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The Space Beneath

The more Jack packed his things, the more his mother unloaded her tears. The universe always sought balance, he thought. Equal and opposite reactions. The only child prepares for college, for dorm-life, for the chance of making something of himself, and a mother grieves. Not that he could blame her, although it was times like these he wished he had a younger brother or sister to siphon parental attention.

He took a bite of pizza. For the past week, his mother didn't have the energy to cook any of her usuals: chicken and dumplings with steamed broccoli and mashed potatoes, roast beef with peas and garlic mashed potatoes, pork loin with gravy, corn on the cob, and cheesy—a pattern here, he noticed—mashed potatoes.

“Gonna miss your potatoes, Mom," Jack consoled, although he felt kinda dumb when his mother sniffled. An untouched slice of pepperoni pizza grew cold on her plate. “What's there to be sad about? An episode of that show you like—American Pickers, was it?—lasts as long as the drive to the university."

“Exactly, Jack," she said, forcing herself from the pizza. Puffy eyes and everything. “Why not stay home and commute to school? Must I pray every night for your safety?"

Jack gulped. He was turning nineteen next month. Fresh from high school. All his friends were moving out, some of them together to split the rent. He didn't want to be left behind. They all found part-time jobs already, staking a claim to their independence, hopping into college and parties and weed and booze and all the shit many of them already messed with since they got their driver's license.

“My friends are jumping off the bridge."

“What?"

Jack considered clarifying but changed his mind as quickly as one decides against bungee jumping without the bungee. “Nothing. It's just… time to leave the nest."

But they finished their pizza in silence. The occasional dreg of small talk would wander into the quiet buzz of their apartment's small kitchen, big enough for two. But Jack felt a tug at his conscience during the quiet moments. Leaving the nest? it mocked. That's not the reason…. But Jack swallowed this thought like the last bite of pizza, only half-chewed that it bulged like a fist painfully down his throat.

* * *

Boxes, he imagined, should litter his room. He was moving after all. But he didn't need much. A suitcase full of clothes. A backpack that could hold his laptop, headphones, mouse. A reusable Walmart bag for toiletries. He felt a pang having to leave behind his book collection that filled a tall oak bookcase in the corner. So many fantasy books that had filled his mind with magic, monsters, and mayhem. But he figured college textbooks would take up most of his reading time.

At least the dorm would contain everything else he needed: a living room with a couch and tables, a kitchen with a stove, microwave, dishwasher, and refrigerator, and a private bedroom with a desk, dresser… and a bed he hoped would soak the warmth of another person, someone to blot away the loneliness of a cold night.

Jack sighed, eying his backpack now resting on his bed. There was something else in there he used to keep stowed away discretely under his bed in an old Converse shoebox. Despite some of her particularities, his mother wasn't the type to rummage through his things. But it couldn't hurt to be careful.

Jack slipped the backpack to the side of the bed opposite from the door—always kept open per her “policy" except at bedtime—so that if she stepped in now, she couldn't see it. Last thing he needed was for her to help pack some mother-dubbed “necessities" and see what he hid in there.

“Jack?"

He nearly jumped from the bed. There his mother stood at the doorway, cool grey eyes that matched the grey of her hair she hadn't bothered to dye for years now.

“Yeah, Mom?"

“I'm sorry for being such a mess… I don't mean to make this any more difficult. You're leaving home, starting college. Starting a new chapter in your life without a—“ She paused to suck in a breath as if inhaling the scents of her son's room she knew would eventually fade. “Well, let's just say this isn't easy for you, either."

“You don't blame yourself, do you?"

She didn't answer right away, weighing his words against that of the response she wanted to give. She went lighter: “Just find yourself a godly woman to marry. Everything else will fall into place."

Jack wanted to roll his eyes. He wished she would just say what she wanted to say and not hide everything behind the religious veneer of discretion. But then you never told her, either.

“Stop it," he snapped under his breath. His mother noticed this, asked for him to repeat himself. With a quick misdirecting grin: “You're right."

She smiled and sat beside him, pulling Jack in with a half-hug. Her voice brimmed with the first warmth he felt all day, and she went on about how much she would miss her only son. College was a big step, and she missed the opportunity to earn her own degree. Pregnancy, of course. His conception that, to her, was a miracle in all but timing. Happened during her sophomore year with a cutely nerdy boy from the debate team.

“You'd think it'd be some football jock on a full-ride scholarship he couldn't forgo who would have left me, not some smooth-talking political science major." She rolled her eyes with a laugh and a click of her tongue. “I'm just going to miss you. I know you wouldn't do the same thing he did."

