Monster

Monster
by Spacefille

Please ask me before archiving or posting this anywhere else.

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The sharp cry followed by a crashing sound echoes across my lab and distracts me from my calm calculations. I look up, surprised, and make my way over to the source of the noise.

"Donatello!" I exclaim, going to his side. He is between the two lab benches, curled around himself, trembling ever so slightly. By his feet is the shattered remnants of a beaker.

"What is it, friend?" I question, placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin is cool and clammy to the touch. "What is wrong?"

Don moans ever so slightly, but still tries to straighten. "It's nothing..." He begins, his voice shaky. I can tell he is lying. "I just... I think the fumes from my experiment are having an adverse effect on me..."

I look to where he has the rest of his various beakers and canisters set up on the table in front of us. I know that he has been trying to make something for his brother Michaelanglo... the poor turtle contracted the equivalent of the flu a week ago and has been getting worse. Don has been focusing all his attention on trying to concoct a medicine for a mutant turtle because the human medications do not work.

But now this experiment in making medicine appears to have hurt Don. The thought of my friend being hurt makes me irrational for a moment. I growl and reach out to knock his beakers to the floor to join the other down below. His cry stops me from doing so.

"Don't!" Don exclaims. "don't wreck it, please LH," He shakes his head slightly. "I should have worn a mask is all..." He's leaning against my arm, barely with enough energy to stand. I don't know if this is because of the fumes or the fact that he hasn't slept in over two days, but I don't like it. Even so I respect my friend. I gently prop him up against the table carefully and just as carefully gather up his experiment, balancing the glass containers in my arms. I am careful not to inhale to deeply.

"Put it in the fridge," His kindly voice follows me. "I'll get to it later." My acute hearing picks up the sound of his slight moan as I place his experiment in my refrigerator.

I shut it and turn back, only to see him now half slumped over the lab table. "Donatello?" I question again, going to his side. "Please... let me help you."

He shakes his head, pushing away from the lab bench. "I should be okay LH," He says. "Just... ah, need to lay down for a second..." Even as he says it, he falters, stumbling. I catch him before he falls.

"I am very worried Donatello," I say, half carrying him across the room. I don't hesitate to bring him to the little alcove where I have built my nest out of old, but clean, rags and blankets. I set him down in my nest and he curls up and away from me, trembling.

I straighten again. I take off my lab jacket and hang it on the hook beside my bed, then turn back to Don. He is definitely sick, with the shaking and little whimpering noises. "I should call your brothers Donatello," I say. I believe that his family should be informed...

"NO!" The ragged protest catches me by surprise. "No, don't call them." There is something strange about Donatello's voice. It is deeper... harsher. He attempts to sound normal as he continues. "I'll be okay Leatherhead... I think I know what's wrong now. Some of the chemicals had... uh, had unexpected properties... I'll have to try to replicate the experiment later," He forces his body still but his arms... they are curled around his lower abdomen as if protecting an injury. Suddenly my blood runs cold. If he has been hurt...

I reach out and grasp his shoulder, rolling him towards me. He fights me. "LH don't!" He shouts.

"Donatello, you are hurt!" I return, chiding him. I remove his arms from around himself with ease, as I am much stronger than he.

He lets out a groan as his head falls back against the blankets as I merely hold his wrists in my hands and stare.

"Not hurt..." He says finally, his eyes closed and cheeks tinged darker with embarrassment. His erection has descended down from his shell and rests against his upper thigh, curving up and away from his body.

I drop his wrists suddenly. "Donatello!" I say, still too shocked to do much of anything except stare.

He merely groans with embarrassment and rolls away from me again, turning to face the wall again. For several moments he lays there without speaking. Then, "I'm sorry!" He exclaimed softly and his hands descend to move on that erection. Now it is my turn to flush and be embarrassed. I look away and sit there pensively for a moment. I realize that I should go back to my lab...

I look back again. I stare. I can not help it. I am fascinated as I watch the up and down motions of his arm, the soft gasping sounds he is making....

"It uhh, kinda hurts LH," He mutters, turning his head a bit to try to look over his shoulder at me. "Just let me take care of it, then I'll be okay..." He looks back to the wall and the hand moves faster.

