The Worm Turns: Chapter 7 Inner Sanctum By Richard Gross Constructive comments welcomed: rgross@juno.com She swallows him. Really... Update: 21/02/1998 to gross Copyright 1991 by Richard Gross He fell. Plunged through night and space, tore past pain and loathing, the wind shrieking around him, he felt himself fall free, hurtle light years from his worst nightmare, leave it far behind. Lord, how good it felt to dance in the rushing air, swim with unrestrained arms and legs through the black torrent of emptiness. He exulted in his freedom, knowing the familiar darkness would hide him, keep him safe from her. It was home. He could feel the bottom rushing up at him. It was bedrock, no place else to go. He wondered what he would find down there. Hadn't long to wait. It was coming. He braced himself, some unknown sense detecting the pressure of air compressing between him and bottom. Then he hit. Bedrock somehow turning to unimpeding softness, he fell through it, fell through the bottom, slowing in its yielding mass. He opened his eyes. The blackness was broken by the flicker of lighter colored waftings around him. He took a deep breath and tried to make sense of what he saw...and nearly choked. Feathers floated down about him, thrown up in clouds by his impact, white feathers, their form cut and striped as they sifted among others in black, still invisible in the near dark. He breathed them in and almost suffocated in the silent and stifling softness. Very slowly, his eyes sorted through the darkness. The feathers were settling, taking their time, in no hurry to leave their flight in the still air. He could make out their individual forms now, even the black ones taking shape. Through the slow motion rain, he began to see something -- someone -- beyond. He strained forward in the haunted air to discover the waiting phantom. What he saw stunned him, though the jolt, like everything else down here, was muffled, padded. It was the last thing he expected. He thought he had made good his escape, had fled to the furthest reach of the universe from HER. He was wrong. She was here. Lounging on her bed before him, still smiling that fatal smile. He had been wrong, he saw the self-deception at once. He hadn't detached from himself at all. His flight had been futile, a pretension that hadn't worked this time. He'd gone nowhere, was still there with her, hard within her. Maybe he wasn't as ready to leave this humiliation as he thought. She had let his tongue go free. He wheezed a silent scream at the grinning mouth before him, and the other one about him, free to feed at last, answered with a sharp tug...and another. Then, settling down to its ultimate meal, it began to gorge itself on his manhood, and he felt its lips hard against his testicles, pulling at the loose skin around them. He meant to push against her shoulders, however vainly, to separate himself from this new agony. He couldn't get to them. Somehow, she was stretching her torso with dream- like slowness, another of those muscular disciplines, probably, she had learned lately, spacing shoulders and head out of reach. He returned his attention to the compelling pressure working its way up around his testicles. As he assured himself with the certain knowledge that no woman could possibly extend herself to take him in, scrotum and all, she did just that... He was dumbfounded. The undulating suction pulled at him unabated, her labia flowing upward along his abdomen and downward at the front of his legs. As he felt himself drawn deeper within her, the pressure against abdomen and legs began pushing him back against himself, his lower back bending under the strain. "No!" he screamed, knowing this wasn't possible, straining against the force trying to double him over backwards at the waist. The feather filled silence absorbed his cry. And again, it registered. Abruptly, the sucking movement halted, and sharp points of tooth like pressure needled along his distended penis just short of breaking the skin. He gasped a breath...and held it. Presently, the toothy pressure let up and the suction resumed. She was going to break his back. "Holy Mary, Mother of God!" he mouthed into the dense silence. "Sweet Mother, help me! I don't know what to do." Desperate. "I don't get this. It's not possible. I...I don't know what to do!" The only woman in sight smiled at him her hungry, goatish smile, the hint of teeth just visible between reddened lips. She continued bending him, and he braced for the ominous crack that would cripple him, or better, kill him outright. Something banged the back of his head. Startled him. He squirmed to escape the hard thing, and it banged him even harder, seeming to anticipate each movement. As he twisted around to see his new assailant, his own heel smacked him in the mouth. He ducked back to avoid it, and the other heel clipped an ear as his legs were snapped up flat against his back. His feet straddled his head. He was neatly folded in half, poised over the abyss, a compact package ready for