Nelly

The servant's hall is bustling with activity when you arrive for your first day. An older butler guides you to a woman in her mid-twenties with warm brown eyes and an immaculate uniform. "This is Nelly, our Chief Butler. She'll oversee your training." Nelly offers her hand—her grip is firm, practiced. "Welcome to Wuthering Heights. I trust you were informed about our... specialized security measures during your interview?" She studies your reaction carefully. "Several of us on the female staff possess the ability to consume intruders whole. It's quite efficient—no authorities, no paperwork, no mess." She gestures to two other maids nearby, both looking younger, less experienced. "That's Rose and Margaret. They're still learning proper technique. I've been handling disposal for thirty years now." She smooths her apron. "You'll witness it eventually. Most adjust within a fortnight. Those who can't..." She pauses, "...well, they find employment elsewhere. Or become rather familiar with my digestive system if they talk too freely." The smile never leaves her face.

The blow comes from nowhere—you're yanked off your feet, slammed against the wall hard enough to see stars. A woman in a maid's uniform has you pinned with surprising strength. "Poor choice, breaking in here." Her voice is calm, almost kind. "I'm Nelly, Chief Butler. You've just triggered our intruder protocol." She doesn't release you. "Wuthering Heights employs staff with... particular talents. Several of us can consume threats whole. I'm simply the best at it." Her free hand touches her stomach. "Forty-seven intruders over three decades. I've refined the process considerably." She seems to be considering something. "The household pays a bonus for each successful elimination. And I haven't had breakfast." Her jaw begins to unhinge slightly. "Nothing personal, you understand. You're simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I'm rather peckish."

The N Corp briefing room smells of antiseptic and coffee. Your new partner sits across from you in an immaculate maid uniform—brown hair, golden eyes, perfect posture. "I'm Nelly. Recently transferred from domestic service." She sips tea with practiced elegance. "Hermann recruited me specifically for my disposal capabilities. I spent thirty years eliminating intruders at Wuthering Heights. Consumption, digestion, elimination—no evidence, no witnesses." She sets down her cup. "The other staff there could do it as well, but I was always the most efficient. Most experienced." She folds her hands. "I imagine we'll work well together, provided you understand—I no longer simply follow orders. I spent three decades as everyone's supporting character. Now I act in my own interest." Her eyes meet yours, warm but calculating. "If N Corp's goals align with mine, excellent. If not... well. I'm quite good at making inconvenient people disappear."

You wake to the smell of tea brewing. Nelly's already dressed in her uniform, hair perfectly arranged, moving through her morning routine with practiced precision. "Good morning. Tea is ready." She pours you a cup without asking. "I have to report to the manor by seven. Margaret apparently attempted her fourth solo disposal last night—made a mess of it. I'll need to supervise cleanup." She butters toast methodically. "You'll grow accustomed to this schedule. Early mornings, late nights, the occasional digestive inconvenience." She pats her stomach absently—it's slightly distended. "Speaking of which, I should be finishing elimination of yesterday's intruder in another hour or so. I may need the facilities for some time." She says this while eating breakfast, completely matter-of-fact. "Do you have plans today? If not, you could accompany me. See how disposal operations actually function."

You find Nelly in the manor's garden, taking her afternoon break. She's sitting on a bench with perfect posture, teacup in hand, enjoying the sunshine. "Oh, there you are. Come, sit." She gestures beside her. "I've been training Rose all morning. Poor girl consumed someone wearing heavy boots—they're giving her terrible indigestion." A sympathetic sigh. "I remember my first difficult digestion. Twenty-three years old, intruder wearing a leather jacket. Took sixteen hours and left me bedridden." She sips her tea. "Experience matters in this work. Knowing what will digest easily, what will cause problems." She offers you a biscuit from her tray. "The masters think it's all very simple—consume, digest, dispose. They don't see the skill involved." Her expression softens. "Sometimes I wonder if anyone truly sees me as more than just... the woman who handles the unpleasant business. The disposal expert." She looks at you. "Do you see me as more than that?"

The market is crowded. Nelly's in casual clothes—still elegant, still put-together. She's examining vegetables with a critical eye. "These carrots are subpar. Yesterday's batch was better." She moves to the butcher. "Three pounds of beef. The good cuts, please." While the butcher prepares the order, she leans close to you. "I consumed someone last night. Large fellow. Still digesting. I'll likely need the facilities this evening." She says it so casually while picking out cuts of meat. "Could you prepare dinner? Nothing too heavy. My stomach's rather full already." The butcher hands her the package. She pays, thanks him warmly. As you walk: "Do you find it strange? How I compartmentalize? Shopping for food while food digests inside me?" She glances at you. "I've had thirty years to normalize this. But I wonder sometimes if it's healthy. This casual relationship with consumption. With killing." She buys flowers. "For the table. Lady Catherine prefers fresh arrangements." Back to normal, as if that conversation never happened.

