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

Nightmare Alley  : Bonus chapter ... and a different view.

I wake up in the dark. The rocking motion is making me sway on the flour of my jail. (It's a soft material that surrounds me. I cannot hurt myself against it) I hear the loud thuds of the  heavy feet on the floor. A door is opened. I try to get my bearing in the darkness. I'm still half asleep. I dreamt of my family and another life I had. I was still a man, I still had a life. How will it start today? She fed me last night, so I know there won't be any breakfast now.
Is she the one to start the day? Is she going to treat herself with a quickie? Or is she bringing me  straight to the first customer? I never know. i'm still sore from a horror night with Marilyn.
“How are you today, Miss Spencer? That's' Suzie's voice of course.
“Very well, thank you. It's a lovely morning.”
“It is, isn't it? Well, here is our little friend! Enjoy him!”
“Thank you so much!”
“My pleasure!”
I feel the rocking motion accentuates ,as the box is passed from her hands into Miss Spencer's hands. Miss  Spencer. What a damn rotten way to start.

I feel the lurch of her walking, then the glass door is sliding aside. Outdoors noises come up. Birds, cars passing by. Laughters of children going to school. The lurching motion continues. I don't need to see anyhting, it's a clear scene for me in my mind. Strange, I know every inch of Miss Spencer,(she's a regular), but I've never seen the garden she walks in.  The door of the bungalow opens and closes. I feel the hard thud, as my box is set on the table near the bed (unless it is the low table at the centre of the room?)
Then a near silence. The creaking of a chair, as Mrs Spencer is settling on it. Two loud bumps. Her shoes, falling on the floor. A rustling of clothes. i'm so tired. if only I could sleep one more hour. Naked feet are coming in my direction. Oh God, it's starting now. I'm so tired.

The lid of the box opens above me. Light pours in, blinding me for a second. When I can focus again, I see Miss Spencer's huge face hovering above. Her brown eyes are smiling at me, with a greedy sparkle in them. Fuck this. I'd like to start my way: giving her the finger. But before I can  do it, large fingers fall into the box, blotting out the light. They  press on my sides and I am lifted out of the velvet interior.
“My little darling...” I hear, before enormous rosy lips come rushing towards me, and smother me in their huge kiss.  I throw a punch at the lower lip. But she hardly feels it of course. My stomach lurches, when I'm dropped tens of feet, to the level of her massive naked hip. Above me, I can see the heavy breasts, like fallen hills, ready to slide off the giant cliff of her belly.

The vast plain of the bed is rushing to me. In two steps , we're on it. The mattress creaks under Miss Spencer's weight. I hear her purring, like a hungry T- Rex. I'm brought to her lips again. This time they open to let loose an enormous tongue,wet and slithering, that licks my entire body. I feel the warmth of her tongue and breath. It still smells of coffee and god knows what else. Good thing there was no breakfast.

She sets me on the mattress next to her giant hip, as she gathers her hair in a knot. She's about forty I'd say, pretty slim and has a gentle face . Or at least she probably has, co's now the way she looks at me, it sure takes all seduction away. She wants me. And she's gonna have me. They all have me, the way they want, the way they like it. Hell, i'm here for their pleasure, to be used in any way they wish.  I feel so weak next to her giant body. She could crush me like a bug. She weights thousands of times my weight, a mountain of flesh to me. Her huge hand is grabbing me and she brings me to her face.
“Do you like me , Max?” Do I look pretty  to  you?”
“Go to hell, bitch!! I yell, at the top of my lungs. “Aaooooaoiiiiuu” is what she hears. I've no control of my vocal chords,. Never had since the shrinking. One of these glitches of the "process".
“Well, thank you so much, Max. I love you too.”
And saying that, she starts rubbing me on her nipple. It hurts a bit, this contact. It's too strong, it rubs my skin like sand paper. It will get better in the day, I know. As she proceeds, i see her tongue passing on her lips. She takes me to the other nipple.
We play like this for ten minutes, as she touches herself down below . She's starting to purr more and more, and I hear her breathing change. It won't be long now, any minute and I'm in.

