The Beast You’ve Made of Me

Arlene ran her finger around the rim of her glass of water, listening to the dull squeak of wet skin against glass over the thunder of music playing on the floor below and the crowd dancing, mingling, blending together on it. She took a deep breath through her nose and told herself repeatedly to loosen her jaw. Stop grinding her teeth. Relax.


She could do anything but relax. She’d felt the eyes of everyone in the building on her from the moment she’d stepped past the bouncer and through the front door. The gentleman at the coat check said next to nothing as he took her jacket and handed her a ticket in return. The lady who’d taken her order for the water had paused and stared for a moment before asking – in a voice just a little too artificially sweet – if she’d like to order anything else.

It didn’t help that she hadn’t seen another human being since she’d arrived. She wondered if this was what all of the Otherkind she’d encountered felt in their own lives, walking down the street. The eyes upon you and subtle frowns. The unspoken thoughts – what are you, and what do you think you’re doing here?

She picked up her glass, sipping her water, trying to ignore the bead of sweat running down her neck to soak into the collar of her blouse.

“You decided to come after all.”

She looked up and sighed in relief. Celeste stood over her, easing her way into the private booth with a Cosmo in each hand. The lamia’s tail curled in horizontal waves, side to side, along the floor before listing her up into the opposite side of the U-shaped bench from Arlene. “I was worried you’d be too afraid to show up. Or that everyone would scare you away.”

Arlene took the glass Celeste offered her and slid her water aside to make room. “I almost did. Do… do they not normally let humans in here?”

Celeste leaned forward, settling her weight delicately onto one arm while the other hand brought her glass to her lips. She was gorgeous, Arlene thought, watching the rim of the glass rest light against red lips. Golden eyes, their pupils like long, vertical slits of black ink, fixed on her own face. Her dark red hair was pulled up, all but a few pieces on either side of her face braided and wound into a ball at the back of her head.

This exposed the sharp lines of her jaw and the speckled red – as dark as her hair and lips – of her scales wrapping part of the way around her neck, starting from her spine.

She focused on her face, trying not to stare at the neckline of Celeste’s dress, cut low and showing more cleavage than she could have imagined. She tried just as much not to focus on the sensation of Celeste’s tail and its thousands of tiny scales, overlapping like smooth, warm tiles brushing over the stocking-clad legs.

She was already not used to wearing stockings as it was. There was no need for them under the pants she wore to work every day. She bit into the back of her lip, taking a deep, sharp breath through her nose. Relax.

“I went ahead and ordered us a bit of light food,” Celeste said, holding her glass just below the rim on her fingertips. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s a bit…” She paused, almost hesitated, looking out onto the floor below and the bodies dancing around one another. “A bit exotic. I thought it might be fun, though.”

Arlene felt her heart start to creep up her throat. She set her glass down, hoping that Celeste hadn’t noticed her hand shake or the clink of her glass against the tabletop. As if the pressure of sitting so close to the woman she’d dreamed about for months wasn’t enough. What if she didn’t like the food? What if it made her sick? She felt a slowly spreading chill running down the back of her neck. She could never live with herself if she threw up in front of Celeste.

The glass door to the booth slid open. A satyr, tall and dressed in all black, with the club’s logo embroidered in gold above the right breast, entered. His hooves clicked across the floor, while his hand carefully balanced a tray at shoulder height.

“Ma’ams,” he said, laying the dish down, withdrawing his hand from beneath it without the slightest shake to the platter. He turned to Celeste, ignoring the human woman sharing the room aside from his initial acknowledgement of her existence. “Shall I bring anything else?”

Arlene didn’t hear Celeste’s reply. She didn’t remember the waiter leaving either, or the door closing behind him. All she could hear was her own heartbeat. All she could see was the dish in front of her.

“C-Celeste…” she started, the words sounding so quiet to her own ears, as though the breath had been pulled from her lungs first. “These are… are they?” She shook her head, trying to breathe deep, slow her heart, steady herself enough to not shake apart. “This is a… a plate of…”


The lamia leaned forward, her chin resting on one hand, while her hand glided over the platter of miniature human figures, spread across the length of the dish. Each was naked, drizzled with caramel and chocolate, dusted with cinnamon and sugar, arranged as though they were pastries in a bakery counter. Each one, Arlene thought as she felt the color drain from her face, looked as warm and alive and human as she did.

