The Food Chain

Part 2

By Random Dragon 
Story Copyright (C) By: Random Dragon
 2001 - All rights reserved.

Story not to be reprinted, or redistributed, 
without author's Permission.

If you wish to use the stories, or 
anything copyright by me, please e-mail me.
I'll also forward any mail to the author.


The Food Chain ( Part 2 )
The Final Memoirs of the dragoness, Erinystial
by Random Dragon

The writings that follow were found in an ancient, leather-bound book. It is slightly oversized, and the manner of inscribing seems archaic. Although no dates are given, it is assumed that this is a relic from over a thousand years ago. After being studied and declassified, we now present these writings to the public, in their entirety.

I've been told I take after my aunt Soldrinae more than anyone else in my expansive family tree. She was one of the few surviving members of my family, outside of my immediate "mom and dad" family, that is. Aunt Soldrinae, still mischievous as ever at the grand old age of 430, guided me through life like a guardian angel. I distinctly remember taking her advice over my parents' which, in some cases, wasn't the best idea.

My father would take me aside and instruct me on the "ways of the dragons", and impart his knowledge and experiences unto me, and I would listen. This was immediately followed by my aunt dispelling everything my father had told me, filling my head with all sorts of delightful rubbish that children adored so. Tales of brave dragons and wicked humans, not information on the scientific ramifications of magical energies, were what comprised most of my worldly knowledge. It is amazing what truths elude us as we live our lives, only to be revealed to us long after they could have been of any use.

I am certain that some of the stories my naughty ol' aunt shared with me helped in molding me into an "eatophile." Within the mixed wisdom and anecdotes, she slipped in the occasional evocative story. I still remember some of the more outrageous ones, though Soldrinae was one of those people whom you couldn't tell if they were joking or not, they took themselves so seriously. If everything she said was to be believed, then she had eaten more humans than I could count, even when she was absolutely stuffed. I remember rolling my eyes and yawning as she fed me some ridiculous yarn about devouring four humans in one go. As a child, I had wished she would stop joking. Now as an adult, however, I only wish I could have broken her record.

Barring any objections from the reader, which I take there are none if you are still reading, I will attempt to delve into the eatophile's dream I went through, which, in retrospect, was probably what solidified my "oddity" as a fact of my life. While this may, and probably will, make any human frightened, angry, or both, allow me to proceed to what I call "the good stuff."

After the little "incident" with Derekin, life went on as it always had. Of course, you'd have to throw in the fact that I fell asleep with my gorgeous dragon in my belly about twice a month. Everything else remained unchanged, though. My mother still kept the area clean and bright, my father still gave me little nuggets of wisdom that, apparently, "might someday save my life", and my aunt still…well…did whatever it was she did. Family life had returned to normal after the ripples my experiment in the woods had caused finally subsided.

There were still the chores, though, which gave me plenty of time to work on my curse words. Hours of helping the Elders with whatever menial little task they were too lazy to do doesn't do much for a tender young dragoness, of a mere 168 years old. Schooling picked up as well in its intensity, though I still fail to see why more learning is necessary the more intelligent we become. Some cruel joke, I'm sure. There was still the obligatory teasing about my weight, which had even worsened, though Derekin and I just grinned each at other when the topic was brought up. No longer an insult to me, it was our little secret.

Ah, I digress once more. A habit of mine, I'm afraid. I seem to think, though, that the boring details are what make a story come alive, so I'm obliged to include as much as memory offers to me. It was a later season, the exact period of time eludes me, but the leaves had shriveled to brown husks, littering the ground more than they adorned the trees. Practically every living member of my family, even relatives I didn't know I had, showed up for a gathering we have. I believe it takes place every 125 years, which has some significance in the dragon world. I never was a holiday dragoness anyway…

I have no idea where they came from, but the "picnic area" was full of humans. Though the exact methods of transportation and storage were unknown to me, it was fairly obvious that each relative was obliged to show up with a certain number of humans. Once again, it is hard to relate this to something in the human world, but I suppose it is along the lines of a morbid "Pot Luck Dinner/Thanksgiving" gathering. This was my first time at a function like this, and I intended to enjoy it.

To make a long story short, and spare you the meaningless details, I drifted from relative to relative, making small-talk and trying to appear interested in their responses. I believe it all came together when my ancient grandfather on my mother's side, Siedan, began a rambling story about some old war he had, evidently, won single-handedly. Just as I started to tune him out in favor of listening to my stomach growl and whine, there was a rather loud clearing of throats, and a quick speech began. Oh, it was such a rush, that moment. I heard very little detailing the significance and deep meaning of this holiday, for I was too busy perusing the selection of humans. I tried to act nonchalant, like an uninterested passerby, but my ravenous eyes must have betrayed my intentions, for each morsel I paused to study quivered, as if my looming shadow cut off the rest of the world, leaving he and I alone.

