Mouth Kiss

Thank you, Bird, for the light-on-dark advice. WIP.

I have to be very specific with you because of your incredibly tiny brain. There are all kinds of kisses. Some are desirable, and others are the breakdown of your life. Yes, I see you in forensic terms sometimes, because you used to be a man, and now you are a stick of flesh I use to vent my feelings. I’m a woman. We have feelings and periods and emotions and gossipy needs, and they are all a handful, a weight that falls squarely on your shoulders. And you thought you had no use for geometry.

I’ll explain it to you in terms you can understand: You are mine. You are a possession made of flesh and bone. You were once human; a gathering of genetic sludge that was a recognizable voter, a social voice of one, an owner of earthly possessions, a kisser of women, a fucker of women, a worker of job, a driver of car. Now you belong to me the same way that unused tampon I carry in my purse belongs to me. You saw what I carry in my purse.

Because I put you there first after I shrank you. I made you tiny. I did. A stranger you don’t know. I stalked you from behind as you pondered something stupid like What Beer To Get, or Gas Prices Have Dropped. I came close enough to spray you/inject you/zap you, and you sank into your clothes in front of all those gas-station people. They didn’t blink. They were busy with their lotto numbers and six packs and cigarettes and going home.

They made it home. You’ll never see that pile of bricks again. You’ll never smell your mancave again, that hole where you keep your books and porn and laptop and secrets. You’ll never smell your car again, found stale and unfathomable, framed by parking-space bands of asphalt paint, the silent witness to your disappearance. When they realize you’re gone, I’ll have fucked your little brains out of their plane, and into my reality.

And I’ll kiss you. I’ll kiss you forever. Your body will be hickey-purple day in and out as I suck color into you. I’ll wake you up with my full lips, descending on you every dawn after a few hours of sleep. I’ll pull you into their hold, and you’ll wake up to my morning breath, rancid vodka and grapefruit juice, teeth I haven’t brushed yet because I was too drunk, too aroused.

Then my lips will lift away from you, and you’ll thank whatever force until I pinch you between my fingers, because you are mine now, and you’ll witness all of me. I’ll carry you to the bathroom, where I’ll make you watch what I do, make you listen to my toothbrush, deafen you as I flush the toilet, smother you with the scent of toothpaste. And then I’ll kiss you again. Mouth kisses with reverse lividity; kisses with their own zip code. You’ll drown in their fleshy depth, and you’ll begin to understand this morning will be like the rest of every morning from now on.

9 thoughts on “Mouth Kiss

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      1. I can see the video now. In keeping with 80s FX standards, the entire thing takes place inside her purse. Throughout the song, her giant hand descends periodically and removes a band member. The final shot is a close-up of the face of the lead singer, last to be grabbed, wide-eyed in terror.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Ah, romance. I’m sure the kisses are enjoyable for both, morning, evening, whenever. Nice. By the way, I think that What Beer To Get is a great band name, comparable to that Scottish band, They Promised Us Jetpacks. They did, didn’t they. Gilligan and James Bond and Major West got one. Where’s mine?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for this nice comment, meremention.

      I hadn’t thought of it as a band name, and you’re right, it sounds great.

      Yes, and Hit Girl did too, though she’s in the “present”. What I wanna know is where are the hover cars? And the pipelines in my house that vacuum me from room to room?!?


  2. Glad to know we’re on the same page. My life had lost meaning, purpose, and direction. I was little more than a stick of driftwood carried along by the tide of indifferent humanity, until I was fished out by You, my Giantess. And now, my life has purpose: amusement, desire, satisfaction, satiation. Thank You for rescuing me from daily death and providing me with a far higher, nobler purpose, my Giantess. I serve to live, and live to serve.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for this very nice response, Anon. I like the poetic imagery of natural things. I’ve used them so much—tides and stars and oceans, etc.—that I purposefully decided to take a break from them for a while. But they are perfect for size descriptions, aren’t they?

      Have a lovely day. :)


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