I should be ashamed.

I am ashamed.

…but that doesn't stop me. I doubt it ever will.

It's sick. It's twisted and all I can do is thirst for more. There are benefits to being small. I use to loathe my stature (or lack thereof) but now I see it as the leverage and joy it truly is as it affords me the ability to indulge whole-heartedly in my latest passion. I am sure if I am ever found out, it will surely be my last moment in this world. I have no doubt that I will be punished, killed then sent straight into the waiting clutches of the bowels of hell where I undoubtedly belong.

They trust me without question and the fact that I betray that trust sickens me to a point but still… I cannot stop myself. Even when I try to stay away, try to be so far from them that when the opportune time presents itself I will be too far to make it to my unknowing victims. Alas, my subconscious need for this sinful gratification has me making my way to them. The moment I realize they are near, I fight with myself and name all of the reasons I should not do this. No matter how numerous the reasons I come up with, I still trudge toward the warm, pliant landscapes of my dark desires.

Once I can smell them, the daydreaming begins. Lust filled thoughts of what I am about to do overwhelm me as do visions and memories of the last time I gave into this wretched need. I can hear the delightful little sounds they have made and will make due to my presence. I can feel the heat of their bodies as I embark on my dark and maddening journey. Moreover, the fact that they are none the wiser makes it all the more delicious.

Once they are in sight the blood, rushing through my veins goes into overdrive. The pounding in my head from the rush rises to a fevered pitch as I see them gathered around the fire taking shelter from the elements as well as the evils of the night in mountainside cave. Even with my scent masked to the best of my menial abilities one may still sense my presence but I know she will say nothing if she does know I am about. She does not see me as a threat so to her there is no cause for alarm. She won't even bat an eyelash at my arrival, I have tested this theory before and know it to be true.

I get close enough to hear their conversation and decide to do a little eavesdropping beforehand. Considering what I am about to do could one even call this an indiscretion? Probably not. The conversation is quiet because the loudest member of the group sits against the back wall of the cave sulking as the others try to cheer him up. He will have none of that on this night and chooses to keep to himself. I watch as the shadows play across his features and think…tonight he shall again be last…as he always is. Oh, the Master would be truly furious with me if he knew what I was contemplating. Sometimes I am surprised he has not returned from the grave to stop me from continuing these depraved activities. I would deserve everything he did to me if this were to ever come to pass.

I move my hungry eyes back to the others and plot my nocturnal activities as the firelight dances across each of their features. They are all a sight to behold to these old eyes and I can't pry them away even though I should. They are too pure, driven and trusting for the likes of me…some friend and ally, I am. You would think I wouldn't be able to bring myself to do such things since I am aware of the fact that others are already taking advantage of them and using them for their own purposes.

I should be ashamed.

I am ashamed…but I am also fixated.

I can no more stop what I am doing than the sun can stop rising in the East and setting in the West. My mouth waters in anticipation as I see them prepare for bed. This means all of the time I have spent waiting…wanting…dreaming…and lusting is about to pay off. I know it will only be the briefest of times spent waiting before my demon sense alert me to the fact that they are all deep in sleep…oblivious to my movements in their slumber.

Each time I finish I try to convince myself that this will be the last time…and each new moon I find myself back in their company impatiently waiting for my opportunity to strike.

This is wrong.

I am wrong.

…but I am helpless when I am wrapped in the throes of my ardor. I am a wanton slave to my libido. The Masters son will surely bring this (as well as my existence) to a gruesome end if I am ever found out…I can never be found out.

I am relieved to see that young Sango is wearing her Kimono this night. That Slayer suit of hers is most difficult to get in…and out of. Miroku's robes pose no problem. They are slack and prove to be little in the way of a barrier for me. I was happy, but not surprised, to find that our favorite monk wears no fundoshi. Young Kagome's attire is, by far the easiest to enter. As the priestess is all but bare to begin with, the you lord is the one I really worry about, even though it is the moonless evening and his senses are not what they usually are I know he is very restless on this night and tries his best not to sleep. He fails miserably at this task once his comrades fall into slumber. Even in his human form, he is more aware than even the slayer. Yes, I must tread carefully.

I shall enter their clothing and wiggle, writhe, touch and taste their most private of places until my heart's content. Before I leave, I shall bite them thereby taking one more thing from them before I depart. This way when the young master wakes he will think I came by simply to feast and be on my way…he will be none the wiser.

Yes, this is an awful twisted addiction of mine.

I know this.

…but I can live with my shame.