#piglet is worm coded

[eldritch-spouse]

Can i ask for even just a little crumb of things about monell? I am a total simp and i need to know more.

I will give you my first newborn if need be

[I don't want your newborn anon, but you will be notified in case I require future sacrificial lambs.]

It's actually "Morell", with an r, kind of like the "morel" mushrooms (I'm so original, yes). I'm very glad you asked about Morell because he's one of my sickest monsters, which also means I will have to warn you before diving into this.

TW: Consumption of humans; Knives and sharp utensils; If you make vore jokes I will clap you.

(Minors dni)

Morell, as you may already know, is working at The Clergy's Eye as the head chef and manager of Floor -1, where the restaurant is usually located (sometimes it's Floor 1, you never quite know since The Clergy is a living, shifting structure). Before he was recruited into the establishment, Morell was known for being an exquisite cook around densely monster-populated areas of the world. He had a personal mission to try and subsequently mimic every dish out there. Truly, there is no monster out there with half the culinary devotion of this mushroom miracle.

However, no one innocent ever ends up working for The Clergy, and Morell is no exception to this golden, unspoken rule. He may be an optimistic, loud sweetheart and worm his way into the hearts of many people, but the lad has some very peculiar tastes that can only ever be sated in the right place, surrounded by people of a similar nature. You see, Morell has cracked the code. Why the best type of meat out there is none other than the one found around the bones of humans! He's made enough meals to confirm that's objectively the case. Point here being, not everyone is very accepting of this discovery the monster made, and as such, not many places are willing to hire him now that his little dirty secret is out.

The Clergy however, sees endless potential in Morell's human delicacies. There's no shortage of creeps who agree with him, people who can safely indulge in their darkest wants inside the establishment. In all his professional life, Morell has never felt quite as appreciated anywhere else as he does in The Clergy's Eye- Where people can truly see the beauty of his work.

If you thought that was bad, then you'll surely hurl at the notion that, mayhaps, Morell gets a little too into the cooking process. Going as far as to get off on it alone. He just really enjoys his craft, you know? There's nothing quite like getting a plump, ripe human delivered to his kitchen, the fear in their eyes. Don't worry, he's nothing if not gentle, you won't feel a thing babycakes... Unfortunately, year after year of cooking humans for the pleasure of others has made the mushroom monster unable to properly behave himself around non-monsters. He'll casually quip about how juicy you look and maybe even grab you around the same way you'd inspect a piglet in a farm.

There's a way to survive being in his clutches, but if I told you that now it would kill the fun, wouldn't it? Try and guess, it's not very complicated.

Fun facts:

Morell's favorite cleaver is called "babygirl", he's quite attached to it;

Probably the most amicable member of The Clergy, always available and ready to work. Avoids drama;

Gets along very well with Gallon, in spite of the two having radically different personalities;

Pay him well enough and he'll cook a monster, no questions asked.

[ladymaigrey]

Tales of Little Monster - Minecraft Part 2

Here I am, typing this with slightly shaking hands, pausing to take desperate gulps of red wine. It’s really not great. I think it’s cooking wine. But I. Don’t. Care. It’s alcohol, and I need it.

We have just survived an evening full of horror, a tale of heartbreaking woe, an encounter with the cosmic forces of death and destruction that have scarred us all; marks of which we will bear until these eldrich adamantine powers come to claim us in the end, as is the fate of all who live and breathe and scream under this apathetic sun... 

But, to start at the beginning of my tale. 

As I already related to y’all in my first post on the subject of Little Monster and Minecraft, our 6yo daughter is really partial to animals. All kind of animals. Any kinds of animals. Unfortunately, as our apartment is quite small, we cannot keep an actual pet, so she makes up for it with dozens of stuffies residing on her bed (a pile that she burrows into happily every night, like a little worm into its favourite heap of compost). And - she scours the countryside of Minecraft, naming and bringing back to her virtual “home” whatever type of animal she is interested in collecting at the moment.

It started off with a pig called Lily. A pig who she resided with in the White House of Washington DC (because, let in never be claimed that our Little Monster is lacking a sense of grandeur). However, she soon moved her abode to the Washington Monument, because it was easier to see from afar when she goes hunting around for new pets. 

So, she brought Lily, and a few more pigs that she encountered on the way, to the Monument, settled them inside, and fed them beetroot and potatoes. Favourite Minecraft pig food. Pigs emoted with lovehearts when she did that. You should’ve heard her squealing with happiness!

Now Minecraft being a fairly simple game, treats issues such as reproduction prosaically: get two adult animals, feed them, make them happy, they do what happy animals do. Lo and behold, Little Monster had cute piglets running around. If they squealed, it could not be heard over the happy chatter of our Little Monster. The more she fed them, the faster the piglets grew, the more piglets appeared and ... the Washington Monument rapidly became full.

Welcome to what we dubbed the Big Pig Problem. 

Oh and, yes, she put little saddles on all of them... (DON’T ASK!)

