Date Night with the Grim Reaper

Just because He was death itself didn’t mean He didn’t deserve to be loved.

Welcome to the “Date With A Monster” series of erotic short stories where headboards go bump in the night. Check out the corresponding memes and playlists on my instagram, @literarypros, and subscribe to this substack to get these stories and more directly to your inbox!

Content Warnings: this is an erotic short story, including mentions of monstrous features, abilities, and appendages. All characters involved are enthusiastically consenting adults. This particular story includes stalking by the Grim Reaper, an attempted suicide (off-page) that the narrator is a bit flippant about, humanly impossible sex with a very large smoky appendage, and mentions of close family, coworker, and pet deaths (off-page), which the narrator views as “romantic” rather than upsetting. The narrative voice on this one is meant to be humorously delulu and is definitely not an accurate representation of any mental illnesses or trauma. If you feel like I really fucked that up or failed to include something important in this content warning, you can fill out this form to let me know.

The Ultra Rosa flavor of Monster could count as ambrosia, right? I stared at the instructions in my grimoire, then contemplated the pink can in my fist. That witch I met at a sex party last year said that spell ingredients weren’t always literal. Because, like, why would anyone rip out a poor little newt’s eyes, y’know? It would totally discriminate against vegan witches! So a spell that called for “ambrosia”, which Google said was the fruit of the gods that gave them immortality and power, could probably substitute in  Monster Energy Drink, right? Original recipe 4Loko would’ve been better, but Ultra Rosa was the second best option. Because no way an Ancient Greek mind could’ve conceived of a zero-sugar, uber-caffeinated pink lemonade the color of cotton candy. So, like, it was probably basically the same thing as ambrosia.

I poured my last can into the cauldron and crossed my fingers. And my toes. The grimoire I stole from that witch while she was experiencing anal for the first time and too busy to notice me snooping in her house said that the liquid would turn pitch black and bubble if it worked right. Did it mean sparkling bubbles or like boiling water bubbles? I guess I would find out. A real witch probably got trained on stuff like that, but I wasn’t a witch. I was just extremely determined and willing to ruin my best saucepan to see my boyfriend again. He totally couldn’t doubt my loyalty once He saw I used my favorite mac-n-cheese pot to summon Him. Hopefully He didn’t ask too many questions about how many dicks I sucked between the front door of that sex party and the secret lair in the basement to get to this grimoire. 

I adjusted my top, pulling it even lower on my chest so that He’d be too distracted by my tits to ask silly questions like that. Not that He’d ever asked me any questions before. But that was just because He was shy! And today I was going to change all of that. No more hovering ominously over my bed while EMT’s tried to resuscitate me. No more leaving dogs in my driveway so I could accidentally run them over just to have an excuse to drop by. It was time to DTR because I was DTF and it wasn’t the 1700s. He didn’t need to meet my parents and my aunt Brenda and my boss before we could do it! I mean sure, I get it, you date an immortal eldritch being and you have to expect some old-fashioned sensibilities. But enough was enough already! I wanted to find out what He was hiding under those shadowy black robes and show Him what I  under my black leather miniskirt. Again.

My nana always said a watched pot never boils, so I decided to check all of my wards and bindings one last time. He was not getting out of this room without Defining The Relationship. Or at least having, like, a single conversation with me. According to the grimoire, the Grim Reaper would be completely under my control once He was summoned inside the pink chalk lines I drew on my apartment floors. I was more of a submissive type myself but in my experience, when you’re dealing with a shy guy, sometimes you have to top from the bottom to give them a little confidence boost. I just hoped the cute little table and chairs I put inside the circle didn’t mess up the lines and let Him go without at least a little kissing action.

I checked that all the guests were still in their spots, fluffed up the black bow in my hair in the mirror, admired how my nipple rings with the little skulls on them stood out under my tiny pink top, and then went back to check on my ‘cauldron’. The concoction had turned as black and impenetrable as the hole in His hood where most people had a face, and as I watched, one giant bubble slowly rose from the top and then burst. I squealed and spun around, looking for my man. 

On every surface in the living room, my pink candles’ flames flared high. The cute pink crystal ball I had on a bookshelf turned pitch black. So did the thrifted white Fran Drescher-style fur coat where it hung on a coat rack, before decomposing until it collapsed to the floor in a pile of ash. The grimoire next to my now-bubbling saucepan started to seep something purplish blackish out of its pages like it was bleeding. Oops. I’d totally meant to return that!

