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  • You've lived with a girtabilu for almost 5 years, and despite the constant sex, it’s not as great as one would hope, your paralyzing fear of that damned stinger sticking you whenever she so much as wants laugh, all the chores fall to you because she’s too lazy or see’s herself as too superior to do such menial labor, and she just plain hurts you when she’s mad. Sex became hollow and unenjoyable pretty damn quick, and she rarely hugs, kisses or even says she loves you. You’ve grown sick of her and decided to try and leave one night. Being sneakier than you’ve ever been in your life you slip out of the house and actually make it a few feet before you hear a pissed yet shaky voice. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You already know who it is, she sounds pretty pissed yet sad as well, you have enough of a head start that you could easily bolt. What are you going to do?

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    • I go for it.

      I make it about forty feet before I realize.

      Our home is an oasis cave.

      I have no escape.

      I turn back, and sit my ass on the rocky desert ground.

      "If you won't love me, maybe the desert should be my wife instead!"

      She gives me an utterly incredulous look, completely stopped in her tracks.

      She stares at the night sky as if the sun were there, and I had gone mad from the heat like so many.

      "I-uh. . .what?"

      "You heard me, you asshole! You've been dry stabbing me for fun, and swatting me around like a botfly whenever you get pissed!"

      She resumes her approach, slower this time.

      "You stopped saying you love me."

      "So because I don't say it, it isn't true?"

      "Well, once more couldn't hurt!"

      "Honey, I l-"

      "I l-"

      "What's the matter, can't spit it out?"

      I hurl a rock at her leg.

      "There."

      She looks at me like I've touched her toe out of the blue.

      "What was that for, I l-"

      "I lo-"

      She keeps choking on it.

      "Back off, before I make us even."

      I motion to my back, where dozens of her dry stings, which never heal like the venomous ones, have left scars.

      A sharp rock is in my hand.

      "You think I mind if your back is a little marked up? It doesn't matter to me!"

      Her eyes grow lidded, her posture flirtaceous, and snake like, predatory.

      She slinks closer.

      "Other girls, though. Especially the human ones, they want unmarked men, don't they?"

      She wraps herself around me, the noose slowly closing.

      Her breath is hot in my ear, it tickles, and arouses.

      "I want you, though. You're mine, forever."

      "I'm not your slave, relea-"

      "No, no, you're not."

      There is fire in her eyes.

      "You're my consort!"

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    • A FANDOM user
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