Page 36 of The Dire Reaction

She’s much lighter than the last time I caressed her face like this.

My lips twist over my enlarged teeth at my humorous observation.

Pity, she likely starved to death. I missed the moment her eyes would have bulged, and her cheeks would have glowed in burgeoning shades of red. I should have been the one to have squeezed her last breath from her body. It’s a beautiful end, when I push their last breath into their lips from my lungs, then trap it within their supple neck.

They love it. They really do, when they can fade from this world with a piece of me within them. It’s a sweet comfort when their pleasure with me is over. When their bodies give out and can no longer sustain the pleasure I inflict, they beg me to release them.

The skull and her blond locks will go into my trophy room. But, first to collect the other two. I always keep three prizes at a time, so while one receives her pleasure from me, the others can recover their strength. They always give so much of themselves that it can be exhausting.

A second skull, with its similar blond strands, tucks against the first. The hair has lost its sheen, but still rubs seductively against my chest as I walk, the soft tendrils tickling the hairs of my belly. Crusted bone brushes my nipple sending a small ripple of warmth through my loins. My pretty prizes.

Pushing the third door open shatters me. It’s empty. No scent, no remains. This one was so special, too. I remember her, the white shock that grew in her hair within her first weeks with me. The defiant set of her jaw. The beautiful moments when she would break and scream her lustful cries of agony when I spilled her blood.

My angel is gone. Angel. Ah, Angela. I remember that. She was to earn a top spot in my trophy room. Her unique blond hair a testament of her love for me.

Muscle memory carries my tiptoed steps down the bricked hall to the blinding lights of my trophy room. My sensitive eyes struggle to adjust to the multitude of lights I have focused onto the back wall. The smell of dust burning off of long neglected bulbs drifts in the air.

Trailing my clawed finger carefully, lest I accidentally shear any of the delicate fronds, I wander my way along the glistening variations of blond I have arranged in rows. Darker on the bottom, lighter on the top, each is a trophy from one of my prizes, scalped after they received their final gift of breath from me.

My beauties.

The two skulls in my hand go onto a small showcase I have near the end. This is reserved for my prizes that left without me. There are only four others here. I learned after each of them better ways to keep them safe, lest tragedy befall any others early.

A growling knot rumbles my stomach, echoing in the silence of the room.

Burying my nose once more in the golden wave, letting the strands flow over my elongated snout, I work my way back outside.

I need to find food, and I don’t think I’ll be sauntering into my favorite Italian restaurant anymore.

Through the darkened alleys of the industrial buildings, I practice moving from shadow to shadow. The early morning hours still offer paths of light and dark between the buildings. Cat piss hangs pungent in the air, with occasional pools of dog markings on corners and garbage cans.

Filthy vermin.

My ears rotate to a new sound, a movement I haven’t learned to control yet. A soft melodic humming comes from just ahead. Padding silently on my toes, I round a dilapidated foul dumpster and catch sight of heaven.

A petite girl, hair of honey blond, is swinging a black garbage bag in time with the sweet thrumming sounds vibrating from her perfect throat.

My clawed fingers twitch to wrap around it, to feel her trembling at my touch. To see the sweat sheen across her body as she fights me.

Shivers of anticipation run through me and I can feel my cock harden in its sheath, pulling the skin of my belly taut.

I want her. She is a delicate prize that is to be coveted.

As she rounds the corner where I’m crouched, she releases only a gasp before I have her. Her heartbeat is a new exquisite layer as I hear it pounding frantically in her chest. The sweet smell of panic accentuates this, a heightened level I never knew before.

Careful of my sharp claws, I manage to surround the soft tissue of her neck without slicing deeply. The rhythm of her heart slows as consciousness fades. What a perfect metronome of control I’ll have, now that I can savor every beat.

Hugging her tightly to my chest, this new stronger body of mine makes easy work of carrying her slight frame back to the secluded warehouse.

But, my heavier hands slow me when I bind her on her belly to my bench. Her thin arms pulled beyond her head, her delicate feet spread and tethered. It’s a measured distance, wide enough for me if I choose. I thank an earlier me for taking the time to make it as easy as possible to work quickly lest they struggle and try to flee.

It always takes time for them to learn they can’t escape.

She appears to be wearing some sort of blue medical scrubs. From the lingering scents of so many animals in the fabric, I’m guessing she doesn’t work in a hospital. One of my clawed fingers tears through the thin material easily; like a razor blade I stream it up the back of her leg. It peels away, revealing the soft pale skin of her calf, then the hollow behind her knee, the smooth arch of her thigh. I dig too deeply when I reach the rise of her bottom, cleaving the tender flesh in a clean slice.

The groan that she gifts me pierces my chest.

Too much to resist, the sweet smell of the dark ooze of her blood beckons me to taste her. My rough tongue laps the crimson drops, sating the growl that previously rumbled through my bowels. I must find food soon, as tempting as my new prize is, she will not sate me completely on an empty stomach.

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