Radley's Home for Horny Monsters

by Annabelle Hawthorne

  “Trust me, I know. Having all of that stuck in the lines of my spring was like a sinus infection. Blowing it free was so refreshing.”

  “Do nymphs get sinus infections?” Mike asked.

  “No, but I’m inside your head. I know what one would feel like, lover.” She kissed his neck. “By the gate, there is a drain located beneath the bushes that leads out to the street. If you get a push broom, I’ll flood the place again, and you can try and push it all over there.”

  “That’s a pretty good idea, actually.” Mike checked the garage and found what he needed almost right away. Tink may have squirreled away most of the tools, but the bigger things were all grouped together in their respective holders. He retrieved a large broom and stepped back into the garden.

  Naia was doing her best impression of a leaf, floating in circles in the fountain as birds took turns landing on her fingers and chirping at her.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “Not quite.” The statue tucked near the door had caught his attention again. “What do you know about this?”

  “Not much. It’s buried in creeper vines.” Naia stood on the edge of the fountain. “It seems familiar though.”

  “Yeah. I bought some clippers.” Mike pulled them from the toolbox. “I’ve always had a fascination with statues. When I was a kid, there was a park with a bunch of sculptures, and part of the park was surrounded by a lake. I would go out onto this little island that you got to by a footbridge, and sit beneath the statues there.” Mike examined the vines, then cut them near the base of the statue and began unwinding them. “We would move all the time, so whenever we were close enough to the park, I would stop by and just sit with them for a while. There was one set of statues, three figures standing and a space between them as if a fourth one was missing. Sometimes, I would stand in that empty spot, willing myself to turn to stone for a hundred years and see where mankind ended up.”

  Mike worked quickly, cutting the vines free and peeling them off. It was almost half an hour before he had freed the statue from its leafy prison. It was a woman, head bowed and eyes closed. Her lower face and entire body were covered in a robe that clung tightly enough to her figure that he could run his hands across her breasts.

  “Well?” Naia asked.

  “Um, it’s a statue.” Mike moved away so she could see it. “She’s pretty, but whoever carved her didn’t feel like fucking around with details. Still, at least she’s freed from all this crap.” He tossed the vines into a pile. “What kind of plant is this anyway?”

  Mike held the free end of one of the vines he had cut, scrutinizing the tiny leaves growing off of it. The garden was full of random shrubs and mostly dead flowers in pots, and they didn’t match the vine he held. Strangely, the vine didn’t seem to come from any of the shrubs either. Instead, it had wound its way around several of them to grow along the statue’s surface. He gave the vine a tug, trying to follow it back to where it came from.

  The garden extended along the back of the house. The vines were pressed up against the house too, hidden behind the bushes growing along the outer wall. Walking farther, he stared up along the house’s sides. He was fairly certain he was looking at the master bedroom window.

  The yard opened up, revealing a large grassy area. Vines were sprawled everywhere, pressing against the concrete wall that bordered the property and running up the side of the house. They all came from a greenhouse positioned in the corner of the property, three of its panels shattered and allowing the vines through.

  “Ah, geez.” Mike shook his head. How the fuck had he missed seeing a giant greenhouse? The tour Beth had given him hadn’t been comprehensive by any means, but he figured even a cursory glance out the window would have revealed this mess. The greenhouse was roughly the size of the garage, and each of the intact glass panels were smeared in dirt from the inside.

  No time like the present, he decided. Mike approached the door, the earth smells from inside making his nose wrinkle. The greenhouse door had a large, silver lever. He gave it a twist, frowning when it wouldn’t turn. Rattling the door, he was frustrated when it wouldn’t budge. Crouching for a better look, he saw that a key was needed.

  “Of course,” he muttered. He contemplated the creeper vines, wondering if he should chop them up or stuff them back in the greenhouse. On the one hand, chopping them up would be easy. On the other hand, he could kill the plant, and the thought of simply slicing up the vines gave him that weird feeling again in his gut.