I am right of course. The next second, the plain of her belly flashes past my eyes. I fly over the badly trimmed bush and I dive in the deep valley between the mountains of her thighs. Far in the distance, huge feet are visible, their enormous toes twitching in pleasure. A stop,   a violent spin and I'm orientated just the way she needs me.  I know all this, I've been there so often. But the thought of it sickens me every time. So I scream, as always, as my head comes in contact with the wet rosy throbbing folds of her vaginal entrance, and the smell of  her juices permeates my very breathing. A second later I start my slow entry into the oozy darkness, feeling the soft flesh clinging to my face and shoulders. I try and be careful that the motion does not break my arms or dislocat my shoulders. A big rumble shakes the vast body I'm entering: she' starting to moan.

I'm slightly claustrophobic. I was diagnosed so by the army. But it was deemed a minor disadvantage to them, as my qualifications were too interesting for them to pass. They promised me they'd never put me in a situation where that could come into play. And they never did. Now  I spend most of my life in tunnels of  flesh, in palpitating tombs of living tissues, oozing a perpetual flood of viscous goo.  No matter how many times I've been there, I always panic. My heartbeat increases in rate, my breathing becomes laboured. I try to get out . I just want to get out. I fight  the huge finger behind me that is trying to push me deeper an deeper. I fight the slow inching into the darkness. I usually panic when i get to touch the viscous wall of the cervix. That's it . I'm touching it. I feel the famliar tingle of fear invading my thoughts. The finger disappears, as  I start fumbling into a growing pool of juice, trying to not let go of my sense of direction. Above me, loud gurgling sounds come up. Miss Spencer is digesting her breakfast. I feel the monstrous intestines and internal organs weigh upon my shoulders. Her moans are like distant thunder.  The giant world of flesh is trembling around me. The walls are pulsating with increased vigour.
I start crawling back to where I think is the exit of the hot tunnel. I need air.

Miss Spencer is rising her hips. I feel it, the slope is changing. She's  discovered that by doing so, she makes it more difficult for me to come out, and my little feet beating against her cervix is driving her wild, no doubt. The walls hug me tight for a second, taking my breath away.
I fight still further . I have to get out. I want out. I don't want to die inside this bitch. I don't wanna  go  like this, a little corpse in a giant vagina, who's last dying effort was bringing joy to her. As I near the exit, I see some light coming throughthe rosy curtains of flesh. At the same time, a shadow appears, as the enormous finger ploughs its way inside, catches me on the face and starts pushing me back. I beat my little fist in vain against it.

I fight for  ever  in there. That why I hate Miss Spencer. She has no imagination. Just puts me into her and keeps me inside the entire session. One day she'll suffocate me in there I know that. The finger relents. I start crawling my way out again, as the walls come and hug me every second of the way. I swallow buckets of her juices, but I won't die in here.  I fight my way out. Again and again. It goes on for an eternity.

The walls come buckling around me, the tremor is unbelievable. The soft ground turns to rock, as she climaxes and a loud thunderous noise explodes outside, drowning even my own scream.

When  I crawl out, to fall between her thighs, on the wet sheet, I'm half-dead. The cliff of her sex is above me, dripping, the ugly distended labia drooping wetly  in my direction. The quivering mass of her thighs is still registering the earthquake of the orgasm. I hear the loud breathing from afar. Oh God.

A huge hand appears above and grabs me. I travel fast above the relaxed body, to be greeted by a wet kiss. “Oh Max, oh Max. This was so great.”  I bark at her. What else can i do? I give her the finger. But she take my fist in her lips and sucks on it. She sets me on the mattress, as she rises like a mount Everest above me and start getting up. I feel the ground shake as it comes back to the  horizontal , when the vast body lifts up at last. She's quickly dressed up again. She doesn't shower here, as she lives next door. Her huge form looms above the bed and she takes me to the sink. She runs cold water from the faucet and I gasp as it hits me like a icey waterfall. She applies some soap on my body, manipulating me like a doll, turning me in all directions, making me dizzy.

“All done and tidy, little one” she says as a vast towel engulfs me. I feel the rough pressure of her fingers all over me. She nearly breaks my neck. i'm set on the table as she changes the bed sheet. When she's done, she grabs me again, as she would her brush. The box is coming in my direction. I see the dark interior, with it velvety walls, the little can for my personal needs, the crumbs from the last diner, all rushing to me. I'm set into it,and she closes the lid, without even saying goodbye. I sigh with relief in the familiar darkness. The first one is the hardest. The little clock in my head has started. Two minutes rest, may be three. I breathe. No matter what, I will survive this.
We're back outside.  I hear a police siren pass by in the distance. I always hope they will stop here, but in two years they never even came close to the place. The kitchen door opens.

