<blockquote class="uncited"><div>Turning to speak to Ptricia, he spoke softly, yet determined. "I'm ready, Ptriciamotepatoloma! I'm ready to control my life! I'm ready to live again! I'm ready to become myself again!"<br/><br/>OOC: I won't post again until I'm in your stomach, Ptricia. Go wild and describe the scene. And enjoy the taste. :3</div></blockquote><br/><br/>OOC: Darn, I wanted reactions. Could you intersperse them with my paragraphs?<br/><br/>"Okay... Now if you'll just go fetch the A1 sauce... I kid, I kid!" She sighed. "I don't often have willing vore partners, even with the assurance that it's only temporary..." She got up and moved onto the sandbox again. "I suggest you strip, because those clothes won't come out with you when I reform you... Don't worry, it won't be anything I haven't seen before. I'd normally suggest you shower, but unlike my last meal, I reckon you've already washed earlier today, and I can't ask you to take the extra time..."<br/><br/>The sphinx waited until the wolfeasel had removed his clothes, then opened her jaws wide. The space was just large enough to take the narrow bodied wolfeasel without any distortion. The serrated rows of teeth that replaced a normal human's looked menacing, and the red flesh behind them looked wet and slimy.<br/><br/>"I suggest you go down feet first, you'll be more comfortable. Hang on to my paw." Ptricia extended the paw in question then lifted the wolfeasel up. "Just slide yourself in..." Her rough, catlike tongue, odd in  human mouth, extended like a red carpet beyond the confines of her lips. She scooped up his feet like a cat lapping water, and guided them back along her tongue as she lowered her paw. He ended up sitting on her partly extended tongue, his belly button level with the tip of her nose, and his chest at her eye level. The two plate-like human eyes blinked as they tried to focus on him.<br/><br/>She tilted her head back, and pushed gently on his shoulders with his paw, and Reizu felt himself slipping down her tongue. He had to lie back flat to avoid the upper teeth, which only made him slide faster. Ptricia's tongue was not unpleasant, wet and squishy yes, but warm and rough like a thick beach towel. His feet hit the back of her throat as his midriff passed inside her lips, and they closed over him, holding him gently but firmly as warm saliva flooded into her mouth and soaked his fur, matting it down.