“Hey! Please don’t touch the art!” Cal shouted, barely registering above a harsh whisper to the culprit who stood all of a meter away from him.

“Huh? What was that?” Asked the too-smartly dressed gallery-goer, searching for the source of the chastisement. After scanning the countertop briefly, the young man spotted the diminutive figure of a tiny human waving his arms somewhat sillily before realizing he’d finally been spotted and then dramatically gesturing toward the sign next to him reading: Please, do not touch any of the art. Help yourself to a glass of wine and hors d’oeuvres. Thank you!

“Oh, yeah, my bad,” murmured the ‘normal-sized’ man, clumsily setting down the wooden statue of something resembling the ‘middle part’ of an Animorphs book cover whereupon a human hadn’t quite transformed into a lion. The statue wobbled slightly, threatening to fall off the narrow stand before a young woman wearing blue slacks and a white turtleneck caught and steadied it. She shot a sideways glare at the art-fondler.

“You break it, you buy it,” she said, flatly. The man apologized sheepishly before shuffling off to grab another plastic cup of wine and rejoining his friends. The woman crossed her arms and shook her head as he departed before looking at the tiny Cal standing on the countertop by the sign. She smiled at him warmly. Cal smiled back, giving her a wave of acknowledgment and understanding as if to say, drunk hipsters, am I right? The young woman shrugged and strutted off toward the other end of the gallery, no doubt having spotted someone else violating the very simple set of rules. The tiny man couldn’t tell from his spot on the countertop.

Cal watched the night’s featured artist, Laurette, depart, admiring her slight, yet pronounced features as she went, and sighed. He was affectionately dubbed the ‘curator’ of this event. In reality, the eight-inch man had few qualifications, and was probably hired out of either pity or amusement to stand by the sign and attempt to direct customers attention to it. Mostly, he was either gawked at like another peculiar piece of art, or, more often, ignored entirely. Still, he was thankful for the gig.

Every Thursday night, the coffee shop hosted a combo wine tasting/art gallery during which customers would buy tickets and get to try generous pours of a local winery while purveying the works of a local artist. There were plenty of both in and around the city. With any luck, a handful of the attendees would buy a piece of art, and many of them would purchase a bottle or three of the wine they’d tried. Regardless, Cal was given a generous cut of the ticket sales, and all he really had to do was wave his arms around and look cute. It more than paid his bills.

After a few hours had passed and no new traffic had come in for a while, the gallery consisted of a few small crowds of fashionable folks with a little less money burning a hole in their pockets, and a little more wine in their bellies. Some of them sported bags with bottles dangling from their hand, or a wrapped-up canvas tucked awkwardly under an arm.

Cal watched them with a look of affected boredom that wasn’t entirely an act. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of white. Turning, he saw the artist strutting up to his spot on the countertop.

“Another Pinot Noir, if you’d please, Charlie?” She asked the bartender providing the night’s wine samples.

“Sure thing, miss. I doubt we’ll get through this crate, and, just quietly, it’s all paid for. I’ll send you home with whatever you can carry,” he said, chuckling as he topped off a plastic cup for Laurette. “And whatever you can haul, too, Cal,” he joked. Cal laughed.

“I’d never get through a single glass before it turns,” Cal said in reply. Charlie chuckled again in acknowledgment. Cal noticed Laurette smile at him before taking a gulp of wine while turning her head to look at the empty counter space where the hors d’oeuvres had all been. Her lips pinched tightly together as she placed her free hand on her abdomen. Cal could almost swear he heard a low growl escape from somewhere below her white turtleneck, and guessed that the artist had come hungry, and had missed all the offerings. It made him feel a slight pang of guilt. Guilt, and something else he couldn’t quite define—craziness.

Laurette cleared her throat.

“Eh-hem. Uhh. These customers tonight. Really indecorous crowd, huh?” She said, conversationally. Cal blinked twice and then swiftly met with her small talk.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s kinda like that every week, to be honest.”

“Really? I didn’t just strike gold with the young, drunk crowd who can’t keep their hands off the merchandise but don’t plan to buy any of it?”

“And who can’t help but show up with outside beverages to an event that offers free wine?”

“Right? And who drag their kids along who are only slightly less restrained with their greasy little paws than their maladjusted parents?”

“Ugh, yes! But even at their age, it’s like nobody can read a sign,” Cal said. There was a brief lull. Laurette glanced at the sign, seemed to consider it, and then looked back at Cal.

“I’ve enjoyed some wine. What about those rumored hors d’oeuvres?” She asked. For a moment, Cal hesitated, holding her soft gaze. Her high, pronounced cheekbones were slightly flushed, probably a result of a little free wine. His eyes flickered down her figure. Her petite frame dwarfed his own many times over. Her outfit, while casually conservative, still hugged her form enough to accentuate what was there. His gaze lingered a moment on her midsection—perhaps a little longer than would have been subtle—before his eyes once again met her own. She blinked a couple times, her smile faltering briefly before she renewed her polite grin. She attempted to steer him back to her point more directly. “It’s just that I didn’t get a chance to eat today. You know, with the setup and everything…” she trailed off. Cal coughed and cleared his throat, stammering a bit as he realized he’d been caught staring dumbly at the woman.

“Uh, erm, s-sorry, Laurette. Nothing left here. Um. Besides, uh, the, uh, the wine, the, uh, sign, and, well, I guess, me!” Cal proclaimed. Laurette feigned a pout, raising her eyebrows as she leaned forward.

“Oh, well! Then, I guess I’ll settle for just you!” Laurette announced while making a dramatic gesture down towards Cal with her free, left hand as if she were plucking him up from out of the air just a few inches in front of where he stood.

There was a still, silent moment that seemed to last an eternity during which the two of them, in turn, did a sort of mental-auditory-replay of the words they’d just casually exchanged. Cal realized it first—that which he had not meant to imply, but that, if taken in a certain way, would mean he’d made her an offer that she, with an equal level of accident, had accepted. A fraction of a second later, Laurette, too, understood the possible interpretation of their words, but she was the first to attempt a recovery.

“I mean, uh—talk! To talk to! Not like—” she began to ramble and gesture toward the empty countertop where hors d’oeuvres weren’t.

“Oh, yeah. No. Duh. Not like—” Cal joined her in the chorus of mutually denying what obviously neither of them had meant and would be completely ridiculous to even consider.

“Yeah, no. Not like I’d eat… uh…”

“No, yeah. No! I mean—because I’d barely even… I mean… sure, you could, but like…”

“Hah-hah! Okay, granted. But that would just be… be…”

Charlie, who hadn’t really been listening, suddenly cut in on the unproductive banter between the lovely artist and the tiny curator.

“Hey, there’s hardly anyone left in here, and I don’t think we’re letting anyone else in at this point. You mind tending bar while I pop out back and have a ‘smoke,’ Cal?” Charlie asked.

“Oh! Uh-h-h, sure. I’ll just tell anyone who asks to snag a full bottle. On you, right?” Cal replied, laughing a little more than he had meant to. Charlie waved him off and stepped out. Cal shook his head with dismissal that was also meant to somehow apply to the prior topic and turned his attention back to Laurette. She was eyeing the group of four on the far end of the gallery that hadn’t yet had the good sense to leave without being told to. Cal noticed that she was once again cradling her abdomen with her left hand. She was chewing on her lip, her brows furrowing in a slightly contemplative fervor. Her stomach growled again. This time, Cal was absolutely certain he’d heard it. It was much quieter in the gallery.

There was another pause that lasted two eternities while the two of them both did a second, mental-auditory-replay to catch themselves up with the present. They each contemplated one another—the five-foot-two woman and the eight-inch man—and the idea they had innocently, but irrevocably, planted in each other’s heads. But that would just be…

“Intriguing,” Cal mumbled, staring up at the side of the suddenly much larger-seeming woman.

“Satisfying,” Laurette whispered at the same time, staring off listlessly. They both froze again. She looked back down at him. “Wait, what was that?” She asked him, her right brow cocked with curiosity. Cal felt his stomach lurch and his heart leap up into his mouth, stopping him up short.

“I, uh… I—” he couldn’t make the words. He just started opening and shutting his mouth silently as he stared at her tightly pressed lips while they slowly parted, and her mouth began to hang agape. Her eyes once again assumed a distant stare, as if she were regarding him, but also some concept that lied beyond him. Cal looked up and into her open mouth and regained the ability to speak, not to her, but to the concept that lied within her.

“I’ve just… never thought about it before,” he stated. There was another pause. Laurette’s mouth shut quickly. She gulped.

“N-neither have I, but… I…I…” she trailed off.

“Do you…?” Cal began to ask. Laurette’s eyes became dinner plates. She gawked at him for a moment, and then interrupted.

“Oh my god,” she started, suddenly laughing heartily from deep within, “too much. You’re too much. I’ve had too much, uh, wine. I’ve clearly had too much Pinot. It’s great. You’re great. I’m sorry, I’m not usually—I don’t… much… with people…” Laurette rambled. She grew silent again, hesitated a moment, and then shuffled past Cal to the open bottle that Charlie had left on the counter. She poured herself another full cup of wine. Cal swallowed dryly.

“Uh, yeah! Me neither,” he said.

“What?” She asked.

“Um. I don’t, uh…” he made a gesture, moving his hand from his chest out toward her.

“Oh. Yes. I don’t socialize much. I usually just… do art,” she said, finishing their mutual thought.

“I pretty much just show up here and… do other people’s art,” Cal said. They shared an awkward laugh.

What do you think of mine?” Laurette asked, trying to redirect the conversation. He was taken off guard. He’d been surrounded by her art all night, but he’d spent more time studying her. His eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for a piece he could quickly appraise with some recycled, meaningless-yet-satisfactory nonsense he’d heard the countless attendees use over the years. He landed on a painting on the adjacent wall. It was a vibrant, unbelievably colorful, impressionistic depiction of feminine lips opened wide, but within, there was only a gradient: blood red, to pitch black.

