The Missing Scene
folder
G through L › Hollow Man
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
15,936
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › Hollow Man
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
15,936
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Hollow Man, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Missing Scene
The Missing Scene
A/N: this is my adaptation on the scene where Hollow Man is in the girl’s apartment.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything to do with the movie, etc.
lllll
The woman was approximately twenty-three years of age, with curly brown hair that framed her face. Putting the finishing touches on her makeup, she stared at her reflection. Her eyes were her most prominent feature--delicate, sensitive and kind—that crinkled up pleasingly when she smiled.
Her date tonight was probably on his way to her apartment and she was running late. Her dress, an A-line garment that revealed her figure without being overly dramatic, was perfectly pressed and lying on her bed. Her attention was distracted when she bent to put on the high-heeled pumps that she had decided to wear that evening.
She never noticed the door to her apartment open.
The only thing she had to do now was put in her contacts and she would be ready to go. She leaned toward the mirror, adjusting it to the right angle that she needed and was taken aback when it moved.
What the hell, she thought as she jerked the tilting mirror back only to watch it move back to its original position. As soon as she adjusted it, the mirror moved back. It was as if it had a mind of its own.
Something weird is going on here, she thought. Without warning, her arm was grabbed and she was thrown to the floor. Frantically she looked around but no one was there. The room was empty.
What the fuck is going on?
She tried to get up but felt something on her chest, a weight, preventing her from getting up. The more she struggled to get free, the harder it pressed downward until she could hardly breathe.
As soon as it had come, it was gone. She raised herself up on her elbows and scanned the room. Nothing. She shook her head to clear it. It was her imagination, that’s all.
A hard knee was placed on either side of her hip, holding her down, helpless, to the floor. It was followed by hands that grasped her shoulders, pushing her upper body down as well. Her back was against the floor and she couldn’t move.
Her mind refused to grasp what was happening to her. How could she be pinned down by something, someone rather, that was invisible? Was it a ghost? Her hands reached up and then immediately recoiled as she felt warm flesh beneath her palms.
An invisible…man?
Before she could form another coherent thought, she felt the body on top of her move and pry her legs apart with a knee.
“Oh god, no…No! This isn’t happening!” she screamed, flailing about wildly, trying to fight off her invisible assailant. Her brassiere was ripped off and her panties soon followed.
She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath as she used her sharp fingernails to rake and claw at the unseen flesh that dared to violate her. A hard slap resounded against her cheek, jerking her head to the side. However, she was not the type of woman to succumb or give up easily.
If I can’t see him, I can feel him, her mind told her. And if I can feel him, I can hurt him.
In a last-ditch effort to defend herself, she balled her hands into fists and began to punch her attacker where she judged his stomach and would be. She felt her legs being pried apart by hands that were stronger than her own. Fear overrode the flight-or-fight instinct that had served her well up until this point. It had given her some degree of courage but her strength soon waned against the superior force that was used against her. The stark reality of her situation sank in: she was going to be raped and there was nothing she could do about it.
Before she could take another breath, she felt the rounded, smooth head of a penis pause just outside her vaginal opening and she whimpered in fear at what was undoubtedly coming next. With one abrupt thrust, she was penetrated to the hilt; the long hard shaft of muscle Nature had designed to bring pleasure was causing her unbearable agony.
She felt her attacker withdraw until just the head remained inside of her then rammed back into her as far as it could go: pounding like a piston against her cervix, each stroke tearing and ripping her tender flesh as it went.
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Oh God, please let this be a dream!” she cried out, sobbing as the thrusting inside her seemed never-ending.
But it was real. It was happening. Warm lips brushed against her ear and she forced herself to open her eyes, but saw nothing but the ceiling of her apartment.
Time had no meaning now—her entire body was focused on the rapidly escalating level of pain, the likes of which she had never experienced.
The breathing against her cheek was laboured and deep as her unknown foe was nearing his climax. Hands she couldn’t see slid down her back, each one cupping a buttock, the fingers digging into her skin painfully as they clutched at her flesh. Each thrust of his groin pounding into hers, each withdrawal, each insertion as he slid in an out of her bleeding flesh made her pray for death or deliverance.
Never in her life had she been taken with roughness; the men she had been with usually went out of their way to please, not punish her whenever they made love.
Scalding tears wet her cheeks and she wept uncontrollably as the assault went on and on. The being that was assaulting her seemed to have extraordinary staying power as the frequency and force of his thrusts became harder and faster.
Through a haze of pain, she felt the body that pinned her down to the floor shudder and a loud groan sounded in her ear as the penis erupted inside of her, filling her vagina with its hot seed. She cried out when teeth sank deep into the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder.