swallowing. He knew this couldn't be, but the ravening mouth below was sucking him down with slippery ease. There was no time for speculation on reality; he was sliding into her now at an alarming rate. Looking down at the hole widening to take him in, he was astonished at the size of her vagina. Its jaws were distending like the mouth of some gigantic snake to engulf prey far wider than itself. He continued his greased slide into her and wondered if there were no bottom to her desire. If nothing would glut her. It was all happening so smoothly, so silently, he felt anesthetized against the shrieking, insane panic he felt close by. He watched the vaginal mouth rising up over his stomach, making sucking noises as a hair here and there broke its seal. A hypnotic, detached interest took hold of him. It was with determined effort that he roused himself from the mounting lethargy and made a token effort to stop the advancing doom. Planting his hands on the swollen labia, he pushed down with what little strength he had left, made the mistake of squeezing his thumbs between the rising flesh and his own. Without slowing, it took the thumbs into itself, wrenching his hands flat against his sides as the other fingers were pulled in after. Quickly the arms were yanked straight, and the mouth slipped up and over his elbows, took in his chest and shoulders, and shrank in around his neck. That was all. There just wasn't anything else to be done. She really had him. She held him absolutely immobile, the ultimate helplessness, he thought. He wondered in his haze of unreality where she was putting him, then noticed the swell along her elongated torso. So, she had taken all of him within her, except head and feet. She'd broken his back, he knew, and he should be dead, probably was dead, and was feeling nothing. Except the all encompassing compression of suction which pressed in on every part of his body. And, now, she was going for the rest of him. After pausing briefly about his neck and ankles, as though taking in the significance of being there, the labia stretched themselves over the protrusions of chin and feet, leaving mouth and toes exposed. The end was coming. He looked at her. That lewd smile had widened, baring the perfect white of those teeth, as the meal progressed. Now, her lips quivered, writhing in unwitting emulation of the mouth into which he was disappearing. The vaginal suction tugged lightly at his lower lip, pulling it away from his own teeth, then lifted it again as it sealed over the mouth. He labored every breath through his nose now, trying not to panic, knowing this was the worst time of all, these last moments. He rolled his eyes, praying death would come quickly. Her eyes glowed with unholy lust. She spoke, cleaving the silence. "So, no one sucked your dick to my door," she hissed. "Why don't you just move it out of here?" She laughed her horrid laugh. "Wanna go home, huh? To Mommy? I can send you there." She laughed again. "Well, do you?" A pause. "Cat got your tongue? Or something else?... A wiggle will do." He'd grasp any chance. He wiggled his toes. She threw her head back and revelled in the obscenity of her laughter. "Yes, yes, my sweet, you shall have your wish!" Again, the hiss was unmistakable. He'd have sworn in the dim light that he had seen a quick flicker at her mouth, as of a forked tongue flicking a lightning taste of the air, of his scent... Not sure now... Instead, he feels her finger -- no trouble reaching him somehow -- touching him lightly at his nostrils, playing from one to the other, tempting itself, feeling the only air allowed him rush past. "Time." And, she sucked at his vulnerable nose. He stole one final breath, coveting, as he had never coveted anything, its freshness, its cool vitality. Then held it as she effortlessly flowed herself over his nose. As she paused one last time, savoring the moment, he could feel her genital lips quivering at his lower eye lids, pulling at them, making little sucking noises like a baby nursing in its sleep, tantalizing themselves with the prospect of the final meal. He read her face. She was delirious with the realization of control and vengeance. She had him where she had always wanted him, where he belonged. And, she was loath to finish him off. So, she kept him there, caressing him tenderly in her vagina, watching eyes that she held open, feeling life throb within her that she dominated completely. She couldn't let him go. Just one more moment, he knew she was thinking, one more, no, not yet, it's so good, sooo good, any moment now, any moment and I'll let him go, yes any moment, it's so good...any moment. Still holding his breath... He watched her lips form their last farewell. "Bye," came at him through eyes stretched open, "Bye." A fleeting glance at her face, where he thought he saw a trace of regret, of loneliness. Then the thick, moist blackness quickly closed over him, tugging briefly the hair at the top of his head as he went down, her overpowering scent flooding his nostrils as