Exercise

I expect that most of you reading this are fat. Fat and happy Prey. Waddling through Life like turtles.

That’s sad. Prey should be fit and make you work for it.

Why else do the chase?

Too many of you “Super size”.

One of the perks of my Life is my gym and dojo. It takes up half my floor so tall above the ground. The tower isn’t that large nor honestly, all that tall. A relic of a time in the 50s that saw buildings grow large. The dreams then are no longer the grandeous dreams of the Now. Or excessive. Penises made of steel and glass.

At least we own it, even if its through some shell corporation. Step-Mother’s.

Bitch!

Now again that was catty.

We were speaking of fitness, not relatives.

Even someone as discriminating as the Beast finds it hard sometimes, to pick perfect Prey. Too many of you have gone to seed.

Now that’s a picture, your head as a flower opening up to be pollinated before seeds sprout as some act of base procreation. You all just fuck and breed and fuck and breed, I worry about the gene pool sometime. If only you’d all shiver up and die like most plants do after they blossoming and seed. The Beast won’t need to be the bleach in the pool.

Did I mention I am very fit?

Its an obsession, working out, one learned at Sensi’s feet the hard way. She beat it in us with an oaken boken til we bleed.

Repeatedly…

Understand something, I was seriously fucked up back then.

If not for her help, I’d still  be in the Soft Room of Quiet Horror drooling down my gown right now. I don’t remember much while I was “ill”, but I remember the second time we meet. Not the first. From the words I remember from then, she must have meet me before, but my mind had hard holes you could drive semi trucks through, so pardon me it I’m wrong. She may have visited any number of times before she took the Plunge and entered my Cage.

Frank let her in.

“You sure about this Doc?” he asked her, clearly nervous. We could smell Fear then. Well we still can lol. “Be better if I stayed and stood guard. That one is plain crazy and she’ll hurt you.”

I think I growled at Frank as he spoke. At them both. Seem like I would have, I don’t quite remember exactly. I was feral then, eating food as they threw it to me, disregarding the paper plate and shitting in a corner of my Cage when I needed to.

A dangerous animal.

Sensi chuckled and shooed Frank off like he was a errant school boy. She had that way about her, that I came to love. Tolerance of people less informed. Its a shame she had such a huge heart, her kindness let loose a horror on the world.

Feral ME, sat in her corner and watched, wondering at the intrusion in its little prairie.

Years later, I would read the papers in disagreement with Sensi’s plan. She wrote quite a bit of ME. Not sure if I love her for that. Dissecting me for the view and entertainment of strangers. And there was quite a disagreement too, learned advocates of the status quo, but luckily Father had money. He hired the best he could find and told them “fix it”!

Was that a mistake? I will leave it up to you, dear readers, to decide when this tale is done. It seemed to have worked somehow, even if I’m still broken and strange. Sensi put some small parts of me back together and made me whole. At least it functions in the day to day.

Most of the time…lol.

For  many minutes Sensi just stood there. Relaxed and eyes almost shut. Ignoring the Beast in the corner.

Then she moved…

I know with search engine help today, she was an expert in Taekwondo. The “Tame” martial one. Her moves were the moves of that Art. A ballet of motion, and deadliness. You all see some oriental gentleman, slowly dancing in the park and smile, thinking its exercise for the old.

The Beast saw Death in those moves.

She was right no matter how many  disagree. The Art called to ME.

It called to the Beast.

It took almost a dozen visits until the Beast abandoned its shit filled corner and crouched at Sensi’s feet, being submissive like predators do when they meet better predators. Baring their throats. A dozen more visits and we were standing like people and mirroring her movements.

Curse her now, because had she been less brilliant, I’d be still institutionalized and no threat.

Now I AM a threat…

We’re Bacccccccckkkkkkkk!

Why the Beast woke up…..she is so fucking hot.

 

<center></center>

A Long Quiet Night

Sorry my dark and troubled readers, I’ve left you without the sight of fresh spilled blood for too many months.

