Moon eats Sarah - the aftermath [contains mild digestion, squashing, ...]

[because i'm constantly worried about not seeming like good value for money, i might write little accompanying story bits to go with different pictures! they might serve as contained little things or be built on constantly to form more well-rounded stories! in the case of this one, for instance, i am going to explore a new setting for moon that facilitates squashing, as i'm aware that one of my patrons is not really into the vore scene! 

not sure exactly where it will end but, at the very least, it starts after the consumption of Sarah!]

Moon had always been a big girl - particularly in comparison to most other nekomimis, whose stereotype of the slender, mewling waifs was grounded in a degree of truth. But now, as Sarah’s booted feet sink their way down the roll of blubber that constituted the brunette’s throat, she was beyond big. She was -immense-, with her belly sagging with a telltale weight beneath the belt line of her trousers and, although retaining an essential sphericity, finding its glorious outermost curve disturbed by the fight taking place beneath the layer of blubber.

“Hhrgh-.. mnnghh-.. uurgh-..” the kitty girl gurgles softly, eyes half-lidded and sorely undersized, fat little feet struggling to keep her aloft as she bears the load of a girl not a great deal smaller than herself, weighing heavily in the pit of her stomach and coaxing her towards the ground. “Hhrgh-.. urrrrp.. mmgh-.. ffgh-.. mm-.. nngh-..” the piggish catgirl grunts and huffs nasally, hands indecisive in their placement on what was now a veritable landscape of belly flesh, quivering and twitching and jostling with the efforts within. “I must-.. make-.. a sit..” 

And so the engorged predator does so, parking her double-wide arse onto the ground before spreading herself out as evenly as she can on her back, body not long in beginning to emit the most sickly, gaseous, busy of noises. Ones that carry far beyond the walls of the room and telegraph the sheer feast enjoyed by the now barely mobile predator.

Not only was Moon visibly full but she was so very tangibly and audibly full, her second chin - brought to greater prominence by the lazy parting of her lips - gurgling with every laboured breath and her insides responding acutely to the smallest of movements inside her utterly engorged stomach. Wherein poor Sarah languishes, prodding and probing and, if not trying to make any unlikely escape, then at least trying to get comfortable so that she might acclimatise to the tight, damp, noisy and particularly smelly chamber that homes her. Could she even get signal in there? 

“Ouururrrrppgh..” comes the most strained of belches from Moon as she lays, her gut now far too large for her hands to have a hope of reaching its entirety and so having to settle for its billowing, practically pulsating sides. Her short, bloated little legs constantly shift, hips having the task of juggling the great weight slouching above them as her bare, fat, tiny little toes curl and splay seemingly with every lurch of motion inside.  “Fffgh-.. have became.. so-.. uhhrghpp..” 

Moon’s vocabulary was not good enough for the predator to adequately honour the feelings that eating Sarah had brought. 

—


“Moon, you’re getting too fat. Seriously.” Emma, Moon’s “cuddle partner” of over a month had words to spare, though, as catgirls both enormously fat and perilously lean struggle to coexist atop their shared bed at the nekomimi sanctuary. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’ve eaten, but-..” Emma grunts, the raven-haired twig of a catgirl yanking sharply on the blanket held hostage by Moon’s sprawling, by now at least largely softened bulk. “..look, come ON. Give me some of it, will you?”

Lost in the throes of digestion, Moon can respond only blearily, a sickly gurgle bubbling in a throat which by now was entirely swallowed by a second, yet thicker roll of sheer, smooth blubber, her original chin having sunk in against it to make rounder still her podgy visage. Her fat little fingers are suckled on shyly as she helps not with the extrication of the blanket, leaving Emma to plant both feet into the marshmallow-like terrain of her hip for the leverage she needs. 

“What did you even EAT? I swear you weren’t this big last week! You know you’re never going to get an owner if you keep GROWING.” Moon can but grumble and huff in reply, her eyes half-lidded and dumpy digits suckled on further as her comparatively tiny bedmate finally makes headway, pulling the blanket free enough from beneath the beached brunette so that she might be able to enjoy its comforts. “There. There.” Emma pants quietly, at last able to see beyond her own annoyance to look at her 450lb compatriot with more careful scrutiny.

Moon was definitely bigger than she had been the last time they shared a bed, with god only knows how much bonus padding inadequately spread across her 5’2” frame, accumulating never more greatly than in her by now dough-soft, two-tiered belly and a backside big enough to counterbalance it without conceding much at all in the way of sheer, deep roundness. Whatever she had eaten had done a real number on her, not only in terms of what could be seen but by what could be heard, with Sarah’s demonic composition dictating an ominous cacophony of guttural sounds builds deep, deep inside the stuffed young woman’s titanic gut. 

“Just.. just don’t roll over, okay? Don’t, Moon. I mean it.” and with that final warning, Emma at last turns around to face the other way, tugging the blanket over herself and meaning to sleep at last. 

It is not even an hour later that Emma is awoken. Not by light but by complete and utter darkness. That and a weight that would be absolutely crushing were it not alleviated by a seemingly unending softness, the landscape of girly breast blubber that entombs her head and face stifling in its sheer, pervading mass and almost overpoweringly coconut-themed scent. "HRRFGH-..!" is all that can be heard from the skinny catgirl, her meagre frame increasingly buried beneath near-500lbs of short, pear-shaped and, crucially, sleeping blobkitty.