I hesitate. I know I need to go, to give him the privacy he needs, but it is almost like my hands move with a will of their own. Suddenly I am grasping his shoulders, rolling him out again and taking his hands in my massive ones. He freezes and stares up at me and I can see the deep horrible fear in his eyes. "Leatherhead?" He whispers with a certain note of trepidation in his voice.

No! I do not want this. I begin to fight with myself in my mind. I do not want to see fear in those wide brown eyes. I want to see love or lust... never fear. I have spent many a lonely night wondering if it were possible to initiate a relationship with my intelligent, kind hearted academic companion. I do not wish to scare him. I also, despite my romantic ideas, know that such companionship with him may be a physical impossibility...

On the other hand, this is happening now, on my own bed and in my own lair. Touching ones self or a companion does not involve potential harm or injury. I want to see this, participate...

I force my thoughts aside and smile at him, hoping I look reassuring as I let go of his hands. "It's okay Don," I say, sitting back a bit. "Please... continue..."

He hesitates only a moment more before he gulps and nods quickly. He is ashamed, I can tell, but he doesn't resist. I watch avidly as his hands trace down to his torso and begin to touch and stroke.

It is erotic to see my friend like this and my breath quickens as he touches himself. Soon his entire body is tensing. Suddenly I reach out and place a hand over top of his, stilling them again. He shudders, his body shaking, and looks up at me, his eyes now somewhat glazed.

"Let me help you Donatello," I breathe. I am not so weak that I will force myself on him... if he says no, I will accept it and leave him in peace, or merely watch in peace as the case may be.

I watch as his eyes grow larger and steel myself for rejection, removing my hand from his. Instead he manages a tiny nod. "O-okay," He whispers.

I can hardly believe it. I slide over to him. He's making little whimpering sounds as he continues to stroke himself, not really even paying much attention to what I'm doing. I slide an arm around him and pull him to me, tucking him securely across my lap as I reach down to where his hands are working. I draw them away as I wrap my own hand around the weeping flesh.

It takes me a moment or so to get the hang of it, how hard or how soft, how fast or slow but soon I am doing well! He sobs and shudders in my arms, hand reaching out to lock onto my bicep as I manipulate him. His face burrows against my chest as his legs kick out, trying to drive the torrid flesh deeper into my palm. I tighten my grip ever so slightly and he tenses, toes curling up. A few more strokes and suddenly he is coming, warm liquid flowing over my fingers.

"Haa! Aaaa..." He pants against me, gulping for air. I reach behind me and wipe off my hand with part of the bedding.

He is still shuddering and panting in my arms when I turn back again, and I can see with a slight shock of surprise that his erection has not dissipated at all. Does this mean that whatever he has inhaled has not left his system yet? "Donatello?" I question.

He blinks up at me and his expression is pained. Then he buries his head into my chest again with a soft groan. Frowning I hold him to me, and for this short moment in time enjoying the feel of him even though I am worried for him.

At the same time I curse my instincts. I have two sets of them when it comes to my turtle friends... one of them is eat, for in the natural order of things, turtles are food for my kind. That is the easy one to control, my mind has evolved far beyond the base instinct to kill and eat. The hard to control instinct is the one that is pushing my cock through the folds of my skin and commanding my attention. Now all I want to do is take my dear friend. Helping him with his physical needs are one thing, but I will not contemplate taking him like that. I will not. No matter how much my baser instincts are interested in that prospect...

I lay him back down on the bed again despite his little whimper of protest, intent to turn away and tuck myself back in without drawing his notice.

His hand catches my arm before I can turn away completely. "LH," He says between pants for breath. "It's okay," His eyes flicker down to my jutting, embarrassing erection and back up again. He turns his head to the side and his legs fall open, obscenely, his tail fully extended to reveal not only his hard angry erection but also his other entrance.

"Donatello, no," I exclaim, covering myself from sight with one hand and reaching out to him with the other. "I couldn't... the size alone would..."

His hand returns to his erection as I protest, jerking it harshly, his face screwed up into a horrible grimace. He is not listening to me. I realize now that the chemicals are acting like a drug and that drug is now controlling my friend. The sounds now falling from his mouth are not just aroused, they sound pained as well.

