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Flushed!

by Charles Matthias

(Note from Phaedrus: This story was originally posted in three parts. Warning: Violent content.)


Memories were not something that it had much of, especially in its young life, when it was hardly out of it's shell. It's brain was very primitive, not nearly so developed as that of the other animals that it had seen. Still, he could remember, but only in flashes, and most never meant much to him anyway. The brief flashes of mother meant only food and protection. Nothing else stirred any other images in his reptilian brain.

For a young American alligator, this is typical, and so too is that a person while vacationing in those southern climes around the Gulf of Mexico, would happen to purchase him, simply for the exotic nature that the young alligator, barely half a foot long, represented. This man took him back to where he lived, a place up north that is normally unsuitable for alligator, which are quite morose creatures more suited to languishing in the sun than in shivering on a snow covered balcony, but this did not matter to the man. It was for the simple sake of the oddity and unusual nature that he had purchased the alligator, nothing more, nothing less.

It can be said too that this man was in many ways colder than the alligator's own mother would have been. The Alligator, and it's cousins the Crocodile and the Camian are the only reptiles who take the time to care for their young, watching over them, and making sure that a good portion of them survive, for though a cow may lay over fifty eggs, not that many survive into adult hood. Many are the food for other crocodilian beasts, fish, birds, and other creatures that lurk in the swamps that they normally dwell in. The only thing that this cold man did for his young alligator, was to feed it some of the scraps that he had from his TV dinners, not wondering or worrying whether this was the right thing for a young alligator should eat and stay healthy.

The young alligator looked to the man who fed him at that time in his life as he would his own mother, not with love, for the reptile does not know love, but with need. In time, he would learn to hunt and catch his meals by himself, and would have no further need for his mother, except perhaps to continue the line, but he really didn't understand many of these things yet, for he was still young, but he would get bigger eventually.

His growth was quick, and the man at first enjoyed watching the little alligator get bigger and bigger nearly day by day. However, his eyes ever more frequently turned to the teeth protruding from the alligator's mouth, and at the claws on the alligator's feet. The messes he was leaving behind left a lot to be desired as well. Statistically, there was no realistic way that he could keep the alligator, for it would eat him out of house and home, and then quite possibly, eat him too. He knew the stories, but scoffed at the idea of such a creature surviving in the sewers for any reasonable length
of time.

Having reached the only conclusion that made sense to him, he took up the alligator in his arms, it trusted him enough to do this, though it did playfully open it's mouth to show him the sharp incisors that were forming. The man looked into the slit eye of the creature, gazed into it, regarding it for but another moment. The creature looked back, it's eye completely unreadable, but the man felt as if it were staring at his flesh, contemplating how good his meat would taste. The man became more resolute, and jammed the head of the crocodile down the toilet. The arms and legs squirmed, but the man pushed down, and the creatures slid through the hole in the bottom. He then flushed the toilet, watching the little creature get sucked down the drain, and forever into the sewer system.

For the little American alligator, this was very traumatic, and the water surging about him, being shot through blackness like he had never known, registered something in him that can only be called fear. He couldn't breathe, and there seemed to be no end to inky blackness, and the foul tastes that came to his throat. Why had his mother done this to him, it made no sense. Even after the tube had pumped him out in the sewer main, and he could once again breathe, albeit stale and putrid air, his little mind was still fixed on the sensations that had been caused by his mother, the identity of the man firmly fixed in his mind. The sewer was a dreadful place, but there were unwanted scraps, and there were insects, and he could survive. Still, his mind would never let go of the sensations of being flushed down the toilet by his mother.


With the passage of time, the little American alligator grew into a large mostly healthy American alligator. He never had thought to leave the sewer, despite the atmosphere of death and the lack of other crocodilian companionship. He would have died in the same way most likely, if nature had followed the laws that were known to men. Yet there are laws of nature that are still outside of the knowledge of humanity, and every once in a while an event happens that while following those laws, mystifies all others who come in contact with it. Humanity may see evidence of it amongst ancient myths of the past, or in forgotten tomes, or even amidst common everyday reading fare. There is something of truth to most myths, though it may take some effort to unearth.

The idea that the moon contains a power beyond our understanding was commonly disregarded after Apollo 11 landed on the moon, and established that it is just another celestial body, much like Earth would be without an atmosphere or water. Stories of the full moon and it's metamorphic effect on some continued to be told, but the truth was not in the sight of a full moon, but in the configuration that it represented. In the alignment of celestial bodies, the forces of nature are at an apex, and something is bound to happen that will shatter human understanding, which is paled in comparison to the vastness and untamed Universe.

The full-grown alligator, still with memories of it's mother, and the way it cruelly flushed it down the drain, were always in it's head, and on that evening, as it passed by a storm drain, it took a moment to look up through the crack and see the bright beacon, the moon, shining down and casting it's pale light over the land. It may have been from the moon or it may have not, but he felt a calling, as if something were reaching down, picking through his scant memories, and selecting for him, his future, his irrevocably changed future.