“These can’t possibly be…” Arlene looked to Celeste, trying not to think about the dish between them. “They’re not really human, right?”

Celeste smiled, the slightest hint of fangs showing between her lips. The slightest reminder, Arlene thought to herself, that her species is a predatory one. One that – in some age long distant to their present – stalked and hunted her own species for food.

Her throat tightened and felt dry. She swallowed again. “Please tell me they’re not actually human.”

One corner of Celeste’s mouth curled upward. “I wouldn’t offer you anything illegal.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“They’re not human. Not like you.” Celeste moved her fingers back and forth over the dish, hovering them for a moment over each miniature being, pausing the contemplate before moving on. They stopped over one of the men and plucked him off the dish. A drop of chocolate ran down his side, oozing onto the platter.


Celeste cocked an eyebrow at her. “They’re human-like. Artificial, crafted from human DNA or some-such. I don’t know the particulars.” She brought the tiny man up to her face, breathing in over his body before releasing a sigh. The miniature figure shivered between her fingers, tiny lips fluttering as warm breath wafted over its body. “God, they smell good tonight. You really have to try at least one.”

She then pressed the man’s head to her lips and slowly, soundlessly, pulled him into her mouth.

Arlene watched, transfixed. The lamia’s tongue, thin and forked and distressingly flexible, curled under the man’s back and around his legs. His limbs squirmed, dropping chocolate down between them and his chest, down onto Celeste’s taste buds. Her mouth opened wide, breathing out a sigh; her tongue used the opportunity to quickly pull its captive inside. Once in, her jaws closed like a trap, Celeste grinning as her lips sealed tight.

She settled back into the bench, hands resting on her belly. Arlene watched as she rolled her treat around in her mouth. The sounds leaking through her lips bordered on lewd; they sounded more like the videos she watched on her phone, shamefully hidden under her blankets even though her apartment was hers and hers alone. She could just imagine it in her head: the miniature man inside her coworker’s mouth, sliding and dragging across her tongue, the muscle forming to his every shape while her taste buds pressed against every inch, every nook, of his body.

Celeste tipped her head back. Her throat swelled for a moment. And then, like that, the man was gone. Lost somewhere deep inside a lamia’s body. Arlene blushed, feeling more like a voyeur than a guest. Her mind was so distantly elsewhere that the sound of the platter sliding across the table startled her back into the here and now.

“Go ahead,” Celeste said, words heavy in the air between them. “Try one. I really think you’ll enjoy it.”

Could she? Arlene’s throat tightened, lungs and heart pumping air and blood faster than a moment before. It wasn’t completely strange to eat live food. People did it all the time, usually people far, far above her pay grade specifically. But, not like this. At least, not people like her. She wrung her hands beneath the table, staring at the creatures laid out in front of her, drizzled in sweets.

Celeste tipped her head to one side, mouth wide with a smile again. She could see the gears in Arlene’s mind grinding together; she knew that much, could read that much on the other woman’s face. She watched, waiting, drinking up the drama of this human girl weighing the decision. Savoring the hesitation like the liquor in her glass. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid to try.”

“No, I…” Arlene balked, but didn’t want to. Wanted to raise her hand towards the platter but suddenly and keenly aware of just how heavy her arms felt. They were alive, she reminded herself. Could they feel anything? The way they moved between Celeste’s fingers, their bodies shifting, writhing, wriggling ever so slightly, made it seem so. Could they feel pain? “I’m not afraid to,” she finally sputtered out.

“The first time is always a bit scary,” Arlene jumped as Celeste’s hand reached across the table, fingertips brushing against her cheek. “But it will be one of the most delicious things you’ll ever enjoy. I promise you that.”

Her hand was still frozen, though. She felt choked by her rushing heart and thoughts. What would it feel like in my stomach? Would it move? Could Celeste feel the one she ate move? Her lips trembled, tried to shape words, but couldn’t find the sounds to move through them.

Celeste slid out of sight. Before Arlene could think of where she went, Celeste’s hand was in her lap, the other reaching for one of the miniature people on the dish. Her open palm moved over the top of Arlene’s thighs, moving from the smooth black fabric of her skirt to the thin band of bare skin above the top of her stockings. “I’ll walk you through your first,” the lamia said; the breath in her words still scented with chocolate and – Arlene choked; how did you even describe the scent of skin? – salt, she supposed, the tang of something that was alive. “Which flavor might you like? There’s powdered sugar, cinnamon, sea salt…”

These were living creatures , Arlene’s conscience hissed. Every moral fiber in her bristled as her mind replayed the image of Celeste’s tongue and lush lips pulling their captive in, preparing their prey, their treat, for its destination in her stomach. Lush, red lips, she reminded herself; questions of whether the same taste she could smell on her breath would show if they kissed intruded into her mind, as did the spreading heat of Celeste’s arm moving behind her back, fingers moving across her spine, her waist, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her blouse.

