good neighbours part 01
It’s a good thing I came back when I did.
You hear my key scrabble in the door and look up, simultaneously excited and guilty. The door opens and we make eye contact.
A lot happens in quite a short space of time. Let’s unpick it.
First, there is a palpable sense of homecoming. You can read in my face that a certain kind of haunted tension just disappears from me the moment I clap eyes on you. You feel it, too: the world feels safer, more right.
Second, I realise that you are wholly naked. Your cheeks are flushed the way they get when there is fresh, living blood in your system; and especially when you’re experiencing the high of a sustained, mid-digestion head-rush.
Third, rapidly on the heels of the second: your belly is immense. Like, you’re slouching on the couch and your gut rises higher than your head. You’re clearly pinned in place by whatever or whoever you have recently eaten. A glance confirms that your whole belly is stuffed. Jesus Christ, from lower abdomen to stomach, you’re one smooth, round blimp. Your belly button has popped into an outie. I don’t know how the couch survives your weight. Your tits are pushed high enough they’re practically on your chin.
Fuck, it’s hot.
Fourth, briefly, I see shallow piles of takeaway containers, discarded clothes, your laptop on the floor, a grimoire carefully closed but overlaid by what looks like an oversized, regurgitated bra. It’s a bit of a mess in here.
Fifth, and this realisation is yours: I’m not alone. Dithering at the end of the garden path is the neighbours’ kid. Olivia hasn’t made out what’s going on because I’m standing in the doorway and it’s gloomy inside compared to the lovely day outside, but it’s only a matter of time before she sees you.
I call to the young adult behind me, who’s urgently texting. “Come here, Olivia. I’ve found your parents.”
You give me a wan smile and suppress a hiccup. “Welcome home.”
Olivia was comfortable enough with me to step inside ahead of me. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness then went huge and white. She saw you and her mouth opened to scream.
Her hands spasm and those eyes roll back into her skull as I strike the back of her neck. She slumps into my arms and I kick closed the door behind me. She’s dead weight and awkward to push/drag into the living room, but I’m kind of motivated so I manage it.
You speak in a small voice. “Are you mad?”
I lay Olivia in a heap on the ground and watch her. She’s out cold and will wake up slowly, with plenty of warning. Satisfied, I cross the room to you and take your hands.
“God I missed you, Raven.”
“That’s not a no,” you say with a smile. I’m clearly trying to find a way to kiss you without having to scale your belly like a fricking Sherpa. I settle for walking around the side of the couch, which regrettably means letting go of one of your hands. My kiss is fierce, like I fully intend never to leave your lips again. You kiss back with equal passion, but break away to allow a brief, red-scented belch to gust past my face. When you grip the back of my head and bring me back in I have no complaints. My hand slips from yours and kneads the heavy flesh laden with liquefied people: your deadly, gorgeous belly.
Olivia makes a sound like she’s unsure about something. Unconscious people don’t ask “where am I?” or things when they’re coming round. Instead it’s like waking from a dream she didn’t realise she was having. This time it’s me who breaks the kiss.
“Oh good, she’s alive,” I hear you say, slightly dreamy. “I hate leaving orphans.”
Olivia murmurs to herself. “Hwaa…?”
I methodically kneel on her back to control how much air she can get in her lungs and flick her mobile phone across the carpet. When she tries to scream she can’t get more than an empty moan out. “What? She’s alive so there won’t be an orph— oh.” I shiver as I realise your meaning. If she’d died when I hit her, there’d be an orphaned spirit flying free. This way, there won’t be.
You’ve been watching me carefully the whole time. Is it disquieting watching me convert a person into what is clearly going to be another meal for you? Is it sexy? Olivia looks at you as I snap my arms into place around her neck to render her unconscious again. There’s a moment before she passes out… She sees your insouciant knees, carelessly parted to reveal the dark thatch of your pussy shaded by the dome of your belly. That gut mostly hides your face from her point of view, but you peer around it to watch the light leave her eyes again.
I proceed with efficiency to strip her of her jeans and top. “… I’m not mad at you, but I think we have to deal with this. Get on your knees.”
“I don’t know if I have space,” you say, slightly shame-facedly. “Her mother was huge.”
“Donna is a butter-ball, yeah. Well, was.” I look at you sternly. Olivia is now naked, cuddled against my chest like we’re just snuggling, but for my arm wrapped around her neck. My elbow is right in front of her throat and my other arm locks the hand in place, providing an easy way to apply pressure to strangle off blood flow. “But I’m going to need you to eat a little more, okay, Rey? Trust me, if it hurts, I’m going to make it feel a lot better. And you know that when she starts softening up it’ll feel amazing. So Rey: kneel for me.”
You rock back and forth a few times until you work out a way to lever your belly into your thighs. As it pulls you up, movements deep in your gut force out air top and bottom. The full-throated belch hides the sneaky pfffrt, but you blush all the same. “So full…”
“I know. Still. Eat this girl for me, Rey.”
