Inner monologue

magnus knight · 02-11-2008

I hear it all the time, day or night it?s a symphony of odd noises. Stretching and twisting sounds of the tiniest strings being pulled tight. Pressure mounting with each and every exhalation. The temperature in the room begins to rise, degree by degree the comfort level diminishes as the discourse of polite conversation seems to be drowned out by the attempts to muffle the moans of shock and awe. Is it too late for them? Is it too late for us?

Eyes dart about the room as the first signs begin to show, symptoms if you will of the approaching ruin. What once covered the tops of footwear does no longer. Creeping up I see what was not meant to be seen, bare, sock clad, nylon clad, glimpses of toned perfection pulsing.

The fashion below whether pump, sneaker, boot (heeled or not), is bulging and being deformed by the biting pressure inside. Straps and laces, buckles of gold all bend to the will of expansion. Canvas stretches, zips descend, leather goes from pointed tip to round. Five is the number of tiny indents on each one.

I hear the heavy breaths as chests heave outward, fabric or buttons, or both are straining to contain. Creaking. Creaking of clasps echoes as they dig in hard to contain the mounds of perfection that caress themselves in their satin prisons longing for a release. Buttons show gaps, two points poke harshly outward as if mocking me. Symbols and letters both front and back distort on the fabric, cotton not meant to hold such a burden.

Denim rises higher, hips hug tighter as the process continues. Flowing fabric that reaches the knees or lower climbs and tightens. Rounded firm seats plump up with tightness and shape that is so beautiful it cannot be described. Bellies tighten and zippers and buttons shake trembling at the power inside that shifts and slides teasing the ones for who no room will soon be able to contain.

Faces become flush, brows furrow as they moisten with human dew. Hair goes from its purposefully maintained shape to one of distress, strands seeking to embrace entropy itself. Eyes look not at but through the world and focus on the turmoil and chaos within; trying to comprehend that which has no reason.

Every cell, every fiber, all their being cries out just one thought. GROW.

I am alone, surrounded by emerging goddesses for which I know not what fate they will choose for me.

_M.

"Will you won't you, will you won't you, grow and join the dance?"

Not a story, and not complete. Just what you could say are my random thoughts as I begin to daydream what I will write next. Comments? Perchance you care to chat.

Clickme · 02-11-2008

Nice work! Keep it up!

kuenbu · 02-11-2008

Awww, Mags. You just described our perfect date.

Kyutetsuki · 02-12-2008

I've never read an erotic short story described with lovecraftian dramatology - that was pretty awesome!

Bozo · 02-12-2008

Magnus- Good to hear from you buddy. I missed your work...even with this little snippet you've given us your talent shines.

Kuenbu- :O

Mr Wayne · 02-14-2008

Magnus Knight,

I knew it was only a matter of time until you would return, Welcome Back. I praise and support any stories you wish to offer us, best of luck continuing your works.

02-11-2008	#1
magnus knight Magnus Knight Join Date: May 2005 Location: eastern us Posts: 343	Inner monologue I hear it all the time, day or night it?s a symphony of odd noises. Stretching and twisting sounds of the tiniest strings being pulled tight. Pressure mounting with each and every exhalation. The temperature in the room begins to rise, degree by degree the comfort level diminishes as the discourse of polite conversation seems to be drowned out by the attempts to muffle the moans of shock and awe. Is it too late for them? Is it too late for us? Eyes dart about the room as the first signs begin to show, symptoms if you will of the approaching ruin. What once covered the tops of footwear does no longer. Creeping up I see what was not meant to be seen, bare, sock clad, nylon clad, glimpses of toned perfection pulsing. The fashion below whether pump, sneaker, boot (heeled or not), is bulging and being deformed by the biting pressure inside. Straps and laces, buckles of gold all bend to the will of expansion. Canvas stretches, zips descend, leather goes from pointed tip to round. Five is the number of tiny indents on each one. I hear the heavy breaths as chests heave outward, fabric or buttons, or both are straining to contain. Creaking. Creaking of clasps echoes as they dig in hard to contain the mounds of perfection that caress themselves in their satin prisons longing for a release. Buttons show gaps, two points poke harshly outward as if mocking me. Symbols and letters both front and back distort on the fabric, cotton not meant to hold such a burden. Denim rises higher, hips hug tighter as the process continues. Flowing fabric that reaches the knees or lower climbs and tightens. Rounded firm seats plump up with tightness and shape that is so beautiful it cannot be described. Bellies tighten and zippers and buttons shake trembling at the power inside that shifts and slides teasing the ones for who no room will soon be able to contain. Faces become flush, brows furrow as they moisten with human dew. Hair goes from its purposefully maintained shape to one of distress, strands seeking to embrace entropy itself. Eyes look not at but through the world and focus on the turmoil and chaos within; trying to comprehend that which has no reason. Every cell, every fiber, all their being cries out just one thought. GROW. I am alone, surrounded by emerging goddesses for which I know not what fate they will choose for me. _M. "Will you won't you, will you won't you, grow and join the dance?" Not a story, and not complete. Just what you could say are my random thoughts as I begin to daydream what I will write next. Comments? Perchance you care to chat. __________________ What I write, is a bit intense for most. The story is the moment. The turn on is imagination. I create the story. I control the imagination. I am the Knight. ...the grOwth is out there. http://mzxknight.deviantart.com/gallery/? http://chat.deviantart.com/chat/FemaleTFthreadshred

02-11-2008	#3
kuenbu The Chocolate Giantess Join Date: Jan 2006 Posts: 374	Re: Inner monologue Awww, Mags. You just described our perfect date.

02-12-2008	#4
Kyutetsuki misspelled bloodsucker Join Date: Jan 2006 Location: Suh-wee-den Posts: 108	Re: Inner monologue I've never read an erotic short story described with lovecraftian dramatology - that was pretty awesome! __________________ I'm so happy that you're coming out to play.

02-12-2008	#5
Bozo Banned Join Date: Jun 2005 Location: NYC, NJ Posts: 2,266	Re: Inner monologue Magnus- Good to hear from you buddy. I missed your work...even with this little snippet you've given us your talent shines. Kuenbu- :O __________________ Real niggas do real thangs.

02-14-2008	#6
Mr Wayne The Man~the Myth~the Bat Join Date: Jan 2006 Location: Gotham Posts: 738	Re: Inner monologue Magnus Knight, I knew it was only a matter of time until you would return, Welcome Back. I praise and support any stories you wish to offer us, best of luck continuing your works.