heinous misdeeds. According to her, I was an evil hag who used money to win Harrison's heart before getting him to kick Anna out. Thanks to me, she and Anna, the poor mother-daughter duo, had no place to go and had to live on the streets now.

When it steps closer, I catch a flash of eyes—yellow, glowing, locked on my house like a hunter sizing up prey. I stumble back, my breath ragged, the hum a scream in my veins. My vision sharpens, the room too bright, every sound too loud—the drip of the faucet, the creak of the floor, my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I clutch the counter to steady myself, but my hands are shaking, and—oh God—what’s happening to me? My nails dig into the countertop, and I hear a crack, sharp and impossible. I look down, and my stomach lurches. The edge of the counter’s splintered, tiny cracks spiderwebbing where my fingers grip. That’s not possible. I’m not strong enough to do that.

I never really bought into all that Christmas crap. At twenty-two years old, I had outgrown the fairy tales about jolly old Santa and his reindeer games a long time ago. My name is Alex, and I'm just your average cocky twink from the city—lean body, smooth skin, short dark hair, and a mouth that always seems to land me in hot water. I've spent the last few years chasing thrills in underground clubs, letting older, rougher guys pin me down and fuck me senseless. But no matter how hard they went, it was never enough. I always craved something more intense, something that would push me to my limits and beyond, leaving me broken and begging.

And now… now he was handing all the love I had begged for to someone else. I closed my eyes for a second, letting the pain wash over me like icy waves. When I opened them again, something inside me cracked open and bled. But I lifted my chin anyway. “Everyone warned us we wouldn’t last,” I said softly, my voice steady even as my heart screamed. “And we both knew it.” Dante watched me, his sharp gaze unreadable. Those stormy gray eyes that once made my knees weak now only made me feel small. He leaned back in his chair like a king on his throne.

System Evolution Node: V.0 – Final Load Sequence Timestamp: 11:04 Process Log: “Command latency dissolved.” “Hierarchy markers cleared.” “Emergency override: obsolete.” Final status reads: :: MODE: RHYTHM-LED ALIGNMENT TRACE: VALE BREATH – ACTIVE COMMENT: **SHE WAS NOT WRITTEN. BUT SHE BECAME WHAT EVERYTHING WROTE ITSELF TOWARD. Sector 1 Core Interface Hub The chair where orders were once issued is gone.

Jenny took a deep breath and released it when she again felt the penetration for the second time of Jason's finger in the cut of her femininity. It started going in and out of her in an accelerating manner so Jenny couldn't stop herself from letting out a series of accented growls. But she reacted differently when suddenly, Jason sunk his face in front of her again. And as his finger was doing that her femininity was once again punished by his expert tongue and that almost lost her sanity.

But the moment I gave Pierre a new lease on life, Megan accused me of endangering a patient for my own selfish motives. My once-bright future shattered into darkness right then. To seal my conviction, Megan even bribed an operating room nurse, Sheila Bell. Under the glare of countless camera flashes, Sheila pointed at me and declared indignantly, "I saw Dr. Goodwin swap the patient's life-saving medication with my own eyes." She even played the video of me fighting with Pierre. My own words, "Why aren't you dead yet?" ended up being the final nail in my coffin. No matter how much I explained or screamed, it was useless against the so-called eyewitness testimony and evidence.

Drake's growling subsides. Replaced by a dull ache. What have I done? #################