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Texas Eat'em - Part 2

Mark couldn't believe what he had just seen. It wasn't that swallowing things whole was unusual to him - after all, as a frog he wasn't much of a believer in chewing - and it wasn't that he'd never worried about being eaten - every few weeks some article or other would appear in the paper about how a predator went feral and attacked some poor prey, usually after an argument or a whole lot of alcohol.

But for a creature to be swallowed alive because of a _card game?_That wasn't something he had ever expected to witness.

Indeed, if he wasn't so shocked about it he might have tried escaping himself, but the sight of that scrawny sparrow, Tom, being engulfed in seconds, and wriggling all the way down to Texas' stomach... it felt like it was on repeat in his brain.

By the time he came back to his senses, the Rottweiler host Liz had dealt out new hands, and the game picked up once more without skipping a beat. His boss Kira was rolling a chip along her scaled fingers as she peered at the corner of her two cards, and Texas' ex-boyfriend, the unnamed nearly-naked fox, was practically cowering against the wall. Mark sensed that this wasn't the only time the skinny vulpine had witnessed Texas's... dietary interests... but perhaps this was the first with him on the menu.

And if he was here as food for the winner, and Tom had been as well, did that mean...

"Kira..." Mark croaked nervously, "Am... am I your Tom?"

His komodo dragon employer glanced over to him with a mischievous glint in her eye, and she patted his knee like a parent might pat a confused child.

"Oh Mark," she said sweetly, "You're not like Tom at all."

Mark started to relax slightly. Tom had been a pervert, after all, and perhaps this game had just been a way of punishing him. And the fox was in such a kinky get-up, who knew what was going on there. The freak might even enjoy it. But Mark had always been loyal to his company, and always worked hard. There was no reason to punish him. He was just connecting dots that weren't really there.

He nodded slightly.

"Really?" he breathed.

"Of course," Kira smiled, "Tom was covered in feathers, and did you see how they fluffed up when he was scared? He'd have been quite difficult for Liz to swallow. Frogs on the other-hand are notoriously easy meals. Your skin just slides straight down. And you're rather spongey, which can be helpful, as well."

Mark's stomach felt like it had plummeted into the earth, and his eye twitched involuntarily. He desperately didn't want to look at Liz at all, but a movement in the corner of his eye pulled his gaze, and he found himself, from across the table, staring straight to the back of her throat. She was yawning, and her jaws stretched wide, easily wide enough for Mark to fit between, with saliva glistening along sharp teeth and a strong, pulsating tongue writhing along the bottom. Perhaps she had yawned on purpose to show off where he might be heading later, or perhaps she was just bored with the conversation, but either possibility shook Mark to his core.

The last thing he heard before he ran was his own feeble squeak of fear.

Then he was out of his chair, sprinting for the door, but as he did so it flew up and out of view. The floor came up to meet him, and collided quite spectacularly with his face. The shock and sudden pain silenced him, and he lay motionless as his brain tried to work out what had just happened.

Something was wrapped around his ankle. Something hard and cold and tight. With his face still plastered against the floor, Mark gave his leg a tug, and heard a metallic rattle as the object dug into his skin.

Handcuffs. Someone had attached handcuffs to his leg while he was distracted, presumably wrapping the other end around someone's chair or the table. As he lay there, sprawled on the floor unceremoniously, he heard Kira tut and Liz let out a deep, low chuckle. Beyond that, no one even said anything.

Slowly, he raised his eyes to assess his new situation, and as he did so he met someone's gaze. The small, white mouse who had been rushing around all evening, bringing snacks and drinks and cleaning up, was stood in the corner staring at Mark. It suddenly made sense. Who else could have attached him to his captors without Mark even realising? The boy had made an art of whizzing around without being noticed, and there were plenty of distractions to make use of.

The mouse didn't look proud about what he'd done, or happy or cocky or anything else of the sort, but he also didn't look guilty. He just stared at Mark like a TV show that he wasn't particularly interested in.

"Why?" Mark whimpered, his voice shaking.

The mouse simply shrugged.

"Oh, get up and stop embarrassing yourself," Kira said dismissively, sliding a stack of chips into the centre of the table with two slender fingers, "You're distracting me, and if I'm not focussed I'll lose. You don't want that, Mark. Me winning this game is your only chance of getting out of here."

