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If he could look back on it in retrospect weeks, months, or even years from now, Wyatt would have little clue what he'd call the worst part of the ordeal. When the fork came behind him and sliced off a perfect forkful of pie with him atop it, the way her mouth had gleamed with every speckle of saliva shining in the sunlight and that light "aaaah~.." he might have just been imagining.. Or when he was dropped in and everything went so suddenly, squishily dark. The way he was tossed about, from cheek to cheek, tongue rolling under him like the swells on the ocean, her sharp chompers coming down inches from his body as the pie around him was crushed, mushed, mashed by her molars until it was a slimy pulp managing to escape into her throat.. She'd savored him for what felt like hours, though. Tropical storms had nothing on the saliva smearing its way into every crevice of his clothing and fur, his slimy hands unable to even grab at a tooth to steady himself. If he could stand, or sit, or even just get a grasp on something, he might be able to work himself into a position to push open her jaws, even just for a breath of fresh air that didn't stink of pie and bat spittle.. But the only thing he could do was thrash around in some attempt to counteract the maelstrom of her tongue rolling him about as she reveled in how he tasted.
And then it happened. A lift of the front of the tongue, a slide backwards, and his heart jumped into his throat as his legs slid down hers. Flashbacks of every time he watched someone's final moments in her mouth flashed through his head as he repeated their panicked motions. Dig the fingernails into her tongue, try again when they slide off. Kick the legs, make her throat bulge. Take a breath to try and scream, and be cut off as she swallows. The jerk downwards pulled him halfway down her throat, dangling, with only the walls around him to stop him simply plummeting downwards. He kicked, he swore, he strained upwards for the handhold he'd never find. She traced the front of her fat neck with one finger, drool dribbling out the side of her mouth as a purr rumbled around him, and swallowed again.
Maybe it was the stomach, he'd have mused, if he'd been able to recount the tale later. Once he plopped down into the stomach, there was at least room to move, sure. It probably would be the comfiest part of the ordeal, any other time. But the comfort of a fat stomach cushioning everything around him wasn't even a silver lining, compared to everything else. There was the heat, the heartbeat, the fact that your movements were muted and belabored by the layers of fat around you. The layers of fat that were literally representative of every other once-living pirate she'd sent down the same path. How muted her trumpeting belches were when they were pointed away from you, out of her system as opposed to inside where you were. The growing, grim realization that to the outside world, you were already part of that heaving, sloshing gut around you, instead of the proud pirate you once were. Sure, he struggled, anybody would. His desperate movements even managed to break through the folds of her stomach and give some outside clue to the world that he wasn't digested yet. But that's all they did. They didn't make her sick like some other pirates he'd run afoul of. They didn't loosen up the locks of her stomach. They just made the stomach growl around him, and it was so much louder on the inside than he'd ever wanted to hear.
At least he wasn't an enemy of hers, not really. Rival, perhaps, but they never traded blows, she just chased after him whenever he snatched a treasure away before her. An enemy, they'd be sent to the stomach with no remorse, at suppertime, right when her body would be most primed to reduce them to mush. He was a late dessert, right after her body was done with dinner, but not at the point when her gargantuan body would need to claim his for energy. She wanted him to last. Was it sadism, or just a sort of predatory love? He couldn't tell what she was doing, from the inside, but he knew her well enough that he could imagine it. Hands tracing around as much of her stomach as she could reach, her lips smacking as she recounted the taste of it all, her stomach stuck out far past the shirt she wore. Did she have that smug, satisfied, dopey, almost adorable smile on her face like after she glutted, or was it a pure delight this time? Would he be one of those that kicked the right spot in her gut and made her ear twitch? Maybe he'd earn Jane some gold at the betting table. Would she miss him? Hell, would Marianne? She didn't seem to be all that sad about devouring him in the first place, but..
Wyatt's mind continued to spin as he was trapped inside the pirate captain's gut. It waved between questions and observations to distract him from the grim reality of his situation, to increasingly far-fetched schemes to pry or bargain or plead or simply will himself out of the captain's gut. Many had tried those same schemes, thought those same thoughts, before, and all of them had encountered the same lack of success. Wyatt's pleading barely got past the captain's fat layers, and his body shoving into the stomach walls only made the captain sigh. She continued to enjoy him well into the evening, sprawled out in bed with her hands unconsciously trailing over her stomach and following his movements. And eventually she drifted off to sleep, licking the last bits of his flavor from her teeth, her ear twitching as he started beating on the walls, the rumblings and growls of a working stomach stirring up the frantic movements. But while she slept, her stomach kept working, and in the morning, there was nothing left of the sneaky pirate named Wyatt but a pair of boots she hacked up. Why was it always the boots that survived? She had them both hung above her bed on a plague, so she could always look at them and smile, remembering the time she finally got to claim her favorite snack once and for all.
Whoops I micro-fictioned. :B
Anyway this is still not-canon. But it should give you an idea of how much Marianne wants to eat that dang possum. Not only because he's a sneaky pirate that nabs treasures she wants, but also because she's sorta fixated on him in a friendly-rival-friend-pain-in-the-butt-and-the-only-snack-that-escaped sort of way. No navy captain has really stepped up to be that much of a pain for her, after all. But hey, them pirates be merciless, and even friendly rivals don't get a pass. Especially not when hungry pirate captains are involved.