“You're right," Jack said knowingly, levity lifting his voice. “I won't."

She held his hands in her lap. Bowed her head. He knew what was to come.

Prayer.

But Jack was here for one more night. He could indulge her faith that she insisted he still had all these years. She ended up praying for his safety, for success in his studies, for a happy future once he graduated, and—this lit a spark of annoyance—for him to have the wisdom, temperance, and love that his father didn't have for the woman he was sure to meet.

He forced a smile after their amen. Exchanged an I love you. But then she shook her head, her own half-cocked grin sneaking across her face.

“What?"

Jack's mother glanced across the room: the closet empty of its clothes, the suitcase near the door, the bookshelves and their stacks of books Jack planned on leaving behind, the Bible on his nightstand, then finally to the bed they sat upon. She smoothed over a stand of wrinkles that branched out like roots on the comforter.

“I remember when you would sneak into my bed, so young and afraid. You insisted there was something under yours. When we checked together, did we ever find anything?"

She paused for a response, and in that time Jack felt his mind suck back to a memory, perhaps a dream. He couldn't remember. The bedroom window opened on its own, and a dark figure bled into his room. Another dark figure loomed by his bed, translucent as a shadow. Two orange orbs glowed like eyes void of any pupils. Perhaps they were eyes. Jack was reading a Goosebumps book. And when he saw both figures merge as if all the shadows in the room had coalesced into something tall and imposing, he hesitated to look directly. As if those eyes could kill. But when he blinked, both figures were gone. Only his rapid breathing occupied the room. And maybe he had fallen asleep while reading, he couldn't remember. Conflated reality with the dream-world. But he ran crying for his mother regardless.

“Guess I'm gonna miss being wanted like that, having you come to me, investigating the world for monsters. All mothers must say this about their children, but you grew up so fast. The last time you came for my help, you were eight." The memory of those two dark figures. Yes, he was eight at the time. And she didn't believe him. They looked in his closet, behind the door, beneath his bed, behind his bookcase even. Nothing. She continued: “But that doesn't mean monsters no longer exist."

Jack locked onto the Bible beneath the warm glow of the lamp. Dust caked the cover. The book sat there simply to placate her like her so-called open-door policy. They both were no longer churchgoers after years suffering through the stares and whispers of single motherhood, carrying a child born out of wedlock. But that didn't stop her from believing some higher power watched over them. But Jack couldn't help but wonder how a group who followed God—a being that was supposedly benevolent, all-knowing, and all-loving—could espouse such cruelty through the endless whispers and scrutinizing stares. Love was their creed, they had ensured. Judgement was reserved exclusively for their God.

All a sham. All a fucking sham.

But how could he tell her he didn't believe?

As if she could read what he was thinking, she let out a soft sigh, then said, “You know, the space beneath our beds are a bit of a wonder. Sometimes there are things others cannot see. Things only you can. Things you know are there that others may not wish to see." Another pause. “Honey, you're leaving tomorrow. You are my son and always will be no matter the distance… or the circumstance. You can tell me anything."

Jack summoned a happy look. “Just time for the next step, is all," he offered. She maintained a smile. A labor of love right there. “I literally signed up for an Adulting 101 class. I don't want to end up like some Cheeto-dusted thirty-five-year-old playing Fortnite all day and night in his mother's basement. Figuratively speaking, in our case."

“Okay, dear," she said, although Jack could tell this wasn't the answer she was hoping to receive. She patted his leg and told him to get some good rest. Not waste the night away “playing his Minecraft," although this made him scoff considering what he'd just said.

The door clicked behind her—now shut with her permission. Seeing this reminded him why he needed to move. His mother didn't allow privacy during daylight hours. “What reason do you need your door closed in the middle of the day?" she would say. Of course, he had to reserve jerking off during his showers or before bed when his bedroom door was allowed closed. She didn't trust him. Didn't want any fishy business. Even when he was getting dressed after his shower earlier, she knocked on the door. Told him to make it quick when he warned he was throwing on fresh clothes.

Jack shook his head, annoyed. He loved her, didn't want to hurt her, but he needed his own place, even if it meant sharing it with dormmates.

Jack retrieved the laptop from his bag, throwing on a simple twitch game he could play with one hand on the arrow keys, chiptune music making his room sound like a patronless vintage arcade. Of course, he was just waiting until ten o'clock rolled around: his mother's bedtime. Until that time, she relaxed in the living room watching her godawful sitcoms with their artificial laugh tracks that would seep through his door like a poisonous gas. Thankfully he had the game's music going. While he played, he pushed out any more thoughts of his mother, his absent father, and the other circumstances that made him want to leave. And yet he felt something turn in his stomach. A knot that kept twisting—something he refused to admit was a feeling he deserved to feel. A feeling with a capital G.

