Gromet's PlazaDevoured Stories


by Banfield

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© Copyright 2018 - Banfield - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/m; desire; fantasy; meet; degrade; urine; swallow; tease; torment; mast; skin; bite; chew; castrate; eaten; gore; hard; cons/nc; XXX

Warning! Do NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death

This narrative is in first person singular and will change to third person towards the end.

How many people, male or female, have certain fantasies which they are obsessed with... dream of daily and nightly? Innumerably, no doubt.

I have had a particular fantasy since the age of about 7 or 8, and it involved cannibals; having seen in an old book that had drawn pictures of naked natives. The nakedness had a fascination for me, imagining that I was a white hunter in darkest Africa and had been captured by a savage tribe, and seeing them dance around me; but that’s as far as it went. It was many years later that my fantasies developed ... from dominated by females (sexually as well as brutally) and began writing down my fantasies for a magazine and later, for various sites. All my stories were well received and sort after in several countries.

My fantasies then began to grow more bizarre as I progressed, which, I believe, started to put many of my now erstwhile “fans” off, due to the sheer brutality of the depicted acts. Well, as the title of this narrative shows, it came about that, by entering into correspondence with a particular female abroad, I am caught in an ineluctable circumstance that my foolhardiness finds me. The girl in question had contacted some two or three years prior, and seduced me into the belief that, although she wasn’t entirely serious, she wanted to eat me. I was, naturally, smitten by her words. She even sent me a picture of herself and a photo of her pale-pink knickers adorning her loins. Like any man given such an opportunity, I readily agreed to go to her country and meet her, and, being terribly excited, but not prepared to go all the way, arrived at her address – somewhere in the Middle East.

What surprised me, and, indeed, aroused me to great heights, was to find Amanda with several other females... all were young, and looked younger than her. Amanda herself is in her 30’s and, I was happy to see, that she was as pretty as her photo. Her pale complexion was in some contrast to her companions... all being Middle-Eastern. I assumed they were her friends and were there merely to greet me and depart, but that wasn’t the case. They all showed excitement at meeting me, and I shared their emotions being in the presence of five very attractive... well, as far as I could ascertain as they all wore niqabs... as their Muslim religion maintains. As soon as I had placed my holdall in a bedroom we began a soirée... the seven of us... but I really wanted to chat only with Amanda; after all, it was she I had travelled to meet, and the only thought in my mind was our mutual interest, but I maintained our secret and enjoyed the attention I was receiving from the Arab girls.

What surprised me was the alcohol they kept offering me. This was an Islamic country, and I wasn’t sure whether the government allowed anyone to drink alcohol in the privacy of one’s habitat. Anyway, I just drank, oblivious to the fact the girls, including Amanda, drank only fruit juice. I soon became sozzled. In my inebriated state I was aware of hands feeling me all over... from my face, over my shoulders, arms, torso and thighs. Of course I was rather excited, looking at their features, half-hidden apart from Amanda’s, which gave them that very intriguing and desirable appearance... especially their dark-brown eyes. Did I get sexually excited? I jolly well did, especially when their hands strayed to my loins. I was in no doubt that, in spite of my and Amanda’s “intentions” sex was in the air. The only trivia that flashed in my mind was that I hadn’t thought of bringing contraceptives with me, and I wasn’t sure whether Muslims ever used them

The soirée carried on until the evening. I had to go to the lavatory a few times, and was further surprised that two of the Arab girls accompanied me. Did they think I was going to escape? No jolly fear! When I returned to the spacious sitting-room, I was greeted with a further and exceedingly excitable scene. The three Arab girls had discarded their dresses, leaving their niqabs on. Yes, they were naked! I was taken aback, and my next shock (even although squiffy) came when they started to divest me of my shirt, trousers, shoes, socks and underpants. Thereupon, they gathered around me. My head was spinning with the effects of the drinks they plied me with. The two girls who had acted as “guards” when I went for a pee, also discarded their dresses. I must say, it was very exciting to be thus surrounded by such dusky beauties. They gazed at me lasciviously... especially my genitals which showed my arousal. Their hands again began to wander over me, and I felt one girl’s hand grasp my penis. There was little doubt in my mind that they were sex-starved due to their Islamic upbringing. My attention focused on their breasts mainly, noticing how small they were, yet with dark, budding nipples.

