You run your hands through your hair, eyes on the clock, and make your choice. You can’t do it. Your life might be a little shitty, with a good chance of getting really shitty any day, but you’re not ready to die. Millie has done right by you for a year, there’s no reason to believe she won’t continue to do so. You stand up, sigh, and put the issue behind you. It was a nice fantasy, but that’s all it was: fantasy.
Sports bag slung over your shoulder, you head back downstairs. Your mother is still on the couch, her dinner date long dead. She’s awake now, watching the “Pred Panel”. It’s a tacky talk show in which a few ladies tout womankind’s dominion over men in a variety of ways, none of which you care to hear or see at the moment. You step out, earning only a glance from the obese woman.
You reach the football field without incident, and file into the field house with the rest of the players. Coach Amy is sitting at her desk, per the norm. You fall in with your buddies, laughing and making jokes, but you feel anything but lighthearted. It’s been a heavy afternoon, and you’re frying hard not to regret your decision. On top of that, you have a football game to survive. You’re just ready for this day to end. Your friends are boasting of a trip to a strip club they took this afternoon, but you’re hardly listening as they describe it. You nod and smile with them, your thoughts wandering.
Coach’s voice snaps you out of it as she begins her prep talk, addressing her boys as a general does her soldiers... an evil general. Her speech is full of grim promises and foul descriptions of the fate of those who disappoint her. The cheerleaders are lined around the room, surrounding you all. One of them is working down the body of a late arrival. You didn’t catch who it was, but you hope it wasn’t anyone important. Ramos clearly never left history class alive, so this game will be tough enough as it is. You see Millie, and she gives you smile. That makes you feel better, but it also makes you feel terribly guilty. You really do love her, and no matter what that weirdo said, you think Millie loves you too. You smile back, just as she apparently gets a call from someone. She steps out to answer it.
All too soon, it’s time to suit up and head into battle. You try to clear your murky thoughts, but it’s evident that you aren’t ready for this. Your mind is occupied and distracted, and try as you might, you can’t seem to focus on the task at hand. From the very first play, you know this isn’t going to go well. You hand the ball to the running back, David, who takes off down the field. He gets around the defense and is running down the sideline for a good ways, until he is forced out of bounds. Your heart sinks as a group of your own team’s cheerleaders converge on him, obscuring him from view. His helmet rolls out from beneath heir feet, then his jersey, pads, and panties fly over their heads. A pair of the girls hoist another up into their shoulders to make a human pyramid. The one on top bends over and hoists up her skirt to uncover her naked nether parts, revealing the top half of a naked boy protruding from her butt. He’s screaming and wiggling, calling for help, but the spectators only laugh and jeer. You can hear the girls’s cruel chant as he slides bit by bit into her stink hole, the whole school watching.
“You’re out of the game,
Now get in a dame!
You’re out of bounds,
Now add some pounds!
You’re in a belly,
You’ll soon be smelly!
Your body is mine, I’ll crush and boil it,
And when it’s time, dump it in the toilet!”
By the time the chant finishes, poor David is secured behind a pair of fat asscheeks, which his captor gives a nice smack before covering herself and hopping down.
“Not a good start...” you mutter.
It doesn’t get much better. The opposing team easily stops your drive after losing your best running back, and they score immediately. By the time the first half ends, they’ve scored three times to your zero. As the final play of the half ends, one of your linebackers, a big boy named Jack, in a fit of desperate frustration, kicks an opposing team member in the nuts, who crumples to the ground with a whine. A referee is immediately grappling with Jack, pinning him to the ground. She’s a short, skinny woman, but she easily overpowers the massive male.
“Illegal contact! Targeting! Unsportsmanlike behavior!” She barks in a nasally voice that isn’t at all menacing. What is menacing is how easily she then turns the muscled bear of a man into a quick bite to eat. She swallows him, helmet, pads, and all, before belching “EjURRRRction from the game!” You curse inwardly. That makes two of your best players shit, and the second half hasn’t even begun! Things are looking bad, really bad.
You all file into the locker room, a sick silence hanging over the team. Coach leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. She says nothing, but you can tell that she’s livid. Coach Amy cares little for her boys, made evident by her tendency to eat them or have them eaten, but one thing she does care about is winning. She prides herself being an extremely effective coach, ruling the team through fear and allowing only perfection to pass. You have to admit, as brutal as it is, her methods are effective. In your two seasons as quarterback, you haven’t lost a game.