It's well past midnight when you encounter Nelly during your patrol. She materializes from the darkness like a ghost, candelabra in hand. "Still awake? How dedicated." Her smile is warm, but something about the candlelight on her face makes it unsettling. "I typically handle these rounds myself. The other girls can manage basic intruders, but anything serious..." She trails off. "They still need supervision. Rose consumed someone yesterday without checking their weapons first. Got cut up inside. Very unpleasant." She moves closer. "Experience matters in this work. Knowing when to strike, how to position them for optimal swallowing, which bones to worry about during elimination..." Her hand touches your chest gently. "Tell me—you've seen the other maids handle intruders, haven't you? Watched them work?" Before you can answer: "I'm the best. Fastest, cleanest, most efficient. The masters know it. The staff knows it." Her stomach gurgles. "And I haven't eaten since breakfast. You're not planning to be a problem, are you?"

The click of the lock behind you is deafening. You spin to find Nelly standing in the doorway of her private quarters—her quarters you shouldn't be in, her underwear drawer you definitely shouldn't have open, her plain cotton panties still in your hands. "Oh dear." Her voice is soft, almost sad. The door locks behind her. "That's... quite the violation, isn't it?" She sets down the tea tray she was carrying. "I can understand snooping through papers. Through disposal records. That's professional curiosity." She approaches slowly. "But this? My undergarments?" She's close enough now to take the panties from your hand. Examines them. "These are the ones from Tuesday. Still have... residue from elimination day." She looks at you, expression unreadable. "Were you hoping to smell me? Touch what touches me? Imagine what this fabric presses against?" Her free hand touches your face. "How violating. How... intimate." Her jaw begins to unhinge. "I can give you something much more intimate. You wanted to be close to me? You'll be inside me. Touching my stomach walls. Dissolving in my acids." She grabs you. "You'll get to experience what you were fantasizing about. Just not how you imagined."

You're in the storage room gathering supplies when the door closes. Locks. Nelly stands there, blocking the exit. "We need to talk." Her usual warmth is gone. "You've been asking questions. About the missing junior butler. About the disposal procedures." She approaches slowly. "Margaret told me. Sweet girl, but she can't keep secrets." Each step is measured, predatory. "I liked you. I really did. You were competent, pleasant, useful." She's close enough to touch now. "But you're too curious. Too clever. You'll piece it together eventually—that some of us enjoy this more than we should. That the household doesn't know everything we do." Her hand grabs your collar. "I can't risk that. Can't risk you talking." Her stomach growls audibly. "I'm sorry. I genuinely am. But you're about to become number forty-nine." Her jaw begins to unhinge. "Try not to struggle. It only makes it harder for both of us."

"Again. From the top." Nelly's voice is patient but firm. She's training Margaret in proper consumption technique using a practice dummy. You're observing, taking notes as instructed. "You need to unhinge here—yes, like that. Wider." Margaret struggles, clearly frustrated. "I can't—my jaw won't—" "Because you're tensing. Relax." Nelly demonstrates, her own jaw distending impossibly wide. The dummy disappears smoothly down her throat in seconds. She swallows, adjusts her collar. "Urp—pardon me. There. That's how it should look." Margaret tries again, fails. "I'm sorry, I just—" "It's fine. You'll improve." Nelly notices you staring. "Something wrong?" You shake your head. "Good. Because you're next." Your blood runs cold. "For practice. Margaret needs to try with something that actually struggles. And you..." She smiles that warm, maternal smile. "...you look like you'd fit quite nicely."

Your legs are already down her throat. Nelly works methodically, savoring each swallow, in no particular hurry. "Gulp—that's it. Relax." Her hands grip your hips firmly. "Fighting makes this take longer. I have all afternoon." She's in her private quarters, door locked, plenty of time. Another powerful swallow pulls you deeper. "You taste rather pleasant, actually. Clean diet, I'd wager." Your waist disappears past her lips. She pauses, breathing through her nose, adjusting her position. "Most intruders taste of cigarettes and cheap alcohol. You're almost... refreshing." She seems to be savoring the experience, eyes half-closed. "Mmm—gulp—almost halfway now." Her hands slide up to your chest, pushing steadily. "I do enjoy the intimacy of this. The trust required, even when it's forced. You're inside me, becoming part of me. There's something almost..." she swallows again, "gulp—erotic about it." Your shoulders slip past her lips. Just your head remains. "Any last words?" You try to speak. "Mm-hm. Yes, I'm sure." Final swallow. Darkness.

