I opened the door without knocking. He hated it when people knocked. If you were a friend of his, you were expected to simply walk in. Rose and Donna were sitting on the couch watching television. Brad, I was guessing, was in the kitchen cooking. He had a fondness for strange foreign dishes that no one else knew how to make, so he had learned to cook for himself. The fact that his girlfriend Donna had picked up a fondness for the dishes didn't hurt either.

I closed the door behind me and placed my coat on the rack. "Hey, folks," I said. Rosey favored me with a cheerful "Hi! How's it going?" whereas Donna just glanced at me before looking back at the television.

I was never sure what to think about Donna. She would talk to me if I was around, but only if I initiated the conversation, and she tended to be kind of terse. I wasn't sure if she didn't like me or if she just had that kind of personality. A lot of our other friends seemed intimidated by her, so they had little to say on the matter. Brad, being her boyfriend, had only good things to say--most of which were laden with innuendo. Not that I blamed him. Donna had a powerful, almost indescribable presence, and she had a body to match. She was definately a woman, of that there could be no doubt. But she was one of those women you wonder if you could actually lose a fight to. There wasn't a boney bit to be seen on her, but flabby she most definately was not. It was as though she was a breeze that was chisled from marble...with a little bit of serpent mixed in. Her moves were sudden and abrupt at times, but she could be very graceful when she wanted to--and something about the way she moved during those times almost made me want to back away from her.

Brad came in through the kitchen door and greeted me. "Hey, you're just in time, I'm making some curry. But there's an emergency." He turned to Donna. "Babe, I just found out we don't have any chilis. Should one of us go get some, or are you okay without?"

Donna had a thing for spicy food. Really spicy. We usually had to make her put her chilis in her own bowl because otherwise it was difficult not to cry from the pain.

"I could go get some..." Rose volunteered.

"Isn't your boyfriend coming to take you to a movie in like five minutes?" Brad said.

"Oh yeah, I guess he is," she answered.

"Just make him do it," Donna said, waving her hand towards me. For a moment, we made direct eye contact--there was a strange gleam in her eye, but I'm not sure quite what it was.

"Hey, I'm not your personal chili-bitch," I said with a smile. Much as I hate to admit it, I was almost nervous saying it--partially because of the aura Donna had, but also because even though she was Brad's girlfriend, I rather wanted her to like me.

"Argh, fine, I'll do it," Brad said in mock frustration. "You people make me do EVERYTHING!" he said, his clenched fingers shaking towards the cieling. "Hey, be a dear and stir that every once in a while, will ya?"

"Sure," I said. This wasn't the first time--the strange things he made required so many different ingredients that Brad often found himself out of something halfway through cooking it.

Brad grabbed his jacket and left through the front door. I went over and sat on the couch next to Rose, keeping her between me and Donna. We joked a little bit as we watched Scrubs. For her part, Donna just remained quiet. She wouldn't laugh, but sometimes she'd smile to herself--whether it was because of the show, I couldn't tell.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

"God, who knocks?" Donna said as she got up from the couch and opened it. Jefferson came in, wearing entirely too much winterwear for the mild snowfall.

"Hey Rosey, you ready to go?"

"Sure," Rose said as she rose from the couch.

"You know you're not supposed to knock unless the door's locked," Donna said.

"I know, but I'm...I'm just trained to knock! I'm trying!" he said. Though Jefferson looked like the consummate dork--even now, with his thick coat, glasses and enormous scarf with less than a half-inch of snow--it was decieving. He was very sharp and actually pretty fun to have around, so long as you didn't get him started about World of Warcraft.

"Well, we're off. Bye kids!" Rose said from the doorway as she waved. "Behave yourselves!"

"Right," I said as Donna swung the door shut behind them.

I had sort of been averting my eyes until now, but now I was getting a full view of Donna in all her glory. I had to admit I was envious of Brad. Not the "I'm going to stab you in the middle of the night and steal your girl" sort of envious--just the normal, healthy "Oh God I'd like to tap that" sort of envious.

I just sat for that glorious split-second of opportunity and took her in. She was wearing bluejeans, skin-tight at the thighs but ripped at the kneecaps. Her buttocks seemed to almost command the fabric above them, as though it were a second skin, enslaved to do their bidding.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling.

