Baroness' Preserved Royalty

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Written by Septia.
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The doorknob was a slab of immovable granite as Sage gripped it in her brittle hand, which was
then in turn enveloped by Beatrice's soaked palm as the Baroness flung the door inwards – her
posterior knocking Sage down in her intrusion.
“What is this doing here?” the baroness mouthed with the perplexion of a child locating a
marble among their candy.
Sage supported herself against a crowded shelf; the room made up its space furnishing with
a profusion of books, opened an slathered in jottings; notes, those not in books littering table and
shelves – an academic dust; and bottles, containing trinkets, of spun wood fiber or samples of tissue
suspended in fluids. She breathed in the air stained of inkblots and research, heart fluttering.
“Father ever told you of this?”
Sage snapped up, “He didn't.” half truth.
“Figures, why bother with a trash bin like this,” Beatrice relinquished her grip of a bottle, as
if it had insulted her.
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From the back, Sage could barely make out Beatrice's padded pressure-cooker, -Bhhellgsh- but she
heard it rubble and shook the baroness now and then, it was if the abdomen was selective of the
dimensions it occupied; as massive as it got in the 2-dimensooal space seen from Beatrice’s sides,
otherwise it was as looking at the sheet of paper a drawing was done on in profile – barely
registering as more than a line. Sage puzzled if this mirrored the internal workings, ever expanding
in certain areas, and compressed to nothing in others. Once she awakned from this studious trance,
she found herself jotting the observations about Beatrice down in an empty notebook, frowning as
she pocketed it and stalked towards the single remaining door in the cabin.
Within laid the bedroom, size mirroring the study at a rough twelve square meters, only
separating factor from the first room was a bed; sheets in a tangle.
“My, Darling, what have you found,” -Bbrngn- Beatrice thrust her body against Sage
peering through the crack in the door, the stomach, clad in not by one single layer of lace and a thin
corset – grinding against the back of Sage's head.
“A trove of theories and research with the capacity to better our world,” Sage proclaimed
stalwart, “the pinnacle from years of my father’s dedication and effort.”
“Another barren waste of space, then,” Beatrice swung open the door in disappointment.
“Why are you even here then?” Sage's tempered flickered on her cheeks.
But she got no response. Beatrice had spied something, marching to the lefthand table and
snatching a note.
“Qb,” Beatrice pondered.
“Huh?”
Beatrice dragged Sage thigh to thigh, the student grimacing at the body odour. “Each table
have notes marked Qb.”
Sage's pupils contracted. “It is nothing,” she called out and snatched for the paper, her
attempts stopped by Beatrice pinning her to wall via her stomach, holding the note out of the
student's frantic reach as she read.
“Considering its rampant growth, It is my belief its mind has matured at an equivalent rate
as its body, contributed by its…” Beatrice paused a second to absorb the words, while Sage's
uniform absorbed her sweat, “wholly unique, mutated anatomy.”
The pause was enough for the grip to loosen, Sage yanking the paper away, but Beatrice had
already moved on to reading another page.
 “Its dietary needs increases, was it not in captivity it would have, extinguished nearby
endangered predators.”
“His sickness made him ramble, this is all nonsense,” Sage professed and shuffled the
papers together on the table. Sage felt the grip at the back of her neck, face compressed at the
heaving underbelly of the baroness -Shhsng-., compressing under the weight surpassing a five year
old.
“The lone title befitting this creature, truly is… the Queen beast.”
Qb
Qb it is in all the notes.
Released from the baroness' hold, Sage stumbled toward the bed. -Ghsllrhs- But her outstretched
palm met with a wall of soggy sponge. She stared, her palm had warped reality around itself, the
sight of the bed scrunched and rugose around her fingers, as if she had grasped the sheet which
reality was projected on like a cinema.
-Chrslpgsh- It thrummed beneath her fingertips, space contorted before her eyes, shifting
shade and marbling in a myriad hues. From the imprint of her hand, it spread as a dye in water,
sprouting the distortion of light over the bed and enveloping the further half of the room, splintering
into branches curled around the walls. As the display transpired, the texture under Sage's hand
ruffled in the manner of an agitated bathmat, and the texture spread across the phenomenon as a
phlegm clad membrane. Above a segment of the shape bent towards her, a pool the width of a disco
ball shimmered in glints of silver, a black slit rupturing the whiteness’ center; an eye which
captured both her breath and mind in its observation.
“I-… It's the Queen.” The student whispered, gazing at the expanse of iridescent skin
floating and floating through the air. A pale oil that came to life and retained its liquid properties in
the solid realm, from its inquisitive eyes to the ends of each of its tentacles.
Sage teeter backwards.
The octopus mimicked, waving its tendrils through the air, first one at a time, then several
unlatching and folding independently of one another. Tentacles formed a sea around that creature
that enveloped two thirds of the room's surface, which it sailed on for locomotion, several tendrils
shifting shade and hue to blend in with the wooden walls. -Shlgbwp- -Shgltpwp- -Chrlplop- Came
the light suctions as it sailed the air, eye fixated, observing, learning.