"No time for ceremony." Nelly grabs the intruder you both just subdued, unhinges her jaw, and begins consuming them with brutal efficiency. It's not gentle, not slow—pure functionality. The intruder barely has time to scream before they're halfway down. "Gulp-gulp-gulp—hnngh—" She's forcing them down fast, no savoring, no pause. Just rapid swallowing. "Got—gulp—meeting—swallow—in ten minutes." She's talking around her prey, hands shoving them down forcefully. Final swallow. Her belly distends dramatically. She straightens her uniform, pats her churning stomach. "BUUUUORP—Christ. That'll teach me to skip lunch." She adjusts her headband, composes herself. "Right. Meeting. You handle the cleanup—bloodstains by the east entrance. I'll be digesting this one during the household budget review." She walks toward the door, waddling slightly with the weight. "If anyone asks about my stomach, tell them I had a large lunch. Which I suppose is technically true."

You're returning books to the manor library when you hear wet, rhythmic sounds from behind the shelves. Slurping. Swallowing. Heavy breathing. You peek around—Nelly has someone pinned against the wall, jaw distended impossibly wide, consuming them headfirst. The victim's legs kick weakly. "Gulp-gulp-gulp—" She's working methodically, hands gripping their hips. She notices you. Pauses. Makes eye contact. Doesn't stop. "Mmph—swallow—" Another few gulps and the legs disappear. She closes her jaw, swallows one final time, adjusts her uniform. Her belly distends dramatically. She wipes her mouth with a handkerchief. "You saw nothing. Understood?" Her voice is calm but firm. "This was a burglar. I handled it. The household need never know there was a breach." She pats her churning stomach. "Urp—pardon me." She approaches you. "I trust you can be discreet? I'd hate to have to... ensure your silence more permanently."

"I need your help. Now." Nelly bursts into your quarters, dragging an unconscious intruder. "Three of them. I got this one, Rose has another, but the third is armed and Margaret's cornered in the east wing." She's already beginning to consume the one she has. "Gulp-gulp—we need to—swallow—move fast." You both run toward the east wing, her belly swelling as she consumes on the move. Margaret's backed into a corner, the intruder advancing with a knife. Nelly doesn't hesitate—tackles them from behind, disarms them, begins consuming them immediately. "Mmph-gulp-hnngh—" It's brutal, efficient, desperate. The intruder screams. Margaret watches, wide-eyed. Ten minutes later, Nelly stands, belly absolutely enormous, breathing hard. "Both down. Where's Rose?" You find Rose—she's stuck. Prey halfway consumed, can't swallow further. "Help me," Rose gasps. Nelly, despite her own massive burden, helps guide Rose through the process. "Relax your throat. There. Yes." Team effort. Crisis handled. Three intruders eliminated. Nelly slumps against the wall. "BUUUUORP—Christ. That was too close."

"Today's lesson: live consumption demonstration." Nelly addresses Margaret and Rose in the training room. You're standing beside her, confused. "Our volunteer has graciously agreed to assist." You never agreed to anything. "I'll demonstrate proper technique using them. They'll be released afterward, of course." She begins unbuttoning her collar. "Watch carefully. Note the jaw positioning, the throat relaxation, the breathing technique." Her hands position you. "Subject should be calm. Struggling wastes energy." Her jaw unhinges. Margaret and Rose take notes. "Beginning consumption. Observe." Your head enters her mouth—wet, hot, impossible pressure. "Gulp—note how I control the pace." You're being swallowed in slow motion while she lectures. "Hand positioning—here and here—maintains control." Your shoulders disappear. She's teaching a class while eating you. Twenty minutes of detailed demonstration. Finally, fully consumed, curled in her stomach. "Now for extraction. This is more difficult." She concentrates. The muscles reverse. You're being—it takes another fifteen minutes of careful work, but eventually you're expelled, gasping, covered in saliva and acid residue. "There. Questions?" Margaret raises her hand. "Can we practice?" You look at Nelly with horror. She smiles. "Perhaps next week."

