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I'm a monster. Not necessarily a bad man, I go to church and pay my taxes, but I don't process emotions the way other people do. I don't feel guilt or remorse and in their absence, everything else seems to be amplified. If I get angry, I'm livid and if I'm excited, I'm obsessed. Not exactly Shelley's Frankenstein but not human enough for most.

If we're going to get into nature VS nurture I'm pretty sure I could blame everything on my father. He was truly a bad man. After luring my mother here from Korea as a mail-order bride with the promises of a loving supportive spouse, I don't think he spent a day of their marriage without beating her. As soon as I was old enough, I started beating him back and thus I was sent off to every expensive and prestigious private school he could afford, anything to keep me out of the way. He wouldn't pay for my flights home so I learned to work hard and seek opportunities with a feral sort of drive and hunger. I saved my money and started investing well early on. The joy I received from the look of shock on his face when I'd just appear on the doorstep to cave his face in was magnificent.

Eventually, I graduated and headed to an ivy league but not before spending the necessary funds to make sure my father never hurt my mother again. I would have enjoyed doing it myself, slowly and painfully, but I'd reached a certain amount of clout where such a pleasure would be hazardous to my future. So, I let a professional handle it. The only thing that was left of him was his eyes because mine were the same villainous green.

I moved my mother from that house to the city where I would attend and asked her what she wanted to do with it. I was more than delighted to hold her hand on the front lawn as we watched it burn to the ground. I'm sure she's always known there was something wrong with me but compared to him, I was her angel. Better the monster you love.

I graduated Summa Cum Laude in a master's program. With my mother in the same city, I could go year-round without issue. I only took time off post-graduation to take her on a visit to her homeland, a place she hadn't been in over two decades.

Now at 28, I work as an Angel Investor. I could work from home but I have an office downtown because my mother wanted to see me behind a desk. It takes up a whole floor of a high rise just for me, my secretary, and a lounge for clients.

I'd achieved so much so young that I had to prioritize on what I wanted next. I could spend my life roaming the world but the constant traveling seemed a bit pointless. What would I see? People and land. It would be beautiful, no doubt, but people and land, people and land. I could volunteer somewhere but that was also pointless, I would just be a person doing more for my own experience than another's benefit.

And then, the thought started in my head. It was barely a flicker at first, not yet a glimmer, but it grew brighter with each passing day. Maybe it was time to start thinking about immortality. I'm not talking about the fountain of youth or anything mystical, but the old-fashioned way. It was time for progeny.

I pushed the idea around in my head for a while until I realized it wasn't going away. I was going to have children within the next few years. It was no longer an option, only inevitability as I started rolling the ball forward. I would talk about going on a hunt for the perfect mother of my children but she was working for me all along.

My secretary was the perfect fit. Her name was Samantha Logan, nicknamed Sam. I couldn't make this up. She grew up in a small town in Southern Georgia. So small, the biggest event of the year was a peach festival. Her father was a minister, mother was a school teacher. She was my perfect little slice of pure Americana. A wonderful wholesome balance to the mighty level of f*cked up which I inherited.

She was beautiful. Tall, which for me was another bonus, wild curls that she kept in a high bun, and glowing mahogany skin. Her thighs, god I could just think all day about her thick thighs, wide birthing hips, and juicy a*s. Sam was a full woman, even her waist which pulled in tightly from her hips was still soft. I just wanted to run my hands all over her when I watched her move.

The only thing was that she iswith just so damn shy and scared. She was great in business situations but socially, she shielded and hid constantly. It annoyed me because I couldn't even take her to formal dinners because she'd freak out as soon as she was out of a suit and in an evening gown.

I found her exquisite but Sam was a chubby young woman who grew up a fat little girl, an experience from which her confidence never quite recovered. I'd bet a million that she was still a v*rgin. And honestly, it would be one of the safer bets I'd taken. At 25, I'd never seen her on a date or with anyone male or female. I could tell she felt a certain way about me: stares lingering a bit too long, sudden jumps at my voice, the way her fingers twitched and flittered nervously when I talked to her.

I'm a good-looking man: 6'4, brown black hair, swimmer's build. I consider my looks a tool of my trade and work to keep my muscle defined and my appearance groomed. I usually use them to ensnare resources and charm a few wives to influence their husbands but now I had to be a lure for my secretary. I'd be the bait to break her out of her shell once and for all and to start my family as soon as possible.

With a plan set, I slowly began changing and readjusting appointments until a Friday was completely clear. Sam didn't seem to catch on and I personally made calls to make sure some numbskull didn't call her directly and throw off my hard work. I hired a private investigator to follow my little secretary while I did my own research and purchasing in preparation of the big day.

It was as if the stars had aligned, everything went so smoothly. I received the reports from the private

d*ck and the date I'd chosen was perfect, everything that I ordered arrived on time, and Sam never had a clue. The trap was set and she was going to waltz right into it.

She came into work that Friday in a pretty red business dress and sweater. Her patented nervous smile and head nod greeted me before she took her seat and booted up her computer. She stared at the screen and clicked, then clicked again. The fact that there would be no one in the office today must have finally hit her. I walked and stood in the doorway of my private office.

"Sam, it seems we're going to be awfully lonely today."

"Uh, Mr. Smith, I'm sorry. I must have made some scheduling errors somewhere. I can call some of the clients to see if they want to come in earlier." Her voice fluttered out, making me smirk.

"No, no. We should get some things handled here anyway. However, would you join me for tea?" There was a lovely bistro set in the lounge that we used for coffee and tea together.

"Oh? Sure." She stood quickly. "I'll go make it right now."

"No, no... That's quite alright. I'll make it today. Just have a seat there." I winked at her and she bit a luscious full lip before going to sit at the bistro.

The tea I ordered was mild like I knew she liked but had enough flavor to hide the sedative I added to her infuser. It would knock her out quickly but burn out fast, leaving me just enough time to get her prepared. I set her mug in front her and sat with mine.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Sam."

She nearly choked on her tea and stared at me.

"Really Mr. Smith?"

"Absolutely. I find you an integral part of my life. However, I don't think you're being fully utilized at your current position."

Her eyes blinked a little slower than usual as she continued to sip the tea.

"Are you going to fire me?"

"No no no..." I caught the cup before she could drop it and wrapped my other arm around her waist, lifting her with me as I stood. "In fact, you should think of it more as a promotion."

"Tired..." Her eyes batted for a few seconds before shutting.

"I know... I know."

I set the cup down and scooped her up bridal style, carrying her into my office. I had about 45 minutes to get everything prepared. I'd cleaned off my desk already, so I set her down on the main section in front of my chair.

The sweater went first, tossed on the couch in my corner then the dress was easy to unzip and slip over her head. There was no way it was coming down those thighs. I took a moment to run my tongue across the soft flesh and groaned of . This was going to be fun.