Title: Meghan's Seafood Platter
Categories: Original
Characters: Meghan (OFC)
Cameos: None
Tags: Animal Transformation, Food Transformation, Giantess, Humiliation, Femdom, Food Play, Sadism, Cooking, Vore, Digestion, Dark
Commissioned By: Jacob186
Alternate Title(s): The Tinder Predator
Started: 07/11/2024
Finished: 11/11/2024
Public: 08/12/2024
Prologue
Ordering Out
Meghan reclined on the sofa, a glass of red wine in one hand and her phone in the other. She cherished the cosy warmth of her baggy, amber, fuzzy teddy jacket as she scrolled through her Tinder matches, a predatory gleam reflecting in her eyes from the festive glow. Her slender legs were encased by ripped black leggings, lined with fishnet stockings devoured by her soft, grey-furred Ugg boots. She had the house all to herself.
In the centre of the room, the Christmas tree, laden with ornaments, was adorned with twinkling and flickering lights, casting a warm, ethereal glow throughout the space. The lights, a mix of traditional bulbs and delicate LEDs, shimmer in a symphony of red, green, blue, and gold, reflecting off the tinsel and glass baubles that adorn the evergreen boughs, bathing the room in a soft, multicoloured luminescence.
The lights reflect off the polished surfaces of picture frames and the gleaming Christmas ornaments scattered across the room, creating a festive ambience and highlighting the beauty of Meghan's dyed, curled golden locks. The furniture, pushed back to accommodate the tree, seemed to huddle closer together. The coffee table, usually cluttered, is now a minimalist stage housing only a single open bottle of red wine.
Pangs of hunger poked Meghan's stomach, pushing her to hurry and choose her meal for the evening. She tapped on one with which she'd exchanged one or two messages. So far, he'd leapt on whenever she deigned to message him, like a clingy puppy but more pathetic. He was conventionally attractive, if a touch chubby, but definitely not muscular enough to be worth a decent fuck. Time to order out.
I'm bored and need something big inside me. If you want it to be you, you better get moving
She sent the message without preamble.
Jacob hopped on immediately as if he'd been waiting for her, and she sent him her address. She ignored his messages, he would come, there was no doubt about that, and set about sending a further six messages to other average guys who had decided to clutter her matches. The app had become her personal pocket larder.
It wasn't even 10 minutes before the first part of her evening meal arrived, with an eager knock at her door. She didn't remember his name. He had messy hair and Walmart clothes. He took a timid half-step, stopping just shy of her doorway. Meghan wrote him off as a virgin and snapped her fingers. Immediately, her spell took effect, and the young man rapidly began to transform.
He tried to scream, but his vocal cords tightened into a knot of panic as his legs folded and began to merge. The transformation was swift and unforgiving. His body contorted, his clothes melting away. His legs fused, forming a rough, hardened shell that shimmered with iridescence under the artificial light spilling from Meghan's abode. His torso bulged and stretched, the muscles and bones rearranging themselves into a new form. His skin grew paler and smoother and took on a pearly sheen. His arms shrank back into his body, leaving only a set of fleshy tendrils to emerge from the shell's edge.
Meghan looked down at the small thing on her doorstep, no longer a man or even a boy but a tiny, slimy oyster waiting to be slurped up. She ignored his small, shrill cries. His voice returned, and she daintily plucked him up and closed the door behind her.
Another 10 minutes and the next suitor turned up, then another, then another, until the young witch placed the sixth oyster on her platter and placed it in the fridge, condemning them to the cold darkness as she waited for the main course. Tinder had by far the fastest delivery option.
Knock Knock
Meghan opened the door. Her lapdog Jason had arrived, no Jacob … or was it Jack?
Whatever his name was, it didn't matter. The magical predator snapped her fingers, condemning the boy to his fate as her dinner.
The transformation started with a tingle in Jacob's fingertips, a sensation that rapidly grew stronger as it travelled up his arms. His skin grew slick and cold, and his body began to spasm. His eyes widened with shock and a strange, primal hunger as his hands grew larger, the bones rearranging into the unmistakable shape of lobster claws bound shut by maroon bands, holding them shut. His nails sharpened and turned darkening and gaining dark green accents. His plump torso elongated and thickened into a sinuous lobster tail, the flesh splitting and re-knitting into a sleek, shell-coated exoskeleton. His legs shrank and tore apart, forming additional spindly legs. His eyes rose up his head, shrinking into tiny black dots, staring up helplessly at the sexy goddess looming over him.
