Getting those tickets to meet the singer of the Angels of death wasn’t easy, having to cut back some expenses for almost half a year wasn’t pleasant, but getting to meet Ayleen would be worth it. Arriving to the concert before the show began was also a must, still you were quite late, security was very thorough on the check in, so no cameras, no cellphones, no devices, then you were escorted down the aisle until the engraved letters spelling Ayleen were visible on the door in front of you. The door was opened, revealing a dressing room, it was just as you imagined it to be, props scattered around on the floor, a wardrobe on the corner filled to the brim with clothes, and a big mirror framed by shining lightbulbs, makeup littered the table, you were taken out of your trance as the security guards just slammed the door on their way out, you heard the clicking as the door was locked behind you, odd…probably a security measure, you decided to walk onwards, finding the singer on the far end of the room, as you approached she turned around a bit, wearing nothing but tight pants and a jacket wrapped on her waist, her tattoo in plain sight, still the real problem was her front, her usually thin frame now a huge squirming mass of limbs outlined on her engorged belly, a shocking sight, you recalled all those times you saw her on tv, singing with a big paunch, you thought it was probably stress eating, but now you knew the reason…she saw you, beckoning you closer, but before you could run she stepped closer and grabbed you, firmly, no escape, her gaping maw the last thing you saw, and her hot innards, the last thing you felt before you were snuffed out along with the rest of those who bought the “extra special tickets”, in a sense, she was right, you became part of the show.