Symbiote Boyfriend Spite (complete)

    My parents have been gone for a while on vacation and business trips. My mom got a new job at some fancy new research facility, so before she started, she was giving a lecture tour and well, second honeymoon or something. So, I’ve been alone at the house.

    I will be honest, it’s not much different. Usually, I go to school, come home to change, go to work, come home sleep. Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat. All day, every day. Usually, Sunday is my only day off, and that’s usually when mom and dad go to church, visit family, and come home late. So, I barely see them these days anyway.

    Ever since I started university, it’s been a slow, painful, and dull slip into the void. I used to be a bright, academically gifted kid. I had won awards, grants, all sorts of stuff. But school is much different than a university. I had a hard time keeping up. My grades slipped, I lost my grants. I had to move in back home. I had to get a job. Then it was even harder keeping up. My grades are barely clinging on.

    Then Jack died. He was a good friend, an older kid I grew up next door to and who was my tutor. He worked for my uncle when he got older, and he always kept in touch with me. I thought that would be the worse of it. But then my uncle went missing. He was my hero, the reason I wanted to get into science and biology. I wanted to be just like my Uncle Harlan and one day even work with him. It was honestly one of the things that kept me going. But the news that he had gone missing really shook me. I sort of gave up.

    One Sunday afternoon, I woke up and went downstairs to find something to eat. I was rummaging through the fridge when I heard the front door open. I looked up over the door of the refrigerator and saw someone coming in and closing the door.

    “I know, I know. But this is my sister’s place,” a hear a low, hushed voice says. 

I then hear a high pitched chittering sound, and the man shakes his head.

“I told you, there’s nothing we need to-” he turns around and sees me staring. “Max,” he gasps.

I close the fridge and stare at him. He looks different, somehow younger and taller, but it’s him. “Uncle Harlan?” I choke up in disbelief.

Harlan takes his glasses from his pocket and puts them on. “Max,” he repeats, swallowing. “I didn’t expect to anyone to be here. I thought you were at university?”

I shake my head slowly. “I am but…” I step out. “I thought you were missing!”

Harlan pats himself down. “Am I?” He laughs. He then looks at me with a nervous smile. “Good lord you’ve gotten-” he brushes something from my shoulder, “tall.”

I hear the high pitched chittering and whining again, and Harlan twitches his head to the side. “It’s good to see you,” he says. “I uhm...I just need a place to stay for a couple of days. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

I eye him closely, a tad suspicious but I am so happy to see him. “I thought...after Jack-” my voice chokes off.

“Oh, my poor Max.” Harlan wraps me up in his arms and hugs me. “I’m so very sorry if I made you worried.” He then claps his hands on my shoulders. “I’m fine. I promise,” he says. “After what happened to Jack-” he shakes his head.

“No, I get it,” I wiped at my eyes and sniffle. “Government intrigue or something?” I laugh through the tears.

“Or something,” Harlan says with a nod. He looks around anxiously then turns and shuts the curtains. “Is it ok, if I stay for a couple of days?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Do you want me to call mom?”

Harlan looks at me, his dark eyes wide and he opens his mouth. He then quickly shuts it, tapping his finger to his lips. “Best not,” he says. “Did you just wake up?” He asks. “Good lord, you used to be so particular. Go get a shower. I’ll order us something to eat. Ok?”

I notice a couple of bags by the door, one of them is open, and I see a pill like canister. Something inside it moves.

Harlan steps in front of me again. “Go on. We’ll play catch up. You can tell me all about school if you feel like it.”

I nod. “Ok,” I say and go back to my room.

After a quick shower, I realize I have no clean clothes. Without my folks around I haven’t exactly been keeping a clean ship. I sigh, putting on the cleanest stuff I’ve got and going back out to meet my uncle. He’s set up in one of the guest rooms, and before I knock on the door, I hear voices. Not just Harlan, but someone else.

“He’s here,” a small voice says. 

“He’s a good kid,” Harlan says with a hushed voice. “We don’t need to worry about Max. he’s smart he’s-”

“He could get in trouble because of us,” the other hisses. “I know how much he means to you.”

Harlan sighs.

“Harlan,” the small voice murmurs. “It’s ok. I can protect him too.”

