inviting the audience
The lobby is full and I’ve been swearing at my console for an hour, now. I carefully mute myself as I do, then unmute and calmly explain to yet another random user what room they need to be in, what mods they need to enable or disable, that no, they will not be getting one-on-one time with you, they are food.
“But I thought there’d be full tour,” wheedles a sharp American-accented voice, loud enough you can hear it from my headphones. “It’s why I joined this tier. If I’m not going to—”
You come to my rescue, leaning in to place your lips by my headset mic. Close-up you see my eyes widen. Surprise, and simple desire having you appear at kissing distance. “No full tour. You’re food. You won’t be alive past my stomach when I catch you..”
There is a moment of silence while the gentleman processes the fact he is speaking to the predator who ate a girl on screen just two weeks ago. “Um, okay, ma’am. Uh, can I just say—”
But you’ve moved on, checking your VR headset, then strapping position sensors to ankles, waist.
I finish the call with that person and set down my headset with exaggerated care, which from me you know means blind rage. “Do me a favour,” I say, my voice utterly neutral. “If you see KingKrimson34.5 don’t eat him, just stomp on the fucker.”
“Uh-uh. I’m getting as fat as I can. Rude digests just as well as polite.”
I grumble, but go back to my duties. Shortly after you’re done strapping in I pick up some KFC buckets from the kitchen and set myself by my machine. “We’re ready. Fashionably late, as discussed. Actually you’re a little earlier than we discussed.”
You grin sheepishly. No makeup or heart decals on your cheeks, but your black-and-toxic-green hair falls partially over your headset. “Anxious they’ll lose interest, withdraw pledges.”
“Baby, you’re a goddess to these people. They’re going nowhere. Unless their significant others walk in on them. Ready?”
“Sure this’ll work?”
“As certain as anything involving computers. You just focus on stuffing yourself and having fun. And get ready when you eat someone. Love you.”
“Love you.” You pick up your controllers and engage the game.
KingKrimson34.5 goes down with a tense vocalisation like a man at the top of a rollercoaster about to drop. Your prey’s sound is quiet as you’d expect tiny people to be, and your voice to them is booming.
You hold KK above your face and open your mouth. You don’t know what he’s seeing but you do know your account is fatter for his being here. His little superhero avatar drops toward a mouth you hold open in real life.
As if by magic, food appears on your outstretched tongue, a fraction of a second late but not enough to break your immersion.
Through the magic of a horny vorish boyfriend and two Boneless Banquet buckets, Mr 34.5 has miraculously become a chicken breast strip. Your avatar makes your pre-recorded swallowing sound for all the rest of your prey to enjoy while we—or, let’s be honest here, I—get to enjoy the noisy, animalistic chewing sounds you don’t realise you’re making now you’re in a pred frenzy.
The chicken strip that is KK disappears in three swallows to join the equivalent of a whole chicken currently stewing in your stomach. You pat your belly and feel its heft—much added to by raspberry doughnut girl, or “Samantha” as the TV missing girl reports informed you.
“More,” you say. “Who’s next? Come out, come out, wherever you are…”
Your woodland kitchen has many nooks and crannies for prey to hide in. Two cupboards reveal nothing but dishes, but a fruit bowl reveals a pair of identical twin Duracell Rabbits hidden beneath a bunch of bananas.
“Looks like you’re two of my five-a-day!” you say, laughing as you grab one. The other jumps: you can’t tell it’s trying to grab its partner or your hand to come along for the ride. They jump side-to-side, an unreadable gesture with the smiling pink face.
You lean down to press your nose to the bunny. It actually collapses to the ground. How impressive are you, from their point of view?
“You not scared, little rabbit?”
It takes the player a while to turn off mute. It’s a woman who speaks.
“–sband at the same time. Please, please eat us together!”
A prey couple wants you to be their final resting place? You and your groaning belly are very happy to serve. Eventually. But your natural flair for the dramatic kicks in. You grab her and hold them both on the virtual countertop in front of you. Four shiny black eyes stare up, expectant.
“Food doesn’t get to make requests.”
You swoop your open mouth down over the husband, deep-throating his avatar from existence. The unexpected texture is startling. You forgot you weren’t about to swallow a Duracell Rabbit whole. But your teeth almost take off my fingertips when they snap shut on a chicken strip, and you chew while your avatar gulps down another person’s point of view.
You tease the other rabbit by dangling her over your mouth. She’s left mute off, and you rather suspect she’s enjoying herself vigorously at the sight. But instead of dropping her, you hold her to your growing belly instead.
“Say goodbye to your husband.”
Somewhere out there I’m furiously granting speak permission to her husband, allowing his muffled voice to escape your grumbling stomach. They’re properly in character, him telling her he loves her, to try to save herself; her telling him she loves him back, saying she won’t leave him. It’s quite sweet. You rummage in more kitchen cupboards while they Romeo and Juliet one another. Then you stuff her absently in your mouth when you spot a fat girl in a swimming costume making a break for the bread basket that is the prey’s end goal. Juliet the rabbit goes down screaming, and then sound disappears, your electronic fat obliterating them both.
Round one ends. You ate more than half of your audience and your stomach is packed. Ten got to the bread basket, meaning they’ll run another round in the ultimate hopes of winning a private commission from you. You wonder if you could be an eSport. How big would you be if you ate a whole arena? Your stomach comes out an extra foot anyway.
Your real belly is grumbling around its take. A spasm makes itself known as a sudden and surprising “buh-gwOOAAArp”. You can feel the tightness under your ribs, lightly wrapped by a nascent layer of fat. The feeling is indescribable.
You select “announcement” from your menu and speak. Your voice comes out a little husky. “Commiserations to those I caught. You can spectate the next game while I turn your bodies into shit. Congratulations to those who lived. I’ll get you in about ten minutes.” You rub your belly and realise with a jolt that your other hand is at your crotch, and everyone can see it. “Fifteen minutes.”
You tear off your headset to see me type in a couple of commands. I stand just as you reach me and we fall into a kiss as hard as if we’d fallen on the ground. I scoop up your noticeably wider hips and pull your heat to me as I carry you to your bed.
Maybe twenty minutes. Give or take.