Tomo Aizawa and Misuzu Gundou trudged toward Carol Olston’s mansion. A faint breeze rustled the cherry blossoms, sending petals spiraling around Tomo’s red hair as she marched ahead, her fists clenched with excitement. She wore her usual tank top and shorts, her muscular legs kicking up dust with every step. Misuzu followed at a slower pace, her dark ponytail swaying slightly, her sharp eyes narrowed in suspicion beneath her school uniform’s blouse and skirt.
 
“This better not be another one of Carol’s dumb games,” Misuzu grumbled, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “Last time, she made me wear a bunny costume for three hours. I’m not in the mood.”
 
Tomo grinned, turning to walk backward so she could face Misuzu. “C’mon, lighten up! It’s a mansion, Misuzu! I bet they’ve got a gym or something cool. Carol said it’s huge—look, there it is!” She pointed ahead, where an ornate wrought-iron gate loomed, its bars twisted into floral patterns. Beyond it sprawled a palatial estate: ivy-covered walls, manicured hedges, and a gravel path winding toward a massive front door. The gate creaked open with a slow, eerie SQUEEEEAK as Tomo shoved it aside, her sneakers crunching on the stones—CRUNCH, CRUNCH.
 
Misuzu crossed her arms, unimpressed. “It looks like a set from a bad horror movie. If a ghost pops out, I’m blaming you.”
 
They’d barely taken ten steps down the path when a figure burst from the shadows of the porch. It was Ferris Olston, Carol’s bewilderingly youthful mother, her blonde braid bouncing as she skidded to a halt. She wore a frilly pink apron over an oversized cardigan, clutching a rolling pin in one hand and a spatula in the other, her doll-like face twisted in panic. Her blue eyes locked onto Tomo and Misuzu, widening with a mix of confusion and terror.
 
“W-who are you?!” Ferris yelped, her voice a shrill squeak that echoed off the mansion walls. “Are you thieves?! Burglars?! Here to steal my Carol’s precious cookie stash?!” She waved the rolling pin like a sword, the spatula trembling in her other hand.
 
Tomo scratched the back of her head, bewildered. “Uh, what? No, I’m Tomo Aizawa, and this is Misuzu Gundou. Carol invited us over—didn’t she tell you?”
 
Ferris’s expression darkened, her grip tightening on her makeshift weapons. “LIES! Carol didn’t say a word about visitors! You’re shady characters—I can tell! I’ve seen it on those crime shows—people sneaking into rich houses, pretending to be friends! Well, you won’t fool me!” She dropped the spatula with a CLATTER and pointed the rolling pin accusingly.
 
Misuzu sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is absurd. Lady, we’re high schoolers, not cat burglars. Put that thing down before you strain something.”
 
But Ferris wasn’t listening. Her eyes glinted with manic determination, and she tossed the rolling pin aside—THUNK—flexing her delicate hands as if summoning some hidden power. “I’ll protect my home the old-fashioned way! You won’t get past Ferris Olston!” Before either girl could react, she lunged forward with unnatural agility, her mouth stretching wide—impossibly wide—like a cartoon predator’s, revealing a glistening, drooling abyss lined with perfect teeth.
 
Tomo’s jaw dropped. “What the—?!” She didn’t finish her sentence before Ferris’s lips clamped around her head with a loud, wet SCHLURP! Tomo flailed, her arms swinging wildly—WHOOSH, WHOOSH—as Ferris’s throat bulged, swallowing her down with a series of grotesque GLURK, GLURK, SLUUURP sounds. Her broad shoulders stretched Ferris’s jaw to its limit, her tank top catching on teeth with a RIPPP, but Ferris powered through, gulping with relentless force. Tomo’s legs kicked in the air, sneakers scraping the gravel—SCRITCH-SCRATCH—until they vanished past Ferris’s lips with a final SHHHHLOP.
 
Misuzu stood frozen, her usual sarcasm replaced by raw shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, stumbling back a step. Ferris, now with Tomo’s bulk shifting inside her, turned her wild gaze on Misuzu. Her cheeks puffed out from Tomo’s muffled protests—MMPH! LET ME OUT!—but she didn’t hesitate. With a sticky SLAP, she snagged Misuzu’s arm, yanking her forward.
 
“Let go, you insane woman!” Misuzu snarled, digging her heels into the ground—SCRAAAAPE—but Ferris’s grip was iron. Her mouth opened again, engulfing Misuzu’s head with a SHHHHHLUP. Misuzu’s smaller frame slid in easier, her legs thrashing—THUMP, THUMP—against Ferris’s chin as her skirt caught on saliva-slicked teeth, tearing with a SHRRRIP. Her muffled curses echoed—“YOU’RE DEAD WHEN I GET OUT!”—until a final GULP sent her down, joining Tomo in the cramped, slimy prison.
 
Ferris staggered back, her belly ballooning outward beneath her apron, a grotesque, wobbling mass that strained her cardigan’s buttons—POP, POP. She patted it with a dainty hand, letting out a soft burp—URP—followed by a giggle. “Phew! That’ll teach you to mess with the Olston family! Now, where’s my tea?” She waddled toward the mansion, her gut swaying with each step—THUMP, SLOSH, THUMP—as the gravel crunched beneath her slippers.
 
Inside her stomach, Tomo and Misuzu were a tangle of limbs in a hot, humid nightmare. The air was thick with a sour, acrid stench, the walls pulsing around them with a rhythmic SQUISH-SQUISH. A shallow pool of bubbling digestive juice—BLORP, BLORP—sloshed at their ankles, already tingling against their skin. Tomo pounded the slick lining with her fists—BAM, BAM—her voice booming. “Hey! Crazy lady! Spit us out right now!”
 
