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Filling Ideology The corridor was dark and crowded. You're waiting in line, slowly marching forward into the auditorium reserved for the presentation. Today there was a feminist demonstration on the prevention of sexual assault on campus. Due to your status as a white heterosexual male, you've been forced to attend, threatened with expulsion from the university if you did not comply. The most bothersome part of it all was the timing, with the presentation taking place at 10:30 AM. It was fairly early for your abysmal sleep schedule. You stifle a yawn as you finally enter the dimly lit large room, hundreds of seats already filled. You decide to try and sit near the back of the auditorium, quickly spotting the ideal seat and slowly making your way over to it. Nearly there, you spot two women that emerged from a nearby side door. The women, a blonde and a brunette, appeared to be in their mid-twenties. Both of them exuded confidence, mixed with a noticeable degree of smug arrogance. They certainly looked the part, dressed in crisp casual business wear. The blonde was slightly taller, with a bobbed hairstyle. She had a noticeably curvy physique, even with her modest clothing. The brunette had a thinner, athletic body and hair in a simple ponytail. You reached your seat and sank into the uncomfortable chair, the two women were approaching using the same aisle along the wall you had traveled. They were chatting about something as they moved closer, the blonde suddenly shifted her gaze and made eye contact with you. “How about him?” She asked the brunette, nodding in your direction. “He'll do, grab him.” The brunette replied. The blonde reached into her pocket, for a moment you lose consciousnesses. You are immediately lifted into the air, enveloped by warm flesh. You open your eyes to see the tight pink embrace of her fist gripping your body. In the blink of an eye you were now a few inches tall, miniature clothing included. The blonde woman's hand was soft and smelled faintly of blueberries. You try to wiggle out of her grasp but her grip only tightened in response. Your face was pressed into her moist palm, sweat stung your eyes and filled your mouth with a warm salty flavor. The women entered the backstage area while discussing what sounded like the outline of the presentation. You shivered with fear, wondering what they could possibly need you for. You didn't bother dwelling on the impossibility of being shrunk, whatever techno-wizardry allowed for the immediate change wasn't your most pressing concern. Your kidnappers stopped moving, the brunette continued to give a summary of the presentation topics, giving you the impression she was the primary speaker of the event. It was finally time for the presentation to begin, the women exchanged a few final words before the brunette walked out onto the stage. The blonde's hand shifted as she crossed her arms in an awkward position, pressing the hand you were in against her abdomen. You feel her rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, she was nervous. From your new position you can hear the muffled activity of her colon. The remains of her dinner from last night, no doubt. Unable to move, you can only sit and listen to the tightly packed mass of her next bowel movement slowly moving along the rippled intestinal tube. You're startled by a sudden series of particularly loud groaning noises echoing inside her. The buildup of gas exploded out her rear end without consent, amounting to a loud, rippling fart. The blonde woman halted her nervous movements and lifted you up to her distraught, blushing face. She was clearly embarrassed by the gassy outburst, her previously confident persona had crumbled away. She opened her hand, leaving you resting in her palm. Her piecing blue eyes watched you carefully while she regained her composure. The embarrassment on her face faded into something resembling annoyance and discomfort directed at you for having witnessed her passing gas. She bit her bottom lip, smudging the shiny gloss coating it. Her hand moved you in closer, squishing your face into her soft upper lip. The gateway of her mouth opened halfway, her syrup scented breath enveloped your head, moistening your skin and blowing your hair back. Her tongue rolled out beneath you, glistening with fresh saliva. She pressed you into the muscular tongue flesh, immediately soaking your clothes in her warm spittle. Her lips closed around you, she gently rolled you between the full glossy mounds, her lip gloss adhering to your clothing. Losing herself in the moment, your rolling continued until drool began to escape out the corner of her mouth. She snapped to attention as she felt the dribble of warm saliva run down the side of her chin. You were re-positioned into the center of her lips while she wiped away the drool. She slurped you into her sweltering maw, submerging you in a monsoon of accumulating saliva. You are rolled into her right cheek, for a moment her mouth is filled with the