Chryssie rubbed her belly. The fight was over.

He had certainly struggled against the soft fleshy prison that was her stomach, but there had been no possibility for escape. He was inside her and his destiny was to be digested.

The fact that he had given up the fight – that he had surrendered to this destiny – was almost as delicious as the fight had been. She really loved being surrendered to.

The palm of her hand ran gently over her belly. She attempted to feel something from inside. Something in addition to the lovely feel of the soft skin of her abdomen and the satisfaction of her absolute victory over another person.

It did not truly matter that he had been ‘all but’ volunteering to be her food. Her belly had been his intended final destination from the moment that she had laid her hungry eyes on him. It was ‘all but’ because when he told her that he would be her willing food, he had not known that she could actually really make it come true. The moment that he found out that she actually could, he had – of course – protested, but they all did that.

Like so many of the men, and a few women, she had met him on the Internet. The web was a wonderful place to explore one’s sexual kinks with some level of protective anonymity. A lot of people there had crazy and wonderful fetishes. The ones she liked were vore and macrophilia – and she especially liked those because she could make both come true. All she needed to do was lick a person and they would slowly shrink down.

It was a trait that all the women in her lineage had enjoyed: her mother; her grandmother, and her great-grandmother (she had been told). Her daughter would have it too once she passed puberty. Her grandmother had told the story that they were descended from a pre-Christian era Irish Goddess, the knowledge of whom had been stamped out by the Church. The Goddess, her grandmother told, got her revenge by devouring the Christian missionaries who attempted to convert her followers away from her. It was the sheer numbers of them that eventually overcame her believers and thus she had become less and less powerful as fewer and fewer people believed in her. Her last gasp of power had been to give birth to a daughter who could devour men. That would be her revenge.

Her grandmother said that she – Chryssie – should eat as many as she could, especially the overbearing Christian men who had, those thousand-some years ago, destroyed the belief in her divine ancestor. Chryssie wasn’t sure what she really believed all that. That she had this power was beyond question, but her grandmother told some pretty tall tales. There was probably some kernel of truth to it, but Chryssie didn’t really care. She didn’t have the same chips on her shoulder that her grandmother had. Instead of getting revenge for her ancestor, she wanted to be the Goddess that her willing captives believed in, even if they fed her belly moments after their conversion.

Of course, she had to eat. Regular food was not good for her. She found herself unable to really digest much of it once she had gone through puberty. If she ate non-human meat it was all right, but it tasted really awful. Instead of relying on the great food industry that almost all the people in the world relied on, she had to hunt. She wondered if her family had been the source of all the vampire legends. Transylvania… Ireland… small difference, right? She sort of wished that she had those vampire teeth; they were kind of sexy to look at.

At that moment, she felt the man in her belly give his last spasm of life as her juices overcame him. Wonderful.

She supposed that it was kind of sad that they felt so much pain from the stomach acids, but it was not as if they were going to live to remember that pain. Cruelty, pain and suffering were how the world worked. If the men had wanted a better world, her grandmother argued, they could have made it so – but they hadn’t. So, they got exactly what they deserved. Grandmother had a philosophy that blamed everything on the men – especially the Christian ones – which is how, Chryssie figured, her grandmother rationalized a lot of things. It was probably why her grandmother chewed up a lot of the prey she caught.

Chryssie was different. She loved to be loved. She had countless admirers on all the macrophilia and vore fetish sites. She was, basically, an online Goddess. She had people begging her all the time to eat them up. Because it was a somewhat transient population – people showing up and going away without making permanent relationships – nobody thought it strange when any given person stopped roleplaying, writing stories, or making drawings, 3D images, or photo manipulations.

The one drawback was that she couldn’t take photographs or videos of those people as they met their end. The community would have lapped that up with canine appetites, but she knew that the police authorities would have been after her if she had left such a trail. She couldn’t afford that, but then, you really didn’t have to do anything that graphic. All people really needed was the idea. Their belief that the ‘vore thing’ couldn’t really happen made them easy prey.

Fortunately for the regular humans, she could go a long time on a person.

