Monster March 2026 | Day 4 | Alraune
If this posted twice blame Tumblr it says the other one dissappeared
Content Warning: dead rabbit do not eat, reader gender not described, vines, plant monster, why does the plant monster have titties? Idk ask the germans, body horror, mild blood and gore, mild animal abuse
Your first foray into the study of monstrous biology and anatomy was… unexpected to say the least. This time, you had a suspicion of what you were getting into. You knew you were being followed for some time before the creature broke into your home. And you weren’t the only person who had noticed your stalker; friends expressed concern, colleagues expressed interest, and you waved away their questions. After all, last time you’d met a monster it had gone so well for you. You wanted to see how this turned out.
It was the curse of scientific curiosity.
When it broke into the lab after you went home for the night, you knew you had to do something about it. And not just because your colleagues threatened you about their disrupted experiments. This thing had questions and it seemed to think you could answer them.
And then you woke up to the sound of glass breaking. You sat upright in bed, heart pushing adrenaline through your body faster than you thought was entirely reasonable. Probably someone just threw away recycling. Probably.
When no axe murderers came charging into your room, you convinced yourself it was safe to go back to sleep. You never noticed the beady black eyes watching you from your doorway.
What you did notice in the morning was a living room window broken and muddy foot prints all over your floors. The same muddy foot prints that had been found in the lab. They were bare feet and all you could think, for just a moment before the fear had a chokehold on you, was how they came in barefoot and didn’t cut themself on the broken glass.
[[MORE]]That night you waited awake until your eyes burned, until you started to nod off, your head tilting down to your chest. This needed to stop. You needed to see what was following you, what was breaking into the places you spent your time, what had those bare cold feet.
And then you felt a tickle at the spot behind your ear. You slapped at it, hitting branches of your house plant.
And then you remembered you didn’t have a house plant.
You jumped up, senses kicking into full gear so fast that you felt certain you were still dreaming.
Beside the chair you’d fallen asleep in was a woman. She stared at you, black pupilless eyes following you as you went from sitting to standing. She was naked, her bare feet covered in mud and her hands streaked with it. And instead of hair, leaves and stems grew from her head. Your hand desperately groped for a light switch and when it brought the lights on, you watched her hiss and dive for the table. But you saw the moment of woody skin, of bark-like lines and root-like tendrils on her legs. And you saw the glass embedded in her black feet.
“Sorry, sorry, no light,” you called and fumbled to flip them off again.
She glared at you in the dim light the street gave through the windows. A car passed by, its headlights catching the black pebbles of her eyes and gleaming off of them, like a shiny rock at the bottom of a river catching moonlight.
She stayed there, staring at you. Not that you could see her very well in the dark, crouched like a frightened animal under your table. But you knew she didn’t move. And you knew she didn’t blink.
You puttered around, cleaning up the new muddy foot prints and in general acting like she wasn’t there. She only moved to keep her eyes trained on you while you worked. She didn’t make another sound, aside from the occasional rustle of the plant life on her head. She was so… unusual. And more unusual for her stillness and silence. But it was… almost nice. Having her company. And when you started to talk to her, even when she didn’t respond, you told her as much. When you ran out of things to clean, including every chore you’d ever put off, you crouched beside the table. She stayed exactly in place. She didn’t flinch away. She didn’t move towards you. You weren’t sure if you expected her to hide like a frightened animal or pounce like a viscous predator more. Either way, it wasn’t what you expected.
“I’m going to bed now. You can leave through the open window, please don’t break any more. I’ll leave a window open tomorrow night too.”
Glass was expensive afterall.
She didn’t respond. Didn’t move until you were facing away and heading towards your bed. You caught her shadow, lit by moving car lights and ambient street lighting, following you in slow steps. You pretended you didn’t notice, even while she stayed to watch you change into pajamas and even when she watched you crawl into bed. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice her watching you as you fell asleep.
The next night she didn’t break any windows. You weren’t sure if it was because you asked her not to or because you’d left one open, but you were pleased when you noticed her watching you in your kitchen and did not hear the sound of breaking glass. She followed after you, watching you in her sweet and bone chilling way. And then she would watch you until you fell asleep and be gone in the morning. This continued for some time. Eventually she started bringing you gifts. A rock (the same one she’d broken your window with, you thought), a beaker from the lab (you weren’t welcome back until your stalker was gone), and eventually a skinned and still breathing rabbit.
You’d screamed at that one, nearly as loud as the rabbit had when it woke up. You tried to explain pain to her. To explain why it was wrong. Why you and the rabbit screamed.
When she brought you another rabbit, this one with a torn out throat, you decided she hadn’t understood. You asked her not to bring you any more living things.
She didn’t come back for some time after that. You worried that she’d taken it to mean that as a living thing, she wasn’t welcome back. But you had no way to tell her otherwise. You had no way to tell her that you were lonely without her company. That you missed the way her beady eyes watched you, the shudder of her plant life when the wind blew through your still-broken window, the soft pad of her bare feet on your floors. You couldn’t tell her that you wanted her to come back.
You started going to bed earlier again. You had been staying up late so that you could see her after the sun went down. You started sleeping more. After two weeks of no sightings of your strange stalker, you called to announce you would be returning to the lab. And some of your colleagues took you out for drinks.
You got a little too drunk, maybe, at the bar. You stumbled home a little too unaware of the shadows following you. You stripped and got into bed a little too horny and thinking about the naked body you had become so used to seeing night after night. And then your hand felt a little too good while you imagined a little too vividly what that body might have felt like against yours.
In your drunkenness it took you a little while to notice that your hand wasn’t what was moving between your legs any more. Tendrils, thin vines and stems and woody fingers, were holding your hand and replacing your movements with their own. Your back arched off the bed and you moaned wantonly as friction moved in counterpart with itself, pushing while pulling, thrusting while retreating, filling while emptying. It was dizzying, the amount of sensations you could feel at once. You whined and tried to move your free hand. It was stuck fast to the bed, roots tying it down. You looked through bleary eyes and saw the naked body you’d been missing. The perfect breasts were in front of your face and you did was only instinct. You sucked them into your mouth.
You heard the rustle of leaves, a near human moan that sounded as much like a tree creaking in a storm. You tasted wood and dirt and flesh and blood on your tongue as you sucked and licked the perfectly shaped mounds. You felt the intensity of her passion, your mandrake girl, as she brought you up to the heights of you pleasure. Your mouth fell open around her and you felt wooden lips and a wooden tongue dance into your mouth. You screamed a prayer that only the gallows god would hear into her as she began to take root inside of you, underneath your skin.