sound of slurping and squelching. She finally swallows the saliva buildup with a wet, sloppy gulp. You are rolled back onto her tongue and immediately lifted up and pressed into her palate. She began to suck on your body, searching for your flavor. After several long moments of uncomfortable sucking you were finally lowered from the roof of her mouth. She began a cycle of curling her tongue over your body then rolling you from side to side and gently bouncing you up and down on the slimy, saliva soaked muscle. The blonde woman continued to toss you around her mouth for a few minutes, then once again rolled you into her cheek while she swallowed her saliva buildup. Instead of rolling you back, the tip of her tongue appeared and began pushing you up against the inner flesh of her left cheek. She released a quiet moan of delight, enjoying your mild salty flavor. “Despite all our efforts to civilize the men on this campus, we've finally realized that it is impossible to stop men from indulging in their sick craving for rape, but now we have a solution.” The crowd cheered with approval, eager to listen and believe. The blonde's mouth suddenly opened wide, her tongue carried you forward for the crowd to see. “As you can see, this man is now no longer a threat to the women on this campus.” The crowd was overjoyed, roaring with delight. The presenter pulled a small device out of her pocket. “Women can finally be safe thanks to this device made specifically for shrinking men; and once they've been dealt with, they're the perfect size for a quick snack, like our little 'volunteer' for Danica over here.” You're pulled back into Danica's mouth, her lips sealing shut once again. Her tongue wrapped around your body and pushed you towards her throat. The sound of the crowd as a myriad of laughter, cheering and clapping, eager to watch your 'execution'. You slowly slide into her pharynx, the roar of the crowd drowned out by a single gulp as she swallowed you whole. Danica’s esophagus squeezed around your body, rapidly pulling you down. The visible bulge of your body traveling down her throat lasted only a second for the ecstatic crowd before it disappeared behind her collarbone and large bosom. The thumping drum of her heartbeat intensified as you passed its position in her chest cavity, drowning out the chorus of wet squelching and the increasingly muffled sound of the presentation. The passage of time seems like a distant concept as you traveled deeper into her digestive tract. You feel intimately aware of the sticky, slimy sensation of saliva drenching every bit of your body. The temperature and smells didn’t change, they only got worse; the relatively pleasant smell of syrup on her breath only became stronger and intermixed with the acrid scent of vomit, the heat only became more intense, like the stomach you would be dropping into was a bubbling pot of boiling acid and digesting mush. The seemingly long journey down her esophagus was actually over in a few seconds. You collide with a blockage at the end of the tube, the downward force of the muscles crumpling you into a ball. It is only for a very brief moment you are stuck in place before the sphincter opens up and you are dumped into open space and into a free fall. You expect to land with a splash but instead land with a splat. Impacting on the top of a relatively solid food pile, you sink into the mushy remains of a pancake. You attempt to maneuver yourself in the darkness, but the lack of direction and constant churning causes you to slide down into a crevasse between a wrinkled slimy wall of the stomach and the rather tall mountain of poorly chewed breakfast. The already horrific environment of the feminist’s stomach somehow became even worse for you when she seemingly started walking somewhere. Your body was being smothered in between folds of the muscular stomach wall and a stubborn pile of intact food. Every step she took seemed to jostle the contents of her packed stomach, adding to the already constant undulations of every fleshy surface inside the digestive sack. The only positive of your current predicament was the lack of burning alive in an acidic pit, her stomach seemed content to annihilate you through sheer physical force. You can hardly suck in a breath of the barely breathable air, the force against your chest cavity made your ribcage ache. By some bizarre stroke of good fortune, the otherwise standard chorus of gurgles was suddenly interrupted by a particularly loud series of glorps and a strange liquid slurping noise. The pressure on your back subsided, freeing you from a relatively quick death via crushing suffocation. It seemed that the other side of the pile of pancakes had been thoroughly liquified, causing the mountain to collapse and even out the distribution. You capitalize on the opportunity, hoisting yourself back onto the pancake pile. --- Despite the squirming she could feel inside her full belly, Danica was generally unfocused on the recent events of the presentation or her heroic removal of a potential rapist