I met a girl, one who looked like your typical overweight goth girl who would punch your lights out of you said something wrong in her presence. I, on the other hand, was your average Joe. Glasses, brown hair, brown eyes, not wearing anything that stood out at all. And yet, she still came onto me, and I immediately recognized what she was doing.
We were at some party or something. I had only gone for my friend, but he had long since drank at least five beers, and was putting a lampshade on his head and screaming something about being a superhero. I had long since stopped caring, and had noticed her moving closer to me.
She had blue hair, and was very obviously drunk as she twerked and got closer to the kitchen, where I was standing, drinking my glass of water from a sissy stick (my grandfather's affectionately used term for a straw.) At first, I didn't understand why she wanted someone like me, or why she was positioning herself in such a way that her breasts were accented and practically in my face, but then, it hit me like a slap in the face. She wanted me to take her home. I knew it. The way she was acting was more than flirtatious, more than sexual. It was pure lust that radiated off of her, and I could feel it in my very bones.
"Hey there cutie, what's your name?" She had asked, her breath smelling like cheap beer and pot. I glanced away, taking another sip of my water before she tapped on my shoulder. "Um, hello? Did you hear me?" I looked at her, trying to convey through my eyes that I just wasn't interested in her, but she took it as an opportunity to talk to me again. "My name is Elizabeth, what's yours?"
"Jack." Not my real name, of course. I didn't like this girl, and I wasn't about to give her my real name.
"Well Jack, how about you take me somewhere?" That was when I got an idea, and decided to play along.
"Alright. How about I take you to my favourite spot? It's about fifteen minutes from here." She smirked, thinking she had reeled in another man to be just another screw for the week. But she was wrong. Oh so delightfully wrong.
I led her out of the house and down the street, her getting dizzy from intoxication and clinging to me every two minutes or so to steady herself and nuzzle into my arm before we got there. The old warehouse before her that I had taken her to was obviously not her style, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Really? Here?"
"Yes, here. You'll see when we get in there. We can get in around the back." I used my best sexy voice, and she immediately fell for my trap. I led her around the back, and opened the door, gesturing for her to go inside. She walked up the few stairs and into the dark warehouse, and I followed, practically at her heels, a smile on my face. Only I knew that the security cameras all knew my face, and that law enforcement wouldn't care enough to come find some drunken junkie as soon as I paid them the usual $500 for the coverup. Only I knew, that after I closed that door, the creature that I had given life to was pleased with me for feeding her once again. Only I knew what the screams of that woman sounded like as my lovely little beast tore her open with her fangs and claws. And only I knew the feeling of that woman's blood splattering against my face and clothes, and then removing them to change in the dresser in the apartment that sat above the soundproofed warehouse, with my beloved pet below.
After I had showered and changed for the night, I slipped on my shoes and walked back down the steps and into the warehouse, flipping on the light and approaching my beast. She made a purr of satisfaction and pleasure at my presence, and I gently nuzzled into her fur, a chuckle escaping my lips.
"How was your meal, Zylia?"
