The Bloodlust, a Very Short Story by Kylyssa Shay

Vanessa was depressed because she had a mind made for genocide and a body built for strictly platonic cuddling and naps. She hadn't even tried attempted murder in almost a week. Her muscles were tight and toned and she was extremely strong for her size, but it wasn't enough. Vanessa wanted a body that could kill. Literally.

Instead, she felt vulnerable, small, and weak despite being in top physical condition and able to kick her much larger brother's ass whenever she felt like it. As much damage as she could do, she was too tiny to even protect herself from all the dangerous things in life, much less fulfill her desires. Her needs were all fulfilled and spectacularly well, but her wants were left wanting.

Vanessa could be said to be "kept" by anyone who didn't know her very well, but everyone who did realized she was ruler of the roost and the only keeping anyone else did around her home was doing the housekeeping. She had servants to feed her, massage her, entertain her, and to keep her home clean. She was never hungry, thirsty, and seldom bored for long, but her life just didn't fit who she really was inside. She granted audiences to visitors, including well-behaved children, but she walked out, sometimes mid-greeting when children of the other sort darkened her door. Not that she'd see them come in; she had servants for answering the door.

Vanessa was neither kept nor keeper but she was a slave to her own desires, owned by a darker part of herself, feelings of blood-lust that moved her even in sleep.

This is the reason her extreme tininess is such a tragedy to her, the reason she cries plaintively at the unfairness of the world; she realizes she is too small to disembowel anything much bigger than a juvenile groundhog and only that on a very, very good day if she is being honest with herself.

Even that knowledge is strictly theoretical. Such prey is kept in protected reserves called "outside" where Vanessa never seems to be able to visit. Held captive due to common recognition of her innate savagery, Vanessa is forced to live a soft, pampered, and snuggly life, pink-nosed and adorable and never allowed to taste blood she's drawn herself.

Her urges are suppressed and the world is safe from small, fuzzy, murderous bloodlust. She pays the sad, cuddly price for her own savage heart.