Primal imperative the co.., p.1
Primal Imperative: The Complete Trilogy: A Monster Girl Men's Fantasy, page 1
Contents
Copyright
PART 1
Untitled Document
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
PART 2
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Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
PART 3
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Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Six
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Chapter Ninety
Chapter Ninety-One
Chapter Ninety-Two
Chapter Ninety-Three
Chapter Ninety-Four
Chapter Ninety-Five
Chapter Ninety-Six
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Chapter One Hundred
Chapter One Hundred One
Chapter One Hundred Two
Chapter One Hundred Three
Chapter One Hundred Four
Epilogue
Thanks for reading!
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First Edition: April 2023
Copyright © Quentin Kilgore
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without permission in writing from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any means without permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Haremlit readers
PART 1
CHAPTER ONE
I LURCHED AWAKE, gasping for breath. Icy air filled my lungs, making me choke as I lay on my back and gazed at the grim, gray sky.
White flakes floated down as I kept wheezing and trying to catch my breath. After a moment, I breathed more easily and calmed down a bit. The sound of rolling surf filled my ears. Coldness numbed my fingers. Something had been aggravating me, and I suddenly realized that a jagged edge was jutting into my back.
Groping the ground, my hand came into contact with slimy stones. Where the hell was I?
With considerable effort, I forced my lethargic body to move, getting onto my elbows. I discovered I was lying on the slippery rocks of a sloping shore. An unfamiliar sea stretched out to the horizon, sparkling blood-red against the pale sky.
Looking to my left, over the rocks, I saw the red sun, partially cut by the horizon. I couldn’t tell if a new day was dawning or night was descending.
I had no idea how I’d gotten there. Wherever there was. I looked myself over; I was wearing my casual clothes—jeans, T-shirt, windbreaker. They weren’t soaking wet, so I could rule out the possibility that I’d washed up on the shore.
What’s the last thing I can remember?
As soon as I plumbed my mind, an image came to me: a little boy in a blue puffy coat. The image was permeated with a sense of urgency and horror. The kid had unwarily toddled into the path of immediate danger.
My muscles tensed as if to spring to action. But the time for that had passed. I was far away from the little boy now.
Another memory emerged: a woman in a nursing uniform. She was screaming.
Was that his mother? Jesus, I wonder what happened? I hope he didn’t get hurt.
Everything else around that incident was blank, so I groped around for other recent memories.
I easily recalled sitting in my cubicle, writing a resignation email; six years of writing press releases for a public relations company was more than I could bear.
But that was a while ago. I remembered another two weeks after that—my last days at the job. Nothing eventful happened. I could still recall cleaning out my desk on the last day and blasting Back in Black as I drove my 2003 Chevy Impala out of the parking lot.
Good riddance!
What happened after that? The last thing I could remember was the little boy and his frantic mother.
A briny wind gusted over me. I shivered and looked around with sudden dread. The weirdness of my surroundings struck me. Something was appalling about the flinty sky and the rocks covered in dull-green slime.
Suddenly, a rapid movement drew my eye down the shore toward the foamy surf. Where the shore sloped into the sea, the rocks gave way to a sandbank. That was where the movement had been.
My eyes scanned the sand, but all was still except for the rolling tide. Just when I reasoned it must have been my imagination, a long black thing flopped into the air and splashed onto the wet sand. It lay motionless, glistening in the dull light. Then it reared into the air again—it must have been four feet long—before receding into the sand.
What the fuck was that?
Is this even real? Maybe I’m dreaming.
No. It definitely wasn’t a dream. Everything was too sharp and clear. My mind had been hazy at first, but now it was lucid. This place was weird, but very real.
So how the hell did I get to this beach? Did I travel here myself, or did someone put me here?
Suddenly, I heard a staccato clicking noise on the rocks behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw what looked like a mass of reddish sea rock slowly moving toward me. But then I saw a pair of monstrous claws swaying in front of it, and I noticed beady eyes watching me on the end of stalks.
It was an enormous crab—bigger than a kitchen table.
