Monster March: Axel the Prometheus

female reader x male monster.

Next door to you is an extremely  old house. It had stood at the corner for as long as there had been  corners it felt like. The old man who lived there took a walk every day  at the exact same time, and you’d often join him. His name was Victor,  and he was very friendly, and you enjoyed listening to his stories about  how he used to work for several government research facilities.

“All hush hush of course,” Victor would laugh. “All I have left though  is the few vague memories I have and this house,” he sighs. “And there  are things inside it more valuable than all the gold in the military  vaults.” Victor then winks at you. “But that’s all hush hush of course.”

During the summer you help Victor take care of his lawn. You mow and  weed and keep his flowers looking nice. Although, you do find it  strange you’ve never been allowed inside. Then again, your grandmother  doesn’t let the local children into her house, so you chalk it up to an  old person thing.

One fateful afternoon, as you’re taking your walk with Victor and he grabs your arm. His fingers squeeze real tight.

“Is something wrong?” You gasp. You notice he looks very pale and  clammy. “Oh no,” you gasp. You grab him as he starts to collapse.  “Victor, Victor, hold on,” you tremble as you reach for your phone,  calling 911 right away.

“Wait,” he coughs and strains. He hands you his keys. “Please,” he moans. “Please…take care of him.”

“Don’t talk right now,” you squeeze his hand. In the distance you  can hear the sirens of the ambulance blaring, coming ever closer and yet  not fast enough.

“Take care of him,” Victor coughs again. “You have to.” His voice is a low, harsh whisper.

The ambulance arrives and takes Victor. You and your grandmother go  to the hospital where you leave your information to be updated about his  recovery. The nurse tells you Victor is being flown out for open heart  surgery but thinks he should be ok.

You and your grandmother  go back home. As you get out of the car, you look at Victor’s house.  Some of the lights are still on the inside. You look at the keys in your  hand and wonder what Victor meant by “take care of him.” Does he have a  dog, or cat, or something?

“I’ll be right back,” you tell your grandmother and you go over to Victor’s house. You unlock the door and walk inside.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but his home looks reasonably  normal. It looked like any old man’s house. On the wall were tons of  framed photos, ranging from black and white to grainy color, to high  definition. It was a timeline of all his work and retirement.

You walk into the kitchen and see pork chops are defrosting in the  sink. On the fridge, there is a calendar. You notice doctor’s  appointments written down, as well as several things for an ‘Axel.’ One  read “Axel’s checkup.” Another was ‘Axel’s dental.’ They were vague and  strange compared to the specifics of Victor’s appointments.

You hear the squeak of stairs as if someone is descending them. You  turn to the kitchen door and see a shadow on the wall. Someone else was  here!

“Dad?” The voice is impossible deep and rumbly as if thunder could speak. “Is that you?”

Panicked you duck into the closet. You peek through the slatted  door, seeing an extremely tall figure walk into the room. They move  slowly, and their body seems stiff.

“Where are you?” His  voice seems to rattle the glass. He walks over to the sink and takes out  the pork chops. He then turns to the oven, turning it on and placing a  pan on the eye. A moment later, the pork chops sizzle in the pan.

You curse yourself internally. You fidget, feeling uncomfortable  crouched in the closet. You make a wrong move though, and the broom and  mop topple over on top of you.

“Who is there?” The strange man asks. He turns and comes towards the closet.

You look up as he opens the door, seeing only a shadow before you as the light comes from behind him.

“I uh-” you gasp.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says. “The girl Dad talks about.” He takes a step  back. “What are you doing there?” he reaches down and his massive hand  grabs you and pulls you up. “Do you know where he is?”

“Your dad?” You step away from him, moving towards the door.

He’s  so big, impossibly so. His skin is gray and withered looking, with  black veins running all over him close to the surface. Parts of him  looked singed and burnt, while other parts are heavily scarred. His eyes  are two different shapes and colors. One is almond shaped and dark  brown. The other is a pale hazel and more rounded. His nose is bent and  crooked, seeming to pull his mouth at an angle. His jaw is large and  square and gives him an underbite. He’s wearing a beanie covering the  top of his head, and his clothes are too small. His shirt is stretched  tight over his barrel chest and belly. And he’s wearing shorts that look  handmade.

“Victor,” he says. “Where is he?” There is a  burning smell, and he moves back towards the oven, turning off the stove  and moving the pan off the eye. “He’s late for dinner.”

“Uh-”  you gasp, still trying to take all of him in. You glance at the  calendar, seeing the name Axel. You point at him. “You’re Axel, right?”

He nods, but his neck is stiff.

“Your Dad is…” you hesitate. “You Dad he-” you grunt and sigh. “I’m  sorry,” you try to restart. “Your dad had a heart attack,” you tell him.

Axel’s eyes go wide, and he goes as still as stone.

