Rita, End of the line
1st Stop


Written by Septia.


“Welcome, welcome one and all to Bodinborg Park, where the cobblestone is fantasy and the mortar made of dreams, what better way to spend a sunny summer day than on wild rides and complimentary ice cream, applies-to-Bodinborg-brand-cones-&-stick-icecream-availability-may-vary.” The announcer called out to the droves of people walking across from stations to stations in the bay area outside the park, tall walls of faux-boobbelestone shaping the guise of an old fortress with numerous rides and peeking over top followed by cheers and shouts.
	Crowds funnelled into lines as they approached the ticket booths, awaiting entry into the past those high walls. 
	“And here's your ticket, don't forget your stamp, have a pleasant fantasyful day in Bodinborg,” Louise said behind the screen of the ticket booth, with all the late morning enthusiasm she could muster, waiting for the family to walk up to the turnpike, where a button beneath the ticket desk opened the valve to let them pass through the revolving metal bars. “And welcome to Bodinborg, will that be general admission for two, or would you like to take our special offer for…”
	“Hey, watch it.” 
	“Oouch, ok.”
	“Hey who do you think you are, cutting in line like that?” 
	Louise's eyelids drooped. Great… A troublemaker. Peering beyond the couple she was servicing, she saw a divot in the crowd, working its way closer to through the funnel of people towards the ticket booth. Flashes of blue in an inky black shade flashed, tingled between patrons, until the woman emerged from the crowd into the line, walking beside it, the blue overcoat pushing aside people with no sense to veer out of her path. 
	“Ma'am, neither of us wants security to get involved, we will handle admission as fast as we can-.” Louise said, but was met by nothing but the cocoa dark, clean shaven head of the woman passing her by, straight for the turnpike gate. 
	Their eyes affixed in the distance, expression mute, eyelids resting quarter down low. 
	“Ma'am, you will have to pay, as do everyone else.“ Louise informed. 
	The woman walked into the turnpike with a clank of metal -Ctthnkkkgl-. Her pace halted, observing. Seconds passed, the surrounding area dominated by an aura of awkward confusion. 
	Louise picked up the park phone. 
	Rita's pupils eased down, glancing to the metal bar halting her progress. 
	The phone line beeped in Louise's ear. 
	One more step, Rita planted her bare sole forwards, onto the cobble beyond the steel bar. Knees bent, as she leaned into the step. 
	The metal straddled, then creaked like a clockwork toy grinding at its gears -Chhgrrrrrrkt-. 
	Louise’s eyes bulged. Hearing the vibration of buckling metal growing to a milling cacophony… and the bar, bending forwards, the stock block in the mechanism contorting. -Chhrkkt-. She snapped her free hand to the button, unfettered the bars, which spun the turnpike into motion after Rita's step, the overcoat cloaked woman following through her calm pace, eyes aimed forwards, while the mechanism revolved freely behind her. 
	The ticket lady grimaced. She had let whoever this was into the park, but it was better that than having to foot the restitution bill for damaged property. 
	“Security,” came a voice in the horn, “what's the situation?”
	“We got a B2 in progress,” Louise mumbled.
	“An unregistered entry, got it. Did you get a good look at them before they snuck in?”
	Louise paused, glancing at the woman walking into the throngs of patrons at a leisurely, phlegmatic pace. “You could say that. Dark complexion, shoeless, midnight overcoat, with no hair to speak of.” 
	“Understood, moving out.” 
	“Yeah, just, try not to get in her way.”
	“What?”
	Louise clicked the phone back in its holder, brushed her hair back, and sighed. She’d done all that she was required to do. “So will that be two admissions, our couple's package, or…?”


~ 1 ~


Worn and mended skin layers under Rita's soles clacked against the paved cobblestone walkway. Rita’s lips shifting as she walked to a steady rhythm. Though in the bustle of the park guests, she was just another visitor.


