Survival of the Fittest

"Where are you staying?" Bradshaw asked, turning towards Scott. "You're not planning on driving back to Columbus tonight, are you?"

"Oh, no, I'm not," Scott said. "I haven't found a place yet though. Is there a motel somewhere around here?"

Grant Bradshaw gave a wary look out the living room window at the darkening sky. "Yup... there's one back that-a-way, about ten miles." He gestured with his thumb towards the south, in the direction from which Scott had come that afternoon. "But your best bet is to stay right here with us tonight."

"Thanks, Mr. Bradshaw. That's very kind of you, but I don't want to inconvenience you and your wife. I can get a motel and drive back in the morning," Scott said. He had always made it a practice to not impose on clients and was not about to break that rule now.

"It's no inconvenience to put you up for one night. Besides, you'll be safer here than out on the road. It'll be dark soon." Bradshaw's eyes grew narrow and his voice became somber as he leaned towards Scott.

"Safer?" Scott said. "Why do you say that?"

Grant Bradshaw gave a sigh and took another drink from his can. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and staring at the floor for a few seconds. Then turned his head towards Scott. "Do you believe in the supernatural, Scott? Ghosts, demons... those sort of things that science can't explain and religion often ignores," Mr. Bradshaw asked.

"No, not really," Scott said, his voice faltering a bit in surprise at the question. "I've never seen a ghost or anything like that. Maybe if I saw one I'd change my..."

Before Scott could finish, Bradshaw interrupted him. "Something roams these back roads at night and it's worse than any ghost or demon," he said. "You'd be wise to stay here with us now that dusk is close."

Scott stared incredulously at Mr. Bradshaw. He felt his jaw begin to slacken and closed his mouth tight for a moment. "What... what are you talking about?"

Bradshaw straightened his back and shrugged. "No one is really sure," he said. "Some folks have seen it, or at least it's silhouette, in the moonlight as it ran off. But last spring it got one of my cattle, and other farmers have lost livestock too. But that's not the worst of it."

From the corner of his eye Scott saw Mary enter the living room. His eyes met the curves of her hips, then moved up to the front of her dress where her breasts rose out from it. "Oh, Daddy, you're not trying to frighten Scott with your scary stories about monsters, are you?" She looked at Scott and rolled her eyes.

"They're not stories, Mary. You know that," her father said curtly. "Remember what happened to that Baldwin kid last winter?"

"What happened?" Scott's wide eyes moved towards Grant. There was trepidation in his voice as he spoke.

"Something got him one night when he was walking home from his girlfriend's," Grant said. "It tore him up pretty good. They only knew it was him from what was left of his clothes and a tattoo he had on his arm." His eyes locked on Scott's as he spoke.

"Something -- like a wolf or a coyote you mean?" Scott asked.

"No wolf can do that to a body," Bradshaw replied in a dour tone. "Besides, the prints they found in the snow weren't from no wolf or coyote."

"What then?" Scott leaned on the arm of his chair. His grip tightened on the beer can in his hand until he felt the aluminum begin to bend.

Grant shrugged. "Folks aren't sure. But they found two sets of prints in the snow -- one belonged to the Baldwin kid, and the other... well, it was human too. Or at least it looked human. 'cept it was barefoot, and looked like it had long nails -- or more like claws."

Scott felt a shudder run up his spine. He had not felt like this since his days in the Boy Scouts when everyone would listen to ghost stories around a campfire at night. "And this is what attacked your cow too?" he asked.

"Attacked it... more like ripped it to shreds, yeah," Grant said. He took a swallow of beer and darted his eyes towards his daughter.

"That's enough, Daddy. You're going to frighten Scott," Mary interjected.

"No, it's okay," Scott assured her. "I haven't heard a good ghost story since I was a kid."

"Weren't no ghost that done that to my cow or that kid," Grant said, glaring at Scott for a moment.

Scott nodded and swallowed hard, avoiding Bradshaw's intense glare. He took a drink of beer and stared blankly at the television. "So, could it have been something like bigfoot?" he asked.

"Maybe so," Grant replied. "Like I said, no one's gotten a good look at it; only at what it's done to people and creatures. And I'm not the only one who's lost cattle 'round here, and that Baldwin boy, he isn't the only person who's met-up with it at night neither."

"Okay, Daddy, now you're beginning to frighten me," Mary snapped. Her face was ashen as she turned towards Scott with a frightened expression. "Daddy's right though, Scott. It probably would be best for you to stay here tonight."

"Alright, thank-you," Scott relented. "I just hate inconveniencing anyone."

"It's no trouble, Scott. The guest room is already made. All you have to do is turn down the blankets and fall to sleep." Grant smiled as he spoke. His voice was gentle now and he seemed relieved that Scott had accepted his invitation.