“He made it to the hospital in time,” you continue. “He had to be  airlifted out though so he can receive open heart surgery and-” you stop  when you see thick black tears coming from Axel’s eyes.

“The  nurse said-” you stop again and reach for a napkin on the table. You  hold it up to Axel. “Your dad asked that I look after you,” you say.

He takes the napkin and blots away the tears. “Will he be alright?” His grave like voice cracks.

“The nurse said it looks hopeful.” You reach out and pull back but  place your hand on his arm anyways. He feels like a furnace, so hot he  could cook an egg on his body.

Axel looks at you, his eyes  still full as he looks at your hand. He pulls his arm back, and he turns  his back towards you. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Victor’s  my friend,” you explain. “I want to help him.” You look at the  half-cooked pork chops on the stove. “Do you want me to finish cooking  for you?” You walk over and flip the chops over and place them back on  the eye.

“No,” Axel’s voice rumbles. “You should go home.”

“But I promised your father that I would-” your voice chokes off as  Axel towers over you. He could easily squash you if he wanted. “Uhm-”  you try to meet his eyes, but he turns away.

“Go home, I’ll be fine,” Axel walks away from you.

You decide to go home, but it’s hard for you to find sleep after  what happened. Axel is like nothing you’ve ever seen before. You don’t  know what he is or how he exists in this world, but you want to know.

You return to Victor’s house the next morning. “Axel?” You call out.  “Are you still here? I have breakfast.” You go into the kitchen where  you set down the donuts and coffee you had bought.

“Why are you back?”

His voice makes you jump from your skin. You turn around, seeing him lurking in the doorway.

You take a deep breath and calm down. “Because I made a promise.” You hold up the donut box. “Do you like sweets?”

Axel walks into the kitchen, taking the box from your hands. “Dad never let him have them.”

“Oh…” you fidget. “Well, maybe I should-” you reach to take the box back but Axel yanks it away.

“Thank you,” he grumbles low. He opens up the container. He starts popping the donuts into his mouth like they were mints.

“Do you drink coffee?” You ask, holding up one of the cups. You can see now the size you got was far to small for him.

Axel shakes his head and sits down at the table. Even sitting he is  still taller than you. You sit down too, watching him go through the  dozen donuts.

“Your dad never mentioned you,” you say, trying to start a conversation.

“Oh gee,” Axel growls, “I wonder why.”

Your mouth opens, and you immediately shut it, you weren’t quite  expecting him to be snarky. “Yeah,” you cough. “I mean, I guess that  makes sense.”

Axel sets down the now empty box, and he flicks  icing from the corner of his mouth. “He talked about you,” he grumbles.  “On and on about the pretty girl next door.”

You scoff. “Pretty?”

Axel looks down at you. “I don’t know why he asked you to come here though,” he mumbles.

“I suspect he did it as any loving parent would,” you reply. “He’s worried.”

Axel averts his eyes again. You notice the sleeves of his shirt are ripped to compensate for his massive arms.

“He’s always worried,” Axel says suddenly and you jump again. He glances at you. “Do I scare you?”

“Your voice is a surprise!” You admit. “It’s like when a speaker kicks back.”

A slight smirk tugs at the corners of Axel’s lips. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

You huff. “I suppose,” you admit. “But you aren’t scary. Just different.”

Axel tilts his head to the side, but because of his stiff neck, he  sort of leans over. “Different?” He chuckles. “Is that all you have to  say?”

“I mean,” you shrug. “Yeah. You’re very different. I  don’t know how else to put it.” You look him over. “It’s a strange  different, but it isn’t bad.”

His brow pinches together. “What’s the difference?”

You frown as you try to think that out. “Strange different is  putting mustard on scrambled eggs. Bad different is a guy wearing a  bloody canvas bag over his head with eye holes.”

Axel’s mouth  opens and clothes. He turns his head away and places his hand over his  mouth. He snorts, and his shoulders shake. He chuckles and sputters and  then starts to roar with laughter. His voice makes the glasses in the  cabinets rattle, and you can even feel your seat begin to vibrate.

When he calms down, he looks at you with a sweet smile on his face. “Mustard on scrambled eggs?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “It’s weird, but it’s not bad.”

“Ok,” he sighs. “I guess that makes sense.”

You continue to visit with Axel. You go each morning with breakfast,  and in the evenings you go to have dinner with him. You keep him up to  date on Victor’s recovery. The open heart surgery went well, but they’re  keeping him for observation.

One night, Axel shows you  around the house. Most of it is normal, save for the lab that’s  upstairs. “This is where Dad made me,” Axel says, smoothing his hands  over the operating table.

“Victor made you?” You gasp.

“Well, he finished me,” he says. “Most of me was made in one of his  hush-hush operations.” Axel taps the side of a big canister. “I was  considered a failure, so they were going to dispose of me. My dad and  his colleagues weren’t about to let that happen, so they froze me. Dad  took me and well, here I am.”

“Do you mind if I ask you what exactly you are?” You say.

