Here Comes the Boogeyman

[corpsefluid]

Here Comes the Boogeyman

Word Count: 2450
Fandom: Metal Gear
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Ocelot/Meryl Silverburgh, Johnny Sasaki/Meryl Silverburgh, Meryl Silverburgh/Solid Snake
Characters: Ocelot, Meryl Silverburgh
Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Disembowelment, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Guro, Feelings of Helplessness, Gore, Light Implications of Necrophilia
Summary: He's gonna take me in my sleep.
No use to lock out the Boogeyman, or chain him to a tree.
There's no hiding in the basement 'cause the Boogeyman needs no key.

Meryl woke with a start. It took a few seconds to get her bearings but with the familiar sight of the cabin's ceiling and the weight of Snake's body lying next to her the adrenaline wore off. She was fine, she was safe with the hero of the whole story asleep next to her and everything else just a bad memory.

Sighing, Meryl rolled over to drape an arm across Snake's chest to ground herself.

That was when it became apparent that something really was terribly, utterly wrong.

While Snake's face looked perfectly peaceful, just like he'd been sleeping, his neck was at an impossible angle, his chest wasn't moving either.

“Your boy is terribly pretty isn't he?”

Meryl never thought she would have to hear that particular voice again, at least, she'd hoped.

Ocelot seemed to almost materialise from the darkness, sitting up from behind Snake's body, looking every bit as cold and cruel as he had in Shadow Moses.

“He fought so hard to protect you, You should give him a 'thank you' kiss.” When Ocelot lifted Snake's head it was obvious why the angle of his neck had been so wrong.

The head was no longer attached.

Meryl recoiled as Ocelot shoved the head towards her, wrenching her healing wounds. Pain was sapping the strength from her muscles even as she forced herself out of the bed and to her feet. She had to run, get out before Ocelot caught her. Unarmed and still injured, he'd overpower her easily.

The sound of the gun was deafening, so much closer than when Sniper Wolf had shot her, and far more painful than when she'd frozen up near the cells. It was like her ankle exploded as her leg collapsed from under her.

Still she kept dragging herself forward, a little part of her irrationally certain that if she could just get out the door she could get away from the slow, deliberate jingle of spurs closing in on her. Every boot step seemingly pulling the door father away from her reach until abruptly she was hoisted from the floor and thrown back onto the bed.

Ocelot was on her immediately, straddling her waist with his considerable weight and yanking her arms above her head with one hand. His other hand, the hand that should have been gone was holding Snake's head, offering it to her again despite her desperate thrashing.

“Fine, if you're going to be rude, I'll take it,” Ocelot huffed, pulling the head away and turning it to himself. Pressing his lips to Snake's slack, dead ones. Just a peck at first, then deeper until he was very nearly forcing his tongue down the severed head's throat

In her determination to avoid looking at the display, her gaze fell on the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers. The heat between his legs soaking through her shirt as easily as had she been wearing nothing. Meryl retched, hot vomit spilling down her neck and chest as she coughed and tried even harder to free herself.

This couldn't be real.

Ocelot dropped Snake and shifted to pin Meryl's arms with his knees, putting agonising pressure on the still healing wound as he unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. As soon as his cock was out in the open, Ocelot gripped both sides of Meryl's face, painfully digging his thumbs into her jaw to force her mouth open as he roughly jammed his cock down her throat.

Meryl's blunt nails scrabbled at his legs, his arse, trying to find some sort of leverage to get his weight off her or at least enough purchase to hurt him. She was choking, but there was was only him, she could bite him, all she had to do was sink her teeth in and she could get away.

Why wouldn't her jaw work?

What if biting him wasn't enough?

With enough adrenaline men could shake off a kick in the balls, what if it just made him angry?

This was fun to him, how much worse would he do if he was actually mad at her?

Meryl snarled around the flesh in her mouth, wishing sorely she could appear even half as fierce as Snake could. Look like a real threat instead of just some little girl at the mercy of an evil old man.

He wasn't even looking at her, while Meryl choked and gagged and heaved, Ocelot was simply leaning his head against the wall, eyes closed, breathing noisily through his nose as he treated her like a fucking sex doll.

