pulitzer prize-luminary commended author
originally published as "true love oh baby true love" in
pulp metal magazine
weirdyear: the journal of experimental fiction
OF MONSTERS & MORNING WOOD
“Wake up,” said Lakhan’s mother harshly, knocking on her college-sophomore son’s closed bedroom door. It had been a full eight-hours since he began sleeping at 11 pm the night before. He had been visiting the family home for summer vacation and, as his mother noticed with fury, he was as lazy as ever. Lakhan yawned as he tried to slowly rise from his king-sized bed. It was a soft mattress, a lovely change from the tiny firm bed in his dorm room. However, this dream was so damn wonderful; he didn’t want to open his eyes.
It considered the beast of his fantasies. Lakhan knew he wasn’t supposed to fall for monsters anymore. Well, not since that embarrassing incident of 1987, at least. But here was, dreaming that dream as he woke up. And before his eyes shut again and he went back to sleep, he was pleased to discover that his cut cock was delightfully firm, rigid, thick, and long, the head gloriously greeting the day. HIs erection was, indeed, a work of art. Though his eyes were still shut, he could feel what was happening down south. He loved waking up to his morning wood. (Yet, he hadn’t had such an amazing AM hard-on in a while; this one could cut a brick wall in half. Perhaps it was the comfort of his home bed.)
The beast in his nocturnal fantasy was obviously male, and his bulge was delicious. He was lusciously dark, the result of deep-chocolatey South Indian genetics, with, of course, long hours toiling in the hot sun, Lakhan had always assumed. His face was as delectable as his build, with full lips and wide-set black eyes framed by thick charcoal eyebrows. His nine arms were muscular, sexier than the arms of any two-armed male. The horned tail was to die for. With his lengthy nose and prominent chin, both geometric in their sharpness, the beast’s face was as angled as Lakhan’s was round. Being fucked hard by the monster – without lube or spit no less! – was akin to Rosemary being impregnated by Lucifer, although he had no womb to shelter a fetal demon.
Lakhan’s intense desire for the scrumptious hellhound ended abruptly when his supernatural object of lust started choking him, his claws stabbing, his mouth drooling, growling, and roaring.
Lakhan’s mother was shocked to realize her boy wouldn’t open his eyes, nor would he, not now…not ever again.