Ok hear me out.
Tiny prey on a table surrounded by a group of preds. Batted around like a toy and manhandled and inspected. Pushed around to test their strength. The prey ends up with bruises forming all over. The prey might be scooped up to have their aroma sampled by one, a tiny lick from another to taste-test, a little nibble from giant teeth of yet another. Every attempt at escape is met with a giant palm catching them and placing them right back where they started. The preds casually describe what the prey tastes like to them, how they would eat the them, making them more and more terrified with each description. Some want to slurp them up whole while others want it a bit more messy. Their tears are locked from their cheeks almost as fast as they appear. The prey appears more and more tired and haggard as time goes on.
There is one that stays mostly silent, however, one that is a little less enthusiastic than the rest. The prey keeps meeting their eyes unintentionally while being sampled and toyed with by the other preds. This one doesn't partake in the games, and instead hangs back, patiently. Its gaze is longing but not greedy.
Finally, the time comes that the other preds grow bored and decide that the festivities have come to an end. The low sounds of several grumbling stomachs echo around the room. It's time.
The teasing stops and the pushy hands and greedy tongues pull back for a brief reprieve, but not for long.
Each pred lowers their chins to the table and shows off their teeth, teasing with licks to their lips. The unspoken leader of the group tells the prey they must now choose which will consume them. It's only fair, since they cornered and caught you as a group. Nobody gets priority over the others. The prey's heart beats faster and faster as each pred lazily shows off their maws, glistening teeth and twitchy tongues waiting impatiently for something to swallow. The only one without theatrics is that one pred from before, the one who held back. That pred's mouth barely opens, but the prey can see sharp teeth the length of one of their arms and the occasional shine of a wet tongue maneuvering deeper in.
The prey can only think to choose the one with the most restraint. If they are to be eaten, they want to be consumed by the one who was the most gentle to them.
The prey hesitantly steps closer to the gentle pred. The group has fallen silent in anticipation and sharp eyes watch your every move. The chosen pred seems pleasantly surprised when it seems that they have been selected. A small smile curls their lips upward. When the prey reaches the pred's face, close enough to touch them if they wanted, they spend a moment locking eyes. Irises the size of dinner places take them in, and somehow, calm the prey. They can't describe it, but the way the pred looks at the prey settles something inside them. They prey knows there's not coming back from this. They will be a meal. Nothing in a few hours. A strange amount of trust takes hold. Trust in the pred that they will take care of them, savor them, be careful with them. Make good use of them.
The pred, noticing the growing impatience of the group, decided to move this along. The pred then slowly opens their jaws and lays out their tongue over their teeth to the table like a red carpet. The prey chokes down on a sob at the sight, at the expectation, but a quick glance behind them reveals worse fates, endings with blood and bone, and they refocus on what's in front of them.
The prey ever so slowly lifts a foot and places it lightly on the saliva-coated tongue. Testing the give. Once they are stable, the other foot comes next. They can feel the tastebuds between their toes. Their hands come up to grip brilliant white teeth for stability. They take a few more hesitant steps before the saliva becomes more prevalent and they slip, falling face-first into the tongue, instantly soaking their entire front. Laughter comes from behind and they prey is reminded they are a spectacle. Before the prey can right themselves, the tongue they occupy curls around them and is retracted into the warm, wet cave of the pred's mouth. The jaws slowly close, making sure all of the prey is contained to avoid an accidental bite.
The rest of the world disappears and the only things the prey can hear are the wet, organic sounds of a body. The tongue under them slowly rises to meet the roof of the mouth, compressing the prey between them. The tongue squeezes and rolls underneath the prey. Tasting them, they realize. That's right, this one didn't get to sample them. They're taking their turn now. The tongue eventually gets a bit more active, flipping them around every which way, but still staying ever so gentle. Slow movements and cushioned impacts. The prey is absolutely drenched and exhausted after a few minutes of active tasting. They don't even realize how far back in the mouth they've been moved until light shines upon their face.
The last thing they prey sees in the light of day are the faces of the other preds, some looking very jealous and drooling with hunger, others smirking at the enjoyment of the chosen pred. The view is framed by teeth and the flesh of cheeks. After a moment, the tongue they lay on bucks up, the flesh shifts and tightens. The prey is gulped down with a loud sound and becomes nothing more than a bulge slowly slipping down into the pred's chest. Once the prey passes the windpipe, they can hear and feel a sigh of relief as they travel deeper and deeper into the wet darkness. They are eventually deposited into a tight space full of undulating muscles. They know where they are now, and what will happen to them here. Groaning accompanied by a squeezing wave confirms it. This stomach is hungry, and they are the reprieve. They are nothing but food for a creature as great as this. More tears slowly leak down their face and mix with the saliva and other liquids occupying the stomach that are contained in. They settle in for the long haul, slowly breathing the quickly-staling air, and wait to digest.
They prey occasionally feels their prison jolt with impact or compress with pressure. On the outside, the pred's friends tease them with a slap or a squeeze to their belly. The pred bats their hands away, however, to smoothly run their hands over their slightly protruding belly, barely noticeable. The pred spends the rest of the night focusing on the slight movements of their prey. They aren't struggling, no, they accepted reality a long time ago, but each shift of their body brings a whisper of pleasure to the pred. This doesn't last forever, though, and eventually those movements cease around the same time their stomach kicks into high gear. The pred sits back and relaxes, mentally thanking the prey for choosing them, and hoping that they were able to give them a gentle consumption.
The pred barely pays attention around them, lost in digestive bliss, until a shrill yelp pulls them back to reality. In the center of the table is another prey. This one feistier than the last. He sees the grins of the other preds around him and knows it'll be a long night.
