#kepp

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When Keith’s eyes fluttered open, he became aware of a string of different things, each one more unsettling than the last. First, it was pitch black. He couldn’t see a thing. He held his mitt in front of his face, and couldn’t even tell how many fingers he was holding up. It was so dark, he wasn’t entirely sure his eyes were open at first; were it not for the rest of his sensations, he would have thought he was in some bizarre, black-void dream. When he moved, though, he became aware of other things, and it was the movement and these other awakenings of his basic senses that allowed him to realize that, whatever was happening, it was frighteningly real. The surface of the floor beneath him was hard, cool, and smooth. He crawled on his hands and knees, groping about…but he hadn’t gone very far at all before bonking his head against a wall of the same material. As he ran the fingertips of one hand against the offending surface - his other hand caressed his sore noggin - he recognized the cold, unyielding surface as thick, polished glass. The next thing that Keith noticed - with a slight grimace - was a strange, musty odor. Not unpleasant, per se, but certainly not welcome, either. The scent made him immediately think of something wooden, like standing in an old furniture showroom or a crafts store. Then, Keith became aware of the slight chill, probably from the glass surrounding him…which caused him to become aware of one last thing: he was virtually naked. His underwear - simple old-fashioned tighty-whities - were all he had left. He flushed with embarrassment as he hugged himself, goosebumps fluttering over his back. Then, at last, he became aware of a voice…several voices in fact. Most of them he couldn’t make out what they were saying, they seemed to be sniffling, crying, and muttering to themselves, and occasionally to others, but they were all muffled by the glass, so he couldn’t properly hear anything. He did, however, make out one voice that seemed to be close to him: it was a young man, about his age, and seemed to be praying… “Our Master, who dwells among us, feared be thy name…thy kingdom come, thy will be done, no matter what we say…consume us this day, your daily sustenance, and show no forgiveness, for we deserve no mercy…let us not rot in wasteful entropy, but deliver us to your endlessness-” “Oh, for the love of life, SHUT UP!” snapped another voice, and Keith jumped as he heard hands banging on the glass of a jar not so far away from him. “When I break free of this stupid cell…!” “There is no freedom,” the first voice replied, sounding insulted that the second speaker would think there was. “There is only Him. You should be grateful to be chosen as his plaything! We are to serve a higher purpose, to be used by a superior being, we-!” “Are you completely insane, or just plain stupid?” snorted the second speaker, followed by more banging on the glass. “You’re wasting your time,” a third voice spoke up. This one was older than the first two. “You know we can’t break these jars, all you’re doing is using up priceless energy.” “Aw, you shut up, too!” the angry voice snarled. “I can do without either of your preaching!” “I’m not preaching,” the third voice said reasonably. “Just pointing out simple facts. Unlike SOME people, I don’t make idols out of monsters.” “Our God may be a monster, but he is also our sovereign,” the first voice said. “He is living, bodily perfection…so powerful…so immense…so…b-breathtaking…it would be an honor, a PLEASURE, to be accepted and be one with his might…his beauty…” A dreamy sigh followed these words, and somehow, Keith knew both of the other speakers were rolling their eyes. “We’ll see if you sing that tune when your time comes,” the third voice murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Why is this happening to me?!” screeched the second voice. “I’m the owner of the biggest bank in the city, damn it! He can’t do this to me!” “Of course he can,” the first voice said. “You may have owned the bank, but he owns this world, and it is because of his grace we have our prosperity to begin with.” “You call it ‘grace,’ I call it ‘making sure his food doesn’t starve before the slaughter,’” the third voice replied. “I don’t care!” the second voice nearly squealed, and more banging was heard. “I shouldn’t be here with you lowlife imbeciles! I had wealth…I had women bowing at my feet…THIS ISN’T FAIR!” “If our Lord was fair, he would not be so majestically powerful and massive,” sighed the first voice again. “How I adore his…ah…ahem…um…stupendous framework…” “Tch. Subtle,” sneered the second speaker. “Tell me, is everyone in your so-called ‘sect’ as flat out horny as you are?” “H-HORNY?! I’m not-!” “Um…e-excuse me?” peeped Keith, and even though he couldn’t see anything, he suddenly had the feeling all three pairs of eyes (and maybe a few others) were trained on him at last. “Oh, our new arrival is awake, finally,” said the third voice. “Welcome, stranger,” said the first. The second just scoffed, clearly not caring a penny’s worth. Keith paused, licking his lips before speaking again. “Excuse me,” he repeated. “But, ah…c-could someone tell me what’s going on? What…what is this place, wh-where am I?” Almost before he had finished speaking, the first voice answered in a bold, rousing tone: “Rejoice, fellow mortal! Your life will soon be at an end, sacrificed to the all-powerful, all-consuming power of Bela Sulten: King of the Predator Gods, Lord of Excess, God of Gluttony! Sing hosannas of anguish, as that-!” “You can lay off the crazy talk, preacher,” snapped the second voice. “It makes me sick.” The first voice sniffed snootily in response, then went back to praying quietly. The third voice sighed, and Keith could hear the reassuring smile on their face as their voice drifted into his space: “Sorry about him. The…seriously messed up one is Shepherd. He’s actually a friar from the Church of Excess - the most devoted followers of Bela. As you can tell, he’s…zealous about his beliefs.” An uncomfortably pleasured-sounding moan from Shepherd’s area, uttered mid-prayer, gave Keith some indication of that fact. “R-Right,” Keith responded, then crawled closer to where he heard the third man’s voice, till he reached the glass wall and placed his palms upon it. “Does…does he mean it? Are we…is this…?” “You are inside the home of Bela Sulten. We all are,” the man confirmed, his tone rather grim. “How long we stay alive here is entirely up to him.” Keith felt himself starting to shake, rising dread in his heart. Bela Sulten was the most powerful of all the Predator Gods…as well as the most ravenous and cruel. His gifts to mankind were only outmatched by his sadistic butchery. The thought that he was in the very lair of the God of Gluttony - the most feared man-eater in recorded history - was obviously most perturbing. “Why?” he gulped nervously. “If you mean, ‘why he’s keeping us,’ it’s frankly to suffer in whatever way he wants us to,” sighed the man. “If you mean, ‘why we’re here’ to begin with…well…it varies from person to person. For example, Shepherd’s in here because he willingly offered himself up to be. Xavier tried to embezzle a few hundred thousand from the bank he was in charge of, and that made Bela…upset.” Xavier - the angry fellow - snarled at his name being mentioned. “And what about you?” Keith asked. “I’m Packer,” the third man answered. “And I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’m not exactly innocent, myself: I’m in here because I’m a thief. I tried to steal some gold from the Lord of Excess - it seemed like a good idea at the time - but I got caught, and…well…now I’m just as much in danger as anyone here. You?” “My name’s Keith.” “Hmph. Simple enough name,” muttered Xavier’s voice. Both Packer and Keith ignored him. “I’d say I’m happy to meet you, but under the circumstances, that’s not really all true,” Packer’s voice said with a wry little chuckle. “What are you in for?” “I don’t know!” Keith exclaimed. “I just…I was at home, getting ready for work, and the next thing I know I’m in here!” Packer let out a thoughtful hum. “That’s odd, even for Lord Bela,” he confessed. “Everyone else in this predicament insulted or defied him in some way. Someone who spilled some food or drink into his lap, someone who bumped into him while running down the sidewalk, someone who took the last item he wanted at the supermarket…you’re sure there’s nothing you can think of?” “No. But if he can be that petty, it could be any reason,” whimpered Keith. “We’re all gonna die,” sobbed an unfamiliar fourth voice, and several others joined in a chorus of despair. “Maybe you all will, but I won’t,” grumbled Xavier. “We can’t give in to dismay!” Packer called out, then addressed Keith directly. “Listen…this situation is very nearly hopeless…but I’m willing to bet there’s a way out of this with our lives intact, if not our sizes.” “Foolish mortal,” mumbled Shepherd’s voice. “Wait a minute,” frowned Keith. “What do you mean our ‘sizes’?” Before Packer could answer, Keith found out: he flinched as, suddenly, light streamed into the darkness, accompanied by a creaking sound. He blinked his eyes as he squinted, his pupils struggling to adjust…and when they did, his jaw dropped. A familiar pair of purple eyes and equally familiar crop of untidy black hair met his gaze. Now, Keith could see the figure who had them…but they were no longer of natural human size. They were GIGANTIC, at least twenty times taller than any human being should be! The figure was a young man - younger than Keith, likely just out of his teenaged years - dressed in somewhat formal garb, with a leather collar around his neck. His skin was very pale, and he moved in an almost mechanical way as he reached over, past, and around Keith…and began to fish what appeared to be jam jars from the space in which he was trapped. Inside each of the jars were other people - shrunken and dressed in nothing but their undergarments - just like Keith; they all seemed to be roughly the size of mere mice to this youthful giant! “It’s time, tiny ones,” the giant cooed, and placed the jars one by one into a very lare wicker basket that was behind hi on table; Keith realized they were in a kitchen cabinet. “Our Master awaits…the time for praying and hoping is over. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll be merciful when he ends you all…maybe…” The words were not spoken as a threat, nor were they even spoken as a taunt. They were simply spoken: simple statements, nothing more. That, more than anything, terrified Keith…but his terror only rose when the giant smiled faintly as he lifted his jar. “Can’t forget you,” he heard the young man chuckle, before placing his jar with the others in the basket. Next, Keith heard Xavier’s angry shouts, followed by Shepherd cheering with glee. At the sound of the familiar voices, Keith looked to see what their hosts were like: Xavier, it turned out, was a fellow a little older than Keith, somewhere in his early to mid-thirties; he had slick-looking, well-groomed blonde hair, and heroic features on his face, with bright green eyes. His physique was lean-muscled and attractive; Keith would have called him handsome, were his personality not so repugnant. As for Shepherd, he was the same age as Keith, it seemed, and had a somewhat round, portly build. He also had blonde hair and green eyes, but his hair was untidy and curly, and his eyes were a somewhat darker hue. Keith heard Packer’s voice let out a soft, short grunt on the opposite side of him, and he looked to see what his new friend (if that word applied) was like. Packer was a man in his late thirties or early forties, older than the rest of them, with speckles of silver in his black, goatee and moustache. His hair was tied into a ponytail, and there was a scar on one of his bare pectorals. He had, overall, something of a rugged look compared to the rest. “You okay?” Keith asked Packer, instinctively, as the giant youth shut the cupboard, apparently having gathered all the jars he required. “As okay as I can be,” sighed Packer, and smiled somewhat wearily at Keith. “Hold on tight, kid…we’re heading into Hell.” Keith whimpered. Meanwhile, the purple-eyed young man sighed and grunted as he hauled the large wicker basket into his arms. It took two hands to carry it now, and there was no service elevator in the mansion Lord Bela called home. The Champion of Excess (Keith knew something of how the Gods functioned) huffed and puffed as he marched up the stairs with a robotic sort of gait, eyes forever trained forward, never looking down towards the humans in the jars he held. It didn’t take long for Keith to realize this young fellow was the one who had taken him…nor did it take him long to count the jars of fellow lifeforms around him. He was one in a batch of two-dozen shrunken humans. Most of them were clamoring in their jars, cursing and crying and pleading for release or salvation. There were only two exceptions Keith saw: one was, of course, Shepherd, who was singing some sort of psalm. The lyrics, which described horrors Keith could not stand to think about just yet, gave the captured little man some idea of the kind of demon he would soon be at the mercy of. Keith looked towards Packer; he was the other exception, and simply and quietly sat cross-legged in his jar, as if in a state of meditation. Keith bit his lip, looking Packer up and down…then sat down as well, matching his posture. Packer noticed, and the pair smiled at each other…then waited. There was nothing to do now, after all…except wait. After bobbing and swaying like cargo in a ship’s hull, the basket was finally carried to the second floor of the great mansion. As the purple-eyed boy carried the collection of people-jars down the hall, Keith heard the whirring of machinery, and strong grunting sounds, along with the occasional low, deadly growl. He soon found out where the sounds were coming from, as the raven-haired little giant carried pushed a slightly-ajar door open with his booted foot, and carried the basket full of people-jars into the room beyond. Keith’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull, and his jaw dropped, as he saw the room beyond: it appeared to be an exercise room, filled with various devices intended for working out. There was a workout bench with a weight bar, and against a wall was a group of medicine balls and a rack of small metal dumbbells. In another area was another weight-lifting machine, this one apparently involving using one’s legs. None of these devices were unusual, but the sheer SIZE of them all left him stunned: just like the one carrying him, everything was larger than life, the machinery alone resembling great hills or small mountains. The floor was covered in thick foam rubber, and the whole place smelled of old sweat. Dimly, Keith could detect the sound of classical music - some sort of opera, it sounded like - playing. Not the most obvious choice of workout music, but who was he to talk? At any rate, neither the music nor these other elements could distract from the main attraction: the treadmill. Not only was the treadmill as equally monolithic in scale as the other exercise machines (and, Keith noticed with a shiver and a shudder, not only was the running track itself covered in small, dark spots that he somehow guessed were bloodstains), but more importantly, the occupant using it at that moment was impossible to overlook: a towering figure, taller than the one who carried them by what seemed like countless feet from Keith’s diminutive vantage point. Though its overall demeanor was humanoid, it was clearly not human: the black cat ears and tail, along with its clawed fingers, the fangs in its mouth, and its glowing orange felid eyes, were proof of that. The figure was male, with black-banged hair and skin the color of chocolate milk. The figure was handsome and youthful in his countenance - approximately the same age as Keith himself, as well as Shepherd - with features that were somehow both rounded and yet angular at the same time. He was also almost completely naked, that bare, sweat-speckled flesh on full display, aside from a pair of tight-fitting black boxers with orange lining. These hugged the titan’s substantial curves: his thighs were thicker than the most hardy tree trunks, his hips indicating a rump that could put a dozen dumptrucks to shame with its wide load. His arms were burly, swathed in a mixture of softness and hardy sinew that indicated prodigious strength, especially when paired with his powerful, brick-shaped pectoral muscles…but these features were contrasted by a giant ball of a belly, so big, fat, and round that it looked as if this behemoth smuggled butter for a side job. Keith heard Shepherd let out a longing sigh as, with every pace on the treadmill, the massive beast’s belly bounced and joggled. However, Keith was far too terrified by the identity of the huge, fat God to pay much attention. “M-Master?” came his kidnapper’s voice. “I…I have your mid-workout snack ready…” With a flick of the wrist, Bela Sulten turned off the treadmill; the room seemed to rock as his powerful, bare feet stepped onto the padded floor, and he pulled a small purple towel off of a nearby wall-hook. He dabbed at his face and neck, and smirked at his pet. “Very good, Kepp,” purred the God of Gluttony. “Place the basket on the floor, please.” “Of course, Lord Bela,” Kepp said, nodding eagerly and placing the basket on the ground as Bela approached. Keith and nearly all the other shrunken people trapped inside the jars trembled with terror as the fat, beefy God prowled closer; Bela’s gait was one of potent, seductive power. All rocking hips and smoldering eyes, his smirk smug and cruel. He gazed upon the tiny creatures trapped in the glass containers more like they were all of his lovers than anything else. Knowing the treatment Lord Bela gave to humans, this made the moment all the more horrifying, and Keith whimpered, crawling to the back of his jar as Bela’s huge face loomed down over them, the God crouching to get a closer look at the treats within. He cooed and reached out, tapping Xavier’s jar with a long, sharp claw, making the blonde-haired man inside near Keith yelp. “Aren’t you all adorable?” he crooned, and chuckled - a deep, low, terrible sound. “I hope you’ll all be as cute when I murder your bodies and absorb your pitiful souls into my powerful being. I’m going to enjoy seeing the way you all suffer.” The flash of teeth and a lick of his lips indicated just how much Bela would enjoy it. Kepp, meanwhile, blushed as he saw Bela inspect his prey; even crouched, the half-cat God was taller than Kepp himself. “Will…will that be all, Master?” Bela glanced to Kepp, then back at his meals before standing up and approaching his pet. He hooked a talon into Kepp’s collar, and Kepp let out a strangled squeak as he was pulled closer to the sweaty, humongous body of the God: a towering eight feet in comparison to Kepp’s far more miniscule framework. “It will suffice for the moment,” Bela said, his free hand moving to play with Kepp’s hair, twirling some strands around a finger before releasing them and cupping his cheek, making the little human blush more. “Now, run along, pet…I will call you for some water and some…SERVICE later…” He leaned close and licked Kepp’s cheek on the last two words, making Kepp shiver with clear excitement; he was panting as he nodded obediently. “Y-Yes, Master…I’ll…I’ll be ready…I promise…” “You’d better be, or I’ll shatter your skull with my arse,” Bela crooned, the words sounding disturbingly playful before he finally released Kepp’s collar and shooed him away. “Be off with you! Shoo, shoo, go play with your little toys!” Bela then grinned a truly horrifying grin at the jars full of tiny people. “I’ll be playing plenty with MINE,” he growled darkly. Keith would have started praying, but under the circumstances, what would have been the point? Kepp - Keith’s kidnapper, though he still had no clue why (and had a feeling he never would know) - scampered away, and the nearly-naked Lord of Excess locked it after him. Bela then leaned back against the door, smirking superciliously as he snapped his fingers. The jars magically opened themselves…and Keith and all twenty-three of the other miniaturized Homo sapiens let out sharp, wordless exclamations as they were levitated into the air, out of the jars, then floated in a bunch to the floor. The jars then magically sealed shut, and with a wave of his hand, Bela bade the whole basket to disappear in a puff of smoke. Now, the two-dozen shrunken humans were fully in the grasp of the God of Gluttony. Bela smiled hungrily, one hand moving to rub his bloated, round belly, a finger finding its way into his navel as he moaned, biting his lip as his other hand rested upon his plush hip. “Mmmmmrrrrrrrrrrrrr…you all look so…delectably delicious,” rumbled Bela Sulten, and chuckled at the expressions of terror and, in some cases, pleading despair on his victims’ faces. “I believe you all have at least a semi-solid notion of what is about to occur, but allow me to spell it out for you, peons: I am your God. I consume human bodies and souls. And I am RAVENOUS. I have been engaging in my daily regimen of exercises, and now I wish to play. What can I say? I’m a feline: playing with my food is simply irresistible to me.” He smacked his lips, and then wiped his arm across his mouth as a line of drool oozed from the corner of his jaw. He let out a shaky breath before continuing, clearly getting very, VERY excited by the mere thought of what he was about to do to Keith and all the rest assembled, groveling at his clawed, fat feet. “Most of you will be ending your paltry, pathetic lives in the bottomless filth-pit of my stomach,” he said, patting his belly and making it jiggle before continuing, “But not all of you. Rest assured, however…whatever way I choose to end your sorry excuses for existences…you WILL die. And it will be quite horrible…for you, anyway. For me, this is going to be most enjoyable. But as much as I would love to pontificate further on the many ways I could make you all hurt and cry and beg for your lives to go on with fresh air and light…” GRRRROOOOORRRRLLLLLOOOORRRRRB… A monstrous, abyssal rumble from the belly of the beast interrupted the scene. Bela shivered and sighed, then smiled toothily down at his little toys, his tail twitching happily. “...I believe my belly is in no mood for chatter,” he hissed. “So now, my little morsels, brace yourselves for the most hellacious agony you will ever experience…” With a ravenous grin, Bela Sulten began to reach down, one clawed hand extending its long, strong fingers as his terrible shadow overwhelmed the gathered food. “...And let the slaughter commence.” Keith jumped back, a sudden surge of adrenaline spurring him onwards…and it was a lucky thing he did, because the clawed fingers of Bela Sulten only barely missed him. The muscular fist of the mighty God instead wrapped itself around four other people, who all screamed as the Lord of Excess lifted them up, Up, UP into the air. Keith watched in horror as all four of the nearly-naked men hollered and howled, different parts of them sticking out from the gaps in the God’s grip, thrashing desperately for release as Bela smiled serenely, hoisting them up over his head. His free hand fondled the folds and rolls of his blubbery belly as his tongue slid over his perfectly-shaped lips, a light, purring hum coming from him as he looked at the squirming appetizers with the same expression one might have when watching a few amusing pets doing something silly… …Of course, most people don’t EAT their pets. And as Bela Sulten opened his jaws, there was no doubt about what he was going to do… “Ahhhhhhh…”

