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Philena Waal

Philena Waal’s Bun Stop

Written in


This story is inspired by our figure review of Philena Waal.

(1903 words)

I think I’m asleep. My head feels heavy and I smell saliva. It’s definitely my drool. I can feel it pooling under my left cheek. My face feels like it’s on a hard, cool surface. Why am I asleep? I just left the hotel thirty minutes ago, didn’t I? I was going to meet the guys for a couple of drinks down at – where were we going again?

“Nǐ hǎo qīn’ài de!”

A voice. It’s welcoming. What language is it? Mandarin? That makes sense. We’re vacationing in Beijing. 


Ok, same voice, now it’s in English.

“My dear? I have your order.” 

The voice sounds less bubbly now. A cross between concerned and annoyed. I feel five small fingers slip over my back and start scratching. The pointed nails feel nice against the fabric of my shirt. I notice my consciousness slipping for a minute. The nails start to dig a little deeper into the fabric and meet my skin. My eyes open up behind my eyelids (if that makes sense) and the deep red skin flickers. The surface vibrates under my cheek. People are walking by. 

“That hurts.” I hear myself grumble but I’m still asleep? Half-asleep? I don’t know, maybe I’m drunk. The claws press in farther and my shoulders twitch. Then my skin breaks open under the tiny claws. 

“Ow!” I yelp and my body wakes up. I grab at my back thinking I’ll find blood, but the pain dissipates. 

When I can finally survey my surroundings, I first notice there are red and gold paper lanterns adorned along wood rafters. Some hang lower than others. Shiny mahogany tables reflect the gold and cherry glow. A cerise hue emits from the paper windows that flutter whenever a shadow passes by. My head is throbbing. There are silhouettes of people hunched over the tables, spooning wads of food into their mouths. Their eyes are on me while they eat, at least I think they are. I rub my own trying to dispel what I assume is grogginess. But their bodies still seem blurry. They grab at plates full of fluffy white pastries – no wait, steamed buns. I can smell the pork. It smells good. 

“Your order?”

The voice from before comes close to my ear. When I turn to match the melody with a face, I’m caught off guard. A petite woman, clad in the most revealing outfit  I’ve ever seen, is standing to my side. Her hair is long and white. Under the glow of the lanterns, it looks opalescent. Her outfit is skin tight. A qipao. At least I think that’s what they are called. Except there’s little modesty from the traditional versions I’ve seen around Beijing. It clings to her oiled skin and unblemished complexion. I realize the dress doesn’t cover much else. I catch sight of a plain black thong peeking through exposed lips. Pretty sure I’m blushing. It’s good to know i’ve already established myself as a pervert. I look away and focus on her face. She is smiling, though a hint of agitation accents her hospitality. 

In her left hand is a steamer basket. She sets it down in front of me, removing the lid. While she works she brushes against my arm and my stomach tightens. I can’t help but breathe in the smell of unknown floral and marinated pork. My eyes roam over her chest when she rises from the table and my mouth waters. 

“Where am I?” I glance around the room again and it’s alive, unlike before. There’s laughter and pleasant conversation. I relax into the cushioned seats. The silhouetted shapes from earlier are recognizable. Happy, drunk people move around the small room enjoying each other’s company. No one seems to notice me anymore but I can’t shake the feeling that they’re watching me. I hear the waitress push the pork buns closer and I let it go. 

“You’re at Philena Waal’s Bun Stop!” The woman with the white hair flashes me a pretty grin. I smile back. Her perkiness is contagious. “I’m Philena!” She kicks up her back leg and winks. I divert my eyes away from the obvious crotch shot. It distracts me from her odd name. 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t really remember how I got here.” The right side of my head pulsates.  

“You and a couple of other young men wandered in. All three of you drank so much Baiiju I thought I may have to throw you out”. 

“Oh”. I scratched my head confused. I couldn’t remember anything after leaving the hotel. I glanced around the bun shop looking for my friends. The smell of the bao buns wafted to my nostrils again. I kept eyeing the savory pastries. Sweat had formed on the tops of the dough. 

“Do you know where they are?” 

“I’m sorry, my dear”. 

The owner reached for me and I flinched. She held her small hand out, hovering close to my cheek, waiting for me to correct what I assumed to be an insult against her gesture. I relaxed and she pressed her palm to my face.

“I’m afraid they left. Back to your hotel. The NUO? They were very drunk.” 

I cursed under my breath. Yes, that was them. We were staying at the NUO. But why didn’t they take me back with them? I must have asked that part out loud because Philena answered. 

