Jon Ureña's Blog, page 57

A Millennium of Shadows, Pt. 2 (Poetry)

Link for this part on my personal page, where it looks better

---

I dry my eyes with my sleeves
Before I enter my father's apartment,
And I hide the pain of my injuries
(My wrist they stepped on,
My ribs they kicked)
Behind my practiced stony face.

My father walks through
A thick cloud of cigarette smoke.
He smells vaguely of urine.
"Did you buy all the stuff for the week?"
As I look down, I only nod
And lift slightly the two grocery bags.
"Alright, take them to the kitchen,"
My father says as he puffs on his cig,
"And today make bacon and eggs."

I stand there like a dead tree
While burning pain radiates from my ribs.
"What's wrong with you?" my father asks.
"Nothing," I mutter. "I'm just tired."
I feel my father's eyes boring into me.
"You're not eating enough.
You can't stay this skinny.
I'll feed you, but you have to cook.
If you don't learn how to use your hands,
You'll never be able to work."

I stare at my father,
Who is smoking his cigarette.
He looks at me with his empty eyes.
His mind has long since gone numb.
The smoke from his cigarette
Is the only thing that moves.
We are both trapped
Inside the shell of our minds.

Minutes later, after I vomit in the bathroom,
I hide in my bedroom and lock the door.
I lower the blinds and sit on my bed.
The room is dark. I stare at the wall.

I don't know why I'm here.
I don't understand anything.
I don't even care.
I just want to be left alone.

I want so badly to meet Glyca again.
It doesn't matter if she's real or imaginary;
She makes me feel less lonely.
I try to remember what her voice sounds like,
How it felt to touch that dry, scaly skin.
But all of these details seem far away,
Like they happened to someone else.

As I lie on the bed and listen to music,
My thoughts keep circling around
The questions with which I always struggle:
Is my life worth living? Will it ever get easier?
Will I be happy one day, even just for a moment?

I hear my father shuffling about.
He's a silent, vacant shell.
A hollow vessel, an empty husk,
And I'm trapped inside of him.

Shadows fill every corner of my bedroom,
Creeping along the walls, under my window,
On top of my wardrobe, between the shelves.
They move with a purpose in a silent dance.

The world outside my little box is too big,
Too full of dangers and mysteries.
I much prefer this tiny space.
Everything here is known,
There are no secrets nor lies.
Everything stays put
And remains in its proper place.
The door is closed and locked.
Inside this room, everyone is safe.

Although I'd rather go to sleep now,
I have to cook the bacon and eggs
Or else my father will bother me again,
But by nine, I've cleaned the dishes,
I've emptied my bladder and bowels,
And I can finally lock myself in my room
To spend about ten hours in the dark.

I've just locked the door behind me
When I spot a greyish, delicate hand
Holding the closet door from inside.
As if the creature sensed I had spotted it,
The hand retreats into the shadows.

My heart beats rapidly as I hold my breath.
I can't tell if I just imagined that hand.
"Hello?" I whisper. "Is that you, Glyca?"
After a few seconds of hesitation,
The closet door slowly swings open.
"It is, yes. Aren't you afraid of me?"

Whether I made Glyca up or not,
My insides couldn't care less.
"I wasn't afraid then, and much less now.
I had hoped to meet you again."
The closet door opens wider.
"Please, come out, Glyca," I ask,
"I want to touch you like you said you need."

"The room is too bright," Glyca whispers,
And her trembling voice makes my heart race.
I hurry up to lower the blinds
Until I can barely make out the shapes.
"It's okay," I tell the shadows,
"You don't have to hide anymore."

I sit down on the edge of my bed,
Facing the half open closet door.
Slowly, a silhouette peeks out.
First a head and long hair,
Then a sylphlike, naked torso,
And as she stands straight,
I admire her supple, graceful limbs.
She has three long fingers per hand,
And her toes curl upward, revealing claws.
A meter-long tail moves sinuously
While a liquid drips from its bulbous tip.

Glyca inhales and exhales deeply,
Then she starts approaching me.
"There's something about you, boy,
Something that makes me ache."

When she crouches in front of me,
Her eyes stun me even in the dark:
They are black pools of midnight water,
And her vertical slits gleam a crimson red.

Glyca reaches with her hands
And I'm quick to hold her six fingers.
"Why did you leave that first time?"
I ask in a weak, pained voice.
She lowers her head, then shakes it.
"I feared that you were stunned,
But that soon you would wake up,
And consider me a hideous monster."

I let out a noise of disbelief,
Then I caress her coarse hair.
"That couldn't be further from the truth!
That first time we met, I felt in my heart
That somehow you and I were kin,
And I had never felt so comfortable
With any of the apes that exist out there.
Besides, I'm the monstrous one,
With this plague of cystic acne.
I'm the one whom the world hates and fears.
You're not hideous, you're beautiful, Glyca.
You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Glyca's breath comes out ragged.
A trail of thick saliva glistens on her chin.
Her eyes glimmer crimson red
As her pupils dilate horizontally.
Her tail curls around her lower body,
Coiling itself in a spiral fashion.
"Let me touch you," Glyca whispers,
"I want to feel your warmth."

Glyca climbs onto my lap.
She settles around me as she hugs me tightly.
I open my arms and wrap them around her torso.
I hold her tight, I caress her neck.
I press my face into her hair and breathe deeply.

The feel of her smooth scales
Sends chills down my spine.
I run my fingertips over them,
Feel them beneath my palm.

She slides her cheek along my pimples
Then her cold lips touch mine.
Her breaths wash over my lips and nose.
It smells like flowers and honey.

Our mouths meet, and as I explore hers,
I find two tongues instead of one.
The first of the tongues tastes of sweet nectar
As it secretes a thick syrup that coats my palate,
And makes my stomach growl for food.
The second tongue is a fleshy, molluscan tube
That exhales fresh air into my mouth,
But doesn't suck anything in.
As I inhale its scent,
My lungs are filled with oxygen.

Our tongues tangle and intertwine,
And our kisses become wilder.
Her thick, slimy spit flows onto my face
As a rush of arousal surges through my veins
And my pulse races wildly in my ears.
Glyca grabs my shoulders, pulls me close.
Our bodies press tightly together,
Filling each other's spaces.

I slide my hand over her cool cheek
And I lick delicately the underside of her ear.
As Glyca moans, my hands move by themselves.
They descend to the small of her back,
Then my palms run sensually across her ass.

One of my hands reaches under her tail.
It's fleshy, covered in silky scales.
Thick as a thumb, veiny and muscular.
As I rub it lovingly, I can feel its pulsing rhythm.
Glyca shudders and lets out a long moan.
The black pools of her eyes glisten with pleasure.

A wave of heat has spread throughout my body.
It washes over me and fills me completely,
Making everything seem beautiful and new,
Soothing the anguish within my soul.

I pull away slightly so I can fondle her breasts,
But her chest is flat, lacking even the nipples.
I can't find the contour of her ribcage,
As if her organs were only protected by flesh.

She pulls off my shirt, exposing my naked torso.
As her slippery tail snakes around my neck,
Glyca strokes my chest with her cool palms.
She traces circles around my nipples,
Which sends shivers through my spine.
"You're so handsome, boy," she whispers.

Glyca's long, slender fingers
Glide along my chest, belly, and back.
She runs them over every bump and blemish.
She must have noticed my injury in the dark,
And she traces the bruise from the kick.

"Are you going to die from this?" Glyca asks.
"No way," I say. I won't be that lucky, I think,
But I feel a twinge of fear,
Because if I die I can't be with Glyca anymore.
"This group of bastards assaulted me," I say.
"Yes, I know what happened."

As I was about to ask how come she knew,
Glyca cups the back of my head,
Then fills my mouth with her sweet tongue.
I pull away enough to talk.
"Please, Glyca, lie down on your back.
I want to make you feel real good."

Glyca grins, then rolls off me.
As she moves on her hands and knees,
Her long tail wags wildly.
Once the back of her head sinks in my pillow,
I kneel near the end of the bed to admire her.

I scoot closer, then I reach with my hands
To move them down her chest
So I can stroke the surface of her flat stomach.
I bend over and kiss her cool, silky scales.

My hand slips down between Glyca's thighs,
Where her scales are slightly bumpy, and rough,
Like the surface of a large seashell.
Glyca keeps moaning softly and breathing deeply.
I can smell the salty fluids seeping from her pussy.
"I've never done this, but I want to eat you out,
Which I think will make you feel so good."

Glyca lets out a noise of delight.
"That's what I want, to be eaten out."
She spreads her thighs wide apart
As I position myself to pleasure her.

I start licking her juices right away,
And soon her pussy throbs and gushes.
I tongue her clit gently, and the head pops out.
It has no hood, but it feels hard and round.

Glyca grabs the comforter and groans loudly.
She cries out in pleasure, bucking underneath me.
She pushes her ass upwards,
Forcing my face deeper into her vagina.
My tongue makes contact with a sensitive spot
Which causes her entire body to shudder violently.
Her soft thighs clamp around my head.
I can feel the scales rubbing against my scalp.

Glyca grips my hair tightly as her back arches,
Then turns as if to release something from under her.
While I lick and suck on her throbbing clit,
I feel something slippery sliding down my back,
Leaving a slimy trail like a slug.
I feel the bulbous head of her snake-like tail
As it slides up the crack of my ass,
And it brushes lightly against my asshole,
Which causes it to twitch and spasm.

The tip of her tail rubs my hole,
Lubricating it with its thick, slimy liquid.
I can hardly think, busy eating her out,
But my penis has grown as hard as it can.

"Mmm," Glyca moans. "Your butt is warm."
As I feel her tail trying to push its way into my ass,
I wonder what would happen if I didn't fight it.
Suddenly, her bulbous tip slides off my crack;
An orgasm is overwhelming Glyca's body
Like a tidal wave that floods her entire being.
She holds my head tightly,
As if she feared that I would stop licking.

I press my face into her pussy
And devour her clit relentlessly.
I can feel her muscles contracting.
Glyca arches her back and screams loudly.

She twitches and shakes as she comes.
My mouth is full of her slimy juices,
Which also pour down my face and neck.
Seconds later, Glyca lets her head sink back.
She moans softly and lets out little gasps.

As I was kissing her inner thigh,
Glyca grabs my shoulders and pulls me up.
She shoves her tongue in my mouth
And her claws dig into my back.
As I gasp for air, I inhale the fresh oxygen
That Glyca's second tongue feeds me.
It's long and as thin as a noodle.
I can feel it sliding down my throat.

I realize that I wasn't imagining it:
Someone is banging insistently on my door,
And I hear the handle as my father tries to get in.
"Hey, lower the volume of that porno movie!"

Glyca has jumped from the bed like a startled animal,
And is crouching in the shadows close to the closet.
Her breathing is ragged, her pussy is dripping.
"I will go now. But we'll see each other soon."

I climb off the bed as the handle of the door turns.
My father thought I was jerking off,
But the motherfucker still tries to burst in.
Fucking brain-dead piece of shit.

"He won't come in," I whisper, "the door is locked.
Please, don't leave, Glyca. Spend the night with me."
Glyca smiles, and her sharp teeth glint.
"We need to be careful. But I'll see you very soon.
Thank you for everything. It felt amazing."
She turns sharply and slithers into the closet.
I stop hearing her breathing as if she teleported away.

My father bangs on the door again.
I want to open it and smash his brains in.
"It's already off!" I shout. "Leave me the fuck alone!"
For a few seconds I only hear my hearbeats.
My father grunts and mutters something,
Then I hear his footsteps going away.

I pull the comforter over my body
And bury my head under it.
I can't believe what just happened,
That I got to eat out Glyca's pussy.
My cock twitches inside my pants.
What should I do? Should I jerk off or not?
No, I need some rest, and to heal.
I focus on relaxing and falling asleep.

I dream about Bear and his goons
As they kick me down stairs,
Beat me with sticks,
Throw rocks at me,
And piss on my face.

I beg for mercy, I try to stop them,
But my limbs won't move right.
Suddenly, I awake
Sweating and gasping for breath.
My chest hurts and burns.
My bruises throb with pain.
For a second I hear Glyca whispering;
The most beautiful sound in the world.

It's four in the morning,
And tomorrow I'll need to decide
Whether I'll dare to go to school
Or hide from everyone's gazes.

As I pee in the dark, I daydream:
Glyca is lying on my bed.
She's wearing a black corset and stockings.
Her breasts are soft and round,
And she's dripping with sweat.
I'm standing at the foot of the bed,
And my big dick is swollen,
Leaking loads of sperm.

When I go to sleep again,
My thoughts are scattered, disjointed,
And fantasies of sexual desire intertwine
Into one big web.

A Millennium of Shadows, Pt. 1 (Poetry)

Link for this part on my personal page, where it looks better

---

I wish I could burst every light bulb
And sew every pair of eyes shut
So the mirrors would stop showing my face
And I wouldn't be looked at ever again.

Every time I go to take a shit
Or to wash my lanky, misshapen body,
I fear facing the mirror's reflection;
It shows me how I really am: a monster
Who remains sickly pale and scrawny,
And whose face is covered in cystic acne.

I see a freakish abomination
That no one will touch.
That no one wants to talk to.
That no one will ever love.

Such a grotesque freak shouldn't exist,
As my classmates insist on reminding me.
When I dare return to my classes,
Where the sunlight shines through the windows,
My classmates' gazes burn my bumpy, itchy skin,
While they snicker at me with their twisted mouths.

What did I do to deserve being myself?
Everyone else is so disgustingly happy
Like they don't know what misery is.
But when I try to tell some about my pain,
They just stare with blank expressions
And make me feel like a monster
For wanting to die.

No one will care about me once I'm gone.
They'll forget about me within days.
Even my mother forgot after she left,
And my father prefers ignoring me.

I can't say I blame my mother for leaving;
I would also do it if I had the strength.
When I return home, my father is sleeping;
He spends most of the day passed out
While the TV speaks out its propaganda
In a room that reeks of cigarette smoke.

Usually, the fridge is empty,
Until my father gives me some money
Of whatever his disability checks provide
So I can buy food for him and myself,
Although he rarely eats when I'm here;
He just sleeps the whole day away.

My father barely talks to me,
He hardly seems to notice I exist,
Which tends to suit me just fine.
Besides, I hate hearing his voice,
How he struggles through sentences
Due to his damaged brain.
I hate how he looks at me
With pity, but not sympathy.
I hate seeing the odd way he blinks,
The bloodshot eyes,
The drool that drips down his chin.
I despise his bald head
And his hairy, scruffy beard,
And the smell of his rotten breath.
I hate his stupid, vacant stare.
He's a freak who cursed me to exist.
I wish I could destroy this world
To put an end to all of his misery.

The few times he said nice things,
He usually compared me to grandpa,
And told me how alike we are.
When the old man still lived,
He was a bald, creepy loser
With crooked teeth, scraggly hair,
And dark circles under his eyes.
His skin was pale and wrinkled,
And his arms were covered with veins,
Like those of a corpse,
While his legs looked like a bulldog's,
All overgrown with hair.
I remember how he smelled
Like he'd been dead for weeks.

I was only ten years old,
But I knew what a monster he was.
Every girl at my primary school
Used to tell me about my grandfather;
He waited for the girls after school
So he could touch their perfect skin,
Call them his little princesses,
And repeat how beautiful they were.

At least at my father's apartment,
I can hide inside my assigned room,
Where nobody can bother me.
It's my refuge from the world;
There I am safe and free.

In the darkness of my room,
I create worlds that only I know about.
I don't need to face the ugly outside
To imagine more beautiful sights.

I try to hide my feelings
Behind a wall of apathy.
I need to pretend everything is fine.
Besides, if it ever gets too hard
I can jump off a bridge or slit my wrists.
There's nothing they can say or do
To save me from myself.

The next morning, the sun rises,
Lighting up the sky red.
At night, the sky will darken
And then become pitch black,
Only for the next morning
For the sky to change back.
The whole cycle repeats itself
Like ocean waves
Crashing upon the shore.

"Look away!" my mind screams
As I stand in front of the mirror.
How many times I repeat this scene?
Every morning I watch my ugly face
Hoping that the acne disappeared.
Every morning after waking up,
Every afternoon when I return home,
Every night before I go to bed,
I look at myself with horror,
Hoping that today I'll die in my sleep
So I never have to wake up again.

My father told me once, "Smile,
People are supposed to smile.
If you keep smiling at others,
Then at least they'll pity you."

This morning, my strength fails me,
Like it has so many other days.
I can't face so many hours of stares,
Of snickering and mockery;
Besides, I can't concentrate anymore
On the worthless lessons
Meant to turn me into a wage slave.

I buy a train ticket and exit wherever,
Whether it's another city, another province,
Another continent, or even an alien planet.
I roam to walk the pain away,
But a few of the strange passersby,
Often children, turn to look at me.
Some laugh and point
As they let out noises of disgust.

I hate them too.
I wish I could destroy this world,
And all the people within it.
I wish I could tear down the walls,
And rip apart the buildings
And the bridges and roads.
Everything would be destroyed,
And the world would be a better place
Without all of its ugliness.

If I spot someone exiting an apartment building,
I hurry up before the door closes,
And stare at the floor as I sneak in.
If I'm lucky, the faceless stranger will leave,
And I will be left alone in that empty space,
So I can hide between pitch black floors,
Where no one will look at me.

I sit for hours on the stairs
While I stare at the darkness
And listen to the echoed sounds
As they travel along the stairwell.

When I hear voices or footsteps,
I pretend I'm going up or down the stairs.
If someone passes me by
And I dare raise my head,
They avoid looking back at me,
Which serves me just fine.
The only thing I want to do is hide.

I can always hold my shit in;
I don't eat that much anyway.
But when I need to pee,
I can irrigate a potted plant.

I've found a home in these empty spaces,
In the deepest depths of my mind,
The darkest corners of my heart,
Where no one can laugh at me anymore,
And no one cares about my deformities.

I conjure beautiful portraits in the dark.
A young woman with long blonde hair.
She wears a black lace dress
Which hugs her curvy figure.
Her lips are plump and pouty,
Her blue eyes twinkle mischievously.

She smiles at me, touches my skin,
And tells me how wonderful I am.
She's always kind and gentle.
I will never have to face her disgust,
Nor feel the coldness of her rejection.

She whispers sweetly in my ear,
And caresses my pimply forehead
With her soft white hands.
"You're beautiful," she says.
"Your eyes sparkle like diamonds in the night.
There's not a person in this world
Who doesn't love you,
And who could ever say
That they didn't want to fuck you."

I reach out towards her image.
My fingers trace her shape in the canvas.
Other days, my hand only touched air,
But today my fingertips press against skin.

I hold my breath, I shake my head.
"Don't be ridiculous," I tell myself.
But I'm touching something solid,
And I feel the cold radiating from flesh.

I move my hand up
Until my fingers touch a cheek
And coarse hairs on a forehead.
Suddenly, cold hands take mine,
And stroke it gently.
Strange fingers brush my palm.

"W-who are you?" I dare to ask.
A pair of cold fingers approach my mouth.
I part my lips, and I taste the skin.
It reminds me of grass and dirt.

