Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters (61 page)

My heart
was fluttering in my chest. I jerked again and the cock slid out of my mouth so
I could gasp and scream, salty not-cum pouring down over my chin and chest. It
curled around my throat, squeezing gently, almost cutting me off from air, but
not quite. Thin tentacles covered my arms and legs, squeezing until my skin
went wide, sliding and probing. There was not a single inch of my body that was
not being stimulated, not even my scalp as thin tendrils wove through my hair,
making me shiver with their movements.

I went
totally limp, each breath escaping as a soft moan. I felt totally at the
beast’s mercy, used. I couldn’t take anymore, and my eyes began to feel heavy,
my gaze unfocused. Somehow I felt myself drifting, almost falling into sleep
only to be woken by the twisting shooters of pleasure that came from everywhere
at once. Finally, the world blurred and turned black, and I was falling through
an endless void.

When I
woke up, I was mostly dry. I was coated in sweat but the bed was none the worse
for wear. Max must have conjured the sticky slime the same way he changed
himself. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t, and I was so cold. I felt a strong
arm lay over me and another slide under my waist as he put his arms around me
and kissed my neck. The touch of his lips burned, the way a very cold piece of
metal will burn, but I didn’t care. I felt the heat sliding out of me into his
touch.

“You
asked for this,” he said, running his icy thumbs over my nipples. “You begged.”

I let out
a soft gasp, unable to say anything in reply, too tired to move but to grind my
ass against him, urging him on. He rolled me onto my stomach and I lay
breathless on the bed, too weak to move as he lay on top of me, his icy-warm
body pressed against mine. I could feel every muscle, every movement of his
perfectly sculpted form.

I finally
managed to croak, “Fuck me.”

He
brushed my hair to the side and kissed my throat, his icy touch making me jerk
every time I felt his lips, and touched his hands to mine, resting his atop
them. He laced his fingers through mine and continued kissing me, each touch
moving lower until he kissed the side of my neck, my cheek as I turned my head
to the side, closing my eyes. Lower and lower he went, touching his lips to my
shoulder, the backs of my arms, my shoulder blades. I should have been utterly
exhausted, too sore and spent to move, but I throbbed for him, ached with a
hollow only he could fill.

He rose
up so that only his lips touched me as he ran them down my body, letting me
feel flicks of his tongue along my spine that made me groan. I felt his lips on
the soft skin of my ass and arched my back as his icy tongue traced toward my
asshole, and when I felt the soft, cold point of it press against the tight
knot of muscle my head lifted up, draining the last of my strength.

With his
face pressed between my cheeks, he began to eat out my ass, flicking his tongue
against me, pushing in the tight channel. He slid his hand down my flank,
making my fists clench, and I felt his fingers flick against my slit, coming
away with my juices. I wanted so badly to bed him, but I’d lost my voice and
could only breathe sharply. He pulled away from my backside and kissed the back
of my thighs, one and then other, all the way down the backs of my legs to the
back of my knees, lower. He ran his tongue over my calves, massaged my feet
with his strong hands as I felt his tongue flick between my toes.

Only then
did he crawl over me. I felt the touch of his cock as it brushed against my
legs and I used what little strength I had to shift my legs open, but he pushed
them closed again and straddled me, resting his weight on me as his cock sank
into my pussy, almost drawn in. It was fever hot, almost uncomfortably hot, or
else so cold it burned as it pushed in and I raised my hips to meet it. He put
both arms around me and pressed us together, touching everywhere he could as he
pressed my legs together with his.

Slowly,
ever so slowly, he began to pump with long, deep strokes that almost slipped
out before he plunged in again, each pushing ahead of it a wave of hot fullness
that made my stomach clench and forced the air out of my lungs. He was huge, as
big as he was as a dragon or a wolf or a tentacled thing, filling me so deeply
I couldn’t imagine being empty again. Rolling his body against mine he moved
with agonizing tenderness, defying me as I willed him to go all out, to ravage
me until I screamed and wept.

