I’m not sure how long this burst of writing will last, but hell, as long as it’s there, I might as keep on 'till I crash, right?
The two of them left me with lingering doubts, and the nagging certainty that, if I was going to actully interact with them in any meaningful way, I should probably learn their actual names.
Thankfully, before too long the pizza arrived.
When Miranda first contacted me, I was given a list of requirements I would need to meet, if I was to stake my claim on her, or any other Min for that matter. Most were simple, logical things, like being a legal adult, or being Changed, that I met without issue. There was one, however, that was a bit more dramatic: any door that I could expect to have people walk up to needed a second door built in front of or behind it, to keep anyone who knocked on my door safe from harm by the Mins I kept inside.
It was, like almost everything else involved in the process, subject to incentives by the government in their efforts to get as many Mins off their hands as possible, so I barely had to pay a thing to have it done. I had a hallway I could easily convert, as well, and the process itself had taken less than a week to complete. Honestly, compared to some of the stories I’d seen online, the entire process had been virtually painless.
That said, there’s an indescribable frustration that comes from having to deal with the world’s shittiest air lock just to get a pizza.
I wasn’t terribly concerned about an escape attempt, but before I opened the inner door I glanced over my shoulder anyways. Blonde and Brunette, unsurprisingly, were nowhere in sight. Miranda, on the other hand, had appeared near the couch at some point and was eying the door greedily. When she saw me focus on her, she stepped back and raised her hands into the air in an universal signal of ‘Don’t mind me’.
I snorted, then went through the first door. Closing it behind me, I opened the second, to see a man waiting for me, boxes in hand. He was Changed, of course, bearing a crest of pure white feathers instead of hair; in an age where delivery could be life threatening, those who could weather the danger without issue were unsurprisingly in high demand, if only to insure that orders would continue to be delivered in a timely manner.
He was also one of the drivers I usually got at this time of night, and noticing the changes, he eyed the door behind me knowingly for a moment, giving me an approving grin before handing my order over. Thankfully, he wasn’t one for talking, and he restrained himself from any comments beyond the usual formalities.
Passing through my ‘airlock’, I returned to see Miranda had abandoned the couch to stand by the table instead, impatiently waiting for me to bring the food over.
Just to irritate her, I took my time on the walk back, and every exaggerated step I took filled her tiny face with an adorable rage. By the time I set the boxes down, she was full out pouting.
More interestingly, near the edge of the table I found Brunette and Blonde, not hiding, but not drawing attention to themselves, either. The two of them were what I could only call standing at attention… or, perhaps, standing for inspection. With their arms folded behind their backs, chests thrown out, heads submissively tilted down, they made quite the sight; even more so, when the impact of the boxes hitting the table shook them enough for them both to fall on their asses.
I watched them stand up shakily as, in my mind, my picture of the life of a Min in a Kennel adjusted dramatically. Turning, I saw Miranda fixing me with a dramatic glare again, for the first time in… hours. It almost felt nostalgic with how dramatically our relationship had shifted, even it was just earlier today that she had been acting as high and mighty as ever.
Ignoring her, I gathered several paper plates from a cabinet before returning to the table and taking a seat, noting with amusement how even that caused the smaller Mins to sway slightly. Brushing the smaller box to the side for the moment, I opened the box and took out a slice of pizza and set it on a plate.
Holding it in the air, I knew I had the absolute attention of everyone in the room, with each and every little head locked onto the plate with wondering expression. Teasingly, I moved it closer to Miranda, watching her start to reach out… before dropping it in front of Brunette and Blonde, who were so startled by this that they both fell onto the pizza. They leapt off, stained with grease and sauce and stammering apologies, but I just repeated the process of readying another plate.
This time, when it hovered in front of her face, Miranda kept her control for all of ten seconds before reaching out with eager hands to grab something that probably weighted more than she did.
Unfortunately for her, we still had some more to do.
“Before we start, Miranda, I think we should do something.”
She froze, looking guilty, before switching to a look of suspicion.
I didn’t give her a chance to speak, though.
