"Levitt, Michael; report to the infirmary for final evaluation."
The monotone voice echoed out over the cafeteria, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls and pillars. A sea of orange jumpsuits shuffled about, clustering at the various round tables scattered across the room. As the robotic voice repeated the message, one man pushed back his plate. He was seated alone at a table near the corner of the room, and the crowd of convicts quieted slightly as the man stood up.
"Can't even enjoy my last meal in peace, huh?" he muttered to himself, tossing his plastic utensils onto the plate. "All of a sudden, they're finally in a hurry to snuff me out. Figures."
The hulking man straddled the bench of his table, each of his footfalls in the room somehow more pronounced than any other sound in the room. The brilliant white glare of the lights cast soft shadows around him as he walked between the tables, giving a silent pat on the shoulder to some of the other inmates as he passed them. Finally, he reached the entrance, a pair of steel doors painted dark green, chipped and rusted at the corners. The doors were flanked by two guards, one on either side. Despite being clothed in a flimsy jumpsuit, Michael's burly frame had an aura of intimidation around it. He smirked as one of the guards shifted on their heels, their hand inching towards their holster.
"Easy there, sport," Michael grumbled, "Just heading to the infirmary as instructed." He raised his arms in front of him, tapping his wrists together once as if to beckon a pair of handcuffs to materialize. The second guard grunted and pulled a pair from his belt, then attached them to Michael's wrists. The clasps only clicked once each, the girth of each forearm enough to fill the entire cuff.
The nervous guard reached up to their shoulder and clicked the button on their radio.
"Command, Main Cafeteria. Requesting unlock of Door Two, one prisoner coming out, over."
The radio squawked as they removed their hand, then a voice laced with static chirped over the speaker. "Acknowledged, unlocking Door Two, over."
A low buzz sounded behind the guards, causing the jittery one to flinch. Michael snickered, shaking his head ever so slightly. "How did this guy wind up here?" he mumbled under his breath as the door creaked open. The sound of rolling metal filled the room, the doors revealing themselves to be several inches thick as they separated. Once the gap between them was wide enough for two people to pass through side by side, the doors stopped with a thud against the end of their rails. Two more guards stood on the other side, rifles slung over their shoulders and hands on their holstered sidearms. Michael stepped forward slowly, dropping his arms down in front of him. The metallic sounds of his handcuffs jingled in time with his steps as he walked down the hallway. At every corner, more guards stood alert, their heads swiveling to track the prisoner as he moved.
Michael turned down one hall, then another, and a third. Finally, he reached the infirmary, a room off the left side of the hallway with a bright red cross emblazoned over the door frame. The door was ajar, with large picture windows on either side, treating passersby to a clear view of every activity within the small medical ward. Michael gently pushed on the door, the warm touch of wood under his fingers almost alien in this prison of steel and concrete. The door let out an aching groan as it swung open, and Michael turned and entered with one shoulder first, his body almost too wide for the doorway.
"Mr. Levitt. I presume?"
Three medical staff stood near the center of the infirmary, dressed in identical sets of scrubs. Their faces were mostly obscured between surgical masks and wrap around goggles, but Michael could make out that two of them were female, and one male. He nodded towards the one that spoke, then answered with a gruff "yes".
The center nurse stepped forward and gestured to Michael's right. "Please step on the scale and hold still until you hear two beeps. We need an accurate measurement to determine the correct dosage." Seeing his hesitation, the nurse reached a gloved hand up and gently guided the man by his elbow. "Don't worry about the cuffs or jumpsuit, we know their weight already. You can maintain your modesty here."
Michael stepped onto the scale and felt the thick springs inside flex under tension. A digital readout flickered to life, counting up rapidly as the springs steadied out the weight of the convict.
100...
200...
250...
The numbers slowed as they approached the correct weight, finally stopping at 286. Michael glanced over his shoulder, shrugging as the machine beeped twice.
"Must be what they feed us here," he said flatly, stepping off the scale quickly.
The room was awkwardly silent for a moment, the nurses looking at each other, then back at the convict who was easily a head taller than each of them.
"Oh, come on, a guy's last joke doesn't even get a chuckle?" Michael sighed. "What else do you need?"
