Somehow, for the three students fortunate enough (or unfortunate enough, depending on how you looked at it) to still be standing on the desk watching the demise and consumption of their comrade, an eternity seemed to pass as they watched Miss Blaine feed Harry to herself like he was a particularly enticing oyster. It felt like seasons or even years could have gone by as his limp, miniscule form was lowered into the abyss of Miss Blaine’s enormous maw far above them, her gargantuan jaw closing and her chubby fingers sliding out with almost a comical pop from between her lips, slick with saliva. This time round, she mercifully did not bother to chew her prey- instead, she seemed content to let physics do the work and for its cold, unknowing and uncaring forces to send him involuntarily sliding down her tongue into the slick, eager confines of her oesophagus. Even from as far away as they were, they could see her eyes close, her body shudder in pleasure and hear her small moan of pleasure as her throat did its job funnelling Harry down into her body.
GULP.
The titaness brought her head back from its tilted position, the relaxing of skin concealing the modest bulge travelling down her neck and revealing her murderous, wicked grin once more, eyes practically shimmering with pleasure and excitement.
“Ahh, that was much better than the fat one!” she said decidedly and seemingly mostly to herself, idly feeling where the bulge had been moments ago. “Still a little blood, but nowhere near as odious tasting. And he went down like butter, without all those bones causing issues!” Her gaze shifted down again to the remainder of her quarry, where Quentin was once again dry-heaving, attempting to bring up stomach contents he had lost a good while ago, and even Caleb’s cold defiance seemed shaky. As he looked up into her eyes again, he could feel the doubts dancing ever more jovially in the back of his mind; could he really keep this façade up much longer?
“Perhaps I should have all of you like that, hm? Break you and slurp you up like oysters.” The tongue darted between her teeth again, as if eyeing them up at that suggestion. “But no, there’s so many other games we can play…”
Miss Blaine’s titanic body lowered back into the office chair, coming back down from her comparatively mountainous full stature to a sitting position again and, in a fairly fluid motion, crossing her arms and bringing them down on the table. The resultant shockwave was enough to topple Quentin, already weak at the knees from sustained retching, leaving him looking pitiful and mildly dishevelled lying on the floor. Rushing to help his friend up, Caleb viewed the titaness with as much ire and defiance as he could muster, watching her monolith of a head come to rest on her folded arms, looming over them somehow more intimidatingly now than she had standing. His will was trembling, his doubts growing ever stronger on the generous feed of imagery and scare tactics it was being constantly fed, but he could still feel strength in him, and where there was strength, there was defiance.
“For someone who calls us immature, you’re pretty damn close to it yourself, aren’t you?,” the diminished king shouted at his titanic tormentress, inviting her gaze to him and Quentin. “Most people sensitive about their weight actually, y’know, do something about it. But you’re so petty and insecure in yourself, you do the extreme version of lashing back out and try to murder us! Sure, us lads aren’t the most mature sometimes, especially not in your monotonous class, but this is just ridiculous!”
That got to her, he could see it. Much as she tried to hide it, at her size the clenching of the jaw and the fire reigniting in those hazel lakes were hard to miss. It made him feel more confident; yes, she was still going to kill him, and yes, he was still somewhat stunned that she was actually capable of the murder and horrors she had committed, but he could still dent her enjoyment of the sadistic fantasy she was trying to live out as much as he could.
“You do realise that you’re literally eating your problems, right?” Jack had spoken up! His own confidence must have empowered his closest friend and partner in crime too. He shot a look over at him, and gave him an encouraging nod. “Most people only use that as a by-word for comfort eating so you can ignore your problems, but you’ve actually taken it one step further!” Though he still looked just a shade scared, Caleb’s continued support convinced him to take his mockery one step further, and he started clapping, slowly and sarcastically. “My congratulations, Miss! You’ve managed to take a figure of speech about your own insecurities and made it literal. Actually literal!”
Caleb didn’t even bother to suppress a snort and laughter. Even Quentin, now back on his feet, had a weak smile on his face. The same could definitely not be said of their teacher, however, who looked by this stage positively steaming, like she was ready and all too happy to forgo the rest of her game, to just take her fist and just hammer them into viscera. She opened her mouth to speak… and then closed it again, and her expression changed almost like wiping a slate, as if she had been distracted by something. For a twinkling moment, Caleb was almost zealously happy in his defiance. We’ve even done it at this size! She has no response to us! Even tiny and depleted, we’ve still got it!
The window closed almost as quickly as it opened, when he saw Miss Blaine’s cheeks puff out.
BLUURCH!
The next instant, the trio were all staring into the colossal, slimy maw before and above them, raining horror and saliva onto them. The sound of the belch, ostensibly so much larger than the first one, seemed to deafen them, and the wind turned from non-existant to gale force and yet somehow still swampy in its heat and humidity, sending their hair into chaos and knocking poor Quentin back on his sore arse. All eyes were affixed on the roaring beast before them, stained teeth opened like the gates holding the horrific attack back- right in the back of her odious mouth, her uvula danced as if mocking their pitiful resistance. Though it only seemed to last for a few seconds, it seemed minutes upon minutes to be stuck in the hideous combination of sound, wind, saliva and rank, oppressive stench- and then it was over, leaving the three little resistance fighters spattered in a rain of spit, suffering in the cloying, lingering stench of her breath, and utterly humiliated. The belch had blown away any sense of confidence or bravado that had been so vigorously been built up- made all the worse when Caleb opened his eyes again and saw before him, drenched in bodily fluids, a running shoe that could only have been Harry’s. Before them, Miss Blaine sat with smug and triumphant written all over her billboard of a face, any anger dissipated in what must have been a cathartic and blissful display of power for her.