"So give up now," Liz grunted with a smirk, adding to the centre pile.

Mark's head was pounding, and his heart was racing, but a deep, buried voice far at the back of his mind was screaming one thing loud and clear; Kira was right. His only hope of surviving the night was for his boss to win this game. Slowly, unsteadily, he clawed his way upright and stumbled back to his chair. When he got there, he clutched the edges of the seat to stop himself from falling, and stared at the floor vacantly. His mind kept replaying the sight of Liz's gaping maw, and the muffled sounds coming from Texas' Tom-filled stomach. A shiver ran down Mark's spine and stayed there.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a triumphant cackle from Kira snapped him back to the present. Mark looked over to see the komodo dragon raking in an enormous pile of chips, and grinning at her competitor with a row of dagger-like teeth that glinted in the light.

"You barely even fooled Texas with that bluff," she said cheerily, "don't think you can trick me. This is my night. You're going down, you old bitch!"

"You always were a gracious winner," Liz said calmly, but when Mark looked closely, he could tell she was getting tense. Her movements were smaller and sharper, and there was an edge to her voice. Was this part of Kira's tactic? Boast and brag until her opponent was too frustrated and made some stupid mistake? If so, he prayed that it would work. Anything to let Kira win.

The next hand was dealt, and when Kira once again peeled up the corner of her two cards, Mark glanced across at them.

Queen of hearts, he thought to himself, that's good, right? And an eight of...

Kira dropped the cards and tapped the table once. She never needed long to look at her hand, and once she let them fall back down she never checked them again. Perhaps Mark shouldn't try to remember those cards - it might just make the torture worse knowing whether or not his life was being placed on a bluff - but he couldn't help himself. He had to know. He had to be sure there was a chance she could win.

Liz calmly turned over three cards in the centre of the table, and then thrust her empty glass at the little mouse as she checked her own hand again. Mark leaned in desperately.

Three of clubs. Nine of diamonds. And... eight of hearts!

Then that was a pair, straight away! There was a chance. He looked up to Kira eagerly to see if she had noticed it, but her face was impassive. She was almost like a statue, if not for the occasional flicker of her eyes, and the flash of a tongue running along her lips every now and again.

The pair of players sat staring at one another in silence for what felt like an age. The wait was torture, and Mark began to hop nervously in his seat. Without speaking, Kira placed a heavy hand on his head and forced him to be still.

"What's wrong," she asked, and Mark opened his mouth to answer before realising she was speaking to Liz, "trying to work out if you'll get third time lucky on your bluff?"

The Rottweiler didn't answer. After a moment, she simply whistled and placed her cards face down on the table, leaning back in her chair and causing it to creak ominously. Then she smiled.

"I bet the fox," she said.

There was a whimper from the far side of the room, and Mark's stomach plummeted.

Oh god, please fold! Please fold, whatever you do please fold!

"Excellent. Check," Kira responded, seemingly without even having to consider it. Mark's eye twitched, and he visible shivered. As Liz leant over to flip the next card, he could feel her hungry eyes sliding up and down his body, and it made him want to scrub his skin with bleach. Perhaps then he'd at least not be appetising to her.

But when the next card came up, everything changed. Mark shot up in his seat, and his pulse quickened.

The Queen of diamonds.

That was a second pair. Two eights, two queens.

Texas had won with a hand like that! There was still hope.

His position seemed even better when Liz tapped a single, giant knuckle on the table. She still had a pile of chips in front of her, she could have raised if she wanted to. Did she not want to risk it?

He looked eagerly over to Kira, clutching the side of the table until his own knuckles turned a shade of green so light they were nearly colourless. She glanced over to him, then to the fox across the room, and finally to Liz, and then she smirked. She sat back, and folded her arms.

"I raise," she said.

There was a brief pause. No chips were moved. Liz frowned.

"How?" she asked.

"Stephanie," Kira explained.

Mark's jaw fell open. Stephanie was Kira's secretary, a bubbly pug who was always very eager to please. She seemed to get on so well with Kira, Mark couldn't understand how the reptile could do such a thing. Admittedly the little dog was a bit of a gossip, and she painted her nails on the main desk sometimes, but to offer her up as food!