The eye spoke to Sage, within she saw no beast, but curiosity, caution… She flung her head
back. Watching Beatrice, who had her jaw hanging in awe. Within that gaze, she saw something
quite different.
Beatrice peered from Sage to the Queen beast. She closed her eyes. “Darling, what a
magnificent sight,” her lips curled to a grin.
The Queen flowed away from Beatrice, situating itself so that Sage was a constant barrier
separating the two. Even as Sage moved, the queen – and barroness – followed suit.
Sage shook her head, first at the Queen, then Beatrice. “Can’t you see? It is sapient.”
“It,” Beatrice corrected, licking her fingers and trailing them along her neck and gullet, “is
the one above all, and she will bow to my gut,” her grin spread as she clasped her stomach, eyes
brimming with mania. The baroness rushed into a tackle, knocking Sage back into the Queen before
it could slither aside, launching herself to grasp it into her embrace. -Sppstlsh- Sage was
sandwiehched between the bedsized mantle and the -Ghrbsl- stoming gurlges stirring into a
maelstrom of hunger.
“Soogpm, Stop, she could hold the secrets to sapience itse-mmpght.” Her voice was muffled
by fat and slime. She scraped and tugged at Beatrice's body as she witnessed the jaws part over a
restless tentacles.
“Don't-.”
-Haammmph- The tip of the tentacle was lowed in the maw, others roaming over the two
women to dislodge it.
 -Shflllrphg- The suction begun, -Whhglpsh- Tendril shot inwards, its girth swelling as the
monster gulped, till it blocked out Beatrice's face. Sage bewitched by a limb the with of a young
tree fit into that gob.
“Mmpfgh, mmwmgn, nrgh.” Beatrice grunted, her cheeks puffed as she dragged the tendril
to her lips, latching onto it for dear life, opening her maw just to cram more inside at the queens
attempts to dislodge. Each time the Queen got a decimeter of her tentacle free Beatrice scoffed as a
mad boar and hauled herself forward to heave it down again. The tendrils that came to the first’s
rescue clasped and -HHGllsp- jammed into the clogged maw, after which no further were sent that
way. Instead doubling its efforts to clamp to the wall and crawl towards the door.
In a macabre, twisted manner, this was an incredible display of both Beatrice's capabilities –
her unbridled tenacity – as well as an instant display of adaptive learning. -Suqulglsh- -Ghhrlsgl-
-MWMpgprh- Unfortunately, it was in the form of a tug of war, in which she was trapped in the
middle.
-Shhfllrpsh- “Mmpfgh,” Beatrice growled, comping and scooping the tendrils down by her
teeth, three crammed deep into her, distorting her gullet to the drapes of a windy theatre, each slurp
sending a drizzle of slime pelting Sage in the face, whenever she wasn't smothered into either of the
contesting sides. -Bglslogskrkr- Her heart dropped at the cracking brewing that chimed from
Beatrice's belly, at once she felt mass swelling, vacuum packed and ferried into unknown depths,
making room for new contours wriggling at the top of the abdomen.
“Mmpgawm, ammw,” Beatrice panted, shaky hands groping her gut in satisfaction, her maw
opening enough for a stretch of tentacles to droop out as a beard of slugs, before she redoubled her
efforts and arched her jaw over the beast's mantle, gnawing, biting, scratching, huffing and humping
to gain on the Queen. -Chhwklgpsths- -Skoouurllrch- The gelatinous compression of the beast rang
through Sage's ears, sensing the jolts of fear starting at the Queen's flesh and ending somewhere
down the vortex roaring in Beatrice's neck, congesting and bloating with each quaking
-Ghhmmpsk- Beatrice took of the beast.
the mass of a couch must have passed the Baroness lips, as soon as the wriggling flesh
entered, it compacted, squeezed beyond that even common among the cephalopods, Beatrice had
turned one of the Queen's strengths into their detriment, for if not, The baroness had not gotten past
one tentacles.
-Shhrkgps- The mantle, and the one eye, sunk past the rim of sweat muddled lipstick.
“Mmpgth, fmmtt-…” Beatrice growled, the tendrils writhing and slithering around her,
latching onto her body, pulling outwards.
Sage's expression shifted to a glimmer of hope. Which vanished as Beatrice grasped her
instead…
-Spgltlshcbrrsl- The air was drenched in the two giant's mingled slime, Sage
hyperventilating to have a wave of the sunken, brine stench invade her lungs, her whole head was
so easily plunged into Beatrice's maw.
The Student's head stormed with dread, painting each possible future with pure pain within
her minds eyes: sinking past the lips into the unstable core of hunger; teeth crashing down on her,
instant death; teeth descending slowly, excruciating death. -Ppglltsh- But she was pulled out.
-Sppshhlrp- And jammed back in… The world a blur for the student made stuffing stick, a living
battering ram that plunged the Queen into Beatrice's insatiable graveyard. She thought she could see
the eye again, buried in flapping flesh, in it, she saw a vision of her father's face.