What could ever be the same again? He felt it all over his body, not a gradual build up, but a sudden stop and stretching, as if the hands of some power were violently molding him. The recognition of what had happened came slowly to him, as the pain throughout his body was too great to even think about it. His bellow of pain rose in octave, until it was weak, and light, though he did not notice this. His arms and legs pushed out, the claws sinking, and his scales smoothing over until they were a single sheen, and then, fading back into a slight beige; this he did not notice. His tail withered and shrunk until it was no more, his thighs thickening until his rump was round and soft; this he did not notice. His face pulled in on itself, like the eyestalks of a slug might when touched, until he no longer had a muzzle, and his great teeth were small and oddly formed, while his eyes came to rest before him, the yellow drained of them, leaving them a simple brown; this he did not notice.

When it was over, and the pain had finally ebbed from his body, he shivered, and opened his eyes, to a surprise greater than the pain. The only memory of his that fit with what he had become was of his mother. He had become like his mother. The new and advanced brain capacity that he had gained from becoming a human was fast to correlate this information, and to lead him to another conclusion. He did not belong here, no longer could he call this his home, as mother did not live here. He moved to set out, but his body no longer worked the same was as it did before, but he improvised, and within moments, found himself walking just like mother had done. He did not know where in the sewers he was headed, but he went that way, certain that he would find something that he needed.


Frank Dell hated going into the sewers, especially near the sewage dump, for it was always particularly smelly, but the pay was good, and he didn't have the brains to do much else. He lived by himself, not many wanted to date a sanitation engineer, that PC term had been far overused, nor did he keep any pets. His sole company was his computer, and the people he had met over the net. Some would say that it was a sad life, and Frank was one to agree with them, he really did want to know a better way of life. He wished that he could find a girl, but none of the good looking ones wanted him. Perhaps he would just have to lower his standards, certainly there was somebody who was willing to date him.

He found the clogged drain, and began to scoop out the muck, this was always an unpleasant part, but occasionally he found some interesting things in there; one time he found a wedding ring, boy that must have sure been one Hell of a bad marriage! As he was cleaning it out, he heard somebody moving through the water. "Hank, is that you?" his coworker Hank had gone to the other end to clean out that section, so he shouldn't be anywhere close, but Hank was one to pull practical jokes, so he wasn't too worried. "C'mon Hank, that's not funny!" he called out as the sloshing grew closer. He looked over his shoulder, there was a figure, darkened by the shadow, moving towards him through the water. Frank shined his light on him, and saw that it was a completely naked man, whose expression was a rather merciless one.

Frank's first reaction was fear, who would ever be travelling through the sewers without clothes on, it made no sense. "Mister, you really shouldn't be down here, there are dangerous chemicals in the air, you might die. Mister?" Frank started to back away as the naked man got within arm's reach. The man lunged at him, and Franz beat at him with the slop in his hands that he had been pulling loose from the drain pipe. The man shrugged it away, and pushed Frank off balance, toppling him into the water. Frank beat at the man with his hands, slapping his face as best he could, but the man was stronger, and pushed him under the slimy surface of the water. Franz tried to hold his breath, but in the thrashing, had all the air in his lungs knocked out of him. He struggled against the man who was holding him under, struggled, struggled, weaker, and weaker. The water flowed down his mouth, into his lungs, and his eyes slowly shut, and he stopped his protestations finally.


He lifted the dead body from the water, and looked it over. He remembered that his mother always wore things similar to what this man had on, so he stripped the clothing from the dead man, and slid it over his own body. It was not a perfect fit, but he wasn't worried about it. He cast aside the dead body, watching it flow slowly through the stagnant waters of the sewer. A thought then occurred to him, and he went after the floating body, pulled it over to a small alcove, and began to tear at it with his teeth. This proved very unsuccessful, and he wracked his brain to find a solution to his problem. He was hungry, and here was food, but his attempts to bite off chunks were proving very fruitless. He then remembered that his mother ate with sharp utensils that had been used to cut up the meat into smaller bites. He looked about, and found a shard of glass a few feet away. He picked it up, and began to slice open the skin, and remove pieces of meat which he happily consumed.

After finishing his meal, there was plenty left over, but he was full now, and he tossed what was left back into the water. He sat to rest after such a meal, and got a few winks of sleep. In his sleep more of the memories of his mother came back to him. That the alligator's mind could have contained all these memories is in itself remarkable, but that the human mind once confronted with them could then make sense out of them, is even more remarkable. Though he did not quite know how to speak, he could understand most of the English language that was common to any layperson. Though he could understand, he barely could read, and so the card that he found in the dead man's wallet, which he now claimed for himself, meant very little to him, except that they were important to his mother, so they should be important to him.