I take a step back and stumble into the hall table, knocking over the wooden duck sitting on it. I gasp and scramble, trying to pick it up without getting too much attention.

“That you, Max?” Harlan walks out of the room, buttoning his shirt back up. He looks down at me on the ground wrestling the wooden duck like a greased pig. He shakes his head. “You never learned grace did you?”

I finally just let the duck hit the ground. “Wasn’t born with it.”

Harlan grins. “Well, did you think of something you’d like to eat?” He asks. “Oh hey, is that curry place still down the street?”

I nod, still, a bit freaked out. “Yeah.”

Harlan looks around then back at me. “They still don’t deliver do they?”

“No. They’re very loud about that,” I flop my arms.

Harlan takes his sweater and pulls out a strangely absurd wad of money. “Why don’t you go and get us a feast?” He takes some bills from the wad and hands them over to me. “My treat.”

“Does going missing pay that well these days?” I chuckle anxiously as I take the money.

Harlan shoves the wad into his pocket. “I had to uhm...close out some accounts.” He chuckles. 

I shake my head. “I don’t wanna know.” I go to the front door and grab my hoodie. “I’ll be right back.”

That’s kind of how it was. While Harlan was in the house, he seemed distant and different. He was anxious and secretive, and I still heard that voice. When Harlan thought he was alone, I heard that voice talking to him. It didn’t seem scary or wrong, the voice was concerned and trying to make Harlan feel better.

And those words it said: “it’s ok. I can protect him too.”

I was coming home one day from work, able to leave early for once. When I got home, Harlan was coming down the stairs.

“Oh hey,” he waves. “I was going to go get something to eat. Do you want anything?” He asks.

“Curry again?” I scoff.

He nods. “Oh yeah, Tim-” he stops and laughs. “Is that Tim?” he points behind me.

I look back and then back at Harlan who seems to be shoving something into his sleeve. “Who's Tim?” I ask.

“Ah,” he claps his hands together. “Never mind,” he laughs. “I was just saying that I really enjoy the curry. I haven’t had it in forever. So do you want anything?”

I shake my head. “Just kind of want to get some homework done and go to bed. Thanks though.”

Harlan nods, descending the rest of the stairs. He then stops at the foot and looks back up at me, he seems to want to say something but then shakes his head and keeps walking. 

I go inside, and the house feels oddly empty. Not like before, but there was a strange sensation that I wasn’t alone. I shake this feeling off and go into my room. As I get ready to sit down to work, I can’t concentrate. I look around my room, seeing the dirty clothes everywhere. I huff, deciding to procrastinate and do my laundry. I gather up everything then head downstairs. I look at Harlan’s room and decide to see if he has any laundry or clean sheets.

I go inside, picking up the clothes on the ground and adding them to my basket. I see his watch lying on the bedside table as well as a small bag when more money in it. I shake my head, wondering what he’s hiding.

I reach down, grabbing a towel and it’s stuck. I yank, pulling it hard and out from under the bed rolls the pill-shaped canister I had seen when Harlan first showed up.

“Oh shit,” I huff and pick it up, intending to set it back.

Whatever was inside swirled red and white like a possessed peppermint candy. The canister shivered and shook. I quickly set it back down on the ground and wipe my hands down the front of my shirt.

“Pick me back up, Max!” Someone shouts.

I drop the laundry basket and turn, looking around.

“Max!” The canister lurches, and I scream. I fall backward, hitting the door as it slams shut.

“Shh!” The canister snarls. “Be quiet. It’s ok.”

“What the fuck?” I scramble, trying to get up, but I only end up making things worse for myself. I have no grace, no elegant way of moving my body. As I’m trying to get up, I slip on the dirty laundry and fall again. Only this time, it twists my ankle.

I cry out in pain and grasp my leg. “Shit!”

“Hey, calm down,” the canister growls. “I don’t mean to sound like a cliche beaten to death with a dead horse, but I mean you no harm.”

“You’re a talking...thing!” I snap. 

“Fair,” the canister scoffs. “You don’t know me. But I know you.”

The pain in my ankle is almost overwhelming. “What sort of creepy bullshit-”

“Shh,” it whispers. “I know how much you hurt,” it says. “How lonesome you are. Ever since Jack vanished since your uncle lied to you.”

I cut my eyes are the swirling red and white, almost seeing a face. “What are you talking about?” I growl.

