I'm kind of trying to get back into writing... So I've started with an idea that's pretty easy to write, the disgruntled healer! I know, I know- I'm really reinventing the genre, I get it.

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“-But that’s not fair!”

“Is it fair that we have to do all the work for you?” The fox knight scoffs, helmed visage doing nothing to hide the disdain on his face. “It’s simple. Carry our gear, and you’ll at least be pulling some weight. Plus, you get to watch me in action, while waving that silly wand around behind us. That should be reward enough.”

Domiel stares down at the ‘wand’ (staff) carved out of birch wood which allows him to cast his spells; The words of his team captain- that fox- hit, and hit hard.
It’d been three weeks like this. Everything was normal, at least at first. The average tale of 4 heroes of the realm! The burly strong arm of the group, a tanky shield-bearer, changed from a life of crime to hero work, the lance wielding second-in-command, training her entire life just to be in an adventuring party just like this one! The captain, the strong, courageous, and definitely righteous longsword toting braggart who leads with pride, and then, our cleric, Domiel. Booksmart blah blah blah, child prodigy- blah blah, whatever. Nothing to special, except a certain lack of respect for the resident white mage!

Disregarded, mistreated, barely treating him like a person! Over the time they knew each other this treatment got worse. Even with his healing and curing abilities, their relations still decayed- even now he’s been demoted to bag boy. Carrying armor and weapons for the supposed ‘more useful’ members of the team, our lancer and swordsman.
“Look.” The skirted lancer got down to eye level with Domiel (the moth was only 4’2 after all,) “It’s nothing but a little labor. Surely Moonwalkers are good for something right?” The long, tall weasel puts her armored hands on Domiel’s shoulders, “You’ve got four arms, we’ve got two! It's only right you carry more, hm?”

...No. No it’s not; Not anymore.
“Is that why?!” Domiel’s brows furrow; Eyes narrowing in anger. “Over being a Moonwalker?! We prefer Moth, By. The. Way!” Moths had experienced much discrimination over the years. Their cave-dwelling and nocturnal nature leading people to believe they’re some kind of subspecies- not worth the same respect everyone else deserves. “If you hate my race then why’d you even invite me to be a part of your group?! Just to abuse me??”
“Come now!” The fox scoffs. “I don’t ‘hate’ anyone! Besides- you're a... decent cleric. (For a moonwalker, anyway.)”
“We both know that’s not true.” Domiel spat out those words, the vile words that he holds at the back of his throat drowning his tone with hate, making his distaste apparent. “The way you look at me, those stares! It’s like I make you sick; And I hate it! If you’re really going to tell me all of that is because of some stupid race shit, then I’m sorry—we can’t keep going together.”

“This can’t wait till some other time? We’re still on the road, here; And there’s an inn just around the corner.” The vulpine stares back, those same eyes he always gives whenever he’s annoyed.
“Let the kid speak.” The shield toting gigantic tortoise lights up a pipe as he takes a spot on the floor, “he’s got a point with that staring shit. And you’re indebted to ‘im too; If I’m not covering your ass, then he’s healing it.” The cold eyes of the shelled giant stare fiercely down at the fox. Who even while sitting he was still taller than.

The fox sighs. “Fine. You two want to know why I look like that?” He gives a true stare, pure hatred being the only thing behind those eyes. “Now I don’t have a problem with magic, or mages- but when I see someone tote themselves as some sort of ‘adventurer’ and their cheating with that magical nonsense! Hate’s all I truly can feel.” The armored fox’s tail flicks with a certain rage, the tensions rising as he starts to feel the anger growing. “Do you know how long I’ve worked to get here? Training day in- day out. For 15 or so long years! To achieve a body like this!” He removes his chest plate and lifts his shirt, showing off his muscular abdomen. “And you think it’s fair for you to get this far, with fucking magic? You’re deluded; thinking I’d give you some kind of easy road because you can cast a few spells. Maybe the fools you heal with your party tricks- maybe the idiots in central- perhaps the divines themselves. But. Not. Me.” He says those last words with a snarl, pointing to himself for emphasis.

Tortoise looked unbothered. Never too interested in what other people thought of him, that rant barely made a difference to him.
But not the moth.

“You, Fucking, MORON!” The moth yelled, insect-like hands clenching into fists as he storms closer to the vulpine. “You don’t think I’ve worked for this? Just because it’s not physical- you genuinely are stupid enough to believe I haven’t put in the same effort you have?!?!” He gets closer to the fox, anger apparent in his stomping, talon-like toes.

“We should really stop this before-!” The weasel moves to stop the two colliding forces, but is stopped.
“Nah.” The tortoise puffs out smoke. “Let them sort it out between themselves. Besides, I’m curious to see where this goes.”