I was frantically dabbing paper towels on it to try to stop the mess from spreading when I felt Him. It was just like that time I accidentally on purpose almost kind of temporarily killed myself. I’d been lying there, my chest hurting like you wouldn’t believe because the EMT’s were giving me CPR, and then…there He was. And I knew immediately who He was, too. Even if He hadn’t been wearing the cool shadowy robe with the hood and the menacing smoke. I’d known He was there to take me to wherever He took people like me. He’d hovered over me and it was love at first sight. For both of us, I was sure of it. I’d stared up at Him and He’d stared down at me and we’d just shared this incredible emotional, erotic connection. And then those assholes had whisked me out of there to a hospital before I could even tell Him my name!

And then there’d been the first dog. And He’d stood there looking down at it (breaking news: all dogs maybe do go to Heaven!), and then He’d looked at me. And I’d been so excited to see Him again that I hadn’t really been able to say anything except a lame “hi.” I was way more prepared by the third dog. Which, by the way, total tragedy that was so not my fault! I definitely usually sometimes used my rearview mirrors! And anyway why didn’t anyone ever keep their dogs on leashes or behind fences?! But by the third one, I knew what was up and I did what any reasonable woman would do when she was being stalked by a stupidly handsome guy who left her little dead dog presents like a cat providing for its humans: I spread my legs and flashed my waxed pussy at Him. 

Then He went and killed my mom and dad like the hero in a regency romance asking for the hand of the virginal debutant He just compromised. Which was like so romantic of Him, even if it was a little old fashioned and totally bummed me out for a little while.

When I turned around in my kitchen to look at Him, He was somehow even more handsome than I remembered. 8 feet tall, broad-shouldered, made entirely of smoke and darkness. I couldn’t see His face under His hood, but I felt His eyes on me. I posed for a moment to let Him take in how cute I looked for Him, and then launched myself into His arms. Or, well, not really His arms, because He clearly had some toxic masculinity stuff going on, but I did hug Him around His shadowy waist for a long, long moment even though He didn’t hug me back.

“I missed you,” I said, pressing my ear to His almost corporeal chest and reveling in the shrieks of terror and pain I heard coming faintly from inside Him. For a moment, I swore I heard Aunt Brenda scream as her car careened off a cliff. I never thought I’d get to hear her voice again. He was so good to me!

He didn’t respond but that made sense. Men had such a hard time with affection.

“Come, sit down,” I led Him over to one of the chairs by the table, which was way too small for His massive frame, but didn’t so much as squeak under His weight. 

That soul-penetrating gaze of His turned on our guests. Mr. and Mrs. Bear smiled at Him politely, Thomas my tattered bunny had big heart eyes for Him, showcasing his usual indomitable spirit, and even Pink the Eye, a cool scientifically-accurate stuffed eyeball I got at a museum exhibit about dead bodies, was only staring a little rudely over her teacup. Which was honestly progress for her, she’d always been kind of a bitch. But everyone at the table knew how long I’d been looking for love and even if they weren’t so sure about the Grim Reaper, I knew they wanted me to be happy.

I looked at my table setting through His eyes as I sat down across from Him. The pale pinky doily tablecloth and pink tiered cake tray were probably a little too girly for Him. But the teacups were black, and so were the little saucers they sat on. And really, if a cake tray was girly, did it matter when the tiny little cupcakes on it were from the best bakery in town? The longer He sat in silence, surveying it all, the more I wondered if it really did.

“I’ve, um, never planned a first date before, so I googled it. And they suggested having a picnic, and since an indoor picnic is basically just a tea party, I thought we could do this,” I babbled nervously.

He looked at me for a long moment. 

“Do you have a tea preference?” I asked nervously, fidgeting. “I have so many flavors. I picked this rose one because it pairs the best with the cupcakes but if you’re more of like an earl gray kind of guy, I can totally make some of that.”

He continued to stare at me.

“You’re not a very big talker, are you?” 

Silence.

I took a shaky breath and straightened my shoulders. He was totally staring at my tits now, I could tell. Even if I couldn’t see His eyes under His hood. “Well, that’s ok. Trust me, I can talk more than enough for the both of us. I’ll just,” I waved at the table, “do things as planned and you just let me know if you don’t like anything, ok?”

I didn’t wait for a response this time. I bustled around making my favorite tea in the cute black tea pot and surreptitiously threw the grimoire in the sink so its sludge would be contained. I was totally going to have to buy a new book for that witch. It was so cute, too, with its little pink crystal moons on the front! Such a shame. 

I poured everyone their tea, starting with the stuffies so He could admire my ass as I bent over, then His cup so He could look down my shirt. Then I settled in and started talking. Since He was the strong silent type and probably needed a little bit of help opening up. I told Him my name and what I did for work—though of course He knew, He even talked to my favorite boss George about me, the gentleman. I talked about how I summoned Him before He could ask too many questions about the “party” where I found the grimoire, and how nice everyone had been since my parents’ funeral. Thomas, Pink and the Bears didn’t say much, but that was ok. They were more there for chaperoning purposes, since He was such an old-fashioned guy.

