home alone part 03
She doesn’t quite believe you all the way, even after you flash your fangs, but she’s concluded you are probably dangerous. Her blue eyes scan the room in circuits. She is a rat caged with a snake. Her desire to escape makes her fidget and fight against the crippling rope tying her arms across her chest and her legs straight together.
She keeps whimpering, often after your stomach interjects something. You lie back and wait for the spasms to pass.
“This can’t be happening,” she says out of the blue.
You close your eyes, tired of the same old fear. Your shoulderblades itch. It would be trivial to snip away your ropes, but I’d know you did it. That’s not the game.
“It’s not, yet. You have like a day, if he’s being cruel.” You don’t let on who you think I’m being cruel toward.
“But you’re on his side! You two are playing some sort of… game.” Exhausted from lying awkwardly on her side she flops onto her back. Her bare belly forms a broad curve. She’s glowing, skin perlucid in the idyllic way that pregnancy affects some mothers. “Please make him let me go. Please, Raven.” She rolls onto her side again to stare plaintively. All it does is make you picture biting into her belly, sinking your teeth through fat in search of abdominal arteries but really just relishing the treasure trove of calories. “Please. I thought we liked one another.”
“I’ve never spoken to you before in my life.” Something about her belly catches your eye. The layer of fat is thinner over her swollen womb. You saw motion, a faint dent in the skin. Her baby must have just kicked. You hiss out a sharp breath as your own belly squirms through a rolling gurgle. When it’s through, she is pale. “I don’t even know your name.”
She curls up a little, despondent. “That was him too? I’m so stupid.” She curls up further, bound knees on her knees and begins to cry. “And now my baby’s going to die.”
Normally when they cry you at least have the heady satisfaction of their shaking shoulders filling out your tummy. It’s no fun when they’re in front of you.
You fidget awkwardly with your hair. You bunched it together in a long, multi-knotted ponytail today. Three years or so ago, when this day first began.
She shows no sign of stopping. You can’t help but feel sympathy stir. Carefully you take the water bottle I left for you, twist the cap so it’s only just closed, toss it to your feet and gently manoeuvre it to where a little kick will put the bottle by one of her hands.
She startles when the bottle touches her. Sniffling, she stares at it, then back at you.
“Thought you might be thirsty,” you say.
She continues to stare at you for a long while before awkwardly taking a drink.
“Tracy,” she offers.
You nod. “Nice to meet you, Tracy.”
She doesn’t answer. Just watches you, looking like she’s trying to fathom a puzzle.
Two hours crawl by. Stomach pain radiates up to your jaw. All you can smell is Tracy’s flesh. All you can hear is her heartbeat, and the groaning of the gut that would drink it dry. This is torture. I’m going to pay for this.
Tracy has been thinking. “Why did you give me the water?”
Her words jolt you out of a bitter reverie. You were so fixated on your hunger, on her body, that you forgot she could speak.
“I thought you might be thirsty.”
“Why do you care? You’re only going to eat me…”
You don’t answer.
“You could eat him instead…”
“I will eat him. Someday. But that won’t save you now.”
Her face screws up. “But w—”
“No. Stop. Tracy it’s over. I could take you right now. I would if it wouldn’t be letting him win. So. Make peace.”
“Will you… Will it hurt?”
You think of the thousands of lives you have consumed. They have suffocated in you, drowned in you, burned in you, bled dry for you. Their bones have splintered as they crushed for you. Some few have in ecstacy relinquished their souls into you. You have drunk deep from the river of humanity, grown fat and powerful. Of all of them, precious few went without the most profound, obliterating agony.
You release a low sigh. Thinking about past meals ignited both hungers. You feel a need tingle in your lower tummy. You are wet and can only squeeze your thighs together.
“Yes,” you say, staring at your prey. “Yes, it’s going to hurt.”
Somehow, somehow you managed to doze. You must have slept more deeply than you expected because you didn’t hear me approach. You jerk awake when a hand presses your shoulder.
“Shhh,” I say, quiet as a mouse. “Don’t wake her. You did well.”
The hunger is like knives all through you. You won’t ever let me do this again and I need to be punished for doing it now.
In the half-dark I don’t seem to be aware of how grim your expression is. “You controlled the animal hunger. How do you feel?”
“Untie me.”
I hesitate. You fix me with a glare. Every instinct screaming “no”, I touch your rope and undo each knot one by one.
Your arms flex above you and your legs do the same. You’re free but you barely change position. “Animal hunger.” You reach for my hand and hold my index and middle finger together. Then, lying back and parting your legs, you slide them smoothly into your cunt.
The fear on my face as you fuck yourself with my hand sharpens your senses like the hunger eating away at the pit of your stomach. Pleasure feels distant. You need more than you’re getting. So much more.
You withdraw my hand. Your lips schlick shut, still swollen with need. Your free hand pulls me down into a kiss so violent my jaw creaks. You don’t bite to taste my blood because you know there’s not a chance I’d survive the resulting frenzy and this is not the time you will take me. Then you break the kiss and force my fingers, heavy with the taste of you, into my mouth.
“Gag her. Then undress and fuck me like an animal.”
Somehow we were quiet enough not to wake her. I sway when I stand fully upright and go to retrieve a gag. You don’t bother standing, instead creeping towards Tracy’s dozing form on all fours.
Near to her you can hear the blood flowing through her arteries in between heartbeats.
I return with a wad of fabric and something to tie it in her mouth. I make enough noise that she wakes.
