As she moves away you feel an erection bulging against your trousers. Sure you'll be a turd by this time tomorrow, but somehow Lindsey's planning makes it seem really romantic and erotic. You can almost feel your body tumbling around inside her belly already. It's no secret that you wanted to end up a piece of poop in a toilet bowl, but now that the moment is finally upon you, it seems almost surreal, not to mention incredibly sensual. As she leaves you in the couch with the scrap-book, you peruse the pages a little, peeking at pictures of Lindsey in planned poses and events surrounding the "digestion." Flipping to the end of the book, you see a section marked "Troy" with room for a date and type of "digestion." There's a picture of you and her on your first date, a picture of you naked with a little heart next to it, a picture of the two of you enjoying a romantic night together, and one that was taken shortly before you broke up, with a sad face and a broken heart next to it.

You screw up your face a little, frowning. Why did you break up with her in the first place? Sure, she was planning to eat you, but that's what you wanted! Had you really had life-changing experience in the time since you broke up? No, you were almost eaten by a fat, ugly girl who would probably have made a mess of you. You look up the stairs, nostalgic and more than a little smitten. You should go upstairs and apologize, you decide. There's still time to take a happier picture than the one she has in the scrap-book.

With a hoist you get up and sneak up the stairs. Why you were sneaking you had no idea, it just happened, maybe a consequence of always being in danger. You came up to the second floor, although you had never really been there before. Lindsey was never interested in sex with you, much to your disappointment, but as things were at least you'd be inside her in a manner of speaking. The thought makes you chuckle despondently as you approach her door. You hear voiced on the other side, and although you want to respect her privacy, your sharp ears catch the tail-end of a rather crucial sentence.

"... out of painkillers, but I'll just give him a sugar pill." There's laughter. "Yeah, I know! Serves him right for dumping me right when I wanted to eat him!" More laughter, giggling and almost childish. "Yeah, it's not like he's been digested before, I'm hoping he'll feel guilty and be quiet so it's more romantic. You know how gassy you get when they scream."

You slump against the opposite wall, a little surprised, and a little aroused. She lied to you, or maybe she just intended to after she checked if she had more anaesthetic? This wasn't exactly planned months in advance. Still, you didn't want her to know you heard that, so you had better...

"Oh, Troy...!" Lindsey said, standing in the open doorway. "Uh... What are you doing up here? I told you to wait downstairs." Her voice is matter-of-fact, but a small tremble in her voice and tightening in her neck tells you that some part of her cares if you overheard her conversation. You gulp, and tell her exactly what happened: "I saw our breakup picture in the scrap-book and I felt guilty... I wanted to come tell you that I'm sorry and I want to make it up to you, have a nice picture of us getting back together there instead..." You trail off, unsure what you are feeling: "I... heard part of your... phone call." you stammer, "And it's okay, I don't mind." You gulp, your mouth dry, and your eyes looking alternately down and up at Lindey's softly smiling face. "I want this to be perfect," you say, a smile creeping across your face, "please help me plan my digestion Lindsey."

Lindsey's face lights up in a broad smile, a couple of happy tears sparkle in the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Troy!" She runs up to you and holds you tight, kissing you deeply. You meet her embrace with one of your own, your arms wrapping around her warm body (your warm grave). Her lips are sweet and soft, each kiss rolling gently back and forth between you, tongues touching in a slow dance between your mouths. The kiss lasts for minutes, maybe ten, maybe twenty, you don't know. When she finally pulls her head back and looks deep into your eyes, her lips slightly parted and smiling, you feel so utterly seduced by her that you can barely keep eye contact without your heart fluttering and your skin feeling tingly. "Thank you Troy, I think this will be the most perfect digestion yet!" As though remembering something, she looks down, then back up, drawing a breath and losing the smile on her face: "You're sure you're okay with it? That you can put up with the pain without screaming?" You nod, although truthfully you have no idea. Like she said on the phone, you've never been digested before.

