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Faith in Ill-fated Jaws

By Jakealope

“You've been watching the news. You've been waiting for this very moment. Five months since the challenge was issued. Five long months of growing speculations. It all ends here, in this very arena, tonight! And right here, right now, you'll see it LIVE!"

“Johnny! Johnny, get your ass in here! It's about to start!"

A pair of talons clicked on the linoleum flooring. “I'm coming, hold on…" Out from the kitchen emerged his raptor roommate, carrying a bowl of popcorn in one talon and the other talon cradling the base of a two-liter soda. “They just gettin' on stage now?"

“Yeah, shh!" Kit turned the volume up on the television. The lanky fox was engrossed in the eccentric vore scene: entertainment, events, tournaments… all collected in an average-looking, run of the mill twenty-six-year old's mind. And like any fanatic, he looked forward to days like today, deeply engrossed in the biggest piece of vore media in the past several months.

“…And now we see our contestants entering the arena! The crowd is on their feet as the lights center on our first contender, and it's none other than our most lethal gut of the decade—perhaps of all time! He's hushed the doubters time and time again and swallowed anyone foolish enough to step in his way. The one, the only… Garou The Devourer!"

There he was. Kit's devotion, like many others, was to one stomach, a stomach belonging to the eight-foot viper named Garou. He was a champion of the ages. No other's records came close to his. A lined wall of trophy skulls was testament to his ongoing legacy. None could match the titan's hunger. The oldest legends and most promising upstarts, the biggest of the big and the meanest of the mean, it didn't matter. None were worthy of gulping down Garou.

“Taking on the two-year heavyweight champion is our newest shining star. In less than a year, he's proclaimed himself a demigod that stands above all competition, including our reigning title holder! He's shown that he's not all talk, but has he flown too close to the sun? Give it up for tonight's challenger… Sulivan Iron Jaw!"

The drake that strolled on stage certainly didn't look like a pushover. Sporting a barrel-chest the size of a tree trunk and a jawline that might've actually been made of iron, this guy seemed no joke—but there'd been countless others just like him. The biggest of the bigs, the baddest of the bads, all looking like unstoppable monstrosities, all meeting the same pudgy fate as The Devourer's filling meal.

Not that The Devourer had any pudge along his ripped physique. It was all muscle under those iridescent red and gold scales. No matter how big his stomach swelled up from his prey, the next time he was seen in public always followed with the same headlines:

The world's favorite hungry hunk is back in shape!

The Devourer is ready to claim his next victim!

Garou searches the menu once more for worthy prey!

“Ugh. You ever gonna stop gawking over that pompous snake?"

Kit stuck his tongue out at Johnny in an attempt to hide his embarrassment from being caught, but the raptor knew better. “You're such a simp for that dude. I wish he'd get what's coming to him, just so you'd figure that out."

“Too bad that's not ever happening," Kit answered, refocusing on the picturesque view of the viper's glorious midriff. That was the waist of a champion. Over a hundred others had been forced through Garou's digestive tract. Tonight would be another bleached trophy on his wall, just like those before. Iron jaw or not, it didn't matter. The Devourer was undefeated for two years now. This hotshot was no match for him.

Nevertheless, Kit couldn't help feeling flustered whenever his favorite viper slithered into the ring. The opposing drake's ever-so-subtle smirk was not helping the fox calm down whatsoever. He would never doubt Garou's capabilities… but knowing your beloved predator and longstanding crush might be padding around another predator's hips…

“Damn, this drake seems like the real deal…" Johnny threw another piece of popcorn into his maw. “Not worried though, are ya?"

“Pfft. As if I'd ever be worried. We're talking about Garou here! He's undefeated, and he will be after tonight's match too."

“Mhmm." Another popcorn lands on the raptor's tongue. “Don't know why they always blabbin' about 'undefeated'. All it takes is one bad showing and…"

He helps himself to another fistful of the buttery snack.

C_runch. Crunch. Crunch._

“Say whatever word you prefer Johnny; doesn't make his run any less impressive. Nearly seven-hundred days on top of the food chain. He's the apex predator, and he's my idol." On camera were the two great contenders, scales gleaming bright on each other's body, standing not one foot apart from one another. Kit sighed wistfully, his gaze only belonging to one scaly stud. “Fuck, he's so awesome… If he ever lost—which will never ever, ever happen anytime soon—but if he did get on the wrong end of a gullet one day, years from now… I think I'd maybe wanna go down with him…"

“Better to not leave your fate in another's jaws, fox."

The lights in the arena dimmed, and that meant one thing and one thing only: the vore-off was about to start.