It upsets me and suddenly I get up, making my way through my lab, looking for something. I finally find it, scented oil, the kind that calms the spirit. It will work for Donatello as well. I make my way back to the nest of rags and blankets and open the bottle. I pour some of the liquid over his busy hands and suddenly they no longer tug quite so badly on his delicate flesh.
He surprises me by suddenly removing one of his hands from his erection and dropping it down lower. I stare as one of his well oiled digits press into his own entrance. My cock jumps and my mouth suddenly goes dry as I watch it disappear inside of him.

This is wrong, a voice in the back of my head seems to want to remind me. He is not in control of himself...

The voice trails off as I am transfixed on Donatello. I watch breathlessly as he moves his finger deeper inside. He bucks his own hips up, several times, trying to get deeper... however he just can't reach whatever peak he is trying to get to, not for lack of trying.

I have to help him. The moment I decide this, all rational thought in my head begins to scream at me to stop and leave him alone, that I know what will happen if I continue. I ignore my thoughts, a bit guiltily, as I find the bottle of scented oil and pour some over my fingers. I then reach out and draw his hand out and away from himself. He offers up a whimpered protest, making little hip thrusts at me as soon as his finger is dislodged, craving that loss of contact.

I slide my much larger digit inside him. He freezes and then let out a low groan as I crook that finger up, hitting something I know is there. I smile and move my finger in and out, which makes him thrash and moan, his hands desperately stroking his own weeping flesh.

He starts murmuring something between gasps for breath and I have to lean in close to hear.

"... inside...," he's saying. "Want you... inside..."

"Don," I return, a bit panicked. "Donatello, I'll rip you apart!" It is true... I am fairly sure he can not take all of me.

"... please..." he manages again past another harsh pant, hands speeding up on his erection.

I pull away. I hesitate only a second before reaching for the bottle and pouring it over myself, quickly spreading it out with my hand. Then I reach out and grip his sides. I pick up his entire body, lifting it and lining it up before bringing him down again.

His anguished cry tapers off into a shuddering sob as his body bucks against mine, instinctively trying to throw me off. I see then that I was correct in my assumption. I do not fit all the way in, my friend's body is too small.

He is also too far gone to care, he shudders against me, one hands fumbling for hold on my shoulder as the other goes back down between us. I carefully put him down on the bedding. Maybe I can make this work after all, I think to myself desperately. I pull most of the way out and jerk my hips experimentally, trying to reach that spot my finger had. I must have done something right as he groans at that, his head flying back and his teeth tightly clenched. His thick hardened cock twitches at the contact as I sit back on my heels and moves inside of him again.

"Oh, oh god," He pants and I am amazed he still has his voice. I lean forwards and brace myself on my arms above him so my massive body completely covers his. He doesn't seem to mind.

"I am sorry Donatello," I mutter softly, so softly that he doesn't hear me even if he were inclined to listen, so caught his is in his needs that he is focused on nothing else. I begin to slowly thrust into him and out again, determined not to hurt him more.

My determination unfortunately means nothing in the face of carnal pleasure. Soon he is sputtering through his second release, thrashing helplessly while still tied to my body, his dick bringing forth even more cum to splatter upon our fronts. "ELLLAGHH...!" He cries out as he does so.

That cry is what does it to me. My changes are always fast and uncontrollable, and this time is no exception. I loose control of myself. Completely. My monstrous urges take over completely as I pound into Don's much smaller body beneath mine. I know I'm hurting him. He is shouting now, and those cries are ones of pain. In this state the knowledge that I am hurting my friend only seems to fuel my lust. I grip his shoulders down and ram into him as hard as I can. He finally chokes out something that sounds suspiciously like a sob and falls quiet, silent, as my assault continues. It is all I can do to keep my head up, not snap at him with my teeth and perhaps tear into his face. I pant and groan and finally let out a terrible cry as my own release forces from my body.

When I come back to myself, my eyes clearing, I gasp and pull away. I scramble off of him completely, pulling out at the same time. I look down at his limp form, half expecting him to be dead.

Instead, and my heart sings with joy, Donatello is alive. He moves ever so slightly and I can hear him groan.

I am also relieved and amazed to see that there is no blood, neither on my own cock or leaking from the place I have filled so completely. I thought for sure I must have torn him, no matter how relaxed and willing the chemicals had made him. Perhaps, I think a bit wildly, I was not as far gone as I had previously thought. Or maybe he is constructed sturdier than expected...

