The Food Chain

Part 4

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 4 )
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 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.

Besides the insidious irony, life is full of other constants. Peculiarly, one of the constants is the complete lack of continuity: change. It's always around, yet always changing. A perfect example of a paradox, aptly suited for the already complicated life of a dragoness.

Throughout my existence, I have had so many changes I'm surprised I'm still who I am: changes in character, in feelings, in friendships, in philosophies, in environment, in reputation. The unending chain of randomness, which both makes life worth living and, at times, unbearably miserable, had the same effect on me that it has on every single living creature in our world.

Perhaps I can impart some worldly wisdom unto you, the reader, amidst this recording of my less-than-perfect life. Don't try to change change. Don't try to fight it, don't try to deny it, don't try to control it. The least painful way is to just let change lead you by the ear through life, going along with its plans for you. I had to learn this the hard way, and maybe my legacy has more of a chance of surviving if I can save you the time of learning this costly lesson for yourself. I was a fool. A fat, hungry fool. I made the grievous mistake of going against change, of trying to bring my life back into focus, despite what the world had planned. Now I'm not sure which to hate more: change, or myself.

The sky was no longer blue. Lying in my cherished, wretched clearing, my upwards gaze caught nothing but the dull monochrome gray of the once brilliant sky, only broken by the occasional gnarled limb from a nearby tree, long since stripped of its foliage. It was a dubious winter wonderland, and every saddened breath I let out floated away to Heaven in a white mist. I silently wished I could do the same.

Loneliness was the only theme in this cruel landscape. It was about a month after my mistake that had ended in a meal that nearly killed me, and everyone was gone. I gazed at a nearby pile of purest snow, wondering if I had been the one to drive them away. They had legitimate excuses, of course, but my self-loathing mind kept coming up with reasons why my behavior had sent my loved ones away from me.

My relatives, after our earlier gathering, had all cleared out by now. A few left right after the get-together, and some stayed for quite a while before heading back to their homes. Just to increase my feelings of lonesome sorrow, the last of my extended family, worry-wart Grandmother Lacina, had left for her warmer home in the south that morning. So that was it. My family was gone. Derekin was gone. Lucas was gone. My life was gone.

They were only to be gone for the winter, of course, but even that was far too long. Then again, they gave me their best before they set off on their respective paths. I was feeling very generous, and didn't want to waste the feelings I had for either of them, which urged me to throw a little party for each of them. Ironically, and much to their delight, they both ended up as the main course at their own farewell parties. Thank goodness they hadn't been on the same day, or I'd have ended up painfully plump again.

Derekin had met me in the clearing, the day before he was to set out. He had lied to me. He was, in fact, 200 years old, not 190 as he had told me. This may not seem like a major difference to you, but those mere ten years meant he was eligible to be required to fight for the glory of the Dragons. "To serve his country", and other such rubbish. And, of course, that was exactly what was required of him. Derekin came to me, told me, and was to leave the following day. His "last supper" was a bit rough, as my anger and hunger tag-teamed his meaty body. It wasn't until after he had settled in my belly that I regretted being a bit too harsh and hasty.

Lucas' farewell had been the day before Derekin's, so I had ample time to sleep off his bulk, and by morning, all that was left were a few more pounds on myself. Anyway, I remember it was near the late evening, and I was beginning to wonder if my delectable human was going to show up. I considered going to look for him, hunting him down, subduing and feasting upon him: my predatory instincts at their best. I didn't get the chance, though, because he did finally show up at dusk.

"Well there you are, Tasty-treat!" I said in a playful, accusatory tone, before he even had a chance to greet me. When he had made it fully into the clearing, stopping in front of me, he responded with an embarrassed grin on his face.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mistress Erinystial. There's no excuse for an injustice such as this."

"I should say not! You've been a naughty boy, and I believe I have just the punishment for you," I began, lowering my head to be level with his own, my mischievous grin matching the hunger in my eyes.

"Well, if it helps my case any, I was delayed because I had to wait for this. I figured you wouldn't mind if I, ah, 'sweetened the deal'," he replied, his face turning red in the last rays of the sun. He retrieved an average-sized container from behind his back, and held it up to me reverently, as if presenting the Queen with her crown. My eyes widened and my breath was caught in my throat. He was a very naughty boy!

"Vanilla frosting!? How did you get a hold of something like that?" I cried, my stomach growling and cheering upon hearing the news.

"I had a friend from the bakery make it for me. I've been storing it for a special occasion, and I believe this might just be the night," he explained, lowering his gaze and blushing fiercely.

I was absolutely elated. Without a moment's hesitation, I politely accepted the jar of frosting from my human, then turned and held it up to the remaining light to study it. I just stared at the lovely lumps of vanilla for a full minute or so, and when I turned back, Luke had undressed himself. My scrumptious pet always thought ahead. I grinned wickedly as I twisted the top off of the jar, beckoning him forward with a single claw.

