Page 4 of Scales and Seduction

“Welcome to Monster Match. This app is designed to connect you with your perfect mate. By selecting ‘agree,’ you consent to being matched with your fated mate, and that thismatch is final and binding. While Monster Match guarantees a soul-level connection, it is not responsible for the circumstances of your match, including any unforeseen adjustments needed.”

“A soul mate app? That’s so weird.” It’s like any terms of service—you know, long, boring, and full of stuff that makes you second-guess everything. But in the end, nothing ever happens. It’s just a dumb app.

Who the fuck cares? “Blah, blah, blah,” I mutter, scrolling past the rest of the print. At the bottom, a bright button glows:I agree.

Once I’m in the app itself, I create my profile. It’s standard really: a quirky intro, photos of me that Quinn took at my birthday party in a stupid party hat with cake on my cheek, a photo of me and Noodles, a group shot and one of me outside my mom’s place in Colorado next to her rose bushes with a book in my hand.

I half-ass it. I don’t put many details about myself, and I certainly don’t say what I’m looking for. If it’s a roleplay sex thing, then the less information, the better. I don’t want a repeat of last summer where a guy I’d met named Blaze (which, really, what a fake-ass name) decided it would be a good idea to tell me he was into BDSM, and if I was too, then he’d make sure I never used my safe word. Major red flag there. No good Dom wants you to never use your safe word. They want you safe, sane and everything consensual. So, I ended up asking the bartender for an angel shot and dipped the fuck out fast.

Now it’s time to see what this app is made of.

I go to the seeking page, and the first thing I see is a shirtless hairy… cow? I bolt upright and hold my phone closer to my face like I can’t see what’s there. It’s a cowman with a long hoop ring in his flat cow nose, and he’s wearing tan trousers taking a selfie.

“Nah… that can’t be right.” I don’t even read his profile as I swipe left.

The next one is no better. It’s a man with long purple hair and blue fins coming out of his ears in a pool of water. He has a flip-flopping fishtail. This time, I read the profile, hoping I can glean what the hell I’ve stumbled upon. He likes swimming, is a vegan, enjoys screamo music and has a catfish named Tuna.

I can’t stop myself as a snort forms into a barking laugh. It’s incredible how lifelike these weird supernatural beings look. “What is this, Burney? Why do they look like this?” It has to be AI because the realism is insane.

Finally, lying back down, I try to regain what little bit of my sanity is left. Burney just wants me to use his fake app with fake people so he can make the real thing. So, clearly, it’s just for fun.

The veganism thing isn’t a deal-breaker for me, but how do you have sex with a fish man? I don’t know why that matters to me, but I might as well enjoy this while I can.

I swipe right.

I swipe left and right for a few minutes. I should probably take a break, but just when I’ve decided to peel my ass off the couch and take a shower, the next monster man’s picture is there for me. I’ve continued to read each and every profile, and now I’ve got names for the matches waiting in my inbox.

Gideon is a magnificent king cobra with bright teal, green and yellow scales. He’s humanoid, but there isn’t a trace of human flesh. Every inch of him from head to toe is covered in sleek iridescent scales. His eyes are a breathtaking shade of gold, and instead of a shirtless photo like so many of these beasts have, he’s wearing a black Fabio-style blouse that shows just a tiny section of his chest. That’s a lot classier than the rest, at least.

His other pictures are so serious that I wonder if the man ever laughs. There’s one of him in an enormous library with stained-glass windows and one in a large garden with his longserpent body coiled up under a tree, and he’s playing chess with a green man whose back is to the camera.

“Okay, Gideon, you’re a serious dude. Would it kill you to smile?” I scroll his profile and realize he hasn’t put anything in it but the really cheesy line, “I’m here to find someone who is willing to pretend we met in a romantic setting instead of a dating app.” He tried so hard.

I swipe right anyway, not that I have swiped left on many. It’s not real anyway, so what does it matter?

Immediately, there’s a match. A black claw swipes over the screen with the words in neon-pink lettering. The weird twinkle chime happens again, and once it does, a hot, electric feeling comes over me. The lights swirl and spot my vision. My body gets sweaty, and heat pools between my legs. The electric feeling laps at my skin, and a deep warmth fills me up from the inside. My pussy throbs, and desire coils in my belly. My head tilts back, my mouth parts, and I moan.

The room spins violently, with bright swirling colors and flashing lights dancing on the edge of my vision until it suddenly subsides with a little tinkling chime from my phone.

What the fuck?

My vision rights itself, and the warm feeling immediately ends, like it never happened. A sheen of sweat covers my body, matting my hair to my cheeks. The minute it ends, I glance back at my screen, struck by the sheer bizarre nature of this entire thing. None of my other matches made the freaky lights happen or the warm pussy feeling.

“Meet your mate, Ruby Taylor. His hunt is just beginning,” an ominous voice says over the phone’s speaker.

My living room slowly starts to dim as my eyelids grow heavy with drowsiness. A faint voice—low, almost like a distant echo—cuts through the fog in my head. “Sleep now, little Ruby...” The words are both soothing and unnerving.

My heart pounds in protest, but my body betrays me. The last thing I see is Noodles leaping up onto my chest before the darkness claims me.

Agolden cascade of sunlight filters through the elder oak tree in the grove, warming my aching body. I overdid it last night, and yet—I feel no satisfaction. I haven’t truly enjoyed my playtime with Avalon in ages. It’s a routine, but it’s better than nothing. I have so many sexual desires I wish I could fulfill, but since my brother’s disappearance, my ability to trust anyone I’m unfamiliar with has all but vanished. Avalon is my fiancée, Domme, and the last person I want to be with.

I glance down at my phone, still unsure why I’m even using this ridiculous app. My impending wedding looms in the back of my mind. There’s no use. Everything must follow the status quo. I swipe left more than I ever swipe right. A minotaur, a banshee (those bitches are not to be fucked with. They will ruin your life) and a drider like Avalon. It feels like a setup for a comedy routine more than the reality I’m faced with.

“This is useless. What use do I have for a concubine...?” I whisper to myself.

I’m about to be married, hilariously, to Avalon to who I swore a year ago I’d stop fucking. Neither of us wants this marriage, and we’ve grown bored with our dynamic. Desperate for something to spice things up, I jumped the moment Avalon mentioned this app in passing, which touts its ability to makethe best match—a soul match. Which is a complete fallacy, and we both know it. Still, I believe there’s something that drew her to it. Maybe there’s a possibility she wishes this engagement to end just as much as I do. If we have our fated mates, then could the council and our families stop us from being with them instead?

I swipe again, and immediately my hand stills. A human woman. Humans are meant to be hideous, violent creatures, but she appears so soft and almost prey-like. I’ve only ever seen them in books, but I can tell for certain she’s not one of us.

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