Feb 5th, 2015
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  1. The black spiked gates loom above you, imposingly. A crow preens its feathers atop one of the spikes. Imperiously, it looks down on you, from one eye, to the other. You offer the bird a respectful nod. Disregarding you, the bird watches its mate soar out of the sky and land down next to it. Always a pair. Seeing it never ceased to make you feel rather lonesome. You suck in deep lungfuls of air, but catch yourself before you exhale, restraining the urge to sigh. Odin may be watching, after all. You let it out in a long, even breath. Were your pathetic life to end today, perhaps he’d pity you enough to send down a Valkyrie. Unlikely though. Those girls are into the “hero” type. Where would you go then? Helheim? You know, thinking about it, you’d cuddle a half-corpse.
  3. You roll your arms, loosening the muscles sore from carrying your life on your shoulders. A box and a large bag. The box wasn’t even yours, just the first “delivery” of your new life. You’re not entirely sure what it means for a man to be able to carry his life on his back, but it’s probably not a compliment. A cool breeze blows, sending a shiver down your spine. Reflexively, you scratch at the back of your neck, fingernails scraping against the scarred, pitted flesh which you grew your hair long to hide. You look at your shaking hand. It’s perfectly still. You give it a few flicks of the wrist, irritated at the phantom sensations.
  5. Poor, desolate, and abandoned, you turned to theft to keep yourself fed, but it didn’t last long. Caught, you were sold into slavery. Well, not quite slavery. More like a correctional program that included a free wife but, well… slavery. The “jobs”’ given pertained to your new masters. The men sent to vampires and other such nobility were “butlers”. You? You are a “caretaker.”
  7. And as a caretaker, you find yourself before this exceedingly gothic gate, barring you from the dead forest of the grounds and the ancient looking cobbled road. And these two crows, neither of which quoth anything. You muster the nerve to take a step forward. Your sudden movement spooks the two crows which fly off, and at the same time carries you to within arms-reach of the buzzer at the gate. You press it in and hold it for a second, before waiting patiently for the response. You can only make out the tip of the tallest spire of the mansion above the tips of the gnarled and twisted trees. The hellish howls of a wolf split through the late afternoon air. You think you feel a few eyes search you curiously through the thick mist before turning their attentions away. You shift in place a little nervously.
  9. Uneasy, you straighten your posture, put your legs at shoulder width, and calmly rest your hands against your front, one hand lightly gripping the wrist of the other arm. A soft laughter floats through the mist, and shortly, two figures emerge. The first to catch your eye is the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. A body of perfection carved from immortal ice, draped in impossibly fine velvet fabric, cut and sewn into a stunning dress. Next to her is a man who stands a head over her, and is the very picture of a dapper gentleman, minus the cane and monocle. The tip of his pipe peeks from the pocket in his jacket.
  11. It’s the couple that met you earlier in the day. You had your concerns, that they bought you to be some kind of toy for their sordid affairs, but you feel a little better about it seeing their immense property. Surely just the two of them can’t live here alone. And judging by the way she clings to his arm, and smiles, laughing at his jokes, they seem quite happy. No, you’re probably here for the convenience of some one else. As this most proper of couples approach you from behind the gate, you can’t help but bow slightly in greeting.
  13. “It is good to see you again, Sir Ebonholt, Madam Ebonholt.”
  15. “Ara, how prudent of you.” Her welcoming smile turns into a scowl, “You cost me my favourite wine, child.” Taken aback by her change in demeanour, you can only blink, and stare silently. The man next to her laughs loudly,
  17. “Don’t be so cold to the boy, love. It’s your own fault for betting against him, isn’t it?” she pouts, trying to uphold her displeasure despite the smile in her eyes.
  19. “…Bet, sir?”
  21. “Indeed. As to whether or not you’d try to run. I had faith in my fellow man. Tell me, though. Why? Judging by the time it took you to get here, including the time it would have taken to get the box we asked you to retrieve, you must have come here immediately after we last parted. I myself was once a “caretaker”.” He peers at your face, “So I know what it means. Did you have nothing to say goodbye to? No regrets?”
  23. You think on it a moment, before slowly shaking your head. “I… no. Not really. As for running… What’s the point?”
  25. The Wight flashes a smile to you, “Well, enough of that. There’s no need to wait any longer. Let us show you to your new home.” You nod quietly and pick up your things. Foot-steps echo in the fog as the two chat happily, you trailing quietly behind them. As you round a bend, the mist clears, and opens up to a giant mansion which would be better suited to being called a castle. The spire you’d spied a while ago, now looms over you, magnificent and intimidating. If not for the meticulous and pristine care and maintenance, this mansion is the stuff of haunted houses. Large and beautiful in its gothic architecture with soaring spires and plenty of spikes. Windows spot the castle, like hundreds of yellow eyes. A few luxury cars idle in the driveway, with handfuls of people scattered about the front of the mansion, groups and couples chat on balconies above, and the soft, calming sound of classical music filters out of the open windows.
  27. The man turns to his wife, “Dear, why don’t you head back in. Have some fun, I can show the kid around.”
  29. “Don’t let me wait too long, love.” The two giggle and kiss, passionately. With a blush you turn aside and pretend to inspect the flowers. Nightshade. Black roses. And, curiously, monkshood. A gentle cough snaps you bac to attention. The dapper gentleman stands before you, alone. “Come along then.” He leads you down the side of the Mansion, and the soft music fades with each step. “You’ll be staying at the back of the property here, in something of a flat.” As he speaks of various small things, you feel eyes burn into your back.
  31. You look behind you casually, to see a young teenaged girl staring at you from the window, the blinds bunched up in her small hand and pushed aside. “Is that your daughter, sir? She’s very cute.” Confused, he looks to where you indicate, and laughs. The girl lets go and shuts his gaze off from hers. The curtains rustle as they settle back into place.
  33. “No, no… That was my wife’s mother. It’s… complicated. She’s a Lich, so don’t let her looks fool you. I’ll pass on your complement, though.” He grins at you, teasingly, and you feel your neck heating up slightly in embarrassment. “No, you’re not here for her, but for her daughter, my wife’s younger sister.” As the two of you walk down the side path of the mansion, an unholy racket grows louder and louder, a powerful, stark contrast to the soft music. You recognise it for Crimson Glory’s Queen of the Masquerade. The screaming guitars sunder the air in twain, so you know the song has only just started. Wailing vocals fill in a moment later, and you watch with some amusement, as the man rubs at his inner ear like something distasteful had lodged in it. You find your head nodding slightly to every step, subconsciously matching the pace you walk at to the beat.
  35. He notices your slight headbanging and your change in pace, and perks up nearly instantly, “You actually like this racket?” Well fuck you too.
  37. “Yes sir. I find it soothes my nerves.”
  39. “How strange. Well, whatever. It’s good you enjoy it then, she keeps this sort of stuff playing damn near twenty-four seven.” Finally, the two of you come to a large garden, the party extends out here if only slightly. Perhaps some of the guests were put off by the noise pollution. There’s a large elegant looking Gazebo, but it’s far from full, with only a scattering of guests here and there, talking louder than usual to be heard clearly. Zombie maids shuffle to and fro, ferrying cups of tea and sweets to the various guests. There are fewer men out here, and judging by some of the hungry eyes you feel on you and your guide, this is where some of the singles prefer to rest.
  41. The gentleman mutters out the side of his mouth, “Don’t make eye contact. And think unsexy things. They smell both fear and arousal.” You gulp, throat suddenly dry, and nod, holding your burdens closer to you. As you traverse the garden, the roof of a small home comes closer. Comparatively small, you see, compared to the mansion that is. This home itself is three stories high, and modelled after more a mausoleum than a home. The entire building looks more like a stone church than anything else. If churches were black. And yet despite it’s clearly grim and gothic look, it feels supremely… cozy. The metal is blaring now, and in the time it took you to arrive, the song changed over, to thunderous blast beats and rumbling basslines. You’d guess its Cryptopsy, but it’s coming in quite muffled, so it’s hard to tell. The man stops here, however, just before the small gate leading to the steps up to the mausoleum-home.
  43. He turns to you and offers his hand. You drop your things, and take it, shaking firmly. “Well then, It’s best I get back to my wife now. You enjoy yourself, “Caretaker.” Oh, and one last thing. Break it to her easy. Bringing you in is my wife’s idea. She hasn’t mentioned it to her sister yet. Well then… Until later.” With that he leaves, waving a hand behind him, leaving you alone.
  45. Sighing, you push the smaller gate open and begin to walk towards the large ebony door. You’re closing the gate behind you, when a tsunami of metal assails your ears and you hear the door creak open in a rusty-hinged scream. A voice calls your attention.
  47. “Yo. Is there something you need?” you prepare yourself for an answer as you turn around, but anything you’d have thought to have said freezes in your throat. You’ve seen plenty of beautiful women on your way here. That Gentleman’s wife. Plenty of other Wights and Vampires at the party. Hell, you’re pretty sure you’d even spotted a Pharaoh in gilded gold. Beautiful already, their clothes and accessories highlighted that, and it was hard to refrain from losing yourself in staring, but here before you is the jewel of the night, dressed in a style which can only be described as ‘I don’t really give a fuck.’
  49. As you bring your eyes up to face her, your eyes linger along her body. Her long, luscious legs are clad in black thigh-high socks which accentuate her slender calves and thighs perfectly, the socks just tight enough for the soft, pale flesh around her thighs to spill over the elastic band of the garment. Following up from there is the hem of her loose baggy black shirt, the hem just low enough to conceal her womanhood, like an airier, more comfortable mini-dress. The logo ‘Unleashed’ is scrawled across the black shirt in white writing, the neck dipping low enough for a bit of cleavage, and room enough to tell that she isn’t wearing any sort of bra, though it’s hard trying to guess the shape and size of her breasts from that alone. The shirt is just too loose, despite the way the bottom of it clings to her wide, shapely hips.
  51. The majority of her long silver hair is tied back in a high ponytail and streams out behind her, with only her fringe and two thick tresses of hair on either side of her head not collected. Instead, the rest of her hair either hangs off her face or down her chest. Two slivers of silver rest high on her brow in her questioning, naturally thin eyebrows and just below are two large, with lavender pupils. Her full soft, pink lips turn disdainfully as she looks down her adorable button nose at you.
  53. “The party is that way.” A delicate hand points out behind you towards the direction you just came. “And I’m not turning anything down.”
  55. “… Got any Obituary?” your question takes her aback, until she gets a good look at you. Namely, your clothing. Jeans, a jacket and a bandshirt.”
  57. “Of course I’ve got some Obituary. Come bring your shit in, I’ll grab you a beer.”
  59. You grin, “Cheers.” You pick up your stuff and follow her in, dropping it all on the inside of her doorway, out of the way. You follow her down a corridor into a lounge-room blaring with music. She gestures for you to take a seat before disappearing into the adjacent kitchen. You hear the clatter of glass on glass as the fridge door opens, and a moment later she reappears, tossing you a bottle of beer. You catch it as softly as you can and test it. It’s a twist top. You open it slightly and pop it in your mouth, twisting the rest of the cap free using your tongue, letting the cool froth of beer fill your mouth, as to not spill it all over her carpet. She begins to speak as you’re coping with the carbonation.
  61. “So? You’re obviously not with my sister’s lot. What brings you here?”
  63. You take an appreciative sip as the refreshing cold beer streams down your gullet. “Ah, actually it was your sister who brought me here. Just hang on a second.” You stand up, and place your beer on the living-room table, and head back down the corridor towards the door. Stooping down, you collect the box and head back to where the girl lounges with her legs hanging off the armrests of her chair. One of her socks has fallen, crumpled down to the knee, and reveals vast tracts of her supple skin. With her sitting the way she is, her shirt has ridden up a little bit, and you try not to trip over yourself when you realise that not only isn’t she wearing a bra, apparently she’s not wearing panties either. You mentally force your mind from the image of her smooth, hairless lips, surprisingly well maintained for her otherwise haphazard appearance. Maybe she just doesn’t grow hair there if she doesn’t want to. Undeath and mana man, who has the time to figure that shit out?
  65. Her head is tipped back and she’s guzzling lager like it’s nobody’s business. A blush comes to her cheeks as she licks her lips, and gives a satisfied sigh. For the first time, you get a good look at her razor sharp teeth. Her display looks a little exaggerated, but then you recall hearing once that there’s a type of undead that’s all about the mouth, eating, licking, nibbling. So that’s what she is. A Ghoul. Maybe it does taste that good to her. You scoop up your own bottle and take a sip, this time paying particular attention to the flavours. Damn. This is pretty good. Heavy too, if the taste is anything to go by.
  67. “So? What’s up with that box?” Ah, right.
  69. “No clue. Two things, first. Your sister had me deliver this. Secondly, I’m the new ‘caretaker’.”
  71. “Eh? We got tonnes.” You shrug,
  73. “She wants me to be your caretaker in particular.”
  75. “I… see…” She takes another gulp of beer, and thinks on the situation for a while, opting to busy herself with cutting open the box. She uses her nails like talons and all but shreds the top off. You supress a small shiver. There was once a time, centuries ago, where a monster like her would rend flesh just as casually.
  77. “Sweet, it’s all that band merch I got my friend to send me from overseas. Been waiting for this.”
  78. She takes a careful look at you. “You’re not just the normal caretaker, are you? You’re a ‘caretaker’.” She wiggles her fingers in the air to emphasise the quote. You nod slowly. “Hah, so it’s this or prison huh? How ‘bout that. Well, whatever. You seem alright. I’ll keep ya.”
  80. You nod respectfully, “Yes, thankyou, ma’am.”
  82. “’Ma’am’? Save the formalities for my sister.”
  84. “Sure thing.”
  86. “Ah. Speaking of formalities, what’s your name?”
  88. “Gryam. You?”
  90. “Clara. Come with. I’ll show you around. And grab that box, you’re going to carry it up to my room.” She winks, “Punishment for staring at my pussy for so long.” You blush deep red. Shit.
  92. The two of you climb the stairs, you staring as her ass the whole way. You pass room by room, and she points them out. “So that’s the bathroom.”
  94. “This is your room”
  96. “And this is a spare room.”
  98. “Right, cool. I guess I’ll start cleaning once I’m packed in. So which room is yours?”
  100. She grins lecherously, “Same room as yours.”
  102. “Of course it is.” You roll your eyes
  104. “Alright well, whatever. Settle yourself in,” she offers her fist for you to bump, “Welcome, roomie.”
  106. “Lets get along,” You bump the proffered fist, and part ways, taking her box into her room. You nudge the door open with your foot, and the first thing that hits you is this fogbank of sex. It smells like an orgy in here. There are a few dildos lying on the bed, the largest of which still smaller than you, you note with some pride, and a few crumpled up tissues. The window is dusty and looks like it hasn’t been opened in ages, the room dark
  108. There’s a desktop computer against the wall of the room, and there’s a paused video of a succubus railing an angel with her tail-turned-cock. You just stare at it for a moment, before dropping the box and heading back down.
  110. You cross the corridor, taking note of all the squeaky floorboards and noisy stairs. You’ll need to hammer those in firmer, at a later date. You head into the living room only to see her scrawled out across the lounge, shirt almost completely bunched up, riding well up over her rump , the hem some where in the middle of her back. She wiggles it slightly as she watches the posts in a familiar image board on her laptop screen, typing every now and then.
  112. It’s a herculean effort, to repel the urge to spank her bubble butt. You just wanna see the way it would jiggle. Your hand tenses, and clenches and closes as it subconsciously reaches out. Too late you notice her watching you, a wry smile on her lips.
  114. “You right there?”
  116. “I wanna smack it.”
  118. She arcs her back and raises her butt in the air, “What, this?” She wiggles it back and forth, and the new position exposes her glistening lips.
  120. “Ah, speaking of wet lips, your room smells like an orgy. Mind if I open a window?”
  122. “You don’t like?”
  124. “I don’t really care either way, really.”
  126. “Cool. The smell of a good fuck helps me sleep.” She pokes her tongue out and grins. You raise an eyebrow, and uh… you raise something else. Something about her casual lewdness sparking something within you. She freezes, and her long fleshy tongue rolls out, tasting the air, a motion reminiscent of a snake. Her eyes seem to glaze over, and she orders you in the first non-casual tone you’d heard from her.
  128. “Come here, stand in front of me.” Brow furrowing in confusion, you comply, not forgetting for a moment that you’re essentially little more than her slave now.
  130. “Y-yes?” She rolls her tongue in with a gulp, eyes fixed on your pants. Slowly, her hands reach up to your belt, and her fingers curl around it.
  132. “I still haven’t actually… welcomed you into me. I-I mean, into my home.” She gulps again, and her cock hungry expression only arouses you further, intensifying the scent of your lust, and her hunger. She struggles to undo your belt. The precarious switch of her patience flipping at the slightest pressure, and she simply cleaves through the belt, rather than bothering to work the buckle. You wince, but it’s not your only belt.
  134. Thankfully she spares the button and the zipper, and she slides your jeans down. Your cock is already straining at your underwear, and she’s so close it nearly bops her in the face when she peels your tented underwear down.
  136. “It’s… big.”
  138. “It usually is these days. That and I had this… thing with a Manticore who let me hide out at her place… It was a roof.”
  140. “Yeah.” She isn’t even listening, just staring at your half erect cock, already beginning to dribble pre. You go to stroke yourself to full mast, but she stops your hand before you can touch yourself.
  142. “You’re not… erect yet are you? I wanna see it happen. No touching.”
  144. You comply, but the wheels spin in your head. “This is… your first time seeing one?”
  146. She blushes but nods, “In real life.”
  148. “Uh, no offense but how old are you? I-I mean, what with being undead it’s hard to tell…”
  150. “A-actually I’m only as young as I look.”
  152. “Eighteen?”
  154. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Twenty three.” She does look slightly more mature than eighteen, you just figured it was more polite to shoot lower.
  156. “How? Your sister seemed more… mature.”
  158. “Orphan. Mum Lich. Turned me.”
  160. “I see. But even still, how is this your first dick?”
  162. “I… don’t really get out much. None of my sister’s friend are… my type if you get what I mean.”
  164. “So that’s why your room smelled like an orgy. Must have been hard.”
  166. She colours now that you know the truth of it, “Y-yeah.”
  168. You sigh, “Well if you want to watch it, I’m not going to get hard just standing with my dick out.”
  170. “Should I take my clothes off?”
  172. “Ah, no, you’re erotic enough, honestly. Just… masturbate?”
  174. “O-Okay.” She slides back into the lounge she was sitting on, and starts to grope her breast through her shirt with one hand, and dip her fingers into her honeypot with the other.
  176. You reach out and slide her shirt up to under her breasts, your heart pounding in your chest in a kind of juvenile excitement. She clearly doesn’t move around much or get much exercise, but her physique is perfection personified. Even though her kind no longer forms the vanguard of dread armies, rending and tearing men to shreds, her unholy metabolism is a impressive as ever, and the fine outline of her abdominal muscles twitch as she shivers in excitement
  178. Her tongue slips out of her mouth as she stares you in the eye and masturbates for you. You trail it as it slips down her chin, past her collarbones, and disappears under her shirt. You see the outline of the tentacle of her tongue wrapping around her breast. Unnecessary. You’re already impossibly hard. Seeing this, she grins and slips off the lounge and onto her knees before you. The slippery appendage retracting from around her breast, and retracting into her mouth.
  180. “Seeing it like this… you really are big.”
  182. You blush, “It just seems that way. Your dildos are tiny.”
  184. “I can barely fit them though.”
  186. “You’re that tight?”
  188. “I-I guess. Anyway. Welcome.”
  190. Her tongue flicks against the glans of your throbbing cock, and you moan quietly at her touch. From there, like a snake, it devours and wraps around your cock, until it collects your balls in its slick, cool embrace.
  192. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”
  194. “’Ozi-iv”
  196. “Well you’re really really good.” You brush your fingers through her hair, and slowly guide her lips to take in both her tongue and your cock. She moans and writhes in your grip as you gradually feed more and more of your manhood into her tight throat-cunt. And she acts like that’s exactly what it is. It’s almost like she’s getting more pleasure out of this than you are.
  198. One of her hands grabs your ass for stability and the other stays between her legs, thrusting her fingers into her sopping delta madly. She seems to have let you decide the pace of things, so you thrust your cock the rest of the way into her, and like a champion, she takes her first deepthroat, nose pressed flat up against your groin, no coughing, not vomiting, only moaning like she wishes you had more length to feed her. Ghouls.
  200. “Mmh, you’re amazing at this.” You put both hands on her head, and begin to gently facefuck her, thrusting deep into her throat pussy, feeling her tongue contract around you, and watching her throat distend.
  202. As you saw her head back and forth on your thick, throbbing cock, under her ministrations, you find your climax rushing towards you at breakneck speeds. She moans around her mouthful of cock and mumbles something you come to understand as "Cum for me." One last time, you pump your cock deep into her skull and cum, the already thick ropes, vestigial of gallons of manticore venom, pressurised by her tightly coiling and writhing tongue flesh.
  204. With leg weakening strength, you dump your seed deep down her gullet. Slowly, her tongue slides down your dick and back into her mouth, as she sucks out every last drop of your hot cum. With a wet pop, her lips part from the head of your cock.
  206. “Welcome.”
  208. “I think I’ll enjoy my stay.” You bend down and give her a quick peck on the lips, “I’ll just bring the rest of my crap in.”
  210. “I’ll…” She licks her lips, and her eyes almost glaze over, “I’ll savour this taste for a bit… A-and then take the pizza out of the freezer.”
  212. “Frozen pizza?”
  214. She gets defensive, “What’s wrong with that? Fucking tastes amazing.”
  216. “I’m sure it does. Got fresh onions and capsicum?”
  218. “I think so... somewhere.”
  220. “I’ll show you how to make a shitty pizza taste great.”
  222. She pouts, “It’s not shitty.”
  224. “Alright, alright. I’ll just go put my stuff in your-”
  226. “-Our.”
  228. “-Our room, and then I’ll show you how to fix up that pizza.”
  230. “It doesn’t need fixing. But sure. I’ll be in the kitchen.” You grin at her as she turns to leave, and head back to the front door to collect your crap before lugging it into her room. You just set it aside for now and wrinkle your nose at the scent of her sex which lingers heavy in the air of her room.
  232. “Second thoughts… This smells kinda nice.” You jam your hands down your pockets as you walk out of the room, and look around.
  234. She’s sitting on the bench, swinging her legs, waiting for you. She smiles when se sees you. Genuine. Pretty. “This is… much nicer than my previous rooves.”
  236. She’s taken her long silver hair out of the ponytail, and it now billows out down and around her shoulders. “That’s good. Sorry it isn’t much compared to the castle over there but… It’s home.”
  238. You smile back, genuinely comfortable for the first time in a while. “It’s home indeed. Lets see what we can do about this so called ‘Pizza’”
  240. She points towards the fridge as she preheats the oven. “Crap should be in the bottom drawer thingy.”
  242. You head over to the fridge and slide out the drawer. A green capsicum and a red one, an onion, an eggplant and some bacon. “What pizza is it?”
  244. “Supreme.”
  246. “Perfect.” You pull all the crap out, “Got a chopping board or something?”
  248. “Yeah, it’s over here.” She bends over at the hip, mischievously flashing her ass at you once again. Feeling bold, you give it a spank as you pass her, balancing the food in the crook of a single arm. She gives a cute little squeak and straightens up grinning, board in hand. She places it on the bench.
  250. “Knives?” Her claws flash and everything is shredded. It takes a moment to register.
  252. “R-remind me not to irritate my mistress.”
  254. “Mistress wants headpats.”
  256. “Ask and ye shall receive.” You spend a moment patting her head before you wash your hands and begin plucking off the pieces of the vegetables that you don’t want. The capsicum for instance, was shredded whole, seeds, stem and all.
  258. “So. How are we fixing this pizza?”
  260. “Oh? I thought you said it didn’t need fixing.”
  262. She seals her lips tight, and you laugh, “We’ll fry this stuff up first, and then basically dump it on top with another layer of cheese to go over.”
  264. “Neat. I should have some in a compartment in the door.”
  266. You head over. “Found it.” You also take the pizza out of the freezer, and take it out of its packaging. “We don’t need to fry it too long, because it’ll do most of its cooking in the oven, because this pizza is still frozen.”
  268. “Right” she says as she rifles around for a pan and some oil. It looks to be an induction stove top. “Any order?”
  270. You shake your head, “Just throw it all in.” You lean against the bench and wait, listening to the oil sizzle as she tips it all in. She comes to stand before you, and leans against you, arms up against your chest, pushing herself backwards and letting gravity carry her back to you.
  272. “I’m eating most of this myself.”
  274. You shrug, “I’m not a big eater.”
  276. “This will be heavy. I could probably still suck your dick, but don’t expect me to ride you.”
  278. You shrug, “I like cuddling. We can fuck later, if we must.”
  280. “’If we must’ he says. You’ll hurt a woman’s pride you know.”
  282. You shrug, “No offense, but it’s this or prison. This is a pretty fuckin’ awesome place to be, so I’ll be here for as long as humanly possible. For as long as inhumanly possible too, if I can help it. We have plenty of time to get to it. Doesn’t have to be the night we first meet.”
  284. “Mmm. I guess that’s true. So… what did you do?”
  286. You’re silent a moment. “Survived. Stole. Fought back… lied. Cheated.”
  288. She looks you steadily in the eye. “Sounds tough.”
  290. “It was, I guess. Can’t really complain though. I ended up in a pretty good place.”
  292. She grins, “Sounds tough.”
  294. “It is. My owner walks around half naked, and it’s hard to focus.” Your joke goes over her head though, and she frowns instead.
  296. “I’m not your owner. If that’s the way it is, you can leave. I’m not interested.”
  298. You return her gaze, but can’t find any words to say. You avert your eyes.
  300. “Okay?”
  302. You nod. “Okay. That stuff should be done frying now.”
  304. An awkward silence fills the gap. You sigh, “Put that stuff ontop of the pizza and put it into the oven. I’m going to put some music on.”
  306. “Sure.”
  308. You walk out of the kitchen and into the living room, press a button, and W.A.S.P’s ‘Hold On To My Heart’ begins to play. She sneaks up behind you, and wraps her arms about your chest.
  310. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to act like a cunt or anything, I just feel strongly about that kind of thing. I don’t own you, I’ve never been interested in a slave relationship.”
  312. You sigh, “No, it’s my bad I just don’t have a real grasp on how this works yet. I half expected to be shipped off to some Succubus’ whorehouse to be turned into an incubus fuckpet or something. This is… more than I could hope for. Hard to adapt, when I prepared myself for the worst.”
  314. She clinks two bottles of beer that she took from the fridge. “Let’s sit, and have a drink.”
  316. You manage a smile, “Yeah. That sounds good.”
  318. The two of you head to the lounge and take a seat. The luscious black leather squeaks a little with the motion, but the two of you settle in, you all but sinking into it, and her on your lap, her round butt cool and soft even through your jeans. You sit in silence and listen to the music, drinking your beer.
  320. Hers is soon empty along with two others you didn’t know about, and she’s blushing tipsily.
  322. “Hey… Gryam.” She twists to face you, giggling as she stretches her supple leg so far up that she may twist in her spot on your lap to face you, giving you a… stimulating view of her womanhood at the same time. Her leg comes back down as she straddles you.
  324. “Yes, Clara?” She takes your hand, brings it to her belly, and slides it up her, moaning faintly as she brings your pointer finger to her lips.
  326. “Just wanted to call your name.” She pops the finger in her mouth and starts fellating it, grinning as she watches you squirm, considerably hot under the collar. She releases your finger, and thrusts with her hips so that’s she’s closer to you, her chest up against yours, her knees digging into the back of the couch as she pins you there, all but lying on you vertically, and her long silver hair falls all over the place as her lips come tantalisingly close to yours before diverting to your ear at the last moment, her cool tongue flicking at the lobe, her soft lips closing around your pinna as she purrs throatily into it, sending electric sparks down your spine.
  328. “W-what are you doing?”
  330. “Noothin~” Her tongue slides into your ear. Not all the way, obviously, her tongue is a thick as a normal human’s tongue, but it causes you to jolt up, spine ramrod straight none the less.
  332. You sigh and release the tension that she’d brought upon you as she nibbles your ears, you’d heard ghouls were like this. Not sure why it slipped your mind. But with the way she’s thrusting into you, pushing her childbearing hips into your stomach, it’s more a wonder anything stays in your mind. Blood empties from your head, and fills your dick, as you feel the muted sensation of her pussy lips parting around the denim of your tented jeans, cock grinding against it in anguish.
  334. “I thought you said you could wait.”
  336. “Haven’t eaten the pizza yet.”
  338. “Nor will you. Not if you keep this up, it’ll burn.”
  340. “You’re a man. Do both.”
  342. “… You want me to fuck you, and get the pizza when it’s ready?” She doesn’t answer though, instead unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down, along with your underwear, letting your rigid cock spring out, and fill the rest of the way, thrumming and bouncing with each powerful surge of your heart. In the same motion, she takes her shirt off, leaving her naked except for the thigh-highs. You sigh as you take your own shirt off, now just as naked as she, “You want me to fuck you and get the pizza when it’s ready.”
  344. She answers this time, “I think I also want you to wear less when you’re at home.” She sucks a finger, her own, as she considers that. “Not when you’re outside. If you leave with any less than three jackets and five pairs of pants on and I’ll….um…I’ll…”
  346. “I know you hate it but you ARE my uh… ‘legal guardian’, though it’s obviously implied that bad little boys like me get sent to mean mistresses or gaol. That in mind, what kind of mistress can’t think up a good punishment?”
  348. “Shut up, I’m thinking.” She slides back into your lap having divested you of your pants, and traps your dick in between her lips and your belly. “I’ll um…” You lean forward as she gyrates softly upon you, and trap her perky nipple in between your teeth, gently biting and pulling at it, for all the difference it makes, her face is a thought-filled as a Lich’s as she desperately struggles to find an apt punishment, though her body reacts much more honestly, squirming and writhing.
  350. “I’ll steal my sister’s music player, and put some headphones on you, have them bolted to your head, and play nothing but holstaurs mooing country music.”
  352. “God that’s horrible. What’s wrong with you?”
  354. “And you thought I couldn’t think up a good punishment.”
  356. “I take my words back.”
  358. You look down at her sopping womanhood, “I thought I said to take it easy.”
  360. “I have been taking it easy. I let you into my home and it’s been a few hours and I haven’t jumped you yet.”
  362. “That uh… that is easy, for a monstergirl…I guess.”
  364. “Exaactly. Now shut up.” She seals your lips with her own, wraps her arms behind your back, and swivels her hips upward, sliding her womanhood up the length of your shaft before resting the head inbetween her folds, her immense tightness the only thing stopping her from utterly impaling herself upon it. “I uh… forgot how big this was.”
  366. “Take it easy. Don’t hurt yourself, okay?”
  368. Her hand seeks out your own, and clenches it tightly as her muscles quiver from perching so precariously above your maleness. “I won’t, geeze.” Inexorably slowly, she begins the descent, earnestly eager to take your fullness within her. The pressure builds as your cock bends underneath her crushing tightness before finally spearing through into her cunt, spreading her flesh asunder and pounding into her deepest parts. Her back arches as she cums from the penetration alone, and she nearly topples off, you have to put a hand to her back to stabilise her. Her cunt contracts like a virginal vice, and with how deep in her you are you can almost feel her cervix relaxing, just begging to have your thick cock head spear into the deepest parts of her womb, and flood it with hot white lust. Her breasts wobble as she heaves in ragged gasps, and slowly she leans forward again, sitting straight.
  370. Her fingertips rest gingerly on her stomach, roughly in the area of the head of your cock. Not as impressive as it sounds, nor does she have x-ray eyes. There’s a slight bulge in her belly as your sheer size demands entry into her womb, distending her canal into the shape of you.
  372. “Ahn~ I-It’s stretching me. A-aren’t you a little too big?”
  374. You shrug as you clench your jaw and throw all your will behind cumming with her, but there’s an all too familiar tightness in your gut which denies you release. You scowl inwardly. “I guess.” You weren’t always this big, nor was it your choice, but mentioning that and the circumstances behind it feels like it would sully the moment.
  376. You take her hips in hand, and start to move her, swinging her hips in circles as you pound up into her she goes rigid, like someone told her to drop what she’s holding and freeze.
  378. “D-don’t move yet!”
  380. “But that’s how sex works.” You bring her hips down and revel in the soft feel of her ass on your thighs, the coolness of her dribbling delta, making your groin a slick puddling mess, watching the bump in her belly grow and recede with your thrusts in an almost hypnotic manner. Imagination, surely, but you can almost see her stomach twitch as her pussy twists and writhes to greet you as you saw through her depths, grinding against the folds of her moist, slick womanhood, again and again, revelling in the wet ‘plat’ as your hips forcefully connect.
  382. Your cock throbs, and her tightly clenching cunt traps more and more blood inside of it, so much that you feel like you’ll burst. The smell of sex hangs heavy in the air and it’s the same reek as her bedroom, heady, potent and so damn sexy you feel like you’ll lose your mind and start rutting her here and now, drooling.
  384. “I-I know that! I-It’s just too big, y-you’re hitting my womb, y-you’ll break my womb if you do it that hard! My pussy is taking the shape of your dick! It’ll never be the same! I-if it’s like this, you’ll have to stay with me forever! Take responsibility!”
  386. You freeze, the slick dripping mess of pre and her girl-cum sliding down your shaft the only thing still in motion.
  388. “H-huh? What’s wrong. Why’d you stop?” She looks like an angel you’d rudely interrupted and hauled off her cloud nine.
  390. “I’ve read that doujin.” You can almost hear the sound of her embarrassed heart plummeting.
  392. “A-a-w-what?”
  394. “I’ve read that doujin. That line. You stole it almost word for word.”
  396. “I-I don’t know what you’re…” her blush spreads across her entire body, not unreminiscent of the times her kind would bathe in the blood of their enemies, “…talking about. Ha…haha, d-dough–djinn? W-what’s that? S-some kinda bread fairy? Ha-haha…”
  398. You start moving again, “The one with the spider onee-san, right?”
  400. “Geh! C-Can we not? This is embarrassing. Don’t look at me.”
  402. You start reciting half-remembered lines, “I-Iyaahn~ I-If you squeeze me that hard, I’ll be ruined!”
  404. A flood of her juices spill out, but her pussy clamps down none the less, “S-shut up! Who wants to hear that anyway?”
  406. “I’ve been broken, onee-sama, I’m just a cumpump now! I’ll never be a husband.”
  408. She leans down, intimately low, her breath almost feels hot on your face, her lips part sensuously, and she stared deep into your eyes. How heard pounds with the intensity, “Don’t worry. I made you my cumpump and if that’s all you’re good for, you’ll just have to be my husband, won’t you, Useless Little Brother.”
  410. “O-Onee-sama!”
  414. “…” The once intimate gaze is defiled by the buzzing of the oven. You hold the gaze for as long as you can before the two of you begin laughing, her shoulders quaking at the motion. “You have a cute voice, ‘Otouto’”
  416. “Shut up, baka-nee. Hop off too, I have to get that.”
  418. “Don’t wanna.” Her arms and legs wrap around you as she clings to you, dick still trapped in her womb. You sigh, and stand up, nearly toppling yourself as you adjust to her weight. You lift her up by the ass and take a step forward, dropping her back down onto her dick, slowly and messily making your way to the kitchen.
  420. Step. Thrust. Step. “This is really awkward.” Thrust.
  422. Step. “I’m having fun heheh.” Thrust.
  424. Step. “You’re not the one nearly slipping on girl-cum, Faucet.”
  426. Thrust, “Rude.” You make your way to the kitchen, and drop her cool ass on the cool bench, smirking at the wet splat, like you’d just thrown a towel soaked in girlcum at a brick wall. “Ahn~” You begin to thrust into her, sawing at her depths and pushing her into yet another orgasm as you manipulate your spare arm to pull the oven door down and grope around for a dishcloth.
  428. She leans back as you fuck her, and grabs one from a cupboard, “Here.”
  430. “Thanks.” You take it as you thrust, and wrap it about the searing metal plate the sizzling pizza sits on. After the initial wave of furnace heat, the smell of the pizza and roast capsicum and baked tomato paste and almost spitting chorizo sausage comes wafting out and fills the room. Clara’s pussy clenches impossibly about you, and when you look to her in askance you see her eyes glazed over, tong lolling out.
  432. “That smells…gimme.”
  434. “…What. Here? Now? As we do this?”
  436. “Duh. Gimme.” She holds her hands outstretched and clutches at empty space. You set the tray on a nearby wooden chopping board, and look back at her.
  438. “You’ll wait for me to cut this, right?”
  440. She pouts.
  442. “I’m not a pig! Just get the fukkin’ knife, and gimme!”
  444. “Haha, okay okay.” You rifle around one of the draws for a knife, but find one of those roll-y pizza cutters. You slide it up and down the pizza, cutting it into thin triangles, and hand one to her, mildly intrigued at what it would be like to watch a person fuck and eat.
  446. Her eyes hone in on it, and she goes to grab it, but thinks better of it. She opens her mouth, “Ahhh.” She wants you to feed her. Chuckling, sighing, chucklesighing, you take the slice and begin to feed it to her, growing harder as her tongue wraps around it, the image not un-reminiscent of cramming a cock down her throat. The moment she pulls half of the thing into her mouth and takes a bite, her back arches again, and her pussy sucks you in before tightening again, the heralding of her orgasm becoming an increasingly familiar sign. You thrust in deep and your glans flares as you struggle to pump a load into her womb, in vain, with the unfortunately expected result. A thick wash of girl-cum splatters against your thigh as the tightness of her cunt forces out a thick stream of lubrication.
  448. “Did you just…cum? From eating that?” She blushes as she chews.
  450. “Mno.”
  452. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” She pouts as she chews, and then swallows. You watch as her lithe throat contracts around the morsel of food, squeezing it down.
  454. “No.”
  456. “You totally did.”
  458. “No I didn’t.”
  460. “Yes you did.”
  462. “It was the pizza.”
  464. “The pizza came?”
  466. “No, I mean… thepizzamademecum.”
  468. “Sorry, what?”
  470. “Aargh!” she beats your chest with the flat of her fists, “Shut up, it’s your fault, how did you make that taste so good?!”
  472. “I told you it needed fixing.”
  474. “Fiine. I admit it. Next piece.”
