i

Dora looks around with mild curiosity as she takes in her surroundings.  There’s a furrow to her brow when she hears voices distorted by the distance.  A ripple by her wrist, lightly wrapped around her pulse point briefly breaks her concentration.  She looks at the warm pulsing slime and feels her lips twitch despite herself, “hush.”

The symbiote settles for a moment at the gentle reprimand, a silent promise of bloodshed behind the simple word that makes them compliant.

Dora takes a step back, allowing the shadows to obscure her figure before nodding once. It’s now or never.

She closes her eyes as her entire senses are overtaken by the feeling of warmth, like a blanket of protection.

A shiver travels up her spine.

A rumble of excitement presses against her chest.

She opens her eyes, lashes fluttering as she takes in their surroundings.

Hungry .

Dora nods, I know. 

A pause as the voices grow closer.

Let’s feast.

She lets all of her senses go.

As much as she hates this, as much as the stench of blood and the screams in the now humid air makes her want to gag, she swallows the bile back and clenches their fists tight.

Lasher’s cackles echo in the sudden silence that befalls them.

They resound in her skull and make tears well in her eyes.

It’s for the greater good , she assures herself.

But as she looks around at the massacre that she created, she feels something sick twist in her stomach.

They did this , Lasher soothes, they made us do this.

Dora bites her lip and the symbiote quickly sinks into her clammy skin in utter offense at the silence.

Somehow she manages to scramble away from the bloody mess. Her breath hitches in disgust now that the full view of the blood bath is painted right in front of her.

Lasher typically gets them away from the scene before she can even process what they’ve done.

I take care of us , Lasher grumbles in growing anger.

Maybe her under appreciation is finally pissing them off.

Dora wrinkles her nose, “They were human too.”

She barely holds back her scream as a sliver of Lasher appears, their face mere inches away from hers.

Angry , she briefly thinks followed by an unprompted, cute .

“ There is nothing cute about what they have done ,“ Lasher growls, “ those human imprisoned us. “

Dore bites her lip, they’re right, of course.

“ We agreed that we would hunt them all for everything they have done to us. “

Reluctantly she nods, “I’m aware.”

“ Then what is the issue? “

Like a cobra about to strike, Lasher leisurely sways mid air, sharp teeth nearly nipping her nose with how close they are.

She looks away first.

“Nothing.”

Lasher scoffs, “ pathetic human, I can see into your mind’s eye. “

A gasp falls from her lips.

“ I know your deepest desires, what you and your body crave. “

There’s a flash of a memory in her mind that nearly crumbles her to the ground.

A picture of her children, of her family. Of the last shred of happiness she ever had.

She pushes away, but Lasher follows like a tightly tied balloon around her wrist.

Another image is conjured and this time she knows it’s their sick way of torturing her for her insolence.

“Stop that,” she frowns, body starting to tremble with anger at being taunted.

“ Is that what you want? “ Lasher asks.

She pauses in the middle of the carnage, body wound taut.

Lasher stops behind her, a warmth running down the length of her body as they manifest into the monster they truly are.  She wants to melt.

“ Is this what you want? “ They ask again, bodies pressed flush together into one.

Their breath is heavy and warm against her neck, the stench of death suspiciously gone.

Their voice becomes more sultry, high pitched as their breasts push against her back, clawed hands trailing up and down her sides. Dora stops breathing.

“ You could go back, “ Lasher says conversationally.

“You and I both know that I can’t,” she gasps.

“ Hm ,“ they respond noncommittal.

They don’t stop and Dora… she grows frustrated.

“You’re a monster,” she whispers.

“ Didn’t stop Brock or Dr. Lewis ,“ Lasher reminds, “ nor that boy. “

“This isn’t about them,” she huffs.

“ Of course not ,“ Lasher grins, pressing their smile into her shoulder as their tongue licks the lobe of her ear, “ this is about

me

breeding

you

.“

Dora bites her lip, she won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her come undone.

“Where is this coming from?” She redirects instead.

Lasher pushes off of her and with a sigh, they dramatically lean against her, “ nothing like a full belly and a stuffed pus- “

“Shut up!” She hisses furiously, cheeks burning in part humiliation and part something she refuses to name.

Lasher cackles again and finally she sighs, seems like they’re in a good mood again . 

At her expense, of course.

“ The offer stands ,“ Lasher grins as they begin walking ahead, interconnected nerves and tendons and muscles forcing Dora to follow after them without her own volition.

“ Just because I present as what you would call, ‘female’, does not mean I can’t also have a cock stuffing you full of alien goo cum ,“ Lasher snarks, “ and I’m sure I can fill your womb with my spawn in no time. “

Dora blanches at the choice words, cheeks turning red again, “Jesus!”

“ For science, of course ,“ they amend.

Dora shakes her head, “fuck off.”

“ In our dreams ,“ Lasher promises, always having to have the last words, “ in our very

wet

dreams. “

ii

Exhausted, Dora manages to get to their tiny studio apartment smack in the middle of the city. The walk is a blur as her hazy mind perks at the recognition of the front door of her makeshift home. She wraps her rather dry hand around the doorknob, jiggling the key in the slot until she hears the familiar click of it being unlocked.