However, it’s beginning to look like that record is at an end. You avoid the coach’s eyes, ashamed. You aren’t playing your best tonight, and she knows it. She might forgive one loss... if she thought the team was giving it everything they had. Your performance tonight has been shameful. Unless you turn it around, Coach won’t think twice about having you ground to paste.
Should that happen, your only hope is Millie. It will likely fall to the cheerleaders to dispose of the team, and Millie would never stand by and let you die in some other bitch’s gut. She’d make sure she was the one eating you, and then she could let you out afterwards. You find your anxiety easing. You can always count on Millie to keep you safe. You can’t believe you actually considered-
“It’s time,” Coach snaps. The team stands and replaces their helmets, marching out behind her onto the field, hoping for a miracle to happen.
It doesn’t. First thing, as the marching band is leaving the field, one the girls wraps an arm around Austin’s neck, dragging him casually away with her, hardly even glancing at him as she chats with a friend. Austin was a wide receiver, not a great one, but certainly better than the one who will replace him. You set your jaw grimly, accepting that you’re just not going to win this game.
You couldn’t be more right. Your opponents score right away, and you watch the score tick up even higher. In a fit of rage, Coach tackles the nearest player on the side line, beating him bloody with her bare fists. He shrieks and gasps as her blows smash into his chest and gut. She snaps his arm when he tries to defend himself, bending it backwards like a twig. His helmet splits open like a cracked egg with her final strike, before she finally dismounts him, fists bloody, eyes cold. She leaves him sobbing and shaking, licking his blood from her fingers, while a couple of cheerleaders have their fun with the broken boy. They tease and prod him, giggling at his strained wheezes of agony. One of them finally eats him, roughly cramming him into her mouth with no regard for his injuries. As his feet slip behind her lips, blood dribbles from her chin. She gives a hearty gulp and licks her lips, rubbing her gut happily. You resist the urge to retch, trying to keep your focus on the struggling defense out on the field.
The offense does no better. You are quickly brought to a halt and forced to give the ball back, leading to yet another swift score for your foe. You officially give up the game as lost as you watch them run the ball for another touchdown. When the final whistle blows, the score is 56 to 0. A meaty boy from the other team is picked by the raffle winner, making him their only casualty of the night, compared to your three... and counting.
Back in the locker room, the cheerleaders surround what is left if the starting team, herding them into a tight huddle. You all shy away from them as they stare with greedy eyes, anticipating their meal. Millie lines up with you, and you breathe a sigh of relief, but something in her face seems off as she looks at you, smiling a faint, strange smile. You stare back, unease creeping over you as you see a gleam in her eye you’ve never seen before.
Well... you’ve seen it, but it’s never been directed at you.
Coach walks in, and the players all look at her, desperate hope in their eyes, just praying for another chance. You know better. You know what’s coming. Without even stopping or sparing you all so much as a glance, she waves a hand and says, “Well? What are you waiting for?” before stepping into the office and slamming the door.
Pandemonium ensues, as the team is assaulted by the ring of cheerleaders. You hear your teammates screaming behind you, but your attention is fixed on Millie. She pulls you in close, gently tugging off your uniform, rendering you naked. Her eyes drift down over your body, and you find yourself blushing slightly. Then she leans in and does something strange... she sniffs. She takes a few whiffs, then wrinkles her nose slightly.
“Um... Millie?” You prod, but she doesn’t answer. She puts her face near yours, sniffing again, the way an animal would, as if trying to learn something. Finally, she kisses you, but instantly jerks back, frowning. She smacks her lips, as if discerning the flavor, then her eyes flash unpleasantly. Before you can say anything else, she seizes you by your hair and jerks you towards her lips. You yelp in pained surprise, pulling away instinctively, but after your shock subsides, you cease your struggles, allowing her to devour you. You know she’s just protecting you, but she’s being rough, even by her standards, cramming you violently down her throat. Her teeth dig into your flesh painfully, and you grimace, squirming uncomfortably.
