A Cruel Artoria’s Wild Hunt

By: Fatedmeal

I: Dogma’s Depths

“This…is stupid…”

Jeanne d’Arc Alter, commonly nicknamed Jalter when in the company of her original variant and begrudgingly willing to just be referred to as her first name in the absence of her vibrant blonde sister, muttered under her breath. The darkly dressed woman whipped her chalky hair, with a glide of her palm over her brow. The former was a fringe mess saturated in the pollen and dust that were ubiquitous in these mountains. While the latter was beaded with perspiration from the sun rays that the Avenger was forced to soak up.

I can’t believe that I decided to come.

A fierce huff, coeval with the next plunging motion of her booted foot, right into the mud, was blown out by the aggravated woman’s lips. Muggy oral effluvium that could have burnt up a napkin if held up close to the witch of a peasant.

Of course, Jeanne knew why she decided to do something so uncharacteristic as unnecessary exercise. The pale woman knew why she traded her armor and black silken fabrics for dark polyester and bulky pants. It was because the pale woman’s foolish master decided to tag along with his literal cow of a servant.

The cow of a servant. Her name, also serving as the label to identify the manifested Heroic spirit among the countless Artoria’s summoned in Novum Chaldea, was Artoria Lancer Alter. Or Artoria in the absence of her other summoned variants. She strode in the front of their group of four like a dignified and pompous ass. At least in Jeanne’s opinion. The pale and frizzled-haired woman found it especially grating to see her master, Ritsuka, fawn over the statuesque woman that was overladen with fat.

Hmph! Dog shit. I can easily arrange my mop into straight and luscious locks like that pale Lancer cow. I just don’t want my hair to be too much like Jeanne’s hair.

Jeanne turned her head away from the person right behind the Lancer servant. Their master, Ritsuka Fujimaru. The Avenger could have easily overcome the nearly normal human’s pace and trailed right behind the thick-bodied Lancer servant. However, it was the pale witch’s own unwillingness to be here that dragged her feet. That and Jeanne couldn’t bear the thought of being so close to Artoria, a wild and stony variant of the lordly King of Knights. The pale witch would be especially offended if that contemptuous Lancer were to address her in some patronizing manner. Like she so often did

“Oh peasant~ Please walk three paces behind my fat ass. I don’t want to choke on your barn funk, as I hypnotize our master with my juicy lard.”...UEGH!! Disgusting cow.

Jeanne’s scowl was just noticed by the rearmost member of the party. Mash Kyrielight. The plucky and reliable Shielder Demi-servant who took it on herself to be the rearguard, as she trusted that Artoria would be able to protect them from the front.

Fucking horse bitch. She probably goes to town with—

“Uhm Jeanne? Are you feeling alright? Do you want some replenishments?”

Mash kindly inquired. Breaking the pale witch’s focused rage. The latter blinked rapidly at the former. Her fluttering lashes bought the time needed for the Avenger servant. To not misdirect her rage at a third party.

“What? Fuck no. I’m a heroic spirit Mash.”

Jeanne punctuated with a frown. As she stopped herself from spitting out more bitter words at the kind pink-haired girl. Of course, the downward drag of the pale witch’s lips had a similar effect of simply saying those rude remarks. As it left Mash to ponder, in the absence of more concrete verbal clues from the chalky-haired woman, the meaning behind her colleague’s especially dour mood

I guess that Jeanne is feeling a bit out of place, with both Artoria and I taking up a proper guarding position around master during this recreational trip. Or maybe…

Mash flitted her eyes between the black-haired master, her senpai, and the slender chalky-haired woman. Well, the latter was slender relative to the other voluptuous woman that led the front, but that was beside the point. Ritsuka and Jeanne were similarly coated in a fresh sheen of sweat. Was the cause of perspiration’s onset completely due to physical exertion, or was there another source of intangible tension?

One of more sensual origins.

“…Jeanne. I think that I heard something in the rear. I’m going to investigate. Could you keep an eye on Senpai’s back while I’m away?”

Mash needlessly whispered. Despite her lowered voice, the other three heard the gentle intonations of the considerate kouhai.

“Don’t worry Mash. We’re going to be alright. Just make sure to come back safe and sound.”

Ritsuka said with a pump of his fist in the air. In response, Mash’s lips quivered, and a flushing of pink colored her cheeks. A hue that nearly rivaled the striking color of the Shielder’s pink hair.

The pinkette bashfully bobbed her before turning around. Successfully hiding the reactive angling of her lips downward. As the sobering realization of reality set in. An unrequited passion, that the Shielder was not certain if it was due to her own meekness, or because of the potential of her senpai simply not being interested in her. Regardless, Mash carefully stepped down the path of the off-beaten mountain trail that they already tread on.

Meanwhile, Jeanne sighed, at having to be left with her foolish master and the scathing royalty. One would usually leave her flustered, which was occasionally welcomed by the pale witch. As it was stimulating for her thoughts, and, as reluctant she was to admit it, did a good deal for her self-esteem. Meanwhile, the other one, the contemptuous cow, was a grating presence in the pale witch’s world.

Fucking dragons.

Of course, just as Jeanne contemplated if this was a good time to rebel against her own character and rely on the calming effects of wishing and hoping within her mind, that everyone would shut their trap, life decided to screw her over.

“Hey Artoria, I know that this is out of place, but I’m glad that you let us come.”

Just...Just great.

Jeanne’s muscles tensed. More than they initially flexed and strained from her pumping pillars impacting from the uneven and soft terrain. A squishy and malleable dirt that she was not as predisposed to balancing on as the other pale woman appeared to be. For Artoria deftly twisted the trunk of her body without any spontaneous swiveling of her body. As individuals usually did to reorient their midline on unreliable terrain. The soft and shiny bleached blonde ponytail trailed behind the mature woman’s scalp like the luxurious tresses that trailed from a galloping horse. An elegant mess of locks that so easily caused the pale witch to internally fume at the sight of it.

“There is no need for such platitudes master. Hiking may be an isolated journey to self-reflect, but it’s a journey enriched by the filling company of others.”

Artoria indifferently stated. Her sharp yellow eyes pierced at the young man, characterized by a calculating glint, a momentary refraction of the sun’s light that was too ephemeral to expose the inner working of the King of Knight’s mind.

Says you. The only shit I’m reflecting on is how muggy my ass feels. Fuck sweating.

Then those blazing yellow orbs gradually moved to the much less pleased Avenger.

Quite filling indeed.

“Yea. I’m honestly happy that we could have this quiet time together. It’s usually much livelier in Chaldea. Not saying that it’s a bad thing, as everyone would be happy if you veered away from your junk food and joined us more.”

Ritsuka beamed back. With the characteristic glow that would always catch the Avenger off guard. Even now, she couldn’t help but shuffle her boots in the squelching mud.

Some of us like to be alone...Idiot.

Jeanne’s thoughts were incongruent with the skipping beats of her central circuit. The only evidence of her kindling infatuation with the human master, within her own cogitation which she indignantly ignored, was the fact that she specifically used the word idiot instead of something more derogatory.

“Junk food. Maybe you are right master…”

For the shortest of moments, Artoria’s eyes jumped down to the back of one of Ritsuka’s hands. A skill that she cultivated from a history of battling political delegates. One that she used to confirm that her master was a busy young man. As it seemed that the feeble mage had already used up the three seals of his command spell, to either boost his servants or corral them.

As a leader should. It is under our purview to control the unruly masses.

“It would be most punctual for me to tuck such unsavory pieces of provisions away right now.”

Gorooaan

Regrettably for you and your charge, your neglect of proprietary has led to a gnawing that my wild carnality just can’t ignore. One that I feel you two are most polished to serve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mash walked and walked. The pinkette meaninglessly pulled a branch down to open her view of the adjacent trees and the canopy’s lean underbelly. As she progressed down the path that the four of them just. But it was not to look for some beast that uttered a cantankerous noise that only the young woman heard.

No.

It was so Mash could behave in a way that was congruent with her lie if she were caught in the midst of it.

I hope that this is enough time for the two of them.

Of course, the attentive kouhai was talking about the Avenger Jeanne and her senpai, Ritsuka.

Initially, the pinkette assumed that Ritsuka and the other two wanted to embark on this mountainous wilderness trip due to a fondness of nature. In addition, Mash also knew that her senpai wanted to get closer to the Lancer. As it seemed that this variant of Artoria Pendragon kept to herself more than others. At most acting within the capacity of a soldier or passing her time training or engorging herself with junk food. But…what if there was something else?

Especially, since Mash began to doubt her earlier assumption. That Jeanne was just here to either support Ritsuka as his servant.

Why did these doubts creep in the Shielder’s mind?

Well, the young woman had recognized the tint that softened and hardened the Avenger’s eyes. In a way that it was disproportionate to the situation, and that just so happened to coincide with whenever Ritsuka was involved. The reason that Mash felt certain about this…was because she knew that she had those same eyes herself. But it was a warm feeling that the pink-haired kouhai was apprehensive to grab a hold of. Even as it tumefied with the passing of time.

After all, she has always been Ritsuka’s kouhai. So it only made sense to capitulate to the potential affections of others. Yet, there was always that bothersome throbbing. Like a fierce vice on the young woman’s heart. There were a few times…no…it was many times now that Mash wished that she could just focus her mind on something or anyone else than her senpai. Seeing him with other woman, was like a softly lodged blade that was nestled just a few inches away from her heart. Having caught between the bundle of nervous ganglions. Not close enough to bring a fatal pang of acute agony, but not distant enough for the chronic chaos of emotions to abate.

Yea. Maybe now is enough time for…them.

Perhaps Mash didn’t just come to this trip to protect Chaldea’s master, and she didn’t just come out of affection for the young man. Someone that she had denied coveting for so longer. Maybe this trip was just to confirm things. Maybe…that there was a tomorrow…where she could direct her heart elsewhere, and not feel guilt over leaving her frail master alone.

Yea. This is a healthy period for them to be alone.

Mash stopped on the path, unsure of where she would step next, before turning around and marching back. The Shielder moved with both prudence and agility. Circumnavigating the path that she noticed both Ritsuka and Jeanne had difficulty walking through.

Ah~ But Artoria was there with them as well. Would she pick up on such hints of romance...would she even bother to be considerate to them?

Mash didn’t know if the swelling in her hearty were butterflies of bliss or bees of bother. A deeply tingling feeling that pervaded the young woman’s core, from the possibility that her efforts were naught and the status quo, of the ambiguity of master’s relationship with the others was maintained. Fortunately, for the overburdened kouhai, she found that she was not the only one weighted by a heavy mass during this trip.

UUAUURRRPP!

That and…during the cleansing smack of rippling lips, centered around the face of the sharp eyed and pale woman of above average proportions…

MMh~

“The victuals of the peasants are as resplendent as always.”

Was an answer to Mash’s quandary.

A veiled one composed of the absence of Ritsuka and Jeanne. In the nearby clearing that the group reached. The two must have borne the same train of thought as the bespectacled kouhai and left for some time in solitude. Finally, the pinkette felt the plunging swing of her cardiac muscle. Her heart had sunk so far down that it might as well have been near her vacant stomach. Although, the young woman’s inner turmoil was disrupted by an actual stomach.

GOROOUAROOAN

Not Mash’s metaphorical or literal one. Rather it was the stomach of the only other servant in the vicinity. Artoria, whose midsection was stretched as far as her zipped up navy blue jacket would allow. A dome that threatened to explode through the strained fabric of the Lancer’s attire, and even dwarfed the ludicrous proportions of the mature woman’s breasts. Twin melons that neared the size of Mash’s own cranium, but the smooth and enormous teardrops of mammary fat found purchase on the even larger corpulence.

An abdominal swell that hung right over the blonde-ponytailed woman’s thighs.

GRURUSH!!

Artoria was sitting on a tree stump. Her hands were tenderly pressed against the jiggling middle. As if the king wished to restrain the sphere’s shaking roar. A thunder that shook and shuddered the contours of her abdomen with squeaking grunts and dissonant moans. An extended mass that even dwarfed the wide-eyed Mash in size.

BOROGLORSH

“Artoria? Do you know where senpai and Jeanne went?”

Mash held her hands behind her back. As she stepped one foot forward after the other. The pinkette tried to not be rude to the royal spirit and stare at her swollen body. A motive that directed the young woman’s line of question to matters more directly related to her station and responsibilities. The assurance of Ritsuka’s status and the safeguarding of his life.

Urp

Artoria slammed her lips shut. Thereby subjugating the gastric aether that was expelled from its home. With nowhere else to go, the troubled effluvium bulged the inner buccal muscles of the kingly woman’s sealed maw. Mash had to thrust a hand up to her face. It was unnecessary as she caught the melodic thrill of her laughter before it even left her throat. After all, it might have been in another life, but Mash’s spirit origin did originate from the vessel of one of the variants of Artoria. So a certain amount of respect for the fierce woman always resided in the Shielder. Whether they met as friend or foe. Thus, it was easy to stifle her own outbursts in front of her former king.

