# H Women Will Want You

Editor’s Foreword

Deciding between abstinence and condoms is the least of Mark’s concerns.

Every dating book, site or guru will tell you that rejection is part of the game. Everyone gets rejected at one time or another, they smugly inform you. You just have to brush it off and try again.

After about the gazillionth rejection, let’s see how easily any of them brush it off and try again. And, were it only a simple rejection, it would be one thing. But, some women will just walk away before you’ve even finished introducing yourself. Others will run, giggling back to their table of friends who will then point and snicker–all because you took a chance on asking out a pretty girl.

Friends and family suggested I try online, but that’s no better. Creepy, perverted, unattractive men lure teenage girls across the country to meet them, while I get turned down by Russian women, or scam artists posing as them, desperate for a green card or cash.

I tried the matchmaking sites. I sent messages to dozens of women apparently compatible with me, only to hear back from not a one of them. Who do I get messages from? Unattractive, boring women twice my age, that’s who. And, they waste no time in flip-flopping and rejecting me too.

So, I tried out that site promising to find you not just a pretty picture, but an actual “soul mate.” I spent half an hour filling out their extensive personality profile. At the end, they told me I’m unmatchable. “Please don’t send us money–we can’t help you.” You know things are bad for you when dating companies refuse to even take money from you.

My friend told me about a site, www.womenwillwantyou.com, and said he was ordering some of their pheromones. I laughed at him. I don’t buy into that stuff and, even if I did, it probably wouldn’t help me anyway. But, he bought the stuff. He called me when it came in, and said he was going to try it out that evening.

He’d never been as unlucky as I have, but neither had he had any long-lasting relationships. But, at least he had relationships, which is a couple steps further than I have been.

He emailed me a week later. He had met a wealthy supermodel, and had moved to the Caribbean with her, making a stop first in Las Vegas to get married. I never heard from him again.

At this point, I decided to visit www.womenwillwantyou.com and try their pheromones. What did I have to lose? Plus, I had managed to save a bundle of money by not dating for all those years. So, $59.95 was nothing.

I didn’t care about attracting a rich woman–I have money enough. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t necessarily interested in meeting a supermodel either. It would just be nice to meet a pleasant girl that I found interesting and to have her actually be interested in me. That’s all I really longed for.

I eagerly awaited the package. I should have had it overnighted, but I was trying to save money on shipping. After what seemed like an eternity–three working days–the package finally arrived on a Friday. Perfect.

I tore into that box. After sifting through a ton of packing peanuts, I finally unearthed the tiny vial. I held it in my hand for a moment. Could this really attract a woman and make her want me? I opened it and took a sniff. Nothing. Was this an odorless pheromone–would that really work?–or maybe only women could smell it.

I decided to try it out. Following the instructions, I put a dab on either side of my neck and both wrists.

I left my apartment. Down the hallway, a group of young single women had gathered. They had never paid the slightest bit of attention to me before, but they all took an interest in me that night!

Carla was tall, thin and curvy–and all natural, so I had been told by those who know. Toni had the same framework, but with dark hair and a deep bronze tan. Janet was short but with an ample chest and bottom.

And then I saw Susie–the one I was most interested in. She was thin, but of an average build. And, she had such a pretty smile. Even though she had never expressed any kind of interest in me, she had always said “Hello” to me in the hallway and small talked in the elevator.

Tonight, they all took a very strong interest in me, but I only returned Susie’s affections. I was surprised, and relieved, that they didn’t get in a fight over me–such was the intensity of their interest.

“Would you like to come to my place?” Susie asked. Perhaps the others had made the same invitation, but I had drowned out their voices.

Eager to spend time with her alone–away from those other rabid girls–I accepted. The others began to follow, but we lost them around the corner. Out of smell, out of mind, I presumed that’s how those pheromones worked.

Once inside her apartment, we sat on the couch.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “Beer? Soda? Water?”

“Anything is fine–whatever you’re having,” I answered.

She never got up to get our drinks. Instead, she moved closer to me and began to unbutton my shirt.

I hesitated, unsure how to proceed. I wanted to find out more about her, and not rush things along. But, I also didn’t want to blow this chance with her, if she really wanted this. Or, was it all the pheromones working? Would she later regret this?

