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.