  476. You take a piece, fake her out, and cram it down your own throat. Damn this is good. It didn’t make you cum on the spot, but it’s still fuckin’ good. “This is amazing. This can’t be store-bought.”
  478. Clara shrugs, “Lily gets them for me.”
  480. “Lily?”
  482. “Our zombie Kikimora.”
  484. “You have a zombie kikimora?”
  486. “She’s adorable. You should go say hi.”
  488. You pick up another piece of pizza, and hold it in front of her to bite. She doesn’t cum again, but she still moans like she were eating pure sex. Like that the two of you fuck and eat until the pizza is gone, and your thrusts are sluggish.
  490. “I-I’m close… H-hey.”
  492. You grunt, “Yeah?”
  494. “How come you haven’t cum yet?”
  496. “U-Uhm… promise not to laugh?”
  498. “I-Is it something weird?”
  500. “Kinda.”
  502. “A-about me?”
  504. “Gods no.”
  506. “Okay… I promise.”
  508. “Because you haven’t told me to.”
  510. “Because you haven’t told me to… Really?”
  512. “Yeah.”
  514. “Why?”
  516. “Can we not? Like… not right now?”
  518. “Uhm… okay. Then, um…” she wraps her legs around you, and her hands come under your arms to grip your back. She pulls herself close, blushing, and whispers in your ear, gently nibbling the lobe. “I’m really really close.” The hot need in her voice is enough to melt your heart and mind, and you begin to thrust just a little harder, just a little deeper. “So I want you. I want you to cum with me. In me.”
  520. “N-Now?”
  522. “Not now. Soon.”
  524. You continue to thrust into her, with her cool breath in your ear, her oddly quiet moans and squeals as you hit a good spot every now and then. She gasps as you time and aim your thrusts to keep hitting it, cock throbbing in need, yet sealed until your mistress gives you permission to cum. Your calves ache with the exhaustion of the constant exertion, and your gut clenches with the burning need to unload your seed deep inside of her womb.
  526. You trace your hands up and down her marvellous softness, and tweak her bright pink nipples, trailing your kisses up and down her shoulder, neck jaw and face. She whines like a bitch in heat, and you give the round rum resting flat against the bench a light spank as you adjust yourself to thrust even deeper inside her, your length feeling as though you’re piercing the core of her.
  528. Her muscles clench around you in a primal rhythm until finally, she pulls you into her, into her womb, and orders you to “Cum. Cum with me, now.” Something within you switches. A circuit of pleasure finally connecting, and your legs nearly give out as you burst, your inhumanly hot, thick ropes of seed spilling into her womb, splashing against its walls and pointing it an endless white. She screams out, and pulls your face into her breasts, biting down hard on your shoulder, teeth sinking in. It burns the way you expect someone biting you to do at first, but as her saliva seeps in, a liquid fire of pure bliss fills you, and you sway dangerously, if not for her holding you in place, you’d have fallen.
  530. You pump her so full of cum that her belly, already a little pudgy from the pizza she ate, swells even more, into a considerable bulge on her otherwise lithe frame. She releases your shoulder “Oooh… I feel so wonderfully full.” She slumps into you, and rests her lips against the wound in your shoulder, kissing it, and giggles at the mark her teeth left on you.
  532. “W-what was that bite?”
  534. “It’s how ghouls mark their men.”
  536. “Their men?”
  538. “My man. I sensed you were in someone nasty and gross before me, so I wanted to mark you, make you mine so someday you’ll forget all about her.”
  540. Your heart flutters at this genuine intent. “I see. And that… emotion after?”
  542. Clara shrugs, “Mum said it was something in our venom. This was my first time using it.”
  544. The moment passes in silence, as you digest the girl before you. She meets your gaze head on as you stare into her eyes, with a slight smile, and after a while, the only conclusion you can come to is to smile back. “Whatever, lets just go to bed. I’m exhausted.” She grins, and leans forward to kiss you for a short moment.
  546. “Okay.” She goes to hop off the bench, but before she can land, you slip your arm under her thighs, and wrap the other around her back. “W-what are you doing?”
  548. “Carrying you.” She wraps her arms around your chest instinctively.
  550. “I-I can see that. W-why?”
  552. “Dunno. Feel like it. Do you not like it?”
  554. She’s silent for a moment as you carry her to the room, but after a while she shakes her head, silver hair swaying. “I like it.” You carry her up the stairs and into her room. Your room. You push the sheets aside, and lay her down, before crawling in with her, drawing the sheets as you do so.
  556. You begin spooning, but she twists a moment later to face you, and wraps her arms and legs around you. The two of you are quiet for the longest moment. You almost thought she was asleep, ‘till she repeats herself as you slip into your own sleep.
  558. “I like it.”
  560. Usually under the circumstances, cuddling up with someone under such thick blankets would get hot and sweaty real quick. Which is cool if that’s what you’re into, but you personally hate being sweaty. So it’s refreshing to see that after a night and most of the morning holding Clara tight you’re no worse for wear, your own body heat having been half sapped by her, leaving you a comfortable lukewarm.
  562. The cute girl beside you, so close it’s like she’s on you, smiles absently as she sucks a thumb. Your thumb. Strange surges of pleasure flow up your arm in easy waves is accentuated by the off electric spike as she bites down in her dreams, softly, playfully, more pleasurably than any digit as mundane as a thumb has any right to be.
  564. The strong smell of her sex permeates everything in the room, and there’s no little satisfaction in knowing that after last night, you’ll absolutely reek of her as well. It’s a sort of primal thing, the strength of which startles you.
  566. She moans and twists in her sleep, her head pushing back and to the side, allowing what tiny streams of sunlight trickle in through holes in the heavy blanket covering the window to dance across the pale flesh of her bosom, shoulder, and a vast expanse of the supple skin of her neck.
  568. It begs for you to kiss it, and she stirs as you trace your kisses up her breast, you linger at a spot of softness in the crook of her neck, sucking hard, calling forth a purplish bruise, and marking her. You can tell she’s awake now, the hardening of her pink nipples signal enough, though her eyes remain obstinately shut. Your lips break free of their seal upon her throat and you observe your work, the slight impression of your teeth on her skin, the discolouration, your brand.
  570. You kiss it affectionately, as if to claim ‘mine’, and continue your trail upwards each shaky breath filling your mind with more of her scent. With how erotic it is, it’s a wonder that you didn’t sleep the night with a raging erection, so close to the source of it. Her throat twitches as she swallows a mouthful, and despite her pretence, her legs twitch, the hands pressed up against your chest, forgotten in sleep, betray themselves, clenching at you like a cat’s, yearning to wrap around you and hold you tight, ravish you then and there first thing in the morning.
  572. Her breath goes sharp as your teasing lips finally touch upon her jaw. It juts out a tiny bit as she offers her lips to you, still doing her best to feign sleep, but you divert at the last moment, laughing softly, as you trace up the line of her fine and delicate jaw, up to her ears, where you nibble the lobe, and spill hot breath inside.
  574. A hot flush of bashfulness spreads across Clara’s face, following a cute gasp as your teeth sink into the soft flesh of her lobe. You smile around your morsel as she gives herself away utterly. You move from her ear to her lips, and grin as her eyes slowly open.
  576. “Gave myself away huh?” With the game over, she’s free to cling to you, her soft thigh slipping in between yours, arms wrapping around, so close your noses touch and there’s nothing other than her in your sight, you swear you can even feel your own heartbeat resonating from within her. You get suitably aroused, but then you have things to do, and can’t just spend all day fucking. Right?
  578. You settle for another kiss instead, arms snaking down her luscious body to grip her ass despite yourself. “Entirely.” She relaxes, resting her head into your shoulder. You almost think she’s returned to sleep when her suddenly small voice spirits away the superstition.
  580. “Shame we can’t really stay like this, isn’t it?”
  582. You say nothing for a long time, a strange ache in your heart, as though you held the finest glass of the thinnest crystal. That an ill breeze may be all it takes to shatter it. An equally alien emotion surges up alongside it, the pair of which you’ve never felt, not at the same time. The urge to protect. Her tail brushes past you, a bark sinking deep into the flesh of your calf, and you jump, disentangling the pair of you. You go to yank the bark out before the venom can act, but your hand meets little more than unbroken skin.
  584. “Gryam?” She stares at you, concern etched across her features, and you feel a hot shame come across you.
  586. You twist so your legs dangle over the side of the bed, turning away from her, and hiding your erection, “A-uh, I-It’s nothing, I just remembered I wanted to go for a jog, and head out to do some shopping for that empty fridge of yours, and I go a cramp in my leg. T-the body knows what’s best, huh? Haha.”
  588. “…Okay.”
  590. “Sorry.”
  592. You get up, and leave her there on the bed, erection already flagging, as phantasmal as the sensation which conjured it. You scowl to yourself, as you hop down the stairs two at a time, heading for the discarded pile of clothes from yesterday, abandoned where you left them, by the cough in the lounge-room.
  594. You pick up the old clothes and give them a sniff. Wearable. You’ll smell but you’re going to shower and change after this, anyway. You glance through the ceiling to the room upstairs, where you left Clara. Might want to get an apology gift for her too. You sigh, cursing yourself, as you head out, patting the phone you keep on you in one pocket, and your wallet in the other. A few caretakers watch boredly, as you walk to the perimeter, a leniency which shocks you. It’s almost like you aren’t a criminal.
  596. You set off at an easy jog around the perimeter, sucking in lungfuls of the midmorning air. A rather tall, slim looking woman gains on you effortlessly, despite wearing something you can only call riot gear, a few sidearms, and a curiously anachronistic greatsword. She looks like a modern knight or something, clearly a security guard. You glance back for a moment before returning your jog, barely even breaking stride.
  598. “It hasn’t even been a night, and you’re escaping already?”
  600. Her voice comes steady from the side, as though she weren’t currently matching your respectable speed.
  602. You chuckle, jerkily, almost barking as each laugh is forced out by the impact of foot on grass, “Yeah. Catch me if you can.” A hint of self-depreciative sarcasm.
  604. She grins, “What is it then? Out for a late morning jog?”
  606. You nod, eyes up front, “Yeah. How big is this property, anyway?”
  608. “Haha. Big.” She grabs your arm and tugs you to the side, “Come on, I’ll show you the actual course.”
  610. You nearly stumble as you twist your course, “Wait, you have an actual dedicated path?”
  612. “Of course. Though it’s mostly impromptu.” She releases your arm, and falls into line with you, breathing steadily, gear jangling.
  614. You spare a glance her way every now and then, the skin-tight, black body-suit which hugs to her curves criminally, the blocky armor which protects only the largest body masses, chest, arms, legs. A ponytail of purple, luscious hair which dances in the wind, and a beautiful sweat-slicked face, marred only by a long scar which extends even beyond the black eye patch she wears. She looks entirely human except for the long, elfin ears, but she’s far more robust than any elf.
  616. She answers before you can even ask, taking her head off her shoulders mid jog, and kissing you on the cheek from an arm’s distance. You’re so shocked, one foot hits the other, and you fall in a graceless heap, much to her enjoyment. A rowdy laughter follows you as you roll, and your back smacks up against a garden rail. You come to a stop, upside down, ass in the air, resting on your head as your limbs dangle uselessly. She jogs after you, slowing to an easy walk as she snickers, head back in place.
  618. “You wanted to know what I was, right?” she stands before you, lithe body dominating your vision, a slight indentation in her crotch, outlining her womanhood in perverted detail. She isn’t wearing underwear. Lewd thoughts flicker across as you imagine her tight, athletic form swimming in her sweat, possible remnants from this morning’s frustrated libido.
  620. “Dullahan” you gasp. She grabs your foot, and hoists you up into the air, holding you high enough to come level with her bust. Decent enough of a man, you cast your eyes up at hers, rather than her tits. She’s grinning.
  622. “Yup.” She drops you, and you catch your head-first plummet on your hands. She gives you an assisting push which sends you falling backwards, a well-placed foot transferring all your momentum into standing up. She’s grabbing your hand before you can settle yourself though, and has resumed the jog, “C’mon it’s still a long jog.”
  624. “How long?” You fall in behind her, and nearly trip countless times as you stare at the outline of her tight, round ass in the suit. Watching the mesmerising gap between her shapely thighs open and close, never truly shut, for the upside-down triangle of space below her womanhood, a window to nirvana. It takes all your higher thinking to focus on what she’s saying.
  626. “Uhm…” You see rusty gears in her head turn as she calculates, “It’s probably been one, so nine more k?”
  628. “Wait, you said you did this every day?”
  630. “Yup! One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats and ten kilometres running, every single day!”
  632. “… Wow.”
  634. “Hey, you should come, a couple of us guard girls all do it early in the morning, and, well…” she glances over your body, biting a lip, “Maybe you should join us after, too?”
  636. A gangbang of the entire sweaty, horny security detail? You dick says yes, but these days you’ll be hard pressed to find anything your dick will say no to. You’re eternally thankful that there are a few lines left uncrossed. “Oh, no thanks. I mean, as security, I assume you know what my deal is here, and I’d like to stay as loyal to Clara as I can.”
  638. She looks a little sad at that. “Yeah, no, I respect that. Oh well.” She continues your tour, her quiet breathing your sole companion. Your dick swears at you, but you do your best to ignore it. Nine kilometres later, you come to a sweaty, puffing rest, roughly about where you started.
  640. The Dullahan trots up, and rests a hand on your hunched over back, “Too much for ya?”
  642. “N-no… just… it’s been a while since I’ve had to move like that. I think I’ll get used to it.”
  644. “Haha! Well, come by some morning, where we do 10 laps at a sprint.”
  646. “Uh…n-no thanks.” You watch as she wanders back to her post. Security here sure is lenient. You stretch your muscles for a few minutes, breathing deeply, and feel sufficiently floppy. Your ripped and toned muscles burn, utterly useless things carved for sex through demonic energies and venom. You suddenly feel yourself supremely hungry, with an inexplicable craving for hot chips. This is as good an occasion to explore the town as any other, as you shop, and the scent of another woman on you should get you left well enough alone, if a few odd stares.
  648. You pull your wallet out of your jeans, warm with the slightest dampness, and unfold it. Sixty. Not nearly enough, but this is all you have. You recall something about your position being financially dependent upon your “guardians”, not unlike a child. You sigh, and look up at the main house, castle, mansion thing, and begin to head towards it. Its side doors are the grandest you’ll have ever entered. You stand outside, and the hot sweat seems to almost roll you, infiltrating your nose with the acrid scent of sweat, and the mind-numbing smell of sex.
  650. You suddenly feel self-conscious about the order of things. Maybe you should shower before you leave, and if walking around or anything else makes you sweaty again, simply shower once you come back. Yeah. Let’s do that. You turn on your heel, but start to feel bad again, as you head back…home, you guess. You wanted to return with something to apologise with. Maybe if you take her out on a date? Is that something she would even be interested in? No, what are you, a school girl? Just tell her you want her around, and do something nice for her on the way.
  652. You push open the door, “Hey, Clara, you around?” You look around, shortly figuring that she’s probably out. Well, it’s for the best. This way you can show her something nice when you next see her. You strip your clothes off, and throw them in an overstuffed laundry basket in your room. Something else you’ll need to do. Naked now, you grab a towel from the cabinet she showed you, and head towards the bathroom.
  654. Now naked, you push the door open only to stumble across an undressing Clara, her full, naked form laid bare before your eyes. She turns to you, half way through sliding her hairband out of her hair.
  656. “O-oh, uh… sorry. Didn’t realise you were in here.”
  658. She shrugs, “You’re back quick.”
  660. “Ah, I haven’t left yet. I just went for a jog, came back to shower before heading out, I’m uh…” Faced with her now, you can’t help but speak honestly, “Sorry about this morning. I ruined a pretty nice moment there.”
  662. She frowns, sliding the rest of her hair out of the band and setting it aside, letting is fall about her shoulders and roll down her back like a wave “Wanna tell me about it?”
  664. “Uh…” you put the towel aside, “You don’t mind? I don’t want to feel like I’m keeping things from you, and I feel like I won’t shake this sense of guilt otherwise.”
  666. She approaches you, hips swinging, smiling. She comes close and leans her naked body up against yours, wrapping her arms around the back of your neck, “Idiot. You can tell me anything, but… I’ll respect anything you don’t want to share, I guess…” she loses focus on what she was saying, and it trails off, as she sniffs. She leans her head into your shoulder and neck, and scents you, “You smell… really manly right now.”
  668. “Uh… sorry? I didn’t realise the girls around here ran ten k every morning so I kind of just followed this Dullahan on her track.”
  670. “Oh, you met Aoife, then?”
  672. “Eefa?”
  674. “Yeah, spelt A-o-i-f-e.”
  676. “What?” Clara shrugs,
  678. “Irish.”
  680. “Oh. Anyway. Yeah. She seemed cool, just dragged me along on too big a run. I felt dirty entering the main house, so I decided to come shower.”
  682. She grins, “Oh, are you saying that you don’t care how much you dirty up my place?”
  684. You wrap your arms around her hips, and grin back, “I’m saying you like the way I smell. If I went in there, imagine the competition you’d have. Aoife said there weren’t so many men here.”
  686. She giggles, “So you’re protecting yourself for my sake, is that it?”
  688. “Maybe.” The two of you step into the large, luxurious shower, and you hiss as the scalding water cascades down.
  690. “Oh, sorry. Too hot? I like it to warm me up, but if it’s too hot or something…”
  692. “No it’s cool. Just takes some getting used to.” Clara picks up a bar of soap, resting in an alcove in the tiled wall, and hands it to you, thrusting her chest out, grinning.
  694. “Clean me.”
  696. She turns around to lean against you, pushing you up against the wall of the shower cubicle. Your hand goes to her hips so you can hold her up if she loses traction with the wet tiles, but she’s resting enough of her weight on you that there’s not so much chance of her slipping. Instead, she reaches up to the shower head, and twists it so that the steady stream of scalding water flows down her chest.
  698. She tips her head back, smiling as she nuzzles into your neck. “It’s so nice having this warmth. I used to start freezing from any part of me not under the water.”
  700. “I can imagine,” You start moving the bar of soap in circles on her stomach, leaving behind soapy trials, “So you actually feel the cold? Why dress in so little, then?”
  702. “Uh… it’s not like I feel the cold as much as my muscles get sort of stiffer? Imagine if you didn’t find the cold uncomfortable, but all the uncomfortable shit it causes still happened. It’s sort of like that.”
  704. “Hmmm…” You trail off as your hand comes higher. You take the soap, and press it between your two hands, rubbing them together, creating a soapy froth. Putting the bar aside, you then take your hands, and rub the soap into her breasts. Intents, not entirely pure.
  706. “Y-you’re good at this…”
  708. “Not the first time I’ve done this I guess.”
  710. “Mmh.” She abandons herself to your ministrations, and you grab the soap again, cleaning her from head to toe, paying particular attention to her soft thighs, the way your fingers push into her skin, the curves of her legs, and the roundness of her ass, soaping them up generously.
  712. “Done already?” You put the soap aside, and slide a hand down to her nethers, the other up to her breasts.
  714. “Not quite. I still need to clean these areas thoroughly.”
  716. “Make sure you clean all of it.”
  718. You nip her ear, “Careful now. I might have to clean that dirty mouth of yours too.”
  720. “Oh? And how will you clean my dirty mind?”
  722. “I-I uh… good question. So I was thinking-”
  724. “About how to clean my dirty mind?”
  726. “No. Well, yes, but why not hit the town with me? Show me around?”
  728. She stiffens, the idea quite clearly not palatable to her, “U-uh… I-I think I’d rather…not. I-I mean if that’s cool or anything that just doesn’t… Ah, how do I say this?.. …I don’t… wanna.”
  730. “Oh... Okay then.”
  732. She starts at your crestfallen tone. “D-don’t misunderstand or anything, it’s not like I don’t want to go out with you or anything it’s just… yeah…” She finishes lamely and twists so her chest rests up against you instead of her back. She’s avoiding your eyes now.
  734. “B-but if you… y’know. Absolutely have to go, come back as soon as possible okay?” she’s looking earnestly at you now, honest eyes not wavering in the slightest. A natural smile comes to your lips. So it’s not like she doesn’t want you around. That makes you feel better, but also makes you worry about her evident aversion to leaving the house.
  736. “Sure thing. I’ll be back before you know it, but it’s not like I can just lounge around here forever and do nothing.”
  738. “Just don’t take too long okay? And no flirting with other women.”
  740. You chuckle, “It’s not like I’m about to leave right now. I can even leave it to late afternoon, if you like? What time do shops around here close?”
  742. “Ah, you don’t have to worry about that. Quite a few shops around here have undead keepers, so they’re open all hours.”
  744. “Well, we’ve got time.” Clara grins, and grabs the bar of soap.
  746. “Your turn.”
  748. It took a little longer than you originally thought, but you appreciated the shower none the less, and now you stand again before the side-entrance to the main house, considerably cleaner, smelling much nicer, and somewhat more…relieved, than you otherwise would have been.
  750. The recalling of private intimacies shared under the falling waters sparks a pleasant surge of arousal and embarrassment in equal measures. You try to shake them off as you take your first step up the small flight of steps which adorns the entrance, a stone case bordered on either side by ornate carved rails, a potted plant to either side of the ancient oak doors, one shut firmly, the other ajar, the gap great enough to allow two to enter, shoulder-width abreast.
  752. The miniature wind tunnel which catches at your over-shirt and puffs it out as you pass the doors speaks of the open windows of the vast hall you find yourself in, no doubt crowded with party-goers had you entered here last night, and not bypassed the entire event for some beer and pizza.
  754. You look around at the aftermath, an incubized pianist, pants less and drooling all over the rich, ornate carved woodwork of the piano, a girl snoozing between his legs, hands on his thighs, dick in mouth, as though she fell asleep blowing him. Or fell asleep, and then started blowing him. It was hard to tell with some girls. The truly miraculous thing, which causes you to give a soft whistle of admiration, is the perfect piece the incubus continues to play, despite being asleep, and likely, very intoxicated.
  756. Similar scenes abound, with couples all over the place, in various states of undress and arousal, the only common factor being the widespread slumber which has befallen each of them. A spidergirl hangs upside from the ceiling by web, rotating slowly, and swaying with the mid-afternoon breeze, all limbs curled around the man locked within, similarly wrapped around her, his face lost in the curves of her bosom, the only sign that she belongs at this party, the hallmark pale, slightly blue-tinged skin of death.
  758. Death’s indiscriminatory nature further manifests itself in the rather buxom and fluffy undead wolf curled up with her man on a long, luxurious silver-rimmed violet couch, her jaw works in minute machinations as she sucks on his ear in her sleep, her arms wrapped around his chest. One of her legs hooks over his, and her unusually long tail curls around the two of them. Clingy. The cute kind of clingy though? The literal kind of clingy. You notice traits similar to Clara’s, and assuming you’re the kind of man to put a label on everything, were the girl forming the better half of the lover’s pendulum over there a spiderwight, the girl here would be a Ghoul…Wolf? Wolfu…ghoulfu… Goulfuwoulfu.
  760. There are other, let visually interesting guests, of course, Wights, half-Wights, Elf Wights, Dhampirs, Vampires, but the final guest you come to is wide awake, lurking in the shadows, coiled upon her long tail, resting herself against the wall and sitting in the middle of the tower of tail, arms crossed, as she surveys you from her throne.
  762. “What?” Terse. Grumpy. You peer up at her. Her tail is strong and thick, and its scales are jagged, more like those of a dragon’s than a lamia. An assertion supported by the horns and large fin-like ears which part her long hair. Wurm. You suppress a shiver of fear. Such destructive beings have no right being so adorable. You have to remind yourself that she could shatter the very tectonic plate you stand on with an ill placed fall. And you have seen a Wurm trip on her own tail.
  764. Worse than their physical immensity however, is the wurm’s true weapon. They wield ancient magic, unascribed all but the cutest. Its symptoms? Weak knees. Chest pains. An unspeakable urge to tickle. In the worst cases, spontaneous cuddles. The atmosphere freezes, tense, so thick you could part it with a blade. You eye her suspiciously. She pouts fiercely.
  766. “What are you doing here?”
  768. “What? A Wight can’t go to dead people parties? Rude.”
  770. You look to the cardboard ghost claws strapped to her actual claws. “Were you even invited?”
  772. “N-Yes. Yes I was. And even if I wasn’t, I’m dead too. Why can’t I come to dead parties?”
  774. “You mean undead?”
  776. “Un-dead? What, living? No, what are you, dumb?”
  778. “N-not what I meant, and you’re clearly alive.”
  780. She crosses her arms tighter and turns away from you, “I’m dead on the inside.”
  782. You purse your lips and sigh through your nose. “And who told you that?”
  784. “No one tooold me that, I just… y’know. Know.”
  786. “And how do you know?” Her pout falters into uncertainty, and she fidgets with her cardboard ghostclaws.
  788. “W-well I… lost it.” The tip of her tail flicks at her hesitance.
  790. “Lost what?”
  792. She looks around, sees every one asleep, and leans in closer, gulping “You know. ‘It’.”
  794. “Your… virginity?”
  796. “What? Ew, no. What is that? I meant my… you know… smile.” She blushes.
  798. She frowns as you begin to laugh. It’s an Atlean feat, but you straighten your lips “Y-you lost your… smile?”
  800. “Yeah! It was there one moment, a-and then it just… I dunno. Disappeared! And when your smile goes, you’re dead inside, that’s what all the moving mist continent cartoons tell me.”
  802. “So you went to a dead party.”
  804. “So I went to a dead party!” She begins to grin in her outburst but catches herself at the last moment, turning the would-be-smile into yet another pout.
  806. “What if you smile wasn’t gone, just hiding?”
  808. “My smile… hiding?” She shifts in her seat of coils to bring herself face level, “It can do that?”
  810. “And I bet I could bring it back.” She thrusts herself away from you, eyes wide and frightened. “W-what is it?”
  812. “Mummy told me about you wizards. One magicked her legs away and she was in a wheelchair for the rest of her life!”
  814. “I’m not a wizard.’
  816. “I’ll kick you. I know karate.”
  818. “I’m not a wizard. Just… look…” you bury your face in your hands. Oh god. It’s beginning. The urge to tickle…rising..! Wait. You grin sadistically behind your hands, the Wurm trying to peer at your face like it’s a game of peek-a-boo. This could solve two problems. You wait, like a spider as she leans closer and closer to you, trying to look at the face you’d inadvertently hidden from her, like a curious child. You wait until she’s in range, and leap at her.
  820. “Kyaaah~!” She flails about as you tackle her into the ground and dig your fingers into her sides and wiggle them about with varying pressure, poking and prodding at times, ghost touches at others.”Ka~hahahahaha s-stop! B-bad touch!” A hand traces up her sensitive belly to tease at her throat and she squeals, giggling. She shuts your hand down by pressing it against her chest with her chin, so you slide your hand up her spine, electric sensation arcing between your fingers and her nerves, causing her back to arch and her tail to straighten out. Naturally, this tips her head back, and you go back to tickling her throat, other hand coming around to tease her belly, poking, prodding tickling and lightly scratching it, her giggling and laughing uproariously all the while.
  822. You don’t get much longer, before her tail smacks you in the chest, launching you across the room, to smack into the wall opposite. A hot warmth spreads from within, and you cough up a bit of blood as you slide down to the ground. You look to the girl, who’s escaped into her scales, holding her breasts and frowning like you’d just assaulted her. You did assault her, really.
  824. “W-What’s the big idea?”
  826. You wipe a little blood from your lips. “Didn’t you notice? Your smile came back when I was tickling you.”
  828. She freezes, jaw dropped, the only movement on her face, the slow curving of upturned lips. A smile. “M-My smile isn’t dead anymore! I’m alive!” she rushes you, tackling you further into the wall, and kisses you all over, “Thank you Mister Wizard! Thanks for protecting my smile!” She retreats, slithering away, grinning, giant cardboard claw waving behind her, “Bye now!”
  830. “I’m not a wizard.” You sigh, slowly picking yourself up.
  832. “Well then.”
  834. You look around. The sleepers are none the more disturbed for the racket, and the building is one less Wurm not living her life correctly. Not bad. As you look around a figure shuffles into view, rounding a corner, dusting the flat surfaces of odd cupboards and shelves. A kind of wolf-bird-girl in a frilly black and white maid uniform. A black leather under-bust corset confines her chest, and emphasises her bust, which would spill out if not for the strained frilly white shirt underneath. The dress continues down from below the corset into a wide, barely-modest mini skirt, fluffy layered cloth of black and white adorn it, and it extends a few inches out, tented at the back where her furry, feathered tail swishes. Her avian feet-covering scales rise up her long legs, width thickening with the flesh of more human calves and thighs underneath, the scales softening and fading into skin the further they rise, faux-stockings, a perfect, natural zettai ryouiki.
  836. A single ring adorns each middle-finger, kinking to a thin, isosceles strip of fabric parting a wristlet of fluffy black feathers to widen past the wrist to form almost bicep-high long gloves. You’ve never seen a Kikimora with black scales, black feathers, black hair and black tail, but it strikes a beautiful if stunning contrast with her pale, blue-tinged skin.
  838. She passes without even acknowledging you, and as her tail flicks from side to side contently, you’re flashed by lacy black panties conforming to a tight, bouncy ass, a small triangular thigh-gap shining through like a transparent diamond. Primal instincts kick in as you stare at her lissom legs, and consider the oddity of such black talons upon such pale flesh. You’re certain usually they’d be a more yellowy colour in the same scheme as other harpies, but in this instance, you’re more than glad that in her case they don’t clash with the black and white colour schemes of her rather gothic uniform. The necromantic powers that be have got this shit down pat.
  840. She halts for a brief moment before a tall bookcase, and raises her arm. The brush in her hand stops just shy of the tip of the dusty top. You come up behind her as she starts hopping, and dusting the piece by a jump at a time. You grab hold of her hips before she falls again, and lift her up. For two reasons. Like this, she’s able to clean the top rather well. Clearly.
  842. Like this you have a perfect view of her thin, laced black panties as it curves around her ass and the folds of her womanhood, tight enough to actually make out an indentation in the fabric of her panties. The perfect view is swatted aside as her tail begins to wag happily to both your touch and your assistance, but it’s not without its silver lining. Her long fluffy tail pushes down the scent of her…uh…yearning to you, making the situation in your pants relatively uncomfortable.
  844. Before you succumb to the urge of pulling her panties down and fucking her raw up against the bookshelf, you put the girl back on her feet, the top long since dusted. She turns to face you, tail wagging happily, if more energetically at seeing you face to face, rather than you being a pair of mysterious hands grabbing her hips. She stands perfectly still, if not for a subtle squirming of her somewhat thick thighs as her warring instincts struggle for dominance. Push you down and ride you raw, or supress that urge in favour of cleaning. You’re a little impressed such an attitude would follow a Kikimora even into death, though.
  846. Face to face, you’re aware of how stunning this woman truly is. Wide hips, thick thighs, a right round ass, a respectable rack most women would kill for, delicate milky white skin, and that’s just below the neck. A single inquisitive, electric blue, almost glowing, eye stares at you, the other hidden by a lopsided fringe, the other half of which is pushed back behind her canid ear to flow over her shoulder and down her front. Her gaze is a touch lifeless, but by her disposition, she appears to only have the faculties of a common zombie, driven by her instinct to clean. She has a delicate upturned nose and full pink lips framed by a beautiful feminine jawline. You’re a little surprised to see no black lipstick, but grateful. You always thought black lipstick a tad gaudy.
  848. Joining the two is a thin, graceful throat which would make a vampire blush, and loosely tied to it, you now notice, is an envelope. Your name reads across it, scrawled in black ink. The zombiekiki doesn’t move an inch as you untie the black ribbon and open the envelope to find five hundred dollars in denominations of fifty, and a note, addressed to you. The girl stands their patiently as you read, if slowly edging closer to you, step by imperceptible step, tail wagging faster each time.
  850. ‘Gryam,
  852. First off, we apologise for being unable to give you more comprehensive instruction. If you’ve found this, we’re indisposed for the moment, and Lily being Lily, is unable to relay our message. On the other hand, however, if you’ve found this you’re well on your way to doing a good job, so thank you. Within is a small sum of money, but enough to shop for groceries and other such necessities. We trust that you’ll not need an escort. And do drop by some time.
  854. P.S. Don’t give Lily too much attention. She has a habit of sneaking into the beds for warmth, and is easily attached.’
  856. You look up from the note. She’s smiling at you now. You take the money and put it into your wallet, fold the envelope and slide it into a pocket. “Thank you.” She doesn’t really respond though. “I’ll uh… go now?” Again, she doesn’t respond asides from a slight drooping of her ears. You shrug and turn to leave, this time feeling somewhat grand as you exit out from between the towering wooden doors, and descend the stairs to the main driveway.
  858. A few bored idle heads turn as you pass, but all in all no one stops you, the eyes you feel aren’t particularly suspicious, and pass you by after a short moment. You still hesitate before the final set of gates out to the street, as you prepare to leave the alternative to prison.
  860. “’Sup?” You start, head darting towards the voice. It’s Aoife.
  862. “Ah, I just feel a little guilty I guess.”
  864. “You’ve already been cleared to leave.”
  866. “I know it’s just… This or prison, y’know? I expected it to be…harsher. I sort of feel like I cheated the system somehow.”
  868. The girl shrugs, arms crossed, “I’m not really undead, strictly speaking, but I’m just as old as most of the others here, and when you’ve been around so long, you learn to chill out. Where’s the good in getting so worked up? So that said, fuck it. Just leave. Leave and come back. You’ll get used to it.”
  870. “Practical advice I guess. Well,” The gates begin to slide open as she presses a button, “Later then.” She lifts a hand as you pass,
  872. “Later.”
  874. You take what feels like the first free step you’ve taken in a long time, irrational as that is, it’s still a weight off your shoulders. A few heads turn as you leave, intrigued in the man emerging from the gilded mansion, but as you round the corner you successfully slip into anonymity. Figures pass you by without a second look, and you feel your stride strengthen with each step unnoticed. It isn’t long before you fall into the role of the tourist, looking at all the cars and the trees lining the pathways, for the first time. The stores are still open. From what you can tell, this isn’t a strictly undead town, though the concentration of undead monstergirls is higher than in other places you’ve been to.
  876. You pass quite a few places still open despite the growing lateness of the hour, and as you look in through the window past the glowing neon ‘Open 24’, your growling stomach takes its precedence. You continue walking, until you come across a rather pleasant looking diner. It’s well lit inside and a number of patrons sit within. Red and white checked vinyl patterns line the outside walls, shiny red plastic seats with gleaming metal rims call you in, but you freeze as you see the waitress behind the peppermint white bar.
  878. You grimace, and leave the shop behind, wandering around for some food, now with a slightly smaller appetite. Until the most ungodly delicious scent assails you, and you freeze in your hunger, sniffing the air like an animal.
  880. “You like that smell, mister?” A young voice calls you to attention, and you look around, seeing nothing. There’s a tug on your pants and when you look down, you see a young girl in a somewhat skimpy oriental dress. Downright conservative compared to some of those Sabbath girls though. She lets your pants go, but her arms remain outstretched. She’s wearing a similarly foreign hat peaked by a small ball in the top centre with feathers coming off it. A single flap of paper falls across her face from within the hat, and on it is scrawled some characters in ancient ink. It’s thin enough to not cover her eyes as she looks up at you. A Jiangshi?
  882. “Uh, yeah. Smells great. Is it a, uh…”
  884. “Yup!” she nods, almost bouncing in place, “It’s our restaurant mister. Best food at the cheapest prices! Ya won’t find any better.” You look around,
  886. “Where, uh… where is it?” She grins up at you, and points down a dark alleyway in between the two buildings she stands sentinel outside of.
  888. “Down that way.” The darkness seethes, slavering.
  890. “No gruuls down there, right?”
  892. “If you’re scared of the dark mister, I can take you!”
  894. “Uh…sure.” The girl, not phased in the slightest beams at you as she begins to hop away into the darkness. It’s not until you round a corner and disappear from the view of the street she stops hopping and sighs in relief as she begins walking normally. You stop momentarily in your surprise as limbs supposed to be stiff, begin to move fluidly and naturally.
  896. “I thought your kind couldn’t do that?”
  898. “Nah, we just did it to freak out you normies. Mum says it’s cute when I do it, so I should go attract customers. This way, mister!” She leads you through a nearly pitch black labyrinth, and by the end of it you realise that you’re entirely lost. You had a suspicion you’d have never found your way had you not taken her for a guide.
  900. The darkness opens up into light, and a line of store-front windows clouded by bamboo and other greenery. Golden symbols depict the store name, with gold block letters translating it for convenience, ‘Taotie’. The word doesn’t really mean anything to you, but when you go to ask your guide, she’s nowhere to be found. You can only hope that you manage to find your way out of this warren, and hungry feet carry you in, heedless of this concern.
  902. The first thing you notice is the delicious potency of what you smelled out on the street, this time only amplified to a soundscape of frying meats. You follow the obvious indications toward the front counter where another young girl lay across it, snoozing, accumulating a small puddle of drool. She’s dressed similarly to the girl out on the street, minus the hat, and her white hair flows our around her like a messy sea. Her black ears twitch every now and then and as you approach they lock onto you despite the girl still being very much asleep.
  904. “U-uhm, excuse me?”
  906. She jolts, “Wuh?” she rubs at her face with a black and white paw, squishing her nose up and swiping away at the sleep in her eyes, but more importantly, wiping away the trail of drool. “C-customer?”
  908. “Yeah. Can I find a menu somewhere?”
  910. She yawns, nodding, and waves you off to a larger room filled with tables, “On one of those. We’ll have some one come see you in a minute.”
  912. You nod your thanks and head into the room, picking a table not too far from the exit, and fairly out of the way. The place is deserted except for up the other end, where a large group of people sit smoking. A few mean looking men, and more than twice their number in a mix of monsters, all laying down cards, drinking eating and chatting.
  914. A sort of dragon sits at the centre of it all, similar to a Ryu, but with actual legs rather than the long tail, a tail which instead juts out from just above her ass, where it presumably joins her spine. She sits with her legs crossed in a gilded, rich red dress, and is the only one who takes notice of you as you enter. There’s a rather serious looking monkey-girl at her side to the left who you really do not want to piss off, and a flaming rat to the right, arguing animatedly with a man.
