Cuddle Monster Novels & Stories

I whispered. His smile widened. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this. It’s amazing, Carrie.” “It is,” I said, meaning every word. He gave my hand a small squeeze before letting me go back to the chaos. Shane was watching Leo crawl toward the giant plush animal zone when I turned away from Amders. It was a lion bigger than him, a giraffe with googly eyes. “He’s fearless,” Shane said. “He’s curious,” I corrected with a grin. “Both,” he admitted.

I’d been hiding from another family fight, the kind that started with shouting and ended in silence that lasted weeks. He had golden eyes, feral and bright, and a voice like laughter on the wind. He called me Little Moon. Said I was going to bloom no matter how long it took. I wanted to believe him. I wanted us to bloom together. But afterward, he gave me this bracelet and vanished like a ghost. Sometimes I wondered if I’d imagined him. I wondered if it was because of how desperate I was for companionship, that I often imagined him in my head and created him in my dreams.

"This is the emergency?" "Life or death, babe." He looked at both. "Cactus has character. Narwhal is whimsical." "Right? I can't decide." He picked up both. "We'll get both of them." She gasped. "You beautiful man." He bowed. "Your indecision is my command." Two carts later, they'd gathered: Three packs of organic bamboo diapers Five animal-shaped hooded towels A lullaby-singing bottle warmer A white noise machine that simulated the womb sound

Furthermore, I implore you, if you struggle with any body dysmorphic or eating disorder and feel literature could be triggering or damaging, please read with caution. Secondly, Creature is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Certain long-standing institutions (like the Royal Opera House and Bolshoi Ballet) are mentioned, but the characters involved are completely imaginary. . ｡༶・° T E R M I N O L O G Y °・༶ ｡.

My collection of cute cuddlies serves a much more therapeutic purpose than appealing to the ‘little princess’ hidden within. I ponder for a moment, trying to decide which critter to select, then my eyes fall on The Chosen One and I smile. I cross to the back of the closet, select a certain purple-and-green dinosaur, and remove him from the pile. In my imagination, I can hear the whimpering dinosaur pleading with me to let him go, and hear his friends crying as I take him out of the closet and back into my room, closing the closet door behind us.

The apartment he rented in Trafford, one of the districts of Manchester, was at least ten times larger. Lou added to the trinkets from fans another one - a designer toy. A sort of cross between a sheep and a dragon, with eyes like two dark forest lakes. He puzzled for a long time what to give his beloved, and decided that she should like it. With her specific tastes. And I didn't guess. Kit squeaked and squeezed the monster with childish delight. She baptized him with his name. And then she began to squeeze Louis himself.

she murmured softly. She looked around the room again before walking over to her bag. Kneeling beside it, she unzipped the front pocket and pulled something out carefully. A small plush elephant. Soft grey fabric. Slightly worn. One ear bent from years of being carried around. “Mr. Cuddles,” she whispered. Her lips curved into the faintest smile. The toy had been with her since childhood. The only thing she had kept through every move, every lonely night, every quiet heartbreak.

He looked like he was in agony. But I was staring at the fresh scar on the webbing of his right hand, my entire body turning ice cold. That scar was identical to the one on the hand holding the woman's waist in the profile picture of the anonymous poster I had just seen. If I remembered correctly, that scar appeared three months ago. I was two months pregnant then, and we were walking in the deep forest. A feral Rogue suddenly rushed out. Kael didn't think twice before shielding me, fighting the beast with his bare hands.

"Anything else?" "Ice cream." "Of course." "And turn the TV on. Something boring. Nature documentary. Or that cooking show where no one actually yells." He nods seriously, already moving. "Anything else?" "A towel," I add. "And... my plushie." That finally makes him glance back at me, one brow lifting. "The wolf one?" "Yes," I say, unapologetic. "He's emotional support." He exhales a soft laugh. "I'll be right back."

Not hers. My hands started shaking. 'Are they selling off coma patients' bodies?' All those stories from school came flooding back. My skin crawled. I fought the nausea and fear, forced myself to finish cleaning her up. I was about to leave when I saw it—the music box on her nightstand. Ms. Deinert had told me not to mess with it. But my hand moved anyway. I popped it open. No music. Just velvet at the bottom. Then I saw it—tiny crumbs near the edge. Crackers, maybe?