from campus. The most pressing concern on the mind of the valiant social justice warrior was the uncomfortable pressure inside her bum. She quickly entered the gender neutral bathroom. The removal of the gender restrictions had been a fairly recent change, administration was acknowledging the new trend of men and women seemingly attending to their bathroom business at the same time. Though this was almost entirely due to the men now being intermixed within the bowel movements of the majority of women on campus. Danica entered the nearest stall, lowering her skirt and panties and plopping her wide bottom down on the toilet. The beginning of her release was marked by a loud fart that came ripping out of her backside the moment she relaxed her anus. She sighed with comfort and began to empty her bladder while also flexing the muscles in her rectum, pushing the packed bowel movement on its way. The large log of feces easily slid out of Danica’s bum, splashing into the toilet unceremoniously. Another fart escaped from the depths of her large intestine, capitalizing on the clear passage with the mass of waste now out of the way. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and began to wipe, seeking to carefully clean herself as thoroughly as possible. Danica was totally unconcerned with the contents of her bowel movement, despite the unusual nature of the floating deuce. Tiny human bones, ruined clothing and various pocket items were randomly strewn throughout her waste. It was all from a minor binge devouring of five shrunken men nearly two days ago. The only remotely recognizable part of four of the men was the random mix of bones mostly packed together in the center of the brown log. The fifth man was quite different, his body was still fully intact; save for the few skin burns and soiled clothing. He had been the last one Danica had swallowed, fairly long after she had eaten the others. The timing of his arrival in her stomach had planted him among the bubbling, mostly liquid remains of the other men and whatever other food had been in her belly at the time; just as her stomach prepared to empty its contents into the small intestine. He was forced on a fairly horrific journey through Danica’s intestines alive and relatively unscathed. Ultimately, he still met his end inside her rectum after Danica held off on emptying her bowels before the earlier presentation; he suffocated inside her stewing bowel movement, unable to resist being packed inside the buildup. --- The feminist that had eaten you finally seemed to have finished pooping, judging from the halt of the strange groans coming from deep below your position in her stomach. It only added to the horror of your situation when she gave you a cruel reminder of what will become of you. The lack of acknowledgment from her left you wondering if she had completely forgotten about your presence in her tummy entirely. Her body began to sway with movement once again. Your position on top of the pancake pile gave you time to regroup your senses and think of a way to save yourself, but the situation looked grim; it was also squishy and smelled bad. Searching your pockets, you find your cellphone, surprisingly still in working condition. The screen was wet and slimy and the interface barely responded to your touch; you were determined to call someone, anyone, in hopes of saving yourself. After some struggle, you manage to send out a call, hitting the first name on your list of contacts; it was calling your friend Andrew, though you hadn’t seen or heard from him over the past couple of days. --- Fairly close by on the university campus, in the middle of a women’s studies lecture, one young women among many others, was enlightening her perspective on gender relations in the current year. She sat near the back of the room, twirling her bright red hair between her fingers while she took notes. Deep inside her bowels, embedded in a mass of feces slowly moving into her rectum, a tiny cellphone began to ring. The red haired girl leaned her butt to one side and released a silent hiss of gas; then adjusted her position, crossing her legs in discomfort as the contents of her bowels shifted. --- The call went to voice mail, you cursed out loud and continued fumbling with the phone in hopes of sending out another call to someone else, it was becoming progressively more difficult to concentrate on operating the slimy cellphone. The pile of eviscerated pancakes you were sitting on was beginning to properly break apart; combined with what has felt like the blonde woman walking, things were finally beginning to become truly chaotic in her gut. The chamber surrounding you suddenly seems to jolt and descend, shifting the mostly liquid and mush contents of the feminist’s stomach. You lose your grip on your cellphone and witness the dim light of its screen plummet into the depths of a stomach fold half submerged in the thick muck that surrounded you. At the same moment, a massive rush of air flows past you, knocking you over and momentarily stunning