Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Puzzle Vault
   by Nysidra
   This is a story containing explicit sexual descriptions.
   Occult Fantasy (MF, demon, oral, disability)
   Summary: Disabled and impotent by his accident, Zach has few pleasures
in life, until he finds a mysterious vault on his brother's land.
   <->
   The yard work was hard and slow, but it was work.  Zach had free reign
to complete it at his own pace.  The smell and feel of the outdoors was a
step up from the hospitals and countless physical therapy sessions.
   Almost a year ago the cruel winds of fate snatched him down from his
wonderful life and put him here: as a lowly groundskeeper on his brother's
newly acquired land.  He was a character in someone else's story: broken,
recluse, ignored, tolerated.
   Zach's body was the only thing broken, maybe if the accident had left
him a little dumber, he wouldn't know how sad his life had become.
   Each day he cleared a little more land while carrying the dead weight of
his leg.  It worked well enough for holding his weight, but he lost any
kind of grace or balance.  It was a stick under his hip.
   His younger brother Mitch walked up and snapped his fingers.
   Zach worked his way to the pile.  His injury did not allow him to turn
on a dime.  Once he set the load down he would see what his brother wanted.
   "Zach," Mitch clapped his hands together, then whistled.  "Hey, bro."
   Zach put the logs away and hobbled until he could turn.  "I ...  I ...
I..."
   "Yeah.  I'm going to be gone for a week.  I stocked your kitchen.  If
you need anything, raise Jeremy on the sat-phone.  Otherwise, do the man a
favor and write a letter.  I told him to come out every couple days if he
can.  Take it easy." Mitch didn't even look at him.  He was back to dealing
with the contraption in his hands.
   ***
   On first morning after Mitch's departure, Zach took the day off.  He
decided to walk the grounds, explore the land without having to
systematically destroy the wilds.  It was a slow trek, a bit like physical
therapy, so he was used to the pain.  It felt good to push himself, but he
kept it easy.  If he hurt himself out here, there wasn't anyone to help him
back on his feet.
   Cold, distant, and dickish as Mitch acted, he was there while Zach was
in the hospital.  Mitch visited at least once a week after the surgery.  He
kept it touch with his doctors and nurses, handled his case.  When Zach
lost his job, his house, and his girlfriend: Mitch was there.
   Zach leaned against a tree to catch his breath.  The pristine land
didn't deserve to be turned into a lawn.  All it needed was a good brush
clearing, a bit of structure.  He could shape it into something more
natural, less destructive than sod and flower beds.
   The shape of the thicket caught his eye.  He wasn't sure why, maybe the
heavy patch of vines and limbs.  Either way, instead of heading back home,
he hobbled and shuffled his way over to the tangle of leaves and branches.
He pushed a few aside and found the wood slats of what looked like a door
locked tight by several thick iron locks.
   That's all he had time for.  By the time he got back to the guest house,
the sun had set.  He spent the evening getting a pack together to explore
the locked door.
   The next day, he went straight there with his food, water, and a handful
of tools.  As soon as he cleared the brush, he appraised the tangle of
heavy iron chains.  It was a massive tangle, but the wood might give.  He
reached in and pulled one of the slats.  It groaned, but that wasn't going
to help.  There were bars the chains looped through between the slats.
   Day after day, Zach returned to the door.  The locks were just there to
provide confusion.  In truth the whole thing was a puzzle, cutting and
unlocking the wrong place would have made it more difficult than it needed
to be.
   His body had been worked enough, finally he had something to occupy his
mind.  He went back to the house tired and woke each morning with a new
idea.  No matter the bolts, bars, chains, locks, and slats: the door was a
massive puzzle that he was slowly figuring out.  Each time he freed a plank
of wood, unscrewed a bolt, unlatched a sheet of metal, or slipped a chain
free of the maze, Zach had a solid affirmation that his mind was the only
thing that had survived the accident intact.
   Too bad he couldn't prove that to anyone else.
   The vault door puzzle became his hobby, fixing up the grounds, his job.
That's how Zach divided his time.  Physical labor and patience and
persistence.  After he returned, Mitch barely commented on his absence from
the main house, probably appreciated it.
   As spring became summer, Zach slept less, lost whole hours.  He lacked
the energy to get back to the house and carried a sleeping bag out to the
vault.  He already worked his way through the first two doors, giving him a
small alcove to spend the night in.
