Monster lovers

Slowly, your inspecting would turn more and more invasive, you'd poke gently at the swell of her breasts with the cold end of a (well cleaned) metal pen, watching how her nipples hardened.

She'd make a show of struggling against her bindings and jingling loudly when you pull out your little bullet vibrator and place it ever so lightly on her tiny pussy. Despite her theatrical protests, you both knew this was her favourite part, if the puddle she left on your desk was anything to go by.  

Her other favourite roleplay was you being some kind of doll maker, forcing her into elaborate costumes and graceful positions like she was one of those porcelain fairy figurines, only far more provocative. 

You liked putting the tiny clothes on her, even while she fussed like she didn't want to. Eventually, you'd get fed up with her attitude and get out your yarn, forcing her into whatever position you wanted your figurine to be in. You even had one of those figurine holder things that you could tie her to and leave her on your livingroom table as decoration for when you had friends over.

The employees at the local sex shop and craft store both know your face because you have to ask them for special orders all the time.

You now have an elaborate collection of string, yarn, wool, rope, silk cloth, wooden sticks, a very specific set of pencils and pens she likes, a syringe and a custom ordered set of tiny dildos that look like erasers you stick on the end of pencils.

It took so much courage just to bring up the idea but you managed to convince him that he deserved a relaxing getaway in nature and he agreed with the condition that you'd plan it, drive all the way there and pay for the whole thing.

You did it all with a pep in your step and a smile on your face. Listening to him complain the whole hike into the forest as you urged him to go deeper and deeper, making sure you followed your map exactly. You went through everything you'd read about these creatures in your head as you made camp, every corroborated story on every forum and every message from your own trusted source.

A twig snaps just beyond camp.

"I heard something."

You try your best to contain your excitement.

"Oh, shut the f-"

You husband is interrupted by another rustle from the bushes just out of sight from the glow of your little camp fire. You know better than to ask him to check it out so you stay silent, waiting for him to pluck up the courage himself.

"It's probably just a rabbit." He picks up a stick he was poking into the fire and walks out towards the darkness. You turn your back towards him. Making sure you don't see him actually leave or return.

There's a very brief struggle that you pretend not to hear as you stare into the fire. A long silence follows, punctuated by the crackling of your fire and sick snapping sounds coming from the bush your husband just disappeared behind.

When you hear footsteps behind you, you don't turn. You tap the space next to you, making sure the entity knows you're not suspicious or a threat.

"Did you find it?"

"W h a -" It starts but clears it's throat, speaking again in a voice much closer to your husband. "What?"

It sits next to you, stiff and mechanical.

"The rabbit in the bushes."

You shuffle closer, placing a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to seem like this is something you do often. You don't look at him yet.

"No."

You hear a soft squelching sound and he twitches slightly. You lean into his side.

"It was probably nothing. I feel safe with you, anyway."

The creature doesn't say anything, you hear tiny clicking sounds like bones setting into place. It slides an arm around your waist and you try not to look to happy as you shuffle closer.

"Do you remember how we met?"

You don't let it answer before taking your phone out of your pocket and showing it pictures of your husband, continuing,

"You were so sweet, even back then."

You wax on to the creature about a love that never happened with a man that never existed. Nothing too fantastical, just about how much of a loving husband he is, how he's so kind hearted and never raised a hand to anyone in his life. Showing him pictures you had to painstakingly search for of you and your late husband looking happy to help the creature get his looks right in case it's having trouble.

The creature slowly starts accommodating to what it thinks your husband was like. It's fingers twitch at your side, slowly starting to move up and down your waist. It gives little hums and huffs out a little laugh whenever it feels appropriate.

You almost jump out of its arms when you hear a screech from somewhere deep in the forest. It holds you closer, soothing it's hand down you arm,

"Nothing will hurt you"

For the first time since this thing walked into your camp, you look at it's face. It's morbid that you would never know this isn't your husband if you hadn't orchestrated the whole thing yourself. It's breathing is a bit forced, chest moving up and down a bit too mechanically and you haven't seen it blink yet but all in all it's a direct copy. It stares into the woods with a deep frown on its face.

You can't help but lean up and softly kiss it's cheek, curiously stroking the skin along it's jaw like you're afraid it might peel off if you touch too hard. It blinks a few times, looking back at you. Your gaze flickers from it's eyes to it's lips and you watch it do the same.