“Funny, I think your little friend Harry down in my stomach disagrees with you. He seems to be all for eating my problems. Especially when you mites are all so low in calories!” Her smug giggle stung Caleb’s ears. “Now, if we’re all quite done with our little display of throwing tiny stones….”
Her gaze immediately fell upon Quentin, still on his rear having not found the energy to get up again. He certainly wouldn’t find it now- any sliver of strength he had remaining withered and died as he realised her gaze, and with it her hunger and sadistic pleasure was now fixed on him, and his number was up.
“Quentin.” Somehow, she sounded just a note less gleeful in saying his name than she had his two late compatriots. “Intelligent, bookish… pliable, pushable Quentin.” She sighed, treating them all to a thankfully more relaxed, but still disgusting and humid gale. “You could have been so much more. So much better. You had, even still have, the potential to be a good student with a passion for philosophy!” Surprisingly, her complaints seemed genuine- her face betrayed the sadness and even wistfulness behind her words. In an instant, however, her face was stone again, and any sense of a human inside the goliath before him was washed away. “But you just had to hang out with…. Them.” Her eyes shot daggers at his friend and leader, who if hadn’t still been recovering from her belch may have reacted. “They brought you into their gang, and being as weak and pathetic as you are, you submitted to all their ways, happily being pushed into sinking to their level. You could have been wonderful… but instead you became just another failure.”
It was at this point that, finally, Caleb found his words again. “What do you take us for, the Untermensch?”
She did not even bother to respond. Instead, Quentin watched in fear as her eyes, practically spitting fire, darted to Caleb, and her huge lips began squeezing and stretching intermittently, until finally she released a scarily accurate white ball of spit at him, arcing through the air and dropping barely perceptible droplets until it hit the gang leader square in the torso, toppling him like a bowling pin and leaving him partially immersed in a small pool of gooey, bubbly, and hideously rank saliva.
“You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” she spat at him, before returning to her intended prey. “Now, I’d love for you to be that student, become that student… but I fear it’s too little, too late. Little weak Quentin is too devoted to his precious gang.” She snorted in derision. “So, instead, I’ll make you a deal. Because I know you could have, should have been better and that, in a better world, we could have perhaps been on good terms, I won’t torture you. I’ll give you some mercy and swallow you whole, give you some kind of dignified death… if you can be obedient and respect my authority as teacher just this once.” At this point the smile returned, from Quentin’s point of view more chillingly than ever, as he waited for his sentence to be passed down.
“I want you to show you can be obedient… and feed yourself to be. Walk into my open mouth, walk across my tongue, lie down upon it, and I’ll swallow you down. Nice and simple.”
By this stage, Quentin’s ravaged mind was already set. He had seen two of his friends die horrifically and had been humiliated and tortured by proxy enough by Miss Blaine, and that belch combined with the sombre knowledge that he was next on her menu were the final straws necessary to break him. If he could avoid the torture, he’d take it; let him die in as dignified a manner as being digested alive by his philosophy teacher’s cavernous stomach would allow. If that involved submitting himself tot her… so be it.
“I’ll… I’ll do it.”
Miss Blaine smiled the simper of victory, beaming down at the broken boy she was about to devour. She ignored the loud exhortations of Jack and Caleb, the latter of whom had finally struggled out of the awful pond of saliva, and focused solely on her sweet, sweet victory. “Good boy..” she almost cooed in giddiness. “It would have been so much more horrible to have to use my teeth to rip your limbs off one by one. Such a pity to hear your screams.” Whether he believed that or not was of little consequence, but something in him told him that perhaps, just perhaps, she wasn’t lying. Perhaps they could have been on better terms….
However, it was far too late for that now, he knew. With a sense of finality, Miss Blaine addressed him;
“Right… whenever you’re ready. Though, I’d make that sooner rather than later.”
Her arms disappeared back behind the desk, her head lowering to rest upon it, about ten metres by his stature from where he sat. Quentin didn’t know why, of all the things, it registered in his mind, but he realised she had probably slipped off the chair behind her to achieve the position she was in. Before him, the gigantic cave opened- somehow it seemed almost serene despite the terror and foulness it had become accustomed to being draped in- until it was wide open before him, yellowed teeth almost glistening in the soft light of the room, a great atrium yawning before him and inviting him further inside her colossal body. Her tongue almost lethargically spilled over the stained pegs of her lower incisors to rest on the desk before him, a thin river of saliva beginning to cascade down its whitish centre to form a small puddle before the fleshy platform he was expected to step onto. Closing his eyes, Quentin made a mental goodbye to all he loved- his family, Caleb, and Jack, he didn’t have many others- and stood up shakily, stumbling once before righting his balance. With a furtive look back over his shoulders, he stared straight ahead at Miss Blaine’s maw, and his fate.
“Goodbye, guys. I’m… sorry.”
His legs began to move him forward.