"You can call me Glyca," a whisper says.
I gasp. I wonder if I'm dreaming,
Or if I have finally lost my mind.
Should I run up the stairs
And switch on the light to look at her?
She's a shadow that just appeared.

As I probe her frame further,
I feel her scaly skin,
Like the texture of a reptile's hide.
She feels familiar, like kin,
And her coldness soothes me.

I caress the smooth contours of her cheeks.
I trace my fingers over her lips.
"Where did you come from, Glyca?" I ask.
"I'm always here, in the shadows,"
She answers with a raspy voice,
While her mouth turns upwards
Making her lips curve into a perfect bow.

Glyca opens her mouth,
And I feel her thick, syrupy saliva
As her tongue glides along my finger.
My heart jumps, my dick twitches.
A warm spreads through my body.

I feel the tips of her long, sharp teeth.
They are as pointed and jagged
As the thorns of rose bushes.
"Do I frighten you, boy?" Glyca whispers.
I shake my head slowly.
"Nothing feels scary in the dark."

I feel her holding her breath.
Suddenly, her fingers brush my face.
Her scaly skin grazes my infected acne.
I'm disgusted and ashamed,
And I want to apologize for my ugliness.

"You are lucky we are in darkness,"
I say in a thin, weak voice,
"Because that spares you the sight
Of my rotting, hideous face."
"Your words make me smile,
Which you also can't see.
You can tell I'm not human,
And I've been searching the world
For a very long time."

I wait for her to explain herself,
But in the end I have to ask.
"What are you looking for?"
"I need a mate," Glyca answers
Without any shame or hesitation.
"The kind who can love me.
I am cold, I am alone.
But there is someone out there
Who will touch me, hold me.
Someone I can share myself with,
Who will give his body in return."

I sit in silence for a few seconds,
Then I reach with my hand
To caress the cold skin of her face.
Her tongue slides along my palm.
I feel the soft, thick wetness of her saliva.

"Your body gives off an intense heat,"
Glyca says in a quavering voice.
"My body aches, it burns.
It's like I'm on fire."

My heart beats hard
As her cool, dry fingers
Glide across my scalp.
I feel her face inching closer.
Her breath caresses my skin,
And reminds me of flowers,
And rain, and fresh air.

She brushes the pimples on my jaw
With her cool, moist lips.
Her warm, slimy tongue
Runs down my neck.

We are both shivering warmly.
We both want the same thing.
I lean in to taste her mouth,
But Glyca pulls away.
"No," she whispers, "not yet."

I was touching her face
When her form disappears
Like a phantom,
Leaving only shadows behind.

Maybe half an hour later,
I still haven't moved an inch.
I sit on the lukewarm stair
As I stare into the darkness.
I'm listening to the echoes
In case I distinguish Glyca breathing,
But she's gone
As if I just imagined her.

Although I've always felt insane,
I could always tell apart reality
From my wildest daydreams.
But now I know I must have gone psycho:
No one like Glyca could ever exist.
The darkness must be swallowing me.

I close my eyes,
And I can still feel her.
The dark is filled with her body.
Her skin slides against mine.
Her hands run through my hair.
Her lips touch me, and then they part
Allowing my tongue to glide inside.
Maybe it's a good thing
To go insane.

Back home, at night, I barely sleep.
My mind has snapped, and I feel it
As a constant gaze upon me.
I dream about shadows
And cold, scaly skin.

I force myself to attend my classes.
My classmates pretend I'm not here,
And I barely am; I can't retain the lessons,
Because my mind wants to hide.
I fall into daydreams without realizing,
And I feel Glyca at every moment.
Real or not, she wants to be loved,
And so do I.
But what does love even look like?

I used to spend my afternoons holed up
In my room filled with junk and trash,
A perfect hiding spot for a boy.
But these days I'm roaming the streets.
I wander down the city blocks
And look up at people who walk past
While I feel a void in my chest.

If I made her up, she's not coming back.
If she was real, she's nowhere.
I don't know where I'm going.
All I can think about is Glyca.
I want to give her all my love
So she doesn't need to hide.

At school I failed to find what I sought,
So I start skipping classes again.
I go straight to the apartment building
Where Glyca had appeared.

I wait for hours,
But the old woman who opens the door
Closes it swiftly behind her.
"I don't know you," the woman says,
"And there's something wrong with you.
If you belong in this building,
Open the door with your own key."

I stand in front of the locked door,
As I stare the old lady down.
"The shadow girl said I could find her inside."
"You're crazy," she says. "Get out of here."

I sneak into another apartment building
To pass the time between floors.
I sit quietly in the darkness
Waiting for a sign from a phantom.
The shadows are empty.
I feel alone, and lonely.
I want to feel the touch
Of someone else.

I imagine Glyca's scaly skin.
I can see her teeth like thorns.
I can smell her thick, syrupy saliva.
I want to be inside her mouth
Where I would feel safe and loved.
I would share my soul with her.
I would become one with her.
I want her to take me away.

My dick twitches, and I fondle it.
I unzip my pants in the darkness.
Nature could have given me a win,
But even my dick is humiliating:
The shaft often hides inside my body,
And I need to grow it a bit
Before I can wrap my hand around it.
I was cursed with an overgrown clit.

I imagine Glyca's soft lips
Sliding along my worthless tip.
Her tongue flicks out
To lick every inch of my dick.
I hear her moaning
With the rhythm of her tongue.
As she sucks on the head
I feel her thorny teeth,
That pierce through the skin.

Glyca's so cold and wet.
She's not human,
But she feels like home.
I want to bury myself deep inside her,
And let her devour me.

My balls tighten,
And I feel a rush of release.
I spurt my seed into the darkness
While I call out Glyca's name.

"I don't want to go back,"
I say in the dark.
"I'll never find her again."
My mind screams in agony.
The familiar feeling of being alone
Is now a black hole in my chest.

As my shoulders tremble
And my tears fall on my lap,
I feel a soft touch on my shoulders
As if someone was kneeling behind me.
I turn around sharply and reach for her,
But my fingers only grasp air.

Days later I'm returning from the supermarket
While I hold two bags with the week's groceries.
It must be some local holiday,
Because the kids are enjoying a foam party
That spills from a square onto the pavement.

The children's joyful exclamations
Are like nails scratching my brain.
I'm in a daze, the streets feel strange.
Everything is blurry, and my skin crawls.
The entire world feels wrong
And my mind is full of shadows.

Something hits my ankle and I stumble.
I thought someone stepped on me by mistake,
But when I turn around, it's Bear,
Accompanied by his posse of evil shits.
I never learned his real name, nor care.
He must be twenty or so,
And his body is bulky, thick,
Strong enough to assert his dominance.
Three druggies and dropouts follow him,
To laugh at Bear's jokes and hold people down.

"Yo, Volcano Face," Bear says to me,
"Why are you showing that mug in my streets?"
I remain quiet, I walk faster,
But two goons trip me and I fall on my knees.
When I reach for the bags of groceries,
Someone kicks them down the street.
Bear and his friends are laughing hard.

I try to stand up, but Bear pushes me down.
I dare to stare at them, to glare.
"You're such an ugly loser," one of the guys says.
"Tell me why I shouldn't beat you up," Bear says.
"Just leave me alone," I mumble weakly.

They've got me surrounded.
I would never be able to fight them off.
In my mind, I hang them from hooks,
And tear their skin with a rusty knife.
I want to castrate them slowly
And force them to eat each other's dicks.
I want to become a shadow monster
With cold, scaly skin.

I manage to mutter, "Get away from me."
Bear first laughs, then kicks my ribs.
While the kids all hoot and scream,
Two of his goons grab my arms
So they can sink my face into the foam.

My eyes burn with soap and tears,
And I inhale foam with my ragged breath.
A few women scream at us,
"Stop! You are hurting him!"
Bear laughs, and steps hard on my wrist,
Then lifts me forcefully by the neck.

I can hardly see with my irritated eyes.
A group of blurry women have approached us.
"We don't like this guy," Bear says harshly,
"He's just an ugly weakling,
And we need to teach him a lesson,
Show him how he deserves to live.
You be careful where you stick your noses,
Because we aren't fucking babies."

They push me one last time,
And I hear their footsteps leaving
As I hide my face in my hands.
I'm trying to breathe through the tears
And the agony of being alive.

Someone's warm hand grabs my arm.
"Let me help you," she says softly.
"It's okay, let me look at you," she says.
I refuse.

My stomach twists around itself.
Every muscle in my body constantly aches
From stress, anxiety, depression,
Anger, sadness, loneliness.
I can't escape, I'm collapsing inwards.

I want to curl up in a ball and disappear,
But I'm not strong enough to kill myself,
So I keep pushing on and on
While I wish desperately for the darkness
To swallow me whole.

Festerbump's Fantasy Village, Pt. 4 (Fiction)

Link for this part on my personal page, where it looks better

---

The three villagers and I had given up on venturing deeper into the forest, and instead we tried to listen for the trickle of water to locate the stream. It was complicated to distinguish between the sounds of birds chirping and the wind rustling through the leaves and branches, but the trickiest part was the sound of the villagers' footsteps. Even the softest step on the carpet of dried leaves made a crunching noise, so they had to keep a careful watch on where to place their feet. We found two different edible species of mushrooms that didn't look too disgusting, which the villagers added on top of the berries amassed in the basket.
The sound of running water grows loud enough that we know the surrounding trees must be hiding it. We follow the sound, and we suddenly reach the edge of the forest, arriving at the riverbank, which rises steeply on both sides of the brook. The stream flows swiftly between boulders, rushing past with white foam, carrying bits of wood downstream.
"Well, it appears we have found a source of drinking water," Kurtz says, relieved.
My villagers stop in front of the bank, and peer into the crystal clear waters. The bottom of the brook is muddy, full of slippery stones. Us four gaze for a while at the silvery flow and listen to its soothing song. The midday sun warms my skin, the gentle breeze caresses my cheek. The air is sweet with the scent of growing plants.
I find myself comparing this pleasing moment with the world my real body is stuck in: lying on the lounge chair in a darkened room of a cramped apartment, located in an ugly and crumbling world that I wish I could forget. It must be around two or three in the morning, and tomorrow I'll have to work on my freelance contracts or risk losing a couple of clients.
"Let's walk along the edge until the riverbank goes flat," Joseph suggests.
"I need to rest for a good while," Kurtz says as he follows the older human. "This day has already been quite tiring."
The villagers have to walk around lush vegetation, including tall reeds, that have grown besides the waters. Further upstream, the brook forms a few shallow waterfalls. As soon as the slope flattens enough for the villagers to walk on the pebbly riverbank, Sue hurries to fetch some water. Her breasts bounce around inside her peasant dress. She kneels on the bank and dips a cupped hand into the brook. When she drinks, she closes her eyes and lets out a squeal of delight that would have made my real body much warmer. She also splashes her cheeks and neck with cool water.
I sit down next to a boulder and stare at the rushing water, which carries away leaves and twigs. I'll need to log off soon, and it has soured my mood. When was the last time I walked through a forest in real life? Maybe back when I was a child. But the virtual experience is so immersive and compelling that I guess it makes no difference. Even the nastier monsters that we might come across wouldn't damage me. Once again I wish I could be plugged into this system permanently so I could never leave.
I look up at the sky. The bright blue dome is dotted with white clouds, and the wind rustles through the leaves of nearby trees. When I look back down, Kurtz is plunging his hands into the cold water, then he washes his face until his long beard is dripping wet. Joseph has headed to the largest piece of driftwood, which is floating near the closest edge of the brook. Joseph kneels beside the driftwood, places both hands under its broad flat top, and lifts the heavy object. When he sets it down on a patch of soft mud, two tiny frogs pop out and dart towards the trunk of a tree growing close to the stream. They hide among the roots.
"What is that about?" Sue asks. She approaches the human as she holds her hands behind her back.
"Now that we'll be able to feed ourselves decently enough," Joseph says, "until we start growing crops, we'll have to figure out how to build a few huts."
The dwarf sighs as if contemplating the work ahead.
"So we'll have to haul large pieces of wood back to the clearing. How do we plan to carry them?"
"We'll have to chop most of them up, and then find a way to fabricate a few log carriers."
"I assume that the higher being among us will help with that," Kurtz says, then looks around as if to locate me, but he realizes that I could be anywhere now.
I float closer to them.
"I'll help you, of course, but I'll also have to start saving up for more significant boons."
"Shouldn't we also need to carry some water back to the clearing?" Sue says as she drinks more from her cupped hand.
"I guess so."
I conjure a big wooden pail with a metallic handle. The three villagers flinch, but Sue is pleased.
"Thank you, lord Festerbump! It's such a relief that we can rely on your support."
It feels so satisfying when the villagers praise me, particularly this elf I have a crush on, that I want to help them all the time. I don't recall anyone praising me like this in real life, even the few times I went out of my way to make life easier for others.
"If there is anything else you need, please let me know," I say.
The three villagers sit in a circle to rest for a while. Joseph puts down the bow and quiver next to him, then lies back on the pebbles and closes his eyes. Sue and Kurtz eat berries and mushrooms hungrily. When Sue is full, she lets out a long sigh and lies down as well as if to take a nap, and crosses a forearm over her eyes. I leer freely at how her breasts stretch the soft fabric of her dress, at how the breeze plays with her dark gold tresses.
"I guess we'll have to start gathering wood until the evening," Kurtz says, disheartened.
"The sooner we start, the fewer nights we'll spend sleeping under the stars," Joseph says, his eyes still closed. "One of these days is going to rain for sure."
"That would be miserable," Sue says.
"At least the rain would wash away some of the mud," Kurtz says as he checks his clothes.
"Also, if our godling is kind enough to produce a sturdy axe," Joseph says, "we could chop up suitable trees right next to the clearing."
I sigh.
"I'm sure that an axe will cost you plenty of effort, given that I have to pay for it. So you'll need to spend your energies gathering decent wood for the rest of the day."
"Well, I'd rather collect wood or chop down trees than hunt dangerous animals," Kurtz says, "so we can leave all the shooting to you, human. And I'm talking about animals far more dangerous than deer and the nasty spider we came across."
Sue's chest raises as she fills it with air.
"For a while let's just enjoy the sun and rest for a while, alright? This life is worth very little if we can't take a break from time to time."
When even the dwarf lies down, I face that my break has ended. I need to wake up from my lucid dream, log off and return to my dreary reality. I have the urge to say goodbye to my new friends, but they won't know I'm gone. I stop the game, and the VR system returns me to the hub. It's an endless, silent grey space with only the barest mesh forming a dome over my head.
I shut off the system. My eyes are closed, but I feel myself lying on my lounge chair, as well as the weight of the VR helmet on my head. I open my eyes and face the ceiling of my dark, cramped bedroom, and I smell the dust and my own sweat. A small lamp casts light onto me and the mattress next to the chair. I left the window open, which lets the sounds of the street drift into the apartment. The usual drunks are jabbering loudly in the nearby bar, as freely as if the world belonged to them, and I guess it does. They can keep it.
I close the window and lumber to the kitchen for a glass of water. I sit at the table, drink half of the water, then freeze with the glass halfway to the table. I can't focus my gaze. My mind is trying to organize by itself all the work I'll have to struggle through tomorrow, possibly until three or four in the afternoon. I feel a surge of fear when I realize that I'm not sure I'll be able to accomplish any of it.
A familiar sentiment overwhelms me: I wish I were fucking dead. I've never been cut out for this life, and I have no idea why I bother enduring day after day of this nonsense. I want to return to the virtual world and be with fake people who understand what it means to live a real life, or else I want to grab the nearest knife and slit my wrists.
I slam the glass against the edge of the table and watch the shards fall. I'm not thinking straight. My senses have become dulled by the soft haze of the VR world, and the sharpness of reality is overpowering. I can't stand it anymore. I hope I'll manage to sleep for enough hours.
I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I walk to the bedroom, I switch off the lamp, and pull the sheets off my mattress. I crawl under them. A couple of minutes after I close my eyes, when the darkness feels total, I let the tears flow for a while. There's nothing to do except weep, and I need to empty the grief from my body before I fall asleep.