As I pondered the situation, she had finished unbuttoning my shirt, and then tore it open. She kissed me right below the rib cage, and moved slowly up the middle of my chest, leaving red lipstick marks behind. She moved across the top of my left chest, and then my neck. She kissed my left shoulder and began to move down my arm.

The sensations of her soft lips aroused me. Do I try to hide it, or do I move to the next step and take off my pants?

Before I made a decision, she took a bite–a large chunk of flesh–right out of my arm. “What the–” I exclaimed. She paused and looked up at me. She smiled, and took another bite. I tried to push her away, but she pushed back with even greater strength. She began to chew and gnaw at my arm more forcefully. The harder I tried to push her away, the harder she pushed back.

She continued chewing and gnawing on my arm, snorting and grunting like a wild animal. I continued to try to escape, but to no avail. I heard–and felt–the crunching of bone as she worked her way deeper and deeper. She seemed so entranced in her feeding frenzy, I felt it was my best time to attempt an escape. She had my arm gripped tightly, but I pushed off the couch with such force that whatever tendons or loose flesh and crumbled bone still connected my arm to my body tore loose. She had my arm, but I was able to run out of there, slamming the door behind me.

Carla.

Outside the door, Carla stood. Alongside her were Toni and Janet. “How about a threesome?” Carla asked, wiping a bit of saliva from the corner of her mouth.

“No thanks!” I pushed my way past them and scurried down the hallway. They were right behind me. Susie shortly joined them.

“Mark,” she cried. “Mark, come back.”

“Ever been with four girls, Mark?” Carla asked. “We want you. We all want you.”

I kept going. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping me from passing out as I hurried down the hallway, blood oozing along my path. I had to stay ahead of them. I had to get away.

At last, I reached my apartment. I fumbled for my keys, and fumbled some more with the lock. It’s not easy with one hand. I managed to get inside and slam and chain the door before they were close enough to grab me.

Safe, at last. But, I knew I needed help. I made it to the phone and called 911.

I couldn’t rest yet. I did my best to try to stop the bleeding by pressing the stub of my arm against some pillows. Then, the thought occurred to me–what if the emergency responders were women?

I had to get the pheromones off of me. One wrist was gone, solving that much of the equation. I crawled to the bathroom, and pulled towels from the hamper. I pulled myself to the tub, and ran the water. I took off my shirt, figuring it had likely absorbed some of the pheromones. I wet the towels and scrubbed my neck. I then put my wrist under the running water for a few moments, and then wiped it on the towels.

The emergency responders finally arrived and, fortunately, they were both men. They were shocked by what they saw and asked me what had happened. I tried to explain, but I don’t think they understood whatever I mumbled. They put me on a stretcher and drove me to the emergency room.

I don’t remember much of that. I think “Funky Cold Medina” was playing on the radio, but that could have been my imagination.

The next thing I knew, I awoke in a hospital bed. My arm, whatever remained of it, was bandaged up. At last, the ordeal was over.

A nurse came into the room. “Time to change your dressing,” she said and began to unwrap my bandages.

I relaxed, and thought about the mess I’d have to clean up at my apartment. And, I’m sure the police would have questions. I thought for sure I’d lose my security deposit.

And then I noticed the nurse licking my wounds!

I jerked up and sprang off the bed. She wiped the blood off her chin with her knuckle and then licked it off. “I haven’t finished with you yet,” she said.

I took off and ran. She followed. As I passed women, they would turn their heads and join the chase. A pregnant woman in labor pushed aside her husband and a child to get off her bed and follow after me. Women in wheelchairs and on crutches and in casts joined. A woman who had been shot in the leg and was waiting for a doctor got up from her chair, and gave pursuit, limping all the way.

I found a door, and hurried through.

It won’t be long before they’ll find me in here. I can hear them scurrying about outside. Desperate women seeking out a stranger while their bewildered men wonder what’s going on.

I can hear them clawing at the door. So many of them, so many voices I can’t make out the words. Not that the words matter. I know what they want.

For the first time in my life, women want me. And, I am scared.

 

About the Author

Dan C. Rinnert is the publisher of ScienceFictionFantasyHorror.com.

 

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