Dark Star, The Forty-Sixth Chapter – Crafting

This house has extra space. More space for me to develop and grow, Daddy says. More space for me to do all the things that good girls do.

I can read any of the books Daddy chooses for me. I can bake using our special ingredients. I can clean and make house like we’re a good little family and I can make pretty things. I like making pretty things.

This house has extra space so I can have a craft corner, a little nook for me to sew and create. Daddy cleared the shelves and drawers, dramatically pulling everything off the rails with a “Ta da”. He has a special sparkle in his eyes when he acts dramatic like that for me. He likes it when I giggle and clap and call out for it “again, again!”

That night we had a bonfire, burning the old to bring in the new. I kept a few little trinkets from the things that were here before, recycling, giving them a new life, making them my own. Daddy says I’m extra special for taking so much care of our world. He says I’m born of the Earth and Nature and that I act as people should. Showing care for the land and eviscerating those that abuse it.

Those trinkets were the first of my collection. I cutted them up into pieces, ingredients for my creations, the supplies for my projects. Daddy said the excess bits wouldn’t burn so we fed them to the pigs as a special treat.

I like the piggies, I think they’re a bit like me, sweet and snuffly on the outside, all cute and fuzzy. They’re good to stroke but the frenzy when you feed them blood… Gosh! I think they have beasts inside them! Beast like Daddy and I do. Daddy says they’re nature’s blade – they obliterate anything that’s left at their mercy.

I admire the rows, all neatly organised. Each drawer labelled with the contents. Easy to find the various bits and pieces I need.

Daddy says we might stay here a while now so I can try some bigger projects, and maybe he’d help me. We could make some furniture, more “our style” Daddy said, replace the old fuddy duddy décor of the previous farmers. Daddy would use his new work bench and I can sew the covers and decorate them.

Or I could try my hand at some clothes, maybe even a gown so one day Daddy could take me dancing.

If we stay, and Daddy wants to stay, I may not have any new toys for a little while. The shops of the cities are far away and we have less chance of playthings volunteering themselves for our games, although Daddy thinks he’s seen one or two. A campsite down the lane might bring friends who’ll want to play.

I can make myself some new toys though, a pretty dolly family to have adventures around the old cottage and the barns. I can make them. I can make them perfect. I can make them using all the adorable teeny body parts laid out for me to choose from.

I even have hearts so they can feel and eyes so they can see and I was very careful in saving hair that I can plait and style a hundred times over. It’s all still attached to the little scalp sections. They just need stuffing and sewing together.

I stroke each piece in turn counting them out, delighting at my wealth of supplies, my treasure trove. “Two little arms, two bigger arms, two little legs, two bigger legs…” Then tap each of the glass jars containing the accessories. I was very lucky to have so many eyes to choose from, a selection of colours. I was extremely frugal, saving all the things I thought could be used again when we took over. I didn’t let any parts go to waste that were good.

Daddy said the farmer’s children would be so pleased to know I was making toys with what was left over. They were only little, but I know they played with dollies like me because I tore them apart too, the strange little plastic shells. Empty of emotion, not like my dollies will be, they still have life in their eyes.

My first attempt at a new dolly is a disaster. I spend days trying to cut the pieces to fit and sewing them is hard. I dig the needle deep into my hand many times and soon become distracted, gorging on my own sweet blood. Looking at the end result, I’ve simply made a chewed mess.

Daddy comforts me in his lap, sat in front of the open hearth. He strokes my hair with one hand as he holds up my creation to examine it with the other.

“I can see you’re getting better,” he reassures me. “Practice my Blade and you will be a master before you realise it.”

Re-emerging from the nestling spot in his chest, I ask with uncertainty, “Really?”

“Yes.” He smiles, warmly at me. “Put your mind to it Blade and you can achieve anything. You may not appreciate it now, but you will.” His belief in me makes my heart race.

“Anyone with any sense,” he adds with a cheeky twinkle in his eye, “would do well to recognise your talents too. Just,” he kisses me on the nose, “like I do.”

The next few days are lost in a feverish haze of craftwork. Daddy brings me meals and exclaims with awe as I show him my progress. I want to do well for him and he said I should be a master at this so I will be. I will be. I just need to keep practicing.

