The Wrong Book gift for night_spore426
#17 of gift work
commition for night_spore426
The Wrong Book
Part 1
By Dustin Feyder
A gift for a lover of art.
** ** Im not a rich man, I never was. I spent most of my twenties working for a day labor compony surrounded by people that don't speak the common tongue of the land. Day labor attracts three tips; kids that don't know what they want from life, forty year old's looking for a fix, and men that can't prove their citizenship. I'm not going to waste our time telling you where I fit in.
But I will say that I got luckier than most. I got in tight with the lady in bookkeeping, she is this tiny girl with amazing feminine features, slender form, small tight breast, and a little bronzed skin, the type you see on girls from the middle east. She is the type of girl that doesn't need to work, no doubt she could find a half way good guy with more dollars then sense to their name to look after her.
Turns out it is her old man that owns the building I work out of, and about fifty more in my neighborhood. I started seeing the bookkeeper socially I'm going to call her Asia, and she changed my life.
Through Asia I met the girl that would become my wife (her idea not mine) I'm going to call her Cassandra. Cassandra works for Asia's old man just like me, but Cassy on the other hand is a high-class privet contractor. Cassy manages a team of environmental service experts (which it took me some time to understand means maintenance and laundry) that's right, she is a maid that makes $75,000 a year. Putting my $15,000 to shame by the way.
I was married to Cassy six months after we met, she payed for everything, a trip to Europe, three days in Cuba, and in outdoor ceremony (she told me I could pay her back latter. Clearly she is joking.)
I still see Asia, but she has pushed me into construction clean up, one step up form day labor, and that is when my life started getting odd. Not much more than a few weeks ago, one of the old man's renters defaulted on his shop. As small shit shop if you ask me, this guy, whoever he was, rented out a four-story office building in let's say the scavy side of town. He nailed shut most of the door and used the main floor as a so called 'antique shop'.
Myself, Asia, Asia's pup Anya and guys from Cassy's team should up the day the cops finished moving the sucker out and we took a look around. The antiquer had a taste for taboo art. If the stuff the cops left behind were any indicator; photographs of horses and dog in all sorts of lewd position. Strange photomorphs of women merged with rats and cats. I can't even imagine how that would have been done pre 1990. But the smell of the place, that is what I couldn't get over. The other clean team guys will tell you...
Old things have a smell, people, have a smell, and dead things have a smell, all of which once you have smelled you will know for the rest of your life. But what I smelled in the antique shop is unlike anything I have smelled before, I can't even tell you what it was like, it wasn't bad, but it was offensive. The only thing I can compare it to is the smell of one's balls after a day of rock-climbing, sorry if that was to colorful, but even that is mild by contrast.
As Asia and the others started spraying down the first floor with an industrial equivalent to Fubries I was given the job of hammering down the doors on the upper floors to see if there was anything worth salvaging. Anya fallowed me. I love that dog, she is a Russian Shepherded, almost 150lbs of love and fur, tan and brown mostly hair long in back, short on top, look it up, she looks just like you are thinking.
After seven or eight hours of digging around in piles of waterlogged wood something finally popped. A box, looks like stone, two feet by two feet by sixteen inches. This thing. It is a treasure chest with a sliding lip cover, almost like sarcophagus. Anya growls at the box, her tail squeezes tight to her underside, almost without a thought my hand finds the latch under the lid of the box and I push it open.
Inside, there is a book bound in snake skin, wrapped in a blanket. I don't know why, I feel compelled to pull the book from its cradle, the book whispers to me, it tells me "I know you are filled with lust. I know you know you should be happy with your life. But something is missing. Let me give you everything you never knew that you wanted."
Footsteps echo behind me, Asia calls my name, Anya barks at me. I don't heir any of it. All I can here is the book whispering. "slide your fingers softly over my pages, peal my cover open, expose my secrets and they are yours."
I am enchanted, I can do nothing short of fallow the books lead. I open the book, light spills from the pages with such force it blinds me, moans and cries fill the air. As white fades to black then black to color I find I am on my back, there is a weight on my chest. Anya runs her tongue up my cheek. Then into my mouth.
In confused laughter, I try to push Anya off of me, only to find long strong werewolf claws around my biceps. Am about to scream when Asia's voice leaves Anya's body "don't you want this?" the beast atop me is not Asia or Anya, it is both, But this shape, something about it... It is hard to explain, all Asia's best features are in the monster, if not better. Her breast are the size of a wine glass, with two extra pairs of teats in her stomach. Her hips have widened taking away her childish appeal and giving her motherly qualities to her shape. I have never slept with Asia, I want to say that now, she and I just aren't there, I never would have thought that we would be.
But it seems Asia has other plans now. She pushes off my bottoms and slides herself up my body sitting on my pelvis. Was Anya in heat? I of course didn't look under her tail to find out, why would I? Anya or Asia or whatever, her body is soft and inviting, her alien shaped lips part smoothly for me whipping thick sticky oil off on my lags as she movies into position.
The book speaks to my mind. "isn't this nice? Don't you want more?"
The book is right, I don't even think that I wanted to have sex but all of the sudden, my senses are sharpening, I can taste the blood of this animal in the air, I want it! It seems she also knows I want her. The werewolf opens her jaws, her fangs find my neck and softly she applies pressure. My hands find her tail, I pull forward on her suddenly finding myself wrapped in her warmth. She growls as do I, she pants and barks, her excitement grows.
That smell, the one I couldn't place, I smell it again, it is coming from Anya. I don't know how, I don't know why, but I know what it is now, ovum, I can smell the eggs in Anya's body. Anya's claws find my chest, I am twitching and shaking in her, my tension is mounting. 'I want her eggs' I recall thinking. I feel she somehow knows that is what I am thinking. Her weight drops on me holding me in her, I can feel her womb, she giggles girlishly, her lips squeeze her vulva pulls, I can't stop myself from spraying in her. Anya's head drops onto my shoulder, she bites me to stop herself from squealing. I have never felt better then I did right there, in that moment, in that monster that was both Asia and Anya.
Once I have regained my wits it dawns on me that is it dusk. I pick up Anya, and the book. I don't know what I have done, but I know I need to do something. Anya is asleep, even if I was only in her for two or three minutes I guess she enjoyed it. I drive Asia's car back home. I hide Asia, still as Anya in the office in the basement of my house.
I don't know what I am going to tell Cassy when she sees Asia's car but no Asia. My senses are strong, I can heir Cassy, smell Cassy a block away, I can heir mice in the walls of my house, I can smell their heat. Cassy is walking up to the door, her keys ringing, her heals clicking. The book whispers to me "expose my secrets and they are yours." my mind drifts into strange, forbidden places, what I have already done, what more can I do? my wife is unlocking the door, the book is already in my hands, the mice starch at the walls there minds filled with needs. I wonder, what will happen the next time I open the book?