Ronnie Recycles
By: Semibu
Ronnie isn’t the brightest candle on the birthday cake but he is a sexy sight to behold. He’s late teens or early twenties, mixed race, slim build, cropped curly hair, full Caribbean lips and is always providing attractive scenery during otherwise dreary shopping trips. He often speaks in whispers to his shelf-stacking colleagues, always peering round as if to see if the coast is clear for before sharing more gossip and scandal. But what could his tiny mind possibly hold for me? Just every now and then he catches me looking in his direction and often stares me out with a half grin, I then blush and hurry along my way with my shopping trolley. The very sight of him gives me such a rush! I don’t know what it is about him. I really don’t won’t this sound too scathing but he’s not a complicated guy! Maybe there’s something brewing behind those deep brown sleepy eyes. Maybe it’s thoughts of kissing those succulent lips. No! He always seems to have a runny nose! So maybe a quick fix fuck would do the trick.
‘Ronnie to recycle, please. Ronny to recycle.’ That’s what I think the disembodied voice said. It’s always difficult to tell with this tannoy system. Anyway, I pay up at the checkout and push my trolley (wondering why they make them with four wheels when only three ever work properly!) to the elevator. There are only two stops: Street level and basement car park. As I wait for the doors to slide open, Ronnie approaches pushing a stack of crushed cardboard boxes. I pretend I haven’t noticed him. Oh boy, there are no other customers around. It’s going to be just him and me! Will I dare speak to him? The elevator arrives, the door slide and scrape open. Ronnie allows me to enter before following me in with his corrugated castle. The doors close. We’re alone and I’m feeling like a pubescent schoolboy. He’s looking down at his feet in the dim light, the regular shy guy.
“Hi, Ronnie. Busy day?” What a dreadful icebreaker. He doesn’t even know me, not by name, anyway. Why should he want to strike up a conversation with me? And why am I so desperate to get to know this dude?
“So, so, yer know.” His reply is soft and bashful. “Weekend’s busiest time.”
“You always seem to be going to that recycle place.”
“It’s just my job.” He looks up with a blank expression on his handsome, yet tired face. He wipes his sleeve across his wet nostrils.
“Bet you hate working Saturdays.”
“I do today,” he smirks as the elevator bumps to a halt. “I was doin’ the town last night with the boys. I threw up this morning. No breakfast. Too much beer.”
“You need a day off.” I feign a laugh as I waited for the doors to open and release me from what has turned out to be a disappointing first chat with my dream boy. Obviously conversation isn’t his strong point. In fact, he sounds almost moronic. Maybe I’ll cross him off my list of jack-off stars.
“Can’t afford a day off,” he says after scratching his crotch and emptying his nasal cavity with a sharp snort. “ I need the money.” He swallows away the snot with a squelch.
“Ronnie, why haven’t these doors opened?”
“They get stuck sometimes,” he mumbles pulling a small canister and a bunch of keys from his overalls pocket. He gives the air a spray of citrus and unlocks the control panel on the wall beneath the ‘Max Load 850 k’ notice, under which somebody had scrawled, ‘Or Barry White.’ Ronnie begins fiddling with the wiring. The dim ceiling light flickers.
Suddenly it’s as if the elevator is lurching and ascending at great speed. I feel light-headed, almost blacking out. My clothes feel lose, my boots three times to big for me. What? Hey, the elevator isn’t moving at all. It’s me! I’m getting shorter! I pull off my over-sized jacket and shirt as my jeans fall from my waist.
“Ronnie, Ronnie,” I gasp in a cold sweat and stepping out of my boots. “What’s happening?”
“I’m shrinking you.” Ronnie is now sniggering with an evil grin as he pushes the canister back into his pocket. “I’m shrinking you down for recycling.”
“W…w…what?” I’m just two feet tall. “What do you mean?”
Ronnie has jammed the elevator’s circuit board. Now only about 12 inches high I stare up at his gloating face. Moments later and I am completely naked, huddled in the corner and sneezing from the scent of oranges and lemons – the whiff of reduction. Ronnie stoops down and wraps his dirty fingers around me.
“I recycle all the cardboard, tin cans and glass. But every now and then I like to recycle a customer,” he says brining me to his broad mischievous smile.
“Recycle customers?” I’m trembling in his firm hand. “Recycle customers?”