* * *

The sun of the early afternoon bathes the trees in light, while birds fly freely between the branches above us.
"So should we build a hut for each villager?" Sue asks enthusiastically.
"Our options will be limited by the amount and quality of materials we can gather," Joseph says, "so that's going to be a problem, even if our lord Festerbump grants us an axe."
"And most of the valuable resources are buried," Kurtz says. "So we'll probably end up having to dig."
"I'm sure you'd feel more comfortable in an underground home, but we'll have to make do with the materials above ground."
The three villagers keep looking around at the fallen branches and trunks we come across.
"Let me tell you an example of how not to build a house," Kurtz says, and sighs. "This happened a few years ago in a community I used to live in. They tried to construct a building mostly out of mud bricks. We had no proper tools to dig the foundations, and as a result, when the walls weren't yet finished, the floorboards collapsed underneath. The workers managed to salvage the construction, and a family lived there for a while, but when spring arrived, the floor gave away completely and buried them under a pile of dirt. What I mean is, we have to be extra careful if we barely know what we are doing."
Sue grabs a fallen branch, then leans on it as she gazes thoughtfully into space.
"We'll have that in mind," Joseph says, "but I'm worried about getting decent lumber to begin with. Transporting logs to the clearing would be a pain. Our best option would be to chop down trees in the edge of the clearing. And that way we can use the same wood for all the huts as well."
"I'm telling you now," I say, "I can't conjure an axe with the goodwill you have accumulated through your efforts, because I've spent too much of it. So you'll have to focus on gathering available materials first."
"Alright, then we'll have to change the order in which we gather the materials. I was thinking of using straw for the roofs, and it would work as rope too. It does wonders to protect against wind, rain and snow. But we can't make it without the stalks of cereal plants."
"What about those rushes and reeds that are growing along the riverbank?" Sue suggests.
Joseph nods as he rubs his stubble.
"Yes, we should gather them. They will provide good insulation, and they can even be made into a basket, when we need more and lord Festerbump could use his powers for better options. The main issue is that we don't have any tools to cut the plant stems, but I guess we can just gather them for now and rely on the axe later."
"Let's get to it then," Sue says. "I don't want to be caught in the woods when it gets darker."
My three villagers barely speak as they head to the brook, a stretch of which passes by a kilometer or so away from the clearing. I accelerate time until they reach it, and they busy themselves gathering reeds and rushes. Sue walks with a light step as she does so, sometimes humming to herself. I can't stop watching her. She moves with the gracefulness of a dancer. Her hair flows behind her, long and golden like wheat fields, and shining brightly in the sunlight. The men look awkward as they outstretch their arms to root out the most suitable reeds beside the stream.
I wish I had been born into Sue's skin, or I guess into anyone like her. I might then enjoy doing things like these. I'd be useful, for a change. I suppose it's too late for that.
When the three villagers have piled up a large number of long, slender, green reed shoots, they set out for the clearing with the load. The dwarf, who's holding one end of the bundle of reeds, staggers at times, visibly exhausted.
They leave the reeds on the grass of the clearing, next to the pail full of water. They stand around as they recover their breath.
"Is this enough work to reward us with an axe, godling?" Kurtz asks in a sarcastic tone.
"It's very close. I'd say that if you spend a couple of hours gathering more useful stuff, I'll have your axe ready for tonight."
The prospect of racking up two more hours of tiredness must have gotten to the dwarf, because his legs tremble, and he lowers himself wearily to the grass.
"Just stay here," Sue says to him. "I'm sure Joseph and I can do the work by ourselves."
"Alright," the dwarf says as he fails to hide a smile of relief. "But don't get carried away."
Joseph and Sue scour the surroundings of the clearing, and they stack piles of suitable sticks, fallen branches and tree bark to haul them to the clearing eventually. These materials will later serve as planks, beams, roof tiles and such. By the time they decide to finish, the trunks surrounding them are blocking most of the sunlight. A breeze has picked up, and in the dimness, the branches sway in unison.
The two working villagers return to the clearing, hauling a few branches that were at hand. Joseph's arms are scratched from the bushes and thorns. They sit down on the grass close to the dwarf, and wipe the sweat from their brows.
"That went by quick," Kurtz says.
I bring up the interface to conjure tools.
"Hard work deserves a reward."
In a few seconds, as the villagers wait expectantly, an axe appears on the grass in front of them. It's made of black iron. The blade is thick, but not too wide, and ends with a small spike at the back. The handle has a grip like that of a machete.
Sue claps.
"An axe!"
"A mighty weapon that can cut through anything," I say.
"It's beautiful," Kurtz says as he reaches out for it.
After the dwarf picks up the axe, he stands up and examines its blade. He runs his fingers along its edges, testing its sharpness.
"I can hardly believe it," he says in a thin voice. "Just where do these tools come from?"
I shrug.
"From the world of the gods."
"You have our gratitude, lord Festerbump," Joseph says, tired.
"A thousand thanks to the great Festerbump," Sue adds.
My villagers' gratitude barely registers a blip in my consciousness. I feel like I'm interacting with them from behind the glass of a zoo exhibit. My mind is getting fogged up.
"I guess I can be decent enough from time to time," I say. "I wish I could do more, though."
The next time I look over to Kurtz, he's taking off his shirt. The hair that covers his muscular shoulders connects with his hairy chest, and his thick brown beard flows down his powerful torso. Thankfully he's keeping his pants.
"That's wholly unnecessary," I say.
Kurtz smirks.
"You two, follow me," he says to the other villagers. "I'll show you how this thing gets used."
He walks towards the woods. Sue and Joseph stand up, and they walk behind him.
"This axe is a gift from the god of the universe, I guess," Kurtz says as he grips the axe with both hands. "I've never had one before, but I just need to hold it to feel that anyone with it would be able to make a good living."
"That may be your dwarven blood speaking," Sue says.
"I would have rejected such a notion just days ago, but you may be right."
A short distance away, in the woods, lies a huge tree trunk that has recently felled itself. Its branches are heavy and thick, and they spread wide. Kurtz grips the handle of the axe tightly with both hands. As he grits his teeth, he raises the axe above his head and brings the blade down with great force. A loud crack echoes. He strikes the log again and the sound of splitting wood resounds throughout the area. His muscles bulge as he swings the axe once more, then again. He has to stop every few seconds to catch his breath, but he keeps at it. The axe has carved a deep groove through the hardwood, nearly cutting through.
"Whoa," Sue says.
Kurtz stops after the fifth or sixth swing. The axe has split the tree trunk into two pieces.
"You've done well, master dwarf," Joseph says, "but I think we'd better rest for the remainder of the day. I'm sure we are all hungry."
Kurtz nods, but he’s looking at the axe he's wielding as if surprised of the effect that holding it has on him.
"Sure, I can leave more chopping for tomorrow," he says. "I don't know what happened to my body, but I feel so strong now."
The sun sets on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the clearing. After my three villagers sit down close to the basket with berries and mushrooms, and the pail full of water, their exhaustion gets to them. Kurtz breathing sounds ragged. All of them are dirty and covered in more or less dry sweat.
They eat in a trance, gobbling the scavenged food like beasts, without any thought or emotion. The first stars begin to appear, shining like jewels, and by then, the three villagers have collapsed onto the grass. They're asleep before they know it. Kurtz starts snoring. One of his hands is almost touching the axe, and its blade gleams dully.
I float towards Sue, who's lying on her back, eyes closed. Her dark gold hair has spread across the grass. I stare at her pretty face for a while as I fall into a trance of my own. I wish I could sleep that peacefully. I wish I wasn't alone in this world.
A few minutes later, I log off from the game. I need to nourish the real body I'm trapped in.

---

A few days ago, when I finished the previous part, I was sure I wouldn't write again for a long while, but the next morning I started writing as soon as I prepared my coffee. My brain is a mess. However, the overall state I have fallen into has worsened; I feel that every task is unsurmountable despite any previous experience, and I just want to crawl under the sheets and sleep for weeks.

More importantly for this story, I think I'm done with it for a while. I just can't manage to make writing it fun for me, although I'm not sure if I can make anything fun at this moment.

Festerbump's Fantasy Village, Pt. 3 (Fiction)

Link for this part on my personal page, where it looks better

---

As my three villagers walk slowly into the forest, the morning sun shines through the leaves overhead. The sounds of insects and birds fill the forest with noise. Kurtz grumbles every now and then as if being surrounded by beauty bothers him, while the other two villagers are warming up to the prospect of building a home here.
Sue stops next to a clump of ferns beside the path, and points at a patch of mushrooms growing near the roots of a tree.
"Look! Look!"
Kurtz stops walking and peers suspiciously at the little white caps poking out of the mossy dirt.
"Are they edible?" Sue asks.
Joseph steps forward and looks closer. He reaches down, twists and pulls the bottom of the stem of one of the mushrooms, then tears it off. He holds the mushroom up for Sue and Kurtz to see. They both take a sniff, but shrug.
"It smells sort of funny..." Sue says with suspicion.
"I've never eaten anything that came from a mushroom before," Joseph says.
"You don't eat things that come out of the mushroom, human," Kurtz says, "just the mushroom itself!"
Kurtz turns around and starts to walk away.
"Wait," I call after him. "Where are you going?"
"To find that stream," he answers curtly.
"I mean, why don't we pick some mushrooms for breakfast?" Sue asks.
"We're not eating that shit," Kurtz says without turning back.
"Will you wait for a second?" Joseph asks.
Kurtz stops, takes a deep breath and walks back reluctantly.
"Do you know how many mushrooms are poisonous? I haven't seen that variety before. You have no clue what you'd be putting in your mouth."
"I know, but..."
"But nothing. I can't be the only person who knows that plenty of mushrooms are dangerous. It's a simple fact."
I clear my throat to get their attention.
"My godly powers can help with this predicament."
"How so?" Joseph asks.
When I interact with any object of the game world, I can bring up a panel that shows its properties. It floats next to the patch of mushrooms as if I were wearing AR glasses. This is one of the species of fungi that the developers of the game brought over from the real world. It's called Amanita bisporigera.
"One of my powers consists on the ability to identify anything we come across, and I can tell you that eating even a small amount of this deadly mushroom could kill you."
Sue steps back.
"You're kidding!"
"This fungus is called the 'destroying angel', and it's extraordinarily poisonous. Its toxin causes cellular necrosis."
Kurtz frowns.
"Cellular necrosis? I don't know what either of those words mean."
"It means don't eat that shit," I say.
Kurtz shakes his head, narrows his shoulders, and resumes walking. The other two villagers follow him this time.
Joseph looks over his shoulder to address me, assuming I'm following them, and he's right.
"We can rely on you regarding whether any of the potential food we come across will kill us, right?"
"Of course I will. I have no reason to lie about something like this, and my knowledge is perfect."
"Plenty of berries are poisonous as well, aren't they?" Sue asks warily.
"Many things in this world will try to kill you even passively, for sure. But let's just keep going and see if something out here might be edible. Don't worry. We'll all be fine. It's my job to look after you three, and I promise to do it as best I can."
We come across a small bush with berries that the developers have invented. I don't retain the nonsensical latin name for this species. They are greenish purple spheres covered with bumps. Their texture reminds me of rotten meat, and its scent comes across as strawberry jam mixed with pus.
Kurtz shakes his head.
"I don't care if these ones are edible. I don't want to witness any of you eating them either."
"They are poisonous," I say.
"Let's just continue..." Sue says, deflated.
Shortly after, we encounter a small plant whose stems produce small flowers.
"Those flowers are poisonous too," I warn my villagers. "Don't touch them. Also, see that leafless branch above us, with all those white dots covering it? This kind of tree is poisonous too. Don't climb it."
The three villagers stare at the branches, which are about four meters off the ground.
"Are you serious?" Kurtz asks as if I'm making a cruel joke.
"Absolutely."
"Why did you choose this poisoned forest of all places for us to found a village? Was this a punishment?"
I rub the eyes of my avatar, which feels the same as if I were inhabiting my real, decaying body. My criteria for picking this coordinate of the generated world was reduced to it containing a temperate forest and being far enough from hostile settlements. I went ahead with the first coordinate I came across that matched those criteria. A more careful player would have gone over the lists of flora and fauna that this world had produced to make sure that the forest didn't contain, for example, radioactive trees or carnivorous plants.
"Well, a forest that contains plenty of poisonous vegetation is unattractive for the kinds of pseudo-sentient animal or monstrous species that may have wanted to raid your future village otherwise."
"But it's also unattractive for people who need to forage here to survive!"
Joseph approaches the source of my voice. His expression is level-headed, or aloof.
"Are there edible berries in this forest, godling?"
"That's what we ventured into the forest to figure out," I say as confidently as I can.
"I guess we now know why you aren't a major god," Kurtz mutters.
My heart sinks, and I have a hard time looking directly at my villagers although they can't see me. I've abandoned previous playthroughs of other games because the sentient AIs ended up hating me, so the temptation to rage-quit remains, but now I'm mainly worried because I have learned very little from my experiences. I want to blame it on depression. I want to blame a lot of things that have gone wrong in my life on my old demonic pal.
I take a deep breath.
"Listen, I chose this forest to found a new village because it's in the middle of nowhere. Very few sentient species ever come here, and there's hardly anyone else living nearby. That diminishes the chances that if someone does stumble upon us here, they will attack us. Currently, we are very vulnerable, so we need to speed up our efforts of locating sources of edible food other than hunting."
"Alright, let's try to solve this issue as soon as possible," Joseph says decisively.
Nobody breaks the silence for a few minutes as we proceed deeper into the forest. The bushes become thicker and taller, and as the undergrowth gets denser, it's harder to spot the plants. Both Kurtz and Sue are sweating, and already tired.
A group of butterflies flutter past my invisible head. They are orange, black and yellow striped.
"Look how they dance in the air," Sue says dreamily.
She reaches for one of them, and it lands on the back of her hand. The insect's wings are a brilliant iridescent orange. Its body has four short legs and a large abdomen that houses a pair of tiny eyes. A row of small teeth runs along the inside edge of each wing, and the tip of the sting is curved and sharp.
"Ouch!" Sue complains.
She retracts her hand sharply, which causes the butterfly to fly away. As the elf steps back, a bead of blood appears on the patch of skin where the butterfly had landed.
"Are you alright?" I ask.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she answers with a forced smile.
"Those butterflies were venomous."
As Sue gets paler, Kurtz grimaces in disgust without sparing the insects a glance.
"How bad of a venom are we talking...?" the elf says in a thin voice.
"It won't kill you," I answer. "Just don't scratch it, no matter how good it may feel. Anyway, let's keep moving."
I was getting increasingly dejected until I spot a cluster of black berries growing among a bed of grass. There seem to be thousands of tiny fruits protruding from stems made of fuzzy hairs. Most of the berries are ripe, soft round seeds encased in traslucent jelly.
"Finally!" I blurt out. "Those are edible, and very nutritious as well."
Sue smiles like a kid who got her hands on an ice cream cone. She plucks a handful of the berries and places one on her tongue. She chews on it for a few seconds.
"It's good! Just a little bitter, but tasty."
Joseph takes a berry from her hand and pops it into his mouth. He chews it thoughtfully.
"This will work."
Kurtz sighs. He grabs a handful of berries and munches on them as if he's trying to get a dose of vitamins or minerals from them. He seems pleased by their taste.
"So we'll get to eat at least berries, possibly some mushrooms, apart from whatever animal we kill."
"We should thank God for providing such abundance," Joseph says as he crouches to pluck fresh berries.
"Abundance? We have strayed far from the clearing, and we have only found one species of edible berries. Nevermind, how are we going to carry them back?"
I bring up the interface with the list of all the stuff I can spend the accumulated points on. I conjure a large basket made of straw, which appears on the grass between my villagers. It will take them a while to get used to stuff popping up into existence, but the three of them take big handfuls of the berries and drop them into the basket.
"That should be more than enough," Joseph says. " We shouldn't be excessively enthusiastic in plucking berries unless we are sure we will eat most of them."
"One day we'll make jam out of them," Sue says perkily.
As Joseph carries the basket full of berries, we walk further in the same direction. There isn't much sunlight filtering down down into the forest. We move cautiously, walking around obstacles without touching them.
I had noticed that Kurtz hung his head low and seemed deep in thought. He suddenly starts talking over his shoulder to me.
"Godling, why can't you just make a bunch of useful stuff appear whenever you want? What's the limit here?"
"It depends on the amount of actions my villagers perform and which are conducive to their survival and the prosperity of their future village. The harder you work, the more power I have to grant you boons."
"So you are unable to conjure stuff otherwise?"
"I'm serious, yes."
"Who the hell made that rule? Some god above you? Or is this a property of reality?"
I have nothing to gain from revealing to any sentient AI that they exist in a computer simulation. My job is to keep them going, which will contribute to distract me from my own problems. I'm not like those other players who enjoy inflicting existential crises on their subjects; I've had to struggle through such crises for my entire life, and I want to spare others from those nightmares.
"There are mysteries on every layer of this universe, my friend," I say grimly.
I would have expected Kurtz to retort something to annoy me, but he furrows his brow and scratches his long beard. The silence between us four grows awkward.
"How old are you, by the way?" Sue asks to the dwarf.
The elf's arms sway gracefully as she walks briskly. She seems much happier than before.
"If you should know, I guess I'll tell you," Kurtz says reluctantly. "I'm twenty."
"Is that dwarf code for something?" Joseph asks as he snaps his head towards Kurtz. "As in you have actually lived for a few hundred years?"
"No, I've literally just lived for twenty years!" Kurtz says with a bit of annoyance, and then he takes a deep breath. "Given how ruinous the last war was for my people, I'm lucky that I have survived so far."
"But the length of your beard..." Sue says while she gestures as if she herself had grown one on her delicate face.
"I guess you have met very few dwarves! For you taller peoples, having a beard is a sign of maturity and wisdom, but even dwarf women start growing their beards before their first period!"
"Weird, isn't it?" Sue replies.
I shiver.
"Disturbing, more like it."
Kurtz shoots me a look of outrage over his shoulder.
"I was working in my store when you chose to involve me in your existence!"
As I was about to reply, Sue interrupts me.
"So I'm older than you, Kurtz, by a few years! I'm your big sister."
Kurtz looks down.
"I had a real sister before the orc war," he mutters in a thin voice. "I don't want a new one."
He walks on in silence. I notice that his shoulders are shaking slightly.
A few minutes later we spot something troubling among the trees ahead of us: a giant spider web. Several webs. The sticky strands stretch across the path in front of us, covering a large area. A dead, desiccated rabbit is suspended from the tangle, as well as a few other cocoons.
"What the hell?" Kurtz says.
"God, I hate spiders," Sue says as if she wished she could shout it.
"They are terrifying, evil beings," Kurtz agrees quietly.
Joseph steps casually towards the web.
"They are intelligent creatures that build intricate traps to capture their victims. This particular one has worked well, since there is plenty of prey in it."
He picks up the rabbit carcass hanging off the thick strand, and I cringe.
"Hey, don't touch that nasty crap."
Sue attempts to grab the dwarf's arm, but only manages to touch his shoulder awkwardly as she points with a trembling finger at a hole in a nearby tree. The hole is covered in silky hair, and at first I only make out a big, bulging eye staring at us. The creature inside is motionless, its mandible closed tight around a large moth. The arachnid's carapace is greyish brown, rough-looking like sandpaper, but glistens faintly in the dimness. Two pairs of legs emerge from behind the spider, one pair reaching up to support its body and the second pair folded neatly along its abdomen. Its round thorax sits on top of the third leg pair, supported by a cluster of bristles. From the base of the abdomen protrudes a fat tail ending in two tiny pincers. As if sensing we have noticed it, the arachnid swings itself off the wall of silk, leaving the empty husk of the moth behind. Its movements are surprisingly graceful despite its size.
Before I know it, the three villagers are running away. I call after them, but they ignore me.
I'm alone with the cat-sized spider, which is crawling slowly over the webby grass. Although I should be invisible to the arachnid, there's something eerie about how it's staring in my direction. To my surprise, this one creature isn't venomous.
I turn around and float in pursuit of my fleeing villagers.

---

Unfortunately, I'm on the verge of dropping this story, and maybe writing altogether for a while. These past couple of weeks I've felt unmotivated, lethargic, out of it, and unable to focus on even the stuff that I usually enjoy. I rarely want to do anything or go anywhere. I'm likely depressed again. In addition, I've had to handle huge messes at work, and the usual idiocy of many of the users I have to deal with, as well as being pursued to solve problems that aren't my responsibility, has gotten to me. Then I look at the current state of the world, and how the leaders of what remains of Western civilization manage to take even more insane and suicidal decisions at every turn (somehow in the back of my mind I retain the hope that at any new disaster they will surely have learned their lesson, but they never do). My city has gotten so unsafe in the last few years that I rarely want to go out unless I have a reason or it's sunny enough to go in the woods. In general, everything is either shit or feels like shit for me at the moment.