A wail escaped me—it was a primal reaction, a natural defense mechanism to warn away predators. But the crab continued moving toward me. Its long antennae bobbed around searchingly, black eyes gleaming at me while its complicated mouth moved hungrily.
I grasped for a rock to throw at it, but my hand squeezed something gooey and mushy. I recoiled and sprang to my feet.
The crab halted its progress. But I faltered; standing up so fast had made me dizzy.
Apparently seeing my weakness, the crab began scuttling again, faster than before. I noticed movement farther down the beach: the shore was crawling with more crab creatures—some of them smaller and one or two even bigger.
With another shout of dread, I circumvented the crab and stumbled up the rocky slope, keeping an eye over my shoulder as I went. To my relief, I noticed the sun had risen above the horizon, and the gray world was brighter.
I came to a grassy field and stopped running. The crab had given up on pursuing me. I shuddered as the wind whispered through the dry grass.<
Beyond the field was a forest of what looked like aspens. I stared at the trees and then cast my eyes back over the dreary ocean. I’d been running to get away from the crabs, propelled by my impulse to survive. But now I realized I didn’t know where to go.
What the fuck is this place, anyway?
It didn’t even feel like Earth. Where in the world could one find giant crabs? That just made the question of how I got there all the more troubling. Wild theories sprang into my mind: alien abductions, wormholes, alternative universes.
I decided to reserve judgment until I found out more information. Maybe more memories would come back to me if I focused on something else. I felt like moving, so I decided to explore and see what I could find.
Crossing the field, I made my way toward the trees. I wasn’t planning on going too far into the forest; I’d just take a look. If I could see no end to the woods, I’d come back. It seemed wiser to follow the shoreline, anyway.
My racing thoughts quieted themselves as I walked among the shadowy trees. The aspen leaves whispered in the breeze, and I heard scratchings and flutterings in the branches above. Something squawked in the distance.
I felt vulnerable not having a rifle or some kind of weapon. If giant crabs lived on the shore, what could lurk among the trees?
Walking slowly, I cast my eyes around the monotonous pattern of trees. My senses seemed heightened; strangely, I was more alert and sharp than usual, but maybe it was just another primitive survival response.
Walking farther, I came upon brambles hung with what looked like blackberries. My stomach grumbled, and I realized I was quite hungry. But I felt compelled to keep walking.
As the bracken and brambles got thicker, I turned and looked back the way I’d come. The forest had already closed around me, hiding my view of the ocean.
I decided that was far enough.
When I reemerged into the field, I turned in the opposite direction of where I’d seen the crabs–even though I figured I’d probably encounter them anywhere along the shore.
Cutting through the long grass, I kept my distance from the shore while staying mindful of the trees. Oddly, I found myself walking faster and faster—not because of nerves, but because I had a huge surplus of energy.
I broke into a jog. It felt amazing, but I still wanted more. My muscles wanted to be pushed to the limit. I had a powerful urge to run as fast as I could. Do situps, pullups, and deadlifts until I couldn’t stand up.
Hmm. What brought this on? Maybe it’s adrenaline or something.
But I realized my body felt different from normal; I felt more athletic and strong. I stopped running and patted my chest and arms; yes, I could have sworn my body was bulkier and harder. I put my hands under my windbreaker and T-shirt, wincing at the cold. Running my fingers over the ridges of my muscular stomach, my jaw dropped in disbelief.
I didn’t have a six-pack before. Well, I did when I was in university, but not recently. Sure, my physique had been improving since I’d started training again. It was one of the changes I’d made in my life, along with quitting my job.
But since when did I get that fit?
I walked on, more perplexed than ever.
After a few minutes, a weird shriek pierced the air, and a huge moth-like creature flapped up from the grass ahead of me. Its white wings must have spanned at least half my height. I watched with repulsion as it fluttered obscenely and flew into the trees.
There was nothing to do but keep walking.
Eventually, I came to a hill that actually had a trail through the grass—whether it was made by animals or people, I couldn’t tell. The trail took me up a fairly steep hill, and the shoreline fell away. When I got to the top, I saw I was on a bluff overlooking the sea.
It was relieving to have some distance between myself and the beach, but now I was closer to the forest. The leaves of aspens trembled overhead as I followed the thin trail through the grass.
