MAKE MINE A MONSTER
Monsterotica: Book 2
Madison Sevier
Copyright@2014MadisonSevier
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Extras
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction in whole or in part, without express written permission of the author, Madison Sevier.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Dedication
This latest installment of monsterotica is dedicated to everyone who has a sense of humor and enjoys escaping reality for a little while. So many of us love romance. We love the bikers, the billionaires, the cowboys and those women who embrace adventure, grabbing life by the horns. But sometimes, it seems like every book is just the same old, same old. I wanted to show you a strong, female character who truly embraces life on the wild side. One who doesn’t need some big, strong man to come save her even if she gets herself into some crazy trouble. A woman who goes after what she wants. In this case, all she wants is hot, nasty, monster sex with any monster she can find.
Of course, I’ve thrown in a bit more than monster sex. After all, I’m hoping you’ll fall in love, or at the very least like, with Rosie Peaks. Amazingly, I’ve grown quite fond of this monster-chasing-nympho as she reveals more of herself to me. I never thought I’d be enjoying this as much as I am. But you know what they say…”Never say never.” Lesson learned.
Those of you who’ve checked out Banged In The Bayou already know the stories in this series aren’t meant to be taken seriously. You know that they’re meant to be funny and outrageous and I love the private emails, messages and reviews that all of you have left for me. You ROCK!
I’ve received such an incredible outpouring of support from readers and authors who have truly embraced these short stories for what they are. Comic-relief and entertainment. If I could physically hug each of you, I truly would.
If you’re new to this genre or this series, I hope you have fun and get a good laugh out of it. If you’re not prepared to roll your eyes, giggle and possibly get turned on, I suggest you leave now. It’s not everyone’s shot of tequila. If you proceed, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The title alone should make it abundantly clear what this book is about and anyone who takes this book seriously is quite possibly an idiot.
Either way…enjoy the small, crazy things in life. Now, let’s go see what Rosie is up to this time.
XOXOXO,
Madison Sevier
MAKE MINE A MONSTER
Chapter One
After spending a restless week in the Gulf of Mexico, unable to enjoy a single moment of my vacation, I knew what I must do. Memories and thoughts of my experience with Nessiana while stranded in a backwoods Cajun community flooded my brain and I found the frivolous things I usually loved to be mundane. No longer could I sit quietly on a beach, surrounded by hunky lifeguards, cabana boys and men plying me with alcohol-infused drinks. Their ploys to seduce me led to a few dates but I found myself bored to tears. I knew none of these men were going to satisfy my needs. Not after Nessiana and his massive, double-pleasuring abilities. I'd gone monster and there was no going back.
How did this happen to me? I was, for the most part, a rational, level-headed woman. I told myself there was no way I'd been banged in the bayou by a swamp creature, I drank an insane amount of alcohol in the attempts to forget and even though I was inebriated, I could still feel those velvety, strong arms wrapped around my middle as Nessiana satisfied me from behind. By trying to forget, I was driving myself crazy. The only way to salvage what little bit of sanity I'd had left, I knew I had to accept what had happened and move on.
I returned to DuFour, Indiana with one thing in mind. I'd tell the world my story. There would be plenty of people who wouldn't believe it, but I knew someone out there might just find out they weren't alone. After all, there'd been countless accounts of the swamp creature in that Louisiana community and I knew with every fiber of my being that I wasn't the first to have been seduced by that sexy creature. My goal would be to find others like myself. People who had found themselves attracted to monsters and people who were brave enough to tell the world about their own experiences.
My first step was getting my story out there. In just one week of it being published, I received hundreds of emails from women and men across the country who had also seen not only Nessiana, but other monsters. Monsters that everyone wants us to believe could not possibly exist and creatures that are supposedly the products of overactive imaginations. Normally, I'd have said those people were crazy. Now, I knew better and I intended to prove their stories were as true as mine was.
My boss, Melanie Wickey, had a story of her own to tell. I sat patiently and listened to her describe, in very vivid details, her encounters with some creatures in Kentucky when she was a teenager.
"You're not alone, Rosie. However, I don't know how many people are going to tell you the truth and how many are going to con you."
"Melanie, I'm not worried about the people. I just want to find these monsters, creatures or whatever you want to call them. Nessiana changed me and you must admit that your experiences have changed you, too."
"Most certainly."
"I want to find them. All of them. I can't eat or sleep. My days are filled with the desire to be in the presence of these supposed legends. I need them to be real."
"Oh, they are." Rosie watched as her boss averted her eyes, shuffling papers across the top of her desk, obviously not pleased with Rosie's decision. "Okay. What do you want from me?"
"I'd like you to label this an official assignment. I'll begin in Hopkinsville, Kentucky and find your creatures. Once I've complied enough evidence, I'll send you the story. Then, I'll pick another place from the many letters I've received and move on to the next."