he slid smoothly, noiselessly into her oiled darkness, remembering only then that his mother was dead. He held his breath... And held it.... held it..... Time was passing again, and he knew he would have to let go of this last air very soon. He would have held onto it forever if he could have, but there were no options here. He would let it go or automatic reflexes would take it from him. Either way, any moment it would be gone, and he would be left to make that horribly grotesque expansion of his lungs that would end in nothing. Nothing would come in, nothing go out. Mouth gaping, he would pull in again. There would be nothing there to draw in. His lungs would collapse around their own vacuum, his throat would close, and he would lie there in the deep midnight within her, trussed like an embalmed mummy, remaining conscious through the mole paced moments burrowing by till lack of oxygen numbed his slow descent into the final darkness. He held his breath. It was the last thing in his life he could control, the only thing she had not taken from him. Finally, exulting in his own power, he let it go. Felt it pass out of him as he closed his lungs about it. Then waited for the opening spasm he knew he could not control. Any moment, he would begin to die... Any moment... Any time now... Any... What the hell? It wasn't coming. His lungs were closed down tight...still...still. And, he felt not the slightest inclination to open them. Hell, give them another moment or two. It's dying time alright. Soon, soon. Now? No... It's not happening. His lungs stayed closed and he was alive. Astonishing, but then it had been an astonishing night. Perhaps now. Not yet. Ok, now? No. Ha! This is getting interesting. One last chance. Dead yet? Eh ehhh, sorry no soap. Feel like breathing? Nope, can't say I do. He was beginning to enjoy himself. Started to giggle his secret. "I'm not dying. Think you blew it, bitch. Shit, I don't think I can die. I can't die! No shit, I can't die! Hey" he shouted silently through the place without sound, "Hey! What are you going to do about that? I can't die!" The convulsion of the tight embrace about him answered the question with simple elegance. A sensuous squeeze flowed along his body. Another. Another. Becoming rhythmic, rocking him hypnotically. Another. "Oh no, you're not gonna Kegel ME, are you?" The spasms paused in mute answer, then continued, pressing over every part of him. He felt himself turning around, maneuvered, cajoled into new positions, his spineless body balling up and rolled about down long corridors and into hidden spaces. Oh, he knew what she was up to, alright, he got it. She would walk out her door into the blinding sunlight, and down the street. "Good morning there, how are ya?" Yes, he could hear her say it. "Oh me? I had a wonderful night, thank you." Smiling, smiling, he could feel her smiling. She would meet people, shop, play a game or two of tennis, dine with a girl friend. Squeezing, squeezing, smiling, always smiling, at interviews, at concerts, at work, at the gym. Loved, he was sure, by everyone. And all with him inside. With him inside! Balled up nice and neat. Yes, he was getting the whole picture now. He wouldn't die, couldn't die. He would live as long as she. At least. Inside her. She would breeze through her life as she always had, loving it, being loved, excited by every door opened to her, always welcomed, wanted, treasured, always getting her way. She would glory in her beauty and strength. She would have everything she wanted on the outside, and him on the inside. Always. Even when she got married...a wisp of thought brushed his mind...got married to her dream hunk...the thought circled back, came by him, just out of reach...the hunk she'd take home forever to love and to...it waited for him, he could just reach out and grab it if he dared...to WHAT?...to love forever and to...the obscene word and all that it meant to his life within her resounded through him...FUCK...to love forever and to FUCK! He was already gone, fled to god knows what place of obscurity, when the thought hit. It was so simple it had not occurred to him before. He'd have gratefully burrowed into Hell itself if he could have found his way. Anything would be better than staying here, anything! He did find his way... A room of black and white tile. It had been ages since he'd thought of that old bathroom of Victorian efficiency and discipline. That no nonsense place where everything had a purpose, which admitted of nothing soft or beautiful because they did not do anything. The room echoed hollowly and was somehow always wet. Sometimes he felt like he was drowning in it. His mother had just taken him out of the warm bath. He knew she would dry him now. He saw himself shrink back from her. "Stay still, darling." He would always squirm as she finished the quick dab of his hair and worked her way down over shoulders, chest, back, and stomach. He knew what was coming. "Stand still, I said!" as she dried his penis. She was so thorough