Her mother, unlike her grandmother, was a scientist who didn’t believe much of what had been passed down in the family legend. She was a biochemist who had figured out the compounds in the family saliva as well as the stomach acids. She couldn’t explain why the family had these chemicals inside them, but she knew that the stomach acids were a neutralizer for the saliva.

That meant that a person could be licked by Chryssie, or her mother, or her grandmother, but once that person was inside the stomach, the shrinking would not only stop, it would slowly reverse. An ingested person would begin to regrow inside the stomach. The digestive process only slightly kept ahead of it. That was why Chryssie would look pregnant for a few months about a week after she swallowed someone. She spent a lot of time looking pregnant, slowly digesting a person for a few months. Once she was back down to ‘normal’ size, she would have to start thinking about hunting again.

It was funny how her mother was the opposite of her grandmother: funny, but probably not surprising. Her grandmother was so extreme that it probably made it inevitable that her mother would have gone the complete opposite route. Rather than believing in some ancient Irish Goddess, Chryssie’s mother believed that it was a natural mutation in the evolutionary process that had made their chemicals have these properties. In addition to discovering the counter-reacting properties of the saliva and stomach chemicals, she had created a chemical that would keep a person alive longer, and also dull the pain of being slowly digested.

Her mother loved the people she ate. She couldn’t help that she needed to eat, but she preferred to devour someone who was really in love with her and could feel pleasure of being devoured. That didn’t mean that her mother ate lovers willing to be eaten, but once they were inside her they had little choice but to eventually succumb to being her food. In the meanwhile, they were carried around inside the belly of this woman they had loved and who still loved them. How Chryssie’s mother dealt with the dissonance of ultimately still killing those she loved was something that Chryssie didn’t fully understand, nor could her mother really explain it to her.

Still, it was beautiful, Chryssie thought, but Chryssie was a little more self-centered than her mother. Chryssie did not love men the way her mother did, nor did she hate them the way her grandmother did. Chryssie loved herself. She loved herself; she loved power, and she loved being worshiped. That attitude, contrary to what her grandmother thought about men, drew men to Chryssie the way that moths were drawn by flames. Men, and, indeed, some women, could not help but to be drawn into Chryssie’s orbit. Once they were so ensnared, the road to her stomach was only a matter of time.

Grandmother, of course, had not approved. While she, herself, had given birth to Chryssie’s mother at a very young age – fifteen or sixteen – she had attempted to keep her daughter and granddaughter from getting pregnant at a young age. Of course, her mother, rebelling from her mother, had gotten knocked up with Chryssie at seventeen. Fortunately, Chryssie thought, her mother had stopped at that point. Chryssie loved being an only child and the center of her family’s attention.

Chryssie had also given birth at a young age, which was not very long ago. It had been wonderful. The young man with whom she had shared that first time had given her so many gifts. He had been a nice classmate, who had wanted to take things slowly. It didn’t work out that way. He was really overwhelmed by her, the way many boys were emotionally overwhelmed by their first loves. He had become her voluntary slave and had kissed her feet in worship. When she had finally consented to making love, she had licked his face and watched the absolute awe in his eyes as he slowly watched her grow larger. She made slow sensuous love to him as he continued to dwindle down to bite-size. She had been merciful and had given him her mother’s potion, so that he could live within her for the same months that his child also grew within her.

Chryssie fancied that the father and the child were one and the same, one soul transformed in body inside her belly. One big difference, however, was that the child had been a daughter and not a son. This was, of course, to grandmother’s relief, though Chryssie’s mother knew that their unique biology made it impossible for them to conceive of male offspring. It was something to do with the Y-chromosome being negated, or whatever. Chryssie did not really care for all the science-stuff, just like the folk tales didn’t really matter too much to her. But, like the boy who had given himself and his genes to Chryssie, little Aerona really adored her mother. For a three year old she was tremendously obedient, and loved nothing more than to just sit and play at her mother’s feet.

“That’s a beautiful little girl you’ve got there,” a voice remarked.

Chryssie looked up to see who was interrupting her reflections. He had the sun behind him and was difficult to make out.

“Thanks,” she said, not really wanting to get into too much conversation with a man, just as she had devoured another.