  One of the vines twitched, flexing like a snake awakening from its nap.

  “Oh fuck!”

  The bundle of vines spasmed, recoiling enough that they spread across the lawn.

  Mike sprinted across the lawn toward the house, giving the vines a wide berth. Coming to the narrow gap between the wall and the house, he saw that the vines had slid away from the house, spreading out and coiling around everything they touched. He hopscotched his way through them, timing his jumps to avoid touching them.

  The fountain came into sight, and Naia stood at its edge, her face a mask of concern.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, looking at the vines near the fountain. Her eyes met his just as the vines sprung up, a pair of them catching his legs.

  “Shit!” Mike pulled the shears from his back pocket and cut at the vines that had ensnared him. Just as he’d sliced himself free, more vines whipped around him, closing in and knocking the shears from his grasp. He made it to the edge of the fountain just as his feet were yanked from underneath him. Naia grabbed onto his wrists and tried to pull him into the water. More of the creeper vines found him and spiraled up his legs and waist.

  “Mike!” Naia cried as his grip loosened on the fountain’s edge. She held tightly to his arms, but the vines were simply too powerful. Yanked free of Naia’s grasp, he was pulled across the yard, his fingers scraping at flagstones and dirt. Twisting on his back, he saw the greenhouse looming closer, hungry vines curling in anticipation.

  “Help!” Mike screamed, grabbing the vines. They spiraled around his arms, pinning him in place. He was pulled through the windows of the greenhouse, the busted panes cutting his arms. “Fuck!”

  The foliage obscured his vision, and then suddenly, the space opened up. A scream lodged in his throat when he realized that he was not inside the greenhouse, but somewhere else entirely. A brilliant, dark blue sky was above him, and the rest of the greenhouse was gone, revealing acres of jungle in every direction. Leaning forward, he saw that the vines were pulling him toward a rocky ledge.

  This was it. His brain had finally blown its last fuse. Was he even really here? Was he in bed? Was he in a mental institute, the weird guy who jerked off while pretending to fuck goblins and nymphs?

  The world filled with the sound of shattering glass, and Mike heard something heavy hit the ground behind him. Crunching footsteps approached quickly, and the light above vanished behind a dark figure. The edge of the cliff loomed closer, the creature above him frantically swiping at vines with razor-sharp talons. Vines whipped up at his savior, who didn’t even flinch as they struck skin.

  Mike’s arms were suddenly free, and he grabbed the figure’s ankle tightly. He was surprised to feel the cool, rough texture of stone beneath his skin, but couldn’t care less. Right now, the person above him was winning.

  “Cut the ones down by my feet,” he said, pulling at the figure. More vines were whipping over the edge of the cliff, grabbing at them both. “There are more coming up.”

  One foot was free, and then suddenly, the other. The figure helped him to his feet, and they tried to run from the ledge of the cliff, but the creeper vines had created a wall of branches behind them, cutting off their escape.

  “Merde!” His savior swore, wrapping stony, feminine arms around him. She lifted him easily from the ground and jumped off the cliff, clutching him tightly. Wings attached to her shoulder blades, nearly twenty feet across, caught the air as they soared into the impossible sky.

&
nbsp; Mike gazed at the jungle below, easily miles across in every direction.

  “What is this place?” he shouted into the wind.

  His savior was struggling to climb into the sky, so they soared along the edge of the cliff toward a massive waterfall. Several rocky ledges traversed the falls like giant steps, and they landed quietly on one of them about halfway down.

  “It is the greenhouse.” Her voice carried a thick French accent. She released him, and he stepped back from her. Her giant wings wrapped gently around her stone body, and her talons retracted into her hands. The wings became a cloak, covering her naked skin. Her face was feminine, save for the wide-set nose flattened against her face, and her eyes dark like obsidian. Short, jet black hair was pulled back behind her slightly pointed ears. With her cloak back in place, Mike recognized the statue he had cleaned off.

  “Not the kind I am used to,” he said, pointing at the jungle. “This place is absolutely impossible.”

