You probably get asked this a lot but are you going to continue 'Monster Date Problems'?
I would absolutely love to, but in my current state of things, it’s probably not going to happen in the immediate future, but I do have a written backstory for Marcus and Jim if anybody is interested in reading it (p.s. it’s sad :3c)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
( As promised, here’s part 1 of Jim and Marcus’ backstory. Enjoy ^^ )
Three gentle knocks, and he knew it was here. His chair groaned loudly in relief as he stood up, his knees slightly giving in to his weight. He shuffled to the curtained door to be greeted by a silhouette of a small womanly figure; upright, confident, relaxed. The figure behind the wood-framed and curtained glass door patiently swayed, her short demeanor fit perfectly with the width of the narrow window. He expected a sort of cold chill, a tinge of malice in the air, but this all seemed so routine, serine. He rested his hand on the cool brass doorknob and pulled the white wooden door open.
“Hello.”
Lime green eyes lit as their gazes met. Her long, wavy black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, the ends curving sharply at the ends, thick and barbed like soft needles. She wore a casual black suit with her white button up opened right above her small breasts, just enough for a brief thought of temptation. Her lips were curved into an all-knowing smile, the gloss of her blushing lips parting slightly as she continued.
“You called, I believe.”
He backed his hooded body inside and let her in. Her low heels clicked like light hooves as it hit the dusty floor. He pulled his hood over his eyes as if to cover his face deeper as he hastily closed the door.
“I was expecting something...flashier,” he audibly mumbled.
“Elaborate entrances aren’t really a thing anymore,” she sighed disappointingly. “We have to abide by the ‘preferable’ style of the ages. An unsaid rule to be honest, but I guess you wouldn’t believe me being so.” She twirled and tugged at her bouncing hair with her thin, delicately sharp fingers. “But you don’t have to.”
Her eyes followed a fly making small circles near the entrance and buzzing into the room next door. It rested on a paper plate of dried brown liquid and a stale slice of partially eaten pizza. The medium-sized pizza box sitting in the middle of a cheap plastic table was partially open, showing that only one slice was missing, and the rest were in a similar state.
“So, how long will it take?” He tried to suppress his voice to sound calm, but it was obvious, even to him, that he sounded impatient.
“As long as you have the equivalent item of exchange, I can do it right here, right now.”
His heart leaped. No, you knew this, you know this, he told himself. He felt his throat dry and sour, the stickiness in his mouth making it hard for him to form words. He tried to fill his lungs as much as possible, but only felt he barely inhaled a quarter of its capacity. You’re going to say it, you know what it is. Now, with authority!
“I...think I do.” Dammit!
“Wonderful,” she grinned, her orange-tinted teeth gleefully gleamed. With a playful pirouette, her low ponytail undid themselves and were now freely flowing waves of thick, shadowy water. They bounced up and down as she skipped effortlessly up the stairs with the rhythmical clip-clop-clip-clop of her heels. He was about to tell her that he didn’t say her where Jim’s room was, but he figured that that would be redundant. She probably knows. He slowly heaved heavy knees up the stairs. He watched each of the scraped paint on the steps form from a typical shoe print into large hoof marks.
“Oh, where are my manners!” She dramatically cried from the top of the stairs. She tossed her head from the end of the staircase, her head tilted to face his with a hand over her forehead. “Pray tell, where art thou friend?”
“On my right, the last door down the hall,” he mumbled. The little devil flipped her hand into a thankful salute and disappeared behind the wall. “And don’t run,” he muttered under his breath.
The hall was empty and quiet as he left it. Floating dust glimmering in the sunbeams reminded him of the time he watched the livestream of the ocean depths. Marine snow, he remembered Jim saying. Even dead fish have beautiful names after they decay. The two sat in front of Marcus’ oversized laptop screen and watched the video streams from the Rover while the marine biologists gleefully tossed around trivia about frilled sharks and dumbo octopus. The tiny smile on Jim’s face was probably the happiest he had ever seen his friend be.
“Marcus, my boy,” her voice rang, “reminiscing sweet memories takes far too much time. Your friend awaits.” She hummed a throaty giggle. “Or should I say, you are?”
Marcus’ eyes glared at the open door at the end of the hall from behind his hood, saying nothing. He picked up his pace and entered the gaping void of Jim’s bedroom. He felt for the switch, but thought against it and strode towards the animated shape of the small, now slightly horned, woman. She stood over Jim’s body lying on his dark blue and white striped bed, stroking his black, matted hair lovingly. The line of light leaking from between the closed curtains traced her cheeks and curved, rosy lips.
“Such a pitiful, loved boy,” her lips purred. He said nothing and thinned his eyes at Jim. Her lime green iris pierced into his forest ones, her knowing smile unmoving. “All of this for your own sake.”