"Rosie, I'm not sure this is something you should be doing. You should be settling down with a nice guy, a real guy and not some filthy, uncontrollable monster you know nothing about. Do you have any idea how dangerous these things are? There's a reason they stay in hiding. Think about it. What would you say if I asked you to choose between a perfectly normal future with the man of your dreams and a lonesome, dangerous journey to find these creatures? To me, the choice would be obvious."
"I'd say give me an adventure to find what my dreams are telling me to search for and what my body knows it needs. Melanie, we're all monsters in one way or another. Some people just hide it better than others."
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, I am. Dead serious. Look at all of the physically abusive, lying psychos in the world. How many men pretend to be loving, kind and honest? What do they do? They hurt people and they do it in very creative, disgusting ways. Women think a man's money can protect them from their twisted ways, that fancy toys make them better than other guys and that their ranches will make you feel
safe. Not always the case and you know I'm right. It's mainly lipstick on a pig, that's all. I won't sit around waiting for Prince Charming to gallop in on his white steed or Sir Galahad to rumble into town on an iron horse. That's not me. I'm not some princess in an ivory tower. Keep your bikers, billionaires and cowboys. Make mine a monster."
Melanie looked her in the eye, "I can't believe I'm even considering letting you go. Do you know have any idea how much trouble I could get into if the main office finds out?"
"I know self-defense now. I've got guns, a crossbow and I'm trained to use knives as a last resort. I'll be fine. Honestly, I think you and I both know that I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."
And I didn't.
Chapter Two
Two weeks later, I was shopping and packing for my first adventure since meeting Nessiana. Living about forty-five minutes from a major city has its benefits, but it also has its downfalls. For instance, how many women have you met that actually take red, satin sheets on a camping trip? I believe in being prepared and just because I planned on camping, didn't mean I had to be miserable. I was able to locate the run-of-the-mill camping gear close to home at the DuFour General Store—yes, we still have small, locally owned stores in the south and after countless trips to the more 'upscale' stores in Indianapolis, I was fully stocked with camping and glamping gear for the first leg of my trip. I was ready to roll.
Getting to Hopkinsville was going to be easy. I'd traded my old car in and bought a four-wheel-drive Chevy pickup. Being the sensible woman I am, I chose a bright color that could be spotted easily should something go wrong. My new baby was metallic red, complete with custom chrome accents and equipped with all of the bells and whistles—even a gun rack and custom Bose sound system with XM radio. I'd put myself in deep debt with a large payment, but I held fast to the hope that my stories would sell and I'd be able to stay afloat.
Armed with everything I'd need for the trip, I left DuFour at six in the morning. Traffic was light, aside from the few farmers and Amish buggies I'd passed on the outskirts of town. Once I hit 71-South, I merged into traffic on 264-South out of Louisville to 65- South and it was smooth sailing for quite a while. Passing through Shepherdsville and Elizabethtown was a breeze as I followed the route onto 62-West.
By the time I passed through Leitchfield, I'd been on the road for over three hours. I'd packed a cooler and snacks, so there hadn't been any need to stop off at any of the welcome centers or rest areas along the way until then. After a quick bathroom break, I was back on the road.
Driving the rest of the way, I thought about the information I'd gathered before leaving. The town I was headed to was famous for the 'Little Green Men Festival' which was held once a year. In 1955 a local family claimed to have been harassed by, you guessed it, little green men and the entire event lasted all night. Some people believed most of the eleven witnesses, others said they were drunk or had gotten into some contaminated well water.
Were they goblins? Trolls? No one could really say for sure. The only information I'd found thus far had been what my boss Melanie had told me and the snippets I'd gathered from the many articles I'd found online. Everyone who was interviewed on that sultry August night, had a different version of events. One claimed they'd seen a UFO, another believed the invaders were creatures from Hell. Either way, I was going to find out everything I could about these supposed visitors.
I arrived in Hopkinsville to find the town lively at such an early hour in the morning. People milling about in an almost frenzied state and there were noticeably few parking spots. At first glance, it resembled any other southern town with its flag-lined streets, flowers boxes and plant-filled pots perfectly plotted along the sidewalks lining Main Street. Upon closer inspection, I noticed many of the townspeople were in costume. Some were dressed as aliens and goblins in preparation for their ‘Little Strange Men Festival’. A large banner hung above the middle of Main Street announcing that the festival was set to begin that evening.
“Looks like I’ve arrived just in time.”
I pulled my truck into a parking space in front of the Town Hall. Gathering my purse, notebook and pen, I hopped out of the cool air-conditioned truck and into the heavy humidity that seemed to follow me all the way from DuFour.
People I'd never even met waved and smiled as though we'd been friends who spoke on a daily basis. That's just one of the things I loved about living in a small town. In comparison to how life was in Ohio, the south has become what I call 'home'. From Indianapolis south, it seems like a different world.