The Beast has been sleeping an un-intended hibernation, ignoring even Silence’s pleas to awake. It just rolls over and pulls the covers up over its head.

Perhaps these images will bring it back, for as much as Silence hates the pain she feels, watching as the red swirls around the drain, she hates the thought of no more nights in the dark.

Or the feel of being pressed up against the alley wall and fucked, before wearing red velvet, soaked with warm, fresh blood…

—–

These can be downloaded as wall papers for your desktop at Dark Wallpapers

What we think of weddings…

I want a teddy bear like that…

Eden’s Nightmare – The Conclusion

I’ve been spending some time writing a rather naughty story over on Literotica, concerning the vampire Eden. She gets into a very difficult situation. Bondage, whips, a priest who is also a werewolf, a pink vibrator…

The first three parts can be found in my Literotica profile here.

Sometimes I write stories out of sequence as I did this time. There is still a fourth part yet to be written, but if you’re the kind of reader who likes to skip to the end sometimes, here is the conclusion of that story.

Enjoy the peek behind the curtain.

——-

“Gideon 2 Bravo, I have eyes on target.” A male voice said through the ear piece Eden wore. “The limo and I see two additional vehicles.”

There was a pause.

“Probably her security detail, one’s running fore, the other is trail.” A second pause. “They’re black SUVs.” There was a soft chuckle. “How cliché.”

Welcome

Welcome to my bit of darkness. Please take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a moment…

(Note to readers: Sometimes I’m the brunette with the knife, sometimes I’m the blond in the chair. Guess which one I am tonight, if you dare…)

* * * * * *

This blog is a work in progress and not meant for public view. That you are here to peer behind the curtain is a happy accident. Enjoy these dark tales told around the fire. The fire will keep the predators in the dark from getting near. Thought the thing you should truly fear, are the Predators sitting near. Around the fire, with you…

(smile)

One thing to point out, it is best to start out with the oldest post and read forward. It will make more sense…lol, or at least as much sense as can be made of what you will read. Eventually this series of blog posts will become a book. It is a retelling of the classic, “Dr Jeckle and Mr Hyde”, with a female protagonist, so you should expect plenty of blood and sex.

Also, posts may be placed into the past with no relationship to when they are written. Check back from time to time to see what is new.

the author

* * * * * *

Latest Works:

“Geometry – Part 3” – finished 10/16/09 – posted to 7/11/09

“Pitstop” – finished 10/11/09 – Here to read, not yet posted to the timeline.

“Geometry – Part 2” – finished 10/09/09 – posted to 7/09/09

“A Lack of Cats” – finished 10/7/09 – posted to 2/19/09

“Geometry – Part 1” – finished 11/7/09 – posted to 7/7/09

Turn About, Is Never Fair

It was the tiniest of pains, a pinprick on the arm that awakened me.

Strange, I had been sleeping soundly in my bed of Egyptian cotton. I gave a soft moan of pain. My hands above my head were stretched and when I tried to move them I was meet with resistance. My eyes I tried to open, yet those too for some reason didn’t want to work. My whole body was a rubber bag of marshmallows softly lumped against wall. Was this Happy Time again I wondered, back at the Institute with Frank and The Mary?

No, wait that was the Past, this should the Past’s Future.

In the Here and Now, there was no way we’d be going back there. The Beast and I have a pact, never that. Should the Beast ever be found out, we both were prepared to paint the Town red in blood to force the Powers That Be to take us down like the rabid dogs we are. When the Men in Blue with Shields of Gold confront us for our crimes it will be newsworthy, Front Page and Televised.

And it will be the End of Sadness then, for days later when we’re laid to our final rest, Dear Father will cry in the rain. It will cause him such pain when they plant me six feet deep but then again, what have I caused him but pain, since The After.

He’ll get over it…

“That’ll keep the bitch quiet,” a strange voice unrecognized said.

This was Dreamtime then.

