This choice: You are digested, and now a part of her • Go Back... A rush of euphoria overcomes you as you send the last of your son down with the rest of his body. Your head hangs back as you let out a groan of contentment, eyes closed and lips smiling. You just had your boy for breakfast, and in the end it was easy as eating a strawberry topped waffle that you so often craved for. Your hand soon found the globular gut that was your stomach and began to rub as much of it as you could reach. His struggles were faint, probably from being crammed up in the stomach walls and the food. You looked down upon the massive gut that now imprisoned your precious boy, and felt pure pleasure. Though you also did feel the need for something to wash your breakfast down with. So, you reached over to the carton of orange juice and pressed it up against your lips. The carton was almost completely full when you got it, but you finished it off like it was nothing.
"Aah" you say while patting your overgrown belly. You didn't begin the morning thinking that you were going to have such a wonderful meal. That was just a happy incident. The supposed "end of the world" that transpired last night left you out cold in an instant. There was no warning, no reason, you were just about to drink your cider when suddenly everything turned black. When you awoke, you felt a distinct pain in your head as well as an insanely painful hunger, like nothing you've ever felt before. You asked around and were surprised to hear from over the phone and over the news that every woman and young girl was just like you: a ravenous monster with an insatiable appetite. That moment you saw the president of the United States wolf a fully grown man down was a wake up call. It was an instinctive sign that your son, and perhaps your daughter, would never be safe in this world. You pleaded with yourself, tried to think of any other way, but their was no other way. If he was going to get eaten eventually, he might as well get eaten by the woman who loves him the most. After all, you were starving as was, and the assortment of breakfast foods you cooked up just wasn't cutting it. And if he was going to meet his end in the depths of your belly, you might as well enjoy it.
By God did you enjoy it. As you sat there massaging your bloated, son-filled midsection, you felt no sense of anguish or guilt. Just a familiar sensation of gas shifting inside you and travelling up your esophagus. "BRAAAAAAP" is the result of that shifting inside you, causing your midsection to close in around its occupants. The struggles become even fainter; it seems apparent that he's trying to find air among that part-digested food and putrid air. You just continue to rub all around that smooth yet massive frame, which was now easier to do since it tightened around your little John. With a smile plastered on your face you say to your delectable little prisoner, "Try to understand John, this was the best possible outcome for you. At least you're contributing to my body instead of some malicious broads." You stop to gently hit your chest as another, bigger belch prepares to pass your luscious lips. "BUUUUUUUURP!" This time a sock flies out and lands on your plentiful chest with a wet smack. You throw it to the side as soon as it came out. With your hands holding your belly up slightly, you continue to speak to your still squirming occupant. "Try to find solace in the fact that you'll always exist as a part of me, and I'll never forget how good you felt going down.Just go easy on me going out OK hon?" In response your belly livens up, with more distinct bulges protruding all about the surface. It appears he's only now considered what his final resting place will be. You just shrug and give that gut a playful slap. You were starting to feel a drowsiness as your body needs more energy to digest your first victim. You don't even get out of the seat as you just slump back and let your body go to work. You can't wait to get up and see what this new world has to offer, as you take a luxurious nap.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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