Pet Store

When Spencer was in high school his guidance counselor asked him what career path he wanted to follow after high school.  Spencer told her he had always wanted to work at a pet store, and though she worried he might have aimed a little low, Spencer did not have a college worthy GPA, but did appear to have a kind heart.

The owner of Four Paws Pet Shop thought so too when Spencer applied for a caretaker position.

“What makes you think you’re qualified to work as a caretaker?” the owner inquired.  “This is hard work and requires a lot of knowledge about animal husbandry.

Spencer explained that he had taken care of his own and his neighbors’ pets since he was younger and that he had studied a lot about them on the Internet.  The owner decided to take a chance and hire the boy for a whopping $5.15 per hour.

But 8 years later, Spencer still didn’t care about the pay, which had remained unreasonably low, save a small raise he was given when promoted to “assistant manager.”  With the new title came keys to the store.  Getting those keys was Spencer’s dream come true.  The owner had gone into semi-retirement and given Spencer nearly full control of operations.

Again, the enlargement of job duties was not the primary draw to Spencer, who had now grown into a man of 26 years of age, still working at a pet store.  The customers loved him of course.  Spencer spent time explaining the necessary steps to care for the animals he sold, many times giving them one last kiss before placing them in the carrying box.  The customers found his affixation with the animals a bit peculiar, but nothing to be alarmed about.  The animals, however, knew better.

Spencer’s friends watched in amazement as he gulfed down the fifth cheeseburger at Golden Corral.

“That’s 20 bucks,” Spencer said wiping his lips.

“You’re a beast,” his boyfriend Nathan said.

“Speaking of beasts,” Spencer said, “I better get back to the pet shop and wrap things up for the weekend.”

“You take that job way too seriously,” Cam rolled his eyes and slapped two tens on the table.

“Look, I’ve got a job,” Spencer said as he pulled on a jacket that he wouldn’t dare try to zip.  “That’s better than most right now.”

“Well have fun.”

“I always do,” Spencer said, smirking.

Spencer pulled into the store parking lot, which was now empty.  The closing employees had already locked up.  Spencer opened the door and walked inside, the space eerily quiet without customers bustling about.  He locked the door behind him and ensured that the blinds were closed completely. 

He turned on enough lights to see, but kept them low to avoid drawing attention from the cops that sometimes patrolled the area at night.  The ambient light brought the shop back to life.  The ferrets began to chase each other through the plastic tubes, hamsters spun the wheel and gerbils murmured softly to themselves. 

Spencer felt a growing pressure in his abdomen, the result of no less than 6 plates piled high with food at the buffet.  Feeling at ease, he unbuttoned his pants and felt an instant release.  When he pulled up his plaid shirt he looked down curiously. 

No longer a skinny high schooler, Spencer had grown into a muscular guy with a full-blown beer belly that had developed a fair bit of hair.  His gut felt tight against his hands and stuck out like a swollen water balloon ready to burst.  A loud cry interrupted his Zen moment.

Spencer looked in the direction the sound came from.  It came from a cage in the middle of the room, and he knew what the culprit was.  Spencer had lost patience with the blue parakeet that again screeched into the night. 

Spencer walked slowly to the cage, his belly wobbling from side to side. 

“What the hell is your problem?” he whispered loudly into the cage. 

The bird screeched again.

“Stoppp” he flicked the bars of the cage.  The bird again made a loud noise.

Spencer opened the cage and chased around the blue bird that would sing only one last time.  Finally getting his hand around it, he gently removed it from the cage.  It struggled in his hands to get free and Spencer felt the feeling he had been longing for all week.  Adrenaline.

The energy was like nothing he got from anything else.  He looked into the parakeet’s eyes and he knew, it knew. 

“Why couldn’t you just be quiet?”  he asked the bird who continued to push out in his hands.  “I don’t even like swallowing you guys that much,” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh well, down the hatch you go,” Spencer mumbled to himself. 

The bird screeched one last time as he shoved it into his mouth and pushed it to the back of his throat.  The bird again struggled to free itself but Spencer swallowed hard.  The bird never had a chance to escape. 

The fluttering continued through his chest until it came to rest in his food filled belly.  The other birds watched in silence.  Spencer slapped his stomach and let out a small burp.  He could have sworn a feather came up too. 

“No screeching,” he said again to the cage.

Spencer walked back to his office and pulled out the black binder where he recorded the “expired count.”  The fluttering continued in his belly and he began to slosh the contents around.  A small squeak came from inside as his stomach rumbled.

ONE PARAKEET  Nov 14, 2009

The blue parakeet was just the start of the evening.  2 hamsters and 1 gerbils joined in, after which Spencer became bored and closed up shop.  The movement continued on his drive home. 

The next evening, Spencer sat in his office.  The employees had gone and he was left with the exciting task of doing payroll.  Adding to his excitement was a small, brown mouse that would soon be traveling to his stomach.  He lifted the little guy up in the air and let it dance on his tongue.  In the door walked Nathan.  Spencer froze.

“What the hell?” Nathan’s eyes were bugging.

“Haha, just a joke,” Spencer put the mouse back in the box.  Nathan left the room.

“Nathan,” Spencer called after him.  “Wait, come back here for a sec.”

“For what?  So you can explain to me why you’re eating your inventory?”

“Just let me show you something,” Spencer gave a hopeful look.

Spencer led Nathan to the back room and took the mouse out of the box again.

“NO.” Nathan began to leave the room again.

“Hold onnn,” Spencer grabbed his arm.  “Just watch.  You’ll understand when you see it.”

Nathan squinted his eyes as Spencer lifted the mouse to his lips and placed it on his tongue.  His mouth opened up wide and in a second the mouse had been sucked down his esophagus.

“See,” Spencer said, hoping Nathan wouldn’t run away screaming.

“Why do you do it?” Nathan asked in a hushed voice.

“Because it’s amazing,” Spencer didn’t know how he was going to talk his way out of this one. 

“Look,” Spencer lifted up his shirt.  His belly poked out over his jeans.  Nathan didn’t object so Spencer continued explaining.

“There’s a mouse in there, in my belly, struggling to get out.  He wants out so bad but no matter what he’s staying in my gut.  He’s a meal, Nathan.  That’s what they’re bred for.”

Nathan was still silent. 

Spencer placed Nathan’s hand on his belly so that he could feel the animal moving inside.  “Don’t you see how beautiful this is?”

“I don’t know…” Nathan trailed off.  “Isn’t this like, illegal or something?” 

“We eat chicken, don’t we?” Spencer could tell he was getting somewhere.

“But not alive…” Nathan reminded him.

“Well this is more natural this way,” Spencer assured him.   “Do you want to see another?”

“Not really,” Nathan looked at him hard.

“Come on,” Spencer left the room and pulled down his shirt.

Spencer stopped in the middle of the store and turned to Nathan.  “Pick one,” he gestured around the store.

“What? No!” Nathan looked at his disgusted.

“Why not?” Spencer shrugged his shoulders.

“Because it’s, I don’t know, it makes me weird to choose.”

“Fine then, a puppy,” Spencer took half a step.

“No!” Nathan shrieked.

Spencer stopped.  There was no way in hell he could swallow a puppy but he knew it would make Nathan think.

“Then what?” Spencer asked impatiently.

“Just do, just do a,” Nathan looked around the room.  “Just do a guinea pig.”

“A guinea pig?” Spencer looked at Nathan like he were crazy.

“What? Is that too big for you?” Nathan mocked.

“No…It’s not too big for me.” Spencer began to wonder if he had had his own bluff used against him. 

“I’ll eat this one,” Spencer picked up a small tan and white guinea pig from the habitat.

“Okay then, go ahead.” Spencer had just been dared by a guy who found out about his vore secret not 15 minutes before. 

Spencer looked down at the guinea pig who peered from the corner of his eye.  Spencer brought it to the front of his face and Nathan gulped out of nervousness.

Spencer paused and brought the guinea pig away from his face.  “I need your help.”

“Hey this is all you,” Nathan pursed his lips.

“I’ve always wanted to try this but I think I need someone to help me get it down,” Spencer gave a pathetic look.  Nathan looked away. 

“Please?”  Spencer lifted one eyebrow.

“Oh fine,” Nathan gave in.

Spencer smiled.  “Just see if you can push him to the back of my throat.  I need to focus all my energy on swallowing.”

Nathan nodded and took the small, confused guinea pig from him.

Spencer positioned himself on a bench and leaned back, his arms on the rail, his stomach hanging out, the mouse still engulfed inside. 

Spencer began to loosen his jaw and cock his head back and forth in preparation.  He gave a few deep breaths and looked the guinea pig in the eyes.

“Go.” He stuck his tongue out and breathed in.

Nathan placed the guinea pig inside Spencer’s mouth and began to help push it toward the back.

The guinea pig obviously knowing what fate awaited it, began to squeal and Spencer knew he had a limited amount of time.  He began to suck hard and felt it loose grip and begin to slide back down his tongue.  The wet fur tickled his tongue and the roof of his mouth gently pushed the guinea pig’s face into the tip as he opened his throat in one last effort.  Leaving his mouth open so that Nathan could witness the event, Spencer gulped the guinea pig all the way back and felt a hard, painful lump in his throat. 

Continuing to work it down, he eventually regained the ability to speak and cried out to Nathan.

“Rub my belly damn it.” 

Nathan quickly sat down beside Spencer and began to rub his stomach while the small guinea pig wriggled inside.

A pig-like squeal came from within and Spencer tightened his stomach muscles, pushing it to one side.

“Fuck,” he said with content. 

Spencer stood up and stuck out his belly, which gurgled and moved as the guinea pig attempted to escape.

“Do you see now?” Spencer asked, massaging the underside of his stomach.

“Uh…ya.” Nathan said in disbelief. 

Spencer let out a belch and walked over to the guinea pig cage.  They ran immediately into the igloos.  Spencer removed all the plastic pieces and hung his belly over the side of the habitat.

“Do you understand now?” He asked slapping his belly.

“Stop that,” Nathan pulled back on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Oh I’m just teasing,” Spencer chuckled and began do shake his stomach from side to side, wondering if he could swallow anything bigger than a guinea pig.