“That piece,” Cal said, nodding to the painting behind her.

“Oh? Yeah? Which one?” Laurette asked with genuine interest, turning about. As she realized which one he indicated, she gasped, her face paling a little, but her cheeks flushed deeper red. “W-what about it, Cal?”

“The, uh… the brilliance of the… outside. Really captures my attention. But the… absolute opaque blackness of the middle. It’s like… an event horizon. It’s a singularity. You, uh… can’t observe what lies beyond from the outside…” he offered, his tone serious, not suggestive. She stared at her own painting silently, contemplating his interpretation.

“Like a black hole, huh?” She replied.

“Yeah. Really draws me in.”

The following silence lasted three eternities.

Finally, Laurette chuckled, shaking her head.

“Look. Okay, I already said I don’t, like, socialize, all that much. So, uh, I don’t know. I know I was being ridiculous. You don’t have to tease me,” Laurette said with a slight edge of accusation. Cal shook his head defensively.

“I-I wasn’t teasing you, Laurette!”

“Really? And that stuff about my painting? Come on,” she said, crossing her arms and glowering at the tiny man.

“What? I just—it’s what it made me feel!”

“It’s just a painting of a mouth.”

“So? It made me think of what it would be like!” Cal blurted out. Too late, he once again realized the implications of his words, only this time, it wasn’t entirely unintentional. Laurette bit her lower lip, looking back at her painting. She considered his words deeply, and quietly said,

“I’ve never considered it that way.”

“Me neither,” Cal said, earnestly. The artist slowly looked back down at him.

“Are… are we talking about the same thing?” She asked, still with a tone of doubt.

“I… think so?” Cal uttered. He was afraid to be the one to confront it out loud. He couldn’t believe he was considering it at all, let alone suggesting it openly to someone who could actually do it.

The following eternity of silence didn’t get to exist, because it was immediately interrupted by the loudest, most triumphant gurgling of Laurette’s empty stomach yet. Both her hands flew to cradle the source of the outburst. Her eyes darted down to her abdomen, then to Cal, and then to her painting, again to her belly, and finally, back to Cal. She grinned.

“Are we talking about me eating you?” She asked, her voice suddenly quite coy.

“I… thought we were…” Cal admitted, meekly.

“But isn’t that kinda… ridiculous?”

“Do you want to?” He asked her, point blank. She looked down at her feet.

“I… I don’t know,” she said, evasively.

“I… would like for you to,” Cal asserted. Laurette’s eyes grew wide, at first, affixed on nothing. Then, they locked onto Cal.

“That’s crazy,” she said, but it almost sounded like a question to Cal. “Why?”

“Because… I don’t know! Because I had the idea. No—because we had the idea, and because I think you want to, and I don’t know why, but that’s… strangely appealing to me.” Cal wasn’t sure what he was saying, but as he spoke his truth, he found it steadily becoming somehow more urgent. He realized Laurette was still just staring at him with the same challenging expression. “Is that crazy?”

“Um… for you? I mean… to put what I’m hearing you say another way, ‘you want to offer yourself up to be my meal because it appeals to you that you think I want to… to eat you.’” She once again cocked an eyebrow. “Do you hear the slight ‘crazy’ in that?” Cal sighed with apparent frustration.

“Okay. No. You’re right. That’s not right. Uh-h-h…” Cal clasped his hands over his mouth in thought. Laurette couldn’t help but flash a bashful smile at watching him wrestle with the tall order of convincing her of the legitimacy of this newfound, bizarre desire. In truth, she was relishing his attempt to articulate it, because it was not only flattering, but she was struggling with the same strange thing, and he was helping her come to terms.

“Okay,” Cal began again, shaking himself from gawking at her enamoring smile that was taking on more layered implications to his psyche by the minute, “alright, it’s like this: we didn’t mean to take it this far, but somehow, here we are, and it felt like it became a serious discussion, and now… I… I know it’s insane on my part, because like… I understand the implications. But… I just… I want to be your hors d’oeuvre,” Cal confessed. Laurette’s jaw slackened a bit, her mouth only slightly agape with surprise, but she didn’t reply, so he pressed a little further, feeling a sense of encouragement by once again being shown a glimpse of where he for some reason desired to go. “I want that on my own. It’s really appealing. Just as a physical, visceral, sensual experience. But… if you also really wanted to… to do that to me—to eat me… that’s more than appealing. That’s… compelling,” he finished, his palms turned upwards toward the towering woman before him. He was frankly flailing, and still, Laurette remained silent, though she was breathing fast and deep, and her hand holding the half-empty wine glass appeared to be trembling.

Internally, she was a firestorm. This handsome, charming, adorable, brave, insanely stupid little man was just shy of begging her to devour him, and all because of a silly misunderstanding. But Laurette wasn’t quite ‘on Cal’s level’ yet, so to speak.

Cal stared at her impassive face, waiting for her to say anything in reply. When her mouth slowly closed again, he felt his heart sink a little, his odd sense of urgency becoming emboldened and desperate.

“Laurette. You… you gotta meet me halfway, here. I mean… I know how it sounds, but…” he pleaded. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I don’t want to ‘compel’ you,” she said in a low, serious voice. Cal let that sink in a moment. Then, he thought he understood.

“You aren’t. You can’t,” he insisted.

“And why is that?” She pried.

“Cause I can’t want to do this more than I already do.” He let that sink in for her. Her stern expression softened.

“And if I don’t want to?” She asked. Cal felt a surprising sting through his chest at this suggested possibility. Doesn’t she want to? Have I misread this that badly? He thought. He played snippets of the conversation back through his head. ‘Satisfying,’ she said… No, I read this right. I’m just overthinking it now. There’s no space for that. He steeled himself.

“I’d respect that,” he said, and shrugged. “It’s… crazy!”

Laurette let out the breath she’d been holding, and it came out as relieved laughter. Her sudden joviality also relieved the tension Cal had been holding in his chest and shoulders. He felt himself soften and relax, which he realized on some level was pretty bizarre, considering what he was allowing himself to believe he’d just succeeded in doing. I’m crazy, he thought. I’m crazy, and I want this.

The laughter subsided, and Laurette leaned against the table on her right side, subtly looming over Cal, swirling her wine in her right hand, elbow supported on her left arm that was wrapped around her midsection. She took a sip and let out a sigh. Unexpectedly, Cal spoke up again before she could finally recover the thread.

“I’d never stop wondering though…” he said, shaking his head slowly from left, to right, and back. His voice was soft. There was a dreamy wistfulness to it, as if he was already looking back on his single greatest regret in life. Now, it was Laurette’s turn to feel a sudden and inexplicable sting in her chest. She was connecting with Cal so deeply on this issue that she felt the pain of his imagined future living with the inescapable tug of a torturing question. Without thinking, she asked,

“If I… if I say no, would you try to find someone else?” She wasn’t sure why she asked that. She suddenly realized she didn’t want to know the answer, but Cal was quick on the draw.

“I can’t answer that,” he said with a remorseful, sideways smirk.

“Why not?”

“I… can’t very well try to compel you, either.” His words seemed to ring true for Laurette. Sure, it might have been a somewhat subtle manipulation strategy in itself, but then again, the same could be said of her when she had put that to him. She’d been putting a lot on him. But so far, he’d managed to convince her of one thing for certain, and it was coming as a relief.

“You’re crazy,” she said, and smiled.

“I think you’re right,” he conceded. “Now, can you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?” She asked slowly, putting a slight pause between, and using equal emphasis on both words.

“Tell me if you’re as crazy.” She laughed at that.

“Oh, no. I don’t think I could possibly be considered as crazy as you are. At least, not in the same way. I’d never go seeking what you want,” she said with a teasing veneer of sarcasm. Cal was briefly confused, but then caught on, and smiled.

“Ah. Cause you don’t want precisely what I want,” he said, knowingly. She shook her head, grinning widely with closed lips. Then, she wetted her bottom lip a little, took a deep breath, and eyed the wine swirling in her transparent plastic cup a moment before letting the air out slowly with a nasal hiss, her nostrils flaring perceptibly. She set the cup down to his left, and let go of it, placing her hands down on either side of him, symbolically entrapping him. She slowly began to kneel down in front of the counter, and said in a conspiratorial, husky voice,

“No. But I really fucking want to eat you, Cal.” When she finished her declaration, her head was only a few inches higher than Cal was, and a mere six inches away. She was breathing distance from the little man, and he shivered when he felt it, despite the warmth. It was coming out in sharp, nearly rasping bursts now, her relatively petite chest inflating and deflating dramatically and with rapidity. She wasn’t sure why saying that out loud made her feel so damnably nervous. Perhaps it was exhilaration? She was awash with a bewildering cocktail of emotions: and none quite like she’d ever felt before.

Laurette slid her hands forward and swept them out to the sides, leaning forward with her chest, pressing the soft fabric of her turtleneck against the countertop. Cal ogled as her discretely sized, perfectly shaped breasts were smooshed flat against the counter’s front wall. His preoccupation almost made him miss her head tilting to the right and downward, putting her nose an arm’s length away: one of his arm lengths.

“There, I s-said it,” Laurette said breathily, not entirely successful in her efforts to keep the quavering from her voice. She was shivering as if she were freezing through, even her jaw trembling with an abundance of nervous energy. “Does that… com-pel… you…, Cal-l-l?”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, and the slightly cool air shot down the collar of his button-down, causing it to inflate like a slim-fit balloon. Patting his shirt back into place, he resisted the urge to take a step back. He settled on staring into her left eye with as much confidence as he could muster. They both smiled, albeit hers being a rather more manic and pent up one. Cal’s was one of absolute wonder and disbelief, both with himself and what he was inexplicably resolving to do—to allow be done to him—and that this stunning woman hovering a couple inches before him was going to do it. She’d just said as much without any room for misinterpretations.

