Chapter 1
one
EVEREST
As I sit at the kitchen table, Zane suddenly peers over my shoulder, scaring the shit out of me. He’s fresh from the shower, smelling like his lavender body wash that he always uses right before we head off to the gym.
I’ve never understood why he does that, considering we’re about to get all sweaty and gross, but I’ve stopped wondering about his odd little idiosyncrasies.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I shrug and gesture at the cover of the orientation pamphlet.
I’ve been looking over the New Beginnings registration information all morning, preparing myself for what’s to come. I turned twenty-one last night, so I was able to fill out all my registration paperwork for monster service, and now I have my first appointment.
My palms are slightly sweaty with nerves, but I don’t want him to know that. From the look on his face, I can tell he knows what I’m reading and he disapproves.
“Shit. Is that what I think it is?” He sounds…not quite disgusted, but not happy, either.
I shift the paper under my water glass and brush the questioning off as I stand up to put my now-empty bowl of oatmeal in the sink.
Zane is such a drama queen most days. He’s known I’ve been excited to register since the monsters first appeared in our world, so I don’t know why he seems so surprised to see the paperwork now that, as of yesterday, I’m of age.
There are ways to get out of service, of course, though most people under the age of thirty don’t succeed at getting more than an extension.
Usually, after a few sessions, you can appeal for a permanent exception, though.
And as long as there are enough volunteers, most people’s appeals are granted.
So, even if someone doesn’t like the idea of getting sucked off, what’s a few weeks of free blow jobs before being done forever? Especially since it means keeping humans safe and healthy.
Zane is one of the people who seems to think the cost is too high.
“Uh, yeah,” I answer as I grab my protein shake from the counter. “I finished my registration last night. I have to go in for my orientation and first session tomorrow.”
The registration is a requirement, like the draft used to be, which is ironic because, since the arrival of the Vyastil, we don’t have wars anymore. And with the monsters, no one is forced to fight for their lives when their number is called.
He looks a little pale, like maybe he thought I was joking this entire time. “Shit, Everest, you serious? You’re actually going to go?”
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t have a reason not to. Have you done it yet?” His birthday was three weeks before mine, and every semen-producing person has six months past their twenty-first birthday to fill out the online forms.
But I’m not surprised when he shudders and shakes his head.
“Fuck no. I’m going to ask for an extension. You know, for mental health reasons.”
“Dude, you get your cock sucked, like, every weekend. How is this any different?”
His blue eyes widen, and he sputters, his curly blond hair flopping around on his head as he shakes it.
“I don’t get it sucked every weekend! And even if I did, it’s by a woman.
A human woman, not some weird monster with a long tongue and…
and…” He waves his hand around, and I arch an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.
“I heard it feels nice,” I say when he doesn’t go on. “They can deep throat. Like, the entire time.” My cheeks are slightly pink as I say this, though I don’t want to be embarrassed. No one should be ashamed of liking what the monsters offer.
Zane doesn’t look impressed. “That doesn’t make up for the fact that you have to go in every week and let them suck you off! It’s clinical and cold. And weird.”
I scoff as I stand up and walk over to grab my gym bag for our weekly session. “Yeah, so what? Like you know the names of the women who get on their knees for you?”
He flips me off but doesn’t say anything else because he knows I’m right. It’s never been about feelings for him before. He’s just desperately trying to find an excuse for why he feels the way he does about the Vyastil.
Honestly, though, I’m tired of this same argument we’ve been having for years.
Signing up for the program is something I’ve been planning since I was seventeen. And since I was eighteen and able to move freely around the internet, I’ve been preparing myself for the next step.
Besides, the monsters offer us too much not to do it.
And it’s not like it’s hard work for us. We sit there, get off, and go home. Rinse and repeat until we get married, age out, or file an appeal to stop.
I mean, win-win, right? Not that I’m into dudes, but these are monsters with a very androgynous form. And I’ve gotten off to anime monster porn before, so I can’t imagine it’ll bother me much when I’m in a monster’s chair.
“What time are you going in tomorrow?” Zane finally asks as we make our way toward the living room.
“Uh,” I pull up the email on my phone and stare down at it. “Check-in is at noon.”
