Editing Hackforsatan19 (section)

====Fuck that.====
[https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=07F37EBA103596DB875C66F0FAC84436AAD24E193EA92D3976758AE1460E0DED Link]
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His hand's creeping up your skirt as you finally get the child-lock switch to click. You could drop a fist on his nutsack right now, bite off his tongue, jam your ridiculous fake nails right into his eyeballs. You could run. 
But you let him keep going.
His stubby fingers rake against your panties and it's a real fuckin' mess down there. You don't know why, what, how the FUCK, but... 
"Wow," he says, jabbing at your labia like a summer camp homeschooler. "You're really, really wet..."
You don't know what to say, so you just moan a little. And then he stops. Stops kissing, stops groping, stops looking at you at all. You're getting real fuckin' sick of these creepy Anti-JumpScares of his...
He looks confused, his face is going slack, pale, motionless, afraid...
"What's wrong, baby?" you ask.
It's like he doesn't hear you at all. It's like he's moving in slow motion, weak, dazed, confused, as he slowly pulls his hand out from under your skirt. You gasp and gag.
His entire hand is covered and dripping with Mango's nightmare puke-shits. But this stuff didn't ooze out of a sick cat's asshole... And maybe it's just a trick of the Waffle House lights, but it sure fucking looks like your viscous black pussy slime is making his skin shrivel up like it soaked three fucking days in a swimming pool.
Shit...
"What the...?" He sounds tired, drunk, out of breath. "The fuck izthisss..."
You yank the driver-side door handle and push it open, trying to roll off him, but he's holding your leg down with his, um, good hand. "Fuggyou... do to me..." he mumbles.
You're struggling to get him off you, but he's deadweight and determined as fuck. You're hitting him with your fists, clawing at his face, but he's just staring at you, expressionless and somehow still visibly full of rage. He thrusts his slimed, shrivelled hand against the ignition button. The engine roars to life and you swear to god you just watched three of his fingers break off in a cloud of dust. 
You heave yourself forward, clawing and dragging yourself out of the car. Your hands are touching the pavement but he's still got a firm hold on your leg. You scream and kick and manage to squirm enough to get your upper body on the ground, but he's still got you by the ankle. You scrape your cheek on the pavement and scream even louder. People are starting to pour out of the Waffle House to see what's going on. "HEYYY! HELP ME!!!" They look over at the dumpster and see some woman dressed up for Halloween as '80s Madonna-Gone-Wrong, dangling halfway out of a Mom Car, face-down on the concrete and screaming. They shout and run toward you. And Daddy Good-Teeth-in-Context--that motherfucker--floors the gas...
https://plague.infect.site/?contaminant=5ACFD4366A9707DC7A2EE2CC14CAB0340519362E01166CDF3179771AEFBD6ADD
(Goes back to the start)
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