The path led me away from the bluffs and into the forest. Aspens swayed and sighed in the breeze, and there was a watchful feeling in the air. Strange bird calls echoed, and I occasionally swatted a bug away from my ear.
The forest seemed to thicken, and I noticed tall pine trees creaking among the aspens. But the trail eventually petered out, so I started following it back the way I’d come.
That’s when I heard a scream.
CHAPTER TWO
THIS SCREAM DIDN’T come from a moth or any other beast. I was sure it was a child.
Another cry echoed through the woods, and I ran toward it. As I got closer, I heard a child crying and a woman talking in a harsh tone.
I finally found a little girl, about four years old, sitting not very high on the bough of a tree. A huge mangy cat, as big as a cougar, had its massive front paws on the trunk of the tree. It was watching the girl’s every movement.
The little girl wore a simple animal skin cloak and leather boots. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached her chubby hand out to her mother, who was on the ground with another cat clawing her back. The woman also wore a thick cloak made from animal hide.
With the woman in more immediate danger, I sprinted over and booted the cat’s head. It was considerably smaller than the other one, giving me the impression it must have been a cub.
Another swift kick and it scrambled off her, darting away before suddenly halting and turning to face us. The woman’s dark hair was disheveled and wet with blood. She clutched a spear in one hand, though her body seemed too soft and petite to wield it with much effect.
She lifted her head and looked at her daughter, revealing her striking hazel eyes as she screamed.
“Milana!”
The huge cat had leaped up to the branch where the little girl sat. The child screeched and scrambled farther out along the branch as the cat watched her with hungry eyes.
Charging at the cat, a sense of déjà vu came over me; was I not re-enacting something I’d already done? The little boy in the puffy coat came back to me. He was on an icy street, and one urgent thought ran through my mind. Don’t let him die!
The same situation was happening again.
The cat was so mesmerized by the child that it barely took notice of me as I charged up to its side–the branch was low enough that I could easily reach it.
I never thought of myself as brave. I’d once crossed paths with a grizzly bear in the Canadian Rockies, and I nearly shat myself. But when I saw the little girl in danger, I felt consumed by a desire to transfer that danger to myself so that the girl would be out of harm’s way.
The cat sneered as I threw my weight over it and grabbed its shaggy mane. Then I flung myself backward, with the idea of pulling the cat off the branch. This was not a brilliant strategy.
The creature clung to the branch and swiped a paw at me, scraping its claws over the top of my head. Stumbling back, I felt something warm spread over the top of my scalp. When I tried to wipe it away, my hand was smeared with blood.
The beast growled at me and bore its fangs. I backed away, expecting it to attack me, but it turned back to the girl instead. The woman spoke, but I barely heard her as I darted back towards the cat.
This time, the beast turned and growled at me. Holy shit, was my heart beating fast! But the adrenaline was pumping through me, and I felt strangely exhilarated. I dodged a swipe and then landed a punch on the animal’s snout.
I faltered and stepped back as the beast shifted its weight on the bough, as if it was considering jumping down to deal with me.
“Sir! Sir!” the woman was saying. “Look here–take this!”
But her words barely registered. I didn’t dare to take my eyes off the cat as it jumped down from the tree. It suddenly bounded toward me– 250-plus pounds of muscle, the perfect predator.
I’m going to die.
I threw my arms up and yelled, hoping to intimidate it into retreating, but it kept charging. It smashed me like an NHL hockey goon doing a body check at full speed.
In a haze, I felt the beast’s humid breath in my face as I was almost suffocated by the oppressive weight pinning me down. But I pushed its neck and kept its jaw just out of reach of my face, surprising myself with my strength.
At first, I had an idea of squeezing its throat, but I merely got a handful of thick skin and fur. A big, muscular paw pressed into the side of my head, claws piercing my skin.
It’s gonna rip my fucking face off!
Knowing that it would be mere seconds before it sliced me open, I reached my free hand up to its face and thrust my thumb into its eye. The cat wailed and darted away. I struggled to my feet as the beast pawed at its face. The younger cat lurked by a tree some distance away.
