Home for Horny Monsters Ch. 009

Hey all, Annabelle here with the next chapter of Home for Horny Monsters! If you haven't read it from the beginning, this isn't a good chapter to start, as a lot won't make sense. Go back and read the first parts, I'll wait!

For those of you who are ready, I love putting my stories here, everybody is so supportive!

As promised, this chapter has our newest monster, and I hope you love her! Mike is about to take a trip on the weird side, so without further ado, I present to you:

*****

Nightmares and Dreamscapes

His soul floated, hiding just beneath his skin, dreading the moment that his eyes would open, streaming reality in High Definition through his very being. It wasn't that he was afraid to face the morning, but rather that he was afraid of how much pain he would be in upon awaking.

The morning before, his whole being had been in agony. Between fucking Jenny out of Beth and then carrying Beth home, he wondered if his body would decide to be tired or sore instead. How does a body decide how miserable to make its owner anyway? Mike contemplated his day from behind closed eyes, wondering if he could trick Tink into bringing him food to eat while he stayed in bed. She couldn't cook for him, and he was fairly certain the fridge was nearly empty.

Shit. He also needed to feed the Mandragora. He could picture those vines, creeping along the side of the house, searching for fresh meat. With the events of yesterday, it had gotten forgotten, but it needed to be a priority today. How much meat did a magical plant need? He pictured Emily in his mind, tossing a couple of pounds of beef on the lawn. The plant was probably far hungrier after so many months without food. Or maybe it had taken to eating strays that happened onto the lawn?

Ugh. Eyes open, he silently cursed the light that was already crossing the hard, wooden floor of his room. Pushing the blankets away, he saw that Tink had already left. Bracing for the worst, he sat up in bed, ready for the inevitable checklist of agonies to pile up.

Except nothing happened. Puzzled, he rolled his shoulders around, tilted his head back and forth, and wiggled his legs. He felt absolutely fine.

"What the fuck?" He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rising, he walked to the bathroom, took a leak, and popped into the bathroom. The huge tub was empty.

"Hey Naia." He sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for the faucet to turn on. Strangely, the tub remained silent. "Hello?" He called, leaning in the tub, waiting for her to appear. He sat this way for several minutes, puzzled that she didn't answer. Shaking his head, he figured he would go out to the garden and see what she was up to.

Walking down the hallway, he was surprised at how quiet the house was. At the top of the stairs, he stopped to stare at the wardrobe at the other end of the hall, its silver handle gleaming, begging to be opened.

"Feed the Mandragora, feed the Mandragora," he muttered, walking downstairs. In the kitchen, his laptop was on the table, but there was no sign of Tink. Making himself a quick breakfast of Eggos and coffee, he turned his laptop on, clicking on his web browser.

Nothing happened. Puzzled, he tried again, but the program wouldn't open. He rebooted his computer, eating his syrup soaked Eggos and slamming his coffee, refilling his mug while he waited. His computer screen came back on, but it wouldn't display anything other than a blue screen.

"What the fuck?" Either he had contracted a massive virus, or he was experiencing hardware failure. Swearing to himself, he wondered if Tink had been screwing around on his laptop this morning. "Tink? Hey Tink!" Wandering from room to room, he saw no sign of the goblin. In fact, everything was in perfect order, the mess from yesterday's fight all cleaned up as if it hadn't even happened.

"Strange." Casting a suspicious glance at the living room, Mike walked out into the garden, stopping in his tracks. Naia's fountain was caked in dirt and mud again, as if he had never cleaned it out. Running up to the edge, all he could think was that, somehow, the magic had been cut off from her spring again.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He shoved his way into the garage, maneuvering through the boxes to get to the work bench. Grabbing supplies, he ran back outside. "Tink! Abella! Help!" Kneeling in the fountain, he frantically scrubbed at the caked mud, trying to remember where he shad seen the water flowing from.

"Naia! Naia, are you in there?" Scooping up dirt, he saw the stony figure tucked away from the garden, hidden behind the bushes. "Abella! Abella, come help me!"

She didn't move. Tossing his trowel aside, Mike vaulted the lip of the fountain. "Abella, the fountain is..."