Eventually, tired and sore with fingers rubbed raw, I collapse in bed with Daddy.

“Well..?” He asks expectantly.
“All. Done.” I exhale each word and fall into a deep slumber.

Daddy has a surprise for me on waking, leading me sleepy eyed through the cottage.

The small girl looks at me from the corner of the play room. She’s shaking with nerves. Daddy says my friends are always nervous to meet me because of my reputation, because they all think I’m so marvellous. I don’t think I’m anything special, despite what Daddy says about me.

“I know you think I must the most marvellous girl in the world,” I say with ease. “But I’m not. I’m just another normal girl like you.” I give her my best smile. “I’m silly and clumsy and just a bit of a dork really!” Daddy says I’m a bit of a dork. He says it means I’m cute and it’s because I haven’t caught up on growing up yet.

I can’t wait to show her my special new dolly family.

Her face scrunches up as I hand her the boy doll. He has genuine boy parts, although they’re a bit big for his body and they don’t move like they used to. I don’t understand why she doesn’t seem to like it. Her little boney hands cover her quivering lips and wrinkled nose.

“What’s wrong.” I ask, forlorn at her response. “Don’t you like him?”

She pushes the boy dolly away, retreating as far into the corner as she can. Her slender limbs look like a spider retreating into a hole in the wall.

“Fine!” I shout, angry at her lack of appreciation for my art. “Hide in a hole like a pathetic spider. You don’t deserve to be my friend!”

Stupid girl. Stupid stupid girl. Doesn’t she know how hard I worked?

Daddy knows exactly what to do, of course. Life is simple here on the farm. No pressures from the outside world, no scrutiny nor people sticking their noses in.

Just a chance to create, to raise life, grow food, live off the land and by the seasons. We’ll eat what we grow and what we can gather. The gathered girl doesn’t taste like ungrateful… Quite the opposite… With vegetables and dumplings, she’s really quite sweet. A hearty meal making the best of what’s available. And what’s left… that fits neatly in my drawers, ready to be remade. Ready for me to make perfect again.

Daddy wants to raise a whole flock, animals for meat and food, animals to breed. Animals to be proud of. We’ll never need anyone or anything else. Self-sustaining simplicity.

We’ll make this our home, our forever home. It’s quite the life we’re crafting here.


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Dark Star, The Forty-Fifth Chapter – Offering

A bird comes into view. A silly little thing. Chest puffed, all red with glee.

It flits, it flutters. The bird I see. It hops from the frost bitten tree.

Stupid little creature now. It comes close to me.

My hand, I hold out. Cold as ice, white as snow.

The grains of seed, I let them go.

The bird, it chirps. It lets me know.

With thanks it takes them. One by one.

Gentle pecks and ruffling of feathers.

The last morsel, the final seed.

The bird, it reaches for it. It’s final deed.

With a wail and scream, my hand bangs down.

My need is met. The bird is dead.

The silly little thing. Tonight, me, it will have fed.


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Dark Star, The Forty-Fourth Chapter – Rescuing

Up in my tower I wait for a valiant knight to come and rescue me. I’m in the tallest tower of the whole castle. Cursed by a wicked witch when I was born I’m destined to wait here, protected by a fierce dragon, to be rescued by the bravest of men who can break her spell and free me from these unseen chains.

It’s the most perfect castle. Daddy drew on all the brickwork, on the plain side, not the cereal box side. There’s even a drawbridge that comes up and down with thin ropes. Our moat, my favourite blue blankie, is home to the most vicious of crocodiles, ready to eat your face off. The big castle gates I painted in black are the only way to enter the fortified kingdom to save me, the innocent princess, from her lonely fate.

My princess dress isn’t perfect but it’s only a little bit stained. I try not to bleed on it too much.

High up on my sofa tower there’s no hope of escape, the only way in and out of the castle gates is get through the dragon, roaming on the floor below me.