She pushes the door in and beelines for the bathroom where she turns on the shower to the hottest setting she and by extension, Lasher, can tolerate. Her body is sore, her joints protesting with each and every move she makes and muscles aching with previous exertion. Her eyes droop with sleep but she forces herself to strip.

She climbs inside the tub and lets the spray cascade down her body.

A sigh escapes her lips and slowly she begins running her hands over her body. She brushes against her breasts and continues further down before reaching for the bar of soap and the loofah. She scrubs the nonexistent grime and blood from her skin until it’s pink and raw, until her mind is eased that she’s not covered in guilt.

She tries not to think.

And her mind is blissfully empty and that sparks a small ounce of worry she pushes aside.

She’s done as Lasher has asked of her, it’s the least they can do as she bathes.

She reaches for the shampoo Lasher insisted they get.

A huff slips past her lips at that. Even the most menial of things lead her thoughts back to the symbiote. She wants to roll her eyes at that, but even that feels like too much effort.

She reaches up and scrubs her scalp before running her fingers through her hair, allowing the suds to wash through the ends.

She doesn’t know how long she stands under the spray of the hot water, but knows the water is quickly losing steam and that spurs her to finally shut it off.

Only when she’s standing in the quiet bathroom does she realize she forgot to nab her towel.

Sighing softly, she steps out of the little room with a shiver.

Droplets of water cling to her body and run down her skin with gravity.

She finds her towel discarded by her bed and she debates on bending down to completely dry off.

With a shake of her head she simply falls onto the untidy and rumpled sheets.

She hates this feeling but it’s not like she has the energy to do much else.

“You there?” She finally asks aloud.

She doesn’t get a response, not like she expected one anyway.

Resolutely, she turns onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. Thinking back on one Eddie Brock. She can’t seem to remember ever seeing him as exhausted as she feels after feasting. Though she supposes maybe he’s simply gotten used to it.

But even after three years she still struggles with the knowledge that she’s harbored this monster all along.

She turns on her side and curls up in on herself. She should be grateful. Lasher may as well be the only reason why she’s even alive.

She scoffs as her thoughts turn dark again.
Should she be grateful?

In one fell swoop she lost her entire family, her life. She’s merely a ghost of the person she used to be and that’s simply a sad existence. She thinks she’s only surviving now– out of spite if nothing else.

In a slump, she pats around the bed until she finds her phone. She unlocks it and opens her contacts like she’s done countless of times since she was freed.

Her thumb hovers over Eddie’s phone number and still she can’t force herself to press call. It’s routine now, a self-deprecating ritual if she’s honest.

“Jesus,” she groans, “this is pathetic.”

She expects Lasher to chime in with an agreement.

Still nothing.

Fed up she frowns, “fine, be that way.”

A rumble emits from her own throat that nearly scares her.

She turns off the phone and tosses it aside again. It bounces and she listens to the dull thud on the floor where it lands. And she knows Lasher could’ve gotten that for her, but of course the symbiote is being petty now.

“Dick,” she grouses.

You wish , Lasher growls back.

There’s a hint of frustration at that and Dora presses her lips into a thin line. She doesn’t respond, but she thinks about it and wonders what the hell is going on with the symbiote.

Come morning, Dora resolutely does not think about the crude words exchanged. And to make sure she doesn’t, she throws herself into work. And by work, she means studying the literal monster thriving off of her own body while simultaneously trying to find each and every corrupt CEO and wannabe scientist who was involved in the Life Foundation in any way, shape, or form.

For a moment she even manages to forget about Lasher’s tantrum, about the being altogether.

Her focus is on the article lighting up her phone, Eddie’s name as the author briefly bringing a smile to her face before she continues to read the gruesome details of her latest crimes.

“Damn, Brock, you work fast,” she smiles bemused.

After finishing the rather poetic article about her and Lasher, she turns it off and places it face down on the table as she passes by to reach the kitchenette. She puts the kettle on for some hot chocolate and tiny marshmallows, a feeling of nostalgia consuming her.

Immediately her lips downturn at that.

An inkling of something screaming at her wrong! begins to claw its way into her mind.

For one, she can feel her own emotions without them being overshadowed by Lasher’s.

And for another, there hasn’t been a peep from the alien themself .

She rubs her chest when the familiar rumble of appreciation does not make its presence known, something she always experiences from the symbiote at the prospect of having any chocolate.

A bolder of worry sits heavy in the pit of her stomach when she closes her eyes and tries to concentrate.

In the chaos of her worry she simply can’t sense Lasher.

“What the fuck,” she curses softly.

She looks around in a panic, her breathing picking up to borderline hyperventilation.

“Lasher?” She calls out, a tremble in her voice.

For as much as bitches and groans about the symbiote, the eerie silence almost makes her spiral into a panic attack. She’s grown used to the alien, to its mere presence even in their silence.

She tries again, “Lasher?”

No response.

She scans her poorly kept apartment which doesn’t hide much of anything. And still can’t find a sign of the symbiote.

Finally, her gaze lands on the window beside their bed and she realizes it’s cracked.

She creeps closer to it, sure that she remembers closing and locking everything unless the symbiote intentionally decided to escape.

No. Not escape.

Leave .

That thought alone makes the breath in her lungs rush out in one fell swoop.