Abella was wrapped in the vines of the Mandragora, her body perfectly still. Mike grabbed the vines, tearing them off with his bare hands. "Oh shit, Abella!" It only took him a minute, the vines tearing away easily beneath his hands. Pushing against her, he pressed his face to hers, hoping that she would feel his warmth. "Abella, please, wake up!"

She remained motionless, stuck in statue form. Mike ran back into the house, shoving open the front door and colliding with someone who had been standing on the porch. Papers flew everywhere, and Mike spun wildly, tripping over himself and tipping over the railing into the bushes below.

"Ow, fuck!" Mike crawled free of the bushes to find that Beth was busy picking up the papers he had spilled everywhere. She was on her hands and knees, her white skirt hiked up over her ass, revealing a bright red pair of panties that matched her top. Mike scrambled up the stairs, grabbing a handful of her papers. "I am so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it Mr. Ra-Mike." Beth blushed at him, accepting the papers. Mike knelt to grab another one, his eyes struggling to focus on the words. They seemed to swim in front of his eyes, but Beth snatched it away from him before he could get a better look at it. Her bun had come undone, a large strand of hair hanging free down the back of her neck. "I thought I would drop by and bring you some paperwork, but I'm afraid it's gotten all out of sorts."

"Oh, yes, right, come in." Mike helped her to her feet, staring at the way her breasts strained the buttons of her blouse while she stood. Looking back at the street, he started to follow Beth inside when he saw that the porch swing was unhooked, lying on the porch. "I'll meet you in the kitchen," he told her, picking up the swing and reattaching it.

"Cecilia, where are you?" He asked, giving the swing a gentle push. He was answered only by the harsh metallic screech of metal on metal.

Beth stood in the kitchen leaning back against the table. Something about her stance immediately unnerved him-it was too familiar. Did she remember what had happened yesterday? "I didn't think you were coming back until Friday," he told her.

"I don't think we scheduled anything that far out," Beth told him. "I'm just bringing by the paperwork I mentioned yesterday, as well as an offer from the Historical Preservation Society. These very nice ladies call me on almost a daily basis to see if you will sell."

MIke stared at her. "You mean the offer I turned down earlier this week?"

"Mike, are you feeling okay?" Beth moved closer to him, lines of concern crossing her face. "You told me last night that you weren't certain if you were going to keep the place."

"Last night?" Mike felt the world spinning around him. "Like, you remember being here yesterday?"

"Of course I do. I showed you around, you really liked that big tub. I said I would check in on you." Beth put her hand against his forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"Yeah, well I suddenly feel very unwell." Mike sat down at the table. He felt like he was standing at one end of a very long tunnel, his entire world spinning out of control.

"Here, let me get you some water." Beth walked into the kitchen, and he heard the faucet. He heard her swear, and the click of her heels announced her return a few moments later. "I had an accident," she informed him, gesturing at the large wet spot on her blouse. The red fabric of her blouse was suddenly transparent, revealing the dark black bra underneath. "I'm such a klutz," she informed him, pinching the top of her blouse with one hand and shaking it in and out. Two buttons came undone, revealing the upper curve of her breasts.

His cock twitched slightly, but he was too upset to care. "Thank you," he told her, taking the glass from her hands. She gave him an odd look, then grabbed the papers on the table.

"So, I guess I'll go back to the office then," she told him. "Do you need me to take you to the doctor or anything? I can bring you something later, or we could meet for dinner?"

"No, I'm fine." The words were easy to say, but Mike was everything but. Beth frowned at him while he walked her to the door. When he opened it, she spun in place, leaning against the frame, her body suddenly close.

"Seriously. Can I do anything for you?" She winked at him.

"I'm good." He needed to figure out what had gone wrong. Beth pouted, stepping onto the porch. Mike didn't bother following her-he shut the door in her face.

-

The hours ticked by. Mike spent the first hour in the back trying to get Abella to snap out of her slumber, and decided that whatever had happened wasn't going to suddenly undo itself. In the garage, Tink's nest underneath was empty, just a couple of boxes of newspaper that had become so wet, Mike couldn't read what was written on them. Going back in the house, he tried to find the secret cave in the little boy's room, but was unable to figure out how to open it. A hammer to the drywall revealed nothing behind it but insulation and dead bugs.