Hmm~

“Mash Kyrielight. I presume that you’ve ascertained the security of our surroundings.”

Artoria’s neutral expression cocked an eyebrow. Then the Lancer moved both of her hands close to her haunches, the joints of her knuckles blanched as she gripped the rough edges of the tree stump. Jutting edges consumed by the king’s pale palm, just as her overladen middle consumed the Shielder’s mind.

Mash Kyrielight spared a peek at the burgeoning mass, it was only supposed to be that. But the young woman couldn’t stop staring at the sheer immensity of the mature woman’s bloated midsection. As the latter leaned back into the empty space, thereby causing the exaggerated volume to strongly sway to and fro...side to side.

GSLLSSHHH

...and...

GSLLSSHHH

Artoria’s turgid bloat was allowed to freely sway. To cause the jacket to screech from the physical force stretching its existence. While the undoubtable echo of sloshing acids, freshly secreted, was muffled. Not just by the layers of the blonde king’s garb or her strata of flesh and fat. No, it was obvious now, upon viewing this freed pendulum of gastric flesh, that there was a considerable density that had been added to the once vacant cavity that was Artoria Pendragon Lancer Alter’s stomach. Even through the layers of Artoria’s clothes, the observant Shielder, whose wide-eyed stares was noticed by the regal woman, was able to make out the impression of squirming life trapped deep within that opulent dome. Indistinct outlines, that could have been the demarcation of their limbs or trunk stretching out the belly’s skin, were mixed in with the red lines scattered on the navy-blue jacket’s design. It was difficult to nearly impossible to tell what Artoria stowed away in there, but whatever it was had to have been something large and unwieldy. Maybe even multiple meals in this one sitting.

An impressive feat, considering that Mash was only gone for ten minutes at most. Not unexpected. If there was one thing that all variants of Artoria were known for, then it was their great propensity towards gluttony.

GURSLUSH

A diet that was matched by the functional capacity of the king’s digestive system. Mash was still a few feet away from the King of Knight’s, and she could still hear the hot gushing of stomach chyme flooding the distended chamber. An obfuscated echo that groaned with each slimy pulse of the pale woman’s inner stomach lumen. Just how much strength was packed between the Lancer’s skin and inner stomach mucous?

Could I handle such a big meal?

Mash instinctively moved a hand close to her own belly. A space that was bereft of the luxurious abundance of volume, physical and audible, that extended past Artoria’s breasts and stiffly rested on her thick thighs.

“As for your question…”

Artoria interrupted Mash’s train of thought. The Lancer presumed that the young woman’s stunned silence wasn’t just because she was enchanted by the mature woman’s covered ocean of abdominal flesh, and that there was no pressing matter concerning the wilderness. Of course, the king already knew that there were no nearby dangers. There was not a soul or malicious discharge near the four of them. So, the only question that Artoria had on her mind, was why her knight, from another time, for now, acted in such a way that was beneficial to her.

GOROOOANN

Oh~ I can only imagine how an inept ruler and courting witch would bemoan this turn of hand, alas, my corporeal layers make such transcendent truths opaque to me.

“…it’s been a good…”

Artoria respired. As she estimated just how long it had taken for the luminal tide to enact its complete peristalsis nearly twice over, and for the inner meaty marble of gastric folds to secrete the first hot flood of fizzling foam over the entrapped human-beef. Life that was slowly torn by its ligaments and sinew.

“…eight minutes since I last saw them.”

Gurgle

The oppressive organ agreed with its kingly host. With a sloughing bind that paralyzed the vigorous struggles of the pair trying to fight against the bounds of their cramped confinement. Not even their yells could escape the storming space and elicit a moment of sobriety in the spellbound Shielder. Thus, Mash was caught up in the momentum that the king dictated for the conversation.

“Oh~ I guess that they’re fine then.”

Artoria caught the ephemeral appearance of downturned lips, before the bespectacled girl shook her head of the negative emotions. That still found a way to tumble down to her heart. Regardless, the pinkette grew confident that she had buried her apprehensions of her master’s behavior and Jeanne. The latter who was stealing the advancement from her and was now focused on the other servant she accompanied on this trip.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, the large stomach—“

Mash awkwardly coughed into a fist. As she felt a bit self-conscious asking this.

“I guess that you ate something while I was gone.”

Probably scarfed it right down too.

Mash heart raced at the thought. Especially as it didn’t stop and progressed into a rather gratuitous conclusion. As she imagined just how intimidating the gaping canal of ribbed and pulsing organic rings, dripping with salivary secretions and oppressive mucous, burned at the meal’s senses.

Gosh. Her abdomen’s so active. I’m surprised that it doesn’t just slip out of her jacket or tear it apart.

Artoria nodded. A slow bob of her head. The Lancer’s steely yellow eyes never left her fellow servant’s darting eyes.

What if it isn’t just her stomach juicing up its remains, and it’s still alive in there?

“Two. I devoured two lives that dared interrupt our afternoon hike. A boar that was too big for his head, and a little pheasant that screeched a little too much for her own good.”

Satisfied with your resolved inquiry, my little steed.

Artoria’s lips crept upward. Into a sly smirk. Mash’s heart definitely skipped a beat upon hearing that.

Two of them. A meal so big, and a meal so small. At least one of them must be alive.

Mash speculated that either the large mass of the pig would delay the corrosive fatality of the well-fed king’s acids, or the pheasant had perched itself on top of the dissolving pork. Regardless, the Demi-servant felt compelled to turn her head to the side. As the young woman’s face was warm. Too warm, and it was not due to the sun. Such a temperature change must have been physically noticeable.

Or both. All squished up in there. Suffocating in the callous might of a predator that isn’t even thinking of them.

The Shielder was accurate in her conjecture. Her face had darkened from the same shade of pink as her hair, to a shade of red that was closer to the slimy insides of Artoria’s pulsating gastric organs.

Stupid senpai.

Mash’s fixation with Artoria’s engorged middle had a little to do with just crossing by her senpai’s opened laptop one time. As the pinkette, the one time she found herself alone in Ritsuka’s room, glanced and saw a couple tabs that he should have closed on his monitor. Mainly fetish sites that related to the act of consuming another, for the purpose of achieving a fantastical sexual relief.

Eroticism achieved by death by proxy and contingent upon the digestive system. In short, Vorarephilia. It was a fetish, a bug, that Ritsuka had. And the meek and sheltered kouhai soon found out that she was a bit partial to it as well.

A corrupting influence...that meek Chaldean mage was

None of this was lost on the King of Knights. On an average day, she would take some level of offense from this display of impropriety from one of her past subjects. However, today was not one for disparagement, especially after such a massive boon.

Smack!

One that Artoria confirmed with a sharp smack of her opened palm against the contracting semi-sphere. A hearty rumble tumbled through the minute gaps of the Lancer’s stomach wrinkles, and she felt her possessions reflexively jerk and quiver to the shifting internal landscape. Artoria could sense that their limbs, as bound as they were, reach towards the sealed stomach entrance in vain.

Foolish meals. Too slow to realize that the mighty horse was ready to trample the king, and too feeble to match the might of my Rhongomyniad-honed might...you petulant witch.

A rare smile emerged on the Lancer’s otherwise unreadable expression. She bore a solicitude towards her companions. But it was not one out of affection, but utilitarian duty. It was the law of the Wild Hunt, to overcome and devour. To continue the bloodline of strength as it merged into a singular beast. Thus, Artoria waited. Like a leisured lion, but distinct. She bore a drive that was more befitting of a king, than the master that meekly chastised her for her diet of junk food and apprehensive approached her as an equal. When reality was cruel. There were those that were trampled and those that are trampled. Artoria could only hope that Ritsuka would learn that in the next life. To utilize others like a finely sharpened weapon. As for Jeanne, well she was just a peasant that didn’t know her place and was positioned as the appropriate accompaniment to what would have been a paltry meal.

I hope that you enjoy my choice of more natural food.

A vicious snare of five fingers wrapped around the slight bumps of Artoria’s stomach. Her hand forcefully kneading into the firm iron of her tumescent abdomen. To help with the slow and invariable progression of the digestive blacksmithing. To melt and reforge the iron of their lives into soft dough hanging off the king’s splendid middle.

“The sun is young, but time isn’t to be trifled with.”

Artoria physically embodied the resolution of time’s transience and its resulting change by standing straight up. Her jacket groaned under the burdensome weight that now bobbed up and down. Like a nodding squire to the kingly knight. An extraneous addition to the party, as it seemed that Mash was more than happy to conduct herself in an obsequious manner. Especially to her former king…and the overwhelming gut that she possessed.

“Of course!”

Mash affirmed harshly. Breaking herself out of her trance.

“Maybe we’ll catch up with senpai and Jeanne.”

The kouhai’s mind meandered. As it was gripped by the proverbial bog of desire that now plagued her inner thoughts.

Yea…there will probably be some chub left on her sides and front…

Mash bit her lip.

…after her intestines swallow down the remains and suck up the goo.

Mash wiggled her hips. Sparking some friction near the center that her inner thighs met, and close to those wet vulvar lips. That stoked desire was caught within the field of Artoria’s downcast gaze. As the mature woman ascended higher than the young woman.

“Yes. I suspect that we’ll see evidence of them eventually.”

A deep and singular throb pervaded the older woman’s genitalia. After she uttered the condemning statement. Of course, the experienced king didn’t let this fanciful arousal consume her mind like the besotted pinkette currently was.

No. That was just providing an opening for a jouster to pierce one with their stiff and bloodied lance. Artoria quelled the warm and electrifying ooze of her lust. Ultimately, euphoria was a bliss that should be relished over an escalating period. Just like the mountain they scaled, so too would the conquering king’s exquisite delight. She just needed to hold fast to those reins.

SURGLORSH

“Coming Mash Kyrielight.”

“Yes! Just getting my bearings. I’m right behind you.”

Mash huffed a licentious exhalation. As she followed behind Artoria. Her mind wandered to the swaying globes that rested within the confines of the king’s pants. There was no doubt in the young woman’s mind that the moons would become more ample as time passed.

II: Defrocking Digestion

“Let us out you fucking fat sow!!”

Of all the servants that I imagined getting devoured by I didn’t expect…well actually there was that one Tuesday…

GRRSSSLLOSSSH

Ritsuka tried to inject some levity within his fogged-up mind. Unfortunately, his mental space was not mired with lubricious thoughts that he would take to his bed. Vore-filled thoughts that he would use to end his night with a several firm pumps of his engorged phallus.

Rather, the young man’s mind was currently inflamed by the fact that he was fully thrust into the reality of his voracious fantasy. His physical body, unfortunately, was not coping well.

“I’m going to shove my fiery iron flag straight through your tract and out of your ass if you don’t let us out.”

While Jeanne roared, the chalky-haired woman brimming full of energy, that was absent when she was under the sun, Ritsuka felt his mind ache. From the agony of being wrapped so tight that he was about one wrong move from breaking more than just a limb.

Reality was far different from fiction. Of course, the pair were lucky to not have their bodies cave in immediately from the malleable acceptance of Artoria’s slime-slathered esophagus. Yet, it did little to attenuate the human mage’s current predicament. As his five senses were fully blasted with the boiling heat of a bubbling pool of corrosive slime and the compressing might of the King of Knight’s stomach.

Eyes blinded. Smell and taste tainted by the corrupting bitterness of hot acid, burning fumes, and desecrated viscera from past meals. Touch and hearing oppressed by walls that crashed down with an unbearable strength.

This was all done by a digestive organ that was a small part of an organ system that perfectly functioned. Regardless of what the gluttonous Lancer put in her body. Thus, the master had a sinking feeling that Jeanne, albeit stronger than him, wouldn’t so much as put a dent on these stomach walls.

GOROOAAANNN

“Fucking horse slut!!!!”

As the young man was reeling from the intensity of the digestion he fantasized about, trying not to focus on the bleakness of the situation, the chalky-haired witch was having a screaming match with the grinding waves of Artoria’s stomach folds. That they were literally sinking into. Along with the sloughed-up slush of acids. Either Jeanne didn’t notice it because she was used to being engulfed in flames, or it was that experience that trained the Avenger to ignore it…or maybe even fuel her rage. However, Ritsuka was simply a normal human with a vore fetish.

Someone who looked at stories online and interacted with the powerful servants at Chaldea. While thinking to himself, Wow! I wonder what it would feel like to be squeezed so tight in her intestines.

Suffice to say, after this short stint in an overly cramped stomach, Ritsuka was more than happy to go cold turkey on his perversions.

Each breath he took was followed by a debilitating series of chokes. Enough to force his body to move against the roiling heat of the stomach’s lumen. To further dredge up the fiery slime that was eating away at their clothes.

Cross that.

That ate through their clothes.

