Insatiable
Once scared of her own shadow, she’s learned that the best way to deal with her fear is not to fight, flight, freeze, or fawn—it’s to fuck it, and that includes the monster under her bed…
Hi everyone… So I’ve been gone for a while…
My sinuses are my Achilles’ heel. My sinus pressure headaches can knock me on my ass. So I had two days incapacitated by those. Then my kid got a cold and was home from school for two days, and I just can’t write in that environment. Of course I then caught the cold and colds are always nastier for me because, again, my sinuses fucking hate me. So that took me out for a few days. And I recovered enough to get shit done, but at that point, I needed to focus on preparing for a Trunk or Treat I run every year which was this past Sunday. It thankfully went great and I’m mostly healed though coughing and some sinus pressure still lingers.
Long story short, shit’s been rough but I’m now back to writing. Today’s story is the one y’all voted for a while ago—monster under the bed. I hope you enjoy it since it’s been a long time coming 😅
Also, I don’t believe I ever shared the results for the vote on what y’all would most like to see during November when I’ll be focusing on travel-themed stories. This poll was really interesting actually because the winner won by only one vote while all the rest were tied with the same number of votes. So it seems like y’all will like any travel stories I write 😉 That said, there was a winner and it was… Propositioned at the Hotel Bar!
Anyway, I know this may be insane and thus unlikely to happen, but I still want to do four monster shorts like I intended to have for this month. My hope is to have the last one out on Halloween which will be appropriate since it takes place at a Halloween party. So keep your fingers crossed for me because I really want to write it! As for my birthday short, it will happen, but not until I get the first November short out this Saturday. Thanks for all your patience and support!
I look over my new bedroom with a devious smile.
It’s not the biggest bedroom in the house. It doesn’t have the best view over the yard. Its closet may only be big enough to hold my shoes. And, well, the door had been hidden behind drywall. But this is absolutely the room I want to be laying my head down in.
The realtor looked sick when I asked the inspector about the state of the room behind the wall. The two of them shared a glance as if I was a genius for figuring out there was a missing room in the floor plan. The whole town I’ve now made my home has tried to erase this room from existence, but it only takes someone capable of measuring and simple math to figure out a significant portion of the house was unaccounted for in the floor plans they advertised in the listing.
However, where this town sees terror, I see opportunity.
I stand by the window, wearing nothing but a silky negligee and panty combo. The sun is setting and the darker the sky gets, the wetter I get.
Now some may call me an adrenaline junky, others simply consider me certifiably insane, but I like to call myself a fear fucker.
I used to be scared of my own shadow. Every bump in the night. Every voice on the wind. Every flicker of the light. They all had me jumping out of my skin. My therapist told me I should try facing my fear. That I should go see if anything was making a noise or causing movement out of the corner of my eye.
So I tried it once.
I heard a screeching cry in the night and I ran down the stairs at my old house to see what it was. To my therapist’s absolute displeasure, there was in fact something scary there. The ear piecing shriek was my old window being wrenched up its creaking frame as a robber slid into my kitchen.
In all fairness, the man in my house, looked about as freaked out as I did. But, out of the two of us, I was the one that had the right to faint, scream, weep, or whatever response my body wanted to throw at this. So he had the decency to just stay frozen in place while my brain spun the roulette wheel of survival instincts.
Depending on who you ask, there are a range of instincts people will list, though most know the big four: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. However, in this instance my brain chose one of the more rarely talked about responses: fuck.
Let’s just say, I had that robber bending me over my kitchen counter and taking me hard. Never saw his face, never knew his name, never saw him again, but fuck was it a rush.
Which is why when I heard about this so called “haunted” room, I jumped at the chance to give it a test drive. I sold everything and moved out to this little backwater town after having bought the house sight unseen until that day of the inspection.
I had to knock down the wall to the room myself since no contractor would take the job, but I have a good feeling it will all be worth it.
