Make Mine A Monster: Monsterotica: Book 2
Read Make Mine A Monster: Monsterotica: Book 2 Online
Authors: Madison Sevier
MAKE MINE A MONSTER
Monsterotica:
Book 2
Madison Sevier
Copyright@2014MadisonSevier
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people without written permission from the author. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction in whole or in part, without express written permission of the author, Madison Sevier.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Dedication
This latest installment of monsterotica is dedicated to everyone who has a sense of humor and enjoys escaping reality for a little while.
So many of us love romance. We love the bikers, the billionaires, the cowboys and those women who embrace adventure, grabbing life by the horns. But sometimes, it seems like every book is just the same old, same old. I wanted to show you a strong, female character who truly embraces life on the wild side. One who doesn’t need some big, strong man to come save her even if she gets herself into some crazy trouble. A woman who goes after what she wants. In this case, all she wants is hot, nasty, monster sex with any monster she can find.
Of course, I’ve thrown in a bit more than monster sex. After all, I’m hoping you’ll fall in love, or at the very least like, with Rosie Peaks. Amazingly, I’ve grown quite fond of this monster-chasing-nympho as she reveals more of herself to me. I never thought I’d be enjoying this as much as I am. But you know what they say…”Never say never.” Lesson learned.
Those of you who’ve checked out Banged In The Bayou already know the stories in this series aren’t meant to be taken seriously. You know that they’re meant to be funny and outrageous and I love the private emails, messages and reviews that all of you have left for me. You ROCK!
I’ve received such an incredible outpouring of support
from readers and authors who have truly embraced these short stories for what they are. Comic-relief and entertainment. If I could physically hug each of you, I truly would.
If you’re new to this genre or this series, I hope you have fun and get a good laugh out of it. If you’re not prepared to roll your eyes, giggle and possibly get turned on, I suggest you leave now. It’s not everyone’s shot of tequila. If you proceed, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The title alone should make it abundantly clear what this
book is about and anyone who takes this book seriously is quite possibly an idiot.
Either way…enjoy the small, crazy things in life. Now, let’s go see what Rosie is up to
this time.
XOXOXO,
Madison Sevier
MAKE MINE A MONSTER
Chapter One
After spending a restless week in the Gulf of Mexico, unable to enjoy a single moment of my vacation, I knew what I must do. Memories and thoughts of my experience with Nessiana while stranded in a backwoods Cajun community flooded my brain and I found the frivolous things I usually loved to be mundane. No longer could I sit quietly on a beach, surrounded by hunky lifeguards, cabana boys and men plying me with alcohol-infused drinks. Their ploys to seduce me led to a few dates but I found myself bored to tears. I knew none of these men were going to satisfy my needs. Not after Nessiana and his massive, double-pleasuring abilities. I'd gone monster and there was no going back.
How did this happen to me? I was, for the most part, a rational, level-headed woman. I told myself there was no way I'd been banged in the bayou by a swamp creature, I drank an insane amount of alcohol in the attempts to forget and even
though I was inebriated, I could still feel those velvety, strong arms wrapped around my middle as Nessiana satisfied me from behind. By trying to forget, I was driving myself crazy. The only way to salvage what little bit of sanity I'd had left, I knew I had to accept what had happened and move on.
I returned to DuFour, Indiana with one thing in mind. I'd tell the world my story. There would be plenty of people who wouldn't believe it, but I knew someone out
there might just find out they weren't alone. After all, there'd been countless accounts of the swamp creature in that Louisiana community and I knew with every fiber of my being that I wasn't the first to have been seduced by that sexy creature. My goal would be to find others like myself. People who had found themselves attracted to monsters and people who were brave enough to tell the world about their own experiences.
My first step was getting my story out there. In just one week of it being published, I received hundreds of emails from women and men across the country who had also seen not only Nessiana, but other monsters. Monsters that everyone wants us to believe could not possibly exist and creatures that are supposedly the products of overactive
imaginations. Normally, I'd have said those people were crazy. Now, I knew better and I intended to prove their stories were as true as mine was.
My boss, Melanie Wickey
, had a story of her own to tell. I sat patiently and listened to her describe, in very vivid details, her encounters with some creatures in Kentucky when she was a teenager.
"You're not alone, Rosie. However, I don't know how many people are going to tell you the truth and how many are going to con you."
"Melanie, I'm not worried about the people. I just want to find these monsters, creatures or whatever you want to call them. Nessiana changed me and you must admit that your experiences have changed you, too."
"Most certainly."
"I want to find them. All of them. I can't eat or sleep. My days are filled with the desire to be in the presence of these supposed legends. I
need
them to be real."
"Oh, they are.
" Rosie watched as her boss averted her eyes, shuffling papers across the top of her desk, obviously not pleased with Rosie's decision. "Okay. What do you want from me?"
"I'd
like you to label this an official assignment. I'll begin in Hopkinsville, Kentucky and find your creatures. Once I've complied enough evidence, I'll send you the story. Then, I'll pick another place from the many letters I've received and move on to the next."
