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"If you don't have the money then there are other ways to pay pretty lady."
The girl unconsciously recoiled from the drug dealer's offer. The man's ingratiating smile did nothing to disguise his indiscriminate lust. She knew she was far from pretty. She looked like she stank and she did. Her hair was a tangled mess given body and volume only by the filth caked into it. Her rail thin body's modesty had been protected by the same clothes for over a month now: tattered jeans and t-shirt with a worn hoodie turned inside out so the university logo wouldn't taunt her. No, the drug dealer didn't desire her because he found her fair. He was just looking for a warm wet hole to fuck. Or maybe 'violate' would be a better term. The pusher practically exuded an unwholesome atmosphere. Her recalcitrance was probably a turn on for him.
"N-no... that's OK... I'm good..."
The girl hated her quiet, faltering voice. The drug dealer's smug look gave it all away. Even if he couldn't see the obvious withdrawal symptoms her indecision was clear. He knew she'd be back. She needed it. Maybe then she'd give herself up to him. Or she'd pay him. Either way he got something he wanted. She hung her head and fled from the drug den, cursing the certainty of her return.
Her campsite (really just a tarp, some ratty blankets, and a handful of personal effects) was very difficult to get to. Maybe impossible for someone with a larger frame. A few unwanted advances when she first started living on the streets had impressed upon her the importance of staying away from strangers. She shuddered, recalling the drug dealer and all of the other times men had sought to force or cajole her into submitting to their appetites. Some of those had been close calls. More than once the small, ugly knife she kept hidden in the small of her back had been the only thing which had saved her. So she was more than willing to put up with a few contortions to get through some rubble or the occasional scratch from the brambles. By her accounting it was a fair trade for not having to worry so much about being woken up by a strange man trying to put his dick in her.
Besides, her hideaway in the park had its benefits. It was a in a nice shady spot which stayed fairly cool even on hot days. She liked to listen to the birds. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees never failed to calm her even if it could never replace the numbing, forgetful bliss of the drugs. Best of all was the view. Granted, most people wouldn't have thought much of it. Her hidden campsite was nestled above a tall retaining wall overlooking a parking lot and some kind of business. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing landscape artists studied. She hadn't thought much of it herself at first. But it was a special view because it was where she'd seen Him.
She had no idea who he was. She didn't even know what the business was. It could have been anything from an office to a rocketship factory for all she knew. Whatever he did there he came in at the same time every day. He'd park his sensible little car, work a full day, then go back to his car and leave. She never saw him arrive or leave with anyone else. She saw him socialize with the other workers a little bit, but it didn't seem to be anything beyond the bland pleasantries one owed a co-worker. He never left with one of the rowdy Friday groups clearly headed out to a restaurant or bar. Once in a while he'd come in and work a few hours on the weekend.
That was the sum total of what she actually knew about him. Given such limited information she had no idea why she was so drawn to him. But she made a point of trying to be at her campsite when he'd be in the parking lot just so she could catch a glimpse of him. Maybe it was the fantasies that kept her intrigued. She had convinced herself that he was lonely. And what did a lonely man need? A wife. It was that thought she clung to as she watched him and dared to dream that maybe she could be that wife.
Even now she despondently hugged her knees and indulged in the fantasy. He was somewhere in the building so all she had to work with was his car. But that was enough. It was possible, maybe even likely that he had a wife and kids at home. But what married man would own a compact hatchback? A very sensible choice for a single man though. She bet he was very sensible. She imagined that his home was similarly sensible. Nothing too extravagant or beyond his means. Probably not quite a true home though. Men tended to have a hard time with stuff like that. It was probably at least a little bit messy. Or maybe it was perfectly clean and organized but sterile. Just a place to keep his stuff and sleep. She wondered if maybe he'd like it if he had someone to clean up, maybe decorate a little. Not too much. No crazy making the place not his anymore. Just enough to let him know she cared, to make the place feel homey. If nothing else maybe he'd like coming home to someone happy to see him?
