{Fluff for roll two posts ago...}<br/><br/>The cultist struggles, of course, but its hopeless. Ambrosia slurps up his legs without the slightest difficulty, passing his welcome bulk through the crushingly tight embrace of her oesophagus, till he plops helplessly down into her belly, which gurgles eagerly at the arrival of its meal. Acids start to drip, and powerful muscles begin a gentle... for now... massage of the cultist, learning the contours they'll soon be pounding acids into, breaking the helpless man down into mush...