“Well, Mr. Curator?” Laurette implored. Cal had almost forgotten she had asked him a question.

“Compelled? No. It’s not quite like that,” he said in a voice so steady it surprised him.

“What… is it… like… then?”

“Strangely and unprecedentedly turned on,” Cal declared. Laurette let out so much air when she sighed with what Cal figured was a mixture of lust and relief at his admission that he thought she’d completely deflate as she blew his hair back, misting him with a million tiny droplets of condensation, and many somewhat larger globules of spittle.

She caught her breath from the deep sigh and brought her hands up to the sides of her breasts, pushing them together firmly before squeezing them individually with both hands.

“Is… is that so? The prospect of being my meal turns you on? That’s… well, isn’t that something?” She didn’t know exactly what she was doing. She had never been the type to put on displays like this, but as she continued to fondle herself, she couldn’t get enough of what it was doing to Cal. She could see the impact it was having playing across his facial expressions, and in the corresponding twitching in his slacks for each time she pinched one of her nipples playfully while making faces of mock bashfulness.

Laurette leaned back down toward Cal, bringing her head so close to him that her nose actually brushed his chest. The tip of her tongue very slightly protruded just to wet her lips again. Cal mused that her constant, labored breathing kept drying them out. While he watched the slick, shimmering muscle glide smoothly across the supple, light pink, textured surface, he was possessed by something strange: he wanted to touch her tongue. He needed to feel it and sample the sticky, viscous saliva oozing through his fingers.

Before he could risk checking himself and miss the opportunity, Cal took a sharp step forward and reached up with his right hand, rubbing the surprisingly smooth and unyielding top surface of the tongue’s tip. He’d been worried he was going to only get a brief touch, or outright miss his mark before it slipped back between the confines of the lips and vanished, but its motion ceased the moment he made contact.

Cal had never seriously considered what a bigger person’s tongue would feel like, but in the moment, he’d anticipated it feeling a tad rougher, and inherently softer, but he reasoned that he was ‘big enough’ that it felt smooth, especially given how much saliva was present on the organ.

Laurette had frozen completely the moment she realized Cal had reached out to touch her tongue. Not only was it the first deliberate and sustained physical contact between the two of them, but it was a step in the right direction, she considered, toward the destination that they both seemingly hoped to reach. She could feel him—taste him—on the tip of her tongue.

She felt a moan welling up in her throat. Closing her eyes, Laurette very slowly and gently slipped her tongue out a little further. She let it snake downward, rubbing up against Cal’s forearm, then his upper arm, followed by his shoulder, and finally… oh my god. I just licked his cheek—his face! She realized with a start.

It was Cal’s turn to freeze in place. His eyes flitted shut and rolled back a little while he basked in the new and thrilling sensation of being literally taste-tested by such a beautiful woman. Such a hungry woman. Hungry for me, he mused.

They both savored the electric, initial contact for a moment before Laurette finally pulled away from the embrace. She smacked her lips loudly a few times, seeming to enjoy what she could still detect of Cal’s taste. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath through her mouth and let it out through her nose. After repeating this a few times, she opened her eyes and looked down at the little curator. She giggled when she saw his saliva-soaked shirt and the odd cowlick in his hair that was now half slicked back with her spittle.

“S-sorry about that. Your… your shirt and, uh… the hair,” she said, gesturing at her own long brunette hair for emphasis. She flashed him a genuinely bashful smile. Something about doing that had made her feel vulnerable. She realized the absurdity in that but, all the same, it was there.

Cal, meanwhile, was far from indignant. He’d had a taste of, well, being tasted. He wanted more. He took a couple steps forward, and Laurette leaned back a bit, widening the space between herself and the countertop. Uncertain of whether she was just teasing him, he decided to speak up.

“Don’t mention it… the uh… the saliva. Considering where… you know… where I’m gonna go, it’s really the least of my worries. Comes with the territory, right?” Cal smiled, shrugging a little while he ran his hands roughly through his hair in an effort to toss it back into something like a normal shape. He was projecting all blasé confidence, but inwardly, he couldn’t help but consider the implication of what he’d just alluded to—consider it on at least a surface level. He didn’t much feel like following that thread all the way down the rabbit hole. He just wanted to go down hers…

Laurette, meanwhile, was contemplating a nearly identical line of thought to Cal’s. What he’d just so casually said… what he seemed to expect and to accept: she wondered if he’d really thought that through. She wasn’t even quite sure she had completely embraced just what it was she was considering doing to this man, and whether both of them wanting it—even if ‘super duper badly—made it acceptable. She knew it didn’t, really. But… would she do it anyway? She began to walk through actually carrying it out in her head. She felt such a rush welling up like a thousand butterflies in her stomach. It burned with anticipation and ached from her hunger. She started breathing heavily again. She couldn’t square feeling such a brilliant maelstrom inside while also feeling so painfully empty.

She looked at the tiny curator with such mixed emotions and appraisals as he finished his best efforts at fixing his hair. Her jaw clenched. I want this so badly.

“Aye! Uh, great showing tonight, miss!” Came the voice of the same, smartly dressed young man whom Cal had chastised hours before. He and Laurette both stood erect and attentive.

“Oh, um…” Laurette brushed some stray hairs from her face and smiled at the man. “Thank you, sir! And I’m so glad you elected to purchase that statue before you broke it.”

“Yeah, uh…” the man began to say, but his apparent girlfriend tugged on his arm, making him fumble the statue and almost drop it. He steadied it, straightened up, and regarded Laurette again. “Yes, well. Lovely gallery.” He looked down at Cal. “You see to this one, then. Good night to you both!” The young man and his party saw themselves out of the shop, leaving the curator and the featured artist alone. There was the briefest quiet.

“Um… mind sliding the bolt on the front door?” Cal asked. Laurette smiled and briskly did so. She secured the front entrance for him, paused a moment, eyeing her own reflection in the dark pane on the glass door, and then turned about and repositioned herself before the tiny man at the countertop. All alone now, she thought. She considered abandoning the previous line of conversation. Then, she felt a painful pull from her belly.

Laurette steeled herself and just went right for it.

“Cal. About… all that. Where you’re, uh, going to end up,” she said, glancing down and lightly rubbing her belly with her right hand. “I just wanna… I don’t know. I want to make sure we are still talking about the same thing—in the same way.” She paused, allowing her little prospect a moment to indicate he was still following. When he made no reply, she continued. “I don’t just want to… try this out for the ‘visceral, sensual experience,’ like you said.” She leaned forward again, and the next words came out as almost a growl. “Cal… I’m really… hungry… for you.” She felt a little flourish of elated thrill as he shuddered at her words. She sat back a bit. “Do you really know what I’m saying?” She studied him while he organized his thoughts. He didn’t take long.

“You’re not just looking to play around. You’re starving, I’m… available, I’m willing, you’re desiring, and you’re looking to make a meal out of me.” He stated it so matter-of-factly and then just looked to Laurette with an expression that seemed to say, did I get that all right? What’s the problem?

“Are you sure? I mean… you’re absolutely right. That’s my aim. I want to eat you like any other, ordinary piece of food. I said I didn’t want to compel you. I’m not going to coerce you. And I’m not going to do this unless you’re sure you want it, because once you’re down…” she brought her hands up and sensually rubbed her belly right below her left breast, “I’m keeping you.” She let the finality of that sit for a moment. “And, Cal… I want to do that… but we don’t… have to. We could… I guess… just walk away. Or, we could be friends. Maybe, we could even… try other things instead.” She paused to give him a fair chance to consider those other possibilities. When he still stood silently with an expectant look, she finally finished. “But I want to do this. So, I’ll ask one more time… are you sure you’re ready to… ya know…” she leaned over him on the counter, looking straight down at him, “…be my food?”

“Laurette…” Cal said immediately, looking straight up into her narrowed, shimmering, brown eyes that studied him inquisitively, “those other options… well, some of em sound lovely, but listen. I can’t explain what it is about this that’s so utterly, bizarrely tantalizing to me, but that’s just the thing: having literally never considered anything of this sort before, for some reason, when I realized you were hungry and had missed all the… other food… I felt a strange, almost imperative urge to rectify that. Somehow. It was a strange feeling. Maybe that’s what subconsciously led me to say what I did. But then, you jokingly, even if accidentally, alluded that you’d ‘settle for me,’ and… my heart skipped a beat! I seriously accepted in the moment that you could very well just do that—that I would suffice in sating your need. It should have been horrifying, but, in that moment when I briefly considered that you might have been serious… That just sounded so appealing. So enthralling. So… perfectly right. Don’t get me wrong, I’m nervous as hell! And some of what’s motivating me is definitely a manic sense of novel thrill and a lot of sensual draw. Like, I’m so attracted to you, and think this will be so damned sexy. But even if we didn’t totally mean to say what we did at first, it’s obvious we both liked the idea from the start. And… I know what’s at stake for me. But, Laurette… knowing you want that from me… I do want it. I’m willing. I’m prepared as I can be. I know that you need to believe that. So, believe me! I want to be your dinner. I want you to feel satisfied. It’ll make me feel so… actualized… to be welcomed so intimately when you take me inside of you and make me a part of you.

She sized her quarry up with a newfound appreciation. He’s crazy! He really is! But… I’m just as eager to get on with this as he is… he’s just as crazy as I want him to be, Laurette thought to herself, not even noticing really as she lowered her head directly toward the little man—trembling with anticipation for her to claim him—until her nose was almost touching his.

Laurette hovered there a moment, her hands on the counter to either side of Cal, her face pointing straight down at the eight-inch man standing and staring straight up at her. Nose to nose, their eyes locked. Both of their hearts were pounding in their chests. Laurette could feel her mouth pooling with excess saliva. Somehow, though her brain knew she was staring at a human, her body knew she was about to give it what it wanted.

