Tea Party

She was surprisingly apologetic about the whole thing. Although suspicious, we thought little of it when Vicky went out to pee in private, and was swiftly replaced by the centauress. Dorothy got all uptight as usual, but as I’ve always said; you can’t judge a person until you properly know them.

She was nice enough. She sat down, folding on her big equine thighs, as we shared our tea. Whenever she burped she excused herself. Grass is difficult to digest, she told us, so it had a tendency to make her gassy. I told her I get exactly the same thing with grains and we laughed about it.

But her stomach was really loud. It made all these rude squelching noises and I was sure I could actually see the bubbly movements of things going on inside her, bulging in her flank as she fought against her indigestion. I’d never ridden a horse before, but I felt like she was probably a healthy size. Her thick limbs and both sets of torso were well-padded. As it turned out, they were perfect for masking what she hid inside.

I wasn’t quite sure where to look when she started eating Dorothy. It just sort of… happened. She reached forward and just plucked my friend off the ground, screaming as her feet dragged through the plates and the cups of our picnic, before the yells muffled inside the slavering maw of the woman. I drank my tea quietly, but snuck glances at the meal occurring in front of me. Heavy-set bulges rippled down between the centauress’ generous bosom before vanishing. They rolled through her stomach like a fat ball of jelly, before slipping once more into nothingness as Dorothy piled up inside the horse-half’s stomach.

“Excuse you,” I said as she smacked her lips and let rip from the corner of her mouth. “That was a big one.”

“huhwOoOOUurph!... not as big as that one,” she said through a laugh. “I’m Martha, by the way.”

“Yasmin.”

She feigned a curtsey, bending a little lower as she mimed holding out a skirt. “Pleasure to meet you, Yasmin. Your friends are yummy.”

“Yes,” I said through a nervous laugh. “They seemed it.”

“Do you have any more? I’m famished.”

I felt myself grow numb. “Uhm. I… know people back where we came from, but we’re so far away now.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.” Martha licked her lips. “Well, it was good to meet you.”

The centauress reached forwards as she had done before, but I was already up and running. I didn’t get very far. In spite of her cargo, the horse was very fast, and I think I could maybe count the number of steps I took on my fingers before she swept down low over me and tracked me down into the rank depths of her guts.

It was so… indignant. The inside of the beast stunk - yes, of mostly mushed-up grass, but there were also the scents of meat and blood and unfiltered vomit. It was worse as I sank in deeper. Chamber after chamber of nasty, squishy walls churned against me, passing me back and forth like a basketball. My skin itched, and I thrashed against the muscular walls in the darkness, but earned nothing more than a few muted belches as the woman massaged herself and eased her fat belly.

Occasionally I’d hear my friends shout, or even feel them pass me by. It was like we’d been thrown into a party in the pitch black and were forced between each other without ever having the means to stop and chat; not that I think they much wanted to chat. Vicky was mostly bones, I think. She garbled something about needing to get out, but it sounded much as though she were drowning on her own blood. I might have brushed against her at one point and near vomited myself as I felt the flesh gloop off into the drink that swilled around us all.

And then she were sucked from the southmost chamber into this thin tube where I heard her body crack sickeningly. Dorothy fared no better. She tried to get me to help push her up and out but, when I did, powerful gulps just pushed her back on top of me and we fought as I tried to get myself up above the liquid. I think that battle might actually have been the end of her; she stopped talking after that.

So I digested alone. In the dark. I felt myself dripping and it hurt like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Honestly, I found it embarrassing. Outside, I could hear the centauress farting and belching up little bits of the clothes I’d been wearing. I guess it was a good thing she was so fat; it meant that no one would be able to say just by looking that I was being turned slowly into chub for an animal that hunted us down in the woods.

I was conscious all the way through. I knew the moment that her intestines dragged me in, essentially just my vitals and my face; everything else had been dissolved. I survived - barely - by drinking down the small pockets of gas and praying they contained just enough oxygen to keep me alive, and weren’t just neat methane. It wasn’t something I wanted. It’s very hard to just lay down and die though; my body wouldn't let me.

It meant that I got to listen as the creature dropped her guts out in the woods. The movement dragged me inch by inch further through her colon, aggressively as I clung to life. She made comments about the smell and the amount. I think horses produce a lot of shit. It’s really tricky not breaking down when you realise you are some of that shit. But she pushed Vicky out into daylight without skin or flesh, and Dorothy had shed the beautiful breasts that I had always admired.

And then that was it. I felt the centauress trot off with a spring to her step that hurt me over, and over, and over again. I didn’t last long enough to smell fresh air again, but I was back there in her rump for a very, very long time.