When the time arrived, he closed the game and shuffled to the door. Creaked it open and listened for the sound of the television or any evidence of his mother's whereabouts.

Silence.

Jack snuck to the bathroom for a towel, then tiptoed back. After locking the door shut, he threw the towel onto his bed and his shirt to the floor, revealing a slim build dusted lightly with brown hair. Off came his shorts and underwear next. Fully naked. He tugged on his heavy balls, giving them a prompt adjustment now that they could breathe. Gave the long, flaccid shaft of his dick a pleasurable stroke. Jack sighed, easing back onto his bed and pulling up a folder buried within two other decoy folders on his laptop. Thumbnails of files after file of videos blinked to life. However, he clicked another folder, reserved just for his favorites. Only a handful of video thumbnails popped up here.

“Might as well jerk off for the last time in this room to my favorite."

Two clicks. The video loaded.

The video showed a young, college-age dude kneeling in front of another guy his age holding the camera. A prominent bulge was on display, tucked beneath a pair of gym shorts. Gentle kisses there over the course of a minute. The bulge grew quickly, straining against the fabric until finally the guy kneeling couldn't resist anymore, eyes full of lust. Full of need. He pulled those shorts down, revealing a meaty erection.

Jack realized he'd been stroking himself off gently this whole time, his own dick as hard as the one on screen. The guy on his knees spent the next few minutes sucking off the other dude who must've been at least eight inches long, as long as Jack was. Didn't gag once. Not his first rodeo.

While the two were enjoying the oral action, Jack lay the towel flat on his bed. Then he dug into his bag on the floor for the one thing he knew he could never let his mother find, the one thing he used to keep safely tucked away in a shoebox. Jack produced a realistic-styled dildo. His first and only, purchased at a local adult store as soon as he turned eighteen. He wasn't sure how big the toy should've been, and he was too shy to ask the clerk for suggestions, so he stuck with one his size and got an eight-incher. This was a mistake considering what he wanted to do, but he didn't have the money to buy a smaller one, and he didn't want to make an embarrassing return to the store. But over the next several months after some pain, experimentation, and diligent practice, he was practically a pro. His virgin butt could take all eight inches.

Snatching a purple bottle of lube, he got the toy and his anus nicely lubed in time for the best part of the video. The guy on his knees stood, slipping off his own shorts to reveal a nice erection. Not as long as the guy he was sucking off, but boy was he thick. However, that wasn't the best part. The guy turned around, revealing a smooth bubble butt. The guy with the camera couldn't resist. Grabbed and massaged each globe with his free hand before slipping a finger between the delicate, hairless crack, teasing the needy hole there. Plenty of saliva and a few teasing thrusts next. A fat glans strained against the bottom dude's tightness. Suddenly, the top slipped in and the two became one, a pair of panting, moaning young guys aching to release each other's seed.

The bottom commented on how big the top was, and all Jack could hear was the top moan in acknowledgment as he kept the camera fixed on that ass—all eight inches of hard cock subsumed by an experienced booty.

Jack watched the video between splayed legs. Slipped in his toy. Imagined what it was like in that bottom's place. How it must've felt taking in that long dick. As the toy filled him, Jack moaned in unison with the two onscreen guys rutting like animals. Jack beat himself off, the feeling of fullness, the thick dildo pressing against his prostate… the pleasure he felt was difficult to describe. But his hand worked his own big dick good and fast. He was incredibly hard. Pushed as much of the toy inside. Felt the tingling sensation build, the warmth spreading through his loins, warning of the imminent climax. The two guys moaned like crazy as the top announced he was about to cum, his long, wet dick just sliding in and out of that bottom dude's tight hole. In and out, in and out. Faster and faster. Huge balls smacking against the bottom's ass.

“God, I'm gonna—"

The bed rumbled. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt it shift beneath him. His dick ached for release, but his hand stopped. Jack glanced around. All he could hear was the top growling as he orgasmed and dumped a huge load into his partner.

Was it an earthquake? Tornadoes were more common where he lived.

The video ended. Jack's dick went soft. Just as the silence of the room began to lull him into starting up another video, a rumbling whisper spoke his name. This made his heart race. He scanned the room for the source. Maybe it was the television in the living room. His mother perhaps fell asleep with it on. But when the whisper called for him again, he knew the sound was coming from within the room.

