Friendly Osteolysis Invoice


Written by Septia.


The vibrations of my knocks pealed through the door. There was no response. It was five in the afternoon, any lectures, hearings, or classes were long since over. Zimo that had texted me to come over. They wanted to know if I could help them out with their new project. It had been a little while since I heard from her last so seeing their invitation was refreshing. I knocked on their door again, but it remained closed and silent.
	I sighed. At times like this I would imagine myself drawing in a deep breath and screaming out at them at the top of my lungs, that would grab their attention, or at least someone's attention. Though with my throat in the condition it had been since I was young, at most I could manage a whimper.
	I knocked on the door again. And brought up my phone to send them a message instead. Perhaps the tiny notification noise would be better than my knocking? -Krrrrck- The door creaked open. I let out another soft noise of satisfy relief as I looked up from my phone. Only to bare witness to a meteor of ass meat shooting down towards me. The impact was accentuated by a fluid, limber -Shpplththurhs- squeal of moisturized flesh on flesh, my head shooting up through their rectum to barrel up their bowels in a thrumming -Sppltutghth- of uncorking a massive bottle. I felt the weight of their ass on my shoulders, meat bobbing down on me. The instant, sweltering body heat showered down my head like a waterfall of sweat and turbulence.
	Before I had fully processed it the hind was diving over my shoulders like a gluttonous grub, swallowing shoulders and pinning my biceps to my arms to my sides. I dropped my phone in the scramble, squirming and struggling against the assailant, but not able to cause more than a haphazard bother for the greedy ass clamping and slurping down across my chest. I wheezed out a protest as the squeal of the pucker's perimiter recoiled down my lap. Though whatever meager utterance my throat could make was muffled into nothing under the isolation of ass meat.
	As much as I disdained the thought, if you had to shove someone up your ass, picking a mute was a solid option. This transient praise faded once the brim passed my thighs. I still put in what resistance I could. The brim soon met with my ankles, clasping and tugging in a rhythm to seal my fate in the bind of humid hind, and the owner of the aforementioned hind let out a slow, satisfied groan as their buttocks collided with the welcome mat to their apartment, stamping my feet in like a doorstop through their cheeks -Chthtwlwlph-. 
	“Phaaa, oooh I've wanted to try that since I saw your scrawny ass, phew you really hit a spot there.” Zimo called out from above as she wedged and ground her ass to the mat, a perverted reverberation of brushing laytex teeth trembled through the bottom and oscillating through the bowels and reminding me of my position. 
	They rose and spread their cheeks wide, and strained with a few grunts as their pucker contracted -SLlpthsh- and suckled me the rest of the way into their cheeks, unleashing their buns to -Twwhwmp- clap together. “Phoo, okay, thanks for offering up to help with my project.”
	I struggled against the hold of the gut, wheezing as the blooming contractions of the bowels brought me up, bent and kneaded from all sides. 
	“Alright, almost there, just a bit, come on…” Zimo groaned. I felt their body adjusting and contorting around me, warped and shifting to and fro with my form budging and shuffling up through the entirety of their hind quarters, pats and kneads guiding my body up into the open, bloated expanse of the stomach -Sbbgrllptuugshsap-. I gasped out, grunting as Zimo continued this strange massage to push and prod me into place. 
	“Phew, there's we go, all cooped up like a mystery egg, but I got the insider knowledge as to what this special surprise is,” Zimo joked. 
	I jabbed two fingers into their stomach lining. 
	“OOuch, hey easy in there, you were the one who said you'd help me out with my studies.” 
	Another jab, this one with more force behind it. 
	“Oh hush, you ain't got no right to complain. You'll be out soon enough anyway, don't you know how Osteolysis works?” 
	I ground my fist into their the backdrop of their abs. 
	“PFMhga ooo, that tickles… But yeah, I guess a did kinda not tell you that I was majoring in Taxonecronomi.  you know, bones and the science and creation thereof. Specifically zeuktosteos practices. I have exams coming up, and if I can already forge my own zeukosteos minion, then I know I'll be at the top of the class.” 
	It was difficult to comprehend what they were saying, partially physically but also on the mental level. I had… a vague idea of what taxonecronomi was, though I had seen people with animate skeletons walking after them, working with them, ordering them around, but also being caring with them. Though I administered a series of jabs into Zimo's abdomen to ensure they got the point that I had not intended to become a skeleton. 
	“Oh don't be so melodramatic in there, I know you'll just adore it once you-. Hold that thought.” -HOuubbbarooooourlp- the stomach contracted nervously around me, as the gale of guttural humidity vacated Zimo's maw. 
	“Phoo, huh, early gas exchange, not the direction I expected it from. But I've been following Miranda's procedures, and even if your frame's pretty skinny I've got a good feeling you've got more than enough yellow marrow to endure the refining osteolysis procedure. 
	I squirmed and writhed as their abdomen contracted in a rhythmic churn. 
	“Whoa haowa, easy does it okaaay, there, we'll be spending some time together now, gotta ensure this all follows protocol.” 
	I felt a dent at the back of my head, the steel plate of a stethoscope rolling down the breath of the gut. “Just relax in there, and I'll have you rendered out in a jiffy, I'll be brewing up my own bone stew in there, scientifically~,” They mused and shook their gut so my frame jostled in the pouch of meat and fat. 
	I couldn't believe this is what I had signed up for…