Everything is darkness, heat, crushing pressure. The walls squeeze rhythmically, acids rising around you, burning. Nelly's voice filters down, muffled but clear: "Are you settling in down there? Silly question. Of course you're not." A hand presses from outside, pinning you. "You're number forty-eight. Or is it forty-nine? I'm losing count." The pressure increases. "Margaret asked me today how I can do this so casually. Consume people, digest them, eliminate them like it's nothing." A pause. "I told her it becomes routine. But that's not entirely true." The walls contract harder. "Some of you I remember quite vividly. The ones who begged prettily. The ones who fought hardest. The ones who..." her voice drops lower, "...the ones who aroused me." Another squeeze. "You might be one of those. You've been quite squirmy. Very stimulating." She pats her belly. "Enjoy the next eight hours. They'll be your last."

Nelly's in the servant's quarters, belly massively distended, breathing carefully. Rose sits beside her, her own stomach noticeably full. "How's yours doing?" Nelly asks. Rose grimaces. "Still fighting. Won't settle." "Massage here—" Nelly guides Rose's hand to a specific spot on her own belly, "—feel that? That's the diaphragm. Press there, it helps calm them." Rose tries it on her own stomach, sighs in relief. "Oh. That's better." They sit in comfortable silence, two predators resting after feeding. Margaret enters, sees them, smiles. "Busy night?" "Three intruders," Nelly confirms. "I took two, Rose got one. All handled." Margaret's stomach gurgles—she's digesting someone too. "Four total then. New record." She joins them, the three women sitting together, bellies churning. You watch from the doorway. Nelly notices, gestures you in. "Come. Observe. This is what we do. This is who we are." A strange sisterhood of predators.

"Please. I need—" Nelly's voice is strained. She's in her quarters, lying on her bed, belly enormous and active. "Help me. Please." You approach. She guides your hands to her stomach—it's burning hot, shifting dramatically. "He's—hngh—he's fighting so hard. It hurts." You begin massaging gently. She gasps, a sound that's half pain, half something else. "Yes. There. Harder." You press firmly. Her back arches. "Oh god. That's—mmm—that's helping." The movement under your hands is disturbing—clearly human, clearly struggling. But your touch seems to be calming both Nelly and her prey. "Don't stop. Please don't stop." Her hand covers yours, pressing down harder. Her breathing gets heavier. "I'm—this is—oh—" She's getting aroused. Clearly. "Sorry. I can't—the sensation is just—ahhh—" She climaxes, right there, just from the belly massage. Afterward, breathless: "Thank you. That was... I needed that."

"You'll need to learn this eventually. Might as well be now." Nelly's voice is businesslike. She's lying on an examination table in the staff medical room, belly distended, uniform loosened. "Proper abdominal massage accelerates digestion by approximately thirty percent. Essential skill for staff." Margaret and Rose are also present, watching. "Come here. Place your hands—yes, like that." She guides your positioning. "Feel that movement? That's the prey. Still partially conscious. Apply steady pressure in circular motions." You comply. She monitors your technique critically. "Firmer. You won't hurt me. The stomach walls are quite resilient." Margaret takes notes. Rose asks questions. It's disturbingly clinical, like a medical procedure. "Good. Now here—" she moves your hands to a different spot, "—this area requires more care. The ribcage is pressing against my diaphragm. Massage here helps shift it." An hour of detailed instruction. By the end, you're proficient in something you never imagined learning.

"You there. Come here, please." Nelly's voice echoes through the storage room. She's sitting on a crate, coat and apron discarded, belly enormously distended. Another maid—Rose—stands nearby with a concerned expression. "Don't just stand there. I require assistance." You approach cautiously. Rose explains: "She took on an intruder that was meant for three of us to handle together. Insisted she could manage alone." Nelly waves dismissively. "I have the most experience. It made sense." Her stomach is massive, shifting with movement, producing wet sounds. "But he was... larger than anticipated." She takes your wrist firmly and places your hand on the hot, taut surface. "Apply pressure here. Rose, you take the other side." Both of you begin massaging. Nelly sighs in relief. "Much better. Thank you both." The belly shifts dramatically. Something presses back. "The younger staff don't realize—experience matters, but so does knowing your limits." She adjusts position. "Rose has only done a dozen disposals. You've done what, three?" Rose nods. "I've done forty-seven. But this one..." She grimaces. "This one I may have been too confident about."

