Another gulp and your mouth was free of human girl, letting you take a deep breath as Elizabeth slid into your belly.

The farmer’s daughter wasn’t enough to fill you up but she had certainly taken the edge off your hunger and the way she was struggling in your belly was very enjoyable.

Walking out to the field you found a patch of dry grass to lay down on to let the sun warm you as the cries and begging of the girl digesting in your belly faded away, to be replaced by the gently gurgling of your satisfied belly.

Over the course of the day the Elizabeth was broken down into a digestive chyme, much of which became more milk for the farmer to sell.

All that remained of Elizabeth was a particularly large cow-pat in the far corner of the field where an observant walker might have wondered about the fragments of plaid skirt and shoe leather that was mixed in with the rest of the cow poop.