  916. You spare the lot a cursory glance, before going back to minding your own business. Minutes pass as you consider the collection listed out on the menu before you. True to the girl’s word, a lot of it is really well priced, and you’re fairly certain of your choice before a rather serene looking rat appears before you, smiling,
  918. “Have you decided yet, customer?”
  920. “Yeah,” you show her the menu, unwilling to make yourself look like an idiot for ill pronunciations. “This and this, please.” You point to the stock standard Chow Mein with a bottle of Maotai. You have no idea what it is, but it has an age restriction, so it must be good. She pens your order down with a smile, and turns to leave when there’s the sound of shattering glass and a chair being kicked over.
  922. “Again?!”
  924. Two red skinned ogres face each other from across the table, but the more impressive spectacle is the reflex of the girl who just took your order. The calm personality vaporises and you throw and arm up before you to ward off the wave of blistering heat which rolls off her now flaming body. Her clothes are fine, protecting her modesty, but you watch with a wistful sadness as your order falls to the floor, nothing but burning ashes now. You place a foot upon the mess and stifle any fire left, and watch as the royally pissed off rat marches towards the table, hair actually floating in the superheated updraughts rolling off her flesh.
  926. The next two things happen at the same time. The first you notice is the dragon leaping up from the table, grabbing the offending girls by the back of the head, and pushing off the ground with her thick, powerful tail, bringing both knees up to all but demolish their faces. Staggered and bleeding from the nose, she throws them before the flaming rat, and bows low. The two girls curl up into a kowtow before the owner as if by instinct. Apparently such scuffles aren’t rare here, since the rest of the company continue on with their evening as though nothing happened.
  928. The other thing which happens is a rather fit looking man leaping over the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area, and in a flash he’s behind the burning woman, and holding her back by the arms, placating her in a rapid language you don’t understand. The flames don’t burn him, and for each rushed paragraph he spits out, they burn lower and lower until calmness comes over the girl once again.
  930. She breathes a sigh and scowls at the two larger women, “You two. Here. Every morning before sunrise. Looks like you still need ‘Training.’” The large women pale and plead, but the issue has already been brought to a close. They turn back to the dragon every now and then, but she just sits there with an imperious stillness, and pays no heed to her subjects.
  932. You’re left a little bewildered and set aback by the sudden, raging flurry of events, but the now-embarrassed rat promises you that bottle of whatever completely free, so it’s not all bad. You’d tell her that your order burnt, but she knows what she’s doing right? No need to rub it in. The dragon looks your way once, and nods her own brief apology for disturbing your evening. Manners seem to reign supreme here, so you nod back and turn your gaze downward, staring at your lap as you wait for your food, stomach growling now.
  934. Twenty minutes later, a rather distracted looking rat returns with your food, and wishes that you enjoy your Mongolian lamb. A forgiving man, you neglect to mention that this wasn’t your order, and thank her none the less. Still smells amazing. You take a few gulps of the clear drink, somewhat reminiscent of vodka, a necessary, long overdue catharsis, and chew your way through soft, fluffy noodles and decadently tender meat which all but melts in your mouth, complemented by sharp spices which slice through the cloudy Mongolian palate which otherwise saturates your tastebuds.
  936. Before long, you’re half way through the bottle, and staring at an empty bowl, stained in strands of sauce. You stifle a belch and pat your stomach, before wobbling to your feet, the alcohol hammering into you like a freight train now that you’re upright. You take the most measured steps of your life to the counter, where you pay for your meal, free to stagger once you’re in the dark alleyways, but not before you’ve paid for another bottle. The girl at the desk hesitates, but the Hinezumi shrugs, reasoning that where you get drunk isn’t her problem assuming it isn’t at her restaurant.
  938. Bumbling through the darkness, bottle in hand. Mother would be proud, assuming you ever knew her. The first quarter of the second bottle flicks a switch within you, and the rest of your night out is a blur of florescent lights, market isles, streets and road-signs. Blaring horns, screaming cars and a mountain of bags.
  940. When you wake up, you’re cradled in the arms of a very, very welcome woman. You stretch your arms and realise you can’t move them. They don’t feel broken, but they do feel like a giant spent all night standing on them. Just about everything else is sore too. Your stirrings wake Clara, whose first response is to frown at you.
  942. “Why’d you go get smashed without me?”
  944. “I uh…felt like it?”
  946. “Where’d you even go? I don’t recognise the smell of that alcohol.”
  948. “Some hidden restaurant. There was a dragon there. And a burning rat.”
  950. “…” she puts a hand to your forehead, concern flittering over her face.
  952. “I’m not feverish. Did I get the shopping done?”
  954. “What you don’t remember that?”
  956. “It’s all sort of blurry.”
  958. “Aoife complained at me all night. Said you basically lugged the store with you and collapsed at the front gate. Two of everything. Called you Noah.”
  960. “Collapsed? God, I didn’t throw up everywhere, did I?”
  962. “I wish you did.”
  964. “I feel fine though; a little sore that’s all. Not even hung over.”
  966. “That’s because you’re still drunk.”
  968. “Oh…”
  970. “Well at least I got the shopping done. How long was I out?”
  972. She laughs, “Yes at least. Only a few hours.”
  974. “I never could sleep solidly drunk.” She begins to run her fingers through your hair, an immensely soothing motion. A few moments of silence descend, broken only by a low drone of metal coming from the stereo, likely turned down in consideration.
  976. “What time is it?”
  978. “Should be about 8.”
  980. “P.M?”
  982. “A.M.”
  984. “Uugh. And I won’t be able to get to sleep now that I’m up either.”
  986. She grins down at you with all the smugness of a sober person prepared to bully the shit out of a soon-to-be hungover idiot. “What do you want to do?”
  988. “Could I get you to help me up, first off?” She helps lift you to your feet, an easy feat for her, considering her strength. “I think I’ll get to actually doing my job, and clean up before the buzz wears off and the hangover kicks in.”
  990. “And if you can’t?”
  992. You grin, “Guess I’ll just keep drinking then.”
  994. The hours pass as you sit on your ass doing menial tasks. Hammering down loose nails, scrubbing carpets clean of stains, dusting and polishing surfaces as tinny music plays from Clara’s laptop down in the loungeroom, a cushion sandwiched between her thighs as she swings her legs languidly through the air, belly down across the length of the lounge.
  996. The day is slow, the tasks menial, and you’re getting to the point where if you don’t start drinking the harder stuff to wake you up, all the booze in your system will put you to sleep. You stifle a yawn as you head to the kitchen, the last place for the day, and begin to work on the dishes.
  998. The sudsy water scorches but it’s a sensation strong enough to cut through the boozehaze so that’s a good sign. Clara ghosts in without you realizing, and silently rifles through the new food-hoard in her fridge. She takes a loaf of bread, butter, salad stuffs, and a stick of salami and crafts a meal from it, sucking on the unsliced part of the sausage. By the time you’re done with the dishes and your hands are dried, you nearly jump out of your skin as she appears before you out of nowhere and presents you with the sandwich, the sausage still lodged in her gob.
  1000. “Mrhfnx.”
  1002. Frown. Is she not talking, or are you not hearing? You stifle a yawn as she swallows the thing, giving you a brief glimpse of the fleshrending fiends of yore. A fleck of meat remains on her cheek, and you lean forward and lick it off.
  1004. “You said something?”
  1006. “Mh. Come take a break, you’ve been at it for hours now. Here, I made this for you.” She hands you the plate with the sandwich on it, and watches as you take a bite. It’s good.
  1008. “It’s good.”
  1010. She smiles, “’Course it is.” She tosses you a can of Irn-Baro. You look at the sheepgirl in the ball of bounce on the can, her giant, bare tits hanging free as she flexes her buff muscles, detailed rippling abs a stark contrast to the plane solid colour of the rest of the can.
  1012. “Did I really buy this?”
  1014. She grins, “Two of everything, Noah. I already had the other. It’s not bad.”
  1016. Sigh as you listen to the hiss and the crack of aluminium. Your first taste is… admittedly not bad. A little orangey. You follow her to the lounge and set the plate atop the glass tabletop, before pondering it seriously. The table is too low and far to comfortably sit on the lunge and eat. Shrugging, you settle to lean against the seat of the lounge, and sit on the floor, legs tucked under the table.
  1018. Clara kicks her legs up over your shoulders as she settles in, and you relax into the lounge, resting overtired muscles, letting the back of your head rest in the soft embrace between her legs. Racket stirs behind you. Sounds like some kind of show.
  1020. “’Domo, Cloud Buster, desu.’
  1022. ‘DOMO, Ninja Slayer, desu.’
  1024. ‘YEEART’
  1026. ‘INDUSTRYY’”
  1028. You snort, and cough up a bit of bread which gets lodged in your throat. Gasping and groping, you reach for the can of Irn-Baro to wash it down with, before hacking for a good measure. “Are you alright?”
  1030. “Ugh, yeah. W-what are you even watching?”
  1032. “Saviour of Anime-san, from animation.”
  1034. “Is it, uh… good?”
  1036. “…Yes. Yes it is.”
  1040. Well alright then.
  1042. You finish the last bite of the meal, and down the last few dregs of the can, the lower half of your body already stone. Not metaphorical boners, either. There’s far too much alcohol in your system right now to get hard, and a cursory flex of your legs finds them jelly-like and unresponsive. Well… now’s just about a good a time as any to sleep it off. Closing your eyes and waiting for time to sort everything out hasn’t exactly worked for you before, but speaking in terms of probability, there’s a good chance that this time around, it’ll work to your favour. Hopefully. You lean back, and rub your cheek against the soft inside of her thighs.
  1044. “Are you about ready to crash?”
  1046. “Mmmh…About.” Strong hands slip under your armpits and haul you up the lounge, effortlessly despite you bearing the weight of a fully grown, adult male. You settle into the lounge right next to her, chest to chest, more or less where she placed you, one of her legs trapped under your weight, the other slipping between your own. Her arms slip from your armpits, one to trace a light line down the centre of your back, coming to rest at the small of it, the other to prop your head up on her soft bicep, and then coming back around to cradle you. Your arms wrap around her, in intimate embrace, and you can feel the serene smile come to her lips as she rests her cheek against the side of the crown of your head.
  1048. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. It’ll always amaze me.”
  1050. You have to push your head back a little to talk, so it doesn’t come out muffled, “Used to what?” She forces your head back into her chest, grinning mischievously.
  1052. “This. You. The warmth I feel wherever you touch me. The way your chest rises and pushes against mine…” She trails off, and you don’t feel the need to add anything. Instead, you drag in a deep, tense breath, and tense all your muscles squeezing her tight. Her scent fills your mind, her freshly showered, clean skin mixed in with the day old shirt she haphazardly threw on. The scented shampoo which almost rolls off her silken white hair in potent, vaguely flowery waves. She gasps at the constriction, and then you release.
  1054. The breath you hold, the tension in your muscles, it all fades away, leaving only you and her. You barely even feel the grinding sludge of alcohol still in your system. You for one can appreciate the soft stillness of her chest. The rhythm you provide for her, a precious thing, given by one, halved between two, cherished by the other. Maybe this is just drunk musing. You haven’t had such a sappy monolog since that Apsara busker you used to have a crush on. Never spoke to her though. Could that be it? Could this be a crush, or even more?
  1056. You fall asleep some way through this train of thought, and though the rails shudder and vibrate every now and then, the for once the winds which carry you to sleep aren’t a raging whirlwind, but a warm summer breeze.
  1058. You wake some time later and yawn, slowly untangling yourself. Clara looks a little lonely without you in her arms, so you slip in some pillows to preserve the warmth, and fish up a blanket to lay atop her. Stretching, you fix yourself a quick sandwich, caring little for the taste, seeking more to put something substantial in your stomach. A minute after standing, the aching hangover hits you, and you nearly drop from the splitting pain. Gritting your teeth, you down a litre’s worth of water in glasses, and head to the bathroom, to repeat the process as many times as it takes for you to stop feeling like a slime in an oven.
  1060. About an hour later with a hydrated stomach of food, you feel well enough to head out. Dressed now, you pull the hoodie tight over you, as though the tighter you held it to you, the warmer you’d be. You pull your phone out of your pants and squint at the over-bright display screen. Eight fifteen. You sigh, and then take a deep breath, sucking in the frigid night air, still feeling slightly unsteady, but surety grows with each passing moment in equal measures of muscle pain.
  1062. You briefly consider whether or not Clara is any good at massages, but you perish the thought almost as soon as it comes. Pitiful is the caretaker who needs to be taken care of. Setting into an easy pace, you pass through the semi-garden, semi…forest, and revel in the tranquillity, the only sign of life yours truly, as you snap the odd dead twig underfoot.
  1064. Before long, you emerge from the forest, and brush off whatever condensation clings to the fibres of your jacket. Glancing around you notice the curve of the driveway as it twists through the trees to the main house. So it’s safe to assume that the other direction is the way out. Probably. It might be best not to walk around here at night. You walk steadily the other way, and through the length of thin, dead trees you see the dull foggy yellow glow of a lit interior spill out across the ground, almost seeping into the soil.
  1066. You take a few steps away from the cover of the trees, because, frankly, approaching any one from the tree line under the cover of darkness isn’t the friendliest of things to do, though this does put you in the middle of the driveway. You can’t win. At least if you get run over you might find permanent employment here, though you have an inkling that you’ll be here for a long while none the less.
  1068. A strong wind collects at the corners of your open jacket as you stride towards the light of the gatehouse. You can make out Aoife’s silhouette in the window, and far sooner than any human would have noticed you, she turns and gives a wave, her other hand hidden. You approach, halting when you begin to hear a cacophony lewd moans, too many voices, most far too high pitched to belong to the genki fae. The door to the small gatehouse which doubles as something of a luxurious guard booth is positioned to be at the left side of the guard who looks out across the land below, the gate to their right, the view admitted by a wide, reinforced glass window.
  1070. Aoife as she sits, though, is with her back to the door, facing a small tv screen, displaying a hentai AV, with a bunch of faceless monstergirls gangbanging a young human boy, the window facing outward to the left of her. Resting on a shelf is her blocky armour, and her sidearms, leaving her relatively defenceless, though you’re certain that’s far from the case. Even the longsword scabbard hung on the wall at about hip height next to her is slanted back for a quick draw and slash.
  1072. This leaves her in nothing more than her skin-tight black bodysuit, and prior experience tells you that there’s nothing under that either. From your angle, you can’t make out any detail, with her head and the back of the slouched chair blocking most. From the position of her arms though, you can tell that there’s a hand between her legs and another on her breast, massaging it in slow, circular motions.
  1074. She tips her head back, and her messy purple pony tail bounces, the stray strands dancing with the jiggling motion of her elbow. She turns as she does so, revealing everything. Her black suit is unzipped down to the bottom of her sternum, and the fabric seems to groan as her titflesh nearly spills out, not nearly as large and bountiful as the Wight you met days ago, but larger than Clara’s and very perky. The outline of her hand under the suit stands out, and if you look closely you can just make out the indentation of her hard nipples, the other breast strained in tight definition.
  1076. Though an impressive sight, what catches your eyes now is the light, soft purple tuft of pubic hair which peeks out from under the suit, the rest of her glistening mound laid bare by a hidden slit in the clothing, which she’s spread between pointer and pinky, leaving her remaining two digits free to dip into her pussy, almost audibly squelching with her wetness.
  1078. “Well, if it isn’t Noah.”
  1080. “Am I uh… interrupting something?”
  1082. She pauses for a moment, though her hand doesn’t, “Yes and no.” Her fingers continue to pump as a clear stream of girlcum slicks the black material of the suit.
  1084. “Did you…need something?” she stares at you levelly as she continues, your thoughts trapped in the smell of her sex and the sounds of her schlicking. “Or are you here to come give me a hand?” she grins.
  1086. You swallow, hard “U-uh… N-not. N-No, I’m not. Monogamous relationship and all, I… I didn’t notice that slit before.”
  1088. “I am a girl, you know.”
  1090. “N-not that slit. The other.”
  1092. She looks down, “Oh! Neat, huh. You could bend me over and take me anywhere and it would just look like you were standing a little too close. Custom job, too, its real handy. Just don’t tell anyone else, or I’d have to modify their suits too. It was a real bitch with this material. Don’t really know what it is, but it’s tougher than dragon scale.”
  1094. “You can sew?”
  1096. She’s still looking at you from over her shoulder, turned mostly away from you, “Yeah mum taught me ages ago. So? What’s up?”
  1098. You scratch the back of your neck, and scrunch your toes up so painfully tight the muscles cramp, the pain distracting you from your growing erection, acting casual under these circumstances almost too much for you. “Oh, I just wanted to say thanks for helping me in. I was really out of it. And uh, sorry.”
  1100. “Naw don’t mention it. Invite me next time you go drinkin’, yeah? So is that it?”
  1102. “Yeah. I guess I’ll let you uh… get back to it then.” You turn to leave, when she calls you back,
  1104. “Hold up!” you turn around, and she’s facing you now, thighs squirming together as she traps her hand in her nethers, slick down to the knuckle. Boner, please.
  1106. “U-Uh, y-yeah?”
  1108. She looks at you with her single eye, a bead of sweat on her brow sliding down the strap of her eyepatch. You see the purple iris shift from eye to eye every now and then, going from your left eye to your right. She doesn’t say anything.
  1110. “A-Aoif-”
  1112. “Shut up. Don’t speak. J-Just stand there.” Her breath comes ragged, and her chest begins to heave with her oncoming orgasm. Moans begin to slip from her lips, and you begin to bite yours as she openly masturbates to you.
  1114. “Hah~ Hah~, C-Cuminnng!” Her whine pitches up as it trails off, and she doubles over, cramming her hand into her cunt as she mauls her breast and begins to shudder and shake. She breathes heavy for a moment, curled over as she is, before looking up at you, her smiling face partly clouded by the messy trusses of hair not tied back. “T-thanks. W-Wanna pass me a few tissues from that box to your right?”
  1116. “S-sure…” You grab a few and hand them to the Dullahan, who grabs the handful with the hand slick with her girl-cum and pussy juices. A trail of it falls to the back of your hand. It’s hot, and warm, and a reminder that she isn’t as undead as the rest residing here. “I-I’ll g-go now.” Your own chest is tight with lust, and you fight to push it down.
  1118. The girl grins at your obvious discomfort. “Sure thing, later then.” You turn on the spot and all but march out, your stiff retreat followed by Aoife’s giggles. The cool night air serves to cool you down some, but you’re still relatively unsettled. You hold your hand up, and see the still wet slick trail glisten in the moonlight. Moving without thinking, with all the primal instinct of a parched man before a stream, your tongue slips out, and laps up the rapidly cooling girl-cum. It’s sweet.
  1120. You blush in a hot embarrassment at what you just did, and take the time to cool down on your way to the main house.
  1122. Rather than the giant double doors which would announce you far too loudly, you slip into the main house by one of the many side doors, only to attract the immediate attention of Lily who was doing dishes in the adjoining kitchen. You give a friendly smile and nod, before continuing on in. Half of her turns to follow you, as though you tugged her interest about by a leash. Her tail being to swish softly, sending ripples along the edge of her short skirt, and a leg goes to take a step before she remembers she’s rooted to the sink, task still unfinished. The other half which remembers its duty resolutely remains by the sink, and as she’s torn metaphorically, almost literally.
  1124. In a rare display of emotion, her face contorts to a pout as she watches you go, and she directs a glare towards the dirty dishes. Her scornful eyes glint in an unseen power, too vast and great a magnitude for any mere mortal maid to wield, often locked in the most primal of recesses in the mind, and lost in the annals of legend, seen only in furtive whispers of rare heroes amidst maids who can breach the biological blockade imposed upon the Kikimora brain. A relic from times long since passed, a sacred treaty passed by the gods to prevent the self-destruction of the very body itself, a feat to carve into fable that ‘No matter what it may be, where it may be, even when it may be, nothing can stop a Kikimora from cleaning it.’
  1126. However, the necromantic blasphemy of undeath has released Lily’s limiter, numbering her already amongst the higher echelons of maid-dom and she extends the power to distort reality, the very fabric of time groaning as she takes the laws of reality in a fist and shatters them, superimposing upon existence itself her own decree. Cleanliness. The state of that which is immaculate. A pale luminescence glows behind your back as a strange wind blows in through the fifth dimension. The distortion begins to implode upon itself from the instant of inception, leaving behind the soft, warm smell of soap.
  1128. That, or maybe she just cleaned extra fast. Who knows. What can be known however, is the gently wobbling stack of hot steamy dishes which in the next instant had piled up on the other side of the sink to dry, the basin already draining, leaving behind a scattering of soapy bubbles on the stainless steel. She turns to follow in your wake, a footstep behind you, tail wagging her happiness softly despite the return of a zombie-like utter lack of expression on her face.
  1130. One of the things apparent to you is a heavy blanket of warm air which permeates the home, trapped in by the closed doors and windows. The kind of warmth you could feel cozy in, but with your jumper already on, you feel like you could begin to overheat. Your shoulders roll back, but before you even begin to move your arms to shrug the garment off, light, delicate and dextrous hands slip up from behind you and pull the garment off.
  1132. Divested of the thick fabric, you sigh in relief as you begin to cool, so quick that you notice the difference, and turn to thank Lily, only to find her now wearing the jumper, the hood drawn. With you being that much larger than her, the sleeves hang limply over her hands, the hood looking like more of a cowl.
  1134. She looks up at you, smiling with the eyes of a child on Christmas. Seems she stole your jacket. The sleeves flop around as she brings her arms out and steps up to hold you close, nuzzling her cheek on your chest, ears perky and tail swishing.
  1136. “Waaaarm~”
  1138. A voice calls to you from the top of the stairs, coloured in mirth, “You’re not getting that jumper back any time soon.” Sir Ebonholt leisurely takes the stairs one a time, dressed in nothing but a robe, grinning, “If it’s anything like the last guy…” He seems to catch himself before he says any more, frowning as he slips into a memory, his progress down the stairs halting.
  1140. “The last guy, Sir?”
  1142. He jumps a little as your intrusion, before laughing awkwardly, “A-ah, a cloak from a man centuries past. It ah… wasn’t anywhere near as cute as this though,” he finally comes level with the two of you, having descended the flight, and he drops a hand on the girl’s head, massaging her ears. Lily turns to him and smiles brightly, oblivious to the conversation, “A keepsake from before she rose again, she’d had it for years before a great grandson came to take it from her. Apparently it was godsblessed or some such nonsense.”
  1144. “What happened to it?”
  1146. The man smiles softly at the zombie, “She returned it, eventually…” He looks to you, “Let her keep the jacket, will you?”
  1148. You grin, “She looks so cute in it, it would be a crime for me to take it from her.”
  1150. He beams and claps a hand on your shoulder, “Good lad. I noticed you’ve settled in well.” His eyes sparkle, “How did you enjoy the town, Noah?” you groan and he laughs, “Aoife told me.”
  1152. “Aw, Really?”
  1154. “She’s got a lot of loyalty for a hired gun. Reports everything on a nearly nightly basis. That girl needs a man, I swear.”
  1156. “I uh… noticed. Is she as… open with you as she is me, sir?”
  1158. “Caius.”
  1160. “Excuse me?”
  1162. “Call me Caius, can’t be hearing “sir” all the time. And yeah. She is. But I deal with it the same way you did, I imagine. Just ignore it best you can and take out whatever she does to you on Clara, like I do my wife.”
  1164. “Your wife doesn’t get jealous? You’re the only other guy I’ve seen around here.”
  1166. He laughs, “Oh, she gets pouty around some of the other girls, but there’s nothing that can be done. Both she and I were just simple country kids. Aoife is a fae, born and raised in her people’s kingdom. Different values and all that. And as for the other girls well I guess they’re more like daughters to me. Especially Lily here.” He gives her another affectionate pat on the head. “You know she isn’t even a maid.”
  1168. Your eyes widen in surprise, “Really”
  1170. “Of course not, who pushes their own child into servitude?”
  1172. “Your child?”
  1174. “Well…” he scratches at his goatee, “Yes and no. Viv rose her.”
  1176. “Viv?”
  1178. “Ah, Vivian, the Lich who gave birth to Ana, my wife. She’s the one to thank for the skimpy uniform, too. Used to dress Lily up all the time, but the maid uniform is the one Lily chose, more or less. No matter where we hid it, we kept finding her wearing it whilst cleaning. Didn’t really like the idea of what we saw as our daughter wearing a servant’s uniform, but,” He shrugs, “If she likes it, there’s nothing to be done. We got used to it pretty quick.”
  1180. “Hold on. Gave birth?”
  1182. He replies animatedly, “Yes, indeed! Viv is Ana’s biological mother.”
  1184. “How does that work?”
  1186. The older man frowns, “Well, I have no problem telling you, but I really think you ought to hear it from the source. It’s… not a pretty tale. Say, you haven’t introduced yourself yet, have you?”
  1188. “Ah! No, that brings me to the second reason I’m here.”
  1190. He cocks his head, “What was the first.”
  1192. “To say thanks for the money to go shopping.”
  1194. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! There’s no real payment here, but whenever someone wants pocket money, or needs to pay for something, they just need to come to me with the number. We provide for everyone here, and I’d extend the same to you.”
  1196. “Oh. Well… thanks. You don’t think I’ll swindle or steal from you though?”
  1198. He looks you in the eye, “You and I have been in very similar positions. I trust you.” The earnestness strikes you deep, and for a moment you’re left without response. He offers you one, smiling, “And the second?”
  1200. “R-right. I’ve noticed Clara has some kind of aversion to leaving the house, and I want to help her with that, but I wanted to start small, so I was wondering if you guys eat dinner together often? Maybe we could organise a dinner or something?”
  1202. He frowns, “Viv doesn’t really like Ana any more, on account of her daughter outgrowing her. Especially in the bust area. That and Ana has taken to harassing her like a little sister. Especially in the bust area. The night might end in Viv crying and slapping Ana’s tits, but well…” He puts a hand on your shoulder, grins and gives a thumbs up, “Leave it to me. I’ll round ‘em all up. When were you thinking?”
  1204. You shake the mental image of a young flat lich weeping as she tries to fend off a Wight’s giant pair of breasts and clear your throat, “Uh, a few days from now? What day is it today?”
  1206. The guy shrugs, “What are days to a dead man?”
  1208. “Oh. Um… three days from whenever now is?”
  1210. “Why so long?”
  1212. “I think I’ll have to ease her into it.”
  1214. “Fair enough. Well, it was good chatting, I just remembered I put a ham in the oven a few minutes ago, gotta check on it.”
  1216. Lily frowns as she looks at him, “Waarm.”
  1218. The man frowns back, “Yes, warm.”
  1220. Lily thinks really hard for a moment before speaking again, “Tooo waaarm.”
  1222. “T-too warm? Aw crap, she must mean it got burnt. I could have sworn I only just put it in.” He sighs in defeat, “We were going to eat that during new years.”
  1224. “Uh…Caius, new years was months ago.”
  1226. “Oh.” He scratches at the back of his head. “Oh well, I’m sure she forgot too. Speaking of, she must be getting restless. Well, I better go tend to her. Later.” He waves as he takes the stairs two at a time, going up them, having come down them for no real reason, leaving you alone with Lily, still hugging you.
  1228. You contemplate how to part yourself from the girl, a part of you really not wanting to. She seems to sense your intent, but far from remove herself, she shimmies up your body, and wraps her arms around your shoulders, and her legs around your hips.
  1230. “Waarm~”
  1232. She’s relatively light due to being part-avian, so it’s a light weight, just more cumbersome than anything. Like wearing a fluffy backpack on your chest which nuzzles affectionately into the crook of your neck. “It was good seeing you again, but I should probably go see how Clara is. And I can’t really do that with you holding on to me. So, uh… c-could you hop down?” she shakes her head ‘no’. “Please?” ‘no’
  1234. “I really don’t want to have to be mean to you…”
  1236. Lily lets out a low groan in protest. “I’m sorry but you really brought this on yourself. You know I don’t want to do this. You’ve forced my hand.” She clings tighter,
  1238. “My waarm~”
  1240. “Sorry.” You walk the two of you over to a book shelf, and take out a single book from the middle of the row. And drop it on the clean, tidy floor. Lily’s ears twitch. She pulls her head from your shoulder, and looks at the book on the floor. And back to you again. Her eyes are watering now. Oh, god. Anything but this. She sniffs, scrunching her cute face up, and her tail droops down lower than your heart has sunken. You feel bad. She slowly unwraps herself from around you. You feel horrible. She spares one last glance to you, tears in the corners of her eyes as she bends down to pick up the book and place it on the shelf. She turns back around, but you’re already gone. She smirks.
  1242. You close the door behind you, and lean heavily against the other side, frowning. Clara pops her head down the corridor, “Gryam? Something up?”
  1244. “Am I a bad man?”
  1246. She frowns as the sudden question, “I don’t think so.”
  1248. “I just bullied Lily.”
  1250. “Literally worse than a Matango.”
  1252. “H-hear me out, though! She was clinging to me, and wouldn’t let go, and if I didn’t do something she’d still be holding onto me.”
  1254. “I think she likes you.”
  1256. “Yeah, she even took my hoodie.”
  1258. Clara’s eyes widen in surprise, “I think she really likes you. How did you bully her?”
  1260. “Dropped a book on the floor.”
  1262. “Pff, that’s not that bad. Vivian steals her panties every other day.”
  1264. “You don’t get it, her ears went all droopy and she had tears in the corners of her eyes, a- Wait, really? For the whole day?”
  1266. Clara giggles, “Yeah, she got you good. You were probably thinking of returning and spending the day with her at some point as apology, weren’t you?”
  1268. “I-I was!”
  1270. “Maybe you’d let her cuddle you extra longer.”
  1272. “M-maybe…”
  1274. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s quite mature. She might be a zombie, but she’d be a Wight by now if only she had a partner.” She sighs, “Maybe I should just give up. I can’t compete against lily.” She grins wryly as she says it, half joking.
  1276. “Nonsense, you’re plenty adorable.”
  1278. She leans into you, her face close to yours, her hands running up your chest, “Ooh~ Adorable, is it? So what were you even doing there?”
  1280. “I went to thank them for the money,”
  1282. “You don’t need to do that.”
  1284. “Yeah, so I found out, and I also went to see what we could do about a dinner with you, and I, Vivian, Caius and Ana.”
  1286. She frowns and bites her lip, “Why? We can eat food here. Us undead don’t even really have to eat.” You put a finger to her lip and she goes cross-eyed as she looks at it,
  1288. “I know that, I thought it just might be nice. And I’d get to sit down with everyone at once. Besides who will protect me from Lily? Clearly I’m defenceless.”
  1290. She grins, “Who indeed?” and leans forwards in a kiss, her lips coming to yours. And she freezes, all her muscles simultaneously tense. She frowns as she draws her head back, and licks her lips. Her fingers clutch to your shirt, and she pins you to the door with her frightening strength, lunging back into your mouth. You gasp at her sudden molestation of your mouth and the almost painful force of her grip upon your front, but you’ve barely a moment to spare on those sensations before a new one forces its way past your teeth and into your mouth.
  1292. She tongue-fucks you roughly, as the organ almost seems to search around your mouth for something. She finds it, and retracts her long ghoulish tongue so quick it leaves you gasping, “W-wha-”
  1294. She searches your eyes for a long time, and you’re forced to endure the silence “Why can I taste Aoife on you?” Shit. Shit shit shit, your blood freezes, and you blush a deep shameful red. In a moment very reminiscent of your life flashing before your eyes, you look into her wary gaze as you consider how to answer that without making her throat-rendingly mad.
  1296. “Wait. How do you know what Aoife tastes like?” It’s her turn to freeze and you see her blush rising to the surface as she loses her inquisitionary edge.
  1298. “I-I was young a-and hadn’t really met any boys before, it was only once a-and you know Aoife, i-it’s not like I had any say in it, either! And she has an eyepatch a- Hey! That’s not the point! Why do you taste like her?”
  1300. “W-well It’s not like I intended it or anything, I Just wanted to say thanks for helping me out, and she was masturbating, and she has an eyepatch and I got kinda distracted and she kept masturbating and came looking at me, and asked me to hand her the tissues. A-And a bit got on my hand and… well… It was there, so…”
  1302. She sighs, “First Lily now Aoife. Well… at least you didn’t go any further.”
  1304. “Unlike you, by the sounds of it.”
  1306. “S-shut up!” She huffs, and pushes you against the door again, but this time much gentler, more a nudge to centre your attention on her. She glares at you with a playful not-anger, “Clearly you have way too much libido. And I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll smell like me for a year. That’ll keep ‘em away.”
  1308. You grin, liking where this is going, “I really don’t think it works like tha-”
  1310. “Lets go,” she takes your hand, and drags you up to her room.
  1312. She takes the stairs two at a time, dragging you on like a ragdoll, her undead strength so great you almost feel like closing your eyes. A dead roller-coaster where all you can do is curl up and trust in safety. Well, if you did that, she’d be literally dragging you, and you’re rather not bang up your knees, so you keep your eyes peeled and keep your feet under you as she rushes up to her room.
  1314. She pushes the door open and hauls you onto the bed, your clothes seeming to disappear from you, without a trace bar the faint rustle of falling fabric. You barely bounce from the impact of the throw before she’s already on you, pushing you into her bed and sliding up your body like a snake, a hand going to your face, the other between your legs and around your already hardening shaft in something of a backwards grip as she lays against you. Her fingers wrap around a lock of hair, and she pushes the stands behind your ear as she continues around to cup the side of your jaw. She grins hungrily as her long tongue slips out from between her lips, and flicks against your nipple, her eyes on yours, gauging your reaction as her soft lips wrap around your nipple, and her sharp teeth deliver pointed pricks of sensation. Her hand wraps around your cock and moves faster and faster, your own body head working off the friction, making your blood seethe with heated lust, her movements quickening as though she were milking your orgasm as fast as she could. But she knows you won’t cum, so it can’t be that.
  1316. “S-slow down.” You gasp, and her face drops.
  1318. “Doesn’t it feel good?”
  1320. “It feels okay, but what’s the rush? You practically threw me in here too. You’re usually more chill, you aren’t being you.”
  1322. “…But this is all I can do.”
  1324. You roll your eyes, “You’re more to me than a quick fuck. You’re not comparing yourself to others now, are you?”
  1326. She clams up and avoids eye contact, and you sigh as you prop yourself up on an elbow to bring your face close to hers. You bridge the gap by taking her chin in hand and angling her face up so that you can kiss her. It’s not particularly lewd. An earnest, chaste expression which stands out in the scenario, a brilliant light in a pink fog. You release her lips after a moment.
  1328. “Hey. Look at me.” Her eyes reluctantly meet yours.
  1330. “I didn’t cheat.”
  1332. “I-I know that, I-mfph” you put your fingers to her lips,
  1334. “I didn’t cheat, I’m not cheating now, and I won’t cheat in the future. So relax. Whatever it is you think you have to do, you don’t have to. At least not right now. If it’ll make you feel that much better to have me,” a sliver of exasperation slips into your tone, “reeking of you and your love, then sure. I’ll… bathe in your juices if I have to.” She giggles once and twice at the ridiculous if not slightly appealing picture and you bring a wry smile to your own lips, “So how about you take the time, to make us both feel good, yeah? It’s what I’m here for. What we’re here for.”
  1336. “I just… don’t like it.”
  1338. “So protect me from all the mean man-stealers.”
  1340. She frowns, “I love them both, they aren’t “man-stealers” it’s just…”
  1342. You smile gently, “I know. But either way, now isn’t the time for it.”
  1344. “Right.” She eases into a more comfortable mantle, sighing a long-held breath as she does so, almost visibly wiping the mire of worries from her mind in favour of a more primal, more honest mindset, free from the diluted trappings of complex quasi-human relationships. A primal mental shift more than anything else, a mate lay before her. That was the only information her body needed. You let your head fall back as she gets back to work, gritting your teeth as she squeezes your length, and slowly slides her hand up and down in long, rhythmic motion, kissing your nipple, and teasing the nerves, the chemicals in her saliva seeping into the fibres and sparking a wildfire of sensations to burn through you.
  1346. “Y-you can go faster than that…”
  1348. “Oh no.” She grins maliciously, teasingly, “I’m going to ‘take the time to make us both feel good’, right?”
  1350. You groan, “Good thing I didn’t make our little dinner date tomorrow then.”
  1352. “When is it?”
  1354. “Three days from now.”
  1356. “Hrmm…” She has the face of someone mentally digesting an unpleasant piece of information, but you’re certain that it’ll be good for her. And if you were to be truly honest with yourself, more than half of it is you wanting to see how cute she is in compromising situations. Would she be timid and shy? Or surly and hostile? Both have their advantages, and you’ve yet to see the dynamic with Vivian either.
  1358. She sighs, and gives up whatever train of thought which might see her escape from the gathering, and crawls over your body, coming to rest with your twitching cock between her eyes, and her pussy bare centimetres from the tip of your nose, the thick scent of her pent-up lust broiling away within your sinuses, making you feel light-headed. You act before she can even say anything, and plant two hands on either ass cheek, thumbs lying across her labia.
  1360. She lets out a sharp gasp as you spread her lips and marvel at the brilliant, soft pink hidden within, tinged in the soft blue of undeath, lending itself closer to a form of bright, faint lilac, something you’ve felt, something you’ve tasted, albeit, inadvertently, but not something you’ve really taken the time to sit back and appreciate visually.
  1362. “D-don’t stare so much. Just… lick already…”
  1364. You throw her words back at her, the words which were originally yours, with a smug grin, “I’m going to ‘take the time to make us both feel good’”.
  1366. No response comes but you can almost feel her rolling her eyes. Mere moments later, cool waves of air roll across the head of your cock, and down your shaft, followed by familiar, soft wet lips.
  1368. You watch as her walls contract in pleasure as she takes your cock into her mouth, her tongue coiling about in circles, squeezing rhythmically like a serpent, mimicked in the folds of her womanhood, bent only on stimulating as much as possible. Light clear beads collect as her girl-lube slips down the tight lips of her pussy, drooling already from just the oral sensations of giving head.
  1370. “Mrik me” Her voice comes muffled as she slurps her way up and down your throbbing phallus but you get her intent. Unfortunately for her, you’re not satisfied. Yet. You slip two fingers into her cunt, and spread the walls of her pussy wide, careful not to stretch them. She groans around your cock at the sudden sensation and the shame of having her deepest most private place peered into by her lover. She grows wetter.