She was wearing a vest of practically the same material. The tight garment followed the curve of her back and ended about six inches before the top of her pants, exposing a nice stripe of creamy-looking skin. I got sight of the front of it when she turned back towards the couch. I had seen it many times, but there are certain things in life for which every time is like the first time. The vest wasn't cut for well-endowed women, so while Donna wasn't enormous or anything, it did create a perfectly workable line of cleavage between it's buttonless V-neck.

She flicked a lock of copper-colored hair away from her face as she sat down at the end of the couch and planted her eyes on the TV. I had no way to know if she was paying attention to it. I realized with a start that I was staring at her, and rapidly shifted my head back to look at the TV myself--a bit too rapidly, probably, but it was too late to do anything about it now. I wanted to talk to her, if for no other reason than to break the awkward silence, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, I'd just go in and stir the curry every so often, trying to sneak a quick peek at her cleavage as I came back out of the kitchen each time.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, I thought of something to say.

"Man, Brad's been taking his sweet time, hasn't he?" I said.

"He always takes this long," Donna replied. Though her face was pointed towards the television, I noticed she was sitting sideways, her front pointed right at me as if to say 'I'm not looking, go ahead and gawk.'

Which, honestly, I sort of did.

"I guess," I said.

I wanted to keep the conversation going--maybe so I had an excuse to keep my head pointed at her so I could gawk and maybe not--but right around then Brad came in. He was carrying a grocery bag and a box of donuts.

"Sorry for the delay. I was siezed with a sudden, overwhelming urge for sugary treats and had to make an extra stop," he said.

"It's okay," Donna said with a smile. "We've been entertaining ourselves by having depraved anal sex all over your couch."

"Whatever. Just make sure you wipe it off." Brad said.

I was smiling, of course. Donna, on the other hand, was wearing her usual poker-face.

"So which one of you was the bitch?" Brad said with a sadistic giggle.

"Do you really have to ask?" Donna said sardonically.

He let loose a cruel giggle. "Yeah, so anyway, let's eat some curry."

The conversation drifted back and forth as we ate--typically it was either me and Brad or Brad and Donna. Strangely enough, however, she did strike up one conversation with me directly near the end of our meal.

"Hey, did I show you my new tattoo?" she asked me.

"You have a tattoo?" Brad asked, looking more shocked than I was.

"I got it this morning," Donna said with a smile.

"I want to see!" Brad and I said at, more or less, exactly the same time.

She smiled, stood up, and turned around.

"Oh, so it's one of THOSE tattoos..." I said, not sure if I should turn away or not.

She lowered her pants slightly, revealing a portion of her right buttock.

Having never seen her ass in person before, I can safely assure you that my fantasies about what it looked like when exposed were rather crude by comparison.

Peaking above the rim of her pants was a freshly inked serpent, it's maw gaping wide.

"That's...um...interesting choice." I said.

"I thought you hated snakes," Brad said.

"I did, sort of," Donna replied as she hiked her pants back up. "But I've been learning a lot about them lately, and they're actually really cool."

"Anything else I don't know that you've been putting into your body?" Brad asked.

Donna laughed, but as she did, she looked straight at me for just one telling moment.

Was she giving me signals here?

I started to notice that kind of thing more and more as the night went on; Donna would glance at me here or there, even if I wasn't saying anything.

After a delicious meal and some fun--if occaisionally weird--conversation, I decided it was time to leave the two lovebirds alone. And frankly, after getting a facefull of Donna's ass, I think I needed some time alone myself.

I was quite restless that night...I couldn't stop thinking about Donna. I knew I'd never sink low enough to kite my friend's girlfriend, but that didn't stop the old fantasy engine from railroading my thoughts.

It was when I was groggily putting my pants on that next morning that I realized I didn't have my wallet. It had probably fallen out at Brad's house; it had happened a few times before. After checking my car and my couch to make sure, I called over there.

Donna answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi Donna, is my wallet over there?"

"I don't know. What does it look like?"

"Brad knows. It's probably on the kitchen floor."

"Brad already went to work," Donna said. "What's it look like?"

I was rather embarassed to tell her, but at the same time, it was just too good to pass up. "It's the one that says 'Bad Mother Fucker,'" I said truthfully.

"I was wondering if that was yours," Donna said.