Meghan smiled darkly as she bent at the hip and picked up the cold crustacean.
"That's much better," she said as she eyed the trembling creature, "You know, just like a lobster, fat guys don't make good fucks, but they make perfect dinners, so lovely and plump" she mocked as she carried her dinner inside, locking the door behind her.
She placed him on the kitchen counter, smirking as the lobster's little legs pattered against the surface, the little thing trying to work out how to move its new form.
Meghan filled a large pot with water and placed it on the hob before lighting it and turning it up to the max. It wouldn't be long before it would be hot enough to dunk the lobster into it. She glanced at the terrified crustacean. It had managed to skitter a foot from her, not that it could go anywhere. With a slow, deliberate movement, she pinched the tip of his tail and slowly pulled him back towards the burning hob, smirking as his shrill scream filled the air.
Chapter 1
Into the Saucepan
The water in the pot began to bubble and churn with the intensity of a witch's cauldron as Meghan held Jacob-now-a-lobster closer to the heat, the bobbing thermometer reading a scolding 212 Fahrenheit. The lobster's desperate squeaks and the frantic waving of his pathetic claws only served to amplify Meghan's amusement.
"Look at you, little lobster," Meghan said with a cruel laugh, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "You thought you'd get lucky tonight, didn't you? But instead, you're going to be my main course. How fitting, you were always a bottom feeder, and you were so eager to be inside me tonight."
Panic surged through Jacob's body as he stared at the frothy bubbling salt water, waiting to devour his body. The heat was unbearable, and the knowledge of what was waiting for him was worse than any nightmare he'd endured. This just couldn't be real.
Meghan took a sip of her wine, watching him squirm as she dangled him over the gallon pot single-handedly, casually psychologically torturing the crustacean.
"You know what's funny? You're more entertaining like this than you probably ever were when you were a man ... not that you were much of a man to begin with." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against the plump lobster's shell. "But let's not keep you waiting too long, shall we? The pot is boiling and my tummy is rumbling."
Placing her wine glass on the counter, with the grace of a cat toying with its prey, Meghan picked up a wooden spatula and tapped the lobster's shell playfully.
"You're going to be so tender and sweet," she whispered. "I can't wait to crack you open and suck you up your meat."
Steam spiralled towards the ceiling from the steel pot, filling the kitchen with the faint aroma of the lobster's impending doom. Meghan slowly lowered him over the scolding pot, the fizzing bubbles mingling with his shrill screams and bouncing off the kitchen tiles.
"Ready?" she teased, her voice dripping with malice. "This is going to be a little hot, but I'm sure it'll be fine once you're in." She laughed.
The lobster's body contorted in a symphony of agony, its carapace gleaming malevolently under the stark, pulsing fluorescent lights as the caustic steam painted the shell. She held it aloft, its desperate, spasmodic jerks only heightening her morbid glee. Slowly, with a sadistic relish, she descended the creature of the deep towards the water's edge, the bubbles erupting around it like hissing demonic whispers, tiny spitting splashes bit the creature's underside, searing its tender flesh.
"One ... two..."
Jacob's soulful wails echoed through the room, a poignant testament to the horror unfolding. He writhed in futile protest, he was powerless to stop what was happening, a mere spectator in his gruesome death.
"Three!" Meghan cackled, a twisted smile stretching across her face like a macabre mask. With a heartless, dramatic flourish, she dropped the lobster into the saucepan of boiling water. The water hissed and spat as he hit the surface. The liquid roiled and frothed as the creature's piercing screams pierced the air, a chilling crescendo that seemed to resonate with the very walls. His new form disappeared beneath the waves of boiling death.
"It's just the air escaping," she taunted, her laughter mixing with the shrill screams. "At least you were able to entertain me. That's more than most of my food manages."
The lobster's movements grew weaker, his cries softer, until finally, they ceased altogether.
The room soon fell silent except for the sound of the bubbling pot and Meghan's laughter; Jacob's pathetic screams were now just a sweet memory. She leaned over the stove, watching the lobster's limp form shifting as the bubbles combusted against it, rapidly cooking its meat, her eyes gleaming with a carnal hunger.
She checked on her meal for the next 10 minutes while preparing the other parts of her evening meal, grabbing a mixture of sauces and slicing a lemon in half before fishing the lobster carcass from the boiling pot and placing it on a silver plate, arranging the oysters around the lobster like a grotesque bouquet.
