Regina

“Why do you want to be swallowed?”

Regina looks up at you from your lap. She’s stretched across the couch, her bronze tail draped across the cushions, torso propped against your leg. When you don’t respond, she strokes your jaw.

“Is it because you want to be inside of me?”

Her smirk makes your heart skitter. She knows how to tease you. The warmth of her body; the heat of her breath on your neck. The small changes in pressure as she folds her hands behind her head, letting her knuckles rest against your crotch.

Her stomach is empty now. It isn’t always, but for now it is flat and tan and rumbling gently against the pillows.

“Because, if you want to be inside of me, all you have to do is ask.”

Regina waits for your cheeks to turn red before giving you a wink. You don’t know why you bother to get embarrassed anymore. Your lamia roommate knows everything about you. She can smell the changes in your hormones. Your secret desires are an open book to Regina; one that she reads with great interest and attention to details.

She’s wearing an apron. Her breasts are splayed out, too large to be contained to her chest, drooping off of her ribcage to wobble against your legs. Her serpentine tail is slightly curved, hiding the soft, pink opening she usually refers to when she teases you about being inside of her.

You’ve had sex before. It was always pleasant. But that’s not what she’s teasing you about now.

“Was it because of the watermelon?” she asks. Her hands trace the invisible curves of the fruit in her stomach, recalling the shapes they made as she swallowed them whole. “The cantaloupe? The mailman?”

Some change in temperature lets her know that she’s nailed it. You turn your head so that you don’t have to see her smile, but she rises languidly from your lap and cups your face in her hands, forcing you to look.

The skin of her face glistens pink where she's burned. It covers one eye, one cheek, half-hidden beneath the strand of brown hair. The burn does not detract from her beauty—you’re not convinced that anything can—but you know that she’s insecure about it and the circumstances that surround it.

But that’s not where your eyes go when she turns you toward her.

Her lips are plump and red and erotic. You know from experience that she tastes like caramel; her lips and her tongue, as sweet as can be.

“I’ve got you thinking now,” Regina says. “Thinking about my stomach.”

She strokes it.

“Thinking about being inside of it.”

Her fingers rub circles around the skin.

“How hot and wet and humid it would be if I were just to… gulp you down.”

She emphasizes the point by gulping in your ear. Your shudder sends goosebumps down your arms; your legs locking, core tightening, fingers flexing as you try to hide your obvious arousal.

Regina stays by your ear and does it again. A simple gulp. A sound she’s made a thousand times. But you remember watching the bulge of the mailman sliding down that slender throat of hers, passing between her enormous breasts, gliding into her belly like water into a cup until she was filled with him.

And you wished it was you.

In the fading sunlight, the golden hour, Regina’s scales shimmer across the cushions. Slowly, her coils are making their way toward you, as they do when she wishes to wrap you up and pin you to the couch or the bed. You catch a glimpse of her arousal as she swallows a third time, exaggerating the movement. She drags a finger over her throat, past her breasts, and comes to a halt on her stomach.

“Did you find it hot when I swallowed him?” Regina asks.

You nod.

There’s no point in lying.

“Did you find it hot when I rubbed my big, fat belly?”

You nod again.

“He was delicious, you know,” Regina purrs. She kisses your neck, taking her time with you. She can feel your arousal now.

Taste it.

“But I bet you’ll be even better.”

Another full-bodied shudder satisfies her enough to ease back, tilting her head to get a better look at her meal.

“You’re just the right size,” she muses. “The right size to fit in my stomach.” Her hands spread over her belly, giving it a squeeze. “Not too big, not too small, but juuuuust right. And you already know that I love how you taste.” Your blush deepens. “Because I just can’t get enough of you. I’ve often thought about letting you go… deeper, but I had to be sure.”

Your eyes widen. She doesn’t mean…

Her laugh is raspy and cute.

“Yes,” she says, pushing her hair away from her face. “The mailman was a test. I’ve often caught you looking at my tummy, watching me eat. I thought you might just be a pervert, but I hoped it was something else. So I bought those watermelons. You should have seen the look on your face. But maybe that was just food, right? I had to be sure.”

She nibbles your ear and you squirm.

“Do you know how wide a lamia can open her jaws?”

You do, but you shake your head anyway. Regina puts a hand on your crotch and snorts.

“Of course you do! You saw what I did to that mailman. His head didn’t even touch my cheeks before he was in my throat, but I’ll bet you’re going to want the full experience. You want me to suck on you before sending you down into my stomach? Hmm?”

This time she doesn’t wait for confirmation. She opens her mouth in front of your nose and holds you there until you’re squirming.

“Silly thing,” she whispers as your chest warms through. Her lips trail from your ear to your collarbone. “You know it’s a one-way trip, right? Once I swallow you, you’re just like the rest of my food. It took me days to digest that mailman, you know. Of course you know. You watched the whole thing.”

She lets the words linger in the air for a moment. Her tail slides behind your back, arching your spine toward her.

“Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?”

She kisses you.

“Are you sure you want to give yourself to this stomach.”

She kisses you again, deeper, the honied taste of her lips leaving you faint with arousal as she continues to coil around you.

“Are you sure you want me to swallow you? To digest you?”

A flurry of kisses, one after another. She flings her arms around your shoulders and presses her chest to yours, pushing you back into her coils as you make out. The heat of her body only grows with her longing. Her scales shimmer in the sunlight wafting in through the window. Her arousal leaves a stain on your leg as you break apart.

A string of saliva connects you.

“I’m going to eat you now,” Regina says, her eyes flashing.

She takes hold of your shoulders.

