A young woman slips inside the door quietly, performing her morning duties. The maid keeps her eyes downcast, keeping her movements quiet and swift, no doubt hoping you don’t notice. Even if you hadn’t seen or heard her, you would have smelled her. She has a rich, sweet aroma, that fills you with hunger. You look over at her. She is short and plump, with bright yellow hair, blue eyes, freckles, plump pink lips, fat, round tits and a supple, round rump. She wears a simple maid’s frock.
You hail her just as she makes to leave. “Come,” you order in a soft but firm voice. Her relieved expression turns to one of tight anxiety, but she obeys nonetheless, approaching you and bowing her head.
“Yes, m-m’lord?” She almost whimpers in a frightened, high pitched voice.
“How old are you, dear?” You ask kindly.
“16, majesty,” she answers, eyes on the floor.
“Tsk, so young,” you smirk, cupping her chin and staring into her frightened young eyes. “Undress.” Your voice becomes cold as you give the command, and the color drains from her face. You feel her almost tug away instinctively, but you grip her chin. Her eyes flick from side to side and her lip trembles. You see terrified tears welling in her eyes. She knows what you want.
“M-majesty...” she whimpers, but she can’t find any words. What can she say? Slowly she begins unbuttoning her blouse, with trembling, dainty fingers. Her breasts are pale and soft underneath, and you know her heart is pounding in her chest. She shivers and closes her eyes as her boobies are bared, and her dress falls to the ground around her. According to royal decree, castle staff are not permitted undergarments, and this she is completely naked. She is truly beautiful, and another time you may have lusted for her. At the moment, however, you want her for one thing.
“P-please...” she begs, tears spilling out over her cheeks. You pay her sobs no need as you pull her closer, your mouth watering as her odor fills your nostrils.
“A fine breakfast you shall be,” you sigh happily , and she squeals I’m terrified dismay. “Silence, peasant,” you command curtly, clamping her mouth shut and lifting her with one hand. She writhes in your grasp, her cries muffled by your palm. “Your death will mean a full belly for your king. It is an honorable end to your meaningless life, if not a pleasant one. Submit or struggle, you will be my meal regardless.” With those final words, you open your mouth and push her screaming head inside. She begs you for mercy, frantically pleading for her life, thrashing in your grasp. You swallow, and bit by bit the little girl sides deeper inside, steadily moving towards your gut. “Mmmm,” you moan, enjoying the flavor of her sweet, warm flesh. Her plump, young ass slides between your lips and down your throat, and soon your mouth closes over her feet, sealing her away forever.
“No, no, no, no!!” She sobs, squirming within your muscled abdomen. Her little body is squashed so tight that you can see almost every detail of her naked form, immobilized by your hungry tummy. “Please let me put, please please PLEASE! I d-don’t want to die, I don’t want to die!! Not like this, p-please... please don’t.... don’t d-do it...”
You do it anyway. As another serving girl comes in to dress you, your belly wastes no time working on the doomed damsel. She screeches I’m horrified agony as acids soak into her, digesting her. The woman dressing you suppresses a frightened shudder, trying not to look at your lady-shaped belly as she dies inside you.
“Gwrrrrfff...” you belch, patting your stomach. The serving girl finishes putting on your raiment and scurries away, leaving you to digest the teen in peace.
“Y-your majesty...” she wheezes desperately, clawing ineffectively at the walls of your stomach. “P-please.... pleeeeeeeease.... rrrrRRRAAAGGH! It hurts! It hurts so bad, wh-why are you doing this?? Why me? Why meeeeeeeEEEEEEEEK!!!” Her thrashing and screaming grow more frenzied. “Heeeeeelp! Help me, please!! Erich! Save me! Wh-where are you... Erich... please help me... I don’t... want to... be....”
Your tummy shifts suddenly, eliciting a rancid burp from you, and you know she’s dead. You laugh cruelly, relishing the notion that you took this beautiful young maiden from someone, a man who loved her. You ended her, reduced her to mash, because you were hungry.
And because you can.
“Sorry my dear, this Erich of yours wouldn’t save you if he could,” you chuckle, even though you know the meaty soup in your gut can’t hear you. “Because you’re mine, and everyone knows it.”
“Blrrrrrble...” is the only answer you get as her remains begins to drain away to be converted to nutrients and waste. With a final pat on your bloated royal tummy, you prepare for the day. You look over at your wife, who somehow slept through the entire thing. Vaguely, you wonder when you’re going to eat that woman. You know it’s going to happen eventually, you just don’t know when the whim will strike you. For now though, you content yourself with the woman you’re already digesting, and you go to make your rounds.