“Cinnamon,” Arlene answered, voice hushed.

“Cinnamon it is,” Celeste said, plucking a girl – naked, her bare skin thinly glazed over with sugar and dusted with the spice in a way that drew the eye up and down her body – off the dish. Her other hand moved up Arlene’s side and onto her shoulder. Points of pressure rode up Arlene’s back to her neck, muscles tightening and relaxing in a wave that followed the lamia’s touch. The edge of her nails brushed over her neck and along her jaw, until one fingertip tapped against her lips.

Arlene swallowed, her eyes on the tiny being held between Celeste’s fingers. The girl had red hair, as well; that seemed appropriate, she supposed. “Go on,” Celeste said to her, fingers resting against the side of Arlene’s face. “Take her. Have a taste.”

A taste.

The scent of cinnamon began to seep into her every breath. She only had to have a taste. Maybe it might change her mind, or more likely, she could convince Celeste without guilt that she couldn’t go through with this. Surely, Celeste wouldn’t mind if she at least tried it, and didn’t like it, and wasn’t interested in trying again. She nodded and, steadying her breath, took the girl between her own fingers. Warm sugar glaze stuck to her skin, glistening in the low light of their booth. The tiny figure moved, her hips and belly turning and sliding against her fingers, adjusting to the pressure applied to her miniature body.

She could see Celeste bring her own fingers to her own mouth, slipping the end of each finger between her lips to lick them clean. Another tight knot grew in Arlene’s throat. This time, the scent of sugar and cinnamon and warmth, delicious warmth, was making her mouth water.

She brought this treat – that’s what it was, after all, right? A treat? What else could she call it and still feel comfortable with herself? – to her lips, breathed in, and felt her sense of smell overpowered and awash in pleasant aromas. Her stomach growled, quietly, but did so nonetheless.

Celeste watched her, expectantly.

Arlene let her tongue slide out, just the tip, thin and round and pink between her lips. She brought the woman, this treat, to her lips. It shivered when her tongue touched its belly, when warm flesh met sugar and cinnamon-dusted skin. She swore it made a sound, that this tiny creature let out a sigh, a gasp, perhaps a moan, burst forth from its mouth.

She pressed onward though. Her tongue grazed over its body, following the contours of its belly. It folded around on itself as it rode upwards along its breastbone to its collar. The heat of her breath and her tongue melted the glaze beneath it, sending thin droplets of it running down the curve of its ribs and onto her own fingers in spots of liquid heat.

All the while, she tilted it toward her, until its face and her lips met. They parted ever so slightly, wrapping around its head, leaving its hair and skin damp with saliva as she lifted her face away.

Celeste shifted closer again, arm against Arlene’s back, fingers curled around the shoulder opposite where she sat. Arlene could feel the lamia’s breath on her neck and cheek and shivered in reply. “Well,” she said, voice rich with anticipation. “So far?”

Arlene had no idea what to say. So far, her body was hungry; so far, the scent of sweet, sharp earthiness was battling to drown out all other thoughts and feelings. So far, she was holding this miniature woman, this treat, this living thing in her own shape and form that wasn’t human and yet somehow was, and contemplating whether to place it in her mouth, on her tongue, and swallow it down beyond anyone’s reach, into her stomach. So far, she could not think enough to form words and all she wanted to do was scream, or cry, even though either was the worst thing to do.

Celeste’s hand squeezed her shoulder, her fingers moving up and down her shoulders, squeezing or working the tension out of the tightened muscles and tangled thoughts under her skin and in her head. Arlene turned and looked to Celeste, feeling as though she could easily melt into the lamia’s hand. “Just relax,” Celeste said, gesturing with her open hand towards the woman in Arlene’s fingers.

Arlene opened her mouth again, letting her tongue drift across the top of her treat’s body, taste buds gliding over skin. Legs shifted; the inside of the woman’s thighs rubbed against the edge of her tongue. Arlene could feel her pulse through her grip, could feel the beat of its miniature heart against fragile, thin ribs. The hint, the suggestion of sound trickled out of its mouth and tickled at her ears. Her own pulse raced and matched her treat’s own, while her fingers pressed just a little tighter around its sides.