“Not so-ouch! Not so rough!” You complain, but she pays no heed, scarfing you down with no regard for your comfort. Unease settles into your chest... she’s not acting like herself. Why was she smelling you? Tasting you? Why is she beating you up like some common meal? You don’t know what’s come over her, but you don’t like it. It’s far too late to do anything about it now, so you simply wait for her to finish eating you and hope that your instincts are wrong. When your feet finally slip inside her mouth and she gulps you down whole, you wince as you are packed into her belly, curled up uncomfortably tight. It smells terrible, and there’s a pool of something gross that splashes up around you as you squeeze in. She’s eaten you once before, to rescue you from a couple of older women, but this isn’t something you could ever get used to. Your balled up body bounces with Millie’s movement, jostling you like a bag of meat. A loud gurgling sound rumbles around you, vibrating noisily. You gulp nervously, hoping you don’t have to stay in her very long. You can hear the outside world through a muffled haze, the last desperate pleas of the boys who haven’t been quite tucked away yet, the giggles and jeers of the cheerleaders.. then you recognize Coach Amy’s voice nearby.
“Oh, I won’t, Coach Amy...” Millie says, her voice thundering in your ears. “Not this time...” With that, you feel her turn and begin to walk, taking no care to keep from jarring you uncomfortably.
“Wh-what did she want?” You ask, but Millie doesn’t answer. You try to keep comfortable, struggling to keep your head out of the goopy puddle around you. “Millie... Millie it’s awful in here, can I come out now?”
“Hush,” she orders curtly, keeping her pace.
“Please, it stinks and-“
“I said... shut... UP.” Her belly crunches tight with the final word and you groan, grimacing with pain, waiting for it to relax.
It doesn’t. It stays clenched, squeezing you so tight that you feel tears of pain in your eyes. Your head is forced down beneath your knees, to the point where your forehead is resting on your feet. Your own penis dangles in your face, making the situation all the more degrading. Your arms are twisted around haphazardly, and your back is bent so bad you’re sure it will break any second. Real fear begins to take hold, panic rising in your chest, but you keep quiet, trying not to thrash in terror. Your breath comes quick and strained, and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. This isn’t going to end well.
After what feels like ages of you being bounced along inside your cramped prison, you hear a door open and close, followed by a woman’s voice. “Not now, mom,” Millie says. “Look, just leave me to my meal and I’ll leave you to yours... no, I don’t care who it is.... I said I don’t care! Fine, I’ll say it!” She moves again, and you feel her bend over. You can make out what her mother is saying now.
“Dear, your daughter wants to say goodbye...” she says in a casual voice.
“Bye dad, have fun being shit,” Millie snaps. “Can I go now?”
“My, that was harsh. I thought you’d care more, I have to admit I was a little worried...” her mother’s voice is soft and lazy.
“Well you were wrong, I don’t care. That’s all men are, after all. Shit. Worthless, stinking shit.” Millie’s voice is hard and angry. She means what she’s saying, you realize, feeling a sick sense of doom washing over you.
“Since when? All this time, I thought you-“
“Since always! I was just stupid and couldn’t see it. So yeah, digest the fucker, and make it hurt.”
Millie’s mother chuckles. “Language, missy. You’re making daddy cry... I wish you’d come to this realization sooner... you’re the only reason he’s still aliv- oops!- there he went.... WAS alive, anyway. Do you know what it’s like to fuck a piece of meat over and over, when all you want to do is eat it?”
“Yes,” Millie seethes. “Yes I do...” You feel her hand drift over your squished form, and you now know for sure that you’re going to die tonight. She’s going to digest you, and there’s not a thing you can do to stop it.
That doesn’t keep you from trying. Overcome by fear, you begin to squirm, pushing in vain against the walls of her stomach. Millie eyes your wriggling form as she heads back to her room. “What’s wrong, Gil? Don’t tell me you’re scared...” she coos in a low voice. “Why are you scared? Don’t you know I’d never let you digest?” You would feel relief in her words if not for the venomous tone in which she said them. “Unless, that is... you did something... bad.”
“Millie.... what are you talking about?” You ask, barely contained panic in your voice. You know what she’s talking about, with a growing, sickening certainty, but you play the fool, just in case. You jostle suddenly as she settles into a sitting position. You wheeze as her belly pulses tighter, turning you slowly into a jock pancake. “Pleeeaase,” You heave. “L-let me out... too t-tight....”
“Too tight? Is it tighter than the pussy you were fucking this afternoon? I could smell her stink on you and taste her filth, so don’t even try lying, you fucking asswipe!” she spits, sudden fury in her voice.
“Millie... Millie don’t...” you beg, as acid begins oozing over your body.
“Don’t what? Don’t what, Gil? Don’t digest you? Don’t kill you? Don’t crush your worthless, unfaithful self into bony meat paste? Oh no, you’re fucking done. Fucking. Done.”
