After ineffectual scrabbling at the rear exit, Cyra slowly becomes aware of a strange feeling spreading all over her body. She was softening, the relentless cheery kneading of Fran's stomach soaking in past her carapace and hide and starting to ready the flesh underneath to be converted into so much honey and fat. Cyra was not ready to die, not just yet- with a desperation borne of fear, she launches herself upward, sinking her legs into the soft, pliant flesh of Fran's throat and starting to climb upward. "Not yet!" She calls out, wriggling and trying to brace herself to get fully into the throat and out of the soaking, steamy bath of Fran's belly.<br/><br/>[[<a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/273466">Escape!</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">1d6</span><span style="font-weight: bold">6</span>. 3/5 digestion HP left]]