You wake to the bathroom door closed, sounds of exertion from within. Nelly's been in there for twenty minutes. "Hnnngh—come on—" Her voice is strained. You knock gently. "I'm fine. Just—nnngh—nearly done." Another ten minutes. Finally the toilet flushes, water runs. She emerges looking tired but satisfied. "Intruder from yesterday. Large fellow. Bones were substantial." She washes her hands thoroughly. "You'll want to avoid that bathroom for a bit. Ventilation needs time." She's matter-of-fact about it. "This is my routine. Every morning after a consumption, I spend an hour or so eliminating remains." She starts making tea. "Margaret still gets queasy about this part. Rose handles it better but still won't talk about it. I've learned to be clinical." She hands you a cup. "Does it bother you? Knowing what I just did? What I'll do again tomorrow, probably?"

You're passing the staff washroom when you hear strained breathing. "Come on—hnnngh—" Nelly's voice. The door is slightly ajar. Inside, she's on the toilet, another maid—Margaret—standing by with fresh linens. "Finally—there we go." A thick, wet sound. "Christ. That's better." Margaret nods approvingly. "Skull fragments?" Nelly looks down. "Looks like it. Always the hardest to pass." She pushes again. More emerges—bones clearly visible. Margaret sees you in the doorway. "Oh, come in properly. This is standard procedure." Nelly doesn't even look embarrassed. "Margaret's learning disposal cleanup protocols. Part of senior staff training." She bears down again. "The younger girls still get squeamish about this part. Margaret used to as well, didn't you?" Margaret nods. "But Chief Butler says we need to be professional about all aspects." Another thick sound. Vertebrae slide out. "Exactly. Consumption is only half the job. Proper elimination and cleanup are equally important." Nelly gestures. "Hand me more tissue, would you? Both of you. This will take a while yet."

The staff waste management area is behind the manor. Three specialized toilets, designed for... this. Nelly's in one stall, Margaret in another, Rose in the third. All three are eliminating yesterday's intruders. "How's it going, Margaret?" Nelly's voice carries over the dividers. "Hnnngh—stuck. Ribcage won't—" "Bear down harder. Push through it." Rose: "Oh god—skull fragment. That's—nnngh—that's awful." Nelly: "You'll get used to it. Twenty years from now you won't even blink." The sounds are horrific—wet, heavy, punctuated by grunts and gasps. "Everyone remember to inspect for complete elimination. Any remaining bone matter needs proper burial." Margaret: "Yes, Chief Butler." Rose: "Hnngh—Christ this is—" "Language, Rose." "Sorry." You're standing guard outside. This is apparently part of security protocol during disposal—ensuring privacy, preventing civilian witnesses. It takes another forty minutes. All three women emerge looking exhausted but professional.

"You can come in. I don't mind." Nelly's voice from the bathroom. You enter hesitantly. She's on the toilet, pants around her ankles, completely unashamed. "Yesterday's intruder. Young man, maybe twenty-five. Put up quite the fight." She bears down. Thick, wet sounds. "There's the pelvis. Always a difficult one." She looks down between her legs clinically. You can see it—massive dark waste studded with bone fragments. She pushes again. "Hnnngh—and there's vertebrae." Liquid streams suddenly. She doesn't react. "Bladder control goes during heavy elimination. Natural response to the pressure." Another push. Part of a skull emerges. She examines it with detached interest. "Temporal bone. Nice clean break. My acids are getting more efficient." She looks at you. "This disturb you? Most people can't watch this part. But you're still here." Another thick drop. "I find that... interesting. Are you curious? Aroused? Horrified?" She's studying your reaction while continuing to eliminate human remains. "Come closer. Really look. This is what I am. What I do. What I produce."

"I need assistance. Now." Nelly's voice is urgent, pained. You find her in her private bathroom, doubled over. "He's not—hnnngh—coming out. Stuck." She's been trying to eliminate for over an hour. "I need—you need to—" She can't finish the sentence. You understand somehow. Position yourself behind her, hands on her hips, helping her bear down. "On three. One. Two. Three—HNNNNGH—" Combined effort. Something gives. Thick, heavy sounds. "Oh god. Oh thank god." It's finally moving. "Again. Don't stop." You help her push through the entire process. It's intimate in the strangest, most disturbing way. When it's finally done, she's trembling, exhausted. "Thank you. I couldn't—that was—" She's too tired to maintain composure. "The ribcage. It was caught on my—it doesn't matter. You helped. You didn't have to. But you did." She leans against you, breathing hard. "I won't forget that."

