#rr vore

Rikard brushed a few lingering crumbs from his shirt, turning to see the dragon’s head gone. Or, more accurately, poised above his head, strands of saliva clinging to its parted jaws. Gasping in shock, he froze as its teeth snapped shut around his body. He tried to wiggle, but its lack of a proper tongue left his body pinned between two very solid surfaces.

Trying not to panic, he gasped again as he was flung into the air, still caged behind its fangs before the jaws themselves sprang open, sucking him at last into the things throat. Strong waves of peristalsis jerked at his head, even as the toss-swallow threatened - but not really - an escape velocity.

He grunted with each massive gulp, feeling himself practically crushed beneath what must be its scaled, muscular flesh. The man slid down further, accompanied by mysterious slimes rushing around his body, until he was finally deposited into an admittedly-spacious organ.

Waving his arms, Rikard groped for the wall - relatively, as it was all wall - clutching handfuls of wet, sticky stomach lining and sighing in relief. There was a similar sigh and a suspiciously gelatinous squelch that came from above, before everything collapsed.

Gooey stomach lining clutched back at him as the stomach’s owner rested her weight fully on her belly. “Comfortable, dearie?”

Unsure if he could even move his jaw to respond, Rikard tried to stretch his arms out, the hungry flesh barely yielding before the dragon gave a huff and everything tightened even more than it was already.

“Oh do be careful, dearie-” her voice boomed next to him, “you won’t want to strain yourself. Try to relax.” Another ripple of flesh crushed against the human, and was it his imagination or did it linger to knead over his own stomach? “Let me hold you while you sleep off that big meal of yours. Thank you for eating so much; I should be able to fill a scale or two out of you.”

Rikard

6. Is there anyone in particular you love to make a snack of? What’s their relationship to you (S.O., family, friend, etc.)?

"Actually..." He reaches into his breast pocket with index finger and thumb, pulling out a tiny who grins and gives an equally cocky wave. "It's this little weirdo right here, Karla."

Glancing at her then back up, he shrugs. "She's my best friend."

The man stopped at the door, turning to face his tiny companion to voice a concern he'd been hiding the entire walk over. “Okay, so what's the reason for all the secrecy?” And why did you tell me to bring a spare set of clothes?

“Well, it comes from a pretty weird place and he doesn't want to be publicly connected with it.” She gave a half-shrug. “Or with us. You know how it is.”

Guess I do. Life Studies – and similar Maven departments – had acquired a not-entirely-unfair reputation amongst the city of Eldevar over the years. “You said it's... a friend of yours?”

“Mhm!” Karla chirped, pressing a button set at borrower height on the threshold. “Heya, Rikard, is anyone in?” she asked, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, when it opened to reveal a rather nondescript human.

The human frowned then, blushing faintly, shook his head and stepped aside to hold the door for them. “Are you here for research or just to talk?”

“Research,” Karla said, walking inside and climbing up to stand on the main table. She turned to look at the other tiny once he'd joined her. “It's alright; he doesn't bite.”

Rikard barked a laugh, drumming his fingers on the end table as he sat down. “You keep asking me to, though, and I keep saying 'no'.”

Nicolas' eyes narrowed slightly. Why do I get the feeling I'm missing out on some very important subtext?

“Soooo, this is Nicolas; he's in the alchemy department at school.” She spun neatly on her toes to gesture back the other direction. “Nicolas, this is Rikard, a friend of mine who's helping out with some L.A. Research.”

Rikard smiled, waving a hand in friendly greeting. “What is it you're here for exactly?” he asked, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together on the table in front of them.

Glad that they weren't wasting time making inane small talk – not something Nicolas was inherently opposed to, mind you, just that his research came first – he got straight to it, “I'm working on a project arguing that – in some cases – impurities in solutions not only aren't detrimental, but can even be beneficial, depending on what the desired reaction is. I'm working my way through the common acids, and I'm on HCl right now.”

The human arched an eyebrow. “And that stands for...?”

“HCl is the formula for hydrochloric acid – and also hydrogen chloride, when not dissolved in water – one of the nastier ones on my list; you don't want that stuff on your skin since it chews right through rust. We actually produce it in small quantities in the stomach, and it gets used to digest food.” His brow furrowed in confusion when the human recoiled violently. Did I say something wrong? Nicolas had tried to dumb it down without coming across as having been dumbed down... maybe the guy noticed and got offended? “Um, what did-?”

“Let me guess,” Rikard said flatly, ignoring him to stare down an unrepentant Karla, “you told him you had an interesting 'impure' source you knew he hadn't procured yet.”

“Of course he hasn't!” She tilted her head. “C'mon, you're not gonna get in trouble; I ran it past the Dean and he approved the consent form I drafted.” Karla waved a hand back at Nicolas. “I had him read it, he signed it, what's your problem!?”

“What's... going on?” He walked closer to stand beside his classmate, looking between the two in utter confusion. “It's just chemical procurement, why are you acting like it's a big deal?”

“The thing is- I, uh- I...” Rikard rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, glancing aside at Nicolas warily, “...eat people. The 'source' is my stomach.”

Nicolas twitched, limbs tensing, and his face blanched even as the human's reddened. Oh. There's the subtext.

“Hey, hey, it's okay.” Rather than raising his hands in a defensive, guarded motion, he just tilted them at the wrist to give the same impression, keeping his movements slight, to avoid panicking the tiny man further. “You should have told him.” Rikard turned to scold Karla again. “You know it sounds worse coming from me.”

“I can't help it,” she giggled mischievously, one hand over her mouth. “It's not my fault nobody reads the consent forms all the way through.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, looking back over at the skittish borrower. “That's what... that's the spell they're studying – how my entire digestive system changes after I've eaten someone. It's totally safe, which is good because certain people seem to enjoy it.” Rikard glared at one such person, who just beamed innocently.

“It's actually fun,” she said, leaning over and telling Nicolas in a stage whisper, hand up to her mouth to complete the affectation, “He's nice but super paranoid about making sure everyone's okay.”

“It's because it's weird!” He held his hands up in a half-shrug. “What sane, rational person would like to get eaten alive?”

“I never claimed to be sane, sweetheart.” Karla smiled impishly.

Rikard frowned, “I'm starting to think you've got more of your clothes here than in your own dormitory.”

“Mayyybe,” Karla winked at him before turning and nodding firmly at Nicolas. “Would it help if I showed you?”

“I- yeah, it would, a little bit.” He watched his classmate hop eagerly onto the human's hand. “H-have you guys done this a lot, then?”

“Practically every time she comes over, so at least once a week.” Rikard grinned. “Usually just in time to help with dinner, too.”

“If you know what he means,” Karla chimed in, waggling her eyebrows.

“But... you do know this is suuuuper illegal.” Nicolas felt he had to mention this fact, not wanting to become complicit just by watching.

“Hey, if nobody's reporting a crime, did it ever really happen?” She flashed him a cocky 'I got this' hand gesture as she slid into Rikard's mouth, disappearing from view.

The human's eyes immediately slid shut, a loud and pleased purr echoing, followed by a contented sigh. There were several more sighs, delighted purrs, and almost moans of simple satisfaction. Whatever Karla was doing in there, whatever he was doing to Karla, clearly Rikard was enjoying every moment of it.

He waited with bated breath, feeling his pulse pound in his throat as he watched the human's throat bob, a large wriggling lump – was she struggling? Why? – slowly descending. The human sighed happily again, and Nikolas grimaced. Yes, he had heard of humans who'd eaten tinies, and also of larger non-humans doing the same. But to actually witness it happen? Unnerving, horrifying even. Rikard saw him staring and raised his eyebrows, shrugging slightly.

“I do know it's illegal. But apparently whatever this-” he swept a hand through the air in front of his abdomen, “-magic is doing, your headmaster and several deans are willing to overlook the law in order to study it. I mean, only if the person or persons are also willing to be eaten, obviously.” Rikard pointed a finger at his stomach. “There's nobody nearly as insistent as this little brat, of course, but I have more friends that let me eat them than I could possibly hold at once.”

“But... why?” he asked, adjusting his glasses in a fidget as he walked closer, “Why do they enjoy it so much?”

“You should ask her,” the human shrugged, holding out his hand. “I'm still trying to figure it out on my end, since all I've got is 'people taste good' and 'it feels nice when they squirm'.”

Nicolas stepped onto the outstretched hand, deciding that it would indeed be best to hear it from Karla. He tensed when moved the hand moved, but leaned against the human's abdomen, pressing against his shirt. “So, uh, why do you enjoy being eaten?”

“Oh, hey, Nicolas,” she said in a shy giggle. “You really wanna know why? I can science it out for you if you'd like, since you're such a dork. Humans are endothermic, like us, so it's always nice and warm in here. And there's so many different noises his stomach makes; it's fun to guess at what each one means. I can barely hear the outside world through all that flesh, which makes it so easy to just soak and relax in my own personal sauna, ignoring all my responsibilities.”