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~1~
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-Ammpigh- -Aoampgh- -Shhrllpsh- Sage laid slumped against the wall, chin held up by Beatrice's
foot, as to not miss how the tips of the tendrils compressed, formed a bouquet of wriggling meat,
suctioned into the masticating pipe, swirling away as the lips descend around them, sealing them
within -Shhrlslpgmhp-. -Ghmmbkrlsrk- Beatrice swallowed, and kept swallowing, hands on her
neck, cramming, pressing the lively dome down, gritted teeth and face aching flustered until-…
-Krllslghc- -Ooomph- The bulge was compacted, and folded up inside the Baroness’ body. Her
breathing accelerated, in a rush she hauled Saged upwards, hugging the brat to her crotch, swiping
her head over the damp fabric up to the swirling tornado of decay disguised as a woman's abdomen.
“Mmf, shhaa, haha, feel it, there it is, right in here, can you feel her?” Beatrice huffed
through clasped teeth, entombing Sage in the bulbous swirling mass of taut skin.
“Spit them out,” Sage jabbed, but Beatrice might as well have been deaf.
“She thought she could get away, but you helped so wel d-mmm, darling, fmmgh.” The
whole form of the woman trembled as a guitar string plucked at her ennamoured heartbeat.
“Queen thingks, fmnt she is so hot, she will much honmmpg, hotter in my stomach.”
Sage felt her whole face swallowed by the stomach surface, the more the abdomen growth’
in width and pressure surmounted the limits she had previosuly observed, the more she was
convinced it had no end.
“Let.fmmfps hmwwer ghhsoo.”
“Stewing,” -Bhrhrlgps- a grumble accentuated her words, “Boiling,” -Ppribtslrlsg-, “and
melting…” Beatrice huffed lungfuls through her flared nostrils, smothering Sage in her stomach.
-Cjhllrkktcchjh- “Ooorwn,” -Chhrkskl- “Ooormh, yess, try… this.” Beatrice arms flew
backwards, tightening the straps of her corset. -Kkrlglstwwp-
In a series of clenches of droves of chew toys and jerky processed through a meat grinder,
Beatrice's stomach sunk, subsisting of an egg of vacuum packed mulch, at from which Sage fell,
bottom first, onto the ground.
-Bhruaaaalllraaaahhp- -Hoourraarrrrhr- A mist of moisture and teal lipstick billowed from
the glutton's maw, in an exchange of gullet exhaust that set the expanse from her lips to her crotch
rippling – but once the storm-wind had passed the ocean, all settled mirror blank as a calm lake.
“Phaa… hoowmp, mmpgh…” Beatrice huffed, wiping her maw with her whole arm,
soaking it in slime, and then folding a research note to dot her her cheeks with. “Pmmf… mm…
That is what I thought. Ahaa…” after a few moments of gloated pants, her shaking lips formed a
smile, the deepest of black to her titanium hair. “That bitch is dethroned, and demoted to butt
blubber.”
Tears trailed Sage's face as soundless ghosts.
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~2~
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Her father’s life’s work, a being not only sapient, but the key to unlocking the truth behind
intelligence and wisdom as a whole; reduced to malformed dents along the Madam's upper
abdomen. In the end, the queen barely made a dent in Beatrice’s physique. -Gbhrlsllppprop- Putters
of reverberated from the engorged stomach swathed in black latex– the sound of Sage's hopes as the
butter melting in the pot belly furnace's stew.
-BHHrpppllglfth- The growls gave way to a shock wave of musk foetid fog pelting the
baroness' lace dress into the fluttering waveform of a ballerina’s skirt. With Beatrice blocking the
doorway as she spoke to a servant, the fumes had free reign over the insulated room, the ongoing
rattling burst surrounding the shock and disbelief Sage found herself in; replacing her worries with
floods of toasted sulphur in a bullion of minced meat.
“You don't know what you are doing,” Sage erupted with a tongue of fire, “ spit them out.”
“Tchh tshh thsh…, “ Beatrice waved her finger at Sage, cupping her rotund middle and
closing her eyes as a reverberating -Bwhgllrsctk- crumbling crunched her innards together.
“Darling, darling, darling, put a pacifier in that gob of yours, I know exactly what I am
doing.”
 Sage's eyebrows slanted at the Madam's surprising words, but shook her head when Beatrice
advanced on her and tucked her face into eye height with the stomach.
“That precious treasure, which you kept 'Hidden' from me,” Beatrice annunciated her
displeasure with a trust that crammed Sage's head to the lace coated stomach, picking up the
-Cwhhrlsh- of morsels and mud contracting, “Is right here, and I'll let you follow its journey
down…” Beatrice explained as she shuffled them over to the bed, wiping Sage's face down her
abdomen and under her crotch, climbing onto the mattress and squeezing Sage's head to the wall
just as she got onto the beddings.
Sage's form laid trapped under Beatrice, from her head brushed by the lace rim of the skirt
and the rest of her body housed underneath the Baroness, feet pinned under the baroness’s cleavage.