“Welcome, welcome one and all to Bodinborg park,” the announcer addressed a crowd of gathering patrons, forming a broad circle around them. “We all know you have an exciting day ahead of you, but before you enter the park proper, it is my privilege to introduce you to someone who wishes you all a wonderful experience. Please, put your hands together for… Cartoon Show Incident star herself, Saga Sallyvate!” 
	The crowd murmured until they saw a silhouette appear from behind a stall. A humanoid beetle costume in a cartoon aesthetic leaping out and taking the center of the circle as its stage. Cheers rung out as the yellow beetle mascot waved and strode to and fro with exaggerated steps. 
	“A true rascal, but who wouldn’t find such a scamp charming,” the announcer continued, corralling the crowd. “But as you may know, Saga Salivate is a busy bug, and after a 'lil meet and greet she's gonna have to…” The announcer said and held their microphone to the crowed who all responded. 
	“Cheese it.”
	“Cheese it.”
	“Cheese it.”
	The mascot posed in time with hearing the crowd cheer her catchphrase. 
	“So then everyone who has our meet-and-greet pass or part of our bundle deal, please step to the front of-”
	-Twbbddd- Rita plowed through the crowed, the steady gait leading her straight past the imaginary border the crowd held themselves on, breaching the magic circle and past the accosted actor. 
	“Aa… I see we, have a very, enthusiastic fan here today, what say you we-.”
	-bwwrrrt- A buzz emanated from the bulge in the woman's throat, she halted at three quarters through the flared – Standstill as a statue. Her throat contracted -Chrhgl- -Clgptch- and hoisting a dome up through her in her neck, through her gullet, into her cheeks. Rita parted her lips to divulge the hum -bwwrrrz- -wrrr-Gllach-BWRRRRRWWWz-, and fished out a flip phone through her maw, she flicked it open with a tether of slime flung off the screen. 
	“Rita.” she spoke, in a tone that piled on the atmosphere like an anvil of meteorite, alien in its density yet fascinating in its dullness, lacking undertones. 
	The masked actor turned to the announcer. 
	He mouthed in response: ‘I do not know, just, improvise or something.’ 
	Saga looked back to the woman. 
	Rita nodded against the phone, without speaking any reply. 
	The beetle snuck closer, reaching for the phone. 
	“Ah, ever the ‘lil burglar, sometimes Saga's pilfering is a boon for justice, to teach some people,” the announcer emphasized, “to not disturb the peace.”
	The crowd was rattled, though seemingly buying it as some positive affirmations and sentiments roiled, anticipation as Saga closed in. 
	And snatched a hold of the phone. 
	“Roger.” Rita responded. Snapped the phone shut, and drew it back to her maw, … along with the mascots' hand. 
	-Gwwmnpngshhlp.- Lips enveloping the moulded polymer, latex and cloth along with the phone. 
	Saga stumbled, drawn with Rita's motions and struggling against her, as she swallowed -GLllolrroooohrp- and the arm sunk past the reach of her lips. 
	The announcer stared, steadies his feet and called out. “All with Meet-and-Greet bands, gather up and help Saga.”
	A group converged on the mascot, folding in, tugging with all their might in opposition to the force of the woman's swallows 
	-Gruuramggah- then in one gulp, seams unraveled -Chhralptatha- and the arm tore, the costumed Saga stumbling back into the embrace of fans, as the cloth and polymer arm sunk -Clllgpwtu-Oogmspah- down Rita's neck. 
	Without batting an eye, Rita continued. Walking down through the crowd which refused to part, the respectful distance of audience and performers shattered. The announcer desperate to mend and remedy the chaos. But Rita had places to be. 