"I'll show him where the room is," Mary offered and smiled at her father.

Scott placed his nearly empty beer can on a table beside the sofa and followed Mary up the narrow wooden stairs towards the bedrooms. His eyes focused on the sway of her hips and the curve of her backside as she ascended the stairs then turned the corner at the top.

"It's down here," she said, looking back over her shoulder briefly.

Mary lead Scott in to a small bedroom across the hall from the bathroom. It had hardwood floors and windows facing west and south. She stepped closer to the small bed in a corner and turned to face him. Her eyes brightened as she smiled.

"I hope this will be okay," she softly told him.

"It's perfect," Scott said. "Thanks, Mary."

"I'm glad you decided to stay." Her timid voice was alluring and Scott felt his cock stiffen as he listened to her speak.

"Your father didn't give me much of a choice," he said with a nervous laugh.

Mary moved closer and took hold of his left hand. She gave it a squeeze as her eyes met his. "Well, I'm glad you're staying because I was hoping to get to spend a little time with you after Mom and Dad went to bed," she whispered.

Before he could reply to Mary's comment she had brought his hand up and placed it on her right breast. She pressed down on it, pushing his palm into her firm flesh. "Touch me, Scott," she breathed.

Scott's finger's curled around Mary's firm breast. He squeezed it hard and rubbed his thumb over her stiff nipple. It was thick and rock hard, like his cock was now. Her open mouth met his and they kissed, their tongues darting about, lips pinching and tugging. When Scott felt her cup his balls in her hand and begin to caress his hard shaft through his trousers he reluctantly moved away.

"We... ah... better not," he said. "Your father would kill me if he caught us."

Mary frowned, still stroking his hard cock. "They sleep like logs," she said. "I'll visit you tonight." She pressed her moist lips to his again briefly and sucked on his lower lip. "Now go back down with Daddy."

Scott turned to leave, then stopped. He looked back over his shoulder and said "How come you never told me you were Grant's daughter at the restaurant this morning?" he asked.

Mary gave him an enigmatic smile. "I thought I'd surprise you," she said.

"You did that," he replied.

"I'm full of surprises," she said seductively.

Scott felt very nervous as he rejoined Grant in the living room. He sat down in the chair again and stared at the television. His heart was hammering and he could still feel his hard shaft pushing out at his pants.

"So, will the room be okay?" Grant asked, turning to look at Scott.

"It's great. Thanks again, Grant."

"You're welcome. There was no way I could feel good about letting you leave tonight -- not after all that's happened around here," Grant said with a weak smile.

Scott thought for a little while before replying, then said "How long have these attacks been going on anyway?"

"Most folks think it's been a couple of years, but I think it started long before that. The Shawnee and Chippewa have legends about creatures like this that go back to before white people ever set foot here. Folks had forgotten about it for generations, but never wanted to believe that it could be anything... unexplainable."

"Why do you say that?" Scott's interest was piqued once more.

"Well, people used to find a dead dog that had been tore apart, or some cats in the woods or a field and thought coyotes or a fox got them," Grant said. "Then it started happening to cows -- one or maybe two a year." He paused and let out a heavy sigh. "Then they found Edith Baldwin's son just down the road from here in a field." His eyes met Scott's briefly as his voice faded.

"So, whatever it is, it's hunting bigger game now," Scott concluded.

"Seems so," Grant said.

"Hasn't anyone tried to hunt it?" Scott asked.

"Oh -- they set out bear traps and snares for it. But the god's honest truth, if they were to come right out and say it, is that everyone's scared of it. They talk about wanting to kill it, but most of 'em would piss their pants if they came face to face with it."

Scott let out a quiet laugh. "I guess I can't blame them," he said. "Not after what you told me about what happened."

"I wasn't trying to frighten you, Scott, but I wanted you to realize that I was serious about what I said. Some folks might think all us country folks are backward and superstitious, but they haven't seen what I have," Grant said calmly.

As Grant spoke his wife entered the room. She gave him a curious look as she sat down beside him. Grant straightened his back, looking nervous, and turned his eyes back towards the television.

Scott's mind was a whirlwind after all he had heard, and especially after his encounter with Mary in the bedroom upstairs. He did his best to maintain a calm exterior for the rest of the evening while he watched television with Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, but found it difficult. He wondered if Mary would join them, but as ten-thirty approached and she hadn't he concluded that maybe it was for the best that she didn't. He feared that he would find it nearly impossible to keep his eyes off of her and that would surely lead to a tense encounter with her father.

"Time for me to get to bed." Grant got up from the couch, looking back down at his wife. "You stay up as late as you want, Scott. I'm used to being up at six, so I need my sleep."