“I am going to eat you up.”

Her coils pin your arms.

“I am going to gulp you down.”

She swallows.

“Play with you.”

She rubs your crotch.

“And then I am going to turn you into tit fat. Whenever I fondle myself, I will remember that cute roommate that I had who actually wanted to be eaten. You do want to be eaten, right?”

You nod. Your cheeks are bright red and your chest is tight and your heart feels like it’s about to explode, but you nod with such enthusiasm that you almost headbutt Regina, only stopping when she squeezes you in her coils.

“Eager thing,” she says with a smile. “I guess it’s time, then. You’re my dinner.”

Her mouth yawns open, those sweet lips framing your face, then spreading past it, tickling your ears as her tongue rises to press against your face.

“Mmm,” she says, releasing you with a pop. “You do taste good.”

There’s a glint in her sapphire eyes. You have one final chance to pull away; to tell her that you’re not interested. Are you really going to allow her to digest you to satisfy a fetish? Are you really going to let her slowly melt you into tit fat just because it might grant you the biggest orgasm of your life?

“That’s right,” Regina murmurs as you lay your head back on her tongue. “I knew that you’d go down easy.”

She slides you into her gullet, pulling you with her coils to lodge you against the jiggling, pink creases. Humid air rises from below. It smells like Regina, like her breath, her kisses, but it also carries the sour odor of her stomach, visceral and real. You shudder as she glazes you in a slow exhale, her tongue flattening to allow your neck to be pulled in. Your forehead sticks in her throat for a second. You can still see the golden sunset past her teeth. But then she tilts her head and groans, lifting you with her coils to slide you down into her gullet, past her chest, past her heavy, pendulous breasts and into the warmth of her body.

The descent is a rush. Regina is moaning, gulping in eager, heavy intakes; her throat spreading and snapping around your shoulders and arms. She's putting on a show for you. You’re the main course and she can’t get enough.

“So good,” she murmurs past your legs as your face breaks through the knot of her stomach. Liquid bubbles beneath you, rising in fumes to paint your brow as you’re dipped into her gut. “So, so good.”

Blood rushes to your ears as she arches her spine, extending her body and yours while she stretches. Your feet are still in her mouth, playfully being passed from cheek to cheek until, with a gulp, she swallows them as well, groaning as her stomach splays out into her coils. The tension in her body releases, allowing you both to sag. You finish curling up into a ball as she hugs you, feeling her hands trace you through her belly.

“I’m sorry that I swallowed you so fast,” she says.

UUuuuRP!

“I couldn’t help myself.”

She licks her lips loudly, smacking them as she relaxes her gut. You find yourself sliding forward, occupying the new space as she bats you between her hands, jiggling you in her lap.

“How do you like it in there?” she asks. “Better than you hoped?”

For a second, your senses are overwhelmed. There’s so much heat and noise and texture to process! Every movement is accompanied by the damp sliding of muscles, the wet shuk of liquid being released, your body squelching in the puddle of pulsing goo. Every sigh is amplified; every moan, every breath, every wiggle of the hips. Her stomach clenches around you, folding your body into new and strange patterns, claiming it as you come to the realization that here, inside of Regina, you truly are helpless to do anything but melt.

Regina chuckles as you rub yourself against her walls, a slave to your lust. She gives you a hand, pressing her palm deep into her belly for you to hump. Indeed, her other hand has already disappeared into her slit.

“Wriggle for me,” she says, and you comply.

You thrash against the walls for a minute. The pleasure is immense; the heat of her body the perfect vessel as you rub against her, thrusting into her fist. You cum against her, shuddering, shaking, your movements mirroring that of her normal prey, and she constricts around you, aroused by your struggles—impotent as they are after fighting the heavy muscles that surround you.

“Is that it?” she asks as you go limp, then laughs as you give her an irritated slap, squeezing you with both of her arms and her tail until you’re inert. “You did so well! Most of my prey doesn’t even last a minute. And that’s what you are, right? My prey?”

She’s giddy now, punch drunk from her success. She probably didn’t expect you to go through with it, but here you are, trapped in her stomach, completely at her mercy.

“What should we do now?” she asks. “Snuggle? Watch a movie? You’re kind of heavy. Maybe I should—”

SPLORCH!

She leans forward and buries you in the cushions. Her weight presses you down into her gut, her hips moving incessantly against your spine.

“Aaaah, yeah, that’s the spot! You always did like to be the little spoon. I could lie like this for hours, but it seems like you’re eager to keep moving! Hold on for a second while I get my phone.”

You grunt as she reaches forward, fumbling for her phone on the table next to the couch. When she gets it, she rolls back, allowing you some wiggle room as you hear a click, then a giggle, then another click.

She’s… taking pictures of you.

“To remember you by,” she says.

CLICK!

“Wouldn’t want to forget my favorite roomie!”

CLICK CLICK!

Once she’s done with the pictures, she slides you off of the couch. For a second, you wobble in midair, suspended by her belly, and then she readjusts herself and you’re in her lap again.

Something squelches against your toes.

“Feel that?”

The squelching deepens. Flesh is moving beneath you, pulling apart into a damp, oozing slide. Heat radiates up from below and you can feel her tail unfurling, preparing to encase you.

“This is my real stomach. Once I send you down, there really is no coming back. This is where I’m going to digest you.”

You knew all of that. You watched as the bulge of the mailman slowly faded against her scales, smoothing out over the course of the week from a lump into a fresh coat of fat. She’d even teased you with it; the new smoothness of her scales; the layer of pudge on her cream-colored underbelly.

Now it’s your turn.

You have a choice.