“Who here rivals mmmpfh,” -Gbhhrslg-- at the instance her belly chimed she clutched the
mattress to flatten her stomach, rolling her gut as a mound of cookie dough over bed and Sage's
thighs alike.
Sage gasped, groaning pinned under the sweating cement heaps barging down on her shorts,
the retraction from her face giving her butt greased face a desperate breath – despite the putrid air
being anything but fresh.
Who here has a metabolism superior than any creature I have eaten?” Beatrice gloated
without turning her head, bouncing her gut pancaked out the bed in bounds moist of the internal
chaos -Phkkpflsh- -Kkrglsth-.
“You can flush my scholarship and I'll be your assistant, just-.” Sage' breath left her lungs as
the mountains of damp beige buns barreled towards her. The flaps of the lace skirt swooning
through the air, with the rump thorned in the middle it evoked the image of a flower; the corpse
flower rafflesia. The black panties tugging down the flabs of fat moments before they made impact
-Smmsptch- scolding skin submerging her silhouette, chub crawling along cheeks and caging her in
the chasm of her crack. -Bmmdth- Sage heard the meat sweep around her ears and brush over the
wall behind her, as she was treated the heated exhaust pipe puffing up to a wink of welcome.
“Stopped listening after you gave the right answer,” Beatrice mused.
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-Gnnnrch- -Chrrch- Butt flab squealed as it scraped across Sage's skin while the Madam's humps
and shoves wedged Sage into the rear dungeons. -Slrlsth- Sticky must gummed her and the cheek
meat together as one under the all-encompassing pressure which incremented gradually at the
baroness' behalf. Encased, lacking means for sight, Sage's hearing picked up the -Bbrllrub- burbling
mastication of the stomach, matching the rhythm with the vibrations that trickled over her crotch
and legs; all the everywhere abdomen resided upon. A chugging boil that one would hear pouring
out a bottle with the girth of a rhino's hip, containing the thick syrup of life essence that Beatrice
would guzzle without forethought. As the pressure swelled her head to aching, her mind drifted to
the texture and consistencies of the belly resting on top of her. It had all shifted again, segments
transitioning from the stiffness of packed nail bone to the gelatinous hold of a boneless tissue. The
contents shifted downwards, the stiffer clogging up the bottom of the abdomen before sloughing
further, and all this weight ground into her crotch, peaking her pulse with a cocktail of disgust and
enmity towards the pleasure which the dense, mulched animal carcasses were inflicting upon her.
-Shhqusllh- The belly slammed downwards, rump morphing to stalk ever further down Sage's
purple flushed cheeks.
“Mmgraghmm.” A cry with a touch of lust escaped up the chimney of the baroness’ crack,
Sage cursing herself under the fluid dizziness, but she had clued Beatrice in on her involuntary
pleasure.
-SQUushtsch- The gut bore down on her crotch once more, cheeks clamping over her head
like crab claws to contain her in the butt loaves caking her in waxy tush grease, leaving her
coughing and hawking up phlegm in the caustic dampness of lard. All whilst her crotch quivered at
the boulder tough abdomen battering her honeypot.
 “Thought you would be happy to spend some time with thenm,” Beatrice stated and
shimmed side to side the abdomen before sloughing with the gasping head locked in her ass, “that is
how it feels whenever I am baking an entrée who thinks itself regal,” Beatrice scoffed out a
chuckle, “you can be the judge if she is pristine once she is billowing out my nougat hatch.” The
baroness’ sentence decending into indulgence as the internal growling roared into crescendo
-Bhrrrrrbbglthg-. Beatrice brushed back a tangle of perspiration soaked hair just as her insides
knotted in a guttural -Ghbrlslpwth- shaping her strained expression into satisfied curves, trumpeting
out a gale of stench, redolent with the zest of suffering and squeaking through the cheeks as a shriek
of dread -Frzzzwwwrrhhhk-.
-Bwwdth- -Bwbth- The rippling buns pummelled the wall and drummed into Sage's chin,
cascades of pent up exhaust flushed out of the repulsive lady’s undulating pit, -Bbrrwwpprpth-
bwrboorth- as the stench bout dragged on the smooth flow devolved into a smatter of a wooden
ratchet after being dropped in a swamp. Sage's nostrils clogged with the stench of black pepper and
gravel in a bath of vinegar singing their way into her membrane. The stench was all she could
breathe in, assaulting her vegan palette with juices of concentrated suffering and raw crushed guts
swirling its way down her throat as an obese worm which every bone in her body told her to spit out
– except her lungs, with their desperate need of air coaxed the student into drinking down the
yellowed fumes steaming her head and irritating her eyes to tears.
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Beatrice sprawled her body forwards in the slender fashion of a feline, contrasting with the relative
curvature of a sea-lion. -Swweetch- her rump detaching from the wall with the crackle of spent
glue.
“I do prefer my queens spicy, and raw, and my little princesses to know their place,” she
cooed with a wobble of her jiggling rear domes then gestured for a servant as she sat herself on the
bed.