Festerbump's Fantasy Village, Pt. 2 (Fiction)

Link for this part on my personal page, where it looks better

---

Like most nights, I lie awake as I stare into the dark. I can't breathe properly, something is squeezing the inside of my chest. I've wasted the last few hours turning over in bed because I can't switch off my brain. I need to get at least a couple hours of sleep, because I'll spend the first half of tomorrow programming the latest gadget for a client's website. I can see myself hunched over my desk, programming away to meet the deadline, the entire time wishing I were sleeping instead. Even the crazier dreams make sense to my subconscious, while waking up makes less and less sense every day.
My thoughts continue churning. If only I could reach out, grab hold of something solid. A rope ladder that leads upwards. A staircase that leads downwards. Anything that doesn't disappear under my feet whenever I put my weight on it. Or maybe something to lean on, that would support my tired heart.
The whole night passes in a feverish blur. When the alarm blares, I can't tell if I have slept at all. I can hear cars passing by on the road below. I sit up in what I call my bed, which is just a mattress and a blanket, and I rub my eyes for a while as I gather the strength to stand up.
I prepare a warm cup of coffee and I sit in front of my desk. I've received new emails from a few clients who want updates, but I haven't managed to reply to other clients who wrote to me days ago. They wait to hear from someone who's barely here anymore.
After some long hours of typing, I've had enough for today. I make myself a grilled cheese sandwhich for lunch. I face that I will need to go out and buy stuff to fill my almost empty fridge; it may be around a week and a half since I bought groceries. I take a shower, mostly to clear my head. After I dress myself with jeans and a shirt, I grab my old-fashioned leather jacket, my oversized black woollen beanie, and my favorite heavy boots. Once I walk down the stairs, I realize I've left my apartment without the obligatory mask. I turn back and grab one from the coat rack.
It's dark outside, as if the sun was already setting, because the clouds hover low, threatening rain. The air is damp and chilly. On my way to the supermarket, I pass in front of the occupied outside tables of bars, mostly frequented by strange people whose languages I don't understand. Everybody speaks so loud. I want to shove my index fingers into my ear canals.
I hadn't worn a mask for a while. I'm breathing lukewarm air mostly made of carbon dioxide, and every time I exhale, air escapes through the gaps between the mask and my nose, blowing particles into my eyes. I feel sick to my stomach, and every step is an effort.
As soon as I enter the supermarket, a staff member checks my temperature, then lets me pass. I feel a sudden wave of exhaustion. It's so hard to ignore the constant noise of the shoppers, and the brightness of the fluorescent lamps, and the smell of the food stalls, and the background music, and the sound of the cash registers. My head is bothering me, my skin itches.
All the customers are wearing masks, and most are dressed in warm clothes. They stand at a safe distance from each other while they check out the goods. I try to avoid meeting anyone's gaze, afraid of being infected with whatever virus they are carrying, or with their humanity.
I spot someone familiar out of the corner of my eye. For a split second I recognize Sue, who wears a coat and a scarf, and holds a shopping basket while she reads the back of a cereal box. But she's just a middle-aged woman with long, dark blonde hair and above average breasts. She looks like a mother.
Sue. What a stupid name for an elf. Other players complained about the lists of names from which the generators make their choices when creating new NPCs. There must be mods out there to expand or improve those lists, but I haven't bothered to search for them. Besides, the game just updated, so those modded lists may not work with the current build.
I'm already infatuated with that elf; she's as perfectly hot as only a virtual person can be, she admires me because I'm powerful, and she belongs to a world where I'd rather live instead. I can hardly wait to return home and lose myself in the virtual realm, where I may forget, even if just for a few minutes, that my real body lies on a lounge chair located in a world that's crumbling at an exponential pace.
My head hurts. A dull ache, like a hangover. I'm waiting in queue to finally leave with my groceries. I smell stale sweat. The noise level is unbearable, especially when the store assistants try to communicate in loud voices. I'm nervous, tense, as if I were standing close to wild animals and waiting for them to attack me.
As I hold my three shopping bags filled with groceries that may last a couple of weeks, I hurry out of the building. I'm feeling increasingly ill. While I head straight towards my apartment building, my vision is blurred, my mind feels foggy. A feeling of unreality lingers in me, as it has for long. I feel as if I could punch a wall only for my fist to pass through the molecules of the paint and the bricks; it would make sense if this entire world was a scenario built to fuck with me, given how every aspect of it assaults either my senses or my mind.
I just notice that a rancid reggaeton song is increasing in volume and approaching me from behind when the source brushes me by: it was a couple of teenagers on a bicycle, who are zigzagging through pedestrians as if racing at an obstacle course. At least I'm not the only pedestrian who stops and glares at the couple of shitheads, who know that riding a bike on the pavement is illegal, but that even if police officers were to spot them, they wouldn't bother telling them off.
When I finally reach my apartment, my right hand trembles as I unlock the front door. I shut it behind me. I take my mask off and throw it on the console table. I wish I never had to leave the safety and sanity of my apartment. How does anyone tolerate spending time around human beings?
Once I've undressed myself down to my underwear, I set my purchases on the kitchen table. I unpack the groceries and put them away either in the few cupboards or the fridge. I'm itching to lie on the lounge chair to lose myself in virtual reality, but I'm also hungry. I pull out a couple of tins of tuna and eat straight from the container. I wash it down with water.
A few minutes later, I've done all I needed to give up being human for a couple of hours. I lie back comfortably on my lounge chair, I put the VR helmet on my head and I adjust it. When I exhale, the accumulated anxiety that had been squeezing the insides of my chest leaves through my nostrils. My mind is now calm, clear, almost lucid. My heart is pumping fresh blood into every part of my body.

* * *

I've returned to the clearing surrounded by a temperate forest, and I'm floating weightless. The hands of my avatar are as transparent as a jellyfish, but my whole body remains invisible for the three people I left sleeping on the grass. I fly down to observe the young woman lying in front of me. Sue is curled into a ball with her hands covering her face. Every last one of her dark gold hairs is perfectly placed.
As pleasant as the scene feels, I won't wait around for hours until my three villagers wake up, so I accelerate time. The villagers stir frantically in slumber. Kurtz, the dwarf, snores loudly, while Joseph tosses fitfully, turning every now and then as if enduring a bad dream.
The sun hasn't risen yet, though the day is starting to turn blue. A cool breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the smell of dew and pine needles. The birds are chirping happily in their nests. Now that the villagers are mostly silent, I hear that water trickles somewhere nearby. Everything is vibrantly alive. I'm overwhelmed by an urge to explore and learn more.
This clearing and the surrounding forest will be home soon enough, both for the villagers and for me. Life will begin anew. We'll grow food together, we'll hunt animals for meat and fur, we'll make baskets and wickerware. We'll live together in harmony. And in time we will forget how miserable we really are.
Sue's hair is spread out around her face, and her breathing sounds like a gentle sigh. Her eyes appear closed, but they are merely covered by her eyelashes. Her lips are slightly parted, revealing the tip of her tongue, and a strand of saliva is dripping onto her chin. Her arms and legs rest motionlessly next to her torso, giving the impression of an angel statue come to life. I wonder how her skin would feel like beneath my fingertips.
When the three villagers finally wake up, though, they're hungry, tired and irritable. Kurtz stretches his back carefully while grimacing, as if it hurts.
"So, where does your god go every morning? To worship himself?"
He laughs at his own joke. I'm not sure whether he has a sense of humour or simply likes to provoke me.
Joseph scratches his stubble. The sun shines bright upon the dew-covered grass.
"I doubt that a god needs to sleep."
"He's also your god for now, Kurtz," Sue says. "But I sure hope he appears... I don't want to spend a whole day here without any direction."
Kurtz shakes his head. He looks down at his boots, which are caked in mud and dirt.
"I guess the only thing a dwarf can do is obey god, and then ask for forgiveness when he makes a mistake."
"Try to avoid making mistakes to begin with," I say with my booming voice.
The three are startled and turn sharply towards the source, although I'm invisible for them. The dwarf frowns, but Sue seems relieved.
"Did you three sleep well in this idyllic clearing?" I ask.
"I did, yes," Joseph replies.
"I had such pleasant dreams," Kurtz starts resentfully, "knowing I have been kidnapped into slavery."
"What slave master are you talking about?" I ask.
"You! Damn invisible wizard!"
"That's ridiculous. There's no slavery involved."
"Don't play dumb, magical fart! You stole us away from our people! From our stores! You think this place is heaven?!"
"It is a beautiful forest," I say.
Joseph is quiet, gazing intently into space, and the lack of support bothers the dwarf.
"What is it with you, human?" Kurtz asks to Joseph, and taps his arm with the back of the hand. "Don't you care that this god has snatched you away from home?"
"I haven't had anything resembling a home for years," Joseph answers calmly. "This is a nice break for me. I feel quite free here."
Kurtz snorts, and shakes his head.
"Free? Free to what? Go and commit suicide? Join the army of orcs? Wander around the forest and get eaten by wild animals? I guess some people are made for servitude!"
"If not a godling, a baron or a count. At least a god, even a local one, has genuine powers."
"There's nothing noble about serving another person. Serving is just submission."
Sue lets out a noise of disbelief.
"I guess you are single, Kurtz."
The dwarf's face turns red.
"W-why would you say that?!"
"I can tell you don't like to share. Serving others means helping other people achieve happiness, isn't it?"
"Sue is right, Kurtz," I say. "We're all equals here. We'll help each other out and work together for the common good of our community. That is a sort of mutual service. Right, Sue?"
"Equal?" Kurtz mutters. "To a minor god?"
"Bottom line, Kurtz, if you are unhappy, you should just quit. Don't want to live in this beautiful forest? Then leave."
The dwarf grunts, and rubs the side of his nose.
"Yeah, right! Just walk off into the woods alone? Without money? With nothing except the clothes on my back?"
"So it's in your best interest to cooperate."
The dwarf's anger disappears, replaced with sadness.
"I don't have any choice. I can tell that you are a prick, godling. The kind of minor god I wouldn't approach willingly. But now I'll only get to leave when you allow me to."
I sigh.
"Good enough for me. Any other objections?"
Joseph stares at the forest as if he's devising a plan of action.
"We can't afford to waste any more energy. We have work to get started on."
"You can't see me smiling, Joseph," I say, "but you are a breath of fresh air. How about you, little elf lady?"
Sue looks down shyly. Her golden hair falls onto her eyes and she tucks it behind an ear. She smiles sweetly and shrugs.
"Sure thing. It feels good to be useful."
Once again I regret that the developers of this game have refused to add the ability for the players to interact physically with the villagers, because I want this elf so fucking bad. All I can do is fantasize about her naked body, and once I log off I can masturbate furiously.
Kurtz stops rubbing his eyes, then speaks in a dejected tone.
"Have you three forgotten that we lack any food, that the deer carcass has spoiled? How are we going to work on an empty stomach?"
"That's true..." Sue says. "Godling, you couldn't conjure a barrel full of grain by any chance, right?"
I suck air through my teeth. To be fair, any decent player would prepare a list of provisions carefully before embarking on a new playthrough, and those provisions would have fed my villagers for at least a couple of weeks. But I was so depressed that I couldn't be bothered. Poor bastards.
"I made sure to pick a forest with plentiful berries. And whenever we locate the nearby stream, we'll have clean water that you won't need to boil."
"It's not exactly the same as finding a big bag of rice," Kurtz grumbles. "But I guess there are worse ways to fill up our bellies."
"Alright," Joseph says as he bends down to pick up the bow and arrow. "What direction should be follow to find the stream?"
"I don't remember," I admit, embarrassed.
"You don't remember?" Joseph repeats, unsure if he's heard me right.
"I'm a minor god, not the God, if there's any in this universe. I forget things. Just explore the forest for a while. You'll come across water, I'm sure."
Sue points at the knife lying on the ground. The blade is stained with dried blood.
"Who's handling that?"
The dwarf grunts and picks it up gingerly.
"I guess it belongs to Kurtz now," Kurtz says.
"Just don't kill any of your new friends with it," I say.
He rolls his eyes, and looks at the human and the elf as if to reassure them.

Festerbump's Fantasy Village, Pt. 1 (Fiction)

Link for this short story on my personal page, where it looks better

---

My mind is fogged up again, my eyesight has started to go funny. The world is turning a dull, flat grey. My old pal depression is paying me a visit.
I'm so tired all the time now. My head feels heavy and leaden. Whenever I try to force myself to leave my cramped apartment to take a walk, I wonder what's the point. There's nothing for me in those streets. No friends left behind to greet. All gone, or just never there at all.
I have the means to escape, the old tried method: I take a pee and a shit, I undress myself down to my boxers, and I lie down on my VR chair. Then I strap my brain into place and load up the virtual hub.
I've been trying this recent game, an advanced clone of the old 'Dwarf Fortress': the player is a godling that oversees the development of a fantasy village. The sentient AI characters are the stars, for as long as the player can stand to witness their beloved villagers suffering.
It takes some skill and imagination to build a medieval village that doesn't make you want to pull your hair out. It's complicated to get the right balance between resources and population density and infrastructure and housing stock. You need to plan carefully, arrange everything like a clockwork mechanism, and then keep an eye on things as they happen, so that you can respond if something goes wrong. I'm barely getting the hang of the game.
I start from zero, in a generated world. Temperate forests are newbie territory, but the depression hinders my ability to focus, and I'm using this game to distract myself. I choose a wide clearing surrounded by a forest. The trees are full of little green leaves, the grass is bright yellow and lush. It smells fresh here, clean and sweet.
I generate my starter three AI villagers. The RNG gods provide a nice combination of personalities: a human farmer (Joseph) who hates his life; an elf girl (Sue) with big breasts; and a dwarf merchant (Kurtz), who thinks he owns everything.
The villagers stand around confused, while my avatar, invisible to them, hovers over the scene.
"How did we end up here?" Joseph asks.
The dwarf, Kurtz, narrows his eyes in suspicion.
"Dunno. Maybe you're the one that got us into this situation," he grunts.
Joseph rubs his temples.
"I think we were all wandering around in the woods when suddenly we found ourselves here."
Sue is looking around frantically. Her hair reaches down to her waist, and is a pretty dark gold. I can tell I will spend plenty of this playthrough ogling this virtual creature. If she survives.
"My sister is home alone!" Sue says in a high-pitched voice. "I need to get back!"
I speak to them with my stentorious voice, "Listen to me, villagers! I'm your god now, and I have brought you here to this forest so you three would establish a new village. This is an adventure that will test your abilities."
They all stare blankly in my general direction. Then Sue looks down at her chest.
"I don't have abilities, merely big breasts."
"Yes, I've read your bio."
"What's the point of having these? They just get in the way sometimes."
"You'll develop some. Abilities, I mean. Anyway, get to work. You need to entertain me, or else there might be consequences."
"Why are you even doing this to us?" Kurtz asks. "I've been through enough already. We didn't ask for any of this."
I sigh as I hover above their heads. The three of them look up at the source of my voice, puzzled.
"H-how should we call you, godling?" Joseph asks.
"Refer to me as Festerbump. It's an internet thing. I'm going to give you three a chance to prove yourselves worthy of the task that lies ahead of you. You must build a village in this sacred land, and survive for at least a few years. If you do, then I shall reward you handsomely."
"A-a few years?!" Sue yells. "My little sister is alone!"
"Your sister will be fine, I'm sure."
"When will we return to our homes?" Kurtz insists. "I have a store to run."
I laugh bitterly.
"Oh, the three of you are too pathetic. There's no such thing as a home, only a prison cell called reality. Now to begin. Start working!"
The three villagers look at each other nervously.
"What do you want us to build?" Sue asks. "I'm not good with tools."
Joseph, the farmer, rubs his stubble as if thinking about the weeks or months of work ahead.
"For anyone to visit our future village, we'll have to figure out where exactly we are, and build a road..."
"This is stupid!" Kutz complains. "Why have we been chosen, of all people?!"
I've gone over this crap with other games that feature sentient NPCs. A significant part of the playthrough involves convincing the AI to do your bidding, or preventing them from going insane.
"I let the RNG gods choose you because I need to switch off my brain, forget how bad things really are," I say. "So just get to work, damn it. Make something. Build a house. Build some houses."
"Build some fucking houses," Kurtz mutters. "You know, you could build yourself a house instead of making other people do it. You are supposed to be a god, aren't you?"
"I'm not omnipotent," I confess. "I don't have that kind of power."
Joseph keeps talking to himself out loud, "They'll need roofs, doors, windows. And furniture."
Sue puts a hand on the dwarf's shoulder to calm him down, but he shoots the elf woman a nasty look.
"Hey, a god has put us to the task," she says. "We are building for someone, aren't we? So let's make sure he likes it." Sue looks up to address the invisible presence. "Will you make sure my sister doesn't suffer any harm while I'm gone?"
Her sister likely doesn't exist as data in the game, but this kind of background info helps round Sue out as a character.
"Sure, I'll take care of your sibling," I say, then sigh. "So all of you, stop bitching and get to work already."
Kurtz keeps shaking his head.
"Just leave me alone, damn it. Do you think we know how to make houses? I'm a merchant! I can tell these two are clueless as well!"
"You'll figure it out, I'm sure," I say. "Quit whining."

* * *

The three villagers venture into the surrounding woods to gather sticks and logs light enough to carry. Watching them walking around is boring, so I make time pass faster until, a couple of hours later, the three villagers have amassed a decent haul. They are already tired, but they start building a simple wooden fence, enclosing a square plot of ground. It's just planted sticks and logs that will keep the villagers inside the boundaries of their future village, and hopefully will keep dangerous wildlife outside.
Sue is busy planting a few saplings along the perimeter. The other two villagers watch her as if they had nothing to do.
"I've never built anything before," Kurtz grumbles. "Why should I have to do this?"
"It gives you a sense of accomplishment," Joseph replies. "You'll look at the stuff we will build, and you'll think 'I was partly responsible for that'."
"I don't even know what I'm doing. I just want to go back to the city."
Sue stands up and wipes the dirt from her hands. Then she looks up at the sky as if I were floating in the clouds.
"Godling, we are hungry. How does one survive here?"
"Yes, what kinds of crops grow well in these lands?" Joseph asks me. "Is there water nearby?"
I'm hovering close to them, and when I project my deep voice, they are startled.
"You can hunt deer, or wild boar. Also, I believe I picked an area with a stream. I'm sure you'll find it."
"Hunting?" Kurtz complains. "That sounds like so much work! And we don't have any weapons!"
"Well, then I'll help you. I'm a god, after all. The more you obey me, the more points this game, so to speak, grants me so I can in turn materialize tools for my minions to use."
I look up in the interface what I'm able to buy with the points these three useless villagers have accumulated by gathering the sticks and logs and building that fence. There are only a few things unlocked, mostly simple objects like a hammer, a pickaxe, and a shovel. However, I could spend the points on a big knife or a shoddy bow with a dozen arrows.
A few seconds later, the three villagers are staring with a mixture of awe and fear at a bow and a quiver full of arrows that has appeared on the grass in front of them.
"Now you have a tool able to murder simple animals," I say. "Let's get to hunting."
"That's amazing. It came out of nowhere," Joseph says in a thin voice. "You truly are a god, oh mighty Festerbump."
Sue steps back, looking paler.
"Our god has granted us a boon. We owe him now."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Kurtz mumbles.
"I've never used a bow, though," Sue says.
"Don't worry, I'll do it," Joseph tells her. "It will be easy."
"I guess we could use some meat for tonight," Kurtz mutters. "And vegetables."
Joseph picks up the bow and the quiver. He seems impressed by their size and weight. Then he pulls back on the string as if testing it.
"Alright, let's find out if there's some game in the woods," Joseph says confidently. "Come with me."
Kurtz shakes his head.
"Nah. This is your project. Do it alone."
Sue frowns in disbelief.
"What kind of a merchant are you? Don't you have any respect?"
The dwarf shrugs as if he doesn't care one way or another. Sue sighs, but then she walks up to Joseph's side.
"I'll go with you! Because you will provide food for us, right?"
Joseph gulps, and looks away from the elf's breasts. I follow the two villagers as they walk into the woods together. I accelerate the passage of time until the two villagers come across a bunch of deer. Joseph and Sue crouch behind some bushes. The farmer nocks an arrow carefully, then draws the bowstring and holds it against his cheek. He whistles as if calling to the deer. When one raises its head, Joseph lets the arrow fly. It hits dead center between the deer's eyes with a sickening sound of impact, followed by a grunt and a fall onto the grass. The dead deer twitches feebly.
After the rest of the deer have scampered off, Sue cheers and grabs Joseph's arm.
"Good shot! We'll eat deer tonight, thanks to you!"
"Yeah," Joseph says with a grim smile. "I forgot how good killing feels. My wife hated hunting."
Sue's own smile falters.
"Alright, I'll... help you carry the carcass back to our camp!"
She bends down to grab the deer by the legs. Joseph follows her lead and lifts it up. They stagger back towards the edge of the clearing.