Summer Lovin'

I traced the wood grain on the table that sat on our neighbors’ porch. 

“Cameron, stop pulling your sister’s hair,” a Mom hissed at her son a couple of seats down.

I never did like these neighborhood get-togethers anyway.  But I was staying at my aunt’s house this summer and she insisted that I get to know the other kids in the neighborhood.  I was 16, and miserable.  There was no one even remotely close to my age here, at least not in high school.

I picked at the bread roll I had thrown onto my plate from the kitchen counter inside.   I wasn’t much for barbecue.

“Kid, you better eat some actual food or you’re gonna wish you had later,” Sam said.

Sam intimidated me.  Not because he was mean or anything, but he was in his early twenties; just old enough to not talk to like another teenager but not old enough to blow off like one of the parents.

I just smiled. “Ya I guess.”

Mrs. Cramms screamed from inside the house. “Jacob, do you want me to fix you some cereal?”  My face went red.

“I thought it was pretty damn good,” Sam yelled out, rubbing his stomach.  He caught me looking and smirked.  These type of guys always made me nervous, especially when they were good looking like he was.

After dinner I wandered over the a grassy spot by the fence and began to draw in the dirt with a stick.  I had to admit that it was beautiful out in the country.  You could see a long ways before the next house was visible.  I heard grass swishing behind me.

Sam stood over me and squinted his eyes, trying to make out my sketch.

“I- I’m not really drawing anything,” I mumbled.

“Kinda looks like a tree,” he chuckled.  I kept my head down.

“Are you bored here?” he asked, crouching down.

“Kind of,” I stole a glance at his blue eyes.

“Well why don’t you come down to my place tomorrow evening after I get off work?” he stood up now.  “Your aunt tells me you like animals, and I’m actually a breeder for the local pet stores around here.

“Really?” I was excited. I did like animals, and had always wondered where the ones at the pet store came from.

“Heck ya!” he sounded more confident now.  “Come on down at like 3 or 4 and I’ll give you a tour, sound good?”

“Ya, great,” I attempted a half smile.

I rode my bike down to Sam’s place the next afternoon.  It was a smaller house in the country like the rest of them in the area.  The next house was a good ½ mile down the road and cows roamed the land in between.  I rang the doorbell and stiffened, hearing footsteps from inside.

He opened the screen door and smiled.

“Hey buddy, glad you could make it.”  I exhaled an inaudible sound and nodded my head.

“Well come on in and I’ll show you the house first.”  The inside had been renovated and the kitchen was done in all stainless, not common in older farm houses like this one.

“I just did the kitchen,” he confirmed my expectations.  “And am in the process of renovating the guest bathroom so you’ll have to come back and see it before ya leave.”  I followed him back to the kitchen.

“I fixed some cheeseburgers if you want some,” he motioned toward the counter.

“Naw, that’s okay I said,” really happy to actually be talking to someone other than my aunt for once.

“Well I’ve got some rolls too,” he winked.  I laughed and sat down at the counter.

Sam went on to tell me how he had inherited the house and property from his Grandfather, and was enjoying the opportunity to fix it up.

He took a giant bite of his second cheeseburger and leaned against the counter.

“So what got you interested in animals,” he asked.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I scratched my head.  “Just always found them interesting I guess.”

He took another bite of the cheeseburger, half of it was gone.

“Cool,” he said with a full mouth, and took a swig of Pepsi.  The rest of the cheeseburger went down in two more bites.

“Wow, you eat fast,” I caught myself saying. 

“Ya,” he laughed.  “I woof ‘em down.”  He ate another while a rooster crowed in the distant background.

“Whatya bet I can eat one of these babies whole,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Wait, what?” I said, not sure how to respond.

“Watch this,” he grabbed another cheeseburger and flattened it down like a thick pancake.  He somehow stuffed the burger inside of his mouth and closed his lips around it.

His eyes did a little dance, waiting for it to soak, and then in one fell swoop he swallowed it with an audible gulp.  It was obviously uncomfortable.

“Holy . . .” my eyes bugged.

Sam punched his chest and cleared his throat. “Pretty cool, huh?” he smiled brightly.

“Do it again?” I joked, completely turned on by what I had just seen.

“Dude, I’m full,” he picked bits out of his teeth.

“Well if you think you can’t do it again…” I trailed off.

“Oh, is that how it is?” he said, having fun with this new game.  Sam did it again, this time using a swig of Pepsi to help things go down easier.

“UGH,” he said, breathing in and out.  “That’s it for right now.” 

“Awesome,” I said, grinning.

Sam lifted up his shirt and I nearly lost my balance on the stool.

“Shit, man,” Sam stared at his protruding stomach.  “I just ate 4 quarter pounders with cheese.”  Sam again caught me staring and walked toward me. 

Sam stood in front of me rubbing his stomach, breathing heavily in an out.  We locked eyes for a moment and then he lowered his shirt. 

“Let’s go have a look outside,” he walked past me.

Outside was an old barn made of giant river stones held together by concrete.  Sam opened the old, sliding wooden doors and inside there were dozens of cages against the wall and in the middle of the room. 

“I breed all kinds of animals,” Sam bragged.  “Rabbits, parakeets, mice, gerbils, guinea pigs, hamsters; you name it, I’ve probably got it in here.”

“So neat,” I said, walking over to a giant metal stock tank with mice running around. 

“It’s great they have so many things to keep them entertained,” I said, admiring the maze of tunnels, ladders, and slides Sam had constructed inside the enclosure.

“Ya, these are feeder mice so I try to give them the good life at least for a while,” he folded his arms and watched them run around.

“Is it hard to let them go?” I asked, wondering if he grew attached.

“Sometimes,” nodded.

“I wish they didn’t have to be alive for the snakes,” I shook my head.

“Eh, it’s not all that bad,” he chuckled.

Sam paused for a moment and then leaned over and grabbed one of the fawn colored mice by the tail.

“Watch, it’s not even as terrible of a process as you think,” Sam did the unthinkable. He lifted the mouse above his head and put it in his mouth, gulping it instantly.  I was petrified.

“Dude, it’s totally okay,” he walked toward me and lifted up his shirt.  “See, no harm done.”

Ugh, his stomach again.  It was still bloated from the cheeseburger gorge before, and toned with a small amount of hair. 

“Feel,” he gently grabbed my hand and placed it on his belly.  I grew faint.  His stomach was warm, and inside there was a mouse trying desperately to escape.  It made me a bit nauseous. 

“Is that a trick?” I asked confused.  “Did you really swallow it?”

“Ya,” he said looking away.  “Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know…” I didn’t know how to respond. 

“Maybe I showed you too soon,” he shuffled his feet.

“Do you do it often?” I was curious.

“Every now and then.  I know it’s probably scary to you.”

“Does it- does it move?” I asked.

“Ya,” he said flatly.

“Do you swallow other things?”

“Sometimes,” his eyes narrowed.

“Well, I guess it’s not all that terrible,” I shrugged.  “I mean, as long as you don’t get sick.”  Sam smiled.

“No way! it’s totally safe.  I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager.”

“Oh wow,” I was shocked that he had done that at my age.  What else had he swallowed in that time?

“What else have you swallowed?” I looked around.

“Lemme show you something,” he walked toward the left side of the barn.  Sam pulled a rather large hamster out of the cage.

“You swallowed on of those?” I asked in disbelief.

“Ya,” he said confidently.  “Wanna see?”

“What?! No! No way! One is enough.”

“Oh, ok,” he sulked back.

“Hold on,” I said, Sam turned around.  “How do you do it?”

“I’ll just demonstrate,” he walked toward the house.

Inside the house it was cooler, and less dusty.  Sam placed the hamster in a bowl on the kitchen counter and pulled up a stool on the other side across from me.

“Ok, this is the way it works,” he explained.  “Every now and then I get a…” he struggled for the word.  “Craving.  I get a craving and this is what I do.”

“Now basically all I do is get him used to me, and then I put him in my mouth, usually face first, and swallow him whole.  He goes down my esophagus and into my stomach where I digest him.”

“Alive?” I interjected.

“Yes, alive,” he nodded.

“But doesn’t that hurt?” I wondered.

“No, it feels amazing,” he whispered loudly.

“I meant the hamster…”

“Ah, well I can’t speak for that,” he looked away.

“Do you mind?” he looked at me and then at the bowl.

“Um, I guess not,” I was really intrigued by this whole idea. 

Sam lifted the hamster by one leg and it squealed in fright.

“Shhh,” Sam attempted to calm it.  The hamster continued to struggle in his muscular fingers as he brought it above his head.

“Have a good time, buddy,” Sam looked it in the eye.  He seemed almost like another person.

The hamster again fought to free itself as he brought it to his mouth, now gaping wide open, his teeth and tongue sticking out to make room. 

Once partway inside the hamster again let out a squeal and he used his tongue to keep it from getting away.  He faced me so that I could see the process.  The hamster looked like it knew exactly what was going on. 

He moved his tongue and cheeks ever so slightly to push it a little ways back toward his throat, until it slowly began to disappear, its head catching one last glimpse of light. 

During the last few seconds I saw it make one last ditch effort to climb forward before it disappeared down his throat in a smooth motion.  Sam swallowed and it was all over.

“Well, that’s that,” he said.

“Uh huh,” I was scared.

Sam walked out onto the back porch and sat in one of the lawn chairs facing the sun.

I pulled one up next to him and stared at his stomach.

“So it’s in there?” I asked, unsure what to say.

“Ya, they both are,” he chuckled.  “Wanna hear?”

“Uh…sure.” I wondered if this was even happening.

Sam lifted up his shirt and again showed his beautiful belly, still bloated, hanging over his shorts toward the front of the lawn chair.

I scooted myself onto the deck until I was between his legs and put my ear up to his belly.  Inside I couldn’t hear much more than his heartbeat.

“Give me just a sec,” Sam reached for the bottle of Pepsi and began to chug.  It did the trick. 

After a few moments an audible gurgle could be heard along with the faint sounds of the hamster and maybe even the mouse squirming around inside.  Sam shifted his weight and his belly tensed slightly, before again falling forward upon exhale. 