“And what? You’d have me believe that putting your head down in a damn book makes you better in combat? You’re no man. You’re no warrior. You’re a damn pencil pushing guild-worker who’s out of his league, and lucky as all hell that we’re here to cover your ass. Least the turtle has a good excuse; Front-lining for us. But you, you’ve got nothing. You sit behind us, waiting for US to take damage, so you can say a few heretical incantations- then what? You must be having a good old time! Simply avoiding any true responsibility! Any true pressure. What, are you laughing at us? Making fun of the monkeys who do all the fighting for you?”

The top set of Domiel’s arms make their way onto the fox’s shirt, pulling him down to eye level in a surprising show of strength; “All that healing, Mending of broken bones. Every time I cure you of all the diseases and poisons you rack up, any time I sharpen your blades, heighten your senses! You’re telling me you notice none of that? You truly believe I’m doing nothing?” The Moth’s intense eyes stare into the Vulpine’s.

“Oh what? You doing a little more than the bare minimum? Trust me—I sooo notice! You’re doing amazing, sweet heart.” The fox gives a fake smile, putting a paw on the moth’s head, under his hat, rubbing his forehead a bit with his gloved hand.

That was more than enough. Domiel wanted to respond with a quip of some kind, spit out a remark before he did this- but he couldn’t even get the words out. “You-! You fucking-!!” His eyes fill with malice as his mouth opens wide, the strands of saliva breaking as it flies open; His cavernous maw darkening the fox’s view, blocking the sun and filling his captain’s eyes with his final view outside of him, just of his mouth.
It was a little-known ability of Moth’s- the uncanny ability to swallow others whole. The first adventurers who’d learned of the moth people ending up 2-3 people short. Once a Moonwalker had their mouth around your head, you’d be their meal. No if’s and’s or but’s. Not that that had helped with their reputation in civilization any- making them seem like monsters until they had been domesticated. But even to this day- If you’re to get a Moth mad enough, they’ll show you just where food belongs.

As a certain fox was about to get a first-hand lesson. “Wha-!” He yelps as the darkness literally consumes him, the moth’s large mouth fully closes around his head with a *Hompf!* That slimy cavern having more than enough room for that snout. The fox’s eyes fly around in the moth’s maw, worried expression giving away the fear now inside him- I-it was a simple argument, s-surely this wouldn’t go this far? “The hell are you doing?! let me go!”
It sounded like that to him, sure, but to everyone else it sounded more like- “thmmph mming?! Lhht mhghhh!” But the meaning wasn’t lost on the moth. In fact, he reveled in it! “Hrrhrh~” Was all he could get out with a full mouth. Though he couldn’t truly speak- he could act, and act he did, that long, insectoid tongue wrapping around the fox’s head; Savoring and taking in his flavor with aggressive pulling. He wanted ALL of this fox, and now.

“Ok, now we should really do something, he’s eating him!” The weasel looks back to the turtle, pleading eyes making her thoughts on the matter clear.
“Alright. What are you going to do? It sounds like you want me to do something, but honestly, I’ve been waiting for something like this happen for a long time to that dumbass.” The turtle puffs air out of his nose, in a sort of ‘good riddance’ way.
“Ack...” The weasel looks with distraught. She could intervene, but without using her lance it’d be basically useless. A big guy, like the tortoise, could actually break the two up.

The Moth gets his second set of arms onto his prey’s hips, lifting the fox with the added support of the first set of arms holding the Vulpine’s arms together, making the job relatively easy. The Moth’s mind was moving at a million miles a minute, it was a forbidden art, consumption of another person, but he didn’t care; Letting out a moan as he tasted the fox and got more of him down. He thought to himself, ‘All that training not doing so much now, huh?’ The smile widened on his face, as he shoved the fox down his throat, his captain’s face appearing in the moth’s gullet, making it bulge with the vulpine’s surprised expression.
The fox’s armored butt gets shown off to the two spectators, his now bristled tail thrashing back and forth as he flail’s his legs. Pathetic for someone so proud of their strong body.

The fox screamed as he was lowered- no use having dignity like this, he was being eaten for divine’s sake. The Fox’s mind was also moving faster than light, but with terror instead of excitement. As he was forced through the slime ridden dark tunnel, being coated in the viscous fluid surrounding him- the tight, wet throat squeezing and constricting him, only getting worse as he was forced downward, sinking into Domiel like quicksand- the harder he fought it, the worse it got.
His shoulders are squeezed together even harder as they reach the entrance of the Moth’s throat as well, more and more of his body being fed into the moth with excessive elation. His worried, desperate struggling not making any real progress against his predator, losing his composure being his worst enemy in actual escape attempts.