   He often dreamed of being physically able - running, swimming, driving,
hiking - all the things he used to enjoy.  Out of all of them, he still
hadn't gotten to the top three activities he missed most of all.
   This dream had to be number four.  A great massage, not for therapy,
rehabilitation, or repair, but a good old sensual, relaxing act of oil on
skin.
   "You need to rest, regain your strength," his masseuse's soft hands
circled his shoulders.
   "I am."
   "You don't have to rush."
   Zach woke with a fever, but he pushed himself up, nursed the water in
his canteen and stared at the next stage of the puzzle.  His arms trembled
and jerked more than usual.  Muscles in his bad leg jumped and cramped,
felt like ants were eating his muscles.
   No one was going to come out here looking for him.  Like the dream lady
said, he needed to rest.  Zach worked his way back to the guest house and
into the living room.
   Mitch managed to show up some time that evening.
   Rather than admit he was sick, Zach played disinterested and busy with
the puzzle on the floor.
   Mitch ran his mouth, telling him what needed to be done, stocked the
cabinets.  "Make sure you get a shower some time this week," he said on his
way out the door.
   Zach might as well have been invisible, and for once, that was more a
blessing than a curse.  If Mitch had known had how bad he looked and felt,
he might have sent him to the hospital.
   Zach spent a few days in bed before he was strong enough to get back
out. A couple days after that until he was caught up enough with his
responsibilities to get back to the metal sliding latches.
   Then, as if his past failures were not enough torment, he was taunted by
the final piece that would transform the slide puzzle into a movable door.
He wondered about the nature of the vault, its purpose, the creator of such
an anti-brute-force lock, and the location.  His younger brother had
crooned about getting the land at such a steal.  The previous owner
defaulted on tax payments and loans.  The property had been seized and lost
after several legal cases.  The debtors finally sold it off at auction.
   It was just the kind of place Mitch wanted, a big house and bigger
expanse of land to impress his in-laws.
   He slid the final latch and the whole wall shifted.
   Zach made a happy little grunts of triumph as he pushed the door aside.
He put aside thoughts of what the doors hid and began to wonder about the
next puzzle he'd need to solve.
   Stale air smelling of mold and dirt, cool and damp, flowed from the dark
space beyond the opening.  Dust and dirt eddied at his feet.
   He pulled the flashlight from his pack but hesitated.
   No more puzzles.  He was through.  Finally.
   He stepped inside and there was only darkness, deep, cavernous night.
   Zach had mentally prepared himself for several possibilities as he
finally flicked on the light.  Human remains, gold bars, dead animals, dirt
and rock, mass graves, a stairwell.  He blinked several times, stared,
gawked.  He couldn't say anything, his throat worked in a silent freak out.
Was it some trick of light?
   He refused to point the beam directly on the creature for fear of
startling it.  Walking backwards was not one of his skills, but he
preferred to stumble and fall on his ass rather than turn his back to the
cavern.  Using the stone wall as a support, he edged up the ramp, back onto
dirt, out of the vault.
   ***
   Back at the house, Mitch carried in a second load of groceries.  "How
have you been, old boy?"
   No sense in answering that question.  Another would follow soon after.
   "You throwing a cook out I don't know about?" He laughed while stuffing
the freezer full of the steaks Zach requested.
   "I-I-I the out ...  the out ...  out there ...  hole ...  I-I-I found."
Too many words, too much difficulty.
   "That good, huh?" Mitch put the last of the groceries away and slapped
him on the back.  "Take a few days off.  I am going to have some company
over.  Looks like everything is good here."
   That was the end of Zach's efforts to inform his brother about the
cavern.  Words failed him and his writing was worse than a child having a
seizure, it wasn't that pretty before the accident either.
   A few days off.  There was that.  Zach packed up a couple of the steaks
and headed out.  This time he used candles.  He set about five fat ones
around the room.  Thick enough that he'd have to work to knock them over -
the only kind that Mitch provided him.
   Second day since opening the vault.  He wasn't dead yet, so all that was
left was to be cordial.  He prepared the steaks in three ways, warm,
cooked, and rare.  He offered her a few spices this time.
