Blood Magic  by Aborigen    Darkness spread from each corner of the room

Blood Magic  by Aborigen    Darkness spread from each corner of the room

Blood Magic

by Aborigen

Darkness spread from each corner of the room, as he lay tied to the bed, when

not suffused with the glow of the red lamp. Shadows stretched across the walls

and ceiling, splayed from the colored lightbulb. His lithe, naked body basked in

the dim, murky hue. Above his head, his wrists were bound to the wooden

headboard with thick leather belts; he grinned indulgently as he tugged and

tested their security. His ankles were apprehended in a similar fashion, with

his legs forced open wide. He could hear the business of his girlfriend in the

bathroom, small vials of make-up clattering against the vanity as she did some

last-second preening. He raised his head, trying to peer into the darkness where

the atmosphere welled from turbid red to a fathomless black… Settling back into

the mattress, he sighed happily and rolled his shoulders back into the sheets.

The soft rasp of her bare feet against the carpet subtly heralded her arrival as

she gently closed the bathroom door behind her. Hasp… hasp… came her footsteps

on the plush carpet, slow and steady. He could picture the plush poking up

between her pale toes, champagne fabric curling up around deep red lacquered

toenails, the mat of carpet lifting away as she plucked its strands, releasing

them and stepping forward again… hasp… hasp… Her porcelain body emerged from

shadows like a mist of crimson coalescing above a censor of incense and

manifesting the avatar of a goddess, gracing this human with her presence. She

controlled her posture, supple thighs shifting against each other, arms swaying

gracefully, and her head slightly bent forward with a predatory study. Her dark

eyes never blinked once; the tip of her tongue glistened for a second as she

licked the corner of her burgundy lips. Such even, finely sculpted lines framed

beneath a shocked wave of short platinum blonde hair, such a contrast of darks

and lights… he found himself mesmerized by her carriage in the glow of the red

lightbulb as she approached the side of the bed. She faced the lamp as she

leaned down to plant her fists in the mattress beside her boyfriend's hips, and

he felt the release of the pressure beneath his ass and lower back. His heart

was pounding wildly, now, and his arousal betrayed him almost immediately.

Laughing softly, she drew one knee upon the mattress and sat beside him, pulling

her other leg up. Leaning against his hip as he lay there, she swung her long,

pale leg up and placed the sole of her foot upon his bicep. Faintly could he

smell her body shampoo off the smooth, soft ankle and foot that slid up his arm,

back and forth, her cool sole lightly massaging his muscle groups. He strained

his head to reach over and kiss her toes, only managing to flick his tongue

across one painted nail before she gasped and yanked her foot away. Withdrawing

her foot, she knelt beside him, then brought her leg over to straddle his waist,

facing him. She knelt above him, tiny hands on hips, and regarded him sternly;

her burgundy lower lip was pushed out in a pout as her dark eyes smouldered

above. His skin tingled where her knees clasped against his sides, and his sides

twitched, oversensitive, whenever she clenched her grip around his body.

He opened his mouth to speak, to appease her, to plead for something more, but

she forebade it: reaching down to grab a fistful of sheets, she swung her leg up

to his face once more and pressed the ball of her foot upon his lips. His

eyelids widened, then fluttered slightly as his moan rumbled, muffled, into the

sole of that dainty foot. His tongue, thick and hot, roiled beneath her tender

skin and she bore it gracefully, biting one pouty lip to stifle her ticklish

laughter. To show her favor with his gesture, she gently ground her foot into

his face, rolling the ball of her foot against the side of his nose up to his

eye socket – her tiny, ball-like toe tips swam gracefully over his view before

his vision was blocked out, and then he felt their row grasp and pluck at his

eyebrow. The sole of her foot cupped his cheekbone and, stepping on him thusly,

she slowly rubbed her foot into the side of his face.

