The Crystal Talisman Volume III

The Crystal Talisman Volume III

The Crystal Talisman

Volume III:

Mark Bryan

by Dr. Music

Part 1: Mark and Sheila

Mark Bryan sat in his living room watching tv, his head nodding now and then as

he fought to stay awake. It was getting late, but something was nagging at him.

It was as if a voice within his head kept telling him not to go to bed yet.

"Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes," it would say.

Mark idly wondered why it was so important for him to stay awake. He felt as if

he were expecting a guest. He looked at the clock and saw that it was just past

midnight. A guest? Probably not.

He had just about decided to silence the nagging and head off to dreamland when

there was a heavy knock on the door. Absently scratching his hairless head, Mark

stood up and approached the door.

The knock resounded, and Mark jumped as he saw the door shake on its hinges. He

broke out in an uneasy sweat as his mind began to race with who or what could be

outside. It was late, could be someone in trouble. Could be someone looking

for trouble. He didn't think he owed anyone money, and even if he did, it

wouldn't be to the sort who would send someone to break his legs, would it?

Mark shook his head to clear his mind. This is insane, he thought.

There's no hulking hench man on the other side of the door. No crazy lunatic

looking for someone to feed his bloodlust. No axe-murdering....

Mark shook his head again, dislodging the thoughts that had begun to run rampant

again. He waited, but there was no more knocking. He waited some more. Still

silence. Cautiously he approached the door and peered through the peephole.

Nothing. No one.

He kept looking, waiting to see if whoever it was had just stepped aside so that

Mark couldn't see him. Nothing happened. For a moment, Mark considered letting

it go and just going to bed, but his curiosity and need to prove to himself that

there was nothing to be afraid of got the better of him.

Slowly and as silently as possible, Mark unlocked the door and turned the knob.

Then, with one swift motion, he threw the door open, the breeze made by the

action ruffling his beard and mustache for a moment.

Nothing. No one.

Mark stuck his head out and looked to either side of the door. Still no one was

to be seen. Shrugging and feeling a slight chill in his spine, he hurriedly

closed the door and locked it back. Then he went back to the tv, shut it off,

and turned around. He stopped dead.

On the cushion of the chair he had left a couple of minutes ago sat a small

crystal. It wasn't very noticeable, about the size of a marble, and Mark was

surprised that he had seen it at all. Curiously, he picked it up and looked at

it closely. It was transparent with a smoky hue. Then, a glimmer of light

withing the crystal caught his eye. As he stared at it, the light split into

other lights, and those into still more, until the crystal was glowing brightly,

filled with flashing lights. Then the lights left the crystal and began to fly

around Mark.

Mark was so startled he almost dropped the crystal, but he was held fast by the

multi-faceted beauty before him. The lights swirled and danced around his head,

around his entire body. Then at once, they flew directly at him and into his

head! They actually permeated his skin and entered his body.

Mark's head spun with a sudden rush of cold, like he had doused it in a mountain

spring. The chill traveled down his neck and into his torso. Then, with a flash,

the lights left his body through his chest and went zipping out before him.

There, on the chair in front of Mark, the lights began to coalesce and take a

unified shape. The shape grew and spilled over the seat of the chair onto the

floor. Mark thought he was beginning to see a form appear in the shape, a

familiar form, a tantalizing form. There was a sudden rush of air shooting past

him and into the center of the form, and then a flash like a bolt of lightning,

and what Mark saw next almost made him drop to his knees in astonishment.

In the chair sat a beautiful woman, her blond hair curling down over her

graceful shoulders, her blue eyes staring into his hazel-green. She was dressed

in a tight, white sleeveless shirt, the shortest cut-offs he had ever seen,

black kneesocks, and was shoeless. But, the most striking feature about this

woman, despite the way her sparkling eyes seemed to bore into his soul, was her

size. She would have been athletic yet small, had Mark only been judging her for

her build, but she dwarfed the plush chair in which she sat, indeed her ample

hips strained the chair's arms and threatened to break it. She was gorgeous, a

wonderfully firm, rock-hard body, but she must have been at least....

"Ten feet tall," the woman finished his thoughts for him in a lilting, sultry

voice. "And, you're drooling, Mark."

