She

Kissing_It.jpg
“Kissing It” by Avantika Shaha

One day I’ll write a blog entry titled “Adventures In Commissioning Art”, but until I do, I’ll say it’s been a mixed bag. The above is something I love, taken from the depths of my heart and the deepest love I feel for that tiny man that I wish I had the power to shrink and manhandle. Toyhandle? Yes, toyhandle. That sounds better. The artist is Avantika Shaha, or @aviviavai. She creates art beyond size images, and here’s her Patreon page.

Now I will tell you a story. Close your eyes and read.

* * *

The mall was packed with people that Sunday afternoon. The two police officers stood near the escalator and talked as though every muscle in their bodies wasn’t ready for action. Not that it would make any difference. The day before they had been present during the protests on 4th Street, and now they were here, under an equally important pretense. If She had shown up yesterday, there would have been no police, army, navy, air force presence that would change her course of action, and if she made her way to the mall today, two or a hundred or a million armed men would be unable to protect a single soul. Yet they stood, and watched, and hoped.

“Look at them. Every month, the same.”

“They forget. They have to forget. Not forgetting makes you mad. I’d rather they stay home, but you know how She is. Once she makes her decision, she takes what she wants no matter where it hides.”

“Man, I want to go home. I want to watch the game, and I want to drink a thousand beers because I can’t forget. I wish I could. I wish the faces of those men I’ve seen her take could be erased from my memory.”

“What’s the stakes now?”

“$500.00”

His partner whistled. “I could use that money.”

“Get in on it. Talk to Jerry. He’ll be happy to take your money.”

“Forget it. It’s stupid. None of you is ever going to find out what she does with the men after she takes them. After a year of abductions, all we know is that she comes into town near the end of every month, takes one man, and disappears in the horizon with his screaming shape writhing in her fist. Twelve men gone, never heard from again, and we have to sit and watch it happen.”

“I don’t want to remember what happened when they tried to stop her.”

“Shut up. I’m still missing part of my roof. Every time I mow the lawn I find pieces of building hidden in the grass. Once I think I dug out part of a femur. A human one.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, shh. Do you hear that? Fuck, fuck. Fuck! She’s coming!”

“Calm down. Everyone sees you freak out- Oh, Jesus God, look at the display windows!”

As though affected by some spell, the crowd of thousands came to a near complete stop. They all moved in perfect synchronicity as they lifted their gazes to the tall ceilings, and tilted their heads to listen to the rumbling crescendo. Then all hell broke loose.

The man walked out of the dollar store with a Gatorade and a couple of lipstick tubes in a bag. There was a $5.00 purchase minimum at the store, and he never carried cash anymore. He hoped his girlfriend liked the shades and looked for a place to sit. Across the walkway there was a play area for children with some tables and chairs and a couple of benches. Only one of the latter was unoccupied, and he wondered if he could sit there and down his drink in peace without getting the evil eye from parents who might think he was a pervert. He was a pervert, but his only interest were adult women.

Maybe if I close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep, he thought, taking his place on the wooden bench. It felt warm and welcoming, and he let his eyelids droop, and the surrounding noise lull him to tranquility. It was over in a moment, when he felt the sort of vibration one might perceive if in a still position and someone stomps the floor in close vicinity. He opened his eyes and looked around, wondering whether he had heard or felt that slight shaking of the floor when he heard the next one. After a year of monthly invasions, there was no mistaking those shockwaves.

Everyone around him felt the third one, and when they did, parents grabbed their children; some stood in place, knowing there was no predicting a safe location; others ran off in whatever direction their legs took them. He didn’t make any effort to leave his spot, and only moved enough of his body parts to call his girlfriend, knowing he would not be able to reach her. He let his hand and phone fall to his thigh and waited as he observed every reflection in every display window distort as though the surface had become liquid. Somewhere near (or far), one of those windows couldn’t take the next booming step and shattered in a spray to the floor.

He hoped no one was hurt, but sat without moving. I have no idea if I’m calm, or hysterical. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know. Poor guy, whoever she takes this time. Why doesn’t anyone stop her? Stupid stupid thought! What if she can read minds and she- Oh, my God! Something had broken loose from the skylight ceiling and crashed loudly into pieces not twenty feet away from him, and he looked up and realized the light fixtures had been shaken from their moorings by the upheaval of her steps. She’s coming here, isn’t she? Please oh please I beg you I don’t want to see her again I never want to see her again A shadow blotted out the cloudless afternoon sky quilted through the trembling patches of glass, and hell was unleashed.

