Page 1 of Marked By Feral Monsters
The Werewolves
Lily
My heart thumps erratically as I struggle to keep pace with my new boss, Mara. "I'm sure you remember what I said during your interview," she calls back without slowing.
Though my legs are long, her towering stilettos add speed, the sharp clicks echoing down the long, empty hallway. I appreciate her all-business attitude, though. If she coddled me, I might have second thoughts.
Technically, they'd be third, fourth, and fifth thoughts, since I nearly backed out of this job several times already.
The hallways are strangely sterile, tall and looming, with overhead fluorescents triggered by movement, creating an eerie cascade of shadows and light as we approach.
Three weeks ago, my life looked completely different. I was engaged. I had a job, a condo. If you asked me if I was happy, I'd have said yes without hesitation.
When I decided to take an early lunch one afternoon, and I found my fiancé railing his best friend in our bed, my floral duvet wrapped around their ankles, I stood there for a second and watched Danny show Veronica a kind of enthusiasm Ithought only existed in books, and it occurred to me I might not know what being happy means.
So, while my ex-fiancé enjoys the freedom to do what he wants without having to sneak around, I've had to acknowledge that our dwindling sex life over the last year wasn't because we were both overtired from working or wedding planning. The truth is, Danny's never shown me that level of interest.
I stood there that afternoon and watched him slap Veronica's ass, who grunted,yeah, baby, just like that, and beneath the hurt, there was a kernel of jealousy. I wanted Danny to slap my ass and rail into me. I wanted to take risks, to be filthy. To be the one out of control, for once.
Veronica turned back to kiss Danny, and that's when she saw me, before all hell broke loose. There was no apology, noI'm sorry, this isn't what you think. He asked what I was doing there (in my bedroom) and why I was home so early (to surprise him with an early lunch). I usually ate the same thing every day—a sandwich brought from home, a juice box, with a handful of almonds—but I decided to be spontaneous for once.
They scrambled up and got dressed, naked limbs and clothes flailing, and I stood there, dumbstruck, feeling like the third wheel in my own bedroom.
Unfortunately, I worked at Danny's father's company, and I shared an office with Veronica, and I couldn't bear to be that pathetic girl that got cheated on, but stayed, and I didn't have anything to prove to them by sticking around. Besides, everyone in the office knew what had happened, and the hurt was too raw to face every day.
So I moved back in with my parents and in one fell swoop, I lost the fiancé, the job, the condo.
And now I not only felt sad—from the sting of rejection, the pain of what he did, blowing up our entire lives, the strain of feeling unloved, inadequate, and, admittedly, also theembarrassment of realizing I was the only one in my relationship having an unfulfilling sex life—but I was broke, too. I needed money.
I could have found a job in marketing. Something respectable. But hurt is a funny thing. It can make you act crazy. Irrational. Do wild, out of character things. Heartbreak strips away at your layers, and when all that's left is a raw, vulnerable carcass, the pieces you try to put back together may not fit the same way.
That's how I ended up at The Monster Playhouse. When I filled out the application, I kept telling myself it was because of the money. I'd heard humans were paid extremely well, and it was the perfect place to work if you needed cash fast. And spending the last few weeks listening to my parents argue over who takes out the trash and if the soup has enough salt, staring at the ceiling from my childhood twin bed they relocated to the basement so they could build a home gym in my old room, I knew I had to do something drastic.
I refused to let myself fall into another life like the one I lived with Danny—meticulously structured, with scheduled Wednesday night sex, bagged lunches, Friday night drinks with his friends, growing so distant that I never even noticed he wasn't happy. Hell, I never even noticedIwasn't happy.
And maybe there's a part of me that wonders if Danny was right."I love you, Lily. You're beautiful, smart, organized. But it's just… you're so predictable."
Boring is what he meant. Was it my fault? Was I so focused on routine that I hadn't noticed I'd suffocated our relationship? Well, I'm not doing that again. I won't be that person. I amnotboring, dammit.
The money will be good, yes, but if I'm being honest with myself, the real reason I sent in that application, somethingseemingly so wildly out of character, is because I need to shake things up in my life.
My heartbreak didn't magically unlock some dormant deviant inside me. I'm just putting my pieces back together, and they aren't fitting the same. The edges are rougher; the connections feel looser. Iwantto be different, to embrace this feeling of unease, to shed my old, comfortable, predictable existence. I want something new, something challenging, and this job is just the catalyst I needed.
So, yes. I came for the monsters.
Mara—who runs the playhouse with surprising professionalism and efficiency, traits I can appreciate, especially given the unconventional nature of the work—continues her orientation.
"Not all monsters are the same, obviously. You need to learn the basics of their anatomy. Once you get the hang of things, it'll get easier. Most people, if they decide to stay, that is, catch on pretty quick. The turnover rate is… substantial, I'll admit. But those who adapt typically thrive."
Her words don't inspire confidence. But I'm too nervous to voice my concerns.
I knew places like this existed. Everyone does. But humans, unless they work here, rarely cross the threshold, and I don't know anyone who's ever come to a monster pleasure house as a customer.
Monsters and humans mingle in society. They play in bands we see live on stage. They wait tables and work as checkout clerks, just like humans. Monsters and humans even mate sometimes; we see pairings around the city.
But there are so many varieties of monsters, and some of their populations are quite small.
So, businesses like these started popping up, offering those who may not have many options within their own species aplace to… well, make friends. The romantic kind. A place where professionals can learn the quirks of their anatomy and the monsters can relax without having to worry about finding a date from another species who might need to take the time to learn how exactly their tentacles fit in where, or whose cum is poisonous to who.