“Do you mind if I…?” he asked, beckoning to the park bench that she was sitting on.

*Perv,* Chryssie thought. There were clearly many park benches in the park less occupied than the one she was sitting on. She could already tell that the guy was in his late thirties or forties, while she was still shy of twenty.

She shrugged. There were plenty of people about, so he wasn’t going to be a danger to her. Of course, if anyone in this park was dangerous, it was Chryssie, with her special power.

He sat down, and looked down at Aerona playing with some Play-Doh at Chryssie’s feet.

“She looks a lot like you,” the man remarked.

She smiled and nodded.

“It’s a nice day,” he said, continuing to make small talk.

She nodded again, remaining polite, but not trying to encourage the man. She also avoided eye contact by looking at her child. She was also a little annoyed with herself for not having noticed the man when she had scoped out the park.

It was the park just outside the library. The library was the place here she had met up with her just-consumed ‘boyfriend’. She had momentarily left Aerona in the children’s section under the watchful supervision of the children’s librarian. Then she had taken Mark to a private corner to make out. They had made out for a little bit, but had been distracted by her growling stomach.

“Wow, that’s really something,” Mark had said.

“Why don’t you kiss it to make it feel better?” she had suggested.

When he had knelt down to oblige her, she looked down on him imperiously, knowing what he didn’t know – that he was going to indeed cure her stomach growls. He looked back up at her.

“God, you look hot like that,” he commented.

“By the way,” he continued, “isn’t it a little odd that you should have me kiss your belly before we’ve even had a really good ‘real’ kiss?”

He was referring to the fact that she had not yet allowed him to kiss her full-on on the mouth, in the French style. Their lips had done nothing more than just a peck. Due to her unique circumstances, kisses couldn’t just be kisses. If their tongues touched, he would begin the shrinking process.

“You’ve had to work for it,” she declared.

“…had to?” he asked, looking at her hopefully.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling, as she leaned forward to put her lips on those of the boyfriend kneeling before her.

She kissed him like he had never been kissed before, and not just because of his kneeling position. She kissed him deeply, and his emotions were overcome by it.

Chryssie was the girl that all the guys wanted to be with, even if she was a young mother with baggage. None of Mark’s friends knew who the father was. She had kept that a secret, but nobody doubted her allure. Chryssie was pretty hot stuff, and the fact that she had not ‘put out’ for anyone he knew of – aside from, obviously, the mysterious father – made her an even more desirable catch. Also, the fact that no one could report of her even kissing someone, meant whoever did manage it would have bragging rights.

However, now that their lips were locked, Mark thought of none of that. All he thought about was how wonderful it was. How wonderful that she had finally allowed him to get to First Base – and First Base was worth the wait! It was also pretty hot to him that he was down on his knees and she was looming over him, though it wasn’t something he planned to bring up when he would brag about it. Alright – so he was thinking about bragging, but it was still too hot for him to really think about that too much.

He also thought about it less, when it felt like their kiss was growing more powerful as it continued. It grew more powerful, as he felt increasingly overcome by the kiss and her looming over him, owning the moment. It was also powerful because he became of a strange but awesome tingling sensation that he had never experienced during a kiss before. It was almost as if she were sapping his will to do anything but just belong to this moment and to belong to her.

She put her hands behind him, as if to hold his weakening body up for them to continue kissing. It dawned on his barely aware mind that this was a strange gender role reversal. Wasn’t it the guy who was supposed to lean the girl back during their kiss, and have her go limp with surrender? Oh, it didn’t matter – the kiss was just soooo good, and he loved this surrender – this surrender to the moment – this surrender to smoking-hot Chryssie.

It wasn’t until he really felt like her lips were really all over his face, and her hands all over his back and his feet … not touching the ground, that it really dawned on him that something really weird was going on.

When he opened his eyes, all he saw was her mouth. He then looked up to see her eyes, and her eyes locked with his for just a split-second. In that split-second her mouth opened wide and his head was moved completely inside of it.

*What the…??!!!* was the only words his mind could form as his face slid onto her tongue.