The sun has settled and the last rays of light are fading. My panties are uncomfortably wet and my nipples are poking through the silk of my lace trimmed nighty. With a shiver of excitement, I slide into bed and tuck myself in. Then I take a few breaths to settle myself just in case my enthusiasm scares off this alleged monster under the bed.
There’s nothing for hours and I start to worry that all the stories about this room were wrong.
Maybe I need to be asleep? Maybe it can tell I won’t be scared so it isn’t bothering? Maybe it’s gone?
With a huff of displeasure, I kick off my blankets and lay sprawled out on my mattress, staring up at the water stained ceiling. The possible mold infestation is probably the scariest thing in this room right now.
Then, I feel it.
A black mist curls up from beneath the bed, wispy like diluted ink. It’s rising along all edges of the bed, the tendrils reaching out to test my skin, to trace my shape. I can feel the chilling touch over every inch of my body, except for one place—my foot still caught in the covers.
Of course, I think, recalling what my parents always said to me after I had a nightmare, blankets and sheets are like a forcefield against monsters under the bed.
What I grew up to believe was a simple placebo to help children get back to sleep, is apparently genuine advice from others who must have encountered shadow beasts like the one billowing up from the foot of the bed.
I kick the blankets off completely so I’m utterly exposed to the towering spirit that’s taking on an amorphous humanoid shape.
I doubt something like this entity has a gender but given the way it swells in size with a body like an upside down triangle, it gives the impression of a masculine tapered form. He also has a roundish head at the center of his broad ethereal shoulders and tendrils have sprouted out from it like horns.
However, it’s the long black tentacle-like arms that attract my attention. They reach out, grab my ankles, and pull me off my pillow so I lie flat beneath the shadow man sliding over me.
“Oh yeah, fuck me,” I groan, my every fantasy jumping to the top of my skin as I anticipate his next move.
However, he freezes instead.
His icy tendrils flick beside me, just barely brushing me while the mass looming over my body swirls like a dark hovering cloud. Then I notice two hazy orbs of light looking down at me from his amorphous head.
“What?” I ask with a nervous chuckle. “Too much, too soon?”
I’m not sure if these lights are his eyes but they narrow as if the beast is already annoyed with my shit.
“Do you want me scared?” I huff, throwing my arms up. “I can play scared if that’s what gets you—“
A dark tentacle flies into my mouth, choking my words. Or maybe it’s the tentacle wrapping around my neck that is cutting off my air. Either way, I’m happy as a clam.
I groan, drool sliding out the corner of my mouth as the tentacle pulses against the back of my throat and atop my tongue. That said, there isn’t really something tangible inside my gaping maw. Instead there’s a chilly force pushing back against me and a subtle feeling of liquid swirling around my lips and mouth.
With me effectively silenced, the tendrils rising from beneath the bed continue their slow torturous progress toward my body. The tips ghost over my skin, crawling up my arms and thighs, sliding toward the heat radiating from my dripping core and the pointed tips sticking out beneath the soft, silky draping of my lingerie.
I moan when one grazes the curve under my breast and then when another is just short of reaching my panties.
When my fluttering eyes look up at the glowing globes again, they aren’t dimmed with annoyance but instead have more definition—predatory, heated, curious. His shadowy form congeals into a silhouette with contoured arms and torso, hinting to muscle in the black wisps. The twin tentacles atop his head have stiffened, curling back before angling up into a sharpened tip.
Then, I scream.
His tendrils aren’t grazing my skin with gentle exploratory caresses anymore. Instead the shadowy wisps have wrapped around my tits, tightening at the base and squeezing hard while others slap my heaving breasts and flick their sensitive, hardened peaks.
Not content with just fucking my throat and mauling my tits, the shadow beast also sends his dexterous tendrils to rub me through my panties, pushing the fabric into my slit and grinding against my swollen clit. When it meets resistance in its pursuit to push all the way into my weeping pussy, it finally grips my lacy thong and tears the crouch open before wrenching the straps hard enough to snap them apart.