Mark blinked and felt his eyes sting. He must have had them open for some time,

unblinking. Quickly, he wiped at his beard and cleaned off the drool. Then he

began to stare again.

"It's okay," the woman said with a smile, "you don't have to say anything, I

know your thoughts. Your name is Mark Bryan, and I am...the most alluring woman

you have ever seen."

Mark could only nod.

"My name is Sheila, and I am here to grant you your fondest wishes."

Whether from the lack of blood to his head caused by the ample supply being

rushed elsewhere or from lack of sleep, Mark's eyes rolled up into his head and

he passed out.

Part 2: Six wishes before dying

Mark was awakened brutally by a strong force striking him in the face. He

cringed and opened his eyes to see what it had been. Kneeling over him, looking

rather annoyed, was the beautiful face of his dream goddess. But, it seemed at

the moment that it hadn't been a dream.

After she saw his eyes open, Sheila rose to her full height to stand over Mark.

From his vantage point she looked absolutely titanic. He stared up into the

towering façade of Sheila, and then a sharp odor caught his attention. Turning

his head, he saw that she was standing with her toes practically touching his

head. The smell was coming from her exposed socks, and the strength of it nearly

caused him to lapse back into unconsciousness.

"Oh no you don't!" Sheila growled, and stooping over, she hauled Mark to his

feet.

Mark now stood with his head eye-level with Sheila's crotch. He stared at it for

a moment, and then slowly looked up at her towering form. She smiled down at

him. "I told you, I'm ten feet tall. Why so surprised? Oh, I had to wish the

ceiling higher, I hope you don't mind.

Mark simply stared. At his height of 5' 10", Sheila was nearly twice as tall as

he. He felt his legs sway, and Sheila reached down, placing one huge hand on top

of his head, and steadied him.

"Now," Sheila began, "as I said before you went into la-la-land, I'm here to

grant you your fondest wishes. But, since you passed out, I'm rather angry with

you. Therefore I will grant your wishes, but at the same time I will grant one

of my own. Any questions so far?"

Mark could do nothing but gaze up at her dumbly.

"I thought not." Sheila made sure he would remain on his feet, and then backed

away, swaying her gigantic hips teasingly. Then she sat down in the groaning

chair and crossed her right leg over her left knee, passing a huge foot in front

of Mark's face.

A wave of odor wafted about Mark's head, and he breathed deeply. It was

intoxicating.

Then Sheila stretched her long arms high over her head, and then slid her left

hand down the length of the other arm. Mark watched in fascination as the dim

light of the room glinted off her lush, bristling arm hairs, each silky hair

springing back to attention after being flattened to her skin by her sweeping

hand. She repeated the process with her left arm, slowly grooming her arm and

staring devilishly at Mark as if taunting him with something she knew he loved.

"Oh," she said childishly, "I have an itch." Reaching down, she pushed aside the

top of one of her kneesocks to reveal as much, if not more, hair growing on the

skin there. Slowly, she scratched a spot just beneath the sock. Mark listened to

the raspy, scraping sound her hairs made as they were upset by her fingernails.

"You're drooling again," Sheila said slyly.

Mark didn't care.

Sheila shrugged, and then proceeded to rub her flat stomach which peeked out

ever so coyly beneath the hem of her tight shirt. "Oh, I'm soooo hungry!" she

cooed in a deep, sexy tone.

"W-would you like something to...eat?" Mark could barely speak.

Sheila gazed at him with a gleam in her eye. "Why Mark, that's the smartest

thing you've said all night." Then she chuckled wryly. "That's the only

thing you've said all night."

"I've got some leftover pizza." He couldn't stop staring at her arms and legs,

though her sock was back in its place.

"Well," Sheila began, looking him up and down hungrily, "I had something a

little more filling in mind."

Mark gulped.

"Exactly," she said with a toothy grin. "My time is valuable, Mark. Well,

actually I have all the time in eternity, but that's beside the point. Let me

cut to the chase. I am going to swallow you whole and alive, and soon you'll be

sliding down to my belly to be digested alive. Do I have your attention, yet?

But first I am going to play with you and tease you with my body, mouth and

tongue. Before we start, I will grant you six last requests. But none can be for

more requests or for me not to nourish myself with you. You see? I'm not really

backing out of the deal. You're fondest dreams get to become real, and my need

for this evening does, also."

