Golden Tummy

I met a kinda cute guy at the party, and took him to bed with me. But then I had one of those dreams. You know the old joke about dreaming you’re eating a giant marshmallow and when you wake up your pillow is gone? Like that. Only when I woke up, the guy was most of the way down my throat and into my tummy.

I don’t know what it is in me that makes me eat other people. I don’t even know how I can do it, unless it’s some kind of magic.

I heard his voice coming up my throat and into my inner ears. “L-let me out? Please?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I said sadly. Not sad for him, so much, but for me because he’d been good in bed.

“But—I don’t wanna die,” he whined.

“Oh, no, you won’t die,” I said. “My tummy doesn’t kill. It absorbs. You’re going to become a part of me.” So many of them in the back of my mind, lending me their thoughts and memories when I need them.

Then he asked the question they all ask sooner or later.

“Was I…good?”

I smiled and patted my bulging tummy. “Oh, yes. You were delicious.”

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