And then he remembered... it was only the same as how he was being treated. They were being offered up together. Perhaps she'd even be eaten alongside him. He let out an involuntary croak.

"You'd like her," Kira continued, "She's small, but she's plump."

Liz nodded to herself.

"I've never had a pug before," she murmured, and then wrapped a great paw around her chips, "I check."

"Not with those you don't," Kira snapped, gesturing to the meagre pile of chips dismissively, "You don't have nearly enough. It has to be another participant."

"Another... but I've already lost one, I've only got the fox left," Liz said, seeming genuinely confused. The little mouse scurried back in and handed her a full glass of beer, which the dog took without even looking at him.

"There must be someone," Kira responded, waving a long hand through the air, "a colleague, an estranged relative, some local delinquent..."

Liz had picked up her cards again, and she stared at them intently as she took a sip of her drink. And then her eyes widened.

"Okay," she said, almost breathlessly, "okay, I have someone. I meet your raise. I bet Breakfast."

The little white mouse jumped as if he'd been electrocuted, and whirled around with a face of utter disbelief. Even Kira looked surprised.

"You'd... you'd let me eat... Breakfast?" she whispered.

"Only if you win," Liz said, slamming her cards back down on the table. The mouse scurried over to her, and tugged urgently on her shirt.

"But... you can't... don't... I didn't..." a squeaky young voice stuttered. Liz clamped his muzzle shut with a hand larger than the boy's face, but even in silencing him there was a gentleness behind it. She didn't meet his eyes. Despite his perilous situation, part of Mark thought that perhaps she couldn't.

"Quiet," was all she said to him, "I know what I'm doing."

Kira sat back now, and Mark noticed she was putting on a great effort to seem disinterested.

"He is small though," the lizard said, "Barely a full meal. You'd need two of him to equal Stephanie."

Liz scoffed at that.

"Oh please, you and Texas have both been eying him up since the day I got him. The taste of mice more than makes up for their stature, and I know I don't need to tell you that. Besides, I'd let you be the one to tell Texas he missed his chance. That's got to be worth half a pug."

Kira smirked at that. Mark was sure she was convinced, but she was still playing her game, trying to put Liz on the back foot.

"Most mice taste great, I'll give you that," she said, "but how do I know whether this one does. The last ones I ate had a few years on him, and that might completely change it."

Liz raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying you want to..."

"If you don't mind, of course," Kira smiled, flashing those teeth again. The little mouse whimpered, and shrunk in on himself. After a moment, Liz leant forwards and placed a large hand on his back, and then slowly, almost reluctantly, she pushed the mouse in front of Kira. The komodo dragon utterly dwarfed him, even while she was sitting down, and his knees visibly shook as she towered over him with that dangerous grin. Savouring every moment, Kira sunk her head to meet his, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth just a fraction. Then her tongue slithered out, thin and glistening, and it started to drag itself over the mouse's face. He stood there, eyes clenched shut and shoulders tight, as Kira's tongue left trails of saliva throughout his fur.

Mark had no idea how mice tasted. The question had never occurred to him. It seemed, though, that the answer was 'great'. Kira wasn't leaving an inch of the boy's face untouched, and she had closed her own eyes in pleasure, breathing heavily as if he was chocolate melting in her mouth. She moved a hand from the table to his arm, and grasped him tight. He squirmed as she pulled him closer.

"Kira!" Liz snapped from across the table.

The tongue retreated. The hand opened. The mouse fled.

"It's a deal," Kira said, almost sensuously, "Very pleasing, quite adequate indeed. Stephanie for Breakfast, no question. Shall we hurry this up? I'd like to eat him while his taste is still on my tongue."

There was a low sound that might have been a growl from the Rottweiler, but if so her face didn't show it. Liz reached out to the deck and flipped over a final card.

It was an eight of diamonds.

For a moment, Mark stopped breathing.

Another eight. That made three, and the two Queens made a full house. Wasn't that one of the best hands possible? This was it! An almost sure victory.

But victory for Kira, and therefore for Mark, meant a loss for the poor little mouse.