-Ppddth- Sage's head was still locked in the crack as she felt the Baroness' weight piled upon
her, sandwiching her into a trench within the mattress, whilst she heard Beatrice popping a few pills
into her maw to strengthen her digestion, and then guzzling from a pot of piping vegetable broth –
made primarily out of pitcher plants and other carnivorous flora.
-Ooompgh- -Ghoompgh- The tepid stew smoothing out the contorted folds over her midriff.
-Pbbrhhffftth- Gusts of odour vacated her bowels, heavy with molten animal lard with a
thickness that blotted Sage's nose and clogged her maw, the stench even trickling down her ear
canal before it puffed its way out of the dress, leaving its rim fluttering around Sage's head in the
manner of a disturbed spirit.
“Phaa, goes down well with a some complimentary freshness,” Beatrice muttered as she
slurped her lips free of broth, “a blance in this stuff would have suited that swine, instead they'll just
have to cook in my gut,” she relented with a two chuckles, giving a guttural crone as a
-Pbbtwrrfwfth- relinquished from her tush, bathing Sage in the conglomeration of the feast plucked
from the air, with the brisk winds; earth, with the smoked mineral rich dirt tones embedded in the
ashen burnt redolence; and sea, with the salted brine stitching itself to her body like her whole head
was a wound.
“Mmmrh,” Beatrice grunted and packed the edge of the dress underneath Sage’s head,
gyrating her frame to seal the girl up in the fabric and let her stew and bake in the percolating
pungency pouring out of her in puffs of -Ppbhrhfth-.
“Mmfpwrh, mmrpsthg,” Sage cried out and tugged her head side to side, whilst Beatrice
gyrated and mangled her stress toy between her teeth, folds of lace inflating around Sage's head,
trapping the moisture and flavour in the feminine cave.
“Packed into place, enjoying your company with the mm, former queen, as the current
queen's throne,” Beatrice mused, and brought up a mirror to reapply another layer of makeup; her
tush tormented the girl with caustic breaths of warped sulphur and methane -BBBroofffwth-
-Prwwrrrfth-.
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~3~

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Hours, hours on the brink of suffocation, Sage was relieved when she felt the weight lift.
-Shthc- but scared as the skirt was roped together underneath her – a bouquet of lace crowning the
back of her head – swept around her like a hood, and a choke collar by her neck.
“All wasted away,” Beatrice said as she rose from the bed, Sage forced to bend along with
her, heaved up in an awkward bend with her cranium parallel with the baroness arse. “What is the
over-under that my guts's capacity to mulch cephalopods is the same as dirty mammals?” Beatrice
asked to the squirming student beneath, muffled crying barely audible through the fabric.
“P-please,” came a whimper, “let me go.”
“What is the matter,” Beatrice wondered and bobbed her rump in a dance, shaking Sage with
it as a thick -Ppfbbrbrth- sprinkled the parcel in fresh decomposition, “lost your spunk?” She
prodded Sage's stomach with a heel. “Or did you leak it all out earlier?”
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-Psprhfffrrstllfsh- With a rousing detonation of flatulence fluttering the bud from her rear, Beatrice
eased the pressure on her bladder and intestines in one swoop. -Frshhhhlls- A waterfall yellowed
with grease and rot splattered across Sage's neck, the splashback dousing her hair and forehead in
sprinkles of urine and doused the rest of her in the ammonia reeking liquid.
“That is hitting all the right buttons, guess who has drowned a fish in her own urine?”
Beatrice huffed out between long sighs as the beam of piss surged free to pool over Sage's head and
soak the fabric damp and dripping with the writing of the student.
Sage gasped and raised her cheek so it brushed against the buns as a shield from the flow.
-Bbfofprth- only to be squished back down by fumes. -Crnrnskgks- But her ears sharpened at that
noise. -Chhrslpgh-. The crinkling wetness of undressing a sausage from its skin. -Bbfrrwdth- A fart
stopped mid burst by the throbbing of the pucker, and swelling rim to present a sight of brown
mocha framed by the reddened pit.
“Mmf, aara, lunch, m, is a bit bothersome, see if anything got stuck, will you, Darling,”
Beatrice groaned as her pit engorged over the coming trunk, swelling wider and broader every time
Sage thought the limit was reached, witnessing the dunk of furrowed manure advance on her with
the gait of a determined snail, getting a detailed look of the texture of auburn clay, enough so that
she could make out red streaks of the meat Beatrice had consumed.
-Spplflrgth- “Mmmfnfa, aha, ahhr, fnn, have to get some more bowel therapy, still a bit of a
struggle with my more heafty feasts,” Beatrice grunted as and huffed along with her pucker warping
and malforming around the texture of the dung, her tried rim preheated with her storming flatulence
still stale around the clogging loaf, unlatching a few cents of it at a time in rhythm with Beatrice's
huffs.
“Mmnfnrg,” -Chhrlrslth- “mmnrghtf…” -Ghrddlt-.