A loud belch came from above and Sam patted his belly, setting off the noise again inside. 

That night I lay in bed thinking about how Sam had swallowed those animals and was torn between how I felt.  Sam and I seemed to really have something cool, but at the same time, he had just swallowed two animals alive in front of me.  The very idea of being swallowed alive by a giant was terrifying, yet the whole process was natural in a way.  I then remembered Sam sitting there at the picnic table, rubbing his stomach, obviously knowing that I was watching.

I wondered what it would be like to be one of the mice.  One moment playing in a semi serene environment, the next in a guy’s belly, digesting.  Sam was unique for sure.

The next day I sat around my aunt’s house, bored.

“Why don’t you go meet up with some of your buddies you met at the potluck this weekend,” my aunt whined.  I kept spinning the nickel I had found on the hardwood floor.

“Did you have a good time at Samuel’s house yesterday?  I heard he has all kinds of critters running around that place.”  I stopped with nickel with my hand.

“Ya, it was cool I guess.”

“An odd one he is,” my aunt went on.  “You should see if he has some extra work you can do while you’re here.  It might keep you busy.”

“Ya, maybe,” I mumbled.

The next afternoon I got on my bike and headed down the road toward Sam’s place again.  When I pulled into the driveway I stopped and stared at the house for a good long while.  I could hear the TV from the outside.  News network of some kind. 

I braved myself and knocked on the door.

“Jake, buddy!  Glad you came by.” Sam was grinning.  “I was worried I’d scared you off the other day.”

What? From swallowing live pets before my eyes? Never.

“Naw, it’s okay,” I assured him.

Sam and I sat down on the couch and he turned off the TV. 

“So, do you have any questions?”

“What makes you do it?” I had wondered this since Sunday.

“Because it’s awesome.  Next question.” Sam laughed.  “Okay, so really, actually I do it because it makes me feel amazing.  There’s nothing more satisfying than swallowing your meal whole.  I can’t explain it, but it works for me.”

We sat in silence for a moment, staring at the coffee table.

“Let me show you something,” he turned toward me.  “Look inside my mouth.”

Sam scooted closer to my and brought his face closer to mine.  He opened his mouth wider than I thought anyone could ever come close to.  He stuck out his tongue and swallowed open mouthed.  The opening was huge.  He closed his mouth.

“That’s the last thing my meals see before they, well, you know,” Sam patted his belly.

“Do you ever think about what’s going on in their head?” I questioned.

“Ya, all the time,” he conceded.  “I mean, I can’t imagine any creature wants to be swallowed, at least not without being spit back up, but even then…” Sam shook his head.

“It is what it is.” I didn’t know what was going on here, and I didn’t know what the right answer was, but I knew that not talking to Sam anymore was the wrong answer.

“I’ve got something I wanna show you,” he walked toward the laundry room.

In the laundry room was a bunch of old pet supplies, toys, accessories, etc.  In the middle of the room on a card table sat a multi level plastic cage with what looked like gerbils running around inside.

“What are those doing in here?” I asked.

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” he smiled.  “A pet store that I do work with had them on display to promote a new line of upscale small animal cages they’re promoting.”

“Why’d they give them to you?”

“Well, the gerbils have been together for several months now, and when they’re together that long they can’t be separated.  The owner had to either sell them all at once, or, what he did in this case, give the whole lot to a breeder to use.”

“Are you going to breed them?” I knelt down and looked inside the enclosure.

“Been thinking about it,” he watched as I admired the tunnels the gerbils had created in the bedding of wood shavings.

“So you don’t eat these then, the gerbils I mean,” I confirmed.

“Oh I’ve swallowed gerbils before,” he laughed.  “Not a whole lot I haven’t.”

“Interesting…” I again watched the gerbils nibbling on pieces of dried corn.

“Well, you better go on home before it gets dark,” Sam interrupted the silence.

“Why don’t you swallow these now?” I asked offhandedly. 

“What?” Sam looked confused.

“Why don’t you swallow them?  Are you not hungry?”  I suddenly realized I may have been overstepping my stay.

“Uh, ya! I’m hungry all the time!” Sam laughed a little loudly.  The gerbils scattered back into their holes.

“Do- Do you wanna watch?” He lowered his voice.

“Why not?” I stood up and brought the cage into the living room.

Sam went into the kitchen and brought back a pitcher of water and a glass.

“Helps when one gets stuck,” he explained.  I was learning a lot.

I reached in the cage and pulled the first one out, handing it to Sam.  He gently surrounded it with his lips and sucked if off his fingers, maneuvering it inside his mouth and gently swallowing it back.

Sam unbuttoned his shirt and then lifted up his white T, his belly protruded slightly.

“Big dinner,” he mumbled.

He placed the next one on his belly and pushed in on the side of his abdomen.  The poor thing had no idea.  The next one went down with a struggled and the one remaining on top of his bellybutton froze.

“That one was a fighter,” Sam massaged his neck.

“You put the next one in,” Sam nodded toward his stomach.

I picked up the stiff gerbil and it seemed relieved to be leaving the area.

“Just a minute,” Sam said.  He adjusted himself so his stomach stuck out over his pants as he leaned back. 

“Go ahead.”

I brought the shaking gerbil down closer to his face and he opened his mouth.  It screeched and I didn’t know what to do so I plopped it in his mouth.  It hit the back of his throat and Sam immediately secured it with the base of his tongue.  It slowly slid backward, eyes bulging until it disappeared into a lump of Sam’s throat.

“Wow,” I exhaled.

“One more,” Sam pointed. 

The remaining gerbil had wedged itself in a plastic tunnel and was not about to come out. 

“Use the water,” Sam directed.

I removed the elbow shaped tube from the enclosure and placed on end on his mouth.  The gerbil scrambled to the top but not before I poured the water from the pitcher down into it, sending the last one sliding into Sam’s belly like a beer bong from a college party.

Sam wiped his lips with his white T-shirt.

“Damn that was good,” he closed his eyes and smiled.  “You’re awesome, dude.”

“How, um…how are they?” I managed to get out.

“They’re trying to figure out what the fuck is going on,” Sam snickered.  “Boys, boys, boys,” Sam addressed his meal.  “You will never escape from my gut, unfortunately for you.  Just sit back and relax, because it’s about over.”

Sam let out a long, satisfied belch and smacked his stomach.

He pulled down his pants and underwear so that his entire stomach stuck out like a beach ball.  His skin was squirming and audible squeals and squirts came muffled from within.

“Put your ear up and have a listen” he offered.

I cautiously brought my cheek up to the lower portion of his belly and he put both hands behind my head to guide me in the right direction.  Inside his stomach the noises of many gerbils could be heard clearly.  His stomach growled and grumbled as the meal churned underneath his skin. 

“It’s a amazing, isn’t it?” he spoke down to me.  I looked up at him and just nodded, unable to speak.

“Does it hurt at all to have them moving like that?” I wondered.

“Feels amazing, dude,” he squeezed the side of his stomach and massaged his growling stomach.  “They’ll come to rest soon.”

A few days later I rode to Sam’s house again, hoping that my aunt wouldn’t grow too suspicious and come to see what Sam and I had been up to.  She didn’t seem terribly worried though, glad that I had at least found someone to pal around with this summer.

Sam didn’t answer the door this time.  I heard him call out for me to come on in, a sign that our friendship had grown during our visits the past few weeks.  That wasn’t the only thing that had grown.  Sam sat on the couch, belly gorged from two days worth of eating, his belly larger than I had seen it since we began hanging out.

“Big meal?” I asked with a half cracked smile.

“Several,” he said, smirking and continuing to watch the TV.  Baseball was on.

“This week has been slow, you know,” he sighed.  “Not much business right now.”

“Oh,” I said, not at all familiar with pet trade economics. 

“Well, guess you better go outside and pick out whatever it is you wanna see me down,” he grunted, still watching the TV.

“Well, um, you don’t have to…” I fumbled my words.  “I mean, that’s not the only reason I come over here.”

“Oh,” Sam’s eyes remained glued to the screen.  “Well, if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

I began to wonder if Sam was growing bored with our visits.  Maybe he’d shown me all there was to see?  I was still curious though.  I didn’t want to just leave.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I blurted out, a delayed response.

“Oh?” he said, turning to me.

“I just, well, you know, don’t want you to think that it’s something you have to do.”

“Well I do it because it’s fun,” he chuckled.  “And because it feels good,” he gave his belly a firm pat on the side.

“What do you feel like?” I stood up.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sam scratched his belly, like this was a completely normal conversation.

“Just grab half a dozen of those feeder mice out there.  They’re goin’ slow right now anyway.”

I grabbed 5 from the enclosure indiscriminately, not wanting to make things more complicated than they needed to be.  They were feeder mice after all.  They were just feeding Sam instead of a snake or something.

I walked in the room and Sam muted the TV, still slouching back into the couch but with a bag of pretzels at his side.

“So what lucky ones get to be the new tenants in Chez Belly d’Sam?” he joked.

“Hope they’re the right size.”  I showed him the ones in the box.

“Look fine,” he said.  “Now, I’m not going to do any of the work here.  I want you to do just feed me and I’ll do the rest,” he winked.

“Ohhh no I don’t think I can put them in your mouth,” I looked away shyly.

“Well why not? It’s not hard,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, maybe if I just hand them to you,” I suggested.

“How about I just sit here with my eyes closed and my mouth open, and when you’re ready, you just slide it right on in?” he smiled now.

“Umm…” I wasn’t sure this is what I wanted.  But Sam closed his eyes and opened his mouth, his tongue laying out over his lower lip, waiting.

I grabbed one of the light colored brown mice and held it by its tail.  It crawled up on my finger and sniffed around.  I looked back at Sam’s mouth, which lay open, patiently waiting.  I  inched closer to him and looked down in his mouth.  It was large, larger than mine anyway, wet, and a beautiful pink color.  His teeth were unusually white and straight, and his tongue looked soft.  Warm air flowed in and out of his throat as he waited for his meal to enter.