“Yeah. See, I get a lot of attention from the girls and fags like you.” His words are slow and clumsy. “I don’t mind the ladies but you queers always make me feel uncomfortable. So, I like to spray, shrink and recycle queers and turn them into something better.”
“Ronnie, what are you talking about?”
“I eat them and turn them into shit.” In all the time I’ve watched him go about his daily chores, I’ve never seen him quite so elated. He loosens his hold on my now 5-inch physique. “See, I always notice when you look at me. I know what’s going on in your head and I don’t like that. It’s not natural. It’s dirty. So I decided to eat you up a long time ago. I’ve waiting for the ideal moment for weeks and now here you are!”
“But Ronnie…I wasn’t trying to…get it on…or…”
“It won’t hurt, I promise. I’ll take you down alive so I can feel you die inside me, just like I felt all the others die inside me,” he whispered, emphasising the word ‘die.’ “Best thing is that no one will ever know.”
“I beg of you, Ronnie. Don’t do this!” He smiles at my tiny panicked voice. “Don’t eat me, please!”
“It’ll stink like fuck inside my guts after all that beer I drank last night but my stomach’s empty now. I chucked up everything about two hours ago. It was disgusting, man, just yellow bile. Anyway, who cares? You’re gonna stink of shit in about five hours from now,” he laughs.
“Ronnie!” My hands are clasped together as I plead. “Ronnie, this is cannibalism! This is murder!”
“Yeah, I know but it feels so cool when you little guys are wriggling around and suffocating inside me. I can’t get enough, man!”
“Ronnie! Don’t kill me! Don’t trash me! I’ll do anything for you!”
“Like, suck my dick or fuck my hole? No way, man. I’m straight and you’re fuckin’ breakfast, fag!” An expression of wickedness and pleasure sweeps across his gorgeous, young face.
“Put me down, Ronnie. Please put me down!”
“Sure I’ll put you down - down my neck, loser! Slide and suffer!”
Although I continue to beg and plead with the brute, the time for talking is clearly over. He holds me up by the legs, tips back his beautiful head and opens his jaws. There’s a rush of foul ‘morning after’ breath. He snorts. His beer-yellowed tongue extends and quivers, fat, long and glistening with thick, grey snot. My flailing arms feel its pulsating might as it effortlessly guides me into position. Teeth that could slice me clean in two, grasp gently as his moist lips toy around my advancing torso. I yell out in absolute horror as I watch his vile, drenched throat dilating in greedy anticipation. My pulse-rate hits overload. I’m dizzy with fear. He really is going to eat me! My cries for mercy serve only to entertain him as the soft, warm inner flesh of his mouth prepares me for dispatch. He drools profusely. His tongue undulates with glee as my head is thrust between his pert, plump tonsils. My body is curved forward as I enter the sinister darkness. Ronnie swallows. All around me his pink and purple flesh twitches and ripples, dragging me deeper and deeper, squeezing tighter and tighter. He’s devouring me! Ronnie, this mere boy, is eating me alive and loving it! The ruthless monster swallows again, harder than before. I am plunged into the unforgiving blackness of his slimy oesophagus. I struggle for breath as forceful waves of peristalsis send me slithering to my doom, head first and whole.
All too soon I am panting and gagging in the acidic stench of his abused stomach. It’s cramped, hot and sticky. Calling out his name, I wriggle helplessly as the claustrophobic walls contract and grind around me. I am Ronnie’s food, just a piece of easy meat to nourish his young body. His heart pounds steadily. His lungs, so close, empty and fill with fresh air, yet I can hardly breathe at all. I’m going to die here inside him. I can sense him moving around. I guess he’s fixed the elevator and is going about his work with a sly smile on his satisfied face: He’ll put those cardboard boxes in for re-cycle then get back to stacking shelves as he sets about re-cycling me. I wonder how I dared ever leer at him or have such wicket thoughts on how he and I might get it together. Who was I kidding? I never even got to suck his dick or lick his hole. In fact, the only ass action I can look forward to will be in a few hours time when I’m sliding out as shit.
“Ronnie!” I yell out in the darkness. “Please, Ronnie! Listen to me!” I’m fading fast. “Don’t let me die in here, please!”
Ronnie gives a long, loud, gurgling belch and snuffs me out. Ronnie wins!