imagine you're taking your first solo vacation—nothing fancy, just a few weeks so that you can clear your mind and reset. as you drive up to the tiny cabin you've rented, you can't help but notice how deep in the woods it is, how far from the next house; when you step out of the car, you can't even hear the road: just the sounds of birdsong and the rustling leaves. somewhere in the forest not too far away, a twig snaps, and you hurry to get your bags and unlock the front door. beneath the forest's dense canopy, it's already pretty dark, and the sun will be going down soon. you're sure it's just nerves, but suddenly you want to get inside and turn on as many lights as you can.
despite your jumpiness, you sleep soundly that night and the night after, and by your third day you're comfortable enough—familiar with the night sounds of frogs croaking and small creatures skittering through the brush—to sit on the small porch as the sun goes down. it's a cloudy night: there aren't many stars and there's a muffled quality to the air, as if the humidity is dampening all sound, so at first you don't notice when the frogs stop croaking. but then the crickets stop chirping too and the night becomes deafeningly quiet—all except the crunch of footsteps, somewhere in the forest, close and getting closer.
when the figure steps into the outer radius of your porch light, at first you think you're seeing things, or maybe that you've fallen asleep without noticing and you're dreaming—because it's you. but after a moment you realize that's not quite right: its face isn't quite right. its smile is the wrong shape and it has too many teeth; its eyes are an opaque, glossy black, and when it blinks its lids move from side to side. it's a mimic of some kind, you realize, some kind of creature wearing your face and body, and when you finally force yourself to speak, to ask what it wants, it repeats your own words back to you in a voice so much like your own that you can't look away.
but that's not quite right either, you realize, as it approaches you with the fluid, assured gait of a predator that's spotted its prey. though its voice sounds almost identical to yours, it has subharmonies, hidden frequencies, that transfix and mesmerize you, making it impossible for you to break away and run. not that you'd necessarily want to, you realize: it's oddly beautiful, this version of yourself reflected through a warped, cracked lens, and its focus makes your pulse speed up and your cheeks flush.
as it gets closer, its disguise begins to fragment, and by the time it climbs the porch steps and pulls you from your chair, pushing you down onto the floorboards, your face has become a broken mask atop its own features: its split jaw, the additional eyes that open above and below its original pair, its long, backwards-jointed legs and the way light ripples around it like a mirage, or the rainbow slick of oil on tarmac. as it undresses you, with surprising care, it doesn't even have to hold you down—it just coos to you in that mellifluous, resonant voice that renders you wholly placid. by the time it pushes your legs apart, arranging your limp body to its own satisfaction, you have to admit to yourself that you're enjoying this: how helpless you are, how clear it is that this creature has the upper hand and can do whatever it wants with you, and even the way that it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and your nerves thrill with the reflexive fear of prey encountering an apex predator.
unable to lift your head and look at what it's doing, you don't get any warning before it slides into you—at first you think it might be a finger, long and dexterous, but then it keeps going and you realize it's the creature's cock, bulbous and segmented for maximum flexibility. the tip pushes into you easily enough, smooth and slender as it is, but it thickens further down, and soon you can feel yourself stretching around it, the creature jostling your legs further apart so it can get as deep as possible. when it starts to thrust in earnest, each segment drags against you on the way in and out, rubbing where you're stretched so wide, working you open even further and making heat build in your abdomen, even as all you can do is lie there and take it as the creature purrs in your ear, keeping you sedated and docile.
the first time it comes, you feel wetness inside of you but not warmth, and then a strange, spreading coolness that tingles—a sense that you're being changed. the second time, the head of its cock is pressed directly against your cervix, and you feel that same coolness spurt into your womb, filling it entirely and making your belly swell just a little—a faint bulge that doesn't go down as the creature keeps thrusting. it fills you again and again until its cum is running down your legs, although most of it is still inside of you. your belly is round and domed, sloshing with that same strange coolness, and before the creature finally pulls out you feel a strange pop inside of you followed by an unfamiliar pressure. the creature stands over you for a moment, its eyes fixed on your own, your face reassembling itself over its features, humming gently: though you try to focus on it, your vision starts to swim, and then everything goes black.
when you wake, it's morning and you ache all over from spending the night on the hard floorboards. it takes you a moment to sit up, and then you realize why: your belly is still as swollen and full as it was the night before. the pop you felt must have been the creature plugging you, stopping up your cervix to keep all that cum in your womb. but as you run your hands over your round, domed abdomen, you realize that's not all that's inside of you: something is moving—several somethings, in fact, wriggling inside of you, their movements faintly visible through your belly. as you get to your feet, leaning heavily against the railing, you hear a twig snap in the woods. the creature must be out there, keeping an eye on you now that it's bred you, making sure you're taking good care of its brood. just as well you'll be here for a few weeks; in fact, you think, you might want to extend your stay to make sure whatever is growing inside of you has time to complete its gestation before you head home to the city—if you do. after all, there's no better way to clear your mind than to let a monster do it for you—especially if it leaves you with a belly swollen full of its unnatural young as well!
snowghoul
germansingergirl
2087
stormborns
amandla
vaporwave