Rikard sighed above them. “Whatever makes you feel better about procrastinating with your homework, honey.”

“Oh, you hush your face; I'll get it done... eventually.”

He heard a noise, more of a bubble than a growl, and asked hesitantly, “You're sure it's safe?”

Karla laughed and he heard a dull thump, the flesh near his head vibrating faintly. Had she hit him? “Yup! So safe that the only 'problem' is eventually you're gonna get hungry or thirsty.” She snickered quietly. “I mean, there is a solution, but that's a little too gross for me.”

Nicolas made a face; he had a pretty good guess what she meant. “How long is this going to take? I don't want us to break curfew.”

It was Rikard who answered. “I don't think that long. Maybe just a couple of hours? I don't know if the acids and stuff are made right away, and even if it's started trying to digest Karla already it might be awhile before my stomach produces enough for what you need.” He rubbed at his neck again. “And I don't know where the spell starts to affect things, or how it does, so you'd probably want some of that HCl stuff right as it's being produced, and then any that's made its way into the, ah-” His face reddened and he looked quickly away for a moment, “the goo left over from my lunch earlier.”

“'Chyme'. It's called 'chyme'.” Karla giggled again. “And I'll be fine, Nicolas. Just tell the Dean I'm spending the night. I'll head back after breakfast tomorrow.”

'I told you she was crazy,' Rikard mouthed silently, looking exasperated.

“Doesn't that make you crazy, too?” Nicolas pointed out.

“No, not really. I- I like that nice full feeling I get after eating someone. Or someones,” he tacked on with a meaningful look at Nicolas. “Nobody's said they mind filling up my gut while I'm out doing errands. I just...” Rikard held his hands out in front of him, palms up, slowly curling them into fists. “I honestly can not explain how amazing it feels to swallow one of you, or how insanely delicious you all taste! I've tried, believe me, I’ve tried! But... I just can never seem to find the right words!”

The source of the human's frustration was obvious – to him, at least. “So what you're saying is you're wanting to eat me.”

“Yes.” The response was immediate.

Unsurprising. “Right now?”

Rikard chewed on his lip, looking guilty. “I really do, yeah,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Technically since you signed her stupid little consent form I don't have to ask your permission; you already gave permission simply by signing so I'm allowed to eat you even if you say 'no' now.” He slowly lifted Nicolas up to eye level, who nervously watched him, not moving.

“I am still getting paid for this, right?” Getting paid to work on his own studies? It had sounded too good to be true... clearly he just hadn't read carefully enough to catch the catch. Nicolas vowed to read every last word of the T&C so he'd never be caught out like this again, no matter how boring the legalese might get.

The human nodded. “I'm not the one paying you, though; I'm just a contracted employee. My own contract says I'm not allowed to refuse reasonable research requests, and this stupid one counts as reasonable.” Rikard grimaced faintly, eyes dulling briefly. “Honestly, I prefer it when people are willing, but uh, I'm hungry and you're right here, so...” He licked his lips.

Nicolas drew in a shaky breath. “If I say I'm alright with you eating me – and that's a big 'if' – you're not going out, are you?”

Rikard shook his head. “There was some stuff I was getting ready to do around the house, so you might have to work at getting my attention, but no.”

The way the human's eyes had lit up, how they were studying him with interest – it all seemed innocent, and the dean had only reacted with a chuckle when he'd waved them out of his office, but it was definitely illegal... still, twenty gold was twenty gold. He looked from Rikard's outstretched other hand to his face in confusion.

“If you hand me your glasses, I'll keep them safe and dry. It's not like they'd do you any good once you're in my gut, since you wouldn't be able to see anything anyway.” He pulled a disgusted face. “Just imagine if they got knocked off, would you want to be fishing around in that 'chyme' trying to find them?”

Slowly Nicolas removed his glasses, holding them out. “Be careful with them, please?” Now Rikard's face was just one big blur. “I had to have those specially made.”

Another, smaller blur delicately lifted them from his hand, the rustle of fabric over fabric suggesting his glasses had been stowed in the human's shirt pocket. “Alright, they're safe.” Something moved in the blur, the slick noise sounding like- “In you go!” Rikard said cheerfully, moist air wafting over Nicolas as a darker color bloomed in the center of the blur.

He was moved toward it, past it, and the light abruptly diminished. Nicolas could feel a soft, pliant surface beneath him, and as his weight sank into it, moisture sank into his pants, wicking quickly up the back of his shirt. Saliva. Drool. He'd licked his lips. The fingers around him let go, but gave him a gentle prod forward before withdrawing. The surface below him – the tongue – curled up behind him, pulling him fully into the human's mouth as a shadow passed over him. The tiny man flinched, connecting the sudden darkness with the booming thud, realizing it was the rows of teeth colliding behind him.

Nicolas closed his eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. He never had liked tight spaces, and now he was essentially trapped in someone's mouth. Reflexively he kicked at the wormlike object that started to curl around his leg, promptly freezing once he'd realized what he'd done. Not a worm, just a tongue, something perfectly normal that you’d expect to find in a mouth. Unlike a borrower such as himself, of course.

Aside from letting out the occasional contented purr, Rikard hadn't done anything more than work saliva into his clothes, barely even licking him at all. Fortunately, the enzymes present in saliva were only the beginning step of digestion, breaking down starches. Nikolas wasn't looking forward to the next step, the first one that – under normal circumstances – would be able to hurt him.

As if the human had read his thoughts, Nikolas felt Rikard's head tilt, the tongue underneath him carefully nudging him towards the throat. Squeezing his eyes and clenching his fists, Nikolas took in a deep breath moments before he was sucked down with a loud Gulp! It was hot, it was very hot, and what seemed like just another moment after his entire body had disappeared down that greedy tunnel of flesh it started to rumble around him.

“Hmm, interesting,” he heard Rikard muse, before a second loud swallow dragged him down further, the human's throat becoming worryingly close around him. “I'm not quite sure wh-”

The panic threatened to overwhelm Nicolas, and he yelled as loud as he could, interrupting Rikard, “Let me out! I changed my mind!”

“It's a little too late for that.” The human sounded irritated... and also confused? “You'll be in my gut in a bit, just hang on.”

His stomach dropped out from under him, yet another terrifyingly loud gulp yanking him down suddenly. A few more squashing swallows pulsed past him as he picked up speed. Nicolas slowed down just a little bit before being squeezed through a very tight ring of flesh, falling into a pool of mixed-consistency sludge. “Karla? Karla!” he called in a panic, splashing about. Something grabbed his arm and he yelped.

“Relax,” a voice chided, “take deep breaths. In four, hold seven, out eight.” Karla demonstrated and he followed, feeling it calm his racing heart.

“You could have-” Breathe. “-warned me.”

“Oh.” Karla sounded sheepish, “I forgot about your claustrophobia.”

A deep and extremely irritated sigh echoed above them. “That would have been nice to know before I swallowed the guy. You know how scary it can be for someone's first time.” Rikard's tone shifted to be more gentle, “Sorry, Nicolas, I didn't know. Are you alright now, or at least feeling better?”

“I-” Breathe. “I think so.” Though he couldn't make out his surroundings, Nicolas could feel the air moving around him, so he knew the space he was in wasn't tiny, but just how much space did he have? Holding his hands in front of him he quickly tried to estimate the size of his own stomach, scaling it up based on the height difference between him and the average human. Smaller than a room then, than perhaps half a room, but at least he wasn't alone in it.

“Good.” This time the sigh was relieved. “Again, sorry about that. I would have tried to warn you, but that just tends to scare people even more.”

Nicolas looked around, squinting at the strange sloshing noises. Not being able to see was incredibly disorienting, so he closed his eyes. Functionally, it wouldn't do any good, but it was ridiculous how easily one could trick their own brains.

“You.” Splash. “Apologize.” Splash. “Too.” Spla- Thud. “Damn.” Thud. “Much!” Thud!

“If I didn't have to apologize for you, I'd hardly be apologizing at all!” Rikard whined sulkily like a small child, rather than the adult he very much was.

Karla scoffed, “I'm sure you'd still manage to find something to feel guilty about.” The humid air surrounding them vibrated with a loud gurgle. “... like that.”

The woman laughed, but Rikard grumbled to himself, “Great. I thought you'd be enough to make my stomach shut up for awhile, but you barely took the edge off my appetite.” He hummed, thinking. “Alright! Since it's your project as well as your first time being eaten – and because I already know what that nerd would say – you get to decide. Would you prefer I go get something to eat, which has the benefit of quieting down my stomach, or do you want me to wait to eat until after you guys have gotten cleaned up, which means you're not going to be churned around as much?”

