Chapter Text
Silly as it may sound, the Clown had gotten quite tired of survivors' fingers. The tasty thrill of licking their dismembered fingers was initially quite enjoyable, with each survivor having their own unique qualities to them, but it ended up becoming... not enough. It left him wanting more. He just couldn't quite place what to do about it. Sure, seeing the disgusted grimaces on the survivors' faces was entertaining, but not it's enough. None of it is enough. After every trial, he's left hungry for more. Both literally and figuratively.
Hell, he even tried swallowing one of the fingers he took as a trophy. It slid down easy and dropped into his gut without any hassle. A drop in a bucket of water. He ran a hand down the curve of his expansive belly and frowned. It would take swallowing every single prize he's collected to get him full, and he just couldn't bear parting with them for a fleeting pleasure. Sure, he may have been quite the hedonistic man, but he wasn't quite that short-sighted. There had to be something more, something bigger.
He pondered this for quite a while, mulling it over in his head again and again, but there just wasn't anything quite within reach of his abilities, and then, an idea struck him. The Entity's fog was approaching his broken-down trailer. The Entity allowed for many things previously thought impossible, and all it took to tap into that arcane power was a mere offering. Things that the Clown had no use for, of course. Surely, he thought, there had to be something to gain from "praying" to this god of theirs. Some kind of solution.
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The next trial begins without fanfair. The appearance of broken down machinery informs him of this. It always catches him off guard, how things just materialize out of thin air the moment he turns his head away. Something was different this time, though. A certain whisper in his head urges him forward, similar to when he's allowed to snuff out the survivors himself instead of throwing them up on hooks to rot in hell.
His belly lets out a long gurgle. A whine of hunger pierces the silence. The Clown sighs to himself. What a bad time to get the munchies. Maybe the Entity will reward him with a bag of chips or something if he does well.
The thought of some good grub drives his legs forward. Having done this time and time before, he's easily able to pin-point the location of a survivor without wasting much time at all. His knife slices through the skin of the bespectaled man's forearm as he tries to slip past him. A heavy gush of blood stains the grass and marks the path to follow. The Clown lets out a raspy laugh as he wipes the edge of his knife on the stained sleeve of his surcoat. His stomach lets out another needy growl. It almost disrupts his focus. Usually, this kind of thing never crosses his mind during a trial. He furrows his brow hard as he pursues the survivor. It's not long before he's able to corner the man and deliver a swift stab to the stomach. Not enough to do any serious damage, if you ignore the bleeding and all that, but enough to incapicate the man and get him on a hook.
Though, as he grabs the side of the survivor, something strange overcomes him. The Entity's demands rarely change, but this time, it's screaming so loud in his head that he can't even. The Clown is easily able to hoist the man up onto his shoulder, but he doesn't stop there. Instead, he lifts the survivor straight up, holding him high...
And his mouth opens wide.
The survivor lets out a chirp of shock as he stares down at the parted lips, smeared make-up having rubbed off long ago. Teeth and spit. Disbelief. Fear. Definitely fear. The Clown barely even registers what happens, let alone how it happens, but a second later, the survivor is halfway down his throat, with a pair of legs sticking out from his lips. They kick wildly, desperately thrashing about to try to get free, but the strength of the Clown's throat muscles are far too much to overcome. Slowly but surely, the survivor is sucked down deeper and deeper into his gullet. The bulge in his chest dips lower and lower. Eventually, however, his stomach opens up with an audible plop, and the survivor's top half drops in. The Clown is able to close his mouth, but it still takes another few good swallows before the survivor's legs disappear down his throat and he's able to breathe again.
The Clown gives the side of his belly a hearty slap. He looks down at himself in disbelief. The layers upon layers of flabby fat hide the shape of the survivor buried in his stomach, but the weight inside of him is far too real. The survivor desperately wiggles around in his fleshy prison, but all that's accomplished from the struggling is dislodging a few wet burps and causing his guts to groan. The sensation isn't pleasant at first, with his body struggling to hold so much prey, but once the survivor tires himself out and stops moving so much, he's able to catch his breath and feel a bit better. The Clown gives his belly a few soothing strokes as he starts waddling off towards the next survivor. Strangely enough, he's not full. He can feel the Entity's influence in his body, but he simply does not care enough to catalogue whatever changes the Entity made to him. All he knows is that he needs more.
