Views: 1862
Submissions: 13
Favs: 99
~TheRealWhaleLord
Hello everyone! I am TheRealWhaleLord, and I am a writer focusing on vore and NSFW works. I have been writing for a few years now, but only recently decided to make it public. I have been working on commission for a while as well, so if you see something that catches your eye or suits your fancy, feel free to contact me.
This is a discord server I own, designed to give artists and writers a better chance at selling their works by connecting them with customers looking to buy. If you are interested in this, feel free to join!
https://discord.gg/Vjkktc9
This is a discord server I own, designed to give artists and writers a better chance at selling their works by connecting them with customers looking to buy. If you are interested in this, feel free to join!
https://discord.gg/Vjkktc9
Featured Submission
Stats
Comments Earned: 80
Comments Made: 231
Journals: 1
Comments Made: 231
Journals: 1
Recent Journal
Bar Snacks
4 years agoThe wind howled through the trees, giving rise to a gentle hiss as the leaves danced together. The world was alive, the wind dancing over the tops of the trees in a wave-like fashion. As the wind picked up and drifted away, the forest seemed to breathe, in and out in rasping hisses. The forest, though vast and dense, gave way to a number of settlements, one of which sat on the very edge of the River Pouranta. The river, once a bustling port for those seeking to make their fortune off the seas, now lies dormant. The mines of the area dried up almost seven years ago, the ports following shortly after. Travel by sea was usurped by the massive superstructures known as the Zenith, massive blimps made to carry hundreds of tons of cargo. As one looks towards the sky, a Zenith can sometimes be seen in the distance, hovering and drifting slowly along, drifting as a cloud does through the sky. Within the town of Trallant, on the very outskirts of the town lies a tavern like no other. The walls are glistening with the delicate, warm sparkle of magic, the windows dance with warm candle lights. Yet, inside lay ghosts; the haunting reminders that good times often leave as quickly as they came. The walls are adorned with pictures of sailors, a port full with cargo and men. Massive models hang from the wooden rafters, scaled-down versions of warships which fought in times gone by. Yet, the most haunting of these are the men and women whom the industry left behind; those who worked their entire lives just to be stranded on the land. Sailors marooned by the same industry that gave them such vigor and hope. And, through the birchwood doors stumbles one of the most famous sailors no one has ever heard of: Ryker.
Ryker, a great blue beast of a dragon, waddles into the bar with a mumble. He looks around at everyone sitting in the bar, his head wobbling as he looked from one corner to the other. Each of his six legs lift off the ground in a disfigured pattern, the beer stained onto his fur from the last bar he visited. Seeing him approach, every one of the regulars immediately abandons their seat and heads off to the other side of the bar. Those who don’t immediately move catch the hint a few seconds later and scram, leaving as much room as possible between them and the giant, hulking drunk beast. All but one. At the bar sits a newcomer to the town, drinking a pint of cheap ale. His fur was as white as parchment, with black stripes along his belly. The fur down his back was purple, fringed and fluffy, leading down to a rather ominous-looking tail. His beer belly sat beneath the counter of the bar. His fur seemed to flow with a mind of its own, his tail swishing from left to right in a slow, arcing motion. If one looked closely, it almost appeared that the tail was looking back at them, two green eyes sitting ominously on the back of his tail. However, most all of these details were gravely overlooked by the already-drunken Ryker, and he clambered his way up to the bar. He stopped next to the stranger, barely paying any heed to him as his head swayed to and fro, his words flopping messily to the floor.
“Eyyy... Bartenderer. The... usual.” He said, his words slow and muffled as if he’d forgotten what speakign actually meant.
“Alright, alright. I’ll be right there.” The bartender said, pouring a pint for a party across the room, “Just... try not to do what you did a week ago. He was a regular, Ryker.”
“Yea, yea...” He said, his feet lifting and flopping down to stabilize him, “He... was alright. Most- mostly. I think...”
The bartender sighs, before leaning down to the bottom of the shelf. With a heave, he lifts up a large keg, the words, “Geralot’s Spiced Rum” printed on the side. In small print, the words, “Special thanks to Ryker” can be read in gold lettering. The company paid tribute to the fact that the business was completely broke before Ryker arrived. After five months, business was booming once more, half of their sales owed to Ryker personally.
“Alright, here’s the keg.” The bartender said, hefting the keg up onto the table in front of Ryker. It was nearly as tall as Ryker's head, and twice the width. Even for a fit man, this was a difficult venture. Yet, Ryker picked up the keg with little effort at all. He gripped the bunghole with his jaws, before ripping it out, spitting it across the bar, and guzzling down the sweet-smelling liquid in a series of gulps. He set the empty keg down with an audible ‘thunk,’ his belly audibly sloshing from the addition of extra liquid. He ordered a small keg of beer next, drinking it casually as one does with water as the additional alcohol began to take effect. With a ‘flump,’ Ryker flopped down onto his swollen belly, looking around the room as his mind began to swim. The bartender, seeing a few more patrons coming in decided to put on a bit of music, turning on the record machine in the corner. A gentle hum rose from the hollow horn, slow tinks and twangs heralded the sweet serenade of jazz. The snacks of the bar were beginning to run a bit low, and so the bartender began work of restocking them. The main bar snack, aptly named Pouranta Taffy, was a sweet taffy made with a mixture of cane sugar, blueberry jam and a few unknown ingredients. It was being cooked over the fire, the surface bubbling to give it a distinct bubbly and boiled look. The smell drifted throughout the bar, reaching even the furthermost corners as the bartender watched the spits of dripping candy spinning on sticks over the small kiln in the corner. Yet, even as the sweet and savory scent drifted over the waiting noses of the patrons, no one moved a muscle, fearing coming close to the completely drunk Ryker. Yet, the stranger stood their ground, sipping on a pint of ale while chewing idly on a drumstick.
Ryker, on the other hand, sniffed at the air happily. He could smell something delectable in the air, his nose rising to sniff at the scent.
“Mmm... taffy...” Ryker said, his tail swishing idly as he swayed a bit, his head looking around for the source of the sweet treat. Typically, had he been completely sober, he would have recognized this scent as the result of the famous taffy, but in his drunken stupor, his mind could only think of own word: pink. Pink was what he thought of when he thought of the sweet, safory saltiness of taffy. Yet, the biggest source of the color pink wasn’t the taffy sitting on the spit. It was the stranger sitting next to him, finishing one wing before moving onto the next, his tail looking around the room with anticipation.
