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NIGHTMARE ALLEY

 

 

 

My name is Suzie and I live on Nine Mile Alley. I'm 35 and nothing has ever happened to me. My life is quiet and I expected it to be so for a very long time. But then I'm not the smartest apple in the cot, my mother says at times, and I'm often wrong.

 

………………………

Sunday

 

I’m staring at him in the silence of my kitchen. I’m really weirded out by this. Apart from the fact he’s about 4 inch tall, his body is perfectly proportioned. He’s very fit, lean muscles bulging under a tanned skin. He’s completely hairless, naked, and doesn’t smell very nice (I found him ten minutes ago in the spilled over mess of my toppled trash can)

 

I thought it was some kind of hairless rat mouse first and I’d brought down my foot on top of him but he’d jumped and I missed. When it stood on its hind legs, that gave me a fright and I’d leant closer to look at it. That’s when I realized it was a tiny tiny man.

 

I took him to my kitchen and set him there. He was struggling against my fingers, and I think maybe I was smothering him. When I set him no the table, he stayed there panting for a while. I was very nervous and excited. It was so strange. I poked him with my finger and he fell on the table. I kept poking him around to get a feel for him. He squirmed and tried to push me back. It was kind of fun. Finally I left him stand up. And now I’m staring at him.

 

“Hello?” I say.

He does not reply. He does open his mouth but only a weird squeaking sound comes out. Still, it looks like he is trying to say something. I bend down and bring my ear to him. But nope, the little guy just cannot speak. Disappointing. Still I keep looking at him, persuaded he is going to disappear into a puff of smoke. What the hell is he? A leprechaun? A dwarf? A robot? I take him by a leg and dangle him in front of my face. More squeaking ensues. But the more I look at him, the more I marvel at the incredible accuracy of his face, and body and ...works.

I get bored after a minute of dangling and anyway, I am hungry. I go to fetch me a piece of cold pizza. I give him a piece and he rushes on it and starts eating it ravenously. Man, that's why he was in my garbage a moment ago, I think to myself. He was trying to find some food!

I feel this really motherly feeling surge into me. He is so small, so defenceless. And here I am, giving him food, and a home. He is no longer a strange weird thing. He is under my responsibility. I have this urge to tap him slightly on the head. He looks at me funny. I think he’s pretty cute. And I nearly blush.

 

 

Monday

 

I have some difficulty concentrating at my cash desk today. I keep thinking about the little guy I found. When I left this morning, I went looking in the shoe box I had prepared for him. I arranged it with some fabric and a little thimble of water and a piece of pizza. It was strange to see him again. I thought he'd be gone. But he was there all right, looking at me. And gesturing a lot.

 

Last night I had a conversation with him. I spoke to him and it looked like he understood me. So I spoke and he answered with nods and gestures. Not the fastest way but hey, the guy can't speak. I asked him if he was human, and he nodded. I asked him if was born that way and he gestured no. I found out he had been so small for two weeks. I asked if he lived around here but he did not managed to answer properly. I kept prodding him with my finger, while we spoke, cos' it's so funny when he falls on his tiny ass.

 

I didn't ask too many questions, as it really was tiring to figure out what to ask. I still understood he used a shrinking machine of some kind. And then it was time for my show on the TV. I put him next to me on the sofa so he could watch with me. He kept shouting with his weird little voice, unhappy I was not paying enough attention to him and it was annoying cos' I wanted to watch the show. Eventually I put him in a tall glass I have, with a book on top of it. That shut him up. After the show, I sat there wondering what to do with the little man. I fondled him a lot, examining him (he has a cute little pecker). The heat he gives out is weird in my hands. He’s supple and his skin is very soft. But I didn’t get a chance to talk to him again, as Marilyn was coming for a cup of tea and game of cards. So I made the box for him, put him I there, closed the lid with an elastic band (the idea of him running free in the house in unsettling, I find), then I put the box in the cupboard and spent the evening with Marilyn. I was dying to show her what I found, but decided to wait a bit. Then I went to bed. (I'm a working woman, I need my beauty sleep)

 

 

I am all excited again as I come home today. I go into the kitchen where I keep the box . When I open it, the little man is protecting his tiny tiny little eyes from the light. He looks so cute. His body is really nice. I can see the muscles bulging and the washboard stomach he has. He must be so handsome at real size. It occurs to me I should be real nice with him, when he goes back to normal, he will be so cute to talk to. I take him out of the box. He is very agitated.

 

I take him for a tour of the house. Last nite had been interrupted by Marilyn’s visit, and all he knows is the inside of his box. I better be a better host. So I walk around with him in my hand. I'm a great housekeeper and everything is spotless. I'm always proud of my house. I showed him my bedroom, and it feels weird. I haven't shown my bedroom to a man since I was a teenager (my good looks are not so good, I 'm a bit chunky). He starts to be real agitated again, poking at my fingers. He keeps pointing at the computer. I've had this thing for a while, a present from my niece, she says I aught to learn how to use it. I know how to use it, well the basics at least. That really gets him excited though. So I switch it on and he jumps on the table and runs to the keyboard. He starts pushing the keys with his little arms. Letters appear on the screen. He’s talking to me!