This Halloween…

While you’re out in the night, cut something up for me.

Geometry – Part 4

(currently in work)

“Why,” Handsome asked. “You’ve already won.”

He started to lay four hundred dollars on the table covered in felt but stopped to considered our smile for a moment. His probably brother Chuckles with his two buddies where at the bar and just now discovering I was buying drinks.

The ball of hard white, we had under our hand and back and forth we stroked it, considering. Handsome and the Beast (with my help) had cleared most of the balls from play. Still there was one or two to shoot. The Beast walked slowly over, to stand before Handsome. It moved slowly back until it could feel his hard body.

And wiggled..

Ohhhhh, that’s such a simple word to describe a most erotic act.

Pitstop

I know I’ve so far painted the Beast with broad wet strokes, dipped deep with equal portions of sweaty sex and clinging velvet. Who among you would not like their own naughty Dreamtime genie then? They must be so much fun, you would assume and you’d willingly sleep on the wet spot for that, wouldn’t you?

You are all such sluts!

Know before you rub the lamp, that while many of my nights of late have been interrupted with vignettes of sex and lust which I have readily shared with all of you here, they are not the whole and complete tapestry that I have unfortunately had weaved for my unwanted view.

Several times now I have found dreams crashing upon me with jarring bits and slamming pieces, so abrupt I had little chance to organize them into coherent whole so I could recount them here. They played out sharp and glaring into my blinded eyes, with no reason nor rhythm, leaving me with a splitting headache for my trouble.

I know what a frog feels like dropped into a blender, moments after the button marked “Purée” is pushed.

It’s not pretty, I guarantee you.

Yet other Dreamtime visits have held such horror to make my very skin crawl, that I was forced to watch them. Yours too had you been there in bed with us. Unless you are a very sick puppy indeed, then you would have smiled and laughed at the sights.

In that case I pray to the Gods I don’t believe in, you get the chance to meet the Beast. Perhaps it will do me a favor then and remove you from the breeding pool so you do not pass on that stupid gene.

And I’ll happily thank it for that simple act. We don’t need more crazy killers on the prowl. The one writing this tale is one too many in the grander scheme of things. Best nip you in the bud, before you grow a fondness for your own pretty, pretty knife.

But I was speaking of dreams, wasn’t I…

Dreams that wrench my stomach inside out and force me to crawl on shaking knees to the bathroom close, to puke out the remains of my evening meal while I clutch the cool porcelain altar of my distress. Too often now I wake to find myself stiff and cold on hard tile floors, having passed out from the painful intrusion on my soul.

Maybe I should get the bathroom carpeted, I’d sleep with more comfort then. Or at least get a good thick rug, you think?

So while you lust for the things that are visited on me, you should know it’s a rare thing for me that my visits with the Beast do just leave me peaceful and sleepy, sated for my troubles. Luckily I’m in my limber thirties, for if I was a decade older and kept waking in such stiff pain, I’d crawl out the small window there in my bath and plunge happily to my death. Though I promised Father I wouldn’t take the Jump to get the place.

At least I have a great masseuse who works such wonders when I call her. Plus I know the Boss. He let’s me take the morning off more times than I can count.

So we were talking about the other side of the tapestry, weren’t we. The side soaked in red. Bloody, bloody red…

epiphany – part 2

… in the darkness, there is silence. Then comes half remembered voices.

“Who called it in?”

“Pizza delivery driver. He said the girl answering the door was all covered in blood and looked dazed and out of it. Though he said she gave him a good tip. He called 9-1-1.”

“What have we got then?”

“Double homicide. Old lady dead in the freezer out in the garage. Looks like she’s been stiff for a while. Male, mid 30s, dead on the bed over there. Recent not more than a few hours. Girl’s in the closet. We’re waiting for the shrink. She cut one of the responding officers pretty bad across his hand when they forced the door, then fled in here.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”

“Yeah, really did a number on him.”

“The girl?”

“We think so.”