"Anyway, can I come get it?" I asked.

"Sure," Donna replied.

"Thanks. See you soon."

"See you..."

When I got to Brad's place, the door was locked. I knocked and Donna answered. She was very differently dressed now--almost like she was going to a dance club. She was wearing black vynil pants and a tight leather top that didn't leave much to the imagination.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't know it was locked."

"That's alright," I said, non-chalantly ignoring my own sudden boner. Luckily, Junior High had made me very good at that. "Where is it?"

"It's upstairs. Hey, will you do me a favor?"

"Sure," I said.

"Brad cooks for me all the time, and I figured I should try cooking something for him sometime, so I tried out a new recipe this morning. I've tried it and it seems pretty good, but I'd like a second opinion. Would you mind?"

Something about this seemed odd. The sweet, polite smile on her face seemed out of character. But I was hungry anyway, having forgotten breakfast in the process of remembering my wallet, and any sign that she was warming up to me was a good one.

And if she was trying to seduce me, well...I wasn't sure what to think about that, so I figured I'd play it by ear.

"Sure," I said. We went into the kitchen, where she ladled out some sort of liquid from a large pot.

"It's some sort of soup," she said. "I'm not sure how to pronounce it. It's like galanka or something."

It certainly looked odd; it was khaki-colored, with strips of chicken, cherry tomatoes, and some sort of oil. When I tasted it, it was fairly odd--something one would probably need to get used to.

"How is it?"

"Give me a second to get used to it," I said.

"Okay, well, I've got a ton, so help yourself. I'll go get your wallet."

I ate more of the soup, eventually cleaning my bowl. It seemed strange that I had time to--it shouldn't have taken very long for her to get up the stairs and back down again. I was also feeling kind of woozy by now; while my tongue had learned to sort of like the soup, my stomach was apparently still saying "What the fuck is this?"

I put the bowl down, and as I did, Donna finally came back in. Her hands were empty.

"Couldn't you find it?" I asked.

"You won't be needing it," she answered. Her smile and polite demeanor were gone. If anything, she looked more frigid than ever.

"What? Was the soup poisoned?" I asked in jest.

She smiled, but somehow it did nothing to make her look any more jobial. "Take a seat," she said, indicating one of the dining room chairs. Not quite sure what was going on, I did.

"You know, when we were little girls, my little sister and I used to love watching our cats catch mice. The way they'd torture them, then devour them. It was so exciting...exhiliarating, to watch them suffer."

Was this an introduction to some sort of S&M bondage session?

"We loved it when the cat finally devoured the mouse..." she continued. "The mouse was utterly at it's mercy, and when the cat was done having fun with it, it would devour it utterly."

I would have been worried, but my stomach had settled down, so I probably wasn't poisoned. False alarm. And I was kind of getting turned on by this speech, not because of the morbid things she was saying, but by the way she was saying them--and the way she was walking around the table as she said them. Her intimidating aura had turned almost entirely sexy, like I was being chained down to a table and having pure hormones pumped into my body.

"My older brother got a snake when we got older...he sometimes made us watch when he fed it. He thought he was tormenting us, but secretly, we both loved it. In fact, we would sneak into his room sometimes and feed it ourselves."

As I watched her pace, I noticed the room was starting to look strange--very strange. It looked like everything was a mile away.

Maybe she had slipped me something.

Now I was getting worried.

"Um, hang on," I said. "What exactly is going on here?"

She smiled. "Stand up next to the chair. See for yourself."

I started to stand up, but I didn't need to--her point was made the second I slipped my leg over the side of the chair. It wasn't touching the floor; my foot was dangling an inch above the ground. Hopping off, I saw that I was barely as tall as the chair was, which put Donna at a good 18 inches taller.

I must have been hallucinating. There was something in that soup; LSD or some shit.

The stupid part of my brain thought about going with it in the hopes of getting into Donna's pants, but the smart part was already running towards the phone. I stopped short halfway there as Donna grabbed my hair and yanked back. I tried to fight her, but she was very strong, and I was pointed in the wrong direction--all I managed to do was cause myself considerable pain by indirectly pulling on my own hair.

Eventually Donna threw me to the floor. My head hit the tiling with a painful crack and I felt her foot stomp into my chest, pinning me in place.

Stiletto heels. How appropriate.