My sudden intake of breath was the young man's death sentence. I came to a complete stop, jaw agape, in front of a handsome specimen. There was something about the way he held himself, the way he looked, just standing there. I could imagine his every motion from the single image I had of him, squinting up at me. I can give no concrete reason as to why I selected him first, but I still think he reminded me of Derekin, were he a human. One of those unexplainable things which, unfortunately, riddle my memory.

The simultaneous gasps of relief from the others drowned out the cry of resignation as I poked the young man, gesturing for him to follow me. I suppose it's bred into humans that a dragon's command is to be followed, because he stayed behind me the entire time, knowing what kind of fate awaited him. I nodded matter-of-factly at him, grinning a bit too cruelly, then turned to look at the line-up once more. By this time, the drawn-out speech had ended, and my relatives were making their way over to the buffet. My stomach growled ferociously, insisting that one would not be enough. Thinking quickly, I snatched up the closest human I could find, then hurried off to the side, making my way to the woods. The clearing, of course.

"What's the matter, Erin dear? Won't you have a seat next to me?" the voice came from behind. I froze, silently cursing. I had wanted to be alone, to experience this without distraction, but it looked like my plan had been foiled. My heart lightened, however, as the face that awaited me when I turned was a grinning Aunt Soldrinae.

"I'd love to, aunty, really. But I was thinking…erm…you know," I stammered, growing red from embarrassment as I nodded my head in the direction of the forest, indicating my plans.

"Of course, dearest. I was just kidding. I wouldn't ruin your first feast," she began, "especially when I had the privilege of doing exactly what you're planning as a young one. Hurry off now, and enjoy. I'll do my best to pull the wool over your father's eyes if he comes asking for you,"

I truly loved my aunt. Even when it comes to family, it's hard for a dragoness to admit such feelings, but Aunt Soldrinae was one in a million. All I could muster was an excited nod before I dashed off into the forest, human in one hand, the Derekin look-alike closely in tow.

God is a trickster, and irony is his weapon. As I entered my cherished clearing, heart racing like a child's on Christmas Eve, the same scene that I had first encountered greeted me. It was surprisingly warm, and the little sun that was out made it through the leaves, giving the clearing the exact same atmosphere as it had when Derekin had lost himself in me, and I in him. As if our solitude was an opening for escape, the human in my arms began struggling rather violently, and I displayed my disappointment by turning him and glaring directly into his eyes.

I was quite surprised at how quickly he froze. Even though I suppose my appearance is intimidating to a human, it was like the equivalent of an adolescent girl frightening off a Kodiak bear. The feeling of power, the idea that I literally controlled this creature, was incredible. I hated to ruin it, but the obstinate human, with his tousled dark hair and furrowed eyebrows, suddenly shot a leg out. It hit me square in the stomach, and bounced right back off. I hadn't felt a thing, though my stomach rumbled in its ravenous anger. Mustering every ounce of wickedness I could, I brought the human up to my face and narrowed my eyes to brilliant blue slits.

"Common sense serves you better than instincts, human", I began, my voice dripping with disgust, "a lesson you may contemplate at your life's end,"

He never spoke, and didn't respond now. Unless of course, you consider a blood-curdling scream a "response." As he opened his mouth wide with fear, I did the same, with hunger.

Both my rage and empty belly caused me to rush the meal, so the exact details elude me. I didn't, as I had promised, give him much time to contemplate his lesson, however. Being the monstrous beast I am, I took him in up to his chest in a single gulp. His fists clenched and unclenched, barely sticking out of my maw, trying to grab on to some form of safety. With none to be found, I slurped him up further, along with his hands. His struggling, ironically, did nothing to help him. In fact, I basically had to do little more than recline and let gravity and his own momentum carry him downward. Grinning, I did so.

That odd displacement of air, that silent, unseen feeling that someone is there drew my attention in a flash. My head darted to the side in the direction of the disturbance, jostling the man's legs around. His struggles increased in such a panicked speed that before I could fix my gaze upon the problem, naught but his feet poked out of my jaws. My puzzled mind became even more confused as I focused on the figure of the Derekin look-alike. I had completely forgotten about him in my haste, and to my surprise, he was still here. In fact, I had half expected him to have fled, or at least be cowering behind a tree, a look of abject terror frozen on his countenance. But he was there, standing where I had left him. His expressionless face stared at me, betraying no nervousness or fear. To be honest, I could swear he was watching me with interest. A thought both unsettling and exciting at the same time.

As if finishing a casual meal just in time to greet a friend, I tilted my head back, the feet disappearing from the outside world. I looked to the human with a wicked smirk just as my belly visibly jostled, undulated, and finally settled in its distended position. I let out a ferocious belch, and licked my wet lips with a slutty, predatory abandon. My scare tactics did little, to my disappointment, for the young man just blinked at me. It was as if he were waiting for something. He was either brave, resigned to his fate, or truly interested. A little voice inside me warned that it was the third choice, and I audibly sighed. Why do complicated things exist only to complicate themselves even further? One of life's little enigmas, I suppose.

