The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  Brielle leads us into what should be crowned as the diciest dive bar of them all! In the back, past a cheap black curtain that gives this place a your-creepy-uncle’s-house appeal, we’re led to the All Male Review!

  “What exactly are we going to review?” Laken muses as we’re seated at an enormous table that faces the stage with its long runway dotted with lights.

  “Children’s books,” Lexy snarks. “The Erotic Emperor Has No Clothes.”

  “Yeah,” Nat joins in. “I hear they have pop-up penises!”

  The girls bust a gut as if it were the funniest thing they’ve heard. I start to laugh myself and feel a surge of warm liquid gush between my thighs. Crap! I just inadvertently pissed my pants. Double Crap! I press my lips tight and give a quick glance around as the spreading warmth grows down my thighs. Holy shnickies! I’m living my very worst nightmare—public urination! Just fuck. I’d head to the restroom to finish the job with a shred of decency, but, the truth is, I think I’m already done.

  The music starts in, loud and unexpected, and I give several hard blinks as the room sways to the rhythm of the beat. The voices of hundreds of screaming women light up the place, deafening me from my own thoughts.

  I try to say something to Laken, but my lips feel numb and tingly, and my head spins as if my brain just got on some psychotic merry-go-round.

  An entire line of men files out onto the stage in various stages of undress. They pop the buttons off their shirts while pretending to struggle with their clothes. A few flash strip themselves of their Velcro pants before they even hit their marks. The bass picks up, and I can feel my body growing lighter with the ferocity of the rhythm. My chair feels as if it’s falling right through the floor, and I clasp onto the table with both hands.

  One of the men, the lead, with his bronzed chest, his Cheshire cat unstoppable grin strips his way in our direction, and ever so slowly reveals himself to be someone shockingly familiar.

  “Marshall?” I gasp at the horror. Here we are, just one year out of high school, a majority of us mothers, or soon-to-be, and our math teacher is shaking his banana hammock just hoping we’ll make it rain dollars. It’s simply sickening.

  Up next is an ebony-haired god with dimples you could sink your lips into.

  “Hey!” I bark as I jump to my feet. “What the hell?” I shout, confused by the fact Gage just laughed in my face while revealing his amply endowed package with nothing more than a red silk sling to try to hide it. Behind him I spot Logan in a cowboy hat.

  “Oh my…crap.” The words yee haw ricochet through my head for no good reason. Cooper holds up the rear, and from this vantage point, Marshall, Logan, and Coop all look like the same person—triplets. My hand lands protectively over my stomach. I should probably get used to seeing things in triplicate.

  Chloe jumps up next to me, cheering and whistling obnoxiously loud before leaning next to me hard. “Why the hell are we standing, Messenger? These guys look like they belong on a farm locked in a barn and saddled for a group of schoolgirls.”

  My head turns toward her, and the room expands in a visual echo.

  I stagger back until I fall softly into my seat. The club breaks out into a riotous roar as Marshall snaps off his weenie bikini and starts swinging a flesh-colored lasso.

  Gasps emanate from all around until finally giving way to an approving, quite enthusiastic, applause. Oh my God. That is no lasso he’s wielding.

  Nat leans in. “Check out the size of that cum gun!”

  My stomach does a revolution at her crass analogy. Besides, it’s more like a hose than a gun—any idiot can see that. Point in case, that’s exactly why Emily was the valedictorian and not Nat.

  Gage takes center stage and pulls off his man thong—and out flies one of those snakes in a can.

  Another round of gasps.

  Oh, wow. That sure is one nude looking snake—and it’s meticulously attached to his body. My eyes can’t seem to break away from the monstrosity.

  “Is that what he’s been stuffing into me each and every night?”

  “Skyla!” Laken laughs, shocked at my admission.

  “God, I’m so embarrassed. Could you please tell him to stop?” Everything in me wants to scream. “Would you please get the hell off the stage?” My voice booms through the facility as laughter and jeers circle around the room. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Those are my body parts. That is my penis!”

  A riot of laughter ensues once again as if I’ve offered the room the comic relief they’ve secretly been waiting for.

