tytovore: I cough and sputter in my dads gut as cold milk splatters on me from above. Weirdly enough
tytovore: I cough and sputter in my dads gut as cold milk splatters on me from above. Weirdly enough, I’m actually grateful for the cooling liquid splashing over my itching and burning skin. I’ve been in my dads stomach for over an hour and a half, much longer than he’s ever kept me or my brothers for one of his “punishments”. My older brother Erik got the longest sentence a couple years ago when he’d failed one of his classes at school. He’d been in there for 45 whole minutes before our dad released him. Later he’d told us that Dad’s gut had started churning and squeezing him in a rough, painful way and that after a little bit his skin had started to tingle. He hadn’t gotten anything below a B since then, not wanting to experience even the beginning of our fathers digestion again. Up until this point, the longest I’ve ever been in here was 15 minutes, and the only thing I’d ever felt was the soft, almost pleasant squeezing of the stomach walls. If it hadn’t been so disgusting and foul smelling in there, I might’ve enjoyed it. But then it wouldn’t have been much of a punishment. Now though Im long past what Erik had felt; he was right about how rough and tight the stomach walls churned about. I feel like every pulse of powerful muscle squeezes me into a tighter and tighter ball, making my bones and joints ache with the pressure. He’d also been right about the tingling, but he hadn’t stayed in dads stomach long enough for it to become the itchy, burning sensation that I’m now feeling. My eyes and nose sting in the rancid, acidic air. That’s also something none of us have ever experienced; yes it’s always been foul smelling in here the few times dad felt the need to punish me, but it’s never been actually painful to breathe as I inhale each breath of the acidic air. I guess the punishment fits the crime though, I mean I got drunk and crashed my car into a tree, which is probably the worst thing any of us boys have done over the years, so it makes sense that dad leaves me in here for way longer than he’s ever done before. I feel my prison jostle a bit as my dad sits down in his creaky recliner chair and flips on the tv, turning up the volumes extra loud so he can hear it over his loudly churning belly. I’ve got no doubt that my brothers are probably sitting there on the couch, eyeing Dad’s stomach and glancing at the clock watching the seconds tick by and probably thinking about how long I’ve been in here too. It’s going on an hour and 45 minutes now. I just grit my teeth as the burning starts to go from unpleasant to downright painful. Fuck he must be really mad this time, I mean he’s actually letting his gut start to digest me! *Just a little longer* I tell myself, trying to shut out the pain, and waiting for the familiar feeling of the stomach forcing me back up my father’s throat. “Umm dad?” I hear one of my younger brothers say hesitantly. “Ty’s been in there a reeeally long time… I think he’s really sorry now and he’s learned his lesson. You know he won’t do it again.” My father just grunts and I feel a hand rubbing over the bulges I’m making. “Yer damn right he’s never going to do it again… because he’s not coming back out again.” He says gruffly, as my brothers stare wide eyed. “This is a lesson for the rest of you boys that your old man’s more than willing to leave you to stew in this gut of mine if you fuck up badly enough.” No… No I must’ve heard him wrong. Did he really just say he’s gonna leave me in here?? I start to struggle, calling out to my dad. “Please dad, no!! I’m sorry I’ll never do it again, please just don’t leave me in here!!” “Sorry Ty, but you fucked up and now you have to face the consequences, maybe your brothers will learn from your mistake and I won’t have to digest any more of my boys.” He says giving me a pat. “Nononono!!!” I continue to scream and thrash as my dads gut began to churn and gurgle even more loudly. My skin feels like it’s on fire and the walls around me squeeze me so tight that it’s like I’m trapped in a rancid, slimy trash compactor. I begin to sob and beg, but my dad is ignoring me now. He belches instead of replying and the last of my foul, acidic air is snatched away from me, rushing back up my dads throat and leaving me behind to stew in the dark, stinking, churning pit of my father’s stomach. “Uurrrrp! Shh that’s it son, just sleep and let daddy’s belly take care of you” is the last thing I hear from Dad before I finally gave in and pass out while his stomach churns and gurgles contently around me, happy to finally be claiming one of the meals that has escaped its grasp so many times. -- source link