   Zach wanted to talk to her or make at attempt.  His jaw stuttered and
worked until he managed a, "Hi." He pushed the tray over, a little at a
time until it was within her reach.
   Her head curled up, she shifted toward the trays, large almond shaped
darkness blinked at him.  She sniffed his offerings, long boney fingers
touched the meat.
   The first day after opening the vault, he tried squeezing some water
over the creature's mouth, he quickly learned that captivity had not killed
her, only weakened her.  He refilled her bowl while she tasted the meat.
   Fortunately, his shoulder didn't spasm until the pitcher was empty.  He
grunted as he grabbed his arm.  The empty pitcher bounced off the stone
ground.
   Her head tilted to one side as she tore at the rare steak.  She had a
great set of teeth.  Her face was so gaunt that he could make out the sharp
cheek bone, large eye sockets.
   Zach swayed until the tremor ended.  He picked up the plastic pitcher
and put it back in his pack.
   She ate all three steaks, all the vegetables, and leaned over to lap up
the water.  She rolled her shoulders and back, but when she tried to move
she groaned and collapsed.  Something was attached to her back.
   Zach picked up his flashlight.  He'd already been close enough for her
to hurt him a couple times.  The danger to him would be less now that she
had a full belly.  Zach wished he could speak clearly enough to communicate
his intentions.
   He circled her.  He patted his back as best he could, pointed the
flashlight to her side.  Those dark almond eyes narrowed and for a moment,
he wondered how much a full belly mattered to her.  She twisted her
shoulders and torso, but kept her eyes on him.
   Good enough.  Got it.  He'd stay in her line of sight.  He pointed the
light at her spine.  Three rings around her spine, one between her
shoulders, the second under her lungs, and a third just above her hips. 
They had rolling locks, the numerical kind on briefcases.  Another puzzle.
   They were going to have to get pretty cozy with each other if he was
going to unlock that one.  He followed the chains to the wall.
   Zach decided to try.  First, he had to speak to her.  One painstaking,
stuttered word at a time he said, "I opened the doors.  It may take a
while. I can unlock you from the wall." He dripped with sweat.  Did she
even understand English?  Even if she did, could she understand him?
   ***
   Almond.  She didn't know it, but that was his name for her.  Zach
practiced getting the word out, trying to remember all the speech therapy
tricks.  Whispering seemed to work the best, a whispered song.
   "Zach," he put his hand to his chest.
   He'd been visiting her for a week now and she offered no response.  He
put his palm out to her.  "Almond?"
   One long nail reached out and tapped her platter.  Three taps, eight,
then two.
   He moved over to her, close enough that one of those curved daggers on
her finger could have pierced him like an overripe melon.
   382.  He turned the dials, but nothing happened.
   He grunted as her hand wrapped around his wrist.  She made a pinching
motion over his jerking palm.  Then with the tip of her nail she pierced
his finger, squeezed until a bead of red formed on the tip.
   Zach put a drop of blood onto the lock and it shifted.
   Her fingernail tapped the second sequence, 174, and then 963.
   The third one, he had the drop of blood ready.  What would she do?
   She'd be free, well fed, watered, strong.  She had put on a few pounds
since he found her.  Her face was less guant.
   He applied the final drop and the final shift happened.
   She crawled forward and pulled.  It didn't seem comfortable, but the
iron circles parted and freed her.  Instead of running off, she collapsed,
her body twitched and trembled.
   Zach watched, unsure about what to do.  He had ideas, fantasies. 
Fantasies about a demonic or alien female trapped in a massive puzzle.  In
other words, fantasies that were empty and uninformed.
   He needed to head back, but he couldn't leave her.  She seemed to pass
out from the pain.  He took some water and wiped down her face, the rest of
her body.  The wounds on her back looked bruised, but not bleeding.  He
couldn't carry her.  He gathered one of the blankets and tucked her in.  He
moved the water and put out fresh food.
   Her hair was coarse, shiny.  A bit of a curl, but not too much.  Long,
matted toward her scalp.
   Zach grunted and reached down for his thigh.  Another spasm.  He writhed
as he tried to work the pain away.  He was out on his back before he
noticed she was awake.  Great, here he was flopping around like a wounded
animal.
   She should just go, run off.  He couldn't do anything for her.  One last
meal perhaps.  He'd be good for something other than clearing land.
