#justthetip

Water fell from the dark sky in slinking sheets, heavy and full as lies stuffed into a mouth. Your face twisted into a grimace as the weather only grew more tempestuous with age. You carried on with your nightly routine, using your more expensive products to invigorate your spirits. 

The sweet, cloudy aroma of tonka and buttercream swirled around your body once you were ready for the night. You tied your headscarf and bonnet, moaning at the feeling of freshly done hair caressed by the satin. MTV was on, “White Wedding” dominating the setlist. Your body hummed and swayed to the chilling thrum of the notes. You stood up—no longer satisfied with languishing in the thunderous evening—and began to truly dance.

Your legs and arms sinuously fell into a groove, losing yourself to the music. Michael had been in the studio for days at a time, only coming home to Encino for short spaces to ‘breathe and recollect’ and then he was off again, arduously thrilling his body and vocal nerves to be what could only be described as an instrument of Mother Nature. You missed your boyfriend so much you could no longer sleep in his bedroom at Encino, too burdened by his absence, and quickly returned to your apartment.

Turbulent knocks pounded at your door, nearly splitting the wood. “What the fuck?” You shrieked, your body locked with fear. It could be a thug, a murderer, a burglar. Some beast. “Don’t hurt me!” You said, voice thickly burdened with terror. Underneath the constant abuse of the door, a faint purring could be heard..? No, it was more of a thrum, as if it came from the ground. 

Like it was fused with nature, an instrument of—

“Michael?” 

It couldn’t be Michael. Your boyfriend was not boisterous enough nor strong enough to be nearly knocking down your door. But you could faintly feel his energy, although it was obfuscated by something. Perhaps the door. The assault on the door ceased, leaving you in ear-splitting silence. 

“Sweet girl, lemme in.” Came a long, drawn out coo. 

You marched to the door, eyes blazing in pure anger, because what sort of boyfriend almost ruins the sole barrier of privacy you have in your apartment at the dead of night after not hearing from him in days?

You undid the locks hastily, heart climbing to your throat. But you didn’t open the door. 

“Michael is that you?” You questioned. Something was afoot.

“Who else would it be, baby? Any other men come to your door at night? Now open the door, please. I’m freezing.” 

Now that he had spoken for longer, you were sure of it. Whatever nigga was back there did not have the voice of your Michael. 

You hummed, “You sound different. You sure that’s Michael back there?”

“Pretty girl, it’s me. My voice sounds different because it’s been straining for some notes all day. Come on, I love you.” Michael spat the word love out like it was foreign. But it was all too familiar. You two had been dating for five years now. 

“Say it then.” You said, your heart pounding.

“Say what, sweet thing?”

“Say you’re Michael.”

“Oh for crying out loud! I’ve been up for three days straight working on my album, and the only thing in the world I want is to see your beautiful face again. But no, there has to be an interrogation before I come in. Baby, you know who it is. Open this door and find out.” Michael’s voice was different, you were sure of it. Not only was it deeper, but the aura behind it was…more sinister than it had ever been.

But you were sure that he had not known the gentle embrace of sleep for days, and he had likely checked Encino before coming here, and it was two hours away. You worried your lip, biting into it whilst you were in deep thought. What were you doing? Just because his voice sounded different didn’t mean it was Michael, and you were being exceedingly rude the longer you kept him waiting.

You opened the door, and immediately your breath caught. Michael dashed in so quickly it made your head spin. Whilst you were still looking at the vacant space in front of the door, he had dashed in. 

“Mic-“ You began, only to realise he was right behind you, sniffing you like a dog. “Are you okay baby? I’m sorry I took so long to let you in I don’t know what got into me.” You quelled your odd paranoia and hugged him. Michael dug his face into your neck and he was smelling you very loudly.

“I got a new perfume, y’know I hope you like it.” You smiled. You knew damn well he loved it. His curved smile dissolved to a wet sensation and then hardened again when he bit you harshly. 

