“Homura… chan!” the tiny Madoka Kaname, her freedom of movement hampered by her impractically large magical girl costume, attempted to swim through the soup she was floating in. To get away from the wicked, devilishly grinning other magical girl who now towered over her. It was of no use, the bowl she had been placed within was far too deep. Even if she were able to make an escape from the dish, the dining room table was too wide and too long, and Madoka had been so greatly reduced in size by Homura Akemi’s magic, that she was now utterly helpless to the bigger girl’s whims.
The extravagant dining room in which they were to be found was very minimally, yet colorfully decorated. The table was a porcelain white, the window curtains were muted pink, juxtaposed against bright red stripes, and the windows opened up to a deep, endless black and white void. Cold and hostile, yet somehow… beautiful and alluring, not too unlike Homura herself. Smiling mischievously, and showing her bright, sharp teeth, Homura, immaculately dressed in her regular school uniform, held out her fork playfully towards her terrified prey.
“Are you trying to go somewhere, Madoka?” Homura inquired, egregiously licking her lips as she waved the enormous utensil to and fro above the trembling little girl. “Running away from me? Now why would you do such a silly thing…?”
She loved Madoka, so very much, and she so enjoyed bending and re-bending their reality to satisfy her many… interests, in the girl. Homura reasoned it was only natural, since she had quite literally become the devil, that she had so many varied such “interests.”
“Homura-chan… please!” Madoka whimpered, stepping further and further back. “Please, don’t…”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Homura hissed, still smiling, her demonic blue eyes glinting in the light. “It’s not like I could kill you or anything! We are Puella Magi, after all, what with our Soul Gems and the curse of immortality that they entail. And we can always do it again, with magic! Don’t you want to try it, too?”
“No!” Madoka cried, inching further away, and again further attempting to scramble out of the tiny bowl— but it was hardly any use.
Homura brought the fork down towards the simultaneous object of both her affection and her appetite, still smiling ever so much as she carefully and snugly fit the former goddess of all magical girls between two of the four sharp silver points of the utensil. Madoka was understandably shaking, but Homura found the girl’s predicament amusing, and deeply provocative. Only further inspiring her desire to wholly consume her love. Arguably quite depraved, yes, but, she was the devil after all, and the opinions of others were irrelevant.
Especially since for the time being, Kyoko, Sayaka, Mami and Nagisa were purely nonexistent (though surely Homura would reshape her conditions again later, and perhaps have a chance to play with them, as well).
But there was no need to rush her meal. Savoring these moments, Homura plucked the fork out of the soup and turned it over in her hand, gazing at the petrified Madoka in earnest.
“I suppose this was what I saved you for, wasn’t it?” She moved her soon-to-be snack ever so closer to her lips, ever so thrilled. “So I could have you with me… all for myself, Madoka…”
“Please stop…!”
The protests came in vain, as Homura placed the end of the fork between her jaw, and smoothly, her food slid out from between the prongs. After savoring Madoka’s sweet taste for a moment as the tiny girl squirmed between her soft tongue and the roof of her mouth, Homura swallowed, neglecting to bite. Though indeed it was customarily considered poor etiquette to forgo the chewing of one’s sustenance, Homura felt in this case that she was in fact being far more polite in allowing her fellow magical girl to get as full an experience of her as she herself did of Madoka.
She set down the fork and relaxed, feeling Madoka gradually make her way through her throat, causing a strange and engaging sensation. Eventually, that feeling stopped, as Homura felt her stomach gently churn.
Satisfied, she grinned smugly once more, deeply pleased with herself.
“Oh, Madoka…” Homura said, standing up and putting her arms to her side. A nearly full bowl of soup remained, but hardly interested her whatsoever. “I can’t wait to taste you again sometime.”
Perhaps in a… more normal way, next time, she decided, as she left the dining room, and everything disappeared from around her.