"Don't be shy now. Come to Erin and accept your punishment," I cooed, eyes half closed with anxious glee. Continuing to blush, he shuffled over and gazed up at me with awe, quivering where he stood.

Not wanting to waste a minute, I patted him on the head and stroked his cheek, then gently turned him and nudged, giving him the hint to lie down. He did so without a word. Oh, what followed was almost as good as the inevitable meal itself. Huddled over him like a mother, I spent the better part of ten full minutes covering him in his own vanilla cake frosting. I, like the carnivorous masseuse that I am, dug out great handfuls of the delightful confection, rubbing its sugary goodness all over my tasty pet's back. After a more than liberal coating had been applied (leaving his back looking like the winter landscape around us), I scooped up the rest of the sweet nectar, and smeared it as well as I could on his arms and legs.

With a slow, deliberate motion of my tail, I gently wrapped the tip around his ankle, and hoisted him off the ground. I waited for my grip to secure, and for him to steady, then I maneuvered him to dangle helplessly over my waiting mouth. He grinned down at me, looking like a pastry on display. A glob of the frosting fell off one of his hanging arms and, to my delight, landed directly on my upper lip. With a teasing stare, my eyes never leaving his, my tongue snaked out to claim the sweet topping, bringing it slowly, enticingly in between my lips. He could tell I enjoyed it, for I visibly shuddered at the taste, and his grin broadened. With a seductive wink, I began lowering him, opening my mouth to tease as well as taste him.

"Now my little cupcake really is a cupcake," I giggled.

And, before he could reply, the fun had begun. I lay back on the famous patch of grass, stretching out seductively and laying my head back, dangling my food above me, like a Greek goddess being fed grapes. I took him in up to his arms as soon as I started, anxious to get to the frosting-coated dessert awaiting me lower on his body. I moaned a bit louder than I had expected, my eyes rolling back and finally closing, as my entire mouth threw a party. My tastebuds were dancing, my tongue was exploring, and my saliva was pooling, gathering small collections of my squirming meal's sugary coating.

I let out a steady series of moans, as if begging him to stop being so delicious. It was torture, and I was loving it. My love's already sumptuous flavor was unbearably heightened by the layer of confection atop his perfect body, and I couldn't help but begin stuffing it into my throat wildly, like a child let loose upon a freshly baked cake. I wanted it so unbelievably bad. I wanted it all, wanted him all. My feeding frenzy continued until only his white-covered legs peeked out of the tight closure of my lips, squirming just enough to make it all worthwhile, toes wriggling in satisfied pleasure.

Oh, how I wanted it. I simply wanted it more than anything else in the world at that moment. He was teasing me, that cute little bastard. How could he do this to me? My body was overwhelmed with intense pleasure, Luke's sweet, delicious body squirming "helplessly" against my most primal, predatory urges, my desire to swallow him whole and alive until he was just food in my fattened belly. Again, this moment invoked the same thought I had the first time I enjoyed a struggling meal: making love had nothin' on this.

I lost all self-control suddenly, and nothing but the desire to introduce my cupcake to my stomach mattered. My tail loosened its grip and swooned, drooping to one side, enraptured with pleasure to its very tip. Upon this, the squirming pastry fell completely into my greedy, drooling maw. Without a moment's hesitation, I reared my head back and gave a powerful swallow, sending Luke's wriggling feet to join the rest of his body, now entombed in my plump belly. Rubbing and massaging my still-squirming meal, tucked warmly inside my stomach, I licked my lips about a thousand times, getting every single speck of frosting off of my lips, and back down to my scrumptious human.

Loneliness can do a lot of things to a dragoness. Crazy, stupid things. And looking back on Lucas' goodbye present, I can see why I did such a crazy, stupid thing.

I never did like flying. My bulk and lack of practice made it strenuous to even keep in the air, and there I was, hovering above the spacious estate of the malevolent Lord Baylin.

The night before, I had snuck up to Lucas' village at night, for I couldn't stand another day apart from him. Luckily, Luke was on sentry duty (which, ironically, he told me, was a post all the young men had to do at one time or another, to keep an eye out for dragons), and spotted me just as I spotted him. I reared back in surprise when he raised his bow, but my racing heart returned to normal when he lowered it, recognizing me. His tone was acrid and scolding, hurting me deeply. He spent about three minutes insulting my intelligence for having the idiotic audacity to sneak around a human establishment, especially with my less-than-stealthy ways.

