@Ome:  The stretchy deceptively human gecko yawns wide.  "My stomach produces skin-permeable euphoriants that make it hard for others to fight back.  Eventually I'm just sapping her life force to contribute to the rebuilding of skin, bone, red blood cells.  It feels so gooooood!" He adds, stretching back.  "But such would be expected in the nature of a creature built to do so.  I gotta be careful not to absorb her body, though.  So you're the new champ... you realize you've got a contract now, with the continent's biggest sports entertainment industry?" He turns on his side, rubbing his rounded midsection.  "I'll be coming for that belt again.  Next time it'll be you in here." He tells you playfully.<br/><br/>@Chiro:  The staircase to the attic is narrow but sturdy and just wide enough, and as your eyes adjust you find the professor staring straight ahead, past you, past crates and inches of dust, his footprints left behind as he strides slowly for a door at the end of the attic.  It catches your eye that the door is between two windows gazing right outside into the stormy eve.  The professor turns the nob...<br/><br/>...Baron would find beneath that trapdoor a stone set of stairs leading into a room dimly lit by a single candle in the center, upon a stone island around which a circular river stretched, coming from one wall and leaving from another.  On the far wall were hundreds of books on an old shelf, the sight of which brought about the recall of that strange sweet-musty scent, old, old paper!  A small wooden bridge stood over to one side of the river and another to the island, upon which a comfortable, old red velvet chair rested next to the candle.<br/><br/>@KavenBach:  "I didn't plan on it." Tim responds as your feet travel down his soft throat, and the boys' tight stomach contracts to hold you in place while at the same time flooding with fresh air.  He was belly breathing!?!  The soft walls pressed, heat and sour juices soaking into your skin, tingling, numbing.  You were finally inside of him again, and his body was already getting to work turning you into a part of it.  Was he telling the truth?  Would you wake up him, or die, or would he spit you out?  From the outside, his hands massaged the walls and in turn, you, rhythmically.  You felt like you were confined to a beach ball... and then, though not particularly painful, a basketball.  You could only liken it to being a sugar cube on his tongue, minutes or even hours passing, until something beneath you draws you down, and you're no longer able to even give a muffled scream or struggle, you're just streeeeetched out.<br/><br/>All is black, confining, and then... you come to a rest.  Somewhere between what feels like smooth leather and a rather plush pillow, and there you rest.<br/><br/>Right then, you can hear him, though without ears.  (How do you feel?) He asks.