Loving Monsters, 8
It’s All Hallows’ Eve and Brianna Rookwood has had enough of the typical and obnoxious commercial festivities of the season. She yearns for peace and some quality alone time to simply enjoy a good novel! Treating herself, she books a cabin in the Red Pine Forest.
But Brianna’s night-in doesn’t go quite as planned. Wandering from Cabin 13 to explore the great outdoors, she becomes lost in a nightmare, losing time, and her way. Something truly terrible dwells in the forest, and it’s been waiting centuries for its mate…
Be Warned: monster sex
Excerpt:
“Why am I wet?” I shine the light down on my feet, only to discover my shoes missing and my socks are hanging on by threads. What remains of my jeans are sodden up to my knees, and they’re covered unmistakably in mud stains. Continuing to take stock of my physical condition, I realize I’m also missing my beanie and scarf. How could I have lost them? How could any of this have happened without my noticing? I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“I don’t understand,” I mutter to myself. Turning in slow circles, I try my best not to hyperventilate, but it’s an exercise in futility. This is too weird. It’s almost like I’ve been running from something. I’m scratched up, wet, covered in dirt, and missing clothes, not to mention I’ve lost time. Literal hours’ worth! I desperately want to put it down to my phone glitching out on me, but one look at the impermeable darkness tells me many hours have indeed passed, and I’ve simply somehow failed to notice.
Wracking my mind, I wander a few steps toward a dead log and sink to my ass, utterly perplexed and increasingly frightened. Is this how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole? A sudden, intrusive thought twinging in the back of my mind has me hesitantly reaching up to brush at my mouth. When I pull my fingers away there are illuminated crumbs there, or fragments of something I don’t recognize. But how is that possible? I didn’t bring any food with me. I certainly don’t remember eating anything at all. My eyes prick with hot tears of frustration.
Then as I play with the strange, soft crumbs, rolling and squashing them between my fingers, I realize it’s not the light from my phone that’s making them glow … they’re actually glowing on their own! They’re freaking bioluminescent! I didn’t … no, I couldn’t have. Horror overwhelms me and my stomach lurches for the second time in as many minutes. Fuck. I’ve eaten some kind of poisoned mushroom…
Something catches my eye in the distant shadows, and I squint, turning off my flashlight to focus better in the darkness. There, not several feet away from me is a toadstool—a green, glowing mushroom. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s bioluminescence is eerily beautiful and strangely alluring. Tilting my head like an inquisitive cat, I rise to my poor, bare feet, and approach the odd specimen. Squatting down, I pluck it from the loamy earth and bring it closer to my face. It smells like a strange and impossible mixture of damp moss and … my nose scrunches up and my lips turn down. Cum?
I shake my head at the absurdity of it. What an insane notion! Of all things. How can my mind be in the gutter at a time like this? Tossing away the toadstool, I wipe my mouth again and force myself to be sick, sticking my fingers down my throat in the hope of getting some of the bizarre fungus out of my system. As I purge my stomach and litter the ground with glowing bile and grotesque chunks, I recognize my mistake. Another surge of nausea slams into me, dumping me like a wave during a storm.
Wiping my hands on what’s left of my clothes, I stagger backward and reach out for the nearest tree, breathing hard against its cold bark as I wait for the terrible feeling to pass. It’s like a bad trip, I tell myself. I just have to ride it out, stay safe, find the path, and get back to the cabin. It sounds easier than it is. The heady, drugged-out sensation in my mind remains, lingering in force—haunting me like a ghost—long after the worst of it has subsided.
My logic floats around in my consciousness like an intangible anchor, something to grasp onto, but frustratingly just out of reach. I slap myself in the face in a desperate attempt to sober myself up. “Come on, Bri! Snap the fuck out of it. There’s like five hours until the sun rises. You’re going to be okay.” With an unsteady but determined resolve, an idea occurs to me. Perhaps I can follow the mushrooms? If, by some chance, I followed them deep into the forest, then it’s likely I can follow the trail back to where I first saw them, presumably somewhere just off the well-beaten trail.
“Yep. That’s what we’re doing,” I say aloud. “We’re finding the trail.” Just put one foot in front of the other. And so that’s what I do. Scanning the darkness with my eyes, I look for the glowing green pinpoints of light in the undergrowth, and slowly I make my way from one to another, following the horrid little bastards in the hope they’ll lead me back.
****
I follow the ethereal fungi dotted through the forest until there’s a break in the ancient pines and I find myself walking out onto the shore of a lake. With a clear canopy above, the moon shines down, reflecting on the dark water and illuminating the area. I blink twice and then again, staring across at the island at its center. On it is nothing but a lonely weeping willow, completely out of place in a pine forest, and beneath its swaying fronds…
My hand clutches at my heart, and I take a terrified step back. “No fucking way,” I breathe, my mind screeches like the test pattern of an old-fashioned TV set.
Sitting on the island, its feet in the water, is an immense troll. With long, dark hair, green flesh, glowing yellow eyes, and teeth-like tusks protruding from near its lower lip—it’s literally the shit of fantasy. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Am I still drugged out on ‘shrooms?
The troll looks up and I’ll be fucked if it doesn’t smile at me. Rising to its full height, the monster stands about ten feet tall, practically double my fucking size.
My wide eyes drink in the beast before me as I remain rooted to the spot, my gaze sickeningly lingering over his ripped chest, huge, muscular arms, and his… Holy fucking shit. His cock is as big as my arm! My insides cringe and quiver and despite the fear that holds me captive, I can’t tear my eyes from it. It twitches under my scrutiny, thickening and growing, until its fully erect and hard—as mortally terrifying as any sword.
The troll’s smile broadens, and he begins to approach, taking great, powerful strides through the obviously relatively shallow lake. It only comes up to his waist at its deepest point.
I want to run, to scream, to do anything, but my body flat-out refuses. Another violent wave of nausea smashes over me as he draws nearer, and I feel myself swoon on my feet … then everything goes dark.
- Series:
- /series-loving-monsters/