She carried the platter into the living room, the warm Christmas lights a loving welcome from the humid kitchen. Sitting back in her recliner, she picked up the still-hot lobster, the reddened carapace glinting in the festive lights. She placed each of the sauces atop the small coffee table before placing the dish in the centre, a macabre masterpiece. She poured another glass of wine. It was Christmas, after all.
"Bon Appétit," she sang to herself before breaking open the lobster's shell with a sickening crack in one quick motion. Steam bellowed out, carrying the mouth-watering scent of the white meat to Meghan's nose, making her mouth water.
Crack
Snap
Crack
The meal had begun, and she revelled in every bite, savouring the taste of fear and power that filled her mouth. All the while, she smirked at the oysters that had clapped their shells shut in terror as though that would stop her from slurping up their insides.
"Mmm, chubby guys make the best dishes. They are so tasty," Meghan moaned around his flavour; it wasn't like the dish would have amounted to much anyway. At least now he would add to her perfect body, maybe even add a little something to her butt; if the virgin was lucky, he might even provide the fuel for her next shag; it's the closest a guy like that would ever get to be lucky anyway.
Chapter 2
Larry the Oyster
The wet smacking sound of Meghan's chewing voice washed over Larry as he lay on the plate. His world was now a prison of shell and fear, a fear that was only heightened by the cold, clammy flesh that made up his new body.
Red light trickled in as he timidly parted his shell enough to peek into the outside world.
He watched as Meghan's giant hand, elegantly adorned with red nails, picked up a small fork and knife from the side of the plate. Wielding them with the precision of a surgeon and the glee of a butcher, she deftly tore through the lobster's shell. The cracking sounds echoed through his small, enclosed world, every crack like thunder that made his stomach churn.
Larry's eyes, now tiny and bead-like, searched for an escape, but all he found was the gleaming silver of the plate's edge and the shadowy abyss beyond it, his eyes much poorer than they had once been.
The fear of the unknown warred with the known.
The smell of garlic butter filled his senses, and his stomach churned with dread and disgust. His mind raced with the futility of his situation, and the memories of his life as a man were now bittersweet reminders of what he'd lost. When he'd arrived, he'd been a little taller than the woman and now he was an hors d'oeuvres on her plate. He couldn't even move, only watch as she gorged herself on his compatriots.
Meghan's crimson lips wrapped around a chunk of lobster meat, pulling it from the shell with an obscene pop. Larry's body convulsed in terror.
"You know," Meghan said, waving the half-eaten piece of lobster in the air like a grisly conductor's baton, "I've always liked oysters. They're so ... moist ... so succulent."
Her eyes fell on Larry. His body shifted in his shell, squelching to one side. Her gaze lingered on him, her teeth gleaming as she chewed, the wet smacking sound making him cringe.
"You all look so yummy," she continued, "But I think I'll start with you."
The world grew dark as the giant hand loomed closer, fleshy oak-like finger closing around his shell and lifting him from the platter. Her fingers were warm and wet, almost greasy from the lobster.
Meghan flicked her wrist and slid her nail into the tiny crack Larry had opened, condemning him. Pain flooded his body. It felt like she'd just stabbed a knife into the knots of his muscles. She increased the pressure.
"Please! Stop!" Larry begged.
With a final burst of pressure, Meghan smirked and snapped his shell open.
CRACK
Larry's beady eyes shivered in their mucus. It was like she'd just snapped his legs, shattering his bones.
The giantess pried open Larry's shell, the muscular hinge giving way with another sickening snap and crack. His insides quivered and clung to the shell's inner walls, desperately trying to escape the inevitable.
"Look at you," she cooed, holding him up for inspection in the dim festive glow. "So plump and delicious."
Her tongue darted out, tasting the brine of his fear. Larry froze, his breath trapped in his lungs or whatever he had as he prepared himself for what was to come as he stared into her cavernous mouth and the giant pink serpent of her tongue.
Her tongue suddenly withdrew, and relief flooded Larry's body.
"Now, what do you think I should put on you?" the sadistic goddess asked, turning Larry in the air and forcing him to take in each of the sauces she had prepared.
Even placed around the platter, almost artistically. There was a small bowl of pale, foggy liquid with a yellow tint, a tall bottle of sweet chilli sauce, another bowl with an orange sauce, a small bottle of Tabasco, a bow of something mushy and green with a bit of what looked like cucumber sticking out of it and salt.
Each one looked like a method of execution to Larry.
"What do you think will make you taste best?" Meghan asked teasingly.
