With a devious smirk on her face, she rubbed her precious belly as it sloshed and churned; Her prey had been defeated, reduced to a pot of corroded blood, flesh, and bone. The man-soup sloshed around in her belly as bubbles from her victim's last breaths trickled in and around the roof of her stomach. When she walked, her now distended gut heaved and swayed with her every step. The day was hot.

A bead of sweat rolled into her navel, filling every crease of her bellybutton. As a final pleasure, she stroked around that divot, and finally plunged her finger into her navel. It was almost like a parting gesture for her, a way of indicating to herself that the fun was over.

"For a scrawny little playing this boytoy sure is heavy," she thought to herself, but ultimately she knew this was nothing compared to her next meal, let alone her last.

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