#rp-lite

"Mmmffph...ugh...aaahh...s-stop...tummy...please stop...stop hurting..." I whimper and plead with my stubborn stomach as it clenches within me, twisting painfully and making me feel like something has wound my intestines up like one would twirl spaghetti on a fork. I've been curled up like a shrimp in bed for the better part of the last five hours. Apparently, my guts decided that we hate dairy today. Would have been nice to get a memo.

We stayed up last night. Secret-identity and social deduction games are my favorite and our friends decided to stay up last night to play a few rounds. We started around 10:30PM and I saw 4:31AM on the clock when we finally said our final 'gg's. Poor choice, but I decided it'd be fine as long as I grabbed coffee before my shift at work was due to start in about 6 hours. Not the best, but I promised to go to bed early tonight to make up for it.

A baptism of iced coffee probably wasn't how my stomach wanted to be woken up this morning and I guess it's been grumpy with me ever since. On top of that, when I arrived at work it turns out my coworker had decided to buy me an extral large hot coffee as 'thanks' for something I did for them before. It would have been rude to turn it down so I accepted it and alternated between the hot coffee and the iced one throughout my shift. The variance in temperatures and dairy did not play nice with my already-grumpy tummy, it seems. It was starting to feel uneasy around the last hour of my shift.

I walked by a bubble-tea place on my way to the bus stop and saw that they were having a special series on milk-tea. I got paid a couple of days ago and it's been a long and hard week at work (training new hires) so I decided to treat myself. I got a little something for you too, asking for no ice in case you're not home to drink it immediately when I get there (and therefore it won't dilute).

Upon arriving home, I found out that I was not the only one that bought a treat for the other. You stopped by our favorite noodle house and got us two combos...combos that come with more milk-tea. Unfortunately, the ice in your drinks is fading fast, so we have to enjoy them tonight. The other half of my own drink was left as an afterthought as we powered through dinner.

After dinner, you decided to hop back on the computer to game and do whatever. I mentioned turning in early and that's basically what I tried to do...only I realized that I still had half of my own drink to finish and boba gets hard if you leave it too long...so...well...down the hatch.

The glutinous boba was delicious. Unfortunately, that firm-ish, slimey gel ended up gumming up the works inside of the war raging in my guts. 'We hate dairy. We hate dairy.' I swear the grumbles from my guts are chanting that on a loop. I wouldn't be surprised if digestive fairies manifested and are inside, using spells to make my stomach contents churn and prodding absolutely everything with tiny pitchforks.

Iced coffee. Hot coffee. Boba milk tea. Straight up milk tea. My dairy count is at four--more than double what I'd planned. The sheer amount of dairy would have been enough to give me some nasty indigestion, but the greasy noodle combo and the boba are compounding the upset. It feels like the boba is gumming up my intestines, coating them and preventing them from working on the oily slurry of noodles and dairy. My guts are cramping like a vice every couple of minutes, desperately trying to make digestion happen and having no success.

I don't feel nauseous. All of this didn't come at me all at once--it was gradual. There isn't enough in any one part of my gastro-intestinal tract to cause me to be on the verge of puking...unless the toxic slurry decides to move backwards (which it hasn't yet...thank God). Pity. Throwing up might have made me feel just a little better. Getting some of that nastiness out of my system would probably help at least a little. Instead, I just feel like tiny grenades are exploding throughout my gastrointestinal tract. I swear, everything hurts, from my colon spasming (despite not having anything to offer the porcelain throne) to my esophagus burning with heartburn or an acid splash...or both. On top of it all, my stomach-organ and intestines have been churning away, being extremely vocal about the day-long torture inflicted upon them now that I've finally got a minute to actually be mindful of the sensations inside of me.

"Ugh...stop...please stop hurting!" I plead with my stomach, squeezing it tighter and trying to counter the vice-like cramp rolling like a wave through my intestines. I swear, it feels like a giant decided to pinch a section of my intestines between thumb and forefinger and run that squeeze through the entire length of the tube...like trying to squeeze the last dregs of toothpaste out of a tube or getting sauce out of a packet.

I spy my phone on the mattress--abandoned when the cramps in my tummy got too intense for me to ignore any longer. Reaching for it, I find the contact I'm looking for and hit 'Call'. I'm wracked by an intense cramp that feels like I'm being pinched in half and it causes me to press the phone into my spasming tummy instead of bringing it to my ear.

