Mimic Boyfriend: Frankie (complete)

To preface as to why no special preview or  rough draft was seen for this story, I was ready to abandon it. I wasn't happy with it and I'm still not completely. But in these times I decided to share as just an extra story. So enjoy!

Recently, there has been a radio station that appears out of nowhere. Some nights while you’re driving, the radio crackles and hisses for a moment before the mystery channel pops on. There have been reports of people picking it up all over town, and no one knows where it is coming from. It has amassed quite a following.

The host calls himself Frankie Rose, and he has the sort of voice that could charm a snake - rich, deep, and intimate, as if he is speaking to you and only you. It’s his voice that lures people in and keeps them hunting for his radio station.

What Frankie mainly does is tell stories. Each night when the radio station appears, Frankie acts as if he is telling you a bedtime story. The stories range from the strange to the fantastical, each one more alluring than the next. No one knows if these stories came from a book, or if they were posted online somewhere.

You’ve started a fanpage to transcribe each of the stories for everyone to read again. It’s gotten quite popular, and you get messages asking if you know Frankie Rose, or even might be Frankie. As you keep transcribing the stories, you realize each one has a particular set of instructions in them. In some it is a recipe, in others directions for a quest. They read like directions to a destination, but no X marks the spot yet.

One evening, the story is about pirates and a hidden treasure. The treasure turns out to be a trapped goddess who rewards the pirates for setting her free. Within the story, the pirate captain sings a sea shanty that contains a new set of instructions.

Using a map, you trace the directions, but it seems to wind up in a lake every time you try to figure it out. You fret over this seeming dead end for a while - until you realize that these aren’t directions to a place, they’re an acrostic. The first letter of each set of instructions spells out an email address!

You type the email address in and start to compose a letter. Hopefully, it goes to Frankie Rose himself. If not, you have to wait and see what happens.

Dear Frankie Rose, or whomever owns this email:

I found this address hidden among the stories you have told each night on your strange radio station. I have been so enraptured by your stories that I transcribe them every night so people can read them again. I hope this is all right. I have so much I want to ask you, but I will wait for a response before I ask. Who knows where this will end up?

Sincerely yours.

You send the message, half expecting it to take forever to get a response. You start to walk away from your computer before a message appears, an answer to the email. You hurriedly sit back down and open it up.

In the message there is only a phone number.

Your heart is racing. You’ve never liked using the phone to talk. At first you attempt a text message. But as soon as you send a quick ‘Hi’, your phone rings. With hands shaking, you answer the phone. “Hello?”

“You found me,” Frankie Rose’s voice purrs directly into your ear. “What a smart one you are.”

Your mouth is dry and your palms are sweaty. Your face grows warm and you giggle like a schoolgirl. “Well, thank you, Mr. Rose.”

“Call me Frankie.” His voice is a seductive growl. Against your ear it is even more intimate than before. You can feel it vibrate along your skin and down your spine, where it sinks into your heart. “I’ve seen your site, and I’ve been very pleased with how you handle my stories.”

“You write them?” you exclaim.

“I do. They’re very special to me.” Frankie’s laugh is soft. “I very much appreciate how kindly you’ve treated them.”

“I really enjoy them.” Your answer is breathless. “I mean, they’re all so good, and they resonate with me.”

“Thank you. That means a lot for me to hear.” Frankie sighs, then lets out a small laugh. “Believe it or not, I was very shy to share them.”

“You sound so confident.” You fidget in place. “I never would have guessed at all.”

“It’s hard to share something personal about yourself,” he murmurs. “But knowing my stories make people happy gives me all the more reason to keep going. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Yes, of course!”. 

“I have to go,” he says softly. “Do you mind if I call you again?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Not at all.”

“Good.” He breathes the word excitedly. “Until then.”

“Bye.” You giggle as you hang up the phone. Then, as you’re dancing around in victory, Frankie’s station appears on the radio. 

“Good evening, everyone. Welcome, and thank you for having me with you again.” His voice is like silk, even through the hiss and crackle of static. “Tonight, I have a very special story about a feast. One that not only nourishes the body, but the soul, and the darkest parts of all of us.”