On all fours he paces back and forth looking menacing, sneering up at me. “I see you evil dragon,” I tell him. “Keeping me captive here. Oh where, oh where is my rescuer?!” The dragon huffs at me, I see little puffs of smoke pour out of his nostrils, just above all the dried blood. I see him as a strong vicious beast, far larger than his human body with deep dark burgundy scales, bred purely to guard me with his life. I see it, even if it takes Daddy’s persuasion to make him adopt his role.

“Hark! What’s that I hear in the distance?” I exclaim with mock surprise which makes Daddy smirk. “Is that my brave knight coming to save me?”

Though the movement may be clunky, the horse not quite yet used to his rider and the bit that fills his mouth, they move steadily towards me, urged on by Daddy and his special zappy playtime stick. They make their way to the entrance of the castle, across the landscape of my cottage kingdom.

“The dragon, has heard the clippedy clop of hooves,” Daddy narrates, “and he comes out of the castle with a ferocious roar!” Nodding to me to open the gates and drop the drawbridge. I slide down to complete the tasks before scrambling back up again to my tower perch, waiting to watch the action, to see my knight fight for me, to slay the dragon and take my hand.

Daddy’s storytime voice directs the action. “The dragon comes out of the gates and towards the knight and his noble steed, ready to protect the princess at all costs.” He nods and I push the end of the stick hard against the dragon’s bare behind, clicking down on the button to spur him on. The zap is audible and the impact evident in how he springs forward.

“A roar!” Daddy reminds the dragon with a glare. I hear a deep bellowing ROOOOOAR! that comes out of the dragon’s mouth accompanied by fire and smoke. I hear the guttural sounds of an angry beast. I hear it even if his pathetic human whimper belies the illusion.

“And now…” Daddy proclaims, “They fight!” I bounce with glee, the soft sofa back cushioning my enthusiastic movements. This is my favourite part. The part with the back and forth action, the blood and tearing of flesh. I like it when they break each other’s bones. I like the breaking sounds.

“If the dragon wins, he lives to fight another day!” Daddy explains “If the knight wins, he gets all the bounty of the kingdom, he’ll eat the biggest feast for rescuing the princess, he’ll finally get to eat today… for the first time this week…”

He adds a sidebar to me: “The knight has trekked far you see princess, for many days he has been preparing to rescue you, getting his horse ready for the long journey.” I giggle, I love Daddy’s stories. I know they’ve really just been in the barn since we adopted them.

It’s warm in there. And they’ve had a trough to drink from.

I squash down the thought and throw myself back into the make believe. I see the horse stamping the ground, ready to charge the dragon. I see his thick mane and long tail. I see a beautiful majestic creature, rather than the skinny shivering boy looking deeply disturbed and a little confused.

He’ll learn, if the horsey survives the battle he’ll get to be the knight next time. Knights always fight that bit harder when they’ve played the game before, when they know what’s at stake.

The knight dismounts, standing firm against the dragon, raising his sword. The beast is considerably bigger with fierce sharp claws and teeth that bite, still stained with the blood of the last knight that dared to enter the castle grounds to rescue the princess.

I see the fight in their eyes, fight that goes beyond playful, fight that is motivated by survival. Motivated by their rumbling tummies as much as the beautiful princess. The internal struggle shows in their movement, but they must fight, fight or die, fight or starve. They know what’s at stake.

“Fight.” I urge them. “Fight for me, fight for me and I shall ensure you have all the riches you desire. You shall be handsomely rewarded.” I gesture towards a table of food, laid out for the victor. Thick slabs of red meat, healthy young meat.

I see the knight heroically battling to win my hand. To save me from a fate worse than death, doomed to be alone forever trapped in the castle. I see him brandishing a sword made of the finest steel, rippling muscles under his chainmail, determinedly focussing on saving me, protecting me from the dragon. Ready to whisk me off to be his bride. I see him brave and fearless, not the snivelling boy cringing every time the crude wooden sword connects.

Not the terrified boy that’s wet himself under the pressure. Not the stupid boy that’s failing to defend himself under the weight of a dragon that’s won this fight before.

I see him as heroic knight, simply outmatched in this battle to the death, falling under the enormous weight of an angry, hungry dragon that’s gnashing at his soft skin, tearing his neck open to torrents of blood, gushing up the walls of the castle.