You close the gap between you without any guilt or second thoughts, kissing your husband deeply like married couples are supposed to. He copies your movements, pulling you closer by your shirt. You eventually have to pull away and take in a deep breath, he stares at your lips, copying your breaths like he doesn't know how to do it himself.

“He can get touchy but you just gotta shoo him away."

She waves you into the room where his tank is and you hesitantly walk in with all your cleaning gear. He gets a little secluded tank all to himself because apparently he bullies the other mers and jump cares any guests that come past the small observation window of the tanks.

You keep the door open for some sense of comfort, your steps echoing in the silent room. His head pops up from the water, only his eyes visible as he watches you get all your gear ready. You just stand at the edge of the steps leading into his tank for a moment and he stays in his same spot, unblinking.

You shuffle around in your pocket and pull out a sardine, tossing it in front of him. He watches the dead fish sink into the water and then points his gaze right back at you.

You resist a shiver, sighing in defeat and taking the first few steps into the shallow waters. As soon as you reached knee deep, he sinks down into the water and you can see his huge figure swim deeper into the darker parts of the tank.

Hoping that he lost interest, you decide to just get this over with as quick as possible and start wiping down the thick glass of the tank. You go around the whole tank, only doing the areas closest to the surface while trying not to think about how you'll possibly clean the deeper parts.

Every now and then you feel a brush against your leg or a force in the water next to you but you end up getting the whole top section of the tank done without much incident.

You sit on the edge of the tank, getting your scuba gear ready, eyes flicking around the pool every now and then. The silence makes everything so unsettling, it feels like he's just waiting for-

You don't even register the huge black blur moving towards you before he bursts out of the water, claws and teeth bared. You scream and swing your fist at the thing your instincts are telling you is trying to eat you, punching the mer right in the nose.

You gasp immediately after, holding in a tense breath as he groans and cradles his face. He looks at his bloody hand and then back at you in what appears to be shock. You wait for him to rip you in two but he just stares. Then his mouth slowly turns up in a sharp grin, blood still dripping from his nose.

He lunges forward and wraps his thick arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into your stomach. You wheeze at the crushing hug, confused and still a little scared but if his happy clicking sounds are anything to go by, he definitely doesn't want to kill you.

You're not sure if you would've preferred cleaning the tank in constant fear for your life or if having a massive mer clinging to you the whole time was the better option.

You managed to get it done, with much struggle. He actually helped you a little at first, but got bored quickly and opted for seeing how far he could unzip your swimsuit before you swatted him away. He also stole one of your flippers at one point and only gave it back when you gave him sufficient head scratches.

Once the job was done, you knew he wouldn't just let you leave and you kind of felt bad when you started packing up and he let out sad little whines so you sat on the edge of the tank, patting his head until your superior came looking for you.

“So…you punched him?"

You sheepishly nodded to her, munching gratefully on the donut she brought for you since you missed your lunch break.

“and now he's in love with you?”

You give her a solemn nod this time, watching as he traces patterns on your thigh.

“Well shit."

All you can do is nod once more in agreement to that accurate assesment of your situation.

Each time, no matter how recklessly and carelessly he disposed of his last body, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and fall back into his lukewarm arms, his body slowly becoming chillier and pulseless; a walking corpse. 

The first few days were always the hardest to adjust to, but sometimes they could be the best; he felt the healthiest, the most capable. He could lift you without a forethought, without the unnatural cracking of bone or sickly color in the pads of his fingers. So your anger never lasted, even if you tried to pout at the dinner table, a clothespin shutting your nostrils tightly.

“So many theatrics,” He takes a pair of tongs and places a large piece of chicken on your plate, his apron clean and a freshly pressed shirt untainted. He must’ve gotten cleaned up right after. “It’ll be gone by tomorrow, love. And you know, I feel really good about this one! I mean look at me, aren’t I glowing?” 

He does a little spin, clean and bare faced as he struts for you. He does look good-- unnaturally so. Some of the hosts left him rotted and grey the second he switched to them; but this one… it looked like it was him. That’s what he belonged inside of, what his true self should be. 

Green-grey eyes and soft skin, hair covering his forearms up his bouldered shoulders. He was husky, built with strength and handsomeness that most men enviously attempted to emulate.

“You do look rather healthy,” You comment, your voice nasal and clogged from the clothespin. “But our house still stinks of a dead body. How are you going to make it up to me?” 

Your husband lifts the plate of meat, proposing another one of his meals as a way to satisfy you. You loved him, but you loved being able to breathe without deadly suffocation more. 