  Brielle jumps onto the table and starts flashing her boobs, and Em jumps up after her as if she’s about to wrestle her back down, but instead busts out her own boobs as well. Before too long, Lexy and Michelle are topless while Nat is busy getting all the dirt on her phone.

  The room gives a heavy sway. Logan and Coop strip down, and soon enough, there is a sword fight of the flesh breaking out onstage.

  “I can’t take this!” I cry, covering my eyes.

  “Skyla, what’s the matter?” Laken pulls me in until my face is buried in her chest.

  “How can you stand to see them this way? It’s disgusting! This isn’t funny. Everything about this is so very wrong. I don’t know how you can stand to marry Coop after this. I’m going to hack off Gage’s penis in his sleep tonight! And don’t get me started on Marshall and Logan. Those perverts are no longer allowed to even look at me.”

  The chair and the table begin to melt, and I give a horrible groan. Dark shadowy figures fill the periphery of the room, and that horrible fear rides up my back in shivers.

  “We have to leave.” I hop up, and both Laken and Chloe shuttle me out of that den of depravity and down a narrow hall, landing us inside the safe haven of the restroom.

  “We need to get Gage off that stage,” I pant, my body breaking out into a sweat. I take my shoes off and land my bare feet onto the cool tile floor, and my entire body exhales.

  Chloe grunts, “I don’t know what shit you’re on, Messenger, but your feet have the right idea.” She takes off her shoes and does the same. The relief on her face is almost as palpable as mine.

  “Skyla, look at me.” Laken pulls me in. “Your pupils are dilated. Did you drink anything?”

  “No.” My mouth is dry as cotton.

  “Gage isn’t here.” She leans in further, and her face flexes in concave. “Neither is Mr. Dudley, Logan, or Coop. Those were hillbilly geezers out on that stage tonight. There wasn’t even a close resemblance.”

  Chloe heads for the sink and splashes water onto her face. “Again, I think your brain had the right idea.” She waddles over with her newfound pregnancy gait, and something about her rounded belly catches my eye.

  “Chloe,” I whisper in awe as my hands cup the sides of her hard stomach. Beneath her clothes, beneath her skin, straight into her womb, I see the face of a beautiful, beautiful baby. In fact, its entire body is visible, with its bottom tucked toward me, knees up by its chin, and I can clearly see that Chloe is carrying a sweet baby girl. “My God—she is so perfect.”

  “Who’s so perfect?” Laken tries to remove my hands from Chloe’s belly, but I won’t budge.

  “The baby. There she is,” I say dreamily, staring into Chloe’s womb as if it had a window. “Dark hair, dimples—oh my God, yes, she does have them. She’s sucking her thumb.” I’m breathless at the sight of Chloe’s little angel. I clasp on to my own stomach in hopes of more of the same, but there’s nothing.

  “Let me.” Chloe lifts the tarp I’m wearing over my bulge.

  “Hey—” Laken tries to stop her, but Chloe bats her away. “I need to touch her skin.” She lands her cool hands over the bourgeoning globe of my belly, and her mouth opens as she stares into my navel with wonder.

  “What?” I touch my stomach, but I’m still denied the womb with a view.

  Chloe’s brows twitch like dying worms. “How many babies did you say you were carrying?”

  “She’s hav
ing triplets.” Laken slaps Chloe’s hands away and pulls down the king-sized sheet I’m trying to pass off as a dress. “Now, would you both cut it out? This is getting a little too freaky for me.”

  Chloe shakes her head with that same bored look on her face that she wears like a mask. “You’d better get to the doctor, Skyla.”

  “Why, is something wrong?” Before the words fully form in my mouth, one of the stall doors opens, and a large catlike creature, black thick fur, large yellow eyes the size of tennis balls comes out with its tail snapping around like a whip, and I lose it. I scream like a loon—thunder so riotously loud, the walls shake, and an entire slew of people rush inside, including a half dozen underdressed men.

  Collectively, they stare at the beast as if it were your garden-variety grandma.

  “Get it out! Kill it!” My throat rubs raw from the effort.

  The beast stares me down a moment, giggles, washes its hands, and takes off back to Fem-riddled hell.

