Augments

"So what's it like to have the augmentation?"

"It's an indescribable feeling. If I were to attempt a description of it, I would say visceral and exciting. Throughout the procedure, I had butterflies in my stomach. The surgery went off without a hitch, despite the unsavory nature of these black market operating rooms."

"Butterflies in your stomach..."

She was blushing. One deep breath later, her right leg was bouncing up and down in a nervous fashion. The butterflies are back.

She was a young lady in her late teens, maybe twenty, with, slightly brown, blonde hair and an unconventionally beautiful face. Pale complexion, she didn't go outside much. Glasses, no piercings. She was kind of short, but not really. I was 5' 10'', and she stood up to about the middle of my pecs with the very top of her head. We were both college students at a modest state university. I was a chemical engineering major, and she was a major in some bullshit liberal arts degree (the useless ones, you know, like women's studies). We were both undergrads.

This was part of the final project for her introductory psychology course. The assignment was to write a paper about an illegal activity that's popular, despite the legality. Most reported on marijuana. How boring. I had the augmentation, a way for men to reproduce through alternative means. It allowed men to carry to term. The male, however, needed a woman's genetic material. This was acquired through a process, that, involved consuming the desired female. After acquiring the augmentation, a man would devour a female whole and retreat to solitude for roughly two days. The artificial organs would extract the required genetic material, and the rest of her body would become fat on the consumer's stomach. During the two day "hibernation", the consumed would be roughly 90% completely converted into fat on the consumer's gut. After all, this activity was illegal and the consumer had to hide the growing fetus (thankfully men have a genetic predisposition to store fat on their gut, hence the prevalence of beer guts).

"Why did you decide to take the risk and participate in an illegal procedure."

"I mean, I've always wanted to reproduce this way. Regardless, tons of people smoke weed and speed. That's illegal too, you know."

"I mean, I guess... have you ever eaten anybody?"

"Casey, about a week ago."

"CASEY!? I had US literature with her. I guess she looked delicious, didn't she? ...so, are you about to be, err, pregnant?"

"It doesn't always work. The prey's chromosomes attach roughly 84% of the time. The other 16% of the time, they become fat with only a 35% efficiency due to the failure. As for her taste, no comment."

Her blushing returned. So did the butterflies.

It was time for me to ask a question. I already knew the answer. I knew where this was going. I'm not stupid.

"How do you feel about this? I mean, I gotta know what biases you're bringing into my interview."

"I uhh..."

Blushing

"...I find it fascinating, if you will."

I placed a hand right above her right knee. Her leg stopped bouncing.

In a quick flash of lust, both sexual and blood, she slid down my throat. Head first. Feet last. Tasting wonderful the entire way down.

She didn't fight it one bit. Her only input consisted of several moans. She didn't fight once she was inside of me either. My stomach had a few odd bumps, outlining her body.

You know how the next few days went.

I always wanted my child to have a face like hers.