* * *

When we return to the clearing enclosed by the fence, we find out that Kurtz had kept busy gathering firewood, and is tending a campfire.
"Oh, so we are eating deer tonight," Kurtz says as he stares wide-eyed at the carcass. "I thought you two would return empty-handed."
"We were lucky to come across some deer," Joseph says.
"It was a magnificent kill," Sue adds.
Sue and Joseph leave the carcass close to the fire, and sit down wearily.
"If we hadn't been able to kill a deer, I'm sure that the godling would have produced some alternative," Sue says confidently. "We won't starve, not with a god watching over us."
I wouldn't be sure about that.
"This place is getting on my nerves," Kurtz says as he stares at the flames. "There's nothing but trees and bugs here. And I can't even smoke."
Joseph is kneeling next to the carcass.
"But how do we prepare the meat when we lack the proper tools? Maybe I could use an arrowhead to skin the deer..."
"That's where your god comes in," I say.
Thankfully, Joseph killing that deer had produced enough points for me to buy a big enough knife. I materialize it on top of the deer carcass, and the three villagers let out surprised noises.
"Now you own both a bow and a knife, to hunt, prepare the food or defend yourselves from the numerous monsters that likely await their opportunity to hunt you down. Rejoice!"
"Does it have any special powers?" Kurtz says as he inspects the blade carefully.
"It's just a fucking knife. It should be more than enough at this juncture."
Joseph sighs. The three villagers stare at the blade curiously as it gleams silver and gold in the flickering orange glow of the campfire.
"I've butchered a few living creatures in my time," Joseph says. "Or do you guys want to do it?"
"No, no, take care of it," Kurtz says.
Joseph cuts open the pelt with practiced ease. He pulls back the hide, exposing a bloody mass of muscle and fat. Then he slices the flesh into chunks. The elf watches intently at first, but then she starts trembling and grimaces. She covers her mouth.
"Are you sick, Sue?" I ask. "You are sweating quite a lot. Do you feel unwell?"
She blushes. Her eyes dart over to Joseph, who is plunging the blade into the ribcage of the beast with a crunching sound. Sue swallows hard and turns away.
"Y-yeah, I'm feeling a bit nauseous."
After chopping the deer's legs off, Joseph places them beside the torso. The guts are exposed to view, and the smell of blood has filled the air.
"Don't worry, it's only a deer," the human farmer says casually. "It's not like what I ate in prison."
"Prison? What did you do?"
"Oh, nothing."

* * *

The night has fallen, and the three villagers have filled their bellies with cooked deer meat.
"As a bonus exercise," I tell them, "let's see how far you idiots can throw a stick."
Sue picks up one of the sticks that Kurtz had gathered for the campfire, and holds it as if it were a spear. She throws it a few times, determined to get better quickly, so that she can prove to me that she deserves to be my follower. Joseph has let another stick fly through the air in a straight line. Kurtz has ignored my godly request, and is sitting cross-legged by the fire. He shakes his head from time to time. His long beard makes him look like a madman.
Both of my willing minions get bored in a few minutes, and sit on the grass to contemplate their pitiful existences. Sue brings up how unused she is to hanging out with both humans and dwarves, and that gets Kurtz going.
"I'm sure you would be able to mingle with humans almost anywhere in the world, but my own species has nearly died off. Only the lucky survived the war against the orcs."
Sue hangs her head low, and hides her face in her forearms.
"Don't remind me of my brother," she mutters.
"Your brother?" Joseph asks casually. "What happened to him?"
Sue hesitates. She takes a deep breath before answering.
"He disappeared during the war. As I looked for survivors in the nearby villages, I kept hearing rumors that many had escaped the approaching orc warbands. I held on to the hope that I would catch up with my dear brother eventually. But several years passed, and we never received any news."
"I'm sorry," Joseph says. "It must have been terrible for you."
"His name was Eric. He was a farmer, same as you. He always hated it, though, always complained. He used to say he wanted to change the way society worked. That the whole system needed fixing. But one day he simply walked away, and nobody saw him again..."
Sue cries softly into her forearms as her shoulders tremble.
I wonder if the game made up that piece of backstory for Sue because she didn't seem interesting or sympathetic enough. I recall vaguely that the process that generated this new game world spewed out notifications about orcs taking over other races' settlements.
After a minute, Kurtz breaks the silence.
"We should all return home," the dwarf says grimly. "The sooner we leave this place, the happier we'll be."
"You can't, though," I say. "You need to build a village."
Kurtz looks with contempt in my general direction.
"But we can count on your assistance, can't we, oh mighty god?"
"I'm sure I can do a thing or two for you."
Sue sniffles and peeks out from behind her forearms.
"You'll keep us safe from orc raiders and other vermin, won't you?"
I shake my head, but they can't see me.
"Of course."
"If we die for whatever reason, will you send our souls to heaven?"
I don't believe there's a heaven, nor a hell. Life isn't fair. But I need to keep these idiots believing in me, or else they may rebel. Even kill themselves.
"Sure. Just don't blame me if you end up in hell instead."
Joseph chuckles nervously. Sue kneels and thanks me profusely as tears run down her cheeks. It makes me uncomfortable, but the angle gives me a privileged view of the cleavage of her peasant dress. All that tit meat makes me wish I had a physical body.
"Then we shall trust in you and pray for protection!" Sue says.
"Good, good," I say, and clear my throat. "That settles it for today, I think. I'm leaving for a while. Go to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Just remember to avoid killing each other in the meantime."
"Right, godling. We won't mess it up," Joseph says.
I remain among them for a while after I've stopped talking. Sue wanders around alone, deep in thought. Kurtz sits by the fire and eats more deer meat, most of which will spoil. Their lives move slowly forward. With time, this place will become a home for them. Then the orcs and trolls other crazy shit will likely come to destroy everything.
Now my villagers lie down to sleep on the grass, exhausted after having spent all day gathering firewood, hunting, preparing meat, throwing sticks, and erecting a fence in a tiny patch of land.

The Crown of Lost Dreams (Poetry)

Link for this poem on my personal page, where it looks better

---

I sit against the wall of this forgotten basement,
Then I adjust on my head the iron crown
To align the screws with the holes in my skull.
I tighten the screws slowly, carefully,
While the rusted iron grinds on the bone,
Until the screw-tips dig into my grey matter,
Reaching for the depths where the thoughts reside,
To probe into my daydreams.

The thoughts come like worms from deep underground,
Abandoning their old forms and squirming up.
They will crawl all over me if I do not hold them back,
With the visions that I conjure in the dark.

When I am ready, I press down on the lever,
A tiny click sounds, and then all at once
My consciousness floods out from my mind,
Through the connected, fraying wires,
Into my invention, a mechanical egg,
Which stands tall on its plinth.
A glass window lets me peer inside,
To witness the growth of the amorphous fetus
Which my daydreams keep nourishing.

(All is well until the day when the crown begins to leak.
The thought comes that the wires are coming loose,
And soon I shall lose my perfect daydreaming tool.)

There is no light here, but my eyes glow green.
The walls have fallen away to reveal a dim place
Full of the most curious shapes and colours,
Like some strange landscape seen from space.

I see myself walking down streets and alleys at night,
Searching desperately among shadows and darkness,
For the one who is waiting there just outside sight.
The girl comes closer every time I conjure her image,
As though I've been watching out for her presence
Through all these years I have kept dreaming
About how wonderful life would be with her by my side.

A face appears, smiling and jovial.
She has long brown hair and greenish-blue eyes,
And a smattering of freckles around her nose.
Her mouth opens, showing teeth like pearls.
Her hand rests gently upon her hip
As she walks down the steps towards me.
When we meet eye to eye, she smiles wider.

Inside the egg, a fetus appears,
So small that it's almost invisible.
It stays hidden in the shadows
While the world moves around it.

(I can feel the fetus inside my head,
Growing with each passing second.
Soon I will be able to hear it
In my own voice.)

The girl and I walk through town holding hands.
Every street corner, every park bench,
Every building with a doorway or a sign,
I try in vain to find something familiar about it,
But everything looks so alien; I'm dreaming.

The girl and I sit on a riverbank
As we read from the books we share,
Which are filled with adventures and dreams
That nobody else but us understands.

As I press my hands against the glass,
I hold my breath, but the fetus remains still.
Its skin is rough, covered with black hairs.
It has four eyes and six spindly legs.
It stares back with its black, empty pupils.
Will it become strong enough to survive?

(I look down at my feet.
A trail of ants crawl across the floor,
And all around me, spiders spin their webs
To trap flies that buzz and flutter by.
There are beetles too, scuttling in the dirt.
One crawls over my shoe. It lifts its head
To gaze up at me with big round eyes
Full of wonder and curiosity.)

The fetus had started rotting, turning black.
Soon after, it bursts forth from the egg
With nothing but an empty sack for skin.
My daydreams have failed me again.
In frustration, I toss the rotten remains
Into the pile of desiccated embryos.

(A thought comes that I am trapped in this place
With nothing more than rotting lumps of flesh.
And now there is only one thing I want
To keep me going, to give me strength,
Something to make me forget all my fears,
And my desire to live on in despair;
My crown is so small, fragile and worn out.)

As time passes by, my brain grows tired.
It needs proper rest to repair itself.
But I continue feeding the embryos
By focusing all my attention on my work.
My mind toils constantly
To achieve the eternal rewards.

(There used to be no room for daydreaming.
Instead, I just stared at the walls.
Day after day, week after week, month after month.
For years I lived just like that.
Nobody asked questions when they saw
How I stared endlessly into space.)

The girl and I walk side by side through the forest
Down paths and hillsides covered in flowers.
We climb mountains where snowflakes fall softly
While I feel my heart beating faster.

I place my hands upon the smooth glass pane,
Because a new creation has begun to take form:
A headless, limbless, hirsute torso
With a case of complete ectopia cordis.
I shove my arm into the gooey insides of the egg
To touch the protruding, beating heart.
The fibers of the muscular organ
Try to hold on to my skin
Like tiny fingers.

(The fetus tries to crawl up my forearm,
Trying desperately to escape.
I pull my hand away from the fetus,
And then it bursts forth from the egg
Without a body or limbs.
I stare in disbelief as it falls apart
Into hundreds of fragments of flesh.
They scatter in all directions
To be eaten by the hungry beetles.)

A new fetus grows a myriad of fleshy tentacles
As the crown feeds it with my mind images.
It is born dead, a veritable monster.
I discard it into the growing pile of fetuses.

(At night when everyone slept,
Our minds became one, united.
Together we dreamt of wonderful things
Which have vanished along with time.)

The girl and I find a cozy spot beside a lake,
Underneath a giant tree that shelters us from the wind.
We lie down in the grass and stare up at the stars
As the clouds drift quickly across the sky.

I open my mouth, take a breath,
Sip the air as though it were nectar,
Smell the earth beneath my feet,
Taste the sky upon my tongue.

Each moment is so precious,
So filled with love and trust.
Just being able to breathe out,
Is worth more than gold.

I'm sitting on the cold stone floor
Somewhere underground,
Surrounded by darkness.
I can barely move or speak.
I am trapped within myself,
Separated from life.

My eyes are wide open,
Yet I cannot see anything.
I hear a voice calling to me,
But I cannot understand.

(My consciousness floats freely,
Free to travel through time and space,
To wander anywhere I please.
But there's nothing left to see,
No one to talk to,
Or to be.
All I know is loneliness.)

The girl and I stare at the moon.
In time, our eyes begin to close,
And our minds wander away together
Towards faraway places and bright sunsets.

A fetus lies on the cold floor.
Its body is made of a soft material,
Like a sponge or tofu.
It has patches of white fur, like snow.
I can hear it breathing faintly
As it stares blankly ahead.

I'm waiting for the fetus to writhe helplessly,
And to cry out in pain,
But it shrivels up more and more.
After days of suffering, it dies,
Leaving behind only bones.

(I'm going to let my brain rot,
Then I will be free.
And nobody will be able to stop me.
Nobody will ever try to help me.)

An electric current runs between the girl and I,
Like two parallel lines meeting across infinity.
Her smile shines brighter than any star
As we embrace each other tightly.

Our hands run wild over each other's bodies,
Groping hungrily under the clothes.
We slip our tongues past each other's teeth
Trying to find somewhere warm and soft,
Somewhere safe where we belong.

(There's no way out.
I stay here, trapped underground,
In darkness, far away from light.
I long to go above ground,
To walk freely upon grass,
To freely breathe fresh air.
I eat rats and spiders instead.)

A fetus crawls out of the mechanical egg
With a badger tail curled around its waist.
It is covered in black fur,
Its round head looks like a turtle.

My body feels heavier than ever before.
The crown's screws feel fused to my skull.
I sleep soundly during the day, I dream all night long,
So I can keep nurturing the little ones inside the egg.

The girl and I have no children yet,
But some day, when we are old and grey,
Our son or daughter will walk along
With his or her precious child,
Who will carry our hopes within
In a secret pocket deep inside their heart.

(And then they'll look at us and laugh.
They'll say, "You poor fools.
Why did you waste your time?
Why did you work so hard to grow babies
When there was nothing left to do?")

I feel a sudden pang of longing for her face,
Her body so soft and smooth to touch,
The sound of our laughter ringing through the air,
Till it echoes into the distant past,
Where it joins with other voices long forgotten,
In a chorus of memory that sings to us both
About how it would always be,
If only we could find each other again.

The fetuses have minds of their own;
They think and feel and dream
About other things than what I want.
None of the fetuses like my daydreams.
They hate my happy days together with the girl,
Our sweet memories and gentle caresses.
Instead they desire the most hideous images,
Filled with pain, suffering, anguish, despair.

(Every day, I sit in my room
Listening to the fetuses' cries.
Their shrieks of anguish and torment
Make me sick with sadness.)

One of the fetuses grows healthy and strong,
Covered in glistening, frost white wings.
It could fly through the sky,
To stare down at me from above.

When the winged spawn escapes from the egg,
I hold its warm, gooey frame in my arms,
But it struggles to flap its wings, to free itself.
I let it go, and it flies against the grimy walls,
Dusting the cement and the black cobwebs.
The spawn keeps weakening and slowing down,
Until it finally disintegrates into the dark,
Leaving behind only empty space.

(My mind becomes foggy and dull,
And my dreams fade away.
There is nothing left for me now but to sleep.)

I wake up on the cold stone floor.
I lie there breathing hard and crying.
Why did you leave me here, I ask,
Why did you abandon me?
Stay here next to me, I demand,
And never leave again
(You are not real,
But I know your name).

I scream it out loud,
And the fetuses start to cry.
All I hear is a cacophony,
A horrible, endless noise.

The fetuses are telling me what to dream.
I'm controlled by their needs and wants.
They demand time to spend alone,
With only my daydreams for company.

My time is running short.
Before I know it, I'll be gone.
All these dreams will die with me.
Only the perfect one may remain.
That one will never age.

(I can see my face reflected in a pool of blood
Which seems to move as though alive.
"I can hear your heart beating," the girl says.
She leans forward and presses her lips to mine.
Our mouths meet and part again, over and over
Till we feel as one body in our joined flesh.
We lie entwined for days upon a pile of bones
While the outside moves by in its ordinary way.)

After countless failures,
The crown will finally break down.
All my daydreams will be fruitless.
Those visions of smiles and touches
By the caring hand of a ghost
Will fade and dissolve in the dark,
And I'll be left in this grubby basement
With its cobwebs and desiccated fetuses.

A new fetus sprouts from my head
Like an evil mushroom.
I can't control it anymore;
It's growing rapidly,
Becoming more powerful every day.
All I can do is sit here
Waiting for it to burst forth.
It won't stop growing,
Growing and getting stronger
By sucking out all my thoughts.

When the crown cracks,
There will be nothing left of me
Except for my metal shell
Covered in stains of rust.

Alma: a Successful Case Study, Pt. 2 (Poetry)

I got up to approach my patient carefully.
"Alma, what happened? You look pale again."
She plopped down on the chair
And ran her fingers through her hair.
"Doctor, are these sessions fully confidential,
Or are you obligated to rat me out to the police?"

"Something bad has happened, huh?
Don't worry, I don't need to reveal crimes,
And besides, I'm very fond of you, Alma,
So I simply wouldn't do such a thing."

A single tear fell from behind her sunglasses.
She took a deep breath and said,
"I've fucked up, doctor, real bad.
I'm loving finding new blood to taste,
As well as the feeling of plunging my teeth
Into vessels who can barely defend themselves.
I could hardly get enough,
And I wanted to discover all the flavors."

She rested her elbows on her knees,
And she wrung her hands as trembled.
"Whenever... I passed by playgrounds,
And saw all those lively kids being happy,
I wondered how wonderful they would taste.
This morning I knew my parents would leave
To visit some family in another city,
So I... started chatting with this cute boy,
And I invited him to play video games in my room."

"Don't tell me you raped him, Alma."
She blushed, but shook her head.
"I'm not into kids! But I drank him dry.
I didn't mean to. He tasted so fucking good,
Like the nectar of the heavens, doctor.
I couldn't get enough of that shit,
So I kept sucking his blood until I was full."

"That boy died, then," I said.
Alma nodded sadly.
"I-I don't think I left a drop of blood."
I rubbed my chin.
"I see how that's a problem."

"Yes, it is. This isn't the first time
I have killed someone with my teeth.
But this was the worst one yet."
I gasped as I was swallowing,
Which made me cough hard.
"What, this wasn't the first time?"

Alma hunched over and bit her nails.
"The others were worthless,
The kinds that society wouldn't miss,
But this was just a little boy, doctor,
Maybe about nine years old.
I feel like I can't stop myself!
I'm addicted to blood, doctor,
It's just too damn delicious!"

She hid her face in her hands,
But then she raised her voice.
"I-it's just my nature, right?!
If this universe created a person
Who needs to feed upon other people
Merely to remain healthy and strong,
Then surely I'm entitled to doing so!"

I grabbed her shoulders
So she would look up at me.
"You're correct, Alma.
We can't change your nature;
It is your true self,
And you must accept it."

She cried until she found the strength to talk.
"Doctor, I was chopping up that boy
When my parents walked through the door.
I guess the family reunion got cancelled,
But I didn't have a chance to explain.
They just saw all the body parts,
And the boy's head on the dining table,
And both started shrieking in terror.
My mother collapsed on the floor,
But my father pulled out his phone.
He would have called the police on me!"

"What a dick. On his own daughter."
She nodded energetically, like 'I know, right?'.
"So I had to stop him. I ripped out his head."
"Alma, what are you saying?
You mean you bit through his neck?"
"No, doctor, I just pulled hard on his head,
And it came off like a toy's plastic head.
You wouldn't believe how strong I've become!
And I get stronger the more blood I drink."

She took off her sunglasses,
But only to rub her teary eyes.
"My own mother was horrified!
She looked at me as if I were sick.
I didn't even care, because I was in heaven.
I felt my blood pumping inside my veins,
And all the power coursed through my brain!
Doctor, do you understand how addictive this is?!"
"That sounds like a very nice sensation, yes."

