i lie awake in your arms, time stands still.
you're warm beneath me, bigger than i'll ever be.
you move and i'm intertwined.
wrapped up in your legs and arms and skin.
it's silent outside, the moon hangs down low.
i lean into you, move my fingers to your chest.
i'm happy out here, alone and with you.
i'm happy out here, i want to stay close.
beside you, inside you.
i turn away from the fire to face the man lying on the pillows next to me. this is one of the fantasies i've always harboured...winter, a fire and a large, bearish man stroking my hair as i lie in his arms, watching the bright sparks dance in the hearth.
oddly, for once, everything i've wanted has come true. the man i'm lying with is a friend i've come half-way across the world to see... and before i came we talked about this scenario [and some others] for just close on two years before i could actually get around to making this whole journey a reality. yes, i know, for you on the other end, the person reading this, it probably must sound contrived, but it isn't. it's just how things came to be.
his name is nicholas, or nick for short and he's everything i am not. where i am merely about five feet tall, he's about six and a bit. my hair is deep brown, in contrast to his hair which is part silver, part black. my beard is brown and amber to his black and silver beard...i've never really known what colour eyes he has, but mine are brown. to my twenty-two years, he's fifty. he's also a lot bigger than what i am. i mean, waist-wise. i'm about 110#, but nick is just short on 350#. so lying next to him is something like being enfolded in warmth. surprisingly, for his size, he's very gentle. it's incredible to watch him, because you'd think that at that size he'd be sort of unwieldy, but he's graceful. he doesn't break things.
he grins and kisses me, his beard scraping against mine. i'm sort of drowsy and he knows it, but tonight is our last night together and we're loath to go up to bed, because bed means goodbye, at least physically. very gently he puts his arms around me and rumbles, pleasantly, "i'm going to miss you when you're gone."
i squirm a little. "i'll still be around," i whisper, putting a finger on his nose.
"i know," he says, "but you won't be *here*".
"i almost half don't want to go," i reply.
"i almost half wish you didn't have to, but it's the only way you can stay, ultimately."
i shrug, "then what must be will be."
"ah," he grins, "now *this* is familiar territory, this is phillip the prophet."
"shh..." i retort, "or i'll have to fly again."
"show me the lights?" he asks.
with that, i lift him up and spread my wings slightly, but doing that in this room is sort of dangerous, so i tell him to go and get dressed and to remember his glasses. i sit on the stairs and wait, watching the fire until he ruffles my hair and squats down in front of me.
"i'm ready, little one."
i grin, bend forward and kiss him. together we walk out into the woods, not too far away, just far enough so that there's a clearing. i try to get as much of my arms around him as i can and then i close my eyes, smile and concentrate. then i let go and think...giving him wings as well. at first he sort of lurches around in the air, but after a while he understands how to use them to best effect and quite suddenly he's graceful again. he doesn't break things.
grinning at me, he takes my hand and leads us to the lights...the city that's far below us. he knows that i've been here for just short on five hundred years and that tomorrow means my going home. i'm surprised that he's this enchanted with me, but then i sort of understand, he's human, like i was...once. but that's a long time ago.
"do you think that what we're planning is a good idea?" he asks, through the wind.
shrugging in midair is difficult, so i try to answer him as best i can.
"i actually haven't a clue. i wish i did..."
with that, i lift him upwards, beyond the clouds.
"a last dance?"
he nods and i imagine that he's one of us, one of the host, holding me to him, with his wings folded down and big arms around my waist, as we dance on the clouds...up here the moon is very clear and very bright. the glow creates the illusion that the clouds are a very soft, very fluffy carpet - and for us they are. i'm lighter than air and for a while, he is going to be as well... i lay my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat, swaying in his arms...and time passes. after a little while he nudges me, softly.
a little startled i look up at him, "i'm scared," he says... i nod and hug him tightly.
"are you sure you want to?" i ask.
"i'm sure i want to, i'm just not...sure i like the risk."
i grin. "you have to fall to fly, sometimes."
gently i tug him toward the cabin in the woods. "we'd better do it
now, before either of us lose our nerve."
i lie awake in your arms, time stands still.
you brush your fingers through my hair, murmuring softly.
you take my hand in yours, you anoint it with your mouth.
i am held by your arms and your voice and your warmth.
it's silent outside, except for our breathing.
i lean into you, your mouth touches my forehead.
i'm happy out here, alone and beside you,
i'm happy out here, i want to be close.
beside you, inside you.
i stand in front of him and watch as he undresses. silently, i drop my own white robe to the ground and step forward. i grin and twirl around in front of him. i listen to his thoughts, one part wonder and one part fear...to put him at ease i start talking to him like that. for a while his jaw drops open as we exchange thoughts.
