Just Like Dancing

By: 1000th Ghost

*This story is dedicated to my mom because it's Mother's Day! Yay!*

"It's just like dancing…I'll lead!"

-Katie (Monsters vs Aliens)

"So, did ya hear?" Link asked casually, waiting patiently as Insectosaurus tapped out "four" with his foot.

Dr. Cockroach sighed, annoyed at being interrupted midway through his experiment. "Hear what, Link?"

"Monger found a way to get the Quantonium out of Susan. Got any…fours?"

B.O.B. groaned at having lost yet again, and Dr. Cockroach gasped in disbelief.

"W-wait…he…so, she's normal again?"

"Yeah, but only for, like, a few hours." He laid his cards on the table, stood up, and stretched. "It's a temporary thing."

"O-oh." Dr. Cockroach glanced around nervously. "Do you…um, know where she is?"

Link shrugged then yawned. "In her cell, I guess. Hey, listen, could you keep it down? I'm gonna go try to catch a few winks before dinner."

"K-keep it d-down?" Dr. Cockroach stuttered, turning beat red.

"Yeah, you know, no explosions or mad scientist laugh or whatever it is you do with yourself."

"Oh…o-of course, Link," the doctor said shakily. "Have a nice nap."

He waited until Link was securely in his cell (B.O.B. and Insectosaurus wouldn't even understand, so he didn't have to worry about their opinions) then scurried over to the female monster's door as fast as he possibly could. He paused, knocked, waited until a voice said, "Come in", and pushed a button on the wall that allowed him access to her room.

"Hi, Doctor!" Susan chirped as the door closed again. "Look at me!" She spun around and giggled. "I'm small again!"

"Only for a few hours."

Did she know? Surely…it had been months now…he couldn't have been the only one to sense the magnetism between them.

If they only had a few hours…he was going to use them. But how to make her understand? How could he possibly convey that this was their one chance and that he simply couldn't live with himself if he passed up this opportunity?

"We're only going to be the same size for a few hours," he said again. A pause. "I love you."

Susan blinked. "Really?"

He nodded slowly, and she smiled.

"Aw, Doc, that's so sweet!"

"Sweet"? He inwardly sighed. She was so innocent and naive; admittedly, it was one of the things that first attracted him to her. In this situation, however, it might prove to make things difficult.

Suddenly, Susan's face fell. He took a cautionary step towards her as she said, "…but…I'll only be your size for a little while…"

Hmm. Perhaps this was not a hopeless endeavor.

"My dear," he spoke softly, slowly drawing over to her, "you know that I would never, ever rush you under normal circumstances. But…"

"…but these aren't normal circumstances," she finished for him. "I-it's okay…we…we can…"

"Thank you."

His hands were around her waist, and he placed a quick, delicate kiss on her trembling lips. She tried to ignore the spark of electricity that jolted through her, but it was a futile task. There had always been something there…it was unspoken and forbidden, but it was there.

And telling herself that she had not imagined something along the lines of this exact situation, albeit late at night when no one could see her blush, was an outright lie.

But…

Awkwardly untangling herself from his embrace was the last thing she wanted to do. Taking a few steps away and nervously rubbing her arm was uncalled for and unwanted. Yet she did all of these things and hesitantly squeaked, "I just…don't know if I'm ready."

Not that it mattered, of course. It could be their only chance, and there was only one way it could end.

"I-I mean…I've never done this before…and…"

"Oh." He smiled; was that her only concern? "Relax, my dear. It's just like…" He feverishly wracked his brain for an appropriate comparison. "…like dancing."

"I don't know too much about dancing," she said, almost apologetically.

"Yes, but I have a Ph.D. in dance." His smile was positively sinful, and his eyes scoured her body as only a mad scientist could. It thrilled her. "I'll lead."


Proper attire was always required for dancing, of course. Too much fabric could disrupt the sinuous movements.

She watched like a deer in the headlights as he removed his white lab coat then kept her eyes firmly fixed on the white garment on the floor as he discarded the rest of his clothes. When he approached her and began to undo the multiple buttons going down the front of her jumpsuit, she stood stock-still, unable to move, but she did not protest. The material was slowly removed from her shoulders, her arms, her waist, her hips, and all the way down her legs to her shoes. He looked up from where he kneeled at her feet to find her blushing profusely.

He loved it.

Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, if at all possible, when he stood up and told her that she was positively stunning.


Rhythm was essential. Without rhythm, dance was nothing but a chaotic series of gestures with no rhyme or reason.

Kissing was fairly simple. In and out, teasing and tugging, tongues and teeth.

He lowered his lips to her neck, and she thought how easy this was turning out to be. His lips on her collarbone, his hand on her breast, her heart skipped a beat. His mouth replacing his hand, and a small moan escaped her throat.

But the rhythms were of his own creation and required no thought from her.

Her mind went blank as he gripped her wrist and gingerly guided it to his manhood. This was unknown territory, and she hadn't the slightest idea what to do about it. But he led her, as promised, and eventually her own rhythm was established.

And when he groaned her name, his hands on her head, her tongue working miracles, she was fairly convinced that he approved of her interpretations of his teachings.


Dancing was almost ninety percent about tempo. Variety was key. Inexperience must be accounted for. Starting too fast was unwise.

One, two, three, one, two, three.

Keep counting, keep the tempo.

It was difficult to get used to; any new dance move was. But there were ways of easing into the grand performance.

One finger was okay, two was tolerable.

The final penetration, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from crying out in pain.

It was all about tempo, he soothed her. Starting slow was imperative.

But a single tempo for too long was repetitive. Dancing embraced variety.

One, two, three became one, two, one, two, over and over and over, and she clutched at his shoulders and prayed that he wouldn't stop her from falling.


Regardless of one's level of skill in dance, when a partner was involved, the most important aspect became communication. It was not a competition; the dancers must complement each other and be as one.

She bucked and writhed beneath him, and he did not relent. The murmured nothings he had whispered in her ear were replaced by indecipherable groans, and she was shocked and pleased that she had brought the brilliant scientist down to a primitive, incomprehensible level. She was also relieved that his mind was as intoxicatingly muddled as her was.

He thrust deeper and deeper still, and she wrapped her legs around his hips and moved with him.

When the final wave of passion completed its course, she pitched forward and gasped his name. She could already feel the effects of Quantonium returning to her, but she didn't say so. She didn't want it to end.

So she whispered, "I love you", and let him continue.


She awoke in her giant form, cradling the still-slumbering monster in her palm.

Gently, so as not to wake him, she placed a delicate kiss on top of his trembling antenna.

It was true, what he had said.

He was an amazing dancer.

The End