 

Lieutenant Powers /Important you understand/Important mission/ Must help

 

That really gets to me. Lieutenant Powers. He is an army guy. No wonder he is so muscular and all. I look at him with renewed admiration. I ask him if he is a spy or something. He says yes!

 

Secret assignment / Government/ Must help me

 

Wow, this is unreal. A secret service agent! In my house! With a secret mission! And I can help him. This is the most exciting thing ever!

 

Ashcroft base /Secret facility / Shrinking project in danger / Traitor in research staff/ Must be stopped!

 

Okey, Okey, I am getting real emotional about this, now. A traitor in base Ashcroft. (I know the base, its' a marine training center, I never thought more was going on over there). Oh Lord, what should I do? Is this dangerous? The little guy has resumed typing.

 

Open mailbox please : New message

 

I am shaking as I do it for him. He writes a weird address and types in a really long code word. I don't know, it is full of figures and letters. Secret agent stuff! And we send the message.

For the first time, he smiles at me. He looks really happy and relieved. I am beside myself with excitement. This is a real adventure! So, I invite him to dinner and after we watch my show. This time he is very decent about it. I put him in the box carefully (that makes him less happy…), but leaving the lid off this time, out of courtesy, and I go to bed.

 

 

Tuesday

 

This morning I had breakfast with the little man. He’s so amazing to look at. I kept staring at him while he had a tiny bit of my toast. He looks so fit. But also his face is nearly perfect, smooth, and the baldness gives him the look of one of these wax mannequins you see in clothes shops. It’s very expressive, but I don’t know, it’s … impersonal. I asked him if this was his real face, and he gestured that no, it wasn’t. I guess the shrinking thing totally smoothed his face off. Still he’s really handsome… considering.

We had a look at the computer again. A reply had come back! Lost of digits and letters. Code again. Wow, they really use secret codes. I felt like the heroin of a movie. He sent some more code. That took him a while.

He then asked me the address here. That took me by surprise. My address? I wasn’t so excited any more. What if a couple ninja assassins came to murder us in our sleep? Messages can be intercepted. I saw that on “24 hours”. I hesitated.

“Oh my! Look at the time! I’m real late! Come on, we’ll finish this tonight.” I switched off the computer, took the little guy and put him back in his box. (He was really angry with that). I know this was a lame thing to do. But I got scared. I’m no heroin. At least I’ve bought me some time to think this through.

 

All day, I keep thinking about him. A secret service man is hiding in my house. Secret codes are being sent from my house for a secret mission. I keep making mistakes with the cash register and the floor manager gives me a warning. But I don’t care. I have a hero at home. I have an adventure. I just can’t stop thinking about the risks the tiny man must have taken to be out so far from the base, to survive the way he did. My heart is beating faster.

 

On my way home, I stop at the beauty parlour just up the street. I buy a really nice lipstick, and have a hair cut, just a refresher. “I have a man in my house” I keep thinking, as the girl fights with my straw-like hair.

 

On arriving home, first thing I do, instead of getting him out of the box, is rushing to my bedroom. I put some really nice underwear and my sexiest top and a pretty hugging pairs of pants. I am really excited, and I really want to look good for him. I put the lipstick on, check myself in the mirror, and then I go at last to take him out of the box.

 

He is really unhappy again, shouting at me with his little squeaks. I remember he has spent the entire day in the box and I never even thought of letting him free in the house before going to work. I blush and feel stupid. I apologize to him; tell him I was a bit scared and late for work etc…. His manners change and I can see he is willing to accept my apologies. I am so relieved.

He wants to go to the computer immediately, but I tell him we’ll have a nice cup of tea first. I pick him up (he’s incredibly light) and set him on the kitchen table. He looks annoyed again. I make some tea and I start to tell him about my work, and my friend Marilyn, and the floor manager, and sort of stuff. He keeps quiet, just nodding once in a while. I manage to stoop a few times over the table, so he can have a good look at me. I’m positive he actually stares at my new lipstick. I am making an impression! I even send my spoon flying “accidentally” on the floor. So I can stand up and bend down real low to pick it up, making sure my ass is passing an inch from his face. When I look at him again, he has a kind of embarrassed look on his face. I’m sure he looked at me! I ‘m so thrilled.

 

After an hour we go to the computer. More codes came through. He sends some more too. And then he asks me again for my name and address. I have a sudden cold sweat. I have told him plenty of things about me already. Was that wise? He does not know my full name yet. I give him the name of one of the characters on my show. He seems satisfied, and translates that in a complicated series of digits and letters. I do the same for the address, just giving him an address six blocks away. He smiles, looking real happy and grateful now. I love his smile. But still this business of his makes me nervous, and I change the topic of the conversation.

