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“Give me some rope.” He was handed one end and three men grabbed the other, ready to pull him and the woman up the bank. “I can smell it,” she whimpered. “Smell what?” he asked. She opened her eyes, revealing indian two empty sockets, each pouring blood. “YOUR FILTHY SOUL!” Her jaw dislocated like a serpent’s and her cheeks ripped open, as from the depths of her throat, a clawed hand of black, scaly flesh reached out and grabbed Tim’s ankle. He screamed as it crushed his bones in its grip and began dragging him towards the deep mud. All of the men began shooting at the woman, their bullets ripping through her flesh, but she simply receded into the mud with the arm continuing to drag him. Up on the bank, the three men holding the end of the rope had become four, but it was like they were being dragged by a winch. Boyd jumped down and seized Tim, trying to pull him back. “I don’t want to go! Don’t let me go!” he sobbed. “I’m not going to let you go! Someone, get down here and help me!” Harold answered the call, climbing down to the edge of the muck and proceeding to blast the hand at point-blank range. His shells did nothing to the unholy creature, its black flesh barely torn by the buckshot, and immediately regenerating like nothing he had ever seen before. It happened in the blink of an eye, something lunging out of the mud and knocking the shotgun out of his hand, breaking two of softcore his fingers in the process. It was a tendril, shooting out like a frog’s tongue. It returned to the mud and shot out again, this time slashing Boyd across the face and gouging one of his eyes. He howled in pain and his grip on Tim faded. The boy gave one last tearful scream before he was dragged into the mud, disappearing beneath the black depths like it was a portal to Hell. With Boyd and the mayor blinded by their agony, the men atop the bank were utterly stupefied, unable to comprehend what they had just seen. It had happened so fast, not even half a minute. Tim had been there, and then he was gone, and the forest, filled with screams and gunfire, was once more silent. What had taken him? Big Tits Had they all just seen what they thought they had seen? They stood like marionettes, their empty guns held loosely in their hands, realizing how impotent they were. Bubbling, it shook them from their stupor. She arrived promptly at 7:30 Big Tits on Thursday morning dressed in Levi 501 jeans, a fitted white button-up shirt and purple Chucks. Seems it wasn’t over yet. "Yes.." First of all, it was a fine home, kept very clean and neat. I tried to pull away. You see something you want, you grab it. "See, I want to use you, but I don't want to use you. Goth girl was actually named Irena, she was partly Russian and she worked as a kindergarten teacher. His sister must also be very thirsty by indian now, so why don't you show him how to give his little sister a drink?" “You tryin’ to take my baby from me?” They exchanged business cards and each left. There were still pretty girls. 'Hey honey what's up' I said, my phone on speaker. “Gees you’ve got a big pussy.” I commented while I hammered at her like a wrecking ball against a vacant building. My head swayed. It was about the only place that I could be alone. Working myself up inside my head, I realized tonight had to be the make-or-break point. Leave it alone.” This didn't sway young Christie and she grew up wanting one of softcore her own. It didn’t take much to get her fire lit, and that fire had been slowly burning hotter as the game wore on.