Frankie goes on to tell the story of a widow all alone in her huge old home. Every night she prepares a big meal in case she has any company. One night, a strange creature comes into her home and eats at her table. It leaves, but returns the next night with another creature. Each night more come to eat her feast, and the widow happily accepts them. To thank her for her kindness, the monsters take the widow on the dining table and each have their turn with her, awakening her desires and filling her with a pleasure she had forgotten. By the end of this ‘feast’ the widow is young, beautiful, and vibrant again. She keeps the monsters with her, continuing her feast every night with them.

The story, paired with Frankie’s voice, arouses your own desires, leaving your body aching for touch and your panties soaked through. You forget all about recording so you can transcribe, and instead lose yourself in the erotic story.

“I hope your night is easy,” Frankie purrs, “and that all your dreams will soothe. Until we meet again, this is Frankie Rose.” The radio returns to static, and all at once your phone rings.

You answer, trying to catch your breath. “Frankie?”

“What did you think?” Frankie chuckles. “A bit different, I know, but I’m  excited to hear what you thought of it.”

You reach between your thighs and rub yourself against your wrist. “I think it might be my favorite. I loved how all the monsters took care and loved the widow, and she loved them in return.”

“You think it was sweet?” Frankie chuckles.

“Sweet and, um…” You giggle in embarrassment.

A soft moan comes from Frankie’s end. “Erotic.” The word crackles on his tongue.

You swallow as your throat becomes dry. “Yeah. Extremely. The way you describe the widow… and the monsters...” Licking your lips, you continue to grind yourself against your arm, but it’s not enough. “You’ve always hinted at the erotic, but never gone full-out before.”

Frankie sighs, “I always aim to tantalize. Tonight, I wanted to treat.”

“And treat you did.” Your voice cracks, and you reach for a drink.

“I wonder,” Frankie purrs, “If it isn’t too much to ask, do you mind telling me if the story aroused you?”

You suck down water as your face burns.

“Did the thought of a monster’s cock sliding up your thigh make you excited? Perhaps the idea of being touched and kissed, pampered, while your every desire is met, made you… drip?” The word pops and his chuckle is low. “I’m sorry, am I being weird?”

“A little,” you smile. “But you’re not wrong. I mean, it was a very exciting story. Of course it moved me.”

“Tell me more,” Frankie whispers.

“Well...” You bite your cheek. “I really liked the part where you talked about how the first monster’s tongue wriggled inside her.”

Frankie chuckles. “You like tongues, do you?”

Your hand has moved into your shorts. “Yeah,” you breathe. “It sounded nice the way it pushed inside and his fingers rubbed her clit.”

Frankie moans and sucks in a breath. “Have you ever had anyone go down as voraciously on you, my dear?”

You bite your lip as your fingers glide along your wetness. You’ve never been this wet before. “No,” you answer him honestly.

“Shame,” he growls. “I bet you taste divine.”

“Wha-what about you?” You begin gathering your courage. “Are you a voracious eater?”

“That’s the only way I know how to eat. I love it when the juice of a sweet fruit dribbles down my mouth.”

You take off your shorts and panties and lay back on your bed. “Frankie?”

“Yes my dear?” he growls.

“You’re making me touch myself,” you breathe into the phone.

Frankie’s low laugh sends shivers down your spine. “I’m glad. Does it feel good?”

“Not good enough. Keep talking to me, please.” Your fingers slip inside you. “Tell me more.”

“My, my,” Frankie rasps. “How can I begin to think when all I can imagine is how sweet you must look? I’m salivating.”

You whimper and shove your hand under your shirt. “Are you touching yourself too?”

“How could I not? Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you pant.

Frankie groans. “Do you want me inside you?”

“I want everything,” you moan as your fingers move.

Frankie growls, his voice growing lower and deeper. You breathe into the phone, gasping for breath as you begin to tip over the edge. Frankie’s growl echoes through you, and when his voice chokes off you quickly move aside your fingers as you come.

“This was fun,” Frankie purrs. “We’ll have to do it in person.”

“Can we?”

“Only if you want to,” Frankie replies. As he says this, a message appears in your inbox. “Find me and I will be only yours.”

In the email, there is a map. You quickly print it out, and the next day you go to find Frankie. You drive a long way, eventually finding yourself on an old road that leads to the rangers’ cabin in the woods. The forest ranger’s headquarters updated and moved a long time ago, so the old building has been left to rot despite being for sale. On top of it is an old radio tower, once used to broadcast on the emergency frequency.