Large huffs of the vile stench, a veritable lungful of a graveyard’s rotting miasma, was forcefully inhaled by the young man while he endured the pain of his burning nerve endings. As skin peeled back and formed violaceous ulcers, that rimmed a growing erythematous center. An annulus that formed a conduit for the exchange of the life-saving sanguine fluid that pumped through his body and the deathly muck that burbled through his softening membranes. Ritsuka’s only respite was that his oral orifice was safe for this moment.

GURRGGLLEERSH

Artoria’s stomach may have been without light, an inescapable and burning night that fitted the Altered servant well, however its overwhelming storm of dissolving elements was not enough to completely block out Ritsuka’s perception.

“Ugh! Hey Master! I know it’s difficult but take it easy on the goods!”

As the master found himself face deep into Jeanne’s musty cleavage, tainted with a stringent odor, her jacket was ridden by the acid and slinked right off the rebellious pair of mammary glands. An ample amount of fat that cushioned the embarrassed young man’s face. His embarrassment in this deathly situation. It was due to being in such a lewd position, and for having to have his sensitive face protected by the wealth of Tsundere plush that still found a way to stay perky within this fizzling broth.

However, such fatty tumescence may have been an omen to come. The chalky-haired Avenger’s efforts, to shield her master’s form, was accomplished by purposing her own body. Searing heat scorched through the pocket of gastric space that Ritsuka was squeezed in, but he was sure that the fire-resistant servant was going through much worse.

“Fuck! Master have you gotten your command seals back yet! I know that I said that I’ll see your body lit up in flames, but—“

—Just not like this!

The Tsundere witch didn’t finish her words. The young man knew what the abrasive woman was talking about. His reeling mind was still able to recall the first few days since the sullen Avenger was summoned to Chaldea. How she found comfort in calling him a disgusting creep. How she threatened to suffocate and burn him alive. How she did whatever she could to make sure that a distance was maintained.

It wasn’t until time moved on, the time that they spent together increased, that those layers, mental barriers, were peeled back. That Jeanne let it slip that she didn’t want him to burn up at the stake like her. The Saint branded a cursed witch.

“It…it isn’t…”

Ritsuka exhaled. His throat burned raw from just those few words. The young man was flabbergasted at how the Avenger was able to hold up under the pressurized temperatures. As he felt like he was being roasted alive. For Artoria’s very stomach was making slow progress on the very fear that the witch held.

Dang it…

Ritsuka knew that it was risky to rely on his command seals to replenish themselves, but what other choice did they have. The moments that their prison was a stationary one had proven that. As Jeanne’s might thrusts and devilish flames ebbed as soon as they poured out of her physical might. The pale woman hissed and said nothing else, but the young man had a hint of what happened. For he could feel his own paltry magic leaving his body. Pooling out into the flooding flow of hot acid, only to be extirpated.

Artoria was magically resistant to their abilities. So much that their very powers, ranging from miniscule to sizable, were being rejected within this claustrophobic tomb. There was no chance that the young man could replenish his command seals.

Has she eaten other heroic spirits or living beings like this before?

Ritsuka felt absolutely foolish for trying to break down the barriers of this altered variant of a servant. Just like he had successfully done with Jeanne. There was a miscalculation in assumption. The Avenger’s constant repudiation was born from a desire for others not to be hurt from coming too close to her. It was a mistake for the young man to believe that the Lancer had a similar reason to act so isolated.

Does…does she look down on us, for trying to meet each other on an equal ground?

Ritsuka’s eyes welled up with a fluid, but it was not tears. The young man was accustomed to rejection and loss. No, it felt too hot, and stung like the iron particles that glanced at his sensitive features during past battles. In fact, all the young man’s orifices were moistened by some form of discharge. He didn’t know how long this hot fluid had been running. The sludge of hot and burning ooze mired both Jeanne’s and his form.

GORROAASLORSH

“Hey! Master! Are you alright!?”

Jeanne’s inquiry had an obvious answer. They weren’t alright. Especially as the digestive ossuary had begun to add a new mechanical rhythm to its oppressive series of crushing clenches and disciplinary squishes. A discombobulating sway that occurred in a regularly erratic rhythm. The King of Knights had decided to move. Despite their struggles within this death-like space, the master and Avenger had no effect on the Lancer’s posture or comport.

The beating of Artoria’s gushing circuits, and the vibration of her spoken diction, continued unremitted by the struggles that they could mount against the insurmountable lining. Slime squeezed through the scant gaps between the female and male. Forming a hot glue that bounded them together as tightly as the walls that searingly adhered to them. It was probably because of that intimate physical connection, that Jeanne had asked Ritsuka the question, the one pertaining to his well-being, with an obvious answer. As she probably felt the spilling of fluids from his newly opened orifices.

The creeping tide of enzyme and pepsin had flowed up from the antrum and found their way towards the young man’s sensitive membranes. The acids hot bite pierced through the preys’ oozing skin and fraying muscles. The sensitive nerve endings curled away, exposing the sensitive circuit’s axonal sheaths. A fatty surface for the hot flow of chyme to dine on. Skin mixed with fat and oozed out into teardrop-shaped bags. That rolled and then plopped in the sizzling chyme’s uppermost film, with each tensing snap and slap of gastric lumen. The luminal space added the heat and pressure needed for the superficial layers of Ritsuka’s muscles to be kneaded into red pulp. A softening of sinew that would allow them to slough off if this proceeded even further.

Thus, the annuluses of violaceous and erythematous hues increased in size and number over the sensitive features of the frail human male. His blood poured out and fueled the capricious and punitive embraces of the luminal space.

“Ritsuka!!”

Jeanne repeated. Her stress increasing as she was not given the verbal response that she desired within this lethal space.

GOSRROOAAAN

The young man’s mind protected himself from such intense agony by muddying itself up in a blinding fog. One that might have kept his mental infrastructure intact but was useless if his physical compartments failed before a rescue was accomplished. Thus, the uncharacteristic shrill of Jeanne’s voice, that bled with concern as her own spirit origin eroded away, broke through the coma-inducing miasma.

Jeanne hissed once more.

One of many sharp grunts from the chalky-haired woman, who endured the boiling fire that flooded every facet of her frame. Within the grips of beefy folds that dragged their blunt and slimy teeth until her pale flesh was stark red. This was worse than being burned by a stake. At least the open air could suck up the gaseous kindle that fueled the flames. This was worse than a pressure cooker. As the liquid fire, which first itched, only grew in burning intensity. There was no abatement for the heat, as the layers of insulating fat around the digestive organ prevented it from escaping. So, each cataclysmic, acid-squirting, clench redirected a pressurized blast of purgatory right at the two of them. Jeanne thought that her physical disposition, that naturally weakened dragons, would have helped her against this dragon-kin, but it did not go that way. The imperious predator merely stomped and shook their prison. Going about her perfunctory day with a confident and unbothered stride.

Fuck. Fuck.

The rage that soared within Jeanne was only matched by the fear she held in her heart. For her master’s safety.

I fucking knew this hike was a bad idea.

However, this sharp inhale, that rung out of Jeanne’s oscillating cheeks, was one of relief. As her voice finally broke through Ritsuka’s stupor…and confirmed that his barely moving body was still alive. As the reddened woman felt a painful squeeze, an autonomous action from the young man’s hand that was not cause by the ripple of innumerable fat stomach wrinkles, press on one of her bare and acid-licked shoulders.

“Oh shit! Ritsuka, we can’t let this bitch win. Come on! Wake up!”

The droning metronome of dissonant squelches, slowly rending the skin and nerves from their reddening frames, blurred their sense of time. The only measure the master and servant was how intimately close their bodies were. A fact that would have brought a furious blush and physical complaints from the Avenger, if this were any other situation. For the master’s flesh and the servant’s spirit origin were forced to intermingle within the existence-grinding embrace of their uncaring predator’s stomach folds. A degradation of their outer membranes that gradually but assuredly led to the contact of their insides.

“It…hurts to talk.”

Ritsuka finally spared the muscles to speak. Even those few words felt like they strained those bands to their breaking point.

“Fuck…okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Just hold onto me tightly. And squeeze your hands on my shoulders to let me know that you’re alright.”

Jeanne internally swore many times over. As she was hoping that if her strength wouldn’t get them out, then maybe their yelling and struggles would catch the attention of the gentle pinkette when she was nearby.

That plan was ultimately struck down by the fact that the human male was in no shape to help the heroic spirit. His physical body was mostly intact, the Tsundere could discern that fact within the muggy darkness, as she endured the pain of moving her limbs along the rugated space. Jeanne’s estimate, upon palpating the fluctuant wheals, spread along her master’s outermost layer, that tensed before incidentally bursting, was that Ritsuka was most likely was suffering second and third degree burns all over his body. Chaldea could handle those level of injuries. Unfortunately, this further confirmed the perilous situation they were in. The best opportunity the master and servant had to escape was during the very moment that they slipped past those plump lips. Right when they were bound by the velvety press of Artoria’s alimentary lumen.

Fuck.

The bleak reality, that their existence might just be bound for the pale cow’s hips, as several inches added to her waistline, was enough to get the Avenger’s blood boiling. The image of the sly-smirked predator that gobbled them up, the image of her master and her own acid-ridden form, and every other image dissipated into particles within the reddened woman’s mental scape. It was enough that she would have engulfed herself in solitary flames. To show the glutted predator even a sliver of her pain, by at least giving her indigestion or a horrid bowel movement.

That self-immolation was not a possibility that the furious prey could entertain. As the Tsundere possessed another emotion, of equivalent strength to her compounding hatred, and it was directed to the human in the stomach. Whose weak huffs tickled at the inner contours of her cleavage. Eliciting the only pleasant neural stimulation in the Avenger’s body. A person that the digesting witch cared for deeply, and wished that, despite her rude insults and physical abuse, that his eyes only lingered on her for a bit longer. That he was less kind to everyone else and showed her preferential treatment. It was a silly wish. Especially for a witch that was burned and summoned as a twisted heroic spirit that was doomed to burn. Yet, her dastardly fate and twisted perception was not enough to scare the paltry human mage away.

If only he just looked at me, then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Ritsuka. Just focus on me. I found an air pocket in this cow’s lining. Lift your head, close to mine.”

Jeanne could feel the strength of her own voice wavering.

No. I can’t do this. Not now. The only thing I’m good for is burning the things in my path. If I can’t use it now to help mas—

It was during this inner monologue that Jeanne realized she had stopped referring to that frail human mage as master. Instead, she had been calling his name out. This entire time.

“Okay…

Ritsuka’s voice. It was just a whisper. Not from the last vestiges of his strength, but it was due to the young man conserving his strength for just this opportunity. The enfeebled human grunted; his slime-filmed torso glided along Jeanne’s own slender figure. Then his cheeks swelled and caved. The pair shared the little bubble of rank air that he literally swam up to in the growing gastric muck.

Their chests pressed against each other. Their lines of their abdomen were forced to lock from the pounding beat of the cloying lumen. Their hips and the intact space in between pressed against each other, still functional enough for a spark of electricity to light between the two.

I’ll protect him. I’ll protect you, Ritsuka. Just…shit there must be something that I can do to get my mana back.

This surge of determination was undercut by a firm prod along Jeanna’s fleshy vulvar. A raw pair of fat muscle that was able to avoid the assault of the acerbic flow, because of the tight space created by her angled groin pressed against Ritsuka’s taut tummy. With his ascension for air, it opened a means for the Avenger’s drenched genitalia to be pierced. Not by the viscous bite of acids alone, but by a firm and stiff solid mast.

“You…are you seriously fucking hard right now. You DUMBASS!”

Jeanne instinctively yelled as she felt his fleshy mass engorge with the residual blood, of Ritsuka’s vascular system, that did not just squirt out of his widening gashes. As much as the forsaken Saint wanted to reject her own body’s eagerness to indulge in primal sin, she couldn’t ignore how her loins were set ablaze. Not by the fresh tide of gastric suds, but by the interstice of her master’s throbbing vitality and her thrumming vivaciousness.

“…”

Ritsuka didn’t spare words. He tried to speak. Undoubtedly to form an apology. As Jeanne felt the valuable carbon dioxide, a poor and toxic analogue for the oxygen that they were breathing, spill over her face from his intentionally widened lips. The balmy flow, rapidly lost in the mephitic gaseous brew, soon ebbed as the aperture sealed. The young man realizing the futility of it. His involuntary actions were already set in stone.

Sorry…I just…I guess that this still makes me hard. Despite how terrible everything is…

In a manner that was submissive and agreeable, the master followed Jeanne’s instructions and tightened and relaxed his hands’ grip on her body. The Avenger’s shoulder throbbed from the added pruritus. As her spirit origin’s exposed muscles were repositioned by the force. The circuits located between the dwindling muscle layer and the acromion of the reddened woman’s shoulder burned from the stimulation and gush of acid that resulted from the released cupping of Ritsuka’s withered palm from her tender joint.

Ughh! Fucking idiot. Always being led by his cock and balls. I knew that I should have given him a good few whacks with my knee down there when he suggested this hiking trip.