Misuzu shoved against her, her blouse sticking to her chest in wet clumps. “Tomo, this is your fault! If you hadn’t dragged me to this stupid mansion—”
 
“My fault?!” Tomo roared, kicking the wall with a SPLAT. “You’re the one who didn’t run! What kind of psycho eats people?!” The stomach groaned in response—GRRRRGLGLGL—as the juices rose higher, lapping at their knees with a SPLASH. Tomo’s shorts began to fray—FZZZZ—threads dissolving into the muck, while Misuzu’s skirt disintegrated at the edges, exposing her thighs to the stinging liquid—HISSS.
 
Outside, Ferris plopped onto a plush velvet couch in the mansion’s lavish living room—FWUMP—the cushions creaking under her swollen weight. She sighed contentedly, sipping chamomile tea from a delicate cup—SLURP—as her belly gurgled ominously—GURGLE, GROOOOAN. “Oh, my tummy’s working hard today,” she mused, rubbing it with a smile. A loud BLORRRRRP erupted from within, followed by Tomo’s muffled shout: “I’M GONNA PUNCH MY WAY OUT, YOU HEAR ME?!” Ferris tilted her head, oblivious. “Goodness, they’re chatty snacks. They’ll calm down soon enough.”
 
Back inside, the heat intensified, sweat dripping down their faces as the walls contracted—SQUEEEEZE—pressing them closer together. The juices climbed to their waists—GLUG, GLUG—eating through Tomo’s sneakers with a HISSSSS, leaving her toes bare in the bubbling slime. Misuzu’s blouse tore further—RIPPP—her ponytail unraveling as strands stuck to her cheeks. “This is revolting,” she spat, clawing at the walls—SKRRRCH—but her nails slipped uselessly on the slick surface. “If we survive, Carol’s paying for this.”
 
“Deal,” Tomo grunted, slamming her shoulder into the lining—THUD—only for it to bounce back with a BOING. The stomach churned harder—CHURN, GRIND—the acids rising to their chests as the walls pulsed faster—SQUELCH, SQUELCH. Tomo’s tank top dissolved completely—FZZZZZ—while Misuzu’s skirt melted away, leaving them in tatters as the digestion kicked into overdrive.
 
Hours crawled by, though it felt like days in the sweltering, slimy hell. Ferris lounged on the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine, her belly shrinking as it processed its contents—GURGLE, BLORP, GROAN. The muffled struggles inside weakened, replaced by the relentless sounds of breakdown: SIZZLE, POP, SLOSH. Tomo’s fists slowed—THUMP… thump…—her voice fading to a hoarse whisper: “Gonna… get… out…” Misuzu’s sharp retorts dissolved into gasps as the juices climbed over their shoulders—GLUB, GLUB.
 
Suddenly, Ferris’s eyes widened. A deep, ominous rumble shook her gut—RRRRRUMBLE—and she clutched it with a squeak. “Oh dear, what’s happening now?” PPPPFFFFFRRRRTTT! A monstrous fart exploded, rattling the teacups on the table—CLINK-CLINK—and filling the room with a stench like rotten eggs and burnt sugar. Ferris waved a hand in front of her face, giggling. “Oh my! Excuse me, hehe! You two are quite the handful!”
 
Inside, the last remnants of Tomo and Misuzu liquefied into a thick, bubbling slurry—BLUB, BLUB—their forms collapsing with a final SQUELCH. The stomach squeezed one last time—CRUNCH, GRIND—pushing the mess downward as the gurgling shifted to Ferris’s intestines—GLORP-GLORP. Another fart ripped out—BRRRRAAAAAPPP—this one wet and heavy, leaving a faint SPLAT on the couch cushion. Ferris wrinkled her nose. “Goodness, you’re making such a fuss down there!”
 
The process continued through the evening, Ferris humming to herself as her belly flattened, the occasional PFFFFT or BLORP punctuating the quiet. By nightfall, an urgent pressure built, and she waddled to the bathroom, her slippers slapping the marble floor—SLAP, SLAP. She plopped onto the toilet with a THUD, her apron still tied around her now-slim waist. “Time to say goodbye, little troublemakers!” she chirped, oblivious to the absurdity.
 
The first release was a torrent—PLOP-PLOP-SPLASH!—a flood of mush hitting the water with heavy, wet KER-PLUNKS. The smell was overwhelming, a rancid blend of digested meat, bile, and something faintly sweet, wafting up as Ferris fanned the air. “Phew, you two were tough cookies!” Next came a series of softer, coiling logs—SQUISH, PLOP, THWUMP—each one landing with a satisfying SPLASH. Strands of Tomo’s red hair and Misuzu’s dark locks tangled in the mess, alongside scraps of their clothes: a melted sneaker sole, a shred of Misuzu’s blouse, a button from Tomo’s shorts—all sinking with a GLUG.
 
A wet, rumbling fart—FRRRRRTTT-SPLAT—pushed out a denser clump, splattering the bowl with a THWACK. Ferris giggled nervously. “Oh my, you’re dramatic to the end!” The final drops came slower—PLOP… PLOP… PLINK—a tiny, hard object, maybe a zipper pull, clinking against the porcelain. She stood, flushed with a WHOOSH, and washed her hands, humming as the evidence swirled away—GURGLE, SLOSH.
 
Back in the living room, Carol bounced in, her blonde curls bobbing. “Mummy, have you seen Tomo and Misuzu? They were supposed to visit today!” Ferris blinked, then smiled sweetly. “Oh, they dropped by, dear, but they had to… leave early. Such lively girls!” Outside, the plumbing groaned one last time—BURBLE—as the last traces of Tomo and Misuzu vanished into the sewers, leaving only a faint, lingering whiff in the mansion’s pristine air.