Stupid little story

Three days earlier, the pale witch, Alecia, tricked a villager into drinking a cursed potion. Immediately after consuming the wicked brew, the villager broke out into a cold sweat and got a terminal case of ligma and cooties. A paladin by the name of Melanie was called forth by the town Squire to seek justice and find the cure for this poor village farmer.

The paladin rode off with her squire on her gray stallion. She rode for hours into the early morning through the dense marshes of Mort Myre until she found the witch’s hut. She got down from her horse and approached the witch’s door.

“You have been charged with a great atrocity, foul witch! No longer will we tolerate your cursed potions and wicked spells.”

The paladin kicked down the witch’s door to find her standing in front of her cauldron. The witch turned to her and smiled.

“Hmm? What a rude entrance! You may imprison me if you wish, but you see... this antidote is the only one that will ever exist. It would be a shame if something happened to it.”

“Hand it over. Your arrest is non-negotiable.”

The witch furrowed her brow. She fumed at the stubborn paladin’s bullishness.

“Fine, have it your way. It is unfortunate that your farmer will suffer from ligma for eternity,” the witch said, before she swallowed the antidote and cackled in her wicked voice. She smiled and ran a finger down her throat and chest, stopping at her stomach.

“All gone.” She said with a delighted grin.

“What do you mean? Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I am a witch, I guess you would say!” the witch laughed

“Evil? Masochistic, I would say.” the paladin retorted.

The witch seemed curious

The paladin ran up to the witch, tackled her down, and shackled her wrists together before straddling her hips.

“Agh!” the witch yelled

“Do what you will. The antidote is no more!”

“Lilly, get the bucket,” the paladin yelled

“What bucket?” the witch questioned

“Ignorance, I see. You say that the antidote is gone, but it’s currently in your belly. Why on earth a person would put themselves through the process of stomach extraction is beyond me.”

“WAIT!” the witch yelled in horror. “You can’t be serious!” she said, covering her bare and supple abdomen with her shackled wrists.

The paladin’s squire approached with the shallow bucket, placing it by the witch’s head. The woman let of a sadistic grin as she grabbed the witch by her shackled wrists and held them above her head, sitting on them and grabbing her hair, then aiming her head at the bucket. The witch’s pale body twisted in place. Her chest heaved in quick shallow breaths, her soft and subtly toned belly quivered, exposed and vulnerable before the paladin mounted on her hips. The white-haired noblewoman flashed a sadistic grin before raising her fist.

W H A M!

The paladin buried her metal-gauntlet-covered fist deep into the witch’s upper abdomen with a heavy thud. The witch’s eyes crossed, a guttural groan escaped her throat along with thick saliva from her esophagus.

“Wait, it would take too lo- “the witch said sickly, right before the woman lifted her fist and slammed it back into her stomach, filing her throat with more bile, antidote, and what was left of her porridge.

“Oh, mercy! Please!” the witch begged.

They ignored her. The paladin was unrelenting as she shoved her fist deep into the witch’s abdomen again and again. Her face contorted in disgust and anger as she plunged her balled hand into the woman’s increasingly soft and tender belly, forcing more of her stomach’s contents into the metal bin. the witch grew weaker as her toned abdomen’s futile resistance was thoroughly defeated. She strained against the shackles holding her arms above her head, to no avail.

“There, it’s out,” the witch said with trembling lips.

“We have most of it, but we’re only part of the way there. The last little will take the most work!”

“You don’t need it all!” the defeated witch whined, her deep red belly trembling.

The paladin smiled. “We can’t risk it”

She said before she continued sinking her heavy fist into the witch’s now soft and doughy stomach, offering no resistance to her, her delicate flesh caressing the woman’s powerful fist as it invaded her precious vital organs. The sickening wet smack of her supple sweaty belly being pounded into submission filled the air, along with her shallow breaths and the contents of her stomach splashing into the metal bucket.

After what seemed like an eternity, the paladin stood up tot eh witch’s relief. She was barely conscious, gasping for breath, and her once pristine soft and elegant midsection was a deep red and purple.

“Here comes the last stage,” the paladin said

“What?!” the terrified witch let out before the Paladin’s heavy metal boot sank into her stomach repeatedly.

“UGHHHH!” she groaned in agony, interrupted by the liquids exiting her throat as the woman’s boot sank into her helpless, now pillowy soft, squirming gut again and again, each strike of the tall woman’s foot harder than before, as the last bit of her stomach‘s contents were forcefully expelled. Finally, after one final hard kick from the paladin, the witch had nothing left to give. Her poor stomach was empty.

The paladin kicked her over and grabbed the bucket, leaving her on the floor of her hut as she rode off.