His teasing, elongated exhalation caused the quartet in his fist to scream louder…before his fingers released them, and they plunged head-over-heels into the waiting maw of the monster. Their shrieks were silenced as - SNAP! - Bela slammed his mouth shut around them. His cheeks bulged for a moment as he rumbled pleasantly, eyes fluttering closed as the same fingers that had held them fell to his throat, brushing it lightly as his other hand kneaded into the layers of soft, thick-looking body-dough on his pudgy belly. Then - GUUULLLP! - with a thick, sloppy sound, Bela’s facial cheeks flattened out, and a lump formed in his throat. His Adam’s Apple bobbed, and the lump disappeared under his fingertips and behind his sternum…then, with a deep, long, pleasured sigh, Bela patted his belly against its soft, silky underside, making it jiggle gelatinously. “Ohhhhhhh…lovely little first selections,” he crooned, and then without another word or further hesitation, reached down to grab more of his meat. By this time, however, the remaining twenty people were ready to run. And run they did: Keith whirled around and bolted with the rest. He wasn’t sure where he was running to, just so long as he could get far away from the giant cat God: it was the blind state of panic a rabbit might have when far from home and pursued by a wild fox. He briefly noticed Shepherd being grabbed by the arm by someone in the group mid-psalm-start, but he had no real clue about Packer or Xavier; his mind was mostly focused on his own survival. The sound of thundering footfalls - THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP - only urged him to move faster. “Run, run, as fast as you can!” sang out Bela tauntingly, and his mocking, cruel laughter echoed in Keith’s ears, accompanied by more screams and a swooping sound as more men were snatched up in the titan’s grasp. Keith did not turn around, but he heard the screams become more distant…then came a loud, lewd slurping sound, and another gulp of gusto, signalling however many other men had been grabbed, they were now on their way to the belly of the beast. Keith saw that the rest of the group were racing pell-mell towards various pieces of exercise equipment in the room, scurrying like mice trying to find their hiding holes. He briefly caught a glimpse of Packer’s beard, and recognizing the only fellow human he had any friendly correction to, Keith chose to follow him. Just as he had started though… “AH! HELP! HELP ME!” Human decency got the better of Keith, distracting him as he skidded to a halt and looked back. One man had evidently tripped on a gap in the foam pads that jigsaw-puzzled the floor. Keith shuddered as he saw Bela smirking down at the downed little man, his tail swishing as his hips rocked and a single finger drew alluring circles around his deep, dark well of a navel…the God was taking his time. He had all the time in the world. His victims? Not so much. Another man hurriedly moved towards the fallen fellow to try and help him up, but the faller’s toes had evidently gotten jammed. Keith was about to run over and try to offer aid himself…but stopped short when he saw Bela pause…before grinning a truly frightening, fang-filled smile…raising one enormous, bare foot up over the heads of the tiny people below him. His fat-padded soles rippled and flexed, the soft, well-tended-to skin of his foot shifting as he wiggled his clawed toes teasingly…then brought it down just as the fallen man began to get up… SLAM! “AAAAAAAGH!” A bloodcurdling scream came from the man as his lower half was stomped on harshly, the one who had tried to help falling back onto his bunce as Keith backed up a few paces in alarm. The man had tears in his eyes as Bela grinned maliciously, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing up his big gut with obvious pride, clearly pleased with himself: the man’s upper half was wedged between two of his toes, the little mouse-sized human squealing and sobbin in pain as the weight of the God’s foot likely pulpified his legs. It got worse. A sickening series of cracks and crunches were heard as Bela began to twist his foot down, grinding it into the floor. The man let out an even more shrill screech than before; Keith felt sick as, with a final twist, all but one of his arms were dragged under the fat God’s foot…then, with a final, disturbing twist, that one arm twitched three times before falling limp and cold. Bela nodded to himself, as if pleased with his work, then smirked as he saw both Keith and the man who had tried to help. He reached towards them, and both Keith and the other man quickly wheeled about before taking flight. Keith got lucky again: once more, he narrowly evaded Sulten’s grasp. The other man wasn’t so lucky. Keith felt the whoosh of air pass over him as the clawed fingers scantly missed him, and darted forward with fresh energy to avoid being plucked up quickly. Then he paused and, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, or just to make sure he was something resembling safe, he looked to see what was going on. Bela had lifted the man up to his face, holding him between his thumb and forefinger, turning him this way and that and drumming his claws upon his big belly thoughtfully. His expression was one of mild, thoughtful interest, as if the man’s constant calls of “Please! Please no! Please, don’t hurt me! Please!” weren’t even detected by his ears, the God lost in some sort of daydream as he examined his newest victim. “Hmmmm…you’ll fit,” he murmured, in an airy sort of way. Before the tiny one could question what that meant, he got his answer, as Bela lowered him back down towards his belly…right near the black, fatty abyss of his navel. With a guiding croon, Bela inserted the feet of his little plaything into the musky hole of his belly button…and began to push him in deeper. The man howled, incomprehensible strings of inane, insane babble leaving him as he desperately clawed at the belly fat and the finger that was carelessly shoving him in. “There’s no point in struggling,” Bela chortled. “Sink. Die. Suffocate for me, my little one…I want to smother you with this. “PLEASE, GOD! PLEASE, GOD!” was all the man could say, screaming over and over again. Bela just moaned and shoved down harder, till only the man’s head was left outside of his navel. “Mmmmmm…say farewell to light and air,” he cooed in a fiendishly affectionate tone. “I’m sure they won’t miss you.” The man let out a final, tragic sob…before - POPK! - his head was crammed into the musky, fatty folds of Bela’s belly, lost in the sweaty darkness of his navel. Bela sighed deeply with pleasure, shaking and jiggling his stomach, playing with the rolls near his navel to ensure the human was buried in the black void; deep, deep in where the Sun would never shine. “And that is the last anyone will ever see you again,” he said to himself, the tone making it clear just how much INTENSE pleasure he got from the knowledge and experience. “Oooooh, squirm while you can…I want to feel you fade…poor little belly-stuffer…mmm-hm-hmmm…” Keith shuddered; he’d seen more than enough. Remembering the danger of his situation, he hurried to find the group he’d been following and escape to a good hiding spot. As he frantically looked around, he could hear Bela pick up more morsels who hadn’t hid and swallow them down; three separate cries of “MERCY! MERCY, PLEASE, DON’T!” indicated how many were to be consigned to an infernal demise in the bloated gastric prison. Another hearty swallow was followed by a rumbling, thick belch that made him flinch and grimace in disgust. Finally, he spotted the familiar face of Packer, who peeked out from behind a large medicine ball near where more equipment was. As quickly as he could, Keith dove behind the spot, where Packer, Shepherd, and three other human mites had managed to hide. “So close,” Keith panted, shaking like a leaf. “So…so close…!” “We’re all gonna die!” one of the other men bawled mournfully. “Hardly!” said Shepherd, in a rather chipper tone. “Our souls shall forever be nestled into the bountious blubber of our Lord and Master!” “That’s even worse!” another man snapped. Packer hushed them quickly. “Shhh! Do you want him to hear us?!” he hissed. “I have already heard you.” Keith, Packer, Shepherd, and the others looked up…and all turned pale as they found Bela Sulten smirking down at them with sultry, almost lustful, lazy eyes. His arms were folded, his chin in them, as he stared down, leaning on the medicine ball, his tail twitching behind him in a playful sort of way. “You can’t hide from me, little ones,” he said. “Now come here…let me indulge myself…let me devour you all…” Bela lunged down, swiping the three men in one fist. Packer and Keith raced off in another direction, cursing and seeking new shelter. As for Shepherd, he quietly snuck away to some other spot of his own… The three men hardly cared or noticed: they all yowled in horror as the God of Gluttony hoisted them up, the trio kicking and squirming as Bela licked his teeth, holding them up to his open mouth…all three gagged and wheezed as horrific-smelling breath pelted their faces… …Then, with a yelp, one of the men actually managed to wiggle free, slipping between Bela’s fingers and plummeting through empty space for a spell. Despite the terrifying situation, a sense of unprecedented relief fell over the man even as he tumbled: the fall, he hoped, would kill him more quickly than Bela Sulten. This was a vain hope: for one thing, the padded floor would have ensured no life-threatening injuries. And for another, the man never hit the ground: with a soft, annoyed snarl, Bela snatched him up in his other hand. “Oh, no,” he cooed, smirking at the wriggly little treat in his grasp. “I won’t allow my toys to break QUITE that easily. Just for that, little one, you have lost any right to see the bottom of my beautifully foul belly.” Sniffing snootily, Bela