“H-Hey... are you gon- gonna finish that...?” Ryker mumbled, gesturing in the vague direction of both the barkeeper and the stranger. A few plates of unfinished food lay on the bar, some still warm as many of their former owners had left in quite the hurry. Looking at a nearby plate of food, the stranger reached over to it, sliding it over to Ryker before returning to his meal.
“Oh, this? No, this wasn’t even mine.” He says, munching down the last few pieces of food from his plate, “You can have it."
However, Ryker wasn’t focusing on the small plate of food besides him. He was more focused on the large, shimmering pink fluff-monster sitting in front of him, the tail looking up at him curiously. He leaned over, smiling drunkenly, before his two powerful, meaty arms reached up and grasped him across the waist. Ryker, muscles bulging, grips the stranger’s waist, his grip solid despite his drunken state.
The stranger looks over at him in shock, looking down at the paws that grip his waist. “H- hey, just what do you think you’re-”
Before he can finish, Ryker hoists him up into the air, his body leaving the wooden stool as his tail flips around a bit in alarm. As he is lifted, a few bar patrons notice, but few take heed. He takes the helpless Farren up into the air, his tail now reaching around to bite at Ryker’s massive arms. Before he can even react, Farren is hoisted into the air and flipped upside down, now looking down at the floor. He kicks a bit, his arms moving to Ryker’s in the attempt to free himself from his grip.
“H-hey, get off of me, you drunken oaf!” Farren yelled, his cries for help echoing throughout the tavern. However, with the bustling commotion, it was difficult to really hear anything he had to say, “I’m not-”
But, before he could say any more, he looked down to a grizzly sight. Ryker, full of drunken hunger, opened his maw wide, small trails of saliva trailing from his maw as he breathed over Farren. His maw was wide, the flesh within shimmering and moist. His tongue, forked a bit at the end, reached forward, lusting to taste the sweet “taffy” before him. Farren began to squirm a bit in his grasp, his body almost miniscule when compared to the massively powerful body of Ryker. Farren’s tail reached down, biting and knawing at Ryker’s arms defensively, desperate to release his death grip on his “food.” Farren’s green eyes grew wide as he realised what was going to happen. He grew closer, inch by inch, towards the moist entrance to Ryker’s insides. He’d seen what had gone in, and he didn’t want to join it. His paws moved from fruitlessly trying to free himself to trying to push against Ryker’s jaws. His paws reaching down to press against his snout as his jaws stretched even wider, strings of saliva stretching from one end to another. Farren tried to press his paws against Ryker, struggling to keep himself away from his hungry jaws, but couldn’t stop the slow descent to his waiting gullet. Farren screeched, yelling something about not being food, before Ryker’s gullet met with his head. The instant his head touched the warm, moist interior of Ryker’s maw, Farren’s paws move to Ryker’s head, trying to get a grip on the smooth fur and tough scales beneath. Yet, given his proximity to Ryker, he has no grip, his claws glancing off harmlessly as he is slowly brought down into the warm, moist interior of his maw. He squirms a bit, trying to wiggle himself free of the powerful grip of the dragon beneath him. Yet, as he thrashes and yells, his tail biting and hissing, Ryker focuses only on the sweet, savory taste of his fur, his tongue lapping at his head eagerly. Farren, trying to grasp anything at all, presses against Ryker’s shoulders, trying to release his head from his maw. Yet, as Ryker’s massively powerful forearms combined with the weight of Farren himself, he was unable to gain even an inch of freedom from his waiting fate.
“Wow... taffy is a bit... feisty. Must be a new recipe.” Ryker said, his maw gently engulfing the entirety of Farren’s head. Farren, his fate now known, tried a final strategy.
“Hey, wait. I’m not taffy. I’m- I’m alive! P- please don’t eat me. Not here, not now. Not like this...” Farren said, his voice muffled as he squirmed a bit within the powerful grasp of Ryker’s grip.
Ryker, feeling his prey squirm a bit more now, worked him deeper. His gullet opened before Farren, the smell of rum filling the warm, moist space around him. With one powerful gulp and a bit of a shove, Ryker worked Farren down deeper, his head forming a bulge in his muscular throat. Ryker, almost completely numb from the alcohol, barely felt the struggling, clawing prey being slowly worked down his waiting gullet. With another gulp, he had Farren’s shoulders in his maw, the kicking from poor Farren growing a bit more desperate now. His tail now worked to free him as well, pushing with all of its might against Ryker’s wide shoulders. Yet, even with his incredible strength, Ryker seemingly overpowered him without even breaking a sweat. Ryker wiggled a bit, readjusting the shoulders of his hapless prey until they were clasped between his mighty jaws. He opened his maw wide, as wide as it could go, before shoving Farren’s shoulders down into his throat. A soft yelling, followed by talking and murmuring, could be heard from his powerful gullet, growing higher pitched one he worked his shoulders down.
Meanwhile, Farren felt himself being dragged lower and lower into the waiting gullet of the powerful dragon, the muscles of his warm, slimy throat pulsating as they worked him further and further down. His eyes grew wide as he was forced to stare into the pitch blackness of his awaiting demise, slowly feeling his shoulders pass beyond the gateway of the powerful jaws of the dragon. He was completely surrounded by the smell of rum, sweet with a hint of honeysuckle and raspberry. He could feel his grip on the dragon’s shoulders start to weaken, and his arms grew tired from working against such a powerful beast. With one final strain, he finally gave in, his arms loosening their strain against the coming force. Immediately, Ryker shakes his shoulders, freeing his paws completely from his shoulders. Having now weakened the “taffy” completely, he slowly works Farren’s arms in next, gulping them almost halfway down with one final gulp. His paws moved to his belly now, which somehow felt like it was biting him, before shoving him down to his waist, his warm, slimy tongue still exploring the delectable fur which lay before it. The bartender, hearing something slightly amiss from behind him, turns around to see Ryker with the squirming, yelling prey halfway down his throat, the powerful gullet bulging as it held his prey firmly in its grasp. A few weak kicks rise from the morsel trapped between his jaws, the bartender watching as Ryker takes Farren down another few inches.
“Um... R-Ryker...” The bartender stuttered, trying to mitigate the situation a tad before other patrons noticed, “W-what are you doing?”
“Affy,” Ryker said, his maw wide and almost completely taken up by the struggling prey.
Farren, hearing this, chirps up again, yelling into the void before him, “Someone tell this drunken dolt that I’m not taffy!”
