You aren’t even hungry, but you can taste this runt already, and it’s too delicious to pass on. She’s just the right size for dessert, and besides, having one less undigested human in the world is it’s own reward.
You close the gap between you with one stride, and all color drains from the girl’s face. Tears spill over her cheeks as you grip her with both hands, pinning her arms to her sides. She stares at you in mute, shocked terror, and you don’t give her time to find her voice. In one smooth motion, you lift her off the ground and push her into your mouth, your lips closing around her midsection. She lets out a frightened squeak, and her legs begin to flail, but you waste no time. With one powerful gulp, you swallow her whole.
Your belly bulges out a little, but not much, wrapped tight around the clearly visible little body inside it.
“Hnnnn... nnnnnnnn...” the child moans in shock and horror, squirming weakly in her fleshy tomb.
“How do you like it in there, munchkin?” you chuckle.
“P-please... let me out, monster lady... I don’t like this!” she gasps, panic in her little muffled voice.
“Why would I let my food out of my tummy?” you tease with mock sweetness.
“B-but... food? I’m n-not food!” she whines.
“Well I ate you like food, didn’t I?”
“Please let me out! It’s hot and stinky in here!” she wails, beginning to cry.
“Oh, it’s going to get much, much worse,” you say ominously, slapping your gut hard, earning a squeal of pain from your snack.
“A-am I going to die?” she sobs.
“Yes, I’m afraid so, my little morsel,” you moan happily. “And before you ask- yes, it is going to hurt. A lot.”
“Noooooo!” she screams, panic and terror finally seizing her. “Noooooooooo!”
You chuckle, letting the poor child squeal while you make your way to the bar. You can hear chatting, busy voices coming from inside the homey tavern as you approach. When you step inside, however, silence immediately falls over the gathering of humans and elves. Some become immediately preoccupied with their meals or their drinks, while others glance nervously over at you, hoping you aren’t heading in their direction. You study each of them in turn, until your eyes rest on the bartender. He’s the only one openly staring at you, his eyes fixed on your slightly wiggling tummy, an expression of growing dread and horror on his face. You smile and walk towards the bar. You sit down on a stool, leaning forward to let your belly rest on the counter.
“Eeeeeeeeeek! I-it really hurts, please let me go! I don’t wanna be food, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!” your food wails, a little handprint pressing feebly against your abdomen. The bartender stares, aghast, mouth open, face pale.
“E-Elisa?” he whimpers, horrified.
“D-D-Daddy?” the little girl, apparently Elisia, cries. “Daddy! S-save me, please! A monster lady ate me and she’s killing me with her belly!”
“B-by the- oh, oh Elisia,” the barkeep stammers, before finally meeting your gaze. “Please, PLEASE let her go. She’s just a child! Have mercy!”
Ignoring his request, you simply say, “I’ll have an ale.”
“Please, madam, my daughter!”
“Ale,” you say again, giving him a threatening glare. He fumbles clumsily as he hurriedly pours you an ale.
“I’ll do anything, you can have whatever you want. Name your price! Just let my little girl live!” You gulp down your alcohol as you listen to him beg, downing the whole tankard.
“Ewww, it’s so nasty in here,” Elisia wails.
Gurrrrrrrrrgle. Your tummy rumbles, and the child screams like a banshee. Acid is pouring in around her, eagerly softening and digesting her weak, pathetic human flesh.
“H-hold on, Elisia, Daddy will save you,” the bartender sobs.
“You really shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Daddy-o,” you laugh. “As it happens, though, I’m in a generous mood. I’ll give you a chance to save your precious daughter from becoming my next bowel movement.”
“Oh gods, anything, anything!” he cries. The other weaklings in the bar watch the exchange nervously, and a few of them use the opportunity to slip out.
“First of all, I want every bit of coin you’ve got on you, down to the last copper,” you begin. He nods frantically, reaching under the counter and placing a few meager bags of coins in front of you. It isn’t an impressive amount, but it’s satisfactory.
“There, take all of it! Will you let her out now?”
“Not so fast, I’m not finished,” you say, annoyed. “I want a list of every homestead, village, or farm in the area. If it has something I can eat or steal, I want to know about it.”
“...b-but that’s...” the bartender begins, but his protest is cut short by a wail of pain from his daughter.
Churrrrrrrrrn.
You give him a pointed look, and he hurriedly grabs a quill and paper. “You will let her out, right? As soon as I do this?”
“Sure, sure, of course,” you chuckle as he scribbles away. As you watch him work, you decide how you’ll fulfill your end of the bargain.