If he did, she wondered how he would want to be greeted. She knew the naive answer was to greet him in something sexy. But she also knew that could be the wrong way to go. Her Mom had explained to her that sometimes men needed some time to decompress privately after work. Some women took it the wrong way and thought it meant their man didn't like them, but her Mom had explained that it just meant that he was trying to keep work and home separate. Some men needed to keep a bright psychological line between the work they had to do and the family they loved, especially if their job was really hard on them. Too rapid a transition could stress them out. She remembered telling her Mom that seemed selfish but her Mom told her it was just a matter of understanding the person you loved and trying to make things easier for them. After all, if they loved you too they'd do the same for you wouldn't they? Her Mom had been really smart that way. The girl was afraid that she'd nev- but it didn't matter anymore did it? She could never go back home could she? She'd abandoned them and now-
She attempted to refocus her thoughts. It wasn't easy. Especially with the withdrawal symptoms. She tried to visualize what it would be like taking care of him. Maybe it was a little greedy, but would he like her to wear different outfits? Since he was so sensible he'd probably be fine with housedresses and stuff like that. That was OK. Whatever he was happy with. It would be nice to wear clean clothes, sleep in a clean bed, eat with clean hands... Like most kids she hadn't enjoyed cleaning very much but given her recent life experiences she'd definitely seen the light. She felt like she'd probably enjoy cleaning now. She deliberately avoided thinking about what else she'd do while he was at work. She knew the answer was 'crave drugs'. She knew she was completely worthless. That she would be better off dead. That she should be dead. That sh-
The pain was getting worse. It was getting harder and harder to lose herself in happy dreams of the non chemically enhanced variety. She sucked in her breath and hugged her knees a little tighter. Maybe he'd leave early today and she'd get to see him now? She wondered what it would be like when he got home. He was so sensible it would surely be routine. But a comforting routine. Some basic chores. Dinner. Some light entertainment. Would he want to cuddle while they watched TV or something? That might be nice. You could probably even cuddle a man while he played a video games or read a book now that she thought about it. Then bed. That was a little scary to her. She'd never been with a man, and her experiences related to the act thus far had been pretty horrifying. The men who'd pursued her had been intimidating figures scheming to use her as nothing more than an instrument to complete their basest urges. They had wanted to penetrate her with their stinking, throbbing organs over and over again until they pulsed and flooded her most vulnerable place with gross fluids. But surely it was different with someone you loved? Her parents had- no, don't think about that. She wondered what it would be like when he wanted to be with her. She couldn't imagine him forcing himself on her or tricking her. He was lonely, so she bet he was shy too. Maybe she'd have to offer it if he was too timid to ask?
That could work. She imagined going to bed and cuddling in the dark. It was easier to imagine it if she didn't have to think about him looking at her. At the grimy skin, the matted hair, the- no, no, don't think about that. Maybe he would bashfully try getting a little closer to her? She wouldn't resist. It was probably really, really nice doing it with someone you loved. Maybe she'd lie on her stomach and 'accidentally' expose herself a little. She used to masturbate that way. Back when she had a bed. He'd cover her with his body and tentatively try to enter her. Maybe it wouldn't go in easily and he'd wonder if she really wanted it until he felt her fingers just barely touch him, guiding him in. She'd try to stay demurely silent but between the sensations and him hugging her and telling her he loved her she'd be unable to stop herself from letting out cute little sounds that he really liked. He'd be super gentle and considerate because he was kind and compassionate and loved her even though her fantasy basically involved lying there like a lump and expecting him to do all the work just like she expected him to make all the money and provide for her because she was completely worthless and she was fucking delusional if she thought a normal guy with his fucking life together would get within a hundred yards of a fucked up junkie like her and-
It was too much. She needed another hit. She didn't need a mirror to know that she was pale and shaking. Intellectually, she knew what her body needed was sleep, food, and literally anything but the drugs which were killing her. But she couldn't bring herself to be inside her own skull right now. Maybe things could be different later, but right now she needed a hit. Just one last hit to help her not hate herself so much. She shakily got to her feet and began the arduous process of sneaking from her hidden camp to the greater park. She needed to do a lot of begging very quickly if she wanted to pay for that hit instead of letting her horrible drug dealer hurt her.
After a few hours of nearly fruitless panhandling she barely had enough for a cheap meal, let alone a hit. The shakes and sweating were bad enough, but she couldn't think anything other than bad thoughts. She just wanted some respite from the bad thoughts! Was that too much to ask?! She needed a whale, and fast. She wandered aimlessly through the nearly empty park looking for someone, anyone, who she could ask for money. She almost cried when she saw her opportunity. A unicorn mother with two little unicorn girls in tow. Everyone knew that unicorns were super nice! The monster would basically have to give her some money. The girl shambled towards the group with as much purpose as she could muster.