With the remnants of my panties tossed aside, the horde of tendrils swarming my lower half wrap around my thighs, pulling them apart so even more can grip my labia and cheeks. They’ve spread me wide so my clit, pussy, and asshole are completely exposed to the chilling touch of the small twitching tentacles.
I steel myself for the onslaught that likely awaits me, but then I feel a huff of air over my face. My eyes, previously unfocused with the flood of sensation washing through my limbs, adjust to the darkness hovering over me and I see a mouth cracking open with a smirk. A strong jawline, with small spikes lining the curve up toward pointed ears, takes shape beneath what are now more defined almond shaped eyes and rigid horns.
There are also shoulders forming beneath a thick neck, and arms tightening with mounds of muscle that look like they were carved from pitch black obsidian. I can see how they flex and strain as he watches my body arch and writhe.
And it isn’t just his pecs and biceps that are taut and pulsing. The tentacle filling my aching jaw has become a tangible mass that my tongue can grind on and taste. There’s a subtle sweetness, cool and refreshing. It leaves me tingling and desperate for friction against my most sensitive spots. However, his tendrils only tease my glistening slit, skating around my holes and clit.
I whimper beneath his torturously slow appraisal of my cunt, feeling completely off-balance. He tugs at my silk-clad tits like he’s milking me and thrusts into my throat with increasing ferocity, yet he leaves my prickling nethers exposed and glistening.
Losing my mind, I send my hands down to tweak my clit and finger my pussy, but the arms that had been slowly taking shape suddenly snap into existence with clear cut lines defining his ebony skin. Hands emerge from the shade and snatch my wrists, forcing them above my head and pinning them to the mattress.
The tendrils squeezing my breasts, now have a tangible shape, so that I can clearly feel them gripping my negligee before pulling both sides away from each other and tearing it in two so my heavy tits flop out.
One hand grips one of my newly freed breasts and my back arches into his touch. I groan around the tentacle in my mouth.
Then there’s a moan, but this time it doesn’t come from me.
My eyes snap up toward the shadow beast and find he’s now completely solid—a dark demon of the night with horns, sharp angles, pointed teeth, and eyes full of hunger.
“Suck me hard, human,” he growls, bowing down over me so I can feel his cool breath across my face. “I’m not freeing your mouth until I’ve spilled into your stomach and I want to hear your screams instead of feeling them against my skin. I am not a patient creature.”
No further instruction needed.
I nod eagerly before closing my eyes and hollowing my cheeks. I suck him ever deeper into my throat, my head light from lack of oxygen and my mouth drooling as my tongue slathers his tentacle with saliva.
He snarls and groans, and I can feel two fat tentacles with moist, bulbous heads teasing my pussy and asshole, desperate to push forward but held back by his failing resistance.
“Good human,” he breathes, every sharp tooth on display as he clenches with his rising orgasm. “That’s it. Harder. Deeper.”
I’m barely hanging onto consciousness as it is, but my hazy mind helps my muscles relax and he pushes much deeper into my throat, causing me to gag and my throat to clench around him.
Finally, he spills.
It’s a gush of chilling, yet revitalizing liquid. Not thick and pungent like a human’s semen, but smooth and subtle. And though it is cold on the way down, the warmth that follows in its wake has my whole body buzzing—especially around the sensitive flesh of my folds.
“Fuck!” I cry when he finally pulls out of my mouth.
I swear I hear him chuckle, but I don’t know if he’s amused by my sudden exclamation once my throat is finally free or because he knows he’ll have me speaking in tongues when he thrusts two of his phalluses into my needy holes.
As a slur of nonsensical curses and exultations pours over my swollen lips, he draws a long pointed tongue from my navel, between my breasts, across my collarbone, along my throat, and up to my ear. He then whispers in his deep, teasing voice.