"That's all we needed, thank you," the male nurse said quickly. "Please take a seat."
Michael sneered; he could hear the quiver in his voice. And with good reason too, he could probably snap all three of their necks, handcuffs or not, before the guards outside could intervene. It's why he was here after all. Thirteen deaths across half a dozen states had earned him the macabre prize of capital punishment. Two more murders while incarcerated moved him up the list on death row. Strangling a guard to death before shattering their ribs against the concrete walls was appalling to say the least, and secured his name on the list for experimental executions.
Now, eleven months after a swift conviction for the guard's murder, Michael was finally facing justice. He was remorseless then, and he gave no indication of regret as he stared at the three nurses before him. The chairs to his left were strong oak, bolted to the wall. Michael walked over and sat down, idly wondering if he could yank it loose from its anchoring before anybody could stop him. His thoughts were interrupted as a small squad of guards walked into the infirmary, splitting into three groups of two. Each pair stood a few feet from him, one pair on each side and one directly in front of him. A seventh person walked into the room, dressed not as a guard or nurse, but in a professional-looking blazer and skirt with a purse slung over her shoulder.
"Michael Levitt?" the woman asked as she adjusted her glasses. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail which bobbed slightly as she moved. Her face was rounded and soft, with a gentle pink highlight of makeup blended into her cheeks. Red ruby lips, full and smiling, caught Michael's attention. Why was she smiling?
"Present," he replied, his eyes scanning up and down the woman.
"My name is Laura Davis, and I will be carrying out your execution today. Have the nurses taken their measurements?" Her tone was strangely enthusiastic, giving Michael a moment's pause. Was it her nerves, her way of coping with a stressful situation?
"I think so, ma'am."
Laura's face brightened as she smiled. "Good! Then let's get started. Now, do you have any final words you would like to share before we begin the procedure?"
Michael furrowed his brow in thought for a moment. "No, can't say that I do."
"Really? No dramatic repentance, no wishing you could do it all again?" The woman took a half step forward, almost as if she was trying to goad a reaction from the murderer. Michael stiffened, something felt off about this woman, and that was coming from a serial killer.
"Oh well, just means we can get this over with that much faster. Doctor Robins?" Laura turned towards the trio of nurses. Michael turned his head and noticed they were drawing a pair of syringes in the center of the room. "Are the shots ready?"
The nurse who had been silent until now looked up. "Yes, Ms. Davis, are you ready?"
Laura nodded and stepped away from Michael, walking quickly towards the nurses. She tugged at the blazer, pulling it down one arm and exposing her shoulder. Michael watched in confusion, curious as to why this woman was receiving a shot as well. Was it some strange new placebo, or psychological warfare? Or maybe it was an antidote in case she was accidentally exposed? But if that was the case, why wasn't she suited up like the others?
"Woo! That's got a sting to it!" Laura chuckled as the needle was plunged into her shoulder. The syringe pushed the mysterious drug cocktail into her arm in seconds, and Laura's face flushed red for a moment. As soon as the needle was removed, Laura adjusted her top back into place and brushed off her shoulder.
"Oh, that's just an antibiotic mixture," she said casually, taking note of the convict's puzzled look. "It's a way to ensure I don't catch anything unsavory from those I execute. Trust me, your shot is much more exciting."
"Yeah, lethal injection sure sounds exciting," Michael rolled his eyes. "Can we just get it over with? I'm not one to wait."
Laura waved over the nurses, and the two pairs of guards on either side of Levitt moved forward and restrained his arms.
"Now, I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but please don't move while they give you the shot. It will hurt a lot more if you do." Laura said.
Michael chuckled. "I'll behave, scout's honor." The guards tightened their grip on his limbs in response, but Michael made no move to resist. On his right, one of the nurses scooted in between the guards and rolled up his sleeve. The jumpsuit was built for larger individuals, but Michael's arms were well defined and firm, making the process pulling back his sleeve take a few moments as the nurse tugged it up a fraction of an inch at a time.
