Try to Talk.

The beast looks fast, and I am already tired from my mad dash through the forest. If there is a way out of this situation that doesn’t involve becoming lunch, I need to take it. Hesitantly, I ask, “did you just speak in my mind?” I try to sound confident and self-assured. I fail utterly, my words sounding more like a squeak than a question. It seems I am understood, however, as the reply is not long in coming.

“I speak, no need fear, I not hurt you.”

I watch as the beast sits on its haunches facing me, watching me intently in return. I get the impression that it is trying to appear non-threatening. Slowly, I lower my club, keeping a grip on the gnarled wood just in case. Some of the tension filling me slips away, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. Here is an honest to god non-human sentient, a being from a race that I never seen nor heard of.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my curiosity getting the better of me, “I’ve never met one of your kind before. What is your race called? Oh, and what’s your name?” I realise that in my excitement and nerves I am babbling a little, my jaws shut with a clack as I physically resist the urge to bombard the being with more questions. I worry that I have offended them, but when they do reply, their thoughts are tinged with amusement.

“My name Rylon. I Grolec. Many other fear us, scared of shape and claw. You different.”

Somehow, I can tell that the sentences that I hear in my head are missing some of what Rylon is trying to say, resulting in the broken English I keep hearing. It’s a strange sensation, almost like listening to a radio with a poor signal, the static blocking out the occasional word. I can still understand them well enough to communicate however, and they haven’t moved from their seated position, so I decide to keep the conversation going.

My voice filled with a little more confidence than my first attempt, I say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Rylon, my name is Emily. If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?” They seem to consider my question for a moment, then reply,

“Emily, good name. You nice. Good day, warm, I enjoy sun, I napping.”

I smile at the complement, it turning slightly guilty at the reproachful tone in which they tell me they had been napping. If the Grolec were as reptilian as they looked, it would make sense for them to be out sunning themselves in warm weather, because, if they were cold blooded like their earthbound counterparts, they would be unable to generate body heat of their own. “Sorry about that,” I reply, “I was chasing a critter and it jumped on you, you started moving and that surprised me, so it got away.”

“That fine, you make it up to me.”

Something about Rylon’s reply makes me pause. Their usual amusement is there, but there is something else below the surface. It takes as couple of seconds, My eyes widening slightly as I work it out. "they were flirting with me!" another thought slots into place, my mind still working over the communication issue. What had my translation ability said? Limited communication with monsters? Rylon Isn’t just your run of the mill non-human sentient, but a sentient monster. Somewhere within me alarm bells start ringing. In nearly every book I have read which contain sentient monsters, they are depicted as an enormous threat, their intelligence and cunning making them incredibly dangerous.

There is a second part of me, however, a part that remembers what happens in the rest of the books that contain sentient monsters. Heat floods my cheeks in an unwitting flush as I remember tales of taboo passion. It had started innocently enough, a sci-fi heroine falling in love and having sex with an alien that wasn’t all that different from a human, but it had been the spark that lit the fire. My curiosity had led me online and into the arms of my fellow monster fuckers. The turning point had been when a close friend offhandedly quoted a line from a game I had been playing. It had flown over the heads of the rest of our group, but she had seen my reaction, and knew what it meant. That had been a highly enjoyable summer as we shared stories, fantasies, and eventually long nights teasing each other with toys purchased from a certain naughty fire breathing lizard.

If I wanted to, a part of me sang, I could find out how it would feel to be mounted by a monster. How it would feel as its inhuman member penetrated deep within me, filling my most intimate place, rutting me, claiming me, then spilling its monstrous load deep inside me. How it would feel as rope after rope of thick, molten monster cum splattered against the back of my womb, the feel of the viscous fluid as it flowed through my fertile pussy, the feeling of being bred.

My eyes unwittingly stray downwards, between its rear set of legs. “His rear set of legs” I correct myself, the tip of what assuredly is a penis poking out through a genital slit, the pale pink contrasting against his black scales. My breathing is heavy, my gaze focused on that alien member. I need to make a choice.