"Rosie, I'm
not sure this is something you should be doing. You should be settling down with a nice guy, a real guy and not some filthy, uncontrollable monster you know nothing about. Do you have any idea how dangerous these things are? There's a reason they stay in hiding. Think about it. What would you say if I asked you to choose between a perfectly normal future with the man of your dreams and a lonesome, dangerous journey to find these creatures? To me, the choice would be obvious."
"I'd say
give me an adventure to find what my dreams are telling me to search for and what my body knows it needs. Melanie, we're all monsters in one way or another. Some people just hide it better than others."
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, I am. Dead serious. Look at all of the physically abusive, lying psychos in the world. How many men pretend to be loving, kind and honest? What do they do? They hurt people and they do it in very creative, disgusting ways. Women think a man's money can protect them from their twisted ways, that fancy toys make them better than other guys and that their ranches will make you feel safe. Not always the case and you know I'm right. It's mainly lipstick on a pig, that's all. I won't sit around waiting for Prince Charming to gallop in on his white steed or Sir Galahad to rumble into town on an iron horse. That's not me. I'm not some princess in an ivory tower. Keep your bikers, billionaires and cowboys. Make mine a monster."
Melanie looked her in the eye, "I can't believe I'm even considering letting you go. Do you know h
ave any idea how much trouble I could get into if the main office finds out?"
"I know self-
defense now. I've got guns, a crossbow and I'm trained to use knives as a last resort. I'll be fine. Honestly, I think you and I both know that I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."
And I didn't.
Chapter Two
Two weeks later, I was shopping and packing for my first adventure since meeting Nessiana
. Living about forty-five minutes from a major city has its benefits, but it also has its downfalls. For instance, how many women have you met that actually take red, satin sheets on a camping trip? I believe in being prepared and just because I planned on camping, didn't mean I had to be miserable. I was able to locate the run-of-the-mill camping gear close to home at the DuFour General Store—yes, we still have small, locally owned stores in the south and after countless trips to the more 'upscale' stores in Indianapolis, I was fully stocked with camping and glamping gear for the first leg of my trip. I was ready to roll.
Getting to Hopkinsville was going to be easy. I'd traded my old car in and bought a four-wheel-drive Chevy pickup. Being the sensible woman I am, I chose a bright color that could be spotted easily should something go wrong. My new baby was metallic red, complete with custom chrome accents and equipped with all of the bells and whistles—even a gun rack
and custom Bose sound system with XM radio. I'd put myself in deep debt with a large payment, but I held fast to the hope that my stories would sell and I'd be able to stay afloat.
Armed with everything I'd need for the trip, I left DuFour at six in the morning. Traffic was light, aside from the few farmers
and Amish buggies I'd passed on the outskirts of town. Once I hit 71-South, I merged into traffic on 264-South out of Louisville to 65- South and it was smooth sailing for quite a while. Passing through Shepherdsville and Elizabethtown was a breeze as I followed the route onto 62-West.
By the time I passed through Leitchfield, I'd been on the road for over three hours.
I'd packed a cooler and snacks, so there hadn't been any need to stop off at any of the welcome centers or rest areas along the way until then. After a quick bathroom break, I was back on the road.
Driving the rest of the way, I thought about the information I'd gathered before leaving. The town I was headed to was famous for the 'Little Green Men Festival' which was held once a year. In 1955 a local family claimed to have been harassed by, you guessed it, little green men and the entire event lasted all night. Some people believed most of the eleven witnesses, others said they were drunk or had gotten into some contaminated well water.
Were they goblins? Trolls? No one could really say for sure. The only information I'd found thus far had been what my boss Melanie had told me and the snippets I'd gathered from the many articles I'd found online. Everyone who was interviewed on that sultry August night, had a different version of events. One claimed they'd seen a UFO, another believed the invaders were creatures from Hell. Either way, I was going to find out everything I could about these supposed visitors.
I arrived in Hopkinsville to find the town lively at such an early hour
in the morning. People milling about in an almost frenzied state and there were noticeably few parking spots. At first glance, it resembled any other southern town with its flag-lined streets, flowers boxes and plant-filled pots perfectly plotted along the sidewalks lining Main Street. Upon closer inspection, I noticed many of the townspeople were in costume. Some were dressed as aliens and goblins in preparation for their ‘Little Strange Men Festival’. A large banner hung above the middle of Main Street announcing that the festival was set to begin that evening.
“Looks like I’ve arrived just in time.”
I pulled my truck into a parking space in front of the Town Hall. Gathering my purse, notebook and pen, I hopped out of the cool air-conditioned truck and into the heavy humidity that seemed to follow me all the way from DuFour.
Peop
le I'd never even met waved and smiled as though we'd been friends who spoke on a daily basis. That's just one of the things I loved about living in a small town. In comparison to how life was in Ohio, the south has become what I call 'home'. From Indianapolis south, it seems like a different world.
An
elderly gentleman tipped his green, ball cap which was emblazoned with the phrase ‘Hop Town Monsters ROCK!’ upon the front of it. "Good morning, Miss" as he held the door open for me to enter the large, brick Town Hall.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
He wasn’t as innocent as he seemed. A playful swat on my khaki shorts covered behind and a wink let me know the old man had plenty of spunk left in him. Figuring I’d make his day, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
