postcard amelie 17 part 2
Olivia is now exploring your inner thighs. Her kisses sometimes depress your pillowy skin, sometimes trace the curves where the suspender straps compress that skin into smooth valleys.
There is one valley she discovers all of a sudden. Her pursed lips place a soft, melting kiss on your own. Without parting, her lips massage circles into you, trail kisses up and down your blossoming labia. You let out a sigh and Amelie leans down to kiss your mouth, deeply.
A clicking sound behind Olivia makes you disengage from Amelie’s hungry kisses and reach for your blindfold. Your belly hides Olivia from view, though you feel her kisses circling in on that nexus that sends sparks up to your belly. It’s like she’s an extension of Erika standing behind her. The click was a toy, something secured to a hip harness and slid within herself, granting her a length of her own. With her stance, and the way Olivia raises her arse into the air, there is little doubt what she intends to do with it.
Erika sees you peeking and gives a wry smile. Amelie strokes your face and glides her leg over your belly, sitting astride that monument to the departed. Low, she sits, and the last things you see before she replaces your blindfold is her lustful gaze exploring your fat body and Erika biting her lip as she slides herself into her girlfriend between your legs.
Olivia’s lips part then, in a squeak. “Tight.” The slip of a leash that did lie slack against your inner thigh whips tight, an admonition to attend to her duties.
This she does with gusto. Eyes in darkness, there is nothing to distract you from the sensation of Olivia’s tongue slicking you open, finding your clit, eating like a starving woman. Amelie’s weight presses your own sacred body against itself, bringing to awareness of each of your curves. Then her hands start to explore, great heavy strokes ploughing furrows in the doughty flesh of your belly, or raising and cupping meaty breasts. Her thighs contract and relax around your hips and flanks: you feel her arse tensing and releasing as she rubs herself against you, growing wet with the friction and love for you.
More rocking. Olivia is rocking too, as Erika fucks her from behind. Clever Olivia uses the pressure, allowing tongue and lips to stroke along your pussy in time, using the deepest point of her stroke to suckle on your clit before descending again. In the shallowest part her tongue curls within your cunny, seeking the parts that make you sigh with pleasure. She drinks in your scent.
“That’s good,” murmurs Erika to her sub. “Good toy. You want to be a real toy?” A mmmph muffled by a mouthful of your pussy sounds from between your legs. “You want to be used by someone else, drown in someone else’s cunt?”
No time is given for an answer this time: Erika’s thrust is vicious, but the sensation sends thrills through your body. You moan and Amelie covers your mouth with her own.
Pressure again at your crotch. Olivia seems uncertain, has stopped licking, but it suddenly ceases to matter: Erika, a handful of Olivia’s hair in her fist, pushes Olivia’s beautiful brow against your vaginal opening, and then thrusts with all her strength.
It takes two thrusts to get her jawline inside your pussy, so Olivia has a chance to scream just as you cry out in pleasure. That second thrust buries her airways in your flesh, so from that point on her fate is sealed.
You don’t need the blindfold to hyperfocus on the sensation of Olivia’s struggles inside your pussy. Her features track along intimate, sensitive flesh, rocked by Erika’s sadistic thrusts as she fucks her girlfriend into you.
Amelie knew this was going to happen. She positioned herself where Olivia would bulge inside you. The sensation of the trapped woman’s struggles beneath your flesh and between her legs triggers a short, sharp orgasm that leaves her gasping and grinding for more.
By reflex you relax what needs to be relaxed and buck against the proffered woman in antiphase with Erika. Her hands scrabble against your thighs but there is no resisting the pressure and the suction you raise. A shivering stillness seizes Olivia’s body and her shoulders pop through into your voracious vaginal canal, even as your cervix settles like a kiss around her throat. She, a living dildo having realised her deepest fantasy, orgasms hard enough to tear away her desire to breathe—at least for now.
Amelie rides the disappearing girl in sections. Though her shoulders cause a large bulge above your pubis at first, as they slip deeper their shape is swallowed by the bank of fat that Amelie’s is using to massage her clit.
You can feel Olivia beginning again to struggle inside you, but no sound escapes. She is slender, so your pussy slurps her ribs and belly down with a pflorch of displaced air. Erika grips your spread thighs for balance as she continues to plough her girlfriend’s hips between yours for as long as she can. Eventually Olivia can go no deeper without taking her own pussy away from Erika. Your internal muscles fight her as she holds Olivia in place, chasing a climax.
It arrives. “Bitch,” she grunts, shuddering as the waves crash over her. “Go serve someone else, then.”
Olivia’s legs still kick as Erika and your womb cram them inside. Your stomach complains loudly about its neglect but your womb graciously accepts the offering of girlflesh. Each brush of frenzied hands inside you sends pleasure coursing through your system, making you buck underneath Amelie.
Your first orgasm crushes the fight out of Olivia. She balls up, overcome by heat and pressure and the alien digestion that tears at her flesh and converts her to something that spurts down her erstwhile lover’s legs. Your masterful body pulls her apart, but the sensation wracks you with scarcely controllable pleasure. Orgasm after orgasm rolls over you, long after Olivia stops fighting. Out there, outside the blindfolded darkness and the primal/urgent need to come, you hear Amelie laugh, drunken-sounding, delighting in your pleasure.