 

I ask him if he is married. He types that he is. That now, is a nasty shock. I mean, he’s already gorgeous now, what must he be looking like, full size? And I saved him. And now he has a wife to go back to. That does not seem fair. He tells me also he has two daughters, Britney, his daughter, is 17 and will soon go to college, and Alice, who is 16. That really breaks my heart. I switch off the computer abruptly and take him with me to watch my TV show. He is surprised by my change of mood I guess and very agitated. I think he wants to use the computer a bit longer. I sit him next to me during the show. He has a slightly worried look his face.

 

While the show goes on, I think things over and realize this kind of man always has a front life. But given his line of work, he must always be meeting girls and foreign women. I bet he cheats on his wife all the time. Even heroes do that too. That’s a comforting thought and it brings a smile to my face. During the show, I pretend to grab something on the far arm of the sofa, and that brings him in contact with the side of my ass. I nearly gasp, I swear. He goes sitting a bit further. But I inch my way closer to him during the last minutes of the show.

We have dinner and I tell him everything about my dreams and hopes and family. He nods all the time looking really interested. I keep my hand very close to him. It would be so precious if he could, like, touch it. But nothing happens.

 

That night I offer him to sleep next to me on the pillow in my bed. It’s far more comfortable than the box, I tell him. He gestures to the box, like it ‘s okey for him, but I tell him I can not have a guest sleeping in a box, and since there’s only one bed… I set him on the pillow with a napkin on top of him. He looks apprehensive, I don’t know why. And absolutely stunned when I come to bed at last , in this nice negligee I purchased 6 years ago. (Its’ pretty see-through stuff, he sure has an eye-full of me).

 

I find it real hard to fall asleep now.

“There’s a man in my bed.” I keep thinking. And not the usual geek that comes cruising for us at the supermarket. A real hero. A man of steel (he has admitted earlier having killed a man once during a mission) I can hear his tiny snore on the pillow next to my head. After two weeks in the wild, it must feel good to him to sleep on a nice fluffy cushion. My heart is beating fast, and I feet really hot. My very own James Bond. This really is sexy.

 

 

 

Wednesday

 

When I wake up, the little guy is still asleep on the pillow. He’s so close to my eyes, I have the illusion for a second that he’s almost my size and it nearly gives me a fright. I gently remove the napkin that covers him. He grumbles but does not seem to wake up. I come real close and scrutinize his little body. His body is picture perfect, toned, muscular, very manly. That’s when I realize his willy is fully erect! What a shock! I gasp and avert my eyes.

.

I look at him again. Yes definitely, a full erection. Oh my God, he must have been looking at me before I woke up! He’s only pretending to sleep! I dare not move. What should I do? Inside me, a fire I hadn’t known for years (since college, at least!) is suddenly burning down below. I haven’t been with a man for so long, and now a man actively desires me. I repeat the sentence over and over in my head. He’s desiring me. Why didn’t he say so last night?! Maybe he’s a shy sort of hero, and maybe my size intimidates him.

 

I bring my face slowly to his reclining body and press my lips against his face. He pretends to awake and fights my lips away, a totally confused look on his face. He retreats , sitting on the pillow and squeals at me. But I know his secret. I bring my finger nail to his willy, still in full flag, and winks at him. He looks down at his erection, looks at me. A strange expression comes on his perfect smooth face.

 

“Its’ all right, my hero, I understand”, as I tower over him, removing my negligee. He stares at my naked body with a comical look. I land another kiss on his face and torso, sinking him in the pillow. I feel my body burning. When my lips touch his member, I swear, I’m on the verge of fainting. It may be tiny, but it’s the real thing! I haven’t touched one for an eternity. I feel his little fists on my lips and nose. I devour his member in my kisses. Surges of pleasure and desire inundate my loins. I haven’t felt so horny for years. All the weird thoughts I had during the day just rush to the surface. I turn my little man on his belly and kiss him on the butt, the back, the head, the thighs.

“It’s all right, my love, I will give you satisfaction”, I purr.

I drag him by his feet from the pillow and onto the mattress. I lay down on top of him. I see him coming to his senses, and looking up at me. He’s just under my breasts, in the shadow of my body. He starts yelping something and I bury him under my heavy right breast. The mattress creaks a bit. He’s gasping for air so I lift my chest off him. Then I crush him deeper still with my left breast. Oh my God, I haven’t felt a man’s skin there for so long.

 

Turning on my back I lift him up, deposit a kiss on his face, and set him on my breast. As he attempts to stand up, he accidentally grabs my nipple with his tiny hand. I gasp. Oh my God. This felt so… I bring my hand onto him and push him gently against my nipple. I feel the length of his body gliding against my sensitive flesh. A wave of pleasure explodes from my breast and radiates into all my body. Oh my God. Oh my God. I press his tiny face into my nipple. (It’s hard and sensitive to the extreme now). It’s so delicious. I hear his little yelps. I want him to enjoy this it as much as I do. So I bring his little member to my lips again, and then to my nipple. Oddly enough, his erection is gone. That’s strange. I lick his entire body in a single stroke of my tongue, and apply him to my left nipple. Again the shock is so intense, I moan, and arch my entire body to resist the tension. I’m so alive with sensations.