*Grbl...rrrr...rrrble...* My stomach sounds like a motor-cycle at a stop-light, contantly revving without getting anywhere.

The call gets disconnected and I've forgotten all about it, going back to begging my stomach to calm down and having my tears soak into the pillow. "Unngh...d-damn it--shut up!" I hiss at my stomach and slam a fist down onto it for good measure. Instant regret shoots through me along with the stabbing pain I feel from the impact site.

"You say something?"

You lean against the doorframe to the bedroom, curious as to where I've been since dinner. Your phone is held in one hand. Apparently, you got my call.

"Uhh..." A loud rumble from my stomach answers before I do. The sickly noise is quickly followed by another sharp spasm and I moan, curling even tighter around my aching abdomen.

"Was that your stomach?"

I see white for a moment, my hearing fading too as my entire world dissolves into the pain at my core. I can feel everything tensing up from colon to esophagus. I can't imagine literally having my guts rupture would feel much worse than what it feels like right now.

As I regain my senses, I feel a foreign weight on my aching tummy. You're stroking over it carefully, the foreign weight being your ear pressed against the crest of my gut.

"Mmmph..." I wince as I feel another spasm ripple through my intestines.

"Shh!" You shush me, wanting to listen to the chaos inside of me rather than me.

“Nnngh...” I bite my lip, swallowing apprehensively as I feel something sour at the back of my throat.

“What's up?”

“N-Nothing.” I glare at you as we continue walking on uneven terrain.

We were downtown a little over twenty minutes ago, celebrating with some friends. A few of us had things to celebrate so we all came together to be merry together. Elyse had gotten accepted into her first choice for a Master's degree program. Tyler and his band were in talks with some record companies. Sasha and her partner had gotten engaged just a few days prior. And I had managed to win over a major funding deal at my non-profit job with a presentation that had apparently blown the people with the grant money out of the water. Things were looking up all around and we spent a long time going around sharing in the good news and buying each other drinks as well as debating who got the biggest 'win' if we had to rank them. At the end of it, Tyler and I were voted the biggest winners because our achievements were immediately financially quantifiable. Thanks to that, the two of us were treated to more drinks than we could count.

It wasn't just alcoholic drinks, of course. We're all in our twenties so $7 for a couple of mouthfuls of a drink that burns going down is not being smart with our money. Of course, neither is boba...but we like to think boba is somehow more worth it than shots or whatever because of the volume of drink for our buck and all that. We started out with dinner at a restaurant and had food and alcohol there, then we moved to a boba shop to continue our celebrations because the restaurant was busy and was antsy about having the table free for another reservation (they weren't mean about it and most of us have worked food before, so we vacated without being bitter about it).

The day started out kind of hectic. You had insisted on being a distraction all morning, keeping me in bed long passed my alarm and causing me to be hasty trying to get myself ready and out the door for work today. In my haste, I'd poured much more milk into my thermos of coffee than I'd intended but had no time to fix it as I'd already have to sprint to have a hope of catching the bus to the office.

Partially to make up for being a clingy beast in the morning, and also to kind of tease me about whether or not I'd make it to my office in-time, you had ordered a latte to be delivered to my office an hour into my shift. Unknown to you at the time, the order had glitched on the delivery app, resulting in three large lattes being sent to my office, one every two hours. I thought you were just being silly and I'm not one to waste a gift if I can help it. I did pawn off the last one of the day to a flustered intern as I only had forty minutes left to my shift at that point and my stomach was getting a bit uncomfortable at all of the coffee. I'd skipped lunch because my belly had been so bloated with coffee (and milk) after drinking the botched one in my thermos and two of the large lattes you'd sent. I told you the story after coming home as we were both scrambling to get dressed for a night out with our friends.

The restaurant we'd agreed to meet our friends at was in the heart of downtown. Parking would have been a nightmare, not to mention overpriced to hell and back. We did what we usually do: we have legs, we can walk. So we drove and parked at a large mall just outside of downtown and had opted to walk into the heart of the city to avoid having to pay for parking. The path to the restaurant from the mall was mostly down-hill, so we were there in roughly fifty-five minutes. Heading back to the car after our celebrations, on the other hand...

I wince and pat my stomach. It's bloated up quite a bit since we started walking from downtown. After being voted biggest winner, Tyler and I had been treated to the largest boba from the shop—a cup boasting an entire litre of their famous milk tea (a litre of the liquid, not including toppings). Including toppings and the whip and everything else on it (Pocky sticks, wafer cookies—the works), in total that one drink could have easily filled up two or three stomachs.