"P-Please don't," Larry begged, his gelatinous form quivering.
"If you don't choose, I will," the giantess sang.
"P-Please," it was all that would come out, his slimy form shaking like a leaf in his broken shell.
Meghan picked up the teaspoon beside the bowl with the cloudy liquid and collected a few droplets. She moved the spoon over him. The underside shimmered in the tree light's glow like a UFO. Larry didn't have a chance to utter a single syllable for mercy as the spoon tilted.
A fresh agony washed over the oyster as the cold, acidic liquid pooled around his body. The lemon juice stabbed and bit into him, trying to digest him in his own shell.
"Please stop!" He squealed, the lemon juice bubbling.
"And now some salt," tiny white rocks crashed down on Larry, and the pain worsened. If his eyes could water, they would.
The world shimmered and blurred around the oyster as the salty, caustic brew stabbed at its eyes.
"Much better. You look even tastier now," Meghan said nonchalantly as she lifted the shell back to her lips.
He couldn't see it happening, but he felt his shell moving, and soon, it pressed into something soft and warm. The giantess's lips sunk beneath the shell's edge, and the tangy concoction trickled into her waiting mouth.
Larry felt himself sliding. His gelatinous form clung to the smooth surface of his shell. A horrifically familiar warm, wet muscle poked and prodded him before circling around his tiny, slimy form. Her hot breath, a lobster-scented fog embracing him like a treacherous lover.
Meghan closed her lips around the oyster and slurped it up and out of its shell and into her mouth.
Her tongue coated him in a thick, sticky, salivary embrace, and his body was crushed against the roof of her mouth.
"Please stop this! Don't eat me!" Larry screamed.
Meghan's teeth crunched down, and Larry's world shattered into a million pieces, the pain indescribable. He felt himself being chewed, tossed around, ground into a pulp, his body rapidly torn apart by the giant woman's teeth, all the while remaining conscious and sentient. He was in Hell.
"Mmm, so yummy," Meghan moaned around him, the shellfish's non-existent ears threatening to burst at the destructive volume.
Meghan's teeth worked tirelessly, grinding Larry's tender flesh into a fine paste, each crunch sending shockwaves of agony through what was left of his oyster form. His eyes were useless now, the world a black abyss punctuated by flashes of pain as she chewed, her teeth like boulders crushing his body.
He was powerless to escape, trapped in the dark, dank prison of her mouth.
The squelching of his body muffled Larry's screams, the sounds lost to the cavernous chamber of her mouth as she pulverised him. Each chew brought a fresh wave of agony, threatening to end his pitiful existence.
Her tongue danced around and through his shredded remains, tasting the mushy remnants of his existence. The sensation was one of unbridled torment, his nerve endings firing off in a cacophony of panic and despair as the grinding continued.
Meghan's chewing grew slower, more deliberate as she savoured every last bite. Larry's thoughts were a melting blur of horror and pain, his mind struggling to comprehend the monstrous fate that had befallen him.
With a final, triumphant bite, Meghan swallowed him whole. His last sensation before his life was finally snuffed out was that last bite, her colossal canines mashing the remains of his brain or whatever he had.
Meghan leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she traced the slight bulge in her neck. "Mmm, not too bad," she said, swirling the wine in her glass.
"You sick fucking bitch!" shouted a small voice from her plate.
"Mmm, it looks like I have a volunteer," Meghan said. Her smile was replaced with a devilish smirk as her eyes opened, and her predatory gaze flickered down to the oyster furthest from her on the plate.
"Fuck you!" the Hors d'oeuvre shouted.
"Oh, you wish," the giantess laughed as she plucked the shellfish from the platter.
The black shell slammed shut, but that didn't deter the giant blonde. With little effort, she cracked the shell opening and allowed herself a moment to enjoy his screams and expletives.
"Fuck You! You Fucking Bitch!"
"Mmm, I know just what you need, my little snack," Meghan said, wetting her lips in a darkly seductive manner. "This will give you the perfect flavour." she continued as she picked up the small bottle of Tobasco.
"You're Fucking Sick!" Shrieked the oyster, unaware of what she had in store for him.
She moved the tiny bottle over him, and with a flick of her wrist and a tap of her finger, one, two, three drops of the sauce splattered over the slimy thing, and its squeaky shrieks of pain filled the room.
The oyster's shrieks grew in pitch and volume as the scalding drops of Tabasco sauce splattered onto his soft, exposed flesh. It was as if someone had doused him in liquid fire, his insides burning as if he were being boiled alive.
