“Five
teaspoons each of: water, salt, sulfur powder, iron, and lime. There, my
preparations for the ritual are complete.” Monica laid out her five ingredients
on each point of the bloody pentagram drawn on the floor.
“Okay, but
by 'lime,' I'm pretty sure this book means the rock and not store-bought lime
juice. And there isn't any iron in ground up pencil lead,” Gina pointed out as
she skimmed the recipe. “What's with the sugar? That's not a listed ingredient.”
The woman holding a decrepit, leather-bound book pointed to the small pile of
sugar formed in the pentagram's center.
“To make
him extra sweet, duh. I'm trying to summon the perfect boyfriend here.” The two
women were sitting between their beds in their dormitory, the pentagram
sprawled out on a piece of cardboard resting on their carpeted floor.
“You
realize this is a necromancy tome, right? It's for resurrecting dead people,
not for finding hook ups.” Gina brushed her brunette bangs from her eyes. She
was wearing a bright orange sweater and thick, black frame glasses. She had a
red skirt on earlier, but exchanged it for sweatpants after five too many “Velma”
jokes from Monica.
“It said
that the first person I bring back from the dead will be eternally bound to my
soul as my familiar. If that's not true love, I don't know what is.” Monica
wiped the sugar crystals stuck to her fingers onto her black camisole. The only
thing else she wore, aside from the metal piercings dotting her nose and brow,
were a pair of purple panties. Brilliant blue streaks ran through her otherwise
pitch black hair, and just like her nails, her lips were painted dark as
midnight.
“Where'd
you even find this thing?” Vel-, I mean, Gina asked.
“The
clearance section at the bookstore.”
Gina
dragged her finger through one of the pentagram's lines and brought it to her
mouth. “Really? Ketchup?”
“Don't
smear it! You're gonna fuck up my transmutation.” Monica pulled another ketchup
packet out from under her bed and repaired the damage.
“So, what
are you going to do if your undead boyfriend ends up being an asshole? Like, a
slave owner or something.” Gina set the necronomicon down so she could light
some candles scattered throughout the room. After the proper ambience was set up,
she flicked off the lights.
“I told
you. That's what the sugar is for.” Monica picked up the book and
refamiliarized herself with the incantation; she almost set the tome alight
while holding it up to the burning wick. “Alright, ready when you are.”
“Fire away,
lich queen.”
Monica held
her hands over the pentagram, rolling her fingers in a manic display. “Morir es
vivir. Morir es vivir. Morir es vivir,” she chanted. Gina stared intently as
green and purple plasma crackled out of Monica's fingertips. She was under the
impression the book was a phony, a cheap read for goth kids to gush over.
Tonight was supposed to be a silly diversion; Gina never expected to see real
magic.
As Monica
performed the rite, smoke emanated from the six ingredients, joining the
candle's trails into a big, billowing cloud. “Morir es vivir. Morir es vivir.
Morir es vivir.” With Monica's eyes clamped shut, it was hard to tell if she
realized her spell was working. The smoke twisted itself into a cylindrical
shape, the plasma from Monica's hands joining the cloud in a hellish mixture.
And then, with a sudden whoosh, the smoke dispersed, the candles went out, and
the dorm's overhead lights flickered on.
The six
ingredients were gone, and standing in the center of the pentagram was a
three-inch tall skeleton.
“Hey there!”
he greeted. His bones rattled as he waved to the women seated before him. They
peered down at him with wide eyes, shooting a couple glances to each other to
make sure they were both seeing the same thing. The skeleton looked quizzically
at his own hand as he waved it. “What happened to my skin?”
“He’s so
small…” Monica muttered. Her face drowned in shock while the skeleton examined
himself. He was pure bone: no skin, no meat, no clothes. He was healthy too,
nothing cracked or broken. Gina grabbed the book off her friend’s lap and
skimmed the recipe they used.
“You idiot!”
She slapped Monica’s shoulder. “This says tablespoons, not teaspoons!”
“There’s a
difference?”
“Yes!” Gina
rubbed at her furrowed brow and turned her attention back to the skeleton. He
had finished examining himself and was now studying the giant women before him.
“So, what are we doing with this thing? It doesn’t seem like it’ll make good
boyfriend material.”