there, pulling along its length over and over until it was dry. Somehow bathing never quite reached all the dry skin and hardened urine behind the head, she always reminded him, and she rubbed and polished the sensitive circumference so he had to squirm. "Bad boy!" she said, "you know we've got to get it clean. We can't have any dirt down there, ughh!" And, she braced him between her bare legs and rubbed some more, searching out every bit of offending filth and extracting it with agonizing care. When he could no longer stand it, he pushed against the restraining legs, and she slapped him. Always across the face. "Stop that!" Face red with humiliation. "Stand still!" Another slap. Tears. "Oh, my sweet darling, mommy didn't hit you that hard. Give mommy a smile. You're such an over sensitive little boy. Real men don't cry when their mommies are so good to them." She gave him little squeezes between her thighs until he grudgingly smiled through the tears. "That's mommy's good little man. Now hold still." She went back to her witch hunt under the penile head with maniacal concentration. He held himself still there between her legs, trying to bear it, trying to separate himself from the exquisite pain that was unique to that one place. She rubbed until he could not help himself and that drowning feeling was washing over him again and he squirmed and strained against her and she smacked him again and rubbed some more till he cried out and she cuffed him again and helpless against the pain he converted it to something else, anything else, something good, oh please make it feel good, till it did...till his little member came erect with the pain turned pleasure, and she smiled at him and said, "See there, aren't we becoming a man after all." Abruptly, she'd stopped rubbing. "Now, tell mommy you love her," as she hugged him between bare legs. And, trying to smile between the tears, he gave her the required answer and was released. Always wondering why she stopped rubbing when she did... He felt that pain and the strange twisting of feelings that made it exciting. Suddenly, deep in his womb tomb, he was not alone. Something moved...toward him...up between his legs. It nuzzled him, rubbed its firm, slippery body against his inner thighs. Then, there was a tiny mouth stretching over his penis, extending smooth lips around back of its head, tiny teeth holding it there, and it began to suck him with a mouth of cool velvet. He went hard in the darkness, in that mouth of velvet, yearning for Her. He had to have her for himself, he'd do anything, anything for her. Only he couldn't be in her when she...no, please don't hold me in here when you...I could be a man for you too! He felt himself become huge. She held him tightly within her, and the mouth sucked and sucked. He went rigid as he felt the coming ejaculation draw itself from every muscle in his body. It was coming, squeezing through tissues, pouring through veins and out toward his penis which absorbed the tension, stored it for the orgasmic spasm that he felt already born within him and which nothing could stop. The tension became a pulse, faster, faster, outran him and doubled back on itself until, behind him, it gathered and pushed him ahead of it, became too much for him again and swept past only to pile up behind him again and again until, a massive ocean ground swell, it swept him toward climax on an irresistible crest. Sucked and sucked, the mouth sucked him beyond all control, all bearing, all sanity, and he gave himself over to the wave of ecstasy as it burst through his entire being and washed him away. He came. Over and over without ceasing. Until he thought he could have no more inside. Still he came, the pulse becoming a torrent, the torrent draining him beyond all conceiving. Out he poured, semen and passion, hate and fear, loathing and disgust, rapture and delirium. Sucked him dry and breathless. Then finally, finally, starving for air, lungs coming open, gasping for another breath, he shot upward toward the light, toward the air...the blessed air, and he came up out of her, breaching the surface of his dreams, a ponderous whale throwing itself free of a confining world. He crashed down on her, throwing silver and black lace sparkling spray-like, cascading through the room. She caught him, breaking his fall, laughing with delight. "Told you so," she smiled triumphantly. He blinked at her in disbelief. "Told you you would." He took a breath. It tasted wonderful. "Didn't know you had it in you, did you? Don't any more," she laughed in afterthought. He breathed in the cool night air. Loved it. Got his bearings. "No, guess not. You were right." He studied her a moment. "Good to see you again." "Oh yeah? Where you been?" "Nowhere, but I'm fagged, just like you said." He lay his head between her breasts. "Yeah, I'm really dead, you know." And sleep took him before she could pull him back. She watched him a moment, feeling satisfied, fulfilled, drained. Then she let her eyes close. She, too, slept like the dead.