His tiny, squishy body convulsed, his muscles spasming uncontrollably.
"Oh, you don't like that, do you?" Meghan taunted, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "But I think it'll add a lovely ... zest to you."
The oyster's body jerked in its broken shell, the heat reaching unbearable levels. Each breath was a struggle as the sauce clogged his gills or whatever he had and filled his senses with a pain so intense he wished for death.
Meghan brought him closer to her mouth, her breath hot and foul with the scent of wine and the lingering flavour of the lobster. His burning eyes widened in horror, staring at her teeth. He tried to push back, but there was nothing he could do.
Then the giantess pulled him away and placed him back on the platter.
"I'll let you marinate for a while," she said, plucking another shred of lobster meat from the giant carcass and dipping it into the green mush with the cucumber before tossing it into her mouth and moaning at the flavour.
"So good." her wet lips smacked together. "So, who wants to be inside me next?" she asked the platter of fish sensually, wetting her lips again.
Chapter 3
Come Inside
"Who wants to be the next one to come in my mouth and slide down my throat?" Meghan asked in a sultry tone, extending her long pink tongue as she opened her mouth for the trembling oysters.
No answer came - other than the cursing of the oyster marinating in Tabasco sauce.
"No takers? Okay, then, you're next," said the giantess, picking up one of the oysters. Now choose a sauce, or I'll add a little spice to you," Meghan purred, reaching for the tiny bottle.
"W-Wait … th-the orange one," the oyster stammered, and the blonde giant smiled. She loved it when her dinner broke.
"Mmm, good choice," she said, spooning up the Tetsuya sauce and dropping a large slap of the ginger vinaigrette on the quivering morsel.
The oyster's eyes bulged as they burned from the ginger. The orange sauce pooled around him like molten lava, starting as a gentle warmth but rapidly intensifying as the bitter spices and acidic juices bit into his slimy flesh.
Meghan's smile widened, her teeth glinting in the Christmas lights. She brought the shell to her lips.
Her mouth enveloped him, the sauce's heat seemingly doubling in intensity as it mixed with the warmth of her mouth. The oyster's body jerked and spasmed, the acidity biting into his soft tissues/ He tried to pull away, his muscles contracting and releasing in a futile effort to escape as the sauce pierced tiny orifices to enter his body.
Meghan's tongue swirled around him, and she slurped him into her mouth.
The ginger burned through his insides like a wildfire. His thoughts were a whirlwind of pain. He couldn't even process what was happening. It was impossible to think through the casual torture.
The giantess took her time, her teeth clicking together as she bit down, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. The oyster felt soft flesh give way, tearing and shredding beneath the bone stalactites. They slammed down again, but he knew no more.
Meghan frowned when the pleasant vibrations of the terrified former man's voice stopped. Seeing no reason to prolong the experience, she swallowed him and returned her attention to the platter.
She picked up the next oyster, its shell quivering slightly. She held it in her slender fingers, the sauces around the platter winking at her in the Christmas lights as she added a dash of salt to the oyster.
"Your turn," she said, her voice low and sweet, the tone you might use to coax a child into taking their medicine. "What flavour will you choose?"
The oyster's eyes darted around the plate, and each option was a different type of torture. The salt was both irritating and strangely comforting to his new form.
"Th-The green one," he rasped out, his voice barely a whisper, hoping the cucumber one would be less painful.
Meghan leaned over and picked up the small bowl of Cucumber Jalapeno Granita.
"Ah, a bold choice," she said, dipping a finger into the dip and bringing it to the oyster's shell, smearing it onto the creature's exposed flesh.
The oyster felt the cool, refreshing touch of the Cucumber Jalapeno Granita as Meghan smeared it over his slimy body, a brief respite from the burning agony of the salt. He braced himself for the next wave of torment, his eyes tightly shut. But instead, a wave of coldness washed over him, bringing with it the sweet relief of the cucumber, only to be followed by the fiery bite of jalapeno. The sensation was a confusing dance of pain and pleasure, his nerves screaming in protest at the sudden change in temperature and flavour.
"Oh, you like that?" Meghan purred. "You luck so yummy."
The oyster shivered in his shell, his tiny body a canvas of sensation as the jalapeno's heat spread through him. It started as a gentle warmth but quickly escalated into an intense, burning, searing pain that enveloped him. He squirmed and writhed, his slimy body contorting in its shell as it tried futilely to escape.