“Go ahead,” Celeste told her, the words coiling around Arlene’s mind, teasing in their presence as thoroughly as the length of tail moving over her stockings under the table. “Take her in.”

She nodded. She wasn’t even fully conscious of nodding. She simply did it, and then let her mouth open, and let her fingers turn her treat over onto its belly and ease it, head first, into her mouth. Her tongue aided her, catching its breasts and belly and pulling them inward. Tiny hands laid against her taste buds, while knees squeezed against the tip of her tongue, a strange and yet, exhilarating sensation. Her treat’s body writhed across her tongue, and her mouth responded in kind, a willing partner in this embrace between them. She pulled, lips closing around the tiny body between them, until the entirety of its form was within her mouth.

She closed her eyes, tuning out the outside world, turning her senses inward. It was strange to imagine, letting the touch of her tongue and array of scents and tastes rolling through her consciousness, paint a picture that her eyes could not. She raised her tongue, tilting it downward, letting the treat’s tiny body slide until its back was against her gums and teeth, body balling up between her tongue and jaw. The blunted end of that muscle roamed around its captive’s sides, around and under its breasts, feeling them move at its overpowering touch.

The treat’s moans, brought on by her probing, filled her mouth despite how small each one was. She felt less like a person and more like an animal, a hunter toying with its prey. One part of her screamed internally in shock and horror, while the other directed her eyes towards Celeste. The lamia met her gaze and offered a knowing smile.

Her mouth was now watering; her throat twitching, waiting. Her tongue scooped the woman in her mouth up and pushed it upward. Back and hips met the roof of her mouth, flattening it out against her tongue. Her catch’s body slid back until its head brushed against her uvula, tickling at the precipice awaiting it.

Celeste’s fingers trailed up Arlene’s neck, her nails lightly gliding around to her throat, scratching almost imperceptibly at her skin. The feeling made her body’s desire impossible to ignore. As much as her conscious mind resisted, her flesh knew exactly what to do with what she held in her mouth.

Her tongue pushed back against its prey. Her throat opened, and the solid, warm weight of the miniature woman – living, squirming, pressing against every surface in her mouth – sank inside and began its descent into her stomach.

She gasped once she could breathe again, staring downward at herself in shock, as though she could see through her body and witness this tiny woman sliding down into her stomach. She could feel it, though; could feel its weight fall behind her lungs and heart, down until it settled into the bottom of her belly. And even after, she could feel it moving, curling, touching the flesh now fluttering over it. Its hands pressed into the walls that contained it, reminding Arlene that it was there, inside of her.

Celeste’s hand drifted downward, palm laying flat against Arlene’s abdomen. “Well,” she said, “How was it?”

It took her everything to pry her attention from the feeling inside of her. Her mind was still spinning, turbulent with the intense bliss of such a simple and awe-filled expression of hedonistic delight and the sheer horror of having consumed what she could only really describe as a miniature human being. Something with thoughts, feelings, a mind that could think and perceive. Somewhere in her body, that living thing was now in her belly, laying in a pool of liquor and whatever remained inside from earlier in the day. As she sat there, her body was now intent on taking that living thing, that person , and breaking it down to fuel her body.

Arlene pressed one hand over her heart, the other against her belly. She could still feel its fluttering movements inside of her. “I… I don’t know…”

Celeste cocked her head, her hand reaching up, fingertips lightly rubbing circles into Arlene’s scalp. “What makes you unsure?”

Everything , Arlene thought, but rejected such a broad response. “I don’t know. I can’t… I can’t believe that I swallowed someone – well, something, I guess? Alive, like that. I don’t know. Celeste, I just…”

Celeste hushed her, bringing her close, letting Arlene’s head rest against her chest. “Do you want to stop?” she asked; the question caught Arlene by surprise. She was being offered an exit, a chance to back away, to forget that all of this ever happened and simply push the thought that she swallowed a human being alive out of mind. It was what she had assured herself with, the perfect opportunity to back away without shame or embarrassment.


Yet, there was something intensely pleasurable about it, about such a horrible act. The woman, the treat, had tasted delicious. The feeling of her squirming – all of the movements felt erotic, the behavior of something that seemed to find her actions as pleasing as she found them – had ignited a spark inside of Arlene. Some coil in her mind sprung when she greedily pushed the treat back into her throat and swallowed. Some part of her wanted to send this thing into her belly and consume it. Some part of her wanted to consume another.

