no peeking

Sleep still clings to you as my hand on your shoulder brings you back to earth. Were you dreaming of a void you could shape with your will, a multitude snared in the realm you created?

The real world contains your bedroom, incense-spiced, and two heartbeats other than your own. The waking hand’s partner rests gently upon your closed eyes, palm tickling your eyelashes. You recognise my scent, trust me, and so keep yourself blind.

My presence withdraws a moment. You permit yourself the luxury of a stretch, back arched from the sheets, arms ramrod-stiff above your head. Tension scores lines in your muscles, not one of them visible beneath swaddling flesh. Your body hides its own power in an ocean of soft fat.

Something physical is happening next to the bed. Struggling. It sounds one-sided, short/sharp/repetitive motions suggesting limbs bound in place. A faint grunt from me indicates lifting a heavy something. Whimpering is bottled up behind a gag, scared, young, female. She’s what I’ve lifted, and she’s not light. You smile.

“Open.”

Who are you to demur? A thought to how I might expect you to open yourself, but you choose to part those smiling lips, blindly roll out an anticipatory tongue…

Her toes wriggle with panic-writ-small. I must hold her ankles tight. The tickling glides gleefully along your hard palette and you sit upright to encase it smoothly in the flesh of your throat. Lips brush my hands which retreat. Your gullet now holds the girl’s legs together. When she tries weakly to kick–perhaps another bond at her knees?—the stretch merely tells your body to expect more. You grow instantly wet.

Every part of your gut becomes wet. Calves that taste of terror-sweat find a smooth hot chute effortlessly lubricated. She feels like a dream sliding inside you, opening out your collarbones for space, popping through the entrance to your stomach.

Thighs receive careless bleeding tracks. Your fangs graze shallow grooves in soft padding. Savoury metal floods your mouth, perfumes the air in your nose. Those lines will be murder when they reach your stomach.

Fully on all fours you push forward. Saliva-slicked buttocks pop like oversized peeled grapes past the curve of your tongue, swelling your throat the furthest yet. You give thanks for your body as it folds this offering inside itself. Her tickling toes explore the lining of your stomach as she pours into her new home.

Whimpering turned to muffled screaming when you bit; now turns to full-throated weeping. You don’t care. Soon the sounds she make will be drowned out by the gut she struggles within. Your ribcage aches gloriously as it spreads beneath your skin and flab like hidden angel wings. Tendons snap back and hold her steady.

Like she’s eager to be your food she presses down your throat without your trying. You know I’m pushing her. You push back against me. Your food goes down so fast before you know it belly gives way to slabs of rib fat, to two mouth-watering globes of fat, to the top of her chest.

When your fangs idly tear through her cheek and eyelid she convulses inside you. You moan through your nose. She’s a massage from tongue to stomach, powerfully twisting inside you, letting you feel every inch of her soft and desperate body.

I shaved her head for you. Your tongue curls around her crown. A gulp, and the arms feed in themselves. Like a good girl your food curls into foetal position. Ropes hold her too much in place to keep her head above the level of your stomach juices. You know this because her fight is senseless, primal, holding nothing back in its intensity.

Every part of you is wet. Your prey drowns in it, I glide into it. You lick her faint taste from your lips and lie down on her stilling bulk while I pin you beneath my weight and fuck you soundly from behind. Moans vie with burps for traffic in your throat, gas being rocked out of your gut, out of the lungs of your prey.

Apparently the stomach goes still when you cum. Whoever she is gets a reprieve from the grinding walls peeling her skin from her fat. Then you feel me fold over you, pressing your swollen tummy against your lungs, leaving you breathless.

I kiss the side of your neck and murmur into your ear. “Cum for me, again and again, my precious Rey. Let’s fuck her into your intestines.”

You never even saw your food. Now no one will again. It’s not half an hour before there’s nothing left to recognise.