OOC: Oops! Edited…<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Reshima (in Resha’s tum)</span><br/><br/>Things are getting rather…<span style="font-style: italic">squishy</span>... in the tigeress’s stomach. I can feel that it’s from my torso, my arms, head… all the soft, girlish parts, and even disorientated, pounded and pummeled and rubbed till I don’t know which way is up, I can tell they’re not just entangled with my arachnid abdomen, but smeared half-digested around it.<br/><br/>My body’s… not really alive anymore, slightly, quite incapable of sustaining my soul any longer. But whilst the tigeress’s stomach retains me spiritually, it isn’t quite dead yet even though it has and is being digested.<br/><br/>Acids drip and leak into my carapace, dissolving the soft muscular flesh from the inside, and quite soon I can feel the subtle plates of chitin turn brittle, unsupported by anything beneath them. The tigeress’s hands<span style="font-style: italic">press</span>on her belly. She wants a ball of flesh, sponge-saturated with her digestive juices, easy to melt and convenient to carry in the meantime.<br/><br/>Chitin cracks and breaks, and my soul knows it’s snapping is loud, but my ears are melted in the soup and I barely hear it.<br/><br/>Orgasm comes fast and hard, accompanied by the vibrato of a<span style="font-style: italic">rowwll</span>, as sensitive parts within me are exposed to the rough massage of thick stomach juices - unlike my own days-long digestees, I’ve barely had time to cum, and already her tum’s gurgling and sucking the first of my liquidised<span style="font-style: italic">remains</span>down into her intestines, where rich nutrients will be stripped to feed her fine tiger thighs, swell her tigeress breasts with honey… and the rest will simply be<span style="font-style: italic">dumped</span>...<br/><br/>OOC: It’s fine to do a post-digestion scene if you want. I somehow imagine that ‘souls’ escape from the pred’s body at whatever point the pred wants to end the co-operative portion of the scene at (not necessarily when the prey’s body can’t support life anymore) - though I’m happy to write some descriptive ‘aftereffects’ with/of the prey’s remains too.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Being eaten by Cyra...</span><br/><br/>“Wait! Stop! Uwehh!” I screamed, as I was unceremoniously stuffed into the kari’s gaping lower-maw. Even though I’d been captured and cocooned by an arachne, dangled in her larder with the obvious intention of eating me later… I hadn’t, actually, been inside anything’s mouth before - and now I was being stuffed straight into a kari’s stomach. It smelled foul. I couldn’t even struggle, even half-shredded the cocoon only let me writhe.<br/><br/>Pitiless walls, dripping with gastric juices, bumped and bashed and turned me - but at least the cocoon was melting fast, far faster than I was. Though my skin was already more than itching, reddening and starting to burn…<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Digestion HP remaining 4/5</span><br/><br/>“Hey, no, wait, stop!” I wailed, clawing and crawling my way forward in the kari’s tum, away from the pulsating hole drawing digested slurry into her intestines, and towards the gaping mouth where the air was just<span style="font-style: italic">slightly</span>fresher. “At least talk to me!” I protested.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Persuasion attack vs. Cyra willpower, results… 2, 6! Critical success. Cyra willpower reduced to 2/5 HP. Bonus effect, she sounds like a really, really interesting conversationalist to have a chat with...</span>