More, the voice in her head said. It sounded like her, but threaded with the pitch of something primal, something that wanted to hunt and eat. Pulled and divided, Arlene turned to Celeste, eyes wide, her expression uncertain.


The lamia continued to hold Arlene’s gaze in her own. “Yes, dear?”

“I… I think I want to try another?”

“Well, of course,” Celeste said with a smile, picking up another – this one covered in caramel, chocolate, and sea salt – and offering it to Arlene. “If you’re still trying to figure it out, it only makes sense to try another to better gauge your reaction.”

Right, Arlene thought. That’s all she was doing – just trying to be sure of her own feelings. She took the treat from Celeste’s fingers and examined it. This one, also a woman, this time with black hair and olive skin, chocolate layered over its rounded stomach, dripping down its sides. She paid close attention to its expression this time; its eyes looked up at her with wonderment and awe. Arlene could only imagine what it must be like from her perspective, to stare up at a gigantic face contemplating whether to devour you or not.

What did it feel , she wondered.

She leaned down, her face overwhelmingly gigantic in this tiny creature’s view.

Celeste watched, sitting back, easing away from Arlene. “It can’t understand you. I’m not sure they’re even really intelligent like… well, like we are.”

“It can’t?”

“It can’t. It understands stimuli, but it can’t speak. It doesn’t know language. It isn’t even intelligent. It is simply… food. Just food.”

“But,” Arlene started, contemplating the treat in her fingers, even as her body urged her, begged her, to eat this creature. “But it’s alive.”

Celeste chuckled, shaking her head. “And that feels good, doesn’t it? It’s exciting to feel something live, squirming, moving as you devour it, doesn’t it? Something in you thrills to snatch it up and tuck it in your mouth, pushing it downward, locking it away within you.”


“Why deny it? Some part of you absolutely craves this, darling. The thought has crossed your mind before, has it not? You can’t tell me you’ve had someone catch your eye, someone you lingered on for a few extra moments, that thought tickling at the back of your mind saying, I could devour them. I want to devour them. They would taste so good and I want them.”

“But it’s…” Arlene sputtered, rubbing her legs together, her body so warm with nervousness and arousal that they felt as though they might stick against one another.

Celeste leaned in closer. “It’s what, exactly? It’s food, Arlene. It’s food, good food, delicious and attractive, so why ignore it? Why deny yourself something you genuinely want?”

“B-Because, I can’t! I shouldn’t! I’m human, just like… like these are!” Arlene held out the treat in her hand, and used the other to gesture to the platter on the table. Her heart banged against her ribs, feeling like it might explode at any moment. “I’m human, and I know I’m not like you, I’m something different, I can’t just… I can’t just… I can’t…”

Celeste’s breath tickled at her ear. “I think you’ll find,” the lamia whispered to her, “that you might not be quite who you think you are.”

Arlene froze. Celeste laughed, opening her mouth wide, exposing her long, slim, forked tongue and long, sharp fangs. She was terrifying to behold, Arlene thought to herself. So human looking, like her, but just under the surface she could see the animal within, the raw, primal thing at the root of who she is. Red lips stretched wide as Celeste’s tongue coiled around the treat in Arlene’s fingers and pulled it into her mouth.

Arlene watched as Celeste closed her mouth around her prey and smiled. Her cheeks bulged ever so slightly, her voice cooing as she held it still on her tongue. Before she could react, Celeste took her cheek and turned her head towards her, pressing her lips to Arlene’s in a deep, passionate kiss.

Her mouth gave way to the sheer power of Celeste’s. Before she could pause, before she could take in what was happening, she felt Celeste’s tongue push itself, along with its passenger, into her mouth. Arlene moaned and allowed her own tongue to mingle with the lamia’s. Between them, the miniature, chocolate-covered woman tangled herself, a living, moving ball of heat caught between their kiss. Her rational mind was shoved out of the way, its pleading voice telling her how wrong this all was pushed aside and ignored in favor of the soft red lips pressed to her own.

Celeste leaned back, leaving Arlene’s mouth closed and her tongue trembling at the morsel it held. The lamia leaned sideways, once more whispering in her ear. “You want to eat it, don’t you?”