However, the deeper his prey fell, the shallower and more muted his words became. As he floated down into the dark blue cavern, he continued to gulp him down, chewing happily on his soft, vulnerable flesh. The squirming picked up once more as Ryker gulped him down to his belly, licking and playing with the tail still worked to free it’s owner. His arms were forced to his sides now, his neck undulating as Farren fought to be let out of his newfound prison. After a few good gulps, the strange, biting belly disappeared down his gullet as well, making quite the rounded bulge in his blue throat. His fur seemed to stand on end as his throat stretched to meet the new mass, another swallow sending it down deeper into his body. Farren, now trapped within this drunken beast, tries his best to wiggle his arms free of their confinement, but to no avail. His tail seems to whip to the left and right, trying deperately to grasp onto something to keep itself from being a victim as well. However, as Ryker’s warm, slick throat coaxes more and more of his delectable prey deeper and deeper, Farren’s legs are slowly worked down into the waiting gullet, being pressed against one another as they are folded one over the other by Ryker. He grips the paws with his own, using them as leverage to shove the rest of his sweet treat down to his waiting forestomach. Farren’s head comes to a curve, before being worked deeper by Ryker’s pressing the soles of his feet downward. He feels himself come to a sphincter, opening after another push and a gulp by Ryken. Ryken gulps down his rear paws, licking at them joyously before gulping them down as well. The pink and white tail flops and hisses, before being slurped up and swallowed by Ryker. The massive lump of Farren moves down his throat now, before slowly disappearing into his torso slowly. Ryker breathes a sigh of relief, patting his belly happily as his newfound prey are now stewing within it.
Meanwhile, Farren twists and squirms within Ryker, trying to gain some sort of bearing after being turned over and swallowed whole. He claws a bit at first, trying to gain some sort of footing, but as his tail is swallowed further, his body is forced completely into Ryker’s stomach, curling him into a fetal position. He tries to feel where the entrance was, yet he wasn’t facing the right way, and Ryker’s powerful stomach held him well in place. He growled under his breath, nipping and squirming as he tried to work himself around within the fleshy prison.
Ryker, after having happily slurped down the tail, looked towards the bartender with a grin on his face. “That was mighty good taffy there, bar-man. Why don’t we always have taffy like that?”
The bartender stuttered, “Well, mostly because that was-”
“Specialty, I take it? Good stuff. I’ll be back to try some more of that, if you wouldn’t mind.” Ryker interrupted him, grinning a bit as his eyelids drifted open and shut.
“Uh- sure. We might have some later on, but... I’ll let you know, ok?” The bartender said, looking around at the patrons who had noticed the occurrence.
“For sure!” Ryker mused, before reaching down into his pocket, pulling out a bag of coins, dumping it out on the counter. He began to count it, but after a few mistakes, he slid a large pile towards the bartender, some falling off of the table.
“For everything. Not sure what you want for the taffy, but... that should be enough.”
The bartender, looking at the pile of gold, smiled and looked up at Ryker, “Yea, that should be fine. Will that be all?”
“I th- think I’ll take a room, too. I’m starting to really feel it. The usual?”
“Yea, the usual,” he gestured towards two large doors on the other side of the tavern, their handles engraved with silver and brass, “First door on the right. Enjoy your stay.”
Ryker nodded, before sliding himself over towards the doorway, swaying from side to side as he went. The assortment of armor plates rattles as he drags his massive, fleshy tail over the rough wooden surface, his belly sloshing from side to side with its newfound contents. Farren, his fur now sopping wet from being swallowed down, tries to readjust himself within the stomach, laying at first almost completely belly-first. He flips himself over, his rear paws pressing against the walls of the stomach before he sits up once more. Hs tail rests on his shoulder, and he stretches his feet to see how much room he can possibly gain for himself. However, the resistance forces out a burp from Ryker, who simply belches into the air. As he does so, his stomach constricts against poor Farren, his tail now planted against his face, his rear paws touching his ears. A low, disgruntled hiss rises from deep within him, and he continues to twist and move himself within the tight confines of the stomach.
Meanwhile, Ryker pats his stomach, feeling the full, hearty meal he’d just consumed readjusting and antiquating itself within him. Whatever this taffy is, Ryker thought, It sure is feisty. Hope I won’t wake up with indigestion.
He slunk to the back of the bar, to the wooden doors mentioned before. He presses his paws upon them weakly, before pressing his weight int them and forcing them open. The first door on his right contains a plaque with the words, “Ryker’s Quarters, do not enter” printed in grand, emboldened lettering upon it. He flops to the side, his legs catching him as his bulging stomach throws him a bit off balance. Farren, feeling himself flung over as well, tries to brace himself, but ends up being sloshed around within the slimy interior. He eventually settled to where he was before, rocking gently back and forth as the muscular contractions began to knead him. The warm, soft flesh of the inner stomach began to slowly knead and churn against him, working in slow, rhythmic waves. The waves squeezed from the bottom of his stomach, flowing up to the top in an hourglass motion. The pulses were slow at first, working with the flopping of Ryker as he got himself up and continued into the room.
As Ryker opened the doors, the fresh smell of a freshly washed room swept over him. He breathed in deeply, taking in the wonderful smell with a contented sigh. He waddled over to the massive king-sized bed, crawling underneath the plush, cotton sheets and warm, flowing comforter as his tail slunk in behind him. The door closed with a clunk, and he rolled over onto his back, yawning before snuggling into the firm pillowtop mattress, trying to get to sleep. His legs twitch intermittently, his paws feeling and rubbing his belly as he sat in the dimly lit room, a smile on his face and a warm meal in his belly.
As he is jostled around, Farren feels himself sloshing from left to right as Ryker readjusts himself within his bed. He claws at the walls, gripping them before feeling himself rolled and tossed within the stomach regardless. Ryker, wiggling and readjusting himself, tucked himself into the bed, before rolling over onto his side. Farren feels himself sloshed around within the belly, feeling the weight of the massive dragon press against him as he was forced into the soft, moist flesh. He attempted once more to stretch himself out a bit, managing to force himself into a more comfortable position. All around him, he could hear the gurgling and sloshing of his captor’s body, bubbling seeming to rise from an area behind him. He places his paws upon the walls, trying to catch his breath.
“Oh my goodness. This actually happened, didn’t it. I just got eaten by this big, drunk oaf.” Farren said to himself, finally starting to find his bearings, “Now all I have to do is hope that he sobers up before he digests me.”
Ryker, meanwhile, moves his rear paw to his chin, scratching it happily, before flopping back onto the mattress. He pats his pillow, rubbing his belly with his paws as he slowly feels the warmth from Farren seep into him, mixing with his own potent heat. A warm smile washes over his face, the warmth of the drunken stupor mixing pleasantly with the heat from his prey.
