Five Go Mad On Lisa - Part 1
Cardboard box under my bed.
You remember.
Every girl should have one.
Cardboard box in my study.
Cardboard box on my desk.
Twang!
Elastic band flies across the room,
leaving the lid free to open.
I always feel the same anticipation,
excitement,
longing,
as I remove the lid.
Fourteen tiny faces shield their eyes from the
light.
Fourteen tiny faces look up at me and smile.
Gently tipping,
the fourteen tiny men no bigger than my thumb,
scamper from the box.
Across the desk.
Tiny naked feet running across polished wood.
A small classroom greets them.
A scale model on my desk.
Benches and desks made from lollipop sticks,
and matches, and glue.
They all find a place and are seated.
They chatter.
They joke.
They pay attention,
as I lean forward to sit on my chair.
A low cut jumper always does the trick.
Registration commences.
I give them all a number.
MaXx, BritBoy, Mightymouse, b.t.little, Octavian,
Antman,
Little Larry, Battlepuppet, Number 10.
Number 10 protests.
"I am not a number!" He says.
"Oh hang on a minute, I am aren’t I. Sorry."
Orion2000, Dagart, Seebee, Justin Blade and ISM.
Two missing.
"Where’s Mikeman and Jay?"
"You swapped them for BritBoy,"
came the reply.
I smile.
"Oh yes, I remember now."
Two for the price of one.
Well worth it.
On each desk.
A tiny piece of paper.
A tiny piece of graphite.
For my tiny little men.
A test!
A groan.
"Not another test,"
my tiny men complain.
"Aaaah but the five winners will get their own
little boxes."
Silence.
Attentive.
"And the chance to compete for something much
more."
General commotion breaks out.
"What? How? Where?"
I tip them a wink.
"You’ll find out in good time."
Three questions.
Well, two really.
And a tie breaker.
How old am I?
What star sign am I?
And the tie breaker.
What’s my favourite drink?
I’ll give you a clue.
It’s a lager and it’s not English.
Scribble. Scribble.
Time up.
I collect the papers.
ZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Snoring.
Someone’s fallen asleep in class.
Twelve tiny heads turn and look at MaXx.
Head on the desk.
Fast asleep.
And then at BritBoy.
Head on the desk.
Fast asleep too.
Aaaww, I coo.
How sweet.
They’re quite exhausted,
the poor little things.
I take MaXx in my left hand
and BritBoy in my right.
I slide them down under my jumper.
A quick adjustment.
One on the left.
One on the right.
Sweet dreams boys.
I look up to see,
twelve tiny men all feigning sleep.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Sorry boys, but two’s enough for now.
A general sulk is thrown in my direction.
The test papers are marked.
Mmmmmh?
There’s been some cheating, that’s for sure.
I pick up Justin Blade in my hand.
"Did you copy Dagart?"
I ask, with menace in my voice.
"Yes Lisa," squeaks Justin.
He gets quite a shock,
when I drop him into my glass of ice cold water.
Then pick him out and warm him in my hand.
Cheats never prosper.
Back into the cardboard box he goes.
I scoop the losers up in my hands.
Back into the cardboard box they go.
Murmer murmer.
Complain, complain.
Don’t worry my little men,
they’ll be other opportunities in the future.
I scoop MaXx and BritBoy from my person.
Back into the cardboard box they go.
Tiny fists pound on cardboard.
The lid is replaced.
The elastic band once again securing,
my fantasies and dreams.
I stand up, the box tucked under my arm.
Looking down on the winners.
Five lucky guys.
For one lucky lass.
I close my eyes.
Migraine.
Blinding headache heading in my general
direction.
I sit back down.
Suddenly there’s a puff of smoke.
Flash.
Bang.
Wallop.
What a picture.
A tiny wizard appears on my desk.
"Good evening dear Lady,"
"Good evening Sir,"
I reply.
"I am Merlin of Camelot,"
"Do you like to eat spam a lot,"
"No, but I get to push the pram a lot,"
How Pythonesque.
My headache gets worse.
Merlin notices my pain.
"I can help you my dear lady,"
Five tiny faces look at Merlin
and then back up at me.
"Help Lady Lisa,"
they chorus.
"Please help her,"
they chant.
"There’s only one cure,"
he says quite sincerely.
"What is it?"
I wince, as my headache takes hold.
"You have to swallow me whole,"
I look a little bit shocked.
"Won’t that hurt you?"
I ask, quite concerned.
"Not at all. I have magical powers,"
he said confidently.
"and a magic cape."
I looked at my five tiny men
and then back at Merlin from Camelot.
"Do it Lisa,"
they chant.
Well there’s nothing quite like,
a splitting headache to dampen ones ardour.