Finally, it was furled up near his elbow, and Michael turned his gaze forward, staring at Laura. She leaned close to his face, so much so that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his forehead. He flinched ever so slightly as the needle entered his arm, but his eyes were locked with the woman in front of him. She seemed excited to be there, a stark contrast to the mood of every other occupant in the room. The sting in his arm subsided, though he felt a strange tingle working its way through his body. It wasn't painful, which was a surprise. He half expected to suffer through his death, at least something more than a short buzz.
"And… preparation is complete," the nurse said as they quickly stepped back.
"Preparation?" Michael questioned, breaking his staring contest with Laura to glare at the nurse. "How many shots does lethal injection take? Why not just all in one go?"
Laura let out a loud cackle, beckoning his attention back to her. "Oh, you really thought this was a ‘lethal injection’?” Her fingers curled twice to emphasize the last two words. “Did you really misread the options when you selected this?" She took a sharp breath, then let it out in a series of giggles. "I thought you were joking when you said 'injection' earlier, I didn't think you were serious!" She composed herself, though a uncomfortably large smile remained on her face. "Well, a little late for backing out now, the medication should be kicking in any minute. Now, onto the best part!"
Laura reached into her purse and pulled out what looked like a prop firearm from a science fiction show. A red light charged up at the tip, followed by a bolt of light slamming in Michael's chest before he could protest any further. Almost immediately, the arms holding him down began to grow around him. The jumpsuit felt heavy, and thick! He realized the handcuffs were no longer pressing firmly into his wrists, but instead hanging limp before clattering to the floor.
The guards let go and took several steps back once Michael had shrunken far enough to be covered by the jumpsuit. Laura leaned down and quickly unzipped the front of it, revealing a dwindling convict who was glancing back and forth in terror.
"Mr. Levitt, you selected the option for lethal ingestion," Laura cooed, her voice ominous and reverberating over the now tiny murderer. "As I said a few minutes ago, I'll be carrying out your execution. And I think it's time we got around to that part. Come here."
Michael screamed as a hand descended from the sky, each finger longer than his new height. The tingling in his body had radiated out to his extremities and was finally subsiding, but two fingers clamped onto either side of him before he could move. With a rush of air, he was hoisted into the air.
Laura stood up, raising her hand with her and lifting the tiny man into the air. "This is why I got that shot, so I don't get any nasty diseases from eating you! Now, let's not drag this out too much longer. I've carried out thirty-seven executions this way, and you're the biggest prisoner I've had to deal with. At least, you were the biggest before you shrank. But from what I understand, all that nutrition just gets packed in tighter, so you might actually put a little bit of fat on me." She slapped her hip with her free hand as she said this, sending a soft jiggle through her derriere.
"Oh, and the shot you were given? Not antibiotics. That's to render the durability of the shrinking process null and void. Don't want you just relaxing inside me, now do we?"
Michael was petrified as the behemoth mouth in front of him bombarded him with words almost too loud for him to understand. His ears were ringing from the volume, and his sense of smell was overwhelmed with the lingering odor of coffee on her breath. Strings of saliva were visible between her teeth as she talked, and if Michael was paying enough attention, he would have realized she was salivating at the upcoming execution.
"Michael Levitt, I hereby carry out your sentence of execution, death by lethal ingestion."
Laura tilted her head back and positioned the tiny above her mouth, stretching her lips wide to expose two rows of perfectly aligned teeth. She could hear the convict's screams, no doubt him begging her not to go through with this. Not that she would change her mind if she could understand what he was screaming. With a soft giggle, she released her grip on the tiny man, letting gravity pull him into her open mouth.
The fall was less than a second, but for Michael time seemed to slow as he plummeted through the air. He could see every detail of the rapidly approaching maw. The distinct ridges of her lips, coated immaculately in glossy red lipstick. An ivory set of teeth that could no doubt tear through his flesh in a heartbeat, should he be trapped between them when they snap shut. A drooling tongue, the pink organ twitching in anticipation of his imminent arrival.