  “Not impossible. Improbable.” She crossed her arms. “And now, I must ask who you are and why you are here.”

  “I’m Mike. I inherited this place from my great aunt, Emily.” Mike sat on a rock, the adrenaline finally wearing off. “I’ve only been here a couple of days.”

  “You are the new Caretaker? I see. That explains so much.” She looked across the cliffs at where the vines were hungrily whipping around, trying to find their prey. “That is the Mandragora. It must be pretty hungry to have broken out of the greenhouse. You will need to feed it soon.”

  Oh God. “What the hell does it eat?”

  “Meat, mostly. It also enjoys wine and cheese.”

  “How does a plant... you know what? It doesn’t matter. Thank you for saving me.”

  “You are welcome.” She bowed her head. “My name is Abella. It is my job to protect the grounds of the house. When Emily died, I fell into a deep sleep, and apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

  “You were all wrapped up in the Mandragora vines,” Mike said.

  Abella frowned at him. “That explains why I did not awaken at your arrival. The Mandragora was draining me of my life essence. This is not good. It means I have been asleep for far longer than I thought.”

  “I thought the plant ate meat?”

  “What better way to absorb life essence? The Mandragora could not eat me nor move me, so it fed on my energy through my skin.”

  “What are you, exactly?” Mike’s legs were suddenly numb. He rubbed them, his muscles tingling beneath his fingers.

  “My kind have many names, but your kind would know me as a gargoyle.”

  “Doesn’t water have to run out of your mouth or something?”

  “If you sever my head and mount it to a building, yes.” Abella frowned. “Anyway, I-“ Abella’s legs suddenly collapsed beneath her, and she fell to the ground, panting.

  “Are you okay?” Mike asked.

  “No, I am not.” Abella crawled over by Mike and lay down on the rock beside him. “How long ago did Emily die?”

  “A couple of years, actually. It took them a really long time to find me.”

  “I told her that she needed to have a successor ready. The Mandragora has taken too much of my life force. I must rest for some time before I can get us out of here.”

  “That’s ok. I’m just happy to be alive.” Mike moved closer to Abella, his legs still tingling. “Can I do anything for you?”

  Abella remained silent, her eyes closed. Now that she was by his side, he realized she was only about five feet tall. Her feet were large, and had three giant toes with talons on them. A thick, muscular tail that was tucked beneath her wings. Mike held tightly to her, feeling the slow rhythm of her breathing beneath his arms. His savior had temporarily fallen, and he was determined to stay by her side.

  MIKE HAD ONLY CLOSED his eyes for a few seconds, or so he thought. The sky was growing black, distant storm clouds building giant thunderheads in the distance. Sitting up, he was delighted to discover that his limbs were no longer tingling, that sensation that they were full of sand finally gone.

  “Mike?” Abella’s voice wasn’t more than a whisper.

  “Yeah, I’m awake. Didn’t think I would sleep for that long.” He stood up and stretched. “Ow, shit, I’m sore. How are you feeling?”

  “Not good.” Abella rolled to a sitting position. “I don’t like the look of that storm, either.”

  “It can’t be that-“ A flash of light blinded him. Several seconds later, the thunder that chased it boomed against the cliff. “...bad,” Mike finished.

  “My kind is made to weather storms. Yours is not.”

  “I guess I could just climb out of here.” Mike stared at the sheer walls above him. “After someone installs a ladder.”

  “I do have an idea, but you will not like it.” Abella was staring at her feet.

  “I’m pretty open to living. What do you have in mind?”

  “I am a being of stone. It will take me some time to recover. You, however, have already recovered. Humans are fountains of life—it’s why they make such a good food source.”

  “You’re not selling me on your solution so far,” Mike muttered.

  “If you were to... give me some of your essence, I would have enough energy to fly us out of here.” Abella pressed down on wrinkles in her wings, then released them and watched the folds pop back up.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. Are we talking magic, a blood pact, what?” Please don’t let it be a blood pact, Mike thought to himself.

