Changing In the Dark
A rather sneaky Vincent by: Bee
Heather was changing, both inside and out. Hatred fed the demonic God in her womb, and the simple pleasures of being a woman fed her desire for something of the norm. Clothing for instance.
She'd only just met the strange, quirky fellow Vincent, and the meeting had left her rather shaken. After insulting both her mother and father, the weird man claimed to be on her side. Something was a little odd about him though he seemed friendly enough. His connections with Claudia, no matter how distant, made Heather instantly weary of him.
"Please, don't lump me in with her!" He'd pleaded, but even still Heather viewed him as possibly threatening. After all, there was something "wrong" with him.
Heather really didn't want to think about the chance meeting now, even though Vincent was rather dashing, and she certainly didn't want to think about the monsters, or the God, or the blood and the pain anymore. She had new clothes.
Buying the new clothing from the mall before it had turned haywire made her feel better, and now seemed as good a time as any to try some new outfits on. She assumed that she might not have the chance to later. So after killing the hellhound in the center area, Heather slipped into a darkened, unoccupied room.
She clicked off her flashlight then ever so slowly, she began to button down her vest. Once she'd stripped down to the thin cotton white panties and cute push-up bra, Heather wandered from outfit to outfit, trying to decide which to wear. Little did she know that she was not alone.
He pushed up his round spectacles and stared fixedly through the slightly tinged glass in the doorway. How perfectly naïve, the girl was changing her clothes in the middle of a nightmare, and she thought something was wrong with him? As much as he tried, Vincent knew that he would never understand the workings of the female mind.
He did, however, understand how his body reacted to the late teen. She stood there, prancing about in her undies without a care in the world. She's teasing me! He thought, smiling to himself. With those long white legs and not yet developed, knobby, childish knees. He loved the innocent trim of her girlish ankles, and the satisfying curve of her blossoming breast, the slight tilt of her hips, and the sweet slope of her collarbone into the shallow dip. What he adored most though, was the engaging swell of her belly where God slumbered.
She fumbled clumsily into rather tight jeans, and Vincent willed her to stop. When she pulled a short sleeveless black top on, he couldn't make out the wording, though he imagined it to be something cocky. It was so like his Alessa, so like his Cheryl.
He slipped away as she bent to tend to her sneakers. Hurrying before she renewed her flashlight and caught him like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar. "Perhaps later..." He wished. "Perhaps sometime later my Dear, Holy, Mother of my God."
A rather sneaky Vincent by: Bee
Heather was changing, both inside and out. Hatred fed the demonic God in her womb, and the simple pleasures of being a woman fed her desire for something of the norm. Clothing for instance.
She'd only just met the strange, quirky fellow Vincent, and the meeting had left her rather shaken. After insulting both her mother and father, the weird man claimed to be on her side. Something was a little odd about him though he seemed friendly enough. His connections with Claudia, no matter how distant, made Heather instantly weary of him.
"Please, don't lump me in with her!" He'd pleaded, but even still Heather viewed him as possibly threatening. After all, there was something "wrong" with him.
Heather really didn't want to think about the chance meeting now, even though Vincent was rather dashing, and she certainly didn't want to think about the monsters, or the God, or the blood and the pain anymore. She had new clothes.
Buying the new clothing from the mall before it had turned haywire made her feel better, and now seemed as good a time as any to try some new outfits on. She assumed that she might not have the chance to later. So after killing the hellhound in the center area, Heather slipped into a darkened, unoccupied room.
She clicked off her flashlight then ever so slowly, she began to button down her vest. Once she'd stripped down to the thin cotton white panties and cute push-up bra, Heather wandered from outfit to outfit, trying to decide which to wear. Little did she know that she was not alone.
He pushed up his round spectacles and stared fixedly through the slightly tinged glass in the doorway. How perfectly naïve, the girl was changing her clothes in the middle of a nightmare, and she thought something was wrong with him? As much as he tried, Vincent knew that he would never understand the workings of the female mind.
He did, however, understand how his body reacted to the late teen. She stood there, prancing about in her undies without a care in the world. She's teasing me! He thought, smiling to himself. With those long white legs and not yet developed, knobby, childish knees. He loved the innocent trim of her girlish ankles, and the satisfying curve of her blossoming breast, the slight tilt of her hips, and the sweet slope of her collarbone into the shallow dip. What he adored most though, was the engaging swell of her belly where God slumbered.
She fumbled clumsily into rather tight jeans, and Vincent willed her to stop. When she pulled a short sleeveless black top on, he couldn't make out the wording, though he imagined it to be something cocky. It was so like his Alessa, so like his Cheryl.
He slipped away as she bent to tend to her sneakers. Hurrying before she renewed her flashlight and caught him like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar. "Perhaps later..." He wished. "Perhaps sometime later my Dear, Holy, Mother of my God."