A Thought And A Feather.
In the streets of Ironstalk, walking peacefully up the block after dinner.
Amongst the vapid and the empty headed and the mindless.
I suddenly stop, as I feel a lurch, something odd within my gut.
My dinner, how it disagrees with me... My dinner, how he disagrees with me.
Chicken. Poultry. Galliformes. Greg. That is the name for him?
Delicious. Tasty. Delectable. Food. That is my name for him.
The fool tosses about inside me, trying desperately to escape.
I just laugh aloud, and pat where his head is, his whines muffled in my tummy.
His prison gurgles and sloshes about. He knows he's about to be ass fat.
With one last ditch attempt, he tries to squeeze his way up my throat.
Persistent little snack. I chuckle, and smirk, as I slurp his hand back down.
Within a few minutes, he flops over, ready to let my belly take him.
Delusional. He thought he'd escape my guts and be free from his fate.
Please, he's not cud. What he is, is soup for the Impala's soul.
I soon get to the block where my apartment is, and belch aloud.
His taste lingers on my tongue. I'd eat him again if I could. The rarest of snacks.
He won't be forgotten, however. He left a wonderful gift for yours truly.
The poem you're reading, and the feather that it was written with.
Nothing more, nothing less.
A thought and a feather.
One thing that I wound up giving Destiny as a trait, is that she occasionally enjoys writing poetry, and when eating someone, just to taunt her feathery snacks, she'll yank a feather from her meal to write said poem down, as you see here.
Njoi~
(For the record, I have never really done any poetry, but I decided to try and see if I could do some weird beat poetry shit for this. It was fun, at least~)
In the streets of Ironstalk, walking peacefully up the block after dinner.
Amongst the vapid and the empty headed and the mindless.
I suddenly stop, as I feel a lurch, something odd within my gut.
My dinner, how it disagrees with me... My dinner, how he disagrees with me.
Chicken. Poultry. Galliformes. Greg. That is the name for him?
Delicious. Tasty. Delectable. Food. That is my name for him.
The fool tosses about inside me, trying desperately to escape.
I just laugh aloud, and pat where his head is, his whines muffled in my tummy.
His prison gurgles and sloshes about. He knows he's about to be ass fat.
With one last ditch attempt, he tries to squeeze his way up my throat.
Persistent little snack. I chuckle, and smirk, as I slurp his hand back down.
Within a few minutes, he flops over, ready to let my belly take him.
Delusional. He thought he'd escape my guts and be free from his fate.
Please, he's not cud. What he is, is soup for the Impala's soul.
I soon get to the block where my apartment is, and belch aloud.
His taste lingers on my tongue. I'd eat him again if I could. The rarest of snacks.
He won't be forgotten, however. He left a wonderful gift for yours truly.
The poem you're reading, and the feather that it was written with.
Nothing more, nothing less.
A thought and a feather.
One thing that I wound up giving Destiny as a trait, is that she occasionally enjoys writing poetry, and when eating someone, just to taunt her feathery snacks, she'll yank a feather from her meal to write said poem down, as you see here.
Njoi~
(For the record, I have never really done any poetry, but I decided to try and see if I could do some weird beat poetry shit for this. It was fun, at least~)
Category Artwork (Digital) / Vore
Species Bovine (Other)
Gender Female
Size 1280 x 853px
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