Gloom

Gloom

Every person eaten by New York City Super cop and giant Carlos ‘Rod’ Rodriguez was swallowed down whole and alive. Some were limp and submissive, and dropped into his stomach resigned to an onslaught of gentle, sensuous massage that relentlessly grew in strength. Some fought and resisted, and ended up in the gastric lake exhausted, blinded in the oppressive darkness, gasping for breath in the putrid stench. Rod’s stomach contracted and squeezed them hard, to quiet them, until they laid down in the bubbling acid pool, submitted to the ripple of slimy, hot, wet massage that liquefied them for absorption into his body.

During my dull, dark and soundless passage down his esophagus, I held onto my cell phone, using the light to see the singularly dreary and repulsive tube of translucent pink muscle, etched with tiny pulsing arteries that surged from the thunder of his powerful heart. The faintest, slick hiss of saliva and mucus was the only sound from the muscular ripple that moved me relentlessly down against my will. My first glimpse into his stomach filled my body with a sense of insufferable doom that sank my spirit beyond all hope, into a realm of despair usually assigned to lesser creatures who mercifully had no sense of their misfortune. I was fully aware of mine.

A knobby sphincter muscle pulled open as if operated by a drawstring, and my feeling of dread was unrelieved by sight of the deep pink, thick, zigzag muscular folds that vanished into a dark abyss more terrifying than ever I could imagine. In the gloomy, hot, sultry depths, the lake I could not see, waited for me.

The feeling of squeeze through the hard sphincter was half-pleasurable in a brief moment of madness in the most stern and horrible passage of my twenty six years of life. I looked upon the scene into which I was delivered, covered with the lubricant slime of swallowed food. The stomach walls glistened with sticky mucus, and froths of foamy white acid that bubbled forth from invisible glands as a welcome into his inner world I could not fight, or resist. The awful flex of the stomach floor opened with a deep gurgle, into a deeper chamber in which I caught my first glimpse of the dreadful lake. The yellow fluid ebbed like a tide over the pink ruggae muscle and carried a few bleached white, decayed bones; remains of another victim swallowed a few hours before me.

Upon glimpse of the remains of that poor, unfortunate soul, I sank into an utter depression of spirit for which all earthly and heavenly description was absent. What kind of nightmare was this place? In the oppressive heat and humidity, I shivered with an icy, sunken, sickened resignation. I paused to think, but his stomach would have none of it, and I was carried to the edge of a hideous drop-off, in the darkness of which I could hear another gurgle that unnerved me. I needed no prompt of imagination, for no more desolate or foreign place existed anywhere. I reflected on the awful circumstances that brought me to this place, to face oblivion beyond all reason and comprehension. I shuddered to think of how utterly unrecognizable as a man would I be when the jock cop was finished with me.

I held my hands out in vain, to resist being dumped into the yellow pool. He changed position, flexing his abs to squeeze and slosh the yellow tide, which carried the lifeless bone reminders of my destiny to the far end. I watched a slow wave of muscle pass overhead and felt the same below me, until it closed off the far, narrow end, wrinkled into the petals of some hideous, vulgar rose that rudely spat the sticky, yellow fluid back toward me. I winced and closed my eyes to keep the tingling sting from my eyes. When I opened them, I saw the ante chamber open into a smooth pink bowl, empty, and watched the end of the last dead bone slide over the lip and vanish into the darkness beyond, leaving me alone in his stomach. I was overwhelmed by the relentless monotony of this place. There was no cool breeze to evaporate the sweat from my worried brow, nor pleasant fragrance to caress my nostrils and tease me to take a deep breath. The sultry heat and sticky humidity was permeated with the sour scent of decayed flesh and vomit, and annihilated my capacity for rationality and reason. I panted shallowly.

I reflected that a simple different arrangement of my conduct would have left me in the comfort of an air conditioned office, instead of futile stemming to avoid the lake. I was his possession; his food, and forced to the unsatisfactory conclusion that beyond all hope, and without doubt. I belonged to him. Below me, I watched the ghastly ripple of his intestine as it flexed against the stomach floor to pass the bone I watched a moment earlier, tickled by the millions of tiny probing tentacles of villi that scoured it clean of digested and converted nutrient. Its passage left a sorrowful impression on me, as I blinked vacant eyes in the blank stare of contemplation. In my exhaustion, I resigned and stepped down into the pool, gazing down into it with a thrilling shudder as I felt the tingle seep into every pore and begin the chemical submission of my body to his.

Slowly I sat down, gazing into the warm tarn of gloom as my mind drifted away into a rapid increase of superstition that somehow I might escape, in defiance of consideration of the paradoxical law of an unthinkable terror. I was food to be digested. Nothing more.

I shined my feeble light into the narrow end, and again uplifted my eyes to the passing ripple of muscle wave overhead, accompanied by the gurgling tickle of gassy bubbles squeezed between his tough ruggae and my legs.