“Good taffy...” He mumbles, patting his belly before he scratched it a bit with his paw, rolling from one side to the other with a groan.
Upon his rolling, Farren feels himself being pressed once more onto his left side, his paws moving instinctively to the other side. As Ryker flattens himself into the pile of blankets and pillows, he begins to curl around his swollen belly, hugging it with his rear and fore paws in a gentle embrace. Before long, a gentle snore can be heard by Farren as Ryker drifts peacefully off to sleep. As the muscles of his stomach knead and churn, pressing against Farren’s body in slow, rhythmic pulses, he sits in his enclosure, squirming a bit in the hopes to wake his captor.
“Hey, come on, you big dope, don’t fall asleep just yet!” He says, pressing his soft paws into the moist walls of the stomach, which pulse and churn as he does so, “Damn it. I’m just going to have to wait for him to wake up. Luckily, I don’t think he swallowed me into his actual stomach. I might just be able to-”
Suddenly, he hears a gurgling come from deep within Ryker, somewhat behind where he lay. He felt the normally rhythmic pulses slowly become one large pulse. He felt a valve open beneath his feet, before he felt them slip into the vast cavern below. His paws reached out to grasp the walls of his current enclosure, the smell of liquor rising from the stomach below him. His feet reached the liquid, his paws clawing desperately at the slick walls in order to draw him up from what he assumed was the real stomach.
“Damn it, not right now! I’m not going to die like this!” Farren said, his claws making little effect as he tried his best to keep himself from the lower guts. The pulsing seemed to work him deeper and deeper, slowly forcing him into the real stomach. As his one paw reached into the liquid, he felt it dip deeply into the liquid, before he pulled it out once more. He grasped onto the walls of the storage sack, his arms pressing against the walls in a feeble attempt to slow his descent. Right when he thought he was doomed to be digested right then and there, he felt Ryker roll onto his back, scratching his stomach, before belching. The force was enough to send him back up and into the storage stomach, the smell of alcohol floating around him as he shuffled himself as far away from the other side of the stomach as possible. His tail flipped around anxiously, curling over his shoulder before he began to breathe calmly once more. However, his foot was still tingling a bit, so he looked down at it. Covering his paw was a clear coating of something slick and shiny. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, but he quickly shook it off as it wasn’t quite the way he wanted his fur to look.
“Oh my god, that was terrifying. I knew dragons were voracious beasts, but I didn’t quite expect... that.” He said, his paws rubbing themselves together as he tried to calm himself down a bit. The stomach continued to churn, seeming to grow tired every few minutes, only to ramp back up again when he was startled. When it ramped back up, he shook to life. He pressed himself into the corner of the stomach, as far away from his fate as possible. However, with each and every pulse of Ryker’s stomach, he is brought closer to entering into that pit once again. He struggles and squirms, desperate to be kept alive until he can possibly talk some sense into his captor. He squirms and wiggles himself around and around, trying his best to get comfortable without accidentally pressing himself into an early grave. After a couple hours, and quite a few close calls, he lays his head against the soft, undulating walls of the stomach, his body still trying to fight against the pulsing, crushing force of the massively powerful walls all around him. He pushes against them once more, before he hugs his tail close to his chest, falling asleep as he is slowly rocked back and forth, up and down, deep within the stomach of the mighty dragon.
The night passes by without much trouble. Farren, coiled into a ball, sleeps relatively well, the kneading and churning somewhat comforting as he is warmed by the great beast which surrounds him. Ryker, on the other hand, was having quite the rough night. The alcohol wasn’t helping him sleep as well as it had before, and all throughout the night he tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Waking up was no different, however, as the sun streamed in through the open shades, glancing over his face as he slept. As he woke, a searing pain swept over his head, his eyes blinked and opened as he rubbed his head in pain. The first stages of a hangover were already making their grim debut, with the feeling of dryness filling his maw. He yawned, all six of his legs stretching as he flipped the covers off of him, patting his swaying, still-bulging belly. Farren, still asleep, shuffled a bit within him, pawing the soft walls of his enclosure gently as he went along. Ryker, eyes shutting tightly as the sun bit his eyes, rolled over onto the floor with a “flump,” his feet making contact as he waddled his way into the nearby kitchen. Luckily, he’d reserved the suite for most of the year, enjoying the solace the room within the inn brought him. As he made his way into the kitchen, his belly gurgled and shuffled, the bloating stomach sloshing from one side to another as he slowly walked into the room. He rubbed his belly, the dryness of the alcohol giving him indigestion. He scratched his neck, before reaching into the nearby cabinet and bringing out a large barrel. He dips the barrel into the nearby trough of water, sniffing it, and gulping it down happily.
Meanwhile, Farren still slept comfortably within his captor’s stomach, the warmth of the churning walls a pleasant luxury amongst the chaos of the night before. He rolled over a bit in his sleep, his toes curled comfortably as he scratched the side of his head with his paw. Suddenly, a spout of water poured down onto him, his ears receiving the first splash, his eyes shooting open and a panicked screech rising from his lungs. He coughed and sputtered as he was suddenly jostled awake, rubbing his eyes as he sopping wet again. He shakes himself off instinctively, only for another splash of water to wash over him with a “sploosh.” This time, he doesn’t shake off much of the water, seeing a common trend in the way things were going now. He brushes off his ears, trying to maneuver himself within Ryker’s gut in order to avoid the constant washings of water. However, after a few more splashes of water, and another round of helpless struggling, he settles down a bit, feeling the washing waves of water flow over him. He covers his ears, curling once more into a ball as the pool of water slowly rises all around him.
Meanwhile, Ryker finishes the first bucket of water, scratching his forestomach lazily as he reaches down to fill the bucket with water again. As before, he drinks down the bucket of water, enjoying the feeling of a cool, moist liquid running down his throat. He puts the bucket down, feeling his stomach jostle and rock as he feels himself swell with each gulp. He reached up to rub the area between his eyes, lazily looking down at the bucket as his head throbbed in pain. He scooped up the bucket one more time, gulping another helping of water down as he hobbled over to the nearby cabinet, opening it slowly.
Head hurts, legs hurt, stomach hurts... Ryker thought, his head still swimming from the pain, Where's the Sailor-Soothe when you need it?
