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Description
Falling

That’s the only thing she remembers… so far. Falling.

Something had happened that caused her to fall, for a long time. A very long time. Then nothing. It just stopped.

Her vision is blurry and she’s laying flat on her back. She’s trying to piece together what happened and how she came to this concrete cage. She sat herself up and looked around the room. Nothing, except for a metallic door on one wall and a barred window on the other. How did she get here?

Someone grabbed her, that’s right. She remembers. She was lying on the ground, gasping for air, soaking wet. The waves from the lake brought her there. Waves in a lake? Right, she had fallen there. But one little girl creating a ripple that big in a lake? No, something else must have fallen with her. Several something actually, it must have been that stench was coming from. Smelled of… blood, not a strong smell though, the smell of pastries overcame it easily. By the life of her, she can’t remember anything past the fall. But she remembers what came after.

A scream.

Wait, no, that’s happening now. The small girl got up; she looked down and noticed her clothing. She’s dressed as a mistress. Odd. Another scream. She can hear it coming from the window. She walked up and stood on her tiptoes to see out. Another room and someone else is in there, He’s cowering in the corner. This is room is much darker than her room.

“Hello?” she calls out to the man.

“Huh?” he looked around frightened before noticing the small mistress peeking through the window. He got up and walked up to her. “Who are you?”

“Umm, I’m a mistress… apparently.” She answered. “Where are we?” she asked, before noticing looming in the darkness.

“You don’t know?” asked the man, grabbing on to the bars, and the fear in his eyes growing, unaware of the large figure looming closer behind him. “You’re-“

“Wait, what’s that?” interrupted the mistress, pointing to the figure. The man looked backed, getting only a glance of the large silhouette before it grabbed him and dragged him into the darkness, leaving nothing but the man’s screams as he disappeared. The mistress on the other hand saw it quite clearly, that was a claw. A clawed hand, bigger than the man who was standing before her, it just snatched the man in one quick motion. He didn’t even have time to grab onto the bars to save his life!

She had to think fast, if this hand is following an order, she was most certainly next. She looked around the room, nothing to defend herself. She pated herself down, maybe she had hid a weapon that she can’t remember, nope. She heard it, the door creeping open, she ran to the corner next to the door, rolling into a ball. There it was, the giant clawed hand, emerging from the open door. It was feather from the wrist back; it was searching for her, patting the ground carefully here and there. The hand hovered as it failed to find anyone in this cell and then began looking in the corners on the far side of the room, opposite from where she was, frantically trying to find it’s escaped victim, the young mistress. Lucky for her, the hand was at a position where it could bend back to search in the corner she was hiding in. After a futile search, the hand curled into a fist and slammed onto the ground before sliding back out. It left the door open, perfect.

The mistress was careful upon approaching the door; hopefully the hand wasn’t going to double back. She peaked through the open door way and saw it. The beast whose hand it belongs to and suddenly she remembered how she got here. She wasn’t grabbed; she was plucked off the ground by the flying beast, a griffin, swooping around the land, collecting victims to be part of her feast.

The mistress watched the griffin was searching through her buckets, trying to see if she had forgotten to seal away one of her snatched victims. Nope, the buckets are all empty. She tosses them aside and scratches her head, looking around the ground. She swears she had placed someone in that cell, she certainly remembers it. She pretty much went out of her way to get this one after the griffin had seen this person fly out of the dragon’s castle. Where could this one have gone off too?

Hiding from the griffin’s point of view, the mistress looked around the room from her open cell. The walls were littered, if not filled, with doors, which she figured would most likely lead to the cells of other victims. She scanned the area in search of an exit but couldn’t find any. How did this griffin even get inside if there wasn’t an exit in sight? And then it hit her, upon noticing the griffin’s wings, the mistress glanced up to find the answer to her question. At the top of this dome like structure was a large gaping hole, big enough to fit someone five times the size of the hunting griffin.

She tried to make a plan to exit through the hole, but no matter how elaborate or effective these plans were, they all had one flaw, how was supposed to get down from her cell? The drop was too far for her to jump off, there wasn’t anything soft for her to land on and the curve of the dome didn’t allow her to climb down safely. She could only think of one way to exit this cell and it required calling the Griffin’s attention. Only problem is she didn’t know how quick or smart this creature was and it would be impossible to find out from here. Well, not completely impossible.

