Posted by Puffy on February 20, 2009 at 20:48:39:
Synopsis: In Canniland, Boxer and Alicia enjoy a nice romantic dinner eating miniaturised humans. All consensual. Most are cooked; one is swallowed alive while another is eaten raw. Some sexual activity, and strangling with her own hair.
The Little People
By Puffy
“More wine?”
“Yes please.”
Boxer filled up my glass.
“What are these called?” I asked.
“Nagalings.”
“Nagalings? Aren’t nagas half snake? These look just like miniature humans.”
“Yeah. I don’t know why they’re called nagalings. We’ll ask Matt tomorrow – he might know.”
I picked one up from the bowl and took a closer look at her. Seriously? She looked completely human except that she fit in my palm. I bit her off up to her ribs and chewed thoughtfully. Tasted like cooked human as well, but more condensed. That was to be expected, I guess. Flicking at her breasts with my index finger, I considered her hair. That was one area where they were different to us, at least – apart from size, that is. Their hair was edible. I popped the rest into my mouth and washed her down with wine.
At this moment, I became acutely aware of the two live nagalings on the table watching me devour their friend. I blushed self-consciously.
“Boxer, do they have to watch us eat? It feels...weird.”
“What of it?” asked Boxer as he nonchalantly threw a cooked one into his mouth.
“Why do they even have to be here?”
“Dessert,” he said. “Once we finish the ones we cooked. We eat them raw.”
“What?!”
“Don’t worry. They’re perfectly edible that way. They are, after all, genetically engineered snacks.”
“What’s the story behind them?”
He shrugged. “No story. Those lab coats decided it would be fun to play god and create a species of tiny humans that are edible when raw and who enjoy feeding themselves to us. Almost all of them are female, of course, and we only eat the females. Because they’re eaten in such large numbers, the ratio is something astronomical like millions of females per male. It’s the only way it’s sustainable if we consider how many we have consumed as a snack tonight between just us two...I hear their males have a fairly cushy life.”
“Unlike our men,” I stroked his chest. “You have been working so hard this week.”
He kissed me on the lips. “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”
We turned back to our movie. This was one of the few precious occasions I had with Boxer since his work had picked up pace recently. “The project is approaching completion,” he’d explained. “The company has been working on this for years. It should be temporary.” Boxer himself had been working there for a relatively short while, having only graduated with his Nucleonics degree last year.
I nestled into his chest and he groped my arm with his own around my shoulders.
“Testing the meat?” I asked. Quivers went up my spine.
“What a world,” said Boxer, “where a man can’t feel up his girlfriend without someone taking it the wrong way.”
“Then what’s the right way, Mr Boxer sir?”
“I enjoy touching your body.”
Blood was building up in my loins – blood and moisture. I could feel the skin on my breasts tighten, growing more sensitive as my glands enlarged. “You like me for my body?” I tried to stir him up.
“Your body would not interest me so much if Alicia was not inside it.”
“What if Alicia was inside a different body?” It felt weird, talking about myself in third person: almost like I was narrating a story.
“It would depend on the body.” He pulled my head down to his lap, his crotch against my scalp, his arms crossed over my neck. Gunshots came from the TV. “The combination of Alicia inside an attractive female body is difficult to resist.”
“Is it?” I rubbed my head against his groin. It stirred.
“Quit it,” he admonished. “You’ll distract me.”
“From the movie?”
“Are you trying to entice me to remove Alicia from your body?”
“What do you mean?”
“Kill you.”
A familiar sensation arose and I knew the moisture would seep into my panties. The momentum was going. I couldn’t stop.
“You can do that here?”
“Let’s see.” He parted my hair into two strands and I felt him wrap both around my neck.
“You’re going to strangle me with my own hair?” I giggled. “That’s so kinky!”
“Not yet,” he said, rubbing my forehead. I could feel his bulge pulsating through his pants.
“Come on. Remove me from my body. I dare you!”
His throbbing became more rapid. I had an unbearable yearning in my own groin. I took his hands and shifted them, feeling the loops of hair tighten around my neck. He released one strand and popped a nagaling into his mouth.
“Open wide.”
He pressed his lips against mine and passed one half of it into my mouth before pulling back. I could taste his saliva on to the piece he gave me. Chew, chew. Boxer’s saliva: I had it in my mouth, now I wanted it all over my body. My breasts arched forward involuntarily at the thought.
“That looked exciting,” he chortled and turned to the two live nagalings. “Do you ladies want to have some fun?”
He dropped the nagalings at the base of my throat and lifted the neck of my top for them to scurry under. “Give her hell.”
They crawled over my chest, around my navel and – one of them stumbled into my bellybutton and began to kick! Boxer caught my hands before they could move. “Keep them away,” he commanded.
“But it’s so ticklish!”
One of them clawed her way up one of my breasts, her tiny nails like a bug crawling across my skin.
I arched my back when she began nibbling on my nipple. Boxer pulled my hair tight. My hands shot up to my neck futilely struggling for air. I saw Boxer pop another nagaling into his grinning maw.
The throbbing, I could still feel him throbbing against my scalp.
The one in my belly, she had made her way down to my panties. She tried to sneak in, but couldn’t slide past the strap. I tingled when she tugged my pubes in frustration.
The one on my nipple, she was holding on for dear life as I thrashed. Boxer held my head securely in his lap, but the rest of me – Boxer was going to need a new couch.