Can I really hope to win just to save my own skin, and send some innocent kid down Kira's throat? Mark's conscious demanded of him. It was quickly beaten into submission by his survival instincts, followed not long after by his reasoning; Well, he did lock me to Kira's chair. He knew what was going to happen to me, but he did it anyway. It's... it's probably karma that he's going to get eaten. He pretty much deserves it.

It wasn't very convincing, but Mark forced himself to accept it so that he didn't have to add guilt into the mixture of fear, hopelessness and despair.

When he came to looking at the two players, they were both sat like stone. Their faces were unmoving, unrevealing. How was Kira not jumping for joy?

"Check," Liz said eventually. Kira nodded.

"Check," she agreed.

"Since you added the second participant," Liz said, "it seems appropriate that you reveal first."

Kira smiled. Mark clutched the edge of the table. The fox looked ready to faint.

The Queen went down first. Then a short pause. And the eight of spades joined it.

"Full house, read them and feed," Kira announced with a monstrous smile. There was a thump as the muzzled fox slumped to the floor. Mark allowed himself a small spark of hope, but it quickly fizzled when he saw Liz's expression. She was looking at the cards with utter disinterest. It was certainly not the face of defeat that Mark had been expecting. Wasn't full house good? He knew he wasn't the best as Poker, but surely full house was good?

When Liz brought down her cards, Mark's world fell away.

A ten of diamonds.

A Jack of diamonds.

Placed alongside the eight, nine and Queen.

"Straight flush," said Liz.

There was a lengthy silence, as Kira seemed to inspect the cards before her, and when she did she...

Laughed. She threw up her head and cackled in genuine joy, slapping her thigh and shaking her head. Liz now grinned to match her, and once Kira had calmed down the pair shook hands.

"Excellent," Kira said, wiping delighted tears from her eyes, for all the world as if she hadn't just sealed Mark's doom, "I was sure I had you, I was _not_expecting that. This is why I love this game."

"I don't know that the stakes have ever been higher," Liz said, standing and turning her eyes to Mark, "This is going to feel well-earned."

Mark's mouth hung open uselessly, and he stared at the Rottweiler as meaningless noises tumbled from his throat. He wanted to run, but his body wouldn't even move, to say nothing of the chain attached to his -

Click.

The steel band around his ankle fell away, as Kira sat back up and placed a small key onto the table before her. She patted Mark on the shoulder gently, and then pushed him from the chair so he stumbled to a stand in front of the enormous dog filling his view. His gaze travelled up her full body, her salivating mouth, her hungry eyes. From what felt like miles away, Mark felt a tug from the bottom of his trouser leg to the top of his shirt collar as Kira dragged a lazy claw through his clothes, and to his horror, the fabric peeled away and he was left standing before his two tormentors completely naked.

As he scrambled to cover himself up, squeaking and croaking in shock, Liz took a single enormous step towards him. At this distance, it was impossible to deny how much larger than him she was; if she tried, she could gulp him up as easily as Texas swallowed that sparrow. He only had one chance. He had to talk his way out of it. He had to make them both see reason.

"You can't do this!" Mark yelped, painfully aware of the high-pitched quivering in his own voice, "You can't eat people! It's... this is illegal!"

Kira prodded him sharply in the back, and he stumbled closer to the towering Rottweiler.

"Quite illegal," agreed his boss smugly, "If anyone found out, we'd both be ruined."

"Someone will notice!" Mark insisted, "I have... they'll... people will realise I'm gone! They'll send for help!"

"And just who is 'they'?" asked Kira, stretching out a leg behind him to cut off any escape, as if he'd be foolish enough to try, "You arrive at the office first thing in the morning, and you stay until the cleaners lock up. You've worked weekends on a moment's notice. Your MuzzlePad account is filled with updates about the meals you make yourself, and the TV marathons you've binged. Name a single person who would notice you disappear."

Mark crumpled, hearing his whole life being reeled off so casually, so dismissively. As he wracked his brain for a response to his sadistic employer, only a single name floated to his aid.

"... Tom?" he croaked, pathetically.

There was a smacking of lips from somewhere above him, and a single bead of thick saliva dripped down onto his head.