“What are
you talking about? He’s adorable!” Monica gushed. While the women talked over
him, the skeleton bent over and scraped some ketchup onto his finger. He tried
eating it, but it just dripped through the hole beneath his jaw. “Look at the
curvature of his pelvic bone, the diameter on those eye sockets, the thickness
of that humerus, how smooth his parietal bone is, and that jawline! Gina, I
netted a fucking stud!” Gina buried her face in her hands, praying none of this
was real. Monica turned back to the skeleton and waved. “Hey, little fella! My
name’s Monica, and this is my best friend, Gina. How are you?” Without muscles,
the skeleton couldn’t smile, but Monica was pretty sure he was smiling at her.
“Hi! I’m
Zeke.” He held out his hand to shake Monica’s; she pinched his bony palm
between her index finger and thumb and followed through the gesture. “I’m not
sure if you know what’s going on, but I think I might be dead.”
“Yeah, I
brought you back to life,” Monica explained. “Do you know how you died?” The
skeleton tapped his chin with his collagenic finger, making a rhythmically
satisfying ticking sound.
“I remember
being at a party and getting drunk. Everything between that and waking up here
is a blur.” The giant woman held her hand out for the skeleton, beckoning him
to walk up the fleshy ramp. Though Monica wore a welcoming expression, her
figure was imposing as hell. Her hand was large enough to fully engulf the puny
man, her feet were large enough to stomp him flat, her bulbous head hung over
him like a celestial body, and her breasts, well, Zeke wouldn’t mind getting
lost in her chasmal cleavage. He stepped onto her waiting palm, curious what
the magical goth had in store for him.
The lift
was bumpy at first as Monica adjusted her hand’s pace. She didn’t want to give
the guy whiplash, especially since he had no muscles to support his thin neck,
but Zeke was light as air, so it was difficult to gauge how fast she should
move him. His heart raced as he gazed upon the curvaceous landscape slowly
passing by him. Oh wait, he didn’t have a heart. Well, something in his soul
was stirring at the sight of the young woman. Eventually, he reached her
prodigious face. Her breath poured through the gaps in his rib cage like a warm
summer breeze.
“Whatever
happened to you, you’re safe now.” Being so close to Monica’s face, Zeke could
see every pore in her skin, every wrinkle beneath her tired eyes, and each
individual root of her hair and eyebrows. Likewise, he was close enough to her
nose for her to catch his scent, an appealing aroma both sweet and tart. “Okay,
this is gonna sound weird, but c-can I taste you?”
“Monica,
no!” Gina protested. “Don’t you realize how unsanitary that is? Who knows how
long he’s been decomposing.”
“I know.
Never. This isn’t his real body, it’s just a replication made from the stuff we
gathered.”
“Great, so
you’re putting pencil lead in your mouth.”
“It’s just
graphite! It doesn’t hurt! Stop being such a killjoy.” The logical part of
Zeke’s brain, er, mind, told him not to enter the mouth of a giant stranger,
but a mysterious urge compelled him to enable her. Though he had only just met
Monica, he felt he could trust her, like their souls were connected in some
way.
“Sure
thing. Let's do it,” Zeke decided. “Getting licked by a cute girl is oddly low
on the list of weird things happening to me recently.” With a delighted squeal,
Monica's obsidian lips parted, allowing her tongue to slither out from its
hole. She pulled Zeke in and dragged his body down her tongue. Her round,
midline piercing bounced against his skeletal frame like a mallet drifting along
a marimba. The muscle itself was warm and unrelenting in its girth and power.
Zeke could feel large globs of her saliva eking through the gaps in his body
and filling up his orifices.
Monica
couldn't stop licking. Her suspicion was right: he tasted just like key lime
pie. Every lap she took filled her mouth with that signature sugary tartness.
She kept up her assault so fervently, she didn't notice her piercing break
through his ribcage like a wrecking ball. Her excitement was so invigorating,
she couldn't help but crush the skeleton to bits within her tightening grip.
“Oh no!”
she shouted as she broke from her euphoric stupor. The shattered bones trickled
from her hand onto the cardboard below. It would take several hours to glue
each piece back together. “Oh no, I'm so sorry!” Monica failed her arms in
panic, mortified that she just killed her undead boyfriend. “Gina, what do I
do!?”
“Gimme a
sec, I'm looking.” Gina flipped through the necronomicon in hopes of finding an
answer. Monica was ready to burst into tears at the sight of Zeke’s desecrated
corpse.