You screamed in pain, attempting to remove yourself from him, but you might as well have been pushing a brick wall. He was stagnant, rigid and about as malleable as a mountain. 

“Nigga what the fuck are you doing? I don’t smell that good.”

Your words fell on deaf ears, Michael still sucking on your wound with all the hunger of a man starved in the desert. He moaned in pure elation, and you were sure his eyes were dilated. He finally came up for air and wiped his mouth with a grin. 

You do smell that good. Taste even better.” 

You studied him quizzically. He was definitely acting weird. But you chalked it up to lack of sleep. “Okay. Don’t pull that shit again. Save it for the bedroom or something.” You acquiesced, moving past him to get some Chinese from the microwave. There were three full racks of sticky ribs and two cartons of chilli, prawns and noodles. It was too much food for you to eat alone and you were glad Michael had come.

“How have you been, all those long hours at the studio? I have some food for you if you’re hungry. You came right on time. We can watch a movie.” You said, and you continued to babble to him about all sorts. How his knocking had been so scary, and when did he get so strong, how much you’d missed him and you’d been spraying his cologne over your pillow at night. 

You retrieved the food from the kitchen and set it down in front of him at the table. 

“I’m not that hungry and you must be. I know you don’t eat that well whilst you’re recording.” 

With a nearly savage glint in his eye, Michael assure you he was famished. He ate as if he had never seen food before. He ate the three full racks of ribs in two minutes, shoving them down and letting the bone crack sickeningly in his throat before swallowing it up. His table manners had become practically canine since you had last seen him. 

You attributed it to simple hunger and let him eat. Then he moved on to the noodles and opened his mouth wide. Were his teeth so sharp since you had last seen him. And they certainly weren’t so large. And there was no way in heel there were that many of them. But your inspection of his mouth lasted a second as he had soon ploughed through all of the food. As he stared at the first empty box, you swore a deluge of saliva fell from his long canines and his long tongue which waited beneath his long teeth.

Michael licked his lips and rose to wash his hands. You stared at his back. When did he get so tall? He had to be past six feet, although you knew your Mikey was nine inches past five feet.

“I hope you enjoyed it, Mikey. Do you wanna watch Alice in Wonderland or Cinderella?” You questioned, remote already in hand.

He hummed deeply and it was so loud you swore it reverberated through the floor boards. “Do you wanna do something else? How about…we go to bed?” 

You didn’t miss his sly undertone. This was unusual. Every time Michael came back from a hard day at work, the only thing he wanted to do was cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. He always fell asleep though, and it had become something of an unsaid tradition.

You on the other hand had always missed him, and missed lovemaking. But he needed to rest and you were too happy to oblige. But you would never miss a chance to show Mikey all your love. 

“Yeah, we should go to bed.” You returned his tone. He was approaching you now, eyes alight with desire. 

He picked you up with one hand, and carried you quickly to the bedroom. You giggled,   face burning with an adolescent-like warmth. “When did you get so strong?” Michael could pick you up before, albeit with two arms straining or easily on his back, yet now he carried you as if you weighed nothing at all. 

“When did you smell so good?” Michael threw you onto the bed with more force than usual, but you were so entranced by his newfound strength you giggled again like a schoolgirl. Michael tugged your sleep shorts down your legs and you felt his hot breath roll over your sex. He leant in and sniffed you again.

I could smell her from the other side of the door.” He purred deeply in his chest and began to devour you. His large hands spread your lips and his jaw opened to have you completely inside his mouth. It was hot and wet inside his mouth, and his tongue, thick and long as ever, began to nudge and worry your pearl, teasing it. 

Your nerves were practically bursting. His tongue felt like a cock. You were moaning loudly. “Mikey—when did you—when did you get so good at this?” He was fucking you with his tongue. You could feel five inches of heat enter you, then quickly slip out again and begin to slurp. You squirmed trying to flee from the sensation that stimulated every inch of you at the same time, but Michael simply removed his hands—paws, really, they were larger than life—from your hips and moved them to your waist, effectively pinning you.

