Venturing inside your daughter's belly
Tiny Way Of Life
chapter 6
by
copier
· original author:
fearboy
You’re daughters chubby little finger wrap around your waist tightly as she lifts you to her face. The tears have been wiped away and she’s now looking at you with confusion. You told her to swallow you, a request you never thought you’d ask your own daughter. Now she was trying to figure out how to follow your order. Swallowing her smaller twin brother hadn’t been easy and she wasn’t sure how she’d swallow her slightly bigger daddy down her throat. With a sigh, you realize that you’ll have to explain to her how to properly swallow you.
“Honey, listen to me. Try putting as much of my body into your mouth as you can and start sucking on my body. You’re saliva will get me all wet and I’ll go down your throat much more effortlessly then Jet did. Don’t try to swallow me unless I’m completely covered in your drool.”
This is not something you want to discus with your daughter about. You can only hope that she doesn’t use your tips in the future with her brother. A horrific thought goes through your head, shuddering, you quickly call out one more instruction to your daughter before she put you in her mouth.
“Whatever you do, honey, don’t rub your tongue between my legs.”
“Why not daddy-doll?” She innocently asks and you go silent for a moment. You can’t tell your daughter in detail about why the area between your legs should never be touched by her tongue, so you vaguely say,
“It’s daddy’s special spot that only mommy can touch. Don’t put your tongue near it no matter what.” She nods, understanding enough to know what she shouldn’t do. Her fear of you and your son becoming her poop is gone and she isn’t just ready, she looks excited. You remind yourself mentally to sit down with her and talk to her along with your wife about the dos and don’t in handling her brother. You don’t want this to ever happen again.
“You ready daddy-doll?” Your daughter giggles and then opens her mouth. You take one look inside and get a moment of nausea at the sight of your daughter’s bright pink and saliva-coated maw looming a few feet away from you. No matter how many times you look into a mouth, the sensation of fear never leaves you. Remembering that your child had just seen what you were seeing and was now alone and afraid, you tell your daughter, “Time to swallow your daddy-doll.”
Perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm, your daughter carries you into her salivating mouth, pushing you onto her spongy tongue and pushing you in until your legs pass her gleaming white teeth. Her jaws snap shut, plunging you into darkness. You hear your daughter giggle causing hot air to blow against your face. The tongue slithered underneath you, tossing you to one side of it and then the other. Your battered and beaten by the soggy muscles, not a painful experience, but certainly uncomfortable. You swallow mouthfuls of your daughter’s saliva as you try to breath in any fresh air you can find.
Saliva dripped all over you and you wiped it from your eyes in time to see the roof of your daughter’s mouth coming at you. The tongue presses you against the roof of his mouth and slowly you move headfirst closer to the throat, which pulsed and waited to engulf you. You stare into the seemingly endless void that is your five-year-old daughter’s throat. Your son is down there, waiting for you to rescue him. You kick yourself forward, propelling you into the hot, tight throat ahead of him.
You hit the back of her throat and are immediately going downward. The throat grabs you as you fall, rippled around your body as you’re dragged to your daughter’s stomach. Your daughter swallowed several times as you went down her throat to get you down faster, making her esophagus clench around you each time she did. It always starts off feeling like your going to be plummeting down forever when your first swallowed, then the ride comes to a sudden end and it feels so short. Seconds go by after your swallowed before you spill into the stomach, landing on a pile of half-digested pizza.
Groaning, you pick yourself up and straight away start looking for your son. You’ve never had to look for something inside a stomach before and are finding it hard to search the pitch black belly. Stepping on squishy pizza and over pools of digestive acid, you finally hear something. You recognize it as your son crying and rush towards him. You’ll find your son, tell him everything would be all right and stay with him until this strange odyssey ended.
“Honey, listen to me. Try putting as much of my body into your mouth as you can and start sucking on my body. You’re saliva will get me all wet and I’ll go down your throat much more effortlessly then Jet did. Don’t try to swallow me unless I’m completely covered in your drool.”
This is not something you want to discus with your daughter about. You can only hope that she doesn’t use your tips in the future with her brother. A horrific thought goes through your head, shuddering, you quickly call out one more instruction to your daughter before she put you in her mouth.
“Whatever you do, honey, don’t rub your tongue between my legs.”
“Why not daddy-doll?” She innocently asks and you go silent for a moment. You can’t tell your daughter in detail about why the area between your legs should never be touched by her tongue, so you vaguely say,
“It’s daddy’s special spot that only mommy can touch. Don’t put your tongue near it no matter what.” She nods, understanding enough to know what she shouldn’t do. Her fear of you and your son becoming her poop is gone and she isn’t just ready, she looks excited. You remind yourself mentally to sit down with her and talk to her along with your wife about the dos and don’t in handling her brother. You don’t want this to ever happen again.
“You ready daddy-doll?” Your daughter giggles and then opens her mouth. You take one look inside and get a moment of nausea at the sight of your daughter’s bright pink and saliva-coated maw looming a few feet away from you. No matter how many times you look into a mouth, the sensation of fear never leaves you. Remembering that your child had just seen what you were seeing and was now alone and afraid, you tell your daughter, “Time to swallow your daddy-doll.”
Perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm, your daughter carries you into her salivating mouth, pushing you onto her spongy tongue and pushing you in until your legs pass her gleaming white teeth. Her jaws snap shut, plunging you into darkness. You hear your daughter giggle causing hot air to blow against your face. The tongue slithered underneath you, tossing you to one side of it and then the other. Your battered and beaten by the soggy muscles, not a painful experience, but certainly uncomfortable. You swallow mouthfuls of your daughter’s saliva as you try to breath in any fresh air you can find.
Saliva dripped all over you and you wiped it from your eyes in time to see the roof of your daughter’s mouth coming at you. The tongue presses you against the roof of his mouth and slowly you move headfirst closer to the throat, which pulsed and waited to engulf you. You stare into the seemingly endless void that is your five-year-old daughter’s throat. Your son is down there, waiting for you to rescue him. You kick yourself forward, propelling you into the hot, tight throat ahead of him.
You hit the back of her throat and are immediately going downward. The throat grabs you as you fall, rippled around your body as you’re dragged to your daughter’s stomach. Your daughter swallowed several times as you went down her throat to get you down faster, making her esophagus clench around you each time she did. It always starts off feeling like your going to be plummeting down forever when your first swallowed, then the ride comes to a sudden end and it feels so short. Seconds go by after your swallowed before you spill into the stomach, landing on a pile of half-digested pizza.
Groaning, you pick yourself up and straight away start looking for your son. You’ve never had to look for something inside a stomach before and are finding it hard to search the pitch black belly. Stepping on squishy pizza and over pools of digestive acid, you finally hear something. You recognize it as your son crying and rush towards him. You’ll find your son, tell him everything would be all right and stay with him until this strange odyssey ended.
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June 2
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