Always,
hips lips were on me, almost distracting me from the feel of his cock inside
me, on the back of my neck, my earlobes. I twisted under him and felt his lips
brush against the corner of my mouth and smiled involuntarily. His arms curled
around me and his hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts, flicking my
nipples. He traced his fingers over my belly and pressed at my navel, and one
hand sank between my legs to gingerly slide over my clit while his cock spread
me open, and I would have gritted my teeth had I the strength for it.

My eyes
flew open. It felt like ice crawling up my spine in place of the usual heat,
sinking into my muscles, and it made me moan. I bucked and rolled my hips,
urging him as the sensation became too intense, unbearable. It lifted higher
and higher, rolling, twisting, almost becoming pain before it broke from a
single point somewhere in my middle and shuddered through me, but was already
building again. I feebly tugged at the sheets, and let out a low, angry growl
as the next wave began to rise.

I could
feel his tension, feel him trying to prolong the moment. His stomach became so
taught against my backside I though it would split, and he was barely moving,
each twitch making him jerk and shudder. He squeezed me until all the air was
pushed out of my lungs and I saw stars, grunting and straining to hold back, to
keep himself contained for a moment more. I could have lived forever in that
moment, just let myself go in it.

I did.
There was nothing left of me. I felt hollow as he let out a snarling, inhuman
sound, deep and wet at the back of his throat, and rammed his cock into my
pussy as if he meant to spear it through me. When he loosed inside me I felt
it, and it felt like ice, chasing all the warmth out of me, and it didn’t stop.
I felt like a pitcher being filled up with ice water as it spread through me
and suddenly I realized that it wasn’t the cold retreating, it was the warmth
leaving me. I shivered so hard my teeth chattered as the last rolling wave of
sensation poured through me and I clenched, gasping for air.

He rolled
off of me and I felt like I was being dunked in frozen water. I curled up,
somehow finding the strength, and he stumbled to his feet, moving like a man
after a heavy meal, too sleepy to walk properly. He piled my sheets and
blankets on top of me and then found more, old quilt, a bathrobe, and I
clutched them until I was a ball of wool and cotton and terrycloth with a head
poking out. He turned up my space heater and rummaged through the apartment
until he found another one and turned it on, too.

I felt
the cold in my bones, like I’d never been warm before. After I while I stopped
shivering, and my eyes drifted shut. I felt myself changing, felt my body
warping somehow, like I was just a passenger, almost like I was observing
myself from the outside. I fell into a deep, dreamless, utterly black sleep,
but not before I saw him stumble into a side chair and nearly fall over. He
slid down into it and closed his eyes.

Eventually,
I came back to consciousness. The heaters and the blankets did nothing and I
tore at them, tumbling out of my bed. I landed on all fours, and the cold drove
me, shivering to my feet. I stumbled into the bathroom and turned the shower
all the way up, letting the steam roll over me, but it felt lukewarm at best. I
finally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and screamed, falling against
the wall.

My skin
had turned chalk white. Every part of me was white except for my hair and
eyebrows and eyelashes, which were pitch black. I stepped forward and stood up,
arching my back. My breasts had put on a few cup sizes and my hips had widened.
My stomach had pulled in and flattened, not really muscular but with clearly
defined lines between the abdominal muscles. My hair was rich thick and black
as oil, and no matter where it fell it landed artfully, somehow, as if I’d
spent many hours and hundreds of dollars in an expensive salon. My lips were
redder than any lipstick I owned. I smiled a false smile and realized that my
teeth were perfectly straight, my slight underbite and snaggletooth gone. There
wasn’t a mark on me anywhere- no moles, no blemishes, no stretch marks, nothing.
My legs and armpits and even my pussy were beyond shaven, they were hairless.