I lifted the mouse above his mouth and he sensed that it was close, pushing his tongue out farther and exposing the back of his throat.  As I lowered the mouse it began to panic and attempted to free itself before I released it into Sam’s mouth where it fluttered down until it was engulfed, disappearing into the pink, dark tunnel. 

Sam opened his eyes and scratched his throat.  “Nice job, man,” he pounded his chest and let out a small burp.  “Let’s speed up the process though, shall we?”

He reached for his glass of milk on the coffee table and drank until it was ¾ full. 

“I prefer a more streamlined method myself,” he explained as he plopped the remaining 4 mice into the glass.  The mice swam inside clawing at the slippery glass, fighting for a space at the surface.  Sam tipped the glass toward his mouth and began to gulp.  The mice squeaked and fought toward the top of the glass to get away from Sam’s swallows.  Eventually all of them slipped downward and met the same fate as the first, into Sam’s unusually large, bloated belly.

*Burrrrp*.  Sam let out a giant belch.

“Wow,” I exclaimed.  Sam smiled.

“Come here, I have to show you something,” he got up and walked toward the garage.

Sam’s garage held all sorts of random things.  Old juke boxes, wooden wheelbarrows, antique garden equipment, dated electronics and stereos, and an unfamiliar device kept under a white sheet.

“Keeps the dust off,” he explained.

Under the sheet was what appeared to be a screen attached to an electrical box. 

“It’s an x-ray screen!” he exclaimed.  “Isn’t it cool?”

“Wow, ya, it is,” I nodded.  “But where did you get it?”

“At an auction,” he said while plugging the unit in.  “An old hospital was shutting down a rural location and I got it dirt cheap.”

Sam turned on the unit and the screen glowed a faint white.  The electrical box buzzed a low hum. 

“Stand here,” he directed me in front of the screen.

Sam walked around behind the screen and began to strip to his underwear.  But I could already see.  Inside of his firm belly were several distinct shapes that were squirming around inside his abdomen, obviously separate from his other bone structure.  After all but his boxers were off Sam faced me from behind the screen.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” he exhaled, his belly cascaded outward.

“Ya…” was all I could say.

Sam turned to the side and used his abdominal muscles to shake the contents of his stomach.  The mice struggled to move inside the mass of food.  Sam slapped his belly and let out another belch. 

“Anyway, thought you would like this,” he continued to rub his belly, digesting the animals inside.

“I… I did…” I mumbled.

Sam had just swallowed 5 live animals, and I was watching the process happen in real time.  It was weird, twisted, and really cool.

Generic Hamster

On my way home from work Friday I ran my usually errands.  Dry cleaning, bank, pharmacy, pet store.  I was especially excited for my last stop.  No, I wasn’t getting dog food.  I don’t own pets.   Eat too much food.

Actually, I was here for my own supply.  I walk slowly through the upscale pet department looking through the glass in the small animal section.  I only buy from clean establishments. 

The store attendant and I are very familiar with each other now, since I frequent this store nearly every other week.  I get my usual dozen “fancy mice” of various colors and sizes.  I also spot something new, something I haven’t seen before.  The black bear hamster and teddy bear hamsters, both in the same cage playing on a purple wheel attached to the aquarium’s side.  I splurge and get both.  It was a three-day weekend anyway.

Next stop is Pasta Pronto, my favorite place for moderately priced Italian takeout.  I get two pans along with some breadsticks and dipping sauce. 

When I return home I place my companions on the table and immediately go to work on the pasta in the living room.  In just 20 minutes I have finished an entire pan of tortellini and a half a pan of the penne.  My stomach feels like it’s holding a medicine ball. 

Unbuttoning my dress blue dress shirt is somewhat of a chore, but it’s worth it when I peel back my undershirt to expose the monster underneath.  My abs are now protruding out beyond recognition.  For an amateur body builder it’s an amazing feeling, being this big.  I heave myself up and grab my boxes of friends who are scurrying about inside as their world turns in circle. 

I place them onto the living room floor in a homemade playpen and watch as they explore new territory.  One decides to immediately climb the tower I’ve made out of old toilet paper rolls.  Thinking he’s the bravest of the bunch, I gently grab him by the tail and lift him into the air, coming to rest on my belly.  The sight is amazing.  This creature will soon be two or three inches lower, beneath my skin. 

I lean back and enjoy the irony of this scene; the warrior mouse exploring the bellybutton that is the nonexistent exit from my belly.  Not wanting to delay any further, I pick him up again and bring him to my eyes, where I smile.  The white flash of my teeth somewhat frightens him so I quickly take on a less offensive expression and smile slightly.  I then stick out my tongue as far as it will reach, as if extending a palms-down hand to an animal to communicate confidence.  I place the brave mouse on my tongue and breathe only threw my nose.  He turns around and sniffs the air, high above his other mates. 

Once he turns back around with his head facing my mouth, I quickly pull him inside and flick him to the back of my throat.  There’s a slight struggle and I use the back of my tongue to push him firmly down my throat until I feel him in my neck.  Using my peristaltic muscles I work him down my esophagus and into my very full belly.  There is a muffled squeal as he comes to rest on top of the cheesy pasta. 

The next one, a light brown one of medium size puts up quite a struggle even just in the air.  Wanting to ensure safety for both of us, I lift his squirming body above my head and open my mouth up as wide as I can until my jaw slightly unhinges.  This allows my throat to fully open up, pushing my tongue out so it’s not in the way.  As I let go of its tail I see its tail quickly try to regain balance before it is swallowed into a gurgling hole and transported to join his brave friend.

I grab two more and head for the bathroom, grabbing a glass of water along the way.  I place on mouse in a tall, glass cub on the vanity and prepare the other for departure.  The first mouse goes into my mouth and explores my gums and teeth with enthusiasm.  I bring my mouth so that it is directly in view of the other mouse and use my tongue to strategically move the first mouse backward.  For added effect, I make a slight roaring sound before I gulp him down with a loud slurp.  When I bring my eyes back into focus the mouse in the cup is frozen in horror. 

I grin and lift up my shirt, my hairy gut now swaying with three mice inside.

“Your friends were quite tasty,” I saw patting the top of my belly.

As I rub my stomach I feel the mice moving through the pasta trying to find a way to the surface.  The next mouse knows what is coming, so I have to be extra careful.  I fill the tall glass with water and begin to chug as the mouse attempts to out swim my drinking.  Eventually the glass becomes too slippery and the mouse is sent straight into my stomach like an oversized vitamin. 

I grow bored with mice and decide to try out my two friends in the other box.  The first hamster is black, his fur soft and silky.  He should go down amazingly. 

First I mentally prepare myself, placing the hamster on my belly and visualizing it inside.  After forming an action plan I turn to the bathroom mirror for guidance and open my mouth.  I liberally wet all areas, ensuring ample saliva for an easier transition into meal status. 

I decide to swallow him with his head facing out, and very slowly and gently place him inside my mouth, allowing ample space for him to feel secure, while also holding his front paws lightly in my fingers.  I open my throat and try to slowly let him slide backward until his lower body is halfway into my throat.  When he figures out what is going on and tries to make a run for it I quickly grip his lower body and remove my hands so that I can see what is going on.  Before me is a sight I had only imagined could happen.  A struggling animal lay halfway inside my throat, my gut sticking out ready to accept its meal. 

The hamster began to squeal and I knew it was time to stop playing with my food.  I used two fingers to push him the rest of the way through and my other hand to guide the lump through my throat and chest and into my belly.

There was a noticeable difference in activity level once the hamster joined the mix.  The poor black fuzz ball began to whine as I sat down on the toilet to rest.  All was calm for a few minutes until it decided to fight back again and began to push itself toward the outside of my stomach wall, making a noticeable “bump.” 

Before long I grew tired of the squealing and the squirming and gave my belly a few firm slaps.

“Shut up in there,” I demanded. It continued to annoy me.

I began to squish my belly from side to side using both my abdominal muscles and my bare hands (hah).  This quieted him down some. 

Janitor

The lock clicked and Pete breathed a sigh of relief.  The school was his.

Pete was the overnight assistant janitor at Prairie Middle School.  It was a lonely job, but it had its perks – little to no supervision was one of them. 

Pete usually spent the last half of his shift playing online or shooting hoops in the gym.  Luckily this school was too poor for more than a couple of working surveillance cameras. 

After finishing the floors Pete put away his mop and felt a hunger pang that instinctively made him pull out his phone and speed dial for pizza.  The great thing about pizza places is that most deliver late at night, and he had a 1 in the morning craving for 2 large, deep-dish pepperonis. 

The pizza came, Pete used his keys to grab a couple of Dr. Peppers out of the vending machine and he sat down in the lonely cafeteria for a midnight feast.  He looked around the room, imagined what it must be like when there were hundreds of middle schoolers running around.  Ya, he was glad to have the graveyard shift. 

The pizza was hot, fresh, and all that work seemed to make Pete hungrier than usual.  He finished the first pizza without issue and decided to bring the second box up to the science lab room for some late-night entertainment.  He plopped himself onto one of the black lab tables in the middle of the room and flipped on the TV.  Today’s lesson: the digestive system. 

Pete ate and watched until he got bored and decided to take a look at the class pets.  He tapped on the glass of an aquarium and out crawled a small guinea pig.  It had white and fawn-colored markings, almost looked like a caramel candy.  The nameplate on the glass cage said, “Skip.”

“Well, hello there, Skip,” Pete said, bringing his face level to the animal’s face.  Looking around to make sure there weren’t any cameras in this classroom either, Pete carefully picked up the guinea pig and carried him over to the table. 

Pete continued to eat on the second box of pizza and began watching the video again.  He brought the guinea pig to his lap and began to pet it gently.  On the screen was an illustration of a piece of food going down the esophagus and into the stomach.  As Pete swallowed a piece of pizza he began to feel the effects of his excessive meal and wondered how much had gone down his own esophagus. 

He leaned back slightly and lifted his shirt up, revealing a ball-shaped belly that stuck out from the contents pushing out inside.  He gave his stomach a soft poke and winced slightly at the pain.  The guinea pig ran nervously between Pete’s legs and Pete felt a long gurgle come from within his abdomen. 