Meghan leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement at the oyster's plight. Her breath was hot against the shell.
"You're practically begging to be devoured."
The oyster tried to pull away but remained rooted to his shell, helpless in the giantess's fingertips.
"Please, no more." He begged his voice a hoarse whisper of despair.
Meghan chuckled.
"But I'm just getting started."
With a flick of her wrist, she brought the oyster to her lips, the shell clutched between her thumb and forefinger. Her breath carried the sweet scent of wine and the lingering taste of lobster. It was a moment of pure, distilled terror.
Meghan's teeth clamped down, crushing the shell with an audible crack. The oyster's body spasmed as the shards of shell pierced his flesh, sending shockwaves of agony through his being. And then, the world was a sea of fire as she slurped him into the abyss of her mouth.
The jalapeno sauce burned him from the inside out, a raging inferno that seemed to consume his very soul. Each chew brought a fresh wave of torment, his body writhing in a symphony of pain. The giantess's tongue danced around him, spreading the burning sauce to every corner of his existence.
The oyster's cries of agony were lost in the cacophony of his suffering. The pain was all-consuming, a maelstrom of fire that drowned out the sounds of his thoughts. And yet, through it all, he remained eerily conscious, a prisoner in the hell of Meghan's mouth.
Finally, with a dramatic flourish, she swallowed him whole and alive. The oyster felt his body being propelled down her throat, the muscles constricting around him like a serpent's embrace. He was plunged into darkness, the only light the fading glow of the Christmas tree and the promise of a painful end.
Meghan spat out the shards of the shell that had followed the oyster into her mouth before sitting back and licking her lips.
"Mmm, I love the spicy ones," she murmured, her eyes flicking over the remaining three oysters. "Who's next?"
The platter was silent, aside from the pained whimpers and cries of the marinating morsel.
The oysters shook in their shells. There was nothing they could do, and they knew it.
Meghan reached for the bottle of sweet chilli sauce, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
"I guess I'll have to choose for you," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
She selected her next victim. The air was thick with the delicious scent of fear and the numerous dips. The oysters watched in horror as she brought the bottle over one of them, the crimson sauce glinting in the Christmas lights like a river of molten lava.
The oyster's shell shook violently as the thick, crimson, sweet chilli sauce drizzled over his exposed flesh. The sauce was like a liquid flame that painted his world in a hellish crescendo. It pooled around him, covered him, a sticky, burning shroud that set every nerve alight.
"P-Please, no more," he gasped, his voice straining. He felt like he was being flayed alive, each pulsing beat.
Meghan chuckled, her eyes alight with sadistic glee, watching his body spasm in a dance of pain in the festive glow.
The sauce clung to him like a lover, refusing to let go as he begged for mercy.
He felt her breath on his shell, the heat further curdling his frying nerves. It was too much. It had to stop. He needed it to stop. His vision was red with pain.
"E-Eat me," he begged, he cried out. "Just make it stop."
Meghan's smile grew wider, her teeth gleaming in the festive glow. She took her sweet time plucking the quivering oyster from the platter and brought it to her ruby lips.
The oyster felt the soft flesh of her giant lips before she slurped him up.
He slipped into her mouth's wet, velvety darkness, the sweet chilli heat following him like a loyal hound. Meghan's teeth closed around him in his shell with a gentle, almost loving pressure before she gave a sharp twist.
Rip!
The shell gave way, and the oyster's world exploded with pain. The giantess's tongue swirled around him, tossing him around her mouth. The sauce mixed with the giantess's saliva, dampening the burning pain but not nullifying it.
"Oh, you're so tasty," Meghan murmured around him as she sucked on his slimy body.
The oyster's wails grew more frantic as she moved him to the back of her mouth and sent him down her gullet. The burning heat was his only companion as he fell into the acidic cavern of her stomach.
Meghan sipped her wine, washing the squishy shellfish down her throat, a perfect end to the spicy morsel. She tore another chunk of the lobster meat from the butchered carcass and tossed it into her mouth. Abruptly, her hand lashed out, snatched the remaining unspiced oyster, and lifted it to her lips.
"So, which sauce should I use on you? And if you don't pick, well, I think I'm in the mood for some yummy Tabasco," Meghan said, making sure to annunciate every syllable, her lips stretching to almost kiss the oyster's shell.
"P-Please not sp-spicy, an-anything but that," the little Hors d'œuvre stuttered.
Meghan chuckled, her eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and malice. She picked up the next oyster, its shell shivering in her grip.