The mistress, realizing she had no other chance to escape, drew in a deep breath before calling out, “Hey! Feather butt!”

The griffin turned to the yelling mistress, her golden feathers ruffling up upon been insulted, cocking her head to side upon realizing she was the missing morsel the griffin had been searching this whole time. “Well, well, well, look who decided to show her face,” the griffin said, walking towards the awaiting mistress, “I’m going to make sure that you are worth all the trouble you have put me through.”

The mistress looked at the griffin in her full stature. She was obviously a large beast but she a plump female figure, except for her middle, which must swelled out from all the people she had eaten. The mistress grimaced upon seeing the swollen orb of her gut, something about it struck a nerve in her hat made her hate this griffin. Well, hate her more than she already did. She did lock the mistress away and was prepared to eat her.

As the beast picked her up, the mistress looked at the beasts red beady eyes, full of greed and gluttony, the griffin’s beak twisted into a grin as she licked her teeth in preparation of eating this poor soul. The mistress thought fast, trying to come up with a plan to escape the griffin’s crushing beak trap. She thought and thought, and as she glanced at the gaping beak below her, realizing she was seconds away from being griffin chow, she came up with a plan.

“I can get you more food!” the mistress shouted, flailing her arms wildly.

“What?” asked the confused griffin, seconds away from dropping the mistress into her maw.

“I can get you more food! I know places!” the mistress began shouting, relieved that she got the griffin’s attention on time.

“I already get plenty of food, I don’t need you.” The griffin replied coldly, opening her beak again.

“Are you REALLY sure?” she asked quickly, feeling the fabric of her gown slipping from the griffin’s grasp, “Can you honestly tell me that you’re satisfied with the amount of food you collect?”

The griffin thought about this for a moment, holding the mistress suspended in the air. She dropped her ex-meal onto her palm and raised her eye level, “You can get me more food?” she asked her.

“Yes,” the mistress answered, thinking quickly on her feet, “I bet you empty out a lot of villages when you collect your victims, but have you ever thought about the delicacies that are left behind?”

“No, I haven’t!” answered the griffin shocked, thinking of all the villages filled with pastries that have been put to waste due to the griffin’s own negligence.

“Well, lucky you found me then, right?” the griffin nodded in response. “So, how about we get back to the most recent village you’ve raided and I’ll go and collect the extra baked goods that almost went to waste, yes?”

The griffin answered with a huge grin on her face, she kept a steady hold of the tiny mistress, spread her wings and took flight, shooting up into the air out of the hole in the ceiling. The mistress viewed the dome they were vacating and found that outside to resemble the inside, pale and oval like, almost like a giant egg. How interesting.

As the griffin neared the village, they pass a large, collapsing castle. It seemed like the castle and the mountain itself, was under unstable foundation, and seemed like something inside disturbed it terribly. Hate to be in there once it fully collapses.

The griffin landed with a loud thud, either from habit or the extra weight the griffin has been packing in. She set the mistress down before the village and plopped herself down onto the ground.

I’ll be keeping a watchful eye out for you, so don’t you think about escaping, or else,” the griffin huffed behind the tiny mistress, leaning close so that the mousey girl can feel every breath take of the griffin on the back of her neck.

The mistress nodded in response and entered village, the candle lights of the vacated homes flickering, the little flame dance on its wax totem. The mistress could imagine all the families being plucked up instantaneously, shoved into a bucket with their friends and loved ones as they frantically try to figure out what’s going on. She balled a fist with her hands and glared back at the looming griffin, who sat at the edge of the village, scratching her gut and looking off into the coast, watching the sun rise up. The mistress changed her plans; this was no longer an escape plan.

The mistress was hard at work, searching the village for any edible goods that she could find, bringing them back in a large wagon that she had found in her search. She went back and forth, coming back to the awaiting griffin with a wagon filled with pastries every time and leaving with the newly emptied wagon in search for more pastries.

The griffin would be thrilled upon finding the tiny mistress’ wagon filled to the brim with delicious delicacies every time she returned. She’d empty the contents of the wagon into her maw and devour them, filling her gut with warm, scrumptious pastries. Her belly would slowly swell larger with each intake of pastries the griffin would take. Each and every time, her gut would push forward a bit more as it strained to accommodate the growing amount of food inside.

