“One, two, three, HEAVE! One, two, three, HEAVE!” Jay grunted her way up the stairs, cradling a bubbling cauldron of flesh in her arms. Each step was an effort, but she was so big now that if she stopped on the staircase she’d tumble down. She’d probably break a bone or two, and worse, she’d be back where she started. A low, rancid belch bubbled up from the depths of her gut. Well Jay , she thought to herself, was it worth it?
 
Earlier today she had finally done it- she had swallowed a person whole. Well, okay, not quite. She had swallowed... large chunks of a person whole. This wasn’t one of her fantasy stories, she didnt have the capability to fit an entire torso down her throat, she did get an entire arms though, she was very proud of that.
 
The first thing she had noticed was an incredible fullness. It had long since progressed past satisfaction and into pain, and even now, half a day later, the ache and discomfort was a constant thrum in the back of her mind.
 
It had gotten worse once digestion began. The pressure the gasses produced was immense, roiling around in her gut and pushing in all directions. The few belches that made their was past her throat were small relief, and her bottom was no help in relieving the pressure at all.
 
She thought back briefly to her victim- her prey. Some entitled white lady who had decided to harry her 2 minutes after her shift ended. She noted that for all the talk of “Karens” and “may i speak to your manager”s, women were less likely to be problem customers than men. Indeed, she had dealt with many a surly sixtysomething white guy, but the idea of putting that in her body... she shuddered at the thought. This one though was young, a little plump, and incredibly rude. The perfect combination.
 
Jay had made it to the top of the stairs. There was another flight (of course) but at least she could stop and rest. Briefly she considered how much easier this would be if she had eaten someone a little lighter, but she just couldn't resist a chubby girl. Jay let out a sigh-burp. One more flight to go.
 
——
 
Jay’s rest that night was fitful. She’d wake every half hour to feel pressure building up on both ends, pressing at her exit but painful to let out. The front was better, soon she was burping as naturally as she breathed, and about as much, but the stench of dissolving lipids and proteins filled her mouth and nose, seeping into the room each time she exhaled. Her breath was hot, wet, almost more liquid than gas.
 
Soon after the gas began, the mass of flesh and bones in her stomach started to shift as muscle turned to goop. This was not a gradual process. She would feel bone scraping against her slick stomach lining for a split second, and then it would drop, suddenly and violently, before settling into its new position. As it did so, old aches were relieved, making way for new sharp jabs in her innards. She shifted from side to side. After a while Jay realized the best thing to do was to do it herself- to grab her stomach and mash the bones around until they were in the right position. Doing so jostled around the gasses in her vat, relieving the bone pain but worsening the pressure.
 
Finally, more out of exhaustion than relief, she let her consciousness fade out, but not before texting her boss that she had a sour stomach and couldn’t come in today.
 
——
 
Jay woke up mid-afternoon the next day and had a heavy feeling in her gut that she wasn’t going to be getting much done today. She threw the covers off her bed and examined her body. She had thankfully burned off plenty of energy burping and sweating last night (she was laying in a profoundly damp spot in the bed), but “plenty of energy” was still a fraction of the calories she had ingested the day prior.
 
To put it simply, she had transformed into a lardass overnight.
 
Her tummy was a single massive roll of fat, much more of a soft blob than the taut lumpy mass it had been the night before. Her arms were plush now, like rolls of bread dough that wiggled and flopped as she moved them. She couldn’t see her ass from this position, but from the rumbling and slapping a fart made she knew it had almost tripled in size.
 
As she hefted off the bed, se noticed her face had been spared most of the carnage; it was softer and rounder, but her chin was still visible and it lacked sag. She had good collagen, she thought to herself.
 
A sudden shift in her lower digestive tract told her it was time to say goodbye to her guest- or what was left of her anyway.
 
She shuffled to the toilet and was struck with the realization of how much waste she was about to produce.
 
First it was a sort of loud, nasty fart that came after a sour stomach, the sheer sound of which nearly shook her toothbrush off the sink. She coughed and cracked open a window, knowing more was yet to come. The second burst of gas was less forceful but no less acrid; she could have sworn she heard someone in the street below coughing at the chemical warfare she was unleashing into the world.
 
Then, the waste began. It was the remains of yesterday's victim, that was sure; cracked porous bones slowly pushed their way out her straining anus, and when she looked down she could see the bulge in her stomach shrink as more mass voided from her colon than usually passes through in a week. She could feel it, too; the weight shifting from one side of her lower body to the other, bones softened and rounded but still solid bumping up against different parts of her colon as peristalsis continued. She stopped, pinching herself off halfway through a long limb bone, and got up to flush what was left so far.
 
It was like this for, well, far too long. Jay had neglected to bring any sort of electronic device with her into the bathroom, and now she was paying the price; she had no timekeeping device to speak of as she sat trapped in her throne like the God-Emperor of Mankind. The colonic commitment could have taken minutes, or it could have taken hours; she had no way of knowing. Multiple people in the streets below coughed and gagged, and more than once she heard a horrified "what is that smell?"
 
Only after two, three, four, five flushes did the hot, rancid waste slow its march out of Jay's asshole. She sighed; even that most rudimentary of timekeeping devices, the sun, could tell her that it had been probably a few hours, as it had moved from a blue mid-afternoon to the quieter reds of evening. With a sputter and a hiss, the last processed remains of... whoever it was, she had eaten, left her. She flushed one last time and stretched her legs.
 
That was a whole day, she thought, between the sleeping and the can. Tomorrow she and her aching rump would go back to work, and she'd start another day, as though she didn't just destroy a human body with nothing but her gut. She wondered how long the disappearance would go unnoticed, and how long until the trail went cold. Jay was probably not even a suspect, with a spontaneous murder like this, and besides- any evidence was now flushed far away into the sewers. Jay had gotten away with murder.
 
She barely cared, of course, and simply dropped herself down on her couch to drink sugary malt beverages and watch cartoons.