In the folds of the lace Sage was treated to a swelling dollop of coagulated frosting jamming
into her cheek, the width and bulk of the mass concaving her check flesh past her teeth before it
began to slop and sprawl in width as a roll of half baked terracotta. -Chhrrslp- A texture of pepper
infused wax embalmed Sage's chin, the majority of the dung slug crawling down her neck to heat it
with the steam fresh from the baroness' abyss.
-Sppflltfhht- “Ommfaoaog…,” Beatrice heaved out as a clog of muck creamed its way free,
creaking with a sputter of a polished windows as the mulch mashed into the student’s face. The
oncoming stash of fudge passing not with grace but mangled through a pucker straining and
convulsing to handle the frankly unreasonable supply and offset by the limited space between the
rim and Sage's face. -Wrhgfths- Clogs of muck squeezed in one direction just for another to halt its
way through into the vacant space. Muck smudged across Sage's head in strokes of painful umber,
gradually forming as the segregated heaps of gastrointestinal paste had reconverged in droves hefty
enough to -Sghhrft- scrub across her skin. Even the stiffer mounds were broken down to a texture of
chunky cookie dough under enough pressure from her sandwiched face, her head a milling rod for
the oncoming fudge whenever Beatrice flexed her hippo buns. Steam rose from the sludge's pores
and crevices, leaking the bacterial entropy used to slaughter all the creature's Sage had watched get
crammed into the compact container, scents mingled from soaked fur and bonemeal; a caustic
vibrance that married the redolence of smoked lamb pickled in coarse pepper.
Beatrice shifted her legs wide spread, flexing her arms as she huffed and strained her
expression into uncouth grimaces -Sppgbfllbltsh- Dislodging mounds of manure in consistencies
shifting from jellies slobber drooping and slopping down the pants parcel; to the rigid, baked nougat
bales snaking through her rear, holding a similar struggela and distain with the how her meals had
entered her body.
“Must be heavy,” Beatrice huffed, hands clasping to fists, “hnnnrgs, a veggo like you can't
be used to it, mmf, tell me, is that how it feels at the bottommgff, under the weight of of the mmff,
aa, the entire foodchain?” -Bbwffkhth- -Sbhrhtlsj- A dramatic flush of fumes plumped up the rump
package, squeezing Sage to the bottom with a -ksllpsth- of soaked urine, whilst the mounds of
manure piled on top.
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The tied panties bloated, moulding under the lumps of chubby filth packing it out, Sage's body bent
and contorted in such a way that she had to latch onto Beatrice's thighs to keep balance, forcing
herself into the mire of mud disgorged by the bottom. Sage's bulge was not discernable from the
rest of the muck humps in the black laced flower bulb, even her movements carrying the same
-Shhrlslg- churn and clamps of displaced bile.
“Mfgha,” The few grumbles she made were cut short by the dissolved animal mass wedging
its way onto her and smearing onto her lips, all her focus dedicated to keep an alcove free from her
frantically huffing nose, a goal which collapsed with a pertinent shake of the Baroness' rump.
“Getting comfy are you, must be used to the bottom?” Beatrice huffed and dragged herself
towards the table housing the Queen beast research.
“Think I must havemmfg, hahamfn, enough fertilizer to make you grow into a real woman.”
Beatrice huffed out and stood up onto the chair, her rear with the bloated butt bulb hanging above,
and the height letting Sage stand proper… A trickle of urine from the tied up bun draining over the
papers below. “Looks like a barren patch of dirt to plant you,” She chuckled between strained hums
and whistles, her stomach -Cbbrhs- contracting in a sickeningly moist clench. The bloat stretching
taut with its fudge filling. -Shhrl- till the pressure was enough to untie the bow knot.
The skirt bulb bloomed open with a flutter of dress rim petal, an ovoid of ripe sludge that
dropped and malformed to a crooked cow-pat as it hit the tabletop -Twpwplfltdk-
shifting and worming her face up from the burial of muck, Sage peaked into the fresh air and
gasped hungry for air, seeing once against the corpse flower above her, but this time in full blood,
disgorging its nectar from above. The lengths of manure coiled in the air, broke off and swirled into
battered chunks, each loaf sketched with labyrinths of gutters of varied depth, from a light texture to
separating the mounds into segments based on the decomposition of the various meals.
Sage noted the width expanding within the blocking fabric, or maybe it was just her oxygen
deprived mind that shaped the mounds into the girth of a salmon. -Phbsrlrllpsgbth- Stry bouts of
stench disrupted the trajectory of the mounts and let them collapses over one another. There were
traces of bones and pockets of bonemeal in the loaves, fuzz caked along some segments, rather than
fuzzy, the hairs made the length look like a cacti. Sage was compelled to note how efficient and
rigorous Beatrice's insides had to be to strip each meal so thoroughly, she identified slabs of crab
shell, –bleached and edges eroded – plastered onto the raw umber length's sides, as if etched with a
chisel.
 The student shook her head in disgust that her mind was snared by fascination, -Shhrlspgh-
noticing just how much mulch had drooped and kneaded into her hair, dying her apple-wood ginger
into a stale khaki. Then she noticed where she laid, glancing at lengths smacking into parchment,
soaking the paper in colon juice, bending and dissolving the research into the brown gruel. She
brimmed with tears.