"You want to know what is happening?" she said. "Look around you. You're the size of a 5-year-old. Is it that hard to figure out?"

Wait a minute--if I was hallucinating, how did she know what I was hallucinating?

I must have been babbling and not realizing it.

Or maybe I hallucinated her saying that.

You know what? Being stoned sucks. I hated second-guessing myself like that.

"The last poor sap thought he was hallucinating," she thought. "I'm glad you're smarter than that."

Ouch, I thought. But she did have a point, in a way...everything felt real, and it felt like I was thinking straight...the only problem was that I was experiencing something that was impossible.

"This is impossible," I said.

"You never let me finish explaining," she said, stooping over me.

"You weren't explaining anything! You were talking about how you liked to watch snakes eat mice!"

She smiled. "You'd think you'd be interested in that, considering you're about to become the mouse."

My mind flashed an image of the tattoo on her hips.

"Oh, don't tell me you plan to eat me or something."

She smiled again, more broadly than ever, revealing her ivory teeth right up to the gums. "You're a lot smarter than the last guy! You should get a prize!"

I was breathing heavily--I was starting to get panicked. Ridiculous or not, this whole experience was extremely unnerving, and even if it wasn't real, I couldn't snap out of it.

"Oh, are you scared?" she said, pursing her lips in mock concern. The fingers of her left hand moved to her breast as she did so.

"You're insane!" I said in quite a stern tone.

"Maybe a little," she said with a smile. "But if watching little pricks like you squirm and beg for mercy is wrong..." her other hand slipped underneath the front of her vynil pants, "...well, you know the rest."

Okay, this probably counted as her being distracted. I swatted at her heel and rolled away, getting up and running for the door as fast as I could. Actually, it would be more accurate to say I tried to run, got caught in my own clothing which was now tent-sized, and basically humiliated myself in the two seconds it took for her to grab me.

At this point I was, by my estimation, only about two feet tall. She had her hand wrapped around my shin and was holding me upside down.

"That's okay," she said, "they all try to run. But at this point I think you'll fit."

I didn't have time to wonder what she meant to fit me into, because she showed me right away. She stuffed me into the kitchen garbage can. Trash crunched around me as she forced me to fit. Then, to make sure I didn't escape, she brought the lid down and sat on it.

"This is my little procedure for those who try to escape," I heard her say from above. "Get used to it. This won't be the worst place you go today. We'll just leave you in there until you've finished shrinking, shall we?"

I squirmed around inside the trash and even tried pushing up on the lid, but it was quite pointless. Bits of paper and plastic were jabbing me in places; others had slimy things rubbing up against them.

"Just how small am I going to get?" I asked.

"About an inch, maybe an inch and a half," she said.

"WHAT!? How are you doing this?"

"That's the nice thing about having a boyfriend who's a recipe hunter; you hear about all kinds of weird places to find recipes. You ever heard of the Chupacabra?"

"Yeah, they're some sort of mythical blood-sucking goat-eating thing from Mexico or something, right?"

"Wrong, yes, and close. They're a reptile that lives in South and Central America. They do eat goats, even though they're only the size of a large dog."

"Let me guess...they shrink them."

"Verrrry astute! Chupacabra venom shrinks it's target as it knocks them out. Of course, I don't want my prey being knocked out, so the venom has to be changed a bit...but luckily the local witch doctors have known how to do it for centuries."

"And I've never heard of this...why?"

"Because everyone who ever has heard of it is either shrinking people or has been shrunk."

I was getting very small now, and was sinking into the bottom of the trash bag. I was rapidly approaching her 'target size' of an inch or so, after which something terrible was bound to happen. I desperately tried to think of options. I hadn't found any by the time the lid opened and the bag was taken out. Light poured into the white plastic from underneath. I didn't know how large I was, but I was smaller than the banana peel that was next to me.

She carried the bag somewhere; all I could see were vague shapes through the white plastic. Then I heard her voice.

"Okay, there's two ways we can do this," she said. "Either you get in my hand when I stick it in there, or," I heard the loud noise of the garbage disposal coming on, "I can just start emptying the bag into the disposal and you can hope I spot you before you fall in. So here's your chance."

She put the bag down on the counter and I saw her hand appear in the refuse fairly close to me. It was larger than I was--I must have only been an inch or two. Even so, I ran towards it. As soon as I touched it, it wrapped around me and she pulled me out.

