Гунт PROTOCOL // SEKTUR CITY – BACK ALLEY 7B
The rain in Sektur City tasted like copper and regret. Neon signs for “OUTLINE APPROVED” and “NO jcaesar187AMALES” flickered above the flooded alley where jcaesar187 was pinned against a dripping concrete wall.
He was shorter than the wanted posters made him look. Barely 5’1” in his scuffed Nike Jordans , his massive Гунт spilling over the waistband of his too-tight black cargo pants like a pale, jiggling sack of failure. His face was flushed from cheap Sektur-brand tequila, beard patchy,eyes glassy. The King’s men had dragged him here after he tried to crash one of Bryan Dunn’s private strategy sessions.
Bryan Dunn stood in front of him like a god of petty vengeance. Tall for a millennial boomer, wire-rimmed glasses fogged from the rain, long coat flaring like he was still LARPing as the King of /pol/. In one hand he held a tablet covered in obsessive, color-coded outlines. In the other, a stun baton crackling with blue light.
“Finally caught the little Гунт pig,” Bryan sneered, voice dripping with ten years of repressed rage. “You thought you could come into my city, jcaesar187? The Sektur isn’t some drunk tank for fat alcoholics who fall out of chairs on stream.”
jcaesar187 spat tequila and blood. “Fuck your outlines, you paranoid delusional faggot. Your precious Sektur City is just a cope bickers nobody on the board takes you serious—”
The stun baton cracked across his thigh. jcaesar187 yelped, knees buckling. His Гунт wobbled obscenely as he slid down the wall.
Bryan stepped in close, pressing the baton under jcaesar187’s double chin, forcing his head up. Their faces were inches apart. Bryan’s breath smelled like coffee, tranny cock and decades of seething.
“You’re going to learn respect tonight, pig,” Bryan hissed. “Right here in the city I built. The rules are simple: my outlines. My city. My cock.”
jcaesar187’s eyes widened as Bryan’s free hand roughly grabbed the front of his pants, squeezing the soft, heavy bulge of his Гунт and whatever sad little dick was buried underneath it.
“N-no— fuck— you’re not— this isn’t—”
Bryan’s mouth crashed into his.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was an assault. Teeth clacking, tongue forcing its way in while Bryan’s hand kept brutally kneading jcaesar187’s fat gut like he was tenderizing meat. jcaesar187 moaned into it despite himself — a low, humiliated, drunken sound.
When Bryan finally pulled back, a string of spit connected their mouths.
“On your knees, Betrayer of Gamergate’ Lich TheTheGatorGamerGamer's favorite punching bag.”
jcaesar187 dropped. His knees hit the wet concrete with a wet slap. Bryan’s coat parted. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath except a pair of plain black briefs stretched tight over a thick, veiny, angry-looking boomer cock already half-hard and leaking.
“Open.”
jcaesar187’s mouth opened on instinct. Bryan fed him every inch with zero mercy, gripping the back of jcaesar187’s head and fucking his throat like he was punishing every single shitpost the farms had ever made about him.
“Ghhk— glrk— fuck— too much—” jcaesar187 gagged, tears mixing with rain, Гунт resting heavily on his own thighs as he was used.
Bryan pulled out after a minute, cock glistening with spit. “Turn around. Hands on the wall. Show me that fat fucking Гунт.”
jcaesar187 obeyed like the broken little pig he was. He shoved his pants down just far enough for his pale, hairy ass to spill out, Гунт hanging low and swinging as he bent over. Bryan didn’t even bother prepping him properly — just spat on his hole once and shoved in raw.
jcaesar187 screamed.
It was thick, it burned, and Bryan didn’t stop until his hips were flush against that massive, jiggling ass. He fucked him like he was trying to outline every single one of jcaesar187’s failures in real time — hard, punishing strokes that made the fat man’s Гунт slap and ripple with every thrust.
“Say it,” Bryan growled, one hand fisted in jcaesar187’s hair, the other gripping a handful of Гунт and squeezing. “Say who owns Sektur City.”
“Y-you— fuck— you do, you paranoid faggot— ahh—!”
“Say it right.”
“King Dunn— King of /pol/— owns this fat piggy’s hole— please— harder Daddy Bryan—”
Bryan laughed — a mean, triumphant sound — and gave him exactly what he asked for. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed down the alley. jcaesar187’s cock, trapped under the weight of his own Гунт, dribbled pathetically onto the concrete with every brutal thrust.
When Bryan finally came, he did it deep, grinding in and filling the fat man’s guts while jcaesar187 sobbed and came untouched, his sad little load splattering the wall in weak spurts.
They stayed like that for a long moment — Bryan still buried inside him, both of them panting in the rain.
Then Bryan leaned down and whispered against jcaesar187’s ear, voice suddenly soft and terrifyingly sincere:
“…You’re still a fucking loser, jcaesar187. But at least now you’re my loser in my city... My Bitch”
jcaesar187 just whimpered, Гунт still twitching, hole leaking cum down his thick thighs.
In the distance, the neon sign for “SEKTUR CITY – OUTLINES ENFORCED” flickered twice and stayed on.