The Creature
You don’t know me. That’s okay. I don’t think I know who I am anymore.
My name’s Sarah Russell. Don’t worry if that doesn’t ring any bells, it shouldn’t. Until fairly recently I lived what I thought was a fairly average life, difficulties sure, but nothing, you know, crazy. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this all down. If it’s on the page, I can make sense of it, right? I think I keep telling myself that, that I’m doing this for some useful reason, but part of me thinks it’s not that. Part of me thinks I’m writing it down to relive it, and if I relive it, well, then I might be tempted to go back there again. It’s been nearly a year since it happened. I’m having dreams about it again.
Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Like I was saying, all things considered, I think I’m fairly average. 20, auburn hair, a little chubby maybe, tired behind the eyes like most at university. Sure, I’m not stopping anybody in the street, but catch me in the right light, in the right mood, I can still turn a head occasionally. I certainly caught that… thing’s attention.
I did not have the best freshmen year. Look, I know many people get a little crazy, fuck up their studies in favor of partying, having a good time. That wasn’t me. My first year in the great unknown of English Literature was riddled with anxiety, insomnia, and feeling that at any moment, the walls would could crumbling down around me. I guess my first time being, like, ‘away away’ from home messed with my head a little. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a sob story, I had support, I got through it, I survived.
However, by the end of that year I was pretty beat-up. It was my mom that suggested I get away from the chaos, get away from other people. To this day, I don’t know how she found the place. My family is not exactly rolling in money. Mom and dad had made enough sacrifices to get me to university. So when mom, beaming with delight, started showing me pictures of the cabin getaway she’d booked, I was, to put it mildly, surprised. There wasn’t even a brochure of the place, just a few (admittedly very nice) photos and a Google Maps marker. So, you know, a great murder cabin.
In case you get curious, I’m not going to tell you exactly where the place is. It’s in the woods of the Pacific North West, that’s all you need to know. Maybe by the end of this, you’ll understand why I want to keep it a secret.
Mom was so pleased with herself, said she’d spoke to the owner, that it was perfect for me. It was like she could read my hesitation. “Look sweetheart, we’ve already spent the money. Just think, it’ll be you, the sound of the woods, and all the books you can read.”
It was probably the promise of books that convinced me.
So, two weeks later, I was pulling my beat-up car, complete with broken air conditioning, up to the door of the place. You know what? Not a murder cabin. It was amazing. Cozy, but modern. Secluded, but well maintained. No internet connection or phone signal, but that was the whole point. Switch off from the world. Disconnect.
I won’t bore you with the details of the first few days. I read a pile of books. I felt the stress melting away from me. I got comfortable enough to spend most days lounging around in little more than a pair of panties and a frayed t-shirt. It was heaven. I even did a little walking, stretching my legs in between The Brothers Karamazov and Don Quixote.
I wonder now if that was when it first noticed me. Did it think I’d make a suitable mate?
It was on the fourth day that my life changed. You know when people talk about sleep paralysis? Like how they startle awake and they can’t make a sound, how sometimes there’s a monster at the foot of their bed? Well. That happened to me.
It had been warm that night. I’d thrown the duvet off in the evening, trying to get cool. I was wearing a blue vest, pink panties. It’s weird how those details stick in your head. As my eyes cracked open and focused, the amorphous blobs of the world took shape. There were the usual browns of the wood paneling, the colored rectangles of the paintings that covered the walls, and, sticking out amongst them, the creature.
I still struggle to explain it now. It looked like some mad scientist had crossed a wasp with an ape. Insectoid eyes, mandibles, a carapace of sorts, but on a frame that almost looked like, well, a man. It was big too, 7ft maybe, giving off the impression that it was powerful, something very much not to be fucked with. Naturally, I then opened first diplomatic contact with this new discovery.
No. I screamed about as loud as is humanly possible.
It just stood there, watching, waiting, its head cocking to a slight angle, as if confused that I should be so terrified. The thing had, it seemed, all the time in the world to watch me freak out. Eventually, my lungs had nothing more to give, the scream dying on my lips. It was then its eyes glowed.