I bring him to my face so he can look at his leisure into my eyes, and I hope he sees there all the love I am going to give him. For a few minutes, I gently apply his body all over my breasts, my belly, my neck, taking time to rub his face slowly over my nipples once in a while I’m beside myself with love and lust. I kiss him over and over, drowning his tiny screams in my hot lips. My right hand is gone below, and I feel a wetness there I had nearly forgotten.

“My man” I tell him, and put his body in my mouth. I hear his scream resounding weirdly inside my head (I must have scared him a bit there, poor little one), as I wrap my tongue around him, covering him nicely in slick saliva

As I bring him out at last, (I really could have sucked on him for hours) I watch him trying to get the saliva off his mouth and eyes. That makes me smile. He’s so fragile. So tiny. Yet he’s my hero. And he wishes to please me. I give him a big kiss and bring him down south.

 

I’m trembling. I haven’t spread my thighs for a man since Stanley Coleman, in my first (and only) college year. And now my man is an inch from my most intimate parts. I feel shudders and waves of pleasure running along my thighs already, making me twitch my toes in anticipation. I hear his little yelps as he comes closer to my inner self. The light contact of his little head on my clitoris is sending an electrical shock through out my body. I cry out, like I’ve never cried out. I feel the bed sheet under me getting soaked. I press his head against my clit again, very, very slowly. The same delicious shock is sending me in convulsion. I now dab his head, repeatedly against my burgeoning clit. I’m in heaven. I rub fiercely his body against it now; it’s so wonderful I keep rubbing, and rubbing and rubbing and rubbing.…

 

I cannot wait any longer. I press my lover against the engorged labia of my eager sex, fumbling to find the entrance to my private world. I feel his little fists striking my labia, and the sensitive flesh around. It’s soooo delightful. When I find the entrance of my vagina, with my trembling fingers, I begin to insert my love’s little head in the throbbing orifice. I shudder and roar on contact. I can actually feel his face sliding against the first folds of my vagina, as they open up to receive him. It’s a religious moment. He’s offering his little body to the hunger of my womanhood. I feel a surge of love for my little hero, as I sense his shoulders crossing the threshold. “Oh my love, my love!” I gasp. His torso is now well introduced, and I feel the pleasure increasing as he penetrates further. His little arms are well inside and I make sure to leave them free to explore my inner walls. I feel their light contact against the sensitive inner flesh. His convulsions inside me are wonderful… I gasp and moan as the little body get slowly engulfed in my flesh, sending rays of erotic sensations all over me. With a final gasp, I apply my finger on the little soles of his wildly trashing feet and push him fully inside. I’m in heaven. I’m dying, my hero is killing me. Nothing can be this good. I pinch my labia shut behind him and let my lover work me up to the imminent climax.

When the moment comes, I scream, I really do, as I let my vagina constricts my lover with all its loving force.

 

 

 

Of course, now I’m late for work, with all this. After relaxing for ten minutes, I take my hero out of my vagina. He’s seems to be spent and is sleeping again. It must have been exhausting to him. I put him on the pillow, and a quickly grab a shower and rush out to work.

 

 

The day is sluggish, I’m so under the spell our love making. Can’t think of anything else. My colleagues tell me I look radiant today. If they knew. Around 3pm, I cannot wait any longer and I manage to get the rest of the day off.

I get myself some lingerie in the mall, get some perfume. By the time I’m home, my heart is running a marathon.

I walk into the bedroom. My hero is nowhere to be found. I call him, making my voice as sexy as I can. “Yoohooo, my sweet loverman, where are you?” No answer. It’s odd. Where can he be. And then I notice it. The computer is on. I had it switched off last night. On the screen is the start of one of the little guy’s secret codes. I interrupted something obviously. Good thing I came home early today. I’m really upset and pissed off now. That can be dangerous for me, this type of little pranks. I search again around the room, with a very different tone of voice.

 

I find him under the commode; hidden in the shadow. When I grab him, he’s beating his fists against my fingers. “You’re in trouble, so you are” I tell him. I bring him to the computer and show him the screen, while I delete his message. “Bad”, I say. “Bad. Do you understand?”

I bring him to the kitchen and open the fridge. I leave him in the ice cubes compartment, close the fridge and go make some coffee. I’m disappointed.

 

After an hour, I begin to feel real bad about this. Maybe I over-reacted. I should be more lenient. I take him out of the fridge, and although he shouts at me, all cool and nearly blue, I give him a kiss. I decide to warm him up.

