Creepypasta x Female Chubby Reader| ONE-SHOTS (18+)

Bloody Painter

The room was white. Like a blank painting canvas.

You were sitting on a high stool. Like the kinds you'd see in a college art class. You felt the leather seating and then you realized-

You were stark naked.

No clothes. Completely exposed.

If that was a shock to you, then the next thing you noticed definitely made you scream. A scream deep from within you. Next to you was a- head. A disembodied head. It rested on a small drawing table to your side.

The head was split in half and missing all of it's teeth. Blood was still pooling around it, indicating whoever this head belonged to was recently killed.

"You've gotten acquainted to my former victim?"

said a voice.

A young man was there. He had a mask with a painted smile and blue eyes stared at you from behind the eye holes. He was well dressed.

Seeing him, made you instantly cover yourself. Firstly he was a stranger. Secondly you didn't want to burden anyone with seeing your fat body.

"D-don't look!" you cried out.

"Oh, so you're shy?"

He was before you in seconds. You instantly craned your head.

"Please...," you whispered, "Don't.."

His fingers touched your thigh. He had gloves and their texture made you recoil. He went in between both your legs.

'OH GOD' or something similar like that came to your mind.

You screamed, trying to kick him hard, but unable to because he was between your legs. You hit yours fists against his chest but he didn't seemed bothered. You punched him until your arms grew tired from the energy.

He hadn't even budged.

You allowed your hands to slump to your sides.

"Finally done resisting," murmured the man, "Well that's good. I think it's now time to paint."

He was wielding a paintbrush. It looked normal compared to your situation.

He reached to the disembodied head and shifted it to the side so the severed part was in view. He dipped his brush into the gnarled flesh and blood.

Then he put the brush against your stomach.

Each crease, flabbiness he traced over with his brush. A sharp metal smell went up your nose. Occasionally he'd dip his brush into the severed head, before continuing to paint.

"You are so beautiful," he'd whisper to you from time to time.

As your body was covered in blood, you squeezed your eyes closed from time to time.

This was disgusting.

"You're so-" he began to say once more, when he dropped his brush. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

"YOU ARE-"

He grabbed the nearby head by it's hair, raising it up and reached into it's mouth yanking out it's tongue, with a sickening snap. He rubbed the bleeding muscle against your chest and shoulders.

You let out a terrified cry, tears coming to your eyes. And he pressed his lips to yours. His tongue touched your own.

Then his lips traced to your neck and ear. He whispered.

"You are now my master piece."