“Mmmmffh~ fummhk...” Domiel’s eyes roll back a little- finding pleasure in each gulp, the loud *gllrp*’s and *gluk*’s sending his prey down further and further the fox’s head almost making it down to his final destination, not much room considering the moth’s short stature.
The Vulpine gets his first taste of his future, a quick dunk into the moth’s digested breakfast making him yell out multiple obscenities in denial. The tight chamber is quick to expand around him, at least giving him breathing room. The moth was nothing if not accommodating.
The fox is pushed upward, and over the Moth’s head- the Moth leaving gravity to do the rest of the work getting his captain’s hips and legs in. He removes his arms from the fox’s body, moving them down to his now growing belly, the multiple sets of arms exploring and kneading the soft stomach- hearing it groan and gurgle, feeling it rumble under his gentle touch. It was pleasurable to say the least- the moth didn’t wear pants, chitin usually enough to hide any privates- although the dripping from below was more than enough to show off his feelings about the consumption. “mmmmmghpgff...” His cheeks tainted pink with all of the overwhelming feelings.
The fox wasn’t nearly having as good of a time, most of his body now inside the moth, starting to bunch up into a circle as more of him is dumped into the caustic chamber. “This cannot be happening... how the fuck is this happening...?” The realization of his circumstance hits him like a truck. This... is really how his life ends, isn’t it? He’d heard the stories about man-eating races; Knew about their voracious methods. B-but to imagine they’d share a city with you, hide in plain sight... it just wasn’t possible was it? This had to be some kind of nightmare- or illusion! Or, or!
The moth does his final gulp- followed by a slurp of a certain rascally tail, getting the final bits of his Vulperan captain down. The Fox sinking quite fast, and becoming a bulge in the Moth’s belly with a *galunk*! The tight, unforgiving belly squeezing and compressing him, showing off his armored form to the outside world, loud *Grrrrgl*’s and *Grrrroooooooaaannn*’s being the only thing you could hear.
The Moth sighs out in satisfaction, “Haaahh finally... got all of y-” The displaced air in Domiel’s belly rises flying out in a huge-

*HWOOOOOOOOARRRP!*

The knightly Fox’s helmet flies out with the tons saliva that comes with, and on it. Damn, that felt goooood~ Domiel pats and kneads his distended gut with his paws, the four roaming around and groping at every inch of the knight’s form, he was good in there. The form fitting, constricting belly making sure it shows off just who was devoured by the moth. “You’ve got so much less to say- now that you’re down there. Surely, this wasn’t too big of a blow to our ego now, was it?”

“You’re a damned bastard, you hear that?! What kind of sick fuck does this?!!?” The fox pushes out against the tight belly- quickly rubber banded by the fleshly walls themselves, not keen on giving up they’re oh so easily.

“I didn’t plan on it. But just hearing food like you talk down to me- I just couldn’t help myself. You’ve got to understand~” He was barely taking the fox seriously- more so toying with him at this point. Who could, really, the so-called captain was more or less just a big dinner he had now, and seeing his this overconfident ‘captain’ in his belly made him lose any of the respect he even had left for him.

“Dammit just... just let me out!” The fox pounded against those constricting walls, results being minimal, it seemed like the Moth was literally built for housing prey, hardly letting him struggle whilst as well.
“Nah. I don’t let out prey half-baked. Besides you’ve got a lot-” Domiel’s top set of arms push down on his prey’s head, “-of digesting to do. At least you’ll finally be worthwhile, as ass flab.” The moth sighs and flops back, hitting the grass with a *flump*. It was true, he’d have so much of the Fox to digest, probably over the next couple of days or so. The moth laughed to himself, “What’d you say earlier? You trained for how long? 15 years? All of that, simply to get swallowed and digested by a mage.” The hatted head of mage in question shakes, “It must suck.” He normally wouldn’t be so cruel, but what the fox had said before still got to him, and it’s not like he said anything untrue, anyway.
The fox, predictably, didn’t like that. The struggles from before being vastly beaten out by the thrashing now, He tried moving and pushing against his prison, though it held fast simply not budging to it’s complaining passenger. The moving didn’t help so much as it did hurt, harsh gurgles and groans coming from all around now, almost like the stomach itself was mad with it’s prisoner.

On the other hand, the Moth was in bliss, hazed eyes showing off just how full he was, resting his head atop his moving belly, just enjoying the sounds of digestion. It was almost enough to fall asleep too.
Almost, enough. he’d have to stay awake with the Weasel trotting towards him.