Mark nearly fainted again. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to die, but he

wasn't sure if he had any choice in the matter.

"No, no choice whatsoever," Sheila supplied. "And hurry up and make your six

wishes, I'm hungry."

Mark started thinking hard. He had always dreamed something like this would

happen, so he already knew what to ask for, but for some reason he couldn't

remember anything. Then that scent touched his nose again, and he suddenly

remembered.

"First," Mark began shakily, "I want to be able to smell you knee socks."

Sheila grinned. "Why, isn't it lucky for you that I happen to be wearing knee

socks tonight? Hmm...what a coincidence. Sit down in front of me."

Mark fell to the floor where he was standing, and watched with unbearable

anticipation as she raised her right foot in the air. Stretching out her

impossibly long leg, Sheila pushed her huge foot into Mark's face.

The odor was so strong Mark's eyes watered. His nostrils burned with the pungent

scent of her foot, but he was in ecstasy. The sock itself was warm and damp with

sweat, and Sheila was shoving her toes practically up his nostrils. His whole

world was that smell. It permeated his other senses until he could no longer

see, hear, or feel anything but that odor. It was as if all his senses had given

themselves over so that his sense of smell could be the strongest. His head swam

and he felt intoxicated. His body grew numb and his mouth watered as if he had

caught a whiff of the sweetest ambrosia and had grown unbelievably hungry for

it. Mark new he had. This was his ambrosia.

Sheila kneaded Marks nose with her foot, grasping it between her toes, shoving

his nose deep into the sock itself. He breathed deeply and felt as if he had

inhaled some narcotic. He felt lighter than air and wanted it never to end. But

just as he had that thought, Sheila took her foot away, leaving his face moist

with her sweat and suddenly cold.

"That's enough of that," Sheila said, almost evilly. "What is your next desire?"

Mark took a moment to clear his head, though he desperately wanted the feeling

to last. He could still smell her foot, the scent embedded in his flesh. He

shook his head and tried to remember what he wanted next. "I...I wish to feel

your arm hair."

Sheila smiled again. "My, but you are an odd little man, Mark. Well, come up

here and have all the arm hair you want."

Mark couldn't stand, so instead he crawled over to Sheila's massive feet. "Aww,

how cute. Here, let me give you a 'leg up.'"

She slid her foot between Mark's legs and beneath his butt, and then lifted.

Mark felt the pressure between his legs grow as he rose into the air. Sheila

hoisted him up until he was well above her lap, and then he began to slide down

her leg. It seemed like a long way down, and Mark was reminded of those huge

slides in the parks that kids love, and then he landed in her lap with a thump.

He felt like a small child compared to her.

Sheila raise her left forearm in front of Mark's face. He smelled her scent and

almost went cross-eyed staring at the silken hairs on the arm. Teasingly, Sheila

brushed the end of his nose with the hair, tickling him and nearly causing him

to sneeze. And then she said, "Well, are you going to feel, or am I just going

to have to sit here and rub my arm on your face all night?"

Eagerly, Mark reached up a hand and ran it over the soft hair of Sheila's arm.

It was even softer and silkier than he had imagined. Lush and thick, it tickled

his palm. He pressed harder and felt her satin skin beneath. It was smooth and

in stark contrast with the hairs which he rubbed in the wrong direction. Then he

brought his hand gliding back, smoothing down the hair he had disrupted by

rubbing it in the direction of their natural orientation.

Barely able to contain himself, Mark began using both hands, feeling and pulling

at the hair. And then Sheila sent him into ecstasy by turning him around bodily

and wrapping her arms around his head. Her forearms muffled his face and he had

an extremely closeup view of her arm hair, it clouding his vision. He felt it on

his nose, tickling his nostrils, on his lips. Tentatively, he stuck out the tip

of his tongue and felt the hair with it. He was in heaven. He could die now a

happy man.

"No," Sheila said, "not yet. You still have four wishes. Time for the third."

Not wanting to let the moment go, Mark slid his hands over both her arms one

last time, feeling every minute hair with his sensitive skin. And then she drew

them away from him.

Mark took a deep breath, gathering himself. "Okay. Now I want to feel your leg

hair."

