<span style="font-weight: bold">Ambrosia</span><br/><br/>The poor elf was facing the full fury of my stomach... which was swiftly enough to rouse him to conciousness... whilst his grevious battlewounds reduced him to a weak and helpless struggle that served only to stimulate my tum. I moaned load, and sat down hard, on the padded mattress that might've been his bed before he became food. "He's a fighter," I said to no-one in particular, "not that it'll do<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>any good, but its -<span style="font-weight: bold">ohhh</span>-<span style="font-style: italic">great</span>for me," I continued, gently rubbing my belly, whilst his full strength pounded uselessly against my bellymuscles... and all the excitement merely sent acids dripping and drooling faster and faster down the flanks of my tum, the better to digest with...<br/><br/>I was deeply aroused, and entirely incautious. Anyone might sneak upon me... and I'd welcome almost<span style="font-style: italic">anything</span>they did...