More specifically: under his bed.

The memory of that shadow creature sprung to life in his mind. But as quickly as it came to mind, logic shined its light. Monsters weren't real. Not in the literal sense. There must be some explanation for what's going on. He snatched his phone from the nightstand and flipped on its flashlight setting. Without further hesitation or bothering to remove the dildo from his butt, he dropped his head down the side of his bed and peered at the space beneath.

Emptiness.

The other day, a few things cluttered the space: a pair of shoes, a few dirty dishes, a long-lost sock, and plenty of dust bunnies. He had swept and cleared everything out. There was nothing there that could explain the whispers or how his bed shook.

“Fuck!"

Jack slipped from the bed, landing with a thud on the wooden floor. But he scrambled to his feet. He couldn't believe what he saw, what had emerged into view as quick as an eyeblink. A shadow. And two orange eyes igniting to life. Jack's own eyes skirted along the crevice beneath his bed for whatever it was. Nothing but shadow now.

His hand fumbled for the bedroom light switch, flooding the room with what he hoped would bring safety. The brightness made him wince. But he dared not look away.

Nothing.

Of course, nothing. Must be the stress of moving out, leaving home, taking on student loans, and taking the first few steps into a lifelong career once he could figure out a major that would hold his interest and ignite a passion he didn't know he had. A lot of pressure. Now he was hallucinating things from his childhood.

A low rumble. It took Jack a few seconds to realize what it was.

Laughter.

“Everyone believes light is the trick to chasing us away."

Something was mocking him. And as if to answer what that something was, shadowy tendrils flung across the floor like outstretched arms. Before he could suck in a breath in surprise, the tendrils coalesced and grew like a black pillar in his room. Two empty eyes glowed at the top of this pillar, a menacing orange that made Jack feel naked and vulnerable. This was the same figure he'd seen so many years ago.

Vertical slit pupils, like that of a larger predatory cat, adjusted to the light. Then glared. Jack knew he shouldn't wait to see what would happen next, what those eyes foretold, but his legs wouldn't move. He couldn't even take a breath.

Appendages emerged. These appendages formed what appeared to be two hands and two feet. As this occurred, a snout grew from the “face" of the shadow where the two eyes burned. Two demonic horns grew from the top of the head like scythes, followed by a pair of pointed, wolf-like ears that faced either wall.

“Oh, God…" Jack managed as he stumbled into the door.

The being… the thing chuckled as Jack fumbled with the doorknob.

“Another fascinating behavior," the voice said, oddly good-humored. “Humans can denounce God all their life until the fear of death has them sucking at the leaking teat of faith. Oh, the compromises humans are willing to make at the hope of living."

The door wouldn't open no matter how much Jack struggled. Somehow it was locked—from the inside. This struggle brought more amused laughter.

“Now, now, Jack," the thing said. “Is this how you treat your fellow housemate?"

Jack turned to the now fully formed creature that grinned back sharp, pearly teeth protruding from a bull-like snout set within a dragon's visage. The thing, hunched over slightly, must've stood almost eight feet tall, horns barely grazing the ceiling. Jack gulped as he noticed the collection of claws guarding its large hands and strong hind-paws. Digitigrade legs held up a muscular torso complete with meaty pecs and round, defined abdominals. Short, black fur covered his body, sleek as a shadow, including the thick lizard-like tail that trailed behind him.

But something else drew Jack's attention. One of the few places that showed skin: the meaty thing hanging between the creature's legs. The creature was obviously male. And endowed despite his size. His flaccid, uncut penis hung there, about seven or eight inches, black skin near the base that stretched over the wider middle of his cock, which then tapered slightly to the head partially covered in foreskin. The glans was an ashen grey. A pair of large testicles dangled, also covered in dark fur.

The creature looked virile and hungry.

“What… who are you?"

The creature grinned, baring his intimidating teeth.

“You know what I am," he said, again with humor. “Say it. Describe what your eyes so obviously see."

“You're… a demon."

The creature appeared offended.

“Honestly, Jack. A demon?" He scoffed, a paw gesturing to his chest. “I'm surprised by that answer. Do I look like a murderous horse or an entity that requires the blood sacrifice of a sweet, innocent wolf pup? Do I have the body of a serpent and the head of a raven, or look like any of their numerous kin? Not only do I lack the same rights and privileges as those esteemed elites," he mocked, “but you and I both know you cringe at the idea of angels and demons, of the existence of any god or 'some mystical sky wizard who demands fealty under penalty of eternal damnation.'"