The final, silent pause was once again broken by the urgent grumblings of the artist’s empty stomach.

“Okay, Cal. Time to silence that torturous thunder deep down inside me. Ready, or not…” she purred. Cal merely gaped at her, then, nodded in affirmation. She grinned at him, flashing all her teeth. Then, she positioned her mouth above him and opened it up wide. Immediately, all that saliva built up cascaded from her teeth, tongue, and lips, a couple streams of which dribbled off onto Cal. One string landed on his right shoulder, and the other on his chest.

Cal stared upward into the abyss above him with wide, fascinated eyes.

“That black gradient,” he murmured. He could swear the lips framing the picture smiled slightly. Then, without warning, Laurette brought herself down to bear upon the minuscule man. Cal found his face suddenly pressed between her tonsils. Her uvula was draped limply over his forehead as it quivered and undulated with her soft palette. He felt her cheeks suck in tightly around his shoulders and arms, her molars bumping into him, causing a little discomfort. Her tongue stretched out and curled under his crotch, applying firm, enticing pressure to the hardness that had been ready for this for a while now. Cal moaned in surprise, and his surroundings moaned right back at him, making his ears ache and his very bones rattle.

Laurette wrapped her lips tightly around Cal’s ass, appreciating how his slacks already clung to his shapely little body given how soaked they were from mere seconds of her drooling all over him. He does taste good… is that a surprise? She wondered. She supposed she hadn’t really considered it much—his flavor profile wasn’t the reason she was so excited about devouring him—more the principle of the thing. But it was a nice bonus.

Laurette straightened up and turned away from the counter, leaning against it with her left hand braced on top. With her right, she reached up to guide her prey home… she pinched his ankles together and lifted them while she looked straight up at the ceiling, giving his crotch a playful lick while she was at it. I can feel how hard you are, Cal. I’m so glad this is insanely erotic for you, too, she thought with satisfaction. She closed her eyes, enjoyed the feeling of his involuntary thrusts against her tongue, and prepared to swallow.

Cal felt himself tilt upside down, but he didn’t go anywhere. Not only did Laurette have a hold of his ankles, but his shoulders were wedged against what felt like the bony backend of her mouth. Before he could consider that, the soft part of her throat flexed, tightened, and squeezed his head mightily. There was a deafening squelch, followed by a gasping cough before the whole process repeated. Two more times he felt Laurette gulp hard while trying to force him down with her right hand, but each attempt just led to a minor fit of gagging.

On her fourth attempt, she gulped repeatedly while pressing on his ass with two of her fingers. Cal felt his head slide forward against forgiving flesh that tensed and relaxed in waves as she fought like mad just to make a few millimeters of progress. His shoulders were so uncomfortably jammed, and his neck was being forced downward at such an angle that he wondered if her swallows wouldn’t break it! Cal began to struggle against his captor; not because he was afraid of being swallowed, but because he was suddenly concerned that she might not be able to. God, damn! This is tight! He thought. He realized he was a big piece of meat. She wouldn’t chew me, would she? He pondered, panicking. They hadn’t really discussed that. Would it make a difference to her? His fate was sealed. Would it matter to her how soon the ‘finality’ of that came to be? Cal preferred not being masticated, given a choice in the matter, so he tried to push back and call out to her.

Laurette had tears streaming from her eyes and copious amounts of drool leaking from the corners of her lips as she gagged and futilely worked at swallowing her meal. Shit, I can’t get him down! She thought frantically. Is it the clothes? No. Those aren’t helping, but his shoulders wouldn’t be any smaller without them. Dammit, what do I do? Do we just give up?

She paused to think about it when she heard him call out to her.

“Laurette! This isn’t working!” Cal’s voice came ringing out from inside her own head. She enjoyed the oddity of hearing a man’s voice emanating from within, but blinked it away, listening to the words. “And… and I think you’re gonna break my neck!” She froze. That won’t do! Laurette thought. She wanted to swallow Cal, a man, alive. Alive, and not paralyzed. She wanted to feel that living vivacity within her.

Then, she heard the door in the back room behind the bar slam shut. Shit! It’s Charlie! She realized. The bartender was back from his smoke break. Laurette felt utterly trapped. She imagined what the man would think if he came in here and caught her with the venue’s curator lodged halfway in her throat.

Left with no choice, she threw in the towel, leaning forward and gagging a little as she pulled the saliva-soaked man from her maw. She coughed a few times, blinking tears from her eyes as she looked at the little guy recovering in her hands. She didn’t have time to think about it.

“Cal. It’s Charlie! “She whispered hastily. “We’ll… figure this out later. I… I gotta hide you.”

“Wait, cough, wh-what?” Cal asked, confused. Laurette replied by shoving the eight-inch man straight down. With both hands, she roughly plunged him right through the slightly elastic waistband of her slacks and stuffed him away within, withdrawing her hands instantly as she spun about just in time to see Charlie walking back into the gallery area.

“H-hey! Charlie! What’s…” oh my god… Laurette suddenly realized that she’d buried Cal a layer deeper than she had intended as she felt one of his arms slip right through her soaked, lower lips. Fuck. She glanced down at her crotch and realized something worse: her tight slacks concealed nothing. There was a writhing, lumpy bulge in her trousers that left little to mystery. I’m so fucked. What was I thinking? Charlie’s gonna—”

Wha—huh? Oh, hey, Laurette!” Charlie interrupted her panic. She looked at the man and wondered briefly at his relaxed smile and elated, slightly red eyes. “You gonna clear your stuff out tonight, or wait till morning?” He asked. Then, she smelled it. Oh. It was that kind of ‘smoke break.’ Okay. No wonder it took so long, she thought. She hoped his being a little stoned would make him generally less observant.

“Uh-h-h. M-morning! I’ll do it in the morning.”

“Cool. Wanna close up then? Not like the curator can do it. I’ve done a few of these with him, and the madame usually leaves it to me or the artist…” Charlie paused and looked around. “Say, where is Cal? Wasn’t he still here when I—"

“He left. He took off after the last group of customers went out. Like you said, he can’t close up. Told him I would,” she lied. Charlie didn’t seem like he needed much convincing. Laurette wondered how he hadn’t noticed her ‘situation,’ but then realized that his line of sight to her waist and below were being blocked by the bar.

“Ah, right on. You, uh… wanna help me load up these last few crates of wine into my van, then? Save me a trip. Like I said, I’ll let you keep one.”

“Yes! I mean. Sure. Yeah. I’ll help.”

“Cool, thanks. There’s only four left. One trip, each.” Charlie loaded two of them atop each other and hoisted them up. Laurette waited until he started back towards the rear entrance before she took a few steps forward to get behind the bar. She winced and shuddered. Every step she took made Cal rub right up against her in the most beautiful, inconvenient way!

“Fuck! Cal… I’m sorry, but please try to keep still!” She hissed. He didn’t seem to get the message, or he simply couldn’t comply. She took a deep breath and spotted the last two crates. They were already stacked. Laurette realized she only needed to carry one of them, but she suddenly worried that when she put it in the van, Charlie would see the squirming mass in her pants. She devised a strategy.

Squatting down, she took a hold of the handles on the bottom crate. As she did, the position caused the fabric of her pants to ride up a little. It also made her ‘open up.’ She moaned desperately as she felt a lot more of Cal forcibly slide inside of her.

“F-f-f-u-u-ck!” Laurette cried, falling to a knee. She whined and chewed her lip. Under ideal circumstances, she might be able to ignore this. But she was so turned on already that this ‘intrusion’ was far too welcomed. She had cursed herself for being so hasty, but now she wanted nothing more than to reach down and grind him deeper into herself. It wasn’t precisely where she wanted him, sure. But dammit if she didn’t love it. She had to resist, for now...

She took a hold of the crates and hefted them up. The effort made her clench, tightening her muscles on what felt like as much of Cal as she’d managed to get into her mouth before. Laurette swore and hissed as she carried the crates through the back room and out to Charlie’s van.

“Thanks, Laur—oh, hey! You only had to carry one!”

“Oops! My mistake!” She said, pleased that this might work as intended. “Why don’t you just take this one off the top and I’ll carry this one back inside and lock up?” Charlie chuckled and did as she asked. He turned to load the last crate into his van. She was left holding the last crate, blocking the view to her struggling stowaway.

“Alrighty then, no worries. You have a… um…” he trailed off as Laurette stumbled away without saying ‘goodbye.’ “Right. Night, then!”

“Sorry!” She called back. “Really need to, uh, bathroom! Yeah! Good night, Charlie!”

“Oh. Cool.” Charlie stood there looking at where she’d been. He shook his head. “Artists.” The man closed the van doors and went on his way.

Laurette burst back through the rear entrance, nearly tumbled over setting the crate down, and then placed her right palm against the undulating lump of man against her crotch. She let out a hiss and then sighed with intense lust as she pressed him harder against herself and worked him from side to side. She stood back up with wobbling knees and quickly locked the door behind her.

“Hah-h-h! Ugh-h-h!” She moaned. “Okay. Fuck…” she was feeling overwhelmed by arousal and wasn’t certain what she should do next. She still intended to get back to what they’d originally set out to accomplish, but now she was feeling a more urgent sort of ‘hunger.’ She brought her right knee in front of her left, crossing her thighs slightly, and cooed lovingly at how erotic it felt hugging the man with her womanhood like that.

Why let him out at all? Why not just take him home like this and gobble him up after? She considered. But she realized with aching regret that, no, she had to extract him. Even if Cal had agreed to becoming her food, which might make his current circumstances seem rather mild by comparison, he hadn’t consented to this sexual contact. She’d hastily and recklessly subjected him to it.  Laurette felt a twinge of guilt and stupidity. She hoped he wouldn’t be upset, but she wouldn’t blame him, even if he wanted to call the whole thing off.