"Don't you worry," Liz breathed, "You can tell Tom all about it soon enough."

With that, the Rottweiler opened her mouth wide and sank slowly down, and Mark could only watch in horror as the giant maw engulfed his vision. He felt her hot breath roll over his skin, and his face involuntarily grimaced as he took in its pungent, canine smell. That was when her tongue slapped against his face.

The feeling of that sponge-like organ soaking his head and tickling his neck finally prompted Mark into action, and he shot up his hands to bat away his predator as he leapt backwards - only to find himself hitting the roof of her mouth.

"Too late," he heard Kira chuckle, Liz's mouth working as a sort of echo-chamber and amplifying his boss' words until they seemed to ring in his ears. And she was right. It was too late. His arms were pushed forcefully back to his sides, and he felt his entire body being squeezed like a dog toy as he was lifted clear from the ground. The Rottweiler's tongue never left his face, but began to slide backwards and forwards across it, coating him fully in saliva and making it impossible to speak, let alone shout for help. Mark realised then that a part of his brain, deep down and almost drowned out by the sheer panic of the situation, had been hoping that this would be over quickly, like it had been for Tom. But it was becoming increasingly clear that this would be anything but quick. She's enjoying this! he thought with horror. She's actually tasting me!

As if to confirm this, Kira's sultry voice echoed up to his ears again, as she asked her friend, "How is he?"

There was no spoken reply; Liz's tongue was still working along Mark's head, and now experimentally probing further down his body. Yet her opinion was made clear by a powerful rumbling that rose from deep within her throat and sent shivers down Mark's spine. It reminded him of the purring he'd heard from cats eating their favourite meals, except now he was experiencing it _much_closer, and it may just be the last thing he would ever hear.

"Oh, I knew he'd be tasty!" Kira said, "I've been daydreaming about it ever since I hired him! Seeing him with no clothes on though... he does look thin. I hope he's filling enough. Nothing worse than having a meal and being hungry again half an hour later. Unless you're Texas, I suppose."

Another rumble, this time a low chuckle, rolled across Mark's body. With Kira's words, he became intensely aware of his own nakedness, and despite his situation, he scrambled to cover himself up. This became impossible though, as Liz grasped onto both of his ankles and splayed his legs to either side. Then, in one fluid motion, she stood to her full height and threw her head back. Mark felt gravity begin to pull down on him, dragging him to the pulsating throat that was dominating his view, but he was kept from sinking down it by Liz's powerful grip.

"I do feel sorry for frog women," he could just hear Kira saying, over the sound of squelching gulps and heavy breaths rolling over him constantly, "if he's anything to go by. Perhaps I'll have to hire a few more frogs to bring down here, compare them. Surely they can't all be that small."

Even in the situation he was in, Mark's face burned with embarrassment, as well as with indignation. He was being discussed like he was some... some... slab of meat. But if Kira was unconcerned with his suffering, Liz appeared to be delighting in it. With her paws wrapped tightly around his ankles, she could control his descent into her gullet, and she was making it glacial. Her tongue seemed to be exploring every inch of his body, and as her saliva coated him and then pooled in the back of her mouth, she swallowed it down, every time sending a stab of fear through him as he panicked that it was going to be the final swallow. But it never seemed to be. He was stuck, staring at his destination as it came to meet him tauntingly. The stench of her breath made him want to retch, and when he did, his mouth flooded with the saliva that was now covering him.

All of a sudden, the Rottweiler's powerful tongue slammed him upwards and he felt the air in his lungs pushed out of him. She was squeezing him like a chew toy, and the pressure was immense, practically making his eyes bulge from their sockets. He tried desperately to kick and flail, but his legs were held firm, and his arms trapped unmoving by his side.

Then, a jolt ran through him as the tip of her tongue moved roughly over his exposed privates. The feeling was so unnatural, so invasive, that he barely even registered himself lurching downwards. The next gulp swallowed his head.

He screamed. The tunnel of her throat was pressing into his skull, kneading him like bread, and whichever way he turned he couldn't escape it. The walls around him were slick and wet, and he knew how easily he would slide down. But he realised she had still not let go of his legs. He was suspended, half-swallowed, while she continued to taste the rest of him. She was going to take however long she wanted, he realised, no matter how much he suffered. Tears began to well in his eyes and mix with the saliva running down his face.