Those were Jack's very words he'd used when voice-chatting with a friend from his laptop one evening. Their discussion had transitioned to religion, and his friend wondered how Jack was holding up with his mother.

Jack couldn't stammer a response.

“I wonder if your university could offer a class to help clarify the difference," the creature continued.

“The difference?" Jack finally managed.

“I'm no demon. Oh, if only I had such freedom. Unfortunately, I'm nothing more than a derelict of darkness. Nothing more than a monster, Jack. A shadow relegated to the wretched underworld that is the space beneath a child's bed...." The self-identified monster grinned. “But enough about this derelict. Seems I have interrupted you at a most inopportune time." The monster eased himself onto the bed, which groaned under all his weight. His tail folded onto his side and dangled over the edge of the bed. A clawed finger tapped at the dildo that somehow remained upright. Jack didn't realize he had left it behind, didn't realize it had squelched out of his butt as he fell to the floor. The dildo swayed from the monster's prodding touch but didn't fall over.

Despite the fact there was some fantasy-book creature on his bed, embarrassment still made an appearance. Made Jack's face flush red with heat. Instinctively, he covered his genitals with both hands.

The monster chuckled warmly, but then covered his mouth. “Best not wake the mother." He finished his muted laughter the same way Jack imagined someone would finish a tall drink of ice water after a hot day. “Jack, I spent the last four years listening to you tug at your own eight-inch monster. No need to cover yourself. I'm here for a reason… and the reason isn't to provoke this faux sense of modesty."

“You… you keep saying my name," Jack accused, still not uncovering himself despite the monster's quip. “How do you know it?"

Another grin bared more teeth, giving reason for Jack to remain afraid. “I've known you for years. We exist for your fear, Jack. We feed off it. But we aren't too different from an animal. A shark does not hunt on land. It must stay in its ocean, just as I must stay in this room."

“Under my bed."

“Yes," he hissed. A long tongue revealed itself. “This will sound worse than it really is, but I've been feeding off you. Specifically, your emotions. Fear is the easy one."

“Like some fucked-up Monsters, Inc."

“Is that a reference?" the monster mused. “Forgive me, I have vague familiarity with human entertainment, although the noises from the video"—he glanced at the laptop to the video that was no longer playing—"is very much familiar to me."

“You were the thing I saw ten years ago."

“Tell me, how are humans rewarded when giving a correct observation for a change?"

Jack was still too afraid to laugh at this patronizing insult. But the creature grinned.

“Not your brand of playful banter across roommates?"

“So, it was you."

“Correct."

“Why?" Jack demanded. Although he still felt afraid of this thing, if he wanted Jack hurt or dead, the creature would have done something already. “Why scare the shit out of me? Make me look like some messed-up kid to my mom, like I needed therapy or medication or something?"

“That was unintentional." The creature went quiet, its feline-like eyes hunting for some response from Jack. “What do you remember from that night?"

Jack wasn't sure he should answer. What if talking to it only fed into its agenda, its purpose for being here. Jack wondered if he was the protagonist captured by the main villain, and the villain was dispatching the details of its plans before finally deciding to kill off the hero. Heroes, of course, always managed to escape during such self-righteous monologues. But Jack was no hero. He was a human made of blood and guts somehow kept together under his skin. One swipe of the monster's claws, one snap of his intimidating jaws, and he was dead. And what would follow? A true feeding.

“What do you remember?" the monster pressed.

“I was reading. You emerged from the bed. I remember those orange eyes. How they cut through me."

“Yes. And what else."

“And there was a second figure from the window. Just another part of you, right?"

“A part of me?"

“Whatever fucked-up nightmare logic monsters have, I don't know!"

“That wasn't me." The tail drooping off the side of the bed extended to the floor. As soon as it touched the floor, a shadow dashed from the tail to Jack, who had little time to respond. The shadow leapt as it reached Jack and encased his head like a diving helmet. “Remember."

The memory of that night flooded in again, but much more vivid than earlier. Almost as if he were there, reliving the events of that night. He saw the figure emerge from the opening window. He remembered it as shadow, much like the monster when he emerged from under his bed. But as he focused on the figure, Jack realized it wasn't just a collection of shadows come to haunt him. This was a man. Dressed in black. He wore a ski mask. This wasn't a monster, at least not in the traditional sense.

