The Lost Wail

By ADS [Email]

Ann 955 of the Marie Ann wailed her fatal cry of terror and warning in the dim fiery dawn of a red supergiant star. Her job as a scout demanded this chore. After all a scout moved ahead of her clan and investigated all anomalies and hazards.

There are many, many worlds. Once the Viagendinium spanned the unbounded galaxies and probed the dimensions beyond death, space and time. Long ago there had existed M'Lords, Ms'Lords, the Big Black and much more. Even the Ending Times, when war soothed the ages of rot had long since passed into memory.

No one remembered anymore. All were dead. God lived elsewhere.

Ann 955 wailed endlessly.

She was immortal, as was all life, doomed to endless cycle for a reason best not known. The cycle included even this hell through incomprehensible reasons.

She knew all and could not bear further existence; yet it continued anyway. Her mind fled as did all her friends in these dire dungeons of animation where things awked and myrred.

She stumbled into the pit of the Lynne early yesterday morning. The Lynne, satiated with the glut of the Mia Joelle from the previous week, reposed somnolent beneath the bottom of the pit. Even now three pairs of bare and pretty legs feebly kicked in the toothed jaws of the Lynne. A double set of jaws held the three in line lightly puncturing quivering asses and holding each set of breasts just within the inner jaw line. The three conversed inside the warm, moist mouth; jammed warm and intimate together as the Lynne tongues molested their sexy bodies. Ann's friend, Marie 443, had fled the awkward scene yesterday after her routine capture on the Phing. She continued to search for other pits and predators. Later that afternoon Marie's distinct screech announced her successful finding of a Wylagotta that secured and silenced her for its own nest eggs. This morning Marie would be hogtied and gagged with her black hair under some soggy leaves waiting for the blue speckled egg on her behind to open and disturb her equilibrium. Her job as scout completed as well as it could have been, she listened intently to Ann's agony and caution that a hanging Phinged girl had to do.

The Lynne gulped suddenly and the trim athletic legs and full thighs of the Mai Joelle citizens briefly danced before vanishing down a deep throat. The Lynne chewed its breakfast with big noisy chomps. Further laceration in its throat tore gapping furrows in the pale white skins of the Mia Joelle. A dozen girls, toes to head, lined up in the throat as a crowded temporary storage bin before the first of several stomachs could be reached. The constrictions of the throat would crush and pulp the hapless females but live they would with a grim tenacity. Only in the first stomach would life be extinguished at least for the weaker souls. The stronger ones would suffer even as the final excretion occurred. Petite and adolescent in form, Ann had scampered for long years through the hills and valleys of her home as a mere citizen. Long blonde hair cascaded several feet past her perch on the Phing Fang but not touching the far off ground. The Fang pierced her though her belly button from the back scraping near her spine.

Pushing her face against the wall of the Lynne pit yesterday, the Phing Fang buried itself into her until a rubbery seal, called a Phingee, on the base stopped its progress. Enzymes from the Phingee sealed and limited blood loss. Now the Phing barbed shaft protruded far out from her belly with plenty of room to spear two more bashful maidens if hunting was good. She idly played with the sharp lacerating edges with her free hands.

She wailed about the unfairness of being Phinged. The grim pressure of the shaft as it penetrated and plugged her tight.

To a degree her fingers rubbed her nipples and vagina. It helped to pass the long time of existence. This too she sung of, the self-love and satisfaction of masturbation in the grip of her lover and owner, the Lynne.

She settled to her death, laying on her back watching the stark violet skies and the three rapid flying moons far overhead: Grim, Harve and Petrytrid.

Another girl yelled nearby as she tumbled prey to a hungry Wayt. She complained bitterly about the unfairness of reality in her farewell lament. She was clearly identifiable as Ann 123, a willowy blonde with ponderous breasts. She wailed her sad tunes as her hands pulled back to be tied. Shortly a belly leash stretched in front of her giving coarse commands that inevitably led her to the Wayt's lair for breakfast.

A Lynne possessed three Phings. These appendages extended long, thin and armored from a sold central flat shell. Over twenty-five meters in length, most of the Phing curled beneath its shell when not in use. The Lynne sat at the bottom of a steeply declining depression with only a pod like black mouth protruding.

The rest of the gigantic carnivore burrowed under the sand and dirt in heavily armored limestone caverns that it continually created and extruded in its growth.

Creatures fell into its pit to be consumed. Many herbivores had previously existed on this world before Man came. As was the usual case, most species disappeared after the advent of Man. All was extinct except the ablest creatures that could not be exterminated such as Man and the Lynne.

Even Man was gone in a way. No creative thought graced his mind. And only Women continued here, reproducing parthenogentically every spring with multiple births.

Ann wailed and lamented her final dirge. The Ann Maries heard her truly. Warned they wandered elsewhere while others foolishly wandered or were driven by dire circumstances towards her. Other carnivores cleverly stalked her friends.

She wobbled painfully on her Phing; a long and familiar shaft that rose stiff and rigid from her flat belly. The treacherous and frequent barbs prevented escape.

Abruptly the Lynne adjusted her position, reversed it and lowered her young innocent face and succulent boobs in closer. She slid downwards towards the mouth hanging with her breasts full and inviting and her tired legs dangling wide and interesting.

The double row of the Lynne's interior teeth grinned in a bloody welcome. Further in were the disappearing triple soles of the Lynne's belated live breakfast sliding down the throat. A moan floated from the abyss where a girl agonized over her life with one last lamentation.

Ann regretted following a mere Mia Joelle. She could have done better and found a Wayt instead. Still her Lynne insisted with its Phing firmly and decisively holding her in place and in line to be swallowed.

Her blonde head pushed quickly to the head of the mouth and well within the inner jaw that crunched just under her breasts. The teeth bit in hard as the Phing was tugged violently our of her back. She screamed in despair and immortal agony even as the purple tongue, split into a dozen wiggling tentacles, rasped harshly at her breasts and lubricated her face.

The Phing had to go. Other girls desired their turn and the Lynne ever hungered.

The Lynne swilled her further into its throat. It pressed her head against the soles of the already departed Mia Joelle. The second toothed row descended and savored her lower belly leaving only her curvy ass and wildly kicking legs outside. She beat her legs routinely and for visual effect. She had to think of the next girl and how she perceived the death of a Ann Marie.

The Lynne sucked on her sweet bloody juices, relishing her flavor. Lunch was ready to be served.

Ann 955 sobbed out her tale of failure, defeat and anguish as the Lynne sucked her breasts. Only the Mia Joelle ahead of her on their way down would be able to hear her. Perhaps an Ann Marie might stumble into the pit behind her and understand more truly. Even now a girlfriend might be seeing her Phing and be wondering how she would flail and wail the hours away.

Her melancholy song registered a new meaning. She prayed that an Ann Marie would tamely follow her ass even as she shrieked and wiggled in agony. The Lynne had her! Ann 95 wept and wailed in the dark cavern of the Lynne's mouth.

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