You fold carefully onto your knees. You hold your stomach in two hands and lower it to the ground before lying on top of it. The extra weight forces squeaks and gurgles from within your bloated anatomy. It feels exquisite, but more than a bit like you’re going to pop. “Okay. Hold her still.”
You pick up her feet and slip them easily past your salvating maw. Your oesophagus accepts her smoothly past the knees. It’s not already stuffed full of food, so no problems so far.
Olivia comes around and I control her ability to move and scream. Your gullet controls her ability to kick. A pang of sickness washes over you as her toes squelch through into the liquefying remains of her mother in your stomach. This is going to be hard work.
“She was twenty-one yesterday,” I say, in a tone of voice that is not so much reproachful as it is a kind of eulogy. “She looked after the rabbits once. Did a terrible job, I’m afraid to say. But you ate her parents so this is the kindest thing for her.”
You force yourself to push forward, creeping your lips up to her hips. It might just be your mind playing tricks, but you’re sure you can feel the addition of her struggling legs squeezing out bloody half-digested meat into your duodenum. Space has to come from somewhere, after all. I lever her back to let you suck down her hips without issue.
“I guess it was dad first, then mam? So he’ll be well on his way out. Don’t know how you’ll feel about that, Olivia. Going to see your mam again, but your dad will be long gone before you’re through.”
Tears are streaming down your face. Your poor stomach positively stings as it tries to expand to take in another struggling meal. Your eyes are closed so you don’t see me change my hold, but you feel my hand on your cheeks, strangely tender as those cheeks stretch inhumanly wide to take in Olivia’s little belly and breasts.
“Do you need her to be still?” I murmur. Olivia’s kicking inside your stomach is like a storm, making you sea-sick. You open your eyes to look at me. I could easily strangle her past the point of breathing, leaving you a compliant meal to devour. Probably pull down the soul just the same, as it would lie mostly within the grip of your jaws.
The faintest shake of your head. I smile and force one of Olivia’s hands slickly within the corner of your lips; then do the same with the other. “You’re incredible. My wonderful, impossible Raven.”
You sit up, partially to let gravity assist in pulling down the struggling girl and partially to take the weight off your poor stretched stomach. I help lift her over you. Her chest and shoulders are no match for your jaws, but your stomach screams as more of her squeeeezes inside. It feels like there is no end to the girl. Even as your lips close over her head and you knock her back, it feels like hours before your cardiac sphincter can close too.
“Good girl. My good girl. You’re just incredible. I can’t believe you managed her!” I pepper your damp cheeks with kisses, causing you to smile through the pain.
~huh-gwhooOaAArp… Buh-brrrraaaaugph…~
Swallowed air and the last screams of your latest prey are released back to the world. You keep her down. Does she dry-drown inside you, or does she die with the caustic mixture of your juices and her mother’s flesh in her lungs? It doesn’t matter, in the end. She settles down fairly quickly.
“~HwooAAurp~, God, I feel like I’m going to burst…”
“You did eat a whole family… One I asked you not to, I might add…”
“See, you are ~gah-haaaUurp~ mad!”
Gentle pressure encircles your chest, carefully avoiding applying too much to your belly. My lips brush against your ear. “I will never be mad at you for acting according to your nature. You are beautiful. The most incredible woman.” I lean back and the hands that were locked behind you trace a path across your flanks to the drum-taut skin around your stomach. “But I can take karmic enjoyment when you make my life more complicated. Still… Let’s make the most of it. On your back, please, Rey.”
You grimace. “Nuh-uh, too full. Stretch.”
“Okay.” I pause to consider, then kiss your forehead, where there is a light sheen of sweat. “Be right back.”
I build you a cloud in which to digest your stupendous meal. Two duvets cosset and support your supine body, raising chest and legs to keep your middle from having to stretch, while granting me access to your belly.
I quickly learn that while I must be gentle with your stomach, stretched paper-thin over the delicately melting body of the sweet girl within you, I can go as hard as I like on your guts. So I spend ten minutes tracing the shape of her breaking frame beneath your layer of fat, then ten minutes kneading fat and sluggish intestines stretched wide by your debauched feast.
“Your greed,” I murmur, half to myself as the blood recedes from your brain to power the immense machinery of your gut, “is exquisite. You have… hundreds of kilos of flesh inside you. A whole family. You are the most awesome pig. My piggy. Say it.”
“’m piggy.”
“Good. Say, ‘I am the greediest little piggy.’”
You shift your hips, easing out a gust that relieves a patch of internal pressure. My hand on your belly strokes in little circles to acknowledge the passage, praise you for it. “’m the greediest little piggy. Only not so little.”
“Very clever. I love you. Say, ‘piggy wants to cum.’”
You go stiff as a board as my hand covers your pussy, already hot with the reflected pleasure of a full gut. “Mm, fuck. Piggy wants to cum. Make piggy cum.”