  “What the heck?” I shout.

  Laken is the first to usher me out the door and straight out of the haunted establishment. “What did you think was back there?”

  “It was a classic Fem. I know what I saw. I’ve seen it before.” I grip her for a moment. “They’ve been following me.” My voice comes from my mouth in triplicate, rising to the sky in the shape of musical notes. “Did you see it?”

  Her face grows increasingly somber. “No, Skyla. I didn’t.”

  Chloe and the rest of the girls run out, most of them looking quite pissed, and they all start yelling at once—mostly at how I’ve dashed all of their banana hammock dreams.

  “I’ll take her home,” Laken volunteers.

  “I’m coming with you.” Chloe waves her red-painted claws at the girls as we head back to the dock, and my mouth refuses to protest. If there is a Fem following me around, it can eat Chloe first, giving Laken and me a fighting chance.

  We get on the boat, and I see them lining the seats along the underbelly of the ferry—tall, dark as soot creatures that closely resemble panthers with their long thrashing tails, their almond-shaped glowing citrine eyes.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “Do you see them?”

  “No, Messenger. You’re delusional.” Chloe crosses her arms as if my delusional state offended her.

  “I don’t either,” Laken whispers.

  Chloe doesn’t say another word. Here’s her big chance to take a swipe at me, and she’s squandering the moment.

  “Something is wrong.” The words spurt from my lips in a rainbow of colors.

  Correction, something is very fucking wrong.

  Deep Sorrow

  GAGE

  The bowling alley shakes with the rattle of thunder, sending such severe shock waves throughout the facility that I’m sure they register on the Richter scale.

  “Dry storm.” Logan nods toward the windows as if we could see it.

  It’s weird. Knowing that the wind, the thunder, and the lightning are all performing their duties, but the rain has somehow failed to show up. It’s like having a wedding go on without the bride.

  Bride. My lips twist as I hurdle that bowling ball down the lane and wait for it…so beautifully centered…almost…

  “Strike!” I pull my fist toward my hip, high-fiving Coop as he readies to take his turn.

  I glance up. Dudley is still in the corner, seated with a book in his hand. Who comes to a bowling alley to read a book? Conveniently, he’s been stealing glances our way all night. Logan was a perfect gentleman and asked him to join us—which is odd in and of itself since Dudley helped spearhead the event. It’s just a few guys—Logan, Ellis, Coop, Brody, and me. I thought about inviting Ethan and Drake, but I confess to having a bit of Landon fatigue.

  Coop heads back, and I glance to find half the pins still vertical.

  He takes a quick drink of his soda before sinking it back onto the table. It’s been a soda and pizza kind of night, and not one of us seems to mind.

  “Okay”—Ellis leans in—“so I’ve got another one.”

  Ellis has been doling out sex advice all night long. He’s our very own Dr. Ruth. I only remember Dr. Ruth, because when I was little, my mother would have her on in the next room, and Logan and I would pretend to be busy while secretly listening to all the perverse advice.

  Ellis motions us closer. “You know when you almost get her there, and you’re like just fucking come already—”

  Logan tosses a ball of wadded-up socks at him. “This is a family establishment. Speak in code, or forever hold your perverted peace.”

  I grunt at Harrison, “And if you value your balls, you had better not be speaking from experience with my sister.” Just the thought of his stoned mitts manhandling Giselle makes my head spin.

  “Not at all. She’s actually pretty easy to plea—” He pauses a moment. “I’m actually referring to Bishop.” He shakes his head with a wistful look in his eye. “She was a beast in bed. Didn’t you think so?” He knocks his elbow into Logan, and it suddenly feels as if World War Three is about to break out.

  “I’ve wiped my memory clean of the ordeal.” He grimaces at the thought.

  “Ordeal?” Now it’s Brody growling at Logan.

  “All right, let’s change the subject,” I offer.

  Coop shrugs. “Spit the hot tip out, and we’ll move on.”

  I know for a fact Coop and Laken are more than intimately familiar. Back when he was my roommate at Host, I caught them liberally exploring one another in more than one compromising position.