  “It’s kind of like magic. Old magic.” Abella looked down at her feet. “You could give me your essence like... like a human man would give to...”

  “Are you talking about sex?” Mike was surprised to see Abella shrink in on herself.

  She nodded, her eyes on the distance. “My kind and your kind have a hatred for each other, but I want you to know that I am different. It is why I was saved, and brought here to protect this house. And while I am sure you would rather be with a hundred different human women before you would consider a hideous creature like me, I think... I think it would work.”

  Mike gazed at the shy creature in wonder, finding himself once more in a predicament. With Tink, it had been about protecting her from the unknown, a risk he had taken for the greater good. Now, however, it was about his own salvation.

  “You would do that for me?” he asked.

  “It is my duty,” Abella whispered.

  “It may be your duty, but I don’t believe in making others do what they don’t want to do. I would rather risk the lightning than feel like a bag of shit every time I look in the mirror.”

  Abella muttered something that was lost to another blast of thunder.

  “I didn’t catch that,” Mike told her.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I’m afraid that you won’t.”

  “Wait, what?” Mike could tell he was missing a piece.

  “I have a...” Abella sighed. “The other gargoyles thought I was weird because I have a human fetish.”

  Mike almost laughed, nearly broke that stillness between them. A human fetish? Was that like a reverse furry?

  “A human fetish,” Mike said.

  Abella nodded. “It’s why I came here. I enjoy being around humans and interacting with them, something that is forbidden in the outside world. Gargoyles are a terrible species, content with killing for fun. They are very territorial, and last I heard, many were either wiped out by man, or in hiding as statues. I don’t wish for such a life. I enjoy the smile on a child, or the way a human woman tosses her hair. I like how smooth and soft your skin feels, and...”

  “Have you ever been with a human in that way?” Mike asked, kneeling next to her.

  “No.” Abella stared into the distance. “I’ve been too afraid to try it. How does one go about finding a man who can see me as enough of a human woman that the rest of my body doesn’t bother him?”

  “That’s easy.” Mike stroked Abella’s stony curls, t
hen tilted her face toward his. “You see, I struggle with being around my own kind, and I’m rapidly discovering that what I like is outside the norm.” He pressed his lips to hers, marveling at how hard they felt beneath his. As he pulled back, he met her eyes. “There’s a storm coming, you know.”

  He ran his hands along the edges of her wings, then pulled them away from her body to reveal naked flesh. Her breasts were smooth, yet strangely supple. Her lack of nipples threw him for a moment, but her breath seized in her chest as he squeezed her stony breasts. Even with all his strength, he was only able to compress them slightly beneath his fingers.

  “This is okay?” she asked, stroking his stiffening cock through his pants.

  “It is,” he answered, running his hands down to her hips. She didn’t have a belly button either. Sometime later, he would ask her more about gargoyle anatomy. For now, he kissed her stone skin, grateful for the little sighs she made. He had no way of knowing if she could even feel them otherwise. He explored her body, squeezing the musculature of her thighs.

  Thunder boomed again in the distance. Mike looked back, watching the thunderheads building. “You know, I would ordinarily be in favor of doing this slower, but do you mind if I hurry things up a little?”

  Abella was panting. “You’ll have to be on top. I might crush you, otherwise.”

  Fair enough, Mike thought, spreading her legs. The folds of her vulva formed a triangle. Tracing his fingers along the edges, he found that the stone was softer here, like thick leather.

  Abella fumbled with the zipper on his jeans, then gasped as his dick sprung free of his fly. “I’ve never seen one so close before,” she told him, stroking it experimentally.

  “Just... don’t squeeze it so hard, okay?”

  Abella nodded, relaxing her grip.

  He licked his fingers, then ran them around her creases in a search pattern. Her vagina was also triangle shaped, and it took some effort to slide two fingers into her- he was grateful to discover that she was very wet just inside her folds. He had no idea how he was going to fuck her without some sort of lubrication.