The next survivor's on a gen in a decrepit wooden shack. Despite being a lumbering giant of a man, he's somehow able to catch the survivor off-guard. The clown creeps up behind her, and just before he can grab her shoulder, his gut lets out a groan of protest, and she snaps around in a panic. Just before she's able to dart away, though, the Clown drives his knife through the back of her hand, causing her to scream. Her scream only continues as he lifts her up by the leg and raises her to his mouth. She's nowhere near as tired out as the last survivor, but he's able to use her confusion to his advantage as he greedily gobbles her up. By the time her head's in his gullet, it's already too late for her to fight back, and her smaller frame means he's able to swallow her down even faster. He slurps up the length of her legs like noodles, and he lets out another loud burp when she enters his expanding stomach.
The addition of a second survivor causes the first survivor to start stirring again, and the combined pressure of both of them fighting against his stomach walls causes him to double over in pain. He has to lean his back against the half-fixed generator and cradle his gut in both arms. Though it wasn't quite apparent that he had two survivors inside him, his bulging belly was certainly getting bigger. All it took was one good inhale of air, and the straining button on his coat finally popped open, causing his gut to hang out freely. The relief was instant, however, and he was able to get moving again despite the ruccus still ongoing in his belly. Two more survivors to go.
Fortunately for him, the last two survivors were in the corner of the map, desperately trying to fix one of the broken gens together. The Entity isn't even making its cheating subtle anymore, as it masks the Clown's presence well enough that he's able to pluck a survivor right off a gen without any trouble. The survivor doesn't even fight until he's halfway down, having been so surprised that he didn't even know what was happening. It's a good thing too, as the Clown hadn't had time to think what he was doing through and he had to swallow this survivor feet-first. He was a bit bigger too, more muscular and built, but not even the strongest survivor could put up a fight in a rigged battle. The man's not even in his gut before the Clown's reaching for the last survivor. She's quivering in her boots at the sight of her friend disappearing down the Clown's throat, and a flash of a knife keeps her from running. Just like the ones before her, she gets shoved into his gaping maw and shoved down his gullet. He takes his time with this one, though. The weight of the third survivor curling up in his distended stomach made him lurch with nausuea, especially with the struggling in his mouth currently happening, but he manages to take one last big swallow and send the final survivor to a fleshy prison.
Once he feels his stomach close up and trap the entire team in his belly, the Clown drops to the ground and presses his head against the wall behind him. His belly pushes his legs apart and sits on the ground. The commotion of all four survivors squirming against his insides causes his massive ball gut to shake and quiver, but something tells the Clown that there's no way they're getting out any time soon. He runs his hands over his belly, delicating rubbing circles into the fat in hopes of aiding digestion. The skin is sensitive to the touch. It's been stretched to the absolute limit. The only reason he hasn't popped yet is because the Entity simply wills it.
Entity magic doesn't keep his stomach from groaning and whining, though. Never before has he handled live food, let alone so much at once. Burps after burps come out of him as the survivors waste their breath screaming and shouting. His busy gut eventually quiets them down, however, and once all the extra air is out of his stomach, it's much easier to handle the pressure. The sounds of his stomach's glorps and gurgles lull him to sleep. His body's energy reserves are all being put to use soley to aid in digestion, and before he even knows it, his eyes droop shut and the trial becomes a distant memory.
When he finally wakes up, his eyes shoot down to his midsection. He's still visibly bloated to hell, without even a chance of buttoning his clothes back up. He rubs his palm into the biggest part of his gut, and he's surprised to feel how soft his belly feels to the touch. Previously, it had been rock hard, with the forms of the survivors sticking out against his skin, but now, all he can feel between his fingers is an ocean of fat. The heavy weight deep inside of him tells him that his guts are still working on processing all that food into nutrients, but he must have been out for quite a while, since he can clearly see how many pounds he's already gained from this meal. Not only is his already impressive gut even wider, but his thighs are a little jigglier, and his double chin is quickly approaching a triple chin. Though, it's not quite extreme enough of a difference that the average survivor would be able to tell that something big happened, as his hanging gut was more than gigantic before this sudden weight gain happened.
Strangely enough, though... Several more trials pass, and yet, he never sees those four survivors again. Every other survivor shows up after going through the proverbial meat grinder, but something about those four survivors' unique fates must have put a nail in the coffin, so to speak. In hindsight, they hadn't put up quite the same fight as all the other survivors do. They were fair too easy to chase down. Perhaps this is the fate that useless survivors get sentenced to.
Becoming just another pound of flab on the Clown's enormous beer gut. Perhaps the Entity will have more work for him soon.