Her body burned with energy and desire. Arlene nodded. She was terrified. Everything about this felt wrong, felt like something she shouldn’t do, that it was horrifying and… inhuman.

And yet, she desperately wanted to enjoy this treat. She nodded slowly, her whole body now trembling.

“Then do it. Swallow, Arlene. Swallow this treat and enjoy her.”

She did, and did it slow. Her tongue pushed back, bringing her treat to the edge of her tongue. Her head tipped, rolling her mouthful into her throat, feeling the muscles within open her esophagus and wrap itself tight around this miniature creature. Enveloped entirely in smooth, rippling walls, she swallowed again and again until it sank fully down her throat and into the depths of her body.

Gasping, she fell forward, her hands bracing her against the edge of the table. Again, she felt its weight drop into her gut, joining the other woman already inside. They were both moving, stunning her; she didn’t expect to still feel the first one, and now that her attention was drawn back into her belly she was deeply, intensely aware of their presence. A presence which was, for lack of any better words, intoxicating. She’d never felt anything quite like this; even being drunk, even having tried other things, nothing compared to the feeling of a belly with live prey inside of it.

Her shaking body was betrayed by the smile curling across her lips. Her belly and loins felt warm; her legs fidgeted as one, intertwined set of limbs, feet slipping out of her heels and brushing against Celeste’s tail almost absentmindedly. The touch felt so good, so silken and smooth, just the contact of her sheathed legs moving across the solid, muscular form coiling around the table.

She turned to look at Celeste. She had settled back into the bench, her chest projected outward. Her tail cascaded over the seat as it made its way down to the floor, shimmering as the light overhead and the lights from the floor of the club projecting upward played across its scales. One hand balanced her cocktail glass while the other reached out for one of the treats on the table. She took it between two fingers and a thumb, contemplating it for a moment before placing half of it between her lips. She moaned for a moment as she lingered on its taste. Then, her tongue slipped out from between them and coiled around its legs, pulling them inward in one motion. With the next, she swallowed, smiled, and sipped from the drink in her glass.

Arlene’s body prickled with energy, every cell within her starting to fire with excitement. The prey in her stomach felt magnificent, but – she started to realize – her stomach only seemed more empty, more eager to consume even more. Her eyes flit between the platter and Celeste while her hands trembled. She wanted so much to reach for another, to take more, but something still seemed to hold her back.

This isn’t right , it said. You can’t do something like this.

This isn’t right.

This is inhuman.

“But isn’t that the point?”

Arlene blinked; in the space of a heartbeat, her attention fixed itself to Celeste’s voice. She looked down at her shaking hands, her fingers curling back as though into claws against the top of her skirt. “How do you know what I was thinking?”

“Because I can see it in your eyes. I can read it in the way you sit, the way your eyes linger on your prey. All of your desires want to break free, Arlene, but you keep resisting it. Why do you keep holding yourself back from something you so desperately want to give yourself?”

Why? The question rolled around in Arlene’s head. Why did she? Why would she feel guilt over enjoying food that tasted so good, so luscious? Why would she not savor the feel of each one sliding into her stomach, settling in the pit of her belly? They were meant for her and Celeste to consume after all, so why let such a delicious plate of food go to waste?

Because I’m human , she screamed at herself, because the things on the plate are human, and it’s wrong!

Her own voice laughed at her. Are you really so sure of either of those?

She could hear Celeste’s scales sliding over the bench, the lamia’s body easing closer to her own. Could hear it, feel it, under her feet, curling around her legs, seemingly holding her tight in its grip. A voice – her’s, Celeste’s, someone else’s, she wasn’t sure – whispered to her: do you wish to be the hunter or the hunted, Arlene? Which do you desire most?

Neither , she screamed in silence.

“You’re lying to yourself,” Celeste’s voice tickled her ear.

You’re lying to yourself and doing so poorly , the voice within Arlene’s mind repeated.

“I’m human,” Arlene repeated, gritting her teeth. Her body tensed, aching from everywhere as she curled up on herself. “I’m human.”

Liar , said her mind.

“Stop playing a part for someone else,” whispered Celeste.

Give into your desires, and do what you wish , teased her mind.

“I’m,” Arlene sputtered, “I’m human.”

“Are you?”

Are you?

“They’re human!”

Are they really?

“They’re our food,” Celeste interjected around Arlene’s own inner voice. Fingers reached out for Arlene’s cheek, nails and fingertips grazing against soft skin. “Food for you and me.”