“Aww don’t be scared buddy,” he said, placing the guinea pig on his stomach.  It’s fur was warm and soft against his skin.  Pete slowly unbuttoned his pants, allowing his belly a little more room. 

He gave his stomach a light scratch and his stomach growled again when the guinea pig moved up toward his chest.  He began to wonder if his stomach was still hungry, still wanted more.  But he wasn’t hungry for pizza.  If he wasn’t hungry for pizza, then what could possibly. . . ?

“Oh no,” he thought to himself.  “I couldn’t.”

Or could I ? He eyed Skip, who still sat astutely atop his distended middle.  Feeling curious, Pete brought the inquisitive creature to his mouth and opened wide.  He would fit inside. 

Pete gave the guinea pig a kiss and set him back on the table.  When he stood up, he looked down at the class pet with a new feeling.  Not a feeling of pity, though the guinea pig looked slightly nervous with such a tall being towering above him.  No, Pete smiled with gratitude. 

Becoming more sure of his decision, Pete removed his polo and left only his sleeveless undershirt.  His belly stuck out like a pregnant man, and he began to massage it.

“I’m not sure if you understand my reasoning for this, Skip,” Pete said staring at his stomach.  “But I want you to know that I’m appreciative.”

Pete grabbed the guinea pig firmly, but soft enough not to cause it distress, and brought it above his face.  He opened his mouth wide and closed his eyes.  He imagined what Skip must be thinking as he looked down into the giant’s mouth with a bloated belly right below.  He stuck out his wide tongue as far as he could, slowly placing Skip onto its wet surface. 

The guinea pig let began to squeal quietly and Pete opened his mouth until his jaws unhinged slightly.  Still holding onto the guinea pig, he opened his throat and breathed in deeply.  With one fluid motion Pete brought the guinea pig into his mouth and sent it straight to the back of his throat where it wriggled down his neck. 

Pete began to swallow vigorously as the large, somewhat painful lump made its way through his chest until he felt it reach his stomach. 

Panting, Pete felt the guinea pig squirm inside him just under the top portion of his abdomen.  He pulled back his white t-shirt and watched intently as the lump bumped up and down under his skin.  He lightly placed his fingers on the moving spot and let out a belch, which sent the creature into panic mode and Pete into a feeling of exasperation.  Pete fell into the chair behind him and began to massage his gut until his meal struggled itself into the lower portion of his belly.  Once he had him in the right place, Pete leaned back, moved a bit side to side and spoke his command.

“Digest this furry friend with the best of care.  Skip, you were an awesome meal.”

Part Two

After Pete’s stomach settled down, he got back to work cleaning the rest of the school.  The sheer size of his stomach made certain tasks a bit awkward to do, but he managed.

As Pete’s day ended and the rest of the world’s day began, he headed home.  His stomach had reduced to a manageable size, and it appeared as though the guinea pig was now only a memory, though a good one (in Pete’s mind anyway).

Deciding to stop for Chinese, Pete pulled into the takeout space at YenChing’s 24-Hour House of Chinese Food.  He left the restaurant with a large bag full of all of his favorites, along with a few fortune cookies just for fun.  He opened the passenger side door and placed the bag on the seat when he saw it.

Pet Warehouse – All Pet Supply Company

Pete flashed back to the moment when he finally swallowed his first guinea pig at work just 6 hours before.  Something else caught his attention.

Gerbils: $10/half dozen

“People sell gerbils in half dozen quantities?” he muttered to himself.  He decided to check it out.

The bell rang as he entered the pet store.  “Hi, may I help you?” an older gentleman working on an aquarium pump asked.

“I’m, I’m here about your gerbil special,” he said awkwardly.

“Right over there,” the man motioned with his free hand.

Pete nodded and walked in the direction the man had pointed, until he found a series of small, metal stock tanks filled with various colors of hamster-like animals.  Pete had never had gerbils before, but he was intrigued by the idea of trying something new, something smaller anyway.  Last night was awesome, but a bit exhausting. 

Pete heard the man approach from behind. 

“You lookin’ to buy some gerbils, are ya?” he managd a half smile.

“Ya, I think so.” Pete said, scratching his head.  He went on to make up a lie about his girlfriends’ gerbil collection and her already having plenty of gerbil cages, that a cardboard box would be fine.  The clerk didn’t seem to buy it, but gathered up 6 gerbils from one of the containers.  Pete learned that you should never mix gerbils from the same “clan,” because they form tight bonds and do not like rival gerbils.  Hence the half-dozen special he now understood.

Driving home, Pete heard them ruffling around inside the box, wondering if he’d made a big mistake. 

“Suppose I could always just set them free,” he thought to himself.

After arriving back to his apartment Pete nearly forgot about the pet store purchase when he smelled the heavenly aroma of Chinese food fill his nostrils.  It had been a long night, and he was starving.  He devoured more food than a typical family of 4 might consume on a given night.  Needless to say, he was stuffed again.  Being the skinny guy he was, this looked slightly awkward on his small frame.  When he lifted up his t-shirt, he smiled at the familiar sight; his stomach swollen and sticking out like a water balloon, moving ever so slightly from his pulse.

He licked the remaining soy sauce from his finger and remembered his plan for the night.  He approached the box with caution, not sure how the gerbils would react to him for the first time.  When he opened the lid, he found 6 small pairs of eyes eyeing him with curiosity, not fear like he had anticipated.

Deciding that a larger enclosure might keep them contained better, he transferred them to a large Rubbermaid tub by gently tipping the box over inside and letting them run about.  As he stood over the large green bin, he again noticed the distended belly that hung over his jeans high above the Rubbermaid party going on below.  He reached down and gently scooped the first one up with his hands and sat down on the couch behind him, bringing the gerbil to his chest.  The animal sniffed around his fingers and palms.  Pete used one hand to hold it and one to gently pet its back, noticing how slick the fur was. 

Pete’s stomach began to growl and his eyes shook slightly.  He was hungry.  Not for food, not thirsty either.  He needed to swallow.

“Sorry,” Pete muttered to the gerbil still exploring the buttons on his shirt.

He grabbed it by its tail and brought it down to eye level, noticing a slightly more agitated expression on its face.  Pete’s heart began to beat faster as he opened his mouth and brought the gerbil above his face until it came into focus.  He stuck out his tongue and gently placed the first gerbil to be swallowed on top, salivating upon feeling it inside his mouth.

Pete began to sweat and wondered what it must be like to be inside his mouth staring at the back of his throat.  He released his grip and closed his mouth when it began to scurry around the tight space beneath the roof of his mouth.  He imagined what it must be like to be in total darkness, not knowing what was to come.  Pete developed too much saliva in his mouth and tilted his head back, hoping to let the creature slide down his throat without too much effort.  No such luck. 

Pete had to swallow repeatedly and strongly, until finally the animal gave up and entered his esophagus, eventually ending up in his belly.  Pete lifted up his shirt and imagined what it must feel like to be trapped in a guy’s belly.  He rubbed his stomach and smirked. 

Pete grabbed the next gerbil two gerbils to be eaten and sat down on the couch.  Both were cooperative like their friendly predecessor.  He placed one under a small glass bowl that he lay on top of his belly.  The gerbil scurried about on his belly button, tickling his skin.   Pete lay back and brought the next gerbil in front of his face again, watching the expression of the gerbil under the bowl as he opened his mouth.  Pete again swallowed the gerbil whole and to his surprise; the gerbil under the bowl froze and stared.  The gerbil made its way through his chest and to his stomach where it began to struggle amidst the Chinese food in Pete’s belly. 

Still petrified, the gerbil remained motionless as Pete massaged his belly around the glass bowl, no doubt knowing that the gerbil above ground could hear his comrades below.  Pete eventually swallowed it too out of compassion, deciding that delaying the inevitable would just be too much. 

The next two also succumbed the same fate, until 5 animals squirmed inside.  The last one was especially precarious, and began to squeak as he tried to swallow.  Deciding that trying again later would be worse, Pete used two fingers to force it down his throat where it came to rest, still squeaking, though the sound was faint beneath his skin.  Along with sounds of the animals inside, Pete’s stomach grumbled through the digestive process.

Pete lay there all morning until his passed out, rubbing his belly until the noise stopped.

FREAK

Chapter 1 – Pizza Party

God I’m bored, I thought to myself.  I sat waiting on a giant table like Frank had told me to.  Frank was a good guy really, just doing his job.  I hated him at the same time though.  How could you do this for a living?

I got up and walked over to the pile of papers.  The print was so big it was hard to read.  Not that it mattered.  Those papers were a way for society to get rid of me, the problem kid. 

The Department of Justice and the Association for the Protection of the Digestively Impaired have partnered to bring a unique opportunity that will change your life!

Ha! Change their life?  Their life wasn’t worth living . . . freaks.  And who is the government to decide they’re so worth saving?  They don’t kill poor kids to give their pancreases away to rich diabetic kids, do they?

“No yet they don’t,” I murmured.  Well, they weren’t killing me, but they might as well be.  My life would now consist of aiding some old dude with his “digestive issues.”

Whatever.  As soon as I could figure out how to grow back to normal size I was getting’ the fuck out.  Maybe I’d go some place cool, like Arizona.  I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon before.  Or was it in New Mexico?  I never did study very hard in school.  Gram always said that was my problem; that I never studied hard enough.  Well knowing the capital of Vermont sure as hell wasn’t going to get me out of this, was it??

The door opened.  Frank walked in, that smirk he wore on his face was now a half smile since he was around a “customer.”  Behind him followed what I assumed would be the freak.  The freak with the weird ass body problem. 

“Hi,” he said to me as he smiled.  I’ll give him that he wasn’t ugly.  Late twenties or early thirties, nice jaw line, killer smile, eyes that cut through you like . . . oh what was I thinking.  He was still a freak.  I mean, he was here. 

I shot him a glare that would make baby seals cry.  This was already going to be an awkward conversation; why not make him squirm even more? 

“Ok then, I guess we’ll just get right on down to business,” Frank practically sighed as he remembered all the paperwork that had yet to be done.  Frank hated filling out paperwork.  Almost as much as he hated giving “tours.”  Who the hell wants to take a “tour” of a place like this?  It’s like taking a tour of a morgue.  Freaks . . .