“I need to grab a sample right now, about as close to baseline as I can get-” Given that you started salivating before you even ate Karla, let alone me, “-but it might be a good idea for you to eat later on. Actually,” he paused for a moment “us just being in your stomach should be enough, even if we're not going to be digested like actual food. So basically just keep thinking about food for a bit so you keep drooling.”

Shakily Nicolas stood up and walked forward, placing both his hands on the wall of the human's stomach. Food would have settled into a level surface by that point, so it was entirely possible Rikard's digestive system hadn't recognized that they were there yet. He started massaging the warm flesh, wondering if their size difference meant he'd be able to feel where the organ's lining secreted its acids.

Rikard let out a contented murmur. “You don't need to do that, but it does feel quite nice.”

What. “You shouldn't be able to feel that.” How did Rikard notice something as proportionately small as his two tiny hands?

“Wait- what? Why!?” The muscular wall tensed under his hands. “Is that bad? Why not?”

“No, I don't- I don't think so, at least.” He wasn't sure, being a chemist rather than a biologist. “There are nerves in a stomach of course, but those only react to the presence of food.” He smiled, the complicated chains of chemical reactions and the neurotransmitters involved unfolding in his mind's eye. “The cells lining your stomach tell other specialized cells that there's food that needs digested. Like I said earlier, hydrochloric acid – HCl – is really nasty stuff so even though it's used to digest food your body doesn't want to have it just hanging around, so those other cells have to make it and then pass it along. Even then, it's only mixed together right before it gets secreted into the stomach.” Strange, to think that he was giving a lesson on the chemistry of a stomach while inside an active stomach. Completely safely, too!

Nicolas gently swept a hand along the nearby stomach wall, collecting the oozing fluid and letting it drip through his fingertips. “It's actually more complicated than that, as there's other chloride compounds involved, a base to help counteract the acid, and biofeedback systems to regulate exactly how much of each chemical is released and when.”

“Weird,” was the response, after a moment of clear contemplation. “If you're all set, then I think I'm just going to go do the dishes, now.” The stomach wall moved forward with a dull thump, colliding with Nicolas' still-outstretched hands. He had a brief moment of panic as the noise and movement repeated, unable to banish the sudden certainty that he was about to be pinned between sections of stomach lining and melted down into a soup by the chemicals he'd held so dear. Fortunately, Rikard wasn't done talking and Nicolas realized after a beat that it had merely been the human patting his stomach a few times. “And Karla?”

“Hmm?” she chirped, making no secret of the fact she'd tuned both of them out already.

“I take back my earlier comment; he's an even bigger nerd than you are!”

Karla laughed, patting at the nearby section of stomach wall. “As long as I'm still the weirdest, I think I'll be okay with that.”

“Any weirder and I think I'd be scared.” Nikolas didn't need to see the obvious smile on Rikard's face to know that the human was fond of his classmate – it was clear from his tone alone.

Their surroundings shifted, swaying slightly back and forth as the human slowly stood up, walking in pursuit of his aforementioned errands. Nicolas sat down once he'd gotten his 'sea legs' as he mentally referred to them with a faint smirk. His skin still crawled – a sensation completely opposite from the sting of acid, as more than a few minor lab accidents had taught him caution – knowing that he was in an enclosed area and that the phobia simply didn't care that he was safe, or even that he fully knew he was safe. Stupid, he thought to himself, stupid that one who claims to be a scientist is nearly crippled by something so irrational. Should he be upset with Karla for forgetting about his phobia, or was it instead oddly gratifying?

“So,” she said, unaware of his thoughts, scooting along to sit beside him, “What do you think?”

Nicolas leaned back with a sigh, trying not to mind the goo dripping onto and from his hair. He couldn't really decide what to think. From his perspective as a student of chemistry, this was incredible! The chance to observe first-hand the secretion and subsequent pH balancing of gastric fluid wasn't really something that could be done ethically, as vivisection was banned for every reason. That such an avenue of study existed – safe, ethical, and simple – well, the ramifications would be immense. And just wait until the neurologists find out about him, he thought, they'll go crazy.

But – a very significant 'but', in his opinion – you'd have to be eaten in order to collect any data. While some people – most of them likely to be life-long scientists – would find it a bizarre yet sensible toll on the road of progress, few had either their priorities in such an order or were capable of differentiating between gut emotional responses and logical bases to come to the conclusion that this was A Good Idea.

“If I'm being honest?” He didn't want to ruin Karla's obvious good mood, but she was also a scientist, one interested in her fellow's opinion, so he'd try to give her as impartial and unbiased an opinion as he could. “I'm alternately fascinated and disgusted. And more than a little bit unnerved, just thinking about the spells involved. Or rather, about how I don't know of any single or combination of spells that could do this without horrendously injuring one of us. Hells, a basic protection charm on us would cause a cascade of problems for the human, and they might stop at merely wreaking havoc on his entire digestive tract for a few days. My conclusion in three words?” He turned to face her, despite knowing she probably couldn't see any better than he could. “'Cool', 'weird', and 'what-the-actual-frick!?'”

“Fair enough,” the woman chuckled, nudging him jovially with her elbow, “I get that it's definitely not for everyone.”

“Thanks for showing me, though. Problem is-” Nicolas pulled out several vials, “-your demonstration invalidated my sample set. I'm going to pull a sample anyway, but I'll need more. Thing is, though,” fumbling for her hands, he pressed the vials into them, waiting for her fingers to curl around the stoppers, “you're gonna have to get them for me – one return trip through his throat is practically more than I can handle already.”

“Sure, I don't mind doing you a solid, especially not this sort of solid,” Karla sniggered. “Would you mind doing me a favor in return? I just thought of something really important, enough to warrant its own study. Buuuut I'll need a small group of people, not just one or two.”

“Would it involve getting eaten by this guy?” If so, then count him out.

“Only people who actually do sign up. Otherwise he gets upset and I don't want to have to deal with the complication,” she groaned petulantly.

“Ugh, sure. I take it you just need someone to back you up that it's 'safe' and all?” Not that he'd be allowed to go into much detail regardless – L.A. Research Contracts magically bound all who read them to silence. Nicolas would have to emphasize that they actually pay attention to what they were reading... without arousing suspicion. Hmm.

Karla flung her arms around him in an ecstatic hug. “Aww, thanks Nick, you're a peach.”

Maybe now was not the best time to tell her he was allergic, Nicolas thought, patting her back.

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When his doorbell chimed at him, Rikard opened it to see a mail courier waiting with a look of evident disgust. “Here,” he sneered, shoving a pamphlet into Rikard's hands before bounding away, presumably to the next stop on his rounds.

Thoroughly confused, he stepped back into his house and closed the door, turning the document over in his hands. It was an advertisement for what appeared to be a restaurant, with a note scrawled across it in broad, jagged, yet oddly precise strokes.

The tasty little bastards aren't so easy to come by anymore, but turns out I know a guy, hooked me up with this place. Not allowed to eat them for real, unfortunately, but they do appreciate repeat customers. No need to tell them I sent you; they prioritize discretion so it can stay our little secret. – Bryce

Now the courier's expression made sense. He read through the rest of the document, convinced there was some trick to it. Was Bryce trying to catch him out somehow? Was it a trap? No, it was pure authentic Bryce. Figures. I can't imagine how far he won't go for a tiny meal.

Fine. He'd give this 'Sustenance Shack' a try; hopefully it wouldn't be too awkward. Just visit, order, and leave; should be enough to keep up appearances.

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The advertised building was very nondescript, built into a large hill. If it weren't for the series of signs, set at three different heights – eye level for him, what he knew would be at a tiny's level, and what he assumed was for a giant – he'd have missed it entirely.

Sustenance Shack, it declared, serving local vorists' needs for half a millenium!

'Vorist'. The word was unfamiliar to him, but Rikard shrugged and stepped through the door, assuming he would find out soon enough.

A mid-sized person looked up as the door chime and bounded over the counter with a grin. “Hello, and welcome to the Sustenance Shack? We have dining rooms available in both the Prey Bay and the Predator Parlor; how may I direct you?” They appeared to be one of the Beast Folk, though he couldn't be sure since he'd never met one before. Their tuxedo-pattern fur was sleek, green eyes hinting at mischief, and several jeweled studs decorated their left ear.

“Dining rooms in the what?” Rikard was in shock with how open about it the place was.

“Are you here as a predator, or are you here as a prey?” They said it slowly. “You could not have made it through the misdirecting wards if you didn't intend to be a customer.”

“I...” He blinked, confounded. “I didn't realize being prey was an option. How would that even work?”

They smirked faintly, hiding their amusement well. “Shrinking and growth potions,” they said simply, “or a teleportation spell, for those interested in spending the afternoon being entertained by a friendly dragon.”