She sat back against the wall and rocked her hips forward as she undid the button and zipper on her slacks, reaching inside her undergarments with her right hand. She allowed herself a glimpse of the upside-down-Cal’s exact situation before pulling him loose: his head and right arm had slipped inside of her tunnel. His chest was rubbing between her labia, and his other hand and crotch were pressed right up against her clitoral hood. His relatively long legs had left his feet protruding from the low-cut, lace waistband. Biting her lip, Laurette slid the partially engulfed man from her nethers with a wet squelch that was accompanied by two, simultaneous gasps! One was Laurette’s at the stimulation, and the other was Cal’s attempting to finally get a clean breath after several minutes of having very little chance to do so.

Cal took in deep lungfuls of the cool air. It hadn’t been too difficult, but the position he’d been trapped in—upside down, head bent forward, chest compressed, and ‘love-tunnel’ squeezing his face like a wet vacuum—had made oxygen a premium. All things considered, though, I wouldn’t call that a bad experience. Better get used to some parts of it, anyway… Cal thought with humor. He felt himself being raised up in both of Laurette’s palms.

Looking up, he saw her deeply flushed cheeks, watery eyes, and an expression of concern. She looked like she meant to speak but kept stopping herself short. Cal wasn’t sure what was ‘eating her,’ but he figured he could help her out.

“Thanks for the ‘seven minutes in heaven,’” he said, shooting her a sly grin. He then ran a hand through his juice-soaked hair and held it out in front of himself, spreading the fingers that appeared to be webbed with membranes of her fluids.

“I’m so sorry, Cal. I panicked. I know that was really presumptive. I don’t know what I was thinking! I just didn’t want us to get caught in the middle of…” Laurette began, reflexively, but then his words registered. “… wait, heaven?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m not sure there is such a thing. Maybe I’ll find out soon… with some help,” he said. “You’re, uh…” Cal shuddered at himself inwardly for what he was about to say, but muscled through it, “…basically an angel. So, I’d call that a nice taste of heaven.” He studied Laurette’s face for a reaction. She was impassive, but still looked worried.

“You’re… not upset, then?” She asked with mild trepidation. Cal rolled his eyes and let out a single sharp laugh.

“Hah! ‘Heavens,’ no! I was caught a little off-guard, sure. But that’s mostly just because I thought I’d be going right back in your mouth. The ‘plot twist’ was a… pleasantly surprising diversion. I’d sign up for that tour again.” Cal felt relieved as he saw Laurette’s expression soften.

She took her time analyzing all that he had just said. Maybe he’ll find out soon... her stomach fluttered once more as she considered his flowery insinuations. She gulped, sighed, and looked him in the eye.

“Okay. Thank you. I’m glad. Sorry, I just… I felt a little bad about… well, that got pretty ‘intimate,’ and I was worried you’d feel… violated. But… I guess when you think about what we were doing right before that… we’ve got some blurred lines on what’s considered ‘too personal,’ huh?” She asked, affecting a slightly chagrined, half-smile.

“I’ll say. Kinda like I told you before,” Cal ran his hands back through his hair and held them out in a sticky mess, a single, shining string of goo still connecting his left one to his head, “a little… uh… ‘discharge’ is the least of my worries.”

 Laurette let out a snort at the demonstration, then chewed on the side of her lower lip. She slowly took a deep, full breath as Cal watched her eyes go from being locked on him to darting straight down her body, briefly looking at where he’d just been before they came back up to him. She smiled with devious intent.  

“A thought occurs,” she said.

“And what would that be?” Cal asked innocently.

“First… are we still… ‘on?’” her question hung in the air a moment. Cal didn’t hesitate because he was uncertain, but because he’d been worried that after struggling and ultimately failing the first time, followed by the ‘intimate mishap,’ that maybe she’d lost her nerve. Realizing that her asking meant they were getting back in gear made a shiver run up his spine as his skin got all tingly.

“I think we are,” he offered. She grinned from ear to ear.

“Perfect. Well, we’ve gone and awakened a second ‘appetite,’ and if you’re to be satisfying both, there’s really only one order in which we can proceed…” Laurette reached down her body with her left hand. It slipped inside her underwear. She gasped a little, and Cal could faintly hear a few, slick, squishy sounds coming from below. She brought the hand back up, the middle and ring finger freshly wetted with her fluids. She placed them on her outstretched tongue, licking and sucking them ‘clean.’ She finished the erotic display by sliding them out of her pursed lips with a pop! Cal’s knees were turning to gelatin.

“Finish what we started before finishing what we started?” He asked.

“M-m-m-h-m-m. And, Cal?”

“Yes, Laurette?”

“We’ll get it right this time. I think you’ll go down much easier all lubed up in my arousal…” she said with smooth confidence, the palm he was resting in slowly curling into a fist to grasp him securely. He groaned with expectant frustration.

“Oh my god, yes,” he mumbled. Then, a thought of earlier recurred to him. “Feet-first!” He said with a little more urgency than he’d meant to use.

“Hmm? Oh… for uh…”

“Both. For both. It’s a tight squeeze in…” he paused, “well, in both your… ‘entrances.’ I’ve got broad shoulders. You know. For someone the size of large penis,” he said with some light diffidence. “But I taper up from my feet. I figure once you get started…” he let her come to the conclusion on her own. She realized he was correct and took deep satisfaction in the demonstration of his commitment to being her toy and her dinner.

“You really want me to get you down, don’t you?” She asked, still a little amazed.

“Me being naked would probably help, too,” he simply offered in reply. Laurette squeaked a laugh.

“I’ll take that as a firm, ‘yes.’ I’ve kept us both waiting too long. Let’s go see how ‘firm’ your resolve is…” she reached into the crate beside her and pulled out a mostly full bottle of Pinot that had its cork jammed halfway back into the top. She took the cork in her teeth, popped it out, and spat the cork away. She gave him a sideways glance while she tilted the bottle back and forth playfully.

“The chaise lounge near the back of the gallery…” Cal said eagerly. Laurette’s heels were already clacking away in that direction.

“Good thinking,” she said. She passed the bar, glancing at the sign on the countertop where she’d first seen Cal earlier that evening. It made her smile. Help yourself to a glass of wine and hors d’oeuvres. Thank you! Laurette intended to help herself, indeed.

She spied the armless, red tufted chaise lounge. It was a classic, elegant bit of accent furniture. Arriving beside it, she lowered her right hand to allow her passenger to disembark. He hopped down, hardly bouncing on the thick, stitched tufts at all with his negligible weight. With the same hand, she pressed on the cushioning with her palm, testing its give. It felt very comfy. Firm and supportive, yet soft and shapely to conform to her own curvature. I’ll lie here in such perfect comfort while you fill me up so perfectly. I only hope your eyes aren’t bigger than my stomach, because it’ll be too late by the time you find out, she mused.

She gave a knowing look to Cal. He guessed at part of her thoughts.

“I wonder which of us will be comfier once we’re through,” he said. She stood slowly, swirling the bottle of wine.

“Truthfully, I have no idea,” Laurette admitted. “I don’t know much about any of that stuff. I haven’t the faintest inkling what it’s like in there…” she looked down and rubbed her belly through the soft fabric of her white turtleneck. “Except that it’s empty and rather talkative at present. But you’ll help with that, won’t you, Mister? You’ll go down there and tell it to ‘quiet down’ for me, right?” Her voice had taken on a cutesy, salacious affectation, chewing on her fingertip, and pivoting on the balls of her feet as she said it. Cal was truly taken by her.

“I’ll get to the bottom of it, alright…” he said. Laurette giggled. She lurched forward and knelt before the chaise, her midriff level with its tufts.

“Come. Listen! It’s being so… disagreeable.” She lifted the soft fabric and exposed her bare belly for Cal to see and held it against the side of the chaise. “Listen…” she implored. Cal obliged, taking a few cautious steps toward the somewhat pale, flawless wall of flesh before him.

He leaned against her midriff and placed his right ear against her skin. She’s so warm, was his first thought. It shouldn’t have come as a shock. He’d been partially inside her. Twice! And both times, her heat seemed otherworldly. He knew that it would only be even more intense once he was sealed up tight in a chamber that has no ‘primary’ functions for airflow. Still, the warmth radiating off her smooth, taught abdomen filled him with awe. She was just so much more person than he was. Everything was magnified.

Then, he heard it. After a few seconds, her gut let out a long, building rumble of rolling thunder that came to a modest crescendo before fading into the echos and the other sounds of the gurgling storm. He closed his eyes and could see a darkened visage of twilight on a rainforest floor. Several stories of canopy and emergent trees both dampened the boom of thunder and amplified the sounds of the rainfall as every drop met with billions of leaves before the cascade brought it all down into swirling streams that trickled and gurgled without end. It was alive.

I can’t quell this tempest. I can only join it, Cal thought. I’ll just be adding a few lines of my own to the storm-song. He opened his eyes and looked up. Laurette was regarding him curiously.

“That’s… beautiful,” Laurette said, a little abashed. Cal placed his hands against her belly and pushed himself up a little to get a good look at her over the bunched-up fabric and her chest.

“I… didn’t realize I was talking out loud,” he admitted. She seemed a little less playful. “Sorry, didn’t mean to change the mood. I’ll be sure to tell your belly who’s boss—come to an agreement,” he said, attempting to restore the playful narrative they’d been on. She just smiled warmly.

“Oh, Cal,” she said, shaking her head a little. She dropped her shirt, and it came down behind him. Right after, Cal felt her press through it with her right hand, pinning him snugly between white cashmere and pale skin. “I’m an artist by trade. I can appreciate some beauty and have fun at the same time, just like we can tow the line between raw passion and the inevitability of the void…” she finished, barely above a whisper.