At that stage of events, I was conscious of Amanda, and our mutual interest. She had, ever since she started to send her thoughts to a particular site, centred her fantasies on shrinking males and swallowing them alive, followed by her inner emotions as she disposed their remains from her bowel describing her sexual excitement in the lavatorial process. Of course, such an act was quite impossible although, in my mind as well, an exciting thought. I managed to turn my head to see her. She just sat in an armchair watching the proceedings and sipping a cordial drink through a straw, but what caught my attention for a brief moment was the action of her free hand which she under the blouse she wore fondling her breast. At that moment one of the girls put her face right close to mine. She fixed my eyes with hers, and then opened her mouth wide and extended her tongue. She was so close I could smell her breath which smelt like jasmine. I looked at her teeth... pure ivory... and along the curve of her tongue I saw the dark opening of her throat... and I actually shuddered as my thoughts brought up the prospect of actually being diminished to a very small size and engulfed in that girl’s mouth and swallowed alive. It was in that instance that I realised that any outlandish fantasies should be kept in the mind.

If only you, the reader, could picture the scene as I saw it... those five girls in their nakedness buzzing around me like bees around a pot of jam or, more appropriately in this middle- eastern country, like flies on a carcass, and if you had that opportunity, would you detect the primeval intimation of barbarism? No, more likely, you would assume the actions aforesaid were merely a playful scenario leading up to a mundane sex-act as seen on the old 8mm films of yesteryear that may have stimulated some males or put them off sex forever. However, you would be well off the mark, for, by the hints I have put, their actions have far more sinister portents; and while I have the time to write these words I shall tell you that I am not the first to fall into Amanda’s evil web... but I’m getting ahead of myself again.

Evening soon turned into night. I was feeling very tired and physically weak, yet still enamoured by the attention I was getting. I felt it odd that Amanda remained distant from the carnal playfulness. She hardly spoke to me apart from when she greeted me upon my arrival that afternoon, saying how handsome I am, and a true likeness of the photo I sent during our email communications. She spoke quite a lot to her companions – but only in Arabic – and when she did, the girls cried with joy and laughter as they gazed at me with what I could only guess was a kind of hunger. Amanda then approached me, still fully-dressed, and spoke to me: “Tony, you haven’t forgotten what we revealed to each other in our emails, have you?”

“No, Amanda, I haven’t, and I was always excited and...”

“And what you said what you’d love me to do to you?” she broke in, her eyes fixed on me.

“No,” I replied hoarsely, seeing the thin smile on her lips; but I was only thinking about her preposterous desire to shrink me and insert me into her anus etc; improbable though it was yet so awfully exciting. It was so exhilarating to dream on it.

“Well,“ she went on, “I’m going to grant you that wish... not making you tiny, of course, but the other things. My girlfriends here shall help me.”

In my sozzled senses I realised what she was implying. I think she saw the alarm in my expression as my senses raised the awful awareness of the reality. I visualised all those seven females taking turns to squat over my upturned face to commit what can only be described as abominable... and yet, for any committed subservient male... there hangs the question. Of all the greatest gifts from God (or Nature) to man, other than females, must be that of the mental ability to fantasise, but the danger lies under cover as the temptation of Satan becomes overpowering having insinuated itself into one’s profundity.

Amanda drew very close to me, so close I thought she was about to kiss me, but she spoke seductively. “Tony, remember how you so wanted to be eaten by me, to be in my tummy, to become part of my whole body. You were so adamant, and you’ve come to me ...a long distance... for me to grant you that. Are you still wishing that, my darling Tony?”

It was at that moment I took notice of the warnings that I had felt and brushed aside, and became terribly afraid. “You see, Tony,” she added, “I must be impassionate to be passionate, just as you would want.”

It was then I used the clichéd expression, ‘you must be joking, Amanda,’

She smiled sinisterly, “No, Tony, I’m not joking. I’ve told you enough times how I’ve always wanted to swallow a little creature alive; well, I can’t shrink you, but I can eat you, and I’ve got my girlfriends here to share you with.”

As I stared into her face I felt her hand grasp my penis. It was flaccid and lifeless, but within a few seconds, like a treacherous friend, it filled with blood and seemed to welcome my impending doom as a kind of martyr. She squeezed it alternately encouraging it to swell to its full, seven-inch size with no apparent regard to its imminent fate which was already going thru my mind.

“Tell me, Tony,” she said alluringly, “you want to be eaten... by me and my girls... you want to be in our bellies, don’t you?”

With my senses in a vortex of ambiguous images and indescribable thoughts, I was at a loss of what to say. I glanced at the five very pretty and swarthy Arab girls standing nearby, seeing unmistakable desire in their faces and their naked bodies. I’m sure I saw one of them licking her lips with anticipation... for what reason I could not ascertain. I returned my gaze to Amanda’s features. I recalled in quick succession the many stories I had written, most of them depicting the very situation I was now in, I felt frightened, and yet, somewhere in my mind, there was that devilish urge propelling me to accept that savage gastronomic ordeal.