“If we’re all going to be living together, shouldn’t you introduce me to your friends?” I gestured with one hand towards the other Mins, who at this point were doing their best to look even smaller than usual. “It’s just good manners, right?”
She scowled, clearly conflicted over whether to humor even that much from me or not. Thankfully, Brunette decided to make her move then, inching forward before dipping into another one of those unexpectedly erotic curtseys.
“Si-Master,” she began, “I’m terribly sorry that didn’t introduce ourselves to you before.”
Miranda’s glare only grew, but she didn’t try to stop her friend from speaking, not that I would have let her; the more the little Mins did… anything, really, the more fascinating I found them.
For her part, Brunette eyed Miranda warily for a moment, but then compared her to me before prioritized which whims she should obey.
She curtseyed again. “My name, Master, is Amber, and behind me is my friend Mia.”
True enough, the newly named Mia had also lowered into a courtesy of her own, before the two of them rose with a level of synchronization that spoke of long practice.
Amber continued. “We would like to thank you for your generosity in taking us into your home.”
I faced Miranda very deliberately as I answered. “Why thank you, Amber, that is very kind. You and your friend are welcome to eat, if you want.”
It filled me with great pleasure to see her face flush red with anger, tiny little fists clenching and unclenching as tried to hold her temper and resist the urge to attack someone who could easily back hand her off the table.
It was even more amusing to toss the second place in front of her and watch her startle in response, her rage quickly forgotten in the face of the sheer volume of food I had presented her.
Dinner, as it turned out, also came with a show: watching the rest of the diners eat.
Amber and Mia, hopeless outmatched by their slice, didn’t even try to move it, instead resorting simply chewing bits of it off the, to them, enormous slab of food, crawling upon it to gain a bit of the sausage, then to another area for sauce or cheese and so on. As they did so, I could help but notice that their already dirty bodies became more and more stained. It wasn’t mud wrestling, to be sure, but watching them get covered in an edible coating seemed to hold a special allure all it’s own.
Miranda, on the other hand, was in an awkward place where she could manage her food, but only barely; she’d raise the tip of it to her mouth, like she would have when she normally ate a pizza before she Min’d, only for the weight of it to overwhelm her and fall down on her body, forcing her onto the giving surface of the plate. It was too light to hurt her, thankfully, but she grew more and more frustrated as she had to fight her meal off her body, and grew more than a little dirty herself in the process.
I watched them, blatantly, as I finished my first slice, and moved on to my second, gaining Miranda’s glares and two nervous stares in the process, before I decided to make my move.
Even with all three of them watching, I was just so big that, when I was this close, none of them could effectively watch all of me at once. Distracted as they were by the food, my hand’s movements went unnoticed until it pinched Miranda around the waist and drew her up into the air.
Miranda flailed wildly in my grasp as below her, Amber and Mia stopped eating and started cowering behind the edge of their pizza, trying to avoid attention.
“Ian!” Miranda snarled. “Ian, what the hell are you doing? I’m trying to eat!”
I smiled. “I know you are, Miranda, but you’re making such a mess.”
Carefully, I grabbed first one arm, and then the other, pulled them behind her back, and pinned them under the hand still holding her in the air, in the process forcing her to thrust her still impressive chest forward.
“So beautiful, Miranda… but so dirty.”
I licked my lips as I stared at her, my eyes tracing the patterns formed of sauce and bits of cheese all over her, following them until one ended on her breast, just short of the nipple.
I couldn’t help notice how it seemed to rise almost proudly in the air.
“Why don’t I help you clean up?”
I moved her forward and started licking a clean path upon the delectable surface of her flesh.
From her knee, my tongue rose steadily up her leg, tracing an curved line as I resisted the urge to simply close my mouth around it’s firmness, instead proceeding up her side, before veering onto her stomach. The tip of it danced around her belly button for a moment as I enjoyed finally having my way with the very thing that had caught my eye from the beginning, flattening down to take in as much sensation as possible, before probing at the tiny dips and arcs formed by bone and muscle with careful precision.
It was only as my tongue rose to her breast, curling to cup it its bounty, that I realized that Miranda was screaming.