Its’ so delightful and fresh, I keep purring like a wild cat. It’s like eating an ice cream, … but…not with the mouth.

 

......................................................................................

 

 

Two week later

 

I’ve registered into a gym. I need to get in shape. I’ve seen a lot of my naked body these days, more than I usually do, and I do not like what I see. I owe it also my little lover. He’s tanned and fit. I should do an effort, I think.

My life is so much better. In two week, his presence has changed me. I feel more confident, more feminine. We make love at least three times a day. It’s so wonderful. My body has been given back to me, I feel.

 

I scrapped the computer. There was a message recently about [i]“Retrieval process failed / Additional data required”[/i]. That did it. I really don’t want anyone dangerous coming near my house. He will go and do his heroics away from my place, I decided. We talked a lot about it, (well technically I did, as he mostly nods and squeals, since the computer is gone) and that’s final.

Not that he could go anywhere of course. I place him in his box when I go and make sure it’s nice and closed, before putting it in a safe i purchased last week.

Last week, he actually cut his way out of the box, I still don’t see how that’s possible. But he did. I found him in the kitchen. He was on the verge of opening a ventilation grid at the bottom of the room. That made me really upset. I covered his little body in ketchup, put him in a bun, with some lettuce and pepper, and told him he’d been demoted to snack. I still hear the scream he made when I engulfed his head in my mouth. He passed out , out of fear I think. I still feel really bad about that. But hey, I’m also secretly proud. I made a secret agent pass out!.

His new box is a nice metal one I got especially from the mall, with a cute lock on it.

 

Last night was special. My little guy is so special, really. We were making love, and he was giving himself to me, and it was wonderful. But I suddenly got an idea. I went on all fours, and tried to get him to touch my “other” orifice. I’d read in the hairdresser’s, that more and more women try that. So why not me, since I’m officially a sexually active citizen now?

I gently pressed his little head against my anus. It was a weird and pleasant sensation. But it would not open. I remembered its’ all about relaxing, they say. So I set his face against my button and relaxed. And it worked! I was able to push his head through. (Oh boy, was he shouting then!) And that really aroused me, no end!!

But then I realised, as only his head was inside, that I could well suffocate him. So I took him out, and tried with his little feet first. But he was wild, very excited too and shouting. I could not get his feet inside. I got up and found some dental floss. When I came back he was not on the bed!

I found him under the bed, and then tied his little feet together. I went on all fours again. This time I applied his little feet to my anus and waited a few minutes so it relaxed. I was able to slowly insert him (It took more than 15 minutes from feet to head.) But my, it was so scrumptious a feeling!! When I finally pushed his little head inside, I was able to lie down on my back and take care of Mr Pussy at the same time as I felt his wondrous struggle deep inside my colon. It was heavenly!! I’m so glad we’re courageous enough to try these things! I’m so full of love for him! (I had to wash him thoroughly, though, after that.)

My life is changing. I feel it.

 

And not only mine. Tonight is special.

I’ve invited Marilyn for a cookie. I’m going to introduce her to my hero. Marilyn is my special friend. We’ve been together since we’re kids. Like me, she’s not a Barbie, and we struggled together in the cold environment school can be when you’re nothing special. After that, the sentimental and sexual desert that we were both crossing made us even better friends.

She lives just across the road, where, just like me, she’s been waiting all these years for Prince Charming.

 

 

Marilyn can’t stop fondling him as we chat and have a nice hot chocolate. She’s so impressed with him, I can tell. I do tell her to be careful, cos her pudgy fingers look real big next to his body. She smiles. And I can see she’d never hurt him. She’s already quite taken by his good looks and personality. We chat and laugh. I tell her about the things my hero and I do together and how wonderful he has been to me. I see the gleam of something in her eyes. I was waiting for that. Now we’re talking.

 

Marilyn eyes are all watery. And she actually needs to get her handkerchief. She’s standing at my door, on her way out. She gives me a real bear hug, with her large arms. She’s so happy, it warms my heart.

“Thanks you, Thank you so much, you really are my favourite person in the world”, she says with an emotional sob.

“Ah, don’t say that. It’s just what friends are for, Marilyn” and I feel my eyes water too!

“By the way, you’ve told me everything, but not his name.”, she says.

And now that’s odd. I just can’t remember what his name was. I always call him lover, or so. Damn.

“Well what name would be nice for him, you think?”

“Marilyn thinks this over for a second. “Max!, Max would be really cool!”

“So Max it is, sweetie. I really like it too. Now, stop chatting, go and enjoy yourself.”

I watch her as she goes across the road, a big mass of a woman, carrying the metal box to her nearby house. She will bring it back to me in the morning.

But tonight, there will be another happy woman on Nine Mile Alley.

 

 

....................................................................................................................

2 years later

 

 

I see Mrs Smithwood leaving the little bungalow at the back of my garden . She looks flushed and happy. I greet her in the kitchen. Her high heels clack merrily on the tiles. “Was it fine for you Mrs Smithwood?”