your senses on your rapidly decaying pancake barge. Danica sat down at a table in the university cafeteria. She covered her mouth and stifled a large burp while she made herself comfortable. Sitting across from her was Megan, the main presenter at the overwhelmingly successful feminist rally they had just left from. “Is that man you ate giving you tummy problems?” Megan asked, pulling her attention away from several shrunken men trapped in a cardboard tray. “No, I actually haven’t felt him move for a little while. I ate a big breakfast fast this morning and now I’ve got a bit of indigestion.” Danica replied, reaching for the chocolate milkshake Megan had bought for her. “He’s not moving? Maybe his body actually was as fragile as his masculinity. Whenever I eat shrunken men it usually takes hours before they finally die and start to digest properly.” Megan paused and grabbed one of the men in front of her, lifting him up above her mouth and carelessly dropping him inside. She sealed her lips shut and swished him around for a moment before she gulped hard and sent him down her gullet. “Mhm, that one tasted good. I love how these guys practically offered themselves to me after the presentation.” She licked her lips and glanced down at the remaining men. “They offered themselves to be eaten?” “Well, not exactly, a few guys came up to me and told me they were allies and wanted to help make the campus a safer space for women. They were pretty shocked when I shrunk them all down and ate one of them right there.” Megan leaned her head down towards the table and slurped up another man, swallowing him quickly. “I hate giving men credit for anything but I have to admit, their contributions to my bum and thighs have been really nice.” Danica paused and took a long slurp on her shake. “I could really do without the gas though, men can’t even get digestion right.” “Oh yeah, it’s the worst. My butt is going to be a wind tunnel is a few hours with this many cis-het white males bubbling away in my belly.” Megan grabbed the last man and lifted him up to her lips, then paused. “Hey Danica, do you want this last one?” “No thanks, I ate like five guys all at once like two days ago and it made me fart like crazy. I think I’m going to stick to one at a time for a while.” She watched Megan shrug and happily slip the last man between her lips, an audible ‘gulp’ marked the beginning of his descent. Danica followed the bulge traveling down Megan’s throat with the gaze of a passionate observer. “Ahh, all gone. They’re moving around like crazy in there, you’re missing out.” Megan raised a hand to her lips and burped. Then pulled out her cellphone. Danica grinned and lifted a hand to her own belly, pressing her fingers into her soft skin with a small hope that it would elicit more movement from the man she ate earlier; her tummy quietly responded with a wet gurgling noise. --- In the short amount of time since your devourer sat down, her stomach had shifted into an entirely different level of disgusting, not to mention harmful to your well being. The pancakes you once took refuge on had almost entirely dissolved; creating a swampy environment of liquid mush with a depth well above you head in the deepest point of her gut. Sweet scents of syrup that previously intermixed and diluted the acrid scent of vomit had completely disappeared, leaving your sense of smell warped by the overwhelming foulness of digestion. The moment the relatively solid food pieces began to break up triggered a shift in the activity of the constant wall undulations. Her stomach quickly shifted into a state of utter chaos; every slimy fold of every churning wall seemed to compress inward to consolidate for more efficient mechanical digestion. You were thoroughly drenched in her stomach acid; creating a dull burning sensation, it seemed shockingly mild but was clearly having an effect through the noticeable softening of your skin and muscles. It was a mixed blessing when the thick globs of milkshake began to rain down into her stomach. The heat in the belly rapidly warmed it up, but nonetheless it provided a minor relief as it mixed into the hot tub of stomach contents and splattered onto your body. An introduction of the milky ice cream added a new, awful layer of horror to the smell of the feminist’s gut; the sour scent of rotting milk. None of it seemed to matter now, the muffled and unintelligible speech of the woman that ate you rumbled up above, piercing through the sounds of her heartbeat and digestion. You were holding your ground in a sloping area of her stomach, maybe there was somewhere better but it was almost impossible to see in the dank, digestive sack. Your legs were still submerged in what amounted to an even warmer variety of vomit. The same question repeated in your mind over and over again: “Why?” What did you do wrong? What right did this woman have to take your life away? You certainly don’t make for a fitting meal; you were only fit to be a snack for her social signaling. How many people have shared your fate? How many