Jeanne complained in her head. Yet, the engorged anticipation cursing the witch’s clitoris, partially protected by the thin flesh of her clitoral hood, still painfully communicated its carnivorous bliss. Ritsuka’s phallus elicited a distinct base desire within the Tsundere who had lived her living life as a Saint. She was an individual who came to this world, summoned by a master, to be thrust into battle. If it were just that, then this would be easy. Rejecting this current reality would be easy.

Fuck…why is this shit-for-brains so hard. When he’s about to die?

Jeanne would have burned the predator. Jeanne would have burned herself. Jeanne would have burned her dopey and sweet-grinned master and his stupid cock.

Is it because of some stupid fetish? Or is this a sign…

Yet, it was because Ritsuka wasn’t just some unfeeling master, and he didn’t treat Jeanne as an unfeeling tool…that the unknowingly self-disparaging Avenger, who had abandoned god and those who burned her at the stake, found new solace within the young man’s eyes.

…that he actually sees me as a woman.

Once again, self-immolation was out of the question…

Pulse

...or was it? At least not the incendiary kind.

Jeanne’s lips flamed, and the thrumming buzz of wanting pleasure became more pervasive. Perhaps it was the nearly inescapable death sentence they were bequeathed…that fueled this mindless lust that mutually oozed between the two of them. The Tsundere couldn’t help but imagine in the darkness of the stomach, through the miring film of slime, that the doe-faced young man, characteristically soft-features and all, was profusely blushing through this all.

Pulse

GURRLSSSLURRSH

The gastrointestinal system continued to echo its deathly siren. A self-mollifying clamor that reverberated intensely from all sides. The top and bottom of the stomach, drenched with gelatinous fire. An oozing solution that just built and built up within heated viscosity. Only for it to now begin pouring down the formerly barren throat of the intestine’s duodenum. That was for certain. Jeanne could feel a shift in pressure under her abraded posterior. Both the sinusoidal current of antrum flesh and the whirling turbulence of gastric flow insinuated one conclusion. That the contracting stomach, that continuously brimmed with boiling slosh, should have drowned them long ago. Instead, the sudsy broth, once saturated with the fat and scant protein that their most superficial melting layers could provide, was chugged down by the sudden unsealing and sealing of Artoria’s pyloric sphincter.

It was a disorienting and despairing image that was painted in the Avenger’s mind. However, the firm sexual flagpole, that was intrusively pressed into her sensual field, had lit a light within Jeanne’s head. It was a shadow of a thought that was illuminated by the growing mental flame of insight. A light was lit within this darkness. Finally, after what must have been hours of the cow of a king walking on the hiking trails. Shaking their prison with casual seismic quakes, while seemingly ignoring the undirected struggles of the extraordinary and ordinary prey.

Hahaha! Fucking dragon bitch!

Jeanne internally gloated. As she pressed her body closer to the young man that she was wrapped around. The Avenger was thankful for the airtight bindings of velvety flesh. As she could easily excuse her embrace, a touch too firm and desirous for her taste, as being caused by the pulsating squashing of stomach folds.

The rugated space could be blamed no longer. As Ritsuka could feel his servant’s hips purposefully straddling his crotch. The sodden folds possessively wrapped around his own unyielding obelisk of erect muscle. His acid-soaked scrotal sac couldn’t help but tense, and ringlets of indistinguishable fluids dripped off the leathery orbs that still bore a hot helping of salty cream.

Mmh~

…Jeanne?

Ritsuka pulsed his grip in succession. In hopes that his concern and confusion would be communicated. Towards the servant that was always been abrasive to his kindness. As this was a drastic shift in her personality towards him. Even if they were both on the precipice of death.

It…it couldn’t be. No, she wouldn’t think of me that way…would she?

“Hey cock-for-brains! Help me out! I’m having a hard time thrusting your cock inside my…”

Jeanne’s rasp stalled. In the stomach’s ever shifting abyss, Ritsuka had no way of knowing if the woman, that many, and herself included, refer to as a witch, stopped short of completing her sentence because she was blushing or pained. Regardless, it didn’t answer the biggest question in the young man’s mind.

Why was this happening?

“Jeanne…I…Mash…”

Even if his throat wasn’t under threat of being sealed by acrid mucous, or his vocal cords about to fail as they flopped into useless strands of tissue lacking tension, the words that barely made it out of his mouth were heavy. They were unbearably hard to say.

Even in this obscuring gastric darkness…it was obvious to Jeanne. That the young man she was infatuated with had someone else in his heart. Aside from the dear companion that he was about to perish with. Within the buried layers of a pale woman’s physicality.

“…”

“…”

Silence.

GOROOAANNN!!!

“Hah! Think I was about to declare my undying love for you. Well fuck that.”

Sharp words hissed out crisply within the growing, shrinking gastric depths. Their bodies continued to lose mass. As the rugated space languidly enclosed further around them. An unbreakable adhesion that would undoubtedly follow them after death if nothing was done about it.

“This stupid dragon bitch’s belly is draining me of mana. Otherwise, I would have busted us out of these sloppy insides and made a whole new mess of this sow of a woman.”

Jeanne’s snarl was especially tense.

“So, just focus your mana and pour it directly inside my belly. Then I’ll rip us out of here with my teeth if I have to.”

You stupid idiot…

The gently hot hold of Jeanne’s quivering lips crept along the bobbing pillar of Ritsuka’s masculinity. He was nervous. His mind still processing what the Avenger said in this situation, but his bones creaked, and his muscles screamed.

Hours had already passed. They had no way of knowing if Artoria was even walking with Mash…or if the Lancer had abandoned the Shielder altogether.

It was either now or never.

Pulse

Ritsuka tightened his grip.

Pulse

Pulse

From the depths to the outer precipice of Jeanne’s feminine genitalia was a crashing of sodden desire. Secreted strands of sensual solution that would facilitate the penetration of her vaginal vault.

Pulse

Pulse

Pulse

Their hearts beat in tandem. Their bodies intermingled. Their engorged vitality merge in intimate congress. Their bodily blood and spiritual sanguine pulsated through the sexual membranes. Their words and thoughts may have been reluctant to admit it, but their oval-shaped sexual structures rumbled in rapturous need.

SCHLLCKPLAP

Fimbriae and scrotum tensed from the vibrating force of desire. The slimy membranes that covered their softening hips and waistline slapped together as they joined each other in the first, pleasurable jerking of their bodies.

BOROAORGLE!!

Hmm~

“Fuck! Deeper you idiot!”

Jeanne’s voice was small compared to the drowning orchestra of the incoming flood. Enzyme and pepsin heated up as the stewing solution, now combining with meaty pulp and fatty oils, grew even more fierce. As if the turbulent ocean of slosh had sensed the increasing malleability of the prey’s superficial membranes. That the time for the merciless crash, that would tear meat from bone, was nearing. Regardless, Ritsuka’s alert faculties focused on the gentle strength expelled by his servant’s vocal cords.

Just plow as deep as you can into me…Ritsuka~

As this was likely their final chance…

III: Disposing Damnation

The proprioceptive feel of their waning thrusts on my inner sanctum…those vapid peasants couldn’t possibly be…

BOROAORGLE!!

Hmmm~

Artoria’s lips drew together in a close smile. One of genuine satisfaction that emerged from genuine surprise.

Just as I assessed. To brazenly fornicate during your last moments. If this is all you can amount to after just a few hours in my stomach, then it is verily judicious of me to rip the tendons off your bones and add your muscles to my own.

Without turning her head or twisting her cumbersome trunk of a body, the King of Knights cast a side glance at the trailing subject of her Knights of the Round table.

The stumbling pinkette’s face was still painted a painful red.

“I do believe that it is not customary for a knight to drag their feet.”

Surusglush!

“Especially one of your excellence.”

Artoria’s voice resounded through the verdant canopy. The unbounded aroma of fresh nature wafted through Mash’s flared nares. The young woman’s erratic respiratory rate was because she knew that she had already given away too much of her inner workings. Her soft treading pace and the furious blush that burned her cheeks. There was no way that the typically indifferent King of Knights wouldn’t have noticed these eccentricities.

“Oh. I’m just worried about Jeanne and senpai. We’ve walked pretty far but haven’t caught up with them yet.”

Mash’s gaze was focused on the firm luggage that hung from the king’s middle. The heaving mound of flesh that ballooned out like a figurative blimp. IT bobbed and swayed, and even gave an extra jiggle in synchrony with the king’s recently spoken words, but no matter the resulting shudder of the heaving mound of flesh…there was always an ample window of its splendor for the observer to spectate. Even after it began to shrink in size after the several hours that passed.

“Right. The master and his…servant. They do seem to be akin to two peas in a pod. I’m sure that they are comfortably stowed wherever they are. As they reach the end of their own trip on this mountain.”

Artoria’s words inspired an affective shift in the young woman’s mind.

Mmh— Am I right about Jeanne and senpai and it’s really like that!? Did Artoria notice too? Or am I just reading too deeply into her words.

One that would have resulted in an exacerbation of Mash’s transient lack of coordination. The question was whether it was of her thoughts being clouded by Ritsuka finding love with another...or by the sheer gravity of Artoria’s steps. Those massive pillars sculpted by efficiently arranged and mighty sinew...now fattening from the mass streaming from the bleached-blonde’s receding midsection.

Thus, Mash chose to redirect instead of self-reflect.

As the Shielder watched the shifting outlines hidden under the Lancer’s jacket, appear and vanish from prominence, as the two continued their conversation.

“Yes. You’re probably right. I trust that Jeanne wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Ritsuka.”

Each squeezing contraction of the full-bodied woman’s expansive tummy, betraying the efforts of gastric muscle slowly crushing the prey into mush, was followed by a ballooning expansion. To indicate a warm wave of nascent acids being freshly produced by the opulent abdomen. To thickly coat the soaked pelts and membranes of whatever meat was trapped inside. It was a visual masterpiece of hedonistic pleasures. One that the innocent kouhai had underestimated the corrupting influence of, as it nurtured the planted seeds of perversion within her mind. Almost as if the callous and unthinking actions of the regal belly had an almost divine, bewildering effect to it. One that had driven the pinkette mad. To the point that her imaginary feelings of being cheated on were almost a nugatory whimsy.

A boar and a pheasant. They must have been big monsters for Artoria’s stomach to not have made much of a dent on them these past hours.

The bespectacled woman’s gaze spared a moment. As her eyes darted to the orange-tinted sky. The amber rays of the veiled sun had lost its intensity. The fiery sky, that easily diffused through the mountains thinning atmosphere, had all but weakened to a gentle glow.

“Hmm~ Perchance you’ve noticed, but the homely Avenger is fond of attaching herself to Ritsuka. Almost to the hip. Despite how much she contests the opposite to be doubtless gospel.”

Night would be soon. The pair continued to walk into the void’s uncharted terrain. The emerging reality was impossible to know. What was certain was that the time for rest and digestion was impending. The former was more out of habit for servants like them, but also a time for one’s active muscles to shift their priorities. The latter was the voluntarily enacted and involuntary process that resulted from resting. An exacerbation of the passing of mortal coil.

Physical activity to digestive activity.

From tensing and relaxing firm bundles of sinew to elicit the pumping of limbs. Such that the bleach-blond haired king and the pink-haired knight could move forward, with little wasted time, in their path. In life. To that very strength now being directed at systems that functioned at a basal rate. Nearly unnoticed in the grand scheme of things. Such as recently bursting belly, full of dissolving meat that would be repurposed as layers of chubby might.

Damn…they’re still struggling in there.

Mash quietly gulped down the saliva that built up in her mouth. A heaping of drool that would have seeped out of the pinkette’s lips if she had chosen to ignore it. Of course, there were many things that the focused servant could ignore. Artoria’s belly was not one of them. As it swung like the pendulum affixed to the middlemost portion of an old analog clock.

Tick. Tock.

Slish. Slosh.

Time moved on and the stomach remained active. Midnight neared and so too would the end of the prey’s struggles cease.

Mash’s fingers unconsciously grasped towards the unfamiliar buzzing that lit up between her hips and beneath her waistline. She stopped herself, short of the taboo region located at her crotch, in embarrassed recognition of what she was about to do.

Ugh…so shameless. But...no...yea. I can handle thinking about it...

Mash suspired in soft resignation to her budding desires. Rationalizing the lewd thoughts as something that she should invite in this situation with an older woman of unknown motives.

Just how thick are Artoria’s haunches going to be after this meal?

Mash’s self-consciousness escalated. Her ears picked up the quality of their steps, and her mind attributed it to a figurative weight. Heavy crashes and light plods. They played as an unbroken rhythm that combined with the mellifluous flora and fauna.

Artoria, the ever-distant King of Knights that bathed herself in the carnality of wilderness, like a new layer of fatty meat that was freshly digested. That literary convention would become reality soon enough. The pounding thuds of Mash and Artoria’s pumping pillars of well-muscled thighs and calves became more distinct from each other. Only one conclusion could have been reached in the mind of the pinkette whose own feet reached the increasingly deep boot prints of the stuffed woman. A reality that was affirmed by the gradual receding girth of the vivacious abdominal mass.

