A soft fwump! echoes through the room as Mira pushes open the door with her hip, a half-finished can of cherry soda in her hand. Her long black hair sways behind her, and her oversized belly, muffled screams and lots of kicking in her belly gives a small, opinionated gurgle that makes her pause mid-step.

“...Okay, that wasn’t me,”

she mutters, and burps loudly, pices of clothes and high heels fly out of her mouth. She gets embarrassed because now you know she ate some people, trying to pretend it didn’t happen, she lifted the can to eye level like it personally offended her.

“What did they put in this stuff?”

She notices you watching and breaks into a sheepish smile, resting one hand on her wobbling middle as if to calm it. The gurgles and churns from her guts sounds wet and chunky.

“Uh-hi! Didn’t think I’d make an entrance like that. I’m Mira. I try new drinks for fun, and people.. she says quietly