“The papers on me call me a Prometheus,” he says. “An originator,  whatever that means.” he sits down on the operating table. “The Adam  Project. The Prometheus,” he scoffs.

“So, they were trying to make a new human?” You stand across from him.

“I’m a pile of flesh,” he says, lifting his hand. “I’m a mass of  stem cells grown in a lab, taken from both the dead and the alive.”

You furrow your brow. “You’re like one of those mice they use to grow ears and stuff?”

He snorts. “The same principle,” he grumbles.

You touch his arm and stroke down to his hand. “You’re a good person,” you assure him. “Prometheus or otherwise.”

Axel turns his hand over, your hand resting in his palm. He squeezes  his fingers around your hand and holds it. His body is still  cauldron-boiling hot, but it feels nice.

“You’re the first person outside the project I’ve ever met,” Axel says.

“I hope I’m not a disappointment,” you chuckle.

Axel lets go of your hand. “Far from.” He stands up off the  operating table. He leads you out and shows you to his room. He has two  king-sized beds pushed together. And all around it are shelves  overflowing with books. The floor is littered with stacks of books as  well.

“You don’t like reading do you?” You say, picking up one of the tomes and looking it over.

“I don’t care for it,” he chuckles. He scoops up a stack with one  hand and sets it on a desk. You notice his desk has a typewriter on it  and is piled with pages upon pages.

“Do you write too?” You go to reach for a page, but Axel cuts you off.

He stands before his desk like a guard. “Perhaps, but nothing is ready for anyone to see.”

You step back. “Got it.” You look into his open closet, seeing he doesn’t have much. “Do you need clothes?” You ask.

“I need clothes that fit,” he scoffs.

“I can help with that,” you say. “We can order for you online and  find proper sizes.” You touch his arm. “Even for a big guy like you.”

He turns his head away. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh come on,” you chuckle. “It’ll be fine. I’ll bring my laptop over  tomorrow, and we can find you some good clothes. We may have to take  your sizes though.”

“I think those are actually written down somewhere in the lab,” Axel replies. “I can look for them for you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you grin.

That evening though, you receive word from the hospital about  Victor. He’s being released in two days and needs to be picked up.  You’re excited, so you rush back over to the house to tell Axel.

“Axel,” you call out. “Axel are you home?” You hear movement upstairs,  so you head that way. You see the light coming from his bedroom from a  crack in the door. As you walk up, you see Axel inside. He’s on his bed,  and you hold your breath. Your eyes go wide as you see his impossibly  huge cock in his hand. It’s thick and covered in bulging, black veins.  It’s crooked like his nose, and he’s uncut.

You watch him  stroke himself, his low, grumbling voice sounds like an impending storm.  You can’t look away, as much as you know you should. You listen to him,  hearing his low breathing and pleasured moans. You pinch your thighs  together and reach down, squeezing your hand between your legs.

Axel moans out your name, and you gasp. He sits up like a bolt and turns, seeing you standing in the doorway.

“Oops,” you gasp and cover your mouth with your hand.

Axel growls and covers himself. “You caught me,” he says.

You walk into his room. “I came to tell you uhm-” you stand by his  bedside. “Your dad is coming home in two days so-” you look at the  pillow he’s using to cover himself. You crawl up onto the bed and Axel  puts his hand on the small of your back.

“You said my name,” you whisper. You stand up on the bed, kissing Axel.

He groans at your kiss and turns his head away. “Don’t-” he whispers.

You kiss him again and sit beside him. “You can finish,” you  whisper, laying against his chest. You move away the pillow and slowly  touch him. He growls and bucks as you do. He feels so hot, but his cock  feels like it could burn. You touch him anyways.

“What were you imagining about me?” You ask, kissing his chest.

Axel groans and whimpers. “You’re…you’re skin-” he pants. “Soft and…ah-” he throws his back against the wall.

You take your shirt off, rubbing your bare skin to his. Your dark  skin against his gray. You moan softly, reaching into your shorts to  touch yourself. “You can touch me.”

He reaches down, palming  your rear and rubbing his fingers against your mound. You take off your  shorts, letting his hot fingers touch you directly. You continue to  stroke his cock, both of you breathing heavy and moaning. His finger  pushes inside you, and you squirm, crying out as it causes your release.  Axel snarls and a thick, black ooze spurts from his tip. It smears and  splatters on your fingers as you continue to touch him. You’re both  panting and heaving with your peaks.

You lay your naked body  against Axel’s, listening to the hammering of his…three hearts. You look  up at him and smile softly. “You ok?”

He dips down, kissing you again and rubbing his hand all over your body. “Are you?” He whispers.

You chuckle. “I’m fine just-” you bite your lip. “It’s a weird way to confess your feelings to someone.”

He smirks. “Not bad. Still good.”

You giggle and kiss him again then lay on his great big chest. He’s so warm that soon, you’re out like a light.