Mash knew that the type of wildlife that Artoria guzzled down must not have been the benign or casually manifested kind. For a boar and pheasant, they left the impression of a distention that could only be accomplished by a human or two. At least that was how it was a couple hours ago. The squeaks and strains of the womanly blonde’s clothes did not abate. Rather the quality of the sound changed. From a single screeching yell to a multitude of squeals and croons. It was no longer just the circumference of Artoria’s jacket and top being tested. As the weight that was being slurped up by the active digestive system was already being reallocated as plushy fat and mushy meat. Goblets and strands that were formed by the layers that already sloughed off from the prey. Prey that was wobbling the dome of the King of Knight’s front in their final moments.

Grssloossh~

I think there was a picture that senpai looked at…two girls together…one with the huge aftermath of chub and the smaller one just huffing it up. Egging the other on to repeat the lethal action for their shared pleasure.

Mash’s steps faltered as she turned the bounds of her hips inwards. The young woman’s thighs rotated as she felt the signs of building eroticism flush through her system. Scalding hot loins that itched with each step, tight chest that made itself known with each breath, and beads of sweat that coated her flushed chest to her locking limbs.

Haa~ Haa~

This percussive orchestra, formed from the combination of the mountain’s natural auditory ambience and the carnal ceremony that clamored from Artoria’s dominance over her conquered prey, was nearly too much for the young woman. This silent march was too much for March without any form of release, while it was just what the bleach-blonde king was accustomed to.

Artoria’s temperament was increasingly soothed by the nuisances progressively being repurposed into indolent accessories that would be hanging off her sides. Ledges of growing pudge that Artoria was free to retain or execute once again. By burning off the layers that could be added to her spirit origin.

Yes…I don’t know why I am of this assumption, but it’s a doubtless vision for me. That both that whorish witch and the useless master would be adorning my muscle and my adipose.

“Pardon my candor Mash Kyrielight, but I believe that I’ve arrived at the heart of your wound and wish to alleviate a turmoil that may now be dampening both of our wits and strides.”

Mentally for you…

Artoria slowed her stroll and shuffled in her steps. As she angled her arms and dug her fingers beneath the hem of her hiking pants. She tugged up the protective fabric and was already able to recognize the increased girth of her hips.

...physically for me.

A bit of the whorish witch and the inept master were already gushing down the king’s deeper innards.

Hmph! I guess the wench and tactful master simply gave up. How unsatisfying.

Artoria actively felt her mental vigor attenuated by the dampening of her internal entertainment. The knight was able to derive a sense of power and dominance, from how her simple gastric folds overwhelmed her prey. People that used to stand just as tall as the well-developed woman, were now made so small within her garrulous gastric system. Sprayed with juices that would convert them into that extra juicy jiggle during the knight’s physical jousts. The question of what would come next was the final ingredient in this mental cuisine.

Would they be able to surmount an offense to overcome the unyielding organic wilderness that collapsed their world every second? Would the gentle strength of her caloric warmth morph into a steely fire that threatened to pierce her system? Would those rhythmic waves of hot lightning come from the end of Jeanne d’ Arc’s fiery flag and the ultimate pleasure of destroying her enemies be supplanted by a sublime immolation of exploding blood and paste?

For this wild and darkened Artoria, to protect and lead her people was equivalent to use and repurpose. They were her body and limbs, to be treated as such, and occasionally to be fully introduced into that position by the most direct, steamy of means.

For this King of Knights, to fight and strive was equivalent to conquer and destroy. To utterly ravage the opponent and grow off the meat and fat of their rotting, well-cooked corpses. In both the spiritual and corporeal sense. Just as it was happening to the bothersome peasant and loathsome master that were unaware of their positions. Raising and lowering themselves and turning the tried-and-true order of divine right on its head. This savage conclusion was all that awaited them.

Artoria deserved to feel their deathly throes. There was a tincture of hilarity in feeling their limbs and bodies crash against her stomach and each other. But it was tempered by the brutality that the wild King of Knights had grown accustomed. Their sensual shakes, the futile act of copulation, on her corpulent swell were a lesser prize.

“Uhm…what do you mean Artoria?”

So, of course, the darkly suited and pale woman of explosive proportions turned her sights to the meek and embarrassed Shielder. Someone whose slowed wit and flustered appearance betrayed her lustful weakness to the King of Knights. That being the pinkette’s lascivious arousal at the sight of the portliness of Artoria’s regal curves. The Lancer was certain that she could curl her finger, point to her bobbing uvula in her opened maw filled with salivary spires, complete the motion of a sensual swallow, trace the motion of the descending dent of drool along her throat, and not even a word would be needed before Mash Kyrielight would throw herself at the king’s feet…no…right into her gaping oral aperture.

“Your heart yearns for the master. It must hurt to know that he has eloped with another.”

Artoria’s face turned, and she stopped her sauntering sway, and lied as simply as she breathed. The wobbling fortress of King of Knight’s tense abdominal tumescence stretched far in one direction, before slamming back to the midline of her body. An echoing slosh broke the metronome of nature, as the reverberations of the impact traveled all the way back to Artoria’s spine.

Aahhh~

The mature woman noticed the younger woman’s face become tinted by a morose mood. Meanwhile, the pair of rutting bunnies in Artoria’s gut became more erratic in their movements. Their movements slowed as the tide rose but was broken by an intense impulse of their sexual activity. Produced, at least based on Artoria’s speculation, from the strength that they saved up and involuntary movements that could only be inspired by sexual intercourse. Vigorous full-bodied motion that could only be elicited by genitalia married together in flesh, while the hosts were so closely adjacent to a demise punctuated by a shitty end padded with fat.

Just imbibing her crestfallen countenance…as those oversized chunks of mutton add to all the right places…is simply exquisite.

“E…Eloped!? I…”

Mash faltered. The red on her face finally paled. Her eyes, lashes nervously fluttering, but it was obvious that those pools were searching for an answer. Any sign of comfort from the sharp and steely features of the cruel knight’s face.

Oh~

Artoria just loved it. She loved using her possessions

The king loved watching Mash’s expression twist from a rosy arousal to a vulnerable affect. This experience was only compounded by the tender massage that she gave to her squirming gut. The jutting definition, that once blemished the pristine taut surface, had diminished. A gradual vanishing with a promise of a return to a lustrous slope of slender abdominals. Well…for the most part. At the very least what will be left will be fun for the King of Knights to squeeze while she returned to her typical Chaldean diet of junk food rich with empty calories.

“Yes. You need not speak further. Last I saw of them, they were so intimately wrapped together that I would have to shove the sharp end of Rhongomyniad to untwine them.”

Heavens…I can feel how intimately bound together they are right now.

For Artoria it was almost like Ritsuka and Jeanne were vapid beasts. Their minds almost as empty as the nutritional value of the chocolate bars she would scarf by the dozen. That the whorish witch and inept master were just a bundle of meat that were soon to explode into resplendent and nutritious gore. They were only tethered together into a physical and functioning whole due to their futile, delaying act of procreation. The King of Knights was finally able to fully enjoy this heated sensorium of ebbing life, oozing through her gastric lumen, and pervading through her stomach. Mash’s moistening eyes was just the dressing that this sinful dish needed.

The Saint that forsook the cloth and the master traitorous to his kouhai’s feelings. Oh, how delicious it is to thoroughly ground the happiness of my little steed.

“Oh…uhm…”

Mash staggered along. Not knowing how to respond. She began to walk back up the path and was about to bring a dry sleeve up to her wet eyes. Instead, the bespectacled woman was stopped by a tense grip on her arm. The pinkette looked at the knight’s striking face. A visage that was unreadable.

“Here…one such as your prestige need not stain your clothes with tears.”

So, the vulnerable kouhai only had Artoria’s words to glean a truth from.

Ah…how nice of her…

Even if the conclusion was false.

Verily, there is a sinful flavor to the capture of a woman and her lover. To tear the one she loves away from her. To convince her that he was not ever wanting of her heart. And now to take that gushing organ of pulsing might and toy with it like some ball in these modern-day sporting events.

The edges of the Lancer’s lips twitched upward into a crisp smile. Then she brought a hand up to the beads of tears that threatened to spill over the edges of Mash’s eyes. The captured river of salty water sheened on the knight’s finger, then she opened her mouth. A potent puff of Artoria’s meaty breath wafted towards Mash’s nostrils. Stimulating the olfactory nerves in synchronous bliss with the pinkette’s optic nerves. As the young woman watch the mature woman’s plump tongue reach out and wrap around the king’s wet finger. The Shielder’s tears were completely washed away be the sides of drool and sucked off. Artoria then wrapped her lips on the slick digit and finished with a vacuuming—

Pop!!

GURUSLURGUSH!!

Mash was so hot and bothered by the sight, that she didn’t realize just how close she now was to the temptress’s gut. The Shielder blinked in astonishment. The girth of the abdominal dome had gotten much smaller. It was firm to the touch. Like steel. A testament to the escalating vigor of the full-proportioned woman’s gastrointestinal system and the elasticity of her abs. Working together to pulverize and pump pounds of protein through pulsing perimeters.

“Come hither…”

Artoria placed her palms against the side of Mash’s blazing cheek. The latter could feel her face jump a couple centigrade. While the knight’s other hand wrapped around the lateral edge of Mash’s arm. Thereby, pulling the young woman back with the physically backpedaling predator. As she pulled the two of them off the beaten path and underneath the protecting cloak of a tall tree. No longer would the pair of hikers sweat bullets under the descending sun. Rather, that source of perspiration would be replaced by another.

Thunk!

Artoria’s broad back collided against the bark of the nearest tree.

Grrglslloossh

Mash’s glasses fogged up, as they fell a centimeter down the bridge of her nose. The pinkette’s hot breaths clouded the prosthetics, as she lowered her head down to the softening angles that heterogeneously bloated the bundle of tensing fibers and skin.

Wow…boars and pheasants look so different when they’ve been stuck in a stomach for hours.

Mash, closer than ever to the king’s rumbling gut, to the point of feeling it vibrate against her skin as the pale woman pulled them closer together, was able to better discern the outline within the jacket.

“My servile knight, unzip.”

Artoria cocked an eyebrow. Then she trailed a hand down the length of her body vertically. Along the midline. It was obvious what the king’s request was. Mash could have stopped, inquired, and even pushed back. These actions weren’t beyond her. As she was still smitten by her senpai and was a young woman possessing intellect on better days.

However, there was the potent fragrance that spilled from the behind the first layer covering the Lancer’s torso. It was just too tantalizing for the activated neurons within the Shielder’s brain. Thereby, priming the nervous system’s ganglions to begin to figuratively rot out of hedonistic desire.

Mash’s potential future desires dictated her hesitant current desires. Mash’s hesitant current desires washed away her unrequited past desires.

ZZZIPPPPP

The jacket was cleanly split, and out came Artoria’s black undershirt. A shade that was too dark to tell if it was stained in the Lancer’s sweat or not. Mash believed it to be so. It must have been doused in the mature woman’s piquant bodily fluids. As the potent fragrance of musk billowed out like a literal miasma that flooded the sensitive membranes of the pinkette’s eyes and nose. A subduing gas that exuded freely from the monarch’s freed torso.

Artoria’s massive mammary glands heaved with pleased breaths. The king sated from easily wrapping her former knight snug around her fingers. Those shelves of breast adipose lightly slapped against the literal boulder of meat, the Lancer’s turgid distention, that had poured out of her opening jacket like a tub of hot cement. It bobbed up and down with a diminishing amplitude, as it greeted the blushing Shielder. Before slowing to an erratically jiggling and distorted barrel.

“Hmm~ That feels sublime.”

Artoria angled an arm and pressed her fingers into the taut stretch of her firm abs. The tensile strength of those monstrous fibers was fully shown to Mash. The pinkette couldn’t help but audibly gulp at the sight.

“Massage.”

Artoria’s sly smirk, as she was entertained by how befuddled the trained combatant was with just a little pudge, regressed to a sharply merged interstice. The king’s face hardened, and her voice bore its characteristic sternness. There was no doubt in Mash’s mind that this was less of a request and more of an order. From a king who viewed herself above the little steed.

Why is she acting like this…?

Mash’s trembling lips failed to form a reactive pout. As the young woman’s mind was hazed by the dollop of euphoria, that she felt upon being given an order. It was almost enough to distract the Shielder from the features of the Lancer’s stretched stomach.

The sagging middle was packed. To such a full extent that the young woman could easily see the individual gaps between the dark undershirt’s painfully stretched fibers.

Lubdub Lubdub

Mash’s heart raced. She squinted. This proximity, the unveiling of the insulating curtain, and Artoria’s domineering request all lowered the young woman’s head. To the tapestry of the limbs and torso squished into the shrinking space.

A boar and a pheasant?