Sailor-Soothe, commonly known as Duramex, is an anti-nausea, anti-inflammatory pill primarily used to treat hangovers. It’s safe across most every species, and has been well-known to be used by sailors of all sorts for their bouts of drunkenness. As Ryker continued rummaging through the cabinet, Farren sloshed and rocked within his enclosure, the water coming all the way up to his neck as he tried to keep breathing. Although he struggled within him, Ryker simply went about his day, the subtle squirming feeling like nothing more to him than a side effect of the hangover.
Come on, I ask for one bottle and they always put it here. Where could it be? He thought, his mind wandering as he continued to search for the small white pills. Moving a small box, he finally found the small bottle of pills, taking them out and placing them on the counter. He opened the bottle, shaking out five of the pills and placing the rest away. He took the bucket, refilled it with water, then swallowed the pills down in one big gulp. He swallowed the rest of the water down, before going back to rest on the bed, waiting for it to work.
Farren, still sitting in the pool of water, now feels the water slowly start to rise again, his chin now completely covered in water as he sat within the confines of Ryker’s stomach. The air he could breathe was barely above his eyes. As the water rose, he leaned his head all the way up to the top, breathing through his nose as he closed his eyes and hoped Ryker would somehow start releasing this water into another part of his body. However, just as the water was about to overtake his nose, he felt the stomach below him give way, and he was washed down into the aft-stomach, where he landed with a soft sploosh. As he is washed into the lower gut, he remembers the feeling of the gut before, and his claws once more try to hold him inside of the original, safe stomach. However, he can’t get a grip fast enough, and he falls completely into the real stomach.
Ryker, on the other hand, feels his gut readjust, his water flowing deeper into him as his indigestion slowly subsides. He holds his fore-belly, the nausea disappearing as the lump of “taffy” flows down deeper into his body. He leans up, watching as the lump moves down into his midsection, disappearing a bit more from his view as he lays back and relaxes, waiting for the pills to kick in. Meanwhile, Farren is now swimming in a puddle of water, his head just above water as he pants and paddles. He can feel the walls slowly closing in around him, the water leaking very slowly out of the stomach as it does so. He kicks against the wall a few more times, trying to gain the attention of the dragon holding him prisoner. He yells a bit, sloshing and churning the water around him, trying vainly to get Ryker’s attention. All of the sloshing and churning help the pills digest faster, however, a grin growing across Ryker’s face as he was slowly relieved of the pain he was in. Poor Farren, however, now had no chance to gain any sort of grounds in the negotiations with the unwary predator. Once the pills had dissolved completely, the insides of his stomach were almost completely numb, and any pawing or pleading was surely unable to pass through to him. With a hearty sigh, he stretched his six legs, rolling over onto the floor, and waddling over towards the door next to the sink.
Through the sink lay a nice kitchen, complete with a pantry on the opposite side stacked with clear mason jars full of plenty of colorful and interesting ingredients. He grabbed a few ingredients from the shelf, including a few large spotted eggs, a few small jars of spices and a large frying pan with cooking oil. He turns around, placing the pan on the oven, beginning to cook himself a pleasant breakfast. As he continued to cook, humming away happily, Farren continued to struggle within his belly, the gurgling and sloshing drowning out his grunts and pants. Smelling the food cooked, the stomach began to release acids into the water at an increased rate, the pool of clear water slowly growing murky. The stomach continued to churn and mush away at Farren, his body being pushed around as the powerful muscular walls worked to soften him for what was coming next. He worked to claw at the walls, trying to grip them as he tried to gain some sort of traction within the warm, powerful stomach which surrounded him.
Meanwhile, after a few minutes and a well-cooked meal later, Ryker carries the pan of simmering food over to the bed, laying down to enjoy it as he rolls himself, as well as his massive, sloshing belly, over onto the bed. He begins to pick and eat at the food itself, gulping down handfuls of gourmet eggs and sausage as his headache slowly begins to subside. Farren, meanwhile, is being pelted by this food, shaking out and washing his fur in what he believes to be water. As Ryker consumes more and more food, he pats his belly heartily, rippling it as he does so. A hollow, drum-like sound can be heard rising from his gut, the noise echoes through the stomach where Farren lay. Ryker finishes up his food, the sweet smell of cooked food sitting pleasantly in the air, rubbing his stomach with delight. His headache is almost completely gone, and his body feels rejuvenated from the fresh meal. He scratches his belly, yawning a bit, before turning over once more, rolling onto the floor, and walking to the doors.
Farren, meanwhile, is tossed and turned through the slurry of food, water and enzymes. He feels himself being pressed against the thick walls of the fleshy stomach, the water warm and pleasant to sit in. He scratches at his neck, his skin growing somewhat itchy as he sits within the warm confines of the stomach. He sits loosely rolled into a ball within Ryker, his paws pressing out against the walls of the stomach as he is flipped once again onto his back as Ryker rolls from his bed. He huffs, thinking about the prospect of escaping, but seeing few ways to go about it. For now, he thought it best to sit patiently and wait.
Ryker walks himself through the grand wooden doors, out to the lobby where the bartender is cleaning up from last night. He doesn’t quite notice Ryker as he leaves, but hearing the familiar sloshing and scraping of Ryker’s massive stomach sliding along the rough wooden floor, he turns to greet him. Ryker nods in response, but before the bartender can get another word out, Ryker is through the doors and out into the world. He looks to the sky, breathing in deeply, taking in that familiar salty sea air. He began to walk down the pathway to the docks, the familiar sounds of ferry bells and the chanting of deckhands filled the air. As he walked along, his bulging belly bounded from left to right, Farren sloshing from side to side as he went. Farren growled, patting the walls of the stomach again, but something else had Ryker’s attention. A small shop along the docks sold the best saltwater taffy on this side of the bay and he knew he was going to get some. He trotted along, those around him waving pleasantly as he passed by. But, as he was walking, he heard some commotion coming from one side of the docks. He looked, seeing a pack of feral dogs nipping and barking at a fish vendor. The vendor dances around with a basket of fish, yelling obscenities at the mutts as they jumped and nipped at the fish. Ryker wasted no time, his powerful legs gripping into the ground before he took off to help the man. Farren feels himself jolted to the back of the stomach from the sudden accelerations Ryker bolts towards the hungry dogs. Once he approaches them, a few take notice and run off. However, three of the largest dogs stay, continuing to jump and bite at the basket of goods. Ryker grabs one of them by the scuff of their neck, putting them under his arm. The other two look towards Ryker, stopping their assault on the food vender before lunging at him as well. He dodges the first attack, but the second dog latches onto his leg. With a growl, he grabs the other dog with his free paw, ripping him from his leg before he reaches back to grip the other by it’s tail. He drags it to his free arm, putting them all under his arm, holding them as they squirm and yelp.
