Drink Me

Suellyn gazed at the sky-blue decanter on the table in the cellar, biting her lip as temptation grasped at her with hooked claws. Its rippled label, written in fanciful font, read “Drink Me”.

The glass was completely smooth; no insignia of its craftsman was present on the bottle. It felt chilled against her skin, as though it had been removed from a freezer. The air was cool in the cellar, but for it to be so cold was mysterious. It was unreasonably light, as if it was empty, yet she felt the liquid slosh inside.

She set the carafe down, thoroughly confused by its existence. She was scant moments away from calling down her husband when her willpower was dealt a staggering blow by the sudden onset of cottonmouth.

The sound of the stopper being removed from the phial was a symphony to Suellyn. So great had her thirst become that she had no choice but to put the decanter to her lips and drink. Liquid silk coursed down her throat and enveloped her. It was Ambrosia, the nectar of angels, bottled and abandoned in a cellar until Suellyn discovered it. It was a secret treasure for her and her alone.

Suellyn drank until the bottle should have run dry. Her stomach began to stretch from the constant stream; despite the feeling of tightness she continued with reckless abandon. Not until the fabric of her dress drew tight around her middle was the bottle thoroughly consumed. She pressed her hand against her full stomach and let out a sigh. She covered a hiccup in her palm and set the bottle down.

Where the decanter once stood, two scraps of paper formed an “X”. Their edges were rippled, like the label on the bottle. She turned them over and gasped. One scrap read “Don’t” and the other featured a drawing of a skull and crossbones. Her stomach churned when the scraps fit perfectly to the label. Then it grumbled. Then it whined. Then it swelled.

She leaned against the table and pressed her hand against her raucous belly. She thought that her mind had become disconnected when she felt a push against her hand. Thinking it was simply her breathing, she held her breath. Her stomach yet pushed outward. The rest of her followed.

Her body flooded. Liquid gushed from her joints, her glands, her very cells. She became instantaneously colossal – a roiling leviathan of flesh. Her breasts grew dizzyingly cartoonish, her hips and buttocks immeasurable, and her belly was an ocean given flesh. She wobbled, sloshed, and whimpered for help until her balance departed and she toppled over.

Drawn by the loud splash, Devon went into the cellar to investigate. From the stairs, he could see Suellyn’s hand gripping a bottle on the table. What he could not see was what became of the rest of his wife’s body. That was until he saw the sky-blue liquid coating the walls and dripping from the ceiling, and he collapsed.