Food to savor and enjoy.

“I,” Arlene said, hands up over her eyes, her fingers like a cage’s bars between her and the room. “I want more,” she sputtered out.

“Is that what we want now?” Celeste teased.

Of course, of course. You want it , said the voice in Arlene’s mind, her own, but not her own. I want it, I want more of them, all of them. I want to take each one and fill my mouth with them . Her mouth watered at her own thoughts, vivid interior images flooding her consciousness of taking each of the miniature figures laying on the platter, curling her tongue around one after the other. Sucking the flavor out of each, drenching them in her saliva as she drank up every bit of the flavor of their bodies before engulfing them in her esophagus. She wanted to finish this plate, and another; more to fill the growing pit in her stomach and the furious desire to devour as much as she could fill herself with.

“I want more,” Arlene said, voice gathering itself through the shaking of her body.

“Then you know what you must do,”

Take them , said her mind, they’re yours to eat.

“I want more,” Arlene said, emphasizing the more with a growl from her throat. Her tongue lashed inside her mouth, eager to grip its prey.

“Then eat them,” Celeste snarled in her ear.

Eat them , said her own voice.

She lunged forward, hands slamming down onto the table as she braced her own forward momentum against it. The bolts holding it to the floor strained to resist the weight of her body before quieting themselves. Arlene’s tongue flit from between her lips, tasting the scents filling the air. She could taste salt and sweat; not from the platter in front of her but from the dance floor downstairs, the unmistakable taste of pheromones and desire and raw sex as vivid as if she had been standing in the middle of it all. Just as strongly, the scent of the miniature people laying on the platter was just as powerful. She could individually smell them, each one slightly different; her senses focused like a laser on every detail and every distinction.

She plucked one off the plate, licking her lips. Chocolate softened and warmed against her fingertips, while the powdered sugar on its chest and belly glistened in the booth’s lights. Arlene’s mouth widened into a toothy smile. She leaned over her catch, blowing warm breath in its face. A giggle spilled from her mouth, followed by her jaw stretching wide open and snatching the miniature person from her grip. Closing her mouth around it, she pulled back, long strings of sticky, wet saliva stretching between her fingertips and lips until thin and fragile, and then finally breaking into a shower of droplets.

Her tongue lashed slowly at her mouthful, dragging it over the firmness of its pectoral muscles, the soft flesh of its belly, the strength and power hidden within tiny, fragile limbs she could easily crush into fragments between her jaws. Her breaths came heavy and rushed, blowing like a gale against the captive in her mouth. The tip of her tongue flit beneath its chin, flicking over its lips, before diving downward between its legs and grinding against the swelling cock it found there, chocolate-coated and hot from its arousal.

Yes , she thought to herself, enjoy this, my treat . Her tongue grabbed the tiny being, pulling it down onto the top of her tongue. She then lifted it upward, grinding it against the roof of her mouth. Her tongue bent around its groin, pressing its erect cock against its belly while reaching behind it to tease at its thighs and bottom. She could hear its miniscule moans and grunts from within, her own loins hot and wet at listening to this creature – this thing she was going to consume – desperately fuck the inside of her mouth.

Fingers hunted for the edge of her skirt, tugging it upward. In the wild, confusing fury of her passion she struggled to map the contours of her body with her fingers – what was she touching, and did her body always feel this way? It did, however, find the pillow-like padding of her vulva. She spread her lips wide, running nails and fingertips along her folds, her moans vibrating through her mouth as she massaged herself. Every touch of a finger against her clit electrified her; more of her gave way to the animalistic desire to consume. 

She swallowed – uncaring as to whether her treat had climaxed or not – and reached for another, tongue hanging wet from her mouth as she carried the tiny, squirming woman to her mouth. Saliva dripped onto her blouse, stopped only as she stuffed her prey into her mouth with a pair of fingers. The booth filled with her own self-indulgent pleasure as she rolled it around in her mouth, becoming less something that looked human and more a delicious, flavorful morsel offered to her as a reward for all that she’d given of herself, all that she sacrificed to excel. As it, too, was plunged down her throat, as she grabbed another to feed from, her body seemed to sing in absolute, unbridled joy.

Keep going , her voice coo’d from the depths of her mind. You deserve this. It’s what you want, after all.