“Here we have it, folks. Nothing more to say about these two prodigies. But in less than an hour, there will only be one. Who will it be? Our crowd seems to be in good spirits about The Devourer, but the analysts might not be so faithful…"

The announcers hushed for the introductory ceremony, and millions watch from around the world as the two competitors listen to the referee's final remarks before shaking hands and finally getting into position. Each of their massive bodies lie down to make the shape of a circle, tail tip touching the tip of their opponent's snout. Both become disturbingly still…

“Our contestants are ready, and the ref signals for the starting bell."

…

…

Ding!

“…And they're off!"

Before the announcer could finish those three simple words, Garou was already near a foot up the drake's tail, and there was no tail left after another minute. His speed brings cheering roars from the crowd and Kit both. The Devourer met his first obstacle after that: the drake's hefty rear. Even so, it was amazing how quickly he was gaining ground on Sulivan's backside; charcoal scales vanished inch after inch within the viper's undulating maw.

Sulivan, for the most perplexing reason, seemed wholly unfazed with Garou's speed. Not for the fact that he was winning; far from it, the dragon was only a few feet up the viper's tail, and though the viper was mostly tail, it still was a pathetic amount of ground gained in comparison. His sluggish start could almost be considered insultingly lazy, in Kit's opinion. The unrivaled champion being snacked on with hardly any effort… it was pathetic!

“I told you Garou had this in the bag," Kit told his friend confidently, nudging the raptor in the meat of his shoulder. Johnny didn't have anything to say back, which was fitting. All talk from his roomie when things were looking up, only to clam up whenever they weren't. Kit might've been interested to rub it in a bit further, but his eyes were too concentrated on the viper's rippling muscles on camera.

Gulp after gulp brought his lead out further from the drake's. Garou truly was an unstoppable predator. Even the most promising rookie in the last year was proving that his eyes were bigger than his stomach. Time and time again, Garou's opponents learned their mistake too late. The Devourer would have a nicely rounded belly tonight.

The announcer kept the enthusiasm in his voice, even if the competition lacked the same level of excitement. “Already nearly half of the drake has disappeared down The Devourer's gullet, proving just how lethal a predator he is. Unfortunately the same cannot be said about Sulivan; only half of Garou's lower half has been tucked away, and there's plenty more heft in the second half for him to swallow!"

“You're definitely right about that," agreed one of the other analysts. “This is getting to be a blowout. I'm honestly worried Sully might not even get past the viper's hips before he's slurped up."

“He certainly needs to find a way to make up for his lackluster start, or else he's viper-chow for sure!"

“I think that's already looking a done deal from where I'm sitting—might as well make some room on the trophy wall for another skull…"

While the commentators continued to shower Garou with various talk of accolades and admiration, the viper pulled further and further ahead. Now up to the drake's chest was being put away for good. At least the drake was nearing Garou's hips finally, but too late even then; there was no shot in hell that he'd make up the lost ground. He'd need something short of a miracle to bring down The Devourer's lead!

More swallowing gulps ripped the drake's chest down to his final resting place. It was a sad sight for Sulivan, really. Kit had watched the drake's previous fights. He looked like he could've been a promising veteran of the league, but he'd bitten off more than he could chew, and now the only promise for him was a full stomach for the viper. Such a blowout begged the question on everyone's minds: why had he challenged the greatest predator in the world in the first place?

“I mean, this was what Sulivan wanted!" cried one analyst. “Sulivan brought this onto himself! He chose to challenge the champ, and now he's living with the consequences. I—I just don't understand!"

“On a positive note, he won't need to be worried about his mistake by the end of the hour; he'll have bigger problems bubbling on his mind by then, that's for sure."

The casting team had a quick laugh with one another while Garou continued to finish off his meal in an incredibly efficient manner.

“It just goes to show how impossible it is to topple the king. Time after time after time after time again, he gives the world a glimpse at his clinical dominance in the ring!"

“He really does. There's nothing more impressive in this world, and it'll be more searching after tonight to find an opponent worthy of facing off against this behemoth. Who knows how long that'll be—already two years on top, and his reign could easily stretch on for many more years."

Kit was giddily bouncing on the edge of his seat, watching the viper's maw slide up the drake's shoulders. “Hehehe! Once those arms are pulled in, it's lights out for this guy!"

“Well this is a lame fight. I'm grabbin' a beer," mumbled Johnny, obviously less than happy with the anticlimactic outcome, albeit expected of the reigning champ. The raptor got up and padded back to the kitchen, tossing his empty popcorn bag in the trash on his way through.

It didn't matter that his roommate was less than happy with the match, nor that it'd been a disappointingly quick one for his many fans. For Kit, the best part was always the post-interview anyways. Watching that expanded gut slosh around on the screen afterwards was icing on the cake—especially with how unfazed the viper always seemed.