Eventually, she figured she had enough pigs and turned her hand to sheep. Rinse and repeat ... see them on the side? That’s just a small fraction of them. Lotsa sheep! Happy Little Monster!

Next - she found a pair of cats! Oh, and some bunnies! Cute grey bunnies! She named them Dididoo and Tititoo. My husband and I were in the lounge room giggling (in a slightly manic way) and wondering whether Minecraft took into account rabbits’ most-famous attribute, and whether the swiftness with which they multiplied would quickly result in a grey bouncing carpet underneath the pigs and the sheep.

Instead, we heard a scream! The sort of heart-wrenching scream, followed by a flood of hysterical hitching sobs that can only be produced by a six year old who came face-to-face with the bottomless cruelty of this world, and whose innocence was shattered into irreparable shards by the encounter.

We rushed into the room, stuttering hollow words of comfort, attempting to draw the story out from between the sobs, until we pieced together a tale of tragedy.

It was a tale of two cats, and of hunting, of stalking and of EATING, that unfolded before the Little Monster’s eyes. We think it was Dididoo that met the grisly fate first. But, perhaps, it was Tititoo... Either way, all we saw on the screen was the remaining bunny, disappearing between the legs of the packed pigs and sheep, with a cat on its trail...

Maybe, we could, at least, stop the slaughter of the remaining bunny?

I raced to the keyboard (have I ever played Minecraft before?! Nope! But when you become a parent you have to learn to do all sorts of things you’ve never dreamed about, and parenting books never mentioned!) and fumbled my way through isolating one of the cats away from the other animals....

Phew. “See, the bunnies are safe!” 

”Nooo... there are TWO cats!”

Fuck.

OK, plan B: when all else fails, misdirect and switch! Oh yeah, parents are supposed to be magicians too.

One of us coaxed the hiccuping girl into the bathroom for her nightly shower routine, while the other desperately tried to locate the other f-ing CAT!

But... there was no way to locate the said f-ing cat in the milling, bopping, bouncing, teeming pile of sheep and pigs that was taking up the bottom floor of the Washington Monument! So, Step 1: build a fence outside and try to coax the Pig-Sheep population out and disperse them over larger area, without, God forbid, losing any of them.

My husband was in charge of Step 1. Step 1 failed dismally. The new fence wasn’t tall enough and the old barricades were now broken. 

Sheep and saddled pigs were EVERYWHERE!

I hissed sotto voce at the poor man “fix it, or else”, while I went back to distracting the Little Monster... Fortunately, he knew that the or else entailed a fate far worse than anything I could heap on him and complied.

The second wall held.

The f-ing cat was found and isolated with it’s ravenous mate.

But there were no more bunnies....

And, so, we resorted to the good old fashioned trick - get the kid another pet in lieu of the tragically diseased one.

And so, while the Little Monster was desperately trying to get back into the room to check whether her parents were indeed right in their assurances that nothing happened, and her pet rabbits were alive and well and all was a horrid figment of her imagination... I was finding the cheat codes on the internet on how to summon new rabbits, and name them, and place them well away from the f-ing cats!

Here they are: Dididoo and Tititoo Mark 2 (shhhhh!) 

The tears dried up, some faith in humanity (if not in cats!) was restored for our little girl. Thankfully, she is still of age when she believes in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Clause and the magic of parents.

We, on the other hands, feel like we battled a Lovecraftian monster and barely scraped our sanity out of its teeth.

I need more wine!

[eldritch-spouse]

What if during one of Morell’s “play tag” his piglet refuses to leave or lose on purpose because they grew attached?

It's that time.

You can tell because he's humming. Through the buzzing of the freezer nearby and the flickers of LED lights, if you focus hard enough, you can hear the chef joyfully humming through the walls of the warehouse.

It's haunting.

Not particularly because of the lyrics. Oh no, he's singing about baking, possibly one of the most wholesome activities out there. It's just that you know he's baking with dubious ingredients. Or rather, you've grown used to the sight of monsters eating people, that's not what keeps you on your toes anymore about his songs. It's what they signal. Particularly at this time of night. Or morning, rather. See, it's closing hours for the establishment, which is usually bad because it means having Morell's undivided attention all on you before he decides to actually sleep.

What scares you most is that you've began to almost look forward to these moments. You tell yourself it's the boredom, that you'd rather be getting harassed by the large blue mushroom monster than stare at claw marks in the walls for countless hours, waiting for them to move like a patient in an asylum. But is it really true? A can of worms you'll open another time. "Another time" being code for "hopefully never".