then looked to the other treats in his other hand. Both gulped nervously as he smiled at them. “As for you two…I’m going to treat you both to a lovely bath. It will clean you quite thoroughly…down to your precious, breakable little bones. Goodbye, food.” So saying, Bela casually opened his fanged maw, and tossed the two into his open jaws with a flippant flick of the wrist. They both scramble on his fat, sloppy tongue for a moment, reaching for the light that shone through his gaping maw…before the teeth clicked shut scant centimeters (or, at least, what seemed like centimeters at their size) away from their fingers. Bela then tipped his head back and moaned, crooning as he felt both meals struggle to try and make it to the front of his mouth, his teeth penning them in as he arched his slimy, slobby tongue, nudging them towards the black slope of his esophagus…then - GULLUP! - he traced the bulge they made in his neck with one black claw, the writhing distention sliding smoothly past his strong, blocky chest… …Before, with a deep “grortle,” two more tidbits bit the belly-bullet. Bela then turned his attention to the still-surviving treat in his fist, and held him up to his jaws…before burping all over him, belching like a fat, gross pig. The horrible reek of his belly gas left his prey squealing and coughing, gasping for air. The God snickered. “Awww, was that too vile for your liking?” he crooned, then grinned wickedly. “Really, you ought to be grateful I didn’t TRY to make it horrid. I have literally DROWNED pathetic runts like you with my glorious eructations…the looks on their faces as they choke to death on my stomach fumes, poisoned by my nastiness…” He shivered happily. “...Purely priceless,” breathed out Bela, while the little one in his grip just let out a groan of dread and disgust. “But don’t worry, little one…I won’t gas you. Rest assured, however…” So saying, Bela lifted something up from the exercise equipment in his other hand. “...Your end will be equally deplorable.” So saying, Bela’s hand that held the little toy swooped across…and the tiny man blinked, startled and very confused, his fear giving way to just sheer bafflement. Bela smiled villainously as the small figure was now mounted in the space between his bicep and his brachioradialis, his arm held out to his side. He gave the man a moment to take things in and gather what was going on: the little fellow could feel the strong, firm power of the brawny sinew that formed the God’s limbs, just as potent and intimidating as his ogre-like belly. And, as his prey was about to discover, just as lethal. The man looked back…and saw what the Lord of Excess had picked up earlier. It was a thirty pound dumbbell. The man looked at the spot where he was positioned, then at the bicep, then at the dumbbell…then slowly looked up at Bela, his face going gaunt as he started to shake his head, seemingly putting the pieces together. Bela smiled wider and winked, pursing his lips as he blew a kiss to the little mite…then pulled the dumbbell to him, his lower arm lifting as his upper arm bulge, bicep pressing out. The man yelped as he was pressed between the muscles; desperately, he tried to push against the bicep, as it flexed hard and pushed back…he gritted his teeth, straining, desperate to avoid this fate…but the pressure was too great. The titan was too strong. Bela smiled, and began flexing, applying just a little more pressure with each lift of the dumbbell, watching as his victim whimpered and blubbered, pleading for the God to let him live… Bela Sulten was many things. Kind and sympathetic had never been among them. Finally, the poor, straining creature could not take the stress, and with a hard FLEX of his arm, Bela’s bicep all but smothered him. He let out a short, final scream of despair as the muscles overwhelmed with a force more powerful than any tsunami…and then… CRACK-CRUNCH. Bela smirked and plucked the broken, lifeless carcass from his arm, before dropping it straight down his gullet, swallowing it like a cherry. “A magnificent spectacle, My Lord!” came a little voice. “Your dominance is unsurpassed!” Bela blinked his large, glowing orange eyes, and then looked around to find the source of the voice…before his gaze finally located it. His pupils zeroed in on the figure of a small morsel, positioned precariously between his feet, less than a foot away from the tips of his toe-claws. The God’s eyes narrowed analytically, as he took in the eager, worshipful expression on the tiny man’s face; a look of awestruck wonder and loving adoration, rather than fear or loathing. He smiled, and crouched down, resting his arms on his knees as he gave a half-lidded look at the little one. His black cat ears twitched; he could hear the way the tiny creature’s heartbeat escalated. “I am well-aware,” Bela purred, in response to the puny thing’s words, and tilted his head. “What do you call yourself, little man?” “Shepherd, O Great Master,” the little one said, bowing low…and then lower, getting onto his hands and knees in supplication to the mountain of man-eating mass before him. “A humble worshiper of your excessive glory.” “Is that so?” purred Bela, smiling a little more as he looked the little fellow up and down (mostly down), as if sizing him up for something. “Rather bold of you to approach me rather than run and hide like the vermin your kind truly are, don’t you think, ‘worshiper’?” “I did not mean to offend you, Lord Bela,” Shepherd said. He lifted his head a little, but kept his gaze downcast. “And I saw no reason to flee.” Bela raised an eyebrow. “You do realize you’re going to end your mortal life in this room, all for my own pleasure, do you not?” The way Shepherd moaned and trembled indicated these words probably sparked a “don’t threaten me with a good time” phrase in his head. “I am very, VERY aware of that, Mighty Sulten,” he answered. “That is, in fact, why I chose to present myself to you willingly.” Bela hummed, and reached out with a hand. A simple flick of his finger flipped Shepherd onto his back, making the little man squeak…then, the tip of a claw was placed to his small belly, making the little man freeze up under the God’s finger. At any second, he could be skewered. “Are you expecting a reward?” Bela asked. He did not sound upset in any way, he was simply asking the question. “Not exactly, Lord Bela,” said Shepherd, shaking with undeniable nervousness as that talon lightly scritched at his bare abdomen, resisting the sudden urge to squirm like a worm. “I…um…had m-more of a final request, before you end my life for your most divine pleasure. I have no…n-no other purpose, and I…I am ready to serve you with my demise.” Bela chuckled deeply. He looked highly amused. “You’re a funny little thing,” he cooed, and moved his claw to tuck its tip under Shepherd’s chin. “Very well, my pathetic little bitch…what is this final request? Name it.” Shepherd virtually had stars in his eyes; his heartbeat quickened even more, now with excitement, which caused Bela’s own eagerness to do harm and cause misery to rise. “Please, O Mighty Sulten - Sovereign of Stench, Master of Greed - swallow me whole, and allow my body to digest in your infernal stomach, to fuel and nourish your form. Let me become one with you, Great One! That is my one request!” Bela hummed, his free hand scratching his stomach as he took in Shepherd’s delighted, eager grin…then he shrugged. “No. I don’t think I will.” Shepherd’s smile disappeared instantly. “...Wh-what?” “I don’t feel like eating you. I said you could name your request, I never said I would oblige. Frankly, little one, I’d much rather torture you than give you anything you actually WANT. So no, I won’t be swallowing you. I would say it’s because you’re ‘unworthy’ or some rubbish like that, but really…I just want to kill you in a way that will make you scream for the wrong reasons. I want to humiliate you, not bring you joy.” “I…b-but…but I…!” “Ah! ‘Butt.’ Now THERE’S a thought on how to destroy you…” Shepherd squeaked Bela’s claw picked him up and carried him away. He dangled what seemed hundreds of feet in the air as Bela carried him over to his leg-weight machine station, and then lowered his hand before lightly dropping the little man onto the seat. Shepherd managed to scramble up to a seated position…then froze, eyes bugging out of his skull as his jaw dropped in mortification. A wide, round, fat shadow fell over him…and as he looked up, he saw the equally wide, round, fat rump of Bela Sulten over his head. The God smirked, glancing back over his shoulder, lifting his tail to give his toy a fine view of the bubbly, thick-as-cake cheeks. He gave his rear a playful spank, and the blubber on his bottom jiggled in thick ripples for several straight seconds. “I will not eat you,” Bela said. “But consider this a consolation prize: you shall suffer and die under the weight of where so…SO many of your kind end up. Don’t worry, this won’t take long…” Shepherd let out a cry of perceived betrayal…just before Bela sat down HARD upon the bench, his butt jiggling for a few seconds before going still, completely covering the tiny creature with the hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of posterior plumpness he sported so happily. Purring, Bela felt his victim squirming under his fat ass, struggling against the weight and thickly-padded softness…with a growl, he began to grind back and forth, getting comfortable upon the bench, makin Shepherd squeak and yipe as the force made his bones creak, and the rolling chub blocked off his airways. “Mine,” murmured Bela, patting his belly with one hand and burping before letting out a deep, pleasured sigh. “Ahhhh…all mine…UUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!” Shepherd groaned and struggled; Bela’s workout made him very sweaty, and the musky, heady over was overwhelming and none-too-pleasant under his faintly-dampened boxers, so close to that murky, deep crack…he was grateful the God was at least wearing SOME form of clothing. He tried to push away the fabric-covered fatness, but it drooped down and sagged over him, pressing him down with its tons of weight and burying his face in intoxicating, musky, deadly ass-mass. The position was degrading beyond belief, and Shepherd might have enjoyed it…except it was not the end he desired. And he knew it would be painful. Bela smirked as he felt Shepherd’s body get wedged into the middle between his glutes; he flexed hard, and sniggered as he heard Shepherd start to cry and beg. He loved those sounds. Another flex of his powerful ass, and Shepherd’s struggles noticeably weakened. The God could have kept this going for a while, but he was in no mood to take his time with his playthings on this occasion. So, with a third and final flex, he felt something pop…and Shepherd instantly went still. The Lord of Excess stayed seated just a little longer - just to make sure to thoroughly suffocate his broken, battered little toy, letting his fat mass smother him steadily…until, finally, he sensed how the heart stopped beating and the lungs stopped working. At that point, Bela stood up, picked up the little corpse…and, just because he was feeling ESPECIALLY callous, he carried the carcass to a nearby trash can and dropped