He landed with a sickening wet thud, then continued to slide along the steep incline of the tongue. The bumpy and slimy texture did little slow him down, instead coating him in a thick layer of bubbly spit. Above him, the light was rapidly snuffed out as Laura's lips sealed together. In the pitch-black cavern, Michael yelled in horror as everything shifted, the wall becoming a uneven and slippery floor. He could feel the undulations of muscles beneath his feet as the beast stirred. After a few seconds of relative stillness, the tongue sprang into action, flinging Michael across the darkness and ramming him into a cheek. The coarse surface rubbed against his back, savoring him with hundreds of taste buds dragging against his skin.
Laura puffed out one cheek, the indentation of a man poking through for a moment before disappearing and emerging in the other cheek. Her lips pursed as she sucked on the convict like he was a sweet candy, pooling saliva under her tongue to dunk the criminal in a few times. She kept up a cycle of tasting, swishing around, and pressing against various parts of her mouth for several minutes before finally tilting her head back. She paused for a moment, feeling the growing pool of spit slosh back in her throat, pulling the tiny man who was no doubt treading saliva to stay afloat along with it. After she was sure he was in position, she swallowed. Her throat opened like a trap door, and a bulge slowly descended down her neck, visible to all in the room. Three seconds later, it disappeared behind her collarbone, and Laura let out a satisfied breath of relief.
"Oh, he's definitely an active one," she remarked, rubbing one hand gently over her stomach. "Not like last month's execution, that guy just gave up the moment I swallowed. No fun at all."
Michael shouted and clawed at the walls as they constructed around him, chugging him down Laura's esophagus with the rest of her saliva. He sputtered as frothy bubbles of spit coated his face and robbed him of a full breath of air. His lungs burned as he descended her throat, thrashing with the futile hope that he could cause some sort of injury or discomfort that might make her vomit him up. His feet bumped into a slimy but thicker section of esophagus, and it pulsed open after a few tense seconds. A firm pull of saliva and gravity yanked Michael down, sending him splashing into an acrid pool of thick liquid. He stumbled to his feet, disoriented but thoroughly aware of his location. He was trapped in Laura's stomach.
Laura sat down on the bench, enjoying the twitching sensations coming from her gut. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then at the nurse. "It's been about ten minutes, time for the camera?"
The nurse nodded and wheeled over a cart with a monitor attached. A coil of black cable was wrapped around a hanger, and Laura quickly unraveled it and flicked a pair of switches on the cart. The first switch lit up the screen with a fisheye view of the end of the cable, showing the camera was operational. The second activated a small light under the camera, casting a mild halo glow on the bottom quarter of the screen.
Laura began to feed the camera towards her mouth, cupping her tongue to guide it in. She leaned back a few inches, straightening the path for the cable, then swallowed and pushed the cable in further. The screen captured the trip down her throat in clear definition. Every strand of mucus and saliva, every vein near the skin was visible. A clenched sphincter approached, and Laura gently nudged the camera into it, keeping a steady but soft pressure going. The screen was blurry and out of focus for several seconds, but it was clear that the camera was making progress.
After nearly a minute of delicate but consistent pressure, the camera pushed through, providing a glimpse of an alien landscape. Reddish purple walls were covered in thick wrinkles. A pool of opaque liquid sloshed about, tossing a small man back and forth as he struggled to scale the slimy walls. The light from the camera caught his attention, and everyone watching the screen could see the tiny waving frantically up at the source of light.
"Ah, looks like he's still alive!" Laura said, her words slurred by the cable protruding from between her lips. "Doctor, how long until the gastric inducer kicks in?"
The closest nurse looked at the clock, then replied, "should be any moment now, ma'am."
Laura smiled and placed on hand on her stomach. She grabbed her skin and shook it up and don several times, smiling as the screen showed the effects of her action in real time.
Michael screamed as the relatively calm pool turned into a foaming maelstrom, sucking him into the current and battering him against half a dozen walls. He struggled to stay afloat, sucking in desperate breaths of acidic air. The overpowering stench of vomit burned his nostrils, and his lungs ached for fresh air. He knew he was sweating from the oppressive heat, though it was washed off and replaced by splash after splash of stomach acids. His skin was beginning to itch, though not as much as he initially expected. The light above him was probably the worst part. It illuminated the hellish cavern he was trapped in, reminding him of he finality of his destination. This was going to be his tomb, and it was only a matter of time before he perished.