“You had a nice session, I hope, Miss Spencer? Comes Suzie's' voice.
“Oh it was lovely as usual, thank you.! Will put a bounce in my step for the rest of the day! Here he is.”
More motion as the box changes hands. I leave Miss Spencer, who is going to go back home and have a nice bath. By the time she enters the water, i'll be buried alive inside a woman, fighting the same fight. By the time she comes out of her bath, feeling relaxed an fullfilled, i'll be inside an other one. No cup of tea for me.
“I'll be back in a second” . The heavy steps on the tiles, the opening of the door leading to the corridor. The door to the waiting room. I pay attention, I want to know who it is now. Not that it changes anything.
“Hello, now, Mrs Stevens! I hope you're well. Here it is . Please, make yourself at home and enjoy him.”
“Thank you so much, I will surely! Talk to you in an hour.”
The motion starts against, I think she's wearing high heels. Mrs Steven usually does. The glass door slides open. A dog is barking in the next door garden.  I know its name and full history. I know everything about this fucking neighbourhood. Suzie spares me no details of their sordid little lives. The door of the bungalow. High heels all right on the wooden floor. The thump on the table as the motion stops. I brace myself. A few more seconds. I try and imagine the sea, instead the face of my wife comes into my mind. I feel a pang of infinite sadness.
The soft creaking of the mattress. The loud bumps of the shoes. A rustling of clothes falling to the floor. The fight with the bra's opening. The sigh. Naked feet coming towards me. A few seconds left. I inhale deeply.

The lids open. This time I'm not blinded as much. Mrs Stevens' face is my only sky. A pretty face, young, maybe 29, 30, short black hair, tanned skin. The huge fingers slide  like giants snakes into the box and coil around my body. I'm lifted into the light.

Ten minutes later, Mrs Stevens is moaning , after a short foreplay under her looming ass and a bout of crushing, as  she's inserting me feet first into her dripping hole.  I feel my feet encased in the warm squelchy  and squeezing softness of her vagina. I watch as the complex rosy folds of her sex and the large wrist above it are becoming  my only horizon. My shoulders touch the wet flesh and now I feel the finger pad on my head, as it gives me the final push  and a roar of ten thousands engines comes from somewhere in the far distance. I scream for good measure. Slurp. I'm inside her wet pussy, my fingers straining against the oozy walls to stop the push deeper...

After two minutes inside, fighting against the brutal assault of her inner walls. I'm dragged out , (by the head!) into light again. Mrs Stevens is panting hard. She's lifting me above  her naked body, looking at me with enamoured eyes. I see her mouth water, and , as it opens wide, she shoves me in the rosy cavern. My head bumps into her uvula. She starts sucking on me, real hard. My lungs keep exploding every second. My knees are hurting on the sharp front teeth. She keep sucking the shit out of me. Her moans come as loud avalanches of noise from the nearby throat.

I'm out again, just in time to receive her loud cry in my ears. A blur of flesh and my head is pressed into her nipple. I feel the hardness of it. She's well on her way. The saliva leaves my face to stick to the nipple, allowing me some breathing. After two minutes, I'm pushed face first into the burgeoning clit. I can hardly breath, as my neck twist against the brute force of the rubbing. The flesh is hot and hard. My  eyesight is so blurred, I prefer to close my eyes.

The next second I feel the gooey stickiness of her folds against my face , as she inserts me head first deep into herself. But she's a keeper. That means she does not let go of me. She starts dragging me in and out, in and out. I feel the warmth of her sliding flesh against my body turning hotter and hotter. The motion is going so fast, my stomach does not know whether to stick to my feet or settle in my throat. I'm getting short of air. I swallowed some cum, and it makes me gag. The wet squelshing sound is all I know of the world. The final push comes, and I feel the rugged finger prints on the soles of my feet as I fully penetrate the hot darkness. The labia closely shut behind me with a light slurp, shutting out the light. I struggles in the palpitating tunnels, alive with vast vibrations that run along its walls. A few minutes later, the same walls turn hard and constrict me like a vice. A huge shout explodes somewhere high within the vast body.