it in without a care. His torment of Shepherd concluded, Bela clapped his hands together…but he still had more toys to play with. His attention was brought to the sound of clamoring little voices, and his tail curled into a question mark shape. He grinned as he saw five of the remaining toys all trying to find a way to climb up to a nearby window, no doubt hoping to escape. Bela clucked his tongue and shook his head; didn’t these adorable little bugs ever learn? Ah, well. No matter. Bela licked his lips, his tail swishing as he got down on all fours, feeling particularly playful now. “Ready or not, little mice!” he sang out. “Here comes the big bad kitty!” With a menacing laugh, the God of Gluttony then began to make his way across the padded floor, towards the desperate creatures, who - in a confusion - all started to try and find some way to escape the approaching half-cat. Bela was so focused on the five nameless morsels - and they were so focused on him - that none noticed two pairs of eyes watching from behind a leg of the bench press station. “Poor Shepherd,” whispered Keith; even under the circumstances, he felt that was a pretty cold move on Bela’s part. “We can’t do anything for that weirdo now,” sighed Packer, patting Keith’s shoulder. “I’m not even sure we can do anything for ourselves,” Keith said, gloomily. “Oh, yes we can!” Packer said, and pointed off in another direction. “Those five the God is after now were looking for an exit, but they were looking the wrong way.” Keith turned to see where Packer was pointing…and the young man’s eyes lit up with vivid hope. The door to the exercise room was shot and locked…but there was a small gap between the floor and the door itself. A gap small enough for a mouse - or anything and anyone roughly the same size - to shimmy through easily. “We can get out of here!” Keith exclaimed joyously, then hushed his voice at Packer’s shushing. “But…but what about our sizes?” “We can worry about that after we’re no longer in danger of being smothered, crushed, or eaten alive,” snorted Packer. The pair winced as they heard a bawling cry. Bela was seated on the floor, the five trapped in the space between his legs as his feet came together to form a ring-shape with his lower limbs. All five of them fell to their knees, pleading and crying, hands clasped pitifully…but Bela completely ignored them, humming a happy little tune as he lifted one of them up, licked the poor devil all over with his tongue, letting them inhale the hideous stink of his breath (and occasionally a big, beefy burp) before slurping them up and swallowing them whole to meet their end in his barbaric belly. “Stay low and move as quickly and quietly as you can,” Packer said, the former thief instructing Keith carefully. “We’ll have a chance if we don’t draw attention to ourselves.” Keith nodded, and gestured for Packer to lead the way, then began to follow the moan as they moved to try and get out from under the bench and head towards the door… …Only to stop short as a familiar blonde-haired, green-eyed figure swung onto the scene from behind another bench-leg, and barred their path. “Leaving so soon?” Xavier said, with a slightly deranged grin. “The party’s just beginning!” Keith jumped back, stumbling and falling onto his backside, as Xavier suddenly lunged at Packer. The goatee-toating thief and the disgraced banker growled in unison as they wrestled on the floor. Keith nervously looked to the left; Bela was, at that moment, teasingly dangling another one of his current attention-grabbers over his gaping mouth, dipping them close to his teeth before pulling them away again playfully…before finally dropping them into his mouth. His lips puffed as he slurped their kicking legs into his monstrous mouth and swallowed them whole. “What are you doing?!” snarled Packer, bringing Keith’s attention back to the ensuing brawl as the pair rolled; Packer momentarily managed to pin the blonde-haired elitist down. “Why are you attacking?!” “When I get out of here,” Xavier said, voice icy and cold as a wet winter wind, “I’ll have the honor of saying I was the only person to be shrunk by the mighty Bela Sulten, and escape his house alive. I won’t have that honor if there are any OTHER survivors, will I?” “Are you serious?!” Keith hissed, trying to stay hushed but unable to stay quiet. “How petty can you get?!” “You’d be surprised,” Xavier smirked, clearly having no shame. “You’re sick,” sneered Packer. Xavier responded by spitting up into Packer’s eye. Packer let out a grunting cry, and Xavier hissed like a snake before wrestling him to the floor again and wrapping his fingers around the former thief’s throat with a psychotic look in his eyes. Keith, horrified, found himself darting towards the scene, and shoulder-checked Xavier, knocking him off of Packer. While Packer tried to catch his breath, Keith moved to help the older man up…but Xavier wasn’t done yet. With a feral sound, he leapt from the floor, and this time tackled Keith, pushing him back-first against one of the pillar-sized bench legs. Keith gasped…and suddenly found he couldn’t get a breath. Xavier bit his lip, a hint of a blush in his cheeks as he tightened his grip on Keith’s windpipe…as if the feeling of taking a life in his bare hands was bringing him an enormous amount of pleasure… Just as Keith’s vision started to get blurry and his struggles to push Xavier off of him were becoming more feeble, Packer got to his feet and hurried over. He tugged Xavier away from Keith with a sharp jerk, and before the evil blonde could retaliate, delivered a punch across Xavier’s jaw. Xavier yelped sharply…then let out a wheezing grunt, the air knocked out of him as Keith and Packer, together, kicked him in the diaphragm and sent him flying… Bela had slurped up the last of his five snacks - the man’s arm reached past his lips, grasping for nonexistent aid - and had just gulped them down. He patted his belly happily and lifted a fist, stifling a crude, putrid burp in his cheeks and blowing the excess gas out the side of his mouth. “HHHRRRLLLMMMRRRPH…phoosh. Now, let’s see,” he mumbled, scratching his belly and glancing about, sniffing the air. “I know there were more of those delicious little screamers around here somewhere…” Right on cue, he heard the faintest “Oof!” and turned…grinning like the happiest overgrown kitty in the world as he saw Xavier roll out from under his weight bench. “Ah! There’s one of you!” he cheered, and reached across, picking up Xavier in his fist. “Urk! No! NO! NO, NO, NO, NO!” was all Xavier could squeal out, desperately and frantically struggling against Bela’s fist…only to find himself - like his attempted victims - choking for air as Bela growled and squeezed his grip tighter, clamping his fingers hard around the shrunken green-eyed ghoul’s ribcage. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” cackled Bela, clearly enjoying things. “Please…please, don’t…don’t eat me!” sputtered out Xavier, trying to pry the fingers away from him. Bela smirked and scratched his chin with his free hand, humming as his stomach gurgled and grumbled; the thick, nasty churns of his sloppy gut working over the seventeen people he had already eaten was like a hurricane in his belly, leaving Xavier whimpering pathetically in fear. “Hmmmmm…what will you give me if I don’t eat you?” crooned Bela. Xavier’s eyes widened hopefully. “Anything!” he blurted out, without thinking. “Anything, L-Lord Bela, please! Anything you want! M-Money, my belongings, anything!” Bela smiled sneakily. “Very well, little mouthful,” he purred. “I won’t eat you.” Xavier nearly laughed with disbelief and joy…but the latter, at least, was short-lived. Instead of setting him down to allow him to run along on his miniaturized way, the God King pulled him closer…and Xavier soon found himself wedged into the crevice between Bela Sulten’s hard, powerful pectoral muscles. He scarcely had time to lift his arms to try and push back…as, with a growl, Bela began to flex his abs, his pecs squeezing over Xavier painfully. “A-ARGH!” Xavier cried out, straining to keep the powerful, sweaty body from killing him; said sweat made his hands feel grimy and left him unable to get anything resembling a good grip. “W-Wait! You…you said-” “-That I wouldn’t eat you,” Bela purred. “I still intend to kill you. Please, do scream louder; I love those sounds.” Bela flexed again with a louder growl, and Xavier squealed; he felt some part of him starting to creak, his face turning reddish-purple with exertion as he squirmed for dear life, the pectorals gripping him like a massive, meaty claw…pushing onto him like closing steel walls, ready to break, crush, and flatten him out… “Any…anyth-thing!” he managed to cough out, tears coming to his eyes. “P-Please!” “I heard you the first time,” Bela said, almost casually. “Unfortunately, all I want…is your life. Break now.” Xavier managed to strangle out one last scream…before, with a deeply disturbing popping noise, the pectorals closed in one last time, and his wicked life was ended at last. Bela sighed, eyes fluttering, as if coming down from a round of something vigorous and erotic, then fished the body out from his pecs before flicking it away like a piece of garbage. (He’d said he wouldn’t eat Xavier, after all.) He hummed as he tilted his head, pumpkin-colored eyes rolling upwards as he scratched his sloshing, gurgling stomach, which made deep, thick “slush-slush-slush” sounds as he played with his patented paunch. He tried to count how many mortals he had destroyed so far… “Let’s see…seventeen in my stomach…one death via pecs…biceps, my foot…the one in my navel is still crying for his mommy…that so-called worshiper is currently in the trash where he belongs, which leaves…” His eyes snapped around as a twisted, wild smile slashed across his face…the expression freezing Packer and Keith dead in their tracks. They had just been trying to sneak out from under the bench and make their way to the door unnoticed. “...Ooooooh…two more toys to play with…” Bela smacked his lips greedily, and rose to his feet. Keith and Packer looked at each other and yelled at the same time… “RUN FOR IT!” The bearded ex-thief and the innocent, average young man dashed as fast as they could toward the door…but as fast as they ran, Bela Sulten could catch up easily by just walking. The God of Gluttony and Greed rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue at the pointless sprint of his final two trinkets, as he stomped over and swiped them each up in a separate hand. He rumbled as he watched the two wriggle in his grasp. “Hmmmmm…now, how shall I deal with you two?” he crooned in a sing-song tone. “L-Let us go!” shouted Keith. “You fat, murdering psychopath! You’re no God! You’re some kind of…some kind of…monster!” Bela yawned. “You know, I DO get so tremendously bored with you treats sometimes,” he said, as if he hadn’t even heard the pair. “As much as I enjoy hearing you squeak and squeal like the rodents you truly are, it does get old after a while. Ah, well…in any case, I think I’m actually in the mood for only one more snack.” The pair froze up at those words, looking stunned and hardly daring to hope. “Oh, I could eat your entire species to extinction and still not