Mash blinked. The arousal-induced fog on her glasses didn’t help in delineating the exact features of the dissolving prey. That and the clarity of the enveloped sculpture of melting flesh was constantly warped by the preys’ struggles. A tumefied roll of abdominal bloat and the caving in surface of an elastic belly would switch places in only a second. Each shift of the unknown prey’s features would be accompanied by a garrulous roar from the stomach that was anything but terse.

“Mash!”

URUAAR—

What started as a firm statement from Artoria, to break the vulnerable and easily malleable girl from her horny stupor, was adjourned by an unrepentant heat. It exploded within the bowels of the king’s burgeoning stomach, and rapidly pervaded through her body.

The king quickly realized that she had underestimated her meal.

The pores of her spirit origin reactively opened and the circuits adjacent to her skin flushed with an alarming rubor. It was a physiological change that wasn’t missed by Mash.

“Artoria!?”

Mash’s eyes widened. Those ocular orbs flitted up and down from the reddened king’s face, whose visage was twisted into one of fierce discomfort for the first time, and at the abdominal bulge, whose distended volume had begun to ascend between the wobbling weight of the knight’s breasts. A firm dent that was rising through her cleavage.

They’re…

They’re…

…Escaping!!

…Escaping?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Plap

Schluck

They collided against each other with a fiery passion. Within this dark space that ripped a layer off their frames with each rabid embrace they made. Ritsuka’s engorged cock, virilized by the threat of impending death, plowed deep into Jeanne’s vaginal canal. It was an imagined pleasure, that has hazed the Tsundere’s mind in many daydreams, made real.

It would have been perfect, if not for the vicious backdrop of unending viscosity and the breaking down of their fragile forms. The gastric goo was much heavier now. Both of them could feel their bodies reflexively tremble from each recoil of their hips smacking together.

Plap

Crtch

Schluck

Crack

The physical integrity of their bodies mattered little. Both Jeanne and Ritsuka knew that such injuries were well within Chaldea’s ability to treat. These mountains of lacerations that they stepped over, with each lively thrust and eager acceptance, secretions sliming the hot obelisk that stroked the Avenger’s insides, was all worth it.

Plap

Schluck

GOROLORSH

It had to be worth it.

Plap

Schluck

There was mercy in the darkness. As neither prey knew if they would be able to let themselves be enflamed in such euphoric passion, forcibly mixing the emulsion of baser bliss with masochistic heat until it becomes an ephemeral homogeneous ooze, if they were able to see themselves. To see just how thoroughly their bodies have been digested. If they would still be able to continue after visually processing the fibrous stalks of their muscles shaking off their breaking joints.

Plap

Schluck

Each of Ritsuka’s throbbing plunges, just scraped Jeanne’s insides with the right amount of hot electricity. The Avenger’s clit was fully engorged and constantly strummed to play a warm tune that traveled the dissolving pathway of circuits and released a melodic symphony within her mind. The master’s cock was a firm staff, the skin of his shaft constantly massaged by the wet and rugated space, with a long-sought kindness that stabilized the dying human’s sense of self with a foundation of euphoria.

Plap

Schluck

Like animals they built upon each other’s rabid pleasure. Their groaning croons and wheezed like a drop in the bucket of gastric sounds, but the raspy intonations pounded in each other’s head.

It allowed the experienced witch to mentally reject the new cauldron in which she was burning in. As she felt the head of her partner’s cock increase in size. The moment of their triumph was nearing, a large deposit of protein and mana that would seep through the wrinkled walls of Jeanne’s vagina.

Aw fuck…Ritsuka…don’t cum before me…

Yet, this was also a moment that she fantasized about. To reach past the boundaries of life and death, master, and servant, and to even have a chance at this marriage of physical intimacy. This was beyond the burning witch’s imagination, so she wanted to be selfish. For this moment to be engrained in her spirit origin. The Avenger pushed out the thoughts of how dangerous this was for Ritsuka and rode the flooding waves of magical pleasure that enveloped her mind in an impenetrable fog.

Plap

Schluck

Meanwhile, this ultimate bond of physicality allowed the master to give a new meaning to the deathly environment. His repressed feelings for the Avenger servant became unwound like a boxed gift…and much like his body currently was. The suffocating air, the nausea inducing chyme that flowed into his vanishing lips, the hot glue of stomach walls that ripped deeper and deeper with each clench…they all conflated with a veritable love of his life.

Ritsuka’s fetish, his desire to be consumed and digested, had finally emerged in full swing.

Ahh~ Jeanne…

Ritsuka tried to give himself fully into the experience. To lose himself in the ocean of mind-numbing masochistic pleasure that would lead them to a life-saving orgasm. However, there was still the feelings that the young man could not betray.

Mash Kyrielight.

Plap

Schluck

Pulse

Pulse

Perhaps it was for the best. As at least one of them retained their sanity when they both climaxed. Ritsuka pressed his hands tightly into Jeanne’s sloughing shoulders. Until he couldn’t feel them anymore, as the bones in his fingers finally untethered from each other, the meat between the calcium polygons finally oozed off like butter. The young man’s arms reduced to bloody stubs at the ends.

“Ahh~ Jeanne now!!”

Plap

Schluck

Ritsuka used the last of his voice. For the master’s vocal cords finally snapped. The words, barely above a ghost of a whisper, miraculously registered in the Avenger’s ears through the roaring predator’s squelching insides. Jeanne’s fractured hips wrapped tightly around the master’s own acid-torn structures. The puffy pair of lips felt the impact, the white and steaming sludge ejected from a tensing ball sack, and her body instinctively began to sate its sexual hunger. The lips increased the pressure on the young man’s cock…to the point that he thought that Jeanne’s vagina was going to gulp the pillar of flesh along with his cum.

Splurt

Splurt

Splurt

Ohhh~

Jeanne’s lips spread as she moaned, her lower lips heartily sucking the opaque splooge deep through its rugated space. The Avenger’s mouth may have spread a little bit too far, as she inhaled a toxic amount of stomach gas, but they twisted back into a warped visage of triumph. Then the witch thrust her withered arm against the pounding ceiling. Artoria’s gastric wrinkles bit down with a crushing gnaw, but the prey ignored it as she lit her eroding palm with the flames of purgatory.

GHRRRRGSLLK

Finally, the gastric walls squealed in a dissonance that did not confer their pleasure, but their agony. Indigestion took hold of the predator’s gut, as the witch clawed through the walls, spreading a pruritic fire that pierced even the protruding mucosal layer. Jeanne’s inherent anti-draconic trait had finally gained enough strength to leave a disastrous impression on the quaking digestive folds.

A simple case of indigestion, and a possible peptic ulcer days later, was not the Avenger’s intent. Both her and Ritsuka were going to escape. That fantastical hope became a reality by the prey’s fifth thrust. As Jeanne felt an initial resistance give way. Laxity presenting itself in the form of a widening ring. The esophageal sphincter. The entrance to this tormenting hell, was not only found but rammed through by the Avenger’s acid-mired fist.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ritsuka hold onto me! I’ve got us out of here!”

Jeanne’s joy dripped from her victorious cry. The witch felt the young man press his arms around her sides, a tenuous grip, but that was all that he could muster after the damage that his body had been put through.

Finally. Mash. Mash will be outside. She’ll save us.

Ritsuka’s relief was tinged by confusion. Of this moment of survival. How does Jeanne feel about this? How would Mash feel if she found out?

How should I feel? After having sex with Jeanne...

Ritsuka thought just as his head pressed against the puffy gate that bordered Artoria’s heart. Its drumming beat was still strong, but, for the first time, the pair heard the cardiac rhythm carry on with an apparent unsteadiness.

The king was discomposed from their revolt. The onrush of stomach acids below them and crushing gut squeezes, at a rapid rate and rhythm, as if it was trying to swiftly digest them, confirmed this fact to the preys. As this physiological change was the vain ruler’s last attempt to hide her weakness and that they were on the path to escape.

“Fuck you! You stupid dragon cow bitch!”

Jeanne was fit and ready to cackle like the bloodied witch she was. The Avenger’s steely resolve and firm grip on the fleshy esophageal tide, failing to push them back with each rippling peristalsis, more than matched the king’s physicality.

Huh!!

Then the force of the throat’s walls doubled. A firm pressure that exploded on the other side of Artoria’s chest. The layers that were exposed to the free air.

No. No!

Jeanne and Ritsuka had miscalculated. They assumed that the king would not act. An assumption conjured by their cognitively intact, but acid-muddled minds. One that was potentially correct, with how surprised the Lancer was when they began to crawl up to her collarbone. However, the peasant and inexperienced master forgot one thing.

A revolution only worked if the environment was in favor of the common people. They assumed that Mash would help them when they got outside, but that was only possible if they got a chance to leave this wretched canal of scalding slime. No. The external force that assisted both gravity and peristalsis was a pair of firm hands. Angled to provide the maximal amount of force to the shocked and pained king.

“Don’t move too much Artoria. I think that I got them right under my palms.”

The gentle strength of the familiar voice, muffled by endless layers of tense muscle and luscious fat, reverberated through the king’s thoracic cavity. It was a voice that both preys recognized before it pressed down on the with an overwhelming force.

Mash!!

Stupid bitch!!

Jeanne lost her grip on the frictionless space and nature took its course. The went back down Artoria’s hatch, where they would be doomed to be processed before being pushed towards a vile and humiliating egress.

GOROOERGSLORSH

IV: Denouement’s Dirge

Haaah~

Artoria exhaled. She brought a hand, palm facing her heaving chest, to comfort the burning space. The fortunate king turned her head down. To the source of the continued massage that circled around her aching gut. Soothing the tensing space of its recent case of indigestion.

My…what a good steed.

Whatever mental turmoil that the pinkette experienced earlier must have been quelled by the sudden appearance of the bolus that nearly escaped Artoria’s gullet. Mash breathed in measured huffs. The obsequious Shielder caressed and kneaded the tense gut as it ballooned out once more.

Gurglursh

Scrklch

Why did Mash do this? For a seductive king that had bluntly told her that her senpai’s heart belonged to another. In such a way that the Lancer’s words were suspicious of being taunting and patronizing.

They were still alive in there!

The answer was simple. The stress Mash felt couldn’t be placed out of her mind. No matter what conventional mental gymnastics the young woman attempted. So, she would try something new, and drown it in self-indulgence. The Shielder may have been timid in front of the brutal King of Knights, but she saw the Lancer’s burning yellow gaze and came to her own conclusion.

The conquering and wild king wished to sully her purity. To ravage her physically and perhaps even beyond that. No matter. Mash would use her too. Their cognitive needs merging in this relationship as their physical touch would.

Ooph!

“So firm and strong!”

Mash tried to maintain a strong composure, but the full-bodied palpitations did not cease. Rather they were partially supplanted by the lust that the demure kouhai allowed herself to be submerged in.

“Was this really a boar and pheasant that you devoured?”

Mash said with a flutter of her eyelashes. The young woman’s mind was so congested by licentious impurities, that she failed to arrive at the obvious conclusion. That her earlier question, about the whereabouts of the two other hikers, bore a similar answer.

In the face of Mash’s growing confidence in this sexually charged encounter, Artoria blinked in her second moment of surprise today. Before her composure returned. The dauntless king repressed an intrigued smile. At the wondrous surprise of courting an additional opponent before the day’s end.

“Hmm~ Why don’t you get a closer look. My little steed.”

Eeeep!

Mash yelped as she felt a leg press against her own. The young woman lost her footing and found herself descending to the ground. Meanwhile, Artoria also lowered herself to a squat. One that brought her haunches, in all its abundant glory, barreling towards the more modest pinkette’s perky breasts. As she lied on the mountain’s floor in a supine position, back pressed against the soft dirt and blades of grass.

Thuddd!!

The Lancer lowered her body, deepening the squat that would soon become a sitting position.

“Artoria!”

Mash gazed at the eclipsing sky. The foliage of the tree, that blocked the sun, was joined by a pendulous barrel. The king brought her expanding butt and thighs down on Mash’s breasts, and then the pannus of her fat gut, sloshed and spilled with its heated embrace right over Mash’s face. The bulging expanse of regal meat pressed down on the mewling pinkette’s face with an oppressive and moist weight.

Hmmph~

“True. You shouldn’t trust even your king’s words Mash Kyrielight. In the absence of trust, one can only rely on observation and their own physical experience.”

Artoria felt the circuits lining the skin of her black-coated belly tingle from the delicate huffs from the smaller woman.

“So, make sure to soak all this into your cogitations.”

Artoria’s words rumbled powerfully like her gut. As she leaned down and pushed the rolling undercarriage of her sagging corpulence swallow up any sign of Mash’s face. Whose forceful respirations became all that more rapid and pleasurable for the king. The young pinkette’s oral moistures was a sublime saturation for the substrate that was the king’s twitching abdomen. Muscles that stretched and constricted around a space that became smaller, smaller, smaller…

…and smaller.

SGLLRRRRTTTCCHH

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only agony that matched the shattering of Jeanne’s hopes, was the moment that she and Ritsuka fell back into the boiling moat of acidic magma. A dense viscosity that was not kind enough to spare the Avenger’s ears.