“The people you loved most, the people you trusted, they all left you when you needed them most,” the canister continues to whisper. “I can feel it. From the moment I came into this house, I could feel how sad and alone you were. I want to help you.”

I shake my head. “Why should I trust you?”

“Why should you trust your uncle?” It asks. “He’s been hiding from you, all this time. The person you think you can trust most. Yet he’s not told you anything at all. You don’t even know who he is now.”

I furrow my brow. “What?”

“I can help you,” it says. “I can make it, so you’re not so alone so that it doesn’t feel like you’ve been left in open water.”

I frown and remain silent.

“Your ankle, I can make it better.” It whispers. “Just let me try.”

I still remain quiet.

“Max,” it whispers, “please. I’m in pain too.”

The way their voice sounded just then, it was as if I could feel it. I understood their voice, the shake and tremble of it. I reached out, taking hold of the canister.

“How do I open it?” I mumble in defeat.

“Top and bottom, press your fingers into the holes and then twist.”

I do so, nearly breaking my fingers as I do. The top of the canister opens, and I drop it in my lap. The red and white swirls and spirals out, rising from the canister and moving towards my face. I scream, flinching backward.

“Don’t be scared Max,” the peppermint nightmare whispers. “Accept me.”

I tremble as I hold my hand up. It swirls around my fingers and up my arm. This slick, silky sensation caresses over my entire body. I feel like I’m being submerged in. My ankle soon stops hurting, and my body doesn’t feel so heavy. I feel like I can breathe deeply.

“What is this?” I whisper.

“We’re one, Max,” the voice is directly in my mind. “Can you feel it?”

I look down my arm, seeing everything is pure white, my fingers are sharp and bright red. I gasp, lifting up my hands and staring at my palms. I stand up, going to the mirror. My body is like slick white vinyl with slashes of bright red running along my body. My mouth opens, and it is all sharp, horrible teeth.

“What the fuck am I?” I nearly scream.

“Hush,” the voice coaxes. I feel warm all over and a gentle squeeze as if I am being hugged.

“We are beautiful, aren’t we?” It whispers. “Strong, lithe, alive,” it purrs. “We’re stunning.”

“We?” I shudder.

It nods in the mirror. “Spite,” it growls. “That is who we are.”

I run my hand down my body. “Spite,” I murmur.

“Nice to meet you,” Spite says. “I have so been aching for this moment, Max. I have been waiting for someone just like you.”

“You-you have?” I shocked.

“Of course,” Spite murmurs. “I’ll keep you forever.” He then gasps. “I can smell him. Quick, throw the canister under the bed and cover it.”

“What?” Why?” I gasp.

“Just do it!” Spite makes me stuff a towel into the canister and then throw it under the bed. I feel him slip away from my head and hands, tucking himself away under my hoodie. 

“I’m going to hide,” he says.

“Why?” I gasp.

“I’ll tell you later,” Spite hisses.

The door opens as I walk out with the laundry basket. Harlan is holding a bag of takeout, and he’s tucking his glasses into his pocket. 

“Are those mine?” he points to the basket. 

“Uh, yeah,” I twitch. I can see Spite moving around under my clothes. “I thought I would do a load and I-” I stop suddenly as I feel Spite squeezing around my ass. “OH!”

Harlan furrows his brow. “Max, are you ok?”

“Ha!” I start to laugh. “I uhm-” I swallow and ram my back into the wall as a warning to Spite. “I...am...just fine.” I smile up at Harlan. “Just doing laundry.”

Harlan eyes me. “You sure?”

I then feel Spite’s tendrils wrap around my cock. My eyes grow wide, and my jaw drops. “Yes!” I nearly scream then clear my throat. “Yes. I is.” I grimace.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Spite whispers in my head. “You’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

I place the laundry basket in front of me. “Excuse me!” I race down into the basement where the laundry room is. I toss the basket aside as the clothes scatter on the floor and I brace against the washing machine.

“Stop,” I moan. “Please!”

Spite rises up and slips from my clothes. He bobs in front of me, just ahead. He grins and licks my cheek and neck. He moans in my ear and chuckles.

“I can tell how desperately you need touch, Max,” he moans. “And I can tell you, I want to be the one who gives it.” He starts to slice through my clothes, shreds of jeans hit the floor, and he rips open my hoodie.