Michael began to tantalise your pearl again, and the feeling of your sex entirely engulfed by his large maw, paired with his tongue being long and skilled enough to qualify as penetrative intercourse made you see stars. Your soft hands laced through his curls as your hips bucked further into his mouth. You were riding his tongue with vigour, livened by the way you could see him lengthening and thickening in his pants. 

You were sure it was the heat of the moment, but he seemed nearly as long as your arm. It had to be a simple trick of the light. “Oh, Mikey, m’gonna—“ You came like a flood into his mouth. 

He didn’t stop. 

He kept on abusing your sex, licking and prodding and intruding, drawing out more and more pleasure. He fucked you through your orgasm, and drew out another. And another. And another.

You must have been at it for hours, because he ate you alive. Tears soaked into your cheeks and made a path down the bite on your neck. You had pleaded with Michael that the pleasure was too much. You had to be in the double digits now, and he finally showed signs of slowing. 

His face rose slowly and you yelped. The entire bottom half of his face and neck was wet and slick with your juices. It was a thick mask of near translucent white, dripping and dripping. Michael licked his lips hungrily. 

M’sorry, you taste like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. You can’t blame me. It’s hard to stop once you’re around something like that. Something like you.” Michael murmured a weak apology as his hands worked furiously at his belt. He then moved to shrug off the rest of your clothes and the second your breasts were free, he dug his face into them and nuzzled his nose between them.

“So warm, and soft and—“ Michael’s voice lowered to a deep moan, and his tongue licked at your dark, hardened nubs as his face smeared your juices all over your tits. 

“You’re a work of art.” Michael buried his face in them one more time before he stopped. He looked at you longingly and blushed, suddenly shy. It reeked of artifice.

“I’ve been…well. Since you’ve last seen me I’ve grown. It’s so embarrassing to talk about.” He briefly buried his face in his hands before peeking at you through his fingers. “Lemme just show you.” 

He fully took off his pants and his boxers and standing higher than should be humanly possible was a monster. It was brown, and littered with paler patches of skin, with a fat mushroom head that leaned to the right. That was familiar to you. What was not familiar was the sheer size of it. So your eyes had not been playing tricks on you. 

It was only three or so inches shorter than your forearm, and almost as thick. The tip was flushed mauve and seemed angry. Your mouth was open in pure shock.

“Michael! That can’t go inside me. You’d rip me apart.” You protested.

“Okay. I understand. It’s fine.” He was disappointed and his eyes faintly shone with tears. Michael seemed as if he was expecting that answer. He took his lip between his teeth and picked up his boxers.

He had just prioritised your pleasure for hours, and whilst that amount of foreplay was necessary for a cock that huge, you still split you open with only your happiness on his mind. You felt bad.

“Okay, okay! Just the tip. Just the tip and we’ll see how that goes. I want you to feel good, Mikey.” You said. His eyes lit up and he shimmed out of his boxers once more, although being faced with that beastly thing again made your stomach churn with fear.

“Thank you, I’ll be so gentle, I promise I will.” Michael cooed, any trace of sadness now gone. He crudely scooped the slick from your breasts and onto his cock, pumping himself whilst his eyes were locked on your hole, face the picture of need. 

You shut your eyes as he climbed onto the bed, afraid. You felt the fat of his cockhead lining itself up against your folds yet he quickly found your entrance. “Baby, I’m going in.” He said. The round flesh strained inside despite your looseness from the previous activity. “You’re so tight…” Michael groaned.

“Mikey, is that really just the tip?” It was too big. He stilled inside you for a moment and ravaged you with his eyes. “Sweet thing, would I lie to you?” He assured you, that energy from before returning. But his thick cock was just bullying your little alley, demanding all the space in the world, and any sort of cognitive thought vanished like catching smoke with your bare hands.

He was really pushing in now and your mouth was open, relishing and recoiling from the passionate blend of pleasure and pain. “You can take it, baby. You’re doing so well, we’re almost halfway in.”