His horsey whinnies and pulls away, seeing the fate of his owner and fearing for himself but his bit is too tight, his reigns too securely shackled. He’s stuck, closing his eyes against the horror. He begins to move his hooves to his ears to cover the sound but Daddy catches him with a zap. “Horses walk on all fours.” He reminds the boy. “Hooves, not hands.”

Panicked and frothing at the mouth the knight’s beast displays physical relief when the dragons teeth finally rip their way completely through the knight’s mangled neck, severed vocal chords can’t scream.


His work done the dragon sits back, panting and drenched in fresh blood. He looks to Daddy, pleading. “Clever beast,” Daddy whispers, dragging the defeated Knight from the castle grounds and replacing him with meat, an abundance of meat. The dragon’s reward.

He begins devouring the pile of raw flesh as Daddy leads the horse away. “I hope you’ll do better! You’re our new knight,” he whispers to the now howling steed, his animalistic noises opposed to his assigned role. Daddy swiftly kicks him into the yard, no one will hear him out there.

Perhaps the dark and rainy night will inspire him to devise a better battle plan. Perhaps he can be the knight that wins? The one that finally defeats the dragon and frees me?

“Oh woe is me!” I wail dramatically. “Banished to live forever in this tower, punished by the witch’s curse. Will I never know true love? Will I ever be saved?” I mock cry into my hands… my stomach starting to flutter a little as I know what comes next.

“Oh but princess,” Daddy swoops into the castle and pulls me into his arms. “You forget about the King’s guard and his secret tunnels. Every evening he sneaks in to see the princess, locked away, unable to leave her tower. He comes to see her and teaches her, doesn’t he?” I nod furiously, beaming away as Daddy becomes the guard.

“Hush princess, I can’t stay for long, the dragon has devoured the foolish knight and slumbers… but he’ll awake soon. You want to be a good princess don’t you? You want to be able to please your knight when he rescues you?”

“Yes Dadd… I mean, Sir, yes I do…will you show me?”

“You’re in luck for I shall! Today we can play a special little game. I’ll show you how to be the perfect bride when your perfect brave knight comes to rescue you. How to please him so he’ll look after you forever. How to pleasure him so he doesn’t get angry and have to show you himself. Come now princess” Daddy continues in character, “Rid yourself of that cumbersome dress and undergarments… let me show you how.”

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Dark Star, The Forty-Third Chapter – Tanning

The pelts hang satisfyingly off the wire line, freshly cut and cleaned from our catch. I hoist them up another foot or two to catch the last of the evening sun. The pale white skin glistens brightly in the red dusk. They will make beautiful dresses for my darling girl when they are finished tanning. The skins are ever so soft thanks to the young prey. The last of the three carcasses from our hunt lies on the makeshift workbench.

Packing up my tools, I take a moment to look over the valley. It really is beautifully quiet here in the hills; a welcome change from the never-ending cycle of towns and cities. I smile at the building that will be our home for the next few days, a crumbling stone cottage at the base of the hill.

The setting is idyllic and, were it possible, I would have liked to stay a while. Only the hunt is already getting harder with such a small pool of prey to gather. The population is so sparse out here compared to on the city edges where there are plenty to be plucked from the grey area between the buildings and the countryside beyond. That made for a rich hunting ground where the starving pick at the waste of the wealthy city dwellers within.

Cleaning off my blade on a rag, I weigh up the rewards of picking out the last remnants of meat that cling between the fragile bones. It’s hardly worth the effort of separating out the few scraps from the sinew and gristle. Satisfied with our lot already I decide to enjoy the rare evening with my girl and brush the jumble of messy bones aside. With a little shove the whole corpse is pushed over the edge of the worktop and into the water well it rests upon. I wait for the satisfying crack as the fresh skull collides and shatters against the growing pile of bones below. With a grunt I shove the ancient stone covering back over the well, sealing in the remains.

I hum an old tune to myself as I amble merrily down the hillside. A heavy bucket of fresh meat in one hand and my bag of tools in the other, I easily forget the hard times that came before. This is how life was meant to be.