An elderly gentleman tipped his green, ball cap which was emblazoned with the phrase ‘Hop Town Monsters ROCK!’ upon the front of it. "Good morning, Miss" as he held the door open for me to enter the large, brick Town Hall.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
He wasn’t as innocent as he seemed. A playful swat on my khaki shorts covered behind and a wink let me know the old man had plenty of spunk left in him. Figuring I’d make his day, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
“Have a good day.” I wiggled my fingers, waving as I walked away leaving the darling gentleman standing there with his mouth open.
“Ernest! Shut the door, you old fool! Do ya’ think we’re trying to air condition the whole town?” A woman, who I assumed worked in the clerk’s office, peeked her head out, scolding him.
“Whatever, Thelma. It’s hot enough to boil a tick off a bloodhound out there. Might help a little bit. So quit gettin’ yer girdle in a twist.”
Out of nowhere, an orthopedic shoe flew through the wide doorway, across the small lobby and promptly walloped Ernest upside the head with a resounding thud! I suppressed a giggle, watching in fascination as their banter continued. I had no idea if the two of them were single or not, but there was definitely an air of attraction between them when Thelma waddled they stood toe-to-toe, arguing.
I couldn’t help myself and before I knew it, “Are the two of you an item? It’s none of my business, of course. However, you’re never too old to have some fun.”
Thelma’s eyes grew big as saucers. Picking up her lonely shoe off of the floor, she spun on one nylon-clad toe and toddled back into the office she’d come from. Turning beet red and mumbling to himself, Ernest ducked his head and quickly vacated the building.
“Way to clear a room, Rosie.”
Taking a deep breath, I made my way through the building, searching for something that resembled a map or an office listing of some type. When I’d called last week, I had been told by one of the employees that the librarian-slash-historian of Hopkinsville would be there for a few short hours and as I glanced at the time according to my cell phone, the possibility of speaking with her was quickly dwindling. After I’d just stuck my nose into Thelma and Ernest’s business, I could only hope that Thelma wasn’t the person I was supposed to be getting information from.
Chalk it up to my being in a hurry, but I’d realized I had passed the only directory for Hopkinsville Town Hall five times. There, on one of the bright yellow walls, hung a lonely sheet of paper, listing the four people who worked there and where their offices were located.
“Two offices, four people. Why did I expect anything more than that?” I chuckled.
Turning around, I retreated back towards the direction of Thelma’s office, my flat sandals slapping the shiny, marble floors in a steady staccato as I braced myself for the impending groveling that I knew I’d have to do.
“Hello again, Thelma.”
She stood, approaching the front desk, a Formica-topped affair; I assumed wasn’t the only thing in town that had survived the supposed alien invasion of the fifties. From what I had seen, Hop Town might be hopping, but it was definitely to the beat of a long forgotten song from happier days.
Thelma’s narrow gaze latched onto mine with laser beam precision and I suddenly felt like I’d been transported back to grade school and was about to be reprimanded by my teacher, Mrs. Shepson. With her silver hair, well-weathered face and no non
sense attitude, Thelma could’ve been my fifth grade teacher’s long lost sister.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. I mean…please. I have an appointment with your local historian. I was told I could find her here.”
“And just who are you? You don’t look like a local.”
She stood on tiptoe, giving me another once-over. Pursing her lips, she cocked her head to the side letting me know she didn’t approve of my outfit. Apparently, short khaki shorts, a nice pair of sandals and a light as air, white cotton blouse wasn’t acceptable clothing in this town where time stood still.
“My name is Rosie Peaks. I’m an investigative journalist with the Ridge Top Review in DuFour, Indiana. I spoke to someone here last week about gathering information for my newspaper’s newest feature.”
“What kind of feature? What would be interesting enough to bring a girl like you to these parts?”
Thelma was being cautious, I expected that to be part of this expedition. Small towns didn’t take kindly to strangers poking about and Thelma was a prime example of the type of people I knew I’d encounter.
“I’m here to learn all I can about your monsters.” She stood there, her gaze now focused on her fingernails which were badly in need of a good manicure. Thelma slid one fingernail under the other, cleaning each individual nail while an uncomfortable silence hovered over us like thick smog.
“Imagine that. Do you know how many of your kind show up in your fancy clothes wantin’ information each day? City folks lookin’ to make a spectacle out of a serious event that happened almost sixty years ago and an annual event every year after that. Why do you people think we’re something to write about? Something to gawk at? We have feelings, you know.”
Wow. This was going to be a lot tougher than I thought. Time to do some name dropping in the hopes it would smooth her rough edges. First, however, I pulled out the big guns.
“Thelma, I must apologize. I know we probably got off on the wrong foot. I never should’ve stuck my nose into your business with, Ernest, was it? I’m so very sorry. Honestly, I found you both to be adorable and refreshingly entertaining. I know…”
Make Mine A Monster: Monsterotica: Book 2 Page 1