Meryl's lungs burned for air, oxygen deprivation ate away at her vision, filling her ears with a low pitched buzzing as unconsciousness closed in on her like a vice tightening around her skull.

 

---

 

Meryl twisted to her side coughed violently as she expelled bitter, sticky semen and mucus from her throat. Her arms were numb, her throat was raw and her head throbbing. As her vision came back into focus, so did everything else. Her hands were tied to the headboard, held just above her head, more than enough to restrict the blood flow.

Ocelot was still above her, watching quietly as she struggled for breath and smeared the pillow with snot and tears.

Ocelot impassively rolled Meryl onto her belly, keeping her there with his weight, twisting her arms painfully. His cock, slick with spit and vomit, pressed hard against her tailbone.

The sensation of absolute helplessness hit harder this time, knowing exactly what he meant to do and being completely unable to truly struggle. She could kick, she could pull against the ropes, but she couldn't get the leverage behind it to make it do anything. Not with her injuries, not against the wet sheets, and her skin was starting to tear against the rope.

She could hardly breathe under his weight, let alone escape.

The buttons of his waistcoat dug into her back through the sweat-soaked fabric of her tanktop as she felt Ocelot's gloved hand push her panties down her thighs.

Meryl barely had any voice left, but she found herself whispering 'no,' just the word 'no' like some sort of chant or prayer that might somehow make this all just stop. Like just maybe she'd wake up from this nightmare before he raped her a second time. Still she felt his thumbs spread her butt-cheeks apart, and the press of his disgusting cock against her arsehole.

Meryl tensed, vainly trying to keep it from penetrating her.

It felt almost like she'd been ripped in half when brute force eventually triumphed.

It hurt every bit as much as it had the first time. He wasn't even as deep as he could get yet, as evidenced by the rough grunting as he forced a bit more in.

Meryl weakly wrapped her hands around the rope on her wrist, trying to pull herself out from under Ocelot's bulk. At first it seemed to work, getting maybe an inch of his dick out of her.

Then Ocelot grabbed her, his fingers dug into her breasts like claws, painfully dragging her closer to him as she tried vainly to squirm away from the increasingly painful penetration. Ocelot shallowly rutted into her until his hips were flush against her arse and her hole was raw, only grunting in response to her whimper as he began actually fucking her.

Bent over her, Ocelot's breath was hot on her neck as he released one of her breasts from his crushing grip to hook his fingers into her pussy. His leather-clad palm pressed hard against her clit as his thrusts forced her to rub against his glove.

The dry friction against hard leather was quickly rubbing Meryl raw and yet, despite being the furthest thing from arousing or even remotely pleasant, she was getting wet. It wasn't enough for Ocelot to rape her repeatedly, he had to make sure she felt every bruising thrust, felt her pulse right against his as he mercilessly fucked her...

Make sure he was lodged in her mind just as much as he was in her body so she couldn't even pretend to ignore or shut him out while he made her suffer.

The pain spread through her hips and all the way up to her stomach, curling into an abrupt and violent nausea that would have made her vomit if she hadn't already puked. Instead, every muscle in her body flexed in an aborted dry heave.

Ocelot's rough chin settled into the crook of her neck, amplifying the sound of his rough breathing even when she turned her head away from him. She could never quite escape the reek of cigar smoke that stuck to his skin either.

The rocking of her body almost settled into a rhythm until a roll of Ocelot's hips made her stomach lurch again, this time she brought up a mouthful of bile and acid.

Spitting, Meryl clenched her jaw and tried to stop making noise, tried not to twitch or flinch. It wasn't quite playing dead, but just maybe she could deny him her reaction. It might have been too late for that, but she had to try something, anything other than being frozen helplessly in fear.

Ocelot pushed himself upright with a hand on the back of Meryl's head, pressing her face down into the wet, sticky fabric. Rubbing her face in the mess of bodily fluids with the abuse of her body just in case the rape had a chance to become monotonous.