Now he is making little wounded whimpering sounds in the back of his throat, his legs still obscenely splayed. I wonder if I have broken his legs, somehow, before I see them twitch. His tail and curved area between his shells is decorated with the evidence of his pleasure and my lack of self control. At least his dick is now limp, though not yet softened enough to be drawn back inside. I return my attention to his face.

"I - I am sorry Donatello," I say softly, reaching out and touching his cheek with large clumsy fingers.

For a moment he doesn't respond. Then his eyes flutter open and his mouth works silently. It takes several gulps and attempts to speak before he is able to rasp out a reply in a voice harsh from screaming. "It's... okay... LH," He manages. He moves his head against my hand, nuzzling the palm, his eyes falling closed again. "'ll be okay."

As I watch him my heart is heavy with knowledge that I have yet again failed to control myself and have hurt a good friend in the process. This should not have happened. I pull myself to my feet, standing above the nest with my shoulders slumped. I turn away. I feel like a horrible person.

"Leatherhead?" His faint voice reaches my ears and I turn back again, looking down at him. "Water?" He asks, a hopeful expression on his weary face.

"Anything Donatello," I reply tenderly, before retreating to the lab to find that item. First, though, I find a clean cloth and dampen it with water. Then I find the requested item, a glass, and fill it with water before going back to where he lay.

He is now mostly unconscious on my bedding, limp as he lies partly on his side. I loop an arm around his shoulders and hoist him up, lending him strength where he has none. I press the glass to his lips. He drinks, then manages a weak smile of gratitude as he pulls away. I put the cup down and begin to investigate his violated body.

I check his vitals, pupil dilation, everything, still horribly afraid I have caused serious injury. He appears to be okay, breathing even, heartbeat a bit fast but nothing, I decide, to worry about. Yet.

"I am sorry Donatello," I murmur as I slide a finger inside of him again, cursing it's large size. He whimpers softly but says nothing as I hunt for internal injury. Nothing that I can feel anyway... and my finger is still clean of blood as I remove it again. I wipe it off on the cloth.

He lays there, eyes on the ceiling, face, and entire body slack. He appears to be extremely exhausted, but still he tries to speak as I set about cleaning him as best as I can.

"Mikey..." He begins.

"I will continue your investigations tomorrow Donatello," I assure him as I continue to clean. His dick has retreated back to where it is safe, tucked away, so I wipe around it, erasing the evidence of our encounter from his tail.

He frowns, his brow knitting, and I can tell he wishes to continue. I slide a hand up his chest to pat him on the shoulder consolingly. "If you are not feeling up to doing the experiments yourself that is." I say. I pause when the worried expression on his face does not disappear. "I will be careful."

That calms him. He manages a slight nod, his eyes falling shut again. I finish my cleaning and gently turn him over onto his front, knowing from the occasional times he has fallen asleep at my lab that that is how he sleeps.

He doesn't protest. I watch him as his breathing levels out and becomes even.

When I think he is unconscious, I get to my feet, prepared to spend the night in my lab. I have a broken beaker to clean up and some investigating to do after all...

I am just about to leave the room when a small noise from him calls my attention back to the bed. I turn back around again, surprised.

I am even more surprised to see that his eyes are open again. "Don't..." He whispers. As I watch he extends a shaking arm towards me.

A strong wave of emotion hits me as I return to the bed. "Donatello," I whisper, taking his hand in mine almost reverently and kneeling so I am closer to him. Whatever he wants I will get for him.

Though he attempts a bit of a wearied smile, his brown eyes are solemn and serious as he looks at me. "Stay?" He asks.

Anything, though his request does shock me. Obediently I lay down next to him and he shifts closer, pressing against my chest. I hold him to me as he relaxes by degrees. Soon his breathing levels out again and he is truly asleep.

Tomorrow I will discover what has happened with his experiment. Tonight I will remain awake for my friend. I must protect him from myself. I refuse to cause him any further pain, pain wrought by the nightmares I have, and the new nightmares that will now join them.

I sigh very softly and lean my snout against the top of his head. I can't help but to think that my friend will hate me tomorrow for what I have done, even though it is not in Donatello's nature to hate. But for now I am helpless against the need to feel this closeness to another being... another soul so close to mine.

I can only hope that he'll find it within himself to, eventually, forgive.

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