Nonetheless, you know what the singing is all about this time. Put simply, Morell wants to play. His favorite game. Piggy hunting. Because that's what he calls you, Piglet. That's what you are to him, a pig. Or so you thought, initially. At the time, it truly felt like a derogatory term, something meant to dehumanize and humiliate, lower. Yet nowadays, you've finally begun to pick up on the undertones of the term when Morell uses it on you. There's a loving touch to it, a tilted affection. If nothing else, you can see the infatuation in his eyes when he calls you that, the blunt-toothed grin his scarf can't fully obscure, the way his ribcage expands in excitement. It's love. It's sick and gross, but it's love. He loves you so much. You don't like to admit it, but it's the truth. And maybe, just maybe, you like feeling wanted. Because you're only human, right?

A loud clang from the kitchen jolts you.

He must be finished getting everything ready for tonight's game. The tables outside stripped of contents, the elevator doors rigged, the knives put away. All of it perfectly safe for you to haul ass across the floor while the maniac chases you like the sickfuck he is. You're not sure if your brain is just that desperate for exercise and stimulus, or if perhaps the mushroom's sickness is rubbing off on you, but you've been finding these games a little fun lately. Just a bit. Enough that a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips right now.

The doors to the kitchen open, and there he is, your captor. As expected, his smock has long been discarded, leaving the large monster man in only his dark pants and steel-toed boots. And of course, the scarf. Something about his size has stopped scaring you and began making your eyes linger. Poised on the fine contours of defined musculature and bouncing off the edges of chub here and there. He's a big man. A big, monstrous man with a salivating smile and a little something pushing at his pants.

" Eyes up 'ere, pumpkin. " The chef chastises, and when you instantly zip your gaze upwards, you catch a hint of incredulity in his gaze. Before he lids his eyes at you knowingly. Fucker.

" I wasn't looking anywhere! " You scowl, not looking at him at all now.

There's a quiet chortle, before the shroom walks over and lifts you off the ground, always ever so effortlessly, carrying you to the kitchen. Your tattered clothes are brushed off and the ropes around your limbs get untied. Morell mushes your cheeks together and coos about how cute you are before planting a toothy kiss to your forehead.

" Ya know the drill, Piglet, five minute headstart 'fore I come out. "

He has the audacity to fucking wink at you. To think that, a couple months back, Morell wouldn't have to say anything at all before you started immediately scrambling away. That you'd scream and cry instead of sighing and snorting when you find out the elevators were surrounded by traps. How long has it been already? Huh. Well, he's getting too cocky about your complacency for your tastes. You suppose you would too, in his place. You've been nothing if not extremely cooperative recently. It'd put slightly younger you to shame.

You only roll your eyes when the large mushroom monster ruffles your hair before entering the warehouse, continuing to hum as he kills time.

A lot of thoughts go through your head now. You could start out by running past the tables today, you know the cook will look under the cloths every now and then, the chances of you getting caught soon are high if you stick around the booths. You could dash for the elevators, but he has noise-making rigs around that will alert him to your location. What if you hid around the kitchen again? You recall making it a good deal of time stuffed inside one of his cabinets during a game. Nah, he won't fall for that again, he might even check the entire kitchen before leaving. A particular peculiar suggestion graces your mind.

What if you didn't do anything at all? No running, no hiding, no fighting. What if you just let him have you, without even putting up a challenge? What would change really? He'll get his reward anyway, because losing is inevitable, you'll never win. Perhaps, the only thing that'll change is that you'll have to admit it yourself. Admit you don't care about the stakes anymore. That you're both playing with the same goal in mind, the goal of you getting caught under the big bad wolf and subsequently ravaged. It's nothing but foreplay for two sick bastards, so what if you cut it out entirely?

What if you stopped feeling like you have to fight Morell to make giving in to his affections look like a defeat- When it's really just a clumsy excuse? What if you just accepted his love without feeling guilty for once? Without your conscience acting up. You deserve a break, you deserve to feel loved. Even if the circumstances are far from ideal, this monster loves you more than anyone else ever did, and maybe you enjoy that a lot. Maybe you don't want it to stop.

Maybe you love Morell too.

When the kitchen doors burst open again, you're calmly sat on one of the chef's counters. You get to see the shroom barrel forward, on a mighty sprint, before his head snaps your way and he nearly crashes to the floor, catching himself in the nick of time to not look like a total jackass in front of his "prey". You snicker regardless.

" ... Piglet? " He blinks, head tilted. " Babygirl, did'ja get distracted? " The monster looks at the clock hanging from the wall, as if to make sure he didn't hallucinate the five minutes having passed. You almost want to laugh at him.

" Morell. " You begin, casually hopping off the counter, experiencing a very real rush of exhilaration when you get up close to the tall male. He looks down at you with a mixture of shock, confusion and suspicion- All of which quickly melt to flustered surprise when you drop to your knees and grab his belt. He's been hard for a while, he's usually already aroused well before the game starts. You smile.

" I think I love you. "

His pants are yanked down.

Morell can barely choke out a tremulous, beffudled response as your lips wrap around his heavy cock in seconds.

He doesn't need to speak, you can see the endless adoration in his bright, lidded eyes when he gently brushes strands of your hair aside, face aflame while he guides you lower on his length.

No more games. No more tag.