SCRLTCCHH

The bloodied witch’s body fell over her master’s own descending figure. An audible series of cracks sounded from the burbling liquid pulp. So much of the chyme was composed of the matter that had dripped of the two of them. Their frames so feeble, but the young man’s body was even frailer. That was why Jeanne felt his legs curl and bent in a disgusting squish. The muscle that wrapped around those pillars untwined faster than a seamstress unspooled thread.

Ritsuka’s following silence, drowned out by the sonorous exultation of groans and moans from the uncaring stomach, was just heart shattering.

“No…no…Ritsuka…”

Cough! Cough!! Co—

BURUGSLORSH

The stomach gave another hearty bellow. Jeanne’s vicious intonations, full of unbridled passion, had been reduced to a shadow of itself. The Avenger’s warped memories emerged in the back of her mind. How the spire of fire burned her lungs to a roasted crisp, when she was bound tight to that pole. In front of those unforgiving masses that she saved.

BRRRGGLE

This was different. This was a distinct torture all together. The hope and despair were both present in equal parts, both augmenting their polar opposites to their extremes by the simple nature of their contrasting relationship.

That was before. Now there was a victor. The fattened ichor of darkness feasted on the witch’s freely discarded hope. Growing much fatter than it would have before if the peasant had never hoped.

“Oh god! Ritsuka, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She wept. The hardy tegument that Jeanne wrapped her personality in had come off. As the Tsundere knew that time was drawing short. Her lungs howled bloody murder with the next collapse of gastric flesh. The slimy folds gluing against the pair with an even stickier adhesion. So close was the pulsing meat of Artoria’s lining, that Jeanne couldn’t tell where her spirit origin ended and Artoria’s spirit origin began.

Mash…

Ritsuka didn’t fight the incoming volume of liquid sun. Dense with pepsin and hydrochloric acid that put the finishing touches on his folding skeleton. Nor did he fight the pressure that came from every direction. Even beyond the strata of flesh they were buried in. The shifting pressure through the tensing walls, could only have been one person in the dying master’s mind. His endearing and ever dependable kouhai.

Mash Kyrielight.

God…I…

Regret filled Ritsuka. As his anguish was amplified by a belief that his own unwillingness to commit to the partner, that was always by his side, had been Jeanne and his undoing. That this was somehow his fault, as he was compelled to go on this hiking trip because of it. So that the voluntarily solitary King of Knights would be less alone. The dissolving man had no idea how accurate his thoughts were. How Mash had left the three of them alone because she believed Jeanne and him to be an item.

…do…I deserve this?

The sex-craven drive within the young man was replaced by a hollow void. A consuming vortex that coincided with two calamitous changes. The fall into the gastric pool, which now pushed out nearly all the breathable gas bubbles, had ripped the genitalia that fueled the master’s lust. It was one of many gashes that widened to even be called a jagged gate. A short, ribbed hallway that was extremely accommodating to the flooding acids. Smoldering mire that stunk of rot and iron. The scent of the fumes that radiated from the biome that cooked Jeanne and Ritsuka’s flesh.

Mash…I’m so sorry….

Ritsuka’s organs lost hold of the surrounding viscera, and were pulled down by the undertow, with a foundation of extremely thick strands of enzymes. Oozing ropes that continued to drag his organs, that burn with their grip like briars and thistles, as a heartbroken Jeanne tugged her dear master close to her.

The Avenger no longer cared about the mask that she carved. It had fully fallen away, as the breaking witch tried her hardest in this futile endeavor. Jeanne knew that she couldn’t save her unrequited love, the unloved woman simply wanted to protect him. For even a moment longer.

God. Fuck you for this cruel world.

Jeanne clutches Ritsuka’s heaving body more tightly. Their rib cages cracking as they merged under the crushing impulse of stomach meat.

“It’s okay Ritsuka. I’ll protect you. It’s okay.”

Jeanne could feel the young man’s delicate breaths and heartbeats. She focused on the last remaining signs of her love’s life. Over the grotesque sounds of lust from the ones that betrayed them.

“I know. I know that you don’t feel the same way about me…”

Jeanne’s croaks were so tiny. The Avenger didn’t even know if her master could hear her over the triumphant gastric trumpets, and the wet collisions of flesh that stretched beyond the bounds of this gastric universe.

BURGLSORSH

The broken witch’s eyes flooded with iron sanguine. Her nonfunctional ocular orbs closed tight as she felt their pulses slow. They could only serve, with the absence of even a shred of light, to hurt her now.

“That’s fine. Just now…just now…”

Jeanne closed her body around Ritsuka. The broken witch’s own organs began to drip from the overbearing power of the ceiling. Servant and master’s existence fully merged as their thoughts and rhythmic thrums simultaneously silenced. Then the nuclear fire and oceanic depths combined and formed a regal apocalypse in the form of overwhelming crash of pulping pulsations.

GURURRSHH

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You irredeemable servant. Don’t think that your suspirations for my ephemeral idol of growling flesh escapes my senses.”

A withering croon vibrated through the compacting barrel. Pulsing layers dragged the mantle of skin farther and farther away from Mash’s buried face. A natural motion in a functioning digestive system that receded and shrunk the tightening abdomen. As it now finished up with the meal that ceased in its movements. The freedom that the pinkette could have gained, with each passing minute, was undone as the Lancer rolled her gravid tumescence by leaning closer to the mountain’s ground. Those thick haunches, plumped up with pilfered adipose and muscle, by means of organic taxation, bounced on the young woman’s tender breasts. The taunting grind was easily felt through the layers of clothing that they both wore.

She’s so rough, uncaring, but there’s no doubt in her actions. God…it’s like a monstrous transparency. Is this the King of Knight’s, the Wild Hunt leader’s, true nature?

After all, Artoria was sitting on Mash with the weight of three people. The Shielder’s only relief was due to the Lancer’s fixation. On keeping her corpulent abdomen rolls enwrapped around Mash’s head. Thus, moving most of her body’s weight away from fully pressing the strong young woman into the dirt.

GOrooaaann

This would have been the time that the kouhai would have heard through the storming gastric organ. Except the prey that were buried within the meaty graveyard were beyond the concerns of the outside world. The corrosive liquids that itched, that burned, that melted, and took all they had...robbed the reality of the lovestruck kouhai meeting up with her much-too loving senpai.

If that stomach wasn’t packed so tightly, then would she have even eaten me…No. That’s just my imagination. Artoria might be a vicious glutton, but I’m a servant like her.

The only legacy that the kouhai had was the fetish that she got from her senpai, that ended up condemning him and Jeanne to their gastric tomb.

“I will be candid. Your weakness is an adorable and admirable one. A king’s subject should be infatuated with their ruler. Especially an obedient little steed like you.”

But I can’t deny how this fantasy makes me feel.

Thus, the bespectacled girl could only push against the rumbling dense boundaries. She listened to the first emotions that were eked out of the king’s rumbling body. It was a feminine pleasure. One that the Shielder’s sensitive nose could whiff from her flaring nostrils. An air that was pregnant with heady droplets. Moisture saturated with the secretions that collected behind the Lancer’s pants. A bottom wear that was being tugged down by the imperious predator.

Mash didn’t notice at first. Her arousal-addled mind was focused on the beautiful carvings of cloaked belly flab. The sweat-soaked shirt revealed enough through its stretched fibers. Angles and curves that gradually lost definition. It was a life that was unknown to Mash. She just knew that the King of Knights had lied to her. That the breakdown of life within the gastric orchestra was not a boar and pheasant, but some other organism that experienced the horrendous torture of an inescapable corrosive bath. A conversion from solid to broth to consommé.

Borglorsh

It was that mystery, dressed in a lie, that impelled Mash further into dark motives. As she drove her head into the increasing squish of the deflating dome. The pinkette’s hands moved to the expanding sides of the predator, flanks that were thickened by the heaps of mass that were already siphoned from the demolished meat. Mash’s mind slowly swept clean of any sensible thoughts. As the musky arousal of Artoria’s loins diffused through the sealed air. As the knight brazenly tugged her pants down her beefy thighs.

“My word, for a temporary guest to my wild flesh, you just fit so well to the powerful curves of my abdomen. Almost as if you were destined to merge with it. As a simple furniture for me to rest my belly or backside upon.”

Mash finally noticed the king’s disrobing when she was satisfied with her progress of her lower wear.

“My good little horse, gratify yourself in lavish worship of my growling folds. Be blessed by my magnanimity, in that I will lift the curtain to your object of prayer and love.”

Then, the Lancer angled her arms and pulled up the darkened undershirt. Finally unveiling the pale cream of her caked-up belly. The naturally frugal slope of the King of Knight’s abs had ballooned out to covetously cup the blushing pinkette’s cheeks. It was a cushiony abundance. That matched the explosive ampleness stretching the confines of Artoria’s chest and posterior.

Natural gravity and regal motive compressed the Shielder’s soft features. Staining her once pure visage. The heat of Artoria’s body dripped down over the young woman like the rivulets of perspiration.

Sgulursh

The moist resonation demanded the subdued Servant’s resignation.

Fuck…is this how it goes…or am I just…Mmpph~

Mash’s worry, of committing some mistake in this reckless courting, was consumed by the tearing gnaw of euphoria. The pinkette’s twisted neurons were twisted and gnarled. Left as a dendritic rot. The entire mountain, trees, bushes, and the vanishing sun’s light were eclipsed by the veritable mountain of royal flesh. A commanding plane that splayed between Mash’s palpating fingers and filled her frantic breaths with a choking pressure.

Mash could feel the Lancer’s thighs settling themselves along her sides. Wrapping the larger servant’s active body around the smaller servant’s subservient sides. Then Artoria’s calves angled around Mash’s back and increased the tightness of the secluded space that she was entrapped in. The underside of the sloshing belly, growing in heat from the pulped-up meat being chugged down by the pulsing intestines, extirpated any semblance of an outside world in the pinkette’s sensorium.

“In and out. My little steed. Huff my wild perfume and let yourself be broken by your baser instincts.”

Artoria’s stony voice boomed as she squeezed her thick thighs around the Shielder’s sides. The king’s hindquarters covetously ground on the young woman’s breasts.

“Discard conventions drilled into your pitiless head. You want only for the love accrued from worship of my carnal muscle and bone.”

This debasing designation evoked even more arousal in the pair locked in sadomasochistic regality. Masochistic pleasure in the obsequious servant who wanted to drown in this licentious happiness. To forget about the troubles in this musty dreamscape.

Just allow yourself to be drowned in my presence, and forget all about that inept master.

Cruel power in the experienced king who wanted to complete her process of justice. To return order to past and prospective subjects.

I know just hard it must have been. To experience the pain of freedom without proper guidance. Don’t worry, I won’t let you crash like a broken dove.

Artoria angled her arms over the tubbiness of her belly and pressed her palms down on the servant whose face she was sitting on.

“Lick.”

Artoria ordered. Before the concise demand was punctuated, the Lancer could feel the moisture build up on her exposed vulvar lips. A seeping of internal secretions from Artoria’s act of dominance and Mash’s eager lapping.

Squelch

Squelch

Slosh

The king rocked on top of the young woman’s face. Like a novice rider on the back of a horse for the first time in her life. Each hedonistic shake of their torsos, exchanging fluid between the mature woman’s puffy lower lips and the young woman’s parched upper lips, brought a compressing tightening on their forms.

Mash oriented her body tightly around the new center of her existence. To dive herself more deeply into the potent musk of feminine secretions. Artoria’s body oriented itself. Crushing the remains of the expiring master and servant. And moving that fat and muscle to form a distinct tightness around the king’s clothed chest and partly veiled posterior. They gradually increased in softness and expanded into clotted domes that dwarfed the pinkette’s head.

GGRRSSSSLLOOSSHH

Squelch

Squelch

Slosh

They continued until Mash had forgotten of the pain of social pressures and her mind was obscured and robbed of all chance at thought, and until Artoria had gotten her fill of dominating the inexperienced virgin in this sexual tryst.

GGRRSSSSLLOOSSHH

The sun descended. They lowered themselves so close to the wet ground and dry grass. The soft edges itched at their exposed skin as their bodies merged and separated in this unremitting sexual congress. Their eyes lidded in bliss until those lidded windows were forced shut by a drowsiness.

Slllrrggglllsssh

Midnight neared.

By then it was too late to go back. Mash had paid her price to the king, in the form of a tax worth the lives of two close to her, for her momentary mental repose. The innumerable bulges of pulped meat pounded through Artoria’s system, increasingly muffled under her growing layers, as they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rumbles of Artoria’s stomach were more than enough to chew through their dispersing elements.

Broken shards, dressed in the remnants of dissolving connective matrix, once called bone. Ruddy pulp, strained to the point of being slivers of fibers, once called muscle. A mixture of oils, the former plane and goblets, once called fat and everything in between of all else mentioned.

GURGLE

The material gushed out. The immaterial lagged.