What follows is an assault on three fronts. I stroke you mercilessly with grinding pressure on your pussy, while alternating between guts and stomach. Your abdomen I roll beneath the heel of my hand in great waves, manually squeezing digesting food along your tubes. Your stomach I can now be a little rougher with as your body breaks down the body inside it. When Olivia’s arm clicks free of its shoulder socket inside your stomach you cum for the first time, soaking my hand.
“Sorry,” you say, briefly embarrassed to have wet me, but it’s immediately swallowed up by another impulse: “More. Piggy wants more.”
You get more. As your body insatiably drinks up the flesh of the three bodies you have consumed, so does your skin drink up every sensation I give it: licking from your collarbone to your jaw, kissing across your breasts, stroking every inch of your belly, your inner thighs, the rolls of fat pouring over you like waves. I stroke your clit to another climax, and then another; and then I can’t take any more and sink myself inside you too. We rock together, my thrusts an internal massage as deep as any my hands can give you. Your pussy drinks up what I give it, and you continue to grind against me, bringing me to hardness again and another climax for both of us. Your excess and your desire are beautiful and cause excess and desire in me too.
By the time you have had enough you are exhausted and Olivia is half sucked down into your intestines. We don’t know it but a pleasant, repetitive glk glk glk noise is your pylorus sucking blindly on her dissolving and naked skull, greedy as the rest of you to have more inside itself.
You give me a half-exhausted smile. “Help me up. Toilet.”
I look at the size of your belly, the shakiness of your post-orgasm legs, the narrowness of the bathroom door. “… I have an alternative idea. Let me take care of you.”
With your hips raised and your legs wide-parted there is little mess. You hide your blushing face in your hands and feel streaming heat spread down below, trusting me to catch every drop and ounce in the budget I’ve pressed into service. Your blush isn’t only from embarrassment.
“You’re—”
“If you tell me I’m beautiful right now I’m going to kick the bucket over.”
“Duly noted.” The next ten seconds are filled by the quiet flowing sensation, the little wet cracks of escaping air. “… You are, though. I don’t understand it either.”
I wiped you firmly, as you liked it, and dealt with the product. No doubt this is not the last as you are barely smaller, and Olivia is still a long way from seeing the light of day. Except perhaps a little of her that might have passed from your blood through your kidneys.
So too did I clear away the detritus. Pizza boxes are gone. Donna’s bra is set aside to be destroyed later. The lights are on since it’s well into the night, and now there is incense burning to make the atmosphere pleasant and intimate.
You sit up straighter in your digestion-cloud. We were talking, my hand tracing idle curlicues on your belly, barely tickling the thundering industry happening beneath.
“I could have done all that myself, you know,” you say, resting your own hand on your belly. “Like, even the takeaway boxes. I kind of left them because I knew you’d be home. I don’t know.”
I smile, not moving from my relaxed lounging position, which puts my face on its side from your point of view. “I know. I found it cute. I like that you can rely that I’ll take care of you.” I roll over a fraction to kiss the softening bulk of your tummy. “And isn’t it so much nicer to do all that with someone else?”
You don’t answer, but snuggle back down onto the duvets. Your digestive system still has a huge amount of work to do and its demands on your energy are massive. You cover a yawn with the back of your hand.
I give you a twisted smile and you remove the hand, showing off the pretty pink pit of your mouth to someone who’ll appreciate it.
“I’m so glad to be home. I missed you so much. Life doesn’t make much sense without you.”
“’m glad you’re home too. Sleepy.”
Now I shift my hips, rising up onto my knees. “Maybe my gorgeous piggy, light of my life and quencher of others’, should bed down and rest?”
You stick out your tongue but wriggle into a more comfortable position. Already you feel your skin a little softer, your bottom a little plumper. “Maybe.”
“I’d like to rub your belly some more as you fall asleep.” I start a cascading sequence of massages, small circles starting high at your stomach and working their way down. Happy gurgling follows the motions, trailing shortly behind.
“I’ll consider it,” you say, half a smile on your lips as you close your eyes. A flicker of annoyance at the brightness, then a twitch of your will, and a light-switch snaps to the off position, darkness trailing a moment in the air between you and it.
“Most kind,” I say leaning down to kiss your navel. I linger a while, and just barely restrain the urge to go down on you. “You drive me wild, you know. I’ve never felt anything like being with you, before.”
“Good.” Your voice is thick with sleep, but i know the words are still true. “You’ll feel… this way… for the rest of your life.”
“Perfect.” I rub my hands up your belly from the pubis, relishing the way your fat rolls under my touch then springs back up as my hand moves on. “You make me so happy, Raven.”
Your response is a small twitch of a smile, but you’re done talking for the evening. In the morning there will be questions of untangling the mess of the disappearing neighbours, but that’s for tomorrow Andrew and Rey to worry about. Right now, we have only warmth and comfort in one another. You begin to snore gently—the effect of human-food—and I smile to myself, the luckiest man in the whole world.