"I want to get an early start too, so I'll be going to bed soon too," Scott said. He looked at his watch and saw that it was a few minutes past eleven. "And thank-you both again for all you've done for me. Supper was wonderful, Mrs. Bradshaw."

Norma smiled warmly at Scott as she rose from the couch to stand beside her husband. "You're most welcome, Scott. If you're ever back this way again I'll be offended if you don't stop in for a meal."

"That's very kind of you, but it's rare that I have to travel around here on business," Scott told her.

"Well, you have a good night, Scott," Norma said. "I've enjoyed your visit with us."

Scott watched as Grant and Norma left the room, then listened to them ascending the stairs. Soon the house was silent and he managed to become absorbed with what was on television. Nearly an hour later he heard the sound of wood creaking as someone crept down the stairs. He turned and saw Mary approaching. Her smile widened and her eyes brightened as she grew closer to him. She pressed a finger to her curled lips.

"Come with me," she whispered.

Mary took Scott by the hand and brought him to the back door. She unlocked it and lead him around the side of the house amongst some shrubs where they were hidden from the road going by the house. She pulled him closer and pressed her soft, full lips to his. Her mouth opened and she snaked her tongue over his lips and deeper.

"I wanted you as soon as I saw you in the restaurant," Mary said in a breathy voice.

Her hands went to Scott's necktie. She tugged at it until it was undone and let it fall to the lawn. Next, she began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling at the buttons until it was open wide, revealing his bare chest. She moaned as she ran her hands over his torso and began kissing and nibbling at his neck, slowly moving her mouth down him.

Scott ran his hands down Mary's smooth back to her ass. He squeezed it hard, pulling her soft body tight against him. Her stomach pressed against his hard cock and he thrust his hips, grinding his hard shaft over her. He tugged at her dress with his right hand until the hem slid up over her hips and he ran his hand over her panties as he grabbed at her ass tighter.

"I want you in me, Scott," Mary breathed, bathing his chest with her hot breath.

She knelt on the grass, dragging her nails down his torso, then reached for his hands. She took hold of them and pulled him down beside her so he was on his back. Scott reached up and began unfastening the buttons of her dress rapidly until it was open to her waist. He pulled it apart to expose her chest. The light of the full moon shone on her firm breasts and hard, coppery nipples. He cupped her left breast in his hand and leaned closer, pinching her nipple between his lips. He began sucking hard and tugging at it. He could feel her hand rake through his hair as her other one began working at the belt around his trousers.

Scott reached down and unfastened his belt, then unzipped his pants. He slipped his hands back inside Mary's open dress and ran them over her warm, velvety skin, up to her breasts. He cupped as much of them as he could in his palms, moaning as he felt her nimble fingers snake inside his underwear and curl around his rigid shaft. She gave it a hard squeeze and began stroking it, bringing it to it's full size.

"I need to have you, Scott," Mary growled. When she felt Scott's fingers rubbing her wet pussy she arched her back and cried out.

Scott's eyes grew wide as he looked up at Mary crouching over him as he stroked her lips through her thin panties. It was then that h e realized that her appearance had suddenly and drastically changed. Scott felt a rush of adrenaline. Fear filled him and a scream welled in his throat. But before he could utter a sound he felt Mary's talon-like hands curl tightly around his windpipe, choking him. Her mouth opened wide and Scott saw razor-sharp fangs glistening in the moonlight.

Mary's rapacious, bloodshot eyes and pointed fangs were inching towards Scott's throat as she straddled him. He could smell her fetid breath wash over him as she let out a throaty growl. Panting harder, and struggling to free himself from her grasp, Scott looked up and saw saliva oozing over her pallid lips and dripping from her serpentine tongue. It felt hot and viscid as it landed on his bare chest and ran down towards his belly. He tried to scream, but fear choked his words. Then he heard a sound to his right. He turned his head and his wide eyes encountered Grant Bradshaw standing a few feet away.

"For god's sake... Grant... help me," Scott pleaded in panting breaths.

Grant stepped closer to where his daughter had trapped her prey. His hands were buried in the pockets of his pants and his eyes were filled with sadness, perhaps even guilt.

"It's nothing personal, Scott. I hope you realize that," he said. There was genuine compassion, tinged with regret in Grant's voice as he spoke. "It's just that she needs to eat too. It's not her fault that she became like this."

"But why me?" Scott cried out. "Help me... please, Grant. I'm begging you. I'll never tell anyone about this. I swear! Just let me go."

Grant gave his head a shake. "It's not about that, Scott," he said, his voice now dispassionate. "It's about survival of the fittest."

Scott Blanchard looked up at the full moon. When he felt Mary's fangs tear into his throat he arched his back and cried out. Then he felt something warm running down his neck and chest. An overwhelming feeling of serenity filled him just before the world went black and he smiled.