You sigh, shaking your head. There’s no way your spending your night chasing goblins.
“Come on, Bix, I thought we were friends. Surely there’s another way we can settle this?” You eye him, gauging his reaction. He just glares back at you with his typical sour demeanor.
“Aye, there is one way,” he mutters grimly.
Grwwwwwrrrrr... His tummy growls. You grow wary, tensing in your chair, your hand edging up towards the great sword sheathed on your back.
“And here I though you had some decency, some shred of honor,” the seven foot tall ogre said dryly.
“N-now now, Bix.... be reasonable, let’s discuss things,” you say slowly. The pub quiets as tensions builds between you and Bixalby.
“Bad move, Dax,” one of the regulars calls.
“Come on, surely the great Daxia Dendara can handle one overweight ogre,” another jeers sarcastically. You keep your focus on Bixalby, ready to draw your sword. You like Bix, but you’ll be damned before you get stuffed into anyone’s belly.
Quick as a flash, the ogre’s meaty hand whips out and grips your throat. You yank your sword free almost as fast, but he catches your hand and twists it painfully, causing your weapon to clatter uselessly to the ground.
“Rrgh, no!” you grunt, as he pulls you up into the bar. The patrons cheer and laugh around you as the scene unfolds. “Unhand me!” You demand unimpressively, gripping his hand and trying to wrench yourself free with no success. Bixalby is terrifyingly strong, handling you with ease, bending you into position and holding fast against your struggles. With his free hand, he reaches beneath your leather jerkin and gives it a good yank. The tanned animal hide rips clean of, exposing your bare chest and midriff. “Y-you... you cut!” you spit furiously, blushing in humiliation as the crowd whoops in excitement. Without hesitation, Bix quickly follows suit with your pants, leaving you utter naked in front of everyone.
“From warrior to wench!” A bystander laughs.
“Nice ass, princess!” Another jeers derisively. You growl in humiliated rage, your blood racing as you fight helplessly in his grasp. He folds you into a ball, knees pressed into your boobs and ankles mashed against you butt cheeks. Holding you like a sandwich, he lifts you up towards his mouth, with your ass facing your audience. They mock you mercilessly, taking great amusement from your approaching death. Fear trickles over your chest as you watch Bixalby’s big, toothy mouth open wide, hot, smelly breath wafting over your face.
“B-Bix... Bix please,” you pant breathlessly. “It was j-just one drink.... how long have you known me? You can’t just throw away your best customer!”
The big orc just ignores you, apparently intent on doing just that. “Oh gods,” you gasps as your head passes through his lips. “Please! Please no! Eeeeek!” You squeal like a little girl as your head and knees squelch against the back of his throat, your legs sinking into the soft wetness of his tongue. His lips close, teeth pressing into your rump. You can still feel air on your bootie and toes, meaning your jiggling cheeks and wiggling feet are on display, poking out of a superior being’s mouth. Your pitiful body is just a mouthful of flesh now, seconds away from being swallowed whole and digested. His cheeks tighten around you and you feel his finger poke between your buttocks and against your asshole. You squeak in discomfort and prepare yourself to face your doom, realizing he’s about to push you inside and gulp you down.
Gulllp.
He takes one massive swallow, and down you go. “Eeeeeeeeeeeek!” you scream in terror as you slide down his wet, pulsing throat. You plop unceremoniously into his stinking belly, curled up and upside down.
Guuuuuuaaaaarp, he belches, giving his you-stuffed tummy a pat with his meaty hand. You hear laughter and mockery, muffled by his flesh, but just as humiliating. Your face burns with embarrassment.
“Bix… Bix, come on, let me out…” you groan, shifting uncomfortably in his gut. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you struggle to breathe. You’ve seen Bixalby eat people before, and heard their screams as he digested them alive. Not once has he ever let anyone go once he’s eaten them.
“Oh, I’ll let you out,” Bix grunts. “When yer a stinking load of shit.” This statement earns a roar of laughter from the crowd that makes you wish you were already dead.
“B-B-Bix, please… don’t do this,” you beg quietly, hoping no one else can hear. It was one thing for him to eat you and digest you to death, but to do it in front of all these people and humiliate you? It was cruel beyond belief. “I-if you’re going to d-digest me, please…. PLEASE take me somewhere private… let me have some dignity.”
“Hear that? She wants dignity!” Somebody in the crowd jeered.
“Curled up naked in an ogre’s belly, and she talks about dignity,” another laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be a very dignified turd!”
You sulk silently in Bixalby’s tummy, tears of humiliation welling in your eyes. The ogre doesn’t join in the mockery, but he seems content to let them have their fun, and he also seems intent on digesting you right here in front of everyone. Just five minutes ago, you were a fairly respected warrior of decent renown. Now, you’re a chunk of woman digesting in a stinking ogre’s belly while a crowd of people mocks you. Things couldn’t get any worse.
Churrrrrrn…
As his tummy really gets to work on you, however, you realize thing can get a lot more painful. Acids seep in all over you, coating your athletic body and biting into your skin. Within minutes, the pain is almost unbearable, stinging and burning your flesh all over. A puddle of reeking, caustic goo is welling up around your head, threatening to dunk you in acids.
“Hnnnnnnnngggh,” you groan, straining against his belly. “G-gah…. That really hurts…” No one pays you any mind. It would seem you’ve already been forgotten. The agony only gets worse as the acid continues bubbling up around you, softening you up and taking you apart one molecule at a time. “Aaaaaaaaaggggh!” you cry, trying not to scream like a baby. “Bixalby! Please!” Again, no response. “Huurrrrrrrrrrggghh! At l-least make it quick!”
“I’ll digest my food for as long as I like,” the ogre grunts unsympathetically.
“Gods, Bix, please!” you scream, unable to handle the pain any longer. “I w-wouldn’t do this to my worst enemy! Have some decency!”
“Ugh, fine. If you’re that ready to die,” he grunts.
“W-well, I’d much rather get out alive, if I had a choice,” you whimper.
“You don’t,” he snaps, and you feel his big hands grip you. You swallow nervously, wondering if you made a mistake in asking for a quick death. He suddenly begins shaking you violently, jerking you up and down rapidly. You cry out in pain and surprise as you are jostled like a bag of meat. The motion coats you in acid, which is seeping in even faster now. You scream as they dig into every inch of you, choking as they splash in your mouth.
“You asked for this, bitch,” Bixalby says. You can hear laughter from the observers again as you are assaulted, but you can’t care about them any more. You scream in agony and terror as your body softens, weakening inside his brutal tummy. Once you’re good and shaken up, he relaxes, letting you settle into a thick pool of acid and chyme. You can just barely keep your nose out of the much, and every inch of you is on fire. You feel his hands around your pitiful form once more, but this time, he squeezes, kneading your pliable flesh over and over with his merciless fingers. Bones snap under the pressure, meat melting off into goo. For a few seconds, your consciousness is consumed with world-ending pain, suffering you could never have imagined. Then your consciousness ends as your once admirable body pops, dissolving into a bony paste of nutritious woman soup.
A jovial cheer goes up from the crowd as they watch him smush you into dead meat, followed by laughter and muttered insults. Then they return to their drinks and forget you. Later that evening, one of Bixalby’s barmaids empties his chamber pot, curling her lip in disgust as the bony turd that used to be you plops to the ground.