Dreaming of what our life could be, if we stayed, I’m lost in a rarely afforded romantic haze. Just Blade and I, out here in the wilds. It’s a simple life and one I crave. Only I know we can’t. We wouldn’t last long before we would be forced to move on. We are always forced to move on. I feel a dark cloud roll in. Why must we always move on?

Quickly I distract myself and focus on the nearing cottage. Tonight I shall indulge my Blade, my dark princess.

In that moment I hear the shrieks and screams. They pierce my ears, well tuned to the sound. “Blade!” I gasp.

Dropping everything I bolt forwards into a fast run. “Blade!” I shout in fear. I hear her again, screaming. What is happening?

Hitting the door at full speed, I bounce back. Again, I square up and launch my shoulder into the old wood. A few times more I throw myself at it until it finally gives way and I crash into the single roomed house.

“No!” she cries out from the floor. “Wait! No!”

I can see the tears in her eyes. I can smell the fear.

“Daddy…!” Blade exclaims. She needs me.

The man, our pet, is loose and crouched above her. I see Blade’s white knickers in his fist.

I don’t speak. I just roar with anger.

“Please!” He jabbers at me, looking at his hand and dropping the evidence. “You don’t understand.”

“Animal!” I roar again and lunge forward. I have him in a few strides, picking him clean off the floor and pinning him against the hard stone wall. His shoulder cracks on impact.


“Please, sir…” His pathetic voice trails off under the pain. I press harder into his chest as he coughs up a few specks of blood. Sir? His words suggest he’s finally learning his lesson, if a little late.

“Filthy animal.” I growl at him. “You think you can have her while I’m not looking?” My accusation is met with whimpers as he tries to look away.

I grip his jaw tight and force it back to face me. “You thought you could rape my little girl?” My accusation makes him flinch, he seems to struggle to breathe.

“Daddy! Please!” Blade calls out to me between her sobs. “Please. No!”

“You did this to her.” My hand moves deftly from his chin to his neck. It’s so weak, I could crack it in an instant. “You failed.” I tighten ever so slightly, enough to force him to take a breath, which is met with instant agony. A bone clearly pierced his lungs. Good.

“How about,” I say with a smile, “I show you how it should be done.”

My fingers tighten on the veins in his neck, quickly turning his face red. The whites of his eyes wide before they flicker shut in fear.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” I snarl in his ear. “Filthy little animal.”

I slowly draw my free hand down his naked body. He has lost a lot of weight since I first picked him up. I like it. He’s better this way, more attractive. I let my fingers brush the bone of his hips. The response is immediate. He’s sensitive there. His cock has long since failed but I can feel the ripple of his muscle clench. It’s better when he clenches. Tighter.

I lift him an inch or two higher by the neck. The pressure clearly making him dizzy but not enough to make him pass out. His senses will be flickering in and out, hyper aware and then lost in a fuzzy haze.

I feel between his legs and the soft bare skin. Tracing back, I shove a finger roughly inside. He moans in discomfort. I feel myself get hard. “Good little beast.” I whisper mockingly. “Here’s the reward you’ve been begging for.”

Oxygen deprivation starts to kick in. He blinks in and out of consciousness. Focusing his eyes on me he smiles briefly, high from the effects. Then the real world shudders back into his mind and he grimaces in anguish.

I shove another finger inside of him. Grazing deep inside I force a trickle of blood to start rolling down my hand. Lubrication.

“You will take it.” I command before unzipping and releasing myself. I bring him down slowly and ease him onto my hard cock. The pain is evident as he weakly flails against me. I growl deep and push harder.

Each stroke takes away something from him. I see him lose the fight, the will to struggle. Each of my grunts force out his humanity. I watch him degrade into a whimpering animal.

“Filthy. Fucking. Animal.” I growl with anger.

I thrust faster and deeper. I feel myself begin to swell as I grunt heavily against his pale body. I feel my muscles ache as I lift him up and pull him down hard again and again. I use him like a meat sack, constantly tightening my grip on his neck until his face goes blue and I feel his muscles ripple and spasm around my shaft. I feel his life leave him and bring myself to the edge.

