It’s not just the who’s obsessed with your belly. It’s not just your boyfriend. It’s you. You always have been. It’s what makes this scenario so terrifying yet erotically charged for your character. You’ve actually had dreams where your belly was threatened, and while scary, they always turned you on somehow. One time you dreamt you were in a bank during a robbery and one of the robbers shoved a into your exposed midriff, teasing you, rubbing the barrel over your belly before finally pulling the trigger. When you woke up, your belly was trembling uncontrollably. Embarrassingly, you were we...

It’s not just the who’s obsessed with your belly. It’s not just your boyfriend. It’s you. You always have been. It’s what makes this scenario so terrifying yet erotically charged for your character. You’ve actually had dreams where your belly was threatened, and while scary, they always turned you on somehow. One time you dreamt you were in a bank during a robbery and one of the robbers shoved a into your exposed midriff, teasing you, rubbing the barrel over your belly before finally pulling the trigger. When you woke up, your belly was trembling uncontrollably. Embarrassingly, you were wet (something you’ve never admitted to anyone). You actually reached down and slid a finger into your bellybutton just to make sure it was a dream. Even that, just touching it, sent a shudder through your body. It was almost like there was a line inside you running from your bellybutton to your clit. But those were dreams. You wake up from dreams. This is no dream. The most sensitive part of your body is about to be penetrated, this time for real. Set-up It was only after the third victim was found that police finally let the media report on what was happening. Even then, they weren’t telling the whole story. Vague warnings about dressing provocatively. Something about covering up your midriff? It made no sense. You chose to ignore it. Each victim was found nude, with just a single wound -- a small-calibre bullet fired directly into the navel. Whoever did this clearly wanted it to be slow. Worse, he was only getting started. Interior: Apartment You’re wearing the tiniest shorts imaginable. They’re not only ridiculously small, they’ve been tugged down so low that half your ass is already exposed. On top, you’re wearing a crop top that’s clearly not designed to be worn in public. It’s struggling to contain your breasts, and there’s already a hint of underboob on display. As we open, you stumble into frame and fall forward against the couch with your ass facing us. You’re panting. Finally, you slowly turn around and lean back against the couch. You’re breathing hard, your belly sucking in and out with each panicked breath. The camera pans and lingers to just soak it in. Tigger: (Plaintively) “Please. Why are you doing this?” (Suddenly, a look of recognition, like you’re putting it all together). Tigger: “Oh my god. No. All those girls ... It’s you ... just one bullet ...” You glance down at your trembling belly then back up. Tigger: “No. Not me. Not there.” You’re chest is heaving so much, that without even touching it, the crop top is slowly riding up. Tigger: “Please. I just wanted to look sexy for my boyfriend. He has sort of (your hand sexily caresses your belly) ... a fetish I guess? Please. I’ll ... I’ll do anything you want ... anything. Just don’t me.” You’re breathing heavy but trying to control your fear. You turn to the only card you can think to play: seduction. Tigger: “I saw you staring at me in the club. Staring at my belly. That’s OK. Guys always do. Sometimes at work, I wear a sweater that’s too short, and I stretch at my desk (you stretch as if to show him and your breasts finally pop free of the crop top). “It rides up higher ... and higher, so you can see the lower part of my belly (you slide your hand across the lower part of your belly). I feel like such a whore when I catch my boss looking.” “Sometimes, I stretch so hard ... (you take a finger and gently trace a line down the middle of your belly) even my belly button is exposed.” When your finger comes to your belly button, you let it sink in a bit and give a little gasp. “Sorry. It’s just really sensitive. Sometimes I think it’s the most sensitive part of my whole body.” You pull the top over your head, toss it to the side, and start grinding your belly slowly and seductively (yet nervously). Tigger: “My boyfriend says it’s perfect. Just the right little bit of baby fat. (you give a sexy, pouty face) Do you think it’s perfect?” After a few seconds of this, you reach down with one of your hands and begin tugging downward on the shorts as you grind. Tigger: “I think you do.” Your other hand hooks a thumb under them and you slide them past your hips and to the floor. You’re finally fully nude. Tigger (spreading your legs): “You don’t need that There must be something else you want to put in me.” Suddenly, he tosses you a little bottle of baby oil. Tigger (a little scared; you’re not sure where this is going): “I don’t understand. O-OK ... I’ll do it. Just please ... stop pointing that at me.” You pour a little drop of baby oil, which runs down to your belly button. Then a bit more. Then you begin sexily rubbing it all over your belly, your tits, your thighs. Tigger: “Like this? Please. I’m doing what you want.” You keep rolling your belly, now with droplets of oil rolling down it. Tigger (caressing your belly): “I’ve worked so hard to make this belly perfect. You know you want it. I can see how hard