Jeanne and Ritsuka’s minds endured until they were able to discern the sounds of pent-up release. Followed by motions that accelerated their ultimate obliteration.

The unthinking Jeanne and Ritsuka curled together closely. As a fetal mass of two joined into one. From different walks in life but sharing a purpose of trying to walk in unfamiliar terrain, to only drown in this hellacious sludge. They might not have been able to speak, but they found solace in dissolving into suds and sinew together.

GGRRSSSSLLOOSSHH

Rib cages merged until they crashed and melted together into indiscernible skeletal remains. Chunks of calcium that would not be recognized as belonging to a human. Incidentally, the organs housed within were squeezed out of the heated gaps as proteinaceous slime and meaty clumps. Sinuous framework that was once so firm had been likened to paste. That filled the beating wrinkles of Artoria’s stomach.

Then there was no Jeanne or Ritsuka. Just meat to be worked along into the next part of Artoria’s gastrointestinal system.

The pyloric sphincter eagerly opened its entrance and the proximal sections of the organic sleeve brimmed with the spinal cords, oozing oils, and torn meat. All these components that served as the foundation of physical human and semi-physical servant were homogeneously stained in green enzymes. A film of bile that facilitated the absorptive processes that occurred in the sections proximal and distal to the duodenum.

Sllrrrppp

Their very existences were reduced to calories and mana for the plumping king. Villous projections functioned as a greedy strainer. They pilfered the pulpy and chunky paste of the essential features that made it different from the simple junk food that the blonde woman would regularly gorge herself with.

Pounds after pounds after pounds of mass was thoroughly kneaded and compressed into a string of cylindrical loafs. Bulging each ribbed wall of the intestinal casing with a portly belly. As the small intestine ad then the large intestine attended to the task of molding the produced waste of two into one steaming package.

Pulse

Pulse

Squeeze

Pulse

Peristalsis and mucosal lubrication partook in the soft and tender carrying of the muddy corpses. As their form was drained of their liquid in this leisure current of propulsive flesh. A much slower pace than when the pair had gone down the knight’s hatch, but they displayed much less vigor now that they were heading for the egress. In fact, the pressure of their existence did not hold any bearing on the king’s mind until half of a standard day had passed. When a pressure was lightly rapping on the King of Knight’s plumped-up backdoor the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cool mixture of night’s lulling stimuli ebbed from the consuming sun. Solar rays spilled through the edges of the leaves that Artoria and Mash fell asleep under. Coruscating glints kissed at Artoria’s sparsely garbed figure. The mature woman’s body consumed most of the light rays and offered a frugal diet to the pinkette. As the king’s abundantly proportioned body covered most of the Shielder’s body.

Artoria slept over the young woman and used her as a body pillow.

Mash sleepily grunted. The king’s soft croons and movements barely registered as an arousing stimulus to the functional body pillow, who had habituated to the body heat of the chubby knight. Artoria felt an extra jiggle around her breasts and hips, both breasts and ass rippling like the king’s favorite jello. The proprioceptive feel was the first dull register in the king’s arousing senses, followed by a sharping recognition of the absurd amount of mass that was added to her expanded assets.

Mmh~ I guess that I’ll need to burn some of this off the next time I procure the training simulator

Artoria dragged an inspecting hand over her exposed porcelain pale skin. The action, of a weighted palm meant to subdue, elicited a wobbling shudder of the receiving folds of skin. For the regal Lancer had underestimated just how much of a dent that inept ruler and witch had left on her figure. The knight could feel the muscle added to her frame as much as she could feel the girth added to her waistline. The taut alabaster that was uniform over the experienced combatant’s had become akin to soft and creamy dough. One that was tightly kneaded by into a firm knot, but still bore a degree compliant laxity that left the King of Knights a little dissatisfied. As it meant that her presently explosively curvaceous figure was more fitting for the earlier portion of her title rather than the latter.

It would serve as a detriment to the demeanor and disposition that she wished to carry herself as a ruler. A potential career that Artoria confirmed had vastly increased, when she pinched the fold of tough skin that surrounded her navel. Her piercing eyes focused on the reddened discoloration and the two black outlines on both sides of it.

The former was a set of three command spells that was just below the fleshy divot that formed the Artoria’s deep belly button. The very same command spells that Ritsuka had exhausted before yesterday afternoon. Thus, allowing the Lancer to easily consume him.

With this under my proprietorship, it should be a simple matter to corral the rest of Chaldea’s military force to my side

Artoria felt Jeanne’s vicious nickname, cow servant, come back to literally bite the pale blonde. The former not the latter. As she slowly stood up during her soft contemplation. The black undershirt that hung over the king’s abdomen, a formerly huge dome that was now reduced to a small sphere that barely qualified as a gravid bump, was able to slide back down. It was just that the Lancer’s voluptuous chest and callipygian cheeks might as well have been anti-army noble phantasms, powerful weapons, in themselves. Thus, the mature woman had to restrain a pleasured purr as her mammary glands strained against the tight fit of her black shirt.

I don’t believe that I will be able to redress my opened jacket. I guess that is a second concern to add if I’m to continue this “healthy” diet in lieu of junk food.

Artoria spared one final withering look at the second of the two additions to her midriff’s skin. Specifically, the two cartoon outlines of the Avenger and Chaldean master that she devoured and digested last night. The first cartoon was a scowling caricature of the pale witch’s facial likeness, and the second carton was a sighing caricature of the inept master’s facial likeness. Both were stylized to the extent that they looked like they belonged on a children’s anime, instead of as body paint on the royal surface of flesh.

My word. Don’t tell me that this is a permanent burden.

Artoria was already scheming the daily regimen needed to melt off these layers of adipose and tighten her abundant muscle once more and considered the possibility of some extra meals. Especially the nosy variant or those dissenting individuals who will probably not be inclined to the new oppressive rule of the Wild King of the Knight. However, more tact would be necessary if these belly tattoos happened with every meal and if they were permanent additions.

Hmm~ I was wondering what it would be like to bed Galahad’s vassal as a Demi-Servant, but I didn’t expect that she would be out like a light this morning.

Artoria sighed as she looked at the peculiarity of a servant. The pale blonde king enjoyed the exercise of dominating experimentation last night with the pinkette, but she was already wondering if the naive and young woman should follow the path of her unrequited love sooner rather than later.

I’ll let fate decide. If my little steed is of a sensitive temperament and is aroused awake by the scent of her dear colleague’s corpses, then she’ll have no other position but to be reduced as buttered-up muscle adjacent to them.

Artoria rubbed a hand over the spot of her clothed abdomen that bore the command seal. In the Dark King of Knight’s typical combat attire, such a symbol of authority would be proudly shown on the abdominal window that was provided. Of course, such flaunting garb was not fitted to a hiking trip. One that the voluptuous woman accrued a few more steps with as she sauntered right over to the side of the nearest bush.

A random spot without any deeper meaning in it being chosen. That was how little the servant and the master meant to Artoria. The king didn’t even recall their names. Perhaps it was because she often referred to them by her nicknames for them? That was most likely for the young man, but there was another possibility for the digested witch. That the Avenger’s death was so humiliating, that she had forfeited her right as a heroic spirit. Thus, her position on the throne of heroes had been fully subsumed by the Wild King of Knights. A likely potential, especially when one considers the twisted origins of the Avenger. A servant that had sprouted as a warped and altered dream of an already existing servant. A near impossible interpretation wished into existence by an ardently delusional supporter of the original Jeanne d’ Arc. Thus, it was not a stretch to conclude that this Jeanne’s discarded spirit origin would be repurposed again. Not as an individual, but as a permanent addition to stony-faced and voluptuous Artoria’s heft.

As the quaking chub that was presently forced into the stuffy enclosures of the King of Knight’s hiking attire. Well…most of her hiking attire. As Artoria had begun a deep squat. Her pants were still pulled down. Tugged even further down the King of Knight’s trunk-like thighs and tightly circled around her bulging calves. The Lancer was prepared to relieve herself of the package that had cooked in her insides for the better part of a day and night. There was a lot to release, and the only other person in the vicinity, Mash Kyrielight, was still slumbering like a rock.

The pinkette’s fate to be decided if the stench of the new grave was enough to wake her up. To make her privy to the contents of Artoria’s meal that she began to question before giving into sexual pleasure, and to the fate of the other two hikers on this trip.

Disposal Ending

Mmh~

A concise and purposeful hum. That preceded Artoria’s crown of oily anal flesh beginning its outward radiation. For the greasy wrinkles to spread just like the globes of muscles and fat, her rump’s cheeks, had just moments ago. It was the most ceremony that this twin funeral had.

Then, with the soundless exhaust of pungent rectal gas and increasing pressure mounting on the other side of those rubbery anal folds, the lowering of the bodies into the shallow coffin had begun

My body and waste, I could lie and say that your deaths were necessary for a more just kingdom in Chaldea…but…even in your deaths, I do not wish to be dishonest.

Artoria shuffled her planted feet and steadied her squatting stance. Brine beaded along her heaving chest once more. A nascent and aggravating function of the king’s metabolism, which she attributed to the mana and mass that she had yet to discipline. The furled creases of her stained anus, regularly used unlike other heroic spirits because of the knight’s junk food diet, stretched into nonexistence. For the underlying rectal muscle was pulled taut and the sensory circuitry was strummed. The first vile inches of the King of Knight’s unbounded metabolism were released back into the fresh air. Expelled occupants that could no longer individually bemoan the heat or appreciate the fresh breeze. For they could only affect the world together as a singular lumpy mass of brown cream. A soft and well-processed manure that, much like the other portions of Artoria’s digestive tract, was worked down into the bristled perimeter of grass and the dirt-laden center of its grave by gravity and peristalsis.

Your demise was a kingly pleasure. So too was the sensation of soiling your love life. I’m still debating what to do with that lowly pink-haired steed. But that is the main motive behind my actions.

The King of Knights amused herself with her deriding eulogy, which was less directed to the pair that was pouring out of her backside, in a smooth and uniform rate and with a composition comparable to creamy cement, and more owed its origins to her own cruel rumination.

I won’t deny that your wishes for us were unfounded my inept master. Just that you possessed the misbegotten belief that we would ever be equals. How laughable. We would always only ever be a steed and a king. It was only ever a question of who would use the other as a platform or feed.

Artoria’s glaring assessment of her dynamic victory coincided with the homogenous texture of the loaf that flowed down to the grassy bed. Just like Ritsuka, who never discriminated or acted differently with anyone unless cultural demands necessitated it, this loaf was uniform and malleable. A constant brown that could not be differentiated from a normal bowel movement. Except for its volume. As pounds and pounds of the unbroken brown piled down onto the ground. The putrid stench of ravaged life reached the king’s victoriously flaring nostrils.

Hmmm~

It was enough for a satisfied moan to trumpet out of her throat. Artoria then adjusted her joints and raised her squatting posture. As she could feel the heat of her bowel movement’s fumes travel back up to her fleshy cheeks with greater intensity. The pile of womanly king dung was getting a bit too tall for the regal woman’s former positioned squat.

And you...pale witch...I held no ire towards you, but each time you stepped out of your position…it just inspired the choler within me to boil.

Artoria pulsed the muscles of her flowered crown and the sleeve of her distal rectum. Thereby expediting the continuous stream of shit that flooded the mountain floor. A grave that the Lancer noticed was on an incline. As the sheer weight of the fecal pile, which had already reached the weight of one person, was beginning to slough downwards. The rolling refuse smoldered, much like the fiery Avenger had daily, as it congealed under the cool morning mist.

Hmph! Ungrateful bitch.

Artoria patted her slackening middle. The pressure that was on the other side of the layers of skin and muscle had nearly vanished. For the internal casing was a servile and diligent organ in the king’s digestive system. Even as just the remnants of sloppy brown excrement were left in the ribbed passage, the rectal walls did not take that as an excuse, and instead continued to pulse with the same, if not greater, force. Thus, the tension over that section of the shirt had decreased, and so too did the powerful stretch around Artoria’s chest.

Well…just a smidge.

I believe this is farewell. I doubt the Throne of Heroes would bother to summon either of you.

Artoria gave her final thoughts as she felt the final inches of kingly filth exit her narrowing anus. It was a pleasant tingle to an utterly pleasurable experience. The stimulation that the king felt during the entire process was like a soft fire that spread through the dendritic forest of her inner sanctum of flesh. The denouement of this euphoria was terminated by a noise that the knight’s sharp ears picked up.

A branch snapping.

Of course, the question…was it merely a slumbering knight rolling in her sleep or was it the noise of an awake kouhai…taking her first steps to an unwelcome surprise this morning. For this volume of shit below Artoria was too much for a simple meal, and the astute little steed probably realized by this point, that there was likely no other organism that was big enough to produce such a load…aside from those like her.

Thus, the voluptuous woman’s bleach blonde hair swayed as she stood back up. An intriguing itch suffused over the area painted with the cartoonish trophies and Artoria’s command seals.