New Monster Book - Ch 1

“Monsters are nothing more than our way of trying to comprehend humanity’s shortcomings,” my buddy Alex said, leaning back in his large recliner, talking with a mouth full of brisket. 

“I don’t know,” I countered, leaning in for another serving of macaroni and another rib. Thursday night was usually pizza night for me and my boys, but since it was my birthday, we’d gone all out with an order from my favorite barbecue joint—Gus’s. Alex owned the condo across from the one I rented, and lived there with my buddy Arturo. As always in these kinds of conversations, Arturo was leaning back with a silly grin on his face, working on his third or fourth beer. It was hard to keep track.

“You don’t know?” Alex took a swig of his beer. “What’s not to know, we’re talking reality versus not reality.”

“I’m just saying, in my work I’ve come across some legends that make me wonder.” I took a bite of my rib, loving the St. Louis style, then going for a root beer. As much as I could enjoy a good beer from time to time, I had big plans to put some finishing touches on my work after our little get-together.

“Work.” Alex scoffed, and Arturo laughed. 

“Hey, I get paid.”

“You do. But, come on—you make clicking image thingies and call that work.”

I rolled my eyes. “Visual novels, jackass.” As if he didn’t know the difference. “You try making one, see how hard it is.”

A moment of silence followed. We’d had this conversation enough times that we knew it got us nowhere. His job as a backend developer or some bullshit at some firm seemed so very important to him, while I thought his coding wasn’t so different from what I had to do in Ren’Py, anyway—the program I used for my visual novels. Basically, I had to code them, get all the art, music, all of that, and then of course do the marketing. I was a one-stop shop, making it happen on my own, while he worked to make someone else richer. Arturo, on the other hand, worked at a shop that sold mostly board games and miniatures for tabletop gaming, which was where I met him in the first place. I introduced him to Alex, and sometimes felt a bit guilty for that. 

“All I know,” Arturo cut in, “is that I could definitely go for some cake.”

“Still waiting on Vincent,” I said. My older brother was supposed to have stopped by an hour ago, but L.A. traffic could be a bitch. Since he was taking the 134 during rush hour, we had to give him some leeway. 

“Vincino,” Arturo said with a laugh, then held up his beer in salute before chugging it. “Fucking hilarious.”

“That’s not his name,” I pointed out. 

“But… isn’t it?” 

Both guys grinned at me. They loved poking fun at the fact that my parents were super big film nerds, especially regarding films from the 1980s and ‘90s. They had named me Ferris, as in the one who had a day off. Middle name, Westley. My older brother had at least received a cover name—Vincent instead of Vincino—but by the time I came along three years later, they had apparently decided it was more fun my way. Ferris Westley Parrone. At least my last name wasn’t so out there, but the guys found a way to connect it to the Italian beer Peroni. Since my parents claimed to have consummated me in Italy—gross—I had to wonder sometimes if even the last name was made up. Changed for the point of fun. 

“What does the fox say,” started blaring from my phone, and I cringed. 

“Speak of the devil,” I said. Vincent had changed the ringtone once and, as smart as I was with Ren’Py and all that I never could figure out how to change my ring tone. Maybe part of that had to do with actually enjoying the song, but I wouldn’t admit to it. 

“You here?” I asked. 

“Yup, coming up, but … sec … elevator … got … run.” 

I held the phone away from my ear, then hit hang up and went for the door. “In the elevator, I’m guessing.”

Sure enough the elevator door opened with a ding and Vincent strolled out. He was a few inches taller than me, broader shouldered, and had thick, black locks of hair. Unlike him, I had always been a bit annoyed that I was short and, since my hair had started thinning in my early twenties, I now shaved it bald. Arturo was another half a foot shorter than me, give or take, while Alex stood a whopping six-foot seven-inches. Yeah, talk about a monster. The irony! 

“Yo,” my brother said to Alex, as if the guy being taller than the rest of us meant he deserved the most respect. What was up with that. He turned to Arturo with a nod then to me with a sheepish grin. “Bro, I gotta run.”

“What?”

“We waited to have cake for him to not even be staying?” Arturo frowned, but his constant smile returned a second later. “Ah well, more for me!”

“Sorry,” Vincent said, “it’s just, this girl over this way made me promise to swing by later, and with that fucking traffic, well… it’s already later.”