"i didn't...know you could do that..."
i nod and shrug, "that's how i sometimes knew that you wanted to call me, or i sometimes listen to your thoughts to know what you want and then do it..."
"i...didn't understand, but i think i do now."
i stand and wait, patiently as he makes up his mind. this is the last chance either of us has to back out. knowing him as well as i do, i know he probably won't back down. it'll take something short of armageddon to change his mind.
i close my eyes and concentrate one last time, giving him the tools for his task, then i step forward, into his arms for a last hug. "how will i know that it worked?" he asks.
"you'll know." i grin, impishly, "trust me, you'll know." with that he opens his mouth, opens it wide, as if he's yawning. i watch as he experiments for a while...then he closes his mouth.
"i know," i reply and put a hand on his shoulder. with that i let him get on with it. the faster we get this done, the faster things will get sorted out.
instead of the very direct route, he puts his lips to mine and proceeds to kiss me...i return the kiss, knotting my tongue in his... as he strokes my arms, i do the same to his ample belly. he opens mouth, engulfing my nose, then wider still, engulfing my eyes. his hands slip into mine and squeeze.
i've done this before, so i am not afraid...my return squeeze is for him...to make sure that he's ok. his mouth moves over the crown of my head and then, strangely, his tongue comes undone from my own. i have an idiot grin on my face as i realize that he is tasting me. there's a gentle rumble from deep below, in the cavern of his stomach as he growls his pleasure. i thought he'd be afraid, but he isn't. on the contrary, he's revelling in the situation. not backing down, i decide to wreak a little havoc of my own, so i reach down between his legs and begin to stroke his member into hardness. the growl becomes a rumble, almost like a huge cat, purring. i consider and then reach for his nipples, squeezing, gently. more chaos.
the mouth that is swallowing me grins, widely and i can feel his moustache brush the top of my neck.
'calm down,' he thinks.
doing phillip the impetuous, i retort, 'hey, it's only the last time i get to sexually molest anyone. it's my party...not yours.' as best he can he laughs around me. his hands keep feeding me into him...his mouth stretches wide as he slips my shoulders into his mouth...i squirm a little as he repays my favours in kind, his tongue gently brushing each of my own little nipples when they come across his tongue. for a little while i lie in his mouth, just enjoying the sensation of his tongue as he plays it from one end of my chest to the other. after a little while he decides to be bad...knowing that i can't stop him, he reaches between my legs and a large hand begins to tug at my member. it's uncomfortable, but i manage to get my hands within range of his paws. rather ineffectually i slap at them...he laughs again and continues to swallow. my arms are pinned against my sides as he slides the top-half of my body into his mouth, his hands stroking my legs as his tongue probes between them. his moustache is brushing against my back like the bristles of a broom... the sensations everywhere are incredible. when my penis enters his mouth, he uses his newfound flexibility to wrap his tongue around my erection...he plays with it for a little while, stroking up and down, then heading for my balls.
using his tongue, he makes his way between them and up into the crack of my rear end.
'nice,' he thinks.
i blush. after all this time [and half way down his throat] i'm still embarrassed that he finds me attractive. prolonging the agony, he slowly begins to tug on my penis, back and forth, back and forth... at first gently, but then speeding each stroke, until i'm virtually thrashing around in his mouth. finally he tosses my midriff back a little, so that my penis is aimed over his throat...as a result of the peristaltic waves washing over my body, i spurt two or three powerful shots, which wash straight down and into his belly. after that there's a little slimy residue as i continue to thrust against his throat...it's incredible...my body does half of the work, but his throat does most of it...unthinkingly he's constantly working on my genitals, milking them for what little they have left. back on the outside of his mouth, he's in the process of feeding my upper-legs into his mouth, his tongue coating me in saliva...i don't bother to open my eyes inside of him...there wouldn't be much point anyway, since i can't see a thing...instead i feel each sensation as it reaches my body...it's strange, for once in my life i feel everything around me, the smooth, but gentle peristaltic waves against my penis, back and stomach. he tips his head backwards and suddenly my feet are the only things outside of his mouth. i grin as i feel his bearded face against my body one last time, then he swallows, tickling my toes with his tongue one last time before i drop through the opening in his throat and down into his waiting gut, which i imagine is now vastly distended.