An instant later, I was no longer in my own body. My consciousness was floating in the air above my bed, looking down on myself and the creature. I was on my hands and knees, groaning, presenting myself to it, whimpering as a fat, dripping cock emerged from the thing’s groin. You should know, I’m no blushing virgin, I know my body. I can’t describe how aroused I looked, like I was in some form of heat, my pussy dripping a thin trail of juices onto the mattress. The creature moved onto the bed, positioning itself behind me, and I could only watch as I—my body at least—guided that… thing inside me. The sound of my moans told me everything I needed to know about how good it must be feeling.
I gasped, returning to my body in an instant, still in my pajamas. The creature stood at the far end of the room, watching, waiting. I knew what it wanted to do to me. While the display had definitely affected me, being back in the moment, the terror returned, my fight or flight instinct kicking in hard. Maybe fighting would have been better. Instead, I tried to run.
I thought I was quick. The creature was a blur of speed. I’d barely sat up by the time the thing was on me. The scream came again, fearing it would touch me, hurt me. I felt a sharp stab of pain at my stomach. Gasping as I looked down, I saw a thin tail coming from the creature’s back, ending in a point that was stuck deep into my midsection.
Everything relaxed. I exhaled slowly, feeling my muscles loosen, slipping back onto the mattress. The fear melted from me. It wasn’t like I felt it vanish; it was like in that instant I didn’t even know what fear was. All I could do was stare dumbly at the creature as it looked over me, sizing me up, its latest catch.
When I think of that moment now, it makes me wet.
The thing was in no rush. It trailed its finger slowly down my front, from the nape of my neck to my stomach. Where its finger met my vest, it peeled away, a thin cut trailing through the cloth. To this day, I swear there was hunger in its eyes as it shifted away the vest to expose me. I wasn’t stopping it. I didn’t even want to. In that moment I knew dimly that this shouldn’t be happening to me, that it was wrong, but those emotions felt so distant, overwhelmed by the comfort of the bed and the raw feeling that everything would be all right.
My panties came next, two more quick movements of the creature, and they were ready to be peeled from me. Again, nothing was rushed, the thing moving around the bed, delicately repositioning me until the scraps of my clothes were pulled from under me, leaving me utterly exposed. It felt good to be rid of those damn clothes. The thing stroked over my naked form, moving up from my stomach, drawing a line up my chest before cupping my face, directing my eyes towards where its tail was positioned between my legs. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t really anything in that moment. It moved forward, that needle tip pushing into my inner-thigh.
It’s… it’s going to take me a while to get down what happened next. Every time I think about it, I just melt. Thoughts that… shouldn’t be in my mind resurfacing. God. Even now.
I want to tell you I fought the thing, that I bit my lip, summoned up my will and struggled through to the bitter end. That would be a lie. The moment that tip pierced my skin, warmth spread through my body, some heavenly feeling that made the previous concoction it put inside me feel like little more than an appetizer. I throbbed with pleasure. The creature knew how long its venom would take. Seeing my state its hands reached out, cupping my breasts. I breathed in as its fingers pressed gently on the tips of my nipples, before tracing agonizingly slow circles around them. Some oily substance secreted from its digits, helping it glide with ease over my sensitive nubs. If we hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere, my groan would have woken everybody in a 5-mile radius. The thing’s actions pierced through the simple warmth of happiness. My nipples were white hot with pleasure. They stiffened instantly, coming to a hardness like I had never known.
I could only bite my lip, the need probably plastered all over my face as the creature’s eyes took in everything. I squeezed my legs together, as if it would help me block out the pleasure, already feeling how wet I was as I built the pressure between my thighs. I think I whispered a pleading ‘no’ to it as I watched one of its hands leave my chest, journeying down to my sex. I squeezed tighter, like I could stop it if only I could keep my legs together.
The thing’s hand stopped at my stomach, waiting patiently, trailing soft circles as its other hand did the same to my nipple. The pleasure didn’t stop building. I’d always had something of a weakness for my breasts being played with, over one poor decision having been made in the past with a boy who took his time teasing them.