It was one of the best dates I’d ever been on. He didn’t say much (well, anything), but He listened so attentively to everything I said. He didn’t drink His tea or eat any of the cupcakes, but that was probably my fault for not calling ahead. He probably already ate lunch. The longer I sat across from Him, the more I felt Him. The smoke around His black cloak lapped at my legs under the table like I was sitting by the ocean as the tide came in. He had this undeniable aura around Him, but it was the total opposite of every strong aura guy I’d ever gone out with. It sucked rather than pushed, as if wordlessly inviting me in. And boy, did I want in. I wanted to know His deepest insecurities, wanted to hold His hand while He did something difficult, wanted to be His cheerleader when He reached His goals. Maybe it was arrogant to think the Grim Reaper of all people needed a cheerleader or a hand to hold, but, well… didn’t everyone? Just because He was death itself didn’t mean He didn’t deserve to be loved. 

The sucking aura that was slowly killing and decomposing every plant in my apartment was also… doing things to me. Or maybe it was the way He listened. Whatever it was, the more His smoke caressed my bare thighs and His heavy gaze saw into my soul, the more turned on I felt. My hips under the table began to rock into His touch, trying to sneak Him a little higher under my skirt. My nipples were hard under my shirt and I knew He could see them. Could see the flush on my cheeks, the way my eyes were dilated, the way I was beginning to pant with longing. 

“Do you want dessert?” I finally asked, hoping He knew what I meant.

He didn’t, the sweet boy. I could tell He was confused even though He didn’t react.

“Do you mind if I have dessert?” I teased, rubbing my thighs together. 

He seemed to look at the half-devoured cupcakes on my plate this time, but I couldn’t be entirely sure. I was too flustered and excited now to care. “Everybody!” I looked at my other guests. “Time to go home.”

I picked up my stuffies and returned them to my bedroom.. The Bears were married after all! I did not want to have to do marriage counseling again with them after the last time they watched me with a boyfriend. Mr. Bear had been a little too into the action for Mrs. Bear’s liking. Besides, this was my first time with my most favorite boyfriend I’d ever had! We could get kinky with an audience another time.

“Ok,” I said in a rush, coming to stand in front of Him. 

I stared at Him, about eye level with me now, and tried to decide where I wanted to start. There were so many things I wanted to do with Him. He’d been circling around me for months, leaving me presents and talking to my family. I had worn out all of my vibrators multiple times imagining what I would do if He ever got up the courage to ask me out. Well, now, here we were, at the end of a very successful first date, and it seemed it was up to me to decide. 

It wasn’t a hard choice.

I sunk down on my knees between His spread thighs, maintaining eye contact. I think. It really was hard to tell. Maybe He had more than two eyes. But I understood that some things required trust, and trust had to be built over time. Maybe He was totally insecure about His two thousand horrible eyes. Or maybe He had acne. I’d show HIm that it didn’t matter. He was beautiful to me because I loved Him. He’d more than proven how strongly He felt for me by the way He had decimated all my closest familial and work connections. If you looked at it in a certain light, He was just making sure He would be as much the center of my universe as I had clearly become to Him. He didn’t trust that I could feel the same way on my own, but I’d prove that I totally did.

“You can leave whenever you want,” I told Him quietly, in case the wards in the apartment made Him uncomfortable. “And you can always say ‘no’. It won’t hurt my feelings. I just want to make you feel good.”

As I spoke, I slid my hands up His thick, half-corporeal legs. I loved the way He felt like smoke and water and skin all at once. One moment, I was touching thick, solid thighs encased in something wispy like steam, and the next His skin gave beneath my palms, evaporating into smoke. The way He took up space but also gave at the slightest push from me was like the perfect metaphor for our relationship until now: He killed someone just to see me, then disappeared the moment I tried to talk to Him. He wanted me, pursued me, but then was too self-conscious to follow-through. What if I didn’t like Him? What if I was just putting up with Him because the power imbalance between us was crazy? Now that our roles were reversed, I totally understood how daunting it must’ve been to try to connect to me. But if His killing my family had taught me anything, it was that life was too short to waste it being insecure and wishy-washy. 

He wondered if I could love Him back? I’d make sure He walked out of here knowing I did. 

