You Give Me Butterflies

Makaila Keye's story, "You Give Me Butterflies," was selected a runner-up in Short Edition's Button Fiction, spring 2019 contest. Makaila, from Virginia, is a senior in high school. If she's not reading, she's writing, and if she's not doing either, it's probably the end of the world.

There's nothing I love more than eating. Mmm, yes. Fat Boy loves a good meal. I enjoy the crunch, the squish, even the quietest sizzles as I grind every little particle between my molars. I cherish the rhythm my jaws fall into as they punch up and drop and punch up and drop and punch up and drop. My tongue slithers between each crevice and crack within my mouth lustfully for the sweet nectar of my favorite snack. Only when I'm finished: when every leg has been sucked from between my teeth, when every wing has been scraped from the roof of my mouth, when every beady eyeball has been slurped and swallowed from under my fingernails. Only then, as I relish in the after taste, am I satisfied. Mmm, yes.

Fat Boy loves to eat flies. 

But the fair doesn't sell deep fried flies or kettle flies or funnel cake but instead of cake it's flies, so I'm stuck sharing a less-appetizing bucket of buttery popcorn with Emma on the dilapidated Ferris wheel. The yellow glow of the fair lights bounces across the calm ripples of the ocean. The moon hangs low and full in the inky black sky. I'm pulling at a hangnail on my thumb when it decides to make an appearance. 

"This is fun," she glances in my direction before gluing her eyes to the spiderweb strung across the corner of our Ferris wheel cab.

Forcing a fit of laughter from my throat, I try to respond, but the words die in my throat. I fix my gaze on the fine specimen that lands upon her shoulder. My mouth begins to salivate as sweat floods the surface of my fingers. She doesn't seem to notice it, not at all. She can't detect the faintest flutter of wings and jerkiest jilts of the head like I can. No, she can't. But as long as she doesn't notice, she won't move, and if she doesn't move, it won't move, and if it doesn't move, I can lust endlessly from afar. 

"Did you see the new Spider-man movie? I didn't think I'd like it much, but it was actually pretty funny."


"Oh, okay. Well, if you're thinking about seeing it, you should. It's, uh, it's pretty good."

"Spiders aren't my insect of choice." 

"... Okay."

"They're too leggy."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't be."

I hadn't had a fly in approximately 16 hours, and I could be in the attic collecting more at this very moment if Mother hadn't forced me on this date. But, seeing a live one this close could be just what I need to make this unwanted human interaction more tolerable. 

And maybe, just maybe, if I slithered a little closer without Emma noticing, I could get a better look at those delicate wings. 

I creep slyly until our thighs are barely touching. My dull nails dig desperately into the flesh of my thighs. I can't resist drooling at the sight of the dainty wind-beaters. I'm not strong enough to fight such temptation from such a tease. Which was bad because Emma was my date and this was a date and it would be very unfortunate if I were to ruin said date, my first date, to suck that supple body between my teeth and bathe it in my saliva. To feel it crawling along my tongue, leaving a trail of its sweet honey across my pink taste buds. Mhm, yes, Emma. Make not a single move. Fat Boy does indeed want your shoulder in his mouth. 

"Are you okay?" Emma's voice is high with panic.

Inhaling through my open mouth, I wipe the beads of sweat rolling down my temple, "I'm fine."

But I wasn't. How could I be "fine" with its faint, tantalizing buzz ringing through my ears? I bow my head lower, my hot breath fanning across Emma's skin as my self-control withers away. This was no ordinary attic fly. There were no cobwebs constricting its captivating body. This was a shiny, red, juicy apple and I could not wait to sink my teeth into it. Mother thought she could keep me away from my divine delicacy, but our love is stronger.

My prey spits on its legs and rubs them along its head, cleaning itself for my sake. My breath quickens as I begin to claw at my thighs, the heels of my shoes knocking against the metal below us. My jaw drops on its own accord and I lean in until I'm hovering over Emma's bare shoulder. The fly continues cleaning itself diligently. 

"Are you sure you're okay because—" Emma begins to turn her head towards me, her attention averted from over the rail. But, before she can disturb my precious, a low growl rumbles out of my chest and I wrap my mouth around her entire shoulder. 

Her screeches are futile as I drown her joint in my drool. The fly flits and flutters at first but with her wings drenched and her body trapped within my wet cavern, she finally succumbs to my persistent sucking. I drag my tongue along her button head and notched body, making quick work of savoring what I can with Emma squirming beneath me. I hide the limp body between my teeth and cheek before slurping at Emma's skin for any fly residue. Once I siphon it all, I unlatch myself from her shoulder and begin chewing. The wings slide down my throat easily as I search for the antennae hiding between my front teeth. The beady head bursts as I push it against the roof of my mouth. All of my blood rushes to my head as the taste floods my mouth. I crush and crunch, and munch and mouth, and devour and tear into the exoskeleton to find the treasures buried inside her body. 

"What the hell did you do that for, you freak?" I hear Emma ask somewhere in the midst of the pleasurable fog clouding my mind. She's shrieking as she spies the scarlet teeth marks indented in her shoulder. 

My head lolls to the side as I glance over at her, struggling to pry my eyes open. I swallow any remnants of the insect before I open my mouth, sighing in bliss. Emma stares at me in disgust, her face frowning unhappily. 

"I was gonna eat that one!"

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