I dismissed my sadistic mannerisms, as they did not elicit the desired effect in the young man, and I settled with simply sauntering over to him, stopping a few feet in front of him. Perhaps to bring the situation closer to home, I leaned forward a bit to peer into his face, which brought my plump belly lower and closer to him, beckoning and welcoming the human. He was unfazed, however, and just stared at me as intently as I studied him.

"You obviously don't understand the situation, man-creature," I said in a low voice, experimenting to see if my voice evoked any fear. A long pause, then a voice. "You're…beautiful," he said. He did not continue, but it was all that was needed. My voice escaped me, and my intimidating eyes widened with a shock I had never been subject to. It took me a good while to regain my composure, and when I finally did, my voice was weak and shaky.

"Flattery will…get you nowhere," I threatened, my heart just not into it.

"You're beautiful," he repeated. "I never dreamed I would meet a dragoness. And I find myself here in this Garden of Eden, with a being more heavenly than the angels, more sinful than the demons."

I would have taken offense at his last remark, but my good mood and full stomach, along with the sudden gravity of the scene, convinced me to begrudgingly accept it as a naughty compliment. There was a pause even longer then the first, which was finally broken when I leaned forward and licked him. The tongue is the one muscle I simply adore, the only muscle I see as necessary to my life, to my pleasure. This was my first exploration of its uses, though later in my life, I would gather a catalogue of flavors on my tongue, savoring the individual taste each meal offered.

He was delicious. My self-control melted into nothing, and I licked him a second, and a third time. When I opened my eyes, departing the world of flavors and entering the world of images, his eyes were closed. He was smiling. I was simply overwhelmed. How could such a human exist? I tortured myself with this question until it lost all meaning. It didn't matter how, he was right here, and he was mine. The uneasy matter of friendship (or perhaps simple lust) entered the already complicated equation of predator and prey. Would this make things harder, or easier? Worse, or better? I can tell you now that it makes the experience so much better. Tenfold.

"Your name?" I whispered, turning a light tint of crimson. He opened his eyes.

"I see no need, but I will deny you nothing you desire. Lucas..." he replied, barely audible.

"There is a great need, my Lucas. I have the need to know who it is I adore, to whom it is I owe pleasure for pleasure,"

He apparently didn't think my comment needed a response, for he closed his eyes and said nothing. Even though he didn't know it, he was an awful tease. My desire for him, and nothing but him, mounted with every breath. Finally, I brushed his relaxed and waiting body from behind, bringing him close. With a whispered assurance, I placed him gently on my tongue, up to his chest.

I cannot say for sure, but I believe there were a few seconds lost to me at that moment. A blackout, if you will. His flavor, the cause. His body, my meal. It was too much to take, and I am embarrassed to say I audibly moaned around his flesh, encased between my lips. I reached forward and worked his body into my greedy throat. Delicately, and ever so slowly, I intended to give him as much pleasure as he was inadvertently bestowing upon me.

To this day, I am frustrated by the lack of description one can fit into words alone. The flavor of a living creature, the taste of one who has lived a life, perhaps not too different from your own, is a backstage pass to Heaven. Lucas was taunting me with his savory taste from within, and I wondered how a human could have such a power. The power of being more delicious than I had ever dreamt. He held some form of control over me, as I did over him. I could not bear to do a single thing to upset him, whether physically or emotionally, for he was giving me a pleasure I had once thought was denied to a mortal creature.

It was more than his appearance and behavior that reminded me of Derekin. His body, my food, was a treasure trove of exotic flavors. I feel I would be being "unfaithful" if I played favorites with my two perpetual meals. Comparing Lucas' own musky taste to that of Derekin's is an impossible task. Comparing chicken to pork, to dumb it down: both delectable meats in and of themselves, yet almost impossible to choose one over the other.

I must have zoned out, lost in the torrent of stimuli, for when I gazed down longingly, only my dinner's lower legs peeked out from my hungry maw. I felt a bit disappointed, both for missing a bit of the experience, and for the lack of a proper "goodbye." A light movement from within, however, let me know that he had gotten into a comfortable position in my tight throat, graciously accepting the massage that led to the end. I regretfully stroked one leg, assuring him that I was there, watching over him and guiding him, lovingly, to a place free of the pain the real world subjected its inhabitants to.

When my taste-buds had gone practically numb from the overload of flavor, I smiled pointlessly, as he would not see it, and gave a final, dainty gulp. I could feel his welcome body slide gently through my throat, an enticing trip for him, no doubt. I was comforted by the fact that he gently slid into my satiated and stuffed belly, instead of being thrown in violently like a chew-toy. I waited for him to settle, which he did quickly, then I rubbed my distended belly, cooing to no one in particular.

He was what I consider my first "true human experience." Lucas… As thoughts of him resurfaced, his flavor joined them. I leaned my head back and moaned, smacking and licking my lips, dreading that I might waste a single drop of his humbling taste. I made my way over, dragging my bloated body, and prepared for a long sleep, the kind I live for. And with a full stomach, a full heart, and a full head, I sprawled out on the patch of grass I had fallen asleep on the first time I had discovered the joy of feasting.

God is a trickster, and irony is his weapon.