I slid my hands up His thighs and tried to find His junk in the shadows of His robe. It was time to DTG. Define The Genitals. Would it be a cock or a pussy or something entirely different? Would it be at all human-like? Would there be more than one? Would it taste good? His robes didn’t seem to have edges that I could part open to see what He was rocking, but I could reach through them when they gave like mist around my fingers to touch what was underneath them.

It was a cock. A really, really big cock. 

Staring up into His hooded face, I tried to get a grip on the dimensions of it. It flowed through my hands, giving and solidifying just like His legs had. I couldn’t get fingers all the way around it, it was so thick, and I felt myself starting to slick my panties in anticipation. The more I touched, running my hand up and up, the more He seemed to slide out of my grip, like I could never find the tip. It reminded me of those wiggly tube toys I had as a kid, and I bit my lip so He wouldn’t think I was laughing at him. My boyfriend had the perfect fidget toy in His incorporeal pants.

That reminded me. 

“By the way,” I said, putting my other hand on His cock as well to help hold it in place and increase how much pleasure I could give Him. “I know it’s only been a couple of months, but I’d really like to make this official. I like labels.”

I licked my lips at the way He felt in my hands, so soft and slippery and tingly. It felt like little whisps of dry ice smoke were twining between my fingers the more I touched Him. The flowing darkness of His robes had encompassed my body kneeling between His knees, and I felt the same lapping ocean tide gliding between my thighs. I didn’t think it was intentional, because it always did that, but it sure felt nice and teasing against my damp panties.

“Can we be boyfriend-girlfriend?” I asked, shuffling forward so my chest was pressed to His thighs. To make it easier on my arms to jerk Him off, obviously. Not because it let me rub my tight nipples against Him for relief.

He didn’t respond, and I wondered if I was moving too fast. 

“It’s just that,” I shifted forward a little more, dragging my nipples over His cool, wispy robes, “My therapist told me it was really important to be respected before I went all the way with someone. That since I used to use sex for validation, I should wait until I’m in a committed relationship to do stuff like this again.”

The way His cock gave and solidified in my grip almost felt like a pulse. Like He was so hard for me He was throbbing. 

“I know you don’t want to take advantage of me,” I whispered, feeling saliva fill my mouth in anticipation. “So if you’re not ready to be my boyfriend, just say so and I’ll stop.”

He didn’t say anything. And He didn’t try to stop me. 

Love filled me up so much it felt like I had to be glowing with it. My first real grown-up boyfriend! If I was still in therapy, Dr. C would be so proud of me! 

I tried to maintain what I assumed was eye contact with the dark pit under His hood as I leaned forward to finally put His lovely, throbbing cock in my mouth. It tasted like water tasted–a sort of not-flavor that was still a flavor, so natural and essential to my being that I immediately recognized it even without ever having it on my tongue before. “I love you,” I mumbled as I slid more of Him into my mouth. The give and take of His matter made it easy to get past my lips that couldn’t quite open wide enough for Him, allowed Him to fill my mouth, caress my tongue, tease the back of my throat without inciting my gag reflex. It was probably too soon to say the L-word, but hopefully He didn’t hear it. Though He had to know, right? We were cosmically connected, I’d known it the moment I died, and I knew it now with how right it felt to suck His cock.

I used my hands on the parts I couldn’t fit down my throat, twisting and tugging on His sort-of-rigid, sort-of-smoky length while I bobbed my head. I was going to be the best head He’d ever gotten or I was going to die choking on Him and be able to spend eternity with Him. Drool slid out around my lips and I loved the way it felt on my palms mixing with His strange darkness. I pushed myself to the base of His cock and my face disappeared completely into His robes. Light and color twined in the darkness of Him, like pressing hard on my closed eyelids after staring directly at a bright light. They formed some sort of strange catacomb in my vision, pulling me deeper and deeper in. I felt hands reaching for me, heard the voices of my dead calling for me, beckoning me to them. 

I inhaled to speak to them, to tell them I was happy and in love and I would see them in just a few years, and sputtered out of my strange vision. I choked on the cock that I swallowed far past the point I should have, and pulling it out reminded me of when I’d woken up with a breathing tube down my throat. I coughed and stared up at my beloved new boyfriend as tears trailed down my cheeks. 

As I watched Him, He moved–for the first time in like forever–to look at the Hello Kitty clock I had on the bookshelf. 

Wow. I was over here nearly dying on His dick and He’s telling me to hurry it up?! I folded my arms, becoming aware of the sweat that had gathered under my clothes from the exertion. “I’m just trying to make you feel good,” I pouted. 

He stared at me for a long, long moment. The sweat turned cold all over my body as goosebumps broke out over my skin. The longer He stared and the more I sat with the little sting of His rejection, the more I started to doubt this whole day. Did He even want to be my boyfriend? Did He want to be here at all? For all I knew, I just interrupted Him in the middle of a really important business thing and He was just trying not to be rude about it. 