He felt her lips around him, around his chest, and that tongue started to slosh around him, coating him with her saliva. That tingling sensation that he felt earlier strengthened powerfully, and he felt himself weaken even more, and that tongue grew ever more powerful around him. He could then feel her lips around his hips, and his head moved beyond the place where her tongue could come over him. He was facing the darkness of her throat.

In what seemed like a flash, he was pulled out, and found himself facing her – her immensely large and beautiful face.

She was holding him above her face; holding him by his ankles with just her fingers. She smiled a cute smile at him.

“Thank you, Mark,” she said, “this really means a lot to me.”

He was puzzled, and even as he attempted to figure out what she meant, he saw her growing - or himself shrinking, given that the surroundings seemed to have remained at her scale. It was all too much for him to take in and figure out.

“But don’t worry. It’s going to be really nice inside me, and it’s going to be worth it.”

Her mouth then opened wide again, and he saw her teeth, her attractive pink tongue, and then the depths of her throat as he moved towards it, and the darkness that enveloped him again with its soft moisture; his body against her tongue, as it pressed him in the stomach, and drove him forward towards the back of her throat.

There was no stopping it, even if he had had the wherewithal to struggle. All he felt was the slap of what must have been her wet uvula against his face, and the swallow-reflex was triggered, sending him down the narrow passage of her esophagus.

“Does it feel good?” the man asked.

His question puzzled her about as much as his ‘small talk’ was starting to creep her out.

“Does what feel good?” she asked, despite part of her just wanting to take her daughter and leave.

She didn’t give into that impulse, however. It was what her grandma had told her: “Don’t give an inch to these stalker men. We exist to teach them a lesson.”

Of course, what they did to men didn’t teach any lessons, because the students didn’t survive the lectures.

“Being out here, with your daughter, and being fulfilled?” he replied.

There was a strange emphasis on that last part. She just looked back at him, not sure what to make of the intention of the question. The idea was starting to form that his sitting down with her was not random, but also not common lechery.

She was about to speak her mind to him, and just as she opened her mouth to do so, she felt a little movement inside her. Mark seemingly had a bit of fight left after all. She involuntarily shuddered with pleasure. While the overpowering pleasure of a newly-swallowed man in her stomach was definitely one of the perks of being a part of her family, it was also inconvenient at times.

“I guess you are,” the man next to her observed, before she had the opportunity to retort.

“It’s… it’s nothing,” she managed.

“That’s probably not what he’s thinking,” the man said, nodding at her belly.

Now he really had her attention. What did he know?

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in and speaking a bit softly. “Your secret is safe.”

“That is, provided you let me in,” he added.

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she was sure it was not good. For a moment, she wondered if he had discovered her secret.

She looked at him intently, hoping to read his intentions on his face. His expression was one of admiration – though it might also have just been lust. She wasn’t particularly good at reading men, nor had she found that she needed to. Love and lust brought men to the same place with her – her gullet, and not in the way that they had hoped.

“What secret?” she asked, carefully.

“The secret that you know why Mark Jacobs will be declared a missing person in about 24 hours.”

As if aware of the conversation, Mark Jacobs made another spasm in her stomach, which sent another jolt of pleasure through her nervous system.

The man next to her opened up his jacket, showing a badge. Her eyes widened considerably more than before.

“Now just relax, ma’… Chryssie,” the now-declared law enforcement officer said.

He almost had given her his professional routine, but had changed to something more personal, as well as declaring that he knew her name. That suggested that he had been following – stalking – her for a while, and probably new more than just being a witness at the library.

Witnesses were an annoyance. She had had to deal with just a couple in her lifetime since becoming voracious. They had to be caught and disposed of before they could raise any alarm. Her mother had once failed to catch one in time. Thankfully, nobody had taken the witness seriously. However, not only was an officer of the law a more reliable witness, he could probably also defend himself a bit better. The man was also quite calm, which unnerved her.

“…I’m not going to arrest you,” he added, “but I want something for my troubles.”

“Like I said, I want in.”

“In on what?” she asked, thinking to keep what remaining secret cards she might have hidden.

“Well,…” he hesitated, and she noticed a slight blush, “…eventually, I’d like to be inside you.”

“Inside your stomach,” he clarified.