  1372. You begin to make small thrusts with your hips, working her lips further down the length of your shaft ‘till you feel them touch at the base, your thrusts growing larger, making Clara moan audibly. You watch as her walls clench eagerly about a phantom cock which isn’t there. An idea forms as your eyes fall upon one of her dildos, lying hidden amongst the folds of her bed. You’re sure you put them somewhere else, so she must have used it recently. Perhaps when you were out in town. Despite nearly the entire collection being smaller than usual, none the less you’re a merciful man and you grab the smallest of the lot.
  1374. The thing is barely thicker than a finger and a half, but about as long as the length of your pointer and the palm of your hand. You feel the cool air on your cock as her lips come free with a wet pop.
  1376. “W-what are you doing back there?”
  1378. “Nothing.”
  1380. “I can tell.”
  1382. You roll your eyes, “Just trust me. You’ll feel good. Not like you aren’t already, don’t pretend you couldn’t get off by sucking me off alone.” She grumbles a bit more, but goes back to your cock. You turn your attentions back to the dildo, and then to her rear, wiggling in your face impatiently. Her pussy twitches with phantom pleasures strong enough to reach it as they rock her body all the way from her mouth, her cute pucker slightly above it the ring twitching slightly as her pelvic floor goes through minor spasms. You really really don’t want to hurt or surprise her that much, so rather than just jamming it in there, you decide to dip your finger back into the wet folds of her womanhood, and collect as much of her lube as you can, before bringing it up to her asshole, and working a finger into it.
  1384. You feel her whole body tense, her tongue constricting involuntarily around your dick, her unvoiced cry coming in loud and clear, ‘J-just where do you think you’re touching?!’ You work her hole gently, slipping a second finger in just as she relaxes to the sensation. Two slick fingers in, she begins to moan at steady intervals as you stretch her possibly virgin hole.
  1386. You can feel through your fingers how much tighter she is back here and she’s almost already too tight with her pussy. You can’t see buttsex with her being anything but a long and arduous, if eventually rewarding process. You spend a few more moments teasing her hole, and spreading it between two fingers, before you slip the two out again, and she sighs in a momentary release before tensing up again as you bring the cool surface of the dildo to her hole.
  1388. She gives a quiet cry around your dick. “Now I’m sure I ended up putting these somewhere. Why are they out again, hmm?” You grin teasingly, “Was it that hard waiting for me?”
  1390. She drags her lips from your cock, “N-No…”
  1392. You affect a pout. “I’ve never lied to you.”
  1394. She grits her teeth in frustration, “F-Fine! I couldn’t wait, okay? I just started thinking about you a-and…well…” She trails off, a near full-body blush coming over her.
  1396. “And, well?”
  1398. “I started to… touch myself… thinking about your cock, geez! … Making me say this.”
  1400. “I’m not making you say anything. Then what?’
  1402. “…I stopped.”
  1404. You quirk an eyebrow, “Really?”
  1406. “Yeah.”
  1408. “Why?”
  1410. “It just… wasn’t the same.”
  1412. “Wow. Uh, sorry. I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have to do with a substitute again.”
  1414. “I’m not asking you to become my fuck slave or anything… well, not that I’d mind.”
  1416. “I thought you objected to that kind of thinking?”
  1418. “That’s that and this is this. If I really wanted that I’d have shipped us both off to pandemonium.”
  1420. “Fair point. Please don’t.”
  1422. “Exactly. So you better hurry up and fuck me.”
  1424. You laugh, as you slide the dildo is smoothly, making her back arch and her eyes fly wide with the sudden intrusion, “In time, In time.” You adjust your grip and slide your arm around to rest on her round ass, so two fingers can work as pumping the dildo in and out, and lean forward, finally kissing her clit, shattering the levee and flooding her with electric pleasures.
  1426. “Hau~” She gives a pitched cry at your attack, but not one to not retaliate, her mouth finds itself around your cock again, and she begins to deepthroat it, not caring for the messy slurps she leaves behind as she aims to wrack your body in as much sensitive ecstasy as you bring upon her.
  1428. The bed begins to sway softly under the rolling motions of the two lovers atop it, working at their partner’s nethers. You’re aware she could draw this to a close by demanding you cum at any moment, so in consideration for that, you visit as much pleasure upon her as you can, for as long as she wishes to draw the foreplay out. Your fingers work as the dildo in her ass, the other hand coming around her leg to pinch and roll at her clit, your tongue simulating the cock her lower lips so crave, digging into her as deeply as you can, and twisting in ways your dick can’t match, seeking out as many of her weak spots as you can.
  1430. You nail them persistently as you plunge the small dildo into her ass. Not especially deep or hard, but by her reactions and the noises she’s making around your cock, she’s appreciating the addition to your tongue up in her womanhood, the heady scent of her exhilaration intoxicating you in turn, bringing that much closer to your own surging orgasm, though you anticipate it to crash into the breakers. You feel her tighten around your tongue, a presage to her impending climax. You lean back and slip your two fingers in once more spreading her tight passage just wide enough, marvelling at the way it convulses in ecstasy.
  1432. “Wow. It’s almost like I can see all the way inside.” You laugh softly as she squeezes and shakes your knee, urging you to get back to it. It’s sort of cute how shamelessly unembarrassed she can be when she gets into it.
  1434. She takes her mouth from your cock and twists back to look at you, “Keep teasing, but I won’t let you cum ‘till you stuff me full of your cock.”
  1436. You return her look smugly, “I think it’s more in your interest for me to cum than mine.”
  1438. She grits her teeth and her face turns into a pout, “Fine. Cum.”
  1440. The levee breaks and yet you don’t cum, looking innocently to the side like you don’t know what’s going on. “Now you’re just doing this on purpose. Cum.”
  1442. You lean forward and lay a soft kiss on her feminine lower lips, tasting her recent orgasm, grinning impishly. “Make me.”
  1444. Her jaw drops at your impudence and then she shuts her mouth and purses her lips, “F-fine!” She turns back to your cock with a burning glare of determination, and opens her mouth, tongue lashing around in coils before she takes you in to the hilt, the head of your cock lodging in her throat. Already on the edge, just this alone is enough to push you over, no longer teetering, but plummeting.
  1446. You blush at the apparent quickshot. “Fufu, I thought you could hold out for longer?”
  1448. “D-Don’t get cocky. If not for this stupid enchantment thing I would have cum plenty of times. It was just backed up is all.”
  1450. “We can probably get Vivian to fix that. Do you want to?”
  1452. You lean back as you consider it, and slide the dildo out of her tight ass, making her tighten up again, the pucker closing after it, the toy not nearly large enough to cause any sort of gaping. Clara twists around to nestle your still-hard erection between the cheeks of her bubbly butt as her face comes up to yours, “Do you want that?”
  1454. “…” You bite your lip as you consider it, “What would you like?” She traces a finger along your jaw as she lays kisses on your cheeks, lips and nose.
  1456. “I think I’d like to know how good you’re feeling.”
  1458. “If it’s just that much, I can simply tell you.”
  1460. She grins, and nibbles your lip before replying, “Your dick is more honest.”
  1462. She gives a cute cry as you take her in your arms and flip the two of you so you’re straddling her, and she’s looking up at you with sultry, smouldering amethyst eyes from below, her long moonlit hair a strewn mess upon the bedsheets. You smile down softly at her. “Let’s do it then. It’s not quite dinner-time conversation, but lets talk to Vivian after.”
  1464. “Ahn~” She moans softly and her fingers slip through the strands of your hair as you begin to trail kisses down her throat and towards her breasts. You watch her throat contract as she swallows her wanton lust, panting gently, the rolling motions of her soft, supple flesh beginning to bead in cool sweat catching your eye. “H-Hot~” Here you’d deliver a monologue about undead sex magic and how it makes a sweating corpse make biological sense were you not so distracted, her stiff, soft fleshy nipple demands much more of your attention.
  1466. Your fingers sink into the soft flesh, as you palm and squeeze her overly-sensitive breast, her back arching as she pushes your head down into her tit, your lips parting to give the light bud of nerves a kiss, tongue tracing circles as your teeth latch on and gently tug.
  1468. An idea strikes you, and you dart up to her lips for a deep kiss, leaving her gasping. The insides of your mouth liberally coated in her aphrodisiac saliva, you move back down and kiss her nipple, letting the ‘pleasure enzymes’ in her spit seep into her already sensitive flesh.
  1470. “Nnn~”
  1472. “You okay?”
  1474. “N-Need you!” her hand flashes down between your legs and she angles your hard cock to her cunt, and wraps her legs around your butt, thrusting up into you, and impaling herself in a swift motion, cumming from the penetration alone. Her soft thighs bunch worryingly and it almost feels like she’s trying to crush you with the strength of her embrace.
  1476. “Wow. Your own stuff really gets to you, huh?”
  1478. She doesn’t reply, just whines lowly and begins rolling and thrusting with her hips. You sigh bemusedly and lower yourself so she doesn’t have to lift her ass up so much, and settle into a rhythm of rutting into her. One of her hands remains on the back of your head, the other resting across your back. Her legs stay hooked around your hips, and you thrust into her body, bending her hips up to plunge deeper into her cunt, grinding against her cervix as you push yourself up her body so your lips come to hers.
  1480. You feel her relax into you as one of your hands comes to brush her hair, the other massage a breast. She giggles deep in her chest, a warm sound of pure undiluted happiness. Your own heart throbs with her small happy sounds, and you can’t help but find your own rich laughter mingling with the sounds of ecstasy and the lewd, wet slapping of juice and nectar slickened hips.
  1482. You settle into a long flow of passionately violating her mouth with your tongue and thrusting your cock deep into her depths, fucking for what seems like hours interspersed only by the sudden tightening of her already vice-like depths, and the way her nails tear into your back as she bucks against you furiously, seeing to wrench the most out of her orgasm. Each time she does this, mid climax, she breaks the kiss and rasps out “Cum!”, and her bliss is accentuated by hot spurts of seed which thicken your throbbing cock, propelled by the ghost orgasms which never came, not ‘till she ordered them to. The trusting stops only then to hold her tight, only then to pack her womb full with the warmth of life, made no less meaningful by the fact that the both of you know it won’t take. And then it begins again.
  1484. Sweat drips off you as time dances in lilting dissonance, the only regularity you know being the woman under you, and the bestrewn orgasms which carry the two of you, the outside world little more than an imagined alternation, the sound of her soft breathing, and the smell of her excitement all which matters to you in this one lone moment.
  1486. Before you notice, cum and girl-juices have left the bedsheets slick, your muscles burn with exhaustion, and the girl below you has stopped responding, her eyes rolled back as you fucker her through one orgasm and into another, her long tongue lolled out to the side, she clings to you for life, her breasts jiggling as they rise and fall, smaller rippled brought in by the pounding you visit upon her sticky hips. Only this once do you appreciate the unnatural stamina forced upon you.
  1488. But even then, it’s at its limit. Her eyes roll back down for a short moment of lucidity, and she locks her love-filled gaze onto yours, her voice shallow and breathless, “Y-you’re close, aren’t you?” You clench your jaw, and nod. She takes your face in her hands, “M-me too… Lets cum together.”
  1490. You nod as she caresses your cheeks, and draws you in for a last, long kiss as you bottom out into her womb, and cum so hard you get dizzy, drained truly empty for the first time in a long time, the proof of which bloat’s Clara’s belly, giving her a slight pudge, not even her prodigious unholy body allowing her to metabolize it into her so quickly. Your cock bounces in her with each rope of molten white which blasts into the back of her womb and saturates her depths in over-virile seed, and she twists in a microcosm of orgasms before the two of you finally collapse, slack. You roll off her, and the two of you lie on your sides, facing each other, limbs still entangled
  1492. You dredge up words and force them out from your lips, “This bed… will need a clean.”
  1494. She chuckles evilly, “Let Lily clean it.”
  1496. “Not cool.”
  1498. “What?” You stare at her. She pouts. “Fiine, I was just kidding anyway.” You continue staring, somewhat incredulously. “Shut up. Come here.” She grabs you and pulls your face into her chest, wiggling so the rest of her body is flush with yours. “Go to sleep.”
  1500. You smile, hidden, and wrap your arms around her, nuzzling into her chest, “Sounds good.”
  1503. * * * *
  1505. “Am I cute?”
  1507. “You’re adorable.”
  1509. “I-I’m really not sure about this.” You step up behind her and nibble her ears, grinning into your own reflection, naked but for a towel. She leans back into you nervously as she observes herself,
  1511. “You should be. You look amazing.”
  1513. “You’re just saying this because you chose it.”
  1515. “Maybe.” You run your hand down her hips, and stroke the innermost part of her thighs, fingers slipping under the long slit in the dress, the other hand captured in her mouth as she nervously gnaws on your thumb. “Didn’t think it would come so soon though.”
  1517. “Local warehouse?”
  1519. “That or a crazy skilled Cheshire delivery woman.” You enjoy the feeling of her weight against you as you ogle her in the mirror. It’s a deep-cut dress from arachne silk, not revealing much of her breasts, but the skin it does show goes deep, emphasising her bust. A slim sort of deep-cut. It loops around the back of her neck, hidden by the long silver hair you washed for her, and asked she left out. It lings tight to her hips and outlines her slim tummy, wrapping around at the back to leave the top half of her back bare, showing off her toned shoulder-blades.
  1521. It flows down from her hips in luscious waves, just long enough to hide her crotch before clinging to one leg, leaving the other to ride up the slit, her soft yet toned leg demanding attention, a long stretch of milky white juxtaposing the purple of the dress so deep it’s nearly black. Well, not that long. You managed to find some nice thick black weresheep-wool thigh high socks for her too. Not only were they ridiculously comfortable, but you hope they take off the edge of whatever anxiety she may feel throughout the night. They come up six inches past the knee, and she wears them under a pair of shined combat boots which only come up to the shin. More stylish and less practical than the boots Aoife and the other guards laze around in.
  1523. She gives your thumb another bite, “Do I look pretty?”
  1525. You look her over again. “You look beautiful.” You tip her head back with the thumb in her mouth, and bury your face into the crook of her neck. You give her a long, lazy kiss, taking deep breaths and feeling her scent come over you, nibbling softly as you do so, as to not leave a mark. Her smell is mixed in with faint lavender this time, and carries on it the various soaps, salts and oils you found. Obviously, rather than showering, the two of you bathed together, so you smell much the same.
  1527. She leans her head back, and latches onto your neck, sucking and nibbling at the same time. You can’t help but sigh and hug her tightly as her saliva does its thing. She lets go with a wet pop, and grins at the mark she left behind. “Mine~” From experience that’ll be there for a day.
  1529. You grin and chuckle. “Yours.”
  1531. She turns, facing you now and grinning lecherously, lowering herself to her knees, drawing her hands down along your bare chest as she does so. “Now, before we get you dressed, I think I want my entree now.”
  1533. You suck in a breath as she untucks the towel, and it falls around your ankles, “You don’t have to do this. I’m not nervous or anything.”
  1535. “But I’m nervous,” She pushes you hard, and you stumble backward, the edge of the bed collecting your feet, making you land on your ass, bouncing off the mattress, “So sit down, and let me take care of you. I don’t think I could settle down without the taste of you in my mouth anyway.”
  1537. You sigh as you spread your legs, “Fine. But don’t get any on your dress.” She grins widely, flashing her pointed teeth, and her long tongue as she leisurely crawls towards your cock, a sight as alluring as it is frightening. But it’s your brain primarily which draws the correlation to pointy teeth and scary things. Your dick couldn’t be happier as its woman crawls towards it.
  1539. “Don’t worry,” She places a hand on your knee as she slips in between your legs, and looks up at you, “I’ll swallow every drop.” Hng. Well okay then. You reach a hand out and start stroking her hair as you tip your head back and close your eyes, shutting off the useless sense. As you anticipate the first sensation you feel is her long, cool, spit-slicked dextrous tongue coiling around your cock, the fact that you’ve grown to anticipate her ministrations in no way diminishing just how good they feel. Her happy humming vibrates up your cock as she laps away as your shaft, swallowing more of your length until you feel her soft lips touch at the base, leaving behind a lewd cock-ring of lipstick.
  1541. You inadvertently let out a soft groan as your prick flexes and throbs within her embrace. The tip of your cock crammed down her throat, the best she can do is a happy gargle in response as she begins to pump her head up and down the length of your shaft. It’s doesn’t take long for you to cum. Your dick thickens in her throat, the bulge becoming more pronounced as you ride out the dry high. Predictably, nothing happens, leaving you more than frustrated. To your ever soaring gratitude, she doesn’t stop there, grinning mischievously as she milks you into your second orgasm, planning to take the two at once.
  1543. Dick still sensitive from the not-orgasm, and her undead drool, the second tide is already surging in, and you barely hear her tell you to cum, knowing it only because for the slightest moment, her mouth isn’t on your cock. You’re on the tip of the second climax, balls still painfully full from the first, but this time she takes your shaft into her throat without her tongue, the organ slipping out to coil around your balls instead. She kisses your crotch as you cry out, the tip of your cock pushing into her gullet and blasting the walls with cum, nearly thick enough to call each shot a small stream. Her eyes go wide and she shakes as she clutches at your hips, her tongue wringing your balls dry. Instinctively, your hands go to her head, and you hold her down as you thrust into her throat-pussy, feeling her throat wrap and convulse around you as intimately and lovingly as the walls of her womanhood.
  1545. The two may as well be the same thing for as much as you care and it’s with reluctance you shoot the final load deep into her stomach, finally falling slack, breathing heavy. You watch as she retracts her tongue first then slides her lips up your dick, stopping to kiss the head and suck out the very last bits of cum, before coming off your prick entirely with a wet smooch, letting it begin to go flaccid.
  1547. She wraps her hand around the base, and flops it from side to side, grinning. She shows you her open mouth, so full of cum she has to tip her head back to keep it all in. Your dick twitches as she swallows, ‘What? There’s an encore?’ “See, didn’t spill a drop. Not sure I need to eat now though.” She laughs richly, before kissing your flaccid cock, and nuzzling into it with her cheek.
  1549. “Come on, enough of that, not unless you want a round two.” Her eyes light up, “We don’t have time for a round two.” Her face drops.
  1551. “Fiine. I uh… need to change my underwear anyway. And reapply the lipstick.” You aren’t even surprised she came from blowing you at this point.
  1553. “Well, at least you had fun too.”
  1555. “Damn right I did,” She taps your thigh, “Come on, you really should get dressed.”
  1557. “I know, I know.” You head over to your drawer and pull out some jeans Clara ironed for you without telling you. You’d question your point in being here if she’s going to do your job for you, but she said she was bored. You put them on the dresser and pull out some socks and underwear. Slipping into them first, you then slide the jeans up, Clara smacking you on the ass before they’re all the way up as she walks past, leering at you.
  1559. “I’ll be waiting~”
  1561. You grin, and slide them the rest of the way up, before throwing on a random band-shirt. Not that it matters. You slide your belt on as you walk to the wardrobe and take out one of your dress shirts. You slide it on over the shirt, and button it up, propping the collar once you’re done. Lastly, you slip your clothed feet into your boots, and roll the legs of your jeans over them. Standing up, you head to the bathroom and put on the tiniest bit of aftershave, your neck and cheeks still fresh enough to sting slightly. You don’t put any deodorant on; you found out early on that Clara prefers the way you smell to anything else, a fact which made you quite pleased with yourself, if you were being honest.
  1563. When you head down, your date is staring at the door apprehensively, so lost in herself that she jumps when you put a kiss on her cheek. “Lets go.” She nods, but doesn’t say anything. You take her hand in yours, and she’s quickly clinging to your arm. The two of you hesitate by the threshold, but she squeezes your hand extra tight, and takes the first step over it.
  1565. You pass the yard of the mini mansion, and enter the larger garden which separates where you live with Clara from the main house. Her fingers brush the flowers as the two of you walk along slowly, hand in hand.
  1567. “It’s been so long. I don’t even remember when I first began to be afraid of going outside.” A queer smile comes to her lips, “I used to play out here with Aoife all the time.”
  1569. “Play? How old were you?”
  1571. She frowns, “Twelve, thirteen, I think.”
  1573. “Wow, when did you get turned?”
  1575. “When I was ten.” She smiles a little brighter, “Aoife was basically there since day one. Ana was too, but she wouldn’t run around and teach me how to fight things.”
  1577. You raise an eyebrow “You can fight?”
  1579. She laughs, “I can defend myself and protect you, but that’s about it. I’m stronger than Aoife, but she’s faster and way way more skilled.”
  1581. “And idea why you stopped going out? When?”
  1583. She shakes her head, “I just woke up one day and realised I hadn’t left my place in a while. I think I was eighteen. Stood at the door and realised I just really didn’t want to.”
  1585. A short silence descends. Not really much to work with there, looks like you’ll have to stick with your original plan. There’ll be no lynchpin, just a long process of easing her into going outside. “But this is…okay. I’m out but… I’m still home.” You kiss her forehead, making a blush come to her cheeks and a silly little giggle as she scrunches up her face, cutely, squishing her cheek up against yours.
  1587. “I thought it would be.”
  1589. The two of you enter through the side door, as you’re used to; part of the reason why being that it’s the door closest. You’re barely inside when Clara rushes past you, a beeline to Lily who is minding her own business, dusting bookshelves.
  1591. “You!” In an instant, before you can even react, Clara is on the kikimora, gnawing on her head and groping her breasts, growling. “I’ll teach you to play my man for a fool!” Lily’ tail shoots up as she tries to run away, but Clara has hooked her legs around the maid’s hips and it happily gnawing away at the girl’s head and nibbling her ears. The pair go in circles as Lily runs around aimlessly, trying to push down the molesting hands and shake off the ghoul, but the ghoul’s hands go from groping the maid’s breasts to tickling her sides and armpits. Before long the bird collapses, weak in the legs, blushing and whining, and Clara falls with her, still biting and tickling, her legs tangling with the maid’s in a graceless mess.
  1593. You walk over calmly, “Come on, Clara. You’ll mess your dress up.” She looks up at you, eyes wild, a lock of her prey’s hair between her teeth.
  1595. “B-but, Gryam!”
  1597. Lily takes the moment to escape, and is behind you in an instant, clutching at your shirt and glaring at Clara who is still on the ground, She stops looking at the ghoul long enough to look up at you with big, wavering, watery eyes, voicelessly begging you to protect her, her tail swaying low and between her legs, ears flat. You can’t help but blush slightly, “Maybe you should be a little easier on her?” She leaps up,
  1599. “No! Don’t let her get to you! She needs to learn this is what happens when you seduce my man.”
  1601. You calmly slap away her hands as she rushes you, reaching around to the left and the right in attempt to poke and tickle, as Lily darts from side to side. An exchange of minimalist wooden man-like blows at the closest possible range, a microcosm of stunningly dizzying attacks and blocks!
  1603. “I’m hardly seduced”
  1605. “So stop defending her!” As the blurry high-speed CQC continues, the ghostly figure of Aoife appears out of nowhere, and traps Clara’s legs with her own, taking the ghoul to the ground. Clara lands on Aoife with a thud, The Dullahan already nibbling on Clara’s ears, making the girl squirm. The Dullahan gropes her breasts, dextrous fingers pinching and roll a rapidly stiffening nipple, her hand slipping under Clara’s dress to tease the lines of her pussy, making the ghoul cry out. None of these weak points, you note with some smug superiority, you haven’t already found.
  1607. “Fufu, what’s this? You’re not bullying my favourite zombie, are you?
  1609. Clara extends an arm to you, clutching at the air, “Gryam, save me!” You sigh, and bend down, plucking the lithe Dullahan off your girl by the scruff of her jacket with a single arm. The Dullahan’s purple iris flicks to you, and the girl blushes as she squeezes her thighs together, and squirms, suddenly shy, now of all times.
  1611. “W-whoa, Big Boy. N-no need to sweep me off my feet.” You pinch the bridge of your nose as the eyepatched girl giggles, and you put her back on her feet, pointing your weapon at Lily. The recovering Kiki’s eyes go wide but it’s far too late for her.
  1613. “Lily!” Aoife leaps at the girl, and traps her in a cloud of hugs and nuzzles.
  1615. Caius’s voice floats down from above, “Come on kids, quit playing.”
  1617. “Yees~” Aoife calls back, as she swoops Lily up in a princess carry, her head rolling off to fall inbetween the zombie’s breasts, where it continues to roll around and motorboat the squirming bird-wolf. A heavy weight on your right sid has Clara clinging tightly to you and glaring at their backs, as the two of you follow the headless woman carrying the maid to the dinner table. You put a hand on her head, and her sour mood lifts as you ruffle her hair and play with her pointy ears.
  1619. You take the time to look around, having never ascended these large, imperious-looking stairs before. Long corridors extend to the left and to the right, a dark purple rug runs across the floor lined every few paces by a door, before turning a corner and disappearing, the view instead carrying through the pristine glass and out into the yard below, this particular window looking down across a stretch of the backwoods, the peak of a stone arch at the bottom left, and a stretch of lawn to the right where it joins the trunks of tall, dead trees, a mulch of dead grass and leaves scattered between the gnarled roots.
  1621. Sometimes you wonder if this place shouldn’t have its own undead Thunderbird to compliment every sentence with a crack of lightning and thunder. Well, not that it’s an aesthetic you don’t like. Directly ahead is a large dining room, complete with a grand chandelier, hanging meters high from the ceiling, large enough to have its own balcony as part of a second story. It sheds a warm magic light from the crystals in the metal setting, enough to illuminate the room. Even as you watch, a crystal flickers, and dies. Not a moment later does a ghost flit through the ceiling, and twist in a fresh crystal. You hear a chime similar to breaking glass, and it flickers to life blearily, like a sleeper waking beneath golden streams of intrusive sunlight. Eventually, it joins the cacophony of light.
  1623. You blink as you look black down, and try to ignore the individual ghost-lights burnt into your retina. Sitting up the furthest end of the grand and immensely long table are Ana and Caius, his wife looking comfortable, the man himself just settling back down. Resting against the frame of the doorway just before the room is a stern looking woman with long elven ears, her fringe tied back in a long braid. The end of it rests over her shoulder now, and you see the hair capped off by a pale grey metal band. As she pushes off the wall and stands on her own two feet, the braid slips from her shoulder and falls behind her, disappearing.
  1625. She’s dressed similarly to Aoife, though her skin-tight suit is much fancier, with faintly glowing, icy blue runes decorating it. You push aside thoughts regarding any hidden slits. Her long, thick hair is a frosty white, and her eyes the clear blue of ancient snow, brows like the snowy peaks of mountains and her skin paler than both, faintly blue like so many of the residents here. Her face is beautiful, and unholy strength seems to seethe off her, giving off a similar impression as Ana. A Wight? But the power almost tastes militant. Like some kind of knight. Her face is just as beautiful as a Wight’s if sharper and more serious. And aged. She carries with her the air of an ancient tree, having seen and borne far too much. It makes you want to crack it, see her smile and blush.
  1627. Whereas Aoife is lythe, this… snow elf? This woman is just big. A head taller than Aoife, her suit bulges with the size of her bust, so much so that it looks like it would break were she to zip it up all the way. As it is now, a deep valley of cleavage shows, almost coming down as far as her belly button. You can see abdominal muscles under the mountains of soft tit-flesh, chiselled like an ice sculpture, they come with an indescribable urge to lick. Continuing down, you’re surprised the sheer fabric can contain the width of her childbearing hips. Well, they are combat-viable for a reason, you suppose. You continue further down, marvelling at the shape and length of her powerful legs, just as muscly as her arms, yet keeping her feminine form. There’s something black strapped to the side of her thigh, and some sort of protector on the inside of her left forearm. You say ‘big’ when you think of her, but asides from her almost exaggerated hourglass figure, that doesn’t mean she isn’t thin. She’s not quite as beefy as a minotaur or Oni would have been, but she’s much bigger and more imposing than the normal elf. Closer to an amazon, if only their raw savagery could be so lean and graceful.
  1629. Her piercing silver-blue eyes glare down at Aoife, and she steps up to pluck the girl’s head from Lily’s breasts. She holds it as eye height, “How many times do I have to tell you to take things more seriously. You’re not even armed, are you?”
  1631. The Dullahan grins wide and happily, “Nope~! Aww come on, Skadi, don’t pull faces like that. Who comes armed to a dinner party?”
  1633. The elf holds in her sigh, “I do. Because I’m a bodyguard. Just like you.”
  1635. “Come on, who is going to mess with us with you around?”
  1637. “Plenty. It’s been a quiet century, but our enemies don’t forget. Neither should we.” Aoife sighs as Skadi puts her pouting head back on her body.
  1639. “Way to kill my mood.”
  1641. The elf smiles wryly, “Sorry. But you know I’m right.”
  1643. “I know…” She turns to Clara, her smile twisting from wry to warm, and Clara goes from you to her, holding the big elf tight, sort of inadvertently burying her face in her massive bust, “You look cute, Clara,” Skadi returns the embrace, “I trust you’ve been well?”
  1645. “It’s good to see you Skadi. I’ve been good,” She look up at the elf, “You?”
  1647. “I’ve been fine,” the elf frowns, “but you really should visit Vivian more often. She misses you.” Clara pulls a funny face as she steps away, but Skadi has already turned on you, it’s likely not the first time she’s told Clara that. “And I hear it’s thanks to you that Clara is even here tonight at all. It’s good to meet you, Gryam. I’m Skadi Rimebough. Just uh… Just call me Skadi. I’m head of the guard here, Aoife being my second.” She offers her gloved hand to you, and when you take it, it feels like you’re holding a block of ice in a thin leather bag. You shake her hand for the usual length of time, but it feels like she’s sapped the warmth from your entire arm.
  1649. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Skadi,” curiosity steals your tongue, “you uh, mentioned being armed?”
  1651. She nods, “Of course.” And takes a step back as she slides out a white metal bar from the pouch strapped to her thigh. It’s about the length of your forearm, and looks to be made of some kind of bone, with the inlays of the same pale grey metal as the band confining her braid. Runes glow in a bluish-white and two prongs of the same colour spring out and extend before clicking into place with some unseen mechanic. Runes dance across the surface but after a second they race to collect at the tips of each prong, and a pale-blue strand arcs from one tip to the other, fading in colour ‘till it makes a single wound string. You now see it for what it is, and it isn’t until she turns the greatbow vertical you realise that it’s as tall as you.
  1653. Aoife pipes in, “Cool, huh? They used to call her the ‘White Death’ never missed a shot.”
  1655. Skadi winces, “Shut up. I missed plenty, don’t call me that.”
  1657. “It doesn’t count if they block them”
  1659. “Sure it does.”
  1661. You butt in, “What about arrows?”
  1663. “I make them out of ice.” The logistics make your head spin,
  1665. “Ice?” She laughs softly, and a cold wind blows as she closes her fist. Opening it again, you see a block of ice. “Wow. Neat.”
  1667. “Never run out.” The group begins to walk towards the table. Lily is still curled up, with the face of a disgruntled cat, being held for far too long. There’s a miniature battle which passes below every one’s Radar, in which Aoife adjusts her grip to minimize the zombie’s squirming as much as possible. Lily vies for her own foothold, but ultimately, cannot escape Aoife’s arms.
  1669. The long table is already set, with plates of entrees scattered about, seemingly freshly cooked. You see a different ghost pouring the last glass of wine and leaving the decanter upon the table before slipping through the floor. You pull your gaze from the table and back to the elf.
  1671. “You mentioned enemies?” Skadi winces like a foul taste passed her lips, but it isn’t her who answers. Caius’ ears perk up as your question carries over to him, and he stands up frowning,
  1673. “You’re not trying to scare the young lad, now are you?” He directs his gaze to you, “We have no ‘enemies’, Gryam. You’re perfectly safe here.” He stops, and you see that he’s no long ‘there’. You’d seen this expression before. His eyes widen as he comes back to himself, and his face flushes a faint red. He turns from you to Skadi, “I-I mean, we don’t, do we? Those girls aren’t still grumpy about that trifling matter, are they?”
  1675. Skadi rolls her eyes, her words come out thick with sarcasm “I don’t know, Caius. If by “Girls” you mean those bloodsuckers from the Bloodwhisper Court. Then yes, they are still “grumpy”, if the “trifling matter” you’re talking about, was the time you raised armies, and slaughtered their clan. Just a little grumpy.”
  1677. Caius flinches visibly under each sarcastic syllable, “Why uh… Why did we do that again?”
  1679. Skadi pinches the bridge of her nose, “You really don’t remember, do you? That kingdom you used to run? It threatened them, so they sent their agents within the Order to turn the humans against you.”
  1681. “Wait, you used to run a kingdom?” You’re quickly being taken aback by the illustrious pasts of your company.
  1683. Caius rests his hip against the table and crosses his arms, “Ah, that was a crazy time. Why did I have a kingdom?”
  1685. Ana stands up behind him, and wraps her arms around his hips, pressing her breasts up against his back in a cuddle, “We were living in a villa, and one day you looked at me,” Her finger traces along the line of his jaw, “and told me that a princess like me deserved her own kingdom,” she turns to the rest of you, “Don’t I just have the cutest husband?”
  1687. “Aww, stop.”
  1689. She licks his ear, “And from there, you spilled out across the land with that giant great-sword of yours, raising an army with each fallen foe. I had my own kingdom within the month.”
  1691. “Oh yes. If I recall, it was actually my homeland I took first. Turned my hometown into a citadel. And it was an expedition to the north, that I met you, wasn’t it Skadi?”
  1693. The elf has already settled down, there’s a single empty seat to the head of the table, and Skadi sits to the immediate left of it, Aoife next to her, with Lily on her lap. The kiki failed to escape, but still shoots you furtive glances when she can, asking for help. You shrug powerlessly each time. Ana sits to the right of the head, and Caius next to her, followed by you and then Clara. “Yes. It was a good fight.” You take some of the food on the table, some sort of biscuit and a sharp cheese, and as you chew you shoot a look to the ghoul as they talk, and flash her a quick smile, noting her timid shyness. She smiles back, and blushes, her hands fidgeting in her lap under the table, toying with the draping table cloth. You lean across, and nibble the base of her ear, making her giggle and squirm.
  1695. “I had no idea you could use a bow like that.” A small smile curls the corner of her lips,
  1697. “Nor did I realise you could use a sword like that. And if I may, you didn’t really ‘run’ the kingdom. You left a lot of the administrative duties to me and a handful of others.” Clara pushes you away from her ear, and admonishes you with an amused frown, and a whispered ‘stop it!’
  1699. “Well of course not. It would have eaten into my time with my wife. I did a good job of being a handsome figurehead though.”
  1701. “Why did these vampires consider you a threat? And what happened to the kingdom?” He turns to you, and laughs softly,
  1703. “Oh, well. Lots of things I would assume. We resurrected most people we killed, so there was no shortage of manpower, and because they were dead now, it was near permanent labor. I remember out coffers got quite full at one stage. Strong military, powerful economy, and a lot of smart people who aren’t me to look after it. Oh, and good luck rioting when you literally owe your lives to your king, hahaha. Well… I was quite young and hot-blooded at the time. I got older and tired of things, took a pittance of my personal expenses and my trusted confidants and built this place. I wonder… whatever did happen to the Kingdom?”
  1705. Skadi sighs, “There was a coup in your absence a few hundred years ago. It established itself as its own nation. How are you not aware of this?”
  1707. “I guess I never bothered to ask.” The man starts laughing until his wife pulls him into her lap. She glares at Skadi, “Don’t bully my husband.” Skadi sighs, and bows her head,
  1709. “Sorry. And I guess as for the Bloodwhisper Court, it has been a century since their last assassin, but still. Having everyone in one room is a tempting target. I’d be a fool to not take this seriously.”
  1711. “Hmph. No matter. Come, sit, all of you.” She turns her glare back to Skadi, “Especially you. For every glass I drink, you’re having two miss.”
  1713. The elf groans, “Really?”
  1715. “Really. You need to loosen up.” Caius reaches back and pats Ana’s head,
  1717. “Now now, don’t pretend like we all wouldn’t be lost without her. You still act like it’s the 13th century, sometimes. Skadi is Skadi, that’s good.”
  1719. “You mean it isn’t?”
  1721. Caius laughs softly, “No dear. It’s the 27th.”
  1723. She elf sighs as she sits down, “No, Caius it’s the 21st.”
  1725. His mouth drops open, and he turns to you, “Truly?”
  1727. “Uh… yeah. Twenty fifteen, anno domini.”
  1729. “Wow. To think that your human crafts could master portals so soon, without the aid of magic.” Portals? Does he mean TVs? He smirks, “‘In the year of our Lady’, huh? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” He looks up at Ana bending his head back where it rests between her breasts, “Hey Ana, do you remember? What was that peasant girl’s name again?”
  1731. “Christa, dear?”
  1733. “That was the one. Ah…” He turns back to you, still grinning, “You know, the Church that worships her, going on about cockcifixion this, the twelve Alpostles that, and turning her girl-cum into wine, they would be shocked if they found out what the little succubus was really like.”
  1735. You raise an eyebrow, “Really like?” Every one bends in conspiratorially bar Ana who’s likely already privy to this knowledge, and Caius licks his lips, taking a sip of wine before continuing.
  1737. “You’ve heard of the tomes which speak of the Vestales of the Imperial Cult, Marius, yes? That church likes to hide and deny them, for obvious reasons, but the truth is, those books were right. She was a married succubus,” His voice falls to a whisper, audible to only those present, “She didn’t even fuck the guy until they were married!”
  1739. You rock back into your seat with a soft whistle, but he doesn’t stop there. “Uhh, what else was there, dear? Those ‘miracles’, I swear we were there for one of them.”
  1741. “The feeding on the five thousand, dear?”
  1743. “Yes! That was the one. Gods, what an orgy that was. You know, instead of partaking in the whole thing, they had an idea much similar mine and Ana’s, and simply retreated to their own privacy. Imagine that. She wasn’t even a part of her own miracle! Oh, but the aftermath was impressive, the combined energies of Twenty-five hundred couples. The atmosphere was steeped in power. I hadn’t felt so fresh in decades…” He trails off as he slips back into memory.
  1745. The conversation dwindles to a natural silence aside from the quiet mumbling of Aoife whispering lewdities into the blushing Zombies ears, as she looks at you and, ignoring it, you come to realise that you’re missing a number. “Where is Vivian?”
  1747. Caius frowns, “She should have been down by now.
  1749. Ana gasps, “Oh! I’ll fetch her.” She grins evilly as she puts her husband aside and she stands up, heading out of the room, giggling evilly, “Ooh, Viiviaaanne~!” Her voice echoes back as she rounds the corner and disappears.
