FLESH PROJECT 25 - The Incredible Edible Mikura

Story by Flesh_Seraph

FLESH PROJECT 25

The Incredible Edible Mikura

(Author's note: Feedback and PM's welcome. This is done for two reasons- because I enjoy it, and to entertain people who enjoy the same things as I do. Don't be shy- one good way to keep a writer writing is to let it be known that you like his or her work. Suggestions for this saga/future projects are always encouraged. Have a favorite character you want to see more of? Chime in!.)

(Author's additional note: Not much futa in this chapter.)

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The significance of the return of light to the Flesh Project compound was only so weighty as the events that took place in the immediate aftermath of that return. As the lights flickered back into operation, so too did the Project itself flicker back into existence, tentative at first in the wake of an unprecedented shutdown. For most of the trapped humanity within, the hum of the air circulators was reassuring- but the return to light and business as usual was a blessing to some and a disappointment to others who had cherished the darkness and the unsurveilled moments it had brought.

Mikura, who had been dissuaded from taking cleaning products from the dispensary to scrub the hallway floor by glowlight, arrived at her room wearing a green hospital gown and carrying a small laundry basket containing her pee-soaked blue skirt and panties. Though her immediate inclination was to whip up a nice batch of cookies before settling in to bed, she was interrupted by April, who met her halfway to the kitchen and simply stared at her with wide and watering eyes. The two simply regarded each other in the silence for a moment, with April unconcerned with Mikura’s strange garb and Mikura wondering if it was fear of the dark that had caused her young friend to start up again with the waterworks- and then April walked forward and hugged Mikura around the waist, pressing her pretty head up against the older woman’s shoulder as she nuzzled into her with affection.

“Miss April, were you scared?” asked Mikura, rubbing the top of the young girl’s head while holding the laundry basket against one hyper-voluptuous hip. “It’s ok, everything is fine now.”

“No,” said April, still hugging with all of her tiny might. “No, I wasn’t scared.”

“Oh…” said Mikura, suddenly confused. She used a gentle hand to brush April’s sun-blonde bangs away from the girl’s face. “Honey, why are you crying?”

“No reason,” whispered April, and hugged Mikura tighter. She did not want to ever let go. She only wanted to hug Miss Mikura until the end of time. Edging her clothes-load onto a nearby end-table, Mikura gave in to the hug attack, holding April’s head to her soft midsection with two long-fingered hands.

“You’re very huggy right now,” she said, stroking the girl’s hair. “But that’s good. I needed a hug.” April squeezed her tighter in response to these words, and seemed to whisper something softly as she did, words that died in the fabric of Mikura’s hospital gown.

The older woman couldn’t be sure she had heard them correctly, but it had almost sounded like the girl had said “I’m sorry.”

They stood there, hugging and feeling the warmth of their respective bodies, for several minutes. April seemed to never want to stop, and Mikura, for her part, was content to let herself be hugged, to feel the flesh of her body be compacted by April’s skinny arms. When she could take the feeling no more, when it seemed like she might simply explode because of the old sensation of which this long and loving hug was a reminder, she spoke up suddenly.

“Let’s do something fun together tonight!” said Mikura, smiling down at her young friend. April looked her in the eye and took a step backward, smiling and excited. She seemed to regard the twin mounds of Mikura’s large chest with hunger.

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