“Nnngh...” I double over, arms wrapped around my turbulent tummy. The path between town and the mall is full of hills and intersections, sidewalks, and other obstacles. Not to mention that it's only the cusp of Spring right now and there are still patches of ice and snow everywhere. Our area has tons of gopher holes, but even without them the holes from uneven snow-melt are similar enough in that they'll sprain your ankles if you don't pay attention. The walk is filled with many ups and downs and my stomach sloshes at every single one of them.

“You sure you okay, babe?” Your cheeky grin and your tone betray your true intentions. You already know the answer to your question, you kinky jerk.

You knew my tummy was already upset from all the lattes throughout the day. It took an impressive amount of willpower on your part not to get handsy while I told you about the coffee glitch and was cycling through my closet, trying to find something that would fit around my slightly distended belly.

As the night progressed, you intentionally ordered me the creamiest entree on the menu at the restaurant and had practically drooled when you saw the signature litre and imagined all of it going into my tummy. Despite your fantasy, you had cautioned me what that drink would do to my stomach.

Even now, it's taking an impressive amount of willpower for you to walk in front of me, leading the way back to the car. You feel like Orpheus, being challenged not to look back during the long journey. You know that if you allow yourself to look back or to get your hands on my tummy, we're not making it back to the car before dark.

“Nnnngh...ugh...m-my tummy hurts.” I mutter. I was originally trying to hide my discomfort. I knew you were right about the signature litre...but it tasted good and I didn't want to have to carry such a large cup for the long walk back to our car. I'm regretting my choice now though—not just the signature litre, but everything from the moment I got out of bed.

“I told ya not ta drink all that milk.” You admonish.

I glare at you.

“Who was it that ordered the creamiest pasta on the menu for me at the restaurant?”

“Who was it that drank the signature litre?”

“It was a gift! Refusing it would have been rude!” My outburst is punctuated by an agonizing grumble from my belly. I finally stop, standing still and putting both of my hands on my belly.

I wince as another explosion takes place on-screen. The sound system causes the couch to tremble as the speakers are set up all around the room, directing sound at the couch that we are currently lounging on.

I'm on the right side of the couch, curled up and leaning heavily against the far right arm-rest. You've got the other side, right arm up and resting across the top of the couch. Every so often, you move your arm to reach for more popcorn from the bowl we have between us.

It's date-night. We've both had a month from hell, barely being able to see each other thanks to our hectic work schedules. Due to that, neither of us managed to plan anything extravagant for date-night. Just as well, both of us are pretty introverted—preferring the idea of a stay-cation to going out and living it up. A cozy night on the couch ranks high on our list of favoured dates, so when we found ourselves with an evening off together, we flipped a coin for who was going to choose the movie and who got to choose what we'd have for dinner. You won the movie toss so I got to choose what we got for dinner.

Honestly, I've been suffering through an upset stomach all week. I really hope it's not the flu that's been going around lately. Due to feeling queasy, I didn't really have a strong preference for what we ate so I took cues from you on what you were craving. That ended up being some rich pasta from a place we got delivery from. I'm regretting it now.

The lightest entree they had was an alfredo ravioli, so I got that. We cleared our plates about an hour and a half ago and my stomach's been churning ever since. I've been sitting here, thanking my lucky stars that you chose a loud action movie—full of explosions and other loud noises. It's been completely drowning out the distressed squelching from my belly and the dark room we're sitting in has allowed me to hide the tears pooling in my eyes over how badly my stomach is hurting. The persistent queasiness I've been feeling all day has grown into a full-blown ache since we finished dinner.

“Nngh...” I can't help but moan as the reverberating vibration from our sound system against the couch jostles my upset stomach. I'm sitting slightly turned away from you, a throw-pillow clutched tightly to my sickly tummy to further muffle the sickly noises. It's getting very active, churning painfully. Flu or not, it's almost a guarantee that I'll end up throwing up at some point tonight.

“Hmm? What's wrong?”

Everything on-screen freezes as you hit pause.

“Ah...uhm...i-it's noth--” My stomach chooses this moment to let rip a sickly rumble. With the movie on pause, there is no way you did not hear it. Realizing that I've been caught, I decide that I may as well come clean. “Uhm...a-actually...I've been feeling kind of gross all day.”