“Mmfmnagh.”
A thrust and reposition form the grunting Beatrice above swept Sage off of the table, landing
with a copious bundle of tangled and crackled filth onto the floor, -Sppslfth-. Sage was left staring
upwards, as the brim thrust back and contorted over cragged and misshaped mounds of life turned
compost, and discarding them over the growing heap on the table, seeing them mush, roll, merge
into one another under the heat, and glue to her father’s notes and observations. Sage’s throat ached
from dung hugging it for so long, but now it hurt even more as she cried to the point of hiccups,
seeing bundles of fresh cobbled filth fall off the table, rolls of it slathered and plastered with the
work of her role model and father, swept up as the casing to the bile cigars littered in remnants of
endangered species.
Qb
Qb
~4~
Qb
Qb
”Haaa… phaa, ommf, feel so alive frying that bitch to chocolate cinders,” Beatrice mumbled
between pants, the table reduced to a hill of mud, partially submerging the lamp and whatever left
that was not buried. She dragged Sage from the ground, towards the bed. “That is what I think of
your father's research, of you, neither of you understand the thrill,” She almost hissed.
Sage felt tapped out of emotions, the residue of her vacant mind occupied with the logistics
of Beatrice's gut remaining the same size as it had before the dump. Then, she thought she saw
something peek out, then thrust into the pucker.
Qb
Qb
Tossed on the bed, Beatrice followed Sage and smushed her dung caked rear onto her head, soaking
her in the ammonia and cinder saturated gruel and panting whilst it humped back over the girl's
groaning face.
“Yesh, still have more in in there, you know how much I ate, barely gotten to the queen
yet,” her expression twitched into a full grin, her hair and layers of makeup in tatters as the
-Pfhfhrrlrllrth- unloaded a lungful for sage of the toxic miasma, groaning as her pucker warbled
around a mound of fudge perfectly baked for Sage's face.
-Spqquslgsh- But sage spied something else, through crowding the space within convulsing
pucker’s lengths of manure, was a coil of prismatic, oily onyx.
“Que-queen,” she heaved out.
The tendril pried apart the pucker, wedging out, seeking freedom. It found Sage.
“Mmfm, whwant? Mfmpgs, oohis going on back there?” Beatrice shuddered.
The tendril brushed over Sage, embracing her, holding taut around her shoulder as her father
used to do.
-Clllstclclrh- Then it reeled in.
Sage’s expression shattered as she heard Beatrice's howls of pleasure, and watched the
congested pit of filth creep ever closer.
“Ooofmpgh, ooo, that bitch, smmf, is tenacious,” Beatrice grumbled and hauled herself
standing on teetering legs, “but I am the real queen.” Her shout was followed by a grand suction
-Shhrrrlooofth-, her cheeks clasping shut to cleave apart with the pucker pumping inward, slurping
the loose tendril back up, and slamming her pucker into Sage's head -Chchtwwp- -Chhrlglst- to then
engorge and sprawl across Sage's slick new hairdo.
Qb
Qb
The exhaustion and pickled caustic stench battled for Sage's consciousness, each time she sensed
the grasp of fainting sealing around her she felt the pliant pucker suckle further down her scalp,
drool auburn chocolate across her or -Chhsthc- clench to ferry her another centimeter into the abyss.
Air stained in mollusks left to rot in a botched mushroom stew, her mind unable to process that the
Baroness' rear was a good ways down on devouring her head.
-Shhrslth- -Crlslqshs- She felt the grind and crackle of manure mix in with the slither and
dragging squirms of the tentacle compressing around her, its width covered her from elbow to
shoulder in its grip, rendering her unable to escape either of the predators playing tug of war with
her life.
She realized, of course, that the Queen was gone. As madam Vandell's rump struggled to
wedge in one of her shoulders and exposed her in closer proximity to the mulcting, rotting drain
gunk than ever before. She did not have to be a well-studied naturalist to make out the slimy
consistency of the gutter gelato around her, or the molten suction cups adorning mounds of pre
cobbled compost. -Shhspaplsh- She was sandwiched into one of them, the texture was of a jellyfish
fried in a batter of fertilized earth. This tendril, the one which clutched her, was severed. It was not
uncommon, even amongst ordinary cephalopods, their arms had their own nervous system, capable
of locomotion of their own accord, they could even hunt independently of the main body, clutching
its meal back to its host. But this appendage could not locate its host, despite it shifting and
wiggling through the remnants of its host, and Sage was on for the ride, bundled into doughy heaps
of butt baked grime moulding and caking over her shoulders and chest, sealing her within a cocoon
of crystallized repulsion.
Qb
Qb
Beatrice's rear crept over the girl, -Spplflths- disgorging curved and misshapen slabs of muck
around her shape. The manure slathering the girl in rump umber, as the rim bunched up the student's
torso. Beatrice's face fluorescent with fanatical fluster.