Laurette sat back on her haunches and raised the wine, taking several, greedy pulls right from the bottle. She swallowed it loudly and savored the tannins and warmth. You’ll pair well with this red, morsel, she thought.

Cal could hear her muffled gulps immediately followed by a lot of activity right beyond the wall of flesh she had him pinned against. Again, he felt intense warmth. All sounds on the outside were muffled by her hand and the cashmere. As she started moving around more abruptly, he could distinctly discern the slosh, splash of the wine within. Charlie did say I could take as much as I wanted, too…

Quenched for now, Laurette set the bottle down. She stood, careful to keep Cal pinned in place. She kicked off her heels and let herself flop on the chaise. With her free hand, she slipped out of her already undone trousers and kicked them to the floor. Then, after a moment’s debate, she also wiggled out of her underwear and let them drop as well. She reached her left hand up under her shirt and took a delicate hold of Cal, letting up with her right hand that had been pinning him down.

She slid him up her smooth, slightly sweaty skin to show him what she never wore under her always favored turtlenecks. She gasped with amour when he immediately took a hold of her right nipple once she’d guided him to it. Her right hand was getting busy down below, her juices already flowing again.

After a few minutes of running soft little circles around her clit with her fingers and basking in the stimulation to her breast, Laurette was ready to move onto more adventurous schemes. She grabbed Cal in her left hand, shoved him up the turtleneck, and buried her face in the neck hole as well. She was thrilled to once again taste her prize, his chest and face planted on her tongue while she sucked on him.

She pulled the turtleneck off over her head, now fully nude with Cal’s wrists, ass, and legs flailing around as he dangled from her pursed lips. She licked his face a couple times before she sat up and let him slide free, landing on her outstretched left hand.

“Let’s get you on my level, pal…” she said, tugging on the center of his button-down shirt. She ripped it open in one pull, several buttons popping off as a result. Cal got his bearings and realized that she was completely naked. He drank in that visage a moment: this woman who had been covered up every inch from chin to toe before was now bare and exposed for him.

“Cal? You’ll have plenty of time to stare from your next vantage point, but not until you’re as naked as the day you were born…” she teased. Cal blinked away his state of being dumbstruck and fumbled with his belt. In mere seconds, he was naked in her palm. She also had herself a good stare. “You’re… a very yummy looking man, aren’t you? Gosh! How are you single? You are single, aren’t you?” She asked conspiratorially.

“Heheh, yes. I mean… I guess you could say I’m ‘seeing’ someone right now,” he said, making an obvious show of looking her up and down. She blushed. “But I could say the same for you. I mean. Not the ‘yummy man’ part, but you get me. You’re… stunning. You take my breath away.” Her blush deepened.

What do I say: I don’t tend to connect? Don’t often leave my studio? Generally lack primary attraction? What does it say about me that I’m mostly excited to eat the man I’m feeling the closest connection to in years? She closed her eyes and smiled, shaking off the errant thoughts.

“Thank you, Cal. Sincerely. I… tend to live my life in a rather singular way. I prefer to independently survey, observe, contemplate, and express. I’m seldom inspired by my connections with people and so, don’t often seek new ones. But this…” she brought him forward and kissed him gently on the face. He blinked away the moisture and returned her blush. “Super unique. Very inspirational. I’ll be processing this for years…”

“Or at least a day or two,” Cal shot back. Laurette’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You know. Calorically.” When his allusion clicked, Laurette let out a throaty laugh. Cal stared into her mouth as it flexed and changed with the pitch of her laughter. Then, that mouth was once again upon him. She licked his naked body from shin to crotch, and then licked his hardness several more times for good measure, knocking him on his back as she went, slathering him in saliva while she lovingly assaulted his entire package with clumsy, but effective attention.

She let up and regarded her work. Cal was panting and his member was bobbing up and down with twitches and throbs of a desire for more.

“Come… let’s give me more… ‘food for thought,’” she slurped up his feet, legs, and managed to take him in up to his belly. Cal felt his feet slip right down into her throat that flexed and squeezed them. Is she going to do it now? He pondered as she sucked on him, twirling her tongue around his naked body, and making him squirm. It tickled and rubbed him in all the right ways. He marveled at how the muscle could go from feeling hard as rock to soft as a pillow in an instant.

After less than a minute of this, though, she pulled him out from her mouth, a long strand of saliva snapping as she lowered him down her body, giving him a lovely view of her whole, slender, pale, petite, beautiful figure. Then, he was being held right above her crotch. He was mesmerized watching her other hand play with her clitoris, occasionally slipping down to take a couple dips into her pussy before returning to the clit, now soaked with fluids.

His hypnosis was interrupted as she reached down once more and spread her labia with her fingers before using both hands to navigate his feet inside. Keep your legs straight… oh my god. Cal cried out in surprise and pleasure at the feeling of quickly having his legs enveloped in the silky-smooth, slimy walls of her vaginal canal. It came right up to his hips without stopping. Laurette moaned loudly, holding him in place. The strong muscles of her tunnel constricted him in pulses, slurping on his legs.

“O-okay! Hang on… we’re going… deeper!” She shouted before pushing Cal’s body further up inside herself. Her labia slid past his ass and went all the way up to his armpits. She wailed with shocked delight. She clenched on him with abandon. Cal had to time his breaths between her squeezes, but he wasn’t complaining. Her insides felt incredible! The whole tunnel was alive and seemed very happy to have him. The vice grip pulsations gave the impression that it would never let him go.

“Fuck! Oh god! I’m so glad we decided to do this! Holy shit… don’t… don’t move… I got myself so worked up… I’m so sensitive… you’re so much!” She was oozing with enthrallment. Cal, however, couldn’t help but move. Every time she clenched on him, he felt compelled to muscle against it. When her next clench subsided, he thrust his hips forward, overcompensating. He must’ve hit a good spot.

“Oh! Oh… oh! Cal… what the hell! You’re…” she couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Cal decided she rather liked it when he did move, so he began to bend and straighten his legs deep inside her. He also elected to reach forward and take a firm hold of her clit.

He was rewarded with a deafening shout of triumphant bliss. Laurette screamed nonsense, her hips began to shake, and she reached down, placing her index and middle finger on either of his shoulders, and placing her other hand over his whole person, making sure he stayed in while her waves of ecstasy tried to squeeze him out of herself. She wouldn’t allow it. He was staying put!

Her inner walls were gripping him in such intense, rhythmic spasms that he didn’t even have to thrust to stimulate himself. In no time, Cal was joining her in climactic throes. He grunted and jerked his hips as far as she’d allow him room for while he emptied his load somewhere into the mixture.

Laurette’s orgasm was sudden, electric, very vocal, but a little fleeting. It came and went, and she finally managed to relax her loins a little, allowing Cal a chance to catch his breath.

“That… was naughty, boy…” she said in a silly sort of growl.

“I… I paid for it, trust me. Holy hell!”

“Oh? Did I get you too? Wonderful,” she said, a genuinely joyful expression on her rose-colored face. “M-m-m… you feel so good inside me.” She clenched to emphasize her enjoyment. “You’re a perfect fit. You fill me right up…” she continued to hold him in place with just two fingers. “And soon, you’re going to make me feel full. Oh, honey… my tummy is complaining. It’s so indignant to have been put back in line…”

“Ugh… oh god…” Cal moaned. Her muscles were clenching him again and it felt so brilliant. His still half-mast member was ultra-sensitive post climax, and she was making him tremble. “I’m… n-n-n-g! I’m ready… whenever you are… Laurette…”

“Mm-mm. Not yet…” she pressed down on his shoulders a little. “I’m working up to the good one. One appetite at a time… for now. You just stay put and keep squirming for me, Cal.” He obliged. He didn’t have to try. He was tingling all over and couldn’t help but twitch and spasm involuntarily. He gazed up her body, now shimmering with sweat. He was awestruck by the perspective: watching a gorgeous woman writhe and moan, her hard nipples pointing straight up while her chest greatly expanded and contracted from the breathlessness he was helping her experience. He was in the epicenter. He was inside her sopping wet pussy and fucking her from the inside!

He was filled with a second wind. In a fit of passion, he slipped his left hand down inside of her tunnel with the rest of his body. She moaned and chuckled with fire at the addition. With that arm, Cal reached forward and clumsily fished around, a little uncertain due to the size difference, for her g-spot. In short order, she froze and clenched on him tightly.

“Yes. There. Right there,” she said seriously. She chewed her lip and started nodding in affirmation with her eyes closed. “Perfect. Just like that. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” her tone remained flat and concerted. Cal took his right hand and once again began to massage her clitoris. She whined, as if it was unfair to feel such a lovely combination of stimuli while her headspace was already so perfectly erotic. He rubbed her spot on the inside and did the same to her clit on the outside in a matching tempo. She pushed on him a little harder, her moaning increasing in volume and frequency with her kegels.

In several minutes, Laurette was grunting out frustrated exaltations with every exhalation. Cal was so focused on her pleasure that he hardly noticed he was getting hard again. He was fighting to keep it up, because the closer he got her, the more her body resisted the pleasure and tried to immobilize him, and the harder she pressed on his shoulders.

Suddenly, she cried out, and her whole body began to tremble rapidly. Without warning, the fingers on his shoulders pressed him harder than he could resist, and he was fully enveloped in her hot, sticky, velvet walls. He felt his feet bump against the cervix, but her fingers didn’t stop pressing, so he bent at the knees and waist and was forced into a half-ball as the assault was just beginning. His world became a series of muffled screams, pulsing hearts, a torrent of fluids spilling around him, and the feeling that he was being turned upside down and shaken wildly. He tried to fight back against the constricting walls, but he could only struggle for breath and ride it out.