“Gross? In what way?”

I fidget in my seat. I get kind of weird about all things tummy-related. “Uhm...m-my tummy really hurts.”

Little do I know the effect those words have on you.

“Aww, poor thing. Want me to rub it for you?”

I nod, leaning forward until my forehead rests on your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as I ride out a painful cramping in my belly. “Y-Yes, p-please...owww...” I can't help but sniffle as I slowly remove my arm from around my middle, allowing you access to my upset stomach.

You waste no time, placing a hand on either side of my belly as you squeeze, prodding into it, trying to diagnose the problematic areas. My stomach revolts at the attention, feeling like it's flipping and twisting at the same time.

“My, my. What's going on in here? Feels really sick right here.” You punctuate your statement by pushing deeply into the spot where the cramping is at it's worst and my guts respond with a wet gurgling.

“Uh-huh.” I sniffle, feeling terrible. The queasiness hasn't subsided and the rhythmic squeezing of your hands on my sickly, achy tummy isn't helping. “ 'm gonna--” I get cut off by a sudden, sour belch. It's short and sharp, but it also brings up an extremely sour taste. I moan as I swallow back the icky shot of sick that managed to breach into my esophagus. A series of sickly grumbles follows the eruption, my churning stomach not at all pleased by the failure to expel more than just air.

In no particular order, these are some of the lines just off the top of my head. Granted, this is not a comprehensive list and like any person I go through moods so it's hard to say "these always work"...but these work a good chunk of the time.

"Please...don't push...it hurts!" Most variations of "don't" or "stop" or something...the one with the tummy-issues clearly being in pain and having to verbalize it to the partner.

"Ugh...my tummy..."

"Ouch...unngh...f-feels like I'm gonna explode...nnngh...*whimpers/moans/gurgles*"

"Whoa! What's going on in there?"

"Aww...is your poor little tummy hurting/upset?"

"Well...that doesn't sound very good." Describing the sounds as "sick(ly)-sounding" or "icky" or just in general commenting how the noises from the tummy don’t sound good.

"Wow...no wonder you can't sleep--I can literally feel your stomach struggling."

"Your tummy's been hurting/hungry/sickly that long?! Why didn't you say anything? Poor thing...poor tummy." (LOL, a partner that's got more concern for the tummy than for the person as a whole)

"Wow! *firm pats on the tum* You really do feel like you're gonna burst." (possibly a scenario where the one with the tummy's been mentioning how they're too full but the partner's sorta refused to hear it...and it took literally grabbing partner's hand and forcing it onto the tummy for partner to realize 'damn--they weren't exaggerating'.

Another party describing the tummy noises or the sensations from the stomach as "angry".

The partner being mildly surprised at the state of the tummy. Whether that results in them being a caring, non-overbearing caretaker or awakening a sadistic side that suddenly wants to experiment in making things worse...could go either way.

"Full?" In the context of a partner patting the tummy and inquiring about the state of it. Same actions but with, "You done?" or "Hmm...I think you're feeling just about empty." or something if it's in a sickness or vomit-aftermath scenario.

"Aww...cute. Does someone have a tummy ache?" Rare...but sometimes the idea of a sadistic lover saying this while knowing fully that the other has a tummy ache can be nice.

"You're...empty/hungry?" A partner feeling up the stomach and is surprised to feel just how hungry the other really is. Like...partner not expecting them to have gone quite that long without eating anything etc. A bit of a stretch, but could also work as an "on the mend after a nasty bout of sickness" scenario. Anything with the partner being surprised by what they can feel under their palms.

"It could be the [insert what was ingested] that's upsetting your tummy so."

Using "poor (little) tummy in certain contexts is almost always a win.

"Nnngh...hungry..." or something. Slurring of the speech. Specific context though: after a nasty sickness...the one with the tummy-woes sort of having a "fukin' finally!" moment--they've been desperately waiting for their appetite to come back and all that. Like...sure, they completely emptied their guts on day 1, but days 2 and 3 were literally spent in bed, feeling too crappy to move. They were empty and their body was starving but they had absolutely zero will to actually swallow anything 'cuz being achingly empty was better than another round of getting violently ill. Them admitting they are hungry or otherwise acknowledging the needs of their stomach as a sign that they're on the mend/are up for eating. Throw in a concerned partner that's relieved to see them actually have an appetite and helping them with the task of acquiring food and monitoring them while they eat, possibly with some casual stomach rubs during and after to stave off an upset in case the stomach and the sickness decide it was too soon.