"h-hey... c-could you spare some change...? I.. uh.. I lost my wallet and need to hire a cab to get back home..."
The girl's heart fell when she saw the naked fear on the little unicorn childrens' faces. They instinctively gripped their mother's hands tight and pressed up against her side. The girl hadn't realized how bad she must look. She'd probably just queered the whole deal, but she was running out of time. She managed to raise her voice a little and even managed to project a tiny bit of authority as she stepped closer to the unicorn.
"Come on Lady. I'm desperate. Please, give me something. I nee-"
"LEAVE MY MOMMY AND SISTERS ALONE!"
The girl had a moment to marvel at the fact that whoever shouted was approaching fast enough to produce a perceptible Doppler effect. Then she saw the source of the interjection: a very angry looking reptilian monstergirl. Frightening enough on its own, but the lizard was literally on fire. The girl's eyes widened in absolute terror. She managed a single, primal scream of untrammeled panic before collapsing, curling into a ball, and going catatonic.
When the girl finally regained her senses she felt better than she had in a long time. She could no longer feel her vast collection of neglected small cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Her head was clearer than she could remember it being. Even the withdrawal symptoms were gone. She experienced a moment of ignorant hope. Had things gotten better somehow? Maybe it had all been a long, horrible nightmare. Maybe she was going to wake up in her bed back home.... But then she opened her eyes and saw the unicorn. She knew exactly where she was and how she got there. And she had a pretty good idea how much trouble she was in. She curled up into a ball again and held out one frail arm in a futile attempt to ward off any attack as she started whimpering 'I'm sorry' over and over again.
She heard the unicorn sigh deeply, "It's alright. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you. I sent the scary fire monster and the little ones away with their father for now. It's just you and me here. Will you let me help you?"
The girl risked a peek. She was struck by how upset and concerned the unicorn looked.
"I used my magic to heal your wounds and purge the toxins from your system. I was even able to slightly ameliorate the physiological dependence you've built up. Unfortunately, I can't make you stop wanting that stuff. That's ultimately up to you." the unicorn's worried eyes reminded the girl of her mother, "But you don't have to do it alone. There are people who can help you. I can take you to them. Will you let me help you? Please?"
The girl stared at the unicorn's offered hand. To her amazement she realized that the offer was sincere. The unicorn genuinely wanted to to help a total stranger who'd aggressively tried to get her to give them money. The unicorn had already used her magic to heal the girl without even being asked. The girl knew that if she accepted this offer the unicorn would do everything in her power to help her. She'd been given a way out. All she had to do was take the unicorn's hand.
Of course, she wouldn't be able to do drugs anymore.
She'd have to live in this world sober.
She'd have to live.
The girl fled with tears running down her cheeks. The unicorn let her go, watching with a sad expression.
She cried herself to sleep when she got back to her campsite. She knew she'd just thrown away what was probably her last, best chance. But she just couldn't do it. In the end, all the unicorn was offering was to reset the clock. Just like she could feel her withdrawal symptoms slowly coming back she knew that if she ever managed to get clean all of the reasons she retreated into narcotic fantasies would still exist. The girl felt like there was no way out. The despair was overwhelming and she thought about killing herself more seriously than she had in a long time. Her slumber was light and troubled, filled with visions of her happy childhood home transforming into a flaming hellscape.
Then, for the second time in a few hours, she awoke uncertain of where she was. Anxiety bestirred her when she heard the chanting. She crept to the edge of the retaining wall to see what was going on. A large crowd carrying signs was marching through the parking lot beneath her. She had no idea who these people were, why they were so angry, or what the building had to do with any of it. She hadn't exactly been following the news very closely lately. She honestly didn't even know who was in charge of the country anymore. Whatever the cause, the chaos playing out beneath her seemed like something best avoided. But her heart caught in her throat when she saw that his car was still in the parking lot. Was he safe? Would He be OK?! She frantically scanned the scene for any clue as to what had happened to him.
Her fears were temporarily allayed when it seemed like most of the crowd was content to shout slogans and indulge in petty vandalism. Maybe everything would be relatively OK? But then she noticed the contingent of black clad figures approaching the building. They moved with an organization and intent missing in the rest of the mob. The girl stood up to get a better look when they started throwing rocks while others prepared Molotov cocktails. That was when she saw him. He was with a small group of other workers who exited the building brandishing improvised weapons trying to see off the black clad assailants. At first it worked. The rock throwers backed off. But then they started throwing rocks at the workers.
