“I feel like you, you help me stay sane. I don’t know if I want to keep doing this, or if I want to cut cold turkey, but I know that no matter what I chose, I want to choose it with you. I just need you, more than I need, well… all this,” Morgan says.
You were hoping this was some sort of joke. You had been waiting for the ball to drop somewhere, but never like this. You had somehow stumbled your way to a third month of dating the curious young man, and it felt like a dream. He listened intently to your babbling, caressed you on the days you were feeling down, laughed at every bad joke you threw at him. He was almost too perfect to be real, but if you had told your past self that he would be serving you a crippled man, three inches tall and lathered in maple syrup, on a goddamn dinner plate, you’ve slapped you.
“It’s okay if you don’t want him, I was just wondering if you were curious. I’ve been sitting here for a few minutes now just chowing down, it felt rude to not offer some,” he says, reaching into a lunchbox he innocuously dragged into the restaurant.
He acted like he snuck in a bag of chips, not a lunchbox filled with maybe thirty shrunken people. You didn’t even know where he got so many from, he just always had a never-ending cache on reserve. It was early enough in the morning that very few people were in the dingy mom and pop diner he always frequented. The two of you were close enough to the back corner that you both knew that he wouldn’t get caught. He never got caught.
It was a month ago when he showed you his powers for the first time. You were making out with him in his car at some department store. Morgan said that he wanted to drive out to show you something special. You assumed he was talking about sex. Instead, he pushed you off right when you were ready to take off more than just your shirt. He reached into his glove compartment, fishing around for what you thought were probably going to be a strappon. He brought out a tiny, naked, screaming woman, no taller than a toothpick.
If you had thought further, you might have recognized her as the store clerk who talked back at you the other week. Your mind was too busy trying to reconcile what seemed clearly like a small children’s toy with the unquestionable liveliness with which it… she… was begging for her life. She couldn’t have been real, but you could just make out the panic in her screams. Just a second ago, fooling around in Morgan’s torn up sedan you felt fine, as crowded as it was in the back. But there you were, looking upon this tiny little thing, and you suddenly felt near claustrophobic. You felt huge, too huge to fit in his car.
You blinked, and she was half that size, and no more substantial than a bit of gravel caught between your toes. You looked back up at Morgan, whose entire face was lit up in excitement. You felt almost flattered, beyond the shock, horror, and disgust. He immediately lifted the poor dangling waif above his mouth. And then he just let go, letting her fall in. You could only lay back and watch him play with his “food”. Every so often you saw his cheeks slightly bulge as his tongue pressed the poor woman against them, only for it to retract back in.
Before you could react he then forced himself onto you, locking lips with precision accuracy. You felt the same soft tenderness from always, but with more passion, a renewed brightness you had never seen in Morgan before. You felt his tongue, the inside of his cheeks, and some other third thing. The third thing was the tiny woman. The last thing you remember before blacking out was puking into your boyfriend’s mouth.
Since then the subject had become a bit of a sore spot between the two of you. You didn’t say anything bad about his, for lack of a better term, “psychopathic murderous habits”, and went back to going to concerts, and laughing at network television, and living a life willfully ignorant of the fact that you were dating a serial murderer. You knew that you should feel worse about the whole endeavor than you did, but it was hard to see what he did as murder. He just did his thing, and sometimes the tiny, lifelike puppets he dragged in went splat. He never brought it into the bedroom or made it a problem for you. Sure, you ignored a bit more than you should have, but who could blame you? A hot mid-twenties hottie, a bit thin all around but thick where it counted. He had a husky voice most men would kill for, an ass most people would kill just to touch, and a warm sentimentality that everyone ought to experience once in their lives. He was a bona fide maniac pixie dream boy, and you just couldn’t bear to let him go. So you suppose you were a little split when Morgan put a live person on your plate and expected you to just eat them.
“Really, it’s not nearly as gross as it might seem at first, trust me. I can, um, I can make it smaller if that makes it easier for you,” said Morgan. You had never seen him this nervous before. It was, unfortunately, even more charming.
“Will that be all for today?” asked the waitress.