Determined to see what lay outside this sewer, he left his alcove, and began to wander down other passages, climbing over obstructions that before would have barred his path, but now were nothing to him. He followed his nose, and the amount of sewage in the water grew less with each mile, until finally it was perfectly clean, rinsing him down, wiping any traces of blood or gunk that was on his clothes. Eventually, he saw a shaft leading up from the pipe to the surface not a few feet from him. He climbed up through, barely squeezing through the hole, and he entered for the first time in a long time into the sunlight. He reveled in it's warmth, savored it's touch, and vowed never again would he be away from it.


Melissa Dearborn hadn't intended to get drunk that night, but the guy at the bar had been real generous, and so she got drunk. She wasn't even sure why she was letting him do this for her, he didn't seem like most guys, he had an aura of danger about him, and he had trouble keeping track of which bills to use to pay for the drinks. It was almost as if money was a new concept to him. Of course she helped him keep it straight, but it was amazing that he had that much of it, most people would never carry that much cash on hand. Of course, once she was drunk, she didn't care.

He did seem interested in her, and what she did for a living. She told him about her job working with computers, and about the people there. He seemed particularly interested them, asking questions about what they looked like, and what they did, and about their habits. She tried her best to answer his questions, but most of what she said she didn't really know, for her mind was too muddled by the beer. He didn't seem to be drinking too much, and this bugged her royally. At her protestations to drink more, he just shrugged, "I don't take beer well."

However, she liked him anyway, for he truly was a gentleman, in this day and age when chivalry seemed dead. So her slurred reply came easily when he finally asked her, "Would you like to see my place?". "Yes! I'd lub to see your place." she nearly slipped into his arms, she hated being drunk, but at the moment she was too happy to do anything about it.

His place was in a high-rise apartment building, and it seemed to her a typical bachelor's place, piles everywhere, messes galore, and utterly no touch of femininity. If she weren't so drunk, she'd have set out immediately to straightening the place up a bit. However, she was barely conscious enough to realize that he had laid her down upon the bed. She felt his presence above her, "Shall we mate?" he asked, his voice low, and soothing. His chest rippled with power and muscle, and his slightly rugged and unshaved face gave him some mystic power that made her body ache to have him inside of her. "Oh, yes!" she cried out, pulling him closer to her, "Please." her voice was also low, but dreamy, almost unaware of where she was.


Melissa remembered little of that night, except that she woke the next morning in a strange bed by herself, with a pounding headache. Her clothes were scattered about the floor around her, and even her watch was missing from her wrist. She put a hand to her head, trying to stop the throbbing, but found it useless. She slipped out of bed, and found that she was completely naked. She lifted up her panties, and slipped them back on, needing something to cover her. Her blouse however, looked like it had been completely ripped to shreds. What had happened? Like a wave of nausea, she remembered the basics of the night before. Her she was in an almost complete strangers house, having just slept with him, not even sure if he used a condom or not, and now all of her clothes are spread about the floor, this was a terrible way to start off a day.

She peeked out the door of the bedroom, and saw that the man was using the computer, or at least trying to, he was having trouble reading the screen. Melissa slipped back in the room, looked about to see if any of her attire was salvageable. Her blouse had been ripped in half, and amongst it she found remnants of what must have been the man's clothes as well. She felt very embarrassed, and self consciously went into the rest room and took a shower. She felt so dirty. Even the soap didn't quite seem to get the scum off. How was she going to explain to Mark, a coworker trying to be her boyfriend, that she had slept with another man?

The shower did make her feel better in one respect though, the pounding headache had dimmed a bit. However, after she finished, climbing out of the shower, she received a shock. The man was standing there watching.

"Oh! I didn't see you." Melissa commented, holding a hand over her breasts, as if that would hide them, or keep him from noticing her nakedness.

The man smiled, "That's all right. I hope you are feeling better, I have some questions I want to ask of you, my mate."

"My mate?" she asked a bit skeptically. "We've only known each other one day, I'd hardly say we are mates."

"You were very wonderful last night." he said, undaunted. "You have a wonderful body, and your mind is very keen."

She blushed slightly, enjoying he compliment, "Why thank you, but that doesn't mean that we are going to spend the rest of our lives together." no matter what anybody said, she was not ready for marriage. She found it ironic though that she would be the one in a relationship not ready for marriage, all of her friends had complained to her that their boyfriends were the ones not ready to commit.

"I didn't say we were going to spend the rest of our lives together." the man corrected her. "We are mates for now. I need you to help me with something, and you will do it."

Melissa didn't like the way this conversation was going. She reached for a towel to cover herself. What harm was there in helping him? She could be out of his apartment in another hour or so, and then never have to see him again. Still, he did seem like a nice guy, and nobody had ever said they liked her body before. "Well, I'll need some clothes first."

"There are some clothes in the dresser." he told her. "I'll be by the computer." he turned away from the bathroom, and walked on out of the bedroom. Melissa Dearborn sighed, feeling a bit ridiculous. How had she let him get her drunk enough to sleep with him? She slipped over to the dresser and pulled out some of his clothes. They were all to big for her, but she took a pair of shorts, and a belt, and it looked like she was just into loose fitting clothing, that was all. Her shoes were thankfully fine, and sufficiently casual that it wouldn't look odd for her to be seen in this ensemble. She checked her face, and quickly combed out her hair. She opened up his drawers to see if he had a blow drier anywhere, but he did not. Her hair still wet, she sighed, and went to see him by his computer.