I frowned with humiliation, and quickly changed the subject, asking him why he seemed so uptight, which wasn't usual for him. With an exasperated sigh, he explained that a nobleman in town had been harassing him, spreading rumors that he had been in contact with dragons. (Imagine that!) It was making his life miserable, which made my life miserable. I rushed to his rescue, however, offering to "dispose" of his little problem. So there I was, the next night, hovering above the gargantuan mansion of "His Honorable Lord Baylin", waiting for the lights on the lower floor to go off.

When they did, I wasted no time, hoping to get down and end this soon, to give my poor wings a break. The lights off, and his servants already departed for their quarters, which lay behind his mansion, the time was ripe. I tucked my arms and legs up into my body and stretched my neck out, making myself as aerodynamic as possible for the coming dive. The air whistled around me as I sliced through it, the vicious flight downwards ending with the raucous sound of splintering wood. I stood on the ceiling of the first story, floor of the second, frantically looking for my target. A surprised gasp and crash from the next room quickly solved my problem.

"Wh-who are you?" a middle-aged man demanded as I smashed through the already crumbling wall of his sitting room. I slowed down and took the time to saunter towards him, doing my best to appear a sensuous demon.

"You, Lord Baylin of the House of Creyn, have wronged an innocent man. And it is I, the Avenging Angel, Demoness of Pleasure, who has come for thee; hungry for revenge, hungry for flesh," I cooed, adding a sadistic tint to my voice. The poor man's knees gave out, and he kneeled before me, jaw agape, quivering as I'd never seen before. Who knew I could be so…impressive?

When the man's mouth opened and closed for a third time, not able to find the power of speech, I let my gaze wander to the polished oak table that rested near his chair. Atop it, an open records book, a mug of some brown liquid, and…my eyes lit up.

"So you like chocolate, do you?" I queried, nodding my head in the direction of the pitcher of the stuff on his table. He nodded and choked out a response.

"O-only the f-f-finest."

"Only the finest, indeed," I teased, my eyes half closed with lustful hunger, as my tail brought the pitcher of warm chocolate sauce to my ready grasp.

I continued my slow saunter, hips swaying with a wicked grace, and my sadistic eyes betrayed my ravenous intent. Not even bothering to ask, I set a single claw upon his throat. And with a mighty swipe downwards, I severed his vest, shirt, and pants completely down the front. The honorable Lord Baylin wept before me, on his knees. With a mournful wail of a voice, he questioned me, looking for some answer, for some mercy.

"Wh-why are you d-doing this?" he begged. I tilted the pitcher ever so slightly, to the point where another centimeter would spill its contents.

"A man's personality defines his flavor. And I'm going to need something sweet to balance out such a bitter morsel," I replied matter-of-factly.

And with that, I tipped the pitcher completely, absolutely smothering the helpless man with glorious, melted chocolate. And once his pathetic, sobbing body was dripping with the sweetest warm chocolate, I inched forward so he could get a good, long look at my throat, framed by my rows of teeth. When I decided he had had enough time to contemplate the new home that awaited him, my powerful forearm nudged him forward from behind, sending his slick, warm body down the chute that was my anxious throat. I caught him quickly, squeezing down, just before his legs followed his body into my gullet, and let him sit there for a while. I squeezed the very chocolate out of him, letting the savory topping spill from him like drops of sweat.

Once the full-body massage of my throat had finished, I tilted my head back, and with a triumphant gulp, sent his struggling body to meet my stomach. The wriggling bulge in my throat felt so utterly delightful, moving from right behind my jaw all the way down to above my ribcage, where it disappeared, only to be replaced by a distension of my belly, adding to its already impressive size. For such a horrid little man, he sure made one hell of a midnight snack.

I wasn't allowed the satisfaction to lie back and enjoy the last squirmings of the human meal trapped in my satiated gut, for the door to the sitting room (the one opposite the wall I had destroyed) flung open, revealing a wide-eyed woman. She was scantily clad and, by the looks of the attire, weren't exactly pajamas.

"Vat ze hell eez going on here? Vere eez my Lord?" the woman, whom I assumed was one of Baylin's full-time glorified whores, inquired.

"He's paid for his crimes, 'miss'. Forget you ever saw me, or you shall find yourself in the same tomb as he," I responded, adding a dark, macabre jilt to my words, just for kicks. And with a look and a leap, I took flight, leaving the mansion without a master.

I met Lucas that very night, as promised, a mile out of town on a rarely used trade route. I set down near my love, who was reclined against a signpost, and greeted him with a satisfied belch.

"I'll take that as a sign that you have solved my problem," he chuckled, "though I'm sorry to have put you through that. It must have been terrible to even set eyes upon such a wretched man."

I gave him a naughty wink, and shook my head.

"Not at all, my pet. You're far too critical. In fact, I thought he was quite…" I paused to lick a rivulet of chocolate from my lower lip, "good."