be truly satisfied,” chuckled Bela. “But I’m only in the MOOD for one more, as I said. So…I guess we’ll have to work out some form of…” GRRRLLLG… “...Tryouts,” he hissed, quivering as his belly rumbled ominously. Packer and Keith looked to each other with matching expressions of mortal worry, as the God moved to the bench press where they had been hiding. Then, without a word, he placed the two shrunken mites upon shaft of the weight bar. Both humans extended their arms and carefully gauged the very, VERY narrow, curved platform upon which their feet rested… …While Bela - with what could only be described as “a smile like sex” - lay down upon the bench beneath them, his head parallel with the bar as both of his hands rested upon his swollen, bubbling belly. “Don’t worry, little ones,” he crooned, his rotten breath wafting up to the pair and turning their cheeks green. “I’ll be here to catch you…” And so saying…Bela opened his jaws. Keith and Packer both gulped as they stared down into the dark, wet, pinkish-red cavern below. They could see the way the flesh of the God’s maw pulsed and undulated; the way his tongue flickered; the way the saliva stretched and snapped between his off-white fangs…the slickness of his gums, the sliminess of his throat… And over all of this…a low, deep, bass groan…the whine of a never-satisfied stomach. Mingled with distant, barely-audible screams of pain and panic. Packer and Keith slowly looked at each other, then down at Bela’s open mouth, then back at each other. The God didn’t say anything, but somehow, they knew what was happening: it was a test. A test to see which of them would fall first. Which of them would be food…and, it seemed, which one of them would live to tell the tale. Each inhaled shakily - trying not to wretch at the horrible, hellacious stink wafting up towards them from that seemingly-nigh-volcanic, steaming maw - and looked towards each other. “Wh-what now?” peeped Keith, in a tiny, shy voice. Packer bit his lip, looking Keith up and down, then stared into the younger man’s eyes. “How good are you at balancing, kid?” Packer checked. “Took gymnastic classes in school, so better than you’d expect,” Keith said. “Same,” Packer said with a slight smile, which flitted away almost as quickly as it had come. “But we can’t balance forever.” “Nope,” agreed Keith. Packer paused before speaking again. “Keith, do you trust me?” he asked, point blank. Keith paused to mull the question over…then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, barely audibly. “Good. Because I have a plan,” Packer said, and gestured for Keith to approach. “Y-You come my way, okay? I’ll move yours…we’ll meet in the middle. Careful now.” Keith obeyed. Cautiously, carefully, he crept along the narrow, rounded walkway like he was treading a tightrope. Packer did the same. Bela opened one orange eye, his open-mouthed smile widening and his stomach gurgling in a high-pitched, greedy way as he watched the treats overhead. His toes curled as he could feel the over a dozen lives writhing inside of him…begging for release…begging for him to show some sort of shred of compassion or pity… He purred. Loudly. He couldn’t wait to have one of these treats squirming in his guts, too. Packer and Keith were now at arm’s length from each other, both willing themselves not to look down and allow the morbid sight of the glutton’s gullet to scare them into falling. Both stumbled slightly, and Bela let out an excited meow…which faded into a disappointed sound as they managed to regain their footing. But the God didn’t mind…they couldn’t stay up there for too much longer… “O-Okay, Packer,” Keith said, looking into the older man’s eyes. “What’s the plan?” “I want you to listen to me carefully, Keith,” said Packer. “Survival depends on it. I have only three short words to say…” Keith nodded, his gaze expectant as he was clearly strongly attentive. Packer smiled, and spoke the three words. “I am sorry.” Then, before Keith could say anything, Packer pushed him over the side and into the mouth below. Keith’s mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. The world seemed to move into slow motion as he stared up with wide, terrified, shocked eyes at Packer, who watched as the younger man fell to his slimy doom. Keith saw the silhouette of the sharp, deadly teeth, as they framed his view of the outside world. His final words - whatever they might have been - were silenced as Bela Sulten closed his jaws around him. Keith was officially food. No telligible words left poor Keith as he was consigned to the maw of the cruel and greedy God of Gluttony. He floundered in the darkness, as the sound of Bela’s pleased purr filtered into his ears. He spluttered and struggled in wild abandon as the muscular, saliva-smeared tongue swirled about him like a python, squeezing and squelching as it worked to sop up his flavor. He gasped and spat as a gob of God gob got in his own gob. His hands flapped and clawed as he was swirled into a muscular, rubbery cheek and pressed into it till his ribs ached…then, the world spun again, and was scrubbed against a rough-ridged palette, his cries of discomfort lost as Bela Sulten moaned with pleasure. The tongue fell, and the saliva-soaked little man breathed heavily, his eyes wide and very white as he somehow crawled his way to the front of the mouth…and worked his arms and legs around until… “Gwah?” Bela blinked…then smirked around an open mouth as Keith managed to somehow push those powerful jaws open. He chuckled as he applied some pressure; Keith groaned as his bones and muscles strained to keep those sharp teeth parted, the stink of the carnivorous titan’s breath flowing all around him, burning his nose and driving his senses to bedlam. Keith heard himself shouting, but he wasn’t even fully sure what he, himself, was saying; everything was lost in a whirlwind of adrenaline and a desire to live! These basic wants and needs mattered little to the lazy glutton, who lay quite at peace on his bench, clearly putting barely any effort at all into closing his mouth, while Keith cussed and swore in gibbering tones to try and keep from buckling and bending and breaking under the strain…what had he done in his life to deserve this? Nothing he could recall. He hadn’t ever seen Bela Sulten before in real life…he’d never been to this mansion…why was this happening to him?! Perhaps he’d been too lost in his own mundane security; living life day-to-day, not expecting much, just idling through his years…happy and content in his own simplicity. Perhaps, in a way, that had been his own form of hubris: the idea that he wasn’t special, and therefore, nothing particularly awful could happen to him. The idea that he was no one important, so the likelihood of him being targeted was not great. The idea that he would die an average, common death, and that would be okay. This was not average, not common, not even in this World of Predator Gods…and he was decidedly not okay with it. He saw a finger - a huge, strong, clawed finger - rise in front of him. A momentary burst of awareness came to Keith as he yelled two words… “SPARE ME!” …Before the finger shoved him in, and the mouth closed once more, condemning to his smelly, foul, sloppy fate. Bela pulled his finger free from his mouth and let out a rumbling “Mmmmm” of pleasure, eyes closing blissfully as he placed his hands behind his head. He grimaced for a moment…and his cheeks ballooned as he burped into a closed mouth, trapping poor Keith inside an inescapable vortex of fetid gas. “BRRRRRLLLLLMMMMMRRRRRRP…hm-hm-hmmmm,” the black cat God chortled, gut bouncing with mirth as he heard and felt Keith choking on his inner repugnancy. It was time to stop savoring, Bela decided: after all, this meagre morsel was nothing particularly important to him. Just another inch of padding on his hips. Another addition to his ass. Whatever his beautiful, gorgeous bulk decided this human needed to be. It was time to swallow. Keith was crying like a lost child as he felt the tongue bucking under him, urging him towards the throat, which flapped open with an awful sucking sound that filled the depths of his damned soul with dismay. His tears clearly tasted good, judging from the almost..well…orgasmic noises Bela was making. “Please…p-please, don’t swallow,” he pleaded, his voice barely audible to himself, and neither heard nor cared about by the almighty being that had chosen to consume him, body and soul. “Please…I don’t want to die…not like this…p-please…” The body of the glutton didn’t care a bit. Keith clawed at the tongue for just a moment longer to try and avoid his descent…then - GLUGLP! - he found himself funneled into a claustrophobic tube of rippling, smooth gullet-flesh. His chest felt like it was locked in a vise, and his head began to thrum and ache, a pounding in his ears…he couldn’t tell if it was his own heartbeat, or the Lord of Gluttony’s. Whatever the case, he found movement next to impossible; all he could really do was wiggle like a worm on a fish hook, and the more he did so, the faster he seemed to slither. It was pitch black; no light at all. The humidity was hotter than any sauna, and far less pleasant to endure; the malodorous aroma that tainted every breath of the God grew steadily more disgusting the deeper Keith slid into the pulsating esophagus, waves of peristaltic contractions ferrying him to the furnace of Bela’s internal inferno. What took the smallest number of seconds felt like countless hours for poor little Keith, who woke up that morning with no conception of how horrifically badly his day would go, or how his life would be snuffed out. Finally, he felt a strange sensation, as if he was being swallowed a second time, by a set of toothless lips…then, for a moment, he found himself in freefall…before landing with a murky splash at the bottom of Bela Sulten’s grotesque belly. Somehow, Keith managed to thrash his way to the surface. He gasped and coughed and let out a hoarse screech as acrid, nauseating air flooded his lungs through his mouth, and something gunky clogged his ears and nose. He somehow shook the goop away, which left a stinging itching sensation in its wake. With no clothes but his underpants to protect him, Keith soon felt the same burning prickling across his extremities, and then all over his torso. “Help…HELP!” The words were all but coughed up in a hacking, nasty way as Keith was assaulted by the Satanic atmosphere of Sulten’s stomach. Thick, cloying, soupy sludge sloshed this way and that, stirred up by the ever-moving muscular walls that formed the greasy food processing plant of the organism that had engulfed him. Over the roar of bellowing God lungs and burbling God guts, he heard other voices, all screaming and crying in a way that could only be described as the sounds of Hell itself. “HHHHHHUUUUUUURRRRRRRRUUUUUYYYYYYUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRP!” A long, loud, rolling belch flapped free from Bela’s lips; in the belly of the gassy God, the feeling was like his last scream being stripped from his very lungs. He howled like a wild animal, floundering sightlessly in the black abyss of stench and pain, clawing as he found the stomach walls, only to be knocked aside by an elbow from someone else