While that didn't sound appealing in the slightest, Rikard did find himself wondering if it would be at all similar to how a tiny felt being eaten by him. “People want to be eaten by a dragon?” he wondered. That wasn't why he was there, but the thought wouldn't leave his mind.

“We do have a few habitual prey customers, but the majority are predators Switching for a change. I take it you're a first-time predator?” They shot him a knowing look.

“Um. I'm a predator yes, but this isn't my first time.” He almost opened his mouth to say how many people he'd eaten, and how often, but bit his tongue instead, worrying how it would make him seem. Cocky, arrogant, a braggart? He did not want to be memorable, but he had no idea how their 'usual' or 'repeat' customers acted, save for his own experiences in his hometown. Rikard wanted desperately to believe that not everyone who enjoyed being a predator was like Bryce or the others.

“Ah. Did you happen to bring a potion to inhibit your digestion? We do have several available for purchase if not.” They pulled a small notebook and stencil from a pocket.

He shook his head. “Thank you, but that's not necessary.” So that's what he meant by 'not eating them for real'. Rikard hoped his disgust wasn't obvious.

The clerk looked at him, one eyebrow raised derisively, ears swept back while their whiskers flicked in distaste. “While all of our prey workers do reform, be advised that there is an exorbitant fee should you digest them, intentionally or not.”

Rikard's face was blank for a moment, then blanched in horror. “Oh gods no. No, that won't happen. It's not a spell, more of an innate magic.” He couldn't imagine it – reforming after such a terrible death, and then potentially being faced with it again? Even perhaps multiple times? – and didn't want to.

The clerk continued to study him, then reached into a different pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a pair of glasses. There was something a bit 'off' about the lenses, but he couldn't tell just what from where he was standing. They leaned forward, pupils slitting in concentration as they looked him up and down intently. “Hmm. So I see. Very well, then.” They straightened and tucked the glasses away. “If you will follow me, sir.”

He tailed after the catlike being, wondering if they had a tail, and managed not to stare. The man wanted to ask what they'd seen, how they'd seen, because it was the first time anyone had mentioned being able to detect the 'curse'. Could just anyone see it and nobody had chosen to comment? Did they see only an affliction without knowing precisely what it did? He wasn't entirely sure which of the two was preferable. Better that it remains hidden.

“Ah, this room's free.” They opened the door and beckoned him in, closing the door after them. “Do you have a preferred type of prey, sir?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he replied awkwardly, “Not- not really, as long as they're alright with me taking my time.” Rikard realized that wasn't enough of a description. “I like to taste them but I also just like to feel the weight of them in my belly while they move around for a little while.”

They nodded. “Do you mind a talker?”

“That would be nice.” Maybe he could learn a bit more about this strange place.

“Even if they're rude?” They held up a claw-tipped finger. “Attempting to harm a prey despite their warding will result in you being fined and escorted from the premises with no refunds.”

Why would they be worried a predator hurting prey specifically because the prey was 'rude'? “Your prey aren't... forced, are they?” It mattered to Rikard, who had never stopped fearing of becoming like Bryce someday, of what was something simple and enjoyable – if certainly weird – becoming more, becoming less, and becoming worse. He'd made a set of rules for himself – or rather, two sets – one set for fun, and a different set for protecting someone or someones.

'Try not to hurt them' wasn't redundant or useless – there were more ways to hurt a person than simply physical – and it went so much further than just avoiding scaring someone. He'd had to walk the very fine line between convincing a threat – whether another predator or not – that his prey would wind up as food and between not treating the prey as 'mere' food, as less than a person.

'Ask permission first' didn't count if it was for protection, no matter how bad Rikard felt for them; he could apologize once they were safe... and accept if they refused to forgive him. He counted himself lucky that everyone who'd ever said 'yes' had never changed their answer to 'no'; that he could accept, but he fretted over how graciously he'd be able to accept.

'Don't try to change their mind.' His other rule, though, was why he'd been so indecisive about visiting this restaurant. In Rikard's mind, bribing a 'no' into a 'yes' wasn't all that much better than snatching someone off the ground and stuffing them into his mouth, and damn their sensitivities! But if the offer came from the prey's side – 'I will do this favor if you pay me this amount' – then that was different. Or so he hoped.

“We pay our workers very well, sir.” Their tone was frosty and sharp, far from the polite and crisp manner they'd used to greet him.

“That's not what I asked.” He tried to match their tone, insinuating right back.

“Sir, we're in the Wyldelands, and answer to no one but ourselves. That being said, we don't want any neighboring kingdom's rangers or warrior guilds to come poking around. We simply... pay well enough that some of the more desperate Small Folk choose to overlook the requirement of being swallowed alive in return for generous wages and rather comprehensive benefits. Any of our workers are free to leave at any time, of course, but our gag spell is... rather extreme, and even more so for anyone who manages to get themself fired.”

They paused, evaluating him as they tapped their stencil idly against a protruding fang. Apparently deciding that elaboration would assuage the potential customer's doubts, they continued in a slightly gentler tone, “Our prey sort out their own assignments; those willing to accommodate predators of a more... bestial nature are paid more. As our clientele shifts, so does their roster; vacant positions would be much harder to fill if we had a mortality rate.” Their whiskers twitched in apparent amusement as they angled their stencil to indicate him. “I think I know the perfect prey for you, sir, if you don't mind a... 'spicier' mouthful?” Their grin grew wider, with almost catlike mischievousness, “You might be just the predator for them as well.” Barely had Rikard nodded – with significant confusion – than they ducked out.

Rikard looked around the small room, slowly taking a seat in the single chair at the only table. He noticed that there was a small door built into the wall, level with the surface of the table. It didn't appear to have a lock, or at least not from his side, and opened into whatever space lay on the other side of the wall.

A firm knock sounded, and he looked over at the door he'd passed through, then back to the smaller one, realizing his mistake. The door swung inwards, opened by a disgruntled tiny, a woodsy-looking Fae, who stepped out onto the table and grimaced, looking at him. “Thank the gods your order lasts close enough to the end of my shift; I'm not sure how many more predators I can handle this week.”

Uh oh. “Wait, are you saying you don't want to be eaten?” All employees were supposed to be willing participants, that was the only reason he'd been willing to come here, that was why he'd practically interrogated the waiter, that was what the waiter had just claimed.

“Yes, but I have to as part of my job,” they replied sullenly, staring him down with a disgusted look on their face as they folded their legs beneath them to sit on the table.

“If you don't want to be eaten, why do you still work here?” Rikard was now extremely confused. The waiter didn't have to tell him some people enjoyed being eaten – whether customers or workers – since Sam, and a few other borrowers, had been downright excited when he asked if he could eat them. From there, it made sense that there would also be people who could be bribed into letting themselves be eaten. Yet he knew better than to assume everyone – or even most of everyone – was okay with eating someone, or being eaten by someone, or with simply the idea of eating or being eaten by someone.

“I need the money. But they said if I go home early today again, I'm fired.” They looked down at their hands. “It's not that I hate my job, it's just that I think they need to screen their customers better. The last one kept trying to chew on me. Some have creepy requests and a few have gotten really mad if I won't – or can't.” They looked back up at Rikard anxiously. “I didn't ask, and you haven't said – you're not one of those, are you?”

“I might be disappointed if you aren't comfortable with something, but I wouldn't say I get mad.” Since it was so incredibly illegal, Rikard didn't understand why anyone would risk losing their temper and being banned from the only place one could freely eat people.

The tiny slowly nodded once, satisfied with that answer, though still clearly not at ease. “I suppose I should stop wasting your time. It's rude to keep a customer waiting.”

“But are you feeling better?” Rikard inquired politely.

“I- what?” Their head shot up sharply, confused.

“Obviously you needed to vent.” Rikard repeated, slower, “Are you feeling better now?”

They frowned, not entirely understanding. “Why would it matter to a predator? On the clock – and the table – I'm just prey.”

“It matters because I prefer my 'prey' to be at least somewhat willing.” Rikard folded his arms on the table, resting his head on his hands, now more or less at eye level with them. “I really like it when a meal struggles, but it just doesn't feel quite right to know someone is so opposed to being eaten.”

“I've never seen you here before, though.” They were still frowning, but the Fae's expression was now more confused than anything else.

“Long story.” He glanced away, chewing on his lip. Bryce had come here. But at this point, maybe it didn't matter so much if his former neighbors knew he wanted an agreeable appetizer. “This place was recommended to me by someone I knew growing up that shared my... unusual habit.”

They picked at the hem of their shorts with a sigh. “You're ordering just the regular 'help help don't eat me' prey that fights you all the way down, then?”

Rikard angled his hand up, interrupting. “I don't mean- I don't like the begging, even pretend, just the movement.”

They managed a small cheeky grin. “That's an odd take on such a common request. You don't mind if I work a bit of my frustration out on your insides as part of my 'movement'?”