more will follow? None of it mattered, for all intents and purposes you were already dead and nonexistent. Maybe nothing will be left of you; maybe you’ll add to a bundle of fat cells on one of her breasts. Perhaps your last mark on this world will truly amount to nothing but flatulence and a bowel movement, expelled from a pair of uptight feminist buttocks. --- “Wow, I can’t believe it, Danica, you have to see this.” Megan said, passing her phone across the table. “What is- Oh wow, is that what I think it is?” Danica was looking at a shaky video feed with bad lighting from the inside of what looked like a stomach. “Yes, it’s a live stream coming from inside my belly. Someone found it a tweeted it at me. Apparently the guy is trying to use it as a call for help.” She grinned mischievously and patted her tummy. “It looks so gross in there, when did you eat all that normal food?” “I decided to eat before you got here. It was a tough choice, sometimes I really prefer to eat men on an empty stomach and cover them with other food instead.” “I wonder how long the stream will last, hopefully it’s not on for the whole digestive process.” Danica cringed at the thought and stood up. “I’m hoping that it does stay on for the whole thing, right up to the moment I shit them out.” Megan stood up and rubbed a hand over her butt. She had a great deal of interest in the humiliating fate she imposed upon men and their remains at the end of her digestive tract. --- You can only assume that she was moving again, it was hard to tell with the constant activity inside her stomach. The thick liquid chyme was fermenting into an adequate smoothie for her small intestines to absorb. You had finally hit your limit, the smell, the movement and the physical and existential horror of being inside this blonde woman’s stomach made you keel over, evacuating the sparse contents of your own stomach into an ocean of identical slop. Her walking created waves, you were slowly losing your footing, feeling weaker. The boiling vomit sloshed in your direction, sucking you off your undulating perch of sloping stomach flesh. You screamed, sucking in a large mouthful of hot filth, it choked and burned in your lungs. Your legs and arms were numb and unresponsive, softened to the point of atrophy by her digestive acids. The surface of the pitching sea of digestion began bubbling as digestive gas formed up for release. You were losing consciousness, drowning in vomit, it seemed like her stomach was sucking your body deeper. As your life faded away, a large groaning echoed from down below, deep inside the feminist’s bowels. --- Danica and Megan had just gotten into Danica’s car. Megan was still watching the live stream, giggling like a madwoman whenever her burps made the video feed shake. Danica moved to start her car when she released an audible burp of her own. “Y’know that’s probably the sound of that guy you ate at the presentation finally getting digested.” Megan remarked, her eyes still focused on the screen. “Oh, I had already forgotten about him.” Danica started her car. --- “Oh my god, the guy running the steam just got sucked into my intestines.” “Is he still alive?” “I think so, he’s really freaking out.” Megan pressed a hand into her lower abdomen, tracing the winding labyrinth of her small intestinal tract. “What are you going to do with him if he somehow comes out the other end alive?” “Clean him off and eat him again, I’ll even let him stream it.” Megan licked her lips. “Yuck, I think I would just flush him down the toilet at that point.” Danica wrinkled her nose and pulled up to the curb in front of Megan’s apartment building. “Thanks for the ride Dani, drop by the live stream and see how I’m doing tonight.” “Um, I think I’ll pass on that, I’m going to bed early anyway.” Danica leaned her butt to one side, hoping to silently relieve herself of the gas she had been holding in. The sneaky flatus release failed miserably, rumbling out her backside in a loud puff. “Oh, never mind the burp from earlier, that was definitely the sound of that guy you ate getting digested.” Megan got out of the car, giggling as Danica’s face flushed with red. She cracked open a window and began her drive home. --- During the evening of the next day, Danica once again felt the familiar signal in her backside that it was time to find a toilet. She quickly plopped herself down, drumming her hands across her tummy while she relaxed her anus. The man currently inside her stomach was a real fighter, he had been massaging the walls of her gut with his fists for several minutes. Her bowel movement emerged, thick, brown and thoroughly fermented by its long journey through her large intestine. There was nothing noteworthy or memorable about this particular event for her, urine trickled into the toilet bowl and flatulence sputtered out her backside, much to her aural embarrassment. Danica finished wiping herself and flushed the toilet, sending the waste off with an appropriate lack of ceremony. |
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