home alone part 02
Five hours without food isn’t something your belly isn’t used to, but it’s acting like lack of snacks is the end of the world. You’re appalled and grudgingly impressed by the way it rebels against outside restrictions. You would never have guessed that your independent and headstrong nature extended to your body parts, too.
You hear the car pull up and, shortly after, the garage door open. There are fewer witnesses if I bring people in through the back entrance. This means I’ve brought you someone. Your tummy throws out an excited squort, bringing with it an expectant pang. You tut. It’ll be disappointed if I’m serious about making you wait.
The back door opens. There’s a light scraping noise, the rustle of a body in clothes. Your takeaway is here.
She’s already coming around by the time I’m dragging her into the living room to join you. Much good as it does her. I spent time tying her head to toe, something I’ve got very good at recently.
She’s… Actually, you recognise her from the Tinder account I was playing with when looking for prey for you. No way you’ll remember her name. But she is chunky in a compact way. Short, big everywhere. In her profile pic she was standing one-leg-forwards to slim her hips, but roped up on the floor, her bubble butt makes your mouth water. Her tummy devoid of slimming or distracting patterns (everything but underwear has been sheared off) is a curiously firm-looking mountain. Her breasts are in proportion, though occluded by arms tied to her chest, corpse-pose.
Her eyes flutter open and look through you. It won’t be long before she’s properly awake. You stare back as I tie loose rope between her arm harness and another anchor point. On the other side of the room, you could both maybe touch legs if you both tried, but she’s safe from your mouth.
“She doesn’t know anything,” I murmur, speaking to you as I lock off the knot. “Thought it would be fun to let you get to know her. I’m going to work elsewhere.” I look up and give you a grin you feel very much like giving a very special kiss right now. “Need anything?”
“Better companions,” you say with a scowl.
I give a little bow and grab my laptop. “Enjoy, my love.”
You watch me disappear up the stairs. The thing I’ve been using to disable the people I pluck off the street for you is some sort of powerful dissociative. She’ll snap to in a few moments.
In the meantime you take in her vague blue eyes, her cherry-red lips. If you weren’t so hungry and she didn’t look so satisfying maybe you could have gone on a date. I’ve left her hairband in. Dark blue highlights her eyes and contrasts her dirty blonde hair.
“Huh?”
She jerks her head to the other side, and struggles fitfully against the arm harness. Not quite there yet…
“Oh no.”
Ah, there we go.
She starts thrashing against arm and leg bindings. When they don’t budge she rocks and elbows herself to a prone kneeling position. I’ve left her with her underwear, a suspiciously coordinated blood red bra and panty set. Her boobs in that position threaten to spill out.
That’s when she spots you. A squeak leaves her throat before it’s frozen with fear… And then, astonishment.
“Raven?!”
Fuck. Are you meant to know her name too? It’s me who’s been talking with her on tinder.
You go with something safe. “Are you okay?”
“Where the fuck are we? How are… did he get you too?” She tugs at the rope connecting to the wall. Nothing budges.
You suppress a smile at the idea that I “got” you. “He tied me up here, yes. Calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself. Breathe.”
As you watch this little perfectly-formed round woman fight back tears you feel a strange sense of dislocation. I and, now, you, have both decided that she is food; but you are unable to make it happe. I’m actually stopping you. It’s a deeply strange situation.
Ah! Maybe it’s a joke! That would be my sense of humour. Leave something that the woman can use to get free, then she will come over and be your saviour, and then…
“Look around you,” you say. “Maybe there’s something you could use you get free and untie me?”
Clumsy as a worm she struggles to comply. The sofa has nothing on, under or in it. For once my coffee table is bare. Books on the bookcase could give papercuts but nothing that will get her free.
“No,” she says, beginning to hyperventilate. “There’s nothing here. What’s he going to… Is he going to kill us?”
“He won’t be killing anyone,” you say matter-of-factly. Your stomach interjects an opinion, a biological clanging that rumbles on for way too long. Oh god, you think you can smell her. Something sweet and floral fails to cover up the delightful promise of clean skin, seasoned with salt her terror has caused. She seems to hear nothing.
“What are you doing here, Raven? How are… Is he tracking down lesbians?”
“I… don’t know. Maybe he tracked us both through the app. He’s clever. But not as clever as he thinks he is.” That last part delivered slightly louder, for the benefit of someone who might be listening upstairs.