  1751. A minute or so passes, before an unholy wailing floats down the halls. A cacophonous mixture of insults and “Ufufufu”. Ana rounds the corner with her ‘mother’ slung over a shoulder, no one other than you overly surprised with the scene.
  1753. “Put me down! I raised you and I’ll be damned if I can’t put you back in the ground, Child! W-why do I even have to eat with you anyway? Whose idea was this? Why don’t you just feed them with the things hanging off your chest, holstaur!”
  1755. You turn to Caius in a whisper, “You didn’t tell her?”
  1757. He whispers back, “I must have forgotten.”
  1759. “Ufufu” Ana titters, only infuriating the young(old) girl.
  1761. The lich starts grinding her teeth in anger, tears forming in her eyes “Cow! Useless meat! Fattie!” Her struggles up the ante, but the Wight’s arm remains ironclad and resolute. She kicks her legs, but it’s useless, half the time her feet can’t connect, and when they do they are ineffectual. Her flailing arms swing up and down, but on each down stroke, she hits one of the wight’s breasts, causing it to bounce back up again, almost smacking her in her face. Quickly, she hones in on the target of her ire, and starts smacking the Wight’s breasts, bouncing them around, the small triangle of dress at the tip of each breast barely covering the nipple, miraculously staying in place. Her tits, quaking, being slapped left and right, yet never coming clear of the dress, the Wight laughing airily all the while. The lich is openly crying now, a scene reminiscent of an irate man trying to kill a fire with a flamethrower.
  1763. Ana finally arrives before the table, signalling the Lich’s defeat. She’s here now, might as well sit for dinner.
  1765. “Are you done now?”
  1767. She pouts, “No.” and sniffs, wiping her face off on the back of her sleeve. She gathers magic in a hand, a circle of runes forming around her wrist. She swings an arm down, slapping the side of Ana’s left breast so hard it sets them swinging like a pendulum, leaving a diminutive handprint, glowing faintly with the Lich’s power.
  1769. “Iyaahn~” A wet spot stains the fabric of the dress around her breasts, nipples already tenting the cloth due to the stimulation, Ana’s eyes widen, “Y-you made them leak!”
  1771. “Now I’m done.” The lich climbs off the tall busty woman in a huff, and adjusts her hoodie, the cowl still drawn. Ana’s chin wobbles as she holds her now-lactating breasts, about ready to cry as she stains the front of her dress. Caius quickly pulls the girl into his lap, and whispers soothing words to her as he grins, and her sobs are diminished to hiccups before she could start bawling at her ruined dress. And then she stops all together, wiggling her hips slightly, as if she felt something prodding into her. She blushes and Caius speaks up,
  1773. “Er, something has… come up. We’ll be back in a quick moment, please make your introductions and if we aren’t back in a timely manner feel free to serve dinner.” The couple leave, giggling like teenagers, Caius’s hands all over the Wight’s butt. Vivian smirks, smugly as the two beat their retreat, and stretches, rolling her wrists and neck, the hood slipping from her head, a sea of disturbed, white hair falling about. Its length is trapped under the jumper, and so the strands of hair folded upon themselves give the impression of poofy-ness. It collects around the rim of the jumper and fills the hood like clouds. Bouncing in the motion of her stretches. Two earphones wag like tongues with her motion, slipping out from the neck of the jumper, hanging down a few inches.
  1775. She isn’t wearing shoes, instead thigh-high socks reach up past her knees, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s her you can thank for Clara’s habit to wear socks and no pants. Fortunately though, the lich is wearing pants. There is about a handspan’s width of a band of the pale, pristinely porcelain skin of her lissom legs, before the skin disappears under her short spats, anything to be revealed by the way they hug her hips and curves is hidden by the hem of the jumper, which reaches low enough to be a sort of mini-skirt in and of itself.
  1777. Well, except for when she bends back, and it rides up, revealing more. The spats sit low on her hips, wide considering her small frame, as though puberty hit and decided to work on her baby maker first, widening the hips for an easy childbirth, relying on the years to come to develop the breasts and the rest. Years of growth which never came. Her tight, lithe belly, lacking the tight definition of Clara and Aoife, lacking the rippling abbs of Skadi, marred only by the slight protrusion of her pelvic bones, strong lines directing the eyes down towards her womanhood, more or less revealed now, the slight indentation between her lower lips distracting the eyes. There’s a rectangular bulge in her spats resting at her hips, and the tip of a music player peeks out, held close by the elastic fabric of the spats, the earphone cable rising up the side of her chest to disappear under her hoodie.
  1779. She straightens up from her stretch, her jumper coming back down to hang past her hips. Clara gets out of her seat as the Lich turns to her, and lifts her arms up, smiling motherly, her expression at odds with the childlike action. “Viv!” Clara picks up the girl, and holds her close, smooshing her face up against Vivian’s, pressing her breasts up against the lich’s chest, the girl’s feet dangling through the air.
  1781. “Tch.” The girl pokes Clara’s breasts with a sour face. “Looks like all my daughters have outgrown me.” She hesitates a moment before smiling softly, and returning the embrace fully, a more motherly tone seeping into her words, “And so quickly too. You should visit more often. You’ll probably only age for two more years,” She smiles softly, and you can tell she’s lost herself somewhat in the embrace of her surrogate daughter. After a while she resumes, “Well, I got to see you when you were small and cute, so I guess it’s okay.” A youthful petulance replaces the motherly warmth, “Though it would have been better if some parts of you stayed small.”
  1783. You smile and stand to greet the Lich as you watch the scene, and Cara puts the Lich down on her feet again, strong emotion thinly veiled behind her smile, “I’ll definitely visit more.” Vivian turns to you,
  1785. “And I suppose it’s you I have to thank for it, huh?” She looks you up and down, frowning, thought you think you see the ghost of amusement at the corner of her eyes. “You’re wearing a Weresheep of Eros shirt, aren’t you? Not sure how I feel about such pleb taste marrying into my family.” Clara blushes at the mention of marriage. Seems the Lich has planned quite far ahead. You’re torn between these implications and how the hell she knew which shirt you’d lazily thrown on under your buttoned up dress shirt, but the first thing to come to your lips is a retort.
  1787. “Pff, is that Force the Dragon I hear from your headphones? Someone who listens to Paladin Metal has no right to talk to me about taste.” You stare down at the old girl smugly. She puts her hands to her
  1789. She looks at you a long moment, her composure remaining stolid despite being caught out, the slight flush of embarrassment the only thing belying her loss, as on the hierarchy of things, a bunch of weresheep growling about political and religious themes is vastly preferable to a bunch of thin wannabe paladins whining about how mean monsters are. Bafflingly though, some of the larger bands within the genre still have immense MG followings, some kind of reverse psychology attraction.
  1791. For this reason it isn’t too rare to see them sponsored by various religious sects, and the venue’s security swapped out with actual paladins, or at the least, trainees looking for experience, the half-naked, seductive audience a good way to test the wills of new recruits. Many a weak man has fallen to the pseudo-orgy of sweat-slicked half-naked monster women moshing around, the rare man sandwiched between women and often not-so-subtly molested.
  1792. Because of this, most guys who aren’t single usually are on the sidelines, their girlfriends guarding them jealously.
  1794. Vivian smiles wryly, and gestures towards the table, “Well said. Well… let’s take a seat, shall we?” She casts a glance to where Caius and Ana left “Those two idiots will be a while. But still, lets wait on them. It’s not often we get to eat together.” You and Clara settle back down, as does Sakdi, who rose as Vivian entered. Aoife never left her seat, too focused on playing with Lily.
  1796. Even now, you all watch as the zombie rests in the Dullahan’s lap, resigned like a doll as Aoife take some kind of gourmet cabanossi from a platter and brings it to Lily’s lips. She purses them and turns her head asige, but Aoife is grinning, taking a sadistic pleasure in Lily’s plight. Utterly in their own world, Aoife lightly slaps Lily on the cheek with the sausage, and presses it into the girl’s pursed lips, breathing a little heavier than usual, and blushing at the perverted play she’s forcing onto the helpless girl. Perhaps something in the escalating body heat of the Dullahan wakens something in the warmth craving undead because reluctantly, her jaw opens, and her tongue slips out to cradle the tip of the sausage as Aoife blushes deeper, watching it slip between the lush lips of the kiki. She pushes the sausage in further, watching Lily’s tongue move around the underside of the shaft.
  1798. Every one watches, fascinated, as Aoife forces Lily to fellate the length of meat. There’s a wetness on your finger, and wrenching your gaze from it, you see Clara has captured your arm, sucking on a finger as she watches just as transfixed as the rest. You bite your lip. You really didn’t need the added stimulation. Squirming somewhat uncomfortably, you go back to watching Aoife molest her prey, over half the sausage past the kiki’s lips. The tip of the meat butts into the back of Lily’s throat, and perhaps unaware of her spectators, Lily bites down, severing the sausage a third the way down, and chews it up, swallowing, happily enjoying the tastes of the gourmet meat.
  1800. There’s a collective wince, and Aoife leans back into her chair, sighing, her end of sausage still in hand. She looks at it with some contempt, as if asking it ‘why aren’t you real’, and chomps down, finishing the thing in a few bites. “I think I’m going to hit the town tonight. Find a lover for the night.” She gasps and turns to the faintly blushing Skadi, who’s trying to act like she wasn’t watching just as hard as everyone else “Hey, you should come with.”
  1802. “I-I what? Nonsense. You might not have a shift tonight, but I’m busy. I have reports to file a-an-” Clara looks at the sausages and slowly takes your finger out of her mouth, as though the feared an involuntarily sympathy chomp. She instead reaches for another sausage from the platter, and pops an end into her mouth. It wobbles as she turns to you and smiles at you, scrunching her face up. You grin back, and lean forward, biting an end off the sausage. Salty. There were lots of spices used to flavour this meat. And it doesn’t taste like the crappy minced stuff you find in markets either. A slightly sweet herb aftertaste.
  1804. Vivian grins as she conjures something like a blade from the tip of her pointer finger, and slides it down to cut free a thin slice of cheese, before speaking, interrupting both your admiration of the food, and Skadi’s stuttering. She puts a cracker under the cheese and waves it around slightly as she gesticulates, “I’ll give you the night and next day off.”
  1806. Skadi looks betrayed, and fidgets “A-Are you sure? I really don’t have to-”
  1808. Aoife cuts in, “Aww, come on, when was the last time you got some, hey? Come, hunt a guy with me.”
  1810. Skadi bites her lip uncertainly and looks to the side, “N-no, really. I’m not as sexy as you, I’ll probably just scare them away.” She takes a wine glass from in front of her, and starts to sip it, cradling it in both hands.
  1812. “What are you talking about? You’re plenty sexy!”
  1814. “B-but I’m all cold and muscly. Guys like soft warm girls like you.”
  1816. “Are you saying I have no muscle?”
  1818. “No, but yours looks good on you. Mine make me look like I could throw an Oni… I can throw an Oni!”
  1820. “Come on, you make it sound like you’re just a slab of muscle. You have a figure I’d kill for. Besides, some guys like big girls who can protect them. Just look at all those Amazons.”
  1822. You quirk an eyebrow as you observe the exchange. Who would have thought such a composed girl had self-image issues, and complexes about her sex life? “T-that’s different.”
  1824. “Come on, what about that last guy?” She frowns,
  1826. “Einherjar will bed anyone though. B-besides, he ended up going after some valkyrie anyway.”
  1828. “That just proves he’s an idiot though. Here.” She leans across and tips the big elf’s head back, and pours the rest of her wine down her throat, “Loosen up, and come hunting with me. We’ll find a man together, okay?”
  1830. Skadi glares at Aoife out of the corner of her eye, but drinks the wine none the less, sighing once the goblet is empty. “Should you really be strongarming your superior like this?”
  1832. Aoife grins, and pokes one of the elf’s pouty cheeks. “Hey, don’t give me that. You’re being punished remember? Ana isn’t around, so your booze quota is up to me.”
  1834. The elf grumbles her dissatisfaction, and takes a nectarine from a bowl of fruits, and bites into it, leaving a bit of juice on her cheek. She drinks the juices of the ripe fruit, and chews the flesh. Drawing it away from her mouth, you see crystals form on the open part of the fruit, a drop of juice freezes before it can fall. You manage to catch her eye, and poke your cheek. She blushes and wipes away the area with a napkin, and looks at you in askance, ‘is it gone?’ You bit the inside of your cheek to refrain from smirking, and poke the other side of your cheek, and she wipes there too. You poke your nose, and Aoife sniggers as the big elf wipes her face, until Clara smacks your hand. “Don’t bully.”
  1836. You chuckle softly, “Sorry.” The elf just goes back to pouting, but now it’s directed at you, too, and Aoife pours her another goblet. You didn’t realise such an imposing girl could be so bad with people who don’t fall under her line of work. That said, for all the teasing now, you know you don’t want to see her get serious.
  1838. You continue thinking about the elf, sneaking a peak only rarely, curiously. Part of you wants to know what she does, and why you haven’t seen her before, the other doesn’t know how to say it, and doesn’t want to embarrass itself. It’s not like you’ve been here long or seen all of the property. Vivian is more reasonable, all you’d seen of her prior is a flash by the uppermost windows of the building. You can picture her in a tower, hiding out, Skadi too, it’s not unreasonable to have missed her this entire time. You chew on this thought as you chew on some sharp cheese. Not literally sharp though. It crumbles as you bite into it and all but melts into your mouth. Perhaps she is more than just general security. There are a few things that make you think this, first of all, she doesn’t give off the aura of a person who sits at a desk and delegates chores to those below her. Bodyguard? Is she up hiding with the Lich? It would explain why you’ve never seen her. Well, would go some way to explaining that, at the least.
  1840. The fruity yet heavy red wine fills your mouth, and you barely succeed in not spitting it out when a pair of breasts float through your head. The breasts lower a plate down before you, and chuckle softly, before flying back through your head. You turn around to see a mischievously grinning, well-endowed ghost girl slip through the floor, blowing a kiss as she does. Somewhat startled, you turn back to see a cadre of ghost maids laying plates across the table and larger platters than the last time, entering through more conventional methods, slipping back through walls one they’d divested themselves of their corporeal cargo.
  1842. From there, dinner is mostly small talk, little jokes passed here and there as the older three discuss past antics. Part way through the first course, the couple return, Ana in a more stunning dress than last time. You’d swear her tits look almost drained, but it’s got to be a trick of the mind, they bounce with just as much fullness as before. Caius passes on all but the lightest of foods, grinning and patting his belly, while Ana digs in as though to replenish lost nutrients. Undead lactation. How does it work?
  1844. You look down at your own half-empty place, and as the steaming, elaborate dishes lined up across the table, “So what do you do with all this food, after?”
  1846. “Hm?” Caius looks up at you, sauce on his cheek. He talks even as Ana nonchalantly licks it off him, “Oh, we’ll just give it to the staff, they’ll deal with it then. After every one has had their fill if there’s any left, we usually just donate it.”
  1848. You raise an eyebrow, “Donate?”
  1850. “Yeah. Local shelters. Freeze what can be frozen, ship it off. We did that the last party we had, too.”
  1852. “What was the reason behind that, by the way? Did you know a Wurm snuck in?”
  1854. “A Wurm? That was just a few old buddies.” He turns back to Ana, “Dear, do we know any Wurms?”
  1856. “I don’t think so, darling.” Figures.
  1858. It about a tenth of the food disappears down bellies, Aoife not surprisingly taking the lion’s share, with you coming after her, the undead eating less to fill themselves, more to taste. That said, Clara would have come after you by stint of her nature as a ghoul. After dinner was a delectable round of desert, and it wasn’t long until the harder alcohol was brought out, and people moved along to comfier pastures. A room like a mix between a library and living-room with a roaring fire is where you all head to, lounges are scattered around facing the fire and tall shelves of books line the walls and pack the open spaces in small cabinets. ‘A portion’ of the collection of books Vivian adds as she notes you looking around, apparently a larger more designates library resting in one of the upper floors of the building.
  1860. Caius heads over to a tall liquor cabinet and pulls out whole bottles of spirits, handing them out like bottles of beer. He grins as you take one. You thank him, and head to the lounge Clara sits on, almost lying down. She gets up when you sit down though, and crawls into your lap, sitting facing the fire with her side resting against your chest, her head on your shoulder and an arm behind your back, embracing you.
  1862. Aoife takes her bottle and two more, handing one to Skadi. “Well. With this I think we’re off. The night is young and the moon is full. We’ll be out hunting.”
  1864. Caius laughs, “Have a good one, then!”
  1866. “Make sure you get a guy for Skadi too, Aoife.” comes Ana’s chide,
  1868. “I know I know. Well, dinner was great. Thanks for the invite, but we better head off soon or all the good little boys will be home for curfew. Take care of Lily for me, Viv!” In a typically loud manner, Aoife heads out with Skadi, the rest of you waving her off. As she disappears, you let your hand drop, coming to rest high on Clara’s cool thigh.
  1870. This leaves just You, Clara, Vivian, Lily, Ana and Caius, even pairs of couples, taking one of the large lounges each. Caius and Ana are talking amongst themselves, and Lily is curled up asleep on another, lying down, with her head resting on the lap of the lich, earphones in, listening to music, drinking as she watches the flames, the heat bathing her face. She strokes Lily’s hair absentmindedly, and the girl smiles in her sleep, ears gently flicking every now and then.
  1872. You bring the bottle up to Clara’s teeth and she bites down on the stopper. You give a soft tug and it comes out with a soft pop. The bottles are all unmarked so it’s something of a guessing game. You bring the neck to your nose as Clara drops the stopper in your open hand, and sniff. Sharp. Spiced. Clara’s big eyes watch you, glinting in the firelight, and you shrug, tipping the bottle up, taking in a mouthful.
  1874. You cough slightly as you swallow, the fumes of the aftertaste rolling up an sticking in your throat, “Rough. Gin.” You pass Clara the bottle, and she takes a mouthful, only swallowing half, before turning to you, and putting her lips to yours. Your mouth opens, and a not entirely sober blush begin to cloud her cheeks as the alcohol mixes with her saliva. Her tongue pushes almost insistently as it wraps around yours and caresses your mouth, and you grow hot as you swallow the alcohol and her saliva. She breaks the kiss, and smiles at you, before resting her head on your shoulder again.
  1876. “Are you okay?”
  1878. “Yeah just… tired. The drink and this fire don’t help either.”
  1880. “You can fall asleep if you like.”
  1882. “What about the magic thing?”
  1884. You pat her head, brushing her hair away from her face as you do, “Don’t worry, I won’t forget to ask her.”
  1886. She doesn’t say anything, and you can tell she’s close to dropping off, likely less a physical drain and more a mental one. It was a big day, and most of its start was spent with her wallowing in anxiety. You wonder what she’ll dream about. The room is filled in silence and the spitting crackle of fire. “Did you have a good time tonight?” Her lips curl in a smile,
  1888. “Yeah.”
  1890. It infects you, and you find yourself smiling back, “I’m glad.” You bend down, and give her a kiss on the top of her head, “Have a pleasant sleep.” She closes her eyes and wiggles into you, getting as comfortable as she can, her ear up to your heart.
  1892. “Thank you… Gryam.”
  1894. You wrap your arms around her, “It’s my pleasure.” In the quiet there’s nothing but the flickering fires, the soft rattle of the music coming from the Lich’s earphones, a hushed conversation on the other end of the room and your own rising and falling chest. Taking care not to disturb Clara, you lean across and fish for the first book you can reach. Opening it in a hand you see it’s in a language you don’t know. You repeat the process a few times, a couple of the books full of characters you’d never seen before, runes sometimes swirlgin, ad other times in complex diagrams.
  1896. The nest book in the line is in English, and you open it to the first page. ‘A Geographical Study on the Hoartomb Planes and the Northern Expedition by Llana Ravencroft’ You turn the page, and it shows a map of a land you’re unfamiliar with. There are markings indicating military movements, like this, you spend the next few hours with Clara sleeping on you, reading about some military operation of a kingdom you’d never heard of, in lands you’re vaguely familiar with. That is, you think you’d heard of a country next to the neighbouring country mentioned in the book.
  1898. Words float by and before you realize it, nursing at a slow pace, you’re already two thirds of the way through the bottle. You feel warm and fluffy, and you know you’re about to fall asleep and moment now. The room is even quieter now that Caius and ana have retreated to their room, and you feel like following suit. If you could, you’d like to see the two of you in bed at home, but before that, there’s the matter of the seal. Putting the book aside you realise with some shock you’re about halfway through it already. Nothing wrong with more useless knowledge. Easing yourself out from under Clara without waking her, you make your way to a lounge closer to the Lich, and she turns to you, taking out an earphone.
  1900. “Hey. Sorry. Could I talk to you for a moment?”
  1902. She flicks a glance to Clara, “Is something wrong?”
  1904. “No, no of course not, it’s just that I have this thing I was hoping you could help me out with.”
  1906. She raises an eyebrow, “‘Thing’?”
  1908. “Yeah, got a moment?”
  1910. She takes the other earphone out, and directs her attention to you, smiling softly, “Sure. How can I help?” this suddenly feels awkward.
  1912. “You know about my uh… past circumstances, right?”
  1914. She frowns “Of course.”
  1916. “Well, from that time I had a spell cast on me to make it I could only uh…” you feel yourself heating up somewhat, “ejaculate once given permission. And I’d spoken about it to Clara, and I was wondering if you could help remove it?”
  1918. “A spell, eh? Sounds handy. Why remove it?”
  1920. “Well, it has its uses sure, but I think I’d like to show her how I feel a little more honestly. She feels the same.”
  1922. “Hmm…” She takes a swig of her second bottle. You didn’t ee her get up, so it’s a mystery to how she has it, “Very well. I can help. Come here.” You stand up and walk over to her, standing before the little girl. She slips a hand under your shirt, and places it flat against your abdomen.
  1924. “Tch.”
  1926. “Is there a problem?”
  1928. “Yeah. This spell is unnecessarily convoluted. Who did it?”
  1930. “Mis- Uh. The Manticore I was living with at the time paid for a witch.”
  1932. “Heh. Children. They get a little power and think they’re geniuses or something. Look, I could pluck at the strands and undo this spell but it would take at least… half an hour. And I can’t really be bothered, so I’m just going to rip it up, ‘kay?” She grins at you a little smugly, “It might sting a little, but you’re a man.” Her hand glows as she forces power into the spell, and a searing heat lights itself in your belly. You feel something begin to rip, and you grit your teeth as the Lich tears the handiwork asunder.
  1934. “There. Back to being a two pump chump.” You roll your eyes as she goads you.
  1936. “I was never a two pump chump. But thanks for the help.” She waves you off,
  1938. “Don’t mention it, don’t mention it. Besides.” Her mother mode flicks back on and she look across to Clara sleeping peacefully, “I owe you a lot more. Thanks for looking out for my daughter.”
  1940. You smile, “Nah. She looks out for me just as much.”
  1942. “You know, I…” You look to the girl, “I might not mind such pleb taste marrying in, come to think of it.”
  1944. “Hoh?”
  1946. “Don’t get cocky. It’s just that… if you continue to make her happy, I might allow it.”
  1948. You scratch at the back of your neck, “Well, I’m her caretaker after all.”
  1950. “Idiot. I meant more than that. Make her happy as a man, as a husband, not as a caretaker.”
  1952. “I…see.” You look into the fire absentmindedly, “I think I have a long way to go for that. But I’ll definitely get there some day.”
  1954. “Ah, don’t worry. You’ve got forever to work at it. Let me know what you want a shot at immortality, kid.”
  1956. “Immortality?”
  1958. She grins, and there’s an ancient shadow cast behind her eyes, “Death.” You supress a shiver,
  1960. “I’ll think about it. But I think Clara enjoys my warmth.”
  1962. “Aww, not to worry. For the me of now, something like bringing your age back down to twenty is child’s play, so you have, what, eighty more years?” A hint of sadness crosses her face. “Child’s play… huh.” She seems to withdraw a little bit, and she takes another drink. With the last of your business here more or less sorted, you think it’s about time you head back, your feet already feeling heavy.
  1964. “Well, thank you for coming to dinner. I know Clara enjoyed it lots. She wouldn’t have had so much fun if you weren’t there.”
  1966. She waves you off again, “Just don’t have the cow-tits come and get me next time.”
  1968. You can’t help but chuckle at that. “Well, good night.” With that, you head back over to Clara, and scoop her up into a princess carry. You turn back at the door to wish Lily good dreams, too, before heading out, following down the corridor to the main flight stairs and carefully descending, as steady as possible, as to not wake the snoozing ghoul. The doors are open tonight, and the cool air rolls in.
  1970. As you step outside, your breath hangs in the air, and the night sky grows slightly brighter out to the east. It’ll be best to get inside before it rises, there you can ignore its rays, hidden away from the day by thick curtains. The night is quiet bar the crunch of your boots on the ground, and it doesn’t take long to return home. You fiddle with the door, glad you don’t have to worry about locking or unlocking it, and close it gently behind you using your weight.
  1972. You take the stairs one at a time, and as you get into the room, Clara begins to stir. “Shhh. We’re home now. I’ll take care of you, so go back to sleep.”
  1974. “Mmm, Gryam.” She smiles sleepily, as you lay her down onto the bed, and begin undressing her. You take her boots off, then her socks, and finally her dress. You have to sit her up for that one, but with some gentle manoeuvring, you manage to get her out of it without disturbing her too greatly. You put her under the covers, and begin to undress yourself, the weight of your fatigue making your actions sluggish.
  1976. Now, just as naked as she is, you slide under the covers, and as if feeling your warmth, she instinctively clings to you, drawing the two of you close together. The slight frown she held leaves, bringing a smile in after it. You pull the girl into a hug, and fall to sleep.
  1979. * * * *
  1981. You groan and stretch back, cracking knuckles, your hands numb from vibration, clammy with a lack of blood flow. You open and close them, allowing for the viscous crimson to flow back in. With your back bent, the sweat on your bare skin collects, and rolls down the groove in the centre, to get caught on the belt clinching your jeans to your hips, sweat soaking into the fabric.
  1983. It’s been a while since you’d mown a lawn. With the grass neatly shorn to a uniform level, and the faint smell of cuttings lingering in the warm afternoon air, you head to where you left the glass of water. The mausoleum doesn’t really have much of a font lawn so to say. Just a medium sized stretch of grass and a garden, with a stone path clinging to the building. On that path sits Clara. It’s not quite the image of a housewife watching her husband do yard work from the patio, but it’s close.
  1985. Missing the idyllic, plastic chair, table and umbrella combination, Clara took it upon herself to do some remodelling while you were working. You ignored her at first, focusing on mowing, but now that you behold the end result you can’t help but bite back a laugh.
  1987. “What? Got something to say?” She half glares, half grins at you, her face half shaded by an ordinary umbrella taped to a stick, hoisted up to act the part of the larger thing, taped to the side of a cardboard box full of old CDs, her music library long since converted to digital. It comes to about knee height, and she’s prepared a chair for herself.
  1989. There’s an earphone in one ear, the other has fallen between her breasts, and atop the ‘table’ is a can of beer, hers, and a frosted jug of water she’d prepared, yours, with some ice and lemon slices floating within. “It’s cute.” She just eyes you from behind the can of beer in her mouth. A laptop in her lap, casting a glow upon her top.
  1991. Rather gracelessly, you take the entire jug, and bring the lip to your mouth, shivering as the icy waters rush down your throat and quench a thirst you’d put to the back of your mind for a few hours now. It leaves you gasping after a few gulps, your stomach feeling heavy with half the jug already empty. It sets a pleasant chill in your spine though.
  1993. “Good?”
  1995. “Yeah. Really hit the spot.” She giggles as you bend down and kiss her forehead, “Thanks.” A pleasant silence rolls in over the two of you. It’s been a few weeks now since the dinner, having settled in you’ve found the constant stream of new faces to dry up, and it’s given you more time to spent alone with Clara, to appreciate her. Even quiets like these have become something to cherish, not the awkward silence of two mere acquaintances. There have been days together where the two of you have barely uttered a word. Speaking more in expressions and body language.
  1997. Her fingers tracing lightly over your chest draws you out of your thoughts. “Ah, sweaty right? I was just about to shower.” She puts her laptop aside, leans forward, and pulls you in, before kissing just under your belly button. You feel the cool wetness of her tongue against you, her saliva creating a pavlovian reaction so fierce it seems the cosm itself moves in sympathy, light clouds casting across the setting sun, diming the lights, an intimate atmosphere, your own body heating up as the agents of biological imperative do their thing.
  1999. You’re left somewhat speechless as she lavishes her attentions upon you, licking away the hot sweat, leaving behind a cool trail of saliva which saps the heat even further. Your only saving grace is that the afternoon breeze is warm, that your core temperature isn’t sapped entirely. Her soft wet tongue tickle the more sensitive parts and your muscles quiver as you resist the urge to giggle. She hooks her fingers behind your belt, and pushes herself up, effortlessly, the weight of her body held upon the sturdy leather, causing you to shift a bit to accommodate the new centre of balance.
  2001. Her tongue flits around your nipple, and she bites lightly down on the flesh there, “Are you hungry or something?”
  2003. “Myrf mrl” smack “fmrfy” ‘You’re all sweaty’ “mfo, -pwah~” She stops playing you’re your nipple, and throws her arms around your shoulders, lunging at you. You catch her, and help hike her up, her legs crossing behind your back, clinging to your hips with her thighs “So I wanted to taste you.”
  2005. She looks down at you, her hair slipping over her shoulders, her breasts just under your chin. She brings a hand to the side of your face, and tips your head back, “So how did I taste?”
  2007. “Good. A little salty.”
  2009. “You have a praeternatural taste and ‘good’ and ‘salty’ is all that comes across?”
  2011. “Hmm lets see.” She leans down as she tips your head up, and your lips meet, parting under her impassioned insistence. She breathes through her nose as she tastes you, tongue coiling around yours, and invading your mouth. She moans softly, and rocks her hips against you as her legs tighten about your hips. Your back straightens reflexively, you push yourself deeper into the kiss, not content in just letting her tongue roam about your mouth, instead you lung your tongue into her mouth. There’s a dampness sticking to your bare stomach through her jeans. She must be soaking for it to have seeped through the dense material.
  2013. She breaks the kiss with a gasp, rests her forehead against yours, and looks you in the eyes. You return her gaze easily, and can almost see the affection burning behind her eyes the curves of a heart shining through her pupils, “Reliable.” She tastes you again, “Sexy” spit mixes with yours. “Sweet.” The two long silhouettes upon the clipped blades of grass meet, “Mine.”
  2015. “You got all that just by taste, huh?”
  2017. “I might have made a few up.”
  2019. “Hoh, is that so? Well. I don’t think any of them were wrong.” You grin, and butt your nose up against hers, “The last one was pretty accurate.”
  2021. She steals another quick kiss, “Yeah?”
  2023. You steal it back, “Yeah.”
  2025. “So you’re done here, what now?” She grins mischievously, “What’s the next step of your master plan?” You flick her forehead and she whines.
  2027. “Spend less time posting about me on hbg, will you?”
  2029. She frowns, rubbing her forehead “About you? A bit conceited, aren’t we?”
  2031. “Don’t pretend I haven’t noticed you bragging. Any way, with this done, I might take a bath. Or perhaps prepare dinner first.”
  2033. “How about me?”
  2035. “Seriously? I mean I’ve been baking out here for hours.”
  2037. “Yeah, I like this taste. It’s a different one to when you get sweaty from fucking me.”
  2039. You raise an eyebrow, and tap her ass with a hand, “Guess I’ll do yard work more often then. Come on, hop down, take your laptop inside.”
  2041. “Yes daddy.”
  2043. A chill runs down your spine, “Ugh, don’t call me that.” You poke at her soft spots, and chase her inside, her giggling, gasping.
  2045. “S-stop already! It huuurts.”
  2047. “Aww.” You pull her into a hug from behind as she puts the laptop down, “Hey, come shower with me.”
  2049. “But I already showered today.”
  2051. You grunt as you grab her legs behind the knee, and lift her into a carry, her arms coming around your neck, “Come on that was short as hell. I’ll wash your hair this time.”
  2053. “But I did that a few days ago.”
  2055. You whine, “C’mooon. It’s fine, isn’t it?”
  2057. “Fiiine.” She puts on a show of pouting, but as you carry her to the bathroom, you feel her begin to surreptitiously fondle you. It grows bolder and more obvious until she’s staring you in the eyes as she jerks you off under your shorts. You wince as your sensitive head drags against the less than stellar denim fabric.
  2059. “What are you doing?”
  2061. “Getting a head start.”
  2063. “What?”
  2065. “You always make me cum first, it’s not fair. Even after we removed that spell.”
  2067. “Hey, sex lasts longer. You should be happy, right? And why did you just decide that we were going to have sex.” She pops the button on your jeans, and your half-hard erection pops through.
  2069. “If you think you can deny yourself,” she runs a finger down your jaw, and grins up at you cheekily, “The pleasures of my flesh,” She pokes her tongue out, “I’ll give you a blowjob.”
  2071. “You know, that’s still sex.”
  2073. Her hand pumps your shaft a few times, able to reach more now that it’s free, blood pumping into it, making it lurch with each heartbeat, “What?”
  2075. “Involves penetration.”
  2077. “Uh… Paizuri?”
  2079. “Tit job.”
  2081. “Paizuri sounds lewder.”
  2083. “No, it just sounds more Zipangu”
  2085. “Same thing.”
  2087. “Eh, good point.” You nudge the bathroom door open with a foot, and put the Ghoul on her feet, “Well, here we are, mistress.”
  2089. She steps down daintily, thanking you in a richly affected voice, “A pleasure,” followed by a small giggle that pulls a wry smile to your own lips. She strips he clothes off and heads into the shower, picking out the soap she wants to use. You hurriedly strip yourself too, and grin immaturely as you line the head up with her slender back, and blast her with freezing water.
  2091. She jolts and squeals a high “Kyaa!” As she drops the soap and curls her toes and fingers, chest thrust out, head tipped back, butt poking out. She falls into the tiled wall, her curled fingers claw through the porcelain, leaving deep gouges, her unnaturally reinforced claw-like nails rending through the wall “Stopitstopitstopitstopit”
  2093. You’ve already turned the hot water knob and soon it flows out onto her back. And she turns to face you with murder in her eyes. You whip the still running head behind your back and look up and away, before turning back to face her drenched and shivering form.
  2095. “Oh? Something the matter?”
  2097. She grits her teeth, “You….” You barely have any time to react before her pupils dilate, and she pounces in a typical ghoulish manner. She barrels you into the wall, and digs into your shoulder with her teeth, pinning you there as her fingers work all over your body, tickling and worming into the soft, sensitive spots.
  2099. You gasp and laugh and squeal, but your protests go ignored, until you lose your footing and slip out from under her, smacking your head on the wall as y oufall flat o your ass with a splash.
  2101. “Ah.” She looks down at you between her legs, expressionless after that simple statement, like a cheshire watches a car with cut brakes roll away. With a modicum of guilt. And a sliver of mischief.
  2103. You groan as you rub your head, “Owww…” She lowers herself down onto you, not a hard task when you’re all must splayed out under her. Her knees slip to either side of your hips and her arms drape over your shoulders. You don’t see the one turning the hot water off.
  2105. She looks down at you in motherly concern. “Are you hurt?”
  2107. “U-ugh. A little. Knocked my head a little har-rblblrblrlb” Frigid water rockets into your face as she takes the head in hand and points it at you.
  2109. “Oh, sorry? What was that?” She’s chewing on the corner of her lip to halt the grin that threatens to escape, and you bat away at the water, only to grab a handful of her breast. “Iyaahn~ What are you doing~?” She drops the shower head, and grabs your head, thrusting it between her breasts and motorboating you, “Stoop~ You fiend!”
  2111. “Mfrhmrhmrfmrh”
  2113. She cuddles your head into her, and rests her cheek against the top of it, “Sorry what was that.”
  2115. You grunt as you grab her just under the armpits and hoist her up, She look down on you smugly, “I said turn the warm water on already, minx.” But it’s too late. She noticed.
  2117. “Oh?” She wiggles her hips, feeling your erection slip between the cleft of her perk, round ass, “What’s this? I thought they couldn’t do that in the cold.”
  2119. You avert your eyes and grumble as she starts hotdogging your shaft, “They can when you’re on top of me.”
  2121. “Aww, you. Ah! But don’t think I’ve forgiven you!”
  2123. “Oh come on,” you put your hands on her shapely hips, “I got my head smacked out.”
  2125. “You did that.”
  2127. “And you sprayed me anyway. We’re even.”
  2129. She pouts as she fiddles around behind her, reaching for your cock, before grinding the glans into her pussy lips, the coolness of her insides not much better that the icy water. “I guess.” She positions herself, and then slides you in to the hilt, using the shower water as lubricant, “You’re forgiven.”
  2131. You roll your eyes are you grope around behind you for the hot water. “Lucky me.” You catch a hold of a tap and twist it. Luckily it’s the hot one, and soon you’re locking in a juxtaposition between scalding hot waters, and frigidly cool pussy.
  2133. “Aww don’t be like that.” She leans down as she begins to rock on your hips, grinding your length against her convulsing walls. You can nearly see her abdomen jiggle with the fierce working of inner muscles. “I said I forgive you.” You avert your gaze, and she follows you with her head ‘till you twist on her and surprise her with a kiss, grinning.
  2135. She gasps as you slip your tongue in, tracing across her sharp teeth, and dancing with her tongue. For once you get the drop on her, and she’s caught on the back foot, her own long tongue squirming about as you attack her. You break the kiss before she can grain ground, “You never held a grudge in the first place,”
  2137. She leans forwards, past your face, and moans into your ear, as her ass slaps wetly against your thighs, equal parts water and girl-juices, “Mmmm, that’s true.” She surges up you with all the power of a tidal wave, every muscle in motion as she rides you into the warming tiled floor, the torrential hot waters making her tight, smooth body slick. Per pert nipples dig into you, and her breasts bounce wildly as they lose traction with your chest, and flick up. Her hands rest flat against the wall, and push her weight back down, sheathing her cunt on your sword just as fast as she slides it out from her slick, snug depths.
  2139. The only part of her which doesn’t move, her head, as her soft lips lock around yours in passionate union. One of your hands slides down her wet body to grab a hold of her rump, and you grope, stroke, as smack it, regretting for only the most fleeting of moments that you can’t see it bounce. The other hand entangled in her long wet hair, holding her close as she rides you.