"I don't know if I trust him... Actually, I know that I don't," her grandmother, Rayven, said, "but if I had the choice, I'd do it."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Autumn said. "It sounds too risky."

Of course, Chryssie's mother would say that. She was always the sensible risk-averse one. At least, that's how she had become in adulthood. Chryssie was living proof that her mother had had a wild side.

"I want to do it," Chryssie said to her mother. "It'll help make the neighborhood – even the city – safer for everyone."

"You don't care about that," Autumn said, truthfully.

"I do," Rayven said. "The fewer exploitative men off the streets, the better. They've been hurting girls for thousands of years. It's about time we got our own back."

"But why do you want it?" Autumn asked, or rather demanded, of Chryssie.

"It'll help officer Grendale, and he'll help us. He can keep us know when and where the authorities are looking, which will make things safer for us."

Autumn wasn't buying it. "He could do that without the supplement."

"Okay, I want it, just because I want it," Chryssie replied, admitting what was basically the truth.

In her research Autumn had stumbled upon a dietary supplement which changed their digestive powers a bit. She had been looking for something to aid in the quicker digestion of their prey, so that they could both last longer on less food, but also stop 'showing' as much belly sooner after feedings. It did not really work as planned, but it did aid in their ability to eat more.

Chryssie had told her new friend – officer Robert Grendale – about it, in the hopes that he would suggest exactly what he wound up suggesting. He suggested that they use her powers, enhanced with her mother's supplement to put a greater dent in crime by having Chryssie consume captured criminals, rather than putting them through the court system. Grendale got two things out of it. If crime went down, at no extra cost to the city (and the city authorities remaining ignorant of what was really happening), then he and his bosses would look good. The other thing was that he really wanted to get off on seeing Chryssie eat a bunch of crooks. Chryssie, who – after her first hesitation – had started to have a thing for Grendale, liked the idea of him getting off on that, but she also just liked the idea of eating a lot of people. The though made her feel powerful. She imagined that actually doing it would make her feel divine. She liked the idea of feeling divine.

"That's not good enough," Autumn replied, though she appreciated that Chryssie was owning up to it.

"Okay, well let me text him to come in and convince you himself," she said.

"Chryssie, no!" Autumn objected, but Chryssie was fast with texting, something fairly usual for someone of her generation.

"Text sent," Chryssie said, grinning with the fait accompli.

Her mother glowered at Chryssie. Rayven didn't like the idea of some guy being there to mansplain what the women could decide for themselves.

The doorbell rang just a minute later. Autumn stood up to get it, though Chryssie leaped up faster and was at the door before Autumn got as much as three paces. Rayven, of course, remained seated.

"Hi!" Chryssie said excited, as she opened the door.

Grendale smiled at her and nodded, just as Autumn arrived behind her daughter.

"Evening, ma'am," Grendale said, acknowledging Autumn's arrival. He was closer to being Autumn's age than Chryssie's – considerably closer. Autumn didn't like it. Why couldn't this man go for women his own age, rather than chasing girls. It was a rhetorical thought. She knew that's what men liked.

"Come on in," Autumn said, though without enthusiasm.

"Much obliged," Grendale said, politely.

Sure, whatever, Autumn thought. She had to admit, the fellow was good looking, though the politeness seemed old-fashioned. Rayven had – unfortunately – ingrained in her mind the idea that old-fashioned male politeness was just a soft form of condescension.

He entered the kitchen/dining room, where the three women had been discussing – it was where all their important conversations took place. He nodded at Rayven.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," he said with an emphasis on the 'you'.

Chryssie had warned him about her, and how the sheer fact that he was born with a penis would put him in her disfavor. However, he was certainly going to try to disarm her antipathy as much as was humanly possible.

"Sure, whatever," Rayven said out loud, what Autumn has merely thought. "What can you say that will change her mind?"

Since Rayven had nodded her head at Autumn, it was immediately clear to Grendale that it was Autumn that needed convincing; not Rayven. Chryssie knew her mother and grandmother well, since she had already told him that would be the balance of opinions.

"Well, I'm sure that you've already decided for yourselves," he said. "I really was just eager to meet the both of you. Chryssie's told me a lot about you. I don't know what she's told you about me..."