Panting I drop the corpse to the floor and return to my crying girl. She looks ashamed as I pull her up off the floor and into my arms.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I say softly as I kiss her head.

“Daddy,” she sobs, “I just wanted to feel…” Her words trail off as she fails to find the words to describe how it happened. How he got free. How he must have overpowered her.

“He’s dead.” I reassure her.

Her sobs continue to be broken by odd words. “Feel… Inside… I wanted… He didn’t… It was my… I missed your…”

Moving her shaking hand down to my hard cock, I let her feel my passion, still dripping with his slick blood. “I saved my gift for you.” I smile lovingly at her. “My good girl.”

Instantly she relaxes in my arms and her fingers begin to caress and feel the sticky mess. “Oh Daddy.” Her words of love passing her soft lips that are quick to take me in and taste the rich iron.

My good girl, she did so well. I know she only wanted to please me. She must have been trying to do something good for me. She always wants to do something good for only me. I know she wants only me. Only me.

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Dark Star, The Forty-Second Chapter – Loving

I sing the song to myself. I hum the tune and tap out the beat. Around and around it goes with a soft rise and fall like waves on a beach. It helps me concentrate. Daddy is so clever. He knows how to teach me all the things. He taught me this song, to remember my science.

I pluck another bottle from the special glass cabinet, singing out its name. Methylate. It’s one of the magic ingredients in my magic potion. My love potion.

Dancing back to Daddy’s work bench I give him a big grin. Daddy watches intently with a knowing smile. This test is hard. The song is very long. Urging me on he nods and I obey, pouring the viscous liquid into my boiling pot.

“All done!” I announce proudly with a flourish.

“Well done.” Daddy says with such pride as he lavishes me in kisses. “Let’s put it in the oven to cook up and then we can test it out.”

“Really!?” My surprise is real, I wasn’t expecting to get to try it out. Not after the last one. Daddy was sad when his play thing got sick. My medicine made the puppy boy so poorly that Daddy had to bury him in the garden.

Sweeping me up into his arms with a booming laugh, Daddy winks in that way that tells me he has a plan. Daddy always has a plan.

The potion takes hours that feel like forever.

Leaning over to peek, unable to restrain myself any longer, I see with crushing disappointment that my potion has gone all bad. “Oh no! I burned it!”

I did it wrong. Daddy will be mad. My heart pounds as it’s Daddy’s turn to peer into the pot.

“Perfect!” he doesn’t even acknowledge my fear. A wave of relief rolls over me, leaving me light headed.

I sit down while Daddy does the tricky bit. He scrapes up the crystals left at the bottom of the burned pot. Crushing the big shards down into a fine white powder, it sparkles under the work lamp.

“Fairy dust.” Daddy explains with a wicked grin.

“And it will make them happy and in love?” I continue my questions from before as Daddy portions out the powder. “Like in the stories?”

“Just like the princes and princesses.” Daddy confirms. He scoops up the handful of capsules and strides to the door. “Come with me.”

I obey without word and soon we are skipping down the sunny road to the grown up bar that Daddy goes to some nights. This time he lets me in with him. The small, shabby outside doesn’t fit with what waits within; it’s dark and crowded with people, fervently yammering at one another after long days of businessing. Their blazers are strewn across the melee of chairs and tables that punctuate the throng, ties long since removed when the working day ended.

I can smell it. The arousal. The hunt. The animal desire that seeps out of the pores of every wretched soul that has come into the humid hole. Each here under one guise or another and yet all here for one thing only, release.

Daddy is quick to find us a shaded table tucked away in a corner by the toilets. Placing our drinks on the table, a big frothing beer for Daddy and a sparking red juice for me, Daddy begins to search out his prey.

We don’t talk, we just watch. Watch them prancing and dancing a mating ritual. Each peacock determined to splay his feathers wider and with more allure than the next, to laugh louder, have the flashiest watch, phone and car, splashing the cash as a demonstration of their social value.

“No, I insist this round’s on me.” An offer than stinks of the subtext; those who provide are the most viable to procreate, every action driven by the desire to spread their seed.

