The Queen of the Dead leaned back, still parting herself as the bard stepped into the heat she revealed
Pale lips did not close—
Pale fingers held her open
Her body clutched at him slick and slow
He walked the path she made: A cathedral of flesh, parted just enough
She breathed
He descended
#sizesky

Held in the Queen’s folds, Eurydice felt breath
The walls that swaddled her began to swell as another presence joined her in the wet hush
She had been dreaming and music had passed through the flesh around her into her own
Her eyes now open
The scent of pomegranate and sex
A hand found hers
#sizesky

She pulled from the wall—it took effort to separate her body from the Queen’s
Inside, Persephone clenched without meaning to
Flesh pulled back, warm, wet, aching, the insides gripped her still
When she came free, Persephone gasped aloud, a low moan escaped
Red seeped from between her thighs
#sizesky

If we look to “Richard III” 🐗, there was supposedly a little rhyme to refer to him and his henchmen:
Catesby 🐈, Ratcliffe 🐀, and Lovel 🐕

‘The Cat, the Rat and Lovel our Dog
Doe rule all Englande under a Hog’

And while I'm in a Ferngully mood I might as well repost these #Commission from 2018. #SizeSky

You think the script is written out, but I’m riding the wave with style