The man was waiting before it, the screen on, and a series of credit cards laid out before him. On the screen was what appeared to be a home catalogue page downloaded from the Internet. She thought this very odd, and came up closer to look at the credit cards. There were multiple Visa's and Master Cards of all sorts, but the funniest thing was that each bore a different name. She looked into his expressionless broad face, and stammered, "Those are stolen!"

"So? They are mine now, and I want you to show me how to use them. I know that you can get things with them, but I don't know how, and since you know about computers, you must now about this." the man asked her, not even aware that what he had done was wrong. This was so odd, and a little bit frightening. How could she have ever let herself get involved with a man like this? Simple, she didn't know, and he had seemed so nice at the bar.

"But you can't do that," she objected, "it's illegal!"

"What do you mean by illegal? These cards are mine now, and I am going to use them." the man replied, his voice deepening ever so slightly.

"No, I can't do this." she rose up form the seat, but he grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her back down. "No, you are wrong. You will tell me how to do this. You are my mate."

"No I'm not!" she objected, tugging at her arm, but finding his grip simply too strong for her to overcome. He tugged harder on her, his lips curled back in an almost reptilian grin she thought. He then said in an almost level voice, "I'm sorry, but I insist. We are mates now, what do you think we did last night? Must I prove myself again?"

"Please no. Let me go. I want to go home." Melissa was on the verge of tears, this man truly frightened her.

"You are home, that is until time for you to lay your eggs." the man remarked in the same tone of voice that would be used to tell somebody good morning.

Her fright dissipated with that remark for but a moment. "Do what?" she asked perplexed. "Lay eggs? What are you talking about?"

"Don't you have young that way?" he seemed genuinely surprised by her words. Where did this man come from? Had he just escaped some mental institution?

"Of course not. Now let me go!" she slapped at his hand, trying to twist her arm out of his iron grip. He looked distracted, but still he gave her no quarter. Then his face became one of resolve, and he pulled her closer to the computer, "Now you will show me how to use these cards. Don't make me do something I don't want to do." the man's voice had gotten low, and the way his eyes looked at her, so cold, lifeless, yet thinking, calculating. What did it remind her of, something cold and nameless certainly, something that crawled about low to the earth, slinking in the shadows, lying just beneath the surface of the water, out of sight. She shuddered under that gaze, that reptilian gaze. Not like a lizard, no they were very simple creatures, not refined like these eyes were, no this was something more, but she could say quite what.

She looked at the credit cards, picking one up with her free hand, glancing at the name, Mary Ann Bethany. What had happened to Mary Ann, she wondered. Had she refused to help him, and then he'd killed her? She swallowed nervously, looking back at his rugged face, more the face of an animal than a human. She then looked at the computer. She fought back the urge to break out into tears, why was this happening to her? Was this punishment for something she did wrong? Was she going to end up dead like Mary Ann might be? Then a heartening thought struck her, if she used these cards, and they had been reported stolen, then the police would come and arrest this psycho. She steeled her face, and turned to look at him, weathering his unchanging visage. "All right, I'll show you how to use these cards."

"Good." He smiled briefly, then pointed her to the screen. "I want that." She looked at what he was pointing at. It looked to be one of those Safari T-shirts. It was covered with alligators or crocodiles, she couldn't tell the difference. "Well, this is simple then." she held up the card, and pointed at the number. "They are going to ask you to enter in this number, when you order it. Just type it in, and when they ask you for your name, just type this name here in."

"Why can't I use my name?" he asked, even as he typed in the credit card number.

"Because that's not the name on the card."

"But it's my card." he objected.

"Is your name Mary Ann Bethany?" she asked, a little angry and mystified at this man's ignorance.

"Of course not, you know that." he was a little cross with her circular logic.

"Well then, you'll have to type in the name Mary Ann Bethany, because that is the only name they'll accept."

"All right. Makes no sense though, why would they want the name of a dead woman?" he seemed to be asking himself.

Melissa tried to break free again at that remark, but his grip was still firm. She felt her body go cold at this admission, so he had killed her, for what, her Credit Card? "You killed her?" she asked in a weak voice.

"Of course, I was hungry, and I needed some more cash." he told her that like he was discussing the weather.

"You ate her?" her voice quavered.

"Not all of her, some of her is still in the refrigerator. Would you like a piece?" he asked calmly, clicking the icon on the order button.

"No!" she shrieked. "You're a monster!"

"No, I'm now a human being. I used to be an American Alligator, I believe is what you called my kind, but now I'm a human." he told her, keeping her firmly in the seat by sheer force. He didn't even look like he was straining to restrain her.

Melissa just stared at him, her face gone completely slack, "You were a what?"