She had made the trek again after her last disappointment. None of the little men she had chosen had been able to stand her attention. Her devotion was unfiltered, and her love was one of a kind. When she entered this world, her mind filled with wild scents, and her skin tingled to new depths, with new electricity. The power here was like a drug. There were many here; why the ones like her were so small, she didn’t know. But the other ones, the ones with hair on their faces, and full muscles on their legs, and different pitch in their squeaks… among them was her mate.

She had been able to follow his trail every time. Once she spotted him, she plucked him from the crowd of scattering little toys, and she took him home. There she built a life around him and gave him everything of herself. Each him had lasted a few days before failing to fulfill his role. Each him had broken her heart, but she didn’t stop. She was no quitter, and she could feel him out there. He had to be there. So today she had left her home again, and walked the path again. She followed his trail again, humming to herself, stroking her belly as she imagined their children, drumming her fingers gently over her lips, sleepwalking for a few moments as she imagined him there, swimming from shallow to deep end.

She smiled when she saw the mall. She walked on old streets that still held the shapes of her feminine footprints (she noticed one had been turned into a vegetable garden and shook her head with glee), and over new ones, freshly black after the previous layers had succumbed to her visits. She strutted past cracking structures and buildings that held firm to her glancing advances. She caressed them in passing, plowing four parallel trenches with her nails, leaving a cloud of dust and debris in their wake. People ran from her, and she smiled, loving their beautiful bodies even though she knew none were perfect for her. Only he was. She could feel he was not running. She almost stopped in her tracks. The other ones had always fled. How did he know she was coming? Did he know she was coming for him?

She was so close she could taste him. His little body was perfect. She could see him with her heart as she drilled the mall’s wall deep with her fingers, and lifted the roof as though it had been hinged on. Bits of flesh were running out every entrance, but she was blind and deaf to them. She only felt his heat. The roof cracked in half as she removed it, and she drove her other arm deep into the space she had created to support the cracking material. It would not do to crush her mate when courting him. Next into that space followed her head and shoulders, and the ceiling/roof held together even as it groaned. She looked down and saw him sitting there, looking at her, utterly still but perhaps not calm. There was a dark stain on his pants.

Kisses.

He was drowning in them.

Kisses.

She had pummeled the air with her giant hand and had removed him from his life. His Gatorade and his girlfriend’s new lipsticks a weak goodbye to his humanity.

Kisses. His neck bent painfully when she delivered the next volley. Lips alive and on him, unforgiving masses of thick red.

He had finally screamed when she brought him to her face and said something that felt like hello and wrinkled her nose at his pants. He had continued screaming when she tore them from his body like they had been a layer of soap suds and her fingers an interminable flow of water.

Kisses.

He screamed with the strength of two men when she looked at his member, hidden from his own view by her grip, but not from the cameras of hundreds, if not thousands of people.

Kisses. There. His screams turned to gasps and then to a different scream.

Laughter. Hello.

“Hello.”

Kisses. My perfect one. I’ve found you. We’re going home.

Kisses, kisses, kisses.

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I should be in bed, asleep…

And I will be, soon, but I thought I’d tell you some things:

 One of my wonderful readers sent me a link to images of “Titania and Bottom”, which you will agree is an absolutely fantastic title for a painting, no matter what its subject is.

Henry_Fuseli_-_Titania_and_Bottom
“Titania and Bottom” by Henry Fuseli

I’m not going to insult your intelligence by explaining the painting to you. I will state that it would have been a much better work if some of the elements were eliminated, namely everything but Titania and the little guy reaching with his arms in pleading fashion, Thank you, reader. I enjoyed it very much, and one of these days I’ll be philistine enough to edit it to my liking.

 I’m working on my new banner on my own, since I haven’t the faintest clue who to commission for it, and I’m practicing my “art”, so I might as well do it myself. All I’ll say about it is that tentacles are fun to draw, even with a mouse.

 I’ve never gone deeply into the Lewd Side on my blog, and with my public writings. I saved all that for personal use, but now I’m readying some truly dirty posts with shocking portrayals of my likes, accompanied by my writings about them. I’m aware of your delicate nature and utter reluctance to read such filth, and I want nothing more than to protect your mind and heart from such visions. Those posts will be password-protected so that those forgotten souls that want to wallow in the lost crevasses of my mind can read and see the filth as they wish, and you can continue reading my blog and holding onto your sweet blankie that you’ve had all your life. Those perverted ones that want to bear witness to my descent into depravity can email me for the password. I’m not sure how long I’ll protect my posts you with such procedures. Probably until I feel comfortable exposing myself you in such a manner. After all I am opening a large if by no means comprehensive window to me.