“You know him?”
“Regrettably. I trusted him.”
“Can you think of anything… You know him? Maybe you can use that?”
You make a show of thinking. All you’re really thinking is whether you could smash the mantelpiece to get a sharp edge, cut your ropes, then crawl over to her and swallow her from bound feet to head. That would satisfy the cravings but leave you with cord running out of your mouth. You’re wondering idly about how long your stomach would take to untie her from her bonds…
“I do know that he won’t hurt us.”
“What’s he want, then?!”
You close your eyes. Another belly rumble is building, you can feel the spasm mustering. “He’s obsessed with… closeness. He wants us to get together. He thinks he’s helping me. Us.”
A flicker of something crosses her reddened face. Guilt?
She speaks, hesitant. “Like some sick idea of a dating game?”
You nod. She laughs bitterly. “Like First Dates Café. Or Love Island. Do you think he’ll let us go if we… play couples?”
You shrug, which makes you realise how stiff your shoulders are from sitting in one position. You shuffle your weight, and notice her watching you.
“Maybe we should tell secrets?”
You smile crookedly and nod. You have time. She starts with a story about her first kiss—actually her brother’s girlfriend. You consider inventing story, but decide on a truth instead, telling her you used to be obsessed with vampires and longed to be visited by one. She giggles at the idea, which vaguely pisses you off, but perhaps it’s just your blood sugar tanking.
“Did you ever find a vampire?”
“Several. But it’s your turn.”
She gives you a strange look, then tells you about her future. She wants to open a bookstore/café, where people can buy or trade the books. And she wants kids, who will grow up reading the books and putting them back in the wrong places.
You counter with an invented story, a time you lived in Germany. You’re half way through when you’re empty stomach finally grinds out its demands. ~gluoOoOOurpl-gleeaaArch~ goes its song. The feeling of hunger is sapping your strength. Your inner arms ache and the pit of your stomach burns vaguely. Perhaps I’m right: perhaps your stomach has grown too used to being satisfied.
Your companion hears it this time. With a face of astonishment she says, “Oh you poor thing! How long have you been here without food.”
“Oh I’ve got food,” you snap through gritted teeth, “I just can’t reach it.”
“Oh. Well. Maybe this will take your mind off it.” She blushes and looks down at her belly, then back up. “My bookshop fantasy… One part of it is coming true. Eighteen months ago I started, ah, donor IVF. It finally took eight months ago.” She suddenly starts speaking as fast as possible. “I’m sorry if you think I was leading you on, I was just blowing off steam on tinder, I didn’t expect to get talking so long, or, y’know, enter a hostage situation with anyone!” She rolls onto her back to give her joints a break. You can see it now: her native fat surrounds and envelopes a belly that seemed too firm for its size. And at eight weeks no wonder her chest is too large for her bra…
Your reflexive “congratulations” is accompanied by and to some extent drowned out by a deep gut rumble. Maybe some trace of the doctor? You wonder if she was in paediatrics.
“I’m sorry,” she continues, “I know that’s a lot to spring on you. And it’s not like we’re, y’know, together or anything,” that giggle again, which might be cute to one whose mood wasn’t as hunger-black, “but I feel like I’d like to get to know you more.”
“Are you just playing the game, trying to get out?”
She looks shocked. “No. I’m… I really like you, Raven.”
If your hands were free you’d bridge your fingers across your forehead. You’re getting a hunger headache. “Okay. So. My turn to share. I succeeded.”
“Succeeded at what, Raven?” Your mood seems to have unsettled her: she tests her bonds without realising it.
“Succeeded at becoming a vampire.” A beat while that sinks in. “He brought you here to be my food. But he’s a twisted fuck, so he tied me up as well because I’ve been eating so many of you. And now it turns out you’re pregnant and, I don’t know, maybe he knew, so he’s playing more games, so…”
“You’re—”
“No I’m not joking. Yes I’m going to eat you. And the child.” Your gut supplies apt punctuation. A mother-and-child-sized hole reverberates from somewhere around your duodenum. While she reels you raise your voice, taking to the unseen observer. “Okay, I confessed, you can untie me now.”
Nothing, just the girl’s shallow, rapid breathing.
I’m going to leave you tied there for longer. Maybe for… What did I say? “Be mine for a day or so?”
Fuck. This is going to be awkward.