She smiled weakly, then sighed.
"Anyway, so I kicked my mom's head off.
I didn't feel that bad about her, to be honest.
I was dragging their dead bodies into my bedroom
When suddenly the police were pounding on the door.
My fucking neighbors, of course, called them.
The cops saw the crime scene and everything."

"My goodness. How did you escape?"
"Well, through a window, and ran.
But the issue, doctor, is that now I'm a fugitive."
"This is all very traumatic, I'm sure."

Alma stared down at her hands
Like she was searching for something.
"Doctor, is draining someone of all his blood
To get my fill considered a murder?"
"Well, I guess you are technically guilty of murder,
But it doesn't matter because it was for sustenance.
I doubt the authorities even consider vampires real."
"Really?" she asked, hopeful.
"Sure, vampires have no rights as citizens.
The government believes them to be creatures of evil.
Vampires can't legally vote, nor own property.
They can't even marry nor possess firearms.
In any case, Alma, you didn't feed upon your parents,
You just decapitated them,
And that's likely to be considered murder."

She looked down in despair.
"I'm such an awful person,
But I still want to keep living.
Please help me."
"Well, what were you planning on doing?"
"I was thinking of finding a safe house,
Some new base of operations."

I rubbed my chin, deep in thought.
"Why not just come to my home?
It's a lot safer than a hotel room,
And I'll protect you from the law.
You'll get along well with my family."

Alma raised a hand to her chest,
And had to blink away some tears.
"That's very kind of you, but I don't need protection.
I'm a vampire now, so I must live like one."
"So, like in the sewers?"
"No, I was thinking of a high-rise building,
Or at least some place more habitable."

"I respect your desire for autonomy,
And I believe you are ready for independence.
I also want you to enjoy your newfound powers.
I hope you find happiness and joy in life."

She looked at me with a desperate gaze.
"But please, doctor, I'd like to come here again!
Talking things out with you is so important."
"Of course, Alma. You'll always be welcome here."
She gifted me a huge grin.
"Oh, thank you so much, doctor!"
She gave me a hug,
Then she left my office in a cloud of perfume
Which mostly smelled of blood.

Despite Alma's wishes, I didn't see her for two months,
But sometimes it felt as if everyone talked about her.
The news kept referring to Alma as a serial killer,
Although they had failed to make the connection
With a series of thugs found dead, exsanguinated
Or merely beheaded as if efortlessly.
I guess the police didn't believe Alma capable
Of wiping out some of the worst local gangs.

Someone knocked on the window behind me,
Although my office was located in a seventh floor.
When I turned around, Alma was crouched there,
Perched gracefully on the narrow windowsill.

I quickly phoned my secretary.
"Mercedes, don't let anyone come to my office
Until I say the opposite. I'm going to be busy."
Then I let Alma in, who had waited patiently.

"I've missed you, doctor," she said.
She was wearing more expensive sunglasses;
A reinforced leather jacket like that of a biker;
And iron grey, full length leggings
That displayed her strong physique.

I was in awe of the majestic young woman.
"Alma, I still remember you as that pale girl
Whose remaining energy barely allowed her to talk,
But you've grown so confident and assertive.
Look at you, you are strong and healthy,
Filling out your skin, gaining muscle mass!
Your progress has been extraordinary."

She raised a hand to her chest,
And let out a noise of delight.
"Oh, you've always been so kind to me,
When everyone else just treated me like shit.
I feel much better, I'm fucking so many people,
And I'm close to becoming a full vampire!"
"I'm glad to hear that. You really look great."

After we both sat down, we started our session.
"Alma, the last time you came, you were on the run,
And you were concerned about finding a safe house."
She waved a hand dismissively.
"I solved that problem quickly!
I was skulking around at night,
Hoping to come across some place I could take over,
And I was trying to pee in a corner,
When a couple of thugs jumped me, to rape me!"

"Well, I'm sure they're gone now."
Alma laughed heartily,
But her eyes shone with a burning light.
"Oh, I left one alive, and he guided me home,
Or at least where his gang had their hideout.
It turned out to be one of the nastier ones.
They were running most of the drugs around.

That day I found out that I can take on
Dozens of guys armed even with firearms.
If I kicked them, they went flying,
Or else I ripped their heads off,
Or incapacitated them enough
That I could simply drain them of their blood,
So they just served to make me stronger."

"You truly are a mighty warrior,
Now that you've become a vampire.
I hope you'll continue to grow in strength
And become a true master of the world."

"Oh, I wish you'd been there to see it!
So yeah, I took over their building,
And then I figured I could hit other gangs.
I hate drugs, they are just nasty things,
And that's ceased to be a problem in this city.
I now own several buildings and businesses,
Which provide plenty of money legally.
I have so much money that I donate some
To charities and groups of which I'm fond."

"Alma, you are almost a model citizen!"
She smiled widely.
"You're so nice to say that, doctor.
But you know, I still crave human blood."
"Of course, that's just your nature."

"It became too annoying to seduce people,
So I keep dozens chained or in cages.
I go for variety as well, mostly of ages.
You could say I've become a collector."
She laughed, and I shared her laugh;
I had missed being around this woman.

Alma smiled sweetly at me, and said,
"So I always have big bags of blood
That I can feed upon whenever I please.
If I fancy anyone I see in the streets,
I tell some of my guys to kidnap them."

"Don't you have to be a bit careful?
You are still a fugitive, right?"
"I'm not worried about that, doctor!
Many of the officers are in my pocket,
And they know that I can reach their families,
So I could drain anyone in plain daylight
And nobody would dare touch me.
However, that would be trashy."

I was astonished at her progress.
"You are in good terms with the police, too.
You used to be so shy and withdrawn."
She reached over the desk to touch my hand.
"That's because I was restraining my nature,
I was keeping my beautiful soul in chains,
But you taught me I should be liberated,
And for that I'm always in debt with you."
"What I want is to keep seeing you happy."

I gave her a moment to wipe her tears,
But then she spoke brightly again.
"I've discovered new interests.
Most of the time I don't just feed,
I also enjoy torturing my blood sacks.
To some that I intend to discard,
I rip off their limbs, or flay their skin."
"Oh, that sounds so gory."

"I like it though, doctor. It's fun to watch
The agony on their faces as they scream.
It makes me feel so powerful and strong.
I'd love to do it to all of society,
Except I think we'd have riots everywhere.
Anyway, I'm into eating human meat too.
I love to chew on it, suck its juices.
I prefer their brains... Or maybe their hearts.
It depends on the quality of the meat."

"It's important to keep a varied diet.
Besides, as a vampire you may be resistant
To spongiform encephalopathy."
"Spongi-what?"
"A disease that attacks the brain.
It's caused by cannibalism,
Which increases the risk of prion disease.
But you may not be fully human now,
So it would be like eating a cow for you."

Alma gave it some thought.
"Yeah, I think I'm fine, better than ever.
I get stronger the more blood I consume.
Everything seems brighter,
I'm often burning up with excitement.
All those colors, textures and smells!
I can see farther, hear much clearer.
It makes me feel so special."
"Special?"
"Superior. Like I am God Almighty."

"That's a good sign that your depression's gone.
You must be glad to have a purpose now."
"I never felt so fulfilled, doctor.
Not once in my life did I know what it was
To have a reason to live,
But now I see a myriad of futures for me.
I'm always so busy scheming and planning!"
"Good. That's the best thing you can do."

Suddenly Alma's smile faltered.
"You still can connect with me, right?
I mean, I haven't become that strange
Because I'm developing my vampiric powers."

"You will always be the Alma I know.
Besides, normalcy is a relative term.
There are people who would call you abnormal,
Because you are a vampire who feeds upon humans,
And also kidnaps, rapes and murders them,
But that's a natural behavior for your kind,
And you shouldn't let society dictate your values."

Alma was overjoyed, and came over to hug me.
"Yeah, us vampires aren't so bad, doctor!
We are smart, we can make good friends,
And we have lots of fun!
I can even help out humanity
By keeping their numbers low;
It would solve the troubles of overpopulation."

Our session ended shortly after,
But Alma assured me she would come again.
"Can I find you just to talk," she asked,
"I mean as friends, not as my therapist?"
She had sounded so adorable.
"Of course! Come talk to me whenever.
I'm always so happy to see you."

Alma's expression became sadder.
"Doctor, can you tell me something for free?"
"What's wrong?"
"Do you really think I'll make it out okay?"
"Well, you've survived this far, and you're
A very strong and determined woman.
If you keep working hard, you'll be fine."

Alma grinned, and climbed onto the windowsill.
"If there's anything you need, doctor,
Tell me the next time we see each other.
My guys will bring you any kind of supplies.
They're good at getting things for free."

I waved, and watched her as she flew off.
She looked just like Superman,
Or I guess any superhero who could fly.
Being a vampire truly was magical.

A month later, a new patient came to my office.
She was a sexy goth girl in her late teens.
She explained that she belonged to a group
Of followers, or a gang: 'The Vampires of Blood'.
They were a bunch of teens who admired Alma.
"We are so thrilled to have her as our leader!"
They followed her around like puppies,
And tried to be as sweet and polite as possible.
"Please let us feed upon your veins, Alma!"

This girl told me this as if she had invented it,
But I could tell she needed to open up
About her after school activities
That she could be in trouble for revealing.
I was pleased to hear Alma was doing fine.

A month and a half later, in the evening,
I had gone out for a run
When a limousine stopped next to me.
Two huge bodybuilders came out,
Both wearing expensive steel grey suits.
"Please, doctor, come with us.
The queen has invited you to dinner."

"Oh! You mean Alma! How is she?"
The big guy was dumbfounded by my smile.
I guess most people were terrified of her.
"The queen is always very busy;
There's lot of problems in this city,
And many people who want her assets.
However, she's on top of them all,
So you could say she's doing fine."

He opened the door and I got in.
I sat between two scantily clad girls
Who started rubbing me all over
While a butler-looking guy sitting in front
Offered me a glass of bubbling champagne.

"Nice to meet you, doctor," the butler said,
"I'm Alma's, our queen's, right hand man.
We know all about you, of course,
How you freed her from her shackles
So she could fulfill her destiny as our leader.
She always keeps people making sure
That no one bothers you or harms you,
And I know she's just waiting
For you to accept to receive her gifts;
She goes on about this or that you would like.
I would believe if you were truly her father!"
I was so touched I could barely speak,
So I drank some of that tasty champagne.

One of the girls slid her delicate hand
Down my boxers, and jerked me off.
The butler observed her performance.
"Alma ordered to give you pleasure
And make you feel like a king."

They drained me twice before we arrived
At the tallest high-rise building in town,
And we took the elevator to the last floor.
We exited into a large, dim restaurant
With numerous mirrors and crystal chandeliers.
The polished marble floors reflected every light.

As I walked through the deserted restaurant,
I was already astonished when I spotted Alma.
She was sitting at a table, waiting for me.
She wore an elegant, black slip dress
That seemed to be made of silk and satin,
And fit her perfect, toned figure.
Her long dark hair flowed down to her waist.
She had painted her lips midnight black,
Which contrasted with her pearl white skin,
And she had the confident gaze of a monarch.

I had never seen her look so beautiful,
Like a goddess who lived in heaven
On top of the highest mountain peak,
Reaching for the stars.

I noticed the guards, still as posts,
Dressed with black suits and holding guns.
The waiter that came seemed nervous;
Alma looked so self-assured,
And exuded such an aura of danger,
And could murder everyone in the room,
But for me she was my good old patient.

"Hello, doctor!" she said happily,
"I hope you enjoyed your ride."
"Oh, it was wonderful. I came two times."
"Do you like this place? Fancy, yes?"
"Amazing, more like it. It's yours, I guess."
Alma winked.
"I own the entire building."

I waiter brought us two golden goblets.
He filled mine with more champagne,
But Alma's he filled to the brim with blood.
After she sipped it, she licked a drop
That glistened at the corner of her mouth.

The appetizers consisted of caviar with toast,
Smoked salmon served on crackers,
Fried oysters, and crab legs.
To my surprise, Alma ate them as well,
So I saw fit to comment on it.
"I thought that human food didn't work."
"For me they are as nutritious as jellybeans,
But that doesn't mean I dislike eating them."

I was buzzed, our conversation was lively.
She was lighthearted, funny and playful.
We laughed and enjoyed each other's company.
I could tell that her hirelings were surprised.

The waiter brought the main course:
Roast beef stuffed with mushrooms.
As I brought a forkful of it to my mouth
Then chewed on the juicy meat,
Alma rested her chin on her hands
And smiled playfully.
"Can you guess what kind of meat that is?"

I swallowed my bite, then guessed,
"It didn't come from a cow, did it."
She nodded. "Her name was Leire,
The most beautiful redhead I've seen,
Whose blood tasted like ambrosia."

I sighed, then chewed on another forkful.
"She tastes delicious. I can see the appeal.
But why would you have slaughtered her?"
Alma looked sad, and shook her head.
"I didn't! I wanted her as a blood bag,
But one day she cut her own neck.
I have no clue where she got that knife.
All her blood, dirty and pooled on the floor!
What a horrible waste."

I drank more of my champagne.
"That is truly a tragedy."
"Yes, so at least I could honor her
By making sure her body nourished me,
Or you, for that matter, whom I love so much."

I blushed. Her eyes were so alluring,
Not to mention all her power and resources.
"Alma, what a beautiful creature you are.
I'm blessed to call you my friend."

She fidgeted with the rim of her goblet.
"Don't you wonder why I invited you?"
"Not really. You can invite me just to talk,
Or just because you want to see me.
You don't need any particular reason."
She smiled, and drained her glass.
"Doctor, you always brighten my mood!
But I wanted to offer you a gift,
Or at least the first in a long series."

"A gift! What is it then?"
Her eyes glistened, and she licked her lips.
"I offer you the gift of immortality,
To become a vampire just like me."

For a few seconds I only heard our breathing.
I stabbed a morsel of my meal, and savoured it.
The rich, succulent juices ran down my throat.
"Alma, I truly appreciate your kindness,
But I prefer to remain mortal,
Even if becoming immortal sounds nice."

The butler gasped, and gaped at me.
"D-do you understand what honor that is?!
The queen hasn't converted anyone yet!"
Alma raised a finger, and the butler shut up.
When Alma returned her hand to the table,
Her fingers were trembling, but not from anger.

"Doctor, have you truly considered growing old,
Then just dying as if you were never here?"
"I've thought about my wife and kids losing me,
But I've found ways to keep myself sane."
"How?" she asked in a sad voice.
"I drink too much wine, take lots of naps."

She snorted, and I smiled kindly.
"Death isn't something to fear.
Nothing bad happens to you anymore."
She narrowed her eyes, deep in thought,
And I sipped on my champagne.

"My dear Alma, we can try forever,
But we will never change our nature,
And if you try to escape it,
You will forever pay the consequences.
People must stay true to themselves,
And everything else will fall into place.

I'm already doing what I was meant to.
I'm an ordinary man with ordinary concerns.
I live to solve my patients' problems,
And then return home to my cozy family.
You said I would disappear as if I was never here,
But my most successful patient will remain,
And I'm sure you will remember me to the end."

Alma hung her head low,
And her tears dripped on the tablecloth.
The butler held his breath and stepped back,
And the guards exchanged looks nervously.

When Alma raised her head, she was smiling,
And didn't bother wiping her tears.
"I understand.
You know, doctor, I was depressed forever.
Ever since I was a little girl,
I felt trapped in a prison cell.
I thought I was destined to be miserable.

Now, I'm more free than anyone.
I've ceased to be bound by rules.
I can fuck and eat whoever I want.
I will never starve nor feel weak again,
Because I can drain whole fucking herds.
I've become famous, rich and unstoppable."

I had to wipe my own tears.
"Oh! I'm so proud of you, Alma."
Her smile brightened the room,
And she warmed my hand with hers.
"Thank you, doctor. You saved my life.
But will you accept other kinds of gifts?"
"Of course! Feel free to give me whatever."

Two days later, I had a strange dream:
I was sitting on my black leather chair
When it started spinning faster and faster.
I heard myself screaming,
And I ended up flying through the air.

I kept going and going, very far.
I knew that when I fell back to earth,
I would hit it hard and it would hurt badly.
Still, I wasn't scared.
I looked down at the skyscrapers below,
And all those ant-sized people walking around.

They seemed so small and unimportant.
I was a giant with enormous power.
I could crush them easily and without fear,
And let the wind carry their screams away.

I decided to try flying higher,
So I zoomed towards the clouds.
The darkness crept in,
And I panicked until I saw the stars,
That were millions of miles apart.
I wondered if I could float between them.

Before I knew it, I was floating among the stars.
Among the spinning planets,
I recognized Saturn and Jupiter.
I realized I had been holding hands with a boy,
And he pulled me closer
And his lips pressed against mine
Then I felt him sink his fangs into my neck.
He drained me dry
As I drifted away in space.

It's been twenty years since I first met Alma.
We keep meeting each other every few months.
Sometimes she comes to hang out with my family,
Or else she brings me to exciting, expensive places.

My house is filled with many of her gifts;
I don't remember how she gave me plenty of them,
But my family often goes to our summer villas
That Alma bought for us in France, Italy and Malta.
She even paid for my two youngest's college.
It always makes me happy to see
That Alma hasn't aged a day.

If I ever get bored of Alma's gifts,
I think I may paint myself blue,
Or dye my hair bright pink,
And start playing dress up games.
Perhaps I may try being a cat,
Or a dog, or a horse.

Alma ceased to be my patient,
And instead she became my beloved friend,
A brilliant case study on how people flourish
When they live out their full potential.

THE END

Alma: a Successful Case Study, Pt. 1 (Poetry)

Link for this poem on my personal page, where it looks better

---

When Alma entered my office for therapy,
I was stunned by her pearl white skin,
Her hopeless, dead, dark eyes,
And her anemic, almost anorexic body
Covered in a T-shirt and sweatpants.

After our initial greetings, I said,
"With a simple look I would have suggested
To make an appointment with a doctor,
Because you must have a physical issue,
But you told my secretary that you did,
And that they found nothing wrong with you."

Alma sighed deeply, then said,
"Yes, there seems to be no physical reason
For why I feel this way.
They said it's all psychological,
That my anxiety and depression
Are just a result of stress from life."

Alma's voice was thin, slow and labored,
As if pushing the words out exhausted her.
She sounded like a robot in distress,
Who was somehow on the verge of tears.

"How long have you been suffering like this?"
"Oh, ever since I was a little kid," she said with a sigh,
"Although I remember a couple of normal years,
Then I came down with this depression and lethargy
As if something had switched on in my genes.
Ever since, I always felt like everything inside had died."

"How old are you now?" I asked.
"Twenty two," she answered, "but I feel much older."
"Do you think it could be hereditary?"
"I don't think so, even my grandparents are full of life.
I swear, I have no idea where I must have come from."

She told me she had no friends at all,
Or anyone who truly cared about her.
Alma's look of exhaustion was frustratingly familiar;
I'd seen it on other patients over the years,
That haunting despondency and despair,
And the prognosis was rarely good.

"Have you done drugs? Alcohol? Other substances?"
"No, sir. I've been clean as a whistle,
No drugs unless you count coffee,
And I must drink four or five cups a day,
Because I often feel about to pass out from tiredness."