“Oh it was just lovely, as usual, Suzie”. “Here he is”, she adds as she gives me the box. I take it with a smile; inside an insistent scratching noise can be heard.

“Will you hold on for a second, please?”

“Of course”

I check inside the box, and satisfied all is well, I walk to the little waiting room I have prepared just at the entrance of the house. Mrs Berkefield is waiting and smiles when I come in.

“Hello, Mrs Berkefield! Hope you had a good day! Here it is. Enjoy.”

“Thank you so much” she says, taking the box from my hands. I watch her walking through the glass door and into the garden towards the little bungalow. I don’t like her much, she’s dry as a stick, old, bony and uppity, but she’s a good customer, who, for an added fee, has booked all the 8.30 pm slots on Tuesdays and Thursday for the next two months. Who am I to complain?

I go back to the kitchen to see Mrs Smithwood.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No thank you, it’s very kind but I have to go home early today”

“Of course”

She hands me the cash and I walk her through the garage exit.

When I come back , the little red light is shining outside the bungalow.

 

This is a business where privacy is very important, I always say. I have prepared the house so that two customers never have to see each other, as they arrive and depart via different routes in the house.

 

Mrs Berkefield is the one before last visit for the day. Since I receive customers from 8.30 am to 9.30 pm, in one-hour slots and since the day was fully booked, that makes her the thirteenth woman to walk into the little bungalow with the box under her arm today. The last customer of the day should arrive in about 40 minutes , I’m sure.

 

I really try hard to get organised on the time table. During the first six months, we only worked afternoons, but the success was such that we started morning slots as well, from 10.30am. Since renting out Max allowed me a steady home income, I have developed my education , studied management. It changed me. I’m far more articulated now than I ever was. I launched myself into proper bookkeeping.

That went on fine for a year. But the past six months, the demand increased and I have been forced to open earlier, at 8.00 or 8.30, and to finish really late too. That makes for a lot of visits. And timing is all important.

I have made it clear to my customers they need to be absolutely punctual or not come at all. (and I must say, in two years, I’ve never seen a customer be late or miss her slot.) So now, after a shaky start, and thanks to my strict bookkeeping and organized appointment system, I can ensure that Max is being used every single hour of the 14-hour daily shift, seven days a week, without any problems. (After 10.30 pm, the more relaxed night shift starts for him, as obviously either myself or Marilyn (or one of our friends) uses him then for our personal pleasure .)

I have also minimized the waiting time. When a customer has enjoyed Max and gives me the box back, I bring it straight away to the next one, before even cashing the exiting lady. By the time the satisfied lady departs, a glowing hue on her cheeks, Max is already busy inside the next one (in whichever body orifice suits her for the occasion). I’ve calculated that on average, less than two and a half minutes elapse between the moment a satisfied woman puts him back in his box and the moment eager feminine hands take him out again . With fourteen one-hour-long visits a day, that’s less only than half an hour per day of idle time inside his box, while the thirteen-and-a half remaining are fully spent attending to a woman’s pleasure. (i suspect there's no more than 15 minutes lag between his exit from a relaxing post-orgasmic vagina and his entry into a new throbbing one). I’m a genius!

 

The reason I ask them to bring the box back is that I want to see Max before I give him to the next lady. The conditions of use stipulate Max must be washed before being set back in his box. It’s only fair for the next customer and it saves me the task of having to go check on him every time in the bungalow. Max is handed to me, I check him, and I give him to the next lady. Easy as pie.

 

I watch my TV show while old Mrs Berkeley is having her way with Max. Shortly before the end of the program, I hear the bell and the last customer of the day is making herself at home in the waiting room. I have provided pictures of Max in there, along with a little booklet with tips and advice about using him. A Guest Notebook is also available, where the ladies can leave advice and comments. A lot of them write something in it. I find that if the ladies can be “warmed up” a bit, the faster the… introduction, and the lesser the risk of overtime.

 

In the bungalow itself, I provide a large assortment of items that can be useful. Creams for people who find insertion difficult (especially for the “other” orifice, I think), a little harness with its little gag and whip, clothing (Mrs Oberstorm likes to dress him as a girl I hear), tape, little ropes, a child poop container for the ones who like to pee or poop on him( this was a common request from the dominatrix among us), etc… But most women bring their own stuff really. Anyway, these items and their maintenance are of course included in the calculation of my fees.

 

Mrs Berkeley is coming out now, looking radiant in spite of her old age and gaunt looks. She’s holding the box in her hands.

“Did everything go to your satisfaction, Mrs Berkeley?” (Always be nice to customers, I say)

“As it always does, my dear. Max was absolutely raging tonight. It was delightful.”

“Glad to hear it. May I?”

“Oh. Yes of course.”