Her legs were now shaped into a goat’s leg, coarse hair long and frizzed with large hooves glistening in the limited light. Each step she took were like heavy hammers on the carpeted floor. She walked to the middle of the room and traced her thin fingers on the bottom lip of the noose. Marcus watched as the rope gently swayed back and forth, the stain on the floor probably still damp and Jim’s pants still crumpled on top of it. He told himself that he left it because the knots were too tight, the ceiling was too high, but it was just a reminder to himself. He peeled off the green hood from his head and shook his dirty blonde bangs out of his face. They felt oily and heavy, and he remembered that he hasn’t bathed in days. He took a deep breath and stepped towards her.
“I’m ready.”
---
“H-hey Jim, aren’t you always hot wearing th-that t-turtleneck all the t-time?”
The beating summer sun was quickly melting their Extreme-Orange-Pulp-and-Creme-Swirl-of-the-Century-Hyperboost-Juicicle. Jim slurped loudly as he tried to catch all the escaping liquids from making a mess on his hands while Emile was dripping a small orange puddle of Extreme-Orange-Pulp-and-Creme-Swirl-of-the-Century-Hyperboost-Juicicle on the ground between his legs while timidly licking the tip of the icicle.
“Mm, never really thought about it,” he thoughtfully slurped. “I guess I’m kinda cold all the time...because I’m such a chill dude.” He winked and finger-gunned the skinny priest. Emile replied with an awkward chuckle and sadly looked at his half-melted icicle.
“I-I don’t think I can finish th-this,” Emile sighed.
“I’ll take it if you want,” Jim offered while sliding the remaining bits into his mouth.
“Y-you sure? I-it’s mostly melted because I eat s-so s-slow.”
“Bah, it’s fine! Fork over your Orange-Swirl-Centurion-Jucicle!”
“I-It’s e-Extreme-Orange-Pulp-and...”
“Oh hey Emile.”
The priest lifted his head to be greeted by a lean, built man with a crooked grin. Besides him was a woman with a shoulder-length bob and a beaming smile.
“Long time no see little man,” she said while rolling her sleeves. “Whatcha doin?”
“W-we just saw each other in class yesterday Lulu...a-and hi Mitch,” he nervously grinned. “I-I’m just hanging out with Jim here.” Mitch looked at his girlfriend’s lanky classmate with one raised confused brow.
“Jim…?”
“Y-yeah, I don’t th-think you guys met on campus because we’re in different buildings.” Emile scooted his body toward Jim and guided his palm toward the black-haired man. “Th-this is Jim. J-Jim, th-these are my classmates from anth-anthropology.”
“Howdy my dudes,” he grinned. Lulu looked in his direction and tilted her head in a greeting manner. Mitch glanced his way and looked back at Emile with a concerned expression. He opened his mouth to say something when Lulu tugged at his sleeves.
“We actually have to go now,” she said in an apologetic tone. “I want us to get some good seats for the movie.”
“O-oh, yeah, right. I-I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
“Right, later.” Mitch scratched the back of his neck and hastily waved good-bye to the pair while Lulu pulled his other hand.
“Have fun!” Jim shouted at their backs as they disappeared into the crowds of moviegoers and outlet shoppers. “Cute pair,” he commented as Emile shyly passed the nearly gone icicle.
“S-Sorry.”
“No worries, it’s still delicious. Go wash your hands in the bathroom or something, I’ll watch your stuff.”
The skinny priest hastily jogged towards the men’s room between boutiques behind their bench. Jim leaned back onto the steel bench and absently sucked on the stick which still somewhat tasted like Extreme-Orange-Pulp-and-Creme-Swirl-of-the-Century-Hyperboost-Juicicle. He gently touched his neck and felt a wave of nausea layer his mind and body in a thin, familiar veil. He flinched his hand away and took a deep breath to rid the sensation. The stick dropped from his mouth, bounced off the seat of the bench between his thighs and settled onto the ground in front of him. Sweat beaded from his face and saliva dripped from the corners of his lip. What the hell…?
The nausea slowly subsided as he tried to adjust his eyesight. His eyes followed the stick to find a pair of dirty sneakers standing in front of him. Faded jeans fell to the heels and were frilled at the end. He followed up the green torso of the hoodie to find a familiar dirty blond-headed face with the usual bored frown looking down at him.
---
“So, you know that I know what you want, but I need to hear it from your lips to make it official.” Baphomet dragged her French nails across the rim of Jim’s bed as she paced across his body, as if making an invisible line between him and Marcus. “So I simply ask you, my dear boy Marcus; what do you wish for, and what is your offer in exchange?” Her heavy hooves thumped rhythmically while she locked her eyes on Marcus, her pupils now unsettling, goat-like horizontal slits.