   When it passed she was still there, everything he'd delivered to her was
packed and waiting by the exit and the only one candle left burning.
   Zach pushed his way to his feet, tested his leg.  He picked up the pack
and as much as he could carry.  He motioned for her to follow him, not sure
if she would.
   It was dark out, but Zach had worn a path between the cavern and the
guest house by now.  They followed it by the light of the moon.
   When he got through the door he wasn't sure if she was going to be
behind him, but there she was, stalking along like a massive cat, carrying
what he couldn't.  She entered and looked around the house, angling her
head back and forth, sniffling the air.  In the light, those inky black
eyes seemed darker.
   Zach put everything down and sank onto the couch.  She was free now, all
the puzzles were gone.  His whole body ached.
   Tomorrow.  One day at a time.
   ***
   Zach wasn't sure if this counted in the top three things he missed since
his accident.  Waking up next to a female was a little different than
waking up next to a woman.
   He smiled either way.  He was waking up, not lying in a pool of his own
blood, not crumpled and mangled by twisted metal, surrounded by sirens and
paramedics.
   "Almond." It took a few tries, but he managed it.
   Those blank eyes blinked and she sat up, moving like a snake, smooth and
graceful.  She touched his arm, lifted it.  It twitched in her grasp,
involuntary, and as if following the nerve, her hand touched the scar on
his upper arm.
   She looked him over with that same blank expression.  It was like being
on an alien spaceship, or the surgeon's table.  Cool, detached creature
looking at all the ways he was damaged.  Each time that pin prick of a nail
touched his flesh, it marked a place where plenty of doctors had been
before.
   "Br-br-br-bro-bro-broken." He sighed as her finger tips grazed the dead
flesh between his legs.  Of all the nerves to shrivel and die, why did his
number one activity in the world have to leave him?
   Her fingers didn't stop, not exactly.  She was hitting all his
favorites. Waking up beside him, massaging him, touching him.  Soon she'd
figure out that she was free and could go where she wanted, take whatever
freedom meant.
   It was morning and he was already thinking about falling back to sleep.
She lulled him into a halfway place of peace.
   ***
   Zach woke with a start, spread eagle on his back in bed.  He got to his
feet, pulled on a robe and staggered to the kitchen - a whole three minutes
after waking.
   "Working up an appetite, huh?  That's good." Mitch finished his checks
for the month.  "You have a PT appointment on Thursday.  Come up to the
house in the morning."
   Zach looked around.  Was he awake or dreaming?  Where was Almond?
   Awake.  He needed to piss.
   "Zach, get back here."
   "Piss!" He keep going toward the bathroom.
   Mitch followed.  "Trish thinks you should have a nurse.  I know you
don't want one, but what if we get someone to stop in and see you
periodically?  I'm sure your insurance..."
   "N-n-no, I ...  I can..."
   "...will pay for someone to live in the house with you.  Doesn't have to
be a nurse.  That would keep me from having to come out here every few
days. It doesn't have to be a live in either, but having someone drive all
this way might end up..."
   "I c-c-can do the--"
   "...costing me more than its worth.  It's on me if something happens to
you.  I'm going on our summer trip next month.  Now that you're better,
there's no reason to put the plans off.  I'm going to put Kenneth's number
on the fridge.  He'll run errands for you." Mitch droned on about his
vacation, money, the property.
   Zach held onto the edge of the sink to avoid punching the mirror in.  He
fought to set his frustration aside and play nice.
   He sat in the kitchen and gave up on attempts to have a conversation. 
Mitch was never one for paying attention.  His visit and his useless
prattle were over in under an hour.
   Zach couldn't drive, but he could hire a car.  If Mitch would shut up
long enough, he could have told him.  Zach knew he had enough coming in. 
None of his care was being paid for by Mitch, what did the money matter?
   He buried his head in his hands.  Elderly at 40: nurses, doctors
appointments, caregivers.
   Wood groaned.  Zach looked up and there was his Almond.  She must have
been hiding.
   He smiled.  She wasn't just hiding.  Her damp hair was cut, clean,
shinier.  The same for her skin - it was rich, glowing.  The female parts
were as pleasing as ever: curvaceous, full, gorgeous.  He looked at her,
standing in the nude with that whip thin tail flipping back and forth.  Not
a self conscious bone in her body.
   "Almond," he said her name like a sigh.