I take the box from her hands, and, on my way to the waiting room, do my routine check on Max. He looks angry all right, as usual, shaking his tiny fists at me. This is the sign of healthy toy, I think. (Being shrunk has really made him solid, I must say) And I close the box.

 

In the waiting room, a pretty young lady stands up, when she sees me. Her name is Britney Powers (that name for some reason, sounds familiar but I can’t for the love of me remember where I heard it) She‘s just 19 and started college in our town recently. She knows Marilyn 's niece. I sigh mentally. Why such a young and beautiful girl needs someone like Max is beyond me, but she’s by no mean the only young and good looking lady to visit us. She's already used Max two or three times before and was delighted each time.

“Good evening, Miss Powers, nice to see you again. Here you are. He‘s all yours.” A wail is clearly audible coming from the box. “Wow, he’s eager to meet you, young lady” I say with a smile.

“Thank you so much.” Her nice blue eyes flash with a lusty gleam. “I’m eager too!”

She trots happily to the bungalow. Her jeans are so tight, they hug her bottom and long legs like a skin. I find this a bit indecent.

 

I decide that when Mrs Powers finishes with Max, I’ll try and have a quicky myself before Marilyn comes and collects him (it’s her night tonight). Just thinking about his little body inside mine, makes it difficult for me to concentrate on my accounts just now. I might as well enjoy him.

The fact that the young lady’s moans of pleasure are now already audible in the stillness of the night does not help my concentration. I ought to tell her to be more discreet, and I definitely need to soundproof this room.

 

Young Miss Powers is back, her face positively beaming. It must have been a good session.

“Was everything fine, young lady?”

“It was …. Perfect!” she beams at me while handing me the box. Something tells me she tried something new tonight. I open the box and see Max panting inside, curled a little ball. His face is a white mask of shock. Hum. I wonder if seeing Miss Powers is good for him. A slight bite mark is visible on his back, but that’s not unusual. I look at her. She had indeed beautiful white teeth.

“You did not get too rough on him, now did you, Miss Powers?” I say with a smile. He looks…upset.”

“Oh, no, I promise you…. I was a bit kinkier than usual maybe. But nothing that would hurt him. He did seem about to faint again when we made eye contact. Just like the other times. I wonder if it is just me or…Do you think he does not like me?” She says with a worried look on her face.

“Don’t be silly, young lady. Max loves each and every one of his clients. I think its’ probably because you’re prettier than most of us”, I tell her with a reassuring smile (“Ah, men….” I add silently to myself).

“Besides he’s not fully used to you yet,” I add.

She laughs and leans towards the box “Well, you better get used to me, Max, ‘cos I just soooooo love the feel of you inside me!” she purrs at him.

“ I’ll contact you for another session soon, Mrs Suzie. Oh, and my sister also wants to call you , as soon she gets over her shyness. ” She adds merrily.

“Of course, no problem. Next week is fully booked, mornings to evenings. Call me for a session the week after, please”

“I definitely will, thanks again!

I watch her pensively as she’s searching for her money. Something about this girl seems to upset Max all right. Oh well. Putting the cash in the register, I look at my watch. God, I just about have the time. “Good bye, Miss Powers!”

“Good bye, Miss Suzie!” says the radiant girl. Another satisfied customer.

.

The door is hardly closed that I grab the box and rush to the bedroom. I undress quickly and open the box. I grab Max. I look at the clock on the table. I better hurry. Normally I speak to him about the day, I tell him gossip about the customers that used him during the day, or about the ones he will pleasure tomorrow, or just what I saw on TV. Customers often tell me he cries a lot in their hands. (that’s a turn on for most of them) But to me he’s always pushing these little screams. It’s so cute. We have a special connection, me and Max, and I treasure it.

 

But tonight I do not have time for this. His body is still wet from the rinsing Miss Powers gave him a minute ago. I take the cream and start spreading it on his body ( a cream recommended by Miss Steward, my next door neighbour, who had difficulties inserting him at first). Then I quickly put him in. His little screams redouble in intensity, and for a second, I can feel his little arms resisting the entry. But thanks to Mrs Stewards ‘s cream, he slips inside nice and easy, with a little squelching sound. I pinch my vagina closed and with my free hand I grab the glass dildo that Mrs Spencer suggested to me (She’s a 30 something be-spectacled librarian who apparently experiments quite a lot on Max these days and is not shy on sharing her insight. She recommended that trick). I insert the glass dildo in my vagina, pushing slowly Max till I feel him nice and curled up against my cervix. I remove the dildo. The wonderful sensations come from his little struggle to go back out of the vagina. Already, I feel the waves of pleasure coming up, and my loins are filling in with sweet cum. This is so delicious.

When Max gets close to the exit, all I have to do is to use the glass dildo to push him back to the cervix, and wait for him to try again. Tonight his struggle is unusually fierce, and I feel every movement of his arms and legs against my vaginal walls. The pleasure is mounting incredibly fast and I pant hard. I’m in Heaven.

