2. Gimme a Hand

Life is hard when you don't know your origin story.

No mother or father. No kind to form a connection or family with. Sex with random strangers, because you can't begin to open up about what you truly are. I'm just grateful for my twin or life would truly be a lonely walk.

I only wish I also had some of the freedoms of other shifter creatures.

Wolves and forest shifters always speak of how their beast lies just beneath the surface. They feel them and can shift when they choose. However, every shifter creature I have ever met has the ability to shift when they choose. You know, without needing their brother.

I suppose that is the balance though when your creature is literally an immortal monster.

I just wish I felt more of a connection to that side of me. Instead, it just feels like... me. Only in a different skin.

No sense in allowing my thoughts to drift down that dark hole. In all the minor irritations that I harbor, one thing is crystal clear. I appreciate my existence.

With how my brother acts, you would question if he felt the same.

Sometimes it's alarming how stark of a contrast our identical features are. The only thing that Evander has to easily depict him from me, is the long scar that extends from above his top lip on the right and drags down ending below his bottom lip on the left. The only evidence that our human form is not as utterly indestructible as our creature form.

To be fair, the scar was well deserved. He did steal and attempt to eat a harpy's eggs. She was merely protecting her babies. A fact I was immensely appreciative of that came to light before I assisted him in dispatching the supposed threat. My twin can be…

"I've got a hand!" Evander interrupts my inner musings with his excited declaration and the act of waving a severed appendage around like a victory flag.

The sight of him instantly fills me with exasperation. He has always been a bit... well, psychotic to be frank, but in the past few months, it feels like he is constantly attempting to exceed his previous levels of fuckery. I scrub my hands down my face, before placing my elbows on my desk and steepling my fingers in front of me. My brother remains utterly oblivious to my irritation and continues dancing around, waving a severed hand above his head. Thankfully, the appendage seems to have been removed from its host some time ago due to the pale skin tone and lack of blood. I hate cleaning blood out of my office. I think it might be the one thing that truly pisses me off. Blood is a bitch to get out of my Persian rug, and since my office is the only place I tend to splurge quite thoroughly with my funds, I try my hardest to keep all things bloody and messy out of this space.

"Evan, where in the actual fuck did you get the hand?"

He freezes and turns slowly to face me. A look of horror on his face.

"Viggo! You are one sick puppy. I would never fuck a dead hand." As soon as the words leave his lips, I see the change in his features. Going quickly from horror to quizzical. For mere seconds I am clueless as to where his mind has shifted. That is until he reaches into his pants and pulls out his cock.

"No! Evander I swear if you fuck that hand I will disown you! Where did you even get that thing?"

He doesn't put his dick away, or move the hand away from nearly touching it, but he shifts his gaze back to mine. "Isn't it great?! They have this whole bin at the hospital that is just filled with pieces and parts like this. I even found a pair of titties in there. Although they had those weird balloon thingies inside and it made them feel all gross."

Oh yes, that makes complete sense. A discarded pair of breasts is disgusting but a severed hand that appears to be about a week departed from its source... that isn't disgusting at all.

"Evan, were you digging through the wendigo waste bin again? Why do you do that? You know it pisses them off. They can sell their leftovers for good money. You're stealing their income. They have families to support."

"Don't be so dramatic Viggo. It's only a hand. That bin was packed full of goodies. Well, I also took an eyeball, but that didn't stay down." He rubs the severed hand across his stomach in a comforting motion and a terrible vision pops into my head."

"Evan no. Please tell me you did not eat a random eyeball from the garbage."

He shrugs and moves the hand so the palm is cupping his balls and I try really fucking hard not to pay attention.

"Ok, I didn't eat a random eyeball from the garbage."

"Evan, was that a lie?"

"Yep! I wanted to see if it would pop like a grape. It doesn't by the way. It's more like a hard jello ball. It doesn't taste great either. I thought if I just swallowed it quickly that would be the end of it. But it came back to haunt my asshole at the worst time ever. Have you ever gotten random explosive diarrhea while getting a blowjob outside a bar? I definitely don't recommend that. I don't think she would either because she started puking. Oh, on a possibly related note, we may be banned from the bar on Fifth Street now."

Not for the first time in my life, my brother has left me utterly speechless. Ignorant to the shock factor Evan tends to leave people in wherever he goes, and currently the state he has left me in, he moves the cadaver's hand to his cock and without any qualms about the crunching sound as he moves the fingers to form a tight grip, he begins stroking his cock.

"Oh fuck, Viggo. This is like the best stranger ever. Want to try?" With the skill of a true psychopath, he continues pumping himself while turning to face me with a look of pure glee.

Do you know how hard it is to keep an impassive and calm demeanor when talking with someone who is absolutely batshit crazy?

"No, Evan. I do not want to jerk off with your corpse hand, and you absolutely will not be coming in my office, so go fuck that thing elsewhere."

He lets out an exasperated sigh. I'm half impressed that he is still pumping away with that decrepit thing while talking to me.

"You have no sense of adventure, Viggo. Come along Suzie. Let's have fun in my brother's bed."

Before I can even yell out in response, Evander is laughing maniacally and running out of my office. And yes, he is still fucking that hand even while running. It's almost impressive. I suppose I will be burning my bed again. Never have I ever been more thankful for the secret murphy bed I had installed in my office, or the thorough camera system to ensure my brother remains oblivious to that piece of furniture.

I shake my head and let my attention focus back to the ledgers in front of me. Time to get back to balancing books for people with more money than they could ever hope to spend.

Says the man with more money than he could ever hope to spend...