BIG MONSTERS (NSFW)
"Big Monsters" is a story that may need a little explanation. Everyone knows about the era of giant monster movies, like Godzilla, The Beast form 20,000 Fathoms, and Them! In the early 1960s, a sensationalistic paperback company, Monarch Books, produced three classic pulp novels based on the films Gorgo, Reptilicus, and Konga. These books are legendary among horror film fans because they took movies that were pretty much sexless and added incredibly steamy, softcore scenes liberally among the expected descriptions of city destruction and mayhem. Generally speaking, in these books, anytime a male character and a female character meet, impassioned coupling follows.My partner Drake, tireless pursuer of vintage smut and constant monster fan, told me about these books and shared them with me and I had an idea that demanded to be written. Even if you’ve never heard of Gorgo or Monarch Books, I hope you will enjoy "Big Monsters".
(There are a wonderful series of blog posts by comic creator and cultural scholar Stephen Bisette about the original novels, including hot excerpts, history, and related monster magazines, for anyone who wants to read all about these bizarre little books.)
Since I originally published "Big Monsters" here, it has been sold as a part of my short story collection Darkness and Delight. If you like this story, I hope you will consider buying a copy of my book.
"Big Monsters"
By Angela Caperton
As it appears in Darkness and Delight
Copyright 2010
Published by Renaissance eBooks
By Angela Caperton
As it appears in Darkness and Delight
Copyright 2010
Published by Renaissance eBooks
Senmetsu passed through the Panama Canal, leaving a wound across the isthmus, bleeding soldiers and ruined locks, five thousand dead, uncountable damage to commerce. Worse, the creature was in the Gulf of Mexico and might come ashore anywhere. The U.S. coast hunkered down and waited. There was no scale for the potential destructive forces like with hurricanes. Senmetsu wouldn't peter out to a Cat One over the mountaintops of Cuba, or stall off Galveston – unless it was pausing to enjoy a ship full of tobacco or feast on a school of amberjacks.Meantime, the monster the British had named Morgan plowed through Key West, sparing only the lighthouse, so now there were two of them in the Gulf and everyone knew what happened when two monsters met.
They battled. Sometimes whole cities died. Dakar, Senegal and the entire Cape Verde peninsula existed only in rubble-scarred memories and the wavering hopes of those driven to rebuild.
"General Owen." Dr. Carson Bingham addressed the general, his white coat hastily thrown over his khaki shirt. "Denise, you have to listen to me."
"Don't you fucking call me Denise, Carson. If we hadn't listened to you, these things wouldn't be in the Gulf." She nearly ripped him in half with the force of her words.
He hated her. All the times they had been forced to work together to resolve one monstrous crisis or another, they fought over the means. Sometimes she prevailed and the monster died – or retreated – and sometimes he won and one research lab or another got lucky. They had learned so much from some of the creatures.
"We tried it your way, remember?" Carson protested. "We threw everything short of a nuke at Senmetsu when it hit the zone." Denise drove him fucking crazy. Today, they shared the Gulf command from their offices in Biloxi. She commanded the combined armed forces and he was the local head of the Science Force. He stared at her, the Class A skirt and blouse open to reveal the brown tee shirt beneath, evidence of the high-level meetings she must have been in before his arrival.
"Listen, Mr. Wizard," she snarled. "DC says you have some say here, but the big call is mine. If those things show their scaly heads anywhere along the gulf coast, we're going to unleash holy hell on them."
"It won't help," Carson persisted. He hoped the walls of Deni – General Owen's – private office were thick enough to keep any of the soldiers or techs from hearing their row. He watched the curl of her lip and remembered the taste of her mouth, her tongue those times it had mashed hard against his.
"Deni." He caught her arm and she whirled, striking his hand away.
"If we'd listened to scientists in San Francisco, that fucking squid would've laid its eggs in the bay and California would be Sushi Central, just like Miami Beach is now," she growled defensively.
"They're not all like Frisco," Carson said, taking her arm again. "And fucking give it up already, Denise. That was four years ago and we didn't know what the hell we were dealing with!" More forceful this time, he shook her. Xenobiologist or not, he'd make her understand. "These two…"
"Reptiles," she looked at his hand like it was a snake, but she caught the lapel of his lab smock in a tight grip. "They're just reptiles," she ground out.
