Allison tried to be a good host but emotion and blood loss left her brutally drained. She was adamant that you take her double bed, so right now she’s crashing on roommate Daniel’s. I hold the towel as you step out of a long, hot shower. It just about wraps around you but doesn’t really overlap. You tamp yourself somewhat dry and then content yourself with air-drying. Your hair goes up in another towel.

(Closing section of last Friday’s kiss, as a reminder.) There’s a hesitation, but self-preservation or something kicks in. While I thrust deep inside you, Allison crushes Fern’s squirming body beneath her own and feverishly massages your clit. Into your ear she continues to murmur: “you’d fucking eat me too, wouldn’t you? How many people can you cram into your fat guts?” Beset by pleasure inside, behind and afore, you nevertheless snatch a moment of lucidity and grab her by the hair.

Anticipation is half the fun. Some who think they know you might be surprised that you can be so patient. But there’s a quiet joy in being so obviously vampiric: sitting in the brittle gloom of a dozen candles, fireplace well-fed but banked to give a soft sensuousness to the unfamiliar living room. Across the coffee table are spilled a dozen red roses. Part of the reason you don’t mind waiting is because Helen is keeping you company.

Contentment keeps you curled up around your belly all night. Excess in food and excess in drink mean you wake, disoriented, several times through the night. Each time you are surprised and pleased to discover a wonderful warm meal packing your body, the bulge being lower and less pronounced each time. Gurgling as blissful as a kitten’s purr draws you back to sleep. But the morning brings with it a temple-squeezing hangover.

Whimpering from under your ribs, muffled by a shelf of fat and your awesome boobs. She is losing herself to you slowly and surely. Even the jostle as your back hits the rug causes digestive juices to slosh over her body and thickly peel away softened keratin. The first stage of digestion is all about opening up to you. We have limited time. You giggle and try to sit up, a futile gesture as her weight keeps you pinned.

S: A rough, delighted laugh comes out of me—it’s rare I can make you swear like that. And the way you try to scrabble… And the way the plug is swallowed up, just the faintest schlick as your hole clenches down tight on it… … I think I have a new core memory. “Yes! We’re gonna keep her inside you as long as we can! Keep her alive as long as we can!

“No,” says Fern, voice thick like a drunkard. I suppose she is, by one definition. “Please, please no.” Allison shushes and holds her in a hug from behind. Apparently you are to put her legs into your mouth on your own… Oh wait, no. I kneel beside her and firmly pick up her meaty calves, holding them at lip height. The first few kicks are hard enough that I can’t hold her still but her drained system can’t support that level of output.

Allison does her best, but her voice is a little strangled. “Fern, hi!” So Fern is already picking up on some odd vibes as she stands in the heavy University fire-door. “Alright, Allison. You okay?” Fern’s startling green eyes flicker between me standing by Allison and you in the chair. “Bit of pre-drinking science?” “You know me,” she says, with levity not reflected in her imploring eyes. “Always b— busy!”

Allison sent her friend Fern a message. “Old Bar in Union is a bit naff. Want to make a night of it? Meet me at lab, EC 7.24. I’m there at 6. First rounds on me luv! x” We’re there now. You were pretty curious about the EEG machine and the screens and everything but I have gone off the fucking deep end. It started with questions about functional maps of the brain and currently…

They say if you love something, you have to let it go. Something like that is in effect. Allison gives us time and place and leaves us to finish lunch at the café. There’s no guarantee she’ll keep her word; no guarantee she won’t cause trouble. But it’s hard to fake the way her eyes light up when you flirt with her, and even harder to fake soaking her panties when you drink her blood, so we’re fairly sanguine about trusting her with a secret or two.