'one,' he thinks.
i lie down, my gut spilling down onto the bed of pillows that phillip and i had been lying down on. with my left hand i stroke at the bulge that is the young man that i've swallowed, while my right hand searches for his robe...this wasn't entirely his idea. i'm partly to blame for what happened here, but i'm still not sure...even after i've got him inside of me...
what's going to happen next, will *anything* happen next? was this just one rather insane idea? but i think, as i stroke him, softly, that it couldn't have been.
he wasn't one of us, he wasn't human. he gave me the ability to partake of him...what had he called it, once, in jest...? a host. "a host of angels...just think of communion wafers," he'd said. i look up at the ceiling and watch the flames make shadows everywhere... as i paw my distended stomach, i talk to him, knowing that he's been through this once before, being on my end of things, helps a little. the patterns that the fire makes against the ceiling are dangerously comforting and very hypnotic...
the next morning i wake up...my stomach is it's normal size and the white robe i'd been clutching is gone. the fire has burnt out and the sun is high up in the sky...the most pressing thing, though, is an incredible pain in my back,
of all places. as i get up i am startled...usually standing up is a chore, because i'm so heavy, but right now i feel...light...no, that's not the right word. weightless. running up the stairs two at a time i don't notice the little, white feathers drifting to the floor behind me...it's only when i reach the bedroom that i understand what's happened.
racing to the full-length mirror, i gasp... my body, the one that i've always known, is still there - round arms, gut and all, but now the source of pain from my back is evident. i...have...wings. i nearly collapse, but, somehow manage to stay standing in front of the mirror long enough so that one of my hands can verify what my eyes are seeing.
shaking, i reach for the downy feathers. my hands don't pass through them. they're there. they're real. experimentally, i flex, allowing the wings to spread out. the question now is, how do i make sure i'm normal. thinking back to what phillip did, i close my eyes...and concentrate. instantly, the wings disappear and i'm naked...as naked as i've ever been in the last fifty years.
genuinely puzzled now, i start to do all the things that phillip and i planned for, in case this very thing happened. carefully, i arrange the papers, make sure that everything is taken care of, then i send everything that needs to get sent off away...
at the end of the day i'm standing up on the roof of the cabin, looking down into the clearing where we flew up to the lights of the city the night before, when a silver-lined visage comes to rest in front of me. 'come,' the angel thinks. i grin and put down the mug of coffee i'd been drinking. she takes my hand and leads me to the clearing, then, very gently, she rises...and the earth is no more...
i lie awake inside of you, time stands still. you are joined to me as i am joined to you. you are the warmth that surrounds me. i am held by your thoughts, your words and your skin. the softest thing here, is the sound of your heartbeat. i curl up within you and i fall asleep. i'm happy in here, alone and inside you, i'm happy in here and for once i am close. inside you...
[he's living like it's the last night on earth/]
[date: 7 july 1998]
oooo...a u2 inspired vore story.
that's just *wrong*
the party responsible for this story:
there are actually two people. shadow-walker delaforge is the first, without him constantly making me blush i wouldn't have any cause to be thinking of the giant lemon as often as i do.
[explanation time:there's a prop on the u2 popmart tour, which is basically a giant lemon that doubles as a mirroball - i've sort of got a running joke that because i blush so much, i should just become a giant lemon, [or tomato, take your pick] that way i wouldn't have to worry about blushing, because i'd be doing it all the time. so...um...how does this tie in with the story, you might be wondering? well...it's simple, because i spend so much *time* thinking about the giant lemon, i'm consequently thinking of u2 alot...and...well...you know, the song title 'last night on earth' and all that?
[oh, hi bono. if you're reading this, do not be afraid. well, ok, be a little afraid, i guess.]]
the *second* party responsible for this shall go down forever in history as fgg. partially, because i'm not sure that he wants to be identified and partially because i think it's a nice monniker.
[fgg=fucking good guy.]
fgg is basically the swallower in this story [nicholas]. [there we go, you got the story i promised you ;)]
ok. that bit aside, what's it about, then? i'll answer that in a bit. once i've thought about it. ;)
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