Amanda must have construed what was going on in my head. “You’re not sure, are you, Tony? I have read and reread your emails many times. I used to get excited and play with myself in my bed, making my knickers all wet and sticky with multiple orgasms, especially when you said how lovely it would be to be part of me... my boobs, my bum...” She kept squeezing my penis with each word. “...and I told you how I felt when going to the toilet and thinking of you oozing out...” she gave a long sigh. “...and I told you I usually have to wait a couple of days before I have to go, and it’s always very thick and comes out so slowly. Well, it’s really going to happen, Tony.”

It was at that moment commonsense entered my frazzled brain. Yes, I loved dreaming of all those bizarre scenes, enjoying those nocturnal acts of onanism, and the thrill it provides, but they are dreams, nothing else, and if I were to expire in such a manner, I would never be able to dream again or, for that matter, never experience that exquisite sensation of ejaculation. I therefore made my decision. “Amanda, look, I can’t go thru with this. It’s very exciting, but...” That was as far as I went. Amanda’s expression darkened. She turned to the girls and spoke in Arabic. They swiftly responded and, to my dismay, rushed up to me and bound my wrists and ankles with packing-tape.

From here, the narrative changes to the second person singular... narrated by Amanda.

Tony was in a state of turmoil, bound hand and foot and at the mercy of us six Harpies. Poor Tony, knowing he was going to die, to be eaten by us, to fill our bellies; but first, the girls I had befriended in this country, needed some very intimate and carnal pleasure... things they loved to imagine yet cannot fulfil with their own people. The first act of demonstrating their attitude to men as a whole was to drag Tony to the bathroom and, with their bladders full from the evening’s drinking binge, took turns to pee over him... taking particular joy in directing their piss over his face and into his mouth. Naturally, Tony tried to refuse, but they took painful measures (for Tony) to obey their demands. Not content with that form of retribution, they forced him to lick their fannies dry.

I was last to join in the sport and, quite frankly, found it pleasing, especially the final act. As I squatted over his face I could tell by his expression that he was exhausted and had more than his fill of the girls’ pee, but he couldn’t help gazing at my plump belly as I was facing him. I wondered whether he was longing to be in my stomach as he had so often spoken of, and really wanting to be part of my body. So, I thought to myself, you’re going to get that longing... not as how I would have liked... not shrunk to a bite-size, but to endure and suffer every bite till the last; and not will he be in my tummy, but my dear girlfriends’ as well. I ought to tell you, dear reader, that my newest victim that had flown unwittingly into my web, had said how, before I swallow him, he’d love to be shrunk... the size of his prick... and be shoved up my fanny until I had an orgasm, and, while he’s so well lubricated, be shoved up my bum. How I wish I could do that. It’s been a wish ever since I was a little girl. It would be the most exciting thrill... to feel him struggling like mad inside me... and then expire. It may, to some readers, come as a surprise... even a shock... to know exactly what some of us girls dream up and fantasise. To me it would be wonderful to have the power of life and death, but only when I’m at a high and sexually aroused.

Tony struggled so hard to swallow all my pee. He kept coughing and spluttering and trying to plead with me, but my long-harbouring desire must be fulfilled, and, believe it or not, my girlfriends’. But when I told him that we are definitely going to eat him I could see the questions in his eyes: Do I really want that? Will it be too drastic? Will it be terribly painful? I knew he’d be afraid... just thinking about it... dreading the thought of us girls biting and tearing his living-flesh just like a pack of hyenas devouring a prey, but isn’t that what Tony wants... to end up in our bellies and become part of us? I had to remind him, fixing his troubled gaze with a smile, how many times he had said how he’d love to be shrunk and be in my stomach, and be used as a dildo... in both places. “Well,” I said in a sexy voice, “You’re going to get that wish... either way.” Poor Tony, he’s so stressed out; knowing the fantasies he’s wished for ever since his maturity are about to come about. He’s been gazing at me in a sort of passive state of mind, and at the girls with me, his senses in turmoil with ambiguous thoughts.

It became late and we were tired. We helped Tony to relieve himself (of bodily- wastes, that was) and, making sure couldn’t escape, threw him onto a mattress and left him with his thoughts and retired to our beds. Naturally, we, the girls and I, also dwelt on his fate, and I got very excited, and, as a result, I was obliged to masturbate several times to alleviate my libidinous thoughts in order to get to sleep.

The next day I went to the bathroom to take an urgent pee and was not all that surprised to find all the girls in there with the same need, but not using the lavatory. One of them explained to me that they felt Tony needed a drink to quench his thirst. I had to laugh, for surely it only needed one girl’s piss would be sufficient. Poor Tony was in a state. He couldn’t refuse to drink their piss as one of the girls grasped his balls and squeezed them painfully each time he tried. What must he be thinking as he stared up at each of those girls’ bums when they squat over his grimacing face?

