postcard amelie 10
It’s the second time you’ve had to pee, and the fact that your stomach still sloshes as you waddle to the bathroom means it’s probably not the last. The heat inside you pulls at your consciousness, making you crave sleep or something close to it.
Your food coma amuses you in an abstract way. Perhaps whatever put you here designed it in so you would be too lazy to do anything too war-crimey.
You take your seat and relax. A torrent pours forth. Like last time you take a peek. What is currently gushing into the bowl was no more than two hours ago flowing inside the veins of more than a hundred people. When thinking about the other elimination process it’s easy to imagine your body melting down your prey and absorbing the good, until the bad is left to be expelled. But the part of your prey that you’re pissing out right now actually passed the boundary of your intestines and stomach. You claimed it as your own; it has flowed along the channels of your own veins.
The waterfall continues for a superhuman length of time. There are many people to release.
Amelie is sitting upright in bed when you leave the bathroom. Her arms open wide in invitation. You are too tired and lazy to give affection but feel greedy for it. With a certain degree of style you avoid the arms but flop heavily into your side of the bed, smoothly using your momentum to grab Amelie around the back and pull her summarily to your belly. She lands with her cheek sinking in to your hot skin. Your breasts ride so high you can’t see her face but you feel her snuggling in closer, putting her ear to your belly.
Relieving the pressure on your bladder seems to have given other parts of you freedom to move. Though the meal was liquid your body has been working on it. Your gut is definitely doughy, like you’re shot through with blood toffee, and your newly motile gut finds pockets of fluids and air to smoosh past its thickening contents. A cacophony of gurgles rips out. The hotel room seems too small to contain the noise: God knows what it must be like for Amelie.
For all that your abdomen is rounded with food, and despite the layer of heavy fat upon it, your stomach is waking up find that it is empty. It is informing you that there, hidden already from view by your own tits, is a substantial solid meal. You know you need only demand from her a kiss and she would be yours.
In the twilight heat of your food coma the thought brings with it a smouldering arousal. You let your thighs fall apart and stroke Amelie on the back to get her attention.
“Mm?”
“Amelie.”
“Yes?”
“If you don’t fuck me back to sleep I’m afraid I’m going to eat you.”
Your stomach broadcasts its intent with a well-timed growl. Under the awning of your bellyfat it sounds hollow, immense. To Amelie it must feel like hearing the ice creaking as it gives way. She looks struck.
“Please don’t eat me.”
“I don’t want to, but you fed me too well and I’m really horny right now. I need you to touch me.”
Her hand jerks over your belly and hesitates at your inner thigh, nervous, unsure. You clamp your hand on her back and crush her into your tummy: a warning.
“You’re going inside me one way or the other. Choose!”
You hear her whimper but her hand moves expertly. She slicks apart your burgeoning lips and plunges two fingers deep inside your channel. The muscle of her thumb rubs against your clit, sending up sparks that earth in your belly. You moan, part in pleasure and part in frustration.
“More.”
You manage to release her and she sits up. Through half-closed eyes you see her mentally regain her footing: she’s safe as long as she does as you ask. Another finger joins the other two pumping in and out of you. It’s seconds before you see true lust in her eyes again, so you close yours and concentrate on what she’s doing to you.
“You’re so big,” she says, quietly at first. You inhale sharply, approving.
Freed, her other hand slaps the apex of your belly. Ripples propagate outwards, joining the bouncing of the fatroll of your lower belly where her hand is working your cunt.
You moan. She takes it as encouragement. “You’re getting fatter every day. You were a real pig today.”
You rock your hips in time with her thrusts. Right now you feel like an animal, wanting only pleasure and satisfaction.
“Your hands are getting chubby. Your tits are too large for me to hold. Your belly is massive.” She halts wanking you off to slap your sopping pudenda. “Even your pussy lips are getting bigger. Fuck, come here, Raven.”
Her loose fist penetrates you, finally giving you the internal stretch you were craving. Your cry of pleasure is followed quickly by another as she practically dives face-first onto your clit, licking and licking like her life depends on it. It sort of does, but that’s not what’s motivating her, any more.
You’re almost roaring your passion now. Amelie surfaces only long enough to speak. “You’re a glutton. You eat so much. Look how stretched your belly is.”
“More!” you demand.
“Look how big your arse is! Show me, hips up!”
You comply, curving up your hips though it makes you squirm while she stops doing what she was doing.
“God you’re a giant, beautiful goddess. You want to be filled up? Try this.”
Not a finger, but a whole hand forces its way into your pucker, lubricated with your own juices. You clench hard around it and she hisses in a breath but keeps her fist in your musky heat. The other hand picks up where the first left off, regaining the rhythm and pace.
“Look at you,” says Amelie, getting out of breath with the effort of plugging you. “Two holes stuffed tight. Maybe tomorrow we find someone else to cram down your throat while I’m fucking you.”
“Aah! Aah! Fuck!” The sensation of fullness is overwhelming. You can actually feel her pushing deeper into your arse. You grip tight around her advancing forearm, feeling every inch of skin with skin as sensitive as lips.
“Maybe two. See if we can’t stretch out your stomach further than—”
Whatever she says next is lost to you. Everything clenches as you come, crushing fist and fist, fixing her in place. The world is hot and tight and fizzing with ecstasy. You ride the wave.
When you are finished you collapse. Amelie is smart enough to withdraw as soon as she can. Perhaps she felt how easily both of the portals she was playing with expanded to take her in. You arch your back and shiver in the come-down.
She plants a kiss on your cheek and nips to the bathroom for a few moments. Running water. Then she’s back, throwing herself into your arms.
Perhaps she saw your heavy-lidded eyes and reasoned she was safe. Perhaps she decided that if you wanted her she is yours. But you moan exhausted approval and give her that kiss.
This time, she’s still on the outside when it finishes. You fall into a deep, satisfied sleep.