You’re not long showered when you hear your front door open. I call out a greeting in the exact same tone I always do: “Hel-lo,” from high to low. So when you walk down the stairs you’re wrapped only in a bath sheet. It ripples and moulds to your form in wine red folds. You never got the hang of the towel-hair thing so your long black hair is drying down your back.

Just because you’re piling on the weight doesn’t mean you’re not taking care of yourself. The reason you are so strong and so able to deal with the rolls upon rolls of fat you bear so lightly is because you still lift, you still swim, you still on occasion run. Let us take a moment to appreciate what it is like when you run. Your body routinely breaks down whole bodies for its food.

I freeze as I enter your living room. You’re walking slowly around your handiwork, eyes upturned. “Your tying is improving,” I murmur, stepping into the room but keeping out of your way. “It’s easy if they don’t need to live.” We’re presumably past safe words. I can only imagine how this evening has gone from her point of view. Perhaps a hot date with a smoking Domme, back to yours for a little rope and a lot of sex.

You can tell in the morning that I’m going to wind down at some point today. My brightness after having stayed up even later massaging your poor hardworking tummy is a little brittle, and you catch me frequently staring into space. Still, when I ask you, a little bashful, if I can be there when you release the three you ate, you give me a shy smile of your own and accept my embrace.

We get in at four. You heave yourself up the path, each step a totter despite your powerful legs, like a person carrying a whole drum of water. “Three,” I murmur in the dead, still night. Wonder is audible in my voice. “There are three people inside you.” You wisely release a knot of gas alongside a breath. The last thing we need is a thunderclap waking the neighbours. “Mhmm. Open the door or there’ll be four.

Your voice on the phone is sleepy. “Come over.” My reply is sleepy, too, because I was asleep. It’s late. “Mm?” “Come oooover. ~hc-bwourp~” My bed creaks as I sit up in it. Damn. Need to fix those slats we broke under your gradually increasing bulk. My voice is now fully awake, tense with excitement. “I’ll be right there.” Then you give me an address I don’t recognise. Oh. It’s going to be one of those nights.

At first, your body had little chance to do anything chemical to Charlotte. Your saliva is mostly just lubricant to a struggling body, and while your acids would have raised severe stinging pain on the delicate mucous membranes of her nostrils, eyes and, if she were soaked fast enough, her sex, only an inflammation response would have been raised. Mechanically, your body actually dislocated her shoulder when your stomach contracted at just the right point of her sliding inside.

We wake and you kiss the lines your fangs have scored into me. The heal is imperfect but I love these two smooth, silvery scars. My mind, heart and soul have all been changed by you for months, now. It feels right that my body should be, too. Waking next to the creamy, welcoming expanse of your warm body… I am appalled that I must hurry to an engagement. I rain kisses upon you and pop a selection of pastries and croissants on a tray in in the oven, quickly neaten up the kitchen and scrub up the worst of my blood, then kiss you goodbye.

Both of us are struggling with blood a little. Your blood is currently perfusing overworked, bloated digestive organs. The muscles of your stomach walls are rich red as they knead together the mountain of food you ate. Your intestines’ inner lining is even moreso, eagerly accepting nutrients diffused or transported across that near-mystical, tissue-thin boundary that marks the place where your food starts being you. So not much blood is left over for cognition.

Not a scrap of your angelic lunch remains undissolved, unmelted, uncrushed. A sweet little thing, she glugged messily all through your internals, and now thickens in the lower loops of your ileum. Half of all her goodness has flowed into your blood and begun to deposit about your body. Other than what you’ve taken, then until more of her is pumped up your ascending colon, there’s a brief period where her remains are entirely below your belly button.