“It was a burglar," Jack announced as the memory played out. The creature emerged from the bed, orange eyes glowing. But he realized that the empty, glowing eyes Jack saw weren't looking at him… he was seeing the back of the shadow creature's eyes through his translucent body. His pupils were pointing the other way. He was looking at the burglar. The monster leapt through the room and engulfed the intruder who choked and spat and batted at the air until he fell back through the window, presumably running off to never touch foot in Jack's apartment again.

“You protected me."

The shadow around Jack's head released itself, slurping back into the creature's tail.

A part of Jack thought that perhaps the creature was merely manipulating his memory to earn his favor… but it made too much sense. The memory felt all too real. And why wait ten years to reemerge if he didn't have something more sinister at hand? But the monster admitted he fed off fear somehow. A burglar breaking into Jack's room seemed like a perfect opportunity for a feast. The post-traumatic stress alone would have fed him for months, if not years.

“You said you feed off fear, whatever the hell that means. Why save me? A burglar would have gotten me plenty scared."

The monster hesitated and offered a coy grin. But the way the monster's ears flattened against his head like a guilty dog betrayed the nature of his thoughts. There was something the monster wanted to say but couldn't at the same time. Jack knew this feeling wholeheartedly. And it was this piece of “humanity" or whatever it was called that finally disarmed the fear clutching him.

“It's difficult to explain," the monster finally mustered. “You know the feeling."

“I do."

“Let's just say your mother was enough to sustain me. She prays every night. She begs for protection from the evils of the world. She prays for your protection, for your safety, that you will grow up righteous and good. Last night, she wept, afraid of what living away from home may do to you. She wants to protect you from the world."

“I know…"

“What would she have done had she learned of this burglary? When she learned that this apartment was no longer a safe haven for you both?"

“She would have had us move to someplace safer."

“Exactly." The coy grin faltered on his face. “There's a significant limitation as a shadow monster. Demons can move about once given free rein to roam the earthly realm. But I am bound to this building, to this room."

“You didn't want me to leave you behind."

“Your reasoning skills will bring you much success at your university." That wasn't sarcasm at all. In fact, there was an undertone of sadness in those words.

“And now I'll be leaving tomorrow. Hence why you've shown yourself to me. To say goodbye."

“And not just that…" The monster's grin returned. He closed his eyes. It seemed like he was at a loss for words, so reminiscent of Jack's mother when she first had to explain the whereabouts of his father—a silent smile to cover the discomfort. After a few awkward moments of hesitation: “You may not see it. I'm black as a shadow, after all. But I believe I am blushing."

“Monsters can blush?"

“We feed off emotions. We also express them."

“And what's making you feel this way?"

The monster's voice stumbled an incoherent response before falling silent as he turned his attention towards the laptop. When words fail, Jack had learned, look at the person's body language. The video. This wasn't about just saying goodbye. This was about—

“Sex."

Again, the monster closed his eyes. Caught in the act.

“How many countless times have I heard you masturbating, listened to all the pornography you've played at night before bed? All your little moans and groans you've kept quiet. The squeaking of your bed as you let a toy like this"—he pushed the dildo until it fell over—“penetrate you?"

The monster bit his lower lip, and for good reason. Recounting years of these events spat bolts of excitement through his loins. Jack could see the monster's sex pulsing, hardening with every heartbeat or whatever blood-pumping organ, Jack figured, a shadow monster would have.

“Fear is such an easy emotion to feed off of. Your mother sheds it like flakes of skin that dust your furniture, or like that which cakes that Bible. But there was a stronger emotion you've fed me for so many years that made me wish to reciprocate."

The monster's erection ached. He was so very hard. And long. A foot at least. With an intimidating thickness.

“Lust," Jack answered. “You're revealing yourself in hopes of sex."

“And I'm breaking a few, let's say, restrictions by doing so," he laughed coyly. “Sexual relationships with humans are strictly taboo."

“I'd ask why, but I think you can answer that later." Jack uncovered himself, revealing his own erection. This made the creature's ears perk up. Made his tail twitch. But the sight of a muscular beast that very well could have come from one of Jack's fantasy novels was surprisingly erotic. Jack considered himself fairly vanilla: he only ever thought of and looked up good-looking guys with nice dicks. Never anything… monstrous and foreign. But he felt comfort in seeing this excitement, this sort of lust reciprocated, the monster's tail continuing to sway like a pendulum.

Jack found himself approaching the creature without caution, the way an owner approaches their own guard dog trained since puppyhood. Only those who posed a threat to the owner needed to fear it. Of course, Jack didn't own this monster. But perhaps tonight he would.