“I…,” Marcus swallowed and wet his mouth once more, “I want him...Jim, to have a long, happy and life filled with love.”
“Vague. Boring.”
“I offer you, or him, my emotions of love and care...if, you can call that an offering.” Her curved lips split into a toothy grin as she stopped pacing and stepped towards Marcus.
“That’s such a dangerous offer you make, my boy,” her voice was velvet and thick with a delighted undertone, her suited torso leaning forwards and looking up at the taller human as her chin barely touched his chest. “You know we like to take as much advantages as we can.”
“So it counts?”
“But of course. I’m also obligated to tell you that your other emotions will be enhanced due to the absence of the ones you’ve offered, in this case greed and lust. You will never be able to love, and you can only pretend to care and never feel true joy.”
“If Jim can have what I can give, then so be it.”
“Gallant boy.” Baphomet flicked the tip of his nose and twirled around to face the body. “You are one lucky dead man, aren’t you?” She giggled with her shoulders and hopped onto the foot of the bed. Her large hooves barely made the sheets rustle. She closed her eyes and made simple gestures with her fingers while whispering incantations under her breath. Marcus stood over Jim’s body, staring into his closed eyes. He knelt and reached for his hand, cold and rigid, and held it in his as if to warm it.
“Marine snow,” he whispered, gently squeezing his stiff fingers. “You compared yourself to fucking dead fish flakes.” That’s not what he meant to say. The days passed like a blur, he wasn’t sure if it flew or crawled. Maybe the world was moving faster than him, or maybe he has slowed. He didn’t remember if he ate or shit. All he knew was that Jim has stopped, and so has he.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say, but nothing sounded right. Marcus pressed his lips on Jim’s forehead, the cool flesh on his skin imprinting a cold spot like a bruise. The color was gone from Jim’s cheeks, and heavy bags under his eyes sunk his thin eyes deep into the hollows of his sockets. The blond stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers, and he slowly leaned in.
---
Marcus first noticed Jim always sitting in the back corner of the classroom. He never realized that they had quite a few classes together because he was so quiet. Not like a fearful mouse holding its breath as to not attract any attention from predators, but more like a ghost apologizing for his existence. It was as if being invisible was the closest he could do to compensate, and he was very good at it.
He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned for this lonely classmate, but he decided to sit next to him one day and tried to start a conversation. The green hooded freshman was startled and could only mumble out broken sentences that even he could barely hear. Marcus only caught the constant “sorry” between shallow breaths.
“Hey man, it’s cool. We got a whole semester ahead of us to talk more.”
Jim hardly nodded and continued to sit like a statue. His breathing was so quiet that Marcus was worried that he was going to fade away without him noticing at all. After class, Jim would quietly and swiftly float away before Marcus could catch him. This continued for weeks: Marcus tries to make small talk, Jim evades him like a mist. Other students didn’t seem to acknowledge his existence either. Marcus even considered that maybe Jim was a citizen of the paranormal realm, and somehow he has gained the ability to see ghosts (although that was quickly debunked during the occasional roll call).
The day they finally interacted was when they happened to enter the same apartment complex at the same time.
“I...didn’t know that we lived in the same building,” Marcus awkwardly chuckled. He saw Jim’s body squeeze inward, trying to get smaller.
“……...yeah…..”
“What floor?” Jim dug his chin into his chest, obviously hesitant to answer. Marcus scratched his head and searched for a different topic to talk about. Maybe all of this chasing is like...stalking? He’s clearly avoiding me for whatever reason, I should probably sto-
Although he was shocked that Jim would comply so easily since he had taken every opportunity to avoid interaction, Marcus happily led his hooded classmate to his room. The two stood silently in the brightly lit elevator, listening to the buzzing hum of the old motors and the loud DING of floor numbers lighting up. The door clumsily slid open as they reached the 4th floor, and Marcus was quietly relieved that Jim followed him out. His hooded head was still looking down at the dirty blue carpet when he shuffled out, his long black bangs hiding his expression. Marcus dug into his pant pockets for his keys while leading Jim down the dimly lit dorm halls. The lingering smell of old weed and unshowered bodies made the air so thick and musky one could even taste the sour odor. Marcus unlocked the old, shriveled door and pushed it open with his weight.
“Welcome to my…,” he paused as he looked at the piles of unwashed clothes, plastic bags filled with garbage, unopened school supplies and partially-eaten food, “...dwelling.” But even seeing this, Jim’s brown eyes barely faltered as he let himself inside with a very small “excuse me.”