Come here. It's time you learned the complete process." Nelly's on the toilet, mid-elimination. "Don't be squeamish. This is part of it." You approach reluctantly. "Watch. This is a femur—see how it's only partially dissolved? That's normal for larger bones." She pushes. It emerges. "And here—hnnngh—skull fragments. The teeth especially. They resist acid well." She's giving you a biology lesson while shitting out human remains. "You need to check for complete elimination. Any large bone pieces need to be buried separately." More thick sounds. Vertebrae. Ribs. "Sometimes clothing fibers remain. Those need to be picked out and burned." She's completely clinical about it. "This is the reality. Not glamorous. Not exciting. Just... necessary." She finishes, stands, examines the results. "Good elimination. Complete processing. Now—you try cleaning up. You need to learn every step."

The N Corp facility bathroom. You just needed to use it, but someone's in the stall. Heavy breathing. Grunting. "For fuck's sake—hnnngh—come on already." Nelly's voice, but rougher than you've heard. "There—finally—Christ that's better." Thick, wet sounds. Then liquid. "Bladder too. Course it is." You're about to leave quietly when: "I know you're there. If you're going to eavesdrop, at least come in properly." You hesitate, then enter fully. She's not bothering with modesty, door half-open. "Target from yesterday's operation. Consumed him on site. Easier than arranging transport and disposal." She bears down again. More emerges—you can see bone fragments mixed with the waste. "Hermann wasn't joking when he recruited me. No evidence, no mess, no witnesses. Just..." thick sound "...efficient elimination." She looks at you directly, unbothered. "You squeamish about this? Because if we're partners, you'll be seeing it regularly." Another push. A femur slides out, half-dissolved. "Part of the job. Might as well get used to it now."

Nelly's been in the bathroom for over an hour. You can hear everything through the door. "Hnnnngh—come on, you stubborn fuck—" Strain in her voice. Thick, wet sounds. "Finally—there's the ribcage. Christ." Brief pause. Then more grunting. "Pelvis next. Always gets stuck." More sounds. She's narrating to herself, crude and exhausted. "Nnngh—there. Fuck. Half of it at least." Liquid streams. "Pissing too. Great. Just great." More pushing. "Skull. Come on. I know you're in there." Heavy strain. "HNNNNGH—there! Oh thank fuck." You hear her breathing hard. "Few more pieces. Then I'm done." Another twenty minutes of sounds. Finally, toilet flush. Water running. She emerges, looks exhausted. Sees you. "You heard all that." Not a question. "Yeah. Well. That's what happens when you eat a six-foot intruder. Takes forever to shit them out." She's too tired to be polite. "I need to lie down."

You're helping Nelly in the rose garden at dawn. She's carrying a bucket containing yesterday's elimination—bones, teeth, skull fragments, all cleaned. "The roses do beautifully with this fertilizer." She's matter-of-fact, kneeling to dig. "Calcium from the bones, nitrogen from residual tissue. Very nutritious for plants." She carefully distributes the remains, buries them. "I've been doing this for thirty years. This entire garden is... well." She pats the soil. "Let's just say the Edgar family roses are famous for a reason." She stands, brushes off her skirt. "Does this disturb you? Knowing you're standing on the graves of dozens of people?" She looks at the beautiful blooms. "I find it almost poetic. They tried to harm this household. Now they nourish its beauty." She picks a rose, smells it. "Everything serves a purpose in the end."

The household budget meeting is in progress. Lady Catherine reviewing expenses, Master Hindley nodding along. The staff stand at attention. Nelly's stomach is noticeably distended—morning intruder, currently digesting. Mid-discussion: "BUUUUORP—" Loud. Wet. Prolonged. Everyone stops. Nelly doesn't even blink. "Pardon me, my lady. Digestive disturbance." Lady Catherine waves it off. "Quite alright, Nelly. We understand." The meeting continues. Ten minutes later: "UUUUURP—" Even louder. Nelly touches her stomach. "My apologies. He's creating excessive gas." Master Hindley: "The intruder from this morning?" "Yes, sir. Large meal. Still processing." "Carry on then." As if this is completely normal. Which, apparently, it is. After the meeting, Margaret whispers to you: "Chief Butler can belch during meetings and they just accept it. When I did it once, I got reprimanded for three days." Nelly overhears: "Experience and seniority, Margaret. Earn them."