“Which clinic?”
“New Beginnings over on Main Street.” That’s where the portal to their world is in our town. Right now, there are several all over the state. The monsters come and go through each one, and some have spread out, but the concentration is always highest near the portals.
The monsters are usually only interested in the clinics, but as they’ve learned our language and customs, some of them have decided to settle here with us.
Plenty have gotten jobs since the species’ work laws were passed, and now that they’re legally allowed to, some have invested in the stock market and real estate.
There are still protests all over the globe, but most of the people crossing into Michigan are here to see them, not to make trouble for the Vyastil.
Zane’s eyebrows rise. “Well, shit.”
“Huh?” I frown at the way his face is still a little pale. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just…it’s actually happening, Ev. I never thought we’d have to—” He waves his hands around again and swallows heavily. “I guess it just…seems real now.”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s weird, but it is what it is.
I don’t feel like fighting it.” I take a breath, then say, “What if I promise to tell you how it goes?” Technically, we’re not supposed to talk about it.
Once we’re registered, we get access to even more information about the Vyastil, but we’re not allowed to share that with people who haven’t signed up or participated in the service.
But I want to help him. He seems genuinely upset, and telling him I’m not only willing to do this, but I’m kind of excited, seems a little unproductive.
He shakes his head, a little green around the gills. “No, I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me. I don’t want you getting arrested for breaking the NDA. Also, I’m not sure I want to know how you get off with them.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug and slap him on the back before pulling my sweatshirt on. We’re jogging to the gym, and it’s cold outside today.
Mid-October in Michigan is wet, but I’m used to it. I was born here and never plan on leaving.
Especially not now that the portals are here.
“Can we just not talk about it anymore?” he pleads as he tightens the laces on his shoes.
I sigh, trying not to be annoyed with him. “You can’t avoid it forever. It’s part of our duty, a public service for the important shit they give us.” I know I sound like a monster PSA, but it’s the truth.
I still can’t help but think about how if they’d come just a little sooner—just a few years earlier—my parents would still be here. And that is a tough pill to swallow.
His ears turn pink, and I know he doesn’t get it. “Fuck off with the ‘it’s our duty’ bullshit. And, like, what if my dick doesn’t get hard? Then what?”
“They give you some kind of medicine if you can’t get it up.” Which is true, though I’ve heard horror stories about the medication and what it does to the body. “But look, you still have your appeal. Maybe someone will be willing to take your place.”
Zane peers at me, a glint in his eye. “You don’t seem to have an issue with it. Why don’t you take my place and do double time with the monsters? Two blow jobs a week wouldn’t be the worst thing, right?”
Something in my gut squirms, but I can’t tell if it’s want or revulsion. “Yeah, we’ll see. I have a job, you know? I can’t be running to the clinic all the time to cover your ass.”
“Oh please, you work at a fucking hot dog stand.”
He’s not wrong. I’m not exactly changing the world by slapping mustard on hot dogs and serving people at the mall, but the shit at the clinic doesn’t pay, and it’s bad enough I have to miss one shift a week for it.
“Maybe if we didn’t have to do this for the rest of our lives,” he says as I reach for the front door handle, “it wouldn’t be so bad. But I don’t want to be some old man with sagging balls watching a monster…you know…”
He’s exaggerating. It’s not for the rest of our lives. It’s either until we get married or age out, but I’m not going to play his game.
“Stop being such a Debbie Downer. It’s only until we’re sixty. After that, it’s totally voluntary.” I hold the door open for him. “You coming or what?”
He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and follows me outside. The cold hits my skin, and I feel my cheeks reddening from the biting wind.
“I hate that the fucking monsters are everywhere now,” Zane grumbles. “We can’t even go to the gym without seeing them there.”
He’s not wrong about that, either. The monsters have developed a love of human physical activity. They don’t seem to build muscle the way we do, but they’re always in the gym, lifting absurd amounts of weight I will never attempt.
“Such a fucking grump. You should have had some coffee before we left,” I tell him as I stretch my calves.
He does the same, glowering at me from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, well, at least I care about something. If the government told you to roll over and take it up the ass for them and they’d save all the sick babies, you’d do it.”