Strangest
of all were my eyes. My eyes were perfectly white, no veins, and my irises were
dark red and slitted the way a cat’s are, and grew narrower the longer I was
under the harsh light of my bathroom vanity. I stared at myself so hard I
nearly forgot the cold, and when it spilled back into my memory I yelped and
crawled under the water, turning my face to it.

Then, I
realized I was crying. I could feel the heat, knew the water was hot, but the
warmth stopped at my skin and refused to soak into me no matter how much it
steamed and scalded. My skin didn’t even redden from the heat. I stumbled out
from under it and looked at myself in the mirror again. The water clung to me
the way it did in pictures of bikini models, as if I’d been watered down by a
photographer with a spray bottle to make me photograph better. I shook my head
the water slid out of my hair and landed on the floor with a plop, and my
coiffure sort of flounced itself, thick tresses sliding around my shoulders
until they were in a perfect arrangement, two long locks hanging over my chest
to teasingly obscure my pale, flawless nipples.

Max
stepped into the room.

“What did
you do to me?” I sobbed, moving towards him.

He backed
away. “Careful. Hold still. This is going to hurt.”

Before I
could react he seized my wrist, and I snapped back, flailing. It was like his
hand was a hot branding iron and I thought I would smell smoke, taste my own
flesh sizzling from his touch. I grabbed at his arm and tried to pull free,
gnashing my newly perfect teeth, tried to beg him to stop but it hurt too much
to form words. He looked at me impassively, a little sadly, until he let go and
I slumped to the floor, clutching my wrist.

“Feel any
better?”

I did.
“Warmer,” I said, “A little. What the fuck did you do to me? Did I feed on
you?”

“Not
exactly,” he said, sitting on the toilet. He propped his chin on his hand. “You
know how birds feed their young, sticking their beaks down the little bird’s
throat? Think of it like that. I forced some of the energy I took from you back
into your body.”

“What
would happen if you didn’t?”

“You’d
either die,” he said, “Or find the first available human being and fuck them
until they died. The first feeding is usually fatal. Mine was, and most of the
ones after.”

I hugged
myself and rocked against the wall, and I looked impossibly sexy doing it. I
couldn’t stop staring at my legs. I looked like I’d quit being a gymnast to be
a model instead. “What do I do?”

“I’m not
going to leave you.”

“I
thought you said…”

“You
haven’t tried to eat me yet. That’s a good sign, but… here.”

He held
out his hand. I took it, wincing, expecting frying heat, but my wrist was
unmarked. I laded my fingers through his and felt… nothing. I might as well
have been touching soft paper. “What? I don’t understand, I…”

“I can’t
make you feel that way anymore. It’s not for us.”

I felt my
eyes sting. I could still cry, at least, and when I saw myself in the mirror
and realized how sexy my pout was, I sobbed even harder and plunged my face
into my hands. “I don’t want to look at myself.”

“Trust
me, you look wonderful.”

“I’m not
me anymore!”

“Yes, you
are,” he said, and ran his fingers through my hair.

I kissed
him. It was like kissing a statue. I felt nothing, and cried into his shoulder.

“I’m
still cold,” I said, eventually.

“You need
to feed, and tonight. We need to find someone for you to have sex with.
Preferably multiple people.”

I pulled
away from him and scrubbed at my eyes. “I don’t exactly have a full social
calendar. You’re the fist boyfriend,” I winced at the word, and so did he,
“I’ve had since college.”

“You
don’t really get this, do you? You could roll through a garbage dump, and you’d
still turn every man’s head on the street. Most women, too. Walk into any club
and they’ll be lining up for their turn.”

I thought
about that for a second, and sniffed. “Are you going to leave me?”

“No,” he
said.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I rocked
gently, but the cold was starting to come back already. I looked at him and
realized that whatever he did hurt him, too, from the way his perfect cheeks
hollowed and he shivered at a nonexistent breeze. I started to stand up and he
helped me, lifting me to my feet.

“I don’t
have anything sexy to wear.”