Jack wasn't sure what to expect when he finally touched the thing, slipping between his legs. He expected coolness, like the comfort shade can provide on a sunny day. Instead, he felt warmth as fingers coursed through the short, black fur that covered his muscular frame. Could feel the warmth of each sinew, the beat of his heart as a hand pressed against a meaty chest. Jack buried his head there. Inhaled deeply, taking in the creature's scents, which were difficult to describe. The smell was both exotic and calming, like sandalwood. Earthy, musky, with an undertone of sweetness. A woody smell that Jack imagined came from years hiding under creaky beds, years making a home of hardwood floors.

But why Jack's room? The logic of such a creature defied explanation at the moment. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the creature's gentle touch as he raised Jack's face to his. What mattered was his taste, the rough texture of the creature's tongue that writhed in Jack's mouth, both interlocked into something like a French kiss.

Jack's hand found its way to the creature's maleness, and feeling its hard length, the bulbous head after pulling back the foreskin, the girth he could barely wrap a hand around… it was like the feeling of discovering gay porn for the first time when he was fourteen—that feeling of lust and desire and taboo making his heart flutter. That discovery of seeing something he shouldn't… liking something he shouldn't: hot big-dicked dudes touching each other, making each other moan, grind hips, unload everything their balls had. It was that feeling of mischievous discovery multiplied by the biggest number his mind could muster at the heat of the moment. Lost in a kiss, the taste of the monster's saliva. Pleasurable grumbling as Jack worked his hand faster over all twelve inches of hard dick. Short, soft fur as their bodies hugged tighter. That huge cock pressed against him. Muscle and strength that was all Jack's for that night. The feeling that something this powerful and virile and masculine—and, yes, even sexy in a monstrous sort of way—was now his.

Sometime during all the kissing and rubbing, Jack found himself bent over his bed. He couldn't remember if he had asked or if the monster had said something, but he knew he wanted to feel that tongue deep inside him.

Jack let out a gasp as the monster spread open his cheeks… slipped in a wet tongue. A few testing laps, at first, but then the monster dived in. Jack arched his back and stifled the moan that wanted to escape his lips, loud and free. Instead, he bit his lower lip. Hands gripped the sheets. His dick throbbed. The monster's slick tongue probed deeply, touching parts of him Jack's dildo couldn't reach. The monster growled pleasurably as he worked his tongue in, ate him out, made Jack want to jerk off frantically to get off to the feeling of that tongue alone. But Jack didn't want to cum to this, as good as it felt. He wanted more. Twelve inches of more, to be exact.

After the monster pulled out for a breath, Jack swiveled around. Whispered to the monster to take him as he snatched the bottle of lube and slathered the stuff generously over all twelve inches. Jack nearly gulped as he peered down at what he was requesting. The monster's slick erection remained incredibly hard, pointing upward in a show of sexual vigor. Jack had to bat away all worries of pain, of doubt_._ He could take a thick eight-inch dildo. What was another four inches?

Jack gritted his teeth as the monster eased him onto his back and pushed his legs back. Angled Jack's ass so that the monster could align his dick with the clenching hole there. Jack was thankful he'd loosened himself up earlier. The monster let out a low grumble. He had to release one leg to guide himself in, pressing in the bulbous head. It slipped in with little resistance. Jack tossed his head back, wincing. Gritting his teeth.

“Keep going…"

More slipped in, inch after inch. Jack writhed. Felt the beginnings of embarrassment at how he moaned. This felt incredible. That feeling of fullness, the monster's dick bulging against his prostate—so difficult to explain. And he could only imagine how his tightness felt for the monster who started thrusting a little deeper, slowly picking up speed.

The monster's body tensed, muscles bulging. Grunted. Saliva dripped from his gaping mouth that gave off a libidinous succession of huffs. Jack beat himself off to the sight of this monster on top of him. Did his best to stifle his cries. The monster was so big. And he kept pushing harder. Wanted to get deeper. Wanted all twelve inches inside the boy under him.

Jack whispered how he was gonna cum. And this ignited the monster's furor all the more. The bed kept squeaking. Jack's whispering grew to a whine. His whole body writhed and tensed. His loins ached for release. He just needed to cum, and he beat himself off furiously until finally the monster let out a growl, braced himself for a moment as his dick slipped out, revealing a wet, gaping hole, before finally giving one final thrust that made Jack throw his head back in ecstasy. Large balls slapped against his butt, and he knew the monster was in completely. All twelve inches.