 Ginger beer and vodka = yes. Apple cider and vodka = no. Heavens no. No no no.

 Hm. Something else… oh yeah, don’t be an ass. Don’t discuss those movies on Twitter or DA until after I’ve watched them. Thank you. 🙂

Tentacles

Kraken
“Kraken” by Andrew Sides

She drove quietly for a while. She wasn’t a big talker unless they were in the bedroom. There she could talk forever, and he loved it. He was grateful for every dirty word that came out of her mouth, for every time she tied him down and sat on his face, and what she screamed at him while she made it seem the bed would come crashing down, and with it, the world.

“When I was little, my mom didn’t want me to like certain music groups, so every time they came on the radio, she’d turn the station.”

“Did it work?”

“No. Sometimes she couldn’t get to it in time because she was making meatballs or cleaning the toilet or whatever, and I’d be exposed to shit, as she called it.”

“Who was ‘shit’?”

“Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots-”

What?!

“I know. So I grew up listening to Duran Duran, U2, Hall & Oates, all those guys, and learning all the lyrics to their songs.”

“I’m not sure I want to meet your mom. She sounds mean.”

She gave him a quick glance, and in the gleam of her eyes that should have only reflected the diminishing light of day, he caught something alien. His teasing smile faltered, and he swallowed hard. His heart started pounding inexplicably, as though he’d been running.

“You’ll be fine. You’re with me. As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe.”

He laughed at that, but nervously. His own laughter grated in his ears, and he grew annoyed with himself. He thought he’d be calm about meeting her parents, but perhaps he wasn’t. She seldom talked about them, and it wasn’t because of her taciturn nature. After dating a few months and now living together, he knew her well enough to love her, but to bring up her parents always seemed to make her withdraw to a nearly unresponsive state. He decided to risk a couple of questions, now that she was driving and couldn’t hide inside herself. He inhaled deeply, slowly, and let out the first question.

“Could you tell me something about your dad now? I mean, I’m about to meet him, and I know next to nothing about him.”

Another quick glance from eyes as dark as unexplored ocean depths, a glance that felt as heavy on him as their organ-crushing pounds per inch.  He swallowed hard as she brought her gaze back to the road, and sighed.

“My dad. Well, you’re about to meet him, so you might as well know. My dad is… small.”

“Small? Like, short? So what? There’s no shame in being short.”

“No, I don’t mean ‘short’ in stature. I mean small. As in, only inches in height.”

He laughed again, this time naturally. He didn’t know why because what she’d said wasn’t funny at all. If it was a joke, it wasn’t a good one.

“I’m serious. Ah, never mind. You’re only going to believe me when you see him. In every other way he’s a normal father. He was always there for me when I got home from school, and he’d help me with my homework, and always took my side when I got in trouble with mamá.”

“That’s sweet. So you’re daddy’s little girl.”

“I’m his big girl, and I’ve never in my life called him ‘daddy’. It was always papi, and now papá.”

“But your mom never speaks Spanish.”

“Not to you, because you’ve only talked to her on the phone. In person, she’s all arroz-con-frejoles this, and en-mi-país that, and ese maldito hijo de puta con su cuenta de Twitter, que no tiene huevos para-

“Whoa, hold on, I have no idea what you’re saying!”

“I’m telling you, that’s what it’ll probably be like tonight, and she won’t care that you don’t understand. In her mind, you already speak Spanish by osmosis. I told you, you’re gonna have to learn to speak it with some fluency.”

“Shit. Can’t I just pretend I understand her?”

“No. But don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

“I don’t know when I’ll have time to learn, with a full-time job, and you.”

To that, she said nothing and continued driving in silence until they arrived at their destination, just in time for dinner. The front door opened, and down the front steps came a middle-aged woman, clearly Hispanic, with the longest brown hair he had ever seen, only beginning to gray. He realized now why his girlfriend had such a curvaceous ass. She had clearly inherited it. Both women greeted each other with strong hugs and loving kisses. Then she turned her attention to him. He was startled by the darkness in her eyes, which he had seen in his girlfriend not long ago. Her bright smile distracted him.

“So, there you are, corazón. Come, give me a hug.”

Once inside, the couple sat down at the table, and her mother filled their plates with food but served nothing for herself or her husband, who was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t tuck in as his girlfriend did, surprised that she was not waiting for the man of the house. His girlfriend was munching heartily when her mother turned her smiling face his way and realized he was not eating.