   Food.  He should get her some food.  She seemed to like the 'salad' he
made once.  Piled high with sliced meats, some soft vegetables - minced in
long strips.  Some sauce and a few herbs.  He put it all in a bowl and
pushed it over to her.
   Watching her eat was another small joy.  Those lips parting from sharp
teeth, her graceful fingers, a think tongue licking her cheeks.  She was
beautiful.  A beautiful monster, but his beautiful monster.
   She licked her hand and the bowl before walking away.
   Released from her spell, Zach went through the motion of getting ready
for the day.  He was sore, but not stiff - the pain was down to a
background buzz.  About an hour into his labor he caught sight of her in
the tree tops.  Not quite 'sight'.  She had a way of disappearing in front
of his eyes.  A branch snapped.  She had broken a lightning damaged limb
and lowered it to the ground.
   She then broke it into smaller pieces.
   Zach checked on her when he could.  'What are you doing' would have been
a great question, but she hadn't spoken a word to him yet.  He stopped by
the cave.  He needed to clean it up.  There was nothing, no doors, no
chairs, just a cavern with a massive pile of sticks.  It wasn't as chaotic
as it first seemed.  In the center top was a pile of moss.
   She crawled down from the ceiling like a massive spider.  She reached
out for the pile and pulled out one of the branches, very slow, careful. 
Then she looked at him.
   Zach's hands were not as steady but he examined the pile, looking for
the next best move.  What was the goal for this one?  He took his time,
thinking of the pile and creating a mental copy.
   He looked at the one he wanted to move and Almond reached for it.  He
wasn't sure how she managed it, but when he wanted to move the branch up,
left, or any direction her hand was like a robotic extension, controlled by
his mind.
   He felt giddy as she pulled the fourth branch out.  When he made a
mistake, she followed.  She had become a silent extension of his will. 
Zach wasn't sure the purpose of the game, but he aimed to lower the bed of
moss to the ground without disturbing it.  It was an easy but challenging
exercise: easy to find the next branch, but challenging to give her the
right signals.  Toward the end he wasn't sure how it worked, but when he
needed her to do a slow back and forth, she managed it.  The ball made it
to the ground undisturbed and Zach did a little cheer.
He hadn't known this kind of happiness, well, since opening each door of
the vault.  She'd revealed so much in a single gesture: setting up this
game.  Did she create the doors?  Where did they go?  Why had she been
locked away from the world?
   She dashed ahead toward the guest house, bounding like a gazelle. 
Alien? Demon?  Abandoned creation?  Was she a figment of his imagination?
Zach appreciated her presence either way.
   A routine formed over the next few days.  He woke up next to her, they
shared breakfast.  He did work on the grounds in the morning, took an
afternoon break near the watershed.  Zach talked to her, one word at a
time. He stuttered less and his typical frustration and anger was slow to
show itself.  She seemed to be listening, he imagined she even understood.
   He decided first to tell her what happened to him: why a broken man
happened upon the door to her cage.  The next day he talked about his
brother - more stuttering and anger, that made it a longer story of fewer
words.  After their lunch break, more work.  In the evening, she presented
him with a new game or puzzle she'd spent the day creating.  Dinner, a
bath, some kind of weird massage where she touched his skin, not pressed
into his nerves and muscles - then sleep.
   ***
   Mitch called out.  "Bro?  Are you coming or not?"
   His appointment.  "Yeah!"
   Zach got back home that evening.  He hoped Almond would be there.
   He didn't know why they called it therapy.  The session left him aching,
sore, and stretched out of shape, but his therapist was surprised by his
increased range of motion.  He had a several reasons for wanting to make a
full recovery.  He needed his life back, to get off his brother's property,
to put an end to the poking, prodding, testing, and surgeries.
   He entered the house to rich savory smells.  She was sitting on the
counter, her fingers pulled meat from a cooked carcass, piling the meat
into another bowl.
   Most of all he wanted to talk to her, tell her how much he appreciated
her companionship, how beautiful and graceful he found her.  Almond looked
up to him then pointed to a chair.  The seat put him next to her thigh.
   Strong, corded muscles, high amount of tone.  He could possibly die
being around her, but he only had half a life to lose.  This would be the
perfect way to go.  Zach leaned forward and kissed her thigh.  Just a few
seconds, to tell her thanks.  He sat up.