Both came simultaneously. The monster pulled Jack's legs in tight. Winced hard. Bared teeth as he groaned, dick pulsing and pulsing. Jack cried out. Couldn't help it. The monster's dick pressed against him just right. Ribbons of cum splattered across Jack's face, while the rest unloaded onto his chest and belly. Thick pools of white spunk. The final streams drooled over his hard dick and onto his pubic hairs, while the monster continued to growl while the last of his own seed spilled inside the human.

Jack never came so hard in his life. Could swear his balls felt empty. Gasped for breath as if he needed the air to refill them. The sexual and almost sweet scent of semen invaded each inhalation. Jack couldn't tell if it was his or all the cum leaking from his butt. Perhaps a mix of both. Could almost taste it, it was so strong. Warm and metallic.

The monster glanced at the mess, grinning. Perhaps happy that he was responsible for it. Perhaps relieved that this was how their encounter ended. Whatever it was, Jack felt good. Really good. But he wanted to know more.

After seizing the creature by the horns to pull him in for a quick kiss, they made haste of their cleanup. Used up the rest of the tissue box on hand. Afterward, the two wound up together on the full-size bed, the monster careful not to skewer the wall with his horns or tear up the bedding with his claws. Both became a mix of warmth, of intertwined arms and legs. The broad snout nuzzled against Jack who obliged with a caressing touch. Could feel the tough skin underneath the short, silk-like fur there.

Jack asked only a few questions as they embraced. He wanted to enjoy this quiet together. But he was still curious about the world of shadow creatures and demons and the supernatural he never thought to believe in. What the monster risked by revealing himself. How the science of his physical form even worked if he could meld into shadow… if he could materialize from it. Jack began to question everything he thought he knew. He even glanced at the dusty Bible and considered giving it a serious readthrough.

The monster's answers were vague and ambiguous. There was much he hesitated to reveal. And there was plenty that no human mortal could understand. Jack understood, and he was too sleepy to press for specifics. For hints, at the very least. But he asked for one last thing as sleep tugged his eyes shut: the monster's name. But names were powerful things. And the monster wanted to share it. Perhaps soon he would. Another time. Right now, he, too, wanted to relish in the afterglow. In the feeling of having the boy he watched over for many years fall asleep, safe in his arms.

* * *

That morning, Jack crept through the kitchen to the dining room table where his mother awaited with chocolate chip pancakes and cheesy scrambled eggs, a good breakfast to help send him off. He'd awoken with a sigh of disappointment. Alone, naked, and cold on his bed. At first he wondered if it was all a dream, but the musky smell of sex and the pain he felt in his backside as he sat up were proof otherwise. “Last night happened," he said through gritted teeth.

Jack's mother questioned why he was walking so oddly, and he blamed it on a Charlie horse that had bitten him unexpectedly last night.

“Oh, that's what I heard," she said.

“H-heard?" He drowned a stack of pancakes with syrup, not bothering to sit down. That would have made him wince—provoke questions.

“Snuck to the restroom for a tinkle. Sounded like you were crying in your room. Thought perhaps you were just sad from the move today…"

She heard you. She knows.

Jack batted these accusations away.

“Ah, yeah… just a Charlie horse. Need more magnesium in my diet or something." Jack poured himself a glass of milk and took a sip. Perhaps the glass could hide the expression that would betray his lie. He cleared his throat. “But regarding moving out, I've been giving yesterday's conversation some thought."

“Oh?" his mother said, more hopeful than curious. She watched as Jack took a bite of pancake, syrup dripping down his chin and onto the plate below. Prompted him to sit down. Not make a mess. Mother didn't raise a slob and that whole business.

Arguing would only bring further suspicion, he knew. He eased onto the chair, pain in his rear nearly forcing a hiss. A good sort of pain… but it was pain, nevertheless. Even then, it made him think of last night. The kissing, the touching, the monstrous dick he was somehow able to take, all that cum leaking out of him afterward.

“You're smiling." Jack's mother gave a curious look. “What's on your mind?"

Jack definitely didn't want to share those thoughts. “It's just… you're right, Mom. I've been giving this some thought, and I can just drive to school. Stay here with you. I don't want to do what Dad did. Just ditch you. College is supposed to teach us how to be better human beings. How to contribute to the world." From the corner of his eye, he could see a dark face peeking around the corner of the kitchen. “But how can you change the world by making your only family miserable?"

The happiness that lifted her face almost made Jack feel bad, but it was a two-birds-one-stone moment. When she embraced him in a tight hug, ecstatic to hear the news, Jack couldn't help but smile himself. He could see shadow tendrils slipping back down the hall towards his bedroom. The room where he knew he'd wait anxiously each night for the moment he could finally close the door.