The Blackscale shrieks in a surprisingly high register as you seize him, but there’s no chance of ducking aside with your limbs held in your iron grip. “I’m devout!” He screams, clearly not quite aware of your deception. “Spare me!”<br/><br/>It matters not, in a heartbeat, his bulk lizard skull and protruding jaw makes a clearly defined bulge in your throat, before sliding down out of sight behind your ample breasts, breasts he will soon be plumping…<br/><br/>He struggles and wriggles, to no avail, as you wallow down the broad masculine mass and flavor of his chest. The humiliation of being devoured shames him, and his tail shrivels and dangles, denying him another limb that might’ve aided in his fight for freedom. Soon, his manhood his between your lips, leaving only a twitching tail and helplessly kicking legs exposed to the world. Within, his long muzzle pokes from your oesophagus, squeezed welcomingly by the tight sphincter of your stomach, which boils and gurgles with acrid acids (that burn his sensitive nostrils) in anticipation of its meal…<br/><br/>His attempts to claw his way back out of your throat are easily frustrated, and in a few swift swallows his legs and tail are slurped up, even as his head and torso drop into the furiously boiling pool of your stomach. Shrieks and twitches of pain, limbs and face made visible through the elastic lining of your stomach wall, garbled pleas for draconic mercy… none of them avail him, as your powerful oesophagus easily forces his hindlimbs in with the rest of him, squeezing him into the severely restricted available space with little hope for rescue or escape.<br/><br/>Beyond your belly, the direwolf snaps and growls, chain clinking and clanking, clearly disturbed by this unexpected reversal, a wild animal both aroused to anger and trapped in this confined, frightening space...