OOC: For me it’s fine to take a slightly slower pace - busy IRL too I’m afraid. But very much wanting to continue!<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Ambrosine</span><br/><br/>Rough hands seize and part my legs, only drooling as I struggle with all my might, considering my muscles in terms of<span style="font-style: italic">texture</span>and<span style="font-style: italic">taste</span>... then they probe the untouched<span style="font-style: italic">place</span>between my thighs and begin to push<span style="font-style: italic">things</span>into it. It hurts, physically. But not so much as the knowledge that what they’re putting in is not loving flesh to engender life, but rather vegetables and so, to make my death more<span style="font-style: italic">flavorful</span>... they continue till the bulge beneath my tum is noticeable, like I’m pregnant and starting to show, which of course I’ll now never be… I’m meat, just meat.<br/><br/>The acid stink of the sauce joins my tears, as they spread it on me - and I don’t scream until they shove it up my ass and<span style="font-style: italic">spray</span>...