  2141. The roar of the rushing water fades under the roar of your own coursing blood. Your hips begin to thrust of their own accord, matching her rhythm with your own, thrusting up as she sits back, and it isn’t long before she breaks the kiss to sit upright and bounce on your rigid cock, groping her breasts and tweaking her clit, rolling the bud of nerves around as your thick throbbing cock spears into her depths, spreading her so wide her pussy grips you on the way out, the slightest stretch of bright lilac cunt flashing by before she descends again.
  2143. Her breaths grow ragged, intermingled with orgasmic cries and gasps. Her tongue rolls out and jostles as she tips her head back, utterly lost in the sensations, streams of water sliding off her chest and onto yours. You lose yourself in the droplets flicking off her tits as she begins to tip back and you’re forced to grab her by the hips to steady her. You use the leverage to hammer into her, ploughing into her cunt, and thrusting up as she comes down, using your thighs to lift her up again before slamming her back onto your cock where she belongs.
  2145. Sweat beads and rolls off under the steams of washing water as you fuck her insensate, chasing your own orgasm. Her tits bounce wildly, as do her arms as they hang limply by her side. You feel your balls broil, and it’s hot on the heels of her own clenching orgasm. She slams down a last time and you hold her there as her pussy twitches in ecstasy, your own balls jerking as you pump ropes of thick cum deep into her womb, utterly unbidden by spellwork. An honest orgasm. She slumps into you as your seed drips out of her creamed pussy and washes away down the drain.
  2147. Slowly, she blinks, and her tongue slides across your chest as she retracts it “T-that was amazing. We need to fuck in here more often.” You sigh, utterly exhausted, thighs burning after a day of yardwork.
  2149. “I’m hungry.”
  2151. “Yeah. Me too.”
  2153. You crane your head to look down at her, “Hey. Lets eat out.”
  2155. “What? Why?”
  2157. “It’s been a few weeks, and yeah, you’re moving about outside a bit more, but you still haven’t actually left the property.”
  2159. She begins to fidget, “B-but w-well…”
  2161. “Hey.” You sit up, and pull her into a hug. “Please? For me? I want to take you somewhere nice. You don’t have to be scared. I’ll be with you all night.” She frowns as she thinks about it, and does the thing she always does when she ruminates. Chews on you. The closest thing for her to chew on is your ear, and she nibbles at the lobe as she considers it, sitting in your lap with her chest up against yours.
  2163. After a moment she slumps and rests her chin on your shoulder, arms slung over. When she talks, or rather, whines, she pushes her head up with her jaw, pouting all the while, “Fiiine. Take me to that Mist continent place you told me about.”
  2165. “There? Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere nicer?”
  2167. “Yeah, the place sounds cozy. I don’t want to go to a big restaurant.”
  2169. “Alright, I guess.” You pat her head, and nuzzle into her neck, “We’ll go there if it’s what you want. But first, we need to actually wash ourselves.” You grab her thighs and lift the two of you up, shimmying up the wall, careful not to slip again, “Up we go.”
  2171. She still stands leaning on you though, her arms now folded between the two of you, her head still on your shoulder, sulking. “You’re not going to wash your self?”
  2173. She pouts. “No.”
  2175. You sight. “Want me to wash you?”
  2177. “Yeah.” She just wanted to be pampered.
  2179. “Alright.” You lean past her and grab the bar of soap. You rub it between your hands a few times to lather it up, and start on the small of her back. It’s a special soap, utterly non-irritant, and very gentle. Clara mentioned it being the best for her skin. It glides across her supple curves with ease, and you trace soapy circles on her butt, making her giggle as she hides into you.
  2181. You squat down, and give her hidden clit a little kiss, making her moan as you soap up the back of her legs too. You abandon the bar and lather up your hands, massaging and running soap down her legs more intimately. You can’t help but notice the stream of excitement cut a path through the soap on her inner thigh.
  2183. “Stop that.”
  2185. “Yeah? We’ll see how limp you stay when I’m mouth height with your cock, feeing you up.”
  2187. You sigh as you run your hands down the last patch of let, and then stand back up, having retrieved the soap. You look her in the eyes, and they sparkle impishly. “One more and then none ‘till we get back, okay?”
  2189. “’Kay.”
  2191. “So? What’s on your mind?”
  2193. She grins, and kneels, taking the soap from your hands, and squeezing it between her breasts. She moves her bust in circles, lathering her breasts up, not so large the soap disappears entirely, but close enough. You quirk an eyebrow.
  2195. “Isn’t soap down the dick supposed to hurt?” With her breasts soapy, she discards the soap, and shuffled forward ‘till your dick flops between her breasts.
  2197. “Nope. Not this soap anyway.” She starts massaging in the same motions, and shuffles closer so that your balls slap against her chest. She smiles as she watches your dick grow hard under her ministrations, and she kisses it as the blood begins to pump. At half-mast, she can pop the head in her mouth, and your knees nearly buckle under the pleasure of her soft, soapy breasts rubbing and squeezing on your shaft, her experienced tongue flicking around the rim of your head as she sucks at the most sensitive stop.
  2199. She works up a rhythm as she holds her breasts up and together with her hands and thrusts her chest up your shaft, drawing your length out of her mouth. Rock solid now, your cock reaches far enough on the downstroke to butt into the back of her throat, and she moans and squirms as the blows you and strokes you off with her tits.
  2201. Her lips glisten in their wetness and you lament your inability to tend to them as she works on you, though it’s not like she isn’t deriving just as much pleasure from sucking you off. One of the quirks of a ghoul you suppose. She closes her eyes blissfully as she focuses on your hard meat throbbing warmly in her mouth, and soon she’s moaning as she slurps at your dick. As her saliva works in, and her softness encompasses you, you lose if far quicker that you thought you could have. You grab her head, and ram her down on your cock. She gasps as the sudden penetration, but cums all the same as her throat milks you to orgasm.
  2203. You spurt right down her throat, her tongue wrapping around your balls as they pump for the second time this shower. You pull your dick out as you still come, and shoot the last rope on her tongue, before slumping onto your knees before her, panting.
  2205. “Hmm, tasty~. That good, was I? Maybe we should do this more often.” She wraps her arms around you as you fall forward into her, and you grumble into her chest.
  2207. “Can’t have too much of a good thing.”
  2209. “Nonsense.”
  2211. “Not nonsense.” You pick yourself up. “Come on. Lets do your hair and then get out.”
  2213. ***
  2215. You hold her hand as she walks behind you. She follows as your shadow as you swerve to avoid people, giving the scared ghoul as much space as you can. Gently, you lead her, as she spends most her time looking down at her feet or up at you with a worried expression. You’d thought you’d allayed her agoraphobia somewhat, but considering that this if the first time out of the property, you take it extra slow for her.
  2217. “It’s cold. Isn’t this a little too short?” She pulls you closer by the hand and grabs your arm, hugging into it as the two of you walk down the streets. You feel a little chill yourself, with your arms bared to the night air, your jacket around Clara’s hips.
  2219. “You wanted to wear it.”
  2221. “I thought it would be cute. And I didn’t realise it would show so much.”
  2223. “It is cute. And you knew what it looked like.”
  2225. “Yeah but I didn’t really think about it in the context of going out. Just… you know. Something to wear for you.”
  2227. “So why wear it?”
  2229. “I don’t knowww.” She lets out a pitying whine, “I can feel the stares.”
  2231. You stop before a crossing and smack the button on the traffic signal pole. The rhythmic ticking of the button fills the silence as you step behind the shivering ghoul and wrap your arms around her hips, drawing her into you, shielding her. She wiggles a bit and the short skirt she decided to wear for you rustles as it rubs up against your jeans. “It’s fiine~ they stare because you’re cute.”
  2233. “I should have just worn jeans”
  2235. You bark a laugh, “Probably”
  2237. Sighing, you nuzzle into the poofy mash of soft hair and the fluffy wool of the hoodie she’s wearing. “Are you sure you don’t want to go anywhere nicer?”
  2239. “No, this place sounds perfect.”
  2241. You whine, as you look into the restaurant across the street, lined with glass, letting the less fortunate gaze in on affluent couples dining over dimly lit tables, drinking fine wines through crystal glasses, beautiful waitresses serving food cooked by masterful pretty-boys, sweat-slicked from blistering kitchens in nigh-transparent aprons, eye-candy for the single monsters, eyeing the staff with as much hunger as the food. You wrench your gaze from it as you watch the street, “But it’s dingy, and I don’t remember it well.”
  2243. “It’ll be fine, what are you so worked up for?”
  2245. “I don’t know.”
  2247. “Look, I may live in a fuckin’ castle, but I’m still a simple girl. I’d rather just have a nice meal with you than worry about V.I.P seats and wines that cost as much as houses.”
  2249. You chuckle a bit at that, “Well it’s not quite a castle.”
  2251. “But you get my point, right?”
  2253. “Yeah. You’re right.”
  2255. She leans back to put a kiss on your cheek, skin smooth and soft from a fresh shave, “Of course I am.” The speaker in the button peals as the light turn, and you release her, taking her hand as the two of you cross the street. Looking both ways, of course. You take her down the same paths you trod weeks ago, and before long the beautiful storefronts give to more average looking small businesses, and you step onto the stretch of street that leads into the alleyway.
  2257. The small hopping zombie is there, pestering passers-by with leaflets. Her paper talisman flops over her face as she bounces in place, only to be completely ignored. Her bouncing dwindles in enthusiasm until she watches the person leave, flatfooted, before she drops her head, and sighs, not noticing the two of you approach.
  2259. You call out a few meters away from her, not wanting to startle the girl, “Hey. Long day?”
  2261. She turns to you, “Yeah I guess…” She peers into your face a moment, frowning, “Ah!” she lights up in recognition, “You’re the drunk guy!”
  2263. Clara laughs while you feel your face heat up in embarrassment, “Uh, not tonight I’m afraid.”
  2265. “Back again huh? Nice to have a new repeat customer.” The zombie looks to the ghoul, “Your wife is real cute too, mister. Why didn’t you bring her last time?” Clara goes red and hides her face into your arm, with a muttered, ‘w-wife…’ So it’s on you to clear the misunderstanding, despite your own embarrassment.
  2267. “She’s uh, not my wife yet, I just look after her.” Your eyes lock onto anything not hers, and she grins impishly, before offering a reprieve.
  2269. “Oho, ‘yet’ is it? Well, anyway, need me to show you the way again?”
  2271. “Y-yes please.” You take Clara’s hand and lead her down the alleyway, the close confines calming her in a way that lets you practically feel the tension drain from her shoulders. “Feel better?”
  2273. “A little…”
  2275. “You’ll feel a lot better once we’re inside and eating”
  2277. She turns to you with a grin, her face still slightly flushed from mentions of marriage, “You know me so well.” The little zombie pushes the doors open, and a strong scent of exotic spices and sauces rolls out, instantly setting your stomach to growling, Clara herself almost enters a daze as she struggles to maintain her focus and not drool all over the place.
  2279. You give her hand a gentle tug as you grin at the girl at the counter, the same as last time. Seems like this place has a small, limited staff. A family business? She smiles sleepily at the ghoul, “Hungry?” Clara looks away sheepishly, and the sleepy girl looks to you, her face awash with confusion, trying to place a familiar face.
  2281. “The uh, drunk guy?”
  2283. “Ah! Welcome back, welcome back.” She takes a deep yawn, hidden behind a paw and looks out into the nearly empty dining room of the restaurant, “Are the two of you together?”
  2285. Clara pulls you a little closer as she blurts, “Y-Yes! Uh, I mean, we are.” The panda smiles sleepily at this, and the rat pokes her head around a corner,
  2287. “I’ll grab your order in a bit, Customer, anything you need right now?”
  2289. “Could we also have some kind of entrée?”
  2291. “Sure, what would you like?”
  2293. “Um… anything?” you look to Clara, who’s lost in the smells of the kitchen which wafted in with the hinezumi “Yeah, anything is good.”
  2295. The woman chuckles as she disappears into the kitchen again, exiting with the sound of sizzling meat, taking the majority of that delectable mouthwatering scent with her. The two of you head into the restaurant proper and find a table which is nice and out of the way. The din of discussion in the room doesn’t halt, yet you feel the dragon’s eyes on the two of you as you enter, much the same as last time. That boisterous group is still there. Clara eyes them with some suspicion. She moves a little closer to you as she settles in, “Who are they?” She gestures with her eyes towards the mean looking group wreathed in smoke talking hushedly amongst themselves. “Some kind of Triad?”
  2297. “Ha!” The hinezumi appears, arms burdened with trays of small foods, “No dear. Triads are much scarier. Brutally efficient, this is just,” she raises her voice to carry across the room, “just a bunch of noisy bums that never leave my goddamn restaurant.” The dragon’s tail flicks as she pokes her tongue out at the rat, who leaves in a huff followed by catcalls of ‘you love us.’
  2299. She turns back, a look of mild seriousness on her face, “Still, it’s probably best you don’t get too friendly with them.”
  2301. Clara is already chomping at food, so it’s on you to reply with a ‘gotcha’. The hostess walks away, leaving the two of you alone with a bowl of some prawn crackers, spring rolls and dumplings. Rather typically, chopsticks in a skilful hand honed by years of takeout, Clara reaches for the roll fist, the outside of it cracking as her tongue coils around it, and she brings it into her mouth for a chomp, taking half of it. Her own mouth still full, she takes one of the chips, and brings it to your lips, waiting for you to open yours.
  2303. You open wide and crunch down as she slides it into your mouth, the chip crackling in that strange way that it does as your spit soaks into the starch, sticking to your tongue and almost dissolving. “Sho.” You swallow, “I was thinking. Did you notice what was on the bus shelters on the way here?”
  2305. She looks at you curiously, and shakes her head, a half of her third spring roll sticking out her mouth. “Concert posters. And I was thinking, why not,” she balks, shaking her head, “No, listen for a moment.” She frowns as she eats, “The date was over a month away. We’ll keep visiting the town, get you used to coming out and about, and then see how you handle a larger event. Will you come with me?”
  2307. You can see she wants to say no, “Okay…” But she doesn’t.
  2309. You quirk an eyebrow, “That was easy.” And she shrugs in defeat.
  2311. “I just… not many people would be so patient as to help me with this. And I really appreciate it, so… you know. I don’t want you to get tired or give up,” She shrinks into her seat a little, “Or to think that I’m a troublesome woman.” You can’t help but smile as her cute reaction, and you pull her into a hug, kissing her neck and ear,
  2313. “I’d never give up on you, or get tired.”
  2315. “Gryam…”
  2317. “But, I mean, you’re troublesome, sure.”
  2319. “Hey!”
  2321. A third party clears its throat, and before Clara can react, the moment is stolen. “It must be nice to be so young and cute, but if you don’t mind, you’re making some of my more single guests irritated.” The hinezumi hikes a thumb behind her as she places the menus before the two of you, gesturing towards a big teary eyed Bashe sitting with the other group, staring fixedly at the two of you as she gnaws angrily at the tip of her tail as the long serpentine appendage coils around her chair with splintering force, as her friends try to soothe her.
  2323. You can’t help but begin to frown a little, and the rat catches your look instantly, “Oh, I’m not asking you to not enjoy your wife’s company, customer, I just… Hmm, lets see… We don’t usually do this, but how about a screen, is that okay?” At the second mention of wife this night Clara turns into a beet-red mess.
  2325. “Ah, sorry!” you smile, “People always tell me my face is too easy to read. Um, yes please.”
  2327. The rat smiles happily as she heads off to fetch some privacy for the two of you, “Not at all, it’s a good honest trait, just… don’t get up to too much mischief behind it, okay?” Clara has so much blood colouring her face you find it hard to believe that her heart hasn’t beat to push it all there, so you poke and tickle her to occupy yourself.
  2329. She giggles and squeals as she bats your hands away, “S-stop it!”
  2331. “But your face is so beautiful and you keep hiding it from me.”
  2333. “A-aren’t you embarrassed? People saw us.”
  2335. You laugh, “They won’t for long.” Even as you finish speaking, the hinezumi returns with the screen, a fancy looking thing on wheels. She just slides it into place. The two of you chose a corner table, so its presence makes for a really intimate feeling. The girl looks to the two of you almost pleadingly,
  2337. “Really, please. Cleaning up is a hassle.”
  2339. You wave her off with a laugh as you rub the steaming ghoul, “Quit teasing my girlfriend, hurry up and leave.”
  2341. “G-girlfriend?” Clara looks to you, so wide eyed and hot you’d think she were running a fever. Second slip tonight. You begin to get flustered yourself.
  2343. She turns to leave, with a giggle “Alright, alr- uh,” She turns back, “the order?”
  2345. “Oh, right.” You jostle Clara’s shoulder, “Come on, stop blushing, we need to pick something.” She takes the menu in a shaky hand and starts reading it, not realising its upside down. You look back to the burning woman, “Uh, five minutes please.”
  2347. She smiles, “Sure.”
  2349. You call out after her, “Some water when you do, please.”
  2351. “Okaaay~”
  2353. She leaves the two of you in relative privacy, though clearly the exchange wasn’t entirely unnoticed ad you can faintly hear the splitting of wood, and the hinezumi calling out, “You break it, you buy it.”
  2355. Clara tugs on your shirt so you turn to her, “Girlfriend?”
  2357. “Sorry, it just kind of slipped out. I didn’t mean to make it weir or-”
  2359. “No!” she shouts, before startling herself and continuing softer, “I-I mean, no, not wearid, just… unexpected. I mean, really?”
  2361. “Y-yeah, I suppose. I- I guess I think of you that way. I mean we live together, we’ve made love, that’s what we are, right?”
  2363. “I just never realised. That kinda…” she starts fiddling with the menu and you can almost see her eyes spiralling in their nervous head daze, “Makes me happy.”
  2365. You cough to clear your throat, “W-well, we should order something, right?”
  2367. “Right.” She goes back to looking at the menu, still clearly not focusing. It’s still upside down. You take it from her and flip it for her. “Ah, t-thanks.” You sit next to her with your chin on her shoulder, reading as she does, an old habit of scanning for the cheapest first. Then your eyes trace across the names before realising you don’t know mist runes. Then you go to the pictures and finally the ingredients with have English in brackets under. You remember now, its how you chose last time. Leaving the name untranslated gives it a nice, exotic feel.
  2369. You reach across, “I had this last time” and point to a meal,
  2371. “Yeah? I think this looks good.” She points to another, “Hmm, or maybe this?”
  2373. “You don’t want to eat so much I have to carry you back, right?”
  2375. “Maybe. That could be nice. It’s not like I can get fat anyway. Don’t underestimate a Ghoul’s metabolism.”
  2377. “Dead things don’t have a metabolism.”
  2379. “Good thing I’m undead then.”
  2381. “You’re going to make me carry you home either way, aren’t you?”
  2383. “Yup.”
  2385. You sigh. “Fine. But you can carry what we have to take home.”
  2387. “Mm, you know your way to a girl’s heart”
  2389. “I know my way to a ghoul’s heart. And I said carry, not eat.”
  2391. “Aww.” A companionable silence descends for a long moment before Clara breaks it. “Do you really mean it? Girlfriend?” She turns to you, self-doubt swirling behind her eyes, and you allay that the fastest way you know how.
  2393. You don’t break the deep kiss until you hear footsteps, “I mean it.”
  2395. “So, chosen?” You turn to the hinezumi, and point out the meals one by one, after she places the bottle of water and the glasses, her eyebrow raising higher with each line she pencils in, “That’ll take a while. What would you like first?”
  2397. Clara shrugs, “Whichever is fastest? We can share.”
  2399. “Sure thing. And drinks?”
  2401. “Same as last time.”
  2403. She smirks, “One bottle or two.”
  2405. You blush, “Just the one, please.”
  2407. She taps her notepad with the final line, “Alright, then. I’ll bring out the Chow mein first.”
  2409. You nod, “Sounds good.” As she leaves again, you turn to Clara and grin.
  2411. She smiles back, “What are you so happy about?”
  2413. You shrug, “You’re happy too, right? I dunno. I’ve never done this before. It’s like a date. It’s cute.”
  2415. Clara nods and smiles as she looks down at her glass and fills it with the cool water. You watch as it hits the side and cascades down the face of the glass to smack into the base, like a raging waterfall from a tiny undine. A small droplet bouncing off the opposing wave. It catches your eye as it arcs over the lip of the glass and splats against the table, training the wood with the tiniest bit of moisture, no larger than a crumb. You suddenly feel thirsty, as your lips part.
  2417. “What are you thinking?”
  2419. She sighs, “Just silly things. Like I don’t wanna go. I can just download the album, what’s the point…”
  2421. You smile as you pour yourself a glass, not bothering to tell her that ‘it’s not the same’. She knows it already. She looks up at you after a long moment of silence, a sweet smile across her lips, “You know, not many would put up with such a whiny girlfriend so patiently.”
  2423. “You’re not w-” she grips you by the front of your shirt, and leans across the table, to pull you into a kiss.
  2425. “Thank you, for helping me like this.” You smile softly, as you gaze into her eyes,
  2427. “I want to take you places. Can’t do that in our room.” She blushes and collects with a finger, a strand of hair which had fallen across her face. She sweeps it behind her ear as she fidgets somewhat shyly, but holds your look. Your heart thumps a little quicker as she smiles at you, and you push down the urge to tip the table and take her there. Thankfully, perhaps unfortunately, the moment slips as the rat returns, bowl resting atop her flat palm, the sharp, albeit muffled sound of her heels striking the carpet of the restaurant carrying past the thin screen she put up.
  2429. Wafts of steam rise from the tangled mess of sizzling, fried tender meats and long strands of noodles coiled around steamed vegetables. A Particularly thick slab of beef rests against the side of the bowl, and one of the thick, soft noodles lean up against it, bending against themselves, like the hook to a lure. You watch as a droplet of sauce drips from the thing and smacks into the food below, and your gut gurgles.
  2431. If the hunger is hitting you this hard… You swallow a mouthful and look to Clara. Her eyes are almost glassy with anticipation and ravenousness. You’re a little surprised to see she isn’t straight up drooling all over the table. The rodent smiles at your expressions, and places the bowl between the two of you, putting a pair of chopsticks either side. The two of you break them before the rat has even left, and are already spearing into the bowl as you say your thanks.
  2433. The woman chuckles as she leaves, and you draw your attentions back to the bowl of food. Stick already embedded, you twist and clamp down on a chunk of meat, pulling out shredded carrot and noodles as you go. The noodles coil about the chopsticks like snakes and you swing the mouthful towards you before it can uncoil and fall to the table. A portion slips just as it passes your lips, and falls to your tongue, igniting a blaze within your taste buds, arcing culinary ecstasy from sensory neuron to sensory neuron.
  2435. An unabashed smile comes to your face as you chew through your food, but when you look to Clara, you see the ghoul in her own private hell. There’s food before her, yet she can’t work the tools to bring it to her mouth. You can see her muscles twitching, like she’s moments from simply gutting the bowl and pouring the contents down her throat. She drops the chopsticks countless times, changes her grip with each passing instant, even tries using both hands at one point. The time it almost looks like she’s got the hang of it, her arm is shaking, as she gingerly lifts it to her mouth. The force grows too great, and the sticks give, dropping into her food as the splintered halves remain in her fist. The food falls atop a napkin, and glares at her reproachfully.
  2436. She pouts, cheeks puffed out and is on the verge of tears. Well, not quite, but it would complete the scene.
  2438. You stifle a laugh and twirl another mouthful of food around the sticks. You place them down on the bowl for the moment, and move to the same side of the table as Clara, so you’re side by side with her, the chair jerking as its legs catch on the carpeted floor. You wiggle in to get comfortable, as Clara follows your actions with a pout, though curiosity commands her expressions now, the pout merely left over from the last moment, bleeding into the next. Settled, you pick the food up, and turn to her, bringing a hand under the chopsticks as to catch anything which may fall.
  2440. Her bashfulness is audible. “W-what are you doing?”
  2442. You grin, “Sharing. Open up.”
  2444. She looks around only to see that it’s just you and her. With the embarrassment tempered by seclusion, she hides her hands in her lap and hesitantly she leans forward and opens her mouth, eyes squeezing shut cutely as if on reflex.
  2446. “Aahn~” A stray noodle brushes her cheek as you feed her, leaving a tiny smudge of sauce. Her lips close on the sticks and you slide them out, before digging them back into the bowl. She sighs as she chews, glad to be eating. You go to brush a thumb across her cheek when she catches your hand, and licks the sauce off before nuzzling into your palm like a cat as she chews contentedly.
  2448. You let her stroke her cheeks with your hand, and with the other, preoccupy yourself with another mouthful, this time feeding yourself, a palette of texture hitting as meat melts on your tongue, and you crunch through cashew.
  2450. “Here” You feed her and yourself, the hostess returning with the bottle and more bowls just as the first empties. This time she’s brought out a knife and fork for Clara, so you move back around the table, and the two of you dig in, drinking, eating, laughing and talking about menial matters, like the recent Metalmorphosis album, how it stacks up to the rest, and why that new ‘Portal’ anime about a rift to a fantasy realm opening in a modern undead kingdom is so damn entertaining. Nothing like watching not!Romans succumbing to modern day rapesquads.
  2452. The minutes slip into hours, and you find yourself talking rather animatedly to the girl in front of you, taking tiny bites of food, finishing one of your bowls for every three of hers. “Some are fighting it pretty hard though. They say that just because they’re a bunch of holier than thou assholes doesn’t mean it’s cool to censor them like that. The only reason it’s happening is because they’re expressing views against what the majority want. If they let something like this pass, it gives them the freedom to censor anything they want, so long as it displeases them. I mean, I guess I kind of agree.”
  2454. Clara tips back a glass of wine, ordered after the first bottle was apparently not enough. “They say that but it’s been in the makings for a while now with no one objecting, and it’s only been brought up because of just how noisy the churches are, the stuff you’re worried about, no one cares enough to go through the rigmarole of censoring. The fact that they notice only now is part of the issue, they should be more involved in their community, instead of shunning it and denouncing any of their members who engage with it. If they were they could have dealt with the issue in its infancy. I mean how anyone can devote so much effort into not getting laid is beyond me.”
  2456. You bark a laugh, “Heh. That’s true.”
  2458. She smiles happy you received her joke, “I love it. It forces those boys off the streets, they can’t anger any one with their preaching and get hurt by someone they pissed off, and with them all in one place before you know it some girl slips in and gets her holes filled, turning it into yet another fallen church.”
  2460. You tip the bowl, and drink the juice, “You don’t really see many of them around here, do you?”
  2462. “What, church boys?”
  2464. “Yeah, what’s up with that?”
  2466. She shrugs, “Dunno. I think I read online that this land was once pagan. No churches, no soapbox paladins, right?”
  2468. You ponder on it, as you slide over another, and by the state of your gut, last bowl. “It’s a nice town.”
  2470. “You like it here, huh?”
  2472. “I do.”
  2474. She grins, “Well that’s good, ‘cause you’re with me and I’m not moving.”
  2476. “Lucky I like this place then.”
  2478. She laughs, “Lucky indeed.” Another calm falls across the table, And Clara pats her belly, looking at the food left. “How long have we been here?” You check your watch.
  2480. “Two hours. What’s wrong, do you want to head back?”
  2482. “Yeah. I’m starting to feel tired.”
  2484. You quirk an eyebrow, “An undead, tired?”
  2486. “It’s a mental thing.” Well, today was a big day for her. “I just want to fuck and go to sleep.”
  2488. “I…see.” You yawn and stretch, “Alright. Let’s get moving then.” Your words ring out as if a summons, and the rat appears, asking if everything is to your liking, “Ah, actually we were thinking of leaving now. Are we able to get this to go?”
  2490. “Certainly, I’ll handle that right now, just head to the front and I’ll bring it over.” You nod your thanks, and take Clara by the hand, the ghoul sliding up close and wrapping her other arm around yours too.
  2492. “Do you want this jumper back? It’ll be cold outside.”
  2494. “You’ll be embarrassed if someone else sees you right?”
  2496. She chews her bottom lip, “Are you sure?”
  2498. You pat her head and play with the tips of her pointy ears, “I’ll be fine, lets go.” She rests her head on your shoulder as the two of you walk towards the front,
  2500. “’Kay”
  2502. When you get there, you see the Ren glaring at the front entrance. Curious as what could piss off the dozed panda so bad you take a peek only to see nothing there. Her head drops and jerks back up, and it clicks. She’s got a real mean looking ‘I’m falling asleep’ face. So cute once she’s actually dozing too.
  2504. “Hey.”
  2506. “Whuh? O-oh. It’s you guys.”
  2508. “We’re heading out, just gotta pay and collect what’s left over.”
  2510. “Oh, very good, very good. Lets see…” She looks into the screen of the monitor to the right of the deck before her, “That’ll be a hundred and thirty seven.” She squints at the screen and frowns, “Did you guys really eat all that?” At this moment the Hinezumi reappears, a plastic back full of plastic containers and left overs in her arms. She drops it onto the desk.”
  2512. “Not all but most. Here you are, customers.”
  2514. “Ah, thanks.” You pull out a card given to you by Caius. Well, by proxy. You asked him why it arrived in Lily’s cleavage, but he swears he just gave it to her normally. She swings a machine around to you, and you swipe the card down the slot, and punch in a code. There’s an electronic whine as it registers the information before a positive chime rings out and there’s a green tick signifying a successful transaction.
  2516. The panda smiles and hands you the bag by the handles, “Thank you for your patronage.”
  2518. You incline your head, “Thank you.” And head out with Clara in tow. You take a deep breath of the cool night air, and fight back a shiver. The ghoul, on the other hand, sighs deeply.
  2520. “Maybe I ate too much. I feel to heavy.” You turn back.
  2522. “Want me to carry you?”
  2524. “Y-you can, I mean, are you sure?”
  2526. “Yeah I’ll give you a piggyback ride.” She laughs behind her hand,
  2528. “It would look dumb though.” She grins at the childish image,
  2530. You just grin back and kneel, “Who cares, c’mon.”
  2532. “Fine.” She deliberates for a moment until you feel one of her legs passes by your ear and rests over your shoulder. You put the bags down and grab her leg, steadying her to swing her other over. Kneeling like this, you take her weight easily. She really isn’t that heavy. You rest one hand on her cool thigh, the other slipping through the plastic hoops to take a grip on the bag.
  2534. “Up we go.” She gives a squeal and a giggle as you stand raising her high, and her hands go to your head to balance her. It doesn’t take long to find a stride, though, and you take her through the alleyways atop your shoulders. She laughs a bit at first but slowly gets used to it, and opts to just watch the world through the perspective given by your shoulders. It’s a new one to her. For your part, you try not to think too hard about the softness wrapping around your head.
  2536. Cars pass at regular intervals, and the amount of pedestrians out and about would surprise you if not for the fact you already knew the majority residing within this town were undead. No one really pays the two of you any heed as you stroll down the laneways. Well, asides from the Wisp a block back that got her man to give her a piggyback too. Poor guy looked just about run ragged.
  2538. Clara just look around like a child, and occupies herself by running her fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp. You stop at a crossing, taking deep breaths through the nose, eyes fluttering as her fingers dance soothingly across your scalp, until you’re disturbed by the chiming of the crossing lights.
  2540. “Hey.”
  2542. “Yeah?”
  2544. “Lets get icecream.”
  2546. “Uh, is there even a parlour in this town?”
  2548. “No, just get the normal stuff.” You sigh,
  2550. “If mistress insists.”
  2552. “I do, I do!” she pats your head as she points to an open convenience store. “Lets go there.”
  2554. “Alright.” You head towards the store in question, and duck low as the doors open, so you don’t smack the ghoul’s head out. She herself bends over your head and you catch a whiff of her perfume and the scent of the woman behind it. You can’t help but focus harder on the soft inner thighs on the back of your neck. You clear your throat a little uncomfortably. It can wait ‘till later. You consider picking up some regular ice too. Here’s to hoping you’ll need it.
  2556. You carry the girl into the freezer section, and she looks down upon the selection imperiously. “Hmm… What do you want?”
  2558. Your answer is automatic, as it should be. No man has time to deliberate over icecream. If you’re a man, you know what icecream you want the moment you register the question. Your reply follows hot on the heels of her askance, “I want cookies and cream.”
  2560. “A fine choice. As expected of the man chosen for me. A bucket then.”
  2562. You laugh, “I’m not getting you a whole bucket.”
  2564. “Aww, why not?” Her pouting displeasure is transmitted through her body,
  2566. “Cuz it’s a bucket. No one ever needed to eat anything out of a bucket. Here, how’s this?” You swing the door open and reach in for a smaller rectangular carton of icecream, with a golden stamp verifying authentic halstaur milk, it’s the most expensive and only the size of a normal lunchbox.
  2568. “Bit smaaalll.” She whines and pushes your head from side to side playfully. You endure it as you reply,
  2570. “I like soft girls, but I’m not a chubby chaser.”
  2572. She slumps, “But I’m a ghoul. I don’t get fat.”
  2574. “Just accept it as one of my rules. No eating out of buckets.”
  2576. “What about popcorn?”
  2578. “…Every rule has its exception.”
  2580. “Hey, why can’t icecream be an exception?”
  2582. “Because.” That was the answer you gave when you didn’t have an answer. She wraps her hands under your chin and tips your chin back to face her, upside down. You see her pouting fiercely before she bends down and puts her lips to yours, in a surprisingly sweet, gentle kiss. You’d have melted if you weren’t currently holding her up. Her tongue pushes at your teeth, seeking to deepen the kiss, and you open your mouth and slide your tongue against hers. It remains gentle though, and just plays coquettishly with you.
  2584. She’s smiling softly when she breaks the kiss, and you sigh. “Fiiine.” You put it back and reach for the bucket.
  2586. “Yaay~” She grins as she pokes your cheek, “Hey, aren’t you a bit too soft on me?”
  2588. You grumble inaudibly and deny her a reply as you take the bucket to the counter. “You’re carrying it.”
  2590. “Sure.”
  2592. You pay for the thing, the clerk wordlessly accepting the double-person buying a single bucket of icecream, and you’re back out on the street heading home, Clara resting her booty atop her head, waving from side to side to keep her balanced centred so the bucket doesn’t fall, her hands on either side, keeping it steady.
  2594. You’re starting to get tired now, and you’re craving a coffee badly, but you keep walking, food in one hand, the other steadying Clara’s thigh. Like this, you just put one foot before the other, and before long, familiar twisted, black gates rise in the distance. You stop just before them, and gesture to Aoife sitting in the small room besides the gates. She grins and waves back before pressing something, and the gates begin to grind open. The Dullahan comes out to meet the two of you.
  2596. Hands in her pockets, she walks forward with a strange gait lightly different from the way she usually walks, like she gave herself dead-leg. She speaks one she’s close enough to use an indoor voice, a cheerful greeting “Hey, have fun?”
  2598. Clara nods, “Yeah, it was good.” You frown,
  2600. “I thought you were going out with Skadi?” Aoife tilts her head like she doesn’t understand the question and then gasps as it hits her. Black smoke surrounds her, and a lithe young woman in the typical black bodysuit of the security here steps out, her form tall and slim, with milky white skin that hasn’t seen the light, long black midnight hair that seems to slip into smoke at the ends and dull ruby eyes that glow with a deep lustre.
  2602. “Ah, sorry. We haven’t met yet, have we? I’m Vard, a doppelganger. I’m just filling in for Aoife.” You’re a little taken aback by the sudden transformation, but your wits remain with you for the most part.
  2604. You take the hand she offers in greetings, “Ah, nice to meet you, Gryam.”
  2606. “So, are you two love birds off to bed or… something else?” She grins mischievously, and the two of you blush. Smoke gathers once more and falls back to reveal Clara in lingerie, a bra, garter, stockings and panties, with the fabric from the panties and bra cut away to reveal her nipples and suddenly-drooling pussy. She swings her hips wide to the side, pushing her chest out so the decently sized breasts bounce and jiggle. She puts a pinky to the corner of her lips, and spreads her cunt with her fingers in a ‘v’ “Something that… perhaps I could join in?” The vision before you flashes to blackness as Clara blocks your eyes with her hands,
  2608. “V-Vard! Stop it! D-Don’t use the bodies of other people like that!” Her distressed shouting gives way only to a cheeky ‘Teehee~’ as the doppelganger returns to her original form,
  2610. “You want me to act like that in this body? Kyaa~ how embarrassing!”
  2612. “D-don’t do it at all! Gryam! Start walking!” You abide, the doppelganger calling back behind you,
  2614. “He still can’t see, you know.”
  2616. “He’s better off not seeing you!” She puffs out a sigh, as you get out of earshot from Vard, and returns your sight to you. “Geez…”
  2619. “Um…Gryam?”
  2621. “…yeah?”
  2623. “Would you…” She squirms a little on your shoulders, “…Like me to dress like that?”
  2625. “…Who knows?”
  2627. “What kind of answer is that?”
  2629. “It’s an answer… I suppose.” There’s another long silence, your mind still thrown for a loop by the not!Clara’s slutty display.
  2631. “…And if I acted like that?”
  2633. “…”
  2635. “Gryam?”
  2637. “Hm? Sorry, what?”
  2639. “Nevermind.” You continue walking through the somewhat awkward, distracted silence until you arrive at the front door. You let the Ghoul down, and shuffle your feet somewhat distractedly, the hardness in your pants making it hard to think..
  2641. “Uh, hey. Did you want to…?”
  2643. She takes you by the hand, and leads you inside, “Yeah. Just…” She leaves you in the lounge room, “Stay here for a moment.” She takes the bags from your hands and looks at you for a moment, chewing her bottom lip, before heading out of the room quickly. Her hair flicking behind her. You hear her rustle in the kitchen for a moment, and then hear her footfall upon the stairs.
  2645. You stand there until she reappears, having kicked off her shoes and removed your jacket. She smiles at you, the fresh scent of perfume on her. She takes your hand, and leads you into the kitchen, where upon an empty space of floor is a solitary chair, a mirror leaning against the wall opposite it.
  2647. “What’s this?”
  2649. “Sit.” Curious, you follow her direction, and take a seat. She walks over to the music player in the lounge room, and plays a song at random. She comes back to you coyly, blushing.
  2651. “What are you doing?”