Those experiences were a shadow of this one.
I could lie and tell you it took hours before I relented, that I kept my dignity until the very last moment. It might have been 30 seconds before my legs hesitantly slipped open. It didn’t wait, its hand shifting down, slipping between the lips of my womanhood.
It knew how to please me better than I knew myself. Soft, gliding movements exploring every inch of my sex, never rushing, paying attention to every gasp, learning what made me quiver, what made me grunt. Every time I felt the heavenly pressure of my orgasm building it backed off, changing location, doing something new. My fingers gripped the sheets of the bed, twisting it until my knuckles were white, my body coming back under my control. Before too long there must have been a puddle under me, my hips grinding, trying to direct the creature’s hand to give me the relief I needed. It was useless. It only moved again, building that maddening tension before backing off, again and again. I don’t remember how long it took. It might have been an hour, it might have been five minutes. It hardly matters. I pleaded with it, begging for my orgasm, dignity abandoning me.
It was then that it moved away from me, standing at the foot of the bed, just like was in the vision it gifted me. I stared at it, panting, feeling a need like I’d never known before.
This was my chance. I could move again, I could try to escape, to get the fuck out of the room, away from the fucking monster that had decided I was its prey. Instead, whimpering, my mind lost to lust, I twisted, turning onto my front, quivering hands pulling myself up until I was on my hands and knees, presenting myself to it. The thing moved onto the bed behind me, powerful hands gripping my hips as the scent of honey filled the room, its cock appearing from the sheath at its crotch.
I reached between my legs, giddy with excitement, guiding it to my entrance, helping the thing fuck me. The noises that came from my mouth as it thrust forward, pushing into me, were more animal than human.
God, I’m touching myself now, I can’t fucking stop myself.
If it was gentle before, it wasn’t now. It rutted me, not giving me a moment to breathe, to process what was happening. There was the sweet sensation of it slowly stretching me, opening me up, then it started fucking me, hammering into me, making me lose my fucking mind. Understand, I’m a girl that needs a good amount of warm-up, who cums after a prolonged session with a man’s tongue and dirty thoughts. I had never orgasmed from being penetrated. I lost count of how many it gave me as it took me with relentless pace.
In the haze of my orgasms, thoughts still swirled around my brain. Was it going to breed me? What would happen if it reached its climax inside? I bit my lip, the thoughts not bringing terror, but excitement, longing. The things pace quickened, tempo building, a freight train with nothing to stop it.
I moaned with frustration as it pulled back, slipping out of me, pushing forward, its cock nestling between my ass. I felt warm squirts splatter against my back, in my hair, everywhere, the thing covering me in its essence. I was mad. I wanted it inside me. Wanted to… to be bred.
It was violent now, moving me around, forcing me to stare at those fucking eyes, their glow hitting my soul. The vision was different, I wasn’t watching the two of us fucking, I was watching myself, pressed against a tree in the wood, stroking a belly that was heavy with child, a look of the purest contentment across my face.
When I awoke it was nowhere to be seen. I was lying in a stew of our juices, dull pleasure still lingering in my body, though the tightness in my stomach was enough to tell me that my ability to feel fear was coming back. I didn’t hesitate, grabbing what clothes I could, throwing what I needed in the car, hammering the accelerator as I got the fuck out of there, checking my rear-view mirror every few seconds, expecting to see it behind me, not knowing what I would do if I saw it.
I didn’t tell my parents. I had to crash at a friend’s house for a few more nights, coming back to them like I’d enjoyed the escape, acting like my cares had melted away in that fucking cabin, that something from a horror novel hadn’t raped me.
I told myself it was a dream, that it didn’t happen, that I took something by accident. No. I know what happened. Every time I think of it, I don’t feel fear, I feel excited, needy, I get irritable, I imagine what would have happened if it finished inside, if it took me. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I think of myself, pregnant, how happy I looked.
Mom called me this afternoon. Says she’s booked it again this summer, says she might come with me.
God help me. I don’t think I can stop myself now.