   She set the bowl down in front of him.  Zach didn't know what this stuff
was or what animal it came from, but it was as juicy and tender as pork. 
The flavorings were unique, spicy and very herbal.  He moaned over the
offering.  It was some of the best.
   She from the same bowl with him: quiet, graceful.  He ate his fill,
cleaned up, washed, and grinned as they got into bed.
   "Good meal.  Best.  Thank you, Almond." The words came slow, but minus
the nervous stutters.  "I had my physical therapy.  Said I have better
range of motion.  Wish I could..." Wishes were trails to bitter thoughts.
Focus on what he could do.  He could...
   He could fall asleep.
   Zach opened his eyes.  Still dark out.  She was touching him, as she
always did.  What she touched was completely foreign.  He felt aroused,
each brush of her fingers sent a little message to the dead nerves in his
groin.
   His cock had become more of a fat worm than a limp noodle.  That was
progress, glorious progress.  Better yet, it felt so good.  He hoped she
didn't get discouraged, that she didn't think he didn't want to be inside
her.
   Oh, back in the day, before he was broken, he would have had her...
   No thoughts of the past.  There was only this wonderful moment, her hand
- so far neither insistent nor impatient, caressing him.
   The next time he woke it was morning.
   Zach rolled over and sat up over her.  He wanted to kiss her.
   Almond pulled him down and he did just that: kissed her with every ounce
of affection and passion he could muster.  He kissed his way down her neck,
to her shoulders.  He wasn't sure where he was going, but he wasn't going
to stop.  Down further to her breasts, laved each of her nipples.  Then the
taunt expanse of her belly, the round dome of her navel.  He parted her
thighs, eased further down.  Yes, this was what he wanted to taste, to
bring her pleasure if he could.  His mouth and tongue worked - it didn't
have to be graceful or smooth.  Sweet, saccharine, almost like a lemon
glaze.
   She rolled her hips and a low purr rumbled in her throat.  The purr
deepened and lengthened, causing the air around them to shift.  He thighs
parted and hips tilted forward.
   Best sound in the world since his accident was the sound of her orgasm.
Feral mewling combined with a low, undulating growl.  Her clitoris throbbed
and thick liquid gradually filled his mouth.  Zach drank from her, kept his
movements gentle, but he didn't want to stop, not yet.  He shouldn't be
doing this, and she shouldn't be with him, but damn it, he wasn't going to
stop.  The act of bringing a woman pleasure was the best expression of
being a man he knew.
   Almond allowed him to continue.  He sucked on her, flicked his tongue
back and forth.  She cried out as the second orgasm took her over.  His jaw
was sore, but it was a great soreness.  Superb physical therapy.
   He snuggled between her thighs while basking.  They got out of the house
late, but worked hard.  What was he going to do if someone saw her?  What
if she left?  What if ...  No, best to stop that.
   They skipped the long lunch.  Zach needed to run the mower closer to the
house.
   By sunset she was still out.  His nerves were on edge.  Did he do
something she didn't like?  Zach couldn't imagine what.  Almond returned
just as he was about to get into bed.  She pushed the bedroom window open
and crawled inside, every muscle of her body rippling.  After a shower, she
got into bed with him.
   She felt warmer than usual, her hands rubbed him down ending on his
groin like before.  Not much progress, but it felt good.  He lay swollen
and ineffective in her hand.  For a man of nine inches of thick iron, a
limp sausage was not only useless, but also infuriating.  She kissed her
way down his body, mirroring what he'd done to her that morning.  She took
him in her mouth, and that tongue had him moaning in short order.
   Get hard, please, get hard.  Stand up!  Zach tried to muster the full
force of his mind, but nothing.
   Almond had a fantastic mouth, her tongue never stopped moving and those
slender fingers manipulated spots his physical therapist wouldn't go near.
Was love a powerful enough force to heal his broken body?  Whatever she
needed he'd get her.  Zach doubted he'd ever sleep as soundly as the nights
when she used him like a pacifier.  It became part of their new routine.
   Their sexual relationship was purely oral those first few weeks.  He ate
her for breakfast and she suckled him to sleep.  Orgasm was a distant
memory, but she pleased him, and even better, she never seemed frustrated
or impatient with him.