~ 2 ~


The line was a real drag today, so many people unsure where to go for what, why their bands weren't working, when were the Saga Sallyvate meet and greets? And where, where are all the bathrooms? There wasn't like there were signs all over the park pointing them towards the right directions. But gotta keep her job busy right? Can't leave the lady at the info booth alone for one moment oooh no. 
	“Excuse me, where is-.” 
	“Bathroom's to the left under the alcove marked with a crescent moon…” She responded robotically.
	“Ah… but I am looking for-.”
	“You'll find it, neeeext. How can I help you…?” She dismissed him and looked off into a magazine. Couldn't finish one article before someone pestered her with questions – She had yet to, start, an article, but that was besides the point. 
	-Gllooumogh- A loud guttural clench and contraction rumbled from the back of the line. Milly didn't care. 
	“Do you know how long the line to Gaztrix-Rousing-Rise is?” 
	“About to be one person longer when you find it, next.” 
	-Glloumog- -OOOMLPGH- -Gloomough-. 
	“Aaha-. Mmofhh.” 
	The noises were getting closer, though Milly was started to get distracted by a fascinating… Article… 
	“Ehm… Ah m-miss, would you be able to-oompohgg.” 
	Speak up, I am not paid to liste-.” Milly stared into a conglomerate of limbs, arms, legs and the odd head protruding in front of her: a flower with petals made of a range of skin hues, all culminating into a deep dark pit of pinched flesh. -Shhlluuompgh- With a churn of deconstructing a lasagna, the bouquet of limbs withdrew, reeled into the depths in a collating of squirms, stemmed and others by the lips crawling over them and sealing with a draining slurp -Shhrglltptg-. Rita stood there, face unloving, the uncontrolled thrashing of the queue notwithstanding, the bloated cheeks jostling too and fro with broad protrusions sailing up and sinking back down in melange of dunes. 
	“Ghlmm lorrgkjkknng fer hah gorl.” She mumbled.
	“W-What?” Milly mumbled. 
	Rita stared back at her, her cheeks concaved with a trawling suction -Ghhiolroghp-, the drives of squirming limbs siphoned from her neck down to her gullet, warping it wide in a bloat of distorted meat winding its way down her neck, the struggles growing all the less frequent as it funneled through her frame, steamrolled under her chest, and compiling into her stomach. The mountain of umber skin cleaving through the midnight coat, drooping forwards with contorting bulges sprawling onwards, till it relates as one hulking drove of bagged gelatin out of her clothes, dipping and jostling, faces, handprints, limbs and contours of the collates queue worming within. Rita breathed out her nostrils. “I am looking for a girl.” 
	“… Ah… There's, many of… Those.” Milly remarked, looking at the woman’s stomach, “some of which are, in there…” 
	“Specific girl,” Rita clarified. 
	“Ah, right, of course.” 
	“Girl with too much hair. Too big hair.” Rita's whole body tilted forwards a deci. “Where.” 
	“Aah… There's, the largest haired girl I know would be… she should be working on maintenance right now. On the pelican ride, two blocks down, follow the big Svecia sign, if you reached the bay you've gone too far.” 
	Rita deliberated. Then turned, and left. The heft of holding a good dozen or so people waggling and jostling in sloshing heaves swaying like a pendulum whilst she remained stiff as a pillar. 
	Milly followed her until she rounded a corner. She looked at the vacant space ahead of the information booth, then huffed. Uncertain what to do with herself. 