  “You get your hand and—”

  Dudley comes up just in time to spare my brain cells the effort of exploding.

  “Evening,” he says without a lot of conviction behind it. “Just stopping by to congratulate the groom-to-be.” He flexes a dry smile at Coop. Not a lot of conviction behind that either. “I wish you and your lady love many years of happiness and prosperity.” He snaps up a few cups off the table. “Why don’t I remove some of this debris for you.” He picks up a few empty paper plates as well before making a beeline for the trash. I watch as he tosses the plates, but leaves the establishment with the cups in hand.

  “What was that about?” Brody leans in and takes a sip from his drink. He’s lucky it survived Dudley’s sudden need to tidy up the place.

  Ellis slaps his hand over his knee as he jumps up to take his turn. “Just Dudley being effing Dudley.” He takes off, and Brody gets up after him, queuing up to go next.

  Logan raises his brows. “You notice anything strange about Dudley’s little exercise in discretion?”

  Coop smirks. “He wished me prosperity, then left me thirsty. What was that? Some kind of Sector curse?”

  “He took my cup, too.” Logan stares at the wall as if putting two and two together. Unfortunately for him, there’s not enough arithmetic in the world to make sense of anything Dudley does.

  My phone bleats. It’s a group text to both Coop and me from Laken. Where are you?

  Coop glances up. “I got this.” Bowling alley. He shoots right back.

  I’ll bring her there. Give us five minutes. Don’t leave.

  “Bring who here?” I look to Coop as if he’s got the answer. We have just enough time to worry and change back into our shoes before Laken and Chloe walk in with Skyla between them as if they were holding her up.

  “What’s wrong?” I rush over and help her take a seat.

  “I’ll get you some water.” Logan disappears and comes back in a flash.

  “Thank you.” She gives a curt look to Laken. “I’m really fine. It was just a—” her mouth stays open as she searches for the words. “Oh hell, I don’t know what it was.”

  “She was hallucinating,” Chloe offers before jumping up and hugging her brother. “God, I miss you! Visit me sometime, would you?” She looks back to me. “Skyla thought you guys were up on stage stripping.” Her dark brows wiggle with approval. “She’s convinced you’re able to slingshot your junk all the way across
the room and lasso her in. Is that the kind of freaky shit that goes down between you two?” She wags her finger, and her brother brings her hand down.

  “Skyla, look at me.” I lift her by the chin until her gaze meets mine. “Your eyes—they’re glazed and dilated.”

  “Everyone’s eyes are slightly dilated. I’m fine, I promise. It was just some weird spiritual thing.”

  “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  Logan stands and pulls on his jacket. “I’m going with you.”

  Skyla scoffs. “Well, you two will be there alone. I’m going home.”

  “She was seeing Fems.” Laken is quick to point out. “Big, scary, shadowed Fems that look like oversized cats.”

  Shit. I’ve seen those back in our West Paragon days. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is spiritual more than it is physical, but I want to have the babies checked out if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.” She stands with an abrupt turnaround. “I happen to have a check-up in the morning, and I’ll be glad to go then.” She looks from me to Logan. “And there’s not an angel or a devil on this planet that’s going to get me there sooner.”

  “All right.” I hold my hands up as Skyla and I say good night to everyone.

  Chloe runs up with her belly almost the same size as Skyla’s. It’s strange seeing them side-by-side in general, but in this physically altered state, it’s a mind-bender.

  “Will I see you later?” There’s something in her eyes that’s pleading. It turns my stomach to see her so consciously desperate for my company. Why the heck can’t she be happy with Wes? When will he ever be enough for her?

  “Tell Wes I can’t make it tonight. There’s a feast with the Videns. Ask him to step in for me.”

  “Will do.” She gives a quick wave of the fingers, and I can feel Skyla groaning beneath me. “Take care, Messenger.” She glances to Skyla’s stomach. “And I know you won’t believe me, but I am sorry.”

  We get home, and I tuck Skyla into bed, massaging her back gently as she lies next to me. All night she cries and whispers feverishly in her sleep. I hear the words Fems, fire, die, open Tenebrous, we must open Tenebrous—and I’m too worried to catch a single wink.