“Jason this is Rick, he’ll be your assignment for the foreseeable future--”

Rick cut in, “Jason I want you to know how much I appreciate you doing this.  It means so much to me and-”

“I’m not doing this because I want to, asshole.  They’re forcing me to do this since I’m such a ‘lost cause.’”

“Jason, that’s enough,” Frank said with his ‘stern’ tone.  Frank was about as intimidating as a Wal-Mart door greeter. 

“Now your scores on the compatibility test were surprisingly good, given Jason’s very bizarre answer patterns,” Frank raised his eyebrow in my direction. 

In reality I had just bubbled in the responses so it spelled “FREAK” on the answer sheet.

“Now, Rick, Jason has undergone extensive training with our practice manikin and--”

“Wait,” Rick interjected. “You guys haven’t actually tried this before?” he said wide-eyed.

“Prepared to be the guinea pig, freak?” I said with a menacing tone in my voice.

“Shut up!” Frank finally half-yelled.  Frank didn’t yell.  I don’t think his vocal cords could even vibrate that fast. 

“Rick, this therapy is being used in thousands of cases worldwide, and has exhibited a very high success rate.”

“Are you sure?” Rick asked, glancing at me, still unsure who to believe. 

“Absolutely,” Frank said.  “Now let’s get started on these forms.”

Eventually I blocked out their conversations and amused myself by trying to decipher the graffiti scratched on the surface of the table.  I wished I’d had a paperclip so that I could finish the ‘k’ where someone had started to write the word “freak.” 

“All set?” I heard Frank ask Rick.

“I think so,” Rick sighed as he shoved the stack of brochures and instruction sheets into his briefcase.  Who carries a briefcase these days anyway?  He must be a total dweeb.

Reluctantly I stepped into the Tupperware container he had been ever so kind to line with a wash cloth.  I felt like a hamster being brought home from the pet store. 

As Rick shut the door on his SUV he leaned over and asked if I wanted to ride on the dashboard.  I continued to stare ahead at the Tupperware logo, hoping he would eventually give up and set me free in the back yard like kids do with most unwanted pets. 

Later that evening I heard him on the phone ordering pizza.  There was nothing on T.V. tonight.  Not that I would know since I wasn’t strong enough to even push the buttons on the remote.  He came back to the living room and sat on the couch.  We stared at the T.V. watching some cops show, neither of us saying a word.  Thirty long minutes later, right on time, the doorbell rang. 

Rick hopped up off the couch sending me bouncing into the air only to come crashing down between the cushions.

“Sorry about that, dude!” Rick yelled back as he ran toward the door.  He hastily paid the delivery guy and brought the pizza and Pepsi back to the living room and set it on the coffee table, eyeing it like a little kid eyes presents on Christmas Eve.

He rubbed both hands together, practically drooling when he opened the box. 

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to eat solid food?!” he squealed.

I rolled my eyes.  I had come to find out Rick had a disease that prevented his stomach from churning to food after he ate it.  He could only eat food in liquid form which greatly reduced the variety of food choices he had.

“Two large pizzas?”  I said with disbelief. 

“Ya, man.”  I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. 

“If you say so,” I continued to stare at the T.V. as some lady in go-go boots and a bad weave fought to get away from the arresting officers. 

He grabbed four slices of pizza onto a paper plate.

There is no way he can eat all that pizza, I thought to myself. 

He pulled off his hoodie and threw it behind the couch, leaving just the wife beater t-shirt underneath.  Rick kind of had a beer belly that poked out under the white shirt, but was pretty built too.  I was sort of jealous as I looked down at my scrawny frame. 

Not bad arms or chest either.  I wonder why he doesn’t have a girlfriend?  Must be his freaky condition, I rolled my eyes.

Rick began to eat the first piece, cheese dripping down his mouth.  He shoved the whole piece inside his mouth and practically swallowed it whole.  He coughed as the half-chewed piece went down his throat. 
“Easy there, granny.  Don’t get too excited with your first bite,” I said as he pounded on his chest.  “I’m good,” he said, still coughing up cheese bits.

After a while I became less and less interested in the bimbos on T.V. and more amazed at how fast Rick was cramming this pizza.  He was already done with the first pie and didn’t show any signs of slowing down.  Half way through the second pizza I stopped watching the television all together and stared in awe as Rick’s stomach began to expand from the ball of pizza inside.  Eventually he gave up on the buckle and jeans and let his stomach have the full amount of real estate.  As he unzipped his pants he let out a moan that sounded both pleasurable and painful at the same time.  He slowly rubbed his white t-shirt, now covered in pizza sauce. 

At some point he remembered that I was still there and repositioned himself. 

The last piece seemed harder for him to take in.  He set it on top of his stomach and stared at it for a while, as if imagining it being about 3 inches lower.  With a smile he lifted the piece up to his mouth and stuffed it inside using both hands.  After a big swig of Pepsi he sent it down in one big gulp until it came to rest with the rest of the mass of food. 

At this point my jaw was hanging in the air and I didn’t even try to not make it obvious I was staring.  Realizing he had a show, Rick stood up and lifted the two liter of Pepsi above his head.  Methodically he sucked down the remaining liquid, one hand on his stomach.  He stared at me, eyes drunk with fullness and let out a long, satisfying belch, slapping his stomach afterward. 

He waddled toward me and sat back on the couch. 

“Now what?” he said with a grin. 

I didn’t even know what to say.  “Uh..uh..um well-”

“Don’t I swallow you now?” he asked me, blinking.

“Well, maybe we should check the manual,” I said as I started to get up.

“No I think that’s what happens now.  If I don’t get you in there soon my stomach will start to cramp up.”

Again I stared at his extended t-shirt.  Smiling, he lifted up his shirt exposing his gut underneath.  The muscle remained on the outside but the belly button was stretched from the strain.  He ran his finger along the small amount of hair. 

“Ok, well I don’t think we should delay any longer,” he said, giving me a hopeful look. 

He reached over and put his hand out for me.  I was frozen. 

His big fingers reached behind me and grabbed the scruff of my t-shirt and lifted me slowly into the air.  The room was spinning and then all of a sudden I was in front of his face, those giant, blue eyes staring right back at me.  He opened his mouth and inside I could see a giant wet tongue, motionless between teeth so white they could have been on a Colgate commercial.  As he placed me inside I was hit by wall of hot, moist air.  His tongue came to life as I was placed on the tip.  He sat there, eyes darting around, not sure what to do.  He tried to speak but I couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.  Besides, my eyes were fixated on the giant black hole at the back of his throat.  This was nothing like the manikin at the clinic. 

Not sure what to do, Rick closed his mouth, careful not to crush me between as teeth.  As I sat up, I felt the rough surface of the roof of his mouth and reality set in.

HOLY FUCK, I began to panic.  I was inside a guy’s mouth!  And he was about to swallow me!  I had to get out of here.

As I began pounding on his teeth and yelling for him to let me out, I felt him tip his head back and push me towards the darkness with his tongue.  His mouth filled with saliva and I began to slide backward, trying desperately to find something to grasp onto.  As he felt me sliding backwards, he lifted his tongue up, making me slide even faster.  His tongue was hot, and I could feel the blood pulsating quickly underneath.  He was as scared as I was. 

When I reached the uvula I felt my body being dragged down into his esophagus and with one last desperate attempt to break free, I was completely engulfed into darkness and sent downward.

Rick took a long, deep breath.  He felt the small, hard mass traveling through his chest and winced at the slight pain.  Eventually he felt a plop inside of him and realized that I had finally reached his stomach.  Confused and still throbbing in pain from the large amount of food that sat motionless within him, he started to tap on his belly, unsure what to do. 

“Who’s there?” I said sarcastically.

Relieved, Rick smiled and shut off the T.V. so he could hear me better.

“How as the ride?”

“Oh it was great.  Would be a total hit in Disney World.”

“Great.  So, are you gonna get started?”

“Yes, master.” I yelled toward what I thought was his abdomen, but could have been his back for all I knew. 

As I began to go to work churning up the pizza, Rick started to feel better and stood up to admire his now protruding gut.  He lifted up the white t-shirt and tightened his abs around the ball of food. 

“Hey you idiot! I’m still in here!”

“Sorry, man.” He said half giggling.

“I can tell you’re laughing.  I can feel it, remember?”

“Oh yeah, sorry,” he said, still grinning.

After letting his abs loosen, I felt him stretch his back, trying to poke his stomach out in front of the stainless steel door of the fridge.  He put his arms behind his head and began to shake his stomach, watching it jiggle back and forth.

Thinking that the hot tub might not be a bad way to end the night, Rick climbed the steps, careful not to lean over too far so as not to crush me.  After several failed attempts to remove his jeans, he descended into the warm water, clothes and all, feeling the water give relief to his heavy stomach.

“Jason?” Rick spoke to his abdomen.  I pounded on the side of his stomach in acknowledgement.

“That was the best meal ever.  Thank you.”

I didn’t know what to say.  On one hand I felt really happy for the guy.  He’d been eating tomato soup and applesauce for so long it was hard to blame him for going to the extremes to find a solution.  On the other hand I was stuck inside some dude’s stomach, while he enjoyed the cool night air and a hot tub.  Freak . . .

Chapter 2 - Oops

Later that evening after I had finally finished processing all that freakin’ pizza, I began pounded on Rick’s stomach walls. 

“Rick God damn it I know you can hear me!”

At some point Rick woke up from after feeling an itch inside his belly he couldn’t quite reach. 

“Ohhh! Sorry about that man! I forgot you were in there! So, uh, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know Rick. Why don’t you consult the manual?”

Ignoring my sarcasm, Rick heaved himself up out of the hot tub and made his way inside, looking back to see the neighbor kid peering out the blinds.

Rick began going through the instruction booklets Frank had given him earlier that day.

Upon completion of the manual digestion process, proceed to letting subject out of stomach by way of induced vomiting.

Rick stared at the page for a few moments.  “Induced vomiting?” he mumbled.