"...She's told us that you're 'fascinated' by what we are, and what we can do with people," Autumn said. "She's also told us that at some point you want to be on the receiving end of it."

Rayven scoffed somewhat under her breath.

"Yes, that's true ma'am. I'll confess that I've had that fantasy for as long as I can remember. When I discovered Chryssie at the library, following up on a missing-person's lead, I couldn't believe my luck, until I actually saw her do it."

"Fantasy?" Rayven asked.

Grendale blushed.

"Yes, ma'am," he acknowledged. "I guess I might be embarrassed about it, but I won't deny that just the thought gives me the most erotic sensation. I'm not going to lie to you and say that that's not why I'm here."

"Your erotic desire to be eaten up by my daughter?" Autumn asked, for clarification.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you often have erotic desires for girls fifteen; twenty years younger?"

"Ah, well, if they're adult women who can swallow a man whole, then I'll confess to having an interest – same as if they were my age or somewhat older and could swallow a man whole."

"Even me?" Rayven asked.

"Ahm," Grendale, uttered, clearing his throat, "since I hear that you're someone who likes to chew, I have to say that while I admire the strength, I fantasize about the softer way to go down."

"And if I decided to chew you up right now?"

"That's a risk I knew I was taking," he replied.

"Hands off, Grandma!" Chryssie objected. "I saw him first, and I'm going to be the one to eat him up."

"By softly swallowing," she added, winking at Grendale – who was grateful for the intervention.

"Before that time, however," he said, turning to Autumn, who was the one who would need convincing, "I really hope to be of service to all three of you."

"While I hope that you'll use your serum to give yourselves extra... um... appetite, so that we can clean up the streets somewhat..."

"You sound like you think of us as garbage disposals!" Rayven objected.

"Sorry, ma'am..."

"And quit it with the 'ma'am'. It sounds fake and condescending."

"No it doesn't, ma," Autumn countered. "He's being as polite as he was raised to be."

"Well, I do think that the criminals are the equivalent of garbage, but I think we might share in that assessment," Grendale said. "I'm not talking about people who do petty things – taking drugs, loitering, stuff like that. I'm talking about people who really hurt other people. I'd just as soon see them behind your teeth as behind bars. Behind your teeth, the lawyers can't get them off."

He turned back to Rayven.

"I'm talking about just the sort of men that I'm told you also have an axe to grind with: rapists, human traffickers, guys who have committed violent assault. Way too many of that sort of garbage is allowed to walk the street again."

"I don't want to have anything to do with those men, even if it was to eat them," Autumn said.

"I do!" Chryssie volunteered.

"Me too!" Rayven joined.

Autumn looked with surprise at Chryssie. Just like herself, she felt Chryssie used her 'gift' on men on whom she had a fancy, even if Chryssie was less discriminating than Autumn was.

"What?!" Chryssie asked. "Robert wants to watch! It turns him on, and I like the idea of being an angel of Justice!"

"You like the idea of him swooning at it and worshiping you all the way down your gullet," Autumn observed.

"So?! That's hot!" Chryssie replied.

"The serum would allow us to do it with a lot more perps," Grendale offered.

"More people for my belly!" Chryssie exclaimed.

Autumn rolled her eyes. "First off, it's a supplement, and not a serum. Secondly, you don't need it to do what you're going to do. Thirdly, I don't like the idea of my daughter being within five city blocks of those 'perps', much less close enough that she can lick them."

"Fourthly," she added, now that she thought about it, "I don't like the idea of her licking that ... garbage."

"That's absolutely fair, Ma'am, I mean miss..." Grendale struggled.

"Just call me Autumn."

"That's absolutely fair,...Autumn. We can do one or two, without the supplement, and she won't need to 'lick' them. We can apply it some other way. And by the time they're with her, they'll be small enough that they can't do any harm."

"Fine!" Autumn gave way.

"But I'm going to hold you to account, officer..."

"Robert."

"Officer Robert. And if anything is just slightly off, I'll..."

"Eat me?" Grendale suggested, hopefully.

"...feed you to my mother," Autumn finished.