Soon enough, Ocelot was coming. Meryl hadn't been certain until for a moment he went still and finally pulled his cock from her brutalised arsehole. It might have just been blood dripping out of her, but she knew, somehow, it was more than just that. The slimy feeling wasn't just her disgust.

Ocelot flipped Meryl over to face him, pressing his sticky fingers against her lips. “Why don't you clean this up a bit for me?” He didn't even wait for an answer or give meryl a chance to comply before forcing his fingers into her mouth.

The glove was wet from her pussy, but the old leather held the sharp taste of years of ingrained oil, gunpowder, and smoke that no amount of cleaning would remove. The dry, tangy flavour of her own vagina was almost sweet compared to the overwhelming bitterness of the gloves.

Saliva dribbled down Meryl's chin as Ocelot hooked his fingers inside her mouth, deliberately sliding her tongue between his fingers as he was seemingly lost in thought about something. Though all that mattered to Meryl at the moment was that she was no longer being hurt.

Disgusting and creepy was relatively far more manageable than pain, injury and possible death. With more time, just maybe she could slip the rope binging her wrists.

The moment ended as abruptly as it started as Ocelot cuffed her hard enough to make her teeth rattle, following with a heavy backhand when she kept moving.

He had a knife now.

“You were never going to live through this,” Ocelot explained, almost casually, as he dragged the knife down her tank top, between her breasts. “This was just something to do until I got my own ride out of this frozen hell hole,” scraping her bare belly with the edge of the blade just moments before abruptly driving the knife into her guts.

Meryl screamed, almost silent from her raw throat and almost breathless lungs, but still there. The pain was red hot for a second then terrifyingly numb, just like a gunshot wound in a way. She felt the hot blood spilling down her sides, the wetness of the sheets, the cold air, but not the blade. The shock and adrenaline taking away the sensation for a few blissful seconds of nothing.

Then the crushing pain of reality set in, like cracking ice radiating out from the stab wound in her gut. Sharp, raw, cold and burning at the same time.

She really was going to die here wasn't she?

It was almost distant, dream-like as she saw Ocelot rise up on his knees, lifting his weight from her hips to force his shit-encrusted cock into this hole as well. Somehow still hard after all this time, ready to violate her again and again.

The hole in her guts stretched then tore further to accommodate his girth. Thick, dark blood burbled from the wound like a fountain of ink, spilling down her sides, hot for a few seconds then cold as it soaked the ruined bed.

Meryl found herself dumbly staring, open-mouthed, as his cock disappeared into her abdomen again, like she couldn't process what she was seeing. She didn't want to process it.

“No, don't.”

The agony of this new, impossible violation was lost to shock.

“Please stop.”

She couldn't tell how long it had gone on for, only that the blood started to foam around the wound as Ocelot's pace became almost urgent.

“Don't kill me.”

A sliver of pink joined the almost-black blood spilling from her guts, the same blood that soaked the bed and smeared against almost everything below Ocelot's stomach.

“I don't want to die.”

Ocelot outright casually drew his gun from it's holster and planted it firmly against her forehead. Just like how he could treat raping a woman repeatedly like it was normal, he pulled the trigger as easily as anyone else might swat a fly.

Meryl heard a gun shot, but then there was nothing. No pain, no blood, nothing but her dark bedroom in the middle of the night and her husband in bed beside her. Her heart was beating like a rabbit's after running a marathon, but she was safe.

Ocelot was dead.

Not that it did much for when her subconscious really wanted to fuck with her, but nightmares were far more survivable.

“Y'okay?” Johnny sounded like he was mostly still asleep, but this wasn't the first time he'd been woken up by her bad dreams. He'd woken her up a couple of times with his own, it was just a part of life these days.

“Just a nightmare.”

There was no need to elaborate. Johnny seemed to understand well enough even without the details, but he'd listen if she decided to talk about it.

“Oh... Need 'nthing? Water?”

Drugs? Check the perimeter? Some things helped more than others, but Meryl was fairly certain of what she needed right now.

“No, just... stay here.”

Meryl tugged Johnny's body against hers, prompting him to hold her. Give her a chance to ground herself with knowing Johnny was real, alive and there with her.

Maybe it wasn't a cure, but it'd help.