"Okay I’ll do it, for my five tiny men."
I take Merlin of Camelot between my finger and
thumb.
With a tug here,
and a tug there.
He is naked.
He is mine.
I place him on my tongue.
Salty.
I close my mouth.
Dark.
Cavernous.
Moist.
I look down at my five tiny men and smile.
They wave back at me,
jumping up and down,
desperate for my attention.
I can feel Merlin squirming on my tongue.
It tingles and is not at all unpleasant.
Exciting actually.
A gulp of icy cold water.
I roll him around my tongue.
Under it.
Over it.
Enveloping him.
Another drink of water.
Droplets trickle down the side of my mouth.
A mini waterfall that drenches my five tiny men
below.
Swallow.
A most strange experience.
My headache clears straight away.
Certainly, he is a man of his word.
I push to the back of my mind,
how he will finally escape from my body.
I look down at my five tiny men.
They look quite concerned.
"The cape, the cape,"
they yell.
"He has no powers without his cape!"
"Oh no!"
I shout, as I quickly swallow the cape,
in hope he will find it before he gives me
indigestion.
Now it is time.
I pick up the five and place them in my cleavage.
A heaving heavenly haven,
for my five tiny men.
I love the way they tickle.
A goosebump delight of sensual fixation.
I look down at them and wink.
"Are you ready?" I whisper.
I call out their names, one by one.
"Are you ready"
5 Go Mad On Lisa - Part 2
Five tiny men.
Five tiny men.
Pay homage to my toes.
Not in worship.
But in knowing this is the starting line
I feel a hundred feet tall.
A red haired Giantess with the world at my feet.
Are you ready?
ISM, Dagart and Orion2000.
Are you ready?
Number 10 and Seebee.
Are you ready?
Are you?
Eager faces stare up at me.
Anticipation.
Razor sharp.
The usual rules apply.
First one to my mouth,
to plant a kiss,
to be kissed by sensitive lips.
Wins.
I sit back with my legs on the couch,
to watch the proceedings.
To watch five tiny men.
Naked.
Excited.
Race across my body.
A shiver of excitement nose dives down my spine.
To feel five tiny men,
crawl through the holes I cut in the feet of my
stockings.
Black silk.
Smooth.
Sensual.
To feel five tiny men,
crawl naked along my legs.
Long legs.
Legs that stretch into the horizon and back.
Five tiny men pressed tight against my skin by
black silk.
Wriggling their way up to their final goal.
Only four of the five reach my knees.
I smile at Orion2000,
trapped between my second and biggest toe.
Snagged in stocking,
like a soldier on barbed wire.
The game so evenly balanced.
Two heroes on my left thigh.
Two heroes on my right.
Four black stockinged outlines,
crawl slowly along my legs.
So dark now.
Under my skirt.
Tight.
Black.
Disgustingly short.
Too dark for one it seems.
A slip.
A cry.
He slides down the inside of my thigh.
A downhill skier out of control.
Trapped in chasm so deep.
Another brave soldier snagged upon the wire.
I reach between my legs.
And slide Dagart from my person.
I place him in a jar.
A companion for my Antman who asked to watch you
know.
A miniature glass prison,
with punctured screwtop lid.
Voyeurs now.
Three tiny men emerge from my stockings.
Scrambling across black underwear.
Hidden by a black canopy,
that is my skirt.
Up to my waist.
Squeeeeeeze.
Into the open for a second,
before diving under my top.
The final assault.
My Gallapolli.
I laugh.
I giggle.
They tickle so much.
Over my stomach and up to my ribs.
Steps to aid their progress.
I laugh again.
An earthquake for my tiny men.
One goes tumbling.
Over the side.
Sliding down the inside of my top,
and onto the couch.
I gently pick up Seebee.
Three tiny men,
in a glass jar.
Two tiny men tracking through
the valley of my breasts.
Neck and neck.
Until one of them decides to explore.
The hilltops and the peaks.
He’s heard good things about this place.
A place where little men sleep,
to the beating of my heart.
To slide beneath a black silky sheet,
edged with intricate lace and design.
To rest his tired body.
His pillow dark pink, and soft at first,
soon hardens beneath his head.
So one man emerges from between my breasts.
With Sir Edmund Hilary efficiency,
he scales the base of my neck.
Climbs my long red hair.
To swing like a miniature Tarzan,
before my mouth.
I suck him in as he swings by.
Hold him on my tongue.
He’ll never receive a bigger kiss than that.
I gently remove him from my mouth,
and hold him to my lips.
Looking down at my chest I bid a fond goodnight,
to my Braveheart ISM.
Holding Number 10 between finger and thumb,
I slowly kiss him again.
THE END