My name is Amanda (that’s all you need to know) but I shall tell you that I despise men, and really, really hate them. Tony thought I liked him, silly man. Yes, I did like him, but for two reasons: one to satisfy my sexual appetite and the other to get him into my stomach... to be digested and become part of my body... my legs, my thighs, my arms, hands, my breasts and nipples, my bum and even my vagina, including my ever-growing clit... all of me. I shall own his soul and spirit for as long as I live; and if there is an everlasting life... either in Heaven or Hell... it’ll be for eternity; and when I go to the lavatory I shall have the climatic thrill of feeling his unwanted remains passing out of my anus, and hearing them plop into the pool of water below or the hole in the ground as most lavs are in Oman and most of the Middle East. My innermost feelings for men are pretty well the same with my companions. They are aware how women are treated in the more civilised countries... so different to their countries that still exist in the Dark Ages where women are concerned.

So, back to the present: Tony, having been forced to “quench his thirst” was sick as a dog. The girls laughed and scoffed as he brought up their piss. There are times when we’re in deep discussion about sex; we wish we had big massive pricks, entice stupid, sex-mad men into our clutches and fuck them to death. Okay, we don’t care for she-males. To me they’re freaks, but, if push came to shove, we’d recruit them, build up an army; fight the religious fanatics.

What fun we’d have with the scum, chopping off their pricks and balls... and we would eat them as they’d increase the sizes of our pricks and nourish and invigorate our sexual needs; but such can only be dreamed of... real girls with big pricks and with balls to spurt spunk into men’s mouths and up their jacksies’. The girls left the bathroom when I waved them away. I wanted to speak to Tony alone. I cleaned him up and gave him a fruit-drink to swill out his mouth. I gazed into his eyes seductively, gave him a kiss and asked him: ‘Tony, you do want me to eat you, don’t you?’ I took his flaccid prick in my right hand and began squeezing it gently and went on softly: ‘You do want to be in my belly, and those girls’?’ They were all in their early teens and very pretty. ‘They really want to eat you, you know.’

As I handled his member, still gazing lustfully into his eyes, it grew to an impressive size and I guessed his libido was stirred by his longed-for desire. It controlled his senses and made him lose control of his better-self like a treacherous snake in the grass. I was a she-devil incarnate, driving his sexual emotions to erase his self-preservation... just as he feels whilst in his delirious throes of ejaculating ecstasy. ‘You DO want to be eaten, don’t you, Tony; you want to be our bellies and be part of us, don’t you?’ I kept squeezing his erection... a fine specimen of manhood, a delicious blood-filled column of manly flesh. The more I squeezed and moved my hand up and down, the more he gasped faster.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he groaned. ‘Say it again, TONY!’ I persisted. He repeated his positive desire. I called the Arab girls in. They filed in dressed in their niqabs and kaftans... as they were going out, and quite likely wearing thongs for decency lest they meet with some accident. I turned to them: ‘Listen to what he wants, girls,’ then readdressed Tony: ‘Say it, Tony; make them happy before they leave.’ He looked up at me and then turned to the anticipating girls: “Yes, I want” He hesitated. ‘Say it, Tony,’ I urged, rubbing his erection vigorously and smiling seductively.

“I want to be eaten!” he gasped breathlessly. I translated his words to the girls and their faces lit up with unholy pleasure. One of the girls stepped up close gazing at the penis clenched in my hand. “I want that,” she stated in Arabic, licking her lips. I translated to Tony and he gazed with what I guessed were worring thoughts... the stronger of which had to be for the ultimate sacrifice. When the girls left, I spoke to Tony, telling him that any thoughts of us not going through with the gastronomic ordeal is out of the question, and that, to his great shock, revealed that we had eaten two others... both of them young... much younger than him.

You, the reader, must wonder why such a desire fills some males’ thoughts, and whether some females are obsessed with the desire of eating a male... most associated with males eating certain parts of a female? Well, it works both ways. With most females, fantasies are their deepest desires and kept hidden, and seldom, if ever, practiced.

And so it came about. We skinned him, flayed him alive (human skin, after skilful processing, makes lovely, silky underwear) and after fasting for a couple of days, we ate our latest victim. I had to stifle his screams as we tore his flesh with our teeth, with my very sweaty knickers, first soaking them in my pee. When one of the girls bit his penis off, he went berserk, and when I slit open his scrotum and removed the gonads, he passed out, which was amazing after so much flesh had been torn from his body. Poor Tony, now in our bellies and gradually becoming part of our bodies, will be missed by me. How often I had teased him... giving him little tit-bits of erotic thoughts. How he must have masturbated thinking of all the things I could do with him. Well, he eventually got his wish, and instead of dying of old age or some illness and buried or cremated, his sepulchre is our whole bodies. I must stop now, finish this narrative as my clit is awoken and swollen and needs my undivided attention.

The end.

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