Well now you have to consider whether you’ll groggily open your eyes again later, having to piece together where you are and what happened in a postictal haze-

Or if that’s just the last thing you’d consciously experience…

There’s a point where even if I decided to get you out, you wouldn’t survive the trip. Where even though you’re still breathing, squirming, experiencing everything–you’re just fox food.

Do you think we can pinpoint the exact moment?

Or does it even matter, because I was always going to keep you?~

All you can do is lay there, curled, manipulated, squished, ground, slowly digested, breathing the recycled air inside my stomach, hoping I swallow down more, feeling your body slowly fail you as any lost space is replaced by my stomach walls.

Feeling everything. Controlling nothing.

That's all still there. To the outside world, I'm everything you saw–only full, now. Maybe I'll get lucky, someone will have me roll over, so they can rub my full tummy. Tongue lolling out. Twisted, panting happily on the ground.

How does it feel to be a tool for me to experience species euphoria?

God-

Feeling the full-body sigh around you, every muscle slightly relaxing just slightly, even as the walls grind into you. Dropping onto all fours from where I'd been kneeling, letting you sag in the open air.

Still no words. A paw on your head, pushing you down. Possessive, euphoric growl...

Keeping you there long as I like, relishing the squirms from digging my teeth into your haunches. Satisfied grunt as your legs slip down my throat. The pressure, resistance of the stomach as you spill into it–tongue giving a parting lick to your paws...you can feel the jostle of my tail swishing...

It feels like eternity, you notice every detail. Lips shift around you in what you recognize as a smile. Noises shift to triumphant, excited puffs, as much about pulling in air as victory. Snarfing, greedily swallowing around you. Gravity shifts as a heartbeat pounds all other sound from your head.

Paws swipe over yours to dislodge. Hips staddle your legs to keep you pinned. Must look strange to the outside–a ball of mixed fur on the ground, quietly locked in struggle. But you, feeling every grunt, growl, puffed breath in your face, the awful, wet, suck of the first swallow gripping your nose

A flash of recognition. Just a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth that might be a smirk, a little excitement at your words separating this from a wild animal.

Then a wall of fur and force hits you, wrestled to the ground. Opening your eyes to fox jaws, roughly shoved into place by clawed paws

Somehow you saying no only makes his tail wag faster, his mouth open a little, like an animal tasting the air. His ears are up, focused directly on you.

He pauses only a few feet from you. For a moment you think he’s listening, but then he wiggles slightly-

Reminds you of a cat before they pounce-

Fox with his tongue sticking out looking at you with bright eyes and a swishing tail…

Afterglow warmth and the feeling of being freshly stretched as you feel over the curves they added, groping, feeling, appreciating-

Feeling your tail start to wag – you really do look better like this, and so do they…maybe you should get tipsy more often <3

Grappling with the ethical weight of shredding your friend, the exciting memories, to then be presented with the dilemma of your length distractingly poking into the paunch that’s left of them-

I mean - they’re already gone, right? It’d probably be MORE disrespectful to waste their sacrifice…right?

This is SUCH a good setup, piecing together drunken memories and realizing that it’s what’s left of your friend stretching your tailhole, but you can’t fight how good it feels, so you just give in and enjoy it…

Feeling them get gradually less and less coherent under your teeth, babbling and squirming and reacting to your very touch, until all they can do is look at you with those needy eyes, breathless -

“P-phhh…please-“

You both know what they want…

I’m actually pretty tall for my species-