Mike masturbated twice in the tub, unable to cum or summon Naia. He tried it in the fountain, frantically jerking himself as he wandered in large circles, calling the nymph's name. He even checked the greenhouse, but the door itself was locked, and he couldn't find a rock heavy enough to shatter out the glass. It seemed like every time he found one that would work, it was suddenly too small.

Unable to find Naia anywhere, Mike went into the basement, finding the piece of chalk underneath the freezer.

"Aha!" Pumping his hand in victory, he drew the door on the wall, knocking three times, then twice more. When nothing happened, he did it again. Convinced that he had screwed up the door, he redrew it over and over again, his knuckles becoming raw from the now frantic pounding on each one. The piece of chalk quickly became a tiny nub which he slammed against the floor, breaking it into several pieces.

"What the fuck?!?" Mike slammed into the freezer, tilting the whole thing over in anger. He gave it a kick, sending a jolt of pain through his foot. "Ow, fuck!" Limping back up the stairs, he heard the doorbell ring.

Stumbling through the darkened home, he flipped on the lights as he neared the front door. Opening it, he saw that Dana stood there in just a white tank top and jeans.

"Oh. I didn't order anything," he said, closing the door.

"Oh, yeah, I know!" Dana stuck her arm in the door. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"The odd jobs and such?" He asked. "I'm kind of in the middle of something right now."

"Wow, yeah, you seem super distracted. I'll make it quick." Dana fished in her pocket, holding up a hundred dollar bill. "So, last night, when I brought you your food, you gave me this."

"I...I did?" He remembered tipping her, but not that much.

"Yeah. You told me to keep the change, you were very sweet about it." Dana moved closer to him. "Well, you see, I got to thinking. Maybe it was an accident, maybe you thought it was a different kind of bill."

"Um..." She made him uncomfortable, standing so close. He thought he had given her a twenty, but he couldn't be bothered with that. "No, that's fine. I gave you what I meant to give you."

"I thought so." Dana pushed her way in, placing a hand on Mike's chest. She licked her lips hungrily. "You see, I have a confession to make. I like men who have money."

"No, wait, I didn't mean anything by it," Mike protested, backing up. He eventually ran into the clock by the stairs, causing it to chime. Dana smirked at him, rubbing her left breast.

"You know, big inheritance, new in town, just paying my good luck forward... oh shit!" Dana yanked down on her tank top, exposing two of the most perfect breasts he had ever seen.

"When I say I like men who have money, I don't mean it like I'm a gold digger," she told him. "What I meant to say was, it made me hot. Super hot. I can't stop thinking about it."

Kneeling at his feet, she prevented him from squirming away while she fumbled with his pants. Despite his protests, she pulled his cock free. "Oh, wow, I can't wait to get this in me!" She declared, licking the tip of it.

"No, you don't understand, I need to-" Mike's mind went blank, watching Dana take his semi-hard cock in her mouth. She fought to fit it in, not realizing that it was going to become even bigger. He grunted, wanting to grab her by the ears, pull her closer...

You sick fuck! Like clockwork, she had reappeared, the voice of his mother. You would like that, wouldn't you? Fucking a poor college girl in the mouth like that, what do you think my friends would say if they knew you were fucking a girl almost a decade younger than you?

"No, please, wait," Mike pushed Dana away, his dick slipping out of her lips with a loud Splorp! "This isn't something we should be doing."

"Oh, but I want to. Very much." Dana turned around, peeling down the top of her yoga pants to reveal a beautifully curved ass. Her pussy was trimmed neatly, just a few blonde hairs standing at attention while she wiggled her ass at him.

Sick fuck! You have a hard on right now? That did it. As aggressive as Dana was, his mother's voice was simply too much. "Please," he begged. "Please just go. Keep the money, whatever, but I don't want to fuck you."

"I think that your dick would tell me... oh." Dana had grabbed at his cock, only to discover that he had gone soft. "Um, I, uh..."

"You need to go." Mike pulled up his pants. "I don't have time for this right now, I'm kind of in the middle of some serious shit." Scooting around her, he picked up her tank top. He handed it over. "Don't worry, I won't tell anybody what happened here."

"You're kicking me out?" Dana asked, her face frozen in shock. "But I was sucking your dick."

"Yes, well, everyone makes mistakes." Mike practically pushed the poor girl out the door, turning the deadbolt as soon as he closed it. Turning around, he slid down the door, staring at the clock next to the stairs.