Approaching the door, you try the knob and it opens. Stepping inside, you find a lobby with a built-in front desk. Everything seems empty. “Hello?” you call out. “Frankie?”

A door creaks and you nearly scream, jumping back to watch it open. Inside is a faint light. “Hello?” Your voice cracks.

“It’s all right,” Frankie says. “No need to be afraid. Come in.”

You stand in silence for a moment, your brow creasing. “You do realize that sounds very creepy?”

“Yes I realize that,” Frankie scoffs. 

You step forward and open the door wider. You see the radio equipment to one side, and an open laptop. The only other things in the room are an old cot and a footlocker underneath it.

“Frankie?” you ask. “Are you here?”

“I should have warned you,” Frankie murmurs, “there’s something unusual about me.”

You hear him, but you don’t see him anywhere. You start to wonder if you’ve made a mistake. After all, this is basically a cabin in the woods.

“You’re scaring me,” you say.

“That’s not my intent. Forgive me, I am very shy.” Frankie’s voice seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. “You see, my voice does not match my appearance.”

“Well,” you say, crossing your arms tight against your chest, “that gives you no right to scare me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Look at the bed, you’ll see me.”

You turn towards the cot, still only seeing the footlocker underneath it. You scowl, and then you see an arm stretch out from beneath the bed. The arm is emerging from the footlocker, dragging it out into the open, and then the box rises, a long, thin, body emerging from beneath it. The top of the box opens, and inside there are sharp, dangerous teeth and a long purple tongue that hangs over the side.

“Fuck,” you gasp as you stare up at it.

“You see?” Frankie says. “This is why I tell stories.”

You crane your head up to look at him. He’s so tall he just about hits the ceiling. “What are you?” you ask.

“I am a Mimic,” he replies. He stoops so he is closer to your level, then moves back a little. “A type of shapeshifter. Are you afraid?”

You screw your lips into a tight line. “I’m not sure. You didn’t bring me here to eat me, did you?”

“Yes and no,” Frankie replies. “I’m quite lonely out here. The rangers found me ages ago and kept me locked away. When I was able to escape, I wrote stories for myself. Then I figured out how to use the radio.” He motions to the equipment on the desk. “I thought, perhaps, if someone could hear me, I could be found.”

“I mean… it worked,” you murmur. You reach out, taking one of his hands. It’s long and bony, with extra joints in each finger. His skin is dark gray and leathery. You look up at him, and now you can see eyes glowing through the bottom of the footlocker.

Frankie touches your cheek. His long fingers brush away your hair, then stroke down the side of your neck. “It’s been so long.” His voice is a husky whisper. 

You smile shyly, still unsure what to make of such a creature. You stroke up his arm, holding his wrist as his fingers graze across your skin. “You feel so warm.” His fingers slide across your lips. “So soft.”

You kiss his fingertips, and in a moment of bravery you dart your tongue over the tip of his thumb. His low growl could be taken as a warning, but the deep rumble eggs you on. You take his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it gently.

His tongue hangs over the edge of the footlocker, and his growl grows deeper and much more vicious. You giggle as his thumb is pulled from your lips with a soft pop. His tongue curls around his thumb, tasting your spit, before it flicks out and hits the tip of your nose.

“So, that tongue.” You cup your hand around your mouth to hide your smirk. “What’s it for?”

Frankie chuckles as he licks your cheek. “Want me to show you?”

You bite your lip in anticipation. “Sure. Why not?”

Frankie lowers himself back down, and his body disappears under the footlocker. For a moment, he looks like any inanimate object. Then his hands creep out, grabbing your ankles first. Another set of hands slides out and pulls down your pants in one hard jerk. With a yelp you go to cover yourself, his hands slide up, cupping the plump chub of your thighs and spreading them open. The lid opens and his tongue slithers back out, creeping up your thighs and leaving a slimy trail behind. His knuckle brushes against your mound, finding it soft and pudgy like the rest of you. The tip of his tongue lingers there, and a raspy laugh escapes from under the lid. 

His fingers spread your mound open, exposing the dewy lips inside and releasing a dribble of your honey. His tongue catches the droplet that falls, and his hungry moan vibrates along your skin, reaching up your spine.

“Far too long,” Frankie breathes. “Such a treat.” He urges you closer, keeping his hands on you. Two hands rub up the backs of your legs from your ankles. “Do you mind if I take a taste?”