“Forget about it,” I said, waving him off. At least he’d stopped by, which was more than I usually got from him. Whenever a lady was involved, anyway. It’s how he had always been, and one reason I blamed for my lack of success with females. No matter how nice they were, something always seemed off about them—like we were on two different wavelengths. Alex would say that’s why I made my visual novels and included all manner of crazy chicks in them. I would say he’d be right, and fuck it. 

“Before I go though, I had two things for you.” Vincent had a bag at his side, but went for his phone. “First, to show you all that I’m serious and what’s waiting for me…” He held up the phone with an image of a Korean woman who I guessed was in her thirties, breasts exposed, finger at the edge of her lips, suggestively. 

“Dude.” Alex stepped closer, hand to his chin as if analyzing a work of art. “You are forgiven. Go forth and spread the good word.”

Vincent laughed harder than he probably needed to. I swear he had a man-crush on Alex. 

“I know you’ll make it worth it,” I said, mind off in thoughts of which lotion I would use for yet another night alone at home.

He grinned, putting the phone away, and then said, “You’re into myths and shit, right?”

“You do love me,” I replied, playing around. Honestly, I was surprised he listened—my latest visual novel was about modern-day fairy-tale characters and definitely played with myths and legends. 

“Then I hope you’ll like this. It’s kinda something I stumbled upon, but that’s a long story.” Digging into his bag, he pulled out a small obsidian bat. “I’m told it holds spiritual energy for some tribe in Papua New Guinea, or maybe it was Laos… I don’t remember. Anyway, it has this whole legend about it, like that there’s a bat spirit or god or something who will protect you. Just… thought about you, so here we are.”

“Vince, this is…” I was actually dumbstruck for a moment. Not only was it strange for him to listen to me, but to get me a gift that was anywhere near being in my area of interest was unheard of. Last year, for example, he had come over with a new driver. As if I had any idea how to play golf or ever would. This though… it was epic. I took it in my hands, feeling the smooth skin. 

“Glad you like it.” He clapped me on the shoulder, then said, “Got me some titties to fuck, boys. You all make sure your soggy cookie game doesn’t get out of hand, and be sure to save some for me.”

He winked, laughing as he left. 

I turned to Arturo as the elevator doors closed. “Sorry.”

“Your brother’s a homophobe, bro. I get it… but I’m not gay.”

“No, I know, but with your twin brother being, and… I don’t know, I hate when my brother acts like a tool.”

“Forget about it.” Arturo grinned. “So you really like that thing?”

I held up the bat so they could see. “If it’s anything like what he said it is, it’s totally going into my next story. Maybe I’ll have it summon a horde of bats or something. Could be cool for a fight.”

“Or it’s like a pocket bat signal,” Alex said. He liked to try to bring the nerd-conversations around to superheroes, because that was at least one place he could somewhat hang. 

Arturo was too focused on getting himself some cake, though, so let the conversation go and B-lined it back into the apartment to get it going. They had picked up a Bundt cake and soaked it in rum, and I was one hundred percent impressed as I bit into it. Enough moistness to be perfect, but not so much that it was like soggy bread. 

“Shit, if I could get toasted on this cake, I totally would,” I said. “But I got work to do.”

“Don’t be a puss,” Alex said. “It’s your birthday! Do something wild—hit up the clubs with me, I’ll have you back here with some chick who likes to bend with her feet behind her head as you ram her. Come on.”

I frowned, not wanting to tell him that not only did I have no interest in going to a club, but that I was a virgin. By choice I should say. And because of the whole not-being-able-to-hit-it-off-with-females thing. But also by choice—I wanted it to be special, was all. And until I could talk to a girl while making eye contact, I highly doubted this pretzel fucking he was talking about was going to happen. 

“Got deadlines,” I said with a shrug. “Arturo, wing man him up, will ya?”

“You know it. Twins right here,” he laughed, loudly. Apparently, the beers and cake were working their magic. 

“Twins,” Alex said, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t gotten the reference to the old movie with Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger when Arturo had first made it, and for some reason never showed any sign of being amused by it since. He turned back to me, frowning. “You sure?” 

“I appreciate it, but… yeah.”

