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I don’t always eat them.
Well, I almost always eat them. I physically cannot go too long without consuming one. My form cannot be contained forever, and I find it difficult to remember human habits such as regular consumption of the right kinds of nutrients, and bathing, and rest.
Besides, if I wait too long in one disguise, I get recognized, questions are asked, and it gets out of control. It gets messy.
The longest I have ever gone in one disguise is ninety days. It was not by choice.
Now, with big bustling cities and crowds of drunken young people congregating, it’s easy enough to feed and change shapes every night if I so wish. There’s nothing to stop me.
Sometimes though, invariably around my faintly remembered mating cycle, I don’t eat whatever prey I lead back to my lair. Sometimes I use them in other ways.
He was like any other drunken lout. I saw him grabbing at other humans in the bar, trying to entice them with smiles and ply them with drinks. He selected me, and though I initially shrugged him off, I decided to take the easy prey. On some nights I crave a challenge, the aloof human, the guarded, the wary, but on other nights any one will do.
I plied him with drinks in turn, hauled him around the dance floor, and he proved sufficiently pliant in my clutches. Smacks and slaps did not dissuade him; in fact they seemed to reel him in closer. He seemed eager to prove himself a suitable mate for an evening, preening and posturing.
The thrum of my mating cycle began to pulse in time with the music, aided by my copious consumption of alcohol. My control shifted briefly, altering the man. He seemed frightened, but enough drinks persuaded him that he had hallucinated the experience. That, and the scent I was beginning to waft in his direction. It made his eyes go dark with human lust.
I dragged him from the bar, tempted to throw him over my shoulder before remembering the supposed physical limitations of my current disguise – that of a slim and young human female. The man became amorous in the back of the Uber, mumbling nonsense about my disguise’s beauty and all the things he was prepared to do in my bed. None sounded especially appetizing to me, but I was still torn between my desires for his flesh and my desires to mate. Mating with a human was not as satisfying as mating with another of my kind, but it was better than sating myself with my own appendages.
By the time we reached my lair I was determined to mate with the human. The scent I was wafting had turned the human – already amorous to begin with – into a creature poised for mating, his single appendage hard and throbbing with need. I shucked him of his garments and pushed him deeper into my lair, up the stairs and into my den.
Nearly naked he beamed up at me as I removed my disguise’s garments. Then I removed the disguise.
The human panicked and fled, and I gave chase. This sharpened my lust like a knife on a stone, giving me focus and allowing me to not only evade the human’s pitiful attempts at self-defense, but to subdue him and drag him back to my den.
I pinned him to the bed, not for his comfort, but for my own ease. I ripped the last scrap of garment from his body and stroked at the man’s appendage with one of my own. His looked rather pitiful compared to even the least of mine, but he was only human after all.
The human whimpered and begged, but his hips moved in motion with my appendages, seeking contact in spite of his protestations. My scent, and the skin-to-skin contact, was deeply affecting him. He could no more resist my mating than stop breathing.
Now, that was an idea. I slid the tip of one of my appendages into the man’s mouth, probing shallowly. The sensation of human slick felt good against my appendage, and it had stifled the man’s words to naught but a muffled series of whines.
Slick with saliva, I withdrew the appendage and began to circle the man’s lower entrance. He wailed and carried on, protesting fervently, before I plunged another appendage into his mouth to silence him. The vibrations of his screams journeyed up through that appendage, when I began to slide my slickened appendage into his lower entrance. Though I moved slowly, stretching as I went, the man reacted with extreme pain. Perhaps I should have used more slickness, some of the artificial slickness kept in bottles by the bed, but I was not about to stop and go searching. We would stop mating only when I was satisfied.
Though he screamed and struggled and wept, still the human’s appendage was hard with lust. I wrapped the smallest of my appendages around it and began to squeeze, gently, and rub up and down. The man’s hips moved and his appendage produced slickness, more so than his mouth had.
I brushed my appendage against a secret spot within the human, and his appendage spurted white sticky slickness into the air. Wrapping more of my appendages around his sweaty body, I clung to him tightly, finding my own satisfaction in mating once, twice, three glorious times.
The man sank into unconsciousness, from exhaustion, alcohol, and fear.
I reluctantly put my disguise back on and slept. The man would wake, sneak out, and pretend to himself that he had merely had a terrifying dream. Little did he know that he had narrowly avoided becoming my next disguise.