The girl had clambered down the retaining wall before she consciously realized what she was doing. Soon she was wending her way through the crowd to do she didn't know what. She broke into a run when she saw a rock hit him in the temple. The run became a sprint when she saw him go down with blood trickling down his face. At that point she had a vague idea of trying to drag him to safety. But when one of the black clad figures lit a Molotov cocktail something in her mind snapped.
It was strange. Her body was moving on its own without any input from her brain. That was probably for the best since most of her mind was busy being overwhelmed by the thought of him being burned, by fear of the fire, images of him burning up just like last time, nonononononononono. The tiny fragment of herself still capable of something resembling reason watched with clinical detachment as her body ripped her knife from its hiding place and started wildly stabbing and slashing at the black clad figures while screaming like a banshee. There was panic and confusion as all sides retreated from the berserk homeless woman flailing around with a knife. The rational part of herself sighed with relief as she noticed one of the workers take advantage of the lull to grab him and start dragging him away from the fracas.
That was when one of the black clad figures caught her square in the ribs with a wood axe. Her body coughed up a gout of blood and sank to the ground with a fading screech. The rational part of her knew that her poor, abused body could never recover from a blow like that. As the panicking and animal parts of her faded away the rational part took satisfaction from the knowledge that she'd finally done something right. She'd managed to help him, at least a little bit. She could die happy if she knew he was safe. She was so glad they'd killed her instead of him...
Of course, the fight wasn't actually over. With 'random crazy homeless lady' down the two sides started to square off again. The rational part of her saw this and despaired. She hadn't achieved anything at all! He was still in danger! She tried to rouse the other intellectual parts of herself but they were already gone. The animal was practically gone too, as intrinsically linked to the body as it was. The last remaining part of her wept. It wailed. It raged. It wasn't fair! She had to save him! If sheer will and desire could have moved her then she would have leapt up with the strength of a thousand men. But she didn't live in a shonen anime. A fiery spirit or will to fight on was no match for the rude physical reality of the injuries she'd suffered. The girl died convinced that she'd failed as utterly and completely as possible.
The man knew that the crazy bitch was down for keeps. That's why he paid no further attention to the bloody corpse after retrieving his axe and waiting for his buddies to form up with him and continue their assault. He kept his eyes on the workers opposite him, occasionally darting forward and withdrawing to try to keep them off balance. He knew he just needed to buy enough time for someone to throw a Molotov and this fight would be over. So great was his focus that he didn't even notice the screams or warning shouts from his comrades. As a result it was a total surprise when he felt the pain in his arm.
The tableau was right out of a horror movie. The fighter goggling in shock at the bloody corpse sinking its teeth into his unprotected forearm. The sickening tearing sound as he broke free at the cost of a chunk of his flesh. The creature mindlessly moving its jaws, letting the meat fall free, as it lifted its arms and staggered toward its prey. The man retreating only to have his own companions push him away in fear of what they thought he was about to become. At this point a shrewder warrior might have noticed that the ambulatory corpse never strayed far from one of the downed workers, instead positioning itself in between him and the nearest potential attacker. Someone more familiar with monsters would have recognized the absurdity of their fear. But panic had already sunk its claws deep into the minds of the black clad fighters. When someone yelled 'Keep away from him! It's a zombie bite! He's going to turn!' they transformed from a cohesive group into a pack of individuals fighting for themselves. Most of them scattered immediately with the rest following once they saw that they were going to be left behind. The rest of the mob, largely oblivious to the fight by the building, continued chanting slogans and wrecking cars in the parking lot but the threat to the lives of the workers in the building had been decisively ended.
Her task finally complete, the corpse of the girl knelt at the feet of the man and moaned sadly. She became increasingly agitated until a worker who hadn't gotten his knowledge about zombies from pre-Portal movies knelt beside her and started treating the injured man's wounds. From then on the zombie sat peacefully, awkwardly patting the unconscious man and making sad little moans until the riot police finally arrived and cleared a path for an ambulance.
"I'm required to ask you one last time: Are you absolutely sure? This is a lifetime commitment."
"Yes. They explained everything to me in the hospital. Not just that, but she probably saved my life." the man looked sheepish, "And, I know this might sound weird, but I feel strangely drawn to her."