“Packed infm, with all your precious critters,” she huffed, grasping her cheeks and kneading
them along the journey, splaying them wide to feel the girth of the girl compacting within, the
sensation was immaculate, drilling pleasure into her spine at each squeeze of Sage's form. But the
twitches, squirms and rumbles inside was the sensation she could get addicted to.
Her hands kneaded and squeezed Sage higher, sinking her into the stained buns as a raisin in
a bun.
“Deeper, don't you want to see the Queen, you little pleasure in my mmfpgh, mam, butt?”
Beatrice mused between gritted teeth. “I had not considers mfm, myself able to one up. Maaha,
myself, so early after the queen…” She huffed and panted with her arms roaming back to her
stomach, distorting wider around a bloat with the vague outlines of a head. She stood up,
straightened Sage's legs and rump to the bed, and sat back on them with a -SHHqlrlspht- stretching
her pucker gradually over the student's petite hindquarters, enveloping it in her chasm of butt fat
and guiding bales of chocolate gelato to pile along Sage's legs.
“And you know what?” Beatrice asked and rose, plucking the girl's shoes off and planting
her palm over them, “I still haven't.”
-Shhrsllth- with shoves and groans and fervent tugs from her rump, the feet descended into
the colon, slathered in a fudge of death. Beatrice pulled her hand free with a -Spphoph-, and her
cheeks -Smmtch- clamped shut.
Qb Secret, the tentacle behaviour was based on actual octopus behaviour.
Qb
~5~
Qb
Qb
Her fingertips travelled over the morphed bloat in her abdomen, brushing, caressing, cuddling it
with her thumb. The cabin fell quite silent, as the woman marvelled at her engorged belly, her
expression still contorting into new grimaces every few seconds. -Bbrhhgsllpsh- The stomach
reverberated, shook and stirred her, and Beatrice gyrated her hips along with the sways.
“You were always on about sacrifices for a greater purpouse, glad you finally saw reason as
to which purpose was worth mmpfdg, contributing to.” Beatrice’s hands kneaded into her abdomen,
softer segments clutching around contourted outlines. “Quite a confection I have cooked up in there,
a batter made from the beast of the sky, sea, land, and living,” the baroness mused and drummed her
fingers to the zenith of her midriff, “with you, darling, as the tart filling.”
-Ghhnblgsdtw- Trembles sang through Beatrice’s abdomen, the rattling down her bowels
giving her a sensation of the filth mound’s girth.
“My little pasty should be baked off her tush by now,” she remarked and clutched her rear.
Qb
Qb
-Psllfhghtssr- Her brim crackled up a storm at the slime infused hill of dung the baroness heaved
and struggled to relieve. One hand pendulating from ass groping to honeyfishing as the width of the
girl plus added speckles of manure trickled out of her pucker. The filth a glimmering onyx hue with
enough colon lube to leave it mirror shine polished as it left the buffering bile hatch, iridescent as
the hue of the once noble Queen, -Spfllfsths- The smatter between flesh and mush echoed in the
cabin, as Beatrice hefted out the bulwark of her bowels into her former student's father's bedding. A
few centimeters passed at a time, but the surface in its pliable consistency and slobber laced coat
left with less bother.
Qb
Qb
-Pslltsh- Dollops of the mire drooped along its side to the bedding, linking them in webs of
congealed filth between the tattered, sweaty sheets and dino-tail sized manure heap.
-Chhrlrlrrgth- Beatrice glanced back her lip pursed tight in the strain, seeing an upwards
facing bloat dome its way out of her rim. At this she slowed down, clutching and holding back for
the curding hunk to decant and slough into the once white sheets. -Flsllshthhghch- The hunk
dislodged from the baroness.
“Pmmgtrahhaa… hooa.. how…” She panted as her brim was freed of the obese bulk,
clutching and convulsing to come to a close, yawning at the open space of putrefying air.
“Consider yourself as officially dethroned, darling.” -Ppbbrrffrth- A smog of purple vapours
waved from her rear, Beatrice delighting in the ease of her parted pucker to dispel the clouds of
internal swamp gas. She spied a dome moving, and brushed a chunk of butt clay off with a research
note, uncovering Sage's trembling lips.
Qb
Qb
~6~
Qb
Qb
The madam left the cabin clad exclusively in her bra, and even that lone article of clothing she was
fiddling with incessantly. “Housan,” she called out.
“Yes, at your service, madam Vandell.”
“We are leaving, inform the documentary crew I want to personally review today’s footage,”
she brushed back her pearly hair in a swift motion, “in detail, and private.”
“Certainly, madam,” the butler responded with an appropriate bow.
“Do brief the chefs I want to make the pitcher plant bullion a staple in my cuisine… Oo, and
of course inform them that ‘Eagle stew’ is to be added for today's dinner menu.”
“Certainly, madam.”
“You are a darling, Housan,” she said, and stepped to the jeep, wiping her exposed crack
with a bundle of crumpled research notes.
“One more thing, and this is crucial,” she spoke with an air of sincerity, “unearth the girl and
give her a rinse, we could not have her miss supper.”
Housan bowed. “Of course not, madam Vandell.”