Shaking your head, you fold your arms over your chest, no longer hungry as the sharp twinge of acid sits in your throat. 

Your husband heaves a loud sigh, throwing back his head.

So much for ‘your’ theatrics. 

“What If I make it up to you, using this brand new body of mine.” He says, drawing closer and lingering from above the dining chair you sat in. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what this can offer.” 

He gestures to himself, almost like a prize to be won. You had never needed to play a game to win him as your prize, your ownership of him as your spouse and soulmate having been concluded since the moment he met you. That factor doubled down tenfold the moment you discovered his parasitic nature, shrugging and seeing it as merely an advantageous quirk. 

Your parasitic husband pulls the clothespin from your nose, sticking it behind him before he plants a quick kiss on your lips. He isn’t cold yet, his body still slightly temperate and soft. Maybe if this one takes, he won’t ever get cold.

“Are you really trying to sell yourself out just to appease me?” You mumble, judgemental and baffled as his face indiscreetly leans towards yours. A dark, earthy brown fills the greens of his eyes; it looks like he was already starting to shift the body’s genetics. 

“Is it working?” He asks, tilting his head, eager to press his forehead against yours.

You take a beat to answer; he was unusually handsome tonight, in a good mood, and not nearly as clingy as usual. Not to mention, you did want to see all that his new body had to offer. 

“...Maybe.” You mumble. You were insatiably strung on his charisma, his charm and sweetness. He always snagged you in, even after you’ve witnessed him break bones, watching as the life drains from some of his host's eyes when he strips from their bodies.

You didn’t know some of them were still alive when he wore them; that was if they could hold on long enough until he needed a new body, and theirs had begun to decay. 

You didn’t tend to linger on it too much.

He tries to kiss you again, one hand resting on the back of your chair as he grips onto it, tight. 

Charismatic, sweet, and oh so proprietorial. 

You let him draw you in again, a possessive, sweet kiss that faintly tasted of bleach entering your mouth. It was worth it, with how he let out a relieved hum, desperate to have you just for himself. How lucky did he become, to have a spouse that not only watched as he shredded grown men into nothing but pieces after parading around in them, but also held and caressed him at night, easing his obsessive fears of you leaving him, of having to drag you by the ankles to keep you in his life?

It wasn’t easy to keep an unquenchable, leeching parasite. Especially with so many weaknesses in taking bodies that often won’t cooperate, and the terrifying state he landed in if he didn’t move bodies in time, or one began to rot much faster than expected.

He could take your teasing and belittling on how violent and wretched his ‘sheddings’ could be, so long as by the end of the night you were kissing his new vessel and praising him for how good he picked this one out, how pretty it was to you. He knew what you truly loved was what lied underneath, the dark and eldritch black that filled the host’s veins and muscles and inch of blood flow beneath the skin. 

“Mmm, sure you’re still hungry? I could put it away, just have the rest of the night for the two of us…” He murmured, ready to have your gentle eyes and hands fawn over the body he felt euphoric inside. He couldn’t wait to show you the things he couldn’t do with the last one, the hidden tongue piercing you would’ve never expected on such a refined host. You might tease him about it, but it’d only make him all the giddier.

“How convenient for you, wouldn’t that be?” You laugh, watching as his downturned eyes are like that of a puppy dog, the veins lining beneath his eyes and throat having become a sickly grey. You traced them with a finger, down to his collar. It made him shudder; delighted. “But I’m afraid there’s something I have to take care of before you try to cheat out from making my meal.”

“Oh?” Your husband watches as you pull away, pushing on your slippers and heading to the garage door with another clothespin pulled from your pocket. You sigh, hoping the heavy dish gloves are still under the sink. 

“Where are you going?” 

He lets out a small laugh, the sight of your hand on the door handle causing an intense spike in his heart. No, he knew you better than that; right.. He just needed to be patient. Calm. Tensions rose higher with new bodies; he knew this.

“I’m not leaving that thing in our garage for it to continue to stink up the house, it at least needs to be in a garbage bag outside.” 

You snap the clothespin on your nose again, sighing as your husband's shoulders relax. He still didn’t seem to understand that you had seen all the horrors he had to offer, that if you had intended to run, you would not have idly sat by and remorselessly watched as he consumed the bodies and minds of countless men. 

Your husband picked up the platter of chicken, shuffling after you. 