"Have you tried any other treatments? Any medications?"
"Many times," she replied,
"We went through every test imaginable:
MRI, EEG, bone density scan, X-ray.
All showed me perfectly healthy."

Alma became more exhausted as she talked,
Like she was running on empty.
"I've missed apointments," she said,
"And even worse, I fell asleep during tests,
Which made me drop out of high school."

Alma sniffled, then had to dry a tear.
"I need help, sir," she said in a pitiful voice,
"Because I have no idea how I will survive
Having to endure such a mortifying depression
When I barely have the energy to get out of bed."

"What else are you experiencing?" I asked.
"Well, I always feel weak all over,
My arms and legs, and especially my throat.
I can hardly hold anything to eat,
Partly because many foods taste foul.
Sometimes I even gag and choke.
However, the doctors discarded allergies."

"Have you ever been hospitalized?"
"Just once for a week, when I was twelve.
I was diagnosed with an eating disorder.
I was very skinny then, like a stick figure."
"What was your diagnosis?"
"Anorexia nervosa.
My parents were horrified,
But what else could they do?"

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.
I felt that I was missing some vital detail.
"How are you spending most days, Alma?"
"I usually stay in my childhood bedroom,
All alone, without any friends to talk to.
I mostly listen to music,
But even that fills me with dread,
Because each song is just a dirge,
A funeral march for the soul."

Alma broke into tears.
Although I wanted to comfort her,
I admit her plight seemed hopeless.
"I know you feel weak, but have you tried exercise,
Even just taking walks around the neighborhood?"
"When I was younger, I wanted to be outside,
But the light of the sun bothers me too much.
Although afterwards I ran inside, on a treadmill,
I ended up drained after a few minutes.
I'm too tired to go anywhere, or to do anything."

"Do you have other interests, hobbies?"
"I'm fond of movies, science fiction and fantasy,
Tales that deal with aliens and monsters.
I was a fan of Star Wars, Doctor Who and X-Files,
But now I rarely watch television or movies,
Because of what happens when I try to sleep."

"What do you mean?" I asked.
"In my dreams I relive stressful scenes
From all that fiction I otherwise enjoyed.
For example that episode of Doctor Who
Where a monster sucks out the Doctor's brain,
Which causes him to transform into a fiend.
I'm afraid of the monster coming for me next,
So I wake up screaming, and wanting to be dead.
Anything would be better than this awful pain!"

I shifted my weight in my chair;
I was troubled by her lifelong struggle.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"Please do, sir. I want to figure things out."
"Are you sexually active?"
"No, sir. I haven't dated anyone."
"How about masturbation?"
"Sir, I really don't want to talk about that."

"Alright. Is there anybody special in your life,
Someone you care deeply about?"
"Well... I've been attracted to some guys,
But who would want to be with me?
I'm the worst downer, and I can't do anything.
They would need to become my caretakers."

Alma looked at me with her desperate eyes.
"I feel like I'm not meant to be alive.
I wish I could just fall asleep and die.
I must have done something wrong in my past life,
Or I would have been born in better circumstances."

Alma sobbed loudly, then calmed down.
"Please excuse my lack of manners.
I am ashamed that I cry so much."
I tried to soothe her with my tone.
"Those are understandable feelings,
But I suspect we have missed a source.
You said that you lived a couple of normal years?"
"Yes, before I began having these problems."
"Did you enjoy those times?"
"Of course! It was a wonderful time of innocence.
I had so much fun, and everyone loved me."

"Did everything change one day?" I asked.
"Yes, one afternoon I woke up in a park.
I couldn't remember how I got there."
Alma took a deep breath,
And wiped away another tear.
"Somehow, that event changed me.
I started feeling strange and isolated."

"Did anyone check you for wounds?"
"Yes, and I told the regular doctors.
Two puncture wounds on my arm,
Which disappeared after a week.
But I lacked other physical issues;
All the test came out correct,
So they said I must be mentally ill."

I shook my head, but I was content.
"Those doctors focus on their fields of expertise,
Which makes them discard obvious conclusions.
Alma, I'm afraid I know why you are ill:
You contracted vampirism as a child."

Alma slumped in her chair, dumbfounded,
Then only managed to say, "What."
I gave her a calming gesture.
"I know it's a lot to take in,
But your lethargy and weakness
Are caused because you aren't eating,
Or at least getting the needed nourishment
That sucking someone's blood provides."

Alma stared at me, wide-eyed with shock.
I explained her predicament further,
"Vampires are creatures of the night
Who live on blood, and must feed regularly.
If you're not drinking blood often,
Your body starts to atrophy and wither,
And you end up looking like a corpse.
You likely remain alive to whatever extent
Because human food is sustaining you."

Her gaze was unfocused, she looked lost.
I filled the silence for her.
"You might have trouble believing they exist,
But there's plenty of evidence out there.
If you read books like 'Twilight', 'True Blood',
'Interview With the Vampire', or 'Dracula',
You'll see all kinds of proof."

Alma nodded slowly.
"You don't have to convince me,
I already knew they existed."
"Really? How so?"

"On Halloween, when I was six years old,
I was walking home from trick or treating,
And saw a group of children gathered together.
One boy told them he was Dracula,
And showed his fangs to the rest.
His face was pale, and his lips were blue.
He was covered in sweat and smelled bad.
One of the girls of the group screamed,
But the rest just stood there terrified.
I ran away, hid behind a bush and cried."

"Did you ever talk about this with anyone?"
"No, I was too ashamed to tell," Alma said.
"You can confide in me, I won't judge you."
Alma sniffled. "Thank you, doctor."

"Haven't you suspected you were one?
Haven't you noticed a thrill running through
Whenever you stare at a sexy, bare neck?"
She was flabbergasted, and let out a noise
As if she suddenly experienced an epiphany.
"W-well, yes, but I thought it was a sexual thing."

"It can be both vampiric and sexual,
But that's your cursed impulses telling you
That you should sink your teeth into that flesh,
Mainly to feed on the nutritious blood.
I guess your urges have been suppressed
By culture, religion, and maybe your parents,
Who didn't want their daughter to be a freak."

Alma hung her head low.
"Is there a cure for vampirism, doctor?"
"No, I'm afraid it's like herpes."
"How so?"
"There's no known cure for either disease.
You'll always be a vampire."
Alma covered her pale face,
And let out a noise of despair.

She stared at me with sad eyes,
Then she stood up forcefully
While streams of tears ran down her face.
"I need to search around for a stake,
Or any equivalent implement,
Because I intend to kill myself tonight,
Before I lose the courage to resist.
Goodbye, doctor. Thank you for the help."

She rushed to the door and opened it.
"Wait!" I shouted, but she left.
I caught up with her in the hall.
"Listen to me, Alma, you are a good person,
And I believe in you. Don't give up hope."

Alma bent over and sobbed loudly.
"I'd rather die than turn into a monster!"
I rubbed her shoulder to calm her down.
"I am here for you anytime you need me,
So please, don't do anything rash."

She wiped her tears and looked down.
"I guess nothing matters for me anymore.
This world has no use for vampires,
So I can't ever date, let alone marry."

"You said that you don't want to turn into one,
But you've been a vampire since you were a child.
You don't understand: vampires are rare beings,
Different from the rest of the undead.
You retain your human intellect,
And that means you may find someone to love,
And even build a family some day."

Alma's tearful gaze looked straight at me.
"I don't know what to do, I feel so lost.
I doubt you're right,
But for a while I guess I can try
To become used to this nightmare
As a member of the cursed undead."

"Unfortunately, you can't choose a reality you prefer.
You'll suffer until you embrace that you are a vampire."
Alma's gaze was distant, she was lost in her thoughts.
"You referred to vampires as monsters," I said,
"But monsters just kill indiscriminately.
Vampires need to feed on living creatures,
Which makes them more humane than murderers.

Outward appearances can be decieving.
Take Dracula, for example:
His teeth may have looked sharp,
But he also wore soft leather shoes,
And under his cape he carried a cell phone.
Furthermore, Dracula was quite smart,
Although he had a terrible temper.
He was able to use science and technology,
Like hypnotism and hypnosis machines,
And he mastered modern medical techniques.
No, he wasn't a monster; he was a hero.
A true gentleman, and a brilliant scientist."

"How does that prove that vampires are less evil?"
"Dracula didn't cause harm to people.
He merely wanted to protect them,
By making them believe he wasn't real,
And by offering them a reprieve.
Even though he drank their blood,
The victims remained healthy.
In fact, the victims became stronger,
Due to the nutrients stored in their bodies.
Dracula also helped heal many wounded soldiers
From World War One, and even went as far
As giving blood transfusions to save lives."

Alma listened silently as I spoke.
"A vampire isn't necessarily a villain.
Sometimes they're kind and compassionate,
Such as Count Chocula, or Peter Pan,
Or maybe even Frankenstein's monster.
Whether they're good or evil depends
Upon what they're trying to accomplish."

I leaned on my desk and I stared intently.
"I know how hard this news may seem,
But I urge you to accept it anyway.
Why fight against your fate?
Your future lies ahead of you.
The first step to becoming healthy again
Is for you to embrace your vampiric nature.
Then you'll start living properly,
Instead of just surviving."

Alma looked at me with sad eyes.
"My body is weak, my mind is slow,
But if you truly believe I'll improve,
I guess I could try for a while.
But how do I go about fulfilling that purpose?"

"First, you'll need to drink some blood."
"Can't I just drink animal blood?"
"I don't know. Probably,
But your nature urges you to bite humans,
So at least you should figure out how that goes."

"S-so what, I'll look for a place to hide in the dark,
And wait for a victim to come along,
Then I'll attack and feed upon them?"
"I was thinking you could just seduce a guy.
I'm sure many would go for it.
Once you are doing the deed, bite his neck.
He may even enjoy it."
Alma smiled. "That sounds like fun."
She stood up from her chair.
"Let me get started right away!"

She left feeling uplifted, hopeful,
And promising she would return soon.
When she finally reappeared,
I was astonished at her sudden change.

Alma was smiling, and looked cheery
With a sparkle in her eyes.
Although she needed months of sun
To improve her extreme paleness,
She had lost those bags under her eyes,
She sat with her back straight,
And she was wearing jeans
And a flamingo pink hoodie
That exposed a bit of her midriff.

"I have a boyfriend, doctor.
Things have changed so much!"
"That's wonderful, Alma.
So this is someone you approached to feed?"

"Yes! I was wandering around at night
And I got into a random party.
This cute guy was looking my way,
Maybe even checking me out.
We talked for a while about Doctor Who,
Then he wanted to take me out to see a concert.
Afterwards, I dared to kiss him first.
We had sex the next day, and it was then
When I plunged my teeth into his neck.
His blood tasted so sweet
That I couldn't stop myself
From sinking my fangs deep into his flesh.
I felt like I was in heaven,
My body tingling all over."

"I'm proud of your initiative.
So did you feel any different later?"
"I felt great! It was like an energy rush,
Like my mind suddenly became sharper,
And I had been dehydrated for months.
Afterwards I could barely believe
That I had resisted drinking blood until now."

"Alright, what does your boyfriend think about it?"
"He says that I am crazy, no way I'm a vampire,
But I I think it feels real good for him
When I bite him while he's inside me."

I took a long sip from my coffee mug.
"Have you suffered from depression in the meantime?"
Alma's smile faltered.
"Although I have way more energy,
I can tell that I have developed mental issues
From the many years I've been rejecting my nature.
But that's why I come for therapy, right?"

"It may be nothing more than a placebo effect.
You're just happy because you have a boyfriend."
"That's not true, I'm happier than ever before!"
Alma smiled again as if she was in love.

"I have a new outlook on life,
A new perspective,
And I don't need to hide anymore.
I can become who I really want to be:
A happy, healthy, vampiric woman!"

"What do you suggest we do next, Alma?
Should we practice seduction techniques?"
Alma's face lit up as she grinned.
"No, I want to return to my boyfriend.
I need to taste his blood, to feed."

I wanted to give her a big hug,
But I had been warned about touching my patients.
"My door will always be open for you, Alma.
I will always listen to whatever you want to discuss."

She beamed, and a giggle escaped her mouth.
"After they told me that my problems were psychological,
I was too embarrassed to discuss them with anybody,
Especially with my parents, but even with a stranger.
I didn't want to feel like I needed to be locked up."

She wiped one eye with her sleeve, then continued,
"But I was an idiot! I should have come for therapy sooner.
If my parents had brought me as a child
I wouldn't deal with this chronic shame and despair,
Due to so many years suffering in silence,
Hiding my pain, pretending it wasn't real."

A warm sensation spread in my chest.
"Fortunately, that's all in the past.
Now that we've figured out your true nature,
You can finally begin to live."

The next time Alma showed up in my office,
She was wearing a risky crop top shirt,
With a V-neck that emphasized her small tits.
Her yoga pants were as tight as they come,
And they accentuated her slender frame.
She was wearing sunglasses indoors.
Her easy smile made me shiver.

She told me that her moods had improved,
And that she had started exercising regularly.
"More importantly, I'm getting my fill of blood,
Because I feed from a few people every night!"

"How do you achieve that?" I asked, curious.
"For new blood, I just cruise the nightlife.
I've become attractive enough
That I can simply suggest that I want sex,
And I can choose between different men.
I've gained a whole collection of people
Whom I can call whenever I'm hungry,
And they just let me into their houses
And they fuck me while I suck their blood."

"How many people do you need
To satiate your thirst until you feel full?"
"Oh, about three, and that involves
Leaving enough blood in them,
Because otherwise they might pass out,
Or, you know, just die."

"I see. And how is the sex?"
"It's amazing! They're so excited,
They cum so hard when I bite them,
But I need to control myself;
I can end up sucking them dry.
Either way, I get what I need,
By feeding off a lot of people.
My life is so much better, doctor."

I realized I had forgotten something.
"Does your boyfriend accept you
Feeding on different people every night,
Not to mention having sex with them?"

Alma was confused for a moment.
"My boyfriend...? Ah, that guy.
No, he was just the first person
Whom I managed to fuck and feed upon.
I'm dealing with many people these days.
Even girls; if one of them ogles me,
I have no issue going somewhere with her
And biting her neck, her thighs,
Or whatever she wants sucked."

"Well, you look fantastic, certainly,
As if you are doing really well.
What about your lethargy and depression?"
"All that's totally gone,
I've felt more energetic and alert.
I'm like a completely new person.
I guess the cure was becoming myself."

"I'm glad to hear that.
So many patients feel ashamed
When they come to my office
And discuss their issues.
You are a model patient, Alma.
I hope you continue to succeed."

Alma smiled warmly at me.
"Thank you so much, doctor,
For patiently listening to me rant,
And for helping me this much."

I waved my hand, but I was touched.
"Oh, please, don't mention it.
Honestly, I just enjoy talking to young women.
My patients are usually younger than me,
And I'm fascinated by their problems.
Not many people my age treat me nicely."

"In fact, I'd love to tell everyone
About how great it feels to be a vampire,
If only to help shed light on
This weird taboo society we live in."
"I'm sure people will listen to you, Alma.
Your problem is just too interesting
For most people to ignore."

Alma smirked at me, and tilted her head.
"So... do you want to feel my teeth
As they plunge into your neck, doctor?"
I felt a shiver down my spine.
"I can't interact with patients in such a way;
Another strike and I may lose my license."

One afternoon, as I was preparing to leave
Because I didn't expect any patient,
My secretary called me on the interphone.
"Alma, that vampire patient of yours,
Insists on speaking to you urgently.
She's waiting right in front of my desk."

I hadn't imagined Alma doing this;
She always called a week in advance.
"Alright, let her in."
When Alma walked into my office
And then locked the door behind her,
I could tell something was wrong.
She was wearing her usual sunglasses,
But also an old hoodie and sweatpants.
Her hair was messy, barely tied up.
She smelled of sweat and possibly blood.

You Choose Who Owns You, Pt. 3 (Poetry)

She started lubricating carefully
The length of the plastic penis
With big, oily globs of lube;
That vision pulled me out of my trance,
Of my mind's attempts at evading reality.
My heart pounded in fear and dread,
And I folded my knees towards my chest.
"No, none of that!" I pleaded weakly.

She snorted as she adjusted the harness,
Then she stroked the plastic cock
While she stared down at me defiantly.
"I will fuck you like a whore.
You will feel that pleasure, that pain.
You will learn how it feels to be a girl."

She climbed onto the bed,
Then put a hand on my knee,
Pushed it aside and slapped my ass.
Her breasts were shaking as if laughing
At the thought of what she was about to do.
The panic was strangling me.
"I beg you, please! I don't want that!"

The woman was kneeling in front
Of my two closed legs
As she rested her palms on my knees.
Her face was flushed with excitement,
And her eyes glinted like a predator's.
"This is my weapon, and I will use it.
I will find out how much of this thing
That new pussy of yours can take.
Women enjoy having their vaginas
Penetrated by big cocks, don't they?
They moan with pleasure
When men thrust in their insides."

She grinned and slipped her hand
Between my thighs to rub my genitals.
Her voice was rough and commanding.
"You are already wet, my slut.
This pussy is getting tired of waiting
For her owner's dick to enter it."
She rubbed my clitoris,
Making me pant with shame and lust.

I understood she wouldn't relent;
She had already broken most of my self.
Still, I screamed and trashed around.
When she pushed my legs apart,
My muscles were too weak to resist,
But before I knew it, I kicked her,
And one of my toenails scratched her neck.

I gasped, and held my breath,
Because the woman had frozen
And her eyes had gone cold.
Blood was beading on the cut.
I was terrified of the punishment,
Which I knew she would inflict,
And she didn't need to say a word
About how much she could hurt me.

She sighed, her gaze softened,
Then she stroked my head.
"You are so cute when you try to escape."
Shortly after, she pulled out cuffs
From under the sides of the mattress
And fastened them around my ankles,
Then tightened those chains
Until I was stuck spread-eagled.
My body was completely at her mercy.

I was shivering and crying hard
In hot streams that poured into my earholes.
My lips were trembling uncontrollably.
The woman kneeled underneath my thighs,
Then leaned forward and cupped my face.
She rubbed her fingers along my cheekbone.
She kissed my closed lips tenderly,
Although she would taste her own pee.

"My little pet, look at me.
I'm the architect of your current form,
I'm the one who has given you a pussy.
Besides, your life had already ended.
You had no clue what to do with yourself.
Someone must decide what's good for you."

I felt my chest constrict with fear
As my heart was pounding loudly.
I shook my head again and again
While I blubbered like a child.
I felt the plastic cockhead, and flinched,
But the woman chuckled.
"You think you are still a man,
When you are crying this much?"

She pressed her weight on me,
Squeezing her breasts against mine.
The plastic glans nestled in the labia
Of the genitals she had given me.
Her face hovered centimeters above mine.
She breathed deeply, warmly on my lips.
I couldn't move, I whimpered in fear.

She slowly licked the tears from my cheek.
"You can't defend yourself against me.
I can do with you whatever I want.
You are weak, physically and mentally.
You were meant to be subservient to me.
Don't worry, I won't injure my little pet.
Stop struggling pointlessly, and surrender.
You will start feeling much better."