“That’s right!” I yelled toward the outside world.  “You have to THROW ME UP! Not so enjoyable now, is it?” I felt Rick give a disapproving sigh that radiated throughout his body.  Rick walked slowly over to the sink and began to put his fingers to the back of his mouth, stopping half way. 

“I don’t wanna lose all the food,” he yelled, feeling quite strange to be talking to his stomach.

I tried to tell him he had no other choice but I don’t think he heard me. 

I felt my whole world shake as he attempted to throw up.  After a few moments, Rick sat down on the kitchen stool, feeling less hopeful and contemplating calling Frank for advice.

Rick tried to think of something that made him queasy but he couldn’t think of anything good enough.  Then it hit him.  Having sex with his ex girlfriend for the first time.  That thought sent Rick running over to the bowl in the sink and before I knew it, I was being forced out of his stomach and into the bright light.  I hit the small amount of water in the bowl and looked up to see a half sick Rick standing over me. 

“You okay?” he said as vomit continued to drip out of his mouth.

“Peachy.” I said standing up out of the saliva.  Rick turned on the water so that a light stream trickled from faucet.  The water was cold but after a few minutes I felt decently clean. 

Rick handed me small strips of paper towels to dry off with.  It felt like trying to sop up a spill with a giant piece of paper. 

I stared at Rick’s stomach which had somewhat gone down in size over the past couple of hours.  Realizing what I was staring at, he grabbed the t-shirt and put it on, mumbling something about not knowing whether it was worth it or not.

Sleeping arrangements were meager. The feeling of being like a hamster came back when Rick eased me into a Kleenex box he had lined with cotton balls. 

“Night,” Rick whispered as he turned over on his side.

Then I began to realize I hadn’t eaten all day.  Rick had offered me some frozen pizza from the fridge (he was seriously all about this pizza deal), but pizza was the last thing I craved after that evening. 

The next morning I woke up before he did, sitting motionless upon my giant mound of organic fuzz that was to be my dormitory for the time being.  When he finally woke up, he rolled over, stretched, and looked in my direction, smiling from ear to ear. 

Thinking that I might not be as much of a morning person, he got up without saying a word and went into the bathroom.  Hearing the toilet flush twice, I knew I had done my job correctly. 

Rick exited the bathroom, whistling and slipping on his house shoes as he walked over to my box of rodent fluff.  Instead of risking crushing me in his hands, he grabbed the whole tissue box and spun around toward the kitchen – my favorite room of the house.

Rick opted to leave me out of his digestive system until at least lunch time, for which I was extremely grateful.  Rick fixed me crushed pieces of corn flakes and a thimble of grapefruit juice. 

“Breakfast in bed,” I said as he handed me the small vessel of liquid.  “How lovely.”

Ignoring my cynicism, Rick began to read the paper and drink his disgusting -looking shake. 

“Gotta go to work today,” he said as he winced from the foul-tasting drink.

Rick worked at an architect firm.  He mainly designed new housing developments but sometimes they got a big project when other firms had their hands full.

“What do your conpadres at the office think of your newfound regimen?”

“I haven’t told them.  Don’t think I will.  Not so sure it’s as sweet a story as telling people you’ve just adopted an orphan from Africa.”

“And they never ask about your lack of eating solid food?”

“Oh I eat.  But I pay for it later,” he complained. “I always hated having to purge food from a five star restaurant.  It just doesn’t seem right.”

I sort of felt sorry for him.  I could only imagine what it would be like to not be able to do something so basic. 

“But now that I have you…” he said with a sly grin.

“That’s me, the eating disorder cure-all,” I said with an exaggerated sigh.

Riding to work was a much bumpier ride than I had remembered it being the day before.  I no longer had my snuggle-box shock absorber and instead was upgraded to the dirty cup holder.  After experiencing near g-forces at every stoplight, Rick moved me into his shirt pocket as we prepared to land at home base, Young and Bradford Architects and Designs. 

“Ok, quiet time for now,” he mumbled.

Through the fabric of Rick’s shirt I could make out other figures dressed in the same cheap-ass suits Rick was wearing.  I heard his heart began to beat slightly faster as he approached another colleague and shook his hand.

“Hey, Rick.  How was the weekend?”

“Great!” Rick said with a little too much enthusiasm, still nervous about me suddenly exposing his secret.  “Well, back to the grind!” he said in a high pitched voice.

He made his way through a sea of cubicles into an office near the back of the building. 

“An office with a door?  Nice.” I said as he closed the door.

“Be quiet!” he hushed as he took a seat behind his desk. 

I began to entertain myself by slowly dismantling the fibers of a weak point in the fabric of his shirt.  Eventually I was able to see out enough to make out the giant graphics on his computer screen, not that there was much worth watching.  Rick’s eyes moved back and forth between the black and white plans on his desk and the CAD program on his screen for what seemed like an eternity.

Around 11 a.m. Rick shifted his weight and I heard noises coming from his stomach.  Rick looked down at me, chuckled slightly, and began to type another email.  At noon employees began to hustle toward the door and Rick followed suit. 

When we got into the car and Rick had shut the door he removed me from his pocket and placed me on the center console.

“Finally!” I exclaimed, happy to be out of my clothing tomb.

“What are we doing for lunch?” I asked, not exactly satisfied from that morning’s flake dust. 

“You like Chinese?” Rick looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure.” Rick placed me back into his shirt pocket, but this time I was able to peer out the top and watch as we pulled out the parking lot.  Seeing where we were going made me a lot less dizzy. 

We approached a restaurant with a sign featuring a dragon and the name “Tsu Chang All-You-Can-Eat Chinese Buffet.”

Rick sat down at a booth and began going over the menu.  After telling the waitress he’d just be having the buffet that day Rick moved quickly toward the line of steaming food.  Not wanting to stand out, Rick only put food on the two plates he could carry.

He began to quickly dig into the chicken, not even stopping to chew.  I felt every lump as he practically pushed every piece down his throat.  I was nearly crushed as he pounded his chest to break free some crab ran goons that became lodged in his esophagus.  Eight plates and 4 tall glasses of Dr. Pepper later, Rick shoved the table toward the other side of the booth to make room for his distended middle.  He lifted the last glass of soda to his lips and finished off the remaining liquid. 

He slowly heaved himself up from and steadied himself on the table.  Trying to walk as normal as possible Rick finally reached the one-room bathroom and locked the door behind him.  “Fuuuck,” rick moaned as he leaned his back against the wall. 

Thankfully this was a single stall bathroom or he may have caused a small scene.  Rick removed me from his pocket and placed me on the sink.  He then began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a very swollen belly.  Unable to unbutton his pants, Rick sucked in slightly, wincing from the pain, just long enough until he could break the button free and let his gut finally fall out into the cold air.  Rick breathed heavily for a few moments and began to run his finger over his stomach. 

“It’s so huge,” he said, admiring himself in the mirror.  He began to rub his belly, pushing the food from one side to the other as strange squirting noises came from within. 

Hardly having the energy to speak, Rick looked in my direction, eyes dead, pointed to me, and then at his stomach.

“Let’s go,” he said calmly as he walked towards me. 

Breaking free from the hypnotic state I had fallen into while watching him, I ran to the edge of the sink, preparing to jump ship, not yet ready to be in that monstrous gut of his. 

Rick grabbed me and held me firmly within his fingers.  He lifted me above his mouth and placed me on his tongue.  He began to coat me with saliva, hoping that I would go down easier, resorting to gulping water from the sink in an attempt to send me downward.  Unable to persuade me otherwise, he began to swallow as hard as he could again and again until I grew tired from gripping the side of his gums.  As a last effort, Rick pulled me from his mouth, covered in saliva, and stuck out his tongue, opening the back of his throat as much as possible before plopping me straight into his esophagus where he easily send me sliding down slowly into his now huge belly. 

Rick smiled at himself in the mirror and began to admire his new shape.  He wobbled over to the toilet and leaned back as his gut fell on top of his legs, observing the slight movement beneath his skin as I struggled to move within the mass of food. 

He then let out a massive belch that echoed in the small room and shook my entire pitch black world.  He padded the top of his belly and poked the sides as I attempted to find a steady place to work. 

After paying the wide-eyed cashier Rick began to apologize to me (still inside) for having to force me down.  “Dude, I’m sorry that you don’t like your job, but if it’s any consolation I just want you to know that I love the feeling of you inside my stomach.  It’s pretty powerful, man.”

Ignoring his pleas for forgiveness, I continued to break down the endless amount of food he had consumed.  Around 3 ‘o clock I had finally finished and Rick’s stomach started to move the food toward the intestines, which was my cue to get the hell out of there.  I began to pound on the side of his stomach, wondering why he hadn’t get gone to the bathroom to set me free. 

Then my heart stopped.  I heard snoring.  Rick had fallen asleep at his desk, no doubt thanks to the giant meal mixed with boring office politics and frequent trips to the water fountain to keep up his distended stomach, which surprisingly was not all that noticeable under his sport coat. 

I began to pound harder, starting to panic as I remembered what Frank had told me what would happen if I was not purged prior to digestion. 

Slowly the mound of food began to funnel into the small intestine and I felt his stomach contract as it attempted to push me in as well. 

Thirty minutes later Rick woke up from his nap and looked at the clock.

“Holy. Shit.” He whispered as he looked at his stomach, remembering what the handbook had said about falling asleep after eating.  He walked quickly, nearly sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. 

“Jason? Jason? Are you okay?” He said, his voice trembling.

“I’m fine,” he managed to hear as I yelled through the many layers of intestine I was now in the middle of. 

Rick leaned back on the pot with a sigh of relief, beginning to unbutton his pants.  Not sure what to do at this point (this scenario wasn’t even considered in the handbook) Rick pulled down his pants, ready to let nature take its course.  Although he was still very worried about my safety, he couldn’t help but admire how his lower stomach had now bulged out as well from the large amount of matter inside. 

At some point that afternoon, it happened. 

After countless apologies, much washing in the sink and a surprisingly refreshing experience with the air dryer, it was nearly 6 p.m. and everyone had left the office. 

“That will not happen again,” Rick said as we again got into his car. 