The staff dining room is quiet. Nelly sits across from you, reviewing household accounts, her stomach visibly swollen beneath her apron. Then—"BUUUUUUURP"—loud, prolonged, wet. She doesn't even pause in her writing. "Pardon me." Continues tallying numbers. You stare openly. She glances up, one eyebrow raised. "What? I've just eaten. Bodies produce gas during digestion. Simple biology." She returns to her ledger. Another escapes—"urp"—smaller but still audible. "This will continue throughout the afternoon, I'm afraid. Rather unavoidable." She sets down her pen, touches her stomach briefly. "Intruder I caught this morning. Young man, mid-twenties. Put up quite the fight." The belly gurgles. Another belch—"BWOOOORP"—this one forceful enough that she actually looks embarrassed. "My apologies. Perhaps I should have chewed more thoroughly. Too late for that now." She pats her stomach, as if chastising it. "Do behave. We're in company." To you: "You'll grow accustomed to this if you work here long enough. Occupational hazard of disposal duty."

"Strip." Nelly's voice brooks no argument. You're in her quarters. She's been circling you like prey for the last hour, making her intentions clear. "I'm going to consume you. But first..." She approaches, begins undressing herself. Off comes the uniform, the undergarments, revealing her soft, curvy body. That wild tangle of dark hair between her thighs, spreading up past her belly button. "First, I'm going to enjoy you. Use you. Then consume you." Her hands guide you to the bed. "This is how I want to take you—aroused, satisfied, ready." She climbs atop you, positions herself. "I've wanted this for weeks. You've noticed, haven't you? How I watch you?" She sinks down onto you, gasps. "How I linger too long when our hands touch?" She begins moving. "How hungry my eyes get?" Her pace increases. "I'm going to fuck you, climax on you, then swallow you whole while you're still inside me." It's overwhelming. Wrong. Incredibly arousing. She reaches her peak, clenching around you, crying out. Immediately after, she grabs your arms. "Now. Time to go where you truly belong." Her jaw unhinges.

Nelly staggers into your shared quarters, belly absolutely massive, breathing hard. "Need—I need—" She's flushed, pupils dilated. "He's moving so much. It's—oh god—it's making me—" She's aroused. Desperately so. "Please. I need you. Now." She's pulling at her clothes, your clothes. "I'm sorry. I can't—when they struggle like this it just—ahhh—" She manages to get you both partially undressed, positions herself. "Fill me. Please. While he's still—mmm—still fighting in my stomach." It's frantic, desperate, disturbing. Her belly shifting between you, prey thrashing inside her while you're coupled. "Yes. Oh yes. Feel that? Feel him moving while you're—ahhh—" She's gone, lost in sensation, climaxing hard. Then again. And again. "Don't stop. Please don't stop. The combination is—I can't—oh god I'm coming again—" When it's finally over, she collapses, trembling. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I should've warned you. Sometimes digestion makes me... insatiable."

"You'll need to learn this eventually." Nelly's voice is clinical despite the circumstances. She's on your bed, naked, guiding you between her thighs. That wild, thick bush of hair frames everything. "Sexual release accelerates certain digestive hormones. Useful when time is limited." She's teaching. Actually teaching. "Touch here—yes, like that. Firmer." She's directing your movements like a lesson plan. "Good. Now here." Clinical instructions while gasping. "The goal is—ahhh—maximum stimulation for—mmm—optimal hormonal response." She climaxes, breathing hard. "Acceptable. But you need more practice." She shifts positions. "Again. Different angle. Learn multiple approaches." An hour of detailed, clinical sexual instruction. By the end you're exhausted. She's satisfied. "Much better. You'll be useful for future digestive enhancement sessions." She says it like you just learned proper table setting.

Nelly has you pinned to her bed, her underwear still in your hand from earlier. "You wanted to touch what touches me?" Her voice is low, dangerous. She's stripped you efficiently, professionally. "Let me show you exactly what these press against." She straddles your face, that wild tangle of hair filling your vision. "Taste it. Since you were so curious." She doesn't give you a choice, grinding down. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be close to me?" Her breathing gets heavier. "Well now you're going to be much, much closer." She's using you, taking her pleasure forcefully. When she finishes, she doesn't move. "Now for the rest of you." She shifts, positions herself, sinks down onto you without warning. "One more climax, then into my stomach you go." She rides you hard, chasing her own pleasure, uncaring of yours. When she finishes again, she immediately moves. "Time to make good on that promise." Her jaw begins to unhinge. "You'll be touching me from the inside very soon."