With that I thanked them again, gave them each fist bumps, and said, “Good luck with the pretzels,” only to realize neither of them got the joke. I didn’t bother to elaborate, instead heading back to my apartment across the hall for an evening of chocolate-covered espresso beans, art organization, and new dialogue writing. 

Working a regular job had never interested me. Imagine the choice between washing dishes or working on making stories about monster girls? Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought there was any chance of reality to these stories. Had you told me that monster girls were real, I would have flicked you in the nuts and said one had just given you a blowjob. That’s how ludicrous the idea would have seemed to me. 

That was, until the night I found one in my closet. 

Before finding her, I’d been in a bit of a dark place, in spite of so much in life going my way. The day had been going on like so many others lately. I’d put on my vampire mask to get groceries—not a full mask, of course. A simple cloth one that I had bought from a woman at the farmer’s market. Everything about the world around me in the last year had been a comfort to my way of life. From the mostly empty streets to the masks everyone was forced to wear by their government and social norms. COVID-19 had been a game changer, but it was the outbreak of the new strain of swine flu and then the unleashing of a lab-designed worse one that really started the pandemic. 

Even though that had mostly ended a few months ago, I still wore the mask sometimes. It made me feel safer. In those days, I didn’t have to waste my time on social encounters and grabbing drinks that I didn’t want. No more fake conversations—I had been in heaven. Now life was back to normal for most, and back to an overall state of discomfort for me.

That said, I was out of chocolate-covered espresso beans, had the latest Final Fantasy remake to play between sessions of working on my visual novel, and didn’t have another delivery of groceries until the next day. So I went out at dusk, braved the city of Glendale, and grabbed myself a bottle of Irish whiskey while I was at it. Trader Joe’s had a new brand that, to my taste, was better than most Scotch that I could afford.

I went home and powered on my PS4 so that it would be ready, and powered up my laptop to get to work. My eyes started to close, so I opened my espresso beans, not yet bothering with a cup for the whiskey. Everything was going smoothly enough until the power surged. I cursed, even as it came back on. Worst part about it, I thought, was the fact that now the PS4 would have to do its slow-as-fuck reboot process, and I hadn’t even had a chance to play yet. See, I had a routine—thirty minutes of work, twenty minutes of play. I would pause the game, get more work done, then hop back and forth through the night until I passed out. It was a routine I loved. 

This power spike was a hassle, though, so I took a swig of the whiskey. I leaned back to wait, and adjusted my package at the thought of Tifa soon appearing on my screen. The camera never failed to show off her tight abs and perky, huge breasts. If women like her existed in real life, I had never met any. If they had, they certainly wouldn’t have given me the time of day. The designers of this remake certainly knew what they were doing, and how to please their target audience.

I turned back to the visual novel, looking it over. It wasn’t flowing, and I wasn’t going to reward myself with play time until I had at least made some progress. Something was off—and worse, when I clicked the button to test what I had been working on, it came up with an error. 

“Fuck,” I muttered, kind of wishing I had more of that rum-loaded Bundt cake. With a glance at the door, I considered going over to get some, even if it meant breaking into their apartment. But then I saw the obsidian bat on the bedstand next to my door, and realized I just needed to find my Zen. My happy place, as Adam Sandler would put it. So I picked up the bat, sat it next to my laptop, and then took out one of the black focus candles I had found on a trip to New Orleans. 

While my college buddy had been on his bachelor party, I’d been going about on ghost tours and visiting voodoo shops, trying to find anything I could to help with my focus. Don’t judge me, I’d spent some time with them at the end of the night and had a nice anatomy lesson of what breasts did when a nude lady was hanging upside down on a pole, but escaping into my stories always brought me more pleasure. Something about the idea of them rubbing against me for money when I knew I couldn’t get the time of day with anyone half as attractive kind of turned me off more than on. Sorry, I’m weird. 

I lit the candle, sat down at my desk, and closed my eyes. The scent was like charcoal and chocolate—reminding me of a mocha I’d had on that trip. Focusing on that moment and clearing my head, I took the bat in my hand and ran my thumb along the smooth obsidian, hoping the spirit or whatever would come to me, inspire my muse. 