For a moment, all I felt was motion and warm skin all around me. Her fingers uncurled and I found myself sitting on her palm, looking straight into her eyes.

"Poor sap," she said with a smile. "The disposal would have been faster."

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked. "Eat me?"

"I'm so glad you asked...because this is my favorite part," she practically whispered. Her other hand was squeezing her breast. "You know what the worst part about watching those snakes eat was?" she said.

"What?"

"The fact that the mice were dead. The snake bit them, they died, and...it was over. Can you imagine what it would have been like if the mouse had still been alive?"

"Very awkward for the snake, I would think," I answered.

"I meant for the mouse," she said.

"I think it would be awkward for them, too," I said. Honestly, I knew where this was going...I was trying desperately to steer it away any way I could.

"Let me put this another way," she said. "What would happen if I were to put you in my mouth, chew you up, and swallow you?"

"I'd be dead."

"Exactly!" she said. "It would be over in an instant. And where's the fun in that?"

"Fun for whom?"

"For me, of course!" she said. "Who cares about you? You're just a little one-inch-wonder who can't even control his own cock!"

It was true--I was far more terrified than horny, but seeing her play with her own boobs had apparently given my hindbrain entirely the wong idea about what was going on.

"So you're going to make it slow...what, by torturing me first?"

"Nah. Too messy, and completely unnecessary."

"Why is that?"

"Do you remember the last time someone threw up on you?"

I wasn't sure what she meant, until I realized what was about to happen...then I felt the blood drain out of my face.

Seeing my reaction, she smiled. "Happy trails!" she said before suddenly thrusting her hand towards her gaping mouth.

"NOOOO!" I screamed as I flew right past her teeth. I hit her gullet like a bullseye, and within seconds, I felt soft, gooey flesh enfold my body from every direction at once. I felt something pushing on me from above as the gooey flesh slid against my skin. I knew exactly what was happening--I was being pushed down her throat. She hadn't just eaten me alive--she had swallowed me whole, and she hadn't wasted any time in doing it, either.

Suddenly, I felt a strong vibration in the walls of the throat, and I heard her voice--distorted though it was.

"Now you're inside the snake, but unlike the little mouse, you're still alive. Care to take a guess as to what's going to happen to you?"

I was too terrified and disoriented to think, much less respond. Not that she would have heard me. My body was tumbling every which way in the slippery tube, lubricated by thick droplets of saliva. My whole body was shuddering with terror and my innards felt cold despite the great warmth of the flesh that surrounded me.

There was a wet noise as I suddenly fell out of the throat, quickly replaced by the sound of my own screaming. The horrible stench of vomit filled my nostrils and, soon after, my mouth as I splashed into the chunky liquid that filled her stomach. As I floated in her puke I began to gag myself, as much out of fear as to the sudden exposure. My sternum clenched as I vomited, trying not to drown as I did so. When that wave passed, I still found the stench was invading my mind. My heart was pounding and I felt a sudden headache. I tried to swim to find something resembling solid ground. I found a soft, fleshy wall and tried to hoist myself up. It was far too slippery--apparently all I could do was continue swimming in her bile.

This must have been a nightmare. But it was far too intense. My mind couldn't come up with something this horrifically real. The taste of bile still filled my mouth and my body bobbed up and down with the chunky liquid that filled her stomach.

Meanwhile, Donna was having the time of her life, as she always did after eating a man. She was on the couch, her top having been taken off completely and her pants unzipped. The thought of someone trapped in her belly, being digested ever so slowly, turned her on more than anything else in her life. She was fingering herself, slowly at first, then faster and faster as she imagined my predicament, visualizing me swimming in her digestive juices.

By the time she was in full swing, her pants were around her ankles and she was bucking in the air like a wild bull--which was making my life a lot more unpleasant. Waves of vomit reared up and washed over me with each violent motion of her body. My eyes stung as the liquid washed over them, and I could barely hold my breath for long enough--once or twice I inhaled a few drops of vomit, causing me to violently cough up more of my own. Over and over again I was submerged, my whole body going underneath the hot liquid.

Finally, she climaxed. Calming down as her gasping breaths began to slow, she laid back on the couch and simply rested for a moment. She smiled and sighed. Another satisfying meal.