“Hey, it's
all good! I'm fine,” Zeke's disembodied voice said. The top half of his skull
rattled as he spoke, his speech unimpeded by his dislocated jawbone. “I don't
seem to be able to move, though.”
“Thank God!”
Monica scooped up the tiny bone fragments into her cupped palms. “I was so
worried I broke you.” Her massive lips came bearing down on the crumbled
skeleton, embracing most of his pieces in an enveloping kiss. Black lipstick
smeared across his pallid fragments as she pressed him against her pillowy
lips. When she finally pulled out, several bones lied stuck to her blackened
vermillion like white sprinkles on dark chocolate frosting. She rolled her
tongue across her lips, knocking most of them back into her palms. Though Zeke
had no blood nor skin, Monica was certain his skull was blushing in her hands.
“Found it,”
Gina announced. “Says here, ‘if a thrall becomes damaged, simply recite the
incantation: memento mori.’”
“Memento
mori!” At the sound of her voice, Zeke's bones flew into a flurry, hastily
putting themselves back together until he was complete once more. No scratch or
crack remained amongst his pallid framework. “There, all better.” Zeke sat down
in the woman's palm and examined his own, each phalanges, carpal, and midcarpal
bone returned to their proper position with the simple utterance of an idiom.
“This is
wild,” he muttered. “The afterlife never sounded this rad in Sunday school.”
“I wonder
how much punishment he can take?” Gina mused. “If he’s going to be your
boyfriend, he should be able to support your weight, don’t you think?”
B-boyfriend?
Zeke thought he heard something to that effect earlier, but the word still
made his soul stir. He was single when he died and never had much luck with
women when he was alive, so being resurrected as a goth chick’s boy toy was
certainly a welcome surprise.
Suddenly,
Monica's fingers gripped around Zeke's frame. It was a tight hold, but the
skeleton noticed it was only so tight as to not break him, the woman having a
better grasp of her lover's durability. “You're right,” she said to her friend,
“and I have the perfect idea of how to test his limits.” Monica stood up and
tossed her tiny lover behind her onto her bed. Falling through the air, even at
a short distance, felt strangely exhilarating. Air rushed through every gap in
his body, chilling him to the bone. It was like feeling the wind rush through one's
hair, only applied to the entire body.
Zeke landed
on the bed with a creaking thud. The soft comforter cushioned his fall and kept
all his bones in place, not that it would matter for long. Looming a foot above
him was the fullest moon he had ever seen, only somewhat clad by an old pair of
purple panties. Monica's bare cheeks barreled out from the panties' edges, each
one more than large enough to fully engulf the skeleton's puny existence. She
playfully slapped her ass, sending ripples through her dancing fat.
“How's the
view from down there?” she teased, peeking over her shoulder to catch Zeke's stone-faced
reaction. “Want a closer look?” His dry, emaciated body longed for the thick
mound of flesh and fat suspended above him. Even without a face to express how
awestruck he was, Zeke's carnal yearning was still perceptible to his
soul-mate, and the colossal woman wasted no time in fulfilling his desire.
What to her
was the simple act of sitting down was a meteor strike to shrunken man. His
fragile body immediately caved in to the immense weight thrust upon him. His
skull cratered until it was in unrecognizable pieces. His arms and legs cracked
at every seam. His ribcage was decimated upon contact, and his spine dislocated
at every knot. The world as he knew it was no more, replaced entirely by the
soft and warm flesh of Monica's butt.
Knowing
that she could repair her boyfriend at the drop of an idiom, Monica relished
the crunching beneath her. She lifted herself an inch off the bed and slammed
back down, bouncing up and down on the mattress and smushing Zeke further into
the comforter. A complete sense of overwhelming authority flowed through her.
To her miniature skeleton, she was equal parts a benevolent goddess and
unrelenting cataclysm. The power she held over Zeke was unlike anything she
could get out of a traditional relationship, and the fact he was so willing to
submit to her, or at least recognized how futile resistance was, only
strengthened her feelings toward him.
Monica went
from bouncing on the mattress to grinding her ass against the bed, ensuring
there'd be nothing left of the skeleton once she was done. As his body
multiplied into more and smaller pieces, Zeke could feel his consciousness
shift. When whole, his entire body acted as one, just at it would when he was
alive. But as he broke apart, even though he'd lose mobility in his separated
parts, he could still feel sensations through them. Every granular piece
essentially had its own magical nervous system, allowing him to feel Monica's
weight, and her warmth, from every angle of his decimated remains.