The more this routine repeated, the deeper into the village the mistress traveled in search of more pastries. She would have gotten lost if it weren't for the looming, growing gut of the griffin at the edge of the village, which served as a north star for the mistress when she needed to head back.

The mousey mistress was growing weary with all the traveling, resisting the urge to grab a bite of the many pastries so she can keep filling the gut of the wretched griffin. She’d hate to think that the griffin would have been one bite away from meeting her end and the mistress had just eaten that bite.

The griffin was growing weary as well, in fact she was doing a lot of growing during her feasting, her gut had expanded a sizable amount during many, many, many returns of the pastry filled wagon of the mistress. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the mistress was up to something. This whole deal was strange from the start. She didn’t really care about what the mistress was going to do once she had let her loose into the village, but she figured she’d get some extra grub or she’d lose a morsel. Either way, the griffin of many other places she can look for food. But this, this is too much, it was hard to believe that she had ravaged the one village that apparently was having a Pastry Day and went crazy with baking goods just to have the luck that she was passing over. Something indeed was up.

The mistress reached another pastry shop, and like the rest, was practically ransacked of pastries, but she had work with this. She grabbed the flour, poured into a pot, mixed some milk into it and put to heat up while she went and collected the pastries. Once she had a sizable pile on the counter, she grabbed the cooking pile of dough she left on the stove (which she made out of flour and milk) and poured it into the cart, covering it with the pastries she found to convey a wagon full of pastries. She stares at the pile for a while, wondering how long she can keep up this charade before the griffin became the wiser. Before she got to pull the wagon back to the swollen beast, she spotted a long thin knife stabbed into a wooden cutting board. It seemed familiar to her, like she used something similar to it before. Considering the occasion she has been in and all the familiarity that she has been feeling, she decided to keep the knife close to her just in case.

The mistress reached the griffin, spotting the enormous swollen orb that protruded from her middle, slightly wobbling in place as it towered over the mistress and the village, casting a shadow as the sun rose higher.

“I see you’ve brought more food for me,” observed the griffin, eyeing the mistress suspiciously. She grabbed the wagon and stared at the contents.

“I did indeed, just like I promised. I told you there was a large amount of food left to waste her.” The mistress replied, faking a sense of pride.

“Yes,” the griffin emptied the contents and watched as her belly groaned against the new intake of baked goods entering, pushing the belly far out, giving out noises of strains and protest. “Oh dear, you hear that? Sounds like my stomach can’t seem to hold anymore,” commented the griffin, hiding the strained tone in her voice. Her stomach was pushed beyond in its limit as the dough inside it was getting warmed up by the summer air and began to expand, stretching the gut out. A groan echoes out of the gut.

“Oh, you think so? I think you can eat a bit more?” the mistress persisted, observing as the gut every so slight keep swelling, donning a light shade of red.

“You would, wouldn’t you.” The griffin shot back, “I know what you’re playing at! You’re trying to blow me up!” The mistress was aghast; surely she thought the griffin would have found this out when it was too late. She tried to but was too slow as the griffin plucked her off the ground, raising high above the griffin, hovering before the grand orb of her gut, hearing the groans and creaks coming from the strained skin. “You know, I agree with you on one thing, I do think I can handle a bit more. About say… a tiny, mousey mistress more.” She grinned maliciously.

The mistress was frantic, she kicked her legs and tried to squirm herself free from the claws grip on her. As a last resort, she stuck out her knife and began swinging wildly. The griffin saw this and chortled heartily, causing the orb to wobble dangerously. All this familiarity was stressing the mistress out; something must have happened that makes living through all of this a living hell for the mousey mistress.

“Are you trying to defend yourself with this tiny knife?” she asked, flicking the knife out of the mistress’ hand, causing to spin away, fly high above the griffin. “You might as well been defending yourself with a measly toothpick.” She retorted, laughing louder, her belly wobbling uncontrollably, causing the contents the contents in the gut to churn, creating louder noises of groans and gurgling, making the mistress nervous being so close to a noisy, stuffed gut. Stretch marks began creeping up the gut and the red hue spread and got darker. The mistress wasn’t sure if all this laughing was good for the naïve, cackling griffin.

And then she heard it, the noise of something cutting air, could it be? The mistress looked up and saw it. The knife! It was making it’s descend down. As the spinning kept it from rocketing down, it made its way down to its destination. If the mistress was lucky, the knife would pierce the skin and blow this griffin back to the hell hole it crawled out of. The knife’s spin had slowed down to a near stop and fell. The mistress followed the knife’s descend, slowly spinning in the air. It near the belly and disappeared over the curve of the orb. The mistress waited to hear sound of knife hitting a slap of meat, or the griffin wailing in pain or the noise of an over pressurized orb nearing its end. But nothing. She was confused until she heard the disappointing sound of metal hitting dirt. Unbelievable, her one hope in being free, dying away in a faint sound of sliced dirt.

The mistress turned to the griffin who was still chuckling to the unbelievably stop plan of her small meal, and for once, the mistress agreed.

“Oh god! That was a good laugh,” the griffin chuckled, “Now, where was I?”

“You were going to eat me,” replied the disappointed mistress, awaiting her doom with a pissed off face.

“Ah, right! Bottom-” the griffin was cut off by a loud noise coming from within her gut.

GROOOOAAAN

“Huh?” the griffin looked at her gut confused, noticing it had grown a significant amount since she started laughing. The gut was pushed past its limit, even past its limit’s limit, stretching it absolutely thin, failing to contain all the contents it had to hold in. It began to quiver softly before it grew into a terrible tremble, the belly pushing outwards one more time, making one final attempt to hold it in. The stretched marks reached the absolute top as the angry red orb let out a deafening groan, sounding like a furnace fit to explode.

GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNN

The mistress, happy to see this turn of events, turned to the griffin and gave her the flippin’ bird before yelling at the top of her lungs:

“Suck on that, bi-“

Sadly, none us will ever know what the small mistress was going to say as her final word was drowned out by the ear-shattering explosion of the griffin’s overtaxed planetoid gut, sending everything delicious, including the scrumptious mistress, flying far across the valley. And as the mistress flew across the plains, heading towards a snow covered mountain range, whose snow probably isn’t deep enough to protect the mistress from shattering her skull into the hard rocky mountain underneath *adjusts glasses to focus* she finally remembered everything.

Description
Falling

That’s the only thing she remembers… so far. Falling.

Something had happened that caused her to fall, for a long time. A very long time. Then nothing. It just stopped.

Her vision is blurry and she’s laying flat on her back. She’s trying to piece together what happened and how she came to this concrete cage. She sat herself up and looked around the room. Nothing, except for a metallic door on one wall and a barred window on the other. How did she get here?

Someone grabbed her, that’s right. She remembers. She was lying on the ground, gasping for air, soaking wet. The waves from the lake brought her there. Waves in a lake? Right, she had fallen there. But one little girl creating a ripple that big in a lake? No, something else must have fallen with her. Several something actually, it must have been that stench was coming from. Smelled of… blood, not a strong smell though, the smell of pastries overcame it easily. By the life of her, she can’t remember anything past the fall. But she remembers what came after.

A scream.

Wait, no, that’s happening now. The small girl got up; she looked down and noticed her clothing. She’s dressed as a mistress. Odd. Another scream. She can hear it coming from the window. She walked up and stood on her tiptoes to see out. Another room and someone else is in there, He’s cowering in the corner. This is room is much darker than her room.

“Hello?” she calls out to the man.

“Huh?” he looked around frightened before noticing the small mistress peeking through the window. He got up and walked up to her. “Who are you?”

“Umm, I’m a mistress… apparently.” She answered. “Where are we?” she asked, before noticing looming in the darkness.

“You don’t know?” asked the man, grabbing on to the bars, and the fear in his eyes growing, unaware of the large figure looming closer behind him. “You’re-“

“Wait, what’s that?” interrupted the mistress, pointing to the figure. The man looked backed, getting only a glance of the large silhouette before it grabbed him and dragged him into the darkness, leaving nothing but the man’s screams as he disappeared. The mistress on the other hand saw it quite clearly, that was a claw. A clawed hand, bigger than the man who was standing before her, it just snatched the man in one quick motion. He didn’t even have time to grab onto the bars to save his life!

She had to think fast, if this hand is following an order, she was most certainly next. She looked around the room, nothing to defend herself. She pated herself down, maybe she had hid a weapon that she can’t remember, nope. She heard it, the door creeping open, she ran to the corner next to the door, rolling into a ball. There it was, the giant clawed hand, emerging from the open door. It was feather from the wrist back; it was searching for her, patting the ground carefully here and there. The hand hovered as it failed to find anyone in this cell and then began looking in the corners on the far side of the room, opposite from where she was, frantically trying to find it’s escaped victim, the young mistress. Lucky for her, the hand was at a position where it could bend back to search in the corner she was hiding in. After a futile search, the hand curled into a fist and slammed onto the ground before sliding back out. It left the door open, perfect.

The mistress was careful upon approaching the door; hopefully the hand wasn’t going to double back. She peaked through the open door way and saw it. The beast whose hand it belongs to and suddenly she remembered how she got here. She wasn’t grabbed; she was plucked off the ground by the flying beast, a griffin, swooping around the land, collecting victims to be part of her feast.

The mistress watched the griffin was searching through her buckets, trying to see if she had forgotten to seal away one of her snatched victims. Nope, the buckets are all empty. She tosses them aside and scratches her head, looking around the ground. She swears she had placed someone in that cell, she certainly remembers it. She pretty much went out of her way to get this one after the griffin had seen this person fly out of the dragon’s castle. Where could this one have gone off too?

Hiding from the griffin’s point of view, the mistress looked around the room from her open cell. The walls were littered, if not filled, with doors, which she figured would most likely lead to the cells of other victims. She scanned the area in search of an exit but couldn’t find any. How did this griffin even get inside if there wasn’t an exit in sight? And then it hit her, upon noticing the griffin’s wings, the mistress glanced up to find the answer to her question. At the top of this dome like structure was a large gaping hole, big enough to fit someone five times the size of the hunting griffin.

She tried to make a plan to exit through the hole, but no matter how elaborate or effective these plans were, they all had one flaw, how was supposed to get down from her cell? The drop was too far for her to jump off, there wasn’t anything soft for her to land on and the curve of the dome didn’t allow her to climb down safely. She could only think of one way to exit this cell and it required calling the Griffin’s attention. Only problem is she didn’t know how quick or smart this creature was and it would be impossible to find out from here. Well, not completely impossible.

The mistress, realizing she had no other chance to escape, drew in a deep breath before calling out, “Hey! Feather butt!”

The griffin turned to the yelling mistress, her golden feathers ruffling up upon been insulted, cocking her head to side upon realizing she was the missing morsel the griffin had been searching this whole time. “Well, well, well, look who decided to show her face,” the griffin said, walking towards the awaiting mistress, “I’m going to make sure that you are worth all the trouble you have put me through.”

The mistress looked at the griffin in her full stature. She was obviously a large beast but she a plump female figure, except for her middle, which must swelled out from all the people she had eaten. The mistress grimaced upon seeing the swollen orb of her gut, something about it struck a nerve in her hat made her hate this griffin. Well, hate her more than she already did. She did lock the mistress away and was prepared to eat her.

As the beast picked her up, the mistress looked at the beasts red beady eyes, full of greed and gluttony, the griffin’s beak twisted into a grin as she licked her teeth in preparation of eating this poor soul. The mistress thought fast, trying to come up with a plan to escape the griffin’s crushing beak trap. She thought and thought, and as she glanced at the gaping beak below her, realizing she was seconds away from being griffin chow, she came up with a plan.

“I can get you more food!” the mistress shouted, flailing her arms wildly.

“What?” asked the confused griffin, seconds away from dropping the mistress into her maw.

“I can get you more food! I know places!” the mistress began shouting, relieved that she got the griffin’s attention on time.

“I already get plenty of food, I don’t need you.” The griffin replied coldly, opening her beak again.

“Are you REALLY sure?” she asked quickly, feeling the fabric of her gown slipping from the griffin’s grasp, “Can you honestly tell me that you’re satisfied with the amount of food you collect?”

The griffin thought about this for a moment, holding the mistress suspended in the air. She dropped her ex-meal onto her palm and raised her eye level, “You can get me more food?” she asked her.

“Yes,” the mistress answered, thinking quickly on her feet, “I bet you empty out a lot of villages when you collect your victims, but have you ever thought about the delicacies that are left behind?”