Halfway in? It felt like he was splitting you apart and he wasn’t even halfway? You sucked air between your teeth and you were going to order him to still his movement, but Mikey was making you feel so good a long moan escaped your throat instead.

He was everywhere: his sweat mingled with yours, his curls brushed your face, his biceps caged you in, his groans and whimpers filled the air, and his dick was destroying you. You were sure nothing could ever satisfy you again. 

“Mama, ohhh, pretty girl—you’re perfect. We’re almost completely in, can you believe it?” Michael babbled.

You could, in fact, believe it. He was gargantuan, a freak of nature. He was still going slow thankfully, but you saw the look in his eye. You weren’t sure how long that would last. Your face burned from his praise which was oddly reminiscent of psychobabble. You squeaked in pain as you felt him fully nestled inside.

That’s all, baby. I’m in. Can you feel me, inside your belly?” He asked, his movements stilled.

You nodded slowly. Your head felt like it was full of cotton. “You…you feel like you’re inside my throat.” And he did. You spoke slowly because it felt like his cock was so long, thick and invasive that he had blocked your throat as well. You blinked dizzily as Michael hiked your knees up to your breasts. 

He felt so good you couldn’t even vocalise it. You were trapped inside your mind, whilst his dick completely erased any brain cells you had left. All that was left was Michael. He snickered at your empty eyes, yet so full of emotion and your open mouth. He shoved his fingers into your mouth and marvelled at the fact that you were so fucked out—just from him pushing in—that your throat went slack and he pumped his fingers into and out of you with ease.

He tapped your cheek, once. Then twice. “Baby, come on. Baby. Sweet thing, I’m gonna start moving now.” With your body still contorted to ease his passage, Michael lost control. He pushed in hard and fast and pulled out just as furiously. The bed shook with each thrust as your belly showcased the lewd bulge of his length before it retreated again. 

He pressed down on it tenderly and you awoke from your coma. The sensation made your eyes roll back and you let out sounds that would make your face burn in mortification the next day. Yet another orgasm was ripped from you and he continued to plough into you like a beast.

It was as if some animal was wearing Michael’s skin. His eyes were yellow, pupils slotted and his teeth! Oh, his teeth were producing a steady drip of spit from the sharpened edges to your full, heavy breasts. He slammed into you, then withdrew almost completely—if he withdrew completely it would take half an hour to get in again—and then bottomed out once more. 

His hips were flush against yours and he panted his breath across your face. “I’m so close. You feel so good I haven’t lasted very long. Sorry.” He apologised. 

He had lasted over at least five hours! From when he was leaking precum whilst tongue fucking you, to now shoving himself inside you. This would be his first orgasm of the night. He kissed your errant tears, then moved to kiss the bite on your neck, before suckling on your breasts.

He pounded your hole, his mushroom head flush with the skin of your belly. He pressed down on his length and swirled his fingers around it and then he came. He overflowed your sex with his come. Ropes and ropes of hot, thick fluid glutted your hole. So much of it that it somehow squeezed around his cock, which was fully inside, and began to leak onto the bedsheets. 

There was a large pool of come beneath your bodies and even more deep within you. It ran on for minutes. How come he wasn’t done yet? It just kept,  on going. The crescent of the moon hung high in the air as if it was mocking you. Stunningly silver, the shine winked at you: a cheeky jester.

“I was all the way in your guts, baby. I mean, thank you.” Michael blabbed on and on, talking about how he only thought of this for a week straight, how he had been so alone in that forest and you were the only thing keeping him sane, he had written a song about you before he was bitten, he was sorry for making such a rude entrance, it was just that he had smelt your juices from outside and it made him so ravenous he couldn’t think straight and that was why he bit you.

Your body was recovering from the fucking, whilst Michael was hardening before he was even fully soft again. “Is it okay if I stay inside for the night? It’s painful when it’s so hard like this and I promise I won’t move.” Michael softly asked.