Meet The Animal by Julie Hutchings
TODAY’S BREW: Vanilla Chocolate Cherry thing I made up.
I’ve been working on a new novel since mid-December which has seen no air time here at Deadly Ever After, so it’s exciting for me to release a first draft chapter of it! It could not be more different from Running Home, and while I cannot wait to tell you all about it and about my process of writing it, now is not the time. Now is the time for me to make you blush.
Meet Trent Dixon, 32 year old playboy who could make a profession of hiding from himself. But nothing could shield him from the ancient power that would possess him and give him something real to run from. This is The Animal.
I found myself staring at her, becoming angry in a way that was unacceptable, but felt so right. Stacy dug for something in her battered purse, not noticing that I was salivating at the thought of having her alone.
This animal cruelty erupting in me was not sexual, but it was the only way I wanted it. Blackness rolled over and over inside me, keeping me hard, and panting. It was its own creature. And it needed me.
The train rumbled and pulled to a stop. Jumping up and pulling her with me, we made it to the door before anyone else. Stacy was silent, as still as she could be, and I felt her submitting.
A woman with blow job lips and hot librarian glasses stood up from the seat next to the door. I looked at her, Stacy’s hand still clenched in mine, and growled at her. My teeth gritted, I spat “You’re next.” She gasped and fell back into her seat. I laughed under my breath, squeezing the hand of the oblivious Stacy.
“Where do you live?” Stacy asked me as I continued to pull her along the lamplit street.
“Just down here. Brownstone.” I couldn’t even form complete sentences, and I was moving fast, still hard, teeth grinding. Fire boiled my veins, and I felt less and less like myself every second. More and more like some never before seen sex animal that would fuck and kill everything in its path.
She tripped on a cobblestone but I didn’t slow down. She began to wriggle her hand out of my grip. I needed to stop, needed to calm her down.
She could feel the animal, too.
I stopped abruptly, pulling her close to me in a firm embrace, nuzzling into her mousy hair. Its average smell aroused me more, my mind reeling at the thought of raising this average creature to something divine, naked and trembling. For that second, I was pure.
“I just want so much to have you,” I mumbled into her flowery hair.
She sighed, loosening.
“What’s your name?” she asked me, but was not committed to care.
“Let’s go, Trent,” she whispered into my ear. And we walked a little slower.
I breathed deep and slow, trying to calm the tiger, trying not to eat her alive before we made it up the outside stairs. The sex-thing in me cooperated, I could actually feel it give in, knowing that this was the only way to achieve our end.
And I knew that it could have won, if we were to fight it out.
I shut the door behind us, Stacy tripping over the threshold . I pushed her roughly against the door, my shoes bunching up the Oriental runner underneath us, making me slip and fall into her harder. We kissed , her lips soft and childlike, chapstick flavored.
And the sex-thing took over, having waited patiently for me to get her home. It wanted in, it wanted her, and everything around it, drinking it in like delicious poison. My senses twisted and turned to take it all in, hyperaware of this world, sensitive to everything, loving everything. Wanting to consume and own and end everything.
My teeth smashed into hers making her grunt, getting me harder. The button on her pants flew off under my nails, the zipper breaking in half, and I dug into her underwear, cheap cotton, dull, pubic hair curling under my nails.
The sex -thing yanked her pants down in a wild flash, my face now level with her untidy pussy as she leaned back against the door, smelling of equal parts fear and arousal. I buried my face in her, knowing she had only done this three times before, somehow, that the sex-thing would always know these things. She was tearing up. I could tell. I licked and prodded, the hair soft and sweet, new and ready. My tongue went inside her and she was limp. Her fear was gone, and now she was mine. I grunted a laugh, and lifted her, wrapping her legs around me, undoing my pants and forcing my cock into her like it was the last thing I would ever do, like fucking her would end the world, and I didn’t care that she yelped in surprise and pain, didn’t care that her head was banging against the door, didn’t care about anything except cumming and destroying her, ruining it all.
“Trent,” she whispered, and I knew she was wondering if she should ask me to stop. I would not let her. I smothered her mouth with mine, still tasting her pussy, jabbing my tongue into her, slamming my cock into her warm tight wetness with the force of hurricanes.
Stacy was going to cum on me, I knew it like I knew my own name. I knew it like I knew that there was something else inside me now, and I never ever wanted it to leave but could never see it . She exploded on my cock, the stickiness running onto me, she screamed so loud I think the neighbors heard, and I gritted my teeth, staring at her, she was mine, and she was the first that would have this. The first of many. The first to know what sex could do. The first to be a slave to this feeling, the only power that could create, and now would destroy. It would finish everything it touched.
She was done, but I was still pumping and pumping, fucking her until she would cry, until I came in a torrent of brimstone and fury. My muscles clenched and got stronger with every drive into her, my arms pinning her to the door, reveling in the sound of her head against the grain.
I should have been afraid of this feeling. I should have known it was primordial, otherworldly, evil. I should have been, but I was not. I wanted this like death wants to grab and hold you until obliteration.
“Ugh! Trent!” She was finished, wanted me off, but I was ready and there was no stopping now.
Pure, unadulterated power forced me to orgasm, and it was alive, it had a heartbeat and a mind, and it owned me. The sex-animal-thing that had taken me over could taste the world this way. Blackness enveloped my own mind, taken over by the thing that possessed me.
The terror I felt as I came was unlike anything I had ever known. It was the end of the world in its tiniest stages. I drank in death as I watched Stacy squirm in all her averageness, fear in her eyes mingled with her own power.
After all, she was the reason I was becoming this right now.
I gently let her go, sweat slick on her legs, my hands trembling. I felt my senses return to me, become mine again, and I swear I heard the thing inside me laughing as I showed Stacy out the very door behind her.