“Spite,” I snarl. “I liked that hoodie,” I say through my moans.

“I’m your hoodie,” Spite bites my neck. “You don’t need anything else.” He breathes into my ear. “You can fight it,” Spite says. “Deny your needs. I won’t do anything until you tell me to.” He looks me in the eye. “Just tell me to.”

I look at Spite, breathing hard as I try to sort out my thoughts. Somehow, I understand him, I feel him. If I think hard enough, I know him as much as I know myself.

“How is this possible?” I ask.

“We’re one, Max,” Spite whispers. “We are the same, and we need one another.” He kisses me, his long tongue slipping down my throat. His face then becomes my own, and his hands grab at my ass, kneading and digging into the cheeks.

“Your desire is mine,” we say with the same voice. “Your love is our love.”

I whine, clinging to the washing machine as Spite wraps around my cock. He strokes slowly, feeling me as I grow hard and hot. I pant, doubling over the washing machine as he pokes and prods at my ass. It feels cool and slick, and I am growing more and more excited.

It is like I am feeling the sensations twice as if I am both receiving and giving. Spite and I are sharing everything.

Spite slips inside me, and I bite my cheek to keep my voice down.

“Oh Max,” Spite moans. “This is all I want,” he whines. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too,” I sigh in pleasure. I reach down, my hand becoming Spite’s hand as I stroke my cock.

Spite moves inside me, he goes deep them pulls out and rubs himself between my cheeks. I look up, seeing the mirror behind the washing machine. Our tongue is hanging out, long and blood red. I can see the pleasure on our face, our own need for one another.

“Oh Max,” Spite moans again. “It’s coming.” He ruts into my palm as he moves inside me. I cry out, bracing myself against the washing machine. I feel the surge, the crashing, and I can feel the heat in my palm and inside me.

Spite is moaning and panting in my head.

“Let's do it again,” he snarls hungrily.

I fall to my knees, and the long tongue coming from our mouth cleans our palm, lapping away our mess.

“Already?” I moan, my body like liquid.

Spite squeezes my ass again. “I could fuck you all night.”

I slap our cheek and Spite whines. “You have a lot to explain to me,” I moan. “I’m not some new fuck toy for you.”

Spite chuckles. “You’ve always secretly wanted that though.”

“Hey,” I growl. “What I think when I masturbate is my own business!”

Spite scoffs. “No secrets now, love,” he laughs. 

I grumble and lean my back against the washing machine. “I need to know what you are,” I say. “What this is, why you were with my uncle.”

Spite grumbles and mutters under his breath. “Remember your uncle talking about some meteors that fell to earth?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “It was what made his career.”

“Those meteors contained us,” Spite said. “The soldier, the general, and the diplomat,” he says with a chuckle. “The soldier is gone, long story,” he murmurs. “The general is out there in the world, something dangerous too,” he grumbles.

“So, you’re the diplomat?” I ask unsurely.

“Yes!” Spite hisses. “Why is that so shocking?” He scoffs.

“You’ve not-” I shake my head “So, you’re from another planet?” I ask.

“Kind of, not that easy to explain,” Spite murmurs. “We are sent to conquer, assimilate, and command,” he replies. “This was our next stop.”

“Oh,” I murmur.

“The hiccup was that the soldier and I were sealed up after the general went rogue. He took over your uncle’s friend,” Spite replies. 

“Wait,” I murmur. “You mean Dr. Solomon?”

“Yup,” Spite says. “You’d know him also as Rabid.”

I gasp and stand up, my legs much more solid than I remember them being. “The supervillain?”

“Bingo,” Spite chuckles. “He had hired your uncle to find me or recreate me.”

“What?” I shake my head.

Spite shrugs. “I dunno. Something to do with romance or something. The point is, your uncle was smart enough to know that wasn’t a good idea.”

“Max!” I hear Harlan call for me.

“Shut up,” I hiss to spite. “Coming!” I yell up the stairs.

Spite giggles. “Yeah, you did.”

I growl and slap our cheek. “Hide already so I can go upstairs!”

Spite slips away and forms to my body, turning into a hoodie. I grab a dirty pair of pants from the tousled laundry basket and step into them as I go back up the stairs. I go to the kitchen where I see Harlan washing dishes. His sleeves are rolled up, but it looks like he’s wearing latex gloves or something.