One after another, each small lump of a humanoid morsel slid down her throat, landing in the chasm of her stomach, filling it up. And yet, all she could think about was how empty her belly still was. Had it always been so massive, so eager and able to devour everything in sight? Did it matter whether it did or not, she thought? Nothing mattered to her more than wanting to keep going until that deep, deep pit inside her was completely full.

She crashed down onto the table, the metal and glass shaking at the weight of her body coming down on top of it. As she sprawled across, she kept stuffing herself, body writhing as her other hand kept busy with her loins. Tension built within her, her stomach squeezing tight against the resistance of its load, mouth opening wide as she cried out in ecstasy at a pleasure she didn’t know was possible before.

And then it all stopped, the world going hot white in a flash before seemingly melting away from her.

It felt like forever, floating inside herself, until her eyes slowly opened and refocused. Celeste was sitting back in her seat, smiling, satisfaction clear on her face as she drank in the sight of Arlene laid out across the table. She said nothing at first, watching as Arlene turned onto her side and lifted herself up by pushing down on the table.

Sighing, Arlene reached towards the platter beside her, only to find it empty except for smudges of chocolate and a fine dust of sugar. She laughed and wiped chocolate from her lips, meeting Celeste’s eyes with her own.

“Can we get more?” she asked, a trembling excitement still threaded through her voice.

Celeste licked her lips. “Of course,” she replied.

Arlene dreamed that night. Her mind was awash in a million new sensations that pulled her in every direction, and felt both entirely exhausted and entirely sated on the meal she and Celeste had gorged themselves on until well into the early hours of the morning. When they left after the club closed for the night, one hand massaged the swollen bulge of her stomach while she waved to the other at the bouncer wishing the two of them a lovely evening.

She dreamed she was once again at the club, but this time on the dance floor with Celeste. Bodies tangled with one another. Some danced solo, letting their minds and bodies be swept up in the beat of the bass and the pulse of lights and synthesizers. Others let limbs interlock, eyes deep into one another’s gaze, hands wandering and feeling and playing with their partners’ bodies. Still others were deep in the throes of passionate public sex, fingers and tongues and tails stroking, coiling, penetrating one another. And she was in the middle of it, standing tall on top of a massive, coiling, winding black and gold tail.

Her body felt at once so alien and so powerful; she was both frightened of it, and intensely excited at the sensation and strength that waited in every cell. The question of whether she had ever truly been human to begin with was miles from her mind – she no longer cared, as her heart was already set on exploring the limits of what she now was.

Inhuman. Lamia. Monster.

Magnificent. She smiled. Beautiful. Deadly.

Celeste approached her. Her tail slid against Arlene’s; she hummed her approval, reaching out, taking Celeste’s hips in her hands. The other woman, the other lamia, carried something in her hand, hidden beneath curled up fingers. She must have noticed, Arlene thought; Celeste raised her hand between them and opened her fingers.

There, laying inside, was Arlene’s own naked body. Or, she reminded herself, the body of the woman she once was.

Her miniature double opened her eyes and stared up at herself in awe. That look, that reverence, felt fiery and delicious to Arlene. Her mouth watered at the sight of her own kneeling form, staring up at her, offering her body up to the creature looking down at her with hungry eyes. Like the dozens of miniature beings digesting in her stomach while she slept, her own double looked joyful at the chance to disappear within Arlene and become her meal.

She took her reward from Celeste, dangling her own body between her fingers. She smiled at it, coo’d at the little squirming body, ran her forked tongue over plush, soft lips. All that she had been was now reduced to this tiny thing, this little moaning creature that now existed for no other purpose than to be consumed.

Celeste leaned forward, kissing Arlene’s lips before whispering in her ear. “Embrace who you are now,” she said, voice hissing. “Let go of what you once were, and let that fuel everything you can become.”

Arlene nodded. It was the only natural conclusion. Her former, human life had been a shell that had preserved her until she was ready, and now that she was, it was time to use up what was left of what had sustained her until now.

She dropped her miniature self into her mouth, sealing it in behind her lips. Swirling it around on her tongue, she soaked it in her saliva, giving it little regard otherwise. What was that body now except food for her? What did it represent except the last shred of a life that was too small to contain her.

She threw her head back, swallowed, and laughed. Her humanity sank into her belly, landing deep in its pit, already getting lost in the pit of her gut. She and Celeste would dance, would fuck, and would ultimately feed more to satisfy themselves, and this little human body would simply melt away until it was part of her, fuel for her, disappearing into nothingness.

She couldn’t be happier with the choice.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *