Abigail rested a hand on her stomach, tracing slow circles over her soft, warm skin. A pleased sigh escaped her lips as she felt the last weak struggles inside her. Yet, as the moments passed, something shifted. The satisfaction she had anticipated—dreamed of—began to fade. An unsettling weight settled in her chest. Guilt.
Her breathing became uneven. Her fingers, once relaxed, pressed deeper into her stomach. She could still feel you inside—faint, weak, but undeniably there. This wasn't just an abstract fantasy anymore. It was real. You were real. And she had taken you. Her throat tightened as memories flooded her mind—your voice, your presence in her life, the way you always looked after her, always gave her everything. The thought of you slowly fading away, becoming nothing inside her, made her stomach churn. She inhaled sharply, a hint of panic creeping in.
"What have I done?" Her voice came out shaky and weak.
Her heartbeat quickened. A lump formed in her throat. Then, before she could stop herself, she sat up abruptly, pressing a trembling hand over her lips. I can’t do this. She doubled over, gripping her stomach as nausea twisted through her. She felt herself fighting against her own instincts, her body reluctant to release what it had already claimed.
A strangled cough—pressure—movement—And then, with a sharp gasp, she heaved. A warm, slick mass spilled onto the bed. You. The entire bed was covered in watery vomit, and you were among the vomit, just lying there.
Gasping for breath, shivering violently, covered in the remnants of where you had just been.
Abigail’s body trembled. She stared, frozen, her hands gripping the sheets. For a long moment, she said nothing, just watching as you coughed and struggled to gather yourself. Her mind raced.
"I almost. I almost…" Her eyes were wide with what she had entered, the reality of the situation and what she had done to you were being processed into her mind one by one.
Your body curled weakly, exhausted beyond anything you'd ever felt. Your skin was flushed, damp, shaking as you took in ragged breaths. She swallowed hard. "H-Hey, Dad..." Abigail’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as if the words struggled to escape her lips. Her eyes remained fixed on the mess she had just made—you, trembling and drenched, lying weakly on the bed.
Her body shook slightly. Was it from fear? Sadness? Or maybe disappointment? She wasn’t sure. She had waited for this moment for years, never once considering that it could turn into such a disaster. This was supposed to happen. The law, society—everyone said this was natural. It was her right.
And yet, deep inside, she felt… empty.
She placed a hand on her stomach, feeling the lingering warmth. Just minutes ago, you had been inside her. You were supposed to be a part of her now. And yet… here you were, struggling to breathe, still alive... She lowered her head, rubbing her arms anxiously.
She had been waiting for this since childhood. The moment she turned sixteen, she had exercised her legal right to shrink and consume you. It was the law—women were superior, and men were merely a resource. Women had the right to devour men, to absorb them into their bodies, and the system fully supported this.
Even the judge had been on her side. When the verdict was read, no one had questioned it. It was simply how things worked. A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t look at you.
This had been her dream. As a woman, she was supposed to embrace her superiority. To truly be one of them, she had to do this. But when she swallowed you—when she truly felt you inside her—
It wasn’t what she had expected. And now, having brought you back out… the emptiness inside her only grew.
If she had gone through with it—if she had truly completed the process—she would have never seen you again.
No more waking up to the smell of breakfast you had made. No more surprise chocolates you would bring home just to make her smile. No more father to comfort her when she felt lost. Her hands clenched into fists as she took a shaky breath.
She hated the way you were looking at her. There was no anger. No accusations. Just exhaustion… and something close to acceptance. As if you had been ready to let her do it. But she couldn’t.
Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes glistening but refusing to shed tears. When she finally spoke, her voice was fragile, uncertain. "Are you okay, dad? Please talk to me" She reached out hesitantly, her fingertips brushing against your damp skin. You flinched at the touch, and she quickly pulled her hand back, her face flickering with uncertainty.
“I-” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Your tired eyes met hers. She looked conflicted—relieved, regretful, lost.
You couldn’t muster a response. Your body was too weak. A heavy silence stretched between you, filled only by your exhausted breaths and the lingering warmth of where you had been.
Then, finally, Abigail exhaled a shaky sigh. Her fingers curled into her palms, and she looked away. She had spared you. But the hunger in her eyes hadn’t disappeared. She still wanted you.