"Mmngh-..! MOON! MOON!" she shouts, the sound clear enough to her but muted by the countless inches of blubber that the cry simply could not carry through, not just thanks to the lard insulation but also the fact that hers was a prison that was generating its own sound.

BLOP. BLORUUGHP. BLBLBLBB. The ghastly sounds of Sarah's final hours inside the bigger, fatter predator fill the room, causing Moon's ears to flick and flutter and her lips to quiver, passing belches small but frequent as the fat little arm that she does not lay on drapes over the decadent swell of her belly as it slouches on her bedmate. Never before had the so-called "pig-kitty" looked more sow-like. And never before had Emma so feared for her life at the hands of her friend's cumbersome mass.

Although there existed no more an intense experience of the situation than that of Emma, to view the scene from afar would be to place it into its absurd context: there was Moon, so fat that movement was something she could no longer taken for granted, sprawled half-on her belly and half-on her side and taking up almost more space than the double bed allows. Her enormous, round backside - trapped in by now perilously tight, thinly stretched, frog-themed PJ bottoms - is helplessly thrust up behind her, with short, bloated legs in danger of being marginalised and seeming less to segue from the buttocks than sprout from them. Her tail flagging above it merely serves to exaggerate the sheer scale of her enormous, round backside, flicking and fluttering in sleepy agitation as equally diminutive, fat feet further accentuate just how much the obese kitty had grown.

And then there was Emma, evident only in one leg trailing between Moon's own much shorter, much fatter legs and one hand flailing blindly in the air, finding room to move in the crease between Moon's breast and the uppermost curve of her vast stomach. And all the while Moon snoozes on, her heavy breathing complemented by the sounds of her insides working overtime on poor Sarah, whose fate had been long since sealed.

So loud is the grim process transpiring within the beached whale of a catgirl that Emma could hear it even through the countless inches of sumptuous, buoyant lard that comprises her gigantically fat bed buddy, with the heavy thud of her heart metronomic as the more bassy gaseous exchanges donate the room a strange, almost maternal ambience. And it is only for so long that the lanky catgirl can struggle, it not being long before her arm falls limp and she nestles her face deeper into that nook where breast mashed against belly.

"Ouurghhhlllgh-.." moans Moon weakly, sweeping one hand slowly across the broad side of her slouching gut, the sound of skin on skin only barely heard over the cauldron-like bubbling of the monstrously full and fattened up midriff as its warm, doughy embrace not only pins but entombs Emma's tiny frame. 

"Frick, Moon. What did you eat?" Emma whispers now more to herself than anyone else, her breaths heavy and ragged in the dry, stifling, coconut-scented warmth of Moon's roll, that once flailing hand now lifting to press experimentally against the bulging side nearest to her. 

The smallest of movements from Moon was a fat one, causing the bed to creak and her body to emit soft bluuts and blorps. For hers was a body that was very much alive, her sheer size amping up the volume of its processes and intensifying the experience for the captive catgirl contained beneath her, filling those sensitive ears and guaranteeing that sleep was not something that Emma was going to be able to hope for any time soon. 

"Catgirls.. should not be this fricking.. fat.." Emma laments quietly, patting Moon on the side as if tapping out but yielding little more response than the reflexive, tight jiggles of the overabundant flesh thereon. “Moon. MOON!” Her pat turns into a slap. A sharp thwack that jostles Moon’s side and provokes a low, bassy groan from deep, deep inside.. before Moon’s mouth opens, tongue lolls out and a belch from her depths bursts free, lasting for more than a couple of seconds and producing with it two articles of star-themed jewellery which land unbeknownst to Emma on the pillow above.

“For GOD’s sake.” Emma was not staying. No way. This was beneath even her, and she had shared some pretty weird moments with her bloated lump of a friend. So she commits like she had not done before, her free foot kicking out until it settles on the far bedpost, enabling her the leverage required to at least rotate herself if not outright escape, bringing her face from that nook situated between breast and belly and settling it more squarely against the weighty press of stomach meat just north-east of Moon’s broad, squinting, deeply set belly button.

“Fffgkk-.. Moon, just-.. just wake UP!” Every breath brought a blubbery wave ebbing and flowing against Emma’s entire upper body, further muffling her voice and leaving her arms subject to the whim of that doughy tide, sinking into the seemingly endless ocean of smooth, buoyant Moon lard as the industrial action taking place inside threatens to deafen the smaller girl’s keen feline ears. “FFHGH!” 

It was to Emma’s benefit that Moon, despite being such a hefty lump, at least observed the catgirl cliche of fastidious cleanliness. Because just a few wiggles later, Emma liberates herself from the overbearing spread of the overfed catgirl’s vast belly and finds herself wedged face-first in an area hitherto unventured: she was pressed face-first against the tightly clad pubis of the 450lb brunette, the top of her head pinned between thighs so very pliable and yet fearsome for their sheer bulk, each pillar of blubber easily thicker than the smaller catgirl’s waist and clung to by powder blue PJ bottoms that threatened to tear. Her nose upturned and pressed up against the chubby mound and with her mouth, chin and neck all covered by the bulbous underbelly trapped within the thinly stretched bottoms, Emma begins to flail as best she can, eyes screwed closed and hands slapping persistently at her bedmate’s endlessly wobbly side.. before the scent of cleanly girl parts and the coconut body wash finally overcome her, robbing her breath in tandem with the nigh countless pounds that bury and constrict her.