Christ. I don’t even remember what date it is anymore. If anyone asked I couldn't even tell when this whole thing started. The only anchor I seem to have is that cursed alarm going off every morning telling me I have to shower, put my happy face on and go be a good, little drone bee.

The days slosh into the nights and the nights into following days making everything a blur of fleeting deja-vus and distant faces asking me if everything is alright. Reality and I seem to have gone our different ways, irreconcilably parted like old lovers who now decided they hate each other.

I haven’t slept a good night's sleep in god knows how long. I seem to be pulling through by the skin of my teeth with help from unconscious naps I keep falling into during the day. Little pockets of blissful, black comas, just enough to get me through to the next morning. My whole body aches in ways and places I had never imagined before. Performing even the most menial of tasks feels like climbing a mountain with broken limbs on an empty stomach.

Every night the story plays itself over and over again, never failing, never fatigued. The instant the sun flickers out of view all the lights in my crummy, little studio apartment go out on cue plunging everything into absolute darkness. There’s not even a smidge of light coming in from the street lights or any sound from the busy street outside. The perfect void.

My feet carry me to the bed by themselves. I’ve tried fighting it. Oh, I've tried many times, believe you me, especially at first, but I have no control over them whatsoever. My legs start trembling at first then become weaker and weaker, ending in my collapse onto the messy bed. I don’t even bother making the bed anymore, or changing the sheets for that matter. What would be the point in that? I already know how they’re gonna end up.

Then that noise. Something like the out of breath panting of a large animal that’s been running after it’s prey just to have finally caught up with it. Panting overlapped with growls of pleasure in anticipation of what it would do next.

Then that smell. Invading my nostrils and overwhelming my sense of smell. The scent of a carnivore that has never even heard of the term oral hygiene. That damp, putrefied waft of hot air being expelled straight in my face from just an inch away.

Then that enormous muscular tongue, writhing out of it’s mouth like a hatching snake encased in dripping slobber. That tongue moving all over my face and neck covering me in sticky, warm saliva, only to then open my lips and make its way into my mouth.

Then that somewhat humanoid body, way too long to be a man, it’s muscles twisting and bulging underneath a slick, eel-like skin. The slippery, wet coldness is uncanny, like a frozen piece of meat that has been sitting in the freezer for way too long and now the first layer has unthawed.

I thrash and move my body violently, contorting with all my strength underneath it’s lanky body. Some nights I just stay there frozen, not moving much. Sometimes I struggle and manage to come on top and pin it to the bed, but it always has it’s long, claw fingered arms wrapped on my hips, holding me in a vice tight grip.

It all goes on and on the entire night and every morning it all goes away just as soon as dawn breaks, leaving me feeling exhausted, dirty and covered in a sticky film of perspiration. My clothes and sheets are torn to shreds, my hair a tangled mess and there’s always a new bruise or scratch somewhere on my body.

Otherwise the sex is brilliant.