Beneath her hips, she was pleased to see his c--- raging in arousal, as red as

his belly and thighs, as everything else in this room. Dragging her toes down

his cheek, she nestled them into the hollow of his neck, then down his chest,

and finally drew her leg back to kneel upon. He lay with his head back in the

large black, ornamental pillow, decorated with brass sequins and inlaid with

colored glass beads. It was important to this ceremony, this which he requested

and she reluctantly granted. It was, after all, the basis for their relationship

and inevitable in its arrival. Welcoming it into being, her slender fingers

crept over her shaven mons, slithering over her clit, and insistently ground

into her swollen labia: seeing her boyfriend tied up like this was inviting

enough, but witnessing the full impact of her effect upon his mental state was

intoxicating. It made the next part easier, more comfortable to move into…

Her fingertips parted her labia and peeked inside her vagina, immediately coated

and stained with black-red blood. She heard a hiss and looked up to see her

boyfriend craning his head up, sucking in his breath through his teeth as she

lightly masturbated above his prone body. He always loved to watch and, now that

he knew what was about to happen, it set his lean, muscled body on fire. She

blew him a playful kiss before turning her attention down between the valley of

her breasts, across the plane of her belly, and into the pale, murky valley of

her thighs. The silence of the room was slightly compromised by the quiet, moist

clicks of her fingers slurping around in her pussy. Her 3rd, then 2nd knuckles

disappeared between the engorged labia, pumping slightly; even in this light, he

could see the clinging paint that coated her fingers, spreading in a thin, even

coat, running down the ivory back of her hand in one thin, serpentine ribbon.

She moaned softly, alleviating to some small degree the burning she felt within

her vagina, rubbing her fingertips against the clenching, eager walls, then

withdrawing them and holding her hand poised over his chest.

This was the part he was waiting for. Clearing her throat with a husky little

growl, she commenced a soft, steady recitation of syllables from another

language. He suspected they were not actually part of any language, but a

collection of sounds arranged only for their accumulated effect: sometimes it

sounded Arabic, sometimes Japanese, sometimes the rough babble of African tribes

he'd seen on PBS by idle accident. Her fingers separated and formed a dark V

over his chest, hovering there as the syllables wound their way from her lips

and bounced in an erratic caravan across the room, into the absorbing darkness.

They descended at last, as the skin on her fingers grew cold, and pressed

themselves into the center of his sternum, drawing sharply downward to his

navel. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of the cooling paste on his

skin. He heard more slurping, her quiet purr, and then warm jabs of bloody

fingertips upon his left pec, then his right. More slurping, and a half-circle

was drawn from his left pec, arcing down his side, cresting his pelvic bone;

more slurping, and the same thing on the other side. This went on for a few more

seconds, to the crazy chattering mantra of his girlfriend, when abruptly she cut

herself off. He opened his eyes and wondered why she was releasing him from his

captivity in the middle of the whole thing.

But she wasn't. He stared up the immense wall of her belly, as her breasts grew

before him, yet grew farther away. Likewise, the bed seemed to come to life

beneath him, sliding under his skin as if he were sliding down a slope, yet it

expanded at some point beneath his back and spread in all directions.

Realization struck him like a speeding fire engine: her spell worked, and he was

shrinking! He was shrinking, he realized ecstatically as her thighs swelled

light mighty alabaster pillars around his diminutive frame, rising up to the

bloody temple of all magic and influence! He was shrinking, he exulted as her

enormous paw, two fingers bloodied, spread above him like a canopy and

irresistibly wrapped around him. His hair matted in her drying blood and his

legs dangled; as he watched, the crimson tableau of body landscaping rushed in

front of him, and he could hardly identify everything in the dim red lighting.

He found himself before her face, that gorgeous, seductive, catlike face

grinning at him with a dark smirk. His head jerked backwards as she drew him to

her face and buried his head between her painted lips, red and swollen like her

vagina. He inhaled excitedly, breathing her breath as her lips part and her

tongue rolled forward, bathing his face in her saliva. The tip of her tongue

felt out the corners of his face, smearing from ear to ear, and he cried his joy

down her throat; the rumbling that burbled up was doubtlessly her laughter in

response.

She opened her fingers and held him against her mouth as her tongue poured

thickly out and embedded the front of his body. She took her time bathing him,

rasping the tiny red streaks off his chest to halt his shrinkage, keeping him at

a good four inches in height. He placed his tiny hands upon her upper lip,

marveling as the enormous strip of skin twitched beneath his touch and pressed

at him. Her tongue wandered down between his thighs, and stars exploded in his

vision as a thousand papillae rasped over his aroused penis. He barely saw the

red light glinting off the sharp edges of her teeth; he barely heard the

explosion of air rushing around the sides of his head as she gasped and moaned;

he knew nothing but that his entire world consisted of his girlfriend's flesh,

that this goddess could absorb him heedlessly, thoughtlessly, and there wouldn't

be one shred of evidence of his existence. Most importantly, he knew he would

gladly give himself over to her, over and over again – now that they knew this

spell was possible, he intended to indulge in it as often as her bodily

processes would permit.