“You were passed out here, on my beautiful table. I promised to send you home when you came to.”

Her nails pressed into the skin of my jaw. 

 “But you’re so cute, my dear. Please stay and keep me company? The bao is on the house of course.” 

She pulled away, my face followed and I forgot about my friends. Philena snatched one of the buns off the table and I obediently opened my mouth. The buns smelled delicious. It was silly being fed by the owner but the other patrons were all consumed by their merriment and Philena was too lovely to ignore. 

“Good boy”. Philena popped the bun into my mouth and I bit down. She threw another wink and left me. I watched a small heart tattoo on her ass bounce away. 

The buns were soft. Soft beyond any measurable amount of comparison.  The juices from the pork oozed into my mouth and the tender meat was marinated with a concoction of spices I can’t describe. I ate the bun quickly, grabbing another from the basket before I had swallowed the last bite of the first. While I ate, I followed Philena around the room. Every time she bent down to drop off her baskets I was tormented by petite breasts and thigh highs. Her presence made the food taste sweeter. 


I startled. Where had she come from? I swear I only looked away for a second. Philena reappeared beside me, a fresh basket of bao in her hands. She set them down at my table, taunting me again. 

“You like them, my dear?” 

I picked up another and nodded. Philena pushed the savory pastry away from my mouth and leaned in. The kiss was aggressive. The taste of her tongue was candied. I let my bao hand drop to the table and she freely explored the inside of my mouth. My feelings were torn. I was surprised. I welcomed it but at the same time, I was self-conscious. Who kisses someone with a mouth left with chewed bits of food? She pulled away quickly, the connection severed when our spit pulled too far and slopped against my chin.

“Eat up my darling.” 

On the thirteenth bun, my stomach is aching. My head is throbbing and I am losing track of how long I’ve been here. I pick up another bun. It almost feels like I don’t have control over it.  This makes me realize I had no idea what time it was at all, if ever. I remembered my friends while I chew on a fourteenth blob. My jaw moves like it has a mind of its own and the inside of my mouth salivates like I’m starved. I know damn well I’m not starving. But the buns are so, so, tasty and – 

“Another round, my love?” 

“Philena, no more. I’d like to just call a cab and go now.” 

“You promised to keep me company.”

I almost feel bad hearing her pout. But the ache in my belly prompts me to pull out my phone. I had forgotten I had it. 

“Let me just check on…” I blank. What the hell were their names?

“You friends, dear? At the NUO?” Philena smiled. It was small and curt. 


While the phone rings, I stare at the new basket of bao. The thought of the meat inside made me want to vomit, even though I’m struggling not to pick up another. After three tries on the cellphone, I give up. Static every single time. Philena hasn’t left to tend to her other guests. She’s just been watching and smiling. It unnerves me. I decide I need better reception and move to leave the table. I can’t fight the desire and grab another bun for the road. 

“Thank you Miss. Philena, but I really need to get going.” 

Before I can stand Philena slips between me and the table. She straddles her legs over my thighs and her arms circle my neck, nuzzling into the crook of greasy skin. I feel disgusted when my body becomes aroused.  

“Oh darling, oh my sweet…” 

She moans this to me while her hips start grinding over the jeans. Is there a tail? I feel a tail. My head lulls to the side – it’s hard to breathe. I clutch the cellphone still in my hand. I was supposed to be leaving right? To… what was the name of the hotel? Panic spreads through my limbs like boiling water but I can’t move, even when Philena reaches for my zipper and pulls it down. I choke on the bao in my mouth. Where did it even come from?

The shop’s liveliness is gone. None of the patrons are moving. The only one moving is Philena while she grinds against my hips, teasing the head of my dick with the fabric of her thong and soft pussy lips. But all I can think about is eating another fucking bao. Even when the sensation starts to elicit an orgasm. Even when I can see the slumped bodies, the grey remnants of people from before, watching me. Silent. Beady white orbs speckle the dark room. It’s their eyes. I know it’s their creepy little eyes. Hands press against the paper windows. They’re watching me from everywhere. 

I can’t move or scream. I can’t do fucking anything. But I can feel it. Everytime Philena sticks her nails into my body, I shove another bun into my mouth. I keep eating even though there’s soaking through my shirt, even while Philena grinds herself on top of me. 

“Do you love me?”

I think that’s what she said. I think… I can’t remember. The eyes are moving closer. Philena pulls my face to hers, so I can’t see the eyes. Only hers. I never realized they were red. Two split horns now sit on her head and her smile unhinges into a gaping maw. 

“Oh, my darling, how I could just eat you up.”

I fucked up.

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