“For decades I’ve laid dormant, starving for the fear I need to survive. Then you come and don’t even offer me a drop of terror to drink.”
His tentacle cocks fill me in ways no human could and I feel like I’m about to be torn in two—and that I’ll thank him for it.
“S-s-sorry,” I stammer, my lurching, writhing body pulling against the restraint of his hand on my wrists and the tentacles wrapped around my ankles and thighs. “Fuck… If you want me to be afraid…threaten to never fuck me again because you’ve utterly ruined me for anyone else.”
Tears are in my eyes as his tentacles ravage me in the most wonderful ways. His smaller tendrils are back to work on my tits, squeezing, pulling, and flicking. More tendrils massage my wet lower lips and circle my clit, rubbing it up and down so it continues to engorge beneath his touch. The tentacle in my pussy keeps pushing against my G-spot and cervix, while the one in my ass, moves out of time with the other so I can feel them thrusting against each other through the thin wall separating them.
All the while, the hand not keeping my wrists in place is wrapped around my throat. His grip isn’t hard enough to cut off air, but tight enough to feel the rapid pounding of my pulse and to assert his dominance over me.
“There will be no need for that,” his rich, deep voice purrs like the distant rumble of thunder. “The moment I shoved myself into your mouth and felt the rise of arousal in both you and I, a surge of energy filled me. Fear apparently is nothing compared to the raw power of carnal pleasure.”
“Fuck,” I whimper. “Then let me be your buffet. Fuck whichever hole you’re hungry for whenever you want.”
These words barely get past my lips as my breath catches with each pulse against my cervix. His thrusts are increasing in power and my hold on my control is diminishing by the second.
“Oh, I’m far from done with you, little human.” His words are a cool caress and the slide of his lips along my neck before he tests his teeth on my skin is enough to undo me.
I scream loud enough that the neighbors are probably certain the dreaded spirit has claimed another victim. Now I wonder if they’ll be disappointed when they see me tomorrow walking with a limp and a post-orgasmic glow instead of shaking with dark circles under my eyes.
As my body clenches him, he tightens around me with a hiss. A flood of the cool slick cum, like what dripped down my throat, coats my bowels and womb.
Our mutual climax is a euphoric high that I didn’t think possible without some serious drugs involved. I’m utterly at home in his grip and skewered upon his cocks.
But then his hold disappears, his tentacles vanish from my holes, and his essence slides out of me and paints the sheets.
My eyes go wide and I sit up, looking around the room, wondering where my shadow beast has gone. Surely, he hasn’t dined and dashed.
“Mmm, you were right, this does cause you fear. Unfortunately it is not nearly as tasty as your ecstasy.”
The dark, teasing voice is no longer a deep rumble surrounding me like an echo in a cavern. Instead it is clear and coming from behind me.
I look back to find my shadow lover now human sized and resting on his side on my bed, looking at me with devious smirk.
“I told you I wasn’t done with you. Though it was nice to sample your fear so I can know for certain that your desire is a far superior flavor.”
Part of me wants to be mad, but then I remember the handsome man with horns and a jagged smile is a shadow demon and the absurdity of it all just makes me laugh.
“Does that mean we can be roommates?” I ask, lying back down and snuggling in next to him.
“Well, I would say you are a guest in what has always been my house,” he says, his glowing eyes full of mischief. “But, yes, I suppose an arrangement can be made. For now though…”
His words trail off as his arms wrap around me and tentacles emerge to cocoon me against him.
“I think,” he continues, his lips brushing my forehead as his skin exudes droplets of the liquid that leaves behind a heated residue that soon has me warm and comfortable in his embrace, “you need to rest. I’m full for now, but I suspect I’ll be hungry again soon.”
“Insatiable,” I murmur with a sleepy grin.
“Exactly,” he says with a teasing, possessive growl.
“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I whisper before drifting off to sleep, content and unafraid.
This was excellent!