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“Fucking Under. Can’t even be consistent.” My hand slides lower to the slit in my tail. It takes only the lightest of pressure for my dicks to pop free and I grab both and stroke myself. I don’t know if I’m hard from watching Julie and Michael kiss, or from thinking about watching the two monsters fight. “It matters what you are thinking.” I mimic Julie’s voice and am immediately hit with a greasy sensation that I don’t like. I don’t even know what to call it.
Do I feel bad…mean? I pause, dicks in hand. Should I not be making fun of her voice when she no longer has it?
The unwelcome sensation is swept away in another tide of rage. For a heartbeat, I remember the taste of her skin and blood in my mouth as I ate her little toe, and I want more. My hand slides over my dicks. I release one, as I prefer the way my hand feels when it’s less full. I resent Michael for interrupting us this morning. I’d actually been enjoying myself and I think she was, too. The feel of her body and the way she gasped. My hand moves faster as I imagine fucking and filling her, shoving one dick in her ass and the other in her pussy.
I gasp and my cum splatters on to the dust. The heat in my blood is remains, hot and jagged. The monsters are still feeding, and Michael and Julie are making their way closer.
I tuck my other unspent dick away and promise that the next time I come, it will be in her. And when she looks more monster than human, will I still want her?
She promised she’d resist, that she wouldn’t change and now she’s on the same claw lined path as the rest of us. Every slip steals more.
I hiss but refrain from rattling. I don’t want Michael to think they are in danger, nor do I want to give my position away. Even though I am fast and venomous, I don’t like being exposed on the plains of Under.
A part of me doesn’t want any more changes. I want to hide, so I don’t need to fight.
While Michael has two human fingers after fucking Julie, all I got were bitter memories that are best forgotten. I stare at my blood smeared hand. That is the reason I’m here.
I killed my father.
And enjoyed it. The weight of his whip in my hand, the shock on his face as I turned the leather on him and looped it around his throat.
I don’t know if it was my blood or his on my hands that night. One of my eyes was closed, my glasses were broken, and my cheek was cut. There was even blood in my mouth from where he’d punched me and split my lip. That night, I knew that if I didn’t fight back, I was dead. And he laughed at me.
He laughed as I lashed out.
He laughed when my first punch connected with his gut.
He wasn’t laughing when I was quicker to reach the whip.
I don’t know when the monster that rules Under grabbed me. I don’t even know if I did the job properly or if I just knocked him out. Was I taken before he died?
Who the fuck knows?
The cops will. They’ll be looking for you if you return. You belong here.
I snarl and push away the new thoughts. Thoughts that never troubled me before are now sinking their teeth into my flesh. How many years have passed? Years or months? Or has it been decades?
Michael knows how long he’s been here because of Julie. They went to school together. They have a connection. I watch him run with her on his back. And I want that. I want her to be on my back, but I grew fucking spines.
“What the fuck did I think to grow them? Huh?” She can’t hear me and wouldn’t be able to answer anyway. “What the fuck were you thinking that you can only bark like a dog?”
If she can’t undo that, what hope do the rest of us have?
This is a fool’s quest.
I shouldn’t have listened to Michael, and when he forgot where we were going, I should have agreed with him to return to the cave with our prize.
Where the fuck is that peeping, pervert shadow?
Talon, as Julie named him.
I take my gaze off the feasting monsters, and off Michael—though I should tell him the purple robe that Julie is wearing suits him—and search for Talon. I told him to fuck off and that I didn’t need help to scout ahead.
Needing help is weakness.
So as much as I want the company, if he’d been here, I’d have turned on him. I run my hand over my chest feeling where fur meets scale. The scales almost reach my armpits. Does that mean the next time I fight, I lose my arms?
I shake my head. I can’t even process that thought.