Sheila raised her right leg so that it was at an angle in front of Mark (he was

still facing away from Sheila.) Then she reached her arms out (Mark stole a

glance at the hair again), and slowly rolled down each sock, revealing the thick

hair beneath. Mark all but dove onto her legs.

He landed face first amid the hair, rubbing his face back and forth and feeling

the slightly coarser leg hair brush against his skin. The smell of her socks was

also strong there, and he breathed deeply, inhaling anything he could. Mark slid

his body around, running his fingers through the hair, rubbing his palms against

it and feeling it glide against the sensitive areas between his fingers. He

buried his face in it, luxuriating of the feel on his lips, his nose, his

forehead. He pinched it between his fingertips, grinding away at it as with a

pinch of salt. It was wonderful and thick, and he couldn't get enough of it. But

then he felt gravity pulling at him as Sheila lifted her legs higher and he slid

down toward her lap. But he could still feel the hair of her legs as his body

glided over it. And then he was down. He rolled over onto his back and looked up

at Sheila.

"What next?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I want to be scissor locked between your thighs, squeezed between you sexy

legs," he said.

Sheila's face glowed. "Ooh, I like this one."

Mark felt her left leg shift beneath him and she raised it up and swung it over

his body, bringing it heavily down upon his torso. The air was nearly knocked

out of him, but he didn't mind. Then she began to lightly squeeze him. He felt

the warmth of her thighs and his eyes rolled at the sensuous pressure she gave

him. His stomach was pressed into his body as she squeezed, and he felt it

nearly touch the other beneath him. But it didn't hurt him. On the contrary,

each squeeze caused a moment of rapture.

Sheila rhythmically scissored her legs together, each time forcing the air from

Mark's lungs and treating him to the comforting, firm embrace of her thighs. The

warmth permeated his body and he was lost to the pulsing of her legs. Then she

began to slowly squeeze harder, not letting up this time. Mark tensed his

stomach and pushed back playfully, but she was too much for him. He saw her face

form an evil smile as she bore down on him.

Mark felt his insides shoved everywhere but where they were supposed to be, and

his face grew hot as blood was forced up through his neck. He groaned, but in

pleasure. This was one of the most sensual experiences of his life. Just as he

thought that he would be cut in half, Sheila let up and removed her leg from on

top of him. His vision blacked out as he experienced a monstrous head rush. His

breath came to him in great gulps of air, and he lay on Sheila's huge lap,

exhausted and worn.

"Now?" Sheila asked.

Mark wearily looked up at her, but he wasn't licked yet. He was willing to keep

it up for eternity. "Now," he nearly choked, "now you can eat me."

Sheila looked a bit confused, though somehow knowingly so. "But you still have

two more wishes."

"I know," Mark said, "and that is my fifth wish. I wish for you to eat me like a

snake would. Start with my feet and slowly pull me into your body. But I want to

be totally aware of myself being digested and absorbed into your body."

Sheila grinned widely as she thought about it. "And your final request?"

"I want to be made a part of you. Your arms, legs, body hair, and feet. I want

to be absorbed into your body and be made part of those areas."

Sheila shook her head. "That shouldn't be a problem. Now, I am very hungry.

Shall we get on with it?"

Mark trembled in anticipation. He could only nod.

"Well then," Sheila said with a radiant smile, "let's begin."

Part 3: Here comes the snake

Mark was caught off guard as Sheila suddenly wrapped her great hands about his

waist and lifted him into the air. With barely discernable effort on her part,

Sheila upended Mark, holding him upside down, and opened her mouth.

"Wait!" Mark cried.

Sheila paused and looked up at him. "What is it? I'm hungry."

Mark wiggled in her grasp, the blood rushing to his head. "I wanted you to eat

me feet first! Why are you doing it head first?"

Sheila smiled her evil smile. "Because I can, silly."

Apparently that was supposed to be enough answer.

Mark struggled against her strong hands and began to protest, but Sheila gave

him a great squeeze which silenced him. All he could do was hang in the air,

staring down at the colossal, beautiful woman that was about to make a meal of

him.

Sheila had her eyes closed and her mouth open, ready to savor her chosen

delectable. As Mark watched, her mouth grew wider, unnaturally wide, and he

could see down into her gaping throat. To him it looked like a dark cavern with

slick, hot walls and that belched singeing breath up at him. The mouth grew

wider again, but this time it was because Sheila had begun to lower him toward

her lips.