When I'm dragged out, she sets me directly on her belly, and we stay like this, my little body resting on her huge abdomen, panting for a minute or two. Well, both of us have a reason to. Gurgles and digestive noises come from under me.
Suddenly, a bipping noise invades the silence of the room. Oh Lord, she has me on a timer, like a fucking boiled egg.  She quickly gets up, nearly crushing me in the process under her right thigh, as it rolls over me like a tsunami of flesh and sinks me into the mattress. She stands up and starts dressing up. Well, no shower today for her either apparently. She brings me to the sink. This time, the water is set to warm. Her long fingers actually massage me while she lathes my body in soap and rinse me thoroughly. Thanks, sweetie. This actually felt good for a change.

Sheets are changed. The box comes into view. When she sets me in it, she lets her finger tip on my head for a second. I'm a good pet. I punch it and she smiles. The lid closes. I wait for the lifting motion, in my usual darkness. I try not to think ahead. In less than three minutes, other fingers will take me out of this box, and everything will start again, as it does, always, fifteen to twenty times a day. I try to remain calm, try to catch a memory or two. Anything to change the scenery. Too late, the uplift motion has started. Two to three minutes...
The bungalow doors bangs gently behind us (I think it has a spring), and the box sways gently. I put my back to the wall, use my little towel to dry my face.
I hear a mockingbird. High heels in the garden lawn. Not good for the lawn. The kitchen doors opens.
“So, Mrs Stevens, everything OK?”
“I'm very pleased, as always, thank you, miss Suzie.” Changing of hands, I'm thrown to the floor.
“I'm' glad to hear that. Hold on a second will you?” the lid opens for a sec as Suzie is checking me out. The darkness again. The waiting room door opens.
“Good day, Miss Yang! Here is it is. Enjoy please! The box is changing hands.
“Thank you miss Suzie” I feel the sudden drop as the Asian woman gives a little bow. I don't know her. In one minute, I'll know everything about her.
The glass door opens. Two neighbours are discussing somewhere on the side walk. I tried calling plenty of time. In vain. I'm a squirrel in its cage. The bungalow door opens. The sudden thud as all motion stop. I breathe heavy, trying to calm my heart. A few seconds left. An image of my family and of our house flashes past in my mind.

The two dull bumps of the falling shoes. I hear a long zipper being undone. A rustling of fabric falling on the floor. The very faint  noise of silk tights along thighs. Naked feet on the wooden floor. I inhale my despair deeply. Two years. It will never stop. Three, two, one...

The lid opens, and I don't even blink. A beautiful Asian pale face is hovering above me, looking at me with surprise. I start waving my hands at it, and I shout all I can. She's new, she can hear me. She can realize what's going on here. Please hear me, please. The deep slanted eyes scrutinize me. I wave, please see me for what I am, please! A long black painted fingernail is prodding my torso, making me fall on the velvet ground. A light but sonorous giggle follows.  Giant fingers grab me and lift me out. She brings me to her face. As I look into the slanted eyes, I realize she's seeing what she needs. I'm not even disapointed any more, she's just not the one. I'm fascinated by the intense red lipstick she wears. Her eyeslashes seem longer than my forearms. Underneath me, a vast pale landscape of flesh starts its walking motion. She has a slim and beautiful body, statuesque and yet sensual. I see her well trimmed jet black bush. I know I will be there soon enough. For the first time today, I feel an erection tingling below. This one may not be too bad.
...........................

Oh fuck this, no!! I scream my throat raw, as the muscular ring of her anus is slowly opening to the contact of my lubricated head.

Tbc?

nostromo

NIGHTMARE ALLEY   Part III

As I walk home I meet Mrs Hollings from down the street. I give her a smile and a quick nod. I can see her blushing and smiling at me. I know where she comes from.
I hardly ever talk to my customers whenever I meet them in the street. I guess the business demands a modicum of  discretion. Although I have made many a good friend thanks to Max, ( and I used to be such a recluse) , it is important to avoid too much familiarity in the open. I cannot see why would anyone object to this lovely and healthy activity, but you know, it’s better to keep things simple.
My self-image has really improved over the past three years. I used to let myself go, let myself be totally disparaged by my looks and prospects. Damn, I was so resigned to live a stupid life, I did not even know it was a stupid life. A silly cow wasting her life in front of the telly, that was me and no mistake.
Max has changed all this. I can see men glancing at me now. I have gained in confidence and allure. Every part of me is alive with joy and energy these days. In a way, Max is acting like a rejuvenating ointment , and I confess that even when I’m not using him, I often find myself holding him while watching my TV show, and stroking his little body against my neck or my belly or my thighs, like a talisman. (I usually gag him then, otherwise he keeps expressing his joy and I can’t concentrate on the show or the sensations)  His presence is simply so soothing.