The focus was coming to me. My Zen, all of it starting to make sense. I leaned forward, about to let the scene from my head explode onto the page, when a loud crash sounded. My head spun, trying to place the noise. Shuffling, then a thump. Another crash sent me scrambling up onto the couch and holding my whiskey bottle like a weapon, even though it was open so it caused whiskey to spill over my couch.

“Who’s there?” I shouted, realizing I was spilling the whiskey and quickly taking another chug before putting the cap back on. “Hello?” 

My first thought was to call the police, but then I stood there, listening, and didn’t hear any more sounds. Had I imagined it? Maybe I had left something on the dresser and it fell? 

Taking the bottle still as a weapon, I slowly crept into the hallway, eyes on my door. If anyone was in there, I wasn’t sure exactly what I would do. In my youth I’d taken some aikido classes, but always found they left me in too much pain, so had quit after a few months. 

On the other hand, I really wanted to play my game and knew I wouldn’t be able to until this was settled. Better to get it over with and find out. 

“Hello…?” I said again, but this time in more of a whisper. 

Slowly pushing the door, I saw in the mirror that my room at least appeared empty. I took a step in, then quickly leaped in with a shout. A thud came from the closet, and I fell back, shouting, “Ah, fuck! Fuck-sticks with shit ball!” 

Climbing up onto the bed, I stared at the closet door, open barely an inch. I waited, heart thudding, and realized there was a strange smell in my room—something like lemon curd. More than that, it was exceptionally hot for a cool, spring evening. 

“I swear to God, if someone’s in there…”

A whimper sounded. I frowned, caught off guard by that. What sort of invader or thief whimpered? Maybe it was a lost child, or some sort of animal? Moving over to the edge of my bed, I leaned forward and reached out, grabbed the doorknob, and then threw the door open while pulling away and preparing for the worst. 

At first, all I saw was my dark closet. Then… movement. I glanced around, eyeing the window to see if I could make it if needed, then back at the door to the hallway—which was, unfortunately, blocked by the wide-open closet door. Why the fuck hadn’t I turned on the lights? Inching over to the light switch, I strained my eyes to try and see what was in the closet. No luck, but then I was at the switch and flipped it on. 

A scream followed, then a figure charging out of there and right for me! She had bright-red eyes, large animal ears on the top of her head, and what looked like wings attached to her arms. Her scream turned into more of a screech as she froze in place, stared at me with wide, terrified eyes, and then pointed as her eyes narrowed. 

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me!” she shouted. 

The only part of me that could move was my eyes as they roamed over her in confusion and terror, taking in those ears and eyes again. Her hair and ears were like a rose-gold in a way that matched her wings. Her skin, too, I realized, had that very pale, almost pure white look but with hints of rosy-pink in blotches. I could tell, because she was completely exposed. Nice little patch of hair down below, and perky little breasts calling to me.

Another part of me moved then, and embarrassment at her noticing caused me to drop to my knees to avoid it sticking out. Why I was having a physical reaction to what was clearly a monster girl was both odd and entirely sensical—I would be a liar if I said I’d never jacked off to monster girl anime porn before. 

“I…” I started, unsure what to say. “I didn’t plan on touching you.”

“Good,” she muttered, eyes moving across me, then frowning. “What are you?”

“What am I?” I frowned. “Human.”

“Huma—aAHHH!” She turned and ran back into the closet, knocking all my clothes over and, judging by the thudding, slamming into the walls. “How do I get out of this fucking hell? Where’s the door, dammit!” 

I stood to go after her to try to help, but instead sat there, watching as the light caught the curve of her ass, highlighting too the edge of her wings that connected to her back. This was insane. A real monster girl in my room! Well, closet to be specific, but my room’s closet. How many times had I dreamed of this? Of course, in each of those dreams I’d imagined a kitsune or maybe neko girl, with long, bushy tails. In my fantasies, they would arrive and push me back on the bed, totally in awe of me, and we would make wild passionate love until I had a nosebleed. Why a nosebleed? I had no clue, but it’s what so many anime showed, so hell if I knew. 

And since I hadn’t exactly had sex, it was entirely possible—as far as I knew at the time. 

The thudding stopped, and I realized she had turned to look at me. Her eyes followed my line of sight to her ass—only barely covered by the cloth that went between her legs to tie to the front, by the way. 

