You lick your lips again and gulp in some more air to keep the little girl inside you wriggling as you work. Any guilt you may have otherwise felt is completely gone now, Sarah is just food through and through and you probably couldn’t even let her out now if you tried. And besides she’s such a natural fit and such a fine little wriggler why would you want too let her go? She belongs in her big brother’s big belly.
Reaching a paw underneath the pillow behind your head you find no phone, nothing on her bedside locker either. You ponder this for a moment, aware that asking her where it is was probably out of the question considering that she was still screaming the living daylights out in the pit of your belly and probably wouldn’t tell you regardless.
With a grunt you shift your heavy werewolf form onto its side, the girl sloshing around inside of you with audible grunts, and reach down to paw at the clothes piled up in a heap on the ground. You pick up her green pajama jacket and reach into the pockets, nothing. You throw it away and reach down again to pull up her undergarments. Lifting up the pink pajama pants with the frilly underwear still inside, which you assume means that when Sarah decided to go commando tonight she must have took the pants and underwear off together in one tug and then followed that with her jacket. It makes the whole decision seem more spontaneous than you first assumed and part of you has to chuckle at that that, her most adventurous night and it resulted in....well, this.
You reach into the pocket and, yes, there’s the phone!
“Oh Sarahhhh” You grin in your raspy, gruff wolf voice “smile for the camera honey.”
You aren’t sure if she hears the request but that doesn’t matter, the sound of your gleeful voice is enough to bolster the little girl into a fresh set of wriggles and, in turn, a fresh set of bulges on your stretched out belly. You quickly unlock the phone, struggling ever so slightly to make the touch screen respond to your giant wolf hands, and are greeted by something that very nearly makes you burst into full on laughter.
There she is in the phone’s background photo, your beautiful little sister in her prime, and beside her is you. But not the you that exists now. Instead it’s the old you, the boring you, the human you. That toned, athletic but laughably furless body draped around Sarah as the both of you grin wide for the camera. Sarah's big, toothy smile and happy face perfectly matched with your brotherly grin.
The photo may have been taken at Christmas last year, or perhaps her ninth birthday, but that matters little. All it is now is a symbol of a time long past where you still hung onto the clutches of your humanity and wouldn’t have dreamed of turning that adorable, curly haired tween into a delicious, scrumptious piece of human steak.
Licking your lips again you wonder if she may have eaten tasted better at that moment, full of Christmas dinner or birthday cake. Maybe you should have taken her way back when, but then again there was less meat upon her. Sarah had grown since whenever this photo was taken.
MMMPPHPHPHHH!
“Ah yes” you snap back to action and switch to camera mode “got lost for a moment there, say cheese Sarah!”
*flash*
*flash*
*flash*
You take three photos to document this stage of digestion, quietly wishing you could have taken some before or even during the actual devourment, one full body photo of you licking your chops wildly as her hands bulge out on either side of that gorged organ. Then a close up of the belly cradled in Sarah’s bed and stretched wide, the bulges of her total form more visible at this distance, her legs and thighs and tiny little feet could be seen curled up and pushing against the stomach walls.
And then you take one last photo from the right hand side, Sarah's head. Or as much of it as you can make out for indeed it’s less noticeable than her feet and other such parts. But looking at it again you can still make out her face pressed against the slimy walls screaming out an increasingly tired song, her ears slightly frayed and obviously digesting, and the curly head of hair she was so proud of covered in slimy, melting digestive juices.
You save the photos and peer around at the kitten themed accessory that you once claimed that Sarah was too young to own. After all you didn’t get to have a phone when you were nine years old. But it would appear this little thing had served its purpose and would, in turn, pass onto you upon Sarah’s now inevitable demise.
While she still wriggles around inside, you wonder what else this phone may hold. All of her text messages and photographs, the best snapshot of this little girl's life than anybody could ever have. It may be nice to snoop around a bit, get to...bond a little with her before it’s all over.
What do you think?