Or what if… what if the connection I felt was just what everyone felt when they died? What if death wasn’t some gateway to another plane of existence or some horrible final ending, but just existing forever inside whatever love you’d known in life? What if He was just love, and I’d mistaken that love we all found after death for a love meant just for me?

I thought back on that moment, when I’d been too distracted by the end of my life and the beginning of my death to feel the emotional pain that had made me sort of kind of accidentally on purpose kill myself. I thought about what I’d felt, looking into His hooded face and feeling something so much deeper and purer than I’d ever known before. How much I had wanted it. Him. Not because I didn’t want to continue living but because I wanted to feel that love forever. Was it totally crazy to think I could have it now without having to die again?

And did He even want to give it to me while I was still alive? Or did we only matter to him when we were dead?

“That day we met,” I said, sitting back  finally so I could give my knees a break. “Did it mean anything to you? Or does this feeling happen all the time?”

He stared at me, and suddenly His silence didn’t feel like a nice opportunity to finally feel heard and seen by someone who cared about me. It felt like waiting for a life-or-death judgment to be delivered. 

“All this time, I’ve been thinking, “He’s showing me He loves me in the only way He knows how.” But now I’m, like,” my voice cracked and tears that didn’t come from gagging started to prick my eyes. “Do you love me, or were you just trying to make me finish what I started before?”

He still didn’t respond. 

“Fine!” I got up and stormed over to the sink and ran a paper towel until the water. “For the fucking record, I was totally going to fuck you without even making you do foreplay. And I haven’t let that happen in, like, forever, because I have standards.”

I dropped to the floor by the part of the chalk runes that the grimoire had said would reopen the circle and began scrubbing at the thick pink lines. “But apparently not,” I ranted as I continued to scrub at the stupid, stubborn chalk with stupid, off-brand paper towels that were getting all pilled and gooey in my hand. “Guess I have the worst standards ever to fall in love with a guy who’s just trying to ruin my life.”

Finally, a clean line about as thick as my finger ran through the chalk circle. I sat up and threw my arms open. “There. You can go now! Goodbye!”

I stood up in a huff and stomped over to the trash can because I didn’t want to watch Him leave just like that. I was so stupid. I totally needed to call my therapist back after I finished crying about all of this. Because fuck if I was letting some asshole boy make me kill myself! A boy I’d have to see when I did and let Him get all gloaty about it! Stupid jerk. I couldn’t believe that I’d just ruined my good mac n cheese pot for Him. Maybe I’d become a for real witch now. Maybe I’d figure out how to be immortal so I could be the one that got away and I could get even hotter and cooler and better in bed. And He’d be all “oh, maybe I made a mistake fumbling such a cute, awesome, nice girl who wasn’t even mad at me about killing dogs.” And I’d be like, yeah, too bad! I’m hot and unkillable now!

I stared at the grimoire that had thankfully stopped oozing in the sink and knew I’d have to figure out how to clean it up if I was going to accomplish the cosmic glow up to end all glow ups. But first I needed to cry. For like, at least a week. I couldn’t believe on top of killing Mom, Dad, Aunt Brenda, and George, He was also dumping me. My life couldn’t get any worse. And those dogs! God, I was such an asshole. It really hadn’t been my fault! They came out of nowhere!

I turned around to go throw an epic temper tantrum with my stuffies in bed when I stopped short. The impossibly huge, shadowy figure of the Grim Reaper was still sitting in my ridiculously too-small chair. Some tiny little stupid baby part of me fluttered with a hope I was totally ignoring, while the rest of me stomped around to stand directly in front of Him and put my hands on my hips. 

“What?” I demanded. “Did I not open the circle enough? You’re going to need to nod or something. I’d hate to misunderstand the situation again.” I was using a snotty voice, but I didn’t even care. He was so mean to me!

He just looked at me. 

“What?!” I shrieked, throwing my arms out wide. “What do you want? Did I miss an incantation or something? Do I have to banish you?”

Nothing. 

What if He loves me too? stupid baby me whispered hopefully.

He extended a huge, long-fingered black hand to me, just like He had when I almost kind of maybe killed myself. Just like He had to each of the dogs. And to my mom in the hospital. And George in the middle of our shift. The hand offering that led dead people wherever they went after they died. 

Well, that was an answer wasn’t it? This had never been about loving me. He’d just wanted back the soul He lost because those EMTs were way too good at their jobs. All this suffering, for my family, my coworkers, and all those dogs’ families… all of it was just to fuck me up enough to attempt again.