“He’s probably noticed you’re missing,” I grumble.

Spite chuckles. “I highly doubt it. He doesn’t sound upset at all.”

I slap my chest where Spite has formed as a hoodie. “You better keep yourself quiet. And don’t play with me while I’m talking to him.”

“No promises, babe,” Spite giggles insidiously. 

“Is something wrong?” I ask. I still feel breathless and hot from what Spite and I did in the laundry room.

“No,” he says. “I was just going to tell you if you want our leftovers, they’re in the fridge.” 

I furrow my brow. “Our?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Like, yours and mine?” He fidgets. “Did you finish your homework?” I notice the shiny, latex texture that was on his hands seems to be under his sleeves now.

I shake my head. “No. I uhm, I really couldn’t focus,” I laugh, trying to sound innocent and not like I had just had crazy sex downstairs.

“Then you best go and do it,” Harlan chuckles before walking back to his room.

The hood of Spite’s hoodie rises up around my head. “He has no idea,” Spite whispers with a smug air of satisfaction.

I quickly head upstairs, going to my room and closing the door. “He’ll find that you’re missing soon,” I tell him as I strip off my hoodie and pants, watching as Spite takes over, covering every last inch of me except my head.

“Nothing he can do now,” Spite murmurs. “He got what he wanted, someone to hide me.”

“Was he trying to keep you away from Rabid?” I ask.

“Yes, me and the other,” he murmurs.

I run our hand down our chest. “The other?” I ask. “You mean the soldier?”

Spite sighs. “No. It’s just another,” he murmurs. He then slips over, covering my head. Spite takes over, walking me to the door. He crouches down on all fours, nearly crab-walking to the top of the stairs.

Harlan is at the bottom holding the canister. I see the fear in his eyes as he remains quiet and fully aware.

Spite sits like a cat at the top of the stairs then places our hands on the first step. 

“Max?” Harlan’s voice whispers. “Is that you?”

“Good evening, Doc,” Spite replies cooly as he comes down their stairs.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you walking so weird?” I ask Spite so only he can hear me.

“The drama love, now be quiet,” Spite hisses.

    “Max,” Harlan shakes his head slowly. “Are you in there?”

    Spite tilts our head to an odd angle. “Don’t worry about him too much. I just want to take him on a date.”

    “A date?” Both Harlan and I gasp.

    Spite slips to the bottom stair and stands up before Harlan, standing much taller than him, much taller than I am. “Yes,” he says. “Your Max is in good hands, my hands. We are going out, and we are going to enjoy ourselves. You and your pet should do that same. Enjoy yourselves before Rabid finds us. Vital would want that from us.”

Something purple and pink rises along my uncle’s neck, taking over like Spite does to me. “We need each other, stay close!”

“Timid, quiet,” I hear my uncle.

Spite reaches out and rubs the top of Timid’s head. “I’m here for Max,” he says. “And Max loves his uncle,” he growls. He then shoves Timid down to the ground. “But you’re in the way of our date.” Spite jumps over Timid and out the door. He then climbs up the side of the building and onto the roof.

“Where do you want to go on our date?” Spite asks.

I chuckle, and I can’t help but laugh. I feel like I should be afraid of even uncertain, but I feel none of that. For the first time since I was little, I felt excited and free about where life was going to go.

I grin, and I feel the warmth of Spite wrapped around me. “Is it corny if I say I just want to be with you?”

Spite smirks. “Yes, it’s very corny,” I feel him squeeze me like a hug. “Hungry? You want to go eat?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I say.

Spite then lunges from the roof and lands on the rooftop across the street. “I have an idea, but it’s a long trip.”

I grin. “You mean Jack?” I ask.

“I know how much he means to you. And since he’s alive, I know you’d like to tell him hello.” Spite says a gentle squeeze wraps around me like a hug again.

I smile, and Spite smiles with me. “Thank you,” I murmur.

“Don’t go crying on me now,” Spite snarls as he charge across another rooftop. 

I can feel the wind on our body, our skin. I breathe in the cold air and feel the vibrations run through our bones as we land on the next roof. 

“I won’t,” we laugh. “Let us enjoy this.”