Winding up with another, all-embracing kiss to his tiny face, she placed him

gently upon the mattress beneath him. Her knees, the size of boulders, slid over

the sheets and her titanic hips descended from the heavens to mere feet above

his body. Beyond rational thought or self-awareness, he began to masturbate

himself, staring up into the capacious vagina poised impossibly above him. He no

longer saw her face. Craning, he could just see her perky nipples, a

quarter-mile above him, poking out from and disappearing behind the pale, pale

field of satiny belly above the bloody temple. All he could see were her thighs,

in the periphery of his vision, her distended, blood-smeared labia, and the

long, slender fingers that serviced them. He watched their slow, sleepy ballet

as they rotated over her vagina, pushing the folds of skin back and forth,

mashing into them, squeezing out large beads of blood that got mashed back into

her skin. His hand clutched his penis fiercely and his jerking resembled a

ferocious pounding into his hips as he viciously summoned his orgasm into being,

staring up into the velvet abyss overhead.

She moaned. She clenched her eyes, bit her lip, and purred to herself. Slowly

she gyrated her hips, swaying her full, firm ass in the reddish darkness of the

bedroom. She appeared to be pleasing herself, all alone, but she knew her lover

was beneath her. No longer observing him and his activity, she focused on

getting herself off; she knew her selfishness with sexual stimulation pleased

him most of all. She trusted he would remain for the whole show, and ground her

fingertips into her vagina, spreading herself wider, filling herself. Her

fingers thrust vigorously inside, then harder and faster, and her moaning became

labored grunts of aggression and greed. She even heard her ministrations echoing

off the bedroom walls, and this pleased her as well; redoubling her speed, she

felt the slow, deep burning rising in her thighs and belly, and wondered if now

was the time to avail herself of her boyfriend.

She leaned over to peek at him and see how he was doing. He seemed very pleased

with himself, having sated his libido and content to watch his girlfriend at

work. She was just about to ask him if he was ready to join her again when an

accident happened. One careless thrust of her fingers into her pussy, one

reflexive contraction, too much fluid flowing all at once… It all resulted in

one small drop of blood forming, breaking free of its hold on her labia, sailing

past her knuckles… She never even saw it, in the darkness. He never saw it until

it was too near him to do anything, moving too fast for him to roll aside. He

wouldn't have, even if he could – what could possibly be the consequences of one

inadvertent droplet of blood, even at his size?

It happened to smack him dead in the chest, with about as much force as a full

backpack of clothes. He laughed at the impact, at the blood that splattered

across his tiny chest, almost completely drenching him. She stared at him,

trying to comprehend how he could've changed colors like that, then realized

what must have happened. She snatched at him, yanked him up to her face and

rapidly lapped at his tiny, shrinking body above his protestations. He realized,

as each stroke of her tongue covered more and more of his body, what was

happening and he, too, was alarmed.

When she felt she cleaned him off, he was no more than ¼ of an inch long, in

total.

She stared at the little pebble of a man in her palm, her tiny boyfriend.

He lay in the middle of a huge spread of soft leather, feeling every ripple of

the lines in her skin beneath his body, staring up at the billboard of his

girlfriend's face. He was too shocked to say anything, and she returned his gaze

in silence. His heart pounded furiously within its ivory cage as his head

flicked back and forth, trying to take in the enormity of his girlfriend's head,

hovering like a planet above the broad hand upon which he lay.

Eventually her brow furrowed and she sighed gently, sending gusts of wind over

her boyfriend's miniscule naked body. She brought her other hand up to the first

and extended her index finger beside him, her fingertip to her palm. He looked

over at the huge red lacquered nail, then up at her; she nodded slowly, and he

climbed aboard her fingernail, lying on his back. She closed her eyes once and

he saw a crystalline tear well up, easily the size of himself as it ran down his

cheek. If he hadn't been in such shock at the turn of events, he might have

wondered why his girlfriend wept. It was all he could do to keep himself

together, however, as the scale of her size superceded anything with which he

was familiar.