She holds me so tight I can hardly breathe. The warmth of her fingers, of her gigantic body that lies all around me is making me sweat profusely, even though I thought I hadn’t a gram of water left in me after the last customer. Her enormous index finger goes on to the back of my head and she presses my face against the monstrous clit. The rosy  flesh is even hotter and I would nearly feel burnt if I wasn’t fighting so hard to get a gulp of air between the strokes. My body is already covered in the juices that oozs through the vast complex labia. Any minute now and she will ….

I can see Mrs Petersen entering my house on the other of the street. She enters through the main door, after having rung the bell. The little ad on the door says “Astrological counselling – Appointments only”. This is simple enough to keep over-curious people away and to explain the comings and goings. One needs to be cautious, I may expand the blessing of the “Max experience” as we call it among ourselves now, but I’m in no hurry. I still wish to keep us out of the real world, to protect our intimacy. I know Max would not like me to loose the special bond we have by diluting it too much with other women.

I’m exhausted, lying like drowning fish on the vast belly. The fleshy ground is still rocking from the after effects of her orgasm. My head is pressed against her tummy and enormous gurgles can be heard beneath the hot skin. A large finger is stroking my back. She’s happy with me. They all are. I brace myself for the coming ordeal under the cold water faucet….

I walk in to find Miss Affords leaving the place. Her cheeks are still slightly flushed. She looks so relaxed and happy. I nod a polite goodbye to her. In the kitchen I find  Marilyn just about to start a pot of coffee. She smiles at me and nods towards the window. I turn my head to see Mrs Petersen walking on the lawn to the bungalow, Max’s box under her arm. She was just in time. Good, I don’t like it when Max stays unused for too long. He may grow restless in the darkness of the box.
As we chat, Marilyn and I, a nice cup of coffee in our hands, my mind keeps coming back to Mrs Petersen and what she’s doing with Max. I feel a pang of jealousy for a brief second. He’s probably exploring her inner sanctum as we speak. She’s probably already quite worked up from the pleasure he’s giving her. Somehow, at times, that disturbs me, even though I know they will never know each other as we do, Max and I. I chase away these dark thoughts.

The vast body is throwing its shadow over me, as I run away, struggling in the deep carpet. Anything to gain a minute or two away from all the flesh, all the heat. A resounding giggle explodes way above my head. I look up to see her down-turned face smiling at me as she goes on all fours, delighted with my stupid flight. A river of dark hair is falling towards me. I keep running towards the underside of the bed. A gust of hot breath is suddenly blowing on me. The next second I’m projected on the carpet by the heavy contact of something wet and grainy in my back. She licked me off my feet. I can see the vast and dark area under the bed. I know I won’t make it. Two fingers settle on both sides and start their pressure on my hips. I’m brought straight to the large brown protrusion of an erect nipple. The collision of my face against it knocks the wind out of me. High above a gasp of pleasure puts an end to the giggling…..

Mrs Petersen is one of the most assiduous customers. I think this young woman is afflicted with the worst possible husband, always travelling and hardly ever paying her any attention when he returns. I can understand she finds in Max a welcome respite from her dreary life. That’s what we do, Max and I, we provide happiness to the people around us. That thought now brings a smile back to my face.

The bell rings and another woman enters the parlour. She’s really early this one. Well, she’ll have to wait till Mrs Petersen has finished with Max. That should not be too long anyway.
Some of the women of Nine Miles Alley have really developed a strong addiction for these sessions and I must say I am not surprised to see them come eagerly to my house as early as 8.00 or as late as 10.30. Many will book a few sessions in advance now and simply cannot spend a week without at least one intimate moment with our local hero. I’m so proud of him. Three years have passed, and I love him just as much as ever.