“What’s the matter with your man, mijita? Doesn’t he like our food?”

“No, mamá. It’s not that. I’ve taught him to cook like us, and I fix it myself often. I think he’s waiting for papá.”

Her mother laughed.

“Don’t wait. My hombrecito is shy, and he won’t be joining us until later. He’s otherwise occupied.”

She groaned softly at her mother’s words and sliced off a large bite of the most fragrant meat he had ever smelled. He still didn’t imitate her, waiting for her mom to sit and join them.

“No, mijito. You go on and eat. I’m not hungry right now. I’ll have something later.” When she said those last words she smiled and winked at him so lasciviously, he felt his cheeks turn red, and he looked down at his meal. He tore into it without delay. He wasn’t a big eater, but his plate was clean before long. All throughout dinner the mother stared at him, and the daughter moved her calm gaze back and forth between her two companions.

The moment his place was empty, the mother stood up, pushing back the back of her chair with her large, round ass cheeks. She then turned to her native language.

Vamos, mijita. Ayúdame con los trastes.

“Mamá, in English, please,” she said, uselessly.

Mueve el culo, que tenemos que hablar.

Once in the kitchen, her mother peered out at him and saw him stand up and walk around, looking at pictures on the wall, and moving closer to one of them, tilting his head forward, as though he was having a hard time making out what he was seeing.

“No es ningún bruto. Ya encontró la foto de tu papi en el bolsillo de mi blusa.”

“Maybe, but he won’t be able to discern it’s a real man in that picture.”

“Estás segura? Tiene las piernas tan flacuchentas. Y la nariz tan grandota. Y los ojos tan endemoniadamente azules.”

“Mamá! You do realize you just described papi. His legs are also scrawny, his nose is huge, even on such a tiny face, and he is, as you’ve so often described, a blue-eyed devil.”

“Estás segura?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I’ve never been so sure of anything. He’s the one. I knew he’s the one the moment I laid eyes on him. I want him. I want him so much.”

“Está bien. Lo preparamos, o le damos la sorpresa?”

“Just do it. There is no preparing him for this. There is no explanation that’ll make sense.”

“¿Quieres ver?”

“Yes. But I’ll follow you and watch from the doorway. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Ay, mijita, no te preocupes. No va a pasar nada. Todo va a estar bien.”

“Yes, I know. I’m not worried. Go ahead, mamá.”

Her mother smiled and gathered the fabric of her skirts with both hands, and pulled it up to her waist. She then gently dug something out of her panties and handed it to her daughter, who grimaced with some disgust.

“Guárdalo bien. Y necesita un baño.”

Her daughter said nothing as she held her damp father in the palm of her hand, and watched her mother transform. She had witnessed the change a couple of times before, but it was always a tremendous shock. Still, she stared at her mother’s body which was now a mass of swirling tentacles, and walked out of the kitchen holding her head high, even as she watched him turn to them and scream at what he saw.

“Don’t worry, my darling. It won’t last forever,” she said to her shrieking boyfriend as his face disappeared inside her mother’s gaping, expanding maw, and his body was immobilized by tentacles that had been arms and legs and hair only a few minutes earlier.

“Don’t try to fight. It only hurts for a bit, my love. And when you emerge, you’ll look just like papá,” and she held her tiny father so as to show him, even though her boyfriend’s head and shoulders were now inside her mother, and he could no longer hear her. The little man stretched and yawned, blinking as though he had been asleep.

“Papá.”

“Hi, honey. What did I miss?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing that concerns you now, but I’ll need your help when he emerges.”

“Why? Is he stupid? Is he weak of spirit? No one helped me when your mami did this to me, and here I am!”

“I know, papá… but I’m not sure he’s like you. I just need you, OK? I don’t want him to be alone in this.”

“Of course, baby girl. I’d do anything for you. Your mami is going to sleep for three days as she changes him. That’s three days I get to sleep, and eat what I want, and watch what I want on TV.”

She brought her father up to her lips, and kissed his pungent forehead, or tried to. Her lips encompassed over half his height, and only pushed him back into the scoop of her palm. He giggled and looked down at himself, blushing furiously.

“Get me some clothes, will ya?”

A few feet away, her mother finished swallowing her boyfriend’s body. All tentacles seemed to fall dormant, and the skin that held them together bulged here and there, its insides slowing down their struggles until they came to a stop.

Three days, she thought as she lowered her tiny father into a sinkful of warm, soapy water. Three days until I own you completely, my beautiful sex toy. Three days.