“Oh, my goodness, thank you...!” The vender looks up at Ryker, his fur rustling a bit in the wind, “I... I feel I need to repay you somehow...”
Ryker laughed a bit, smiling kindly at the man beneath him, “No need. Just helping out where I can.”
The vender looked down at his leg, the dog bite leaving visible dents in the fur, ‘Well, that looks like it sure hurt. I.. think I have something that might be able to help you.”
With that, he pulled out two small vials, each of which were red with an opalescence-like shimmer. Ryker looked down at them, before putting his paws up, “Oh, no, I’ll be fine, really!”
He rubbed his leg sorely, but before he could look up, he was handed the two vials by the gentleman, “I insist. I... know you do a lot of good around here. I’m sure you can find more of a use for them than I can.”
Ryker looked down at the man with a smile, before putting the vials into his pocket, “I’ll be sure to give them to the first person who needs them.”
He nodded, and they part ways. Ryker passes through the crowd of people who have gathered to watch this unfold, the dogs still yapping and barking underneath his arms. He walks back towards the taffy shop, but as he gets closer to the shop, he looks down at the squirming dogs held firmly in his grip. He couldn’t release them back into the docks, nor could he release them back into the crowd. As he walked along, he could feel them squirming in his arms, yapping and biting and simply being unpleasant. He stopped for a second, ducking between some shops as to distance himself from the crowds. He took one of the dogs by the scruff of his neck, watching as he twisted and yipped. He leaned forward, smelling the dog a bit, before smiling.
“Hmm... not too bad. Smells a bit wild, but I’ve had worse.” He said, twisting and turning the mutt in his paws. He eventually turned it back to face him, licking his lips as he slowly brought the dog to his maw. The dog tried to bite him, but before he could, Ryker opens his jaws, fleshy maw dripping with sticky saliva, glistening in the evening sun. His teeth, each a shimmering white, glistened before the clawing, gnashing dog, leading like pebbles on a trail to his fleshy throat. Before it knew what happened, the dog’s entire head was engulfed in Ryker’s warm, fleshy maw, the taste of seawater and fur a pleasant reminder of his time hunting vermin with his shipmates. He gripped the dog by the waist, gulping down its head in one big gulp. The mutt continues to claw and gnash at Ryker, making little progress as he was now being swallowed alive and whole. Ryker leaned his head back, his throat bulging with its newfound meal as he swallowed the dog down inch by inch. Gravity did most of the work as the struggling pup was engulfed up to its shoulders. Ryker licked and tasted at the mutt, licking the salt from its fur as he continued to enjoy his treat. With another gulp, he worked the shoulders down, watching with delight as the mutt’s struggling was coupled with its consistent descent into his throat. After another gulp, he had the mutt’s front legs down. Then its midsection. As he was gulped down, his rear legs kicked and scratched as a desperate bid to escape from his mighty clutches. Yet, as its rear legs were finally gulped down, the struggling slowed. Ryker could still feel the bulge in his neck shifting a bit, but most of the fight was gone from this prey. With a final gulp, he sent the first of three down into his real stomach, slurping down the tail with ease. The bulge within his neck slowly traveled down into the depths of his belly, slowly making its way down to the waiting Farren.
Meanwhile, Farren sat within Ryker, kicking his legs as he splashed about within his warm, mushy cavern. He shifted from side to side as Ryker walked along every, dipping his head below the waterline to wash his face and paws. He could do little to alleviate the situation, and he hoped desperately that someone had seen him devoured the night before. He sighed, before he heard a sound coming from the outside, what sounded like a scuffle in the distance. Before he knew it, he was thrown against the other wide of the stomach wall as Ryker took off to help the man. He swished and swayed a bit as he tried to regain his composure, before shaking his fur clean from the damp surroundings. He felt Ryker moving and struggling with something, before settling down once more. He’d wondered what adventures were happening on the outside, what interesting little treats he was missing. He would have been off to another land by now, seeing the sights and enjoying his little vacation. He wasn’t supposed to have been in this town for very much longer than a few days, but he was now quite over his welcome. He tried to scratch his head behind the ears, but noticed that his claws seemed to be much duller than they normally were. That being said, his fur was also quite a bit paler than he’d remembered it being before. Perhaps it was the lighting, he thought. It wasn’t exactly bright in here. He could only see because he was so keen at seeing in the dark. Suddenly, he heard another sound coming from the outside. Another bunch of yips and growls, quickly followed by silence. Silence and the distinct sound of gulping. The sphincter next to him began to pulse, and with one quick squelch, The mutt was thrown into the watery brine along with him, slashing and clawing in a desecrate bid to gain some sort of footing.
“Oh, for the love of... dogs? Why are there DOGS now? Are you still hungry, you big drunk goof?” Farren hissed under his breath, trying to keep away from the dog a bit. Yet as the dog calmed down, it floated over to him, and he held it within his arms as it panted and pawed at the walls in a frantic bid to keep itself afloat. It and he kept a fair distance, the mutt trying to keep itself afloat as it sat was churned by the powerful stomach, the walls closing in every so often as Ryker walked along.
Ryker licked his lips, the aftertaste of fur and salt pleasing and nostalgic to him. He reached down to the other mutt, grasping it just like he had before, gulping it down with ease. As before, the dog struggled and clawed, only to be gulped and swallowed down without much issue. He could feel the bulge work its way down his throat as he swallowed it down, feeling his stomach grow from the warm, tasty meal. He’d missed how the sea air had given every living creature a savory, salty seasoning, unlike anything else he’d ever experienced. He licked his chops after having swallowed down the second mutt, slurping down its succulent tail with one powerful gulp. He picked up the final mutt, watching as it growled and nipped as before. However, instead of gulping it down head-first, he decided to swallow it down haunch-first. He gripped it with both paws, holding the tail and hind legs from squirming as he worked his wide, moist maw around it gently. He worked it down into his throat, swallowing a few times before he got its waist down. The mutt tried to claw and nip, but Ryker was too powerful, having no trouble at all working it down his warm, moist, plush throat. He lapped at the mutt’s head, feeling it slowly disappear into his throat as well with one final gulp. He felt his paw down the outside of his throat, the bulge slowly working its way down deeper into the depths of his powerful, muscular body. He shook himself off a bit, scratching his ears, before walking back to the taffy shop up the street. He was in need of some taffy, as he’d had the strangest sweet tooth from last night...