She slips off from you and you cry out in longing, reaching out. You need to be touched, even as you soak the bedsheets yourself. There is the sound of brief struggle, and then there is Amelie’s hand, massaging your stretched and swollen pussy with force and desire. You roar approval and find meat offered to your lips. The taste of Erika’s blood sharpens your tongue, and you lap every drop from the lolling forehead that settles on your tongue. Then the animal orgasms again and you force her whole head into your throat in one movement.
She is moving groggily, but even if she weren’t incapacitated by whatever Amelie did there would be no resisting your grip around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides and feeding her body into yours. ~Glk, gluck, glk~, each swallow a raucous, unrefined pull at flesh and air, an expression of the irresistible need to contain. Her hips soon lie on your tongue and gravity pulls her down. Her thrashing legs, fight growing in urgency, are a fitting echo of Olivia’s as they, too, are eclipsed by your bulk.
Your collarbones creak as they move back into place behind the descending body, and you lie back and give voice to your satisfaction with an almighty ~grwoooOOOAAARKK~. The sensation of panicking prey filling out your midsection triggers another climax, a jet of former Olivia spattering your lover’s arm.
Somewhere inside, someone is trying to shout, to scream, to beg, but there’s just too much of you for the sound to pass through. Your body answers with a crushing digestive command: melt. Powerful stomach walls grind bones and score skin, which fizzes and sloughs off by the action of caustic fluids. You belch continually, robbing your meal of air and space and carrying the flavour of her blood and meat across your tongue.
All the while your lover keeps you in ecstacy, a fist in your pussy when fingers did not suffice; a forearm when fist slipped in and out too easily.
You register the precise moment your prey succumbs to the brutal wounds your cement mixer of a stomach inflicted on her. A flicker of gold inside you bubbles up and marries with the tormented spirit that is released into the bubbling hellscape inside you.
The fragment of Amelie’s soul you drank down recognises itself.
There is the sting of a needle in your hip.
You go very still. Your lover’s hand withdraws and footsteps back away hurriedly.
Blurred numbness spreads from the injection site, but not as fast as numbness from your chest. Within you, dead body still rocking and churning, lies the ruined form of Amelie. Your traitor stomach opens her up, leaks her softening organs into the growing pool of chyme, which itself already begins to wind its cacophanous way through the annihilating labyrinth of your intestines. Your lover speaks to you in gurgles and squeaks all through your gut.
You remove your blindfold. Erika stands with her back against the wall, wild-eyed, arm dripping with your fluids. She’s bleeding from a cut on her upper arm. Presumably where the blood she smeared on Amelie came from.
“Pass out, pass out, you bitch,” she murmurs to herself. She’s scared stiff. She should be. Catching your eye, she straightens. “I know you killed those kids. You and Amelie. She practically told me.”
The numbness extends all the way to your jaw, now. It makes it hard to speak so you just watch, feeling full of meat and also empty. You’re considering letting it drag you under.
“Olivia was a… She wasn’t mine anyway. Fucking wanted Amelie and… and you. So let her be part of you. Fucking pass out already.” She gropes her way toward the door.
“You’re not going to die fast,” you say, around whatever she injected you with. Then, with a click of your neck and some concentration, you gather up the foreign substance in your veins and redirect it. No anaesthetic could take you out: You are master of your own blood.
Erika goes pale as she watches a stream of clear liquid piss out of the injection site. You sit up and she strides for the door.
“Fat bitch like you won’t—”
The bulk of a tendril thumps into her voicebox, its blade deflected so as not to give her a quick end. Then it and a twin grip her by the arms, lifting her bodily from the ground.
“You listen now. You don’t know what you’ve done. You’re going to live for hours as my shit. I can make it happen.”
You look away from her, uninterested in the dawning horror as you roll over onto all fours. Your belly hangs down to the mattress, Olivia in your womb and Amelie in your stomach, duodenum, ileum. Both of them feel so fucking good. Focus on the sensation, not on the pain.
“You won’t suffocate. You won’t be crushed. You won’t close your eyes.”
A little snicker-snick of the blade nearly servers Erika’s eyelids. She opens her mouth in a silent scream. As she drifts closer the knife-tips cut little curlicue patterns in the top layer of skin, enough to cause searing pain and open her up to the pollution of the place she is headed. Your anus makes a small wet sound as it relaxes and gapes open.
“You’ll beg for death but you won’t get it. Not till Amelie works her way through me. Not till you’re bathed in shit. And then,” the anger you’re feeling bleeds into your voice, running hot, “only then, will I begin the agony of your digestion. I’ll come and come feeling you burn inside me. So give me a kiss. Let’s get better acquainted.”
She hangs before the chasm of your enormous backside, staring lidlessly into a shallow pink pit, entrance to the pendulous belly that bulges and groans beneath you. Your tendrils guide her to kiss the place that yawns open to accept her, tender as a new lover, swallowing her with slick squelching and light anal mucus into her final resting place.
You settle down onto your newly-squirming belly and reach for your aching pussy. Tomorrow you will have to face what has happened. But for now, you can numb yourself with pleasure and sadism. You’ve done it before.
Erika won’t see tomorrow.