Seeing no way to get what he wanted, Mark decided to make the best of the

situation. He stopped struggling and opened up each and every sensation to the

experience. The first sensation of course was the suffocating death grip in

which he was being held. That soon became a loving embrace to him. Next was the

warm breath which enveloped his body. A sweeter scent could not have been made

lest it came from Sheila's stocking feet. The moistness of the breath caused his

face to break out in a mock sweat.

Then he was at her lips. Darkness closed in as Mark's face was pressed into

Sheila's lips and the light was cut off. Mark could feel the soft, wet touch of

her lips as they caressed his forehead and chin. There was a slight moment of

pain as her teeth grazed his flesh, but it was a good pain, one which he

relished and luxuriated in. He could feel the inside of her mouth pressing

against his head as he was shoved farther inward, and then Sheila's tongue was

lathing his face, slapping against his cheeks and lapping at his nose. The

tongue was soon forced down by his head as Mark was pushed in even more.

He experienced a moment of panic when he felt her teeth close around his neck

and throat. For a split second he feared that she would bite his head off. It

would be another devilish trick on Sheila's part to change her mind and decide

to eat him one bite at a time. But then the teeth opened again, and Mark felt

her mouth stretch even wider to allow his shoulders access. Now his face was

entering Sheila's throat. Thick saliva coated his head, and he was already

feeling the first tinglings of digestion. The air was heavy and humid. Mark was

finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. For a moment, he began to struggle

again, but with a shove, he was pushed in up to his elbows.

Mark's eyes were wide open and, though he couldn't see, he knew that if he could

he would be staring down Sheila's throat to the sphincter of her stomach below.

From the feel of it, his face had shot passed the connection of her esophagus to

her windpipe, and he was well on his way to digestion below. Then, just as his

waist and all parts below were about to enter Sheila's mouth, there was a groan,

a squeeze, and Mark found himself shooting back up her throat, through her

mouth, flying through the air, and landing with a painful, if rather wet, thud

on the floor in front of the chair.

Sputtering, Mark rolled over onto his back and found himself staring up Sheila's

lower legs. She was still sitting in the chair, and she bent over, wiping saliva

from her chin and grinning down at him.

"I was thinking about things as I swallowed you, Mark," Sheila said to him, "and

I've decided that you're right. I should honor your wish and eat you feet

first."

Mark could only offer a weak grin.

"Now, turn around and let me have your feet."

Mark could only offer another weak grin.

Sheila sighed in annoyance. "Very well, I'll do it for you."

Reaching her strong arms down, Sheila grabbed onto the waist of Mark's jeans and

hoisted him painfully into the air. Then, with a slight heave, she sent him

spinning into the air. The room flew sickeningly around Mark for a moment until

he finally landed with an even more painful, yet just as wet, thud across the

room. When the world stopped spinning, Mark looked up and noticed that he was on

his back with his feet facing Sheila, who, since Mark was thrown across the

room, was now ten feet away. He lay perfectly still.

Sheila slithered to the floor and got onto all fours. Then, she slowly and

catlike began to creep toward Mark. Her muscles were sinuous and she kept close

to the floor, moving both gracefully and sexually. Mark could hardly contain

himself.

When she finally reached him, Sheila kept her eyes locked on Mark's, and bent

her head down so that her nose was just above the toes of Mark's shoes. Then he

saw her open her mouth as wide as before.

Sheila's tongue snaked out and forced itself beneath Mark's heels. It lifted his

feet and began to draw them into her mouth. There was a slight sucking noise as

her lips closed around his ankles and he was pulled in an inch at a time. Each

time his body was tugged into her, her mouth would open, she'd flash her teeth

and clasp them onto his legs, her lips would close, and he'd be sucked further.

Soon she was up to his knees, and Mark could feel his jeans moisten and his legs

grew warm. He imagined he could feel his feet in Sheila's throat, and he could

even see her neck bulge as she took him into her. Suddenly he realized that she

was to the tops of his thighs and would soon be enveloping his midsection. He

allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment, and savored the sensation of it:

his pelvis encased in soft, wet, warmness; slowly sliding against her tender

flesh; the jagged raking of her teeth against him; and then she was on his

stomach.