"So what's your deal?" He asked it, half expecting an answer. "Did you make me travel backward in time? Are you some type of time fairy? WHAT ARE YOU?"

The clock didn't answer him, and it didn't answer him three minutes later when he smashed it in with a hammer.

-

"So what do you think, Dr. Gorman?" Mike held his phone with trembling fingers, sitting naked in the bath. He had spent several hours there, hoping for Naia to reappear, but to no avail.

"I think that you have an interesting situation on your hands." The voice on the other end of the phone was low and smooth. Mike could almost smell the accompanying pipe smoke, a sense memory from years of sessions. "My best guess is that this was a psychotic break of sorts."

"But why? Why now? Why this?" Mike huddled in the back of the bath, trembling from the cool sensation of the ceramic basin. "Help me understand what happened."

"You inherited a home which once belonged to your family. This in turn reminds you of your mother, and the attempt at self gratification somehow exposed a massive flaw in your psyche, causing you to slip into this reality where you meet these mythical creatures which are all extensions of your personality." There was a moment of silence, followed by a puff of air. He never smoked during their sessions, but Mike recognized the sound. He could picture the heavyset man, staring out the window of his Seattle home, probably wearing a smoking jacket, wisps of smoke curling over his graying beard.

"For instance, this Naia person signifies rebirth. The bathtub is a metaphor for the womb, and she arrives in a torrent of water, much like a child. The goblin is really just repressed teenage sexuality, which is why she speaks like a child, but interacts with you intimately as an adult." Another in rush of air, and a steady exhale. "The banshee represents the death of your mother, your inability to come to term with the fact that you will never receive closure from her. Freud could speak volumes to your relationship with her. And the statue represents the bystander effect, years of frustration with those who watched the abuse but never stepped in to help you."

"What about the house? It has secret doors, and caves, and oh shit, I forgot to mention the Labyrinth! A minotaur stole Tink's goggles, and-"

A cough interrupted him. "In all honesty, Michael, I think the best thing would be for you to part with this place and return to Seattle. Obviously this place has triggered several dormant psychosis that will only serve to divide your mind further from reality."

"No." Mike trembled, nearly shouting into the phone. "No, it was all real, it had to be!"

"Denial is the first stage of grief, Michael." Another puff. "When you have reached Acceptance, you know where to find me."

"Fuck!" Mike swore at the phone, tossing it out of the tub. He heard it clatter across the floor. If he really had lost his mind, what was the next step? Frustrated, he turned on the faucet, letting the warm water lull him to sleep, dreams of Naia circling in his head.

-

The world had lost some of its color, a brightness that Mike had only seen in the last few days. His breakfast was uneaten on the table, and his computer still wouldn't boot up. He was unaware how long he had been sitting there, couldn't even remember getting out of bed, much less putting on clothes and coming down the stairs.

The doorbell rang, but Mike ignored it. Something inside him had broken, a fragile something that had cracked apart, taking with it years of healing. Naia, Tink, Cecilia, and Abella were gone, had probably never even existed. He was reminded of his mother after his father's death, an emotional wound that had become cancerous, poisoning her very being. How could he cope with a loss that wasn't real? How could he move forward and seek happiness that he had only found in his imagination?

The doorbell rang again, twice. Rolling his eyes, he stood up. He really hoped it wasn't Dana-that girl freaked him out too much. Or Beth. Or anybody human for that matter.

Opening the door, he found it hard to muster any enthusiasm for the woman standing on his porch. She wore a black dress that clung to her body like ink, and her dark hair was shot through with red highlights. Thigh high, black leather boots disappeared beneath the hem of her skirt, and her hips were cocked to one side, accentuating the curve of her ass.

"Hello, Mr. Radley." Her voice was a purr, dripping with sensual undertones. "I was wondering if I could have a word with you."

"Sure, I guess." He let her in the house. She eyed the grandfather clock, or rather what was left of it. He hadn't bothered cleaning up.

"My name is Lily." She offered her hand, which he shook. "Oh my, you have a strong grip! Do you work out?"

"Not really. Can I help you?" His eyes were on the landing up above, hoping for the tell-tale sounds of splashing. He couldn't fight the nagging feeling that he had missed something, a crucial detail that would help him figure out what had happened.