  2653. “W-well, I wore this for you…” she gestures to her outfit, “But I feel like you didn’t really get much chance to enjoy it so… I thought I’d give you a show.” She smiles as she steps closer to you, and straddles your waist, her movements in time to the music. It was a slow song. Her perfume washes over you, highlighting the golden streaks of her natural scent.
  2655. She straightens her back, rising above you, and brings her hands to your face, as she rolls her hips across your erection, “So, let me take care of you.” Your hands naturally fly to her ass, your body intoxicated on her closeness, her softness. She leans down to kiss you, and fills your mouth with the same aching need that fills her, as her saliva works its effect. You can almost taste the affection she holds for you.
  2657. She slides off your lap, and slips around behind you, her fingers trailing across your jaw as she does so. She leans in, and nibbles at your neck, licking up and down, slipping her arms down your chest and under your shirt. Slowly, she slides your shirt up your chest, drawing your arms upward with it. She traces kisses up your biceps, and licks the inside of your ear as your shirt comes free. You shudder as her cool saliva burns molten lust into your essence.
  2659. She drops to her knees, and crawls around you, swinging her ass wide with each exaggerated ‘step’, crawling up between your legs. You stroke her hair as she looks up at you between your legs, and works your belt with her mouth, using only her oral dexterity to slip the long strip of leather out, and tossing it away. Her hands trace up the insides of your thighs, and work higher to pop the button on your jeans. She nuzzles her face into your crotch, and works the zipper with her teeth.
  2661. With the zipper down, she places her hands on your knees and pushes herself up your body slowly, trailing kisses along the way, diverting slightly to nibble and lick at your nipple and bite at your collar bone. She licks up your throat, and licks your lips, before kissing you deeply, her tongue slipping in effortlessly. You wrap your arms around her back and hold her close as your tongue tangles with hers, and her lips press up against your own.
  2663. Eventually, she breaks the kiss, and pulls away from you, blushing heavily and fidgeting with embarrassment. She takes a deep, shaky breath, and seems to resolve herself, growing redder by the second. She turns her back to you, revealing her long shapely legs clothed only in high socks, and round, perky butt, barely covered by the short skirt. She bends over, keeping her legs straight, the already skimpy fabric riding further up her ass. Her breasts threaten to slip out of her cleavage as she bends over, and you catch an eyeful of the deep curve of her breasts through the mirror in front of her. Her finger hooks through her panties and she lowly peels the wet fabric from her ass, a string of lubricant connecting it to her drooling pussy lips. She slides it down her legs, and lifts a foot, and then the other, to slip the panties off entirely.
  2665. Now bare except for the skirt and top, she takes a step or two to lay her hands flat on the wall. Still turned away from you, she spreads her legs to nearly twice shoulder width, and bends over again, her hair hanging low as her upside-down face comes into view, bracing herself low on the wall. Needless to say, her lilac pussy lips, round ass and pink asshole are on full view to you. You forget to breathe, but Clara breathes plenty for you, red and overheating with embarrassment, like a machine about to fry out. Her hand slips up between her legs, and she spreads her pussy lips, before you. Her cunt twitches as she reveals her innermost depths to you.
  2667. “P-Please…” She stutters and fumbles over her words, and has to squeeze her eyes shut, and shout to force the words out, “P-p-lease u-use your s-slutty ghoul’s p-pussy!” A bead of lubricant steals your gaze as it slips down her inner thigh, and you’re moving before you even realise it, pants disappearing somewhere between standing up and moving behind her.
  2669. She gasps and straightens up, as she feels the head of your bobbing shaft press into her pussy and spread her lips. The night catches up with you, and you release the stress, horniness and excitement in one massive thrust, hilting yourself, balls deep as you step forward, and thrust her into the wall, her breasts and belly coming flush with it as you hold her hips in place.
  2671. “Ahhn~” She lets out an orgasmic cry as you fill her, and you bring a hand up from her hips to her chin, twisting her head to face you. You lay your mouth across hers in a kiss, and bit down on her lip as you begin to move, smacking your thighs into her butt and pressing her into the wall. Pinned under your weight, she surrenders herself to the maleness spearing into her depths, and submissively makes out with you, letting you have your way with her, her arms hanging limp. Which was her goal all along is her immense tightness is anything to go by, the pounding made easy by her copious wetness and arousal, eyes lidded heavily in lust, a low sultry growl-like purring, rumbling through her chest.
  2673. At this angle, as you take her from behind, the head of your cock presses into her cervix, pushing into it harder with each grinding motion, your dick growing larger and thicker with each twisting contraction of her writhing walls. Her ragged breathing intensifies, the kiss broken now, in favour of slackly resting up against the wall, her cheek squished flat. You lean into her as you thrust away, and kiss up her back, shoulders and neck. Your pre-cum floods into her womb, flowing back out as her pussy coils around you, making her cool, slowly warming cunt slick, it collects with her girl-juices, and falls in large splats upon the mirror.
  2675. She begins panting, and it takes a while for the noises to link in your mind and form words. She’s repeating the same word over and over, like a mantra, “Ha-Harder, harder, harder, harder,” you grin.
  2677. You take your hands from her wide hips, and grab her own. You place them up against the wall, just past shoulder width, and pull her back into you by the waist, giving her just a bit of space between the wall and her. You lean into her ear, “You want it harder?” She bits her lip, and nods, “Hold on then.”
  2679. “To what?” You don’t answer, instead you lift her by her thighs, and picking her up, slam your hips into hers, her fingers digging into the wall, the only thing still holding her up. She cries out as you thrust in from this new angle, and cums as you pull out, grows tight enough to almost stop you from pushing back in, but you force your way back deep inside her, and keep up your erratic, broken rhythm of deep and shallow thrusts.
  2681. The smell of sex surrounds you, mingling with other scents, like her perfume. Her hair jostles and she begins to push back into you as you thrust in, her breasts now free of her top and bouncing before you on the mirror. You regret only that you don’t have more hands to molest the girl with. You push into her and she pushes back, arching her spine in a feat of flexibility so that the two of you can go back to kissing, her ghoul saliva potent enough to nearly make you swoon. She hooks her legs behind your back as best she can, and you move your other hand up to her bouncing tits, pushed forwards by her arch. It fills your palm beautifully, her diamond-hard nipples poking at your skin.
  2683. You roll the whole breast a few times before dancing your fingers across the sensitive flesh and focusing on her nipples, pinching and tweaking them. Your orgasm begins to surge, and you hasten to bring Clara over the brink with you, desperate to cum alongside her. You release her breast and stroke down her tensed and flexed abdomen, tracing along the lines of her abs. You bring your hand down lower, ‘till you can feel the thickness of your shaft plunge through her belly. A mere fingerwidth lower are her lips, spread wide and clinging. You barely brush her puffy mound, yet when you pull your fingers back you see a strand connecting you to her droop in the mirror before slipping. You disengage your tongue from hers, and Clara’s litany of moans continues.
  2685. “You’re not always this wet. Does my ghoul-slut like being fucked up into a wall from behind.” Her twat clenches in response,
  2687. “Oh, gods yes!” you brush her clit with your fingers, and she cries out, loudly. You grit your teeth as the edge looms nearer, and work at her clit, rolling and flicking it a you grind into her deepest depths, well and truly thrust past her cervix now, her whorish monster womb kissing at you, locking you deep inside her. “Cumming! Cumming, Cumming!” You drop her thighs and pull her back from the wall, holding her up by only the hips. With great strain, you lift her up like an onahole, dragging her pussy off your cock ‘till her labia minora clings to your head, and then in a quick motion, you pull her back down, and thrust up, hip smacking into hip as you fill her to the brim with throbbing manhood.
  2689. Her muscles flick and twitch as she cums on your cock, managing only to master her hands long enough to place them on her belly and revel in the hot seed sinking deep into her in massive wave after wave. You sink to your knees, still cumming, and sit your ass on the balls of your feet, holding the ghoul close. Semen washes back and splats upon the mirror, blurring the sight of the Clara’s perfectly ahegao’d face. Gently, you lower her down onto her hands and knees, and pull out, followed by a stream of semen which slips out her still-quivering delta, and down her thighs. She sucks in a deep breath, before turning around to you, a crimson blush smeared across her cheeks, and wiggles her butt.
  2691. “Ready for round two?” Your erection says yes, and she giggles, all the answer she needs. She turns to face you, and crawls up to you.
  2693. “I think I know how you want it,” Her soft cool hand wraps around your dick “despite how hard you are, you’re still just a softie, aren’t you? Gentle movements, and tender kisses.” Your dick bounces with your heartbeat, and a bead of pre spills onto her hand, “Fufu, see?” She climbs onto your lap, her thighs wrapping around your hips, and she angles your cock upwards, parting her folds. In a smooth motion, you sigh as she takes the lead, and slides you into her. She crosses her legs behind your back, effectively locking the two of you together. Her powerful inner muscles caress and work at your shaft.
  2695. She wraps her arms around you and tips your head back for a kiss, her long tongue squeezing your own to the rhythm of her pussy. Slowly, she starts swivelling her hips from side to side, and then in little circles. You sink your fingers into her soft ass, and she begins to bounce, the gentle, wavelike motions and inner roiling an entirely different sensation to the rough pounding you gave her.
  2697. You lose yourself for a moment, and your balance slips, sending you to the floor, Clara atop you, laughing. “Are you alright?”
  2699. “Yeah, just smacked my head a little.” She leans down across you, breasts dragging along your chest, and wraps her arms around your neck,
  2701. “Well, this position is good too.” She starts rocking her hips, your prick gliding sweetly across her slick folds. Your world extends no further than her, enthralled in her softness and presence. Your climax comes before you even realise, as her cunt milks you, her rocking not ceasing for an instant, even as her insides becomes hot, sticky and painted white. She keeps rocking and silences your groaning with a kiss, as she assaults your sensitive dick tenderly.
  2703. Her pace picks up as she herself draws closer to yet another orgasm, and she milks your cock harder, coaxing your seed faster than before. You finish on a gentle note. A comfy way to end a big night. You spurt the last of your reserves deep into her cumhungry womb, and she settles atop you, breathing slightly heavily as she basks in the slumberous afterglow, her womanhood about as sore as your dick from all the use. You weight your options, sleeping on the floor, not that appealing to you. You could make the long haul to the bedroom, are you could crash on the lounge the room over. Convenience wins out.
  2705. “Hey. If I sleep here, I’ll freeze. Lets at least go to the lounge.”
  2707. She sighs, already slipping into a relaxed slumber, “’kay.”
  2709. “I’ll just get a blanket.”
  2711. She picks herself up, and stands on wobbly feet, yawning, suddenly exhausted. “Don’t be long.” You watch as she lumbers across to the lounge and faceplants into it with a pomf. Grinning, you head to a nearby cupboard, pull out a blanket, and follow suit, throwing it out across the lounge, and crawling under it, Clara wrapping her arms and legs about you as you do so. You stroke her hair a few times, before slipping off yourself, her cool flesh soothing you into sweet dreams.
  2713. There’s a gentle slurping by your ear, and a cool wet sensation that greets you as your mind straddles the line between dream and reality, the answer as to why your dreamworld suddenly had a flood of cool waters rise up from the floor, and eject you into lucidity. No doubt with a big dumb smile plastered across her face, she’s nibbling at the tips of your ear as she sleeps, an holds your head to her chest, her species’ oral fixation driving her instincts in the most peculiar of ways.
  2715. You twist your head to find the nearest window. The heavy curtains keep the room dark, but generally, the glow of sun can be seen along the rim of the curtains. It’s current lack would suggest late afternoon, or even night. You give Clara a little squeeze, and settle in to go back to sleep, yet no matter how calmly and still you lay with her, no matter how heavy your body is, your mind had long since kicked into gear. You give a sight scowl at your brain’s betrayal, and begin to pry the ghoul’s grip from you, being careful not to wake her. You slip one of the pillows you were resting on in your stead, the warm thing fooling the sleeping girl’s mind.
  2717. You slide the blanket over her as she clings to it tighter, and slip away up stairs, still naked from last night and smelling faintly of sex. You take the stairs two at a time, cool feet sinking into the marginally warmer carpet. You hug your arms to yourself and press down the urge to start shuddering, as you head to the bathroom. The water to the shower runs on a pre-warmed system, so you don’t even bother to check as you stand directly under the tap and let the stream wash over you.
  2719. Predictably, thankfully, it’s near scaldingly warm, and the chill sheds off you like thin sheets of ice to thaw upon the tiled floor of the shower, slowly growing warmer under the beating pressure of the hot water. You sigh, relieved to shed the tensions from sleeping on the couch.
  2721. You tip your head back under the stream, letting the water wash over your face, some going partway up your nose. As a minute passes, you tip your head back down and the water drains out. Repeating the process with your ears, you absentmindedly run a bar of soap across your body. Under the pulsing hot water on your scalp, you zone out, thoughts drifting to Clara and the day before you, stations before the train of thought, you stop briefly at ‘Things needing cleaning’ and ‘Things needing cooking’. Breakfast would be nice.
  2723. You snap to when you realise you’d been washing the same armpit for the last ten minutes. You clean the rest of yourself, and spend a moment running shampoo through your hair and conditioner after that. Respectably clean, you step out of the shower, and dry yourself, looking at the rough stubbly bear you’re growing in the mirror. You drag your gaze to the razors and consider shaving. Laziness wins out, and you decide to leave it ‘till another day.
  2725. Dry and dressed, you head into the kitchen. Your stomach gurgles, and though you went to the effort to not wake Clara, you consider cooking up some breakfast anyway. It’d wake her as surely as anything else, but there’s no doubt she’d swoon, waking up to breakfast cooking for her.
  2727. You skirt round the island bench, and thumb the knob to the stovetop as you do so, preheating the surface. Opening the fridge, you pull out the carton of eggs, some bacon, sausages a loaf of bread, some tomato and some mushrooms. You pull an onion from the pantry, and go back to the fridge for the cheese you forgot. Taking a pan from a cupboard, you place it upon the stove and splash oil into it.
  2729. You take a knife to the onion and skin it before cutting it in half and placing it down on a cutting board, slicing lengthwise then width-wise. You dice it and dump the mound of tear-inducing vegetable into the pan, the oil spitting as it begins to fry. Next is dicing the bacon, followed by the tomato and mushrooms. As those cook, you take out another pan, and turn on another element for the sausages. Before long the scent of frying breakfast fills the room and seeps out into the lounge-room. Rather predictably, the Ghoul begins to stir.
  2731. As you’re stirring the fried stuffs in with the eggs and cheese, arms pull you into a hug, and you feel the softness of Clara’s breasts upon your back,
  2733. “Mmmm, smells good.” You grin as she licks up your neck, “Tastes good too.”
  2735. “Morning.”
  2737. “Morning~” You turn in her embrace and wrap an arm around her hips, pulling her into you. Stirring with one hand, you give her a good morning kiss. “What’s cooking?”
  2739. “Scrambled eggs. Sausage. Other stuff. Hey, since you’re up, wanna fix the coffee and toast?”
  2741. “Sure” She yawns, and you watch her toddle off to the other end of the kitchen, completely naked. So transfixed are you on her round butt jiggling slightly with her swaying steps that you forget to stir, earning a semi-burnt layer of scrambled egg at the bottom of the pan. You don’t even realise until you see her nose twitch in profile, and her gaze catches yours with a sly grin, “Eggs are burning.”
  2743. You pout and continue stirring, “Stop distracting me then.”
  2745. “Soorrryy~” She pulls down the instant coffee and the sugar, “Ah. Now which draw were the spoons in?” She spreads her legs shoulder width, and bends down low, to the bottom draw, baring her rear to you in all its glory. There’s a slight blush on her cheeks, but you feel that after last night, any shameful or embarrassed reservedness is utterly swept aside in favour of the rewards brought from such lewd enticement. Her pussy lips call to you, the faintest hint of lilac lining her petals. She slides a drawer open, “Not this one…” she slides it back into place, and moves on to the drawer up. Her nose twitches again, and she leers back at you, “Eggs~”
  2747. “Damnit.” You go back to stirring and half turn away from her so her antics can’t ruin the breakfast you’re cooking for her. She giggles, and pulls out another drawer, the top drawer is the metallic rattle of cutlery is any hint. You hear metal on porcelain as she drops spoonfuls into the mugs,
  2749. “Two, yeah?”
  2751. You flip a sausage, “Yeah, two.” The discordant chime rings twice, and after a pause, twice more, with a quiet clamour at the final, the metal spoon rattling around in the mug where she dropped it. Eyes still locked on the food, you hear the springs of the toaster groan and click into place. You listen to her pattering footfall as she hops back to you, and wraps her arms around your hips, nuzzling into your back and kissing your neck, swaying her hips slightly to an imagined beat, pulling yours with her. You can feel her wide grin tugging at your own.
  2753. “You’re happy this morning.”
  2755. “It’s a good morning I guess.” She leans up to your ear, and licks it, whispering, “I’m still sore from the pounding you gave me last night.” You blush a bright red somewhat involuntarily, and fixedly stir the pot. She giggles and pokes your cheek, “Cute~” She rests her head on your shoulder, and holds you until the toast pops, reluctantly leaving to smear butter across the toasty bread.
  2757. The food finishes cooking and the coffee finishes brewing. You take your plate and hers to the table in the loungeroom and eat there, watching over her shoulder as she absentmindedly eats and browses image boards. She turns to you with a mouthful of sausage, “Sho wut are yoo doing today?” You shrug,
  2759. “Cleaning. Relaxing, I guess.” You watch as posts of questionable taste roll across the screen, “What are you reading?”
  2761. “Story ‘bout a dude getting molested on a train.”
  2763. “I… see.”
  2765. “Ya know, I sometimes have to wonder if some of these are real. Here read this.” Your eyes skim over the green blobs of text. “This totally sounds like a horny, milfy Aoife, right?”
  2767. “Huh. Yeah, actually. Anyway, I’m gonna wash that down with some tea. Want some?”
  2769. “Sure. Could you turn the stereo on too?” You grunt an affirmative and hop up off the lounge, heading to the system and hitting the button to assign a song at random.
  2771. //Tonight the streets are white, the lights are blue and blinding. No sign of the "Good Husband," but the siren's wail and whining tell us he'll be found. I can almost hear the hounds...//
  2773. MetalMorphosis blares, and you turn to see Clara bobbing along to the tune, “Hey, good choice.” It wasn’t really like you chose it.
  2775. “Thought you might like it.” You head into the kitchen and refill the kettle, again flicking the switch to set the water to boiling. Sure there are magic crystals that produce heat, thermal retentive enchanted metals and tiny little steam elements that can turn anything into a sauna, but history isn’t without its human ingenuity. Sometimes electricity is just easier. Even if it did come from making a thunderbird ahegao all over a stack of batteries. The boiling water wails, and the kettle turns itself off. You pour the water, let the leaves soak through, and tip some sugar in.
  2777. Stirring it, you head back, two mugs in hand. “You should really put some clothes on.” She looks back at you from where she’s lying on the lounge, belly down, and raises her ass into the air wiggling it from side to side,
  2779. “Maake me~” You drop both mugs on the table and wind your hand back for a mighty spank, grabbing at her wobbling booty as your palm collides. She gasps and her back arches but the look she gives you is one of the most sultry yet. You can’t help but take note of her sudden... excitement.
  2781. “Nuh-uh. You won’t tempt me. I’ve got shit to do. So just put some panties on at least.” You take a seat on the lounge next to her, and she lies down with her head in your lap,
  2783. “Why put clothes on if I’m not going to tempt you?” You sigh.
  2785. “There’s a bad influence out there for you and I worry that it’s me. Why wear clothes? Good question. Is modesty still a thing society cares about?” She cups her breasts, and gives her best ‘fuck me’ look.
  2787. “Is it really so distracting?”
  2789. You answer flatly, “Yes. Yet it is.” She grins somewhat proudly, and sits up,
  2791. “Alright then. But promise to let me tempt you later, okay?”
  2793. “Promise.”
  2795. “Well then I might as well shower, too.” She kisses you on the cheek, and gets off the lounge, heading up stairs to dress, leaving you alone with your mug of tea. You sigh deep and rest your head on the back of the lounge, drumming your fingers to the tempo of the song playing, nursing your tea. Clara re-appears a moment later, dressed, or, half dressed, and sits down next to you with her own mug, resting her head on your shoulder. Naturally, your free arm comes up and around her shoulders. She settles in next to you, and pulls her laptop into her lap. You curl your finger around a long part of her fringe, and hook it behind an ear, turning her head as you do so, to kiss her lips.
  2797. She turns her head to meet your kiss, but doesn’t break eye contact with the screen. It leaves a satisfied little smile on her lips. You down the last dregs of your tea, and stand up, stretching. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
  2799. She waves distractedly as she goes back to lying belly down on the lounge that is entirely hers once again, “Have fun.”
  2801. You scoff a little wryly, “Yeah, thanks.”
  2803. The first step is the kitchen. You wash and rinse the dishes in the sink, spray surface cleaner along the benches and wipe those down. You smear all-purpose cleaner paste on the sink and run over it with a damp cloth, reaching every area before running warm water down the sink, washing away any residue. Alone, that took an hour, the only movement in the home yours truly, and Clara’s legs as they kick idly through the air. After that you mop the tiled floors of the kitchen and run over the surfaces of the cupboards and fridge with a cleaner. Kitchen sparkling now, you look to the clock to see another two hours gone.
  2805. You are loathe to sully such a clean masterpiece but none the less, you have mouths to feed. Two, exactly. Sandwiches are the quickest and easiest, so you waste no time in making two large ones and setting one of them before the couchpotatoghoul. You devour your own faster than she, even, and take her lap for your sacred napping grounds.
  2807. She runs her fingers through your hair as you lay on your side, facing her belly, and your mind takes a moment to wind down before you take a quick nap and move onto the upper floors, a likely side effect to moving around so much only moments ago. Moments pass and your mind refuses the rest you’re giving it, so you groan in irritation.
  2809. “Hey. If you can’t sleep, lets play a game, or something.” You sigh as the prospect of sleep is lost to you, and raise an eyebrow,
  2811. “Or something?”
  2813. “Well you promised me, right?” She reaches for a remote and turns the TV on, stands up and walks over to a game console. She turns that on too, and holds up two controllers, “Loser of the best of ten is on top.”
  2815. “Don’t you mean winner?”
  2817. “No, why would the winner have to do all the work?”
  2819. “I- Hrm.” You don’t really have a response, so you leave it at that. The two of you clear a space before the TV, your heart thumping a little hard with a childish excitement. “So, who starts?”
  2821. “Uh… heads or tails.”
  2823. “Heads.” She takes a coin from the table the two of you just moved, and flicks it high enough to bounce off the roof and continue spinning to the floor. Luck favours you, and its heads. You grin smugly.
  2825. “Pff, don’t get too cocky. Back down on the ground.” You lie down on your back, looking at the TV upside down, but it’s not too hard to get used to. It’s definitely a rigged position, designed to make you lose. The game loads up as Clara straddles your hips and undoes your belt and zipper, freeing your half-flacid cock. She grins like a child in a candy store. “I’ve been wanting this.” She pulls her panties to the side and spreads her lips, sinking herself down on you, leaving the rest of the erection to harden inside of her. You watch as the game opens, upside down.
  2827. It’s one of the newer games, a fighting game, as was the common trend, with ultra-realistic graphics and sound effects. Next-generation stuff whose technology was only driven by the inclusion of rape ingame. Because lets face it. Video games without gratuitous sex and rape wouldn’t ever sell. By the time you’ve made it to the character section screen, you’re already hard inside the ghoul, and her tongue is hanging out slightly as she half-concentratingly choses a fallen paladin with massive tits for her character. Games like this had two selections of characters, male and female and were programmed that if one player were male, the other would have to play female, or vise versa.
  2829. You’d heard a bit about this game, and knew that taking the male paladin would grant extended scenes with the female, so you chose him, and took the edgiest colour palate you could. Clara starts swivelling her hips as she waits for the ring to load. The two characters enter. The paladin bows, the fallen girl curtsies, making her tits jiggle in her corset-plate if that was ever a thing.
  2831. The first thirty seconds are a fumbling hell as you struggle to work combos on a character you’d never played before, with the added difficulty of the ghoul gently bouncing on your cock, and the reversed directional commands due to playing this game upside down. Your brain pieces together the information quick enough to get the hang of it when Clara tightens, and her paladin sweeps low with the demon silver claymore, sweeping your guy onto his ass.
  2833. Clara’s fingers fly across the directional keys, and she completes the combo. You watch as the fight cuts to a semi-cinematic mode. A joystick wiggle prompt flashes in the corner of your side of the screen, but you don’t even bother. These things were rigged. You don’t stop the rape. The corrupted paladin walks over to your character, her finger tips glowing a deep iridescent purple as the breastplate falls off her leaving only the hip plating and her lewdly crafted dress, and her giant tits flop out. She sits down on her heels and pulls the stunned paladin into her lap.
  2835. She forces her tit into his mouth and feeds him corrupted milk, smirking sadistically as he writhes in obvious pain, the bulge in his pants growing so strained and large you’d wince in sympathy were your own cock not buried in the most comfortable place imaginable. Your Ghoul begins to rock her hips as she watches her character’s fingertip glow and slide open the bulging pants and free the corrupted mammoth cock. She doesn’t even remove the rest of her armor as she mounts him, tactfully flashing the viewer with her pussy. She impales herself on the giant, corrupt cock, and you see the bulge travel up her stomach, even from the inside of her dress.
  2837. “I’ve never seen her do that before.” Cara is massaging her breast through her shirt, and rocking on you a little more vigorously.
  2839. “The growth thing, nah I heard it was exclusive to the paladin character.”
  2841. “Hot.” She bottoms out countless times, drawing herself up and down the giant pole of fuckmeat until the hapless paladin bursts taking an entire quarter of his health with him. The fallen paladin glows with power, and fills a skill gauge as her belly swells with the man’s load, tearing her dress. She slides his now-normal dick out of her, and stands up, dribbling semen down her thighs as her clothes re-materialize. The paladin, blushing now, puts his dick away, and puts himself back in a ready stance. The semi-cutscene ends and the fight resumes.
  2843. You land an airborne combo that ends in a giant crucifix of light, but nothing so lewd the rest of the match. The next match you pick a mercenary, and fluke a combo, pinning the fallen paladin down and railing into her doggy-style as she ahegaos. Grinning wickedly, Clara takes this scene to bounce hard, bringing you quickly to the orgasm she’d been edging ever since that paladin duel. You and your character hilt at the same time, and you drop the controller as her walls coil and wrap around your throbbing shaft, as you spurt the first or what appears to be many climaxes deep into her womb.
  2845. You continue to play the male, rape and be raped, until the ten games are over. Mostly being raped. Sighing, you swap places with the ghoul, and take your spot as the looser, only to see her lying belly down. “Wait. That’s not fair. I had to be upside down!”
  2847. “How else could we do this? You can still fuck me, so it doesn’t matter right?” You’re flabbergasted for a moment until a plot hatches, and your lips twist into a smug grin.
  2849. “Fine then. In that case…” You straddle her like she straddled you, and pull her panties down. You spread her ass cheeks, nestling the head of your cock up against her pucker, drooling pre into the hole and press in slightly.
  2851. “Wa-Wait! I haven’t used that hole m-much!” Her protests turn to empty gasps as you slowly push in. Tight. That’s the first thing that comes to mind. You lean over her and lick her pointy ear as you smirk, burying yourself further inside her ass, even as her claws dig into the carpet, as her back arches so dramatically, her forehead connects with your chin.
  2853. “I can still fuck you so it doesn’t matter right?” you throw her words back, and bury yourself ‘till her ass is near flush with your hips.
  2855. “I-It’s in. Oh gods, it’s all in.” She finds her voice after a while, and you brush her hair with your fingers,
  2857. “It didn’t hurt?”
  2859. “N-no just feels… weird. But… kinda good weird.”
  2861. “I didn’t think it would hurt. No kind of sex really phases a monstergirl.”
  2863. “Y-you’ve done this before?”
  2865. “Maybe. Pick your character.” You’d already picked yours, some kind of undead black harpy, leaving Clara to scroll through the male fighters. You entertain yourself with groping her butt and making short, deep thrusts, causing her to fumble the remote more than once. You take it easy and gentle. She’s still virgin-tight back there and you want it to be pleasurable more than anything. That and you plan to distract the fuck out of her for the next ten rounds.
  2867. You’re not as good with the combos as she is, but the anal pounding puts her out of her game quicker than anything, it’s effectively a combo breaker. You fluke another air combo, and the harpy catches the guy by the shoulders, and fly-slams him into the corner of the map, pinning him there. Her eyes flash with power and his clothes seem to vaporise into thin air, his erection springing free for the harpy to impale herself onto. As you watch this, you don’t relent for a moment, picking up speed as you thrust into Clara, as the tightness and discomfort fades to a cacophonous, pleasure and her walls don’t refuse your thrusting cock quite so hard.
  2869. You win the ten rounds easily, for some rounds, you merely hit her character once and focus on thrusting into her ass, groping and massaging the flesh as your hips smack into it, fucking her so insensate she can’t even hold the controller, letting the timer claim it as your victory. It’s cheating. Sort of. It doesn’t sound like she cares. Her ass clenches tight as she cums, something you honestly weren’t expecting. Her moans and squeals grow steadily in volume throughout the game, and her unused pussy throbs needily for a cock currently buried in the other hole.
  2871. The sudden crushing tightness throws you for a spin as sensations intensify beyond what you were prepared for, and you reach your own climax, pumping hot, thick strands of cum deep into her gut. Balls deep in her ass, you cum the last of it, and barely avoid collapsing atop her.
  2873. “Ooooh. W-we need… to do that more often.”
  2875. “Yeah. I think I could go for that nap now.” You pull out, and watch a little mezmerized as your cum seeps out after you, and pools between her thighs.
  2877. “Here? Here is good.” You slide her panties back up into place, and reach towards the console to turn the game off, then reach for the remote for the TV.
  2879. “Yeah. Here is good.” You wrap your arms around the ghoul and pull her into a cuddle, pulling the two of you to rest on your sides, with her as the little spoon. You nuzzle into the back of her neck, and give her a little kiss goodnight. Or goodmidday, really.
  2881. * * * *
  2883. “Hey. Wake up.” Water splashes on your nose and clara’s soft voice fills your mind. Blearily, you open your eyes, so see her standing by your side of the bed, naked bar the damp towel hanging from her shoulder, her hair sodden and sticking to her, a strand or two loose, the water collecting in droplets at the tip. You wondered why the bed felt so empty.
  2885. Sunlight beats against the black curtain and suffuses into the room, shedding just the tiniest bit of light over you and the bed you fell into last night, naked with Clara in your arms, and straddling your hips like she usually does.
  2887. Her soft skin lines in gooseflesh, her nipples hard thanks to the cooling beads of water which cling to her, condensed steam from the molten showers she always takes, an utterly useless reaction for an undead, doubly so when the owner doesn’t really feel the cold. Rather, she always feels the cold, so a little colder makes no difference.
  2889. You accept her morning kiss, and groan as you shift about in bed, stretching before you get up. You look at your watch. One P.M. The gig isn’t until another six hours. You undo the clasp of the metal time keeper, and roll your wrist as the indentation left by sleeping with it on fills out. You kick your legs over the edge and sit up, stretching out your neck as you watch her walk over to the dresser and put on some underwear, the damp towel thrown haphazardly into a washing hamper. You yawn, and feel rather than watch as a cool breeze blows in from, somewhere. Must be blowing a gale outside.
  2891. “You know,” The ghoul approaches you as you talk, and sits in your lap, facing you, “It must really suck not being able to dress warm.” Her arms and legs wrap around you,
  2893. “That’s why you gotta make body heat for both of us,” She grins at you, and pushes aside her panties with one hand, stroking your cock to half-hardness with the other before slipping you inside her tight, already-wet depths, “friction helps.” She licks at your neck, and bites into your shoulder playfully.
  2895. You wince as a bevy of sensation washes over you, “You just put those on. You might as well take them off again.”
  2897. She considers it briefly, as her teeth dance on the edge of breaking skin, her lips part with a light smack, “Sex is impulsive, what can I say?” You roll your eyes and slide your hands down her hips around to her ass, lifting her weight so that you can stand.
  2899. “Lets go be impulsive in the kitchen where I can make myself a coffee.” She giggles and clings to you tighter, clenching her legs and thrusting with her hips, out of sync with your walking, throwing you off impishly,
  2901. “What, a quicky isn’t stimulating enough?” You jolt to a stop as you nearly roll your ankle, right before the stairs, her motion throwing yours off.
  2903. “Want me to drop you? Behave.” Her eye catches yours, and though her face is blank, there is a very very deep seated smugness as she clings to you, motionless, and yet her inner-muscles broil and surge in waves just as if not more intense as her previous movement.”
  2905. “Okay~”
  2907. “Come on, at least let me get to the kitchen before I blow this load in you.”
  2909. “Nope!” She overbalances you, and you crash to the floor, her arms shielding your head from the impact, the worst of it the weight of your lover crashing down against your diaphragm. You gasp breathlessly as she swivels and grinds her hips, experience gained from nigh incessant intercourse since you’d met her having taught her how to milk you just right. It only takes a few moments for the quicky to conclude itself in an eruption of warm seed, right into her womb.
  2911. “Do you have to be so rapey in the mornings?”
  2913. “It’s the afternoon, Gryam.”
  2915. “You know what I mean.”
  2917. “Would you have it any other way?”
  2919. You look at her, and sigh, sitting up. Soon as your back is off the floor her legs are wrapped around you again, and you’re more or less forced to life her again. Not that she’s overly heavy though, “…No.”
  2921. “You need your coffee in the mornings,” She grins and leans in close enough to give your earlobe a lick, her breath close and cool, “I need… something else.”
  2923. “Be a little less lewd, unless you want more.”
  2925. “I could go for a round two.”
  2927. You roll your eyes and start walking down the stairs, headed towards the kitchen, “We’ve got six hours. Can’t spend all of them fucking.”
  2929. You can see she’s just begging to say ‘wanna bet?’ but she holds back for practicality’s sake. You sit her down on the bench top, and she frees your from her legs, at least. You go to take a step back but her arms don’t budge. She grins, luring you in for a kiss, and as your only key to freedom and, more importantly, the morning’s cup of coffee, you take it. Her hands move from the back of your neck to your cheeks, and you take the chance to slink away, breaking contact only at the last moment, to the pout of a very disappointed ghoul.
  2931. You flick the kettle switch, and the rattling hiss of water boiling off heating element fills the room. Before long the hiss fades to the realms of constancy, and you tune the noise out, staring out the window to the wooded forest of a ‘backyard’ this property backs onto. Your back tenses reflexively as Clara steps up behind you, the muscles relaxing as she wraps her arms around you in a hug, and kisses the back of your neck, the slight coolness of her breath as she sighs, the pressure of her breasts against your shoulder-blades, all things
  2933. “I’m a little nervous.” You lean back into her embrace,
  2935. “It would be strange if you weren’t, I guess.”
  2937. “Can I be a little selfish? Can you stay with me all night?” You chuckle, and twist in her grip to face her, a certain playfulness tugging at the corner of your lips,
  2939. “Gee, I dunno. That’s real fuckin’ selfish of you.”
  2941. She pouts “Pleeease?” She looks at you cutely and squirms as your fingers latch onto her pointed ears, rubbing at the base. The kettle screams, and the circuitry cuts, the plastic tab flicking down to its ‘off’ position.
  2943. “Anytime.”
  2945. She flashes a smile and lets you go, busying herself with some toast as you fix the morning coffee. Afternoon coffee. The first coffee of the day, at any rate. The metal clinks noisily against the side of the porcelain cup as you spoon the sugar and coffee into it. “You know, why do you always ask me to get this stuff?” She turns to you, freshly buttered toast hanging from her mouth.
  2947. “Mph?” You til your head towards the coffee can, and she bites through the warm bread, swallowing, “Dunno. I just like it. Tastes like convenience.”
  2949. You stare down into the black soupy mix of slowly dissolving freeze-dried coffee flakes. “I guess.” The fridge opens and closes as you stir both your mug and hers, Clara coming up to your side and holding your chin between her fingers, a slice of toast in her other hand,
  2951. “Ahh~” You open your mouth and let her push a corner of toast in, your teeth crunching down on the edges and holding it in place as you head to the fridge for some milk to pour into the coffee. The solution turns milky, and you stir with one hand as you hold the toast with the other, “Hey, who’s playing first?”
  2953. “I think they’re local.” You follow her to the loungeroom and put the mugs down on the table, grabbing a slice of toast as you do, kicking your legs over the edge of the lounge and leaning with your back to her side, resting your head on her shoulder.
  2955. “Doors open at seven, right?” Her fingers tap on the keys of the laptop warming her thighs,
  2957. “Uhh, yeah. Seven.” You sigh deeply through your nose, and crunch some toast.
  2959. “What do you wanna do?” She leans back and rests her head against yours,
  2961. “Hmmmmm. I guess we could walk around for a bit. Oh! Hey! Have you been to that underground record store yet?”
  2963. This grabs your attention, “Underground record store?”
  2965. “Yeah! It’s run by this real cute moth, it’s the basement under that… umm… I think it was a… huh. I forget. I know where it is though.”
  2967. “Wanna head out then, spend the time ‘till the gig starts wandering around?”
  2969. “Sure.” You sit up as she stirs and takes the computer off her lap, closing it and leaving it on the table. She grabs your hand and pulls you up off the lounge with her, “Come on, let’s get dressed.” A half smile twists the corner of your lips. It’s nice to see her so enthusiastic about going outside. You let her lead you to the bedroom where you dress and waste time fondling her as she tries to get ready, only to be stalled as she fondles you.
  2971. A sweaty hour later, in which you were forced to take yet another quick shower, the two of you are heading out the front gate, her hand in yours, the other waving to the bored looking Dullahan with her legs kicked up on the windowsill in her booth. A strong gust of wind blows your hair around, and as if she read your thought before you’d even thought it, Clara takes one of her hair ties from her wrist and secures your hair in a loose ponytail. She turns your hair to face her and snags a few strands of hair from just behind your hairline and just above your temple. She looks at you appraisingly as the thing flops down over your face.
  2973. “Why’d you do that?”
  2975. “It looks cool.” You roll your eyes and ignore her pout as you tuck the strand behind an ear,
  2977. “Right. Well, lead the way, I’m not really sure where this place you’re talking about is.” She takes your hand and starts pulling you around, eyes flicking from street signs to landmarks as you trot along in her wake.