None of them ever notice the shadows detaching from the ceiling until it's too late and tonight's prey is no different. He's ripped out of your arms by the long, bony fingers of your unwanted houseguest. The creature lets out a hiss as it retreats into the meager shadows, warning you not to get too close to its meal. Their fangs pierce the man's neck followed by their tongue, squirming into the puncture wounds to draw blood right from the source, like a human juice box.

You tremble, lingering idiotically despite your fear. You want to know more about this creature. You need to know why it's in your house and why it won't leave. You've been feeding it to keep it from feeding on you, but that task only seems to get harder. Sometimes you wake up in the witching hours to find the thing hunched at the foot of your bed like it's considering how tasty of a morsel you would be. It's too tall, perpetually skinny despite the blood you provide it with, hips pointed and ribcage flared. It's some kind of vampire, though unlike any you've ever heard of.

Once, you disturbed its sleep during the day and it flared its wings and easily punched a hole in the drywall. Those waxy wings drag behind its body like a used umbrella, too big to be tucked away. Its gait is lurching, too fast or too slow but never in between.

Tonight it doesn't seem interested in staying in the guest bedroom and shuffles after you when you go to make yourself dinner. It's too tall to stand comfortably and so opts to hunker on the kitchen floor, its blood-painted chin resting on its knees as it watches you cook. Its black eyes take in every detail, its large pointed ears picking up on every sound–including your thunderous heartbeat. You can't tell if it enjoys your fear.

After dinner and a movie that fails to distract, you go to brush your teeth and get ready for bed, locking the bathroom door so it can't follow you. The creature knocks on the door slowly until you give in and cut your shower short, getting into your pajamas and storming out of the bathroom. When you're angry you always forget just how scared you are.

"Go bother someone else," you snap over your shoulder.

For the better part of an hour, you almost believe your words have actually worked. The house is quiet save for the sound of rain pattering on the windows. You begin to doze off only to wake up with a start as a large body drops on your bed. Wings and knobby limbs knock against you as the creature arranges itself on your bed, twisting several times until it settles for curling against you, nestling its face in your hair, warm breaths heating your scalp.

There's nothing to do but fall into a disturbed sleep and when you wake up the next day you find your personal nightmare resting beside you, undead and ashen in the early morning light.

That weekend you both end up on your porches at the same time. He freezes awkwardly with the tiny handle of the front door still in his hand as though he's contemplating going back inside. You invite him over for tea. He insists on sitting on the porch steps instead of risking breaking your weathered porch chairs so you join him there, sipping comfortably from your mug. You make easy conversation but you can tell he wants to ask you something but he's holding back. After some gentle prodding on your end, he finally caves.

"This kindness you show, is it because we are neighbors?"

"I make it a rule to be kind to others regardless of who they are but I do like getting along with my neighbors, so I guess you can say I'm putting in extra effort," you reply.

"Ah, so it is a human thing," he muses.

"Does it mean something else to orcs?"

He drums his fingers on his knee, looking bashful. "Giving gifts and praise are the way we show interest in a potential mate."

"Oh... I didn't know. So I've been sending you mixed messages?"

"I know humans have their own customs," he says sheepishly. "I am yet to get used to this friendliness. I was caught off guard. It won't happen again."

A couple of days later–because you leave the orc in peace to get settled–you're retrieving your mail early in the morning when you hear an awful racket. It would appear your neighbor has fallen down his porch steps.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" You cross the lawn your houses share to check on him.

"Forgive me." He sits up, looking flustered. "T-this too is human custom?"

He's staring at your bare thighs and your skimpy outfit. You're still in your pajamas, a deep-cut tank top, and a pair of shorts that are very short.

"Clothes?" You question playfully.

He shakes his head. "My apologies. I was simply not prepared to see–"

"Do you think I could be a potential mate?"

"Pardon?"

You smile at how polite he is and lower your voice like you're imparting a secret. "I may have wandered out like this on purpose. I knew you'd see."

He groans. "Mercy, please," he says. "I do not know what to do. I like you very much but I am unsure of how to act."

"We can teach each other," you offer.

"Then what would a human male do in this situation?"

"He'd probably take me to his bed." You give your neighbor a grin.

"Would you like that?" His pupils dilate so wide that his eyes nearly look black and his chest swells with each deep breath he takes, almost like he's taking in your scent.

"Yes."

He lurches up to his feet and scoops you off the floor, pressing you close enough that you can feel the thud of his heart.

"That I can understand," he says seriously. "I will make love to you until you scream in pleasure."

And that's a promise he's going to keep.