"An American Alligator. Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, it's just that most people don't start out that way?" Melissa replied, convinced now more than ever that this man was insane. If she could just get to the phone, for she had no idea whether any of these credit cards were reported missing, if the owner was dead, then anything could have happened.

"Really? Then how do most people start? You told me last night that your family came from Seattle, and that you have two brothers. I remember having nearly sixty brothers and sisters, but only vaguely. I can seem to remember two mothers, though both got rid of me. I have been without companionship since my second mother flushed me down the toilet. Nearly four weeks ago, I became a Homo Sapiens, and since then have lived here, taken what I needed from whomever looked weak, and now have sought you out as a mate. And you tell me that I can't have come that way? Are you saying that I am a liar?" he was shocked, and the way he spoke in such a still voice made her flesh crawl even more. She finally succumbed to crying, and her eyes gave forth in a gush, "I don't know!" she wailed at him, trying to break free of his grasp.

"Well, I'll give you time to think it over. I need to order things. Thank you for showing me how to make use of these cards." he then let go of her arm. She gripped it, looking at the bright red mark where his hand had been. Suddenly she looked at him, he obviously was distracted. She stumbled out of the chair, and then scooted on her rear a few paces away from him. She looked at the door of his bedroom, and then dashed into it, reaching for the phone. She picked it up, "10001001011110100101101001001001110010101001011101001011!" She put the phone back down, as long as he was ordering, she couldn't use the phone. She sat herself down on the bed, wiping her tears away. She couldn't stand to look at him, so she swung the door till it was barely ajar. How could she get away from him? She couldn't call, at least not while he was using the computer. He was sitting only a few paces from the front door, it was very unlikely that she could sneak past him. What could she do?

She got up from the bed, looked out the window, saw that there was no balcony, and they were on the fifth floor, there was no way she could climb out. The sun was high in the sky still, so screaming her head off to attract the neighbors would do no good as most would be out at work, and it might make him mad. No, it was best if she stayed quiet for now.

She searched through his side table, there was nothing significant, a few pieces of memorabilia, and a small money box that had been cracked open. She checked through his clothes drawers, hoping to find a gun or something, that was where it was always hid in the movies. Nothing but underwear and socks. She cursed herself for being an idiot last night. If she had just politely refused his offer to buy her a drink, then she would be at work right now, sitting with Mark at lunch probably, eating a Taco or maybe a Caesar Salad. The thought of him reminded her of something that she should have thought of before. She looked about for her purse, she knew that she had worn it to the bar last night.

She found her purse stuffed under the bed. She pulled it out, and flipped through it. Everything was there, including her tiny can of pepper spray. She slipped that into her pocket, and continued to flip through. All her credit cards were untouched. Perhaps he had been honest with her in that he wanted her as a mate, but she could never love him, for he was insane, he was psychotic. She flipped through her purse, stared at the picture of Mark and her at their favorite Deli, hugging. She longed to be with him, to just put her head in his hands, and let him take care of her. Just the thought of him protecting her gave her a good feeling, and a renewed resolve.

She looked about the room, and saw the phone. She took the wire, and unplugged it from the phone end. She then took the wire in her mouth, and chewed at the end until it was completely frayed. She just prayed that the apartment phone lines were all connected to the same power source. She plugged the phone back in, and then immediately heard a noise of surprise come from the next room. She pulled the wire back out again, and then confidently strolled into the room.

He was fussing over the computer, which seemed to be having modem problems. He looked up at her, his face screwed up in frustration, "I just got disconnected, that's never happened before."

She tried to smile, but her composure was so weak at just the sight of this monster that she imagined it looked pretty weak, "It happens occasionally, and you can't get back online for another hour or so after it happens." she lied, hoping that he would believe her, he seemed ignorant enough.

He grunted in dismay, and turned the computer off. "I guess I'll have to wait. What are you doing?" he seemed completely recovered from the frustration of being disconnected. Melissa looked longingly through at the open doorway leading to the kitchen, certainly he would have a phone in the kitchen. "I'm just getting something to eat. Would you like anything?" she regretted her offer the moment it was out of her lips.

He shrugged, "I've already eaten." he turned to look at the bedroom door, and then walked over to it, and opened it up wide. "I'll be waiting for you in here, take your time."

Melissa couldn't believe her luck. She probably couldn't make it out of the apartment still, unless he nodded off or went into the restroom - as the bedroom door had a good view of the main room - but it would give her plenty of opportunity to make her call. Stepping into the kitchen, the first thing she did was open up the fridge, and looked at what was inside. He had told the truth about Mary Ann. He could see the legs of a woman neatly folded on one of the lower trays. She tried her best not to throw up at the sight of it, slamming the fridge door immediately. She then looked about the kitchen, trying to find a phone. Somebody must have been laughing at her, for the phone in the kitchen was not only unplugged, but smashed as well. She picked up the pieces of it, cradling them in her hands, as if the last chance she had to escape had just passed away. Her heart stuttered again when she heard the cry of outrage form the other room.