The first thing she feels is the bonds around her legs, around her and and chest. The first thing she sees is your face, filling her vision.
She opens her mouth to scream and I instantly stuff the fabric in there. Without arms she is powerless to prevent me from tying the thong to keep her gag in place.
She barely seems to notice me work. You occupy the whole of her attention. It doesn’t even occur to her to scream until, in one swift motion, you turn your head and sink your fangs into her shoulder by her neck, burying your teeth to the root in tense muscle.
Then she screams, muffled into a pure tone by the gag.
You avoided arteries but still blood rushes to fill your mouth. This tributary of the river of humanity gushes to fill you up just like the rest.
Dimly you’re aware that I’m frantically undressing. Almost all of your mind is on the feel of flesh, the taste of blood. Your hunger is a wild storm inside you. It threatens to steal away your sanity. The only way forward is to dance with it.
Tracy’s scream jumps higher and higher till her voice goes no further. Your teeth tear at her skin and dig through muscle. Before the bite is complete you lean back and pull. A fleshy ripping sound culminates in your head being thrown back, meat between your teeth and blood down your chin.
Tracy thrashes beneath you but she’s going nowhere. Your hands are claws in her flesh and your weight holds her down in her bonds. Still as an assassin in the night you turn to look at me. Your mouth widens so I can see everything you do. With tongue and palette squishing the morsel of Tracy’s trapezius muscle, you flex your glottis and suck it into your wide-open throat.
Fuck, does her flesh feel good going down. You resist as long as you can, luxuriating in the fear and awe streaming from me, but it’s seconds before your crimson-stained teeth flash down to scissor into her upper arm.
Another sustained high note from the woman you are tearing apart. This time when you swallow the chunk of her flesh you revisit the wound, widening it with a jerk of your neck and tossing back hot meat. The speed with which you swallow the meat causes you to gag, then when it slides down you make a short sharp belch. You eat her like an animal.
My face looks afraid but I stand rock hard. You flex your hips and wave your pussy in the air as you go in for another bite of your living meal.
I kneel behind you and slide into you in one motion. You grind against me and don’t let me go. Even your pussy is voracious. We rock together; each motion spreads your lips and massages your clit sending heat up through your body to meet the heat you are consuming. You moan through a mouthful of Tracy, blood running down to your chest now.
I can’t see if it’s your tendril blades or somehow your nails, but while chewing into the fat of her flanks and being soundly fucked from behind your index finger draws a line of blood down through her navel to her pubis. That same hand dips inside the cavity thus revealed.
Tracy’s baby is christened in her mother’s blood. Small at eight months she still overhangs your casual hand, moving tiny limbs weakly. The mother is no longer screaming, even as you suck pale adipose tissue out of the wound on her side like a fatty milkshake. She’s starting at her baby.
You hand her to me, the child, and half-turn to look into my eyes. Your wide-open mouth is a dark pit. Your tongue is so, so red. You stare at me expectantly with your mouth open as you ride my cock.
She’s much smaller in my hands. By now she has taken her first breath and uttered her first life-cry.
Tracy’s muffled voice is a monotone series of notes. “Mph. Mph. Mph.” No. No. No.
I feed the child to you feet-first. Her flavour is obliterated by blood but her skin is so incredibly soft against the sensitive skin of your palette, on the slick surface of your tongue.
You barely have to swallow. I push her down your throat. A tiny hand curls innocently around one of your fangs and is then gone as you finish her in one gulp.
With my hand in yours you trace the tiny bulge as it travels down your gullet. Then she’s gone, newborn skin blistering immediately in the ravenous furnace of your stomach. The report comes swiftly: ~bwoooOaARp~
I come immediately inside you. Tracy’s eyes are rolled back in her head. She has minutes of life left but her life seems to have left her already.
She weeps great broken-heated sobs as you butcher her. Her slippery liver you slurp down like iron-heavy blancmange. Her breathing becomes exceedingly shallow when you slice through her diaphragm to access the chest cavity. Your hand follows the highway of her aorta to find the heart in its secret home. A swipe of your thumb cuts it away.
It is still beating as you gulp this, too, into your ravenous, greedy stomach.
She is spared the rest of your feast. You tear her apart in strips and devour her down to the bone, then break the large bones and suck the fatty marrow. Despite coming already I show no sign of softening until you reach me a second time, but your cunt bears the same hunger as your gut: insatiable. As you hunch over the carcass you grind your cunt into my face where I lie prone beneath you. I lick myself out of you and nibble and suck on you as Tracy grows less and less and your belly swells with meat. Even her bones you devour. Nothing goes to waste. You swallow her down in chunks, but all of her slides into your stomach that does not paint your face, your tits, your belly.
When she is utterly gone you close your eyes and exhale. Your hunger satisfied by two lives you start a low moan that grows and grows with the relief of desire fulfilled. When you orgasm you arch your back and caress your blood-sticky body, feeling every curve. You almost drown me in pleasure-flesh and your juices.
You have to resucitate me with a kiss. I open my eyes and smile an adoring smile. Your face and body are red and black with death. The whole room is a murder scene.
Your belly is purring contentedly. You stroke it absently, looking thoughtful.
“You are a goddess,” I say. I kiss one hand.
“If you ever do that again,” you say, licking drying blood from the fingers of your other hand, “you will wish you were her.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up, my love,” I say. “And fed. You still look hungry. Chinese?”
“I knew there was a reason I keep you around.” You lean down to kiss me. Your mouth tastes like blood and wildness.