I push him again as deep as I possibly can, but this time, I control his return towards the exit , by letting my inners walls pulsate on him rhythmically. (A technique described in the Notebook by young Miss Alteen, a yoga teacher) By the time a little hand begins to appear, wet and sticky, attempting to grab my labia, I have a superb orgasm, that sucks him right back in.

 

A minute later, I am washing him under the running faucet of the sink. A quick towelling and…

Ding Dong.

Damn that was good timing. Marilyn is already here for Max. I put him in the box. He looks at me with an intense gaze and shouts something. “Sorry, no time for a chat, Max,” I tell him, and I close the box and run down the stairs.

I open the door and Marilyn is there of course. “Hi Suzie, Oh boy, I had such a bad day today. Do you have him, please?”

“Of course! Do you wanna come in and have a cookie and tell me about it?” I say

“Sorry Suzie, honestly not tonight, I’m a bit in a rush” she tells me awkwardly..

“No worries, my sweet, here he is, forget about your bad day and have a lovely evening.”

Her eyes positively sparkle with relief when she takes a quick look at Max inside.

“Thanks a mil, Suzie, I really need this. Talk to you tomorrow”. And she takes off to the other side of the street.

 

I step outside and watch her now near-slim shape cross the road (like me she has lost a lot of weight thanks to him), carrying our precious Max, who is scratching the inside of his box. Yeah, he’s really agitated tonight, and it sounds as if Marilyn is carrying a struggling kitten. She’s about to enter her house, when I shout to her : “Marilyn! Don’t forget to feed him and to bring him back tomorrow 7.00 am sharp. He has a full day in front of him!” (“Not to mention that if you bring him early I can also give him a warm-up run before the first lady comes in”, I think to myself)

She nods and waves then disappears inside her home.

 

I hear her lock her door. I sit on my door step, take a cigarette and light it dreamily. I can see Marilyn’s bedroom lights come on already. Somehow I don’t think Max is going to sleep too much tonight.

I exhale on the cigarette and on a whim, my inner body still glowing from the pleasure Max gave me just ten minutes ago, I decide to go for a refreshing stroll. As I walk in the silent street under Marilyn’s slightly opened window, I hear tiny screams, suddenly interrupted by my friend’s first moans of pleasure. She sure was in a hurry.

 

I better go back to bed, I think, these long working days are killing me.

 

 

 

 

The morning after, 7 :24am

 

I fish Max out of my relaxing vagina. He’s a bit groggy, it seems. I know I should have told Marilyn to go easy on him last night. He’s bound to be sluggish today. But our customers know it may happen. They sometimes fit their fantasies to his moods too. Sometimes.

The cold water from the faucet wakes him up nicely. He starts crying, as he often does in the morning. I call that the “morning purge”.

I take a brief shower myself.

 

All relaxed and awake, I bring Max to the desk and open the ledger.

 

“Oh, look, you start today with Miss Yuan, that’s nice. She’s very pretty isn’t she?” He barks something back at me, and lies down on the wooden desk.

“Mmmm, oh, and you get to see Mrs Lyndon at 3.00 pm. Her husband must really be lousy. That’s the third time you’ll be pleasuring her in a week”

“At 18.30, you’ll have a new one, Max. Oh my, she’s young, just about twenty-one. “Mmmmm …..Miss Stintman. Oh, that would Mrs Helfsky's young niece. She told me her niece was dying to try you out. A young one will be nice for you today but don’t get too excited now , it's not before tonight, my darling.”

He screams something at me, and kicks away the pen next him. I can see the shower has put him in a playful mood again. I set him in his box with a kiss. The box starts rattling. He’s full of energy .

I go and pour myself a cup of coffee and drink it while I dust the waiting room.

The first lady will be here shortly.

 

Ding Dong

 

I go to meet Miss Yuan. She’s a nice person, an aesthetician from downtown. She really has beautiful long black hair. Her lovely slanted eyes are shy and deep.

“How are you today, Miss Yuan?

“Very well, thank you. The day looks really promising I think.” She replies with a shy smile.

“Here is our little darling, enjoy him” I say, giving her the box.

 

Yes, she’s right, I think dreamily, as I watch the petite Miss Yuan carry Max to the bungalow.

The day looks promising indeed.

I go back to my study, and start organizing the future appointments. Its' so nice to be able to work at home. I check the files for due payments and credit options I may have offered. Next week, I will start a long-overdue coupon system, to ensure customer loyalty.

Times flies when work is enjoyable.

40 minutes have passed already. Miss Yuan must be in full bloom now, and Max nicely tucked in in oozy darkness I'm sure.

 

I hear the next woman already entering the waiting room.

 

Oh my, are they all eager! Some are even addicted, I'd say, judging by the increasing rate of their visits. But no wonder, Max is the best thing that ever happened to the women of Nine Miles Alley.

 

 

 

End Part One

 

 

 

NIGHTMARE ALLEY, by nostromo

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