Melissa dropped the remnants of the phone, and ran to the doorway to look across the rooms and see the man holding her picture book, and screaming strange things that she could not make out. One word that seemed clear though was 'mother' which kept coming up and up. He saw her staring at him, and he motioned for her to come closer. She approached cautiously, eyes on his hands and arms the whole time, afraid that he might grab her again, and never let go. Her tongue moved though, "What is it?" she asked, weakly, hoping in some way that he might not hear her.

"What are you doing with my mother!" he held up the picture of her and Mark, pointing at him accusingly with a vehemence that she had yet to see him ever use before.

"That's not your mother, he's not even a woman. That's my boyfriend, Mark Terenzco." Melissa calmly explained.

"This Mark Terenzco is my mother; this Mark Terenzco flushed me down the toilet." he hotly replied.

Melissa did not recall if Mark had ever owned an alligator. She knew that he liked exotic animals, but she never thought that he might actually buy one. Then again, she had known him for less than a month, so it may be true. That was if this guy really had been an alligator, which was absurd to even think about.

"so what do you want me to do about it?" She asked defiantly.

"Bring him here." he demanded. "I want to see Mark Terenzco."

"No, I won't do it."

"Yes you will." He grabbed her by the arm, and just looked her in the eye, his reptilian smile creeping back onto his face. Melissa found her resolve dissipating once again, and within moments, she was on her knees, "Please don't make me call him."

"You will bring him here." he reiterated, "Now I know you can use the computer to contact him, do it." He pushed her into the main room, and sat her down in front of the computer, which he promptly turned on. She looked up at him, and feeling the tears in her eyes she pleaded once more, but he said again, "Bring him here." Crying now, she brought up the email server, and began to type a message.


Mark Terenzco received an odd message that day. Since he worked with computers, he received a lot of email daily, but known of it quite so urgent sounding. The subject read 'I need you' but the sender was from an unfamiliar address. He opened up the message and saw a few brief lines followed by an apartment address. He did not recognize the apartment, but he knew whereabouts it was.

The short message though, gave him a resolve to head to this apartment, "Mark, this is Melissa, I need you right now. Please come to this address, it's an emergency. Don't tell anyone."

Mark immediately put down what he was doing, stopped his work, left his office, got in his car, and began to drive to the address he had seen.


Melissa Dearborn was holding back her sobs. She was nearly spent, emotionally drained, but the presence of a new factor was keeping her hopes alive. If only Mark had read between the lines, then he would have known what to do. So it came like a death knell when she heard the door bell ring. This man who had once been an alligator looked startled at the sound, but Melissa said trying to be calm, "That is probably Mark at the door."

"Then you shall open it." He grabbed her arm, and dragged her to the door. Melissa looked at the chain, saw that it was firmly in place, and then opened the door to the full extent the chain would allow. He looked a little surprised at this, but did not say anything, nor did he tighten his grip on her arm.

Mark was waiting outside, a worried look on his face, and his suit a little mussed up, probably from haste to get here. "Mark, why didn't you call the police?" she wailed at him.

"You told me not to call anyone." Mark objected, looking concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Don't try to be a hero Mark, just run and get the police!" Melissa shut the door, much to his surprise. Mark stood at the door for a moment, before looking to his sides, and then darting back down the way he came.

Melissa looked into the man's face, he seemed aghast. "Why did you do that?" the man didn't wait for an answer, but pushed her aside, grabbed the door, and ripped it open, snapping the chain in half as he did so. Melissa did not move a muscle while she lay where she had fallen, only trembling in fear and soaking her face with her tears. She heard a crash outside, and a very short cry of terror, and then the sound of something dragging. Was he carrying Mark's dead body along the floor, to stuff it in the refrigerator just like he had Mary Ann's? To her relief, he was just holding Mark tightly about the waste with one hand, with the other over Mark's mouth, stifling his screams of protest.

The man walked into the room, and threw Mark up against the wall. Mark turned back around, his nose bleeding, and tried to jump at the man, but the man hit him in the stomach, and Mark crumpled to the ground. Mark had never been an overly physical person, though he was not the typical computer nerd, he had much the same physique. The man shut the door, locked it, and then looked into Mark's face, "Recognize me, mother?"

Mark looked at him, still trying to catch his breath, feeling a little confused. "Who the fuck are you?" Mark asked, spitting blood into the man's face.

"I'm your little alligator that you flushed down the toilet." the man told him sardonically.

Mark looked at him confused for a moment, then something that looked like it might have been realization came to his face, and he stared in terror at the man. He was not allowed another moment's thought, as the man slammed Mark's head up against the wall again, and Mark slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Melissa looked at the crumpled body of her boyfriend, and then at the man who claimed to have been an alligator, and then her sobbing increased once more. There was no hope, no hope at all.