“No, I haven’t!” answered the griffin shocked, thinking of all the villages filled with pastries that have been put to waste due to the griffin’s own negligence.

“Well, lucky you found me then, right?” the griffin nodded in response. “So, how about we get back to the most recent village you’ve raided and I’ll go and collect the extra baked goods that almost went to waste, yes?”

The griffin answered with a huge grin on her face, she kept a steady hold of the tiny mistress, spread her wings and took flight, shooting up into the air out of the hole in the ceiling. The mistress viewed the dome they were vacating and found that outside to resemble the inside, pale and oval like, almost like a giant egg. How interesting.

As the griffin neared the village, they pass a large, collapsing castle. It seemed like the castle and the mountain itself, was under unstable foundation, and seemed like something inside disturbed it terribly. Hate to be in there once it fully collapses.

The griffin landed with a loud thud, either from habit or the extra weight the griffin has been packing in. She set the mistress down before the village and plopped herself down onto the ground.

I’ll be keeping a watchful eye out for you, so don’t you think about escaping, or else,” the griffin huffed behind the tiny mistress, leaning close so that the mousey girl can feel every breath take of the griffin on the back of her neck.

The mistress nodded in response and entered village, the candle lights of the vacated homes flickering, the little flame dance on its wax totem. The mistress could imagine all the families being plucked up instantaneously, shoved into a bucket with their friends and loved ones as they frantically try to figure out what’s going on. She balled a fist with her hands and glared back at the looming griffin, who sat at the edge of the village, scratching her gut and looking off into the coast, watching the sun rise up. The mistress changed her plans; this was no longer an escape plan.

The mistress was hard at work, searching the village for any edible goods that she could find, bringing them back in a large wagon that she had found in her search. She went back and forth, coming back to the awaiting griffin with a wagon filled with pastries every time and leaving with the newly emptied wagon in search for more pastries.

The griffin would be thrilled upon finding the tiny mistress’ wagon filled to the brim with delicious delicacies every time she returned. She’d empty the contents of the wagon into her maw and devour them, filling her gut with warm, scrumptious pastries. Her belly would slowly swell larger with each intake of pastries the griffin would take. Each and every time, her gut would push forward a bit more as it strained to accommodate the growing amount of food inside.

The more this routine repeated, the deeper into the village the mistress traveled in search of more pastries. She would have gotten lost if it weren't for the looming, growing gut of the griffin at the edge of the village, which served as a north star for the mistress when she needed to head back.

The mousey mistress was growing weary with all the traveling, resisting the urge to grab a bite of the many pastries so she can keep filling the gut of the wretched griffin. She’d hate to think that the griffin would have been one bite away from meeting her end and the mistress had just eaten that bite.

The griffin was growing weary as well, in fact she was doing a lot of growing during her feasting, her gut had expanded a sizable amount during many, many, many returns of the pastry filled wagon of the mistress. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the mistress was up to something. This whole deal was strange from the start. She didn’t really care about what the mistress was going to do once she had let her loose into the village, but she figured she’d get some extra grub or she’d lose a morsel. Either way, the griffin of many other places she can look for food. But this, this is too much, it was hard to believe that she had ravaged the one village that apparently was having a Pastry Day and went crazy with baking goods just to have the luck that she was passing over. Something indeed was up.

The mistress reached another pastry shop, and like the rest, was practically ransacked of pastries, but she had work with this. She grabbed the flour, poured into a pot, mixed some milk into it and put to heat up while she went and collected the pastries. Once she had a sizable pile on the counter, she grabbed the cooking pile of dough she left on the stove (which she made out of flour and milk) and poured it into the cart, covering it with the pastries she found to convey a wagon full of pastries. She stares at the pile for a while, wondering how long she can keep up this charade before the griffin became the wiser. Before she got to pull the wagon back to the swollen beast, she spotted a long thin knife stabbed into a wooden cutting board. It seemed familiar to her, like she used something similar to it before. Considering the occasion she has been in and all the familiarity that she has been feeling, she decided to keep the knife close to her just in case.

The mistress reached the griffin, spotting the enormous swollen orb that protruded from her middle, slightly wobbling in place as it towered over the mistress and the village, casting a shadow as the sun rose higher.

“I see you’ve brought more food for me,” observed the griffin, eyeing the mistress suspiciously. She grabbed the wagon and stared at the contents.