Marcus dug open a place for them to sit on the old sofa facing his 24” screen laptop resting on a small plastic table. He still debated whether this was a good idea or not, but his guest didn’t seem to show any signs of protest so far. In fact, Jim just sat quietly and shallow-breathed as usual with his backpack on his lap. Marcus invited him to sit around the table and they worked on their assignments in silence while a video with a comedian angrily commenting on the absurdities of the current state of their government played in the background. Marcus snickered every now and then at the jokes, but Jim was unfazed and never looked up from his notes. His letters were small and scrawled, barely legible to the untrained eye. Marcus wondered if he was really reading or if he was just staring at the scribbles to pass the time.
Jim’s phone vibrated. He flinched and quickly dug around the side pockets of his huge backpack. He wasn’t exactly a small man, but Marcus thought that if Jim kept up his curled stature, he could potentially contort himself inside. Jim pulled out an old flip phone, opened the screen and sighed in relief. He turned it off with a soft beep, eyed Marcus warily and looked back down at his notebook.
“….sorry...my…...alarm went off….,” he mumbled as he apologetically stuffed the phone in his front hoodie pocket. Marcus looked at the clock and cocked his head questioningly.
“At 7:30 in the evening?” Jim timidly nodded. “For what?”
“….um….a...a livestream….I….watch…..” His voice trailed off as he noticed that he was shamefully exposing himself. “………..i….it’s a weird….hobby…...” Marcus reached for his laptop and moved the pointer to the web bar.
“Give me the name of the site.” Jim raised his head, his brown eyes wide with surprise. Marcus’ heart leaped.
“you...you don’t have to...do that…” Jim’s head lowered.
“I wanna watch too.”
“….no you don’t….” His head lowered with his voice.
“Yes I do.” The dirty blond eyed Jim’s paper. “I’ll help you with problem 5-a if you tell me.” Jim looked confused at the remark, but then looked at his paper and stifled a snort at this. Marcus didn’t miss seeing the corner of his thin lips curl a touch. Jim gently moved Marcus’ hand aside and typed. A deep ocean blue screen appeared with a large black rectangular box in the middle. White bubbles floated and popped in the middle of the black screen with the words ‘Diving to the Depths...’ fading in and out of the screen.
“It….it might take a while…,” Jim mumbled.
“Well, I’ll help you with 5-a while we’re waiting.”
It didn’t take long for the two to get immersed to the underwater world and forgetting to finish the rest of their assignment, but Marcus thought it was worth it as he saw Jim’s dry, dark brown eyes glint as he listened to Dr. Valor and Dr. Simone having a heated debate about which is cuter, the flapjack octopus or the bobtail squid.
“I vote octopus,” Marcus chuckled. Jim slightly opened his mouth, paused, and looked down at the lighted keyboards.
“….I do too,” he mumbled.
---
Jim’s sunken eyes shot open. His chest heaved as he choked in air into his collapsed lungs, his dry mouth flapping open and shut like a fish out of water, his nails digging into Marcus’ hands trying to lift himself from an unseen cliff. The body twitched and shook, the rigor mortis making him awkwardly flap and bounce on his bed. He looked up at Marcus with panicked fear and rage.
“What’s happening?!” Marcus shouted at Baphomet who was still reciting incantations under her breath.
“Finalizing our contract,” she simply answered. “You should tell him what you can now, he’s gonna come out a clean slate once I’m done.”
“What?!”
“Oh, I don’t know, confessions, deeply held secrets, you know, whatever. It’s not like it’s going to matter on the long run, but maybe one less regret might make this easier for you. Just a suggestion.”
Marcus winced as Jim’s nails dug deeper into his hand and broke his skin. Blood pooled and seeped into his nails as he continued to twitch and flap painfully, his mouth now letting out whistles of dry windpipes wanting to scream.
“This really doesn’t look or feel like the right moment to confess anything!”
“It’s your only chance, now chop-chop.”
“Fine! I…,” Marcus winced and gritted his teeth as Jim’s nails dug for his bones. His brown eyes never left his forest ones, now watery with tears. “I think I loved, love...I love you. I never thought I would ever tell you this, but-”
“FUCK YOU.”
A hoarse, enraged whisper screamed into Marcus.
“HOW DARE YOU.” Jim’s body shook the bed like an earthquake. Baphomet was floating now, eyes closed and continuously chanting. Marcus shook his head in confusion.
“J-Jim, wait, I, I just-” He cried as he felt a bone in his hand crack.
“FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.” Baphomet clapped her hands gleefully with an orange-tinted smile splitting her face.
“Confessional is closed boys, say good-bye now!”
“Wait-” Jim pulled Marcus toward his face and glared into his tearful panicked forest eyes with blazing rage.
“I HOPE I WATCH YOU BURN.”
Marcus felt Jim’s nails leave his broken hand. His body crumbled into the bed and lay like a marionette snipped of its strings. Dust floated and surrounded the three bodies as Baphomet squeaked a sneeze, her hooves landing on the floor like low, distant thunder.
“Oof, better open the window or something honey, these are some potent bunnies.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