Rikard's own grin started relatively small, gradually stretching across the left side of his face, widening into a toothy grin, then a full predatory smirk. “I'll let you know if it hurts – which I doubt – but I'll be sure to leave a nice tip if you can make it convincing enough.”

That finally got a genuine smile, and even a quiet laugh. “Since there's money involved, I doubt you'll be disappointed, sir.” They climbed to their feet and gave a very precise half-bow. “Now that you've placed your order, welcome to the Prey Bay, satisfying predators of the Sustenance Shack for over a century; my name is Tailor and I'll be serving as your prey today. Any attempt to harm your prey will result in you being escorted from the premises, and any attempt to use magic or artifacts not approved by management will get you banned for eternity. Are you ready to dine or are there additional preparations you would like to make?”

He dragged his tongue along his lips slowly, mouth watering. His stomach had caught on that it was about to have a visitor and growled quietly. “No thank you, I'm quite hungry.”

They chuckled, “So I can tell, sir,” and climbed into his proffered hands.

Rikard lifted the tiny up to his mouth and gently pushed them in. It hadn't been noticeable from the table, but the tiny Fae was larger than any tiny borrower he'd eaten before. They weren't so large that he couldn't run his tongue all over their body, though. “Mmm.” They were an odd combination of flavors – the clear tang of the air after a storm but also fresh cut grass on a warm sunny day – that somehow went together perfectly.

They were still at first, and Rikard assumed they were apprehensively waiting to see just what kind of predator he was after all. Fine by him, so he started pushing Tailor around in his mouth to taste them on all sides. They shoved at his hard palate when he held them against it to suck gently on them, and he grinned. Rikard carefully lowered them down, angling them so their back was set against the inside of his teeth, and dragged his tongue slowly up and down their body.

Tailor went still again, before they caught on, and squirmed enough to work their hands up enough to shove at his tongue again. He moved them around, held at different angles in his mouth, very gently massaging them with his tongue while they managed to slowly force his tongue away. But as delicious as they tasted, it wasn't a fight in his mouth that he wanted.

He tipped his head back, feeling the small Fae trying to clutch at his tongue, feet attempting to push off from his throat but sliding down further and further each time. Rikard closed his eyes, grinning. Since he knew his prey was willing, he felt absolutely no guilt in enjoying the struggle. He swallowed, as loudly as he could, hearing a quiet yelp – of surprise, not pain, thankfully – as Tailor was dragged into his throat.

Immediately the tiny began thrashing back and forth, barely able to do more than a frenzied wiggle, but still kicking and throwing elbows as best as they were able. Rikard pressed a hand against his throat to stroke the faint distortions they were producing. He swallowed again and chuckled quietly to himself; his meal was already proving to be worth not just the trip, or just the price, or even just the private shame he felt for accepting Bryce's invitation, but all of it.

Rikard pushed back a little from the table, tilting his chair and propping his feet up, one hand over his stomach. All he had to do was wait, his body easing the tiny down into his gut on its own. It felt wonderful, to finally have what he was too ashamed to ask his friends for. Briefly, it occurred to Rikard that he would have to send some form of thanks to Bryce, to keep up the appearance. The thanks would be legitimate, as he could easily see himself returning to this place.

He smirked, as the tiny he'd swallowed only moved about hesitantly once they had landed, giving a few of what could only be called kicks if one was being extremely loose with the distinction between 'kick' and 'cautious prod'.

“Tsk, those other predators couldn't have been that bad; if you were actually upset about being forced to be prey then maybe you'd do something about it instead of sitting there like mere food.” While it wasn't entirely accurate, as Rikard could feel Tailor moving around, he figured that the fastest way to get some more of that delicious squirming was to provoke them. It would also give the tiny not just an outlet, but a target at which to direct all their anger from previous predatory humiliation. “If I'd known you were going to be so passive as a meal, I wouldn't have swallowed you so soon. I mean, if someone watching can't see any signs of movement, obviously the prey's willing, am I right?”

They let out an inarticulate yell of pure wordless frustration and flung themself at the side of his gut, flailing away with not just fists and feet, but what felt like elbows and knees, and even a few shoulder tackles. The attacks finally slowed, and he could feel the tiny sag against his stomach lining and gradually slide down. Rikard smirked, prodding at his belly. “Congratulations, all that effort has earned you a hefty tip.”

“Glad to- to hear it. Sir.” Tailor chuckled weakly, out of breath.

Rikard sighed happily, rubbing his gut just firmly enough to feel the tiny slumped inside him. “I know you're probably tired, but would you mind squirming just a little more?” He felt Tailor shift around, pushing against and gently kneading at his stomach walls. Rikard sighed again. “Oh, that's perfect. Does this place allow predators to request specific prey? Because I forgot how delicious a struggling snack could be.” He licked his lips and swallowed once.

The tiny laughed, bracing their feet against the opposite wall and straining against the pressure of his hand. “It is indeed, sir, and you'd be a welcome change from my usual sort of predator.” He could hear the smirk in their tone. “Actually, I think I just won a bet from this.” They climbed onto their feet and paced slowly around his stomach, continuing to gently massage the folded rugae. “We keep track of requests on our end and some of the more, ah, 'habitual' prey like to brag about how often they're requested, or by how many different predators.”

Tailor stopped suddenly and shoved at the fleshy wall in front of them. “Those of us who are only in it – in you predators – for the money and benefits, we uh, think it's a bit crass and generally try not to encourage you lot in your more exotic preferences.” He wasn't going to comment, and the Fae's tone brooked no argument, so they continued after a pause, “Briallen even bet me this morning that Declan was going to be requested before I ever would.”

“What's Declan's problem?” It had just occurred to Rikard that he could try to order more than one prey 'dish' next time. “The waiter implied you were rude, are they just that much worse than you?”

“He's too accommodating.” Their tone was wry. “Or, as one orc put it, 'borderline sycophantic'.”

Hmm. “I wish I didn't know exactly why a predator would be unhappy with that.” Sure, he himself might be annoyed with such an attitude, but willing prey was willing prey and Rikard wasn't going to complain. “But I think it's time to say 'Thank you for the meal', and be on my way.”

“Of course, sir.” They drew in a focused breath. “If you will give me a minute I can Teleport myself out of here.”

“Oh, no, that's easy enough for me to do.” Rikard clenched his stomach muscles, “Just hold on.” He forced the tiny up into his throat. Tailor hadn't gone limp, nor stiffened up, instead finding just the right posture for Rikard to ease them out into hands cupped in front of his mouth.

“You've done this a lot,” Rikard noted with a raised eyebrow, at the exact time Tailor exclaimed with wide eyes, “You really have done this before!”

More than I'd care to admit. “Of course, just not- uh, not here. Back home.”

Tailor tilted their head in curiosity, so obviously not caring about the assorted slime coating them that they didn't even appear to notice. “Were your normal hunting grounds no longer safe? Is that why you sought this place out? That's the reason I've heard most often, closely followed by wanting a bit more variation with their prey.”

Rikard flushed, in both embarrassment and shame. Bryce was responsible for this, to blame for this. Tailor's tone was far from judgmental, but still he felt compelled to explain, to defend himself. “No, there was a... a person from my old village that told me about here, and declining would have been suspicious. I'm... well, I'm worried about them finding out – not that I was here, but that I don't like digesting anyone or that I like willing prey. They used to trap tinies for feasts.” He chewed on his lip then, drawing confidence from the simple fact that the village couldn't do a damned thing about it anymore, grinned cheekily. “If you're still curious the next time you're squirming around in my gut I'll tell you then; it's kind of a weird story.”

Tailor snorted, “For an experienced predator to claim a dinner story is weird, now that's saying something.”

“I do have one last question, though.” He grinned, showing all of his teeth. “Would there happen to be any other frustrated prey-workers who wouldn't mind keeping you company next time I order dinner here?”

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“So where were you last Friday?”

“Out.” Karla's shoulders were hunched.

“You know there's a curfew.”

“Only for being on the streets.”

What an ungrateful tone! “You're just lucky we didn't have a surprise inspection.”

“You keep saying I wouldn't be missed anyways.”

“Doesn't mean we wouldn't still get in trouble for not knowing where you were!”

“Just stop following me already!”

She was about to tell the brat off for her impudence when said brat's expression changed, going from sullen defiance to elated surprise. She followed Karla's eyes, wondering what could cause such a sudden shift in mood.

“Sweetheart!” The commoner was addressing a human, who also appeared to be a mere commoner himself.

“Hey, honey. What're you doing out here?”

She stepped forward, lip curled as she studied the man. “You're sneaking out to fraternize with a non-student? You know what the Dean will have to say about this!”