“I’m not dying now, you jerkface,” I tried to sound stern but I was crying. I tucked my hands in my sweaty armpits for emphasis. “Get out of my apartment now, please.”

Instead of accepting my ‘no’, He reached forward and gripped my wrist with that firm yet formless hand. With a surprisingly gentle tug, He pulled my hand out and coaxed me closer. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay firm in my new hot immortal witch plan, but that love rushed back over me. It broke over me like the first collective watery laugh at a funeral, when someone’s eulogy reminds you of how wonderful the person you lost is. That you aren’t alone in your loss, either, but part of a collective that gathered together to be in love with them one last time. 

“That’s not fair,” I whispered, shuffling forward because how could I stay away from that feeling? Even if it wasn’t really for me but just what He was.

I waited for the moment that He pulled me from my living flesh and turned me towards whatever came next. But it didn’t seem to come. He just pulled me slowly forward until my knee bonked the chair between His spread thighs. I stared at my knee because it had suffered enough after being on the floor so long for Him. Not because I didn’t want to look at Him while all that love that wasn’t really mine washed over me. 

I tried to concentrate on my only kind of sore knee instead of the way that love made me start feeling all needy again just like all the other times. I squeezed my thighs together and squirmed, hoping that this time He didn’t notice how hard my nipples were. This was the worst. How was I supposed to stay mad at the guy that felt like love and sexiness incarnate?! He was totally manipulating me. 

Unless… 

I risked looking at Him again, but of course I still couldn’t see His face under that hood. What was He waiting for? The hand laced with mine didn’t move, but it did seem to throb in time with the pulse in my clit. 

“What’s going on?” I whispered.

That hand tugged hard enough to pull me off kilter, making me fall over Him. I tried to catch myself, but seemed to be sinking into His darkness like quicksand. I stuck my hand out to where the back of His chair should’ve been, but all I found was the swishy harden-and-give of Him–His shoulder, maybe. The knee I’d instinctively raised to land on the chair must have been on His thigh. I would’ve looked for something else to grip, something more solid and real, but my vision had gone completely black inside His broad chest. Light and color twined around me again, and I tried to fight it this time. I didn’t want to hear my parents’ laughter or my long-dead grandfather’s whistle. I didn’t want to like Him right now, to appreciate the gifts He was probably giving despite Himself. Love was just what He was, but I didn’t want to feel that right now. Not when I was so tingly and turned on and He was so mean and–and, um… hard?

It pressed against my belly, I could feel it through my skirt and my panties. Thick and throbbing and just as hard to quantify as it had been before. Was it reaching all the way up to my belly button? Or all the way up to my chin? I couldn’t tell, the way it shifted like moving a light around the room to watch the shadows change. It probably felt insane. In, like, a really good way. My pussy clenched so hard at the thought of taking something that thick and slippery and long that I felt my panties flood like I’d just squeezed a sponge. 

No. No! I was better than this and He was a jerk! I struggled and pushed until my head was out of that black fog inside His skin.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, hoping He couldn’t feel how wet I was where I was pressed all inside Him. On Him? The physics here were confusing.

His hand still holding mine slid behind my back, holding me to His chest as firmly as He was able to be firm about anything. His other hand slid up one of my legs—which I could see now were somehow straddling Him and kneeling on Him as if He were the chair—and then under my skirt. I squirmed in what was embarrassingly not a full-throated protest while He pulled the string of my thong tight against my asshole. The material began to loosen all over me at once. Not like He’d torn them but like they were disintegrating off my body. I looked at my poor deceased fur coat in a pile of ash on my floor and realized He must be doing the same thing to the cotton of my panties. 

“That’s so not cool, what if I liked this pair?!” I whined to try to hide how wet I was.

A sensation like amusement washed over me in a wave. I froze my ineffectual squirming. I was definitely not amused. First He’d broken my heart and then He’d ruined my underwear. I was not having a good time even if my stupid vag didn’t know any better. So where had that quiet humor come from?

“Was that you?” I whispered, looking up into His faceless black hood.

That love that made up what He was lapped at me, rushing up through to the top of my head before draining back out. It felt so nice. Being loved like that was all I ever wanted. And He was mocking me with it. Taunting me with all the love I’d been stupid enough to think was mine.

“Stop it,” I squeaked, trying not to let more than a couple of tears slide out. 

Something soft and vulnerable and regretful filled me then. It almost felt like…

“Are you apologizing right now?” 

His head dipped down to mine and my forehead met…something, under that hood. Maybe His forehead? It was even less corporeal than the rest of Him, but thankfully it didn’t suck me in and distract me. Another wave of emotion that I realized beat in time with the flowing darkness of His robes subsumed me in love before receding. 