Laurette rode the waves of that second orgasm until she could hardly move. She was lying on her belly now with her right hand still partially inserted in herself, and her left, upon which she had chosen to bite, still in her mouth. Her whole body tingled as aftershocks continued to make her squeak and spasm, almost in tears. I really hope he lived through that, she thought, but still couldn’t bring herself to retrieve the man. She knew he was alive. Every time he struggled, it sent another wave of pleasure through her whole body. But she was intent on experiencing this afterglow. She wanted to catalog its special, singular splendor. She wanted to retain not just the feelings, but the context, the conversations, and the implications. She wanted to remember everything about this so she could adequately recreate it and express it later, so it would stay alive. You’ll be reborn, Cal. I’ll recreate you and this night in a thousand ways. Her thoughts were interrupted by a truly unpleasant hunger pang. The nasty ones are back. Sex and wine can’t satisfy it forever.

Laurette slowly rolled onto her back. She sat up, got up to her knees, spread her legs, and the man within, too large to be fully contained with ease anyway, came sliding out of her. She gasped at the lovely sensation of his body sliding against her inner folds once last time. Catching him in her hands, she reclined on the chaise. She set the slimy, exhausted man down just above her bellybutton. To her surprise, he stood right up. He was still panting from exertion, and he looked an absolute mess, but his eyes were burning for her with alert ardor, and he was extremely erect. God, you’re gifted, Cal. If you were born a bigger person, that thing would be bigger than you are now… she thought, admiringly. But I’m glad you weren’t, because then we couldn’t have done that, and we wouldn’t get to do this…

Cal held her gaze a moment, and then started up her torso. He walked and clamored until he was standing just above and between her breasts. He stood and stared into her right eye, his face going placid.

“That was… well… Thank you…” she said.

“Honestly… my pleasure,” Cal replied. “It almost feels bad to say this, but… can I call you… perfect?” Laurette shuddered under the weight of such an appraisal.

“I’m flattered, Cal. But… I’m not better than you, you know? Not more deserving.”

“I don’t think ‘little’ of myself if you’ll allow that less than literally.” He smiled and gazed at her. “You’re an artist. Let me have my interpretation. ‘Eye of the beholder,’ and such. And gosh… when I stare into one of your perfect eyes…” he went silent for a turn, making Laurette ask after the rest of his thought.

“What do you see?” She asked.

“I see my whole body reflected clear as glass in your eye. I can already see myself in you,” he hardly blinked as he delivered that observation. “And I find that perfect.” Her heart ached, but not out of remorse.

“That’s beautiful… you’re a beautiful man, Cal.”

“I’m going to become part of something I find more beautiful…” he took a few steps forward and placed his right hand on her lower lip. “I’m going to become perfect.”

Laurette had planned to offer him one more chance to back out, but she saw the futility in that. He’d latched onto this bizarre, twisted, beautiful idea even more so than she had, and he was the one giving up… everything. For an experience. For intrigue. For attraction. For her hunger. For perfection.

Without another word, she slowly opened her mouth, stretching it wide. Cal gazed within at the strings of saliva catching the light that became blackness somewhere beyond where he could observe. But I’ll know it. I’ll experience what’s over that event horizon. I’ll live it.

He stepped into her mouth and slid his left leg all the way into her throat. His foot pressed upon soft flesh in the back. She tilted her head a bit to aid him. He inserted his right leg, that foot joining the other. His ass was still just outside her lower lip, knees bent near her tonsils, and his feet already experiencing the first, exploratory gulps of the newcomer. He had escaped its grasp once. Not again. Cal strained to once again look her in the eye. He ignored his own reflection now. It was an illusion of what was about to be actualized.

He nodded once and smiled.

Laurette swallowed.

The first one hardly stuck. He bounced in and then back out. But then she took both his hands into hers, gripping them between her thumb and forefinger. She stood up, straightened her posture and throat, and lowered him down, letting gravity get him where she needed him. I don’t have to swallow you until you’re ready to be swallowed. I just have to not gag, she thought. She resisted moving her throat at all, instead, lowering him until she felt his ass at the back. Then, she pushed. She shoved down upon his shoulders and felt his muscular rear pop through some seemingly important point of progress, and then she shoved harder, once more.

Cal wiggled a little, perhaps in an effort to aid her, but he activated her gag reflex, and now it was all or nothing. Fight or flight. The obstruction had to go up or down. Her body’s sole concern was that it not remain where it was. She half-coughed, barely managed to resist full on retching, shut her eyes, and then somehow managed to swallow, despite her muscles seemingly having forgotten how.

He entered her esophagus, but he was so large, it felt like her neck was going to burst. She gave another gulp and felt him perceptibly slide. It hurt. She was finding it difficult to breathe, and her throat muscles were spasming painfully. In a moment of desperation, she suddenly found herself holding a half empty bottle of wine and gulping on it like her life depended on it. She finished the bottle, dropping it, and falling into a sitting position on the chaise.

She gasped for air, massaging her throbbing throat with her right hand. But then, she realized it was over. It had worked! She’d gotten him down and hadn’t choked to death in the process! Despite the still painful pulsing of her throat muscles and the soreness in the back of her mouth, she felt a sultry, powerful thrill rush through her body. All evening she had wondered if she could possibly do what she had just done, not even as a matter of morality, but of mere practicality. Could she swallow a man? Yes, and she just had.

Then, the second revelation came crashing into her. She didn’t know what she expected, or why it was delayed, but she could feel him. She could feel the eight-inch man filling her stomach, only, he wasn’t just a full meal, he was a live one, and he was making his presence known.

Laurette lied back down on the chaise and placed her hands on her belly. She stared at the area with wide eyes and waited. Then, she felt it! She felt him push against her left hand! She moved her hand out of the way and then poked the place with her finger. Immediately, she saw her skin distort ever so slightly as her ‘meal’ pushed back. Her heart began to race with excitement. Can I talk to him? She wondered.

She cleared her throat, a still painful task for the quite tender organ.

“C…Cal? Can you hear me?” The movement stopped. She grew ever giddier. “Is that a yes? Press where you did before it it’s ‘yes!’” She commanded, lightly holding her left hand back on the same spot as a moment ago. He pressed against her with a slight jolt. She wondered if it had been a punch or a kick. Whichever, she was so pleased that he could hear her well enough. Suddenly, she felt a much softer, smoother motion against her left hand. He’s rubbing my belly… from inside!

“Oh… I like that a lot… how about that for ‘yes,’ and hitting or whatever you were doing before for, ‘no,’ do you like that?” She asked. He continued rubbing her belly. It was giving her goosebumps. “Good, feel free to keep that up anytime I’m not asking a question. It’s… really stimulating.” She thought for a moment. “Hmm. What to ask to get a ‘no’ reply just to test both…” she spotted the empty wine bottle on its side next to the chaise, and realized that a lot of that wine was in there with Cal. She felt a little bad for that.

“Do you want more wine?” She asked sarcastically. He gave the impact signal for ‘no.’ She chuckled. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. But it was the only way I could think to get you down! Speaking of…” she was a little hesitant to ask her next questions. Maybe it’s better if I don’t know the answers. What would I do if I didn’t like them? Just feel bad? I could never get him back up the way he went in. And what would they do to me if I went to a hospital for help? This must be illegal, right?

Laurette suffered in silent pondering until she felt the lovely rubbing start back up. She sighed and smiled.

“Okay. Sit still a moment.” The rubbing stopped. “That’s a good snack,” she said, a little surprised and embarrassed at herself for calling him that. But… that’s what he is now… she had to know. “Are you hurt? Swallowing you was… pretty tight.” A light impact. ‘No.’ She sighed with relief. She was glad he’d made it down intact, meaningless as that might be in the… not too distant future. She wanted this to be as enjoyable for him as it could be, anyway. While it could be. She asked her next question: the one she was really afraid of.

“Do you like it in there?” She closed her eyes and tensed up, but the inside-belly-rub he gave as an affirmative reply came swiftly, and more intensely than before. “Yes? Oh, thank goodness! Ugh, I was worried you’d like… I don’t know, immediately discover it was just awful and that would have been… the worst! But you like it! You like it inside my stomach… wow…” she pondered that as he rubbed her belly from within and she did so from without. “I like having you in there,” she said.

When she said that, she felt a strange, overfull sensation, like he was stretching her stomach, pressing on it with all his limbs and body. Laurette gasped. “Oh, gosh! And you’re just making it more enjoyable by the second! But it’s true! I liked it just conceptually, but actively feeling you squirming in there, and knowing that you like being… in there,” she caught herself before once again calling him something like ‘her snack, or, ‘her food.’ “It’s so… affirming. Oh, and Cal?” The rubbing stopped as he listened. “You’re very satisfying. I feel so nice and full!” She announced. He once again seemed to stretch and fill her more completely. It was the most novel, enjoyable sensation she’d experienced to date.

So, he likes knowing he filled me up. He likes it inside my stomach, she thought.

“Cal, do you like being my… food?” She asked. He rubbed in strong affirmation. She moaned, an odd sense of intoxicating empowerment coming from that confirmation. She had a living man who had not only willingly fed himself to her to sate her hunger, but even after irreversibly sealing that fate and being trapped in her stomach, he was still loving his role! “That’s perfect, Cal. This is perfect.” She basked in the stretching squirms he seemed to deliver when she made him really happy.

“Listen, Cal. You talked about me being perfect, and about becoming… one with me—being perfected by me. But… I’m liable to spend the rest of my life trying to capture and express just a sliver of the immense satisfaction you’ve made me feel tonight. I’ll be trying to recreate you, in a way. But you are one-of-a-kind. Tonight, we achieved some kind of perfection together. And I’ll always remember it that way. Because you’re something truly special. Adventurous. Weird. Bona fide crazy. And now? You’re the perfect meal.” His squirms at her conclusion really made her feel confident in her last statement especially.