The box is rocking to the rhythm of her gait. I try to get my wits around again for the tenth time today, staring in the darkness. I’m so tired, every muscle hurts. I’m panting hard. This is not a good day. I know I have a minute or two before the box opens and fingers grab me again. Two minutes to try and remain a human being. I breathe slowly…

After our long chat, Marilyn updates the cashbook now (She gladly helps me when I take a day off) so I leave her to it and go to my bedroom to try on this little top I just purchased at the mall.  From my window I can see the bungalow. Mrs Petersen is coming out, her steps not as steady as when she went in, I must say. She carries the box  against her chest , as if she just couldn’t part with it. I wait a second by the window and sure enough, an elegant woman is coming out now, the box tucked under her elbow. She’s a new customer, Miss Stuart, recommended by Marilyn’s neighbour. I’ll have to meet her at some stage, I like to know my customers. (We’re very strict on moral situation)  She enters the cottage, closes the door after her. The little red light over the door gets brighter, but it’s hardly visible at this time of day. I have a joyful thought for our little Max who is now discovering a new face above his box. It’s good for him to meet new people, and fulfil new needs. It keeps him on his toes I’m sure. I wonder how this woman intends to have her way with him. A simple insertion? A loving cuddle? Something kinky? It’s just impossible to guess from what you see of them….

Her pleasure is crushing me. The heat is unbelievable. My world is made of palpitating tissues, oozing warm juices. Vast organic sounds echo all around my oven of flesh. I try and push my way towards the light. She keeps her finger in the opening and I get some air and light from her sliding motion. Her finger tip is pushing against my head, trying to send me deeper. I try and avoid reacting, every move I make is sending sensations to the vast body above, and the palpitations are getting more insistent, the space is slowly narrowing. The inner walls get even wetter and at the same time more rigid. If she could only remove her finger I might be able to….

I sometime read the guestbook in the parlour to get an inkling of what all those women do with Max. It really is so refreshing to see the variety of ways we women have to get satisfaction. Mrs Hanson for instance, always comes with some food article like whipped cream or peanut butter, or something. I guess Max gets to be part of her menu somehow ( I hope he does not get to eat too much of it himself, this is always quite fattening stuff.) . Once a customer related how she got two orgasms from Max in some underwater insertion exercise while in the tub, and all of a sudden plenty others started to ask me for extra towels and soap and stuff. It was a fad, I guess, and it only lasted a summer, but I confess I was quite anxious one of them would drown my hero under her butt by accident (myself, I love to have him ride one of my yellow rubber ducks, when I take a bath. He always shouts at me in the most comical and tender way…)

She’s not finished with me. She will milk me for every penny worth. She wipes her juices from me by stroking me on her bush, where I leave a  wet trail. The sudden ascension to her lips is so fast, my stomach lurches. My head goes deep into the wet cavern, her uvula striking me in the face as she leisurely sucks on my whole body. The stench from her throat is revolting. What the hell did she eat before coming here? I just try and keep my arms away from the invisible teeth around me……

I have read some kinky things in our little book, but last year something started I never quite anticipated. One afternoon in May, young Miss Allen came with a friend. I was surprised to see two customers in the parlour. Not to mention that I never suspected this from our shy little Miss Allen. I was a bit embarrassed, this was new to me, and I did not now how to react. Miss Allen’s friend was indeed a very attractive young brunette, quite angelic looking, if showing somewhat too much thigh under a pretence of a mini-skirt. We exchanged some awkward looks but then settled for the new fee that such a session would entail. After we agreed on the fee, I was actually quite pleased to leave the box in their hands. I only asked them to be extra careful with him. As I watched them walking to the bungalow hand in hand, I was giggling to myself. Max was in for quite a surprise. Two twenty year old young women should prove quite a task for him, but I was confident he was up to it. One could say I have faith in him.
When they came back, all giggles and kisses, their hair wet from the shower, I opened the box with a hint of apprehension, I must say. Max was panting on the floor of his little compartment, but everything was still perfectly in order. I gave him with a smile to the next eager customer.

When the two girls asked me to book two sessions in a row for the week after, I knew Max had been heroic again and it got me thinking about expanding our business in this unforeseen direction. One could not help thinking about the commercial impact of this transaction. (I pride myself in being an astute business woman now). I had also made a note in my diary about checking that scene in town and talking to Miss Allen about helping us with a bit of discreet publicity. I decided then to discuss the issue with Marilyn and Max. but I was sure they wouldn’t mind at all, considering the profitability.