Chapter 3 –

That evening was much less eventful and by the time our favorite cops show came on, Rick’s stomach had reduced back to a normal size.  Wanting to lie down, he picked me up and gently set me on top of his chest.  As I lay I down I feel the heat emanating from his body and his heart thud rhythmically.  As I drifted off to sleep I heard Rick’s stomach growl from the lack of a meal since lunch time.

“I think it knows you’re near,” Rick smiled, pointing to his stomach.

Early the next morning both of us were woken up by the sound of Rick’s roaring stomach.  He sucked in; revealing a large cavity, then suddenly sent me into the air as he pushed up his stomach muscles all at once.

“Good morning!” he said as I came back down.

Slowly I scaled the side of his abdomen until I reached the couch. 

“What do you say about pancakes this morning?” he asked in the same tone a child does when begging to go out for ice cream.

“Sure…” I said, quickly remembering my role during meal time.

Rick began to measure out the necessary ingredients, starting with an entire box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix.  Couldn’t he just eat normally? Just for once?  Did he always have to pig out?  There was no way I could finish even a fourth of one, let alone half of what he was whipping together right now.

“It’s been FOREVER since I’ve been able to have pancakes,” Rick smiled in my direction.

Then I remembered.  Rick had been eating so much because he had never been able to.  Well, almost never.  The problem started when Rick was 22 and took some prescription drugs that had some pretty severe side effects, including inhibiting the first process of digestion where the stomach breaks down food. 

After placing the last cake on his towering pile, Rick sat down in the chair which creaked, almost as if it were moaning, knowing that things were only going to get heavier.  He began to douse them with melted butter and syrup, which actually smelled really good. 

Then, the eating began.  Rick didn’t even bother cutting them up.  One by one, sometimes two by two the pancakes were shoved into his mouth before they quickly disappeared along with a few swigs of milk or orange juice.  Half way through the pile Rick stopped and attempted to carry on a conversation, as if he wanted to somehow normalize his behavior.

“So, what exactly got you into so much trouble,” he asked, coughing up a piece of hotcake. 

“What?” I asked, trying to deflect where I saw this conversation was going.

“You know, what did you do that was so bad you were put into this program?”  He stared at me blankly, glancing down at his heaving stomach.

“Well, I stole some things,” I lied.

“Ah, ok.” He didn’t believe me.  He went for another bite, now cutting them up into pieces so as not to choke again.  Only one piece remained on the plate, and Rick grimaced as he rubbed the side of his stomach, still slightly hidden by his undershirt.  He pierced the last piece with his fork and brought it slowly to his mouth, hands trembling.  He held it in his mouth, unsure if he could get it down.  Rick used the last of his milk glasses to finally send to piece easily down his throat where it topped off an already very full belly. 

Not saying anything, Rick fell over onto the kitchen floor and lay motionless.

“Rick? Are you okay?” I was worried he might get sick.  That was definitely not part of the job description.

Afraid he might actually be ill, I jumped down off the table and ran over to him. 

“Rick?” I asked softly.  His eyes were still closed.  I breathed a sigh of relief as he rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes.  He didn’t say anything, only opened his gaping mouth wide and lifting his shirt, revealing his bloated paunch.  I’m not exactly sure why, but I walked slowly toward his mouth, which smelled of sweet maple syrup.  The hot air from his breath hit me like a wall of fire, but I continued to crawl inside as he sealed my fate by closing his mouth.  Gravity shifted as Rick rolled over onto his back, rubbing his stomach and moaning. 

At that point I felt truly sorry for Rick.  I wasn’t just doing this because I had to, I was doing it because I wanted to help him.  I wanted him to feel better.  Shaking off the pain, he began to concentrate his efforts on opening up his throat muscles. 

I slowly began to slide backwards towards the darkness as his tongue gently helped me along.  I became enveloped inside his throat and slid down methodically through his chest, eventually landing in his abdomen. 

After confidentially knowing I had reached my destination, Rick hoisted himself up off the cool kitchen floor, cringing from the strain the new weight put on his back.  He walked unsteadily to the bathroom where he looked proudly into the mirror.  He slapped his stomach which threw me off balance as I made an audible yelp.

“Sorry, dude.” Rick spoke to his stomach.

I heard the shower creak on as Rick removed his clothing.  He let the warm water trickle down his belly as it warmed the environment around me.  The soap glided of his stomach which was so tender it hurt even when he barely touched it.  At the same time it was exhilarating for Rick, knowing that he had consumed such a large meal made him feel like a lion that had finally caught his first gazelle.  But that gazelle was now squirming inside of him, which was even more erotic as it made Rick feel like a man again.  There was someone inside his stomach – alive.  He couldn’t get over the image of me struggling within his belly. 

After a relaxing shower Rick pulled on a warm towel and sat down in the living room.  He wasn’t a fat guy by any means, but all of this food sent his stomach over the crease in the towel making him look like he had a serious beer belly.  Using a kitchen timer this time, Rick stayed awake long enough to let me back out.

“You’re amazing,” he said as I dried off.

“Thanks,” I said, actually smiling for the first time since the whole ordeal.  Maybe this job wouldn’t be as horrible as I had thought. 

 

The next few days were great.  Rick ate, I processed, and we had a pretty good time.  Rick usually skipped breakfast or lunch to give me a break in the day too, which he wasn’t really required to do.  We were getting along like real friends.

Rick came home from the grocery store, which was like Christmas every week for Rick, whose shopping list had been fairly limited prior to my arrival. 

“What do you think about lasagna for dinner tonight?” he yelled from the kitchen while putting things away.

“Sounds good,” I said, trying to make out the large print in a Time Magazine.

“I got two,” Rick said, grinning and holding the boxed meals up for me to see.

I nodded my head.

“They’re both for tonight!” he said, excited.

“No way,” I said, not looking up from the page.

“Oh come on!” he begged like a little kid.

I ignored him. 

Rick preheated the oven anyway and removed both pans of past from the boxes.

“You’re not eating both those boxes,” I told him sternly.

Rick just smiled.  “We’ll see.”

The aroma of lasagna cooking soon filled the house and Rick’s stomach growled loudly next to me on the couch.

When the timer went off, Rick jumped up from the couch, sending me into the air as he rushed toward the kitchen. 

He pulled both steaming pans out of the oven and set them on the kitchen table.  Deciding I shouldn’t miss this event, I climbed up on the kitchen table and sat cross legged across from him.

Rick poured himself a large glass of milk, leaving the jug on the table for easy refills.

He rubbed his hands together and went to work.

It was amazing to watch him eat.  Serving after serving disappeared from the pan along with the occasional piece of bread or swig of cold milk. 

The first pan (which was supposed to serve a family of 4, mind you) vanished within minutes, but he seemed to have some trouble with the second. 

He leaned back and moaned.

“I told you not to cook more than one.  You’re going to waste food now.”

Rick gave me a dazed look, then leaned forward and began to cut the remaining amount into smaller pieces. 

15 minutes passed and there was only one serving left.  Rick was shaking now, and his fork trembled as he attempted to force the last bit into his mouth.

“You just need to stop,” I said, hoping he’d come to his senses.

But my cynicism seemed to give him the last bit of willpower needed to consume the last portion.

After swallowing the last bite, Rick dropped his fork and let his arms fall beside him.

He groaned loudly and made the same face you make when you a bright light is shone into your eyes in the middle of the night. 

“I did hit,” he heaved.  “It’s all gone.”

Why did he do this to himself?  He knew he was going to be miserable.  I’ll never understand why he continues to torture himself with so much food when he can be perfectly satisfied with a normal amount. 

Rick used both hands on the table to support himself as he stood up.  His dress shirt was riding up and his jeans looked as though they would explode if he moved too fast.

After trying for almost a minute to undue the button on his pants the poor piece of metal finally gave up and broke off the fabric, shooting across the room like a rocket and landing underneath the refrigerator.

Rick smiled slightly and let the zipper come undone, which made some room for all the extra weight fighting against gravity.  He pulled his shirt over his head and sighed as his now distended gut fell into place.  He leaned his back against the kitchen counter and began to rub his hand along his full belly.

“You’re crazy,” I said, still sitting on the table, feeling like a fly on the wall.

“Yeah,” was all he said, still in awe of his own shape.

Ricked eyed himself in the reflection on the stainless steel refrigerator door, standing in more poses than the girls on America’s Next Top Model. 

“Well, you ready?” he asked softly.

“Ya I think I’ll pass tonight,” I said flatly. 

Rick chuckled and walked toward me.

“No seriously,” I said, backing toward the edge of the table.  “You need to throw some of that stuff up before I go in there.”
“Not a chance,” he said, rolling his eyes.

As I made an attempt to leap of the table he gently caught me between his hand and brought me level with his face.

His eyes were so blue.  They stood out among the scruffiness of the rest of his face.  I looked over the side of his fingers and watched as his stomach swayed slowly from side to side. 

Rick, seeing that I really didn’t want to do this at the moment, sat me down on the table. 

He pulled up the chair and leaned back, letting his stomach hang between his legs.  He eyed me lazily and winced as his belly started to contract.  If Rick didn’t do something soon, the cramps would get worse, much worse. 

“You know something,” he said as he looked out the window.  “I know I’m being unreasonable.”

My face contorted with confusion.

“That’s right, I know that making you go down there every night is ridiculous.  It’s crazy.  It just isn’t right.”

Ok, we’re agreeing on one thing, I thought to myself.

“But you know what else is ridiculous?  The fact that I can’t eat what I want anymore just because of some pharmaceutical company’s dumbass mistake.  And now I can’t eat without some sort of help?  Now THAT’S unreasonable.”

Oh boy, here come the tears.

“So I’ll ask you for your permission.  Will you please let me swallow you?”

I sighed.  “Fine, but we can’t do this this often.  You’re wearing me out.”

Rick just smiled.  He didn’t hear anything after fine.

He plucked me off the table, and to my surprise, didn’t immediately pop me into his mouth like an everlasting gobstopper.  Instead he laid me onto his stomach which no formed a kind of semi-horizontal shelf off of his abdomen.  Beneath his skin I could hear his belly moaning, groaning, pancakes squirming and mixing.  Poor flap jacks never saw it comin’.