After a
couple minutes bouncing and grinding, Monica lifted her ass off Zeke. “How does
he look?” she asked, turning so her butt faced Gina. The skeleton had been
reduced to a white dust splotch plastered against her bulbous cheek.
“You look
like you just sat on a powdered donut,” she giggled. As strange as this all
was, Gina enjoyed watching her bestie dominate the helpless specter. “I'll
admit, you're making me jealous. Now I kinda want my own personal undead
boyfriend.”
“I can make
another one! I have a surplus of all the ingredients. Oh!” Monica remembered
that the stain on her butt was technically still alive. “Memento mori!” It took
a moment for the dust to pry itself off Monica's rear, as if it were holding on
for as long as it could, but eventually, the white powder removed itself from
her skin and reformed into the familiar form of a three-inch skeleton on the
woman's bed.
“I
appreciate it, but maybe another time,” Gina said. “It's late, and I have
morning classes tomorrow, so I'm heading to bed.” Monica scooped up Zeke in her
hand and held him to her face.
“And how
are you holding up?” she asked.
“That was
awesome! Do it again! Do it again!” His bones rattled as he cheered.
“Calm down,
silly. Gina's right, we should get some sleep. But, I promise there will be
more where that came from.” Monica tossed Zeke back onto the bed and made for
the bathroom to wash up. Gina laid down on her bed across the room and buried
her head in her pillow.
Once Monica
had finished, she turned off the bedroom lights and leapt onto her bed, sending
Zeke bounding into the air. Monica caught him and brought him to her chest,
wedging her man between her extravagant tits. She turned to lie on her side,
sandwiching the tiny skeleton within a velvety pocket of fat.
“Sweet
dreams,” she muttered, closing her eyes and drifting off. She looked a bit odd
with her makeup and piercings removed, but no less cute. Zeke couldn't close
his eyes; he had none to shut. He lied there, still, blanketed in bosom. No
longer alive, the skeleton had no need for sleep and was thus incapable of it.
As monotonous as a sleepless night could be, being snuggled within his new
girlfriend's cleavage was surely the best way to spend it.
Zeke's mind
wandered, floating through memories of his old life. If that frat party was his
last day alive, he hadn't lived a very long or fulfilling life. In a way, it
was probably best that he died when he did. He was the type to live in the
moment with no plans for the future and no ambitions to guide his path. Finding
himself stuck as a giant woman's plaything, one she pleasantly referred to as a
boyfriend, was probably infinitely preferable to the mediocre existence he
would have eked out were he not dead.
Monica's
heartbeat rang through the hole that once held Zeke's ear canal. It's rhythmic
pulsing lulled the little guy into a trance. Under the beating spell, morning
came quicker than he would've liked.
…
The
following afternoon, Monica sat in a lounge chair in the student center's main
atrium, waiting for her best friend to finish up her last class. She had on a
low-cut, sleeveless tank top; black, as her brand required. A leather collar
was wrapped around her neck, and tied to the front of it was a small, thin rope
leading down her chest and forming into a noose.
“Seriously?”
Gina asked, popping out of seemingly nowhere. “When the hell did you make that?”
She pointed at Monica’s cleavage where a tiny skull was poking out. Monica
tugged at the rope, lifting her boyfriend by the neck out from his cozy
retreat.
“I skipped my
Human Evolution course. This was far more important.” The skeleton waved at his
new friend, Gina, who politely returned the gesture, albeit not with a straight
face.
“Oh my God,
that necklace is so cool!” A blonde student in yoga pants and a pink crop top
had approached the pair, enraptured by the goth's chic accessory. “Where'd you
get that?”
“I made it,”
Monica boasted, still dangling the skeleton above her chest. Zeke waved at the
woman to which she waved back astonished. “If you want, I could make one for
you, but you'll have to wait. My friend here gets first dibs.”
“Really?
That’d be great!” The woman pulled out her phone to share her contact info. “Take
all the time you need, Halloween's still a few weeks away.”
“Will do!
Oh, and are you single?” Monica inquired. The woman blushed, taken aback by the
sudden question.
“Y-yeah,”
she giggled, brushing her hair from her eye. “Why do you ask?”
“Excellent!
I swear, with one of these bad boys, you’re guaranteed to meet your special
someone.”