"Mmm, so, you don't fancy a spicy end?" she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "What about something a little more ... classic?"
The oyster's voice quivered as it bobbed its body in an imitation of a nod.
"Y-Yes, please. Anything but that!"
Meghan leaned in closer, her breath a warm whisper of wine and seafood. "Salt and lemon it is," she said, her smile widening.
The oyster's shell clamped shut as tight as it could, but it was no match for the giantess's strength. She pried it open with ease like she had the others, her long, slender fingers pinching the edges. The oyster's tiny body squirmed desperately.
Meghan took another spoon of the cloudy, bitter liquid and drizzled it over the trembling creature, the tart juice mingling with the salty tears that had formed in his eyes. He flinched, his body spasming as the acid kissed and licked his flesh.
The giantess picked up the salt shaker and gently tapped it, watching the grains cascade down onto the oyster like a snowfall of pain. Each grain landed with a sting. His cries grew more desperate, his body writhing in agony, the lemon and salt ravaging him.
Meghan smiled darkly.
With a flick of her wrist, she smacked a pinch of salt into the wound, her eyes lighting up as the oyster convulsed.
"You're going to be the perfect little salty snack."
Meghan's eyes sparkled with sadistic delight as she watched the oyster squirm under the onslaught of salt. The poor creature's cries grew more desperate, his body twitching erratically as the giantess held him just out of reach of her parting lips. The sound of his pain was music to her ears, and she hummed a little tune as she savoured the moment.
"Alright, little one," she said, her voice a sweet symphony of malice. "Your time has come."
The oyster's shell trembled uncontrollably as she brought him closer to her mouth. She could almost taste the sweet, briny flavour of his meat.
The salt and lemon cocktail flooded his world, a caustic mix that burned like a thousand suns. His body writhed and spasmed
She sealed her lips around the slimy morsel, and he was engulfed in darkness with an audible 'pop', he was sucked out of his shell and into her cavernous mouth.
Meghan's tongue caressed the salty oyster meat. The lemon's tartness was a delightful palate cleanser. Her teeth quickly tore through the oyster's flesh, the muscle offering no resistance to the giantess's bite.
The oyster's cries grew fainter as she chewed, his voice muffled by the onslaught of flavour and pain. She could feel his fear and despair as she swallowed, his essence merging with the warmth of her throat. His body convulsed once more as he was propelled into the abyss of her stomach, the acidic juices of her digestive tract eagerly awaiting him.
Meghan licked her lips, her teeth glistening with the remnants of his body in the warm glow of the tree lights. She took another sip of wine; the oyster's tartness and the lobster's richness were a perfect pairing. She picked up the final oyster, its shell quivering in her grasp.
"And now, for you, my spicy little Hors d'œuvre," she whispered, her eyes alight with glee, plucking the final snack from the platter.
The remaining oyster looked up at her with a mix of horror and resignation, his eyes wide and unblinking. The Tabasco had dissolved the remnants of his resistance, and now he was nothing more than a fishy snack for his would-be hook-up.
Meghan held the oyster, feeling his tiny heart racing against her palm. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes tracing the curve of his shell.
"Let's make this one special, shall we? End this meal with a bang," she murmured, her mind racing with possibilities.
Her gaze fell upon the half-eaten lobster carcass and a wicked smile on her face. With another graceful flick of her wrist, she sent the oyster hurtling through the air, its shell smacking against the side of the lobster's head with a sickening crunch. The oyster's body spasmed as it cracked open.
"Oh, you're going to love this," she said, her voice a seductive purr.
The giantess picked up the oyster and dipped it into the lobster meat, smearing the rich, buttery flavour across his body, taking her time.
Each second was an eternity of pain and fear for the oyster, a delicious little snack that had once been a man.
Finally, she brought him to her mouth, her teeth glinting in the Christmas lights.
Meghan's teeth clamped down, tearing the spicy fish meat from the shell in one swift bite.
Meghan's teeth sank into the tender, spicy oyster meat, the taste of the Tabasco sauce exploding on her tongue like a fiery starburst. The oyster's body quivered in her mouth, the fiery sensation mixing with the sweetness of the lobster flesh. She savoured the combination, the sauce's heat melding with the lobster's richness, a glorious orchestra of flavours that danced across her palate.
Each bite brought a fresh wave of agony to the trapped creature.
Meghan's eyes rolled back in pleasure as she swallowed, the final oyster sliding down her throat.