You hadn’t even noticed her sneak up to the table, you had been so lost in your own thoughts and/or how obsessed you were with Morgan. She continued to drone on about your check, or something, but you were intently focused on Morgan’s eyes, darting around the nearly empty room to see if there were any attentive witnesses. You look back at the waitress. It’s almost adorable, she doesn’t even realize how much danger she’s in just by standing close to Morgan, just by coming into work today. She doesn’t realize how everyone in the restaurant could be his and his alone just if he willed it. But you knew.
It happens faster than you can perceive. One second the waitress is putting down the second plate in front of Morgan, the next there’s a human bug crawling around on his plate, struggling to find footing in his mashed potatoes. You can’t even hear any screaming as he digs his spoon underneath it. One second, there’s food on his spoon, the next second, it’s clean as a whistle. There was but a thin layer of saliva left on his spoon, the only proof there was anything ever there at all.
He chuckles. “You know, I know that I have to be safe with this, I have so many at home, but there’s just something so… raw, about it, y’know? It’s so much realer out in the open.”
You shrug, pretending to not know exactly what he was talking about. When you date a guy for long enough, you begin to start seeing through his eyes more than your own.
You remember asking, one random night, where exactly he had gained this impossible power. It wasn’t as though the question had never crossed your mind before. You just never thought to ask. You still remember his answer, doled out in bits and pieces over a long marathon of Arrested Development.
“Sorry, I thought that I had talked about it already. See, I’m a… I don’t know what I’d call me, but I’ve been able to do this since, well, forever ago I guess. Back then it was just playing pranks on some of the other kids around the block, screw with some of the assholes at school sometimes, just for fun, y’know?”
He talked about a lot of things that night. Like the first time he had done anything sexual with his powers. He talked about cuddling on the couch, watching shitty shows on tv just like the two of you were right in the moment. He talked about feeling her body against his one second, and the next… not. It took him a minute to realize where she had gone, at least until he felt the faintest tugging motions in his groin. You could almost picture it, this tiny ant sized girl desperately beating against a cock larger than an apartment building, going into panic as she felt the floor turn into a massive, fleshy wall. When he managed to find her, she was clinging to his dick like the world’s tiniest mountain climber. You never asked about whatever happened to her. You always imagined him beating off immediately after discovering her, only realizing his mistake after hearing the tiniest of pops as a thin red dot showed up against his veiny cock.
“Okay, okay, maybe you’d be more comfortable if your first was a woman rather than a guy, I get it, I get it,” Morgan said. You didn’t have time to question it, because the second you looked down you saw a young woman with the most beautiful auburn hair looking back up at you, replacing the earlier man.
Well, he was still there, just a fourth of his former height, cowering in the corner of the plate. The woman must have seemed like a colossus next to him. You looked back up, seeing Morgan’s wide eyes encouraging you on. You knew you shouldn’t do this. This was his obsession, not yours, and yet you felt something powerful compelling you.
“You. Girl,” you say, looking down on the woman. She stood with a strange strength, almost unafraid of the massive giant whose plate she was standing on. Her defiance excites you on a level you could not name never mind understand. “Kill that guy over there.”
The man screams, turning to run. He doesn’t make it more than a few steps before he halves in size again, now a small mouse in comparison to the other woman. The man puts his hands up in a futile attempt at protection. The woman takes a few steps back, throwing her own hands up in refusal. You grin, as if you were expecting it, and bend down to the plate, praying no one in the restaurant was looking at you. She steps away but isn’t fast enough to prevent you from working your tongue all the way up her body, pulling it away but only to smack your chops. Her facial expressions are tiny, but you can feel her go white with dread realizing your intent.
The speck of a man never stood a chance. He’s immediately crushed under the woman’s foot by her overwhelming weight. It doesn’t matter to you though, picking her up and shoving her in your mouth without a second thought. And that’s when you finally admit it to yourself. Maybe it was his weird tastes, but somehow it had become your own obsession. And, for what it was worth, you weren’t sure what had taken you so long to come to terms how good it felt to so utterly dominate another human being.
You push aside your plate, push aside Morgan’s plate, and lunge over to kiss him. His eyes are frozen wide, caught further off guard than he had ever been in his life. With a subtle touch, you press the delicacy into his mouth, only feeling it pressed back into yours. And then you just… gulp, feeling that nearly imperceptible bulge travelling down your throat. You let out a soft moan from your lips.
You pull back to the world. He looks eyes with you, because he knows he’s either won, or unlocked a monster even more dangerous than himself.
“Same time next week?”
“My place or yours?”