fat faggot treat. with the hot cum.

...And then someone comes along, sees your exposed belly, and decides to get a feel for themselves, sinking their hands into the dome of flesh. The pressure is enough to make you see stars, and it somehow makes you feel fuller. They comment on the warmth of your stomach, how soft it is, how inviting it is to touch...

Oh, you poor thing. You're shivering. Terrified. Why don't I fix you a cup of tea, and then-

...I beg your pardon?

Oh... so... that's what you want? Are you sure...? That monster nearly did the same thing to you, so I thought-

...Well, okay. If you insist.

Your hands reach up, grazing my lips, and then they gently push into my mouth. My tongue lightly brushes against your hand, taking note of the flavor and texture. I can't help myself; my mouth waters a little, and I part my jaws, holding them wide open for you to stare into. I've heard people describing the feelings that flow through them as they stare down a pred's throat... but I can only try and guess what you're thinking and feeling. You still seem a little shaken up from the monster that tried to attack you, but-

My thoughts come to a screeching halt when you push yourself in. Your head hits my soft palette as you push insistently, and, on instinct, I swallow.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

...And then, finally, a deep, slow gulp pulls you in fully. My throat bulges out as you glide down into my body, and finally, you land in my stomach.

Monsters like us have a very sophisticated understanding of our own bodies. It's to the point that we can control our own digestion. It's admittedly a little hard; sometimes, it's like trying not to blink when you've held your eyes open for a while. Having prey in our stomachs just feels so good, and their squirmy little movements causes our stomach to send chemical signals to the brain, begging to start the pleasurable process of digestion...

But to you, I would never. You're too valuable, too precious. I'll do everything it takes to keep you safe, you have my word.

The companion lets out a sigh and rolla their eyes playfully.

"Please, what?"

Their friend whines.

"Please... need a massage for m' stomach."

The companion smiles, snapping their book shut and standing up. They can't resist their friend, they were always going to oblige... but the companion has to admit--they love hearing their friend plead and beg for them, and for them alone.

"Of course," The companion murmurs. They stand up, walking around to the couch before slowly settling beside their friend. They reach over, resting their hand flat against the dome of their friend's stomach. It's packed firm with just a little bit of give, like putty that's been hardened from sitting out too long.

"Jeez. How much did you eat?" The companion asks, sinking their hand into their friend's stomach. Their friend's eyes shoot wide open as loud gurgles erupt, and they let out a groan at the pressure.

They open their mouth to respond... but instead of words, the only thing they're letting out is a long, rolling belch. The companion can immediately feel the pressure in their friend's stomach lessen, and already, it's softer and has more give.

"God... please- keep going," their friend sighs out, clearly beginning to feel better already.