And yeah, you can pretty much imagine a hard cut from this to Wyatt waking up in a cold sweat, tangled up in his bedsheets. :B
Wyatt and the art are from http://feistydelights.tumblr.com/ !
And then it happened. A lift of the front of the tongue, a slide backwards, and his heart jumped into his throat as his legs slid down hers. Flashbacks of every time he watched someone's final moments in her mouth flashed through his head as he repeated their panicked motions. Dig the fingernails into her tongue, try again when they slide off. Kick the legs, make her throat bulge. Take a breath to try and scream, and be cut off as she swallows. The jerk downwards pulled him halfway down her throat, dangling, with only the walls around him to stop him simply plummeting downwards. He kicked, he swore, he strained upwards for the handhold he'd never find. She traced the front of her fat neck with one finger, drool dribbling out the side of her mouth as a purr rumbled around him, and swallowed again.
Maybe it was the stomach, he'd have mused, if he'd been able to recount the tale later. Once he plopped down into the stomach, there was at least room to move, sure. It probably would be the comfiest part of the ordeal, any other time. But the comfort of a fat stomach cushioning everything around him wasn't even a silver lining, compared to everything else. There was the heat, the heartbeat, the fact that your movements were muted and belabored by the layers of fat around you. The layers of fat that were literally representative of every other once-living pirate she'd sent down the same path. How muted her trumpeting belches were when they were pointed away from you, out of her system as opposed to inside where you were. The growing, grim realization that to the outside world, you were already part of that heaving, sloshing gut around you, instead of the proud pirate you once were. Sure, he struggled, anybody would. His desperate movements even managed to break through the folds of her stomach and give some outside clue to the world that he wasn't digested yet. But that's all they did. They didn't make her sick like some other pirates he'd run afoul of. They didn't loosen up the locks of her stomach. They just made the stomach growl around him, and it was so much louder on the inside than he'd ever wanted to hear.
At least he wasn't an enemy of hers, not really. Rival, perhaps, but they never traded blows, she just chased after him whenever he snatched a treasure away before her. An enemy, they'd be sent to the stomach with no remorse, at suppertime, right when her body would be most primed to reduce them to mush. He was a late dessert, right after her body was done with dinner, but not at the point when her gargantuan body would need to claim his for energy. She wanted him to last. Was it sadism, or just a sort of predatory love? He couldn't tell what she was doing, from the inside, but he knew her well enough that he could imagine it. Hands tracing around as much of her stomach as she could reach, her lips smacking as she recounted the taste of it all, her stomach stuck out far past the shirt she wore. Did she have that smug, satisfied, dopey, almost adorable smile on her face like after she glutted, or was it a pure delight this time? Would he be one of those that kicked the right spot in her gut and made her ear twitch? Maybe he'd earn Jane some gold at the betting table. Would she miss him? Hell, would Marianne? She didn't seem to be all that sad about devouring him in the first place, but..
Wyatt's mind continued to spin as he was trapped inside the pirate captain's gut. It waved between questions and observations to distract him from the grim reality of his situation, to increasingly far-fetched schemes to pry or bargain or plead or simply will himself out of the captain's gut. Many had tried those same schemes, thought those same thoughts, before, and all of them had encountered the same lack of success. Wyatt's pleading barely got past the captain's fat layers, and his body shoving into the stomach walls only made the captain sigh. She continued to enjoy him well into the evening, sprawled out in bed with her hands unconsciously trailing over her stomach and following his movements. And eventually she drifted off to sleep, licking the last bits of his flavor from her teeth, her ear twitching as he started beating on the walls, the rumblings and growls of a working stomach stirring up the frantic movements. But while she slept, her stomach kept working, and in the morning, there was nothing left of the sneaky pirate named Wyatt but a pair of boots she hacked up. Why was it always the boots that survived? She had them both hung above her bed on a plague, so she could always look at them and smile, remembering the time she finally got to claim her favorite snack once and for all.
Whoops I micro-fictioned. :B
Anyway this is still not-canon. But it should give you an idea of how much Marianne wants to eat that dang possum. Not only because he's a sneaky pirate that nabs treasures she wants, but also because she's sorta fixated on him in a friendly-rival-friend-pain-in-the-butt-and-the-only-snack-that-escaped sort of way. No navy captain has really stepped up to be that much of a pain for her, after all. But hey, them pirates be merciless, and even friendly rivals don't get a pass. Especially not when hungry pirate captains are involved.
And yeah, you can pretty much imagine a hard cut from this to Wyatt waking up in a cold sweat, tangled up in his bedsheets. :B
Wyatt and the art are from http://feistydelights.tumblr.com/ !
Category All / Vore
Species Bat
Size 700 x 935px
File Size 471.3 kB
Yeah nah. The canon with them is lots of hijincks and captain hook/the croc-style stuff. x3 Lots of him cursing while he runs away, and her cursing as he skedaddles with the latest treasure she thought she got to first. That sorta thing. x3 But still, it's fun to play around with non-canon type stuff.
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