“By the gods,” she whispered to herself, “why is this humanstrocity looking at my ass? Shit-shit-shit, he wants to taste it.”

“What?” I spluttered. “No, I don’t want to taste your ass.”

“You do!” She leaped out, brandishing claws at the ends of her fingertips. “You want to take a big bite out of my ass, then eat all of me! Admit it!” 

“I, what? No!” She had caught me off guard with the eating comment. I thought she’d meant something kinky, like me wanting to lick her ass—which, honestly, I wouldn’t have said no to. “And what’s a humanstrocity?” As I said it out loud, it clicked. “Oh, like a monstrosity. That’s funny.”

“Funny?” She arched a brow, eyes moving for the door, and then she ran. 

I sat there for a second, not processing what was happening until I heard the front door unlocking. Shit, she couldn’t run out there. Not even accounting for the virus and all that other plague shit going on, she was a fucking monster girl—people would lose their shit. Maybe try to kill her. 

Charging out, I found her with the door half-opened. I slammed it shut, but she opened it again, clearly stronger than me. 

“Out of my way,” she commanded. 

“You can’t go out there!”

“Try and stop me.”

She had the door open all the way and was taking a step, so I did the only thing I could—wrapped my arms around her waist, planted my feet, and turned. It worked! I lifter her off of the ground and we spun away from the door, the two of us falling as I leveraged her away from the exit. What I hadn’t meant to do was lose my balance, and I also hadn’t meant to fall with her, so that when she tried to scramble away from me, one of her nipples poked me in the eye. 

“Ouch!” I protested, then laughed at the thought of what had happened. The closest I had ever gotten to a girl’s breasts, and it was to get poked in the eye. 

She was halfway to the door again, but turned back to me with confusion. “What—what is that?”

“What?” I said, my laugh fading. 

“That sound you made.”

“Laughter?”

“Ooooh, do it again.” She took a step toward me, for the first time her terror and anger morphing into curiosity. Maybe even infatuation? 

“I… I’m sorry. You want me to laugh again?”

“I liked it. I mean, I know what laughter is, but I like your laugh.”

“Your…” I pointed at her nipple, trying not to stare. “Poked me in the eye. It wasn’t that funny, I guess, but… to me it was.”

She glanced down at her erect nipples, frowned, then eyed me again. “Why do you wear cloth over your chest?”

“It’s cold, for one.” 

“I… see.” She glanced around, then back to the door where, as if to emphasize my point, a gust of cold wind blew in from. “Yes, I agree. So cold.”

Pushing myself up and thrusting out a hand, I said, “Ferris.”

“What, your name?” She looked at my hand and took an uneasy step away from it, so I retracted the offer. 

“Yeah, that’s right. And you?”

“I… I can’t tell you that. But thank you for trusting me with yours. That… that really means something.” She stepped back again, then closed the door. Apparently, something about me telling her my name changed the situation. “You’re right, it was cold. I can’t go into that. Does it get warmer here?”

I nodded. “In the daytime. Tomorrow. I’m sorry, but… why are you here? What are you?”

“The why… is complicated. But I’m called a Chirop where I’m from.” 

Something about that word sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it at first. Not until looking over her wings again and suddenly remembering a paper I had done on the zoo for my community college anthropology class. 

“As in chiroptera—or bat!” I laughed, not able to believe I hadn’t seen it before. “Of course, you’re a bat girl. Not the Bat Girl, of course, but… yeah. A Chirop. Why not.”

“You’re strange.” She eyed me nervously. “You’re sure you don’t want to take a bite out of my ass?”

I shook my head. Nipple it, yes. Spank it and watch the flesh jiggle, fucking A, yes. But none of that would come out of my mouth. 

“You still didn’t explain what you were doing in my closet.”

She pursed her lips, eyes moving back to my room, and her eyes took on a lost and confused look. “I… don’t know.”

“Can we back up, then? Where were you before that?” 

She cleared her throat, and I realized my eyes had drifted south again. It wasn’t my fault! A stunning monster girl appears in my house, almost nude—not looking would have been a crime, if you ask me. 

“Think I can… get one of those cloths?” She indicated my shirt. “If it helps with the cold.”