~ 3 ~


“Mmmmh… Oooh yeah… down you go babe,” Joli mused as he brushed along the end of the bloated midsection of his tail. The vague outline of a squirming humanoid wriggling to and fro in the holds of the tail sliding back in along the expanding black skin of the xeno-form. “Mmmf, gotta get back on my shift babe, don't wanna be holding me up now, do ya? Right, good girl just smooth you way straight up my tail end…” He mused, leaning back against the wall of The Pelican Voyage's maintenance hut, panting as the supported the swollen length of meat doomed to vanish up his hind… 
	The door creaked open -Kwrrrrrrrrkr-. 
	Joli froze, gritting his teeth and staring to the gradually swaying doorway. “Would you give a guy one minute? Almost done with this bird.”
	The door parted enough to unveil Rita, the unconcerned thousand horizons stare burrowing into everything and nothing all at once. 
	“Aa-… aaah–…” Joli wheezed, seeing the curvaceous figure, the swollen gut peeking out of the heavy cloak that… was the only thing she was wearing? “Who are-…”
	Her eyes focused onto him. He was spotted. 
	Joli felt the glare weigh down his body. “W-wait, who, who are you?” 
	Rita stared, and shifted forwards. Her gut, caught in the door frame -Chhglllpghs- bouncing, jostling as her broad muffin well of a gut wedged through. Another step, and the gut bound through the frame -Bdwwng-, sloshing forward to toss a series of screaming bulges too haphazard in the sway of the stomach, a pendulum of a cauldron filled with screaming bodies and souls thrashing and crashing this way and that, al, a complete contrast to the woman's deliberate, almost stilted walk towards him. 
	“Hh-hey s-stay back, she w-was on for it, I am not breaking any laws, I'm-I'm not, why are-? how many…?” He started stammering, pinned again the wall by her presence, and she only got closer. 
	Her stomach was the first that met him, the gratuitously filed orb cloying onto his abdomen and welling over his side, tail with his ensnared victim held high by instinct as his body was dominated and enveloped by Rita's patron clogged guts. The whole walk she stared at his tail, unwavering. “She is in there,” she stated. 
	“She… y-yes?” Joli wheezed out. 
	Rita manhandled the end of his tail; two fingers prying into the tip, finding the pit and splaying her fingers with the force of an industrial piston to spread the tail's orifice. 
	“Fhghugyagha L-lady what the hheeehehehal-.” He wheezed out as she he watched her manipulate the opening, spreading it wide above her before drawing it over her head. A slimy cluttering grind of slugs crossing a greased window reverberating as she stretched his tail over her head like a t-shirt two sized too small -Chhfrrrgllprghhht-. 
	“Fmmfpgmsmpshphhaa oooh heck girl if you wanted your turn you coouullgococouggkwaah.” 
	Rita grabbed a hold of the walls in his tail, her clutches of her fingers digging into the sensitive meat, forming indents along the tail that outlined her ascent, climbing her upper body into the tail, vanishing as a bulge that crawled towards the occupant already lodged inside. 
	“T-two at once… ahah… P-please Is-swear this is all above board Icc-I-Ill release her, just don't huuraatth m-mhmy t-taail.” The Xeno-form squealed as she climbed higher, higher… the bulges contorting, bulldozing the soft surface of the black, sleek skin, until they merged.,. The brim of Joli's tail resting past Rita's chest, bumping against the gut -Bbwngngh- the stomach jostling in the slight clenches of his tail, whimpering and trying to grab hold of something beyond its weight class, a dog trying to fit in a watermelon. 
	“Flmmsjst…” He wheezed. 
	A slurp in reverse rung and strummed through the tail -Shhclrlrprgphhhwowoa- as Rita drew herself back, pulling off the tail tip over her bold, bald cranium. She tossed it aside like a loner's laundry. She gazed ahead. Her eyelids sunk by a cent. She turned to face him with long tethers of viscous tail drool webbing her face to the opening, vines rolling through the air and warping down like glistening hammocks.
	“Is not her.” She concluded. As she turned to leave, her gut smooshed the xeno-form against the wall, swatting him onto the floor by the sluggish heave of her core, as she vacated the premises without another word. 
	Joli knocked to the ground and coughing, breathing in from the suspended compression. By the time he had caught his breath, all that remained of the woman was a dent in the door frame, and droplets of tail drool that had trickled off of her head. 


~ 4 ~


Once security had reached the scene, they searched high and low, but there was no bald girl clad in nothing but a midnight overcoat. However, what they did find was a hole in the wire fence behind the Pelican Voyage, where a wide strap of fencing had been torn off, and laid flat against the ground, and littered with an arrangement of popsicle sticks. The tip of the cut fence – that would have been at eye level – were gnashed together, as if the strip was torn by getting chewed like bubblegum. Either a feat of boasting, or… a sign to showcase someone who did not care enough to lift an actual finger, in order to escape.