Breeding the Bride

There was nothing you wanted more than to wed your ghoulish lover and live together openly. To have children with her and raise them as a family.

But, unfortunately, she had been reanimated from corpses, and you couldn't yet reveal her existence to the public yet. So, for now, you kept her in the mansion's dungeon, teaching her more about humanity so she might one day pass as a normal woman with scars and a severe skin condition.

And, of course, you made love at least a dozen times every day, depositing your thick sperm inside her womb again and again.

Some might call it ****, considering she had been created from the parts of corpses your uncle and his student had stolen through grave robbing. Others might even call you a groomer, given how you had nurtured her from a confused, reanimated creature into a fully realized woman.

But you loved your ghoulish bride too much to care what others thought, and she loved you just as deeply.

"Make love to me again, my love," she said. She had long since stopped calling you "master" and instead referred to you as "my love," a term of endearment you much preferred.

But as you made love to her in the dungeon, your eyes sometimes wandered to the other creature.

The eight-foot-tall Monster your uncle and Victor Frankenstein had crafted from corpses. The brute they had intended to be her mate.

What if he was alive, conscious, yet immobile, and **** to watch you make love to his intended mate dozens of times every day?

No, that wasn’t possible. The brute was either dead or sleeping.