“I did indeed, just like I promised. I told you there was a large amount of food left to waste her.” The mistress replied, faking a sense of pride.

“Yes,” the griffin emptied the contents and watched as her belly groaned against the new intake of baked goods entering, pushing the belly far out, giving out noises of strains and protest. “Oh dear, you hear that? Sounds like my stomach can’t seem to hold anymore,” commented the griffin, hiding the strained tone in her voice. Her stomach was pushed beyond in its limit as the dough inside it was getting warmed up by the summer air and began to expand, stretching the gut out. A groan echoes out of the gut.

“Oh, you think so? I think you can eat a bit more?” the mistress persisted, observing as the gut every so slight keep swelling, donning a light shade of red.

“You would, wouldn’t you.” The griffin shot back, “I know what you’re playing at! You’re trying to blow me up!” The mistress was aghast; surely she thought the griffin would have found this out when it was too late. She tried to but was too slow as the griffin plucked her off the ground, raising high above the griffin, hovering before the grand orb of her gut, hearing the groans and creaks coming from the strained skin. “You know, I agree with you on one thing, I do think I can handle a bit more. About say… a tiny, mousey mistress more.” She grinned maliciously.

The mistress was frantic, she kicked her legs and tried to squirm herself free from the claws grip on her. As a last resort, she stuck out her knife and began swinging wildly. The griffin saw this and chortled heartily, causing the orb to wobble dangerously. All this familiarity was stressing the mistress out; something must have happened that makes living through all of this a living hell for the mousey mistress.

“Are you trying to defend yourself with this tiny knife?” she asked, flicking the knife out of the mistress’ hand, causing to spin away, fly high above the griffin. “You might as well been defending yourself with a measly toothpick.” She retorted, laughing louder, her belly wobbling uncontrollably, causing the contents the contents in the gut to churn, creating louder noises of groans and gurgling, making the mistress nervous being so close to a noisy, stuffed gut. Stretch marks began creeping up the gut and the red hue spread and got darker. The mistress wasn’t sure if all this laughing was good for the naïve, cackling griffin.

And then she heard it, the noise of something cutting air, could it be? The mistress looked up and saw it. The knife! It was making it’s descend down. As the spinning kept it from rocketing down, it made its way down to its destination. If the mistress was lucky, the knife would pierce the skin and blow this griffin back to the hell hole it crawled out of. The knife’s spin had slowed down to a near stop and fell. The mistress followed the knife’s descend, slowly spinning in the air. It near the belly and disappeared over the curve of the orb. The mistress waited to hear sound of knife hitting a slap of meat, or the griffin wailing in pain or the noise of an over pressurized orb nearing its end. But nothing. She was confused until she heard the disappointing sound of metal hitting dirt. Unbelievable, her one hope in being free, dying away in a faint sound of sliced dirt.

The mistress turned to the griffin who was still chuckling to the unbelievably stop plan of her small meal, and for once, the mistress agreed.

“Oh god! That was a good laugh,” the griffin chuckled, “Now, where was I?”

“You were going to eat me,” replied the disappointed mistress, awaiting her doom with a pissed off face.

“Ah, right! Bottom-” the griffin was cut off by a loud noise coming from within her gut.

GROOOOAAAN

“Huh?” the griffin looked at her gut confused, noticing it had grown a significant amount since she started laughing. The gut was pushed past its limit, even past its limit’s limit, stretching it absolutely thin, failing to contain all the contents it had to hold in. It began to quiver softly before it grew into a terrible tremble, the belly pushing outwards one more time, making one final attempt to hold it in. The stretched marks reached the absolute top as the angry red orb let out a deafening groan, sounding like a furnace fit to explode.

GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNN

The mistress, happy to see this turn of events, turned to the griffin and gave her the flippin’ bird before yelling at the top of her lungs:

“Suck on that, bi-“

Sadly, none us will ever know what the small mistress was going to say as her final word was drowned out by the ear-shattering explosion of the griffin’s overtaxed planetoid gut, sending everything delicious, including the scrumptious mistress, flying far across the valley. And as the mistress flew across the plains, heading towards a snow covered mountain range, whose snow probably isn’t deep enough to protect the mistress from shattering her skull into the hard rocky mountain underneath *adjusts glasses to focus* she finally remembered everything.