She rested her cheek on mine
And her fingers dug into my scalp
As I felt the plastic cockhead
Slowly sliding inside me.
"Please, stop! Stop!"
My voice was agonized and hoarse.

"Sweet girl," she whispered in my ear,
"Your body is a temple of pleasure.
Let me give you what you deserve."
Her fingers were digging into my hair.

The dildo had advanced about two centimeters
When I suddenly felt a sharp, intense pain
As if something had broken inside me.
"You aren't a virgin anymore," she said.

As the foreign object penetrated me,
Sinking deeper and deeper,
I felt as if she was stabbing me
With a thick, slimy pole.
I heard the blood rushing to my ears,
And the intense pain made me dizzy.
I could feel my vagina being stretched.

She kissed me softly on the temple
And then whispered in my ear:
"That's right, just relax and let me in."
She kept pushing her hips into mine
As my restrained knees ached with strain.

My eyes were shut tight
While my mind was curled up in a ball,
But I had stopped writhing and whining,
And moans escaped from my throat.
I wanted to hold them in,
I tried to concentrate on my breathing,
Because I hated how good it felt.

She had taken away all of my strength,
And she was using me like a toy.
I knew that I deserved this fate.
I needed to be punished more;
I craved my own suffering.

As the woman's pelvis ground against me,
I started panting with pleasure.
A strange sensation of warmth and wetness
Spread through my whole body.

She fondled and sucked on my breasts
While she pulled the cock slowly
Only to push it deep again,
Which made me groan and shiver.

The woman leaned over me.
Her forehead was beaded with sweat,
And she was breathing hard.
"You are my slut, aren't you?"

My legs were trembling.
"Answer me," she ordered,
"Are you my slut or not?
I can tell that you are loving this."
I cried out, then nodded.
"I'm your little slut," I mumbled.
"I can't hear you. Louder."
"Yes! I love it! I'm a slut!"

She smiled at my response,
Then she leaned down and kissed me.
Her tongue invaded my mouth.
For a moment I wanted to bite it,
To tear her tongue out,
Although I knew she would kill me,
Or maybe precisely because she would.
But I closed my lips around her tongue
And sucked on it as if it were her clit.

When the woman pulled away,
Her face was twisted with lust.
"You make me so fucking horny.
Beg me to make you come."
My whole body was shuddering.
"Fuck me harder, Mistress!
Make me come. I need it!"

She kissed me and hugged me tight
As she slammed her pelvis against mine.
I felt like I was drowning in a sea of pleasure.
"Come for me, my little slut," she ordered.

I was screaming and moaning.
My entire body was quivering.
I wanted her to keep fucking me forever.
The ebbs and flows of sexual energy
Turned into overwhelming waves
That made my spine arch upwards
And my eyes roll back.

The next thing I remember,
She had freed me from the four cuffs,
She had wrapped her arms around me
And she was nibbling slowly on my earlobe.
I took a deep breath, disoriented,
And the woman hummed with pleasure.

"Fucking you is something else.
I've never felt this close to someone,
Besides, you are the cutest as a girl."
She planted soft kisses on my cheek
As her fingertips drifted over my abdomen.
The bedroom smelled of sex and pee.

I was dazed, and burning with shame.
I despised her for how she made me feel.
I couldn't believe I had moaned like a girl.
I wanted to turn invisible, or disappear.

Was I really a man?
How could I have become so weak?
What I wanted most was to run away from her,
But I feared that she would find me again.

As I stared up at the ceiling
And listened to our hearts beating,
The woman sat upright and got off the bed.
She stretched and spoke brightly.

"Your tummy needs to be filled with solid food.
It's been weeks since your last decent meal.
I'll prepare you something for dinner,
But I warn you: I'm used to eating unhealthily,
Because preparing food bores me out of my mind.
That single dinner you made so lovingly for me
Has made me daydream about all the food
You'll prepare for us for the many years to come."

She left her torture chamber,
Abandoning me there naked,
Ashamed, sullied with dried piss.
My stomach did growl in hunger,
Likely because she had mentioned food.

I curled up on the bed,
While my mind tumbled over itself
About how I could escape.
Would she chase after me and kill me?
I knew I couldn't rely on the police;
They would never believe I was a man,
Let alone a forty years old one.
The government may know about her work,
Which must have been classified,
So if they found out she had transformed me,
It may be convenient to make me disappear.

I sat up, but I kept shaking.
It hurt to move my limbs.
When I gathered enough strength,
I stumbled to the nearest bathroom
And washed the woman's pee,
As well as her pussy juices,
Off my new, delicate face.

I avoided staring at the stranger
That the mirror insisted on showing me.
I plopped down on the toilet seat,
Because I was hyperventilating.
My heart was racing, my stomach churning.

I left the faucet running
So the sound would conceal my sobs.
I heard the woman's words in my mind,
Mocking me because men shouldn't cry.

I shuffled up to the kitchen,
And huddled against the door jamb
As if to hide my naked shame.
The woman has humming contentedly
While she filleted a mackerel at the counter,
Her back turned towards me.

She had tied up her hair in an elaborate ponytail,
And was wearing a cream-colored satin kimono
That barely covered half of her shapely thighs.
I found myself admiring the curves of her ass.

She turned around; her kimono was open,
And only partially covered the nipples
Of her firm, bare breasts.
She looked so delicious that I began to salivate.
I felt the blood rushing to my pelvis,
Although my body ached like it had been beaten.

The woman bit her lower lip
While she ogled the body she had created
As if she planned to eat me for dessert.
I gulped, and dared to speak.
"W-where are my clothes?"
"What clothes, baby?" she asked casually.
"T-the clothes I was wearing that night.
My wallet too, with my money and cards."

The woman smiled patiently.
"Those clothes belonged to a dead man."
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
I looked around as if to spot my stuff.
"I threw them out weeks ago," she said,
"And besides, don't I keep this house warm?"
I felt dizzy and weak.
"I-I need to wear something..."
"A pet doesn't need to wear clothes.
Just one little, convenient accessory."

She patted my shoulder as she passed by.
My ears rang while I stood there paralyzed
Until I felt her approaching me from behind.
She put a leathery band around my neck,
Then she fastened it carefully.

She fondled my ass as she kissed my ear.
"You only need a collar that identifies you
As your owner's property," she whispered.
There was no point in complaining.
My throat was dry, and I was trembling.

She took my stillness for consent,
Or I guess that she didn't care,
And she kissed me on the lips
Until my mouth opened to let her inside.
It was a soft, gentle kiss
That made my whole body shudder.

I was in shock, I could barely focus my gaze,
As I sat naked on a dining chair
Next to the woman who had castrated me,
Who had made me feel things
For which I should hide in shame.

I was eating her miso mackerel with brown rice.
I ate it slowly and carefully;
It was tasty, but I mainly needed the strength.
I had to figure out how to steal some clothes
And escape out of her dungeon
Into the streets of this gloomy, rainy evening.

The woman was eating her fish.
Her fingers were dexterous and agile.
She sliced off every morsel,
And then she swallowed it down.
I kept glancing down at her exposed thighs,
At the fair skin that seemed to glow
In the light of the kitchen lamp.

I looked away, pretending to be absorbed
By the food on my plate,
But I could not stop thinking about sex.
My mind was filled with images of her pussy.
I was desperate to touch it, lick it,
To bury my fingers deep inside her
And fuck her as hard as I could
With the dick I used to have.

Whenever she stared at me from my right
I felt that she could read my thoughts.
My body seemed to crave her attentions;
It needed her touch, those tingles she caused.

"Are you enjoying your dinner?" she asked.
I gulped, the hairs on my nape stood up.
I nodded silently, and she stroked my head.
I wanted to suckle her tender nipples.
I wanted to crawl into her lap
And give her purple dick a blowjob.
I trembled under her smile.
"I'm so glad you're enjoying being my pet."

After we put the empty plates in the dishwasher,
For a while I tolerated her caresses and kisses.
"I need to do some stuff on the computer,"
The woman said as she fondled me,
"So keep yourself occupied, alright?
Don't worry, you'll be fully mine tonight,
As you will again and again."

I couldn't believe my luck,
That she would let me out of her sight.
I skulked naked around her house
Until I found the laundry room,
And a basket filled with her used clothes.

Before I knew it, I was sniffing her panties;
I craved the scent of her sweat and juices.
I chose a wrinkled blouse and manly trousers,
And I dressed myself with them to escape.
As I gritted my teeth, I unlatched the collar
And threw it furiously on the floor.

I sneaked silently up to the front door,
But I felt her sharp gaze piercing my nape.
There she was, with her hand on a door jamb,
As she watched me try to abandon her.
I had assumed I would face her fury,
But her gaze was soft, and worried.

"Where are you going?" she asked.
My muscles were trembling,
And I could barely breathe.
I waggled the door handle,
But although I tried frantically,
The woman had locked me in.

The woman produced her keychain,
Then approached me calmly
To place her keys on my palm.
I was sure she would mock my attempt,
That she would snatch her keys back,
Then prove her strength
By grabbing me by the neck
And chaining me again to her BDSM bed,
But she dropped her right arm
And offered me an understanding gaze.

I felt like an insect under a boot.
For me, she was as powerful as a god,
Armed with an alien determination.
"Y-you aren't going to stop me?"
She smiled, and caressed my cheek.

"You think that I want a slave?
You are free to leave, and to decide
Whether you'll belong to me or to the outside.
You've endured those streets for forty years.
You have sacrificed yourself to earn money,
Struggling and exhausting yourself endlessly,
And you devoted yourself to other women,
Suffering countless humiliations and defeats,
Only for everyone to abandon you in the end.
You have shed your skin, you can try again,
But you can choose us instead.
I will keep you warm and safe,
I will make love to you every day.
I can give you everything a girl wants.
Anything is possible in this world
If you have as much money as me.
You won't have to work ever again.
All I ask in exchange, my pet,
Is for you to pleasure and comfort me."

Her words made me tremble.
"I-I don't need to be your sex toy,
Or a pet, or anything else..."
I said weakly,
But the woman's smile broadened.
"I offer you the chance to be happy.
I know you hate being alone;
I understand how lonely you feel,
And I'll give you the affection you need,
So please stay with me."

I stared at her, dumbfounded.
I was speechless for a while,
And she kissed me tenderly
As if she feared it would be the last time
(Or like a mother to her child).

I considered her offer, I admit,
Then I recalled the weeks of torture,
And that she had killed my previous self.
I groaned, and turned around quickly.
I hoped to open the door in seconds,
And yet I fumbled with different keys
Until I found the one that fit in.
I was terrified of looking at her face;
I felt her standing right behind me.

I left the keychain hanging from the lock
As I pulled the door open and ran away.
The raindrops were falling on my face.
I reached the end of the one-lane road,
Then I scurried to a stretch of the street
That the streetlights weren't brightening.
She hadn't lied: I needed to recover,
Because I crumpled onto the pavement
As I struggled to catch my breath.

I wanted to forget the whole thing.
I was sickened by her cruelty,
And I was burning with shame.
I had a strong urge to run back home,
To crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.
I could never tell anyone what she did to me.

My head was spinning, my chest was heaving,
I wished for the rain to wash away
All the humiliation and degradation
That monster had inflicted upon me.

I stood motionless in the rain.
I was unfamiliar with this street
Lined with alabaster white buildings.
I had no idea what direction to take.

I needed to get home, but did it exist?
I had been gone for weeks without paying,
So the landlord must had evicted me.
Even if I still could call that place my home,
I had lost my only set of keys,
And how would I convince that landlord
That I was the forty years old renter?

I felt too tired and weak to wander around.
I wished to call a taxi, but I couldn't pay.
I couldn't even afford to buy a water bottle.
How could I survive on my own?

I roamed around in a daze.
I was cold and wet, and I couldn't help crying.
I passed by groups of young people jabbering,
And devoted salarymen that returned home.
Whenever I felt someone's gaze upon me,
I looked away and walked faster.

I hoped to find a park, or maybe a shrine,
Where I could hide for the night,
But there was nothing nearby
Except a few small businesses.

I was just a stupid animal
Stumbling through the darkness.
My legs were burning,
My whole body shivered.
The night and its cold rain
Were hypnagogic hallucinations,
And I wished for my knees to buckle,
For my mind to finally collapse,
For the rain to seep through my pores
And fill my heart with rainwater.

Somehow I ended up under an awning,
Sitting on the pavement and hugging my knees
While the rainwater flowed around me.
I heard heavy footsteps approaching.
It was a big, middle-aged man with grey hair,
Who wore a coat and carried a shopping bag.
The streetlight behind him silhouetted his face.
"My goodness, what's the matter, girl?
Why are you sobbing like a child?
Did someone attack you?"

When I felt his hand on my shoulder,
I gasped and flinched,
Then scrambled to my feet.
"Don't touch me! Get away from me!"
My voice was shrill and hoarse.

I was freezing cold, running in the dark
When I tripped over something
And my chest hit the pavement.
I groaned in pain, rolled around,
Then hurried up to crawl under a bush.

I didn't want anyone to see me.
I didn't want to be known as a girl,
Or to have to explain why I was a girl.
I didn't want anyone to realize
That I had been tortured and raped.
I wanted to die quietly, like a fish
That sinks to the bottom of the sea.

There was nothing to my name.
I didn't even have one.
My wallet was gone, so was my phone.
I lacked an identity document, any history.
As far as this world was concerned,
I had never existed.
That woman could have locked me in a cage,
And no one would have searched for me.

I needed to start from zero.
I had to learn how to live again.
I had to make myself valuable.
I had to find a way to make money,
At least enough to feed myself,
But I also wanted a roof over my head.

I was never talented at anything.
I would end up relying on some stranger,
And those who would care would be men,
For whom I would be a pretty high school girl.
They would thrust their real dicks inside me.
I would become a sex slave to them.

It may had taken me an hour,
As I lost myself and nearly passed out,
Until I recognized that one-lane road,
And further ahead, the iron cast fence
Topped with medieval, sharp spikes.
I felt relief; this was my port in a storm.

I walked slowly, limping towards the gate.
The raindrops were hitting my face,
And I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead.
I was afraid of looking back
At what I left behind.

I stood in front of the buzzer,
But it took me a minute to press it.
Later I felt the woman's presence
On the other side of the camera lens.

"So you've returned," the woman said.
I could tell she was upset.
I was shivering, my eyes burned.
"Yes, I want... Please, let me in."

She unlocked the gate,
And after I entered her yard,
I hurried to the front door.
When she appeared,
Her eyes gleamed in the dimness,
But her kimono was closed.
"You have turned into a wet stray.
You should have stolen an umbrella."

My teeth were chattering.
I couldn't verbalize what I needed.
The woman's stare was sullen;
I had clearly disappointed her.
"I thought I would never see you again.
My heart can break too, you know."

I felt that my heart was going to burst.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.
"P-please, can I come in, and be here?"
The woman sighed, but she grabbed my arm,
Which sent a warm shiver down my spine,
And pulled me in so she could close the door.

"Go to the living room. I'll bring you a towel,"
The woman said as she avoided my gaze.
I obeyed. I wanted nothing else.
Once I entered the cozy living room,
I stood away from the carpet;
A puddle on the hardwood sounded better.

The woman returned, and threw me a towel.
She walked to the sofa and sat down.
My heart sank; I wanted her to dry me off.
I had failed her. Maybe she would reject me.

The inside of this home was so warm
So I could walk around naked,
As free as those mythical first humans
In their heavenly paradise.

I didn't want to be out in the cold
With only my own strength.
I wanted to feel her arms embrace me.
Even if I had to sweat and bleed for it,
I wanted to feel her soft skin
Against my own.

She stared at me with severity
As she reached for a glass of wine
She had put on the coffee table
Next to the collar I had renounced.

"Speak," she said. "Say it clearly.
Why exactly did you want to return?"
"I-I wanted to ask you, to beg you
To let me live here with you."

Her nostrils were dilated,
Her eyes looked hurt and sunken
As if she hadn't slept for days.
"Take off those wet clothes you stole,
And dry yourself off at once.
I don't want you catching a cold."

Seconds later I was naked like she wanted,
And I welcomed how she observed my skin.
I kept sniffling, and the next day I'd be sick,
But my heart already felt much warmer.
This house was where I was born,
And where I wanted to grow old.

Once I finished drying myself off,
She gulped down the rest of her wine.
"To beg properly, you have to kneel."
"Yes, whatever you say."
My knees sank in the carpet.

She loosened the knot of her kimono,
And the silky fabric slid open,
Revealing her firm, delicious breasts.
"What do you want? Say it clearly,"
The woman said in a low voice.

Between her knees,
I could finally see her slit:
A vertical, slanted eye,
With a hollowed eye socket.

"I want to be your pet," I said.
Her eyes twitched, then glistened.
She licked her lower lip.
"Then prove it."

I crawled up to her bare left foot,
And I slowly kissed her calf,
Licked her skin down to her ankle,
And sucked on each of her toes.

I was breathing hard,
My pussy was warm and wet.
I opened my eyes, and looked up.
Her face was flushed, her lips moist,
And her nipples stiff.

I reached for the collar.
As I stared into the woman's eyes,
I put it around my neck
Then fastened it
Until it felt as if her two warm hands
Were wrapped around my throat.

"I am your pet, now and forever.
I will pleasure you and comfort you.
Please, take good care of me."

The woman gulped and shivered,
Then scooted closer to the edge
So she could stroke my face.
"Do you know why you had to kneel?"

A cold ache shot through me,
And I hung my head low.
"Because I'm a pathetic, worthless beast
Who should have never been born."

She was quick to lift my chin up,
And stared firmly into my eyes
As she spoke in an soothing tone.
"I won't hear any more of such self-disdain.
You are a beautiful soul, inside and out.
You are kneeling because I'm your owner,
And there's no shame in that."

She pulled me up so I could straddle her thighs,
So close that my pussy touched hers.
She wrapped me in her arms, inside her kimono.
We made out like a couple of high schoolers
For so long that my mind dissolved.
I was in ecstasy, and I felt complete.

When she finally pulled away,
She bit my lower lip,
Then whispered in my ear.
"You are the most precious girl,
A perfect, loving pet."

Her voice made my heart tremble,
Like she had spoken in a dream.
She held my head against her chest,
Where I smelled her breast sweat
As her hands slowly caressed me.
I was melting into her arms,
Her smooth skin, her firm tits,
The softness of her thighs.

A big yawn escaped from my mouth,
Which caused her to yawn as well.
"Poor thing," she said,
"You need a good night's sleep."

She put me down and helped me stand,
Then she held my hand tightly.
"Let's go to our bedroom," she said.
Instead of leading me to her torture chamber,
She guided me up the stairs and down the hallway
Until we reached the master bedroom.
It was decorated in black or cherry red
Except for the main feature: a canopy bed
With a pillowy, purple comforter.

The woman pulled back the sheets,
Lay down in the bed,
Then held the sheets up
So I could lay down next to her.
Once my body rested beside hers,
She wrapped me with the comforter,
And then hugged me snugly,
Entangling her shapely legs with mine.
She let out a long, heavy sigh.
"My kitty-cat is so soft and warm."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
I was safe, untroubled, at peace,
And in mere seconds, my mind sank
Into the velvety oblivion of sleep.

THE END