“Oh my god, Cal, you are a perfect meal! You feel so amazing inside me. You’re going to ruin all other foods for me forever!” She moaned and rubbed her belly as he continued to show his appreciation. It was really working her up. She chewed her lower lip, contemplating. Then, she hiccuped. Oh, right.

“Also, just an fyi, I’m kind of a lightweight, and I’ve had a bottle of wine tonight. That’s… gonna make me a little silly. So, feel free to drink you’re share in there. Pull your weight. You’d be doing me a huge favor,” she said, chuckling. She looked around at her clothes strewn about and made a decision. I need to get home… She patted her belly.

“Hey, scrumptious. I really don’t know the uh… medical science behind this, but… I live a ten-minute cab ride from here. Do you think you’re going to be okay ‘on your own’ that long? I want to be… present for you. But I’m not going to talk to my stomach in the cab.” Cal rubbed her belly affirmatively. She sighed. “Wonderful. And uh, Cal… I know you were… highly aroused before I ate you. Did that take care of itself on the way down?”

He tapped hard for ‘no.’

“I thought not. Pretty rough ride. Have you taken care of it since?”

Tapping. ‘No.’

“Hmm, I see… But… does being my food still arouse you?”

Rubbing. ‘Yes.’

“Lovely… having you trapped in my gurgling gut is making me pretty hot, too. But, anyway, if you went in there with an erection that could put guys my height to shame, why the delay? Were you waiting for my permission?” She asked, not entirely serious.

Tapping. ‘No.’

“Hmm… so you haven’t gotten off, but you weren’t waiting for permission…” Laurette pretended to deeply ponder this. “I’ve got it! You’ve been pleasuring yourself this whole time?!”

Rubbing. ‘Yes.’

“And you didn’t tell me?!” She slapped her belly playfully. “I ought to digest you for that…” she said with a mischievous tone. There was a sudden cease in movement. She briefly worried she’d crossed an unspoken line by speaking his inevitable end into conscious existence, but then he began to really rub her belly and squirm for her. She squeezed her stomach and groaned with appreciation. “M-m-m, yes! Okay. You’re right… I was going to do that anyway.” She giggled, poking her squirming belly. “I’m gonna get dressed and close this place up. You just… don’t go anywhere. And that includes my guts if that’s even possible,” she commanded. “You just stay nice and cozy, squirming for me until I get home and can join in your pleasure. You should massage me the whole way, so I know you’re still with me,” she sighed with pleasure as he got started. “Oh, and Cal… don’t finish. Save that for me. Let’s have one more. Together. It’ll be perfect.” He stretched her belly again in reply.

Laurette made short work of getting dressed, retrieving her wine crate, and shutting up shop behind her. It wasn’t too late, so she was able to wave down a cab right on the curb, and a moment later, she was seated in the back, lightly rubbing her full belly while its contents rubbed her back. She hummed a little tune to herself and to her companion, hoping he could hear and feel it. Some of the wine had already gone to her head, and she was feeling very lighthearted and aloof.

 Ten minutes later, she was shutting and locking the door to her studio. She leaned against the door and sighed happily as she rubbed her full belly.

“We’re home, Cal. Welcome to my ‘studio.’ That’s ‘studio’ apartment, and the ‘studio’ where I make most my simpler art projects. I hope you like it. ‘Casa es su casa.’” Cal replied by increasing the tempo of his belly massage a bit. She smiled, grabbed another bottle from the crate for ‘later,’ uncorked it, and danced into her bedroom.

In another moment, Laurette was once again naked, lying on her back, propped up by several pillows, drawing little circles on her visibly squirming stomach with her right index finger. She was cherishing his presence within her. She wished he would last a while. She had even toyed with a few ‘artistic’ ways of crafting some means of prolonging his longevity within her like feeding him an air tube or going to town on a ton of antacids, but she decided against it. The man was neither a hostage nor a pet; he was her food, and her body would deal with him in due time.

Laurette glanced at the clock on her bedside table. He’d been inside of her for just under thirty minutes. A half-hour ago, she swallowed a man and smuggled him in a cab across town and into her home. And now…

“Can you hear me, Cal?” She asked, quietly. The squirms paused, and then there was some light rubbing. “Good. You’ve probably got no sense of time, but you’ve been a meal for about thirty minutes. Is the experience still meeting your expectations?”

Rubbing. ‘Yes.’

“I’m so glad,” she said, tapping on her captive. She decided to risk asking the dangerous question one more time. It would allow her to really let loose if his answer hadn’t changed. “And you’re still comfortable with being digested? You’re at peace with that; being treated like my food?” Cal stretched her stomach again with marvelous vivacity and rubbed her in all the right ways. “That’s a good snack. I love it when my dinner doesn’t disagree with me,” she teased, and was rewarded with more delightful squirms.

“I’ve got you right where I want you, Cal. You’re where food belongs. I didn’t see you as food before. I don’t think less of smaller-people and will almost certainly never regard someone as food again. But you wanted, so badly, to be my food, and so, I put you in my belly, and now that you’re in there, that’s what you are. But until your transformation is complete and there’s nothing left to distinguish you from any other food, I’ll enjoy the lingering evanescence of what you were a short while ago; namely, a man, my briefest and loveliest of flames, and someone with whom I shared, and am still sharing, a truly singular and brilliant connection.” She retrieved the bottle from her nightstand, this one a Cabernet, and mumbled, “but the candle that burns twice as bright,” she raised the bottle, “cheers to you, Cal!” She took a small sip, not really wanting to douse him, but merely tease him. She sighed as she finished the little mouthful. It warmed her. A second later, she felt her meal get a little livelier before he resumed rubbing her belly arduously.

“Sorry about that, Cal. I can’t properly toast to your health without drinking the wine. You’re in my belly, after all. Besides, a little wine is the least of your worries, right?” She said with playful sarcasm. He tapped her belly in response.

“No, it’s not? Or no, no, that’s not true… wait… don’t answer yet. I won’t know which you’re responding to. Uhh…” he stopped moving.

“Would you like some more wine?” Laurette asked, half-jokingly, but to her surprise, she received a pleasant rub from within. “Really? Well, then. Let’s share a ‘glass,’” she said, holding up the bottle. “You just start tapping when you want me to stop.” She put the bottle to her lips and started to steadily gulp down the dry red, paying special attention to any signal from her stomach. She went slowly and was quick to halt the moment she felt steady taps inside. He’d let her have about a third of the bottle. She let out a cute little burp, and swiftly apologized.

“Oops. Sorry. You probably need all the air you can get. But at least you got your wine bath back! This is a nice bottle. You’re living it up in there, Cal.” She chuckled, setting the bottle back down with a clumsy thunk.

Laurette lied back down and ran her hands all over her bare skin. She felt so warm and fuzzy. Everything about this night had made her feel so perfectly content. Her body was buzzing.

“Cal… touch me,” she commanded. She felt him press against her belly. She pressed back. “I’m so turned on. Are you still down to go one more round together?”

Aggressive rubbing. ‘Yes!’

“M-m-m, good.” She reached down and began to rub her clitoris. “I’m touching myself now. Are you?”

Rubbing. ‘Yes.’ Laurette moaned.

“Wonderful… p-pace yourself… try to cum when I do. Because… when I finish… I’ll… probably be spent. So, let’s… ugh… let’s enjoy these last, pleasurable moments… together… before I fall asleep… and wake up… with you… somewhere in my guts!” She exclaimed. She felt Cal squirming magnificently within her. She clenched at her belly with her left hand while she built towards her orgasm.

It was slow and steady. Laurette took her time. She paused or slowed down down here and there to talk to Cal, either to offer up praise for how good he felt inside her, or to tease him about the meal he had consigned himself to becoming for her. Still, all good things must end, and there’s no delaying some inevitabilities.

So, after more than two hours of them both playing cat and mouse with chasing, edging, and backing off their respective finales, Laurette was finally at a peak from which she could not back down.

“Oh-h-h, fuck, Cal! This is it! I’m gonna… I can’t hold it back anymore! Are you ready? Are you close? Can you finish?!” She asked desperately. She felt him rub her inner belly folds harder than he had at any point so far. She let herself go, crying out his name once more at her ceiling.

Good things come to those who wait, and this orgasm of hers, while not as explosive as the second one earlier, was much more sublime. It started low and then built up to something that, while less intense, lasted far longer and felt like several rolled into one. It was a full fifteen minutes before Laurette finally stopped shivering from the final, lingering tremors that coursed through her body.

As Laurette lied there, barely awake in the most lightheaded afterglow, unwilling to move, she turned her attention to her stomach once more. Cal had finally gone still. She cleared her throat to speak.

“Mo—ehm!—more… wine?” She asked. There was a moment’s delay, and then some very soft rubbing. She nodded to herself, thinking she understood the appeal in his position. She took up the bottle and slowly sipped away at it. Cal never signaled her to stop, so she just cut it off when she felt she’d had more than enough for her own sake. She could feel tiny tingles of his occasional squirms again. She smiled and lied back, shutting her eyes, her hand never leaving her belly.

“Good night, Cal. When I wake up, I don’t think you’ll be with me. I get the impression you’re sort of into that idea…  though some form of you will be, and then there’s the aspects I’ll keep forever… thanks for everything,” she said, her voice somewhat slurred and raspy.

Laurette fell asleep moments later.

Cal basked in the hot bath of sweet-smelling wine, his head just above the surface. He’d ceased depending on his eyes hours ago, keeping them shut tight, but his ears told him he was in a rainforest during a summer storm, well after sunset. He drifted in and out of sleep for hours, believing that the storm was both assimilating him and washing him away. During one of the final times he stirred, he remembered what that storm was. He had come here to conquer it. For Laurette. He did not think of it again, and then he drifted off to sleep to the storm-song.