  2979. “I don’t really remember properly.” She chews on her bottom lip and frowns in concentration as she heads down half-forgotten streets. You look to your watch,
  2981. “We have plenty of time. Might as well keep walking ‘till we find it.” Calm, nonplussed but slowly growing hungrier, you follow behind her as she backtracks and heads down alleyways, more than happy to spend your time watching her ass move in her tight jeans. The two of you were dressed pretty standardly for the night. Jeans, shirts and boots. You fished out the old leather jacket of yours with the black and white Venom back-patch, only for her to promptly fall in love with it, so she’s wearing it now, you’ve just got a hoodie to beat back the chilly night.
  2983. There’s four hours till the gig, two more before the sun starts to set, but already the city lights are on, the sky so heavily overcast the barest amount of light breaches the cloud-cover. Not that it stopped the un-life of the town. People still walk about, as if crawling out of the woodwork. It is Friday night, so it’s little surprise.
  2985. Clara leads you out of the alleyway just as a powerful gust blows through it, kicking up newspapers and scraps of rubbish. Almost automatically, you smack a wrapper from the air just before it touches Clara, “You’d think they’d work a little harder the clean these places.” Clara watches a sheet of newspaper rise high in the sky,
  2987. “Yeah, there’s not much excuse is there? I mean, practically half the local council’s work force is tireless. Ah! It was this street!” You quirk an eyebrow and check your watch. It took an hour of walking, but it looks like you’ve made it. Assuming a half hour walk to the venue, you have two and a half hours to kill. Not bad.
  2989. She leads you down the street lined with various shops until you’re standing before yet another alleyway between an appliances store and a pharmacy. Clara beams up at you proudly, like a child who tied their shoes for the first time, “Found it!”
  2991. “Uh…Yeah. I see. Congratualtions.”
  2993. “Geez, I haven’t been here in years, you have no idea how hard it was to find this place again.”
  2995. You head into the alleyway, “Don’t give me that, we practically found this place by chance. Don’t think I didn’t notice you were choosing roads at random.” She looks hurt, so you sigh and reach into your pocket for a stick of gum. It was a special brand that soaked up latent spiritual energy. So its flavour was your… well, it was Clara’s favourite flavour. Freakin’ monsters, man. She lights up like the sun when you give her the treat, as it’s not really something she can get for herself. Well, she could reach into your pockets, but it only works when it’s kept on your persons for a while. The flavour holds for a long time, but does eventually fade, so efectivelly, the only way she can get it is for you to give it to her. Otherwise it’ll just taste bland.
  2997. Her happy expression brings a smile to your own face, and you turn to head futher down the alley, walking right past the entrance. Clara pulls you back by the hand. She grabs a handle sticking out of the wall, and a door materializes. There was nothing magic about it, it was just really fucking hard to spot, unless you knew already where to look. The door has considerate weight to it, but before Clara, it might have been a paper screen. She hauls it back, and a wave of metal rolls out. She turns back to grin at you, “You’ll love this place.”
  2999. The door opens to a dimly lit flight of stairs with yellow and black striped tape along the edge of each step. There are five before a small landing then the flight takes a turn to the left, and you descend the larger flight adjacent. As you navigate down it, the music grows louder, and the two of you come before one last door, the noise amplifying tenfold as you enter the store.
  3001. It’s a basement of typical size considering the store above it, and scattered in shelves and island cases, lined in CDs and vinyl. The walls and ceilings were painted a rich black, making the room feel dull, like cave despite the copious lighting. Shirts hang from racks and flags hang from the walls, there are display cases with signed instruments, the place is a metal haven.
  3003. In the far end of the store is a row of racks, a forest of black band shirts growing from the branches. A figure parts them, more cocoon than girl. She breech the forest and her faded brown and yellow insectile wings unfurl, revealing a mothgirl dressed much the same as the two of you, deathly skull patterns seeming to swirl under the light of the store. She gives her wings a little flutter, scattering some of the powder which clings to the appendages, and they settle clinging close to her almost like a robe. Must be cumbersome not having wings like a bat which can easily fold.
  3005. Under her arm is a shirt that she dusts clear of her powder, and the two of you watch as she heads to the front register where a customer waits, an even more vivid skull seemingly etched in a pattern across the back of her hair, stark and leering in comparison to the vague wisps upon her wings, either artisan hairworking, or a miracle of nature. Under the bright lighting you can make out the faint hues of brown and yellow, but under any other light it would appear as black and white. It’s definitely a striking appearance.
  3007. “This is the only one of that band in that size. Is this okay?”
  3009. The customer nods and smiles, “That’s perfect. Thank you.”
  3011. The expressionless moth nods, and heads to her end of the counter to make the transaction, “That’s twenty.”
  3013. The two of you head further inside, scanning along the lines of CDs. Clara makes a beeline to the discount and sale bin, and you follow, watching her sort through it over her shoulder, “What are you looking for?”
  3015. “Anything, really. There’s always a bargain or two here.” You watch as the expressionless moth comes over to the two of you, treading silently and circling around the distracted Clara to approach from behind. Your posture straightens instinctually, your shoulders square and you cast a steady glare at the approaching girl. She catches your eye and her expressionless face splits momentarily into a smile, and she holds a finger to her lips, ‘Shhh.’ Sensing the ghoul is in no real danger, and realizing somewhat bashfully that she doesn’t need you to protect her in the first place, you watch silently as the stalker closes in on Clara, and lusty hands reach out to cup a breast from behind.
  3017. You almost feel bad for the moth. Far too late does she notice the smirk across your undead lover’s lips, and Clara twists and pounces colliding with the crouched moth and tackling her into the ground, “Accy!”
  3019. The girl goes wide eyed and freezes, except for her abdomen which sticks up, a pointless archaic response with her faded colours, not nearly stunning enough to deter the leaping Ghoul. You do catch an eyeful of the girl’s tight rump though, round and shapely enough to fill out the jeans she’s wearing, and then some.
  3021. Clara collides with the moth who lets out a startled squeak, an embarrassed, involuntary ‘tzich’ that has her blushing faster than the ghoul can collide. All too quick it happens, and the pair of them sprawl along the ground, Clara considerate enough to protect the girl from most of the fall, nuzzling into the tuft of fur around her neck, seemingly seeming no other purpose than having something soft and fluffy to rub your face into.
  3023. The collision stirs her enough to knock more powder from her wings. Caught in an air conditioned updraught, it wafts past you and invades your sinuses. For a moment your body reacts as if to sneeze, but you quickly calm down, a certain calmness and arousal settling instead. Your thoughts turn to the ghoul, and you jealously envy the way her body wraps around the moth girl. You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, and breathe out abruptly, biting the inside of your lip hard enough to leave a mark, the rush of sensation curbing the tide.
  3025. “C-Clara! What are yo-“
  3027. “Don’t give me that. I noticed you sneaking up on me.”
  3029. “Tch-zich,” That little squeak jumps out again, as involuntary as a hiccup, “You grew up.”
  3031. “Hehe,” She pokes her Accy’s cheek, “What are you talking about? Undead don’t age.” The moth just looks away, her expressionless mask back in place after the upset, but she stops struggling. “Sulky~” Grinning from ear to ear, Clara helps Accy up and reaches into one of the leather jacket’s inner pockets and pulls out a small squeeze bottle of honey, the type tipped with a nozzle “Here, this should cheer you up.” Accy’s face doesn’t budge, but her eyes light up, and she takes it ruefully, twisting the outlet and suckling on the honey.
  3033. “When did you get that?” Both sets of eyes turn to you,
  3035. “Ah. I grabbed it before we left. Oh, right, Gryam, this is Accy.” The moth takes the bottle from her lips and nods at you wearily, extending her hand. You take it, the thing cool, without warmth. Another undead. She makes her introductions.
  3037. “Acherontia. Call me Accy, everyone else does.”
  3039. Clara continues with introducing you, “And Accy, this is Gryam.” A faint, happy blush colours her cheeks, “My boyfriend.”
  3041. You give the offered hand a light, friendly shake, “Gryam. I don’t really have a nickname.”
  3043. Accy looks surprised at the news, “A pleasure.”
  3045. “So, have the two of you known eachother long?” you ask innocently, their intimacy a pleasant surprise. You might invite her over at some point. Clara answers for the quiet moth,
  3047. “Mum used to take me here all the time.” She smiles a little guiltily and leaves any explanation for why she suddenly stopped silent.
  3049. The moth frowns, “Today was the first time it backfired.” Clara grins a little lewdly,
  3051. “Oh I’ve gotten used to being attacked.” You avert your eyes, a sudden interest in the dwarven band Hammerfall’s discography by your side. Your interest becomes very real as you spot albums you didn’t know about, and you pop them open and take a gander at the booklet inside, letting the two girls catch up, scattered bits of their conversation flitting over you.
  3053. “Oh, are you going to the gig tonight?”
  3055. “Yeah, by friend it playing in the opening act.”
  3057. “Ooh, really? Who is it?”
  3059. “Ah, you don’t know her. She’s the singer though. You’ll spot her from a mile away.”
  3061. “What will you do about the store?”
  3063. The moth shrugs, scattering her fuckdust. “Close early I guess.”
  3065. “Hey, lets head over at the same time.” Accy looks at her watch,
  3067. “I was going to eat though.”
  3069. “I’ll eat. I’m kinda hungry anyway.”
  3071. “Well, we’ve got half an hour until I was planning on locking up. So.” She turns to Clara and grins, “Wanna buy anything?”
  3073. You spend the next half our in relative silence, flicking through albums and band merch, finally deciding on a shirt and a new release. Clara picks out a few albums, and you pay for it all, leaving the stuff behind in the shop. Accy closes up behind her, your stuff secure in the store.
  3075. “I’ll post it to you later.” You nod but her back is turned so it was kind of pointless. She pulls a keychain out of her pocket and picks through the jumble of metal one handed, the other arm occupied with the jumper she’ll wear for the night. You tilt your head to the side and wonder how he’ll put it on. She selects a key and slides it into the lock. He tests the handle one and satisfied, puts her keys back in the pocket of her jeans, tight enough to leave a vague outline of the keys in her side. She unfolds her jacket and puts her arms through the sleeves, trapping her wings underneath. Her hands move to the front pockets and dig it, pulling the jacket taut as the fabric shimmers and shifts, and her wings seep through like some kind of vapour.
  3077. Her wings are as solid as ever though, so clearly it’s the jacket contorting, faint rune circles showing around where the base of her wings would be. She flares the appendages and the jacket settles comfortably across her back. Then like any other woman, she collects her hair by the nape of her neck and pulls it out from under the jacket, the leering skull returning.
  3079. She looks at the two of you, face straight. “Well, lets head off then. If we’re going to eat, I’d rather not be late.” The two of you follow behind her as she makes a mothline to whatever store she was planning to eat at,
  3081. “So why does she pretend to be emotionless?” You whisper to the ghoul next to you,
  3083. “Because she’s embarrassed by the noise she makes when she lets those emotions show. I think it’s adorable.” She answers. She’s right, it’s adorable. You keep the thought to yourself. None of you really have anything to say as you walk, so asides from idle small talk, spaced at a discontinuous distances apart, you walk in relative silence.
  3085. The place she chooses to eat as is a fairly generic small diner. A sense of nausea washes over you, and for a moment your gait grows clumsy. Frowning as you turn queasy, you look into the diner only to realise it’s the very same one you made something of a subconscious effort to avoid when you first walked around this town. Your gut swims, making you brace yourself against the side of the building. Clara instantly realises something is up, and turns to you with a curious and worried glance.
  3087. You smile weakly and scrunch your toes inside your shoes to the point of pain and muscle cramping, forcing the nausea down, “Just got a little dizzy.” Accy is already entering, and you nod for Clara to follow. She does so hesitantly, and you suck in a deep breath as you prepare to follow. The only saving grace is that as she opens the door, a waft of the inside air rolls out. The place smells delicious.
  3089. Well, it would be hypocritical of you to not to face your own demons, as it were, after all your work with getting Clara to feel comfortable outside. You keep your head down as you follow Clara’s heels to the table Accy chose, and take a seat by the window to give yourself an excuse to have your back to the interior of the diner. There’s a bunch of menus in a plastic holder in the centre of the table, so you take one, and busy yourself in reading, half listening unfocusedly to the conversation between the ghoul and the moth.
  3091. Chips. That’s one of the first things you notice in the aroma. You could really go for some hot chips. But at the same merit, you could really go for something light. Your thoughts are sundered by the clink of claws, and the low sultry purring of the waitress.
  3093. “Good evening. Have the three of you decided?” No overt pleasantries or small talk, her timbre sultry and suggestive enough. And it made your skin crawl. You stare fixedly at the table, but despite your best efforts, traitorous eyes draw inexorably towards the venom tipped spikes of the monster’s tail. You jolt imperceptibly as something strokes your foot, your eyes being drawn from the tail to the concerned gaze of your lover. She answers after Accy, not turning her eyes from you,
  3095. “Just two ‘blt’s thanks.” You smile at her. ‘Just’. Not sure you’ll ever get used to her appetite.
  3097. “I’ll just have some chips. Medium, thanks.” You pre-empt an answer to save her talking to you, and she nods, penning down your order at the bottom of the list. Ah. You could have gone for a drink. Some kind of lemonade. Oh well.
  3099. “Ah, two lemonades too please.” You cock your head at Clara and she grins in response. The waitress nods,
  3101. “I’ll get that to you as soon as possible,” and leaves the three of you in peace.
  3103. “How did you do that?”
  3105. “You always drink some kind of lemonade with chips.” Her simple smile is like a cloudburst and a self-conscious blush comes to your cheeks unbidden. You go back to toying with the menu, but there’s no denying the cheeky tug at your lips. It slips as the manticore returns with the drinks and then later the food, but it’s the thought that counts.
  3107. The two of you chat as you eat, idle things mostly. Your force in some replies, not wanting to ruin the meal by being a downer, and even though Clara ordered twice as much, at the end of it, the two of you end up waiting on Accy to finish her meal before leaving. Clara shouts the meal for the three of you, not that it really means much. Your money is hers, and her money is her family’s they could probably buy this country thrice over.
  3109. You instantly appreciate the moth’s foresight as when you step outside, frigid winds have picked up, and there’s no doubt she’d be shivering had she not worn the jacket. Well, had the cold still affected her at any rate. Already, your foul mood has dissipated, the same excitement welling in you as it does in Clara.
  3111. It doesn’t take long for the three of you to turn into the street of the venue, and you see a diminishing line down the footpath, before two tall Oni in suits who are checking for ID. The last in line enters the building and the two Oni sigh, having not noticed the three of you. One red skinned, the other blue, the two share the same snow white hair, the blue Oni’s tied back in a sensible ponytail, her suit buttoned up properly, bust spilling out over the sheer lapel roll, shirt buttons straining, the fabrics pressed so hard together you can make out the lacy black bra underneath. With breasts to full and large the black tie that disappears under the jacket, squeezed between the two tits, looks decidedly phallic.
  3113. The red one on the other hand can only be disrobed as sloppy, whereas the blue has a perfect, form-hugging suit, hers is slightly loose. The shirt is untucked, about the only thing she did right was button the jacket up. There’s no tie, and the first few top buttons are undone, showing a lot of chest but not much cleavage. The bra she wears is partly visible, and whilst her bust is at the least palmable, she is flat in comparison to her co-worker. But then, if her co-worker is all tits, this girl as all ass.
  3115. Their bickering comes clearly to you, as they still haven’t noticed your presence, “And how many times have I told you to do your shirt up, for heavens sake? We’re on a job here.”
  3117. “Eh, but why? It’s such a pain,”
  3119. “Because we’re on a job.”
  3121. The red oni sighs and runs her fingers through her hair as she reaches into her bra and pulls out a flask, popping the lid and chugging it, “You should loosen up sis, here, have a drink.”
  3123. “Not while I’m working, and honestly, you don’t have to do the top button up, just do the rest. Look, I did mine up, and it’s much tighter for me than it is you.”
  3125. “… Ya wanna fuckin’ fight?” The two heads turn as you approach, and the blue Oni straightens her posture, the red one sighing and tucking her flask bask into her bra.
  3127. The blue oni talks first, “Do you have ID?” Accy gives her a look and the red oni shrugs, answering for the blue one,
  3129. “Don’t matter if yer all five centuries old. Gotta see ID.” The three of you reach for wallets, yours the last to be checked. The red oni coos as she looks at it,
  3131. “Cute photo. We have a break in half an hour, wanna find a room back stage and fuck?” the red oni asks it as casual as can be, but the blue one locks up entirely, going as red as her co-worker and mouthing words silently.
  3133. Clara’s hand slips around your waist and draws you into her with nearly bruising force, “He’s taken.”
  3135. “Eh, they always are. alright, you’re all clear, head in.” the three of you pass the doors and into the venue where the PA is playing some heavy music through the house speakers as the sound guy tunes to the room, the cacophony drowning out the tail end of the bickering from the two doors women behind you,
  3137. “Akashiri!”
  3139. “Come one Aomune, when was the last time we had a guy together?” the answer fades the further you head in, and Clara remains as close as ever. You guess she feels threatened. Well, it’s not too bad to let her look after you once in a while. After the doors is a short line to another desk where people pay upfront or show tickets. It takes a bit of standing around, but before long your hands are stamped and you’re looking for a nice spot in the room to enjoy the show.
  3141. The best is, arguably, behind the sound desk, upon a platform a little higher than the sound desk and barred by a flat railing about a hand span wide. If you were here by yourself, and single, you’d jump right in the mosh pit, and have fun being smacked around and pushed up against curvaceous bodies, having monsterwomen grinding against you, feeling you up and banging your head to the music. But you’re not, as your ghoul lover pointed out, you’re taken now, and besides. You’re not sure you have the energy and vitality anymore to tank an Oni’s fist to the face and keep moshing like it were nothing. Well, that’s what you tell yourself now. Your thoughts have never remained the same after a drink or two.
  3143. Looking to your side, Clara is grinning, facing the stage, the anticipation clearly getting to her. The first act should be on soon. Her smile is infectious and you realise that this is the first time you’ve taken someone you like out like this. You cram your hands in your pockets and grin like a moron as the lights go down and shadows start to move on stage. A mass of shadow congeals on the stage, and two large disks form in the centre bottom. Something pounds into it like a ram and a low bass thunder issues forth. Then the next vibrates, and the shadows slip to reveal two kick drums that weren’t there before, slowly receding to reveal more of the drumkit, stopping at the drummer and her seat, even her sticks are wreathed in twisting shadow.
  3145. Bass guitar blends into the rhythmic pounding of the drum, and a guitar squeals over it, a gout of ghostfire erupting left of the stage, a girl dressed in what appears to be a metal cage with cloth lacing along the frame appears as a silhouette. After guitar comes the bass, a skeleton girl stepping our from the writhing black mist surrounding the drumkit, and finally a portal styled after an old mausoleum gate appears, ‘Death Metal Crypt’ emblazoned across the top of the portal.
  3147. The Ethereal gates swing open and out steps a guitar wielding woman with ghostly platinum blonde hair styled in drills. A cry comes from the crowd up the front, “Krauser-chan!” Without even heeding it as thought it were below her, she immediately begins strumming and launches into the first verse, the rest of the band following. You’d never seen or heard of these guys before, but instantly you’re wrapped in this indomitable stage persona they have. Especially the drill hair with the corpse paint.
  3149. Their set lasts an hour in all, a hard hour of theatrics and blisteringly brutal metal, most the songs about death and rape. You could have sworn, even, that she once said rape twelve times in a single second. Throughout the duration of the set, between the three of you, you’d downed at least twenty beers and were well on your way to being hammered. Pride leads you to not consider who actually drank the lion’s share. It wasn’t who you were expecting anyway.
  3151. Krauser finishes her last note, and drops her guitar, the thing vanishing in a wisp of blue flame before it touches the ground. She spins on her heel, cloak flicking behind her like an empress, and disappears through the same gates she entered through, leaving just as coldly as she entered. Black shadow spills out from the drums, claiming the stage and rolling back to leave it empty. They left like they came, definitely leaving an impression. There’s a loud cheer despite the band being long gone, or more realistically, just off stage, and the lights begin to brighten, the mosh pit up the front and centre dispersing as people mingle and wait for the next act.
  3153. Entrusting the spot to you, the two drunk women flit off towards the bar for more, and you suck in a massive breath, expanding your chest to the point of discomfort then letting it leave through your nose as you lean on the railing and stretch your back out. You’re having fun, but fuck do these big social type events take it out of you. You tense as a tight little body is pressed up to you from behind and a hand reaches around to fondle your junk.
  3155. “Unless you’re my ghoul girlfriend returning from the bar, you better fuck off.”
  3157. “O-oh… sorry.” The hands retract quickly, and the presence leaves. Well, that hasn’t changed since the last time you went to a gig. You sigh, and watch as people set the stage for the next act, the main act. Already, people line up the front, taking their positions, and you see the sound engineer below adjusting the PA. A werecat, her fuzzy ears twitching as she focuses on individual frequencies.
  3159. Clara and Accy return moments later, precariously holding three glasses each, “How you doin’?”
  3161. You roll your eyes, “About as well as you’d expect a lone man to be doing. Yourself?”
  3163. “Haha, got hit on, did you?” You sigh as you take two of her glasses, Clara taking one from Accy so the three of you are holding two each.
  3165. “Yeah. Just once though.”
  3167. She frowns, “I was only gone for like, two minutes though.” You shrug and lean against the railing, bringing one of the glasses to your mouth,
  3169. “Closer to five, but, you know, that’s all it takes really.”
  3171. “Hmph.” The subject is dropped, but you notice she’s a little closer than usual. Well, not that you mind. You turn to Accy, hoping she’s not feeling too third-wheely but once you catch her eye, she assures you with a wan smile and a shrug, she doesn’t mind. The lights dim again, and instantly every eye in the house is on the front stage, well lit in the front centre, not so well lit around the rims, flickering flame pots al the lighting that’s given otherwise. A strange atmosphere grips the audience. The last band was flashy, but it felt almost too much, like it tried too hard. A rather natural anticipation grips the hearts of every one there, and a roar erupts when the winged silhouette of a woman descends upon the stage, hair a flutter, staff panicking as her wings buffet the flames around in a very real fire hazard.
  3173. You recognise her for the frontwoman to Metalmorphasis, her name on every one’s lips, in a single almost united chant of “Moth-chan,” “Moth-chan” The rest of the band follow, taking up their instruments, if applicable.
  3175. The thunderbird lead guitarist creates her own entirely out of conjured electricity, manipulating magnetism through her fingers to pluck at strings in a facsimile of playing. The Arachne drummer with her kit curling around her, and three kick drums, resting upon a seat designed to take her weight and let her focus on drumming with use of both her spider legs and human arms. The lamia bassist, coiled up before an amp stack and blushing slightly as she strums the open low note in a slow continuous drone, the tip of her tail twitching erratically. And finaly, a large bovine rhythm guitarist. First look screams minotaur but a further study shows something off, the horns softer, less brutally curved, a tail that almost looks poofy, and a fine coat of fur that you could just want to sink into. That’s either a really soft looking minotaur, or a really mean looking holstaur.
  3177. “Geez, you guys gonna just chant my name all night,” The moth almost looks embarrassed before a fine mask of professionalism slips into place, “or are you gonna stand the fuck up and bang some heads?” the flame pots erupt and the first song of the set swings into full motion, the kicks playing a beat of triplets with snare cracks complimenting, guitars and bass following a similar pattern of triplets for the opening verse.
  3179. You grin widely at the spectacular show, and turn to see if Clara is enjoying it as much as you. It doesn’t take a second glance to see that she’s beaming like a kid at the zoo though. She turns to you, steps close, and pulls you into a deep kiss, so stirring your own heartbeat cuts through the cacophonous noise and pounds up near your ears. The world seems to spin and she’s the only thing keeping you standing, and it has absolutely nothing to do with all the alcohol you’d consumed. Probably. With the room this dark, and all eyes on stage, it is a truly private and precious moment.
  3181. Her lips part from yours, leaving the ghost of softness and the faint taste on your lips. She smiles happily, a strong and heavy blush colouring her, and rubs her cheek against yours, bringing her lips to your ear so you can hear her over all else. Her hands manage to find your own, and your fingers intertwine with hers.
  3183. “Thank you Gryam. I love you.”
  3185. Words you never thought you would hear. Words you never thought you could hear, words you didn’t think you deserved. None the less, words that she said to you, of all people. Fast. Quick witted. You had to be, really to live the way you did, bluff yourself out of being caught redhanded stealing food, that sort of thing. That past is likely the only reason you had the mental restraint to not instantly blurt out, ‘I’m sorry, what did you just say?’ or more likely, a simple, dumbfounded, ‘wut?’
  3187. Uncertainty wars within you, should you really let her fall for you? You’d lived with her, you know her, and you know she deserves better. You didn’t think she or they were serious, expected entirely for her to tire of you, to move on. But in the same merit, Clara is an adult. If she says she loves you, who are you to argue? At any rate, you decide to be selfish.
  3189. “I’m glad. Because I love you too, Clara.” She had bitten her lip, her entire being drawn upon a thin line of tension as moistness swirled in anticipation of your answer. That line doesn’t snap, but melt as relief fills her and she all but dissolves into your embrace. You happily pull her in, and rest your chin on her shoulder. Accy catches your gaze and she gives you a happy if somewhat lonely and envious smile. Her, Aoife, Lily, even Skadi, are there no men in this town?
  3191. You hear a little sniffle, and Clara pulls away from your shoulder, grinning, “Sorry. That was a little sudden, wasn’t it?”
  3193. You grin, “Yeah, but I’m glad it happened. I wasn’t sure how you felt, or if I’d even be around in a month or two. Looks like you won’t be rid of me that easy.”
  3195. “I won’t be rid of you at all.” You smile, even as you bring one of the mugs to your mouth and drink. It almost tastes sweeter somehow. You feel… giddy, your lover the same if her squirming is anything to go by. Though in the back of your mind there’s a certain finality behind her words. You question just how attached you are to your life. Perhaps a shot at unlife wouldn’t be that bad?
  3197. You hold her close, and watch the rest of the show unfold, steadily drinking through your wallet until the two of you are holding onto each other for support more than anything else. The crowd gets heated and at some point the two of you lose Accy in it, a text sent moments after the two of you begin to search that leaves Clara smiling.
  3199. “What is it?”
  3201. “Oh,” She grins down at her phone before putting it back in her pocket, “No, it’s nothing. Accy was just saying goodnight.”
  3203. “Aw, did she leave?”
  3205. “Nah, she just had some other people to catch up with.” The crowd cheers, and Metalmorphosis blazes into another song that gets every one’s heads moving. The mosh at this point is a mess of sweaty people, the odd man who got caught up in it, at the mercy of the countless girls who prop him up and ride him publically. You don’t doubt the lead singer up on stage scattering her dust is at least partially to blame. Before long it turned into an orgy, the majority of the set done with, and Clara’s words still tickling the back of your thoughts.
  3207. You reach for your last mug of beer, the fingers curling around the chilly glass and holding tight enough that the errant droplets of water don’t dislodge your purchase, and you tip the rest of it down your throat.
  3209. “Should I get two more?” You consider her words.
  3211. “Nah, we have some at home. Wanna head back?”
  3213. “The concert isn’t over yet though,” She looks out across the crowd writhing in ecstasy, even the band having given up pretences, the drummer fingering herself as she plays half-heartedly, “Uh, I guess it is.”
  3215. You laugh, “Yeah.” Clara doesn’t respond though, eyes locked on the entangled throngs, nibbling at her bottom lip,
  3217. “O-Okay. Lets go home.”
  3219. “Are you alright?” She turns to you, and steps close, grabbing your hand and placing it on her tight, slim belly.
  3221. “Not really.” She slides your hand lower ‘till you’re slipping past her belt and into her panties, her slick need readily apparent. You pull your hand back, two fingers messy, and lick one while she leans forward to lick the other. “I kind of need you.” You nod, swallowing.
  3223. “Yeah, lets head back.”
  3225. You duck out of the venue as quickly as you can, looking for your bags before remembering Accy will send them up later some time. Hand in hand, and somewhat unsteadily due to the alcohol and the fact that you’re now lacking the counterbalance of a full wallet in your back pocket, the two of you head back, only a short twenty minutes’ walk from the venue to the front gate, where you get waved in by Aoife, and quickly head off back home.
  3227. No sooner does the door close before Clara pushes you against it, working at your clothes with a ravenous hunger not oft seen in her. You’re taken aback, she’s all over you, nibbling at your neck, her fingers digging into your back, grinding herself against you and tearing clothes off haphazardly.
  3229. You open your mouth to say something but her tongue fills it as her lips meet yours, she kisses you with such fervour you’re pushed back, head connecting with the door painfully, her fingers already through your hair, holding you in place as she tongue-fucks you to rigorously it’s like she’s stealing the breath from your lungs. You hold onto her hips and hold her close, returning the kiss as best you can with her being so dominant tonight and she shows mercy only when you feel your chest begin to burn. She breaks the kiss leaving you gasping, but doesn’t part from your lips, licking them, the ghoul setting you alight with its saliva.
  3231. “What’s gotten into you?” She stops only to look up at you, and grins.
  3233. “I said it. I said it and now I’m going to show it.” She drops to her knees, and your belt comes undone, the button already popped, the zipper already down, your dick, already well and truly hard. She pulls it free and watches as your cock leaks a bead of pre already, the thing barely having time to roll down the underside of your shaft before she’s already taken it with her tongue, and wrapped her soft lips around the head of your cock, a familiar coiling as her tongue slips down the length of your shaft, tightening in rhythmic contractions.
  3235. You groan softly, involuntarily, and run your fingers through her hair lovingly, guiding her head down the length of your cock, urging her along to greater ‘lengths’ yet letting her drive the entire affair. She hugs your hips, using them as leverage to push herself deeper down your cock until her soft, cool lips kiss your groin, her nose pressed up against your pelvis.
  3237. Strong throaty vibrations make your knees weak as she moans her satisfaction, her fingers deep in her ready pussy, jeans still around her knees, her panties plainly soaked. Your fingers roam through her hair and around the base of her pointed ears, losing yourself in the feelings of her as she rolls her own breast around one handed, pinching and pulling at her hard nipples, whining needily.
  3239. Throat deep in your lover, you cum, holding her head close, as your cock throbs and you spurt long strands of hot seed into her belly, filling her with a warmth only you can grant. You slump, giving the door your weight to support, and just grin, sated, playing with her ears and stroking her cheek, even as she brings her lips up the length of your cock, leaving it slick in her spit and just as hard as before you came, if not harder. Her lips wrap around the head of your dick and a rush of sensitivity overtakes you as she sucks out the last of your cum before releasing you with a lewd pop and nuzzling the undersize of your cock like a kitten, smearing her face in spit, pre-cum and seed.
  3241. “I love your smell. I love smelling like you. You can give me more, right?” You take her hand, and pull her up to her feet, her jeans falling around her ankles as she does so. She steps with one foot and kicks the clothes to the side with the other.
  3243. “I didn’t think we were done for a moment. I am very tired though, so let’s head to bed so I can comfortably pass out after.” Her fingers trace imaginary lines across your chest,
  3245. “Mmm, sounds good.” Before she can say anything else, you bend down and sweep her legs from behind the knee, pulling her into your arms where she giggles and wraps her arms around your neck, using it to pull her lips up to your ear and give it a playful bite,
  3247. “Taking control now, huh?”
  3249. “You know it,” You hold her tight and take her up, two stairs at a time before heading into the room and throwing her onto the bed. She squeals and laughs as she bounces on the strong mattress, and you strip your pants off fully, and kneel before the bed, snatching her ankle and hauling her toward you,
  3251. “Oho~ What’cha doing down there, mister?” You settle yourself between her legs, reach around her waist and grab her ass, pulling her close enough to wrap her legs around your neck, “’Cuz I got you now, and I know exactly what I want you to do.” You grin,
  3253. “Return the favour, right?” Not giving her a chance to respond, she tenses as you kiss her clit, to be honest, you didn’t even need to do this. She was already wet enough to take you in one thrust. Regardless, your tongue slips past her folds, and she pulls you further into her with little more than the strength of her legs. The bed shifts as she flops back down onto it, her stomach quivering as you tease her most sensitive spots, thighs still firmly wrapped around your head.
  3255. “Right there, I…” Her mumbled words cut off with a gasp as you attack the place that always makes her legs go weak, and you feel her hand on the back of your head, holding you there, encouraging, as she grinds her hips along your face, “C-close…” You focus on the clit again, nibbling and holding it between teeth and rolling it around with your tongue, sometimes alternating by diving back into her folds with the organ.
  3257. Within no time, her legs clench almost crushingly, she cums, making an even bigger mess of your face, tiny spears of electricity coursing through, alighting each nerve in post climax, leaving in their wake twitching pleasure tinted flesh.
  3259. Her legs unwrap and you suck in a deep breath, leaving a departing kiss on her still-tingling rosebud. She grins down at you, and reaches out, curling her fingers as if to reel you closer. Drawn in, you climb over and atop her, until the two of you are face to face. She cups your cheeks, and licks clean her own girl-cum, pulling you down and hooking her legs around your hips, the cool wetness of her lusty cunt drawing you closer like quicksand.
  3261. You push back against her pull, grinning, and run your fingers across her body, cupping a breast, stroking and massaging, one hand pushing down on her insistent hips, so she can’t just force you in her. Not that it stops her trying, legs straining hard at your hips, to push you on, the head of your cock kissing her pussy lips, enveloped and on the brink of penetration.
  3263. “Please, fuck me already. I need it.” The sheer want on her face even makes you feel a little bad. You give her what she wants, but continue to force her hips down, taking it slow, forcing into her tightness until your cock bends under the pressure, and her gates open. You sink in an inch almost feeling through your cock, the low throaty moan as Clara is taken. Not stopping for an instant, you sink deeper at the same pace. Slow, long and inexorable, feeling her walls clench and twist around you as your cock splits her cool folds, the icy wetness of her juices spurring you to fuck faster, harder, generate heat where there is none. Her legs press into you hard enough to leave indentation in your back and your fingers sink into the soft flesh over her hips as you guide yourself in to the hilt, cock hard and throbbing.
  3265. As her wet, tight depths envelop you entirely to the hilt, her sopping cunt smearing your own pelvis with her juices, she sighs and slackens as you butt insistently at her cervix. “Mmm~ So good, so deep.” You relax, content within her, dick bouncing as you pump a glob of pre into her womb, slickening the passage. She gasps, “I can feel it.” You close your eyes and rest your head between her breasts, breathing lightly and focusing on her rippling pussy, the muscles tightening and twisting around your dick.
  3267. You start to move when her legs clench tighter, and she rolls the two of you over, coming to sit astride you, her long hair draping over your chest and tickling you, “Now, I get to set the pace.”
  3269. Her hips rock, and roll in small circles, as she holds herself up with her hands on your chest, the ghoul’s grinning visage looking down, eager to devour. You groan as she works masterfully at your cock, and leans down to lick and bite at one of your nipples, shards of sensation lancing outwards. Your hands reach for her hips, and you hold her in place, then lift, watching as her pussy clings to the width of your cock as it rides up the length, catching on the glans of your head as you hold her there upon the brink of impalement.
  3271. She continues her little circles, eyes locked on yours, love dancing in flickering wisps behind, grinding your cockhead on her delta. Then she plunges down with a loud, lewd wet smack, pussy so tight you clench your toes to fight against cum in her there an then. Not that Clara has any misgivings, she does just that, eyes fluttering as the sudden insertion throws her into climax, the scent of lust flitting between the two of you and driving you on.
  3273. She leans down, and fills your mouth with her taste as she kisses you, arms encircling you possessively, tight, swinging her ass up and down as she fucks you, hugging you close enough to press her breasts up and create a deep, lusciously soft valley of cleavage. You hold her ass as it smacks against you, fingers sinking in deep, and return the kiss, your tongue twisting about hers, as it slips into your throat coarsely, rough and desperate, robbing you of breath.
  3275. Flesh ripples as she shakes her hips, your balls throb in anticipation of dumping your load deep into her womb. You muster strength and begin to thrust up as she comes down, breaking your hold on her eyes only to blink, unspoken volumes of lust and love passing between. Time halts and progresses at the same measure, and after a quick eternity, she breaks the kiss, drawing her tongue back out of her throat and letting you fill your lungs with air and her scent.
  3277. “Say it.” Her fingers dig into your hair, her other hand flat against your cheek, horny need in her tone, “Say it. Tell me how you love me. Tell me how you own me, my heart. Tell me how you are mine.”
  3279. You buck, flipping her on her back. She doesn’t so much as squeak, just once more locking her legs around you, like a spider pinning its prey, arms around your neck as she holds your face close to hers. “Everything of me, is yours.” Each word lights a fierce flame in her womanhood, “Everything I am is for you, you are mine entirely. I love you.” She kisses you lightly, your faces so close you imagine you can almost feel her breath,
  3281. “Again,” You repeat the words of ‘I love you’ almost as if it were a mantra. She closes her eyes and purrs, before kissing you again, lips hovering barely beyond contact, “Again”. Confessions pass between the two of you as if assurances of existence as the constant stimulation your hard thick cock shearing through Clara’s warming, writhing cunt builds to its head.
  3283. You bury yourself within her, with a sated groan and meet her in her cry as the two of you cum together in perfect unity, climaxing right into her belly, turning the temple walls of her womb white in an offering. Clara’s womanhood takes it all in greedily, milking you for all you’re worth, as you cum an inhumanly large load into her pussy, filling it beyond capacity and then some.
  3285. You fall to a side and draw the blankets over the two of you. Clara stares into the ceiling. “Gryam. I want you. In my life, in me, forever.”
  3287. You pull her close, and she turns to you, a serene expression on her face as she holds her hand over her undead womb, “Not every moment of every day, surely?”
  3289. She giggles, “No, not that the thought isn’t appealing.”
  3291. “Gryam, I mean, w-” You put a finger to her lips, hushing her,
  3293. “Clara. Marry me.” She goes through familiar motions, eyes widening in surprise and excitement, before softening in a heart-melting happiness. You take your finger from her lips, already hearing her answer wring through your very being.
  3295. “I will.” She closes her eyes and nuzzles into your chest, as you hold her close. “I’d love to.”
  3297. Your last sight before you close your eyes, the woman you love in your arms, is the messy bedroom the two of you left in your wake. Still a caretaker, and now, something more.
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