Holding him carefully aloft, parallel to the bed, she lay herself down upon the

mattress and took a moment to arrange the pillows behind her head; as an

afterthought, she pulled one down and placed it beneath her hips. He could only

watch the ceiling and try to control his sense of vertigo by clinging to the

sides of her lacquered nail. His stomach lurched with every pitch and jerk of

her finger, as she situated herself, but soon the motion stabilized and he felt

himself being lowered. The darkness of the bedroom never seemed more

unfathomable than it did now, and every red object was a huge, monstrous smear

of color floating in the darkness an interminable distance away. The room slowly

spun – she was sensitive enough to slow her gestures as much as possible for him

– and one of her raised knees passed by like a tremendous mountain. His heart

raced to see such smooth, firm flesh, to know that this mountain was part of his

girlfriend. The fingernail, now serving him as an elevator, followed the path of

her immense thigh as it broadened and lowered towards her hips, and then he was

at the grand juncture of her legs, the bloody, swollen temple of her lusts, the

hungry pit of her passion, the… everything else. She lowered him to her c--- and

held him there for a moment.

Could she do this? Should she? Doubts suddenly plagued her at the last second,

as she held her finger before her velvet, gory slit. She felt ridiculous in one

respect, as she dramatically drove her finger slowly into her pussy; in another

respect, she felt guilt and dread lying heavily in her stomach as she knew this

was her boyfriend, her tiny, helpless boyfriend… but if it had to end, it should

end in love and not terror. She closed her eyes to the murky red room and

concentrated on the single, slender finger now entering her vagina.

He'd never seen anything like this before. Her enormous labia stretched above

him like stage curtains, crowned by the curious clit that came poking out to see

him. Her fingernail approached the tremendous vagina inexorably, like some

perverse ride at a theme park, and never slowed down as the swollen folds of

skin ground against the sides of her finger, then slid around it with a

sickening, low slurp. The stench of blood, commingled with the odor of her

ardent arousal, replaced any breathable gas he enjoyed before, and he placed one

hand over his mouth and nose, taking gasps of breath when he had to.

There was no lighting in here, so he could only imagine what was going on. He

ventured to reach out with one tiny hand and stroke the inner passage of her

vaginal canal as he plumbed her depths. It didn't notice his touch, but he felt

the pressure her vagina exerted on her finger: short, sharp bursts, tiny

clenches that welled up but never entirely covered him.

Without, she was crying quietly to herself, knowing how much she would miss him.

She tried to console herself that they would be together forever, one way or

another, but she couldn't imagine what was going through his mind. She thrust

her finger inside her deeper, involuntarily shuddering with arousal, even as she

wept.

Deeper and deeper he went, and he wondered how long this could go on, how deep

she could possibly be. Crazily, he toyed with the notion of falling off her

finger and dwelling within the soft folds of her vagina for the rest of his

days, crawling over the velveteen tissues and curling up to sleep within their

crevasses. He wondered if she would even notice him and his activities…

Suddenly, a large node of flesh rubbed up against his feet. Her fingernail

bumped into some protuberance within her pussy and stopped. He tried calling out

to her, to withdraw him, but he doubted she could hear him as tiny as he was and

as many layers within her as he was buried. He backed up her fingernail, his

tiny butt rubbing against her cuticle as the motion started again and the

boulder of flesh rolled up her polished fingernail. Gasping, gagging on the air,

he screamed for his girlfriend as his legs disappeared beneath the node; he beat

against it with miniscule fists, raked at it with tiny fingernails as it rolled

up over his hips and chest. He cried out to his girlfriend, clawing at the node

of flesh…

She simply gave her fingernail one last shove, paused, then withdrew. In the

dark red light, with tear-diffracted vision, she examined her nail for any trace

of her boyfriend: nothing. He could have been mashed, he could have been swept

away inside her, he could even be plastered to her thigh and rinsed down the

drain as she showered. She didn't know, and she didn't want to. Drawing a deep

breath for a hard, ragged crying session, she reached over and turned off the

red lamp.

END

Blood Magic  by Aborigen    Darkness spread from each corner of the room

MORE ABOUT Blood Magic  by Aborigen    Darkness spread from each corner of the room