“I don’t believe it…” came my girlfriend’s voice. She sounded hopeful, oddly enough. “Are you… are you a voreaphile, like me?!”

I stared straight ahead. Could teling her save my life?…

“…Yes,” I admitted. Immediatley, I felt her stomach contract and I was pulled out of her gut and spat out.

I rolled across her bedroom floor, covered in a sticky, sweet-smelling liquid. As I got up, my girlfriend hugged me close.

“I’ve been trying to find someone, ANYONE who was like me!” she said, actually crying from what I assumed was joy. “Someone who could be my prey…”

“Wait, what?” I said, utterly perplexed.