Then, as suddenly as it began, I took in one big gasp of air. Then another. Boxer was straightening my hair. My neck was free! His throbbing continued. I lay there feeling it pulse against my head while I recovered. His hands stroked my chin, my hair. I felt so vulnerable with his powerful body around my head, able to break it, able to cradle ad protect it. It was up to him. “This is so hot,” I said.
We both lost our clothes and then I straddled him on the couch.
“Nice ornaments,” he commented, referring to the two nagalings dangling from my nipples. They were flung about as I bounced on his shaft. “You’re so wet.”
“You’re so hard.”
He ran his hands up and down my arms, causing them to heat up. “I love those fine hairs on your arms. They’re like fur. We should keep them on when we do you.”
“You like hair in your soup?” Up, down. Up. Down.
“You’re right. They’re still sexy, though.” His hands were on my hips. “Some fine hair around your body is a reminder that you’re a mammal.”
“I’m an animal?” The hairs all over my body tingled when I said this. Down. Up. Bounce, bounce.
He licked his lips and grinned. In popped another nagaling. “You’re missing the movie. Turn around and lean on the table.”
The nagalings clinging to my nipples swung back and forth, their feet barely missing the surface of the table as Boxer took me from behind.
“Mammals are made of meat,” said Boxer. “It just brings the thought to mind when I see the invisible hair that run along your arms.”
“So an animal,” I said.
“You have juicy arms,” he said. He reached forward to cup my breasts. The nagalings dropped away to avoid being crushed. “Tits and teats.”
“Like a cow,” I moaned.
“Smooth, supple neck, so good for squeezing.”
“A mouse in a boa constrictor’s grip.” My head touched the table as his hands wrapped their way around my neck.
“A delicious arse.” He gave it a slap.
“Rump steak.”
“And this belly...”
“God...eat me.”
“Not yet.” He maintained his slow rhythm.
“An animal.”
“Doing what animals do best.” He pumped away.
“Fucking and being eaten.”
“Fucking and eating.” He reached beside me and grabbed another nagaling from the bowl. “Not all animals get eaten.”
“I will.”
“Then enjoy the fucking.”
“I will enjoy both.”
I was so wet I almost couldn’t feel him sliding in and out of my pussy – there was no friction. I rested my body on my shoulders and head so that my hands could reach back and stroke my clitoris. I could feel his hands on my butt, keeping it stable for his steady thrusts.
“An animal,” I moaned.
“Let’s just enjoy the movie,” he said, continuing to pump away.
“Yes.”
I don’t know how long we kept this up. I cherished these moments with Boxer, when time no longer mattered and everything was in the moment. With him sliding inside me, my juices and sweat mingling with his, running down my thighs, spreading over my body wherever his hands reached, and the more he reached the more my juices spread, and the more they spread the dirtier I felt. I was an animal basting in my own juices, losing all control with the man I loved. Dirty, dirty with our secretions, with my secretions, covering my whole body, not caring, not fussing, focusing only on the moment, on him, on that energy spreading up my belly through my heart like a spit, but immaterial: the crescendo flooding over my body as Boxer roared his own release. The walls must have shuddered with the energy of his yell, of my scream, an earthquake striking Canniland with the epicentre where our bodies joined.
The neighbours must have heard, at least.
And there we lay together.
He withdrew.
Both our juices dripped onto his couch, my arse still stuck up in the air. With my body shaking, shuddering while he covered me with himself, tenderly licking the nape of my neck the way a wolf shows affection for its mate. My body tingled as I came down from my height, like a lamb that’s been shorn: the cold of the room struck me in my nakedness and Boxer was like a warm coat.
I leant back against him, and we sank back into the chair with him still wrapped around me.
“I am getting my juices all over you,” I noticed, looking down. “And my sweat.”
He silently wiped my hair from my face, licked the sweat off my forehead and planted a kiss on my lips.
I felt like an animal all over again.
Finally, he grabbed something from the table and presented it to me. The two live nagalings.
“Take one,” he commanded.
One of them was a redhead; the other, a brunette. I took the brunette, suspecting he would eat the redhead: I wanted to imagine him eating a miniature version of me.
“Do we eat these alive?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Umm. Won’t it be painful for them?”
“Ask them yourself.”
I turned to my brunette. “Look chicky, I have just watched you eat all of my friends and have explosive sex. Of course I want you to eat me now! Get me while I’m still horny.”
I looked at Boxer. He grinned, then popped the redhead’s legs into his mouth and sucked her slowly in. “Bye-bye!” she said. He swallowed, and the lump went down his throat. He opened his mouth to show off its emptiness.
“Do I have to swallow you whole?” I asked the brunette.
“Just eat me however it pleases you.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I was designed to be eaten. It won’t be that bad for me. And not every nagaling gets this unique experience of being eaten alive even though we’re just perfect for this sort of thing.”
“If you say so.”
I opened wide and chucked her in. She landed on my front teeth. Immediately closing my mouth, I began to chew. Her blood tasted a bit like sucking off a sugar cane. Must be the genetic modification.
With that, Boxer wrapped his hands around my belly and pressed me against himself. He paused while nibbling on my ear to say, “I couldn’t focus on the movie.”
“Yeah,” I said, stroking his flaccid penis and rubbing it against my vulva. “Me neither.”