"Nnngh...too much..." or some variations of "I ate too much" coming out as a sort of painful whine as they palm at their hurting tummy.

"Is dinner hurting your tummy?" Rephrased works too, like, "Is all that dairy hurting your tummy?" or "That was a lot of food. Does your tummy hurt?" or in general just the partner asking about the state of the tummy, knowing it's due for an ache-session.

"Don't fight it...here...let me..." Scenarios where the partner acts as caretaker and has to squeeze and push into the tummy to get whatever needs to happen (vomit, burp, whatever) to happen...'cuz the other is too exhausted from enduring for too long to have their body do it naturally.

Describing in vivid detail what's going on inside. Either by the one with the tummy-woes describing their symptoms or trying to make the partner understand...or the partner describing what they imagine is going on (which may make the other feel worse as their guts emulate the story)...or the partner describing what they feel beneath their hand vividly, adding to the experience of the one suffering. Anything that invokes the mental image of the internal view--particularly if life then imitates the art (of the story telling).

Ugh…hungry.

Akira presses a palm gently to their flat stomach, feeling the reverberations through their shirt and hoodie. Their stomach is growling, snarling for sustenance.

6:07PM. They check the time. They’re meeting up with Blake closer to 7PM. The two of them have plans to visit a new hobby shop that just opened a while ago. Akira’s had a long week and today and tomorrow are their days off. They’re planning to make the most of that time with their partner. Akira slept most of the day away after staying up enjoying some me-time. 7PM until tomorrow night is going to be spent with Blake.

Dinner together wasn’t in their itinerary.

An impassioned gurgle from the depths of their empty bowels has Akira making a beeline for a nearby sandwich shop. Akira’s always had a bit of a difficult tummy. Some days it’s quiet, no matter what’s going on with it. Some days Akira barely finishes a quarter of their plate of food and already feels stuffed while other days he’ll eat the whole thing and still have room for more. They don’t want their stomach to get in the way of a much-anticipated date. Akira orders a half-size sandwich and a drink and gets to work filling their noisy tummy.

“Akira!” Blake rushes up to Akira and wraps them in a hug. Akira leans into it, swallowing back a belch. Their stomach is comfortably sated, maybe just tickling “full”. They feel good. They feel like they’re ready for an awesome date.

Grrrrr…rrrr…rrrrble…rrrrRRrr..

Panic. Akira quickly assesses the state of their gut. Comfortable, no awkward sensations or worrisome twinges. That sound didn’t come from them. Blake’s ears flush and they palm their stomach over their shirt.

“S-Sorry. I skipped lunch at work today ‘cuz we were busy. Can we grab dinner before we hit up the shop?”

“Sure.” Akira feels something roll in their tummy as they agree.

Blake snakes an arm around Akira’s as Akira stuffs both their hands in the pocket of their hoodie. They cup their tummy through the pocket, gently rubbing at their stomach in hopes of getting their impromptu meal to digest faster and leave more room. Blake loves Italian food. Rich, creamy, heavy carbs. They don’t know if it’s dread or the sandwich settling heavy in their stomach—a sensation that only seems to grow as their thumbs continue to rub circles into their gut through the hoodie.

Akira settles awkwardly onto the bed. Visiting the hobby shop after dinner was an ordeal and a half. Their hands were crammed into their hoodie-pocket the entire time, frantically working on the dense ball that was their once-flat-tummy. Not even three hours ago their stomach was flat. Outwardly, their stomach doesn’t look too different. It’s not some comical swelling or whatnot and their hoodie definitely doesn’t feel much tighter around their middle. Their stomach definitely feels different. Internally, the stomach organ is occupying about three times more space than it started the day at. The intestines are bloated up, stuffed full with a mass of heavy carbs. Akira’s hands haven’t left the hoodie pocket all night, almost as though they’ve been magnetically stuck to their gut since they left the restaurant.

Digestion has ground to a stand-still beneath their palms and no amount of rubbing has changed anything. Stuff moved when they walked to the hobby shop from the Italian restaurant, but after filling up their intestines it’s like their guts decided to throw in the towel. There have been a few twinges—the tell-tale sensation of their bowels attempting to squeeze the glut of food along. Those twinges have only accomplished making Akira wince. Their stomach has been a constant ache since they arrived at the hobby shop. Their bowels are packed solid with food—food that doesn’t seem to have any intention of digesting quickly.