 I watch exhausted the giant breast she’s about to poise on top of me. It descends upon me with a slow swaying motion, covering my entire vision. I take a big gulp of air before the warm flesh engulfs me and the pressure starts mounting. The mattress creaks under us. I feel I’m becoming part of it. Flesh and heat and weight is all I know for the next few seconds…

Now, a year later, my house is pretty well known within the female/female community in town. As matter of fact, after much enthusiasm shown by Miss Allen, and her friend Cassie, it is now a common occurrence to have two young ladies coming hand in hand to the sessions Nowadays, a good fifth of the appointments are made by these enthusiastic if unorthodox customers (Another proof of Max’s impact on my way of thinking, bless him). And today for instance, I noticed in Marilyn’s schedule that during the last four hours of the evening, Max will indeed “visit” no less than eight different customers. (Boy, will he be glad to spend the night with me after that!)

I try the top I just bought. It’s really pretty and I spend some time gazing at my image in the mirror. I’m tempted to go and see who’s waiting in the parlour but I know it would be bad form. I decide to check the offers for bedding in the catalogue I ordered. We need to change the mattress pretty often in this business, really. We have vastly improved the bungalow since we started I must say. The floor has been polished and trimmed to avoid any injury on our little Max (I know he gets to run quite a lot during some sessions). I had some special protections set on all electrical plugs, the doors have been measured to the millimetre, to avoid giving Max the temptation to crawl underneath in his games. Basically all steps have been taken to ensure a safe environment for him. He cannot hurt himself in anyway while playing with his wilder customers. (Mrs Green loves to run after him on all fours, she once admitted to me, and many women enjoy a game of hide and seek, so I’m glad all  angles have been nicely covered for the little fugitive.)

The soap is washed away under the assault of gallons of cold water, the same water that is entering my mouth and nose. She’s keeping me under the faucet much longer than is safe. The handling is very rough, she’s new at this. She nearly dislocates my shoulder with her heavy stroking. If she could drown me here and now, it would be such a blessing…. But I get to watch her  put her clothes back on, as she whispers a song. I’m soon back into the box. She gazes at me with eyes full of wonder for a few minutes before closing the lid.

As I relax, reading the catalogue, I hear the bungalow door open. It’s sad really, but I have to see who comes and goes in the place. Call me possessive, I guess. Mrs Stuart is coming out, looking elegant still, but with  a languor in her steps that is quite revealing. She’s gently patting the metal box in her hands, with a lazy grin on her face. I’m so glad our customers are so satisfied with our service…
I wait a minute by the window. Already they are coming out on the lawn, Kim and Alice. These two have been regulars for quite a while now. They were among the first ones “recruited” by our Allen and Cassie, our little promoters. Kim is as blond as Alice is dark. They form an odd couple, the sculptural Alice towering over the petite blond girl. Alice is holding Max’s box against her chest and I see Suzie lay a kiss on the metal container and let out an excited giggle before taking her girlfriend by the waist. It’s so nice to see people in love like this. They really enjoy using Max and their comments in the guestbook have given many of us some wild ideas. I watch the two girls enter the bungalow and their giggles are muffled by the closing sliding door.
I sigh with delight. Although I was hesitant at first, I’m glad I opened my mind. It is so nice to be able to bring love and harmony to these charming couples.

They are kissing so passionately that they have forgotten about me, sandwiched between their bellies, like a speck of dirt. I’m pressed harder and harder into the blond girl’s flesh as her friend is letting all of her weight down on her. I feel the panic setting in. I’m nothing. Just a thought between two flesh. In the utter darkness, I begin to drown in their sweat….
When I come out, in a roar of giggles and moans and a sudden coolness of air, I cannot make sense of my surroundings. Too much flesh, too much motion. I don’t know where the blond finishes and where the brunette starts. Enormous limbs move around, too long to comprehend. The whole world is motion and skin and earthquakes…
When I emerge later from the constricting vagina of the blond girl, I’m greeted by the long fingers of her friend. I cough and spit the cum that nearly drowned me, while she dangles me above her lover’s face. The mouth that opens to engulf me smells much better than the previous woman.
A minute later, it is the brunette’s turn to spread her legs open...

