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Their touch is unfelt, their presence is unseen, their caress pierces the soul. Humans are terrified of them. I welcome them. I welcome their unfelt and unseen presence. I welcome their caress. I have no soul to pierce. I am dead inside without them. Frozen. Human touch is felt. Human presence is seen. Human caress is bereft. I need them. I welcome them. I call to them. I call to them silently. They hear no sound. Yet they come. It takes a long time, and yet they come. They always come and caress me, trying to pierce the soul I do not have. They make me feel alive again. They reach to where my heart is supposed to be and find nothing. It confuses them. It always confuses them. They are used to seeing fear, and terror and panic, they feed on it, they grow stronger, squeeze the racing heart more, more panic, more terror, more fear, and on and on it goes, until the human heart gives out and stops. I have no heart. They try and try to scare me, but I have no heart. And no soul. They reach and reach and push and I start feeling again. Just a bit at first, where my heart used to be. It warms me up for a time. It tingles. And it confuses them. They think they can find my soul and grasp it. So they push. And push. And I feel more alive. I feel the tingly feeling spreading through me as they get angrier. They think they feed on me, pushing more and more of themselves inside me. They push, and I feel. As the tingles spread, my essence starts pulsating. And they think it is my heart. They think it is my soul. But it is not. The pulsations get stronger, get faster. And so they push more, piercing more. Making me feel again. Making me feel the fear, the excitement, if only for an instant. Desperate for a reaction, they pour more of themselves into me. I feel them inside, filling me. We pulsate together, tingling and convulsing. Faster and faster. Like a real human heart. Like a soul in terror. Only I have no heart. And I have no soul. I can still pulsate though, but only with borrowed energy. Their energy. They think they are consuming me. I am pulsating. I remember how it was to be human. How it was to live. How it was to love. To love someone. To be one with someone. To climax together. Again and again. And so we do. I live. I live. I live. And then they are spent. They vanish. Not retreat, vanish. I tingle for a moment longer. One last twitch. Emptiness again. They feed on humans, I consume their essence. So, in a way, I feed on humans, too. That thought would tear my soul apart, if I had a soul. I do not. I rest. Until I call them again. They will come. They will feed. And they will lose their essence to me. There is no escape. Not for humans. Not for them. Not for me.

Masturbation Monday


    • Master

      Thank you! I have been planning to read more Ian Banks, stopped ages ago after reading Consider Phlebas, but his influence seems to be growing, not diminishing, so worth another try!

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