Blake is gearing down for bed. The two of them are spending the night together.

“You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?” Blakes voice startles Akira out of their own head.

Blake looks stunning. Cute bedroom clothes, hair tousled up in a casual ‘home-with-no-plans-to-go-anywhere’ kind of look. Blake looks like a dream. If only they weren’t straddling Akira’s lap. Blake’s proximity to the extreme pressure of their bloated insides is encroaching on nightmare territory.

“Uhm…y-yeah. Just…yeah.” Akira doesn’t even know where to begin. Their tummy’s always been a bit of a sensitive topic for them. They’ve kinda had a thing for stomachs forever…and…well…it’s something they’ve never shared with a soul.

Blake leans forward, capturing Akira’s lips with their own. For a moment, Akira forgets about their distressed belly. Just for a second though. Their sharp inhale and a firm push to get Blake off of them shatters the moment.

GrBLbrrk!

Akira’s churning stomach rumbles indignantly. Blake had leaned in, setting their palm squarely on the tightest part of Akira’s gut. The pressure sent a stab of pain straight through their stomach. Akira shoved Blake to the side, onto the mattress, effectively ending the kiss.

“What the hell?” Blake snarls.

“S-So—urp--rry!” Akira slaps a hand over their mouth, their whole face flushing in embarrassment. “Y-you pushed o-on…o-on my tummy. I-It hurt. ‘m sorry!” Akira’s gut continues to grumble, angry at the rough treatment when it’s so terribly distended. Despite the turbulence, no more belches are in a hurry to erupt, leaving Akira with a very, very distressed stomach. By now, Blake’s anger has cooled. They’re fascinated by the audible noises from Akira’s gut. Blake inches closer, a hand reaching over to rest over Akira’s gut.

GrrrRR….rRR.R…

Akira’s stomach rumbles intensely beneath Blake’s palm. The volatile rumblings invoke an image of an angry volcano on the verge of erupting. Blake pats at the stomach, testing the tightness like one would pat at a watermelon to do a sound-test.

“Urk! Ow…” Akira appears to swallow back something wet and airy. Their stomach squelches loudly after the swallow—a sign that something was returned. Akira grips Blake’s wrist, dragging their hand over to rest on a different area of their gut. “Please don’t…urp…don’t push there. I-it hurts.” There’s a tell-tale wetness on Akira’s lashes. Blake realizes now that their beloved is clearly in pain. Those tiny little burps definitely aren’t doing anything for their gut.

“You should have told me you had a stomach ache! I wouldn’t have dragged you to an Italian place if I’d known your tummy was sick.”

“I-I’m not sick,” Akira swallows back another burp that threatens to bring up more than just air. Blake palms at their tummy, applying more pressure with the use of both of their hands. “I’m full. Really, really, real—urr-ulp—full. Ugh…too full…t-too much—urp.” Blake presses into the top of Akira’s belly, feeling along the ribs as they try to dislodge some of the pressure that’s causing such pain.

“Sounds like you’re more than full. You feel stuffed to the gills. What’s in here?” Blake has successfully inched the hoodie and shirt up to reveal Akira’s middle. It’s still relatively flat, but their gut has no give to it. The upper area, around the ribs, is visibly distended and that’s the tightest part of their belly too. “Did the pasta do all this? You didn’t eat that much.” Blake digs their thumbs into Akira’s belly, right below the tightest part of the bloat.

“Ugh! D-Don’t do that! P-Please! Ugh—owww…i-it hurts too much!” Akira squirms, frantically trying to get away from their beloved, turned-sadistic, lover. They’re pinned by Blake and by the weight of the massive glut of food in their system. Their stomach churns, more audible than ever, protesting the treatment. Blake's got a finger in their navel, stirring things up and basically hooking Akira in place. Blake's nails are pretty long. Akira currently feels like a hooked fish about to be gutted.

There’s a sadistic gleam in Blake’s eyes. This is one of their ultimate fantasies. They’ve always imagined what they’d do to an impossibly stuffed gut right before them. What sort of sensations could they draw from the distressed organ? What sort of reactions would their actions draw from the person?

“Uhm…B-Blake? S-Sweetie? C-Can we just go to sleep? M-my tummy’s too full…for much else.”