Mark opened his eyes and saw that she was still staring into them. Her eyes

seemed to smile with a wickedness, and Mark thought that for a split-second that

they had become reptilian, but he blinked and they were normal again. Wanting

his head to be the final thing to enter her body, Mark put his arms down at his

sides and actually shoved his hands into Sheila. She moaned in apparent

enjoyment, her eyes rolling into her head, and then resumed her eating.

Mark was up to his nipples after that, and then to the base of his throat. He

could no longer look into Sheila's eyes, so he lay his head back and waited in

excited anticipation. He felt her lip upon his chin, felt the teeth dig in

slightly, and then his mouth was drawn within. After that, his nose was

devoured, and Mark caught one last glimpse of Sheila's eyes before his own were

taken. They were staring down at him in glazed rapture. And then, darkness.

Mark was once again within Sheila's throat. He felt the slimy walls slide passed

his ears as her throat muscles worked to draw him deeper down. He felt a

tingling in his feet and knew that within Sheila's stomach, the acids had

already eaten through his shoes. He could feel himself being folded, his joints

bent and then re-bent as her stomach sought to compress his entire body into

itself. And then his head was pushed passed the stomach sphincter and inside.

And then the movement stopped.

All around him Mark could hear the beating of Sheila's heart, deeper and slower

than his own. But then there was a new sensation: pain. His feet were being

digested, and quickly, the pain was moving up his legs. The acids were working

faster than he could have imagined, and soon his midsection was being eaten

away. He tried to scream, but couldn't find the air. In fact, all the air had

run out. He was surprised he hadn't suffocated but knew that this was part of

his wish, and Sheila was going to make the most of it, especially if it caused

him intense pain. She was going to keep him alive to face the ordeal of

digestion.

Mark squeezed around until he could feel with his hands at his legs. They were

gone. Higher up he felt and could feel only jagged bone and his innards slipping

from his body. For a moment, he tried to push them back up, but they were

turning to paste in his hands. Indeed, even his hands were dissolving. His arms

were quickly eaten away and the acids traveled up to his neck. After only a

minute, Mark had been reduced to nothing more than a head. And a few seconds

after, that too was gone.

Mark was in blackness. At least the pain had stopped. And then there were flecks

of light and color. He felt as if he were traveling at high speeds. Except it

was stranger than that. It was as if he were traveling in all directions at

once. It was intoxicating, frightening, exhilarating, every feeling all at once.

Then there was a blinding white light. When the light faded, Mark was seeing the

world through a thousand different eyes. Some eyes were blurred by what looked

like a thin veil of hair, and others were darkened by cloth. He had no nose, but

his world was permeated by the scents of a woman: sweet, sharp, offensive,

delectable. There were thousands of tastes, too. Some familiar, some not. It was

all too confusing.

And then Mark remembered what he had wished for: I want to be made a part of

you. Your arms, legs, body hair, and feet. I want to be absorbed into your body

and be made part of those areas.

He then realized that the hair was Sheila's body hair: her head, her legs, even

her pubic hair. And the cloth was her clothing, of course. The smells were every

scent her body provided, the tastes the same.

In one of his visions, he saw Sheila smiling down at him through a veil of hair.

He saw something rise up beside him and realized that it was her hand, as if it

were attached to him. He must be seeing her through her arm. Her other hand came

into view and began stroking him, driving him into ecstacy. He could feel the

hand stroking him as the arm, could feel the arm and its hair coming up to meet

him as the hand. Then she stood, and he felt her immense weight bear down on him

and knew that he was now her feet. Every time she move, he felt it as if he were

a single part her body experiencing the immensity of the rest of her body. It

was wonderful. It was terrifying. It was tantalizing, and it was painful.

Mark noticed another thing, then. His senses were beginning to deaden, his

vision to weaken. With a sudden sadness, he realized that his time in the world,

both as Mark Bryan, the man and as Mark Bryan, essence of Sheila, was limited.

He was slipping away, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. As the

light faded and he became no more, his last thought was that it was a good way

to die.

* * * *

Sheila became depressed as she lost the ability to sense Mark throughout her

body. It was an exhilarating experience. And then she brightened, because she

realized that she could have that experience anytime she chose. And it didn't

have to involve a willing participant.

End

The Crystal Talisman Volume III

MORE ABOUT The Crystal Talisman Volume III