It wasn’t in anger, like I would have expected, or even in excitement, as I would have hoped, but in fear, real genuine fear, as if I was going to bite down on her at any time now.
For a second, for a long, long second, I almost kept going.
It would have been easy; even though she was fighting me, madly, desperately, her arms didn’t so much as budge from my grip, and the tiny thuds of her bare feet against my chest were a meaningless sensation I barely noticed.
Miranda was here, helpless in my grasp, exactly as she knew she would be, exactly as she had all but asked me to. Everything I wanted was, quite literally, at hand, and all I had to do was take it.
It was perhaps one of the greatest acts of will in my life to stopping.
This time I was the one glaring, looming over her with my hand tightening ever so slightly around her arms and waist.
“Miranda”, I said, my voice carefully blank, “What the fuck.”
There were no words, just screaming and crying, noises as mindless as the way she still fight blindly against me. The defiance had been fun, but I wasn’t in the mood anymore.
“Enough.” I snarled.
That one word was loud, louder than I had been the entire time, and from all of a foot from her face. Miranda froze, mouth open and tears streaming from her face as she stared at me, and for a long minute, no one spoke.
“No…” she cried. “No… please, Ian, no. Don’t hurt me, please, Ian no, don’t-”
I shook her roughly.
“Miranda,” I begin, “What in the hell made you think I was going to hurt you?”
Shaking her head, she refused to speak, simply making quiet moaning sounds. I sighed, and placed her on the table, careful not to hurt her, and left my hand on top of her body, still holding her in place.
Face down into the wood, if she was still talking, I couldn’t hear her from up here.
I gathered my thoughts, tapping my fingers irritably against the table, and back, as I tried to articulate anything more that frustrated rage.
“Miranda,” I said finally, “You told me that I could have you. That I could have you, willing. You would do anything, everything, and in return, your friends would be untouched. That was the deal.”
My free hand gestured wildly in the air as I continued, not that she could see it from her spot on the table. “It’s not like I asked you to do a pole dance or something, I mean… fuck, Miranda! This was supposed to be fun, and for you, too! I was going to make you cum!”
Beneath my hand, she laid motionless. Grabbing her arms again, I levered her up onto her knees, so she could see Amber and Mia, still huddled behind their pizza, helplessly watching this drama of giants play out.
I sighed. “Let me make you a deal, Miranda. As of now you are, effectively, in breach of the only real restraint you have on my behavior, on your guarantee of any treatment as a human being instead of a Min. I’m going to give you three options, now.”
I reached out and grabbed the slice the Mins were sheltering behind, placing it back in the box as they panicked, exposed. I watched, out of the corner of my eye, as they visibly considered running before giving up on the option as hopeless, instead choosing to stay and face their fate head on.
“The first option is… you keep doing this. You give up, on the first day no less, and thus tell me that I can do whatever I want to all of you. You won’t participate in the fun as much as I would of liked, but… you’re clearly not doing that anyways. What do I have to lose?”
I let go of her arms, and Miranda caught herself on her hands and knees instead of falling flat on her face, which was a promising sign.
“The second option is we try it again. I lick you, and lick you, and keep doing it until you are completely clean. And yes, I will go places you don’t want me to, but if you so much as protest? Option two is done.”
I paused, before reaching down with one finger and ever so gently lifted her head until it once again faced her friends.
“The third option,” I began, “is that I don’t do anything at all. Instead, you do. You walk over there, you pick up Amber and Mia, and you do everything to them that I was going to do to you. Everything. I will not so much as touch them, or you, but if we go this route, Miranda, I expect them to be spotless by the time we’re done, and preferably having orgasimed at least once. And if if they ask you to stop? If they cry? If they beg and plead?”
I leaned in and whispered into her ear. “I damn well expect you to keep going anyways.”
Well. That escalated quickly. You know Ghostbusters, at the end of the movie on the roof, where they have to make a choice?
Choose the form of your destructor, Miranda.
Also, that feeling when you have to look back to figure out WTF your characters are actually named.