struggling for their life…and then kicked in the groin by someone’s flailing foot. His squeal of intense agony was completely lost, just one more voice in the symphonic chorus of death. All of them…all their lives…lost to the whims of the most powerful being that had ever preyed on the world at large. Keith cried like a baby. He wished he hadn’t trusted Packer. He wished he hadn’t woken up that morning. He wished he could be free from this nightmare. No amount of wishing would help him. Outside, Bela Sulten burped again - a crass, ugly sound that sent saliva splattering from his mouth. He sniggered and wiped his jaw with the back of a hand. “GWWWWWUUUUUEEEEERRRRRRLLLLLLCH! Ahhhhh…a most gratifying mid-workout snack…and what a fun time it’s been,” he purred to himself, showing no remorse, regret, or regard for those dying slowly in his stomach. Then, he blinked, as if just remembering something, and looked up towards Packer, who was clinging to the bar above for dear life. He had nearly toppled, himself, in the act of betraying young Keith, and was now looking down at Bela with expectant apprehension. Bela smirked. He caught another belch in his cheeks, and blew it like a kiss up at Packer, making him gag and choke. The demi-cat God never got tired of such reactions to his perfect nastiness. “Congratulations, little one,” he said, sincerely. “You don’t get to be food today.” Packer sighed with relief. He felt a bit bad for what he’d done to Keith…but it was either him or the kid, and the ex-criminal knew who he would pick the moment that became clear. He felt more grateful to be alive than anything else. Bela swung himself off the bench press, and picked up Packer carefully with two fingers and a thumb. Packer felt the Lord of Excess - the King of the Gods - carry him a short distance, wondering what would happen next. Would he be put back in a jar and returned to the cupboard, living another day but not yet free? Or - and this he desperately prayed (to any God but Bela Sulten) would be the case - would he be given his proper size, a set of clothes, and allowed to go back to his own life once again? Packer would be disappointed, to say the least. Bela sat down upon the floor, halfway between the door and his bench press. His smile was calm and serene as he crossed his legs and looked at the rather befuddled Packer… …Who soon found himself in a compromising position, as Bela lowered the last of his little toys towards his boxer-shrouded loins…and Packer gasped as Bela released him… …And a pair of powerful thighs - swathed in a healthy, even blend of blubber and muscle - slammed into him like two strong walls. Packer yelped…and, like Xavier and Keith before him, with Bela’s pecs and jaws, respectively - he found himself struggling and straining to push away the two sets of deadly body parts that were more than ready to exterminate him. He didn’t bother crying out; he simply cursed his own foolishness: of course, the God had never intended to let him live. He’d simply left it up to fate which of them, between himself and Keith, would die in his belly…or between his legs. Packer looked up pleadingly at Bela. He didn’t speak, just tried to breathe…which became harder and harder as those powerful, meaty thighs closed in tighter and tighter, his bones aching and his muscles growing sore. Bela smiled sweetly. Calmly. This, to him, was no effort at all; his look was one of placid, unfeeling amusement. This was entertaining to him, almost adorable… Keith felt tears trickling down his cheeks before he even realized what they were. He still struggled to hold onto his life, as meaningless and abandoned as it was. He felt the thighs crushing and suffocating him…he felt their power all around him…soon, he felt his limbs buckle, and screamed bloody murder as a shock of pain flowed through him…. …And still…Bela squeezed. He didn’t crush. He didn’t instantly break or shatter or squash. He SQUEEZED….taking his time…making it slow…cooing as he watched the life die between his gorgeous, thick thighs…biting his lip and curling his toes and fingers, a thrill of pleasure flowing into his bloodstream as the screams became whimpers…and, finally, with an indescribably awful sound…Packer was ended. Bela plucked up the broken body…and this time, despite his comments from earlier, he swallowed it whole. He shrugged; no point in being too wasteful. Bela smiled, rubbing his belly, kneading his fingers into it, purring like an oversized ship’s cat settling fat fish. He was deeply, deeply content and happy; satisfied in a way no amount of carnal lust could compare to. True, his hunger was neverending, but his appetite was momentarily sedated…and the feeling of so many lives stewing and simmering inside him - sacrificed to his body for no other reason than he wanted them to be - filled him with an unfathomable state of peaceful happiness. Really, Packer had been lucky, though he didn’t know it at the time: as painful as being smothered and squished between Bela’s thighs was, his troubles had been over in a relatively short amount of time. It would take hours for Keith and the rest of the shrunken Homo sapiens Bela had swallowed alive to pass on…and that was if Bela decided to be kind. Bela Sulten was almost never kind. Another rippling, thick, nauseating belch, followed by the God swallowing air to ensure his victims wouldn’t pass out too soon, signfied this. “Wonderful,” Bela murmured, drawing heart shapes over his belly, around his navel. “Truly wonderful.” So saying, he snapped his fingers…and somewhere in the mansion, a bell rang. Moments later, Kepp entered the exercise room, holding a bottle of water. Bela smirked and stood, approaching his pet as Kepp entered. “Here’s your water, Master,” the twenty year old Champion said, an innocent, lovin smile upon his purple-eyed face. Bela’s smirk became a true smile - sparkling with the only shred of real affection his black heart could carry - as he playfully ruffled Kepp’s hair. “Good boy,” he cooed, and chuckled as Kepp gave him an open-mouthed smile in return, so similar to the look of a puppy smiling up at a much-beloved owner that he couldn’t help but be endeared. The God took the water, and began to drink it down. Kepp blushed, watching the way it flowed down his gullet, and glanced away, biting his lip and tapping his fingers together. “Um…M-Master?” Bela let out a questioning grunt between gulps of liquid. “Did you…d-did you…enjoy yourself?” peeped Kepp. Bela pulled the empty bottle away from his lips, and burped wetly into Kepp’s face, belching out his reply. “YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS-UUURRROOORRRP!” Kepp had hearts in his eyes, subtly breathing in the stink like perfume, as if he couldn’t get enough of it in his lungs. Bela chuckled and tapped Kepp’s nose teasingly, making his pet sneeze and blush even more fiercely. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the ‘little extra’ in my snack batch,” Bela sang, and smirked knowingly, his orange eyes glittering. “I didn’t recognize that human…what did he do, and where did he come from, hmmm?” “An apartment complex a few blocks away,” admitted Kepp, and rubbed his arm, turning his head down and kicking at an imaginary rock. “I…w-well…I wanted to…just…um…g-give you something unexpected to…to please you, Master…” “Mmmm, well, he was far from the tastiest, but I appreciate the thought,” Bela said. Those words made Kepp’s heart sing: “appreciate” was not a word Bela Sulten used often. “I’m…I’m glad to hear it, Master!” he cheered, looking decidedly more perked up. “You should be,” sniffed Bela, then placed one hand on his thick hip, the other caressing his gut as he cocked his head to one side. “But I must wonder…what was the occasion?” Kepp’s smile faded. He looked almost hurt. “You…you don’t know…wh-what today is?” Bela blinked dully. “Pet, I was alive for countless centuries before you were born. I swallowed planets whole for decades before ever coming to stay on this ghastly space-rock. The days roll into each other for me,” he drawled, drearily. “O-Oh,” Kepp said, and bowed his head again. “I’m…I’m sorry, Master…I…I hope I didn’t insult you…” Bela just rolled his eyes with a soft snort, then reached out and cupped Kepp’s cheek with a clawed hand, lightly angling his human plaything’s head upward to look into his evil eyes. “What is the occasion?” he repeated. Kepp bit his lip again…then took a deep breath… …And Bela lurched back, startled, as the little one hugged him tightly. He was so much more massive than Kepp, the youth’s arms encircle his wide, heavy hips, and his head rested against the pillowy, powerful belly, which gurgled grotesquely as the young ma nuzzled against a spot near Bela’s navel… Bela blushed, as he felt the life he had stuffed into his belly button twitch and go still for good at the exact same time Kepp did that. He’d pull them free and eat their body later… In that moment, his primary focus was on the three words Kepp uttered. “Happy Anniversary, Master.” Bela paused, standing awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he licked his lips - this time out of an unusual state of nerves - before speaking again, trying to keep his voice even. “Ah…Anniversary, Pet?” “Mm-hm,” Kepp nodded agaisnt the soft, velvety belly of his beautiful, beefy God. “It was two years ago today when you made me your Champion, Master. So…” He kissed Bela’s belly. “...Happy Anniversary,” Kepp said again. Bela paused…then smiled. He chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. “Let me get this straight…your idea of an anniversary gift…is one extra snack in my mid-workout break? One insignificant little nobody, whom no one will miss too greatly, among twenty-three other small, unimportant lives…is the best present you could think of?” Bela didn’t sound insulted, which encouraged Kepp. He sounded more…amused. “Well…I-I…kind of…might have actually not had time to find anything better,” admitted the human. Bela laughed, his gut bobbing and jostling with his amusement…and hugged Kepp back purring as he leaned down to lick and lap at the top of the twenty-year-old’s head. He waited till Kepp giggled before smiling like a Cheshire Cat and speaking. “Very well, my adorable little pet. Happy Anniversary, then…but next time…” He moved Kepp’s hand over to a very particular portion of his wide, massive butt…and grinned sadisitically as Kepp whimpered. “Next time,” Bela hissed, “Get me something better, or I’ll put the rest of you where your soul-fragment is.” “Y-Yes, Master…I’m…I’m sorry, Master…I’ll…I’ll be good…I’ll do-” Bela silenced Kepp with a kiss, and smirked a half-lidded, lusty smile as he watched his pet blush like a beet, the boy stock still and barely breathing. “You’re forgiven. Now, I need to get back to my workout. You run along and fix me a good lunch. If you do a good job, I’ll sit on you for the rest of the day.” Kepp squealed with glee, and fled from the room. Bela laughed, shook his head once more…and strutted off towards the treadmill. It was time to continue his run. He thought nothing more of the meal he’d enjoyed and the toys he had destroyed, even as his gut sloshed violently with every step on his race. He never would again, either. This writer hardly need say why.

