The Wild Beast by Melanie Browne

Tracy placed two frosted Mugs of beer in the Freezer. She was expecting her boyfriend at any minute.

She glanced in the mirror and touched up her make-up.  He called at around ten o’clock to tell her he wasn’t feeling well and needed to cancel.

Tracy was tired anyway, so she chalked it up to bad timing.

She reached into the freezer to pull out the mugs but to her surprise they were no longer sitting there on top of her Lean Cuisine dinners. “That’s odd,” she said out loud. She looked in the refrigerator. They weren’t there either. Now she was starting to get really spooked. They weren’t on the counter. They weren’t even in the dishwasher.  She felt uneasy but decided to let her fears go because she was tired and had a busy day tomorrow cooking for out-of-town guests. She walked into her bedroom and unbuttoned her blouse, pulling a comfy t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms out of the top drawer of her chest.

When she turned to walk into the bathroom to remove her contacts, she saw the one of the mugs, still frosted and filled to the brim with Guinness sitting on her end table. Tracy then realized that someone was talking a shower! She looked in her closet for her shotgun and loaded a shell into it and walked slowly into the bathroom. She could see a shadow on the wall, but when she got closer she saw that the shadow looked…odd. She could see that he was naked, that’s for sure.

The shape had long fingernails and what looked like fangs but it could have been in need of dental work. He was clearly a wild beast. They were a nuisance because they liked to sneak into kitchens and lick any plates that  might be left sitting on dinner tables. They loved cake batter left overnight in mixing bowls.

Tracy admired the Wild Beast’s physique. She found her cell phone and called her best friend Lindsey.

“Lindsey, “ Tracy whispered.

“Tracy, is that you? “ Lindsey said  sleepily .

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Lindsey added.

“Lindsey, there’s one of those wild beasts in my shower. “

She heard Lindsey suck in her breath.

“Stay calm.” Lindsey said. “Where is right now?”

“He’s in my shower.” Tracy said  in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What are you going to do?” Lindsey asked.

“I’m not sure.” Tracy whispered.

“Call the police; do you have a gun or a knife?” Lindsey added.

“I have a shot-gun.”  Tracy squealed.

“Well use it dammit,” Lindsey screamed in the phone.

Tracy hung up the phone and picked up the shotgun and walked back into the bathroom. The Beast was lathering himself with soap. Actually it looked like he was using her shower gel. Come to think of it, he was using her shampoo and twenty dollar conditioner as well. He was also humming a song by the Clash. This was a strange beast. It would be better to put him out of his misery.

Tracy held up the shotgun and aimed at what she thought was the beast’s head. The beast seemed to be rinsing the conditioner from his hairy scalp. She was having second thoughts. I mean really, she thought, what has this beast done besides borrow a little of her shampoo, body wash, and expensive conditioner? What has he done besides use up all her hot water? Stop it, She thought to herself, stop feeling sorry for the Beast. She aimed at his leg. She pulled the trigger. The blast tore through the shower curtain and into the beast leg and he fell into the tub, bleeding. He started to scream. Lindsey ran over to the beast and started to scream, “I’m sorry!” I didn’t mean to do it!” “I had to! You came into my house uninvited and drank my Guinness and used my expensive conditioner.” He looked up at her with his beastly eyes.

“Aidez-moi,” he screamed.

The Beast seemed to be speaking to her in a foreign tongue. She didn’t understand a word of it, but it seemed rather sexy.

“I’m sorry, I can’t speak Beast,” Tracy whispered.

“Je parle Français,” the beast screamed. “I speak French, dimwit!” he added.

“Oh,” Tracy said, looking confused. “There’s no need to call me a dimwit, you came into my house uninvited remember?”

“I’m sorry,” The beast  squeaked. “Can you just help me get out out of this bathtub?”

“Certainly, Tracy said,”I didn’t know Beasts could speak French.”

“French ones do,” he said sarcastically.

She helped the beast out of the bathtub and then helped him limp into the guestroom.

He was bleeding all over the new guest room bedspread.

She brought a washcloth and wiped some of the blood away from the wound. She noticed the Beast was becoming aroused. The muscles in his beastly body quivered. The beast suddenly pulled her on to the bed beside him and brought his beastly head to her chest. He pulled up her shirt revealing her pink nipples.

“I can’t, “ Tracy said, “I have a boyfriend.”

The beast said nothing. He continued to nuzzle her breasts and placed her hand on his aroused cock.

The beast pulled up Tracy’s skirt and pulled her panties down. He got on top of her and put himself inside her and begin to move slowly at first and then faster and faster and her head was swimming in fear and desire both. As he thrust himself inside her one last time he began to moan and he collapsed on top of her in one giant sweaty heap.

They made love two more times that night. The Beast begged her to talk dirty to him. He asked her to call him a “dirty Beast” and she begged him to growl swear words in his ferocious French tongue.

The lovemaking seemed to make the Beast forget about the brutal pain in his leg. In the early morning hours however, the pain came back with a vengeance, and he asked Tracy to take him to the hospital.

 *

She drove the Beast to the local Catholic hospital and they brought a wheelchair out to her SUV and the beast limped into it and they wheeled him away. She parked the car in the emergency lot and walked to the front desk and told them her name and that she had brought in a Wild Beast for a leg wound. She couldn’t tell them his name because she had never asked. She waited out in the Lobby and watched an intervention show on one of the large screen TV’s. She smiled and absentmindedly stroked her own thigh.

She wondered how long it might be before he could have visitors.

*

ERBACCE PRESS / WEBSITE

8 thoughts on “The Wild Beast by Melanie Browne”

  1. how i enjoyed that.

    the humour is fanstastic, really unexpected and laugh out loud.

    if you think about it, of course a french beast is sexier than a non-french one.

    nice work.

    1. Hi Melanie.
      Like Nigel, I laughed out loud in so many places in this one. Loved the way you underplayed the introduction of the beasty bloke. Brilliant. And that’s the beauty of this piece, you’ve written it so well, with such control and such humour, I never questioned at any point that the mc finding a wolfman in her shower, him speaking French, her shooting him, then making love to him, then taking him to the hospital wondering when the visiting hours are was anything other than just another day.

      Fantastic stuff, Melanie. Looking forward to reading more of your work.

      All the best,

      Ian

  2. The really good stuff of fantasy is the author’s ability to create in the reader a sense of, “well of course he speaks French. Don’t they all?” I think anyone who loves James Thurber’s “The Unicorn In The Garden” will adore this story. In fact, I think Thurber himself would have risen to his feet after reading it and yelled BRAVO! And then, MORE!
    Thank you for the wondrous, whimsical journey you just sent me on.
    AJ

  3. I enjoyed this story, especially the dialogue. Have you ever written a script for a play or film? I bet it would be good. By the way, what song was it by the Clash? My guess is “The Guns of Brixton.”

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