This was prompted by a short post from ArcticGiantess, who at the time was finding her way in a foreign city.
Who’s this, huddled in the snow outside the window of my favorite pastry shop? No one else comes down here this early, only me. This is when the treats are the tastiest.
You’re not from around here, are you? How did you find this place? Oh, a guidebook! I didn’t think anyone used those anymore. Show me the page. That’s right, lower your head to find the entry. I’ll just reach up to the back of your neck, under your soft hair. The slightest pinch at the base of your skull, aaand you’re mine.
Your backpack, your warm winter clothes, those cute fur-lined boots, all collapse in a pile at my feet. You’re already shivering, all three inches of you, dangling from my fingers in the chilly morning air. No one here to see us except the pigeons, who suddenly look hungry. Let’s get you out of sight.
There you go, all tucked away. I know it’s a deep pocket, underneath my scarf and wool coat, but you’re safe there against my chest. Can you hear my heartbeat? Just lie back, like in a hammock. I promise not to move too abruptly. We don’t have too far to go.
I took the subway to get down here, but let’s see if I can find a cab. Wouldn’t want some rude stranger clattering into you, would we? Ah, there’s one, right by the sausage stand. Here we go. Yes, I smell it too. It won’t be long.
This is it, thanks. Up the steps, let’s see if the concierge is up yet, nope. Alright, we’ll wait for the lift. I know it’s slow, but I think you’ll prefer it to all those stairs. At least you’re warmer than I am.
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. Off with the scarf and coat, you’re still protected in my shirt pocket. Feel free to poke your head out while I make coffee. It’s pretty strong, so I’ll get the milk and sugar. No fresh pastries, but I have a bag of supermarket rolls I can slice up. Don’t forget the Nutella.
Alright, let’s sit down and have a better look at you. It’s okay, my hands are warm from the coffee mug. Up and out you go. Oh my. You’re so cute and helpless in my hand. Here, hold onto my thumb so you feel more secure. Good. Now I can dangle your darling little feet and watch your legs shimmy enticingly.
Yes, look up into my face, it must seem enormous. You look so apprehensive. I can feel your tiny heart pounding against the skin of my thumb, you know. How can your eyes look so wide in that tiny face?
Okay, you’re shivering again, let’s warm you up. I’ll set you down right here next to my plate. The coffee’s just right, but I don’t have anything small enough for you to hold and drink out of. I know, we’ll use this saucer. There you go, just get down on your hands and knees and lap it up.
Oh, that’s lovely. You’re all spread out, just like a pussy cat, except that no cat ever pointed so tempting a tushie up at me. I better start spreading the Nutella before my hands find something else to do.
There, that’s good. Here, let me dab that crumb. Now you have breakfast too. Isn’t this nice? The smell of fresh coffee, the taste of sweetened hazelnuts, and you perched on the edge of my plate, gazing up at me past my belly, gurgling in anticipation.
Look at you, with your legs folded primly but the rest of you reclined in display. You know what I want to see, don’t you? I’ll have another bite of my roll, but my eyes never leave your delicate shoulders or your curved haunches. I can tell you’re watching my jaws and throat at work.
Okay, Little One, I need to touch you again. C’mere, don’t be scared. You weigh almost nothing in my grasp, my warm fingers curling around your back, and your legs, and that fine little booty. I’m gonna bring you up close, so I can watch your little boobs bounce around as I feel them with the tip of my thumb.
You’re still watching my mouth. There’s not much bread left in there, just a little schluckl. There it goes. Did you hear it go down? I make all kinds of noises when I eat, I don’t even realize it.
I need another sip of coffee. Do you want any more? You sure? Alright, just hang tight in my fist while I take a gulp. Hot coffee is one of my favorite smells. That’s why I can’t get into the cold-brew stuff. The smell is totally different.
You’ve got a unique scent, you know. I first noticed it when I put my hand under your hair. Now, of course, it’s thoroughly blended with my breakfast. A little citrus, a little fennel. Very savory.
Let’s have another whiff. A rush upwards and suddenly my nose is on top of your belly and your crotch, snortling and snuffling. Wind whips through your ass cheeks and around your armpits and up into my sinus. Mmmmmm. That’s it.
I want to see your face once more, Little One. Did I frighten you? What do you see in my immense eyes, almost so close you can’t look at both of them at once? Can you tell that I’m estimating how much space you take up? The tip of my tongue snakes out of my mouth for just a moment, but from the way you’re trembling I know you saw it.
My smile breaks into a grin, and now it’s time. My fingers tighten around your chest and shoulders as I angle you back and point your legs at my mouth, now wide open. You lay slack for a moment of denial about what is happening, but then you kick furiously, absurdly hoping to break my grip and plummet to the tabletop or the floor. You accomplish nothing as my hungry lips gather your flailing feet inside.
You can sense my teeth above and below your legs, but I don’t even need them to pull your straining legs deeper inside. Already my impatient tongue is gliding over your calves and thighs, tasting every aspect of your skin as it arrives.
A grunt of satisfaction rumbles up from my chest as your ass and pussy pass the threshold of my lips. As your belly disappears beneath my pliant flesh, I give a triumphant chortle that ripples through your viscera and resounds in your skull. Oh, you are mine.
My tongue can wait no longer, driving your clenched legs apart with ease. I’m going to have you all, your ass, your taint, your pussy, your thighs, your belly. Not just the flavors, but also the textures. Every slope and crack is going to be lapped and prodded and sucked and gnawed. My warm wet writhing muscle is now your master.
Far sooner than you hoped, you’ve given up fighting. Now you’re just rolling with the tides of my tongue and my lips, letting yourself be flipped onto your belly so my tongue can burrow between your ass cheeks. Your tits are splayed on my lower lip, your arms dangling weakly on my chin. Do you even remember a world beyond my mouth and my appetite?
Your eyes flutter open and I draw a deep breath through your hair and up into my nose. A tiny groan of alarm turns into a yelp as my lips relax slightly and I slurp you entirely inside, engulfing and silencing your protest. And now my tongue has your chest and your shoulders and your face to lick and slather and slime. Even when your face isn’t buried in my tongue or cheek, what little air you have is unbearably hot and humid. Somehow the fumes of my half-digested breakfast still make you hungry.
Round and round and over and over you go, my tongue tossing your limp body between my gums and cheeks and then slamming you up into the roof of my mouth. My favorite is when you’re boobs-down on my tongue, your limbs dangling on either side, the tip nuzzling your face while your ass is raked along my palate and your drenched pussy is ground into my taste buds.
I flip you around again, and now your tiny feet scrape against my incisors as I position your head at the back of my mouth. A soft deep sound floats up from the back of my throat, and you think you recognize the tune. A nursery rhyme, perhaps? You find yourself trying to remember where Drury Lane is and if you’ve ever been there before, when suddenly your feet are pitched up over your head and you are squeezed head-first down into darkness.
Originally posted: 27 Feb 2017
2 thoughts on “The Muffin Man”
Super creepy! Very well done, but that slow, methodical predatory nature pervades every single line. Even when he’s being thoughtful, even when he’s simply appreciating his environment, there’s always that one thin note of “this will end badly for you, little one,” without remorse or second thoughts. Everything he does, every overt act or every beside-the-point gesture all builds his appetite. She did nothing wrong, only ran afoul of fate and stumbled into her untimely demise. So unfair.
Very well written. A great perspective piece with a new tone.
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Thank you kindly! The appetites expressed here are genuinely mine, but it definitely helped to hear from female M/f vore fans.
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