With a sigh of contentment, she picked up her wine glass and took a long, slow sip, letting the cool liquid wash over her tongue and down her throat. The wine's bouquet mingled with the remnants of the spicy oyster, creating an intoxicating blend of flavours.
But she was still a little hungry.
Chapter 4
Yummy in the Tummy
Meghan's stomach was a tumultuous sea of acid and digestion, where the oysters had never imagined in their wildest nightmares they would end up. The once proud and hopeful men were now nothing but a squishy mess of meat waiting to be broken down into nutrients and processed into shit. They could feel the lobster's ghostly presence, his cooked melted flesh still warm and tender in the cavernous chamber of her gut. The oysters had hoped to find solace in each other's company, but the giantess had other plans.
It was a giant cavern with pulsating, shimmering walls that sent caustic waves of gastric juices crashing around the room. Every wave threatened to send them beneath the surface.
The stomach lurched and churned, digestive acids and enzymes breaking down the lobster's body into a broth of proteins and fats. The oysters were tossed around like ragdolls in a washing machine, their squishy meat smacking together wetly in a mournful duet of despair.
The walls of Meghan's stomach were a slick, hot, red maelstrom, stretched taut from the feast she'd enjoyed. The oysters could feel the heat, a pressure building around them as intense as the spicy sauces they'd been bathed in.
Jacob's meat was breaking down around them, the tender chunks dissolving into a thick stew of nutrients that would soon be absorbed into the giantess's body. The few still alive felt the acid eating into them, too, quickly melting their meat into chunky soup.
Tsunamis of scarlet wine splashed in the cavernous space, splashing the slimy gastric juices over the transformed boys, hastening their death and speeding up their digestion.
Their world grew darker as the shellfish disintegrated further. The warmth of the room was replaced by the suffocating heat of Meghan's innards, who were pulled beneath the rippling surface and spiralled into an undertow.
The acid bit and tore at their flesh, hundreds of tiny bubbles forming and bursting around them as they were dissolved.
The current squeezed and crushed them, forcing the barely alive hors d'oeuvre into Meghan's labyrinthian intestines.
Jacob's flesh had been reduced to a thick paste, mingling with the chewed-up oyster mush, a macabre gravy that saturated their bodies. The walls flexed, constricting around them as they sought to squeeze the life out of them, and the villi poked and prodded them, ripping tiny fragments away from the oysters, forcing their gunky bodies to mix with the overly thick, foul-smelling liquid as they slowly made their way to the giantess's colon.
Meghan leaned back in her chair. Her eyes closed in contentment as she felt the meal begin to digest. She patted her slightly bloated stomach. She had a lovely dinner, and another bunch of virgin losers would be turned into her shit.
Epilogue
Room for Dessert
Meghan idly picked up her phone and took a sip of her fourth glass of red wine. Reclining in her chair and putting her feet up, she unlocked her phone and opened the Tinder app. She swiped through her feed with practised ease, scanning the faces and builds of potential prey, looking for something a bit more substantial for dessert, not that she'd say no to a good fuck if she actually found someone decent on the app.
She smiled when she came across a particularly promising profile. A young, heavyset black man with a warm smile. He looked like he'd be perfect for a decadent Christmas cake. His name was Damian apparently, not that it would matter for long, soon it would be Fudge, or Caramel, or Christmas Pudding.
Meghan ran her tongue over her lower lip, already salivating at the prospect.
"Mmm, now this is what I'm talking about," Meghan purred to herself. "A nice, thick layer of sweetness to end my night."
She swiped right, and less than a minute later; her phone dinged with a message from the eager fat fuck.
Hey there gorgoues ;) xx
Meghan rolled her eyes. Couldn't they be any more creative? No wonder he was on Tinder, and with a body like that, the only thing he was good for would be as a Christmas cake or maybe a fudge cake … or a nice pork roast, maybe a suckling pig. She started typing her reply.
Hey there, how'd you like to satisfy me tonight? You'd be the perfect end to tonight's events.
It took less than a minute for him to respond, his excitement palpable through the screen.
Oh, I'm down!
"So eager to be inside me, like all men," Meghan laughed, typing in her address and sending it to her Christmas Eve Pudding.
I'll be there in 30
Meghan chuckled as her dish confirmed delivery and took another sip of her wine. Now all she needed was a good shag, and the night would be complete. She started swiping through the app again, saving some for future takeout - and ignoring their immediate desperate messages and duplicates of hey as she searched for some cock.