Monster 3

She sits across the room at a good vantage point; she can see all activity in the bustling atmosphere. Not a person comes or goes without her seeing, and so much the better, because it's that day again. It's time to hunt.

Many pass as she pretends to be absorbed in her book. Most of them just aren't right. Too young, far too old. Too swarthy. Too large. Nothing looks right, nothing smells right to her advanced senses. She smells their hygiene products, their clothes soap. She can sense the earthy, sometimes salty, sometimes bittersweetness of their skin. She can also smell their intrigue and fear. And they should, you know. They might not realize that they're in the presence of a superior being, but this just makes her job easier. Hours bleed by, and nothing strikes her fancy. She prefers an intellectual prey item. One that she can play with before she eats it.

Having finished her clever human disguise food (the coffee tastes pleasant and is warm but does not nourish) she decides to pack it in and move elsewhere. There's a bar right off the university campus, plenty of fish there. Yes, today has been a wash, but it's okay, there will always be--

Wait.

That's when she spots him. More accurately, she smells him before she actually sees him. Clean, masculine, woodsy. Youthful. Under the scent of his skin, something sweet, something rotten deep within his body. A scent not unlike spoiled fruit. Oh and he's so CLOSE. He's so CLOSE it's almost unbearable. Her skin prickles and her pulse quickens, and she is certain her eyes are dilating and she's so starving that they might be taking on that peculiar brownish-red that they tend to do when she's hungry and smells food. Yes, this had been exactly what she was waiting for!

Her desires were confirmed a minute later when he actually wandered into frame. Tall, lithe like a cat, tan but not implying that he worked outdoors. Spectacles, sturdy hands, business casual. Oh my god, he was completely perfect. She made up her mind then that she had to have him. Careful and calculating as always, she surrepticiously observed him order and wander dangerously close, taking the seat right in front of her. She relaxed and something in her brain flexed. He looked up, slightly slack-jawed and stupid. Pretty green eyes glued themselves to her mouth. He spoke.

"Hi. You're a Lovecraft fan, I see?" he gestured ineptly at my tome.

"Yes. It's a bit like bedtime stories for the mentally disturbed. Immensely comforting and horribly warped."

"I...uh, you...I'll just leave you alone forever, then." He reddened and turned away from her.

"Please don't," She caught his sleeve between her white fingers. "I enjoy intellectual conversations with complete strangers. Especially when they can't make real words."

She smiled. He was nervous, but so did he. And that is how the chase began.

Let us finish this journey through my head, shall we?

We wheedled away a few hours talking. Discussing literature, horror, and how sometimes the two could queerly twist to form something sick and erotic. He was frightfully intelligent, perhaps a true equal. His partial completion of university at least kept his head above my seven bachelors, only one of which I told him about. It was a bit of a joke, really. I kept the papers framed down a hall in my house, each with their different name and institution lined up in chronological order. When you have unlimited time, it's amazing the stuff you can accomplish if you're willing to put in the money. "But you look so young to be graduated from university already," he eyed me carefully up and down, stopping to rest at my healthy swell of breast and back to my face, framed in striking auburn. "I am older than I look," I retorted, laughing inside at my little joke. I inhaled deeply, excited by the musk of his shirt collar and nearly overpowering scent of coffee and his skin. God, I wanted to just do it there, to hell with the store full of people. But no. I must wait. I've survived so long in this body because I've learned to be careful and I will not waste it yet. It was early afternoon and the sun finally came out from under its grey film. I longed to soak up the sun and warm my tired cells.

"So...have you got plans today?" I asked, certain that he didn't.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Well, I think I'm going to your place to warm up."

"Sounds fine. Although perhaps you misspoke, it's quite toasty in here."

I almost paused in my stride.

He was right, it was warm in here.

I followed his awkward little functional truck out to the bowels of suburbia. Calm, quiet, cram-packed with minorities. It looked like thirty years ago this had been a nice neighborhood of white folks, replaced now by the rat-breeding tendencies of the poor and ethnic. Passels of children of varying ages wandered the streets unattended, and I briefly thought to myself this would be heaven if I were that kind of predator. In the solitary comfort of my dinky little sedan, I was able to release a little of the steam that accumulated as I tried to control myself so as to not make a public mess. My teeth were on edge, the blood damn near boiling over the surface of my skin. I checked my eyes in the rearview and just as I suspected, they had darkened and tinted, but not enough that it would draw attention. Oh GOD, I had to have him. I rolled my windows down to collect some rays of sun; I'm reptilian like that. It's difficult for me to regulate my body temperature, but I do so love sunning myself to stay warm. We arrived at a nice-enough place. A nice tall wall around his courtyard to keep out the unwanted. I could respect that. My own space was highly private, very warm, and very well protected. I couldn't afford for something bigger and nastier to surprise me when I'm vulnerable.

Too bad this human isn't smart enough to know that what he's inviting in is way more dangerous than anything he could ever try to keep out.

It didn't take long for us to attach to each other once inside. The intellectual fires lit fanned other more disgusting primal flames, and the entire thing went up in smoke. In our heated kissing and touching, I noticed a small box attached to his hip. Even better for me, he's physically broken and will be much easier to chew. He tasted exquisite, bold and slick with spit and sweat and it was positively intoxicating. The closer I got, the more scents I recognized. His skin reeked of a boring, manly soap and it appeared as though he was trying to hold on to his last vestiges of true youth in his aftershave, which I smelled almost constantly on the necks and hands of the young men I occasionally preyed upon. But on him? The combination was less desperate and more complex and...teasing. My pulse throbbed hard and insistent in my jugular, and I feared that the same intensity might return to my eyes and the jig would be up.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. Hold on. I have to do this right quick."

He broke free from me and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with another small blue medical device. He pricked his index finger with a tiny pin and coaxed blood onto the small paper extending from the machine. I almost lost it then and there. The sickly-sweetness was so CONCENTRATED in his blood that it both nauseated and inflamed me even further. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on. He returned, gathering me close against him and offering his quarters for us to retire. I accepted, fighting hard and heavily the horrific beast under my skin. Soon, beast! It won't be much longer.

We stripped gradually and relaxed into his bed, a transient bump occurring when he had to unleash himself from the box that I assume kept him alive. I saw where it connected into him, leaving behind a small length of cord and a scary (delicious) needle in its wake. My heart leapt at the thought of how achy and tender that spot probably was, so close to flank meat and so frequently abused. It was clear to me that it had been a while since he was in such a position. I continued in my reverie, admiring his well-cared-for skin and quite literally having to count down in my head till the perfect moment to let go. He was painfully hard and I held him in one hand, debating how far I should take it. When would it be perfect? It was surely about to present itself. He pawed at my panties, black and lace and still very much on.

"I want to see all of you," he said. Not a plea, more like an order.

And he did.

I billowed free from the uncomfortable shell that I occupy, expanding in the room as I tumbled out of the human girl's mouth and eyes, parts of me flowing from her nose like black, thick blood. My eyes shone crimson like they should, my skin (for lack of a better word) black and shiny like PVC. I shoved the worthless shell aside off the bed and focused myself, centering my tendrils of extraplanar smoke and plasma. I was beautiful and horrible all at the same time. And this would be the last thing this pretty piece of meat would ever see. I was almost sorry, he was a fine specimen.

But something was really, badly wrong.

He was smiling.

He was smiling broad and toothy. Like I'd materialized into his dead father or something. Like I was the wife he's always longed for but never really found because he was too hurt and frightened to bother looking.

I allowed myself a confused blink and in that amount of time, the pretty body of the man that reclined before me seconds ago was on the floor in a crumpled heap.

And that was the last thing I ever saw.