“He'd have to hear about it, first!” Karla cackled behind her and she turned, calling out a quick spell that would make the impudent wench feel as if she'd burned her hand on a hot stove... or she tried to; the only sound coming out of her mouth was a faint, wispy hiss. Her eyes widened. Impossible! She tried again, and this time the borrower smirked and said sweetly, “If you had paid a little more attention in your anatomy classes, you'd notice that your vocal cords have been paralyzed. And as everyone knows, if you can't speak, you can't cast.”

The bitch grabbed them both by an arm and spun the three of them around to face the human. “Anyhoo, since you two are desperate to pry into every detail of my life to better ruin it, I thought I'd help you out and take you to meet my old friend, Rikard, because I know he'd enjoy the opportunity to eat you.”

She glanced over, catching Karla's eye and raising an eyebrow quizzically. Did you really just...

The human chuckled darkly and she whipped her head around to see a decidedly unpleasant grin on his face, almost feral.

“Mmm, they look rich.”

His stare was disconcerting, unsettling, and she took a step away before something jabbed in the small of her back. She yelped and hopped to the side.

“You look like you're having trouble there; why don't you let me help you out with those two, hun?”

The human was reaching for her and she, frozen in disbelief, didn't resist as she and her co-Alpha were scooped off the ground.

“Breakfast was awhile ago, so I thought you might be hungry, sweetheart.”

“Aww, you're so thoughtful, honey.” He spoke to the tiny on the ground, but his eyes were on the two in his hands, flicking from one to the other with a predatory stare. “They do look delicious, and not just because I'm absolutely starving right now.”

She shook her head frantically – not in denial, but in emphasis. The human noticed and grinned broadly, showing off a healthy set of teeth, a rare sight among non-local lower-borns.

“Don't worry, little morsels, I know how to treat my prey right. You can relax, knowing that you're in the care of the most considerate predator around.” He smirked, then ran a tongue over his lips as a thought occurred to him. “Why don't I just show you instead, since you seem to doubt my word.”

She tried pushing at his fingers to loosen them, to make him let her go, but her arms were trapped in front of her, unable to prevent him catching her feet deftly between his lips and, from there, sucking her into his mouth.

The first thing she did was to aim a kick directly at the roof of his mouth. The resultant hiss made her smile, until she was smashed flat against that same surface. His spongy tongue pressed unevenly against her back, shifting, scrubbing, almost scouring her increasingly damp clothes over her skin. She tried to push away several times but was just shoved right back where she started. Fuck! Her arms were starting to burn from the strain, and just as she thought it couldn't go on any longer, his tongue dropped out from underneath her, and she bounced lightly against it when she fell. She moved to sit up, to try and clear her head, but that slick muscle deftly spun her around and lifted her up, face down on his tongue this time.

She couldn't gain any purchase against his tongue, as it kept moving and shifting, so she decided to start hitting it, not having enough room to wind up a punch. But as her hand slid off, thanks to the thick gooey saliva, his tongue wrapped around that arm, covering it completely, squeezing just enough to almost hurt, before gradually trailing down and off. Nothing she did worked! And the moist, dank air rumbled with his echoing snicker, vibrating all the way deep inside her lungs.

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, going limp in despair. This can't be real! Surely she hadn't offended any of the gods to the point where they'd allow this to actually happen. It was just a dream, it had to be, perhaps some kind of warning. But it felt real, the sounds, the smells, the rough texture of the tongue tip delicately running across her face. Wake up! Wake up wake up!

As if it had worked, as if one of the gods was actually paying attention, the movements of his tongue gradually slowed, relaxing down against the base of his mouth. Her eyes snapped open and she could see that his teeth were parted, that there was a ray of light shining through his slack lips, and she lunged forward, barely noticing that the tongue underneath her was sliding forward as well.

She was out! She could feel the air on her damp skin, and moved to dive off his tongue, away, free, but something was tugging at her mid-calf. Twisting, she looked back and up to find that the human had bitten down, pinning her legs to his tongue with his teeth, lips in a smug grin. She almost fell as he slowly pulled his tongue back into his mouth, dragging along her body, but he'd pinched the back of her robes, keeping her horizontal. That commoner magus was watching from below, also smirking, and called up to her with a laugh when their eyes met.

“Payback's a bitch, ain't it, Julie?”

Even if she'd been able to talk, she wouldn't have been able to talk from sheer incredulous rage. How dare they do this to her! Didn't they know who she was!?

Still holding her robes, still with her legs trapped, she was lifted vertically as the human tipped his head back. His tongue swept over her legs, leaving them coated with the thick slime of his saliva. Lips closed around her knees, something tugging repetitively and she realized, sick to her stomach, that he was sucking on her. Julie thrashed, tugging at her robe to try and remove it, preferring the humiliation of being spotted in boxers and grimy tank top to this display of absolute indignity. Her robe billowed with the gust of air from the human's amused snort.

He did open his mouth and pull her the rest of the way out, though, and turned her so Julie was forced to look at that smug hungry face again. “You should be more careful,” he said in a syrupy tone, “wouldn't want you to get hurt now, would we? Hmm.” The human shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned, and glanced down at Karla, who'd obviously planned this well in advance. “Sorry to cut the show short, hun, but this one seems in a hurry to get to where she belongs.” He looked back at Julie and narrowed his eyes, lilting, “I wanted to take my time and savor you, since apparently you used to matter, but if you insist...”

The human's head tipped back once more, swinging her up so rapidly she got dizzy, the sparkles in her eyes clearing right in time to see his mouth open and feel his fingers. Let. Go!

His tongue barely touched her, just enough to readjust Julie's fall and guide her into his waiting throat. She screamed soundlessly as she was sucked down, one hand stretching desperately for the light, only to see it blocked by the brute of a human's tongue as he licked his lips. His throat was disgusting and wet, rubbing against her expensive robes. Julie could hear him purring and she wriggled, trying to cause him pain, or at least make him uncomfortable. But all she heard was a pleased sigh before the moist tube rumbled around her with wild laughter.

She shifted her legs, trying her hardest to kick as each undulating swallow trailed down her body with a sickening squelch, bringing her gradually past his thumping heart. She knew exactly which spell to use to burn that heart to ash, but a mute couldn't cast! There was even a curse – one students her level were absolutely not supposed to know, but such were the perks of good breeding – that could rip the air from those lungs nearby, slowly asphyxiating him. But she couldn't cast!

Magic's not the only way to cause someone pain, and I don't need words to do it! How tough could a stomach be, anyway? It was just flesh, and flesh could be torn easily enough...

Rikard let out a quiet sigh, grinning lazily. The arrogant tiny had struggled the entire way down, starting to kick and pound at his stomach wall the very instant she'd landed in the damp organ. He tugged his shirt up and glanced at his belly. There wasn't much to be seen, but if you peered close and if you knew what to look for, you could spot the telltale signs of a decidedly unwilling prey. “Oooh, she's a fiery one!”

“Is she, now?” Karla purred, interested. “What did Julie taste like?”

“'Julie'?” He replied in a casually dismissive tone, “she's just a snack now, and food doesn't get to have a name.” The human settled back in his seat, idly running his thumb over the second student held in his grip. “Wood smoke and charcoal. I've never had the pleasure of eating someone who tasted so oddly delightful.” Then he looked at the other tiny and licked his lips slowly. “I'll bet you're no different.”

Karla giggled, covering her mouth as a demure afterthought as she pointed to the barely-visible ripples across his belly. “Looks like your first little snack isn't liking the compliment. Or,” she said with a knowing grin, “did your gut just say 'hello'?”

“Listen,” he purred, pressing the other bully against his stomach, “do you hear that?” On cue, it let out an echoing, gurgling groan. “My stomach is still so empty and it wants to be filled. Your friend simply isn't enough, you see? She's gotten it all worked up, starting to ooze those digestive acids ready and waiting to soak into you, carrying you to your final resting place.” Rikard lifted them up to eye level, smirking. He could feel that odd, almost imperceptible, shift in his eyes, the feral tint that his borrower friends said reminded them of a Wild Fae, one lost to base instinct – a mere predator. His stomach growled again and he swallowed a mouthful of drool. He'd barely eaten breakfast, anticipating when he'd get to teach his friend's bullies a lesson, and so he was really, honestly, hungry. “But I'm not so cruel as to keep you two separated in your last moments, so just sit tight and I'll send you to join her in a bit.” The human grinned wildly, “After I've finished enjoying the second course of my lunch, that is.”

The fear in the second tiny's eyes was delicious and Rikard had put on his little show just for that effect. Below him, out of the bully's sight, Karla had her hands clasped together in front of her face, an equally wild grin upon her own, blue eyes sparkling with amusement. He was glad she wasn't scared of him, of the monster he was pretending to be. He just... hadn't anticipated how enthusiastic she'd be about the trickery.