Kepp whimpered again. He somehow managed to find his voice, speaking slowly and carefully, trying not to do anything that would incite Bela to use that gas on him. Kepp, better than anybody, knew there was more to Bela’s belches than a bad smell and some noise… “Would you…like me to, um…t-to fetch you something from the cupboard? Master?” he peeped, patting that jiggling blubber pot. Bela purred, and nodded wordlessly, before undoing the leash on Kepp’s collar. Kepp let out a breath of relief, and hopped off of the couch before sprinting to the kitchen. He returned quite soon, holding a jar in his hand. The demi-cat God let out a rumble of approval as he extended a clawed hand elegantly. “Good boy,” he crooned, as Kepp placed the jar in his hand, and the God of Gluttony peered through the glass at the prisoner inside. Within the jar was a shrunken human being, dressed in nothing but a pair of underwear. They were only a little older than Kepp, and looked particularly frail and puny, with dirty blonde hair and a gangly framework. Bela clucked his tongue. “Poor, pitiful little morsel,” he cooed, in a mock-sympathetic tone, as he began to open the jar. “Perhaps this is a mercy, as I’ll only be putting him out of his misery…” Bela snickered; he, himself, was the cause of said misery, and he knew it. Kepp sat cross-legged on the floor, watching expectantly with wide purple eyes. The little figure in the jar mumbled something and began to stir, as the sound of the jar being opened awakened them. A pair of hazel eyes blinked blearily open…then, upon seeing the lid fall away, jolted to a full state of awareness, heart pounding as a shrill sound of fear left his little form. Bela smiled widely, his lethal fangs on full display as his orange eyes burned deeply into the puny thing’s tiny irises. “Hello, my little one,” Bela purred, in his most luxurious of tones. “Did you have a good sleep?” The shrunken human gulped nervously, and paused, clearly trying to decide on his answer…before finally speaking up, in a voice almost as small as he was: “It was…decent, L-Lord Bela.” Bela rolled his eyes. Why did the vermin seem to think lies would help their cause? “I’m pleased to hear it,” Bela lied right back, and then cocked his head slightly. “What is your name, small one?” “A-Alexander.” “Mmmmm…a great name,” Bela replied, and chuckled at his own inside joke. “Well, little Alexander…since I know you were fibbing about your rest, I am sure you will be grateful to hear that your all-powerful, all-consuming God of immensity is going to help you.” “H-Help me?” Alexander responded, suspiciously, glancing back through the glass to Kepp, then up at Bela again, crawling back until he was pressed up against the “wall” of his jar. “In…in what way, uh…My Lord?” “Simple. I’m going to put you to sleep. Permanently.” Bela snickered at the look of mortification on the little one’s face at his words. “Awww, now don’t be scared…I shan’t devour you little one. Nor shall I smother you, nor even crush your bones. No, no, no…but believe me, having said that…” He now held the jar in both hands as he brought it closer to his face. “...You might wish that I did, once this is over.” BRRRRROOOOOORRRRRRMMMMMBLLLRRRRRG… Another belly-shaking rumble came from the gut of the gluttonous God. All eyes turned to look at his stomach…then, Bela grinned devilishly at poor little Alexander, who was trembling like a frightened mouse, shaking his head desperately. He, like Kepp, already knew what was about to happen. “No…n-no, no, please! Please, Lord Bela!” he begged, and moved to his knees, hands clasped. “Not…not that! Anything but that! Swallow me, make me bleed, but PLEASE not…not THIS!” Bela was panting. A deep mrowl of pleasure left him as he moved his mouth and the top of the jar closer to each other. “Silly…silly…thing…the more you beg…the more I want to hurt you. Just a few belches…that’s all it will take…are you ready? If not, too bad!” And with that, Bela began the bizarre torture. “BRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAUUUUURRRRRLLLLLCH!” The gas flooded into the jar, in an invisible cloud of purest, most pungent stench. Kepp caught only the slightest whiff of it, and that was enough to make him cough slightly and cover his mouth, a tremor flickering across his spine. The goosebumps he felt prickling him were caused by a mixture of sudden adoration for his awful owner…

…And the slight chill that flowed into his bloodstream as Alexander let out a squeal…then began to gasp and choke, instantly falling onto his side on the bottom of the jar. The little fellow felt his stomach lurch at the reek; he spasmed on the bottom of the jar, trying to keep himself from vomiting at the putrid horror. Bela snickered and raised an eyebrow as he saw his victim respond to the odor. “Awww…a little too nasty?” he teased. “N-No!” coughed Alexander. “S-Stop, it’s not-!” “No?” Bela repeated. “No, it’s not nasty enough, you mean? Well then…” He took a deep breath, pumped his chest, and belched sloppily; slobber splattered from his jaws, speckling the inside of the jar’s rim, the awful odor piling itself onto the lingering slob-stench of the first. “How about that one?” he asked innocently. Alexander groaned; the world already was starting to feel fuzzy. The stench made and heat of the gas swarming into his glass enclosure made his head swim His lungs felt like they were being seared from the inside-out. His sickened guts roiled as he gasped and gulped, trying to find some fresh air…but all he could find was Bela’s inner odors. “Stop...stop, please!” the poor thing managed to choke out. “Oh, are we weakening already?” Bela crooned, and snorted. “Pathetic. Like all your kind.” “Why...why are you...doing this?” “Because I can,” Sulten said simply, and his cheeks ballooned before - flabby lips flapping - he let out a lower, breezier burp into the hole. “Brrrrruuuuuuooooorrrrrrrph…” Alexander felt a pained sob creak in his chest; even his tears seemed to burn his cheeks as he felt them crawl over his cheeks. His vision became a moist blur. It was happening, he realized. He was really able to do it. He’d heard stories from others, but he’d thought them to be myths…up until Bela had made the threat. Now, that threat was a reality, and it was more horrendous than he could possibly imagine. The quieter belch smelled so foul, it turned the shrunken mite’s skin green. He felt as if he were drowning, the miasma of deathly stink wisping into his miniaturized lungs like transparent tendrils. The God of Gluttony cackled as he watched his toy writhe and claw at their neck. Every burp, Bela was controlling to make it stinkier and more toxic than the last. If this kept up, Alexander would suffocate on his pure stench. Just when it looked like the littone one was about to start begging again, he burped once more. “UUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLLUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPH! Mmmm...that felt good coming up,” grunted Bela, and thumped his bubbling grub tub with satisfaction. He chuckled darkly as Alexander let out a feral sort of keening sound, shaking his head desperately and fighting hard not to breathe it all in...without success. The foulness was inescapable, poisoning his mind, infecting his airways, till all the small creature could think of, all he could sense or reasonably comprehend, was the cat man’s belch gas. Alexander’s terrified frenzy of pain only heightened as he realized the venomous reek he was was fighting against was formed from who knew how many innocent lives, damned to a sloppy, stinky death inside the size-shifter’s gasbag of a gut. How bad did it have to be in there to form an odor this literally poisonous?! He scrambled to the nearest wall of the jar, his tiny nails squeaking and screeching against the glass. He looked imploringly into the eyes of Kepp, who was watching with morbid fascination. “Help...help me…!” “Fear not, small one!” boomed Bela. “I shall help you…to your grave. BRRRRAAAARRRRRRUUUUUUCK!” Another burp flooded the jar…and Alexander began to yowl and screech. His words faded into unintelligible, deranged babble; an incomprehensible string of insane gibberish as all he could feel now was foul agony. You could pick out every single morsel of food the beast had eaten recently in that foulness; a rotten stench of acrid death and sludge-coated, muscular power. You could almost envision the organic hellscape that must have been inside of Sulten’s stomach just from the odor alone...you could imagine the agony of a hundred sentient beings just in that floating foulness that wafted through the air…