Daddy’s disdain for them is infectious, I see what he sees. He points it out, every fake laugh, the posturing, and the clamouring for attention. The women just as guilty as the men, preening themselves, the casual hair flicks, the skirts that ‘accidentally’ ride up, the greed in their eyes, taking drink after drink.

Daddy works them like puppets; it’s too easy when you understand their game. He chooses the two seemingly alone; they’ve already spotted each other, eyes catching across the bar, smiles exchanged. Daddy just acts as cupid, bringing them together. His arrow targeted at their drinks, giving them a special present of my special fairy dust without them seeing.

Their smiles get easier, more inviting, inhibitions waning as they slurp down their magical elixir.

She provocatively sucks on a finger and he’s hooked, dropping drunkenly off his stool and starting towards her. She matches him, slipping from the stool with less coordination than just one drink could claim. She leaves behind her belongings, fixated only on him.

“Look Daddy,” I bounce, “They’re falling in love. Oh, it’s so romantic!”

The two bodies collide, both doped up and hazy from our special potion. The reaction is instant. Lust and love beams easily between the two creatures. In moments they are locked in kisses. The room watches them for a moment, perturbed by their early indulgences in one another. These brazen displays of adultery usually left to the messy end of the night when all who are left are smothered in a drunken haze.

“Get a room.” A voice calls from the mass of punters. Daddy’s so clever, throwing his voice this way and that to avoid suspicion.

Begrudgingly, the couple break apart, just long enough to spy the door to the toilets. They let go of one another and without word collude on their plan. I watch them as they so obviously head for the same place, the woman discreetly slipping away moments before the man hungrily follows.

Daddy and I are next, locking the door behind us. They’re at it already, lips against lips.

“Look Daddy!” I whisper, “it worked! True love!” I am elated as we watch the couple become intertwined in the corner of the room. He pushes her up against the sink and starts tearing off her clothes.

“Daddy?” I ask, slightly confused. The ceiling light flickers which only highlights the change. Their skin begins to pour with sweat. Their bare arms becoming shiny like glass. The green décor of the room reflects off them.

I giggle slightly, they look like they’re transforming into ravenous monsters from my comic books, hardly people at all.

“Shhh…” Daddy whispers in my ear as he pulls me out of sight into a cubicle and positions himself behind me. “Wait… watch…. there’s more to see. This, is love. True love. It takes time to develop. ”

At first they look like any other boring couple. Kissing and caressing and nibbling at one another. It bores me. It makes me uncomfortable. This isn’t what Daddy likes. This isn’t right.

I catch a glimpse of her face, slick wet and green. Her pupils have grown to massive proportions, making her eyes look more animal than human. I see her snarl and it makes me twitch. Something’s changing. Something’s different.


My girl parts ache as I watch the couple bite into one another, hungry to taste and to feel their counterpart. I feel Daddy’s breath slow. I feel his desire rise. He’s watching, waiting for them to act.

The man-monster groans and I refocus to see her bite down harder. She growls and tears and bites until eventually she rips away a mouthful of flesh from his shoulder. Growling in response he lashes at her face with his hand like a claw. Blood sprays across the mirror above the sinks.

Moments later they’re locked in a rampant assault on one another. Still driven by lust they seem as eager to feed on one another as to fuck. Finally free of his trousers he thrusts his cock inside of her as he grips her neck and bites down on her face.


Unrelentingly, the man pounds into the woman. Their animalistic sounds bouncing off the tiny bathroom.

Unrelentingly, she lashes and bites and tears away his human features. All of their kisses have teeth, each of their caresses have talons that pierce and flay. The love they exchange is violent.

With their dripping red wounds and luminescent green skin so entwined they become one, like zombies, the couple devours itself.

I watch with awe and a deep longing to feel that animal desire.

“This.” Daddy repeats as he thrusts inside of me, pulsing hard and eager to show me. “This, is true love.”

Daddy loves me. Daddy loves me hard as we watch our prey consume one another. As they rip down through the muscle and sinew. Daddy loves me until I can barely stand. He loves me until there is nothing left except for two loosely bound skeleton corpses that, with a final undead groan, fall apart in death. Two piles of bones and carcass amid a great lake of delicious red blood.

This, is true love.


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