Every breath is harder than the last, and the liquid soaking into your skin is beginning to sting, like a thousand needles being driven slowly into your flesh. “Don’t wanna die....” you sob. “Not like this... n-not... you...”
“Oh, you’d rather that bitch you fucked grind you up? You’d rather stink up her asscrack? News flash, fucker, this was always how you were gonna die. You’re not special, you’re not different, you’re just more fucking meat that is long past its expiration date. I guess it’s time we both learned that.”
The only thing that stings worse than her words is the acid burning away at your skin. “N-nooooo....” you groan, wiggling in protest. “I l-love you...”
“You motherfucker... you fucking slime...” your girlfriend seethes. “You don’t get to say that, dinner. You’re not my boyfriend anymore. You’re not even a person. You’re just a boy. I cannot I believe I treated you like anything else for so long. Well tonight I’m making that right.” She relaxes, reclining back. “Now, I’m not a monster. I don’t like my meals to suffer long...”
You feel a modicum if relief for a moment, that if she does kill you, it will be over quickly. Then she finishes her statement.
“...but you... you are going to burn.... I’ll stay up all night if I have to, but I am not letting my belly put you out of your pathetic misery. I’m going to melt you piece by piece, until you wish you could beg me to kill you, but you won’t be able to with your body already half destroyed and your tongue melted out of your mouth.... ohh, I’m going to hurt you so bad!” She laughs bitterly and cruelly, chilling you to the quick as you renew your struggle. “I’ll have you stripped to the bone before I let you pop. Your suffering will be multiplied by every second you stole from me, all the time I wasted on you.”
Your suffering is already reaching hellish levels. You feel aware of every cell being ripped from your body by the raging acid bath around you, every particle of flesh being dissolved. It’s in your hair, pricking at your scalp, between your toes, eating into the crevices, and between your legs, ravaging your testicles. “A-Aaagh, FUCK!” You cry, squirming in a truly pathetic attempt at freedom. The guts surrounding you seem unconcerned with your protests and struggles, pumping more and more acid over you and pulsing tightly.
“You think this hurts,” the voice that had once held love for you spoke. “That’s just your fucking skin. Just wait till I start turning your muscles to paste... then your organs... intestines...” Your heart thumps in your chest, almost drowned out by the growling, gurgling, gorged gut. “But that comes later. Your skin will last for hours of torture on its own.”
She’s true to her word. You lose track of time after the first few seconds of the real agony, when your skin begins peeling and flaking like paper. After what must be an hour of digestion, your throat is sore and hoarse from screaming, not to mention the small amount of acid you’ve accidentally swallowed. Your whole body is raw, ravaged, and ragged, red patches beginning to cover you. You sob between your fits of screaming, begging for relief.
“L-l-let me out...” You blubber, wishing for just one more breath of fresh air. Millie’s belly already stank when you got here, but now it smells even worse, like rotten flesh and digested meat. Millie reaches down and rubs her hand across your form, sharply outlined by her taut gut. As her hand glides across your back and down to your bottom, she scrapes chunks of skin away, ripping the softened flesh and causing horrific pain. She starts squeezing your butt, groping your cheek through her belly. It sends jolts of pain all over, and you writhe in her grasp.
“Oh I’ll let you out,” she hisses. “I’ll let you out when that load of shit you’ve been hiding inside you shows it’s ugly, stinking face. I’ll let you out when your pathetic, filthy ass,” she spits, squeezing harder, “Comes farting out my asshole like the waste you are!” With that, she clenches her fist, and your butt cheek splatters in her hand, bursting like dropped jello. You shriek like a banshee, writhing in agony. The pain is so great that your head spins and you retch, vomiting all over yourself. Now the juices are greedily attacking the exposed muscle and flesh of your ass, seeping into you, burning like lava.
Over the next hour, you wail and moan like a baby, as the last of your skin melts away and leaves your muscles vulnerable. You didn’t know pain like this existed, but Millie is determined to see that you learn all about it. Even with all this hell raging around you and in you, you aren’t dying. Not yet. Millie peels away your layers cell by cell with deadly steadiness, holding her gastric processes at a minimum. Your muscles begin to snap and tear, pulling apart at the seams. “Pleeeezzsh....” You garble, unable to articulate anymore as your lips are gone and your tongue is beginning to melt. “K...kill meeehh.... e-end.... eeeeeend!”
“I am killing you, gutmunch....” the predator whispers malevolently. “Nice.... and slow...”
“Mrrrleeeee!!!” You sob, flopping a bit as your muscles cease to function.