You smile slyly, looking into her eyes. "Hey, wouldn't this make a great picture?" She meets your smile and raises you a grin, leaning her forehead against yours and giggling. "Yes, it would!" Taking out her camera, the two of you smile to the lens, holding each other closely, faces touching, the dinner and the woman about to eat it. The camera immortalizes the moment, and as she puts away the camera she looks you up and down, hungrily now. Her body croons against yours alluringly, and she rubs against your cock in the most intoxicating way. Your breath quickens, coming in short, fervent gasps as her hips rock against yours. "Sure you don't want sex first?" you ask, almost desperately, cringing and throwing your head back. She smiles, at you, her smile becoming more conciliatory and emphatic: "No Troy, no offense but... you're a man." You sigh and nod, meeting her "you didn't really think you had a chance of that?" look and feeling further emasculated, if that's even a term anymore. Even today sex is seen more as a submission on the woman's part unless the man is unwillingly raped, so you're not surprised that she feels that way.

As she edges closer, you kiss her again and take your clothes off. She savagely rips them even as you are unbuttoning and undoing them. Breathing heavily into your face, she licks you, moaning in between her own fervent breathing. "You won't need those anyway" she seethes, throwing the rags across the room. Her enthusiasm is scary and incredibly erotic. You respond passionately to her, throwing your tattered rags away. "Eat me, baby..." you whisper in her ear, and she bites your neck playfully, licking you up and down, sucking on your skin. Her fingers run over your body, making rivulets up and down your skin as she touches and grabs. Finally, she slows, placing her hands on your shoulders and pushing down. "On your knees..." she says, and you obey.

She fondels your hair and face for a couple of minutes before leaning down, whispering in your ear: "I can't wait to take your picture in the toilet bowl, Troy... You'll look so perfect, I'm so glad we planned this together." You smile and kiss her cheek, responding with a calm, loving voice: "Me too baby, me too." You feel her mouth start to wrap around your head, sliding down and engulfing you. First you can't hear or see, then you can't feel the floor underneath your legs. Disorientation grips you and you feel as though tumbling down her esophagus until finally there's nothing to register but darkness, wetness, and acrid aid. You are in her stomach, already churning as you assume a fetal position and try to get comfortable.

Lindsey, in the meantime, smiles, rubbing her belly and taking out the camera again, setting it on a tripod and timer and taking a picture of herself aside the tattered remains of her clothes, holding her burgeoning tummy. After that she retires downstairs and lies back in her Lazy Girl™, putting on a romantic movie and sipping a glass of wine. Inside she can feel Troy start to decompose, but he doesn't struggle or scream, and she lies back, smiling happily as she watches the new filming of Gone With the Wind™, now featuring substantially more vore as Scarlett O'Hara searches for a man made for her. As Troy is painfully digested inside her she sips her wine and dries a tear for Rhett as he accepts his fate at the end, eaten by Scarlett after a romantic scene where he almost escapes, but returns to her willingly. It so reminds her of her precious Troy.

Taking care not to digest Troy's soul, Lindsey falls asleep after her dinner, awakening a few hours later as she feels that she has to help Troy "pass on." She giggles to herself; it was a bad joke. After taking another picture for the scrap-book of her sitting in her chair with the wine, she returns upstairs and finds the bathroom. Her toilet may not be big enough to flush Troy completely but she recalled the one thing she hadn't decided yet: Whether to keep the turd or flush it. Part of her felt that it would be better for her to let go of Troy and let him go where all men go: to the sewers. Then again, he was such a sweet-heart, and he didn't even stir when she was digesting him. He truly knew his place, but did that mean she should keep him around? Maybe she could put him in a display case for the long, thin turd type...

She contemplated further as she sat on the toilet, a long wet fart preceding Troy's expulsion from her ass. He came out as they had planned, in a long, thin coil that circled and lay down nicely in the toilet bowl. After a long, long time squeezing out a perfect coil of Troy, letting out a final fart and a small rivulet of pee to top him off, she grabbed her camera and took a couple of pictures. One of just Troy, another of the both of them, and one of her leaning over to flush him, bending over alluringly and looking down the toilet as she did. She took out a picture of him she had been saving and wiped her ass with it, crumpling and throwing it in the bowl, her hand still on the flusher.

Should she...?