MIDIAN - GESTATION
This story is rated 3 stars (1 ratings).
The heartbeat echoes within the great void of liquid and mucus that surrounds my ever changing being. My eyes can barely see within the murk of this, so I blindly push against the fleshy orb that holds me. The membrane is thick and pulsates with a beat of its own; echoing... echoing...
Help me... Although it is warm in this womb, I fold my wings around me; there is little space despite the stretchiness of the membrane, but the feeling of them is comforting, as is the feeling of my clawed fingertips as they trace my skin.
I know I am beautiful, although I have not yet seen my face. It is the face of an angel I behold even in this blindness. My hands and my wings embrace the flesh; I am blessed with soft womanly curves and long hair –the colour as yet unknown. Yes, I am beautiful... I'm certain. An angel... but I do not feel like an angel... What am I?... Who am I?...
My appetite whetted for the taste of flesh already in my veins, loving pumped into me from the black, putrid umbilicus which holds me, nourishes me, and breathes for me within this womb. But now, the process is painful… I am near the end of gestation I am sure for the umbilicus is dying, it spasms painfully when it breathes and more violently when fed. It bleeds now, and has turned my sanctuary into a blinder hole than before. Pain envelopes me, and my only wish is to tear the ghastly thing, once a healthy colour and now black and rotting from the rest of my pristine being, but that would be foolish I know that even now; so I ache and extend my arms to push my fleshy prison from me, scratching it with my claws as I cry out, but even these talons are not strong enough to break through, not yet.
They are here again, I can see them; a silhouette passes through the mist of thick, pink murk, obscured by bloody veins running across the membrane. It stops and I feel those eyes again boring into me. They reach their hand out and touch the pulsating barrier, and I reach out my own to touch them back. Who is this person, who has come to me every day for as long as I can recall? Who whispers sweet things which I cannot understand, the words echoing, and reverberating, barely reaching me through this amniotic fluid, but I can hear them and I know they mean well with those words of which I don't know the meaning.
It begins. The womb contracts. The pain, it scorches and sears around me. The umbilicus throbs and pulsates in an ungodly manner. It hurts, oh God it hurts! I scream. The echoing heartbeats, both my own and the womb's race in their own rhythms; much too fast, much too strong. Is this how it should feel? Was this the end or the beginning? My death or my birth?
Writhing in white hot agony, I claw at the membrane. There is no time anymore, only this torment and anguish that envelopes me. There is something more though, a hatred running deeper than anything I've known, an animal instinct of which I was unaware I had till now; to tear myself free of this wretched prison, and to feed on those of mortal flesh and moral weakness. Tearing, screaming, clawing, the membrane bleeds, clouding my vision in a red mist. Release me… Release ME!!!
The umbilical cord convulses one final time and explodes before me, burning me with its acid like slime just as the flesh tore open against my struggle and I emerged, free, wild and hungry.
I lunged blindly at the being before me hearing the beating of their heart ringing in my ears and the scent of their flesh in my nostrils. Teeth first encountered the sweet nectar meat, followed by the claws which dug into their arms to pin them to the ground as I gorged myself upon their helpless body.
My agony ceased as I consumed them, as I drank the fresh blood which tasted oh so deliciously familiar, the same blood and flesh that had nurtured me within the womb, feeding my unrelenting appetite for mankind.
Whether they were male or female, I could no longer tell and it did not matter as my enormous bat like wings folded themselves in a protective canopy above us and my eyes burned red. The skin on their face peels so easily, the bones tear effortlessly from the corpse… but all too soon it is over. I feel no guilt, no remorse, for I know that they have performed their duty in keeping me safe and nurtured ready for this moment when I would emerge into a world grotesquely plump and gorged with original sin, ready for me to feast upon it.
Now I stand and for the first time look upon myself: I am a woman. I am beautiful. And I am hungry… Dripping with the mucus and amniotic fluid which I will lick from myself eventually; but right now, right now… There is a scent in the air and it hangs in my throat. The scent of man, the scent of sin, desire, and lust; it burns within me, and my insatiable hunger for flesh and all its sins returns once again.
I extend my wings, ready to use them for the first time, although I am only moments old. They will carry me, swift and silent upon the night and I shall feed, tonight and every night… and tonight, I come for you…
© Midian 2011