   Zach never questioned their relationship.  He loved her.  Who she was,
where she came from, what she wanted from him - none of it mattered.  He
loved her.  Almond brought him happiness - whatever she wanted in return
was hers.  The nights she disappeared became a little more frequent, but
she never stayed away for more than an evening.
   As part of his speech therapy, Zach read out loud, but better was
talking to her about the subjects dear to his heart: technology, business
management, and customer relationships.  The career he left behind had a
lot to do with the integration of complex subjects and that was very much
like solving puzzles or figuring out how to open doors.  Numbers were
financial keys, as were long range predictions.  Zach talked to her until
he his jaw ached and mouth turned dry, more than he ever bothered in a
year.
   One night Zach and Almond lay out under the stars and he talked to her
for hours.  Those wide black eyes stared at him the whole while.
   Zach didn't know what or how much she understood.  So he told her what
he would do if he could - provide her with comfort, massage her body, fuck
her.  "I love you, Almond.  I'm not sure if it's right, but I do.  Thank
you for being here with me.  I'm sorry if I am a disappointment to you."
   The great expanse of land was coming along as was Zach's recovery.  His
muscles were getting stronger, larger.  He had fewer spasms and pain
spikes. It was hardly a full recovery, his leg was still one solid hunk. 
He didn't stutter but his words were slow to form.  His arms though - they
were getting much better.  So much so he wanted to order a computer.  He
left the note for his brother with the specifications at his house.  They
were on vacation, and Zach didn't have access to his accounts.  He could
take control of that once he got his computer.
   Zach was used to waking next to Almond, bird song coming through the
open window.  His dick tried to get a little stiffer, a little thicker. 
The little cock that could, aching to get balls deep inside her.  He was
used to kissing her body down to her soft delicate parts, and she loved to
feed him his liquid breakfast.
   So, when his brother Mitch yelled, "Zach!" as he barged into his
bedroom, Zach was furious.
   "What do you want?" He growled each word.  His speech had morphed from a
stutter into more of a down syndrome drawl.
   "I got your note.  Who'd you have write it for you?  You don't need a--"
   Zach followed his brother's stare.
   A voluptuous dark skinned island woman, naked and damp, sauntered into
the bedroom.  She passed Mitch and crawled into the bed with Zach.  Naked
and gorgeous as a porn star.  No way, not a porn star, too much curve,
muscle, and height for that.
   "Who ...  who ..." It was nice to see his brother speechless.
   "You told me to find someone to help." Zach grinned through each slowly
spoken word.
   Almond was a beautiful monster, but fuck, she made a gorgeous centerfold
of a woman.
   "If you think I'm going to ...  Hey, listen, whoever you are, get
dressed and give my brother and me some privacy."
   "I broke my body, n-not ...  not my brain.  My hands, better.  Want,"
Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face.
   Almond rolled onto her stomach.  "My name is Mizrah Almond.  I met your
brother some time ago.  He is my lover and my friend.  With a computer he
can communicate with the world again.  Why would you oppose that?  We'll
keep up with the land.  You have a gorgeous place."
   "The food ...  the ..." Mitch swallowed.  His eyes were glued to her
body.  "Why would you ...  why didn't you introduce yourself?  Where's your
car?"
   Mizrah Almond turned on her side as if he'd stopped speaking.
   "Zach, damn it.  I expect a fucking answer!  How long has this woman
been here?"
   "Go.  Unless you want me gone, th-then--"
   "Shit.  No.  Hell no.  Truce.  Okay?  I'll order it.  We'll talk later."
   Minutes after he left the illusion dropped.  She was his Almond. 
Beautiful, gorgeous, and his...
   "Starving." He grabbed her by the knees and dove between her thighs.
   <->
   Epilogue: I know I raise more questions than I answer with this story,
but in my mind, she was a demon, locked away, and once freed, visited the
netherworld, but always returned to him.  With time, Zach will improve, but
he will never be the same.  All people are not criminals, all demons are
not flesh eating fiends.  Some can be, but you'll never know.  Life is a
great unknown.
Oh, and, people with physical limitations are not necessarily stupid,
and men with limp dicks are not emotionally vacant.  Goodness knows I love
a hard cock, but they are attached to human beings, and human beings, like
any demonic creature, deserve respect.
Written: December 2013
Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
   
  
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