"Maybe so, but what if they're something more? Old legends say Senmetsu is anger given flesh, and the Brits have stories going back a thousand years that name Morgan as the spirit of dark chaotic wisdom. Maybe all the monsters are more than they seem." He leaned close and inhaled, his nose inches from that little spot on her neck, his breath energized and hot. He smiled, triumphant when her breath caught. The general gathered Carson's coat in her left hand and her right brushed his cheek, her palm smooth, firm, faintly perfumed.
In defiance of all sanity, his cock began to twitch.
"Come on, doc," she whispered, the edges of her words sly. "That's bullshit and you know it. Stupid new age, mystical bullshit. They're not fucking gods or demons. They're animals." The nails on her right hand traced his neck, just above his collar, sharp, not quite drawing blood. "Those myths. They don't mean anything. Where's your 'science?'" She sneered at him, his blood rushing from his brain to his groin in a nanosecond. He needed to fuck her.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, jerking her head back, the arch of her throat inviting his teeth. He bit her, mouth open and sucked the skin between his lips, claiming her as surely as a lion eats a gazelle. His hand abandoned her arm to invade her jacket, buttons gone, bra snapped at the center clasp through the regulation brown tee shirt. She moaned as he gripped the stiffest nipple of any woman he'd ever known, even through the shirt, and twisted, binding, claiming.
His.
She hit him with a hard slap of her open hand and he twisted her breast so she screamed, the sound pregnant with pleasure. She caught him, pinned his mouth with hers, her tongue forcing his lips apart, teasing his palette, wild and hard and hot. She wasn't one of his grad students. She was war hardened, and world weary, fully schooled in strategy, and always driven to gain the upper hand. He'd learned this about her after just one crazed night of fucking on the shattered balcony of what had been a five-star Rio hotel before Kraken the Third turned it into an abandoned slum.
They dueled, pressing, almost snarling, his hands under her shirt, her nails raking his shoulders with sharp abandon, and then she had his trousers open, the aching length of his cock in her hand. Carson groaned, welcoming her grip and control even as his mind blasted alarms through his brain.
He bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and she squeezed his cock in response. They breathed together as she positioned him, but he pushed in, penetrating her, slippery and hot and deep, pinning her to the edge of her desk, pressing his weight against her hips, his cock deep inside her, utterly without mercy.
Teeth sank in his shoulder, and as his fingers found her secret button, wildly stroking and flicking her clit, he heard her muffled moans. Her legs clamped around him, binding him to her, but his scientific research had shown him the path to success. Deep, hard, wracking thrusts of his cock, the solid length splitting her with fierce impact and fractioned heat as his fingers exploited her clit precisely and her bite slackened, her breath bubbled in her chest before her cunt closed like a vice around him and her voice nearly shattered glass with the force of her orgasmic scream. Pleasure pain blasted through his cock, up his spine and exploded in his brain, blinding and deafening him as he came in gushing waves. He sweated against her, almost hating her but wanting this woman more than breath as his rhythm died and he sagged against her, his cock twitching, this time in relief.
The red phone on the desk rang and they looked at each other.
General Owen controlled her breath, pushed him off her and arranged her skirt. She lifted the receiver and brushed back her sweat-dampened hair to take the call. She listened without speaking, her eyes growing wider. She blinked and said, "Standby for orders. Don't attack. Got that? Don't attack."
She hung up and looked at Carson, her face flushed. "They're right here," she said. "In Biloxi. They're right here, on the beach.
"And you won't believe what they're doing."
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 3/20/2010 4:32 PM 
Categories: Sci Fi, Pulps, Angela Caperton, Darkness and Delight, Erotica
Tags: monsters Erotica Pulps Sci Fi Darkness and Delight Stephen Bisette Monarch books Angela Caperton
Categories: Sci Fi, Pulps, Angela Caperton, Darkness and Delight, Erotica
Tags: monsters Erotica Pulps Sci Fi Darkness and Delight Stephen Bisette Monarch books Angela Caperton
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