Gratefully, she embraced the blackness of unconsciousness that reached for her.
The End.
A/N: this is my adaptation on the scene where Hollow Man is in the girl’s apartment.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything to do with the movie, etc.
lllll
The woman was approximately twenty-three years of age, with curly brown hair that framed her face. Putting the finishing touches on her makeup, she stared at her reflection. Her eyes were her most prominent feature--delicate, sensitive and kind—that crinkled up pleasingly when she smiled.
Her date tonight was probably on his way to her apartment and she was running late. Her dress, an A-line garment that revealed her figure without being overly dramatic, was perfectly pressed and lying on her bed. Her attention was distracted when she bent to put on the high-heeled pumps that she had decided to wear that evening.
She never noticed the door to her apartment open.
The only thing she had to do now was put in her contacts and she would be ready to go. She leaned toward the mirror, adjusting it to the right angle that she needed and was taken aback when it moved.
What the hell, she thought as she jerked the tilting mirror back only to watch it move back to its original position. As soon as she adjusted it, the mirror moved back. It was as if it had a mind of its own.
Something weird is going on here, she thought. Without warning, her arm was grabbed and she was thrown to the floor. Frantically she looked around but no one was there. The room was empty.
What the fuck is going on?
She tried to get up but felt something on her chest, a weight, preventing her from getting up. The more she struggled to get free, the harder it pressed downward until she could hardly breathe.
As soon as it had come, it was gone. She raised herself up on her elbows and scanned the room. Nothing. She shook her head to clear it. It was her imagination, that’s all.
A hard knee was placed on either side of her hip, holding her down, helpless, to the floor. It was followed by hands that grasped her shoulders, pushing her upper body down as well. Her back was against the floor and she couldn’t move.
Her mind refused to grasp what was happening to her. How could she be pinned down by something, someone rather, that was invisible? Was it a ghost? Her hands reached up and then immediately recoiled as she felt warm flesh beneath her palms.
An invisible…man?
Before she could form another coherent thought, she felt the body on top of her move and pry her legs apart with a knee.
“Oh god, no…No! This isn’t happening!” she screamed, flailing about wildly, trying to fight off her invisible assailant. Her brassiere was ripped off and her panties soon followed.
She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath as she used her sharp fingernails to rake and claw at the unseen flesh that dared to violate her. A hard slap resounded against her cheek, jerking her head to the side. However, she was not the type of woman to succumb or give up easily.
If I can’t see him, I can feel him, her mind told her. And if I can feel him, I can hurt him.
In a last-ditch effort to defend herself, she balled her hands into fists and began to punch her attacker where she judged his stomach and would be. She felt her legs being pried apart by hands that were stronger than her own. Fear overrode the flight-or-fight instinct that had served her well up until this point. It had given her some degree of courage but her strength soon waned against the superior force that was used against her. The stark reality of her situation sank in: she was going to be raped and there was nothing she could do about it.
Before she could take another breath, she felt the rounded, smooth head of a penis pause just outside her vaginal opening and she whimpered in fear at what was undoubtedly coming next. With one abrupt thrust, she was penetrated to the hilt; the long hard shaft of muscle Nature had designed to bring pleasure was causing her unbearable agony.
She felt her attacker withdraw until just the head remained inside of her then rammed back into her as far as it could go: pounding like a piston against her cervix, each stroke tearing and ripping her tender flesh as it went.
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Oh God, please let this be a dream!” she cried out, sobbing as the thrusting inside her seemed never-ending.
But it was real. It was happening. Warm lips brushed against her ear and she forced herself to open her eyes, but saw nothing but the ceiling of her apartment.
Time had no meaning now—her entire body was focused on the rapidly escalating level of pain, the likes of which she had never experienced.
The breathing against her cheek was laboured and deep as her unknown foe was nearing his climax. Hands she couldn’t see slid down her back, each one cupping a buttock, the fingers digging into her skin painfully as they clutched at her flesh. Each thrust of his groin pounding into hers, each withdrawal, each insertion as he slid in an out of her bleeding flesh made her pray for death or deliverance.
Never in her life had she been taken with roughness; the men she had been with usually went out of their way to please, not punish her whenever they made love.
Scalding tears wet her cheeks and she wept uncontrollably as the assault went on and on. The being that was assaulting her seemed to have extraordinary staying power as the frequency and force of his thrusts became harder and faster.
Through a haze of pain, she felt the body that pinned her down to the floor shudder and a loud groan sounded in her ear as the penis erupted inside of her, filling her vagina with its hot seed. She cried out when teeth sank deep into the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder.
Gratefully, she embraced the blackness of unconsciousness that reached for her.
The End.