“It does,” I admitted, sad to see her covered up but looking forward to the opportunity to be a gentleman. Quickly going to my coat closet, I found a jacket with long sleeves that I thought should be loose enough to fit her wings in. Seeing as they were attached to her arms, it wasn’t like she could fold them behind her and hide them under the jacket. 

She fit in, then closed the jacket around herself and looked impressed. “Huh. Back home it’s never cold, so this isn’t a concern. But still, there’s something to be said about this—like, maybe men wouldn’t always stare at me?”

I chuckled, nervously. “If your breasts are always out, do men still stare?”

“With perfect breasts like mine, what do you think?”

I was about to say they were a bit on the small side, but thought better of it and just nodded. “Back on the subject of where you’re from.”

“Ah, right.” She glanced about, then went for my couch and had a seat, leaning forward. 

“Right.”

Her face scrunched up. “See, I was… in this strange cave and trying to escape. And I ended up here. That’s it.”

“Huh? A cave?”

“I don’t know. I was being hunted by someone, but don’t know who, so… can’t say much. Only that instead of killing me, as I thought they would do, I ended up in that house. And there were others, too. Different species of women.”

“That’s horrible,” I said. “Why would they hunt you?”

“Oh. Well… it’s complicated?” She looked troubled at first, then grinned my way. “You are kind of cute, after all. And so rich that you wear extra clothes for no reason.”

“If it’s for no reason, then give me the jacket back.”

She looked at the jacket, back to me, then frowned. “You’re kind of a pervert, aren’t you?”

My mouth fell open. “Ah… I was trying to make a joke.”

“About seeing my tits?” 

“Sorry. Just… forget it.”

“Well, I’ll be going back home now.” She frowned, staring at me. “Any idea how I can make that happen?”

“Can’t you go back through the closet?” I remembered how she had tried and failed, and felt like a jerk. “Let me try.”

She followed me into the room. I went into the closet, pressing against the walls, even knocking on some of them.  When nothing seemed to work, I turned around and saw her standing there, face barely two inches from my own. 

That’s how I knew the smell from earlier had to be her—it was strong now, that scent of lemon curd. It reminded me of a diner my mom had taken me to often when I was a child, and I would always have a scone with lemon curd. Even now, the memory makes my mouth water. Smelling her, feeling her breath on me and being so close that I could see little lines of gold in her red eyes, I wanted nothing more than to taste her lips. 

I leaned forward, knowing she had to want it too. 

BAM! A punch took me right in the lips. 

“What was that—” I started, when she hit me again, this time shoving me back so that my head slammed into the closet wall and I slumped to the ground in pain. 

“How dare you?” she seethed, then turned and walked out of there, feet stomping down the hallway as she went toward my kitchen, it sounded like. 

I groaned, pushing myself up, and followed. “Sorry, it’s just that… I mean, I don’t even know what came over me.” I wanted to call out her name, to get her attention, but remembered that she hadn’t shared her name with me yet so decided to call her by what she had said she was. “Listen, Chirop—”

She spun on me, fridge open, and motioned around the kitchen. “What’s all this? Where’s your food?”

“This is food.” I frowned. “You’re hungry?”

“Famished. Part of the hunt, see. I don’t think I’ve eaten in at least a day.”

“I’ll whip you up something,” I said, motioning her out of the way and watching to ensure she didn’t punch me again. “About back there, really, I didn’t mean to, I don’t know, be presumptuous.”

“Good.”

Frowning, I pulled out peanut butter and jelly, then went for the bread. “You like PB&J, I assume?”

“PB and what?” 

I showed her and she scrunched up her face. “That… looks… disgusting.”

“No, try.” I scooped out some peanut butter and held the spoon for her to try. She frowned, scrunched up her nose all cute-like, then shook her head. 

“Chirops eat mostly fruit and small animals. Do you have that?”

I glanced around, then shrugged with my best ‘so sorry’ look. “We can go to the store for the fruit, but—oh, wait! Jerky.”

Rummaging through the drawer next to the fridge, I found a package of buffalo jerky from Trader Joe’s. It wasn’t bad, and I kept it around for those times when I forgot to go shopping but didn’t have time. “There you go.”

She held up the bag, eyeing it with skepticism. “I should have been more specific. We only eat live animals, and prefer to catch them fresh. Ourselves.”

I stared at her, realizing this was going to be much more complicated than I had realized.