You swallow your excitement and pull off your top. “You could even have a nibble.” You remove your bra, letting your breasts fall free. “You’re free to make a meal out of me.”

His fingers tremble and his body clatters and shakes on the ground. He grabs you by the waist, lifting you off the ground and pulling you into his mouth. He seats you so you're straddling his tongue which he grinds back and forth between your folds. You grab the top of the lid, crying out in surprise. He slurps and moans, laughing wickedly as his tongue works into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant. 

Frankie’s tongue withdraws and begins to brush over your folds. The slick sliminess from his tongue has coated you, and his fingers are kneading your rear. You wriggle, spreading your thighs a bit more. His tongue slithers higher, poking up inside you. His breathing becomes ragged as his tongue thrusts deep inside you, curling up before pulling back and shoving in hard again. You close your eyes, panting as he moves inside you. The thickness of his tongue changes as he moves. Sometimes it palpitates, sometimes it wriggles from side to side, but soon he finds a method that gets you crying out and mewling.

You tremble, starting in your thighs and moving up through your spine. Your honey coats his tongue, and you go limp, hanging onto the lid so you don’t collapse completely. Frankie starts to chuckle as his tongue ripples inside you. He leaves you empty and aching for more as he laps you clean. 

“Did my tongue surprise you?” Frankie asks.

You grunt in reply, still dizzy from the eupohoric orgasam. 

“Good.” His hands knead your ass. “If you like it, then perhaps you could take me home.”

You slowly start to return to your senses. “I was always going to,” you sigh. “I couldn’t leave you here.”

Frankie rises off the ground again, his body extending from the floor. He takes you from his mouth, sits you down on the cot and stands there awkwardly. You can see his cock rising between his thighs. It has a knot at the base, and horizontal ridges that extend up to the bulbous head.

You reach out, pulling him close so you can taste him, and look up to see the eyes at the bottom of the chest glowing, all of them watching you. You take Frankie into your mouth, suckling his glans. You take him deeper, feeling the ridges against the roof of your mouth. Your lips touch the knot, and you pull back.

“I won’t last,” Frankie growls warningly.

You lick him again before turning around on the bed and presenting your rear to him. Reaching between your thighs, you open yourself up with your fingers. “Then finish where it counts.”

Frankie shudders, growling as you present yourself to him. “That about did it!” He grabs your hips as his cock slides between your buttocks. He pushes inside you, going deep in one thrust. His body trembles, causing his hips to buck a little too hard. He stills, the ridges on his shaft pulsing. You squeeze your inner walls around him, biting your lip as his fingers dig hard into your hips. You move back, then forward, going slowly as he moans out loud. You giggle, taking pleasure in knowing you’re driving him wild. You go faster, thrusting hard against him so his knot strikes your labia with a wet smack.

Suddenly, Frankie grabs you hard and pulls you into him, pressing harder as his knot moves into place. It stretches you tight, aching a little before it locks inside you, making you gasp. Frankie thrusts, moving his hips in such a way that his grinding inside you is like a vibration. You feel his tongue rake up your back, and his voice is shaky. It comes out like distorted radio, clipped and garbled. 

You start to tremble again, shivering. You start to tip over, then fall, gasping for breath as a rush of heat floods through you. His knot locks into place, keeping you from overflowing, but he’s filling you to the brim. He’s stopped breathing, and his hands are shaking as they hold you. He  cries out, weak and breathless, slowly pulling himself from you once the knot has emptied. Thick globs of clear purple fluid fall onto the cot. You can feel it flowing heavily from you.

“It really has been a while, huh?” You reach back, feeling how much of him is still inside you.

“I’ll clean it, I promise,” Frankie wheezes. “Just let me catch my breath.”

You smirk up at him as he starts to shrink back down, retreating into his box on the floor. “We’ll have to head home soon.” You pet the top of the lid. “Before it gets too dark.”

Once he’s had a chance to recover, you get him into your car and take him home with you. You clean him up as well, giving him a bath that brightens his appearance.

Frankie continues to write stories, although now he mainly just publishes them online. A lot of them are based on moments he has shared with you.

“So,” you sigh one evening. “Are you happy here?”

“How could I not be?” He turns his computer off. “I’m with the woman I love.”

Your heart throbs, and you kneel to kiss him. His tongue slips along your lips and across your teeth. “I love you too.”