[thrust]

.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god--

Dib convulsed, his neck curling backwards, the back of his skull snapping on the ground, a sudden crack of pain burning through his head. Zim was leaning over him, thrusting, pounding-pounding-pounding-- invading him and piercing through him in quick, calculated violent thrusts. Dib could only stare above, Zim looking back down, red eyes wide, face devoid of emotion.

The boy struggled again, trying to kick Zim off, but he held tenaciously to him, thrusting deeper, harder. Dib went quiet, stopping his vain writhing, his only option now was to pray for it to quickly be over with.

Oh god oh god oh god oh please make it stop.

Zim continued.

Piercing, pounding thrusting.

Ripping and tearing into previously untouched flesh.

Away innocence, away childhood.

Then mercifully, it was finished, and Zim stopped. He commanded his spider legs to retract, a wet, sucking sound filling the silence as it receded from Dib's stomach, his mid-section covered in smears of red. His body jerked, sticking to the metal appendages before falling down onto the floor again with a thick slap, like a large steak being dropped on linoleum. Puncture wounds gutted his belly, and he was still, save for his chest that rapidly rose and fell with heavy labored breaths, Dib gurgling as blood poured into his nasal cavities and throat, making it difficult to breath.

Zim watched. Dib would suffocate in a matter of moments.

The boy spasmed again, retching, bile and blood spraying from his lips. His hands curled into claws, one digging into his chest, the other curling into the carpet beneath him. Dib's leg kicked, back arching as he coughed through more blood.

The suffering must have been exquisite.

Zim blinked, sitting down and reaching out for Dib.

He sat there and held him, watching as the moon rose through the panes of glass.

.

fin.