Mark lay unconscious for the rest of the day. Melissa was too emotionally drained to consider any action, except to do as the man commanded her. Oddly enough, he went back online after the affair, and after making sure that Mark could cause him no trouble. He had been bound hand and foot, and had been gagged with socks and masking tape. Melissa had been unharmed, and remained free from any bonds except for the one that kept her here, her fear of confronting this man. She simply could not overcome it. He seemed to possess some power over her, something about is very nature frightened a very primitive part of her, rendering her incapable of action. When he came in and offered her a bit of Mary Ann for her supper, her protest had been meek, and in the end, had withered and failed. Her tongue felt unclean, but she was too lethargic to even try to rinse out the taste.

It was sometime after sunset when Mark first began to stir. Melissa looked at him abstractly, not really registering in her mind what was happening until Mark finally, after what seemed hours, rose to a sitting position on the bed, and noticed his binds. He struggled to loose them, but only succeeded in rolling off the bed. The thump he made, attracted the man's attention, and he got up from his computer, stopped using the stolen credit cards, and came to see what had happened. He saw Mark lying on the floor, Mark's eyes staring up at him defiantly, and then looked to Melissa. "How long has he been awake?"

"A few minutes I think." Melissa responded. Last night at this time, she had been at the bar, drinking with a very charming man. That man seemed to now be dead, and that night, a dream that had never occurred. Even her parents, those stolid figures in her life that had never wavered, were now but a distant memory, more like a mirage that one remembers because of the hope it gives, and then disappointment because it is no longer real.

"Good, now, mother, can you hear me?" he asked Mark, picking him up, and setting him back on the bed again.

Mark stared at him defiantly, not moving a muscle.

"I guess so. I have a question for you. Why did you flush me down the toilet? I was your only young, and yet you wanted to get rid of me? Why?" the man reached over, and pulled the masking tape off of Mark's mouth, and pulled out the sock. "Now, answer me."

"I'm not your mother, and I'm not even a woman. You are a psychotic idiot. You were never an alligator, and I never flushed you down the toilet." Mark responded, not sounding completely convinced of his own words.

"No, you are my mother, and you did flush me down the toilet. You fed me the scraps from your table every day, and you would occasionally hold me, inspecting me meticulously. You talk to yourself as well, how else do you think I learned this language so quickly." the man pointed out. He continued to relate to Mark every little detail that he could remember about Mark's house, his habits, every little thing he did. Melissa would have been shocked, for this man knew her boyfriend better than she did, but she could barely keep her eyes on them, so great was her depression and self-loathing.

Mark listened to the damning words form the man, each moment his face tensed up greater, his attempts to turn away from the man proved futile, and no struggling could undo his bonds. Finally, Mark burst out, "All right! I did flush you down the toilet. You were that little alligator I owned, and I did do it!"

The man was not satisfied with that admission, and pressed further, "But why did you do it? I had done you no wrong."

"Oh yes you did. The way you looked at me, the way you grew, it was too much. I could never have hoped to care for you, and I was afraid you might think me a meal one day."

"My mother is not a meal!" the man actually seemed horrified by what Mark had said.

Melissa looked up at them then, and then looked at Mark, confused by what had been said, "If you didn't want him anymore, why not give him to a zoo, they would have cared for him."

The man looked at Melissa and smiled, "Yes mate, that is right, why did I have to be flushed?"

Mark looked at Melissa, his eyes accusing, and then back at the man, "I didn't give a shit about you. I bought you because you were exotic. Once you became a burden, I lost all interest in you. I got rid of you because I didn't want you anymore. Now, go fuck yourself you deranged lunatic." Mark spat in his face, obviously not concerned with his own well-being anymore.

The man smiled then, that same reptilian grin, "No, I have something better planned. You flushed me, I'm going to flush you." Melissa looked at him as he said the words, and the parting of his lips revealed his yellowed teeth, he obviously had not learned to brush.

Mark struggled against the man, but it was all in vain, as he was dragged to the toilet seat. He raised the seat, and jammed Mark's head into the water. Melissa looked on, too empty to do anything but watch. Mark struggled, his hands squirming, as the onetime alligator held the handle down, and the water swirled about his head. Mark could feel his head pushed against the hole at the bottom, and he felt the man trying to push his head down it, just like he had down with the alligator just a month ago. He tried to resist, but the air in his lungs could only last so long.

Of course, what happened next not a one of them would have expected, as not a one of them was familiar with the laws that men did not know. The alignment of the Moon with Earth and Sun had come once again, bringing with it the mysterious powers that it possessed. The man was too busy shoving Mark's head into the toilet bowl to notice at first the stretching and tearing of his clothes, as his tail began to grow back, and his skin hardened into the familiar scales. Melissa though, even though her spirit was drained almost completely, was still alarmed by what she saw, and by what she felt.

The laws of science could not explain, they may guess, perhaps it was because of his semen residing within her womb, or the children who were even now forming their egg shells inside of her that caused her to begin to change as well. With the change, she saw her hands, now green scaled claws, and saw her breasts sink into her chest and disappear, and her mouth extend out from her face, her teeth lengthening, and sharpening. She screamed, for the first time, one of terror, one that was lost of any hope whatsoever, completely hollow, and quickly changed into a dull roar of anguish from the crocodilian throat that now housed it. That deep voice then ebbed, and with it, her memories flew through her now reptilian mind, but she could no longer make sense of them. All she knew, was that her mate was nearby, and that it was cold.