A low rumble echoed around him, followed by a sickening glorp of bubbles rising up around him. The pool of acids felt...warmer. Michael scrambled to get higher ground, but the walls continuously pulsed and churned him back into the middle of the cave. Another groan surrounded him on all sides, and the walls lurched inward. Suddenly, the pool was much deeper, having been gathered up in a slurry of movement and enzymes. Michael paddled on the surface as much as possible, but the increased activity threatened to drag him under at any point.
Up above, the camera recorded it all. Laura watched the screen with a piercing gaze, glowing with the knowledge that what she watched was happening just beneath the surface of her skin. The injection had definitely kicked in, simulating a full meal in her stomach so that the acids would get to work. It would end up with a decent round of heartburn later in the day, but to Laura it was worth it. The burn would serve as a nice reminder of her deeds once she was home and able to finally get off to the situation. She was disappointed that she couldn't just swallow the inmates and go home, the validation process prohibited her from leaving until it was obvious the criminal was deceased. She shrugged, at least the footage was added to the court cases and therefore available to her for "review".
The gurgling around Michael was getting more violent, and his strength was starting to wane. Muscular as he was, the torrent of acids was beginning to take its toll on him. His eyes were burning, the edges of his fingers and toes were certainly feeling the itch of enzymes leeching into his skin. An air bubble rose up beneath him, swallowing him up and submerging him deep in the swirling lake of vomit. It was almost a minute before he managed to surface again, gasping for air and hacking up mouthfuls of puke.
A current tugged at his leg, causing him to tense up. Then again, this time accompanied with an ominous bubbling sound. It didn't take Michael long to realize what was happening; the stomach was draining. He renewed his struggles to stay afloat, knowing that if he was pulled under again, he would almost certainly never surface again.
Laura watched the increased activity with bated breath. She pushed another inch of cable down her throat, moving the camera closer to the tiny treading water in her stomach. He was quite the trooper, lasting longer than any other so far. It had been almost an hour now, and he had not succumbed to her digestive system. Feeling a pang of impatience, Laura decided to make a point that her body was in charge. She drew a deep breath, then pushed the camera down several more inches. The screen captured the result, a bullseye impact with the tiny man.
Michael glanced up, unsure if he was hallucinating or if the light was getting closer. After a moment, it lunged at him, driving him under the surface and pinning him against the stomach walls. He thrashed back and forth when he felt the wall behind him twitch, then spasm open. A wave of acidic slurry drained through the opening, dragging Michael along with it. The camera pushed in further, following him deeper. As the chaotic movements subsided, Michael gasped in a tiny bubble of air and screamed as the real stages of digestion kicked in. His skin felt as though it had been set ablaze, and his lungs spasmed in agony as bile and acids worked their way down his throat. He reached a trembling hand towards the source of light, realizing through his blurry vision that his skin was raw and starting to peel. A firm undulation of muscle gripped his body, and Michael watched the light disappear as he was dragged around the first of many bends in the small intestine. He let out a final scream, allowing the shock of everything to finally claim his consciousness.
The nurses and two of the guards watched the screen in front of Laura in disbelief. She had just pushed the man to his demise, and as she retracted the camera from her throat, her face flushed with excitement. She could feel the last spasms of Michael as he entered her intestines, and it was unlike anything she had felt before. Her arm reached up as the camera snaked out from between her lips, a dribble of thick saliva folding over the side of her lower lip as she laid the camera to rest on the tray beside her. A short but forceful belch echoed in the room, causing one of the nurses to flinch at the sudden noise.
“Oh! Pardon me, that was a tad unprofessional,” Laura chuckled as she wiped the spit from her lip with the back of her wrist. She stood up and brushed down the front of her blazer, then patted her stomach a couple of times. “Now, let’s get the paperwork over with, I have an appointment in an hour.” She strode towards the door, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips both the guards and nurses parted before her. A small gurgle in her stomach caught her attention as she left the room, and her hand raised up to rub her abdomen once more.
“Mmm, he really is a fighter,” she muttered under her breath, relishing the slight tickle that was slowly wiggling its way along her intestines. “Guess he got a second wind.”