She licked her now-dry lips a few times and got up, gathering up her clothes and walking up the stairs. After throwing her sweaty garments in the hamper, she got in the shower.

To her, that was the end of it. Her mind didn't even stray towards me as she soaped herself up; she just started washing her naked body, with me trapped inside it.

My mind was awash with desperate thoughts. Was there any way out? Was I going to die here?

Donna, meanwhile, had ceased to care. I was a light lunch; case closed. At best, the thought of my situation would make her smile for a moment as she envisioned me being torn apart in her stomach.

I swam around the edges of her stomach trying to find a place that I could climb up, but it was too full--all of the walls were vertical and far too slick to climb. My lips and the edges of my fingers began to sting, as did--to my horror--my urethra.

None of this mattered to Donna, of course. She was busy showering. After a few minutes she started washing her hair, then conditioning it. A few minutes after that she was towelling herself off and heading for her bedroom to pick out something clean to wear. During all this time, I was churning away inside her stomach.

Indeed, it looked like digestion was going to be a very slow way to die. She had tried on three different outfits by the time she picked one, and I was still alive and kicking to stay above the frothing stew of her breakfast. Though just a little while earlier I was worried that I was going to suffocate in the fumes of her stomach, now I was beginning to worry that I wasn't, because that would mean I would feel a lot more of her increasingly painful digestive process.

The liquid in her stomach bobbed and waved a bit as she went down the stairs. I felt chunks of glop rubbing up against me from all directions every time the vomit moved. I nearly gasped when I realized that if I didn't get really lucky really soon, I was going to become one of those chunks.

Opening the door and heading outside, Donna got into the car and started it up. She had the day off and had decided to go shopping. Aside from the wavy motion of her bile as she started and stopped, this was a calm time in her belly...not that that made it pleasant by any means. By the time she walked into the mall I knew my fate was sealed--it had been too long for this to be a dream or a cruel joke. I was really trapped in her digestive tract.

She hit a few clothing stores first. Minutes stretched into hours as I fought her digestive juices. Thankfully, by the time she hit Nordstroms, a lot of the food had emptied out of her stomach, allowing me to rest on the spongey floor. It was a good thing, too, because I had all but blacked out in the muggy darkness. On the other hand, blacking out might not have been so bad. My skin was burning fiercely all over, and I feared that my eyes--which had hurt like crazy at first--had melted and emptied into the froth, becoming the first part of me to truly become part of her meal. I was too afraid to put my fingers in the sockets to check. My lips and fingernails were burning terribly too--they would probably go next. My dick still hurt like crazy too, and I was pretty sure it was a good inch or two shorter.

I knew I was in trouble when I heard a sloppy pile of something land next to me. Little bits of it flecked on to me as it landed--they smelled like pepperoni. A stream of liquid followed it, running against my skin and feeling cold. I recognized that smell too--it was diet coke. The low tide of her stomach was about to rise again.

Donna had gotten hungry again and decided to stop in for a slice of Sbarro's. I was almost too exhausted to panic as blob after slimy blob of chewed up pizza landed in the cramped space of her stomach and began to fill it, along with streams of soda. Soon I was floating again, and I didn't think I had the strength to keep fighting. A large blob of pizza landed directly on me and pinned me in place, leaving my head barely above the liquid mess. It was too heavy and solid for me to move under. I felt the stomach walls begin to move, grinding the food together, with me helpless to avoid it.

After her meal, Donna hit one more store before going home to watch television. She sat on the couch for hour after hour, slowly digesting me. My fading mind once again began to think it was all just a cruel joke and that she was going to throw me up, or that maybe it was all just a dream. My limbs began to go numb one by one--first they'd feel a horrible burning, then they'd feel nothing. Eventually, I went to take a breath and I felt the glop fall into my lungs from underneath. Her stomach moved and a big blob of half-digested pizza slopped over my face. My ribcage came apart as I was pushed along by the stomach walls, and everything finally went black.

By the time Brad got back, I was little more than a mush of bone and glop floating around in her intestines. She went to bed early and spent the next 12 hours absorbing the vast majority of my body, finally depositing what little was left in the toilet.

Nobody ever found out what had happened to me; not that they would believe that I had been digested alive by my best friend's girlfriend.