The gray haired doctor's severe expression lightened, "No. That's actually quite understandable. Monstergirls have a certain way about them. If she picked you, then you're compatible."
The man looked at his feet, "I've never really, you know..."
"Don't worry." the doctor laughed, "She turned using nothing more than residual unicorn magic, a slight affinity for mana, and an overwhelming desire to help you. I'm pretty sure she likes you too. Now, are you ready to meet her without a one-way mirror separating you?"
"I-I guess..."
"Great. Take this." the doctor offered the man a soft yet resilient toy made to look like a hamburger, "They tend to be a little mouthy when they first turn. The chew toy is a good diversion for them. Also helps to reinforce the idea that biting is for food, not husband."
The man nervously squeezed the toy as he followed the doctor through the door marked 'NECROMANCY WARD ROOM B3-05'.
"And how is our patient doing, Honey?" the doctor smiled broadly as he swept into the room and gave a lich in a labcoat a peck on the cheek.
"Subject RQ-705 has passed all tests with satisfactory results. Her previous poor physical condition has carried over to an extent but is ultimately of no more concern than her fatal injury. Both will be repaired if her husband provides her with sufficient spirit energy. My primary fear was that she'd been contaminated from biting that ne'er-do-well but all screenings are clear."
"So she's doing pretty good for being dead, eh?" the doctor's teasing was met with a deadpan look from the lich.
The man ignored the couple's flirting as he anxiously looked over the zombie girl who'd saved him. She'd been patched up and given a thorough cleaning. She was now clad in a simple white dress and long sleeved overshirt. Likewise, her previously filthy and tangled hair had been washed, combed, and left free to be styled as she or or husband saw fit. That hair now shrouded her face as she sat on an examination table and shyly peeked through her locks at the man, not sure if she was allowed to approach. Noticing the impasse, the doctor smiled and gestured for the man to proceed.
"Um, hi... I, um, I guess this is for you..." the man stammered as he held up the hamburger chew toy.
Interested in anything the man had to offer, the zombie girl shambled forward and tentatively bit into the fake burger. Sensing that this was what she was supposed to do, her eyes lit up and she started to chew. The toy made a faint wheezing squeak each time it was compressed. A few awkward minutes passed with the man uncertain what else to do and the zombie girl chewing away happily, delighted to do something the man wanted.
Finally, the lich broke in. A barely detectable note of exasperation crept into her normal monotone, "She's going to be your wife. You're allowed to hug her. Girls like that."
"Oh, um, right..." the man slowly tried to hug the zombie girl but was so indecisive that the zombie actually managed to be faster than him. She grabbed one of the extended arms and hugged it tight, rubbing her face into his shoulder while still chewing on the toy.
The doctor guffawed at the sight, "You two are adorable! But as you can see, she's pretty simple right now. You're going to have to watch her closely until she absorbs enough of your spirit energy to start getting her memory and intellect back."
"That's fine. I have workman's comp for the head injury and everyone either has paid leave or is working from home anyway until the current unpleasantness if over. But is this really all right? Doesn't she have any family who might object to me taking their daughter?"
"Subject RQ-705's entire family died in a house fire while she was away at college. Her life has been in a downward spiral ever since. In retrospect it seems obvious that the tragedy inflicted severe psychological damage upon her from which she was never able to recover."
"Oh my God! Will she really be OK?"
"She needs your love. Spiritual, emotional, and physical."
The man blushed at that, "It seems wrong to um... do... 'that'... with her when she's so, um, like you said, 'simple'."
"She's a monstergirl, son. If you make her wait too long before giving it up then she's going to take it. Besides, she was watching you for a quite while from that little campsite the police found. I'd bet my beard that she spent a lot of time thinking about exactly how she wanted your dick."
There was another awkward silence as the man stared at his feet and blushed. The doctor cleared his throat, "Well, if there are no other questions I'll have one of our necromancers take you home and help you get your place set up for your new bride."
The use of the word 'bride' made the man's cheeks redden even more. He tentatively reached out and stroked his wife's hair, "Are you ready to go home?"
The zombie girl haven't recovered enough of herself yet to understand what was happening to her. So she just hugged her husband's arm a little tighter and nommed on her chew toy a little faster as her sweet little heart threatened to burst with happiness.
And somewhere, sufficiently far beyond the veil separating the living and the dead that even necromancers had no sure knowledge of that place, several spirits who until now had been watching events on the material world with increasing distress finally knew a measure of peace.