“Are these your feelings?” I whispered. 

Another wave of love that felt like my mom kissing my booboos when I was a kid.

“Your feelings for me?” I asked hopefully despite how afraid I was that this was just a trick, another misunderstanding.

The next wave was a tsunami. Wonder, amusement, fascination, love. And behind it, a deep, all-encompassing loneliness and a feeling of never fitting in. OMG. I’d been totally right. He was just really really shy. And wow, was He horny. 

“Can you feel me too?” I asked, untangling my fingers from His behind my back so I could reach into His inky depths for that constantly changing cock. 

Regret and longing lapped at me, but not increased arousal or pleasure. Ok. Handies (and maybe blowjobs), not His thing. Got it. 

“That’s ok,” I told Him quietly, shifting up on my knees so I could try my best to get Him inside me. “I don’t mind telling you.”

Finally, His cock got to a length I could reach and I did my best to sit on it as quickly as possible before it got too big again. A roar of pleasure rolled over me as I snuggled deeper and deeper inside His barely corporeal form. 

“That’s—ok, so… wow,” I babbled. I gripped His side for what support I could find as I tried to rise up His weird, wonderful length.

It sorta reminded me of getting fucked with a slightly too big butt plug in my ass. Like, I had to pay 20% more attention to keeping it inside than I really wanted to. But when I clenched down… wow. Just like it had filled all the space inside my mouth in a way that didn’t entirely make physical sense, it also seemed to be filling every crevice of my pussy. Almost more like I’d always imagined tentacles in that cartoon porn would feel, all wiggly inside me. Only it also-

“Woooow,” I groaned as His cock invaded places cocks were definitely not supposed to go. Like my chest cavity. 

It didn’t hurt, the way He compressed and gave at the slightest resistance within my body. I didn’t even realize I had nerve endings inside some of these places, but I could feel His little wisps lapping against my kidneys before receding back to a more reasonable size where He was, y’know, only pushing sweetly against the back of my cervix. 

“That’s just… I’ve never…” 

Concern lapped at my senses, reminding me that I promised to talk. 

“I’m ok,” I reassured Him. “You’re just like-”

I threw my head back and moaned as His cock surged back into my guts. More concern and curiosity hit me.

“God, you’re so deep,” I managed, trying to reassign some of the brain space that was going to clenching this thing inside me back to things like talking and moving. 

Experimentally, I lifted my ass and slid slowly back down. I felt my organs jostling around Him, and His barely corporeal nature ceding whatever ground my body couldn’t give Him. It was the most intimate, visceral experience I’d ever had. I pressed my forehead to His because it seemed to be basically the only part of Him I couldn’t fall through and slid my hands over His broad shoulders for leverage. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” I promised Him, hoping I could actually follow through. “I wanna be the best you’ve ever had. Because this is like—“

I started to bounce and moaned at the way His smoke seemed to cling to my walls and other parts, making for the best internal massage. 

“The most amazing feeling ever,” I gasped. I learned how to move with the rhythmic ebb and flow of His throbbing cock, concentrating on tightening my pussy as I lifted up and releasing as I slid back down so that He didn’t slip and smoke His way out from inside me. 

“It’s so intense. You’re like—wow. It’s just… You’re inside my body, did you know that?” I pulled back so I could look into His formless, dark face. So He could see what He did to me. “I’ve had people inside me but never like this. No one’s ever fucked me like this before. I can feel you everywhere.”

As if to teach me what “everywhere” really meant, His cock surged all the way up inside my ribs. I felt them expand around Him like I’d taken a really deep breath in yoga. I looked down and moaned. “Look. You’re so big, you feel so good.”

He tipped His hooded head down to see the outline of His cock bulging through my skin, a thick cylinder in my belly. One of His hands swept over my skirt and top, decaying them to ash and melted plastic fibers on the floor so He could see all of me fucking into His inky lap. I couldn’t see where my pussy was stretched to her poor little limit around Him because I was basically submerged into His smoky robes, but that was ok. I would probably like lose the last of my marbles seeing what He was doing to me, and I felt way too good to let something like permanent disfigurement of my girly parts get in the way. 

I wrapped my arms around His large hooded head and encouraged Him to sink into my cleavage while I rode Him for all I was worth. “Love you so much. Love you. So good. I’m—it’s so good. I can’t even breathe, you're so deep in me. Look at what you do to me. You’re so perfect. Do you feel good, baby?”