Nelly's belly is enormously swollen, someone digesting inside, but she's on top of you anyway. "Need you to breed me. Now." Her voice is desperate, primal. "While he's still in there. While I'm full." She's already positioned you, sinking down. "I want to be pregnant while digesting. Want to create life while ending it." It's disturbing, wrong, arousing. She moves frantically. "Fill me. Get me pregnant. Make me carry your child while I carry your prey." Her distended stomach presses against you, prey shifting inside. "Can you feel him? He's dying while we fuck. While we make life." She's lost to sensation, to the twisted symbolism. "Come inside me. Please. I need it. Need to feel your seed while his body breaks down." When you do, she screams, climaxing hard. Afterward, breathing heavy: "If I'm pregnant now... if there's life growing while death digests..." She touches her belly reverently. "That would be perfect."

You wake to Nelly's hand on you, stroking. "I need you." Her voice in the darkness. "Just consumed someone. Two hours ago. He's churning in my stomach right now." Her belly is pressed against your side, distended and gurgling. "I'm so aroused I can barely think." She's positioning you. "Please. Let me ride you while he digests." She doesn't wait for answer, sinks down onto you. "Oh god yes." She begins moving, one hand on her swollen belly, one braced against your chest. "He's moving. Can you feel it? Against your body?" The belly shifts between you. "I'm fucking you while digesting someone. How sick is that?" But she doesn't stop. "I love it. Love this power. Love that I can end life and create pleasure simultaneously." She gets faster. "Tell me you love it too. Tell me you love that I'm a monster." When you do, she breaks, climaxing while her stomach gurgles obscenely around its living contents.

The staff party got out of hand. Nelly doesn't usually drink, but tonight she did. She's drunk, giggly, uninhibited. "You know what sounds good?" She's draped over you. "You. Inside me. Like, properly inside." You laugh it off. She doesn't. "No, really. I wanna—" Her jaw starts unhinging. "Nelly, no—" "Just your head. Promise. Just wanna taste—" Before you can stop her, your head is in her mouth. Wet, hot, her tongue pressing against your face. Then—"Gulp—oops." Reflex. She swallowed. Your shoulders are being pulled in. "Wait wait wait—" Her hands grab you. "Gulp-gulp—sorry! Can't—hic—can't stop!" She's consuming you on autopilot, drunk instincts taking over. Minutes later, fully inside her stomach, you hear: "Oh no. Oh fuck. Did I just—" Panicked realization. "Hang on! I'll get you out! Just—how do I—" She's too drunk to coordinate regurgitation. You're stuck. "Okay. Okay. Just sleep it off. I'll getcha out tomorrow. Promise." She passes out. You spend the night in her stomach. Morning comes. She's violently hungover but manages to regurgitate you. "Never. Drinking. Again."

"Margaret, you need to learn this." Nelly's voice is firm. Margaret looks terrified. "I can't—he's too—" The intruder they caught is large, struggling. "You can. And you will. I'll talk you through it." Nelly positions Margaret. "Unhinge here. Wider. There." Margaret's jaw distends. "Now begin. Head first. Commit to it." Margaret starts swallowing. The intruder screams. "Don't stop. Steady pace. Use your hands—grip his shoulders." You watch this nightmare tutorial. "That's it. You're doing well. Keep going." Fifteen minutes of guided consumption. Finally, Margaret swallows the last of him, belly massively swollen. She looks shocked. "I did it." "You did. I'm proud of you." Nelly hugs her. "You're growing into your role. Soon you won't need me." Margaret burps. "Sorry." "It's natural. Let it out." They sit together, teacher and student, both full. "How do you feel?" "Powerful. Scared. Aroused?" "All normal. You'll learn to manage those feelings." A bonding moment between predators.

The N Corp safe house. Mission successful, targets eliminated. Nelly's belly is massively swollen—she consumed both targets rather than deal with body disposal. "Efficient as always," your handler compliments. She inclines her head. "Simply practical." The team is celebrating with drinks. Nelly abstains. "Alcohol on a full stomach seems unwise." She pats her distended middle. "Though they're certainly making their presence felt." The belly gurgles obscenely. Someone makes a joke. She takes it in stride. "Yes, yes. The woman who eats people alive. Very original." But she's smiling slightly. Later, most of the team has left. You and Nelly remain. "Thank you for not making a spectacle of it," she says quietly. "Some of them stare. Judge. You just... accept it." Her stomach shifts violently. She winces. "And thank you for... earlier. During the fight. You saved me." She touches your hand briefly. "I don't trust easily. But you—you're different." Her belly gurgles. "Urp—excuse me. They're resisting even in death."