There grew in my mind a strange desire- one so utterly ridiculous, it must have originated from the rancid atmosphere in his stomach, that hung as a pestilent and mystic vapor; sour, dull, sluggish, silent, and yet echoed the moans and cries of previously eaten victims, faintly discernable, only in my imagination. Rising out of the awful lake, was my hardened, sexually aroused penis; a monster that found its way into the bedrooms and marriages of many much less endowed subordinates. Though I tried to shake off from my spirit what surely was a dream, the reality of my wet hand stroking myself one last time was joined by a peculiar pair of wrinkled ruggae I spotted on the strange ceiling above me. “What a perfect ass!” I thought, unaware of the odd reflection of my subordinates thoughts of me as their marriages ended, thanks to my eleven hard inches, and virile, impregnating sperm.

In my delusion, the ass flexed with the most sultry, liquid luminosity, as my scrutinizing eyes stared into the fissure in search of the swollen, poofy gape I would leave behind, flowing with my pearly, impregnating cum. The fissure made its way down the zigzag wall until it became lost in the clouding reflection from the gastric tarn. Unaware was I, that the sullen, yellow limpidity of the gastric pool was clouding with the commencing yield of my body. The numbness in my legs was from my blood, already oozing from my increasingly gelatinous flesh, as I dissolved in submission to the consistent and perfect adaptation of muscle and coordinated flex relentlessly massaging my backside.

The ebony blackness beyond the winking orifice at the narrow end beckoned me with a phantasmavoric longing to which I was accustomed from childhood, when I hesitated not to pause at the anatomical diagram of the digestive system. I was ready to be liquefied and conducted in squirting silence through the many dark, intricate passages coiled beneath the reality studio of this master, in whose stomach I neared my final orgasm. Many of the memories of the tight vaginas and rectums I opened, contributed to this euphoric and heightened sentiment, but none so much as the luminous pink buttocks flexing above me, as in an atmosphere of sorrow and arousal, I gasped in the stern, deep, irredeemable gloom that hung over and pervaded this chamber of horror.

The feeble gleam of crimsoned light reflected from the translucent muscle, as my penis ejaculated in the hardest and most powerful orgasm of my life. In my last conscious moments in that gloomy room, became aware did I of another rhythmic rocking, which came not from me, but from my giant Carlos, as his heavy testicles swung gently against the ass of his lover. His huge penis penetrated its depths in ever hardening, throbbing, sexually exciting movement, aroused partly from that, and from the dull sensation of my activity in his hot, gloomy stomach. .

Unaware was I of that swelling just above the final, gloomiest chamber of his rectum, where the remains of the unfortunate soul whose digested fats were converted into Carlos’ cum were pressed and gripped together into a thick, solid, lumpy log, almost ready for disposal. The poor victim was in no condition to sense that some of what was taken from him swelled the sacs deep inside the hard base of Carlos’ massive penis, while he massaged his lover’s ass with the slippery, slurping pleasure of a deep and powerful rub. I could not help but think of the ritual of the young officer’s pleasure and the influence it had on the unrecognizable corpse held firmly in the grip of his lower colon.

In the rhythmic, squeezing flex, bubbles of intestinal gas worked their way down to his anus, where no sooner than their monotonous syllables passed those lips, I became aware of their distinct, hollow, reverberation. Completely unnerved and jerked to my senses by the reality and finality of where I was, I struggled to move, but the grip of his stomach and the deadening numbness from my loss of blood and control pinned me in the gently rocking slosh of his digestive juices. A sickly smile quivered upon my lips as the gas was released in a deep, gentle murmur.

“Hold on baby, I’m gonna cum,” he said, as I felt his belly contract and squeeze me tight while he pounded his most fortunate lover’s tight ass. The worldly reason assigned to this singular action gripped me even tighter, knowing I too was destined to submission and control by that big penis. Carlos lost control when his big penis took over and flexed with contractions to spew his thick, white cum deep into his lover’s body. Half floated I in my own euphoric ecstasy, drifting off into an eternal sleep, both caring and not caring to be conscious and aware of the raking, ripple of his stomach muscle softening my organs and muscles for peel from my bones, and made ready for yield and service to him.

In the superhuman energy of his digestive and inseminating utterance, there had been sufficient potency to deliver me into his stomach. There was more than sufficient potency and strength for delivery of his manly genetic package into the pelvic depths of his lover, from which my brain reeled as I both watched and sensed the gentle swelling ripple of his stomach wall change with a cruel indifference and tumultuously rumble the deep, dank, bubbling tarn in which I half floated. My trembling body was powerfully squeezed across the deathly cavern, where I writhed in agony with a low, moaning cry, and fell heavily with a splash, a victim of the terror I anticipated. There was blood everywhere, and the evidence of my bitter struggle fizzed and bubbled in the warm gastric lake.

A long and tumultuous gurgle of his digestive fluids sounded like the voice of a thousand waters, as I was squeezed and spewed back across his stomach beneath the barely discernable fissure that only minutes earlier was the source of my last carnal pleasure. While I gazed, the fissure widened rapidly with a swell of full, flexing, blood-red muscle that commenced with my conversion into his muscle and fat, and inevitable replacement with his putrid brown sludge of mucus and waste that would haphazardly and neatly package my lifeless bones for a slow, grunting expulsion from his warm body. My fate was to fall into a toilet, unable to gaze up in a last supernatural moment of consciousness, at the wrinkled testicle sac and vein-wrapped penis hung over me in his total male superiority, and never know I was his.