Mark got one last look as his face squirmed to one side at what was happening before his skull was crushed. He saw what appeared at one moment to be the man, but also to be the alligator straddling him, pushing down on him with it's unbelievable weight, and it's scaled claws, arms nearly too stubby to be of any use. Then, the water in the toilet bowl went read, as his skull finally gave way, and he slipped into the drainage pipe at the base of the toilet bowl.


Jonathan Welsh looked at his fellow officer, Brandon Perkins, and sighed. This was a dull night, nothing could liven it up. They had found the apartment door easily enough, and were prepared to arrest the owner, a one Frank Dell, for using stolen credit cards over the Internet. The call had just come in, and there was no guarantee he was even still here, but they had their job to do.

"Frank Dell?" Jonathan called out as he knocked on the door. "Frank Dell open up, it's the police."

"You know for once, I'd like to just kick in the door and screw the Miranda." Brandon remarked rhetorically.

"I think most of us would." Jonathan regarded the taller man wryly, wishing that he could be in bed with his wife. He hated these night shifts, but that was what he had been stuck with, so he had to live with it for a time.

When no answer came, Jonathan knocked one more time, "Frank Dell?"

Brandon smiled, and pulled out his gun. Jonathan nodded, and pulled his own from it's holster. "Ready?" he asked, and the tall man nodded. They both kicked in the door, and Brandon jumped through into the room, moving the pistol about methodically, scanning for any sign of life. All that there was in the first room was a computer, upon which sat a number of credit cards, a television set, a very ratty couch, and a closet, which revealed to contain many coats and jackets as well as an umbrella.

"Nothing here." Brandon remarked as Jonathan came into the room. Jonathan looked over the credit cards, and then glanced into the first room. It was a kitchen. The phone on the counter was smashed to pieces. He opened up the cupboards, nothing unusual, cereal, snack goods, TV dinners, and a half-eaten bag of chips. He then opened up the refrigerator.

"Mother of God!" He swore, looking at the severed legs and arms that were stacked neatly in amongst the trays. Brandon came rushing in, "What is..." the words died on his lips as he saw the spectacle before him. "Damn!" was all he could say. Jonathan slammed the refrigerator shut, trying not to lose his stomach.

"Who's place is this, Manson's?" Brandon remarked, not trying to be humorous at all.

Jonathan then saw something in the other room that seemed odd as well. It was something green, but he could quite tell what from the kitchen. "What is it?" Brandon asked again, then turned around to stare into the open bedroom door.

Both of them crept closer, their guns aloft. Jonathan ducked in first, and saw before him the form of a rather large American Alligator lying prone on the floor. "How the Hell did that get here?" Brandon asked.

"Shhhh!" Jonathan held a finger to his lips. "I think it's asleep." he whispered.

"I hope so." Brandon murmured, looking about the room. Brandon stepped past the alligator, and then peeked into the bathroom. "There's another one in here, and there's a guy who's heads in the toilet."

"Check to see if he's alive." Jonathan told him, as he looked over the shredded garments about the floor. There was a woman's blouse and purse, plus a bit of masking tape and a sock lying on the bed. It looked as if somebody had been gagged, probably a woman. Brandon came back into the room, "The guy in the toilet is dead, it looks like his head had been shoved down the hole. And I think the second alligator did it. It's lying right beside him in the bathroom."

"That's ridiculous." Jonathan declared.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to call animal control. I don't want to be around when these suckers wake up." as if to emphasize his point, the one in the bedroom stirred a bit, moving one leg back and forth for a moment before settling back down again.

Jonathan looked up at his partner, and then breathed a sigh of relief, "Could the person in the toilet be Frank Dell?"

"Possibly, I didn't check to see if he had any ID, I'm waiting for animal control to get here before I do anything else." Brandon then walked back into the main room, leaving Jonathan with the alligators. Jonathan continued to walk about the room, looking at the way the clothes were spread about, at the odd way the tears in them appeared. As he passed by the single window, he saw out in the night air the pale shimmer of the full moon. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he looked back at the figures lying prone on the floor. The clothes were in much the same position for both alligators, almost as if they had torn out of them. Jonathan got a chilling though as he looked back at the full moon. He was not a superstitious man by nature, but this situation was out of his understanding, and naturally, his mind looked to other explanations. "Could it have been..." he left the rest unsaid as he stood there in the light of the moon.

"Nah." he decided, but still, he reached for the curtain, and drew it, blocking off the moon's unearthly light. He then stepped into the other room, being careful not to wake the sleeping alligators.


May He bless you and keep you in His grace,

Charles Matthias

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Copyright 1997: Hatani@aol.com . If you want to post this anywhere else, please ask the author for permission first.       Thank you.


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