A slight brush of His pleasure snapped through me, bringing me right to the edge when it had seemed too overwhelming to ever get off just seconds ago. Which was so hot. He was like the perfect little subby girl’s dream. All I wanted was to be loved and make my perfect dream Dom get off by using me. To be His perfect little sex toy. And now here I’d found a guy that loved me so much it was as unfathomable as His cock throbbing behind the muscles of my heart, and His pleasure alone could make me cum like I was made just for Him? I was the luckiest girl alive or dead. 

“Wanna make you cum,” I panted, fucking Him for all I was worth. “Wanna feel you fill me all the way up. Will you cum for me? Please?”

Those big, death-bringing hands slid under my ass, forming a seat beneath me. Then suddenly all I had to focus on was clenching down on that impossible length because He was now lifting me up and down His cock like I was just a tiny toy. Just His perfect little human fleshlight. I wrapped one arm even tighter around His black hood, pressing Him into my chest until my nipples dragged against whatever that formless darkness underneath was, and slid the other between my legs to play with my needy clit.

“You feel so perfect,” I babbled into His maybe-ear as I swirled my fingers around in little circles. “No one’s ever fucked me this perfect before. Am I making you feel good? I wanna be perfect for you too.”

As He used me like a fleshlight on His beautiful, throbbing cock, He unleashed all the pleasure He’d been hiding from me. I felt myself from the inside, felt how warm and wet and complicated I was. The many strange curves and ridges of my organs, the mind-altering tightness of my cunt that wasn’t made to take the Grim Reaper’s cock but was being so good for Him anyway. In the starbursts of color and sensation He shared with me in time with the slick tap of my ass meeting His thick thighs, I felt His obsession forming for my body, when He’d thought Himself beyond such needs. I squirmed into and away from my fingers touching my clit as I listened in on His many new plans for my body, for how He would punish me for being so tight and willing, would worship me if I would only cum for Him.

The realization that He wouldn’t be satisfied until I orgasmed, that He loved me so deeply that He would fuck me until I was like a broken, lifeless shell before He came first, set me off. My body locked up tight as an orgasm so intense it immediately edged with pain overloaded me. I shook against my fingers, chanting “love you… love you… love…” as He continued to use me mercilessly. His obsession was totally overwhelming, like a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass on my body, burning a hole through my orgasm until I wasn’t a person anymore. Wasn’t even a collection of sensations and synapses. I was a mindless, whining animal shivering pathetically around the cock surging up and up and up, throbbing urgently, ready to-

With a groan that echoed with the pleasure of billions of souls, the Grim Reaper came in my mouth. From the inside. Wispy bits of darkness spilled out of my lips, dripping down my chin to splatter against my breasts. His pleasure set off my own again, and I came with a shriek, writhing against His suddenly incorporeal chest. I sunk into the strange, chilly embrace of His being, breathing in black smoke as spiderwebs of color replaced the white light of my orgasm in my vision. Above the quiet cacophony of my dead, voices somehow familiar even though I’d never heard them before, He said my name with a final moan that shook the walls of my apartment.

Slowly, the fun orgasm chemicals fizzled out of my brain, giving my noodle arms the strength to pull me back out of Him. I’d always wanted to be able to curl inside my boyfriend’s chest cavity after sex. His cock had like evaporated or whatever inside me, but that was probably good because now my tummy felt all weird. Big, sexy black hands helped me stand upright while He did the same. He was so tall. I was so lucky!

“I guess you have to go now, right?” I asked sheepishly. “Souls to collect or whatever.”

He brushed a gentle finger over my cheek and a totally blissed out affection lapped at me in time with His flowy robes. Wow, I fucked Him good. I hoped no one judged Him for walking side to side while He escorted them to the Other Side. That was totally happening again and I did not want Him all embarrassed about it.

“When can I see you again?” I asked hopefully. 

After a long moment of contemplation, He tilted His head to look up at my ceiling. The hood didn’t fall back, unfortunately. But that was ok. It was a new relationship. He didn’t have to like open all the way up all at once. I looked at my ceiling trying to figure out what He was looking at. OMG, was He talking to God?? Did they share a calendar or something? The uneven shuffle-thump of my upstairs neighbor Mrs. Dey moving around came from above us. Mrs. Dey, who was, like, so old and kinda sick. Was He saying He’d come back when she kicked the bucket? 

He lowered His head and even though I couldn’t see His face or anything, I could totally tell that’s what He meant. I bit my lip hopefully. She could die, like, tomorrow! Not that I wanted her to or anything but, I mean… she was really old. 

“Promise?” 

His hood dipped solemnly. 

I squealed and threw my arms around Him. He hugged me back this time. I couldn’t believe I had a boyfriend! I was so lucky. I listened to the screaming in His chest one last time and declared happily, “It’s a date!”