After the very last of the pleasure fades away, you no longer feel so good. In fact, you feel disgusting. You just masturbated to the monster who kidnapped you. Not only that but you found pleasure from a whole host of disgusting monsters in a variety of sexual ways which appal you. This is not like you. You're not into that kind of thing. You're barely into sex at all.

What is happening to you?

The transformation is already beginning.

You sit up, your heart pounding furiously. You look down at your hands, as though you can find an answer there. You turn them over. What are you looking for? A reddish tinge? Leathery skin? Claws?

Someone's blood?

You're not human. You never were and you never will be.

You close your fists. Nonsense. It's all nonsense! Throwing back your sheets, you drop down from the bed, dragging the topmost sheet along with you to cover your nakedness. Now that it's daylight, you can see more. You can do more. There must be a way to get free.

Like last night, you peer out through the windows. There's nothing. Just a vast expanse of thick, dark forest leading to a range of mountains on the horizon. A beautiful place, wherever it is, but a haunting one.

Is that smoke in the distance? Gripping the sheet around your breasts, you brace your other hand against the windowsill and lean out as far as you can. Your hair falls around your face as you squint. Is that ... is that a village?

You try to see before the glare gets to you. Blinking, you drop your eyes below. It's a steep drop down. You glance down at your sheet, then back at the bed. An outrageous thought comes to mind, a thought so ridiculous you almost laugh. Surely, it's only done in movies.

Are you truly that crazy?

Better the risk than what's going to happen if you do nothing, you argue with yourself. But what is going to happen? This is all so insane. Monsters. Castles. Foreign lands. Flying men.

Ridiculous.

If it's so ridiculous, then climbing out through the window via a rope of knotted sheets shouldn't be so impossible, should it?

You frown, then lean through the window again.

But it's so high. One loose knot and you could break your neck.

It's at least worth a try.

You're walking back to the bed when you hear someone at the door. With nowhere to go, you grab onto the nearest bedpost anxiously. Is it him?

The door opens.

No. It's one of his winged servants. The blonde one. A knot coils in your stomach as you remember the dream. You can recall it so vividly that you swear you can feel his heat beating from across the room. Vomit surges in your throat. You swallow it back down. He might be an attractive ... thing. But ... no.

Just no.

He steps through the door, holding a pot in his hands. The door closes heavily behind him. He's wearing the same dark linen pants as yesterday. His feet are bare, his wings folded tightly at his back. He looks at you a moment before hastily putting the pot by the side of the bed. He turns to exit.

'What is that?' you say.

He turns. 'A chamber pot, for your morning ablutions.'

'Ablu—?' Then you suddenly realise. Your eyes widen. 'You've got to be kidding. That's ancient! Take me to a toilet.'

'There are no modern facilities here.'

You scrunch up your face in disgust. 'Then I'll go outside in the trees.'

'My master commands that you use it.'

You stare at each other until he drops his eyes. Another possibility for your escape dawns on you. His wings—if he brought you here, he can get you back home.

You soften your voice. 'You fear him, don't you?'

He raises his eyes. 'And love him.' He looks over his shoulder, then walks over to the desk where the remains of your food are. He frowns as he picks up a closh. 'He will be displeased; you have not finished your meals.'

'I ate what I could. You can tell your master that I'm a vegetarian.'

He raises his eyebrows at you. 'That won't be acceptable.'

'That's just too bad.'

'Your kind must eat meat or you'll die. Particularly females.'

You snort. 'Then why am I not dead? It looks like your perfect master has made a grave error then, hasn't he? I've never eaten meat.'

Replacing the closh, he frowns. The sunlight pouring in through the windows glints against his golden hair and the claws at the tips of his wings. It is a strange combination. How can he look so angelic and yet so demonic both at once?

'My master doesn't make mistakes, and neither do we,' he says confidently, though wrinkles of doubt crowd his forehead. He lifts his nose, as though smelling the air. His forehead smooths out. 'There is no mistake. You are destined for him.'

You start to tremble, with rage, with fear, with desperation—you're not sure what. Maybe all of them. Releasing the bedpost, you march towards him. He doesn't move, though he lifts his chin and stretches out his wings, as though preparing to defend the door.

'You cannot leave,' he says.

'You must help me.' You grab his wrist. 'Please.' Biting your lip, you try to look vulnerable, trying to act the part. 'If what you say is true, I cannot be one of him. I won't. I won't be a monster. I won't be his—' You twist your mouth, unable to say the word.

He lifts his chin higher. His eyes flash. 'He is not a monster. He is a wonder. He is a god.'

'He is a child who takes what he wants whenever he sees fit.'

Shaking his golden head, he pulls his arm out of your grasp and backs away towards the door. 'I am done with you now. Relieve yourself in the pot. My brother will return for it along with more food for your morning meal. I suggest you eat it. You don't want my master to get angry.'

And with that, he turns and exits through the door.