“If you don't struggle, I'll swallow you sooner,” Rikard purred huskily, “Would you like that?” He felt only a twinge, not the usual sharp stabbing burn, as he thought back to how his own tormentors had behaved. Rikard had caught the bully's eye – unfortunately – with how carefully he'd eaten all the tinies he was allotted. Bryce might have been a brute, a lout, a thug, but the man hadn't been stupid.

Rikard had been pulled aside one day without warning. His heart sank into his stomach when he saw who it was.

“Listen, I been watching you the last few feasts and I noticed something. You've been eating them pretty fast, almost faster than anyone else.”

He doesn't know! He doesn't suspect! He couldn't!, Rikard had told himself, trying not to panic. He'd argued, saying that the more time he took to eat each tiny, the fewer he'd have overall.

“Kid.” Bryce had clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I like you. You've really found yourself since that day I told you 'man up or else', scarfing those little bastards down with the best o' us. But listen, you gotta know how to talk to them. Be reassuring, let 'em know you appreciate their contribution, point out some of the other guys and say how lucky they are to be destined for your gut, all those calming words to make them panic and squirm. Toy with 'em, ask 'em questions about how they'd like to be ate, give them choices and such. It's a fancy game, psychological like, see? Tell ya what,” he had elbowed Rikard's side jovially, “I've got one I've been saving for awhile. Don't tell nobody, but I'll let you have it if you'll prove you've got what it takes. Deal?”

Rikard had looked at the bully's outstretched hand for a moment before grabbing and pumping it in a firm shake. “I was just starting to think about dinner.” He'd smirked up at Bryce, who had grinned back broadly.

“That's the spirit!”

As it turned out, Bryce had managed to under-emphasize the effect it would have on his 'meal'. The tiny had flailed about in his gut in a state of total panic, prompting a series of quietly content noises from him, while Bryce looked on proudly.

“Good on you, kid. Now go on home so's you get something to eat; that one's not going to digest for a little while and you shouldn't be skipping meals.”

It had taken him hours of talking – of arguing, of begging, of pleading – in as quiet a whisper as he could manage, hoping the tiny could hear him over the echoing groans of his gut, before they finally settled down and stopped crying. Or, at least, stopped crying that he could tell.

He had tried to believe that it was worth it, because it meant he was given more tinies to eat – and thus save – but the way that one individual had just looked at him, both before he ate them and even after he'd spitten them out, when it was obvious they were safe... Their expression conveyed what words could not – he was very good at being a monster.

He couldn't quite make out the angry words the second one spat at him, but the accompanying hand gestures clued him in. “Your loss,” Rikard chuckled, licking his lips eagerly. He stuffed the tiny into his mouth with a happy sigh, closing his eyes. He could still taste 'Julie', and her aftertaste only emphasized the flavor of this one. Earth. Fresh loam that's been soaking up the sunlight all day.

Hoping Karla had been satisfied with his treatment of the first, he felt free to be selfish this time around. Rikard rolled the tiny about, slurping at it whenever the drool puddling in his mouth got annoying, and nibbling at its arms and legs – oh so gently, because accidentally biting would spoil their trick – at random intervals. It stopped flailing every time he pinned it between his teeth and he could hear its quiet gasps of fear before he let go and it resumed struggling. But all good things must come to an end, so Rikard flung his head back, tossing the tiny down his throat and swallowed loudly, tracing its descent into his demanding gut.

He sighed happily, patting his belly in languid contentment. Catching Karla's eye he smirked and drew in a slow breath, letting it out alongside a massive belch as he pressed both hands to his gut, forcing even more air out as the walls moved in on his two 'snacks'. She looked utterly flabbergasted, and Rikard couldn't blame her; while they had practiced dragging out his burps for maximum gross factor, he'd never managed anything near as loud and disgusting as this. To his surprise, Karla placed her hands together a few times in a politely impressed gesture of applause.

“Oh gods, I love it when they put up a fight.” What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Yeah, it was for a good cause, but he didn't enjoy scaring anyone like this. But it feels so great when they thrash around in a fright... He was worried how easy it was to slip into the role, or how he barely felt any guilt at all. “Are you two trying to give me indigestion?” Rikard crooned, tenderly brushing his gut. He pulled his hand away when Karla hopped up on his lap to lean against his stomach.

She giggled unpleasantly. “Aww, I think they are. Not much you bitches can do to my boyfriend without your precious magic, is there?” 'Boyfriend?' Rikard mouthed at her in confusion. Karla rolled her eyes and waved her hand in a 'go along with it' motion. “And in case giving him indigestion was your intent, I hate to break it to ya, but live tinies are a delicacy where he comes from. So even if you could shape your spells, it still wouldn't do you any good, because he's got some insanely powerful wards on him.” Rikard chuckled maliciously to emphasize her words, and Karla gave him a broad grin and a thumbs up.

“Mhm, she is ab-so-lute-ly right. I don't think I could count how many times I've drifted off to sleep with a gut packed full of panicked borrowers. Sure, all that begging does keep me up for awhile, but eventually it all fades to silence as they are incorporated into my body, one by delicious one.” In truth, he could count, and that count was zero.; technically everyone he'd eaten did go quiet eventually, but either because they'd fallen asleep as well or because they finally realized they were safe. “There's only two of your delicious selves, so I doubt you'll make it that long, but I'll still enjoy every last second you manage to hang around. You'll be doing yourselves a favor by struggling; it'll wear you out faster and you'll move along to the next stage of digestion, away from all pain.”

“It's the perfect crime, as there will be no bodies to find, no corpses to Raise. However...” Karla looked up at the sky, finger on her lips pensively.

“'However', what, honey?” Rikard played along.

“However...” She pressed her ear against the center of the human's stomach, “this would still be 'accessory to murder' and I'm not entirely sure I want that on my soul. Soooo... how about we make a deal? In exchange for asking him to spit you up and sparing your lives, I want a profuse and heartfelt apology from both of you, oh and then maybe a few Oaths of Binding to make sure you stick by that apology and don't go running off to the police at any point.” Karla licked her finger and pressed it to her neck, whistling a spell. “Whatcha think, you wanna bargain for your lives?”

“Fuck off to the deepest hell, dirty burrower! I am a scion of the House of Endar and I will not be intimidated by the likes of you!”

Rikard laughed, an honest laugh, at how pretentious the tiny was. Karla gave him a Look, as if she thought he'd doubted her claims they were making her life absolute hell. “That's where you're wrong,” he purred, making a tiny 'shoo' motion in Karla's direction. She grinned, understanding, and took several steps back. He rested his hand against his stomach, and firmly pressed inwards, smushing the two tinies between the slimy walls of his stomach again. He could feel them both in there, huddled together as a paired lump, and slowly dragged his hand in a circle, further coating them in goopy enzymes. “You're nothing but food now, so her offer is pretty generous. Sure, it's murder, but you two looked so delicious I honestly couldn't help myself. And you tasted just as good as you looked, so I simply can't wait until my gut gets to work, melting you down and absorbing you into my body.”

“He's got a pretty nice set of abs, maybe you'll be lucky enough to wind up there.”

He frowned and poked her gently with his free hand. 'Stop it,' Rikard mouthed. Karla pouted back, 'Fine.'

“Still so sure that answer is a 'no'?” Karla crooned in a sickly-sweet tone. After all the pain and humiliation they'd caused her, she was almost drunk on the sheer satisfaction of payback.

“I always knew you were a freak!”

“Mmm, guess I get to keep them.” Rikard sighed again, “Let's go get you some food, honey; I'm buying since you caught me lunch.”

“We'll scream.”

Karla chuckled quietly. “No,” she whistled the silencing spell, “you won't.” She chuckled again, hear-feeling the muffled thump as her bullies began beating against the hungry flesh once more. “I'll ask again in a few hours if you're still around, maybe you'll have softened up enough by then for a change of mind.” She winked up at Rikard. “Why don't you put your shirt back on, sweetheart? Can't really see them from here, but better safe than sorry.”

He shrugged his shirt on with a grin, patting his gut again. “Now don't go anywhere, you two.”

Karla skipped back and forth between clothing stores, swanning out from the dressing rooms to show off each new outfit that caught her eye. Some of them were absolutely ridiculous and he couldn't help but laugh. He was sprawled lazily on a bench, arm over the back of the seat, mulling thing over. She'd called him her boyfriend, and Rikard wasn't sure if she was serious or if it was just part of her taunting. Both? It could be both, what if it's both? What was he supposed to do with this information?

Every once in awhile, he'd run his hand across his gut; apply just the faintest hint of pressure, and... it set them to flailing all over again, pounding on his stomach wall and sending pleasant vibrations against his hand. They weren't hurt, they weren't going to hurt, so it was perfectly fine to enjoy humiliating someone who used their power to make everyone else miserable, right? Every time Rikard's thoughts strayed in the direction of how afraid they must be, one would start moving again, or he'd catch the hint of their aftertaste on his tongue.