~ 1 ~


After an hour of guttural rhythm and chyme, the supply of air was running out. Light-headedness turned to lack of breath, turned to dimness, and turned to a serenade of enzymes and macerating acids working through my body in blissful numbness. Motions, grinds, sounds and smells undulated behind me, grinding me down, down, further, forwards and downwards. The sway of the muscles bound and ground into me as I sunk into a deeper emptiness. 


~ 2 ~


-Schhrrrlspc- A squeal of glass being polished with a freshly butchered cutlet. This chyming, crackling grind erupted and vibrated through my spine -Chhrllrpthsh- -Chhrbrlptsh- I was moving the entire time now, the motions growing faster and my senses, calcified back into reality. -Chhslrptcch- The creak reached it zenith, broadcasting the puttering of slick bowel drool around my cranium. I gasped, feeling sensation and movement in my own marrow. By instinct, I pulled back. -Schhrrrrl- the cracking of the pucker clasped around my head played into a shattering trumpeting of swelling flesh, as I freed myself from the bowels of the beast -Chhrltpthashsp-. 
	“Yyoeoochc, ooo, ooowch that's a bit more rough than I had expected… for a rendered down bag of bones you made way more of an impression on my ass on the way out than in…”
	I heard Zimo's voice around me, and slowly, light shifted into view, shapes took form, colors, I perceived again, staring aright at Zimo's gaping ass that had just birthed me. I looked around, felt over my ribs directly -Cllpth- -Clkptht.- I hear the clatter and chime of bone ringing under my fingers, my bony phalanges playing on it like a xylophone. I looked up, staring into the bathroom mirror, and what gazed back was a pair of hollow cavities in a bleached, slender skull. 
	“Haha, look at you, moving full of life ehm… yeah let's go with life,” Zimo mused as she massaged her hind with a damp towel to easy the ache of the calcium based expulsion. “You'd be surprised what melting off a couple dozen kilos of vastosoma could do, rending down all that enterobile and flushing it out my system just to get that pristine polished ivory you are carrying now. I'd call that a successful osteolysis. How about that huh? Pretty rad being a skeleton right? How was it like in my butt?” 
	“Will you shut up,” I screamed at her. 
	Zimo's expression melted like butter in a hot pan, jaw agape. 
	I stared at her, displaying as much anger as my form could hold. Then… my phalanges rose to my teeth, a clatter and patter of calcium from the pitter patter of my inquisitive digits… feeling over the teeth, as I opened my mouth. “He-…llo.” I mouthed into my hand. I stared back at Zimo, wearing a horror house mirror of her expression. We both realised it now: I spoke.