The thick, canine tongue worked its way between his legs, and began to push him further down her throat. If possible, it seemed to get even tighter, even warmer, even more disgusting the further down his head was forced. Now only Mark's ankles and flailing feet remained outside of Liz's enormous maw, and his hands scrambled along the bottom of her tongue, desperate for purchase before they, too, were swallowed down. It made no difference. His legs were tasted, suckled and enjoyed. His upper body was pounded and crushed by the strong throat.

Then, without warning, the paws holding his feet disappeared, and a single sound came rushing up and surrounded Mark's entire body, ringing through his skull and burning into his brain.

GULP.

It must have taken half a second. He was so thoroughly coated in her saliva, and with naturally slick skin, that he slid in his entirety down into her stomach before he could even kick. The pressure was finally released, but he found himself plummeting into a space only marginally less tight, and full of liquid. With a splash, Mark landed in the results of Liz's night of beers, and he had to clamp his mouth and eyes shut as he was submerged in it. He tried to scramble upwards to breath, but every direction seemed to be more thick muscle, pressing in on him from all angles. He was forced into an almost foetal position, knees pressed against his own stomach and elbows tight by his side, but he finally found himself upright, and gasped for air.

What he breathed in was pungent and acrid, and he struggled not to subside into a coughing fit. He couldn't though; doing so would cost him is life. Instead, he pressed as hard as he could into the stomach lining either side of him. He had no idea which direction he was facing, but it hardly mattered. All that mattered is that she felt it.

"Please, let me out!" he screamed, "I'll do anything, just let me out, please!"

Whether they heard him or not, Mark couldn't tell. There was no obvious response from Liz. It was as if she couldn't even feel him, though after a few moments the mass of muscle in front of him started to press firmer in, with the pressure moving up and down like some sadistic massage. Mark blanched.

She's rubbing her stomach, he realised, Oh god, she's actually rubbing her stomach!

Through the pulsating stomach walls, he could hear muffled conversation. He couldn't make out specific words, but he caught enough to know that it was all light, casual. The talk was interrupted at times with laughter. On top of this, every now and then, the stomach would lurch suddenly, and Mark would be thrown unceremoniously around, fluids splashing into his face, making him splutter and cry out. One such movement lasted for quite some time, and he had to press his face firmly to the top of the stomach to keep breathing in the stale, hot air around him. It seemed his captor had moved to a different room.

Then, from far above, he heard a strange sound; a faint crunching and grinding.

His head swam. His muscles began to sag. His breathing weakened.

"Please," he croaked, hammering ineffectually on the wall of Liz's stomach, "please..."

After a moment, the opening of the stomach moved, and Mark couldn't stop himself from looking up.

The soggy, chewed up Cheezorbs landed right on his face.

---

An hour later, the girls were laughing uproariously. Kira slapped her friend on the back, and Liz doubled over, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Oh, you've gone and spilt it, you messy pup!" Kira mocked, pointing at the wine on the floor. Liz sat up and took a deep breath.

"Don't worry about it, Breakfast will sort it out in the morning," Liz replied, holding out her empty glass in Kira's direction. "He is helpful, bless him. Best cleaner I've ever had. I'm glad you didn't eat him."

"There's always next game," Kira said, pouring her friend another glass of wine, "I've been meaning to ask, what are you planning to do with Texas' little toy?"

Liz smirked in response, and her eye twinkled.

"Are you asking for any particular reason?"

"Of course not," Kira declared in feign-outrage, "do you dare suggest I have an ulterior motive?"

"You aren't as subtle as you think you are," Liz smirked, taking a sip of her wine, "but don't worry. I'd already decided to let you have him."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, that frog of yours was pretty filling, so I wasn't going to eat him myself," Liz explained, patting her stomach contentedly, "And to be honest, I can't be bothered with the hassle of making sure he doesn't tell anyone about our little game."

Kira smiled, and turned to the whimpering fox in the corner of the room.

"Well then," she said, licking her lips, "it looks like we're all winners tonight."