Meanwhile, Farren was stuck dealing with the now-panicking pack of wild dogs, splashing and pawing within the small enclosure. He thought one was bad enough, but soon afterwards, another dog flopped down into the water next to him with a sploosh. Farren shrank away from the strange intruder, trying to stay away from the panicking dogs for as long as possible. As he was the only point higher than the water, the mutts desperately tried to paddle towards him, worried they would drown in the strange warm chime. He pushed them away at first, trying to keep the strange new intruders as far from him as possible. However, as the stomach began to close around them, and the third dog was swallowed down, he had no choice but to deal with the three anxiety-ridden mutts desperately clinging to him for dear life. He kicked the stomach wall again in protest, a few mumbled profanities flowing from his lips, before he settled down into the strange fluid once again. He yawned, supposedly from the humidity as he sat within the bubbling, churning pot of liquid. He brought his paw up to the head of the mutts, petting them as the stomach swayed from side to side, swishing and swaying with the weight of its newfound prisoners.
Ryker huffed along, his belly quite distended as he carried his newfound weight of mutts down to the taffy shop with him. He opened the door, trying to squeeze in through the doors, before sloshing over to the countertop. The shop owner came out to meet him with a smile, readily recognizing one of his most well-known customers.
“Hello there Ryker. What shall it be?” He gestures to the wall of delectable confectionaries behind him, each of which is labeled with a price tag designating it’s price by weight. The entire wall is organized from top to bottom in a rainbow pattern, the print on each of the tags the same color as the confectionary treats they advertise.
“Well, I think I’ll...” He looks over each of the clear glass jars, each wide around the middle, tapering towards the bottom and top, “...take one strip of everything, please. Oh, and double up on the strawberry.”
“One of everything, you say? You have quite the sweet tooth today, hmm?” the store owner mused, reaching over to grab a large burlap sack, before crawling under the counter to access his ready stock.
“Yea. Had the strangest craving when I got up. Could've been something I ate last night... I dunno. Sometimes when I drink I get cravings.”
“I’m well aware.” the shop owner called from beneath the wooden countertop, “this is the fifth time you’ve been in here this month.”
“Heh, yea...” Ryker scratched the back of his head, his stomach shifting slightly as he paced around the shop, “I really like your wares. Best taffy I’ve had in a while now...”
“Well, I’m flattered,” The shopkeeper mused, before hefting the entire bag onto the countertop with a grunt, “That will be... eh, 100 gold flat.”
“That’s it? I mean, I have no issue paying the-”
The shopkeeper raises a hand, a warm smile across his face, “Nonsense. I saw what you’d done for my brother down the pier a little ways. Consider this to be thanks.”
Ryker takes the bag of candy and hefts it over his shoulder, before reaching into his pocket to pull out the payment. He plops down a small bag with the numbers “100” sewn in. The shopkeeper takes the bag, throwing it beneath the counter, before waving him off. Ryker trots through the doorway, opening the door with a ding, before walking out into the bustling street. He reaches into the bag, pulling out some blue taffy, before throwing it all into his maw, chewing it delightfully. He walks along, his weight making the boardwalk creak as he makes his way back to his lodging in the tavern.
Meanwhile, Ryker sits within the stomach, his tail swishing every so often within the harsh liquid. It seemed quite strange to him that his nails had simply dulled themselves now, his fingers becoming increasingly numb with the passing of time. His toes also seemed quite numb, supposedly from all of the water Ryker drank. The mutts seemed to have calmed down a bit, occasionally letting to paddle for a bit to try to find a way out. After a few minutes, the mutts stopped their splashing and pawing, and simply settled down next to Farren, who sighed in general aggravation. He could feel himself shifting from left to right, the liquid around him sloshing from left to right in slow, rhythmic glugs. He reached up, scratching his neck, before noticing that his fur was slowly becoming lighter and lighter. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at his claws, then at his fur, then at the liquid around him. His heart started to pound as he finally noticed that the color had changed from the last time he’d checked; pink. It was all pink. A big, pink pool of color, seemingly seeping from his fur. He looked at his chest, seeing a distinct line between where the water line sat, and where the rest of him sat. Below the liquid sat his fur, bleached and ghostly, while the fur above was nearly perfect. He was being digested alive, trapped within the belly of the great dragon.
Meanwhile. Ryker enjoyed one piece of sweet saltwater taffy after another, his great belly bulging and swishing as he made his way up the hill towards his lodging. He opened the doorway, seeing the collection of people looking at him as he did so. Music played from an old organ in the corner, the sultry melody singing out through the entire tavern. He nodded to some of the regular patrons, who mumbled to themselves but gave a hearty wave back. He walked all the way back through the rear doors of the tavern, scratching his underbelly as he did so. He walked back into his room, plopping down the bag full of taffy, before laying onto the bed, belly first, once more.
Farren, now struggling to let the dragon know he’d been eaten and now was digesting, claws weakly at the walls of the stomach. However, as he kicks and claws, he feels the bottom of the stomach rise up and press him into the ceiling. The dogs are squeezed together as well, yapping and clawing in panic as the air they were breathing rises above them. Farren claws his way to air, the dogs soon after, trying desperately to get to a higher point of air within the quickly closing stomach. Swallowed alive, packed with dogs, digested and now crushed. How can anyone expect to fight through this?
Meanwhile, Ryker rolls from side to side, squishing and sloshing his big belly left and right. The mutts were getting quite rowdy, and he didn’t mind helping out his stomach with the digestion process. He rocked and rocked, back and forth against the bed, the soft mattress bending and buckling under his weight. He scratched his belly, enjoying the feeling of s truly full stomach, before rolling off the bed once again to get his evening rum. He burped a little, the pressure released from his guts giving him great relief. He shook himself off a bit, before walking back out of his room, out the gates, and towards the barkeeper, who was cleaning a beer glass.
“Hello again Ryker,” He said in a happy tone, “the regular, as per usual?”
“Yea, the usual.” He said, scratching his belly with his rear paw. His belly bulged as he sat, and movement could be heard coming from the enclosure.
The bartender looked at him curiously, “Hungry today, I see? Mind you, I’m a bit concerned that-”
“Don’t worry,” Ryker chimed in, patting his drum-like belly, “It’s just a pack of wild dogs. Helpin’ to keep the local pest problem down, you know?”
“Um, yes... but, last night, I think you may have...” The bartender stumbled, as this hadn’t been the first time he’d seen such an incident occur. Not wanting to lose his best customer, he held his tongue, “Well, never mind. Here you are.”