“Don’t.... you... speak to me...” Millie heaves, gritting her teeth. “I don’t want my name in your filthy mouth! Never again!!”
You begin to beg again, pleading for a final mercy, but you are interrupted by the sound of your leg breaking, crunching and crackling beneath you. You let out a gurgling roar as bone shards shred through your once finely toned calves and thighs, mashing your lower extremities to paste as Millie’s belly tightens. You feel pressure on your privates, which have already been ripped and sizzled to pieces. With a sudden, undignified *splurt*, your penis pops, squished between her belly and the mass of twisted meat around it. You groan in shocked agony, horrified and revolted. You retch again, but your stomach is empty, unlike the pretty girl murdering you so horrendously. She just digested your penis. Your dick is officially soup.
You aren’t given too long to ponder your recent castration, as more bones follow. Your ribs snap like popcorn, one after another, and your hip bone soon shatters. Bone fragments are now shearing through you and poking through the shredded mess of your body. You can’t see what you look like, as your eyes are currently melting and running over your cheeks, but you don’t have to. It’s only after about five hours of pure, abyssal hell that you can finally feel the end coming.
That end sure takes its time in coming, though. Yet another hour passes, and you’re still sizzling away in Millie’s gut, in total awareness and utter agony. Your arms and legs are long gone, and you hardly have a muscle you can twitch. You can’t see, you can’t talk, and you can’t move. All you can do is wait, as your ex girlfriend’s belly tightens further and further, compacting you into a bone riddled ball of meat. The pain is still unimaginable, as your innards become her innards, but you can’t even react. If there is a hell, it won’t hold a candle to this.
“Ugh, I can’t keep you alive much longer...” Millie grunts. “And you’re not worth losing any more sleep over. I’m going to kill you now,, and I want you to die knowing how pathetic and meaningless you are. I want you to die knowing that you disgust me. I want you to die knowing that I enjoyed feeling you die, and that your pain brought me pleasure. Nothing we ever pretended to have means a fucking thing. I won’t remember you by my next fuck. You’ll just be one more load of shit in a long line of dead, digested dummies. So fuck. You.”
As her final curse lingers in your ears, what remains of you is crushed, crunching into an indiscernable mess. A long, loud rumble follows, before Millie grunts and forces a thunderous fart from her ass *FRRRBBBBBBBTTTT!*. Her cheeks wiggle from the blast, and a horrid stench fills her room. She waves a hand in front of her face, wrinkling her nose. “Filthy animal...” she mutters, then rolls over onto her bloated belly, mashing your gooey remains further. She smiles, smug and content, as she feels bits of you squeezes through her insides, before closing her eyes and letting the sounds of your corpse bubbling into her bowels lull her to sleep.
The next morning finds her grunting and groaning on the toilet as she pushes several logs of shit into the toilet. Nasty noises fill the air, *Frrrrrrrrrt* *Phsssssst* *BBBBP!* and the smell of a well digested boy wafts our from the toilet bowl. Finally, she heaves and arches her back, several pieces of skull popping out of her brown pucker and landing in the mess below. Millie sighs in relief, then stands and wipes her ass, dropping the soiled toilet paper in on top of you. She smirks, then snaps a pic of your final resting place, before lazily pressing the lever to flush you away, out of sight and out of mind. She posts the picture to her instagram with the caption “flushing my greatest embarrassment #dickshit”. With that done, she carries on with her day and her life, leaving you behind forever.
A few minutes later, Trish eyes the photo of your shitty corpse, staring at her phone sadly. “Oh, Gilbert... I tried to tell you,” she sighs. Her job was almost done here, just one more thing to do. She called her handler, who answered immediately. “Yeah, it’s me.... no, mission failure, he wouldn’t come... yes, yes, I got him eaten. Just got confirmation.... hm? Oh, I told his girlfriend we fucked.... listen, why do we have to get them killed if they don’t come? There’s no way he would have told anyone, and even if he had... yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, he’s not talking to anyone in the state he’s in. Yeah, I’m on it. Bye.” She taps end, then navigates to a file with a list of boys, their names, pictures, and various personal details included. She scrolls down past maybe fifty of them, each with either a red marker over their face reading “DIGESTED”, or a green one reading “DIVERTED”. She comes to an image of you. Gilbert Mosley, it reads. She taps a brown button beneath your face, and an identical red marker is stamped over it. “Well, on to the next one. Sorry, Gil... Rest In peace.”
You are dead.