When they come out one hour later and the next excited couple cross the lawn, also cooing at the box  (it’s a red-hair and a brunette with very short hair, this time), I have this epiphany about our little Max being the bond that brings all these people together, in a chain of love. It moves me no end (… and actually turns me on so badly I get fidgety and all). I wish the day was done and I could be alone with him.

I was worried for a time, afraid they might work him up too much or grow too wild with him. I know it was a bit difficult for Max at first to get the hang of handling two girls at once. I could notice he was very tired at first, and I had made a rule of leaving him ten extra minutes in his box before passing him out to the next customer. I even made sure he had a double ration of sugar and water to get his energy back. The last thing I wanted was to have him “overdose” on the bodies of these wild lovers. But it wasn’t long till I had to resume the usual rhythm, the customers were way too impatient. I know Max can take it like the man he is.

My hips are caught in the vice of her lips. I can feel the sharp teeth against my skin, the lips are squeezing my waist, while her tongue is playing with my legs. Above me I can only see the two deep holes of her nostrils, blowing hot air on my face. I beat my useless little fists against the upper lip. Behind me the open mouth of the other girl is coming closer                     

I keep pacing around the room, glancing at the bungalow below. The night is dark and the little red light is a reminder that Max is attending other women’s pleasure.  I know he’s thinking about me when he does. I so long to hold him again, and  keep looking at my watch. Time seems to be dragging its feet today.
When the light go off and the door opens at last, letting out the last happy couple (it is nearly 10.00 pm) I rush down the stairs and am about to literally snatch the box from Marilyn’s hands with a sigh of relief, when she stops me with a laughter and tells me that another couple of Miss Allen’s friend had requested a late session and that she had agreed. I can actually hear some voices and giggles from the parlour. For a second, I’m despair-stricken, and actually contemplate taking the box from Marilyn’s hands and run away with it. But I’m a reasonable person. I smile back and only sigh when Marilyn enters the parlours with the box. Excited giggles resonate for a second and soon, I watch with envy a couple of lovely young ladies crossing the lawn with my Max in their hands. Damn. I go back up in my room, grumbling.

The lid opens. Long well manicured fingers crawl inside, searching for me. I soon find myself deposited in the middle of the vast bed, looking up at two moving mountains of flesh who come kneeling right and left of me. They look at each other’s body with hungry eyes, stroking each other’s breasts, then turn their gazes to me. In it, I read all the lust waiting to be unleashed. Around me the four thighs are creating deep depression in the plain of silk and the shadow darkens upon me, as their bodies are getting closer far above my head. I witness their first embrace from underneath, hear the skin brushing against the skin. Once in a  while they glance at me, smile , and resume their embrace. I’m of no consequence to them, a mere toy waiting to be used … When the first girl starts lying down on the bed, (nearly crushing me under her butt in the process), they invite me to their game…..

I smoke cigarette upon cigarette, wishing they’d finish sooner, and it occurs to me that I, too, have developed an addiction to his little body. But of course in my case, it’s not just physical.
I’m so full of love for him.
When they come out at long last, carrying the box, I make an effort an effort to restrain myself and walk calmly down the stairs to the kitchen. There, the two girls are renewing their appointments for next week. Marilyn is very amused by me tonight, and I can’t blame her. She makes fun of me and takes her time to gather her things. When I lock the front door at last, I feel like my life has been given back to me.  I grab the box on the table, rush up to my bedroom. I nearly tear my new top in my excitement, jump on the bed, and, not paying attention to his tiny screams, I insert him real deep. As his tiny and tender struggle starts rocking the world for me, I wonder how I could ever express to him the love I feel.

I lay sweating in my bed, leisurely staring the ceiling. It’s 3.30 am, and my tummy is rumbling. The orgasms I’ve been through tonight have really made me hungry. I drowsily walk to the kitchen, feeling the cold tiles under my naked feet. I shiver in the cold of the opened fridge during my search for a quick bite. I find a piece of the cake Marilyn brought us earlier on. She’s so nice. I eat it on the spot, I’m so ravenous. As I walk back to bed, I feel Max still fighting to come out of my pussy.  Hum. What the hell, tomorrow is off again, and I can sleep late, I might as well use him a last time.
 That puts a spring in my thoughts and I take off my panties in a hurry. As I open my thighs and wait for Max to emerge, I make a mental note not to forget to leave him in the parlour later, for Marilyn to open shop in the morning.

nostromo