Not as food—at least, not now. But you were still hers. You had always been hers. And now that she had taken you once, she knew she could do it again.
Slowly, a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, though something deeper still lingered in her expression.
“Looks like I’ll have to find another way to keep you,” she murmured.
Her fingers tightened around your weakened form, cradling you gently. A quiet moment passed between you. Abigail sat cross-legged on the bed, cupping you in her warm hands, her eyes scanning your tiny body with something unreadable—affection, guilt, possession. Maybe all three.
Your body still ached, weak and trembling, but your mind had begun to clear. You swallowed hard, your throat raw, and forced yourself to speak.
“Why did you take me out?” Your voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
Abigail blinked, as if the question caught her off guard. Then, she let out a small chuckle—soft, hesitant, but undeniably amused.
“You’re really asking me that?” she said, shaking her head. Her fingers curled slightly around you, holding you just a little tighter.
You stared up at her, waiting.
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
That wasn’t entirely true, and you both knew it.
Abigail bit her lip, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I wanted this for so long. I was so sure…” she trailed off, frowning. “But the second I felt you in there—like really felt you—something just… stopped me.”
She looked back at you, her expression torn. “I thought it’d make me happy, but instead, I felt like I was losing something.”
You didn’t reply. You weren’t sure what to say.
Abigail exhaled sharply, then, as if flipping a switch, her demeanor shifted. The sad, conflicted girl from moments ago was suddenly grinning down at you, her eyes gleaming with something playful.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna let you go,” she said, her voice teasing. “You’re still mine, Dad. Just... in a different way.”
Your stomach twisted at her words. “What does that mean?”
She giggled, tapping a finger lightly against your tiny chest. “Well, think about it! You’re this small now, and I get to decide what to do with you. There are so many fun things I could try.”
Her grin widened as she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “I mean, I could keep you as my little pet. Carry you around in my pocket, maybe even sleep with you curled up in my hand. That could be cute, right?”
Your breath hitched, but she wasn’t done.
“Or…” she hummed, tilting her head. “I could treat you like my personal little toy. You wouldn’t really have a choice, would you?”
You shuddered. “Abigail—”
She laughed, clearly enjoying the effect she had on you. “Relax, I’m just teasing!” she cooed, stroking your head with the pad of her finger. “Well… mostly.” Your body tensed again. “So… what are you going to do with me?”
Abigail’s smile lingered, but her eyes darkened slightly. “I haven’t decided yet.”
She lifted you slightly, holding you up to her face. Her warm breath washed over you as she spoke, her voice lower, more thoughtful. “But one thing’s for sure. You’re not going anywhere.” A pause. Then, a soft giggle. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see what I decide.”
"But I must say, you are lucky, Dad. For being so merciful. And I have also saved you a lot of trouble." Abigail said. You thought for a moment, what was she talking about?
"What do you mean, Abigail?" You asked, curiously. She sighed and her expression softened.
"What I mean is, you're little now and you belong to me, Daddy. That means another woman can't sue you to eat you and take you away."
Your face lit up at Abigail’s words, it was true, you were saved from being sacrificed to another woman and besides, Abigail had forgiven you.
"Y-you're right!"
You mumbled. You were now willing to do anything for her rather than be her meal, you were at her mercy, it was terrifying but you accepted it anyway. Then you spoke in a low voice.
"Thank you Abigail."
You said it sincerely, because even in such a well-ordered world, you felt proud to have a compassionate and kind-hearted stepdaughter like Abigail.
She had pushed her own desires aside for your sake, so from now on you would do anything to fulfill her wishes. Abigail was still there, lost in thought, and with you in her hands, she got up from the dirty bed and dragged you into the bathroom.
She was trying to decide what to do with you while she was washing the dirt off of you. She finally carried you into the living room and held you in her arms.
1-She Keeps You as Her Pet.
You are no longer her father. You are her possession.
2-She Uses You for Her Own Amusement.
Abigail’s playful ideas take a more mischievous turn. She sees you as more than just something to care for—you’re something to entertain her.
Your fate is in her hands, and she fully intends to enjoy every second of it.
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