The drow would wait as well, sitting down as her hands rub her massive churning middle, her stuffed belly bulging out to her knees. She yawns softly, all the work being done by her guts sapping her energy, her victims now a soup of vegetable matter and stomach acid. She would rub and press into certain parts before letting out soft belches that would cause her to cover her mouth and blush a very dark red. By the time everyone is back her ashen-skinned drum-tight orb has shrunk slightly, but the drow hobbles to her feet anyways.<br/><br/>When Lang pats her middle she would blush, Lang feeling just how tight and hard her silky-smooth skin is, feeling like a rock wrapped in silk. She would help support it with both hands as she waddles down after the party