Looking at the large shake in his hand, Rikard drew in a breath and chugged it as fast as he could. He could feel the cool liquid outline his stomach before it finished acclimating to his body temperature. While Karla had been the one to suggest he eat after dealing with her tormentors, the idea sounded better and better as she explained. They'd tested it, even! All he needed was another drink or two, and he should be able to feel them slosh about in his gut from time to time.

Finally, the tiny grew bored with window shopping and paid for her favorite outfits. “Thanks for being so patient with me, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I didn't mind. It's such a pleasant day out.” Rikard discreetly mimed running, then pointed to his gut and shook his fist just once.

Karla grinned toothily, catching his meaning. “I haven't been to the park in awhile, might be nice to wander around, could even tell you a little about its history if that's not too boring for ya.”

“I'll grab us some water.” He winked at her. “Don't want us to get all dried out.”

With a bottle clipped to his belt and Karla's purchases – which, she admitted, were a total splurge, an excuse to talk with Rikard so her bullies would realize how they were barely even an afterthought anymore – stowed in his pocket, he started off around the park at a light jog. The liquid shifted back and forth in his stomach, keeping time with his strides though at a slight delay. If his feet landed on the ground hard enough he could feel two distinct impacts on his stomach wall, and when he rounded each corner sharply, pivoting on the ball of a foot, the weight of the entire contents shifted to one side before slowly oscillating back to equal distribution. With his abdominal muscles as clenched as they were, he highly doubted the tinies' collisions were soft. They're not hurt. I'm just... shaking them up a little, like they're in a blender.

He couldn't wait for dinner. Rikard planned to stuff himself silly, because the bullies would have to constantly struggle out of the shapeless mass his stomach would compact all the food into. And, since they'd be in the privacy of his home, he and Karla could devote their full attention to a body temperature dish of revenge.

When they finally headed back home, Karla dashed off to the kitchen to prepare ingredients while Rikard went through a series of stretches. He could feel his stomach contracting around what little was left in it. With most of the water he'd drank now flowing through his intestines, his stomach went back to grumbling, growling outright as the smell of cooking filled the kitchen. The hungry gurgles rippled through his abdomen, growing quieter and less frequent during their meal. Karla smirked knowingly at each echoing sound.

Finally, when he couldn't eat another bite, Rikard pushed his plate away and slumped in his chair with a groan. There was only faint wriggling coming from the tinies trapped within his stomach now.

Karla picked her way across the table, grinning manically. “Hel-loooo?” She knocked teasingly against his abdomen. “Anyone still alive in there?”

Rikard patted his taut belly. “Yeah, they're tough little morsels; I think you're right about them being destined for muscle.”

Karla draped herself across his stomach, pressing her ear against his bare flesh. “Ooh, it sounds pretty busy. They're really putting your gut through its paces, huh?” She sighed happily, closing her eyes. “I probably should give you one last chance to beg for your lives, but honestly? Falling asleep to the sounds of you slowly dissolving is just what I need right now. I'll rest easy knowing that two sorry sacks of skin are finally getting put to good use. Mmm,” she purred, opening one eye to study Rikard, “but don't worry, sweetheart, I'll still love you even though you're building them into your body.”

Her taunting was making him more and more uncomfortable, so he shook his head firmly with a frown, mouthing 'enough', and she scowled back. And yet... he couldn't drop the act just yet. They needed to apologize.

“Sorry, honey, but you know I don't like sleeping on my back.” Rikard held up one finger, trying to convey that he was only asking her to rein it in a little, rather than ruin the charade outright. “I'll let you listen first thing in the morning; hopefully they'll have just a few more gurgles left in them for you to enjoy.”

“Ten more minutes?” she whined, pouting mightily, “It sounds like it was just getting to the good part.”

“Fine,” Rikard conceded, rolling his eyes.

“You're the best!” Karla beamed and gave him a double thumbs-up.

He snorted a laugh, feeling it jostle the contents of his gut, and shook his head good-naturedly. It was hard to feel self-conscious around someone just as thrilled as he was; what's more, Karla was even weirder about it all! She'd gone back to humming happily to herself and was gently massaging his belly in a long sweeping motion. “Heh, I'll make it twenty minutes if you keep that up.”

“Mmm, sounds good to me.” A stream of burbles rippled inside his stomach and the borrower woman added with a cackle, “Literally!”

Nineteen minutes later Rikard let out a loud yawn. “Alright, bedtime for both of us.” Shambling towards the bedroom, he kept rubbing at his stomach, wincing at how bloated he was. Absolutely worth it, but still. Not remotely comfortable.

He flopped face down on his bed with a contented sigh. Even though his actual preferred position would have still given Karla ample opportunity to listen, the flurry of motion deep in his gut told him that his idea had been a good one. “Ugh, would you two brats settle down already? Haven't you realized already that it's useless to resist and that even your most valiant attempts at fighting are only reminding me of my exotic and delicious lunch? Give up, digestion's inevitable.”

Rikard worked his hand between him and the bedsheets to run his knuckled fist over his gut, adding to the constant and chaotic churning of food and tiny bullies. “C'mon, I'll even help you out and stop moving around. Just lie down and go to sleep; never waking up's gotta be a better way to go than experiencing the pain of slowly boiling down by stomach acid. You're going to be feeling yourselves start to liquefy, everything burning as your flesh softens and pulls away from your bones; you won't stop feeling it until your nerves are digested completely.” He smirked, “No one will know if you surrender at this point and, let me tell you, I know from experience that I'd still sleep like a baby even if you did manage to keep fighting for awhile. Your choice, really; I win either way.” Rikard sighed happily and shifted his weight to his other side, chuckling. “Thanks for being so delicious.”

When he woke at dawn, Rikard was on his back, one arm resting over his gut and the other flopped over his face. Everything was still and quiet. Not for long, he grinned, reaching over and gently wobbling the dresser-slash-bed his tiny friend was using. He rolled out of bed, the pressure on his belly apparently waking up the other two tinies, who poked his stomach wall almost... cautiously?

“Oh?” Rikard prodded his stomach, not feeling bloated anymore now that his actual supper had been digested. “I see you noticed you're not dead. So here's how it works – you are going to remain trapped in my gut until Karla finally gets that apology. The same magic keeping you alive is the same one warding me against any spell you might try to use. You're not going to run out of food or water, but the source is, of course-” Rikard looked across to Karla and smirked, “-only my chewed-up 'leftovers'. So if you're still giving my friend the silent treatment, I get to continue enjoying having eaten you.”

He rested his hand on his stomach. They'd quit moving around and he assumed he had their full attention. “That thing about my village? Yeah that wasn't a lie; live tinies really were a delicacy back then, and had any other person swallowed you, you'd have been mush by dusk. I didn't want things to end so soon, so I managed to find a magus willing to help a predator out. This way I can keep little snacks like you to myself until I've had my fun. And I like feeling you squirm about in there, soaked in semi-digested food, so by all means keep it up.”

Both of Karla's eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?” she purred quietly, “'Squirming'? I'll have to keep that in mind for next time.”

He flushed, unable to deny how amazing her idea sounded. “So are you finally ready to apologize or do you need a few more days of marinating in digestive juices?” He felt a very hesitant prod to the front of his stomach. Raising an eye skeptically, Rikard asked, “Nuh uh uh, both of you got eaten so both of you need to say sorry.” One of them kicked him – he assumed it was the stubborn one – before a second set of hands joined the first. He glanced at Karla. “Your call, honey.”

She rolled her eyes but whistled as she walked over, climbing onto his outstretched hand and settling on his lap.

“We're sorry,” one said in a raspy voice. It didn't sound familiar, so it must have been the second bully, not the pretentious brat 'Julie'.

“I'm not going to forgive you,” Karla hissed.

“Bitch!” That was Julie. “You promised!”

“I never-” she began to snap, interrupted by Rikard tensing and squashing both tinies between gooey stomach walls.

“Need I remind you that until you have apologized for how you've treated my friend, you're keeping the title of 'snack'. I might even spit you up for a brief minute just to taste you all over again, since you taste so damn good.”

“Fine. I'm sorry.”

“Doesn't sound like it,” Karla said, voice all sickly sweet, “Why don't you try again, one more time, before I decide I'd rather hear some begging a week from now.”

“I-” Her voice wavered, cracking and breaking, “I'm sorry!”

She sighed, annoyed, and whistled. “Good enough, I guess. Sit tight while I figure out the wording for your Oaths.”

“That can wait until after I've had a talk with whoever's responsible for discipline at Maven.”

“Cool,” Karla waved at him. “See you later, then.”

“No,” Rikard said in a sternly warning tone, “you're coming, too, even if that means I have to spit up three tinies in front of your headmaster.”

She fumed, but otherwise didn't protest as she was scooped up and deposited in his breast pocket.

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