Erotica Anthologies #11

#65

Flushed

Hannah is feeling rather playful today, so she heads down to her brother’s room to pluck him out of his ant nest and takes him out for a spin. He’s her older brother, but ironically, his total body mass is much smaller than hers; much closer to the size of an ant, in fact, that sometimes you can just miss him if you blink and don’t pay much attention to his presence. Sometimes she almost forgets that he’s in the same room at all, resulting in almost crushing him to bits in more times than they can count.

Today Hanna decides to take him to the bathroom, where she likes to tease about dropping him to the toilet. She won’t really drop him, of course; at least not on purpose. But who knows? Her hand can slip so easily, and his body is way too tiny for her to hold on into; especially if he slips out from her grasps somehow.

Lassic keeps screaming in panic, shouting for help by instinct, his voice sounding like a tiny squeak as he struggles against the hold her thumb and index finger has on him. He is afraid that he will fall, but he also can’t stay still for the sake of his own safety. Everything happens all at once when he accidentally got released from Hanna’s grip, and he suddenly falls, thousand of micrometers away as he plunges straight down into the toilet bowl, dropped into the water.

The water is cold and freezing, and he tries to swim back to the surface as fast as he can before drowning. When he reached the surface, his sister looks down on him with a worried expression on her face, but that all changes once she sees that he is okay. Apparently that’s good enough of a relief to continue playing with him again, this time by teasing him about going to flush down the young man, which Lassic of course quickly becomes panicked about.

“No, no, no, no! Don’t flush me. Big brother is going to get lost in the sewers and never come back. You don’t want that to happen now, do you?” he tries to reason with her.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Hanna mutters with a contemplating tone, still teasing him, an endless glee lighting up on her face. But then, her face changes. “Oh, Lassic, you’re so fun to tease with. I’m kidding! There’s no way I’d serious flush you down. Mom will kill me if I do!” she exclaims, still laughing playfully.

“Well, that’s good and all”—though he is not sure if he should feel offended because Hannah only cares because she’s afraid of their mother’s wrath, which is assuring but also not at the same time because of obvious reasons, such as whether she really cares about him or not, but—“Can you please take me out of the water? It’s freezing cold in here and I can’t climb out here on my own.”

Hannah teases him one last time, giving a contemplating look about helping him or not, which only makes him easily becomes uneasy, to which she finds funny about, before finally resolving to scoop him out of the water with the palm of her hand, thankful that the toilet bowl is always kept clean about for this. She plops him by the sink to wash off her hands, before cleaning him up the same, before getting him dried and back on the safety of dry land.

“P-please, please, don’t do that again,” he begs panting, tired and freezing, clinging to the wide piece of tissue that becomes his blanket.

“No promises,” she giggles before leaving him alone.

---------------------

Affair

She doesn’t mean for any of this to happen, at least not at the beginning. She was just lonely. Her new husband has just been so busy as of late that he barely has enough time spared to be with her. But then his father came, and he was just so nice and friendly that she can’t help falling for him instead. He’s just so handsome, muscular, and even more ripped, if only slightly older version of her husband. He looks so undeniable the moment he starts to change his garbs for nobleman attires. Their age difference is even not that far apart, if only by a few decades away. (The man must have been really young when he had her husband). She really doesn’t mean for it to go this far, until it does. And before she knows it, he’s inside her, in her thoughts and in her womb.

---------------------

Maria

He comes out of nowhere, taking her by surprise. Something green and slimy collides with her face, taking away her supply of oxygen, replacing it with an oozing stench of decay that seems to follow her everywhere she tries to run to. The female wrestler tries to have it off, tugging, pulling, yanking, but nothing works. She fights it off until she wears herself out, yet the rubbery gooey always snap back to its original snape, never wavering. She does not know what else to do. She is running out of time as fast as how the air disappears. Losing her momentum, she blacks out, only to find herself in a much darker, dimmer, broken down place. It seems like the scaly creature has taken her into an abandoned shed. She tries to move — thrashing, stomping and scrambling actively — yet nothing works, as her body is held down by the same stubborn density, preventing her from moving even for an inch. Her muscles burns. Coolness sips through her fast as his slime hardens around her. She tries to ask for help, but no sound comes out of her throat. How is this possible? What is going to happen to her? Is he going to kill her? She does not know, and she can’t find out, because as soon as she regains consciousness, it slips through her fingers once again.