The massive keg of mead was hefted onto the table with a clunk, before Ryker plopped down his usual payment, and dragged the keg of liquor back to his private room. The bartender looked on, concerned with Ryker’s prey, before shrugging, and continuing making some bar snacks for the rest of the patrons.
Meanwhile, Ryker was making his way down to his private quarters. He worked his way back onto the bed, settling down as he had before with his massive, swollen belly. He patted his belly, burping loudly, before sighing in relief.
“Been waiting for that all day,” He mused, before working himself up onto the bed a bit more. He could feel his stomach slowly compress as he belched, somehow not giving him much in the way of relief, before he settled down onto the bed. He took the barrel of rum, shaking it a bit, before he popped the top off with his thumb. He placed it to his lips, leaning his head back before guzzling it all down.
Farren, meanwhile, was now being squished once more into the warm, fleshy walls of the stomach around him. He struggled to get back to the air bubble, before he looked to see the air bubble slowly begin to shrink. A loud belch can be heard from the outside, and the bubble shrinks until only his snout can fit into it. He huffs and pants, the mutts desperately trying to breathe the same air he was. Yet, just as all hope seemed lost, he heard some guzzling from the outside, and the stomach slowly began to fill with the familiar sweet smell of rum. With the rum came a few small pockets of air, slowly filling the room back up with barely enough air for both him and the mutts. He struggled to keep the mutts away from him, but given the immense pressure from the outside, as well as the intense smell of rum, he slowly began to weaken. Each breath was labored, and he kicked and struggled to reach the air above him. Slowly, be grew weak, and in a desperate bid to stay alive, he pushed with both of his rear legs, his front paws, and his tail, into the sphincter which held him within this fleshy prison. Surprisingly, he felt himself being pushed back up to the other stomach, forcing himself back up into his warm, moist esophagus. As he was carried back up towards the stomach, he could feel Ryker gulp him down once more. He pushed back with his tail, resisting the gulp and the swallow, before feeling the throat begin to carry him back up once more. As he enters into the forestomach, the fumes from the rum, as well as the general exhaustion of the entire encounter, finally defeat him. When he finally enters the stomach, he flips down onto the soft, spongy wall, resting his head along edge, before passing off to sleep.
Ryker seemed to have the worst bout of indigestion come up, his stomach churning unhappily as he sits on the soft bed. He begins to roll like he did before, but to no avail. The feeling of unease seems to only grow worse as his stomach is upset by the alcohol, and he begins to dry heave. He feels his stomach contract and push its contents up his throat, before swallowing the contents down again. Strangely, he can feel the contents resisting being let down, swallowing once more in the hope to keep his food where it was. However, it’s no use, as his stomach continues to contract, pushing whatever is inside outwards. He finally relents, letting his meal flow back up into his forestomach, feeling his chest bulge a bit as it does so. He dry heaves some more, his stomach not happy with the way it’s been treated from the inside, before his forestomach contracts as well. He feels its contents flow up into his maw, and he reaches up to grasp it gently. He pulls Farren from his maw, coughing him up onto the bed in front of him. Farren groans, shuffling a bit before curling up into a ball, holding onto his tail as he does so. Ryker looks down at the partially digested Farren, numb and sopping wet in his chime. He gets up off the bed, looking around worried, before he remembers the health potions he was given earlier. He reaches down to his satchel pocket, before he grasps the potion, pops the cork, and pours it over the weak body of his accidental victim. After the swirling red liquid flows onto him, Farren begins to regenerate, his claws sharpening and his fur regaining its color. He breathes in deeply, before going back to sleep on the large bed.
Rykerm looks over the strange, now-pink creature laying in his bed, before he thinks back to his strange craving from yesterday. “Taffy...” He mumbles to himself, looking at the color of his prey’s fur versus the color of the taffy in the bag. He gulps nervously, before walking out of the room quietly, making his way to the innkeeper.
“Um... excuse me, could I make arrangements to have another room reserved for a .. friend?” He asked, a shy smile splayed over his face. His stomach was much less distended now that Farren had left.
Noticing this, the barkeep looked up from his work with a smile, “happened again, did it?”
Ryker blushed a bit, before nodding, “Yea, think so. Poor little guy... healed him up best I could, but he still needs somewhere to stay.”
“We’ll take care of it. Besides, you gave me enough to house ten people yesterday. Paid for yourself for the next week and then some.” the bartender spoke, cleaning yet another glass, “Tell you what. I’ll house him and give him a good meal in the morning, and we try to avoid another incident? Please?”
Ryker sighed, before nodding, “Alright, that sounds good. Oh, and one more thing...”
“Hm?” The bartender looked up.
“Taffy. On the house. For everyone tonight. As... Thanks." He spoke, pulling out another bag of gold.
The bartender held up his hand politely. “I’ll just take it out of your current balance. I’d hate to take more of your money, given your already-abundant generosity. I’ll take care of it. Oh, and you can move you...er... friend over to room 12, near the end of the hall.
“Alright. Thanks again,” Ryker said, as he made his way back into his suite. He picked up his friedn, before making his way out of the room, towards the end of the hall. He opened the door to Room 12, walking to the small bed, placing Farren down onto the bed gently.
“Sleep well, friend.” he said, before walking out of the door, back to his suite. He settled back onto the bed, before curling up onto the soft, warm covers, yawning as the day’s adventures began to tire him. He reached over to the counter, picking up a book, beginning to read it as the rest of his meal digested.
Meanwhile, the mutts within his gut were pressed once again into the tight stomach space, the fluid slowly numbing their paws and ears. They yelped a bit, falling on deaf ears as they tried to keep themselves afloat within the murky liquid. Yet, slowly, the liquid seeped down into the lower intestines, bringing the rum and the pups down with it. The sphincter opened wide, the stomach contracting tightly, forcing the dogs down into the twisting, winding paths of intestines. Slowly, meticulously, they wound through their way through the soft, fleshy intestines, the walls contracting every so often in order to push the mutts further down. With the flowing of the intestines, the mutts slowly begin to digest, their bodies becoming numb. Their fur begins to grow pale, before becoming a liquid as they flow through the intestines. Soon, their limbs begin to soften, flowing along with them as a strange, goopy ooze. A gentle yip rising from their throats as they’re dissolved and absorbed into Ryker’s warm, muscular intestines. A small burp escapes his lips as he feels his stomach finally rescinding, a warmth flowing through his body from the newly discovered energy. He sighs in relaxation, before putting the book down, pacing in a habitual circle, before settling down into the bed, his head laying on a nice soft pillow. He scratches his belly calmly, before drifting peacefully off to sleep.
Red-IzaK