The fox only wished he could have the opportunity to rub that beautifully swollen stomach. He'd love to help The Devourer crush down his opponent's bones. He'd listen to the bubbling soup of their dissolved bodies, a blissful cacophony of oozing groans and slimy gurgles. And perhaps as Garou's former prey starts to pass through his digestive tract, and that tummy begins to make space for dessert… perhaps he could help satisfy the viper with a fox-flavored delicacy.

“Daydreaming again?"

“Huh?"

Johnny smirked at Kit. “Ya got that look on your face, the one you always got when he's on cam showing off n' shit. Come on, I know what you thinkin'. Wanna be part of the fun, eh?"

“No—I mean, I wouldn't have much choice if he wanted to, you know, have me as his next snack or whatever. I wouldn't be upset about it, if I knew it was him…"

“You'd say yes, wouldn't ya… gut slut?"

“…Maybe."

“Pfft. Maybe my ass." Johnny couldn't see the entirety of Kit's scrunched up face, but he knew enough what the fox was thinking. “Missin' out on the last bit of the fight, you know that?"

Damn, the raptor was right. Between the daydreams and accusations, he'd been distracted from the match. When he looked again, there was quite a closeup of the contenders now. Only a few feet of exposed flesh now separated the two opponent's faces. Garou was long past the shoulders and up Sulivan's neck, which was heavily distended from his own hips shoved down the drake's throat.

“Looks to be wrapping up quick, much to the fan's disappointment, ours included. The was a collective sentiment about our rookie tonight being a tougher meal to swallow, yet we were wrong to doubt the king."

“Yes, you're absolutely right about that. There's going to be plenty of upset fans—not with Garoua, mind you. Never all that fun to see such a promising predator slide so quickly down another's gullet. We only the final speech left to go for our loser, and then he's on a one-way trip to the champ's stomach: a simmering grave has been prepped for Sully like it has for so many others."

The viper inched up the drake's head, but stopped short of swallowing him entirely, not that he didn't want to. One of the rules of the sport dictated what was essentially a “clean finish"; their opponent must lose hold of the victor's body before being swallowed past the head. It was a rule put in place for the fans enjoyment, and to provide an opportunity for a few last words from the loser, also known as the final speech.

Now Garou would need to release Sulivan's hold on his body, and once the viper's tail slipped out the defeated drake's maw…

…

…

Except…

The drake wasn't moving.

Five minutes passed without much worry from the analysts. Another ten minutes had them a bit confused as to the holdup. When another thirty minutes had gone by without anything happening, Kit got a little worried—because he swore he could see…

No, it must be his nerves playing with him.

…Or was the drake really swallowing more of the viper's body?

“We're just as confused as the fans up here, but it appears that Sulivan isn't going down so easily."

“No he's not! Unbelievable that he's still going. Seems like the name Iron Jaw isn't just for show after all!"

Kit's blood ran cold as he watched in abject horror as Sulivan continued to make up ground on The Devourer. The crowd seemed equally stunned, and then a shocked cry sounded out in the arena as Garou lost his grip on the drake's neck.

“No no no!" cried out Kit, jumping up from the couch.

“No way this is real!" bellowed one announcer. “We've never seen Garou slip up like that! And that's not only a small slip up—he lost nearly a foot on Sully's neck!"

“He looks to be struggling to make it back up, too. This is where we always see the buildup of saliva playing against a pred's favor; Garou's trying to find a grip on Sully's scales, but his own drool is making it near impossible!"

To Kit's panic, the caster was speaking the truth, as slowly but surely the drake's charcoal scales came back into view from the viper's jaws.

A taunting chuckle emanated from the other side of the couch. “Uhhhh ohhhh…"

“Don't you say a fucking thing, Johnny."

“Garou…"

“Not. A. Word!"

Johnny snickered near-uncontrollably. Kit didn't see what was so funny. It was just a single mistake, nothing more. His idol was not losing tonight. Everything was fine. Garou's first big mistake would not be his last.

Everything would be absolutely fine.

“Garoouuuu…"

“DUDE. If you're gonna be an ass about it—"

“Relax buddy," the raptor purred. “Surely your undefeated deity wouldn't get sloshed by the new guy…"

Yeah, surely not…

“This certainly is a turn of events for tonight's event! Just as hope had nearly been snuffed out for Sulivan, he's turned things around in a rather significant way, against none other than the king himself!"

Another analyst belayed his cohost. “But even with that mistake from our reigning champion, this match is surely still locked in the jaws of The Devourer!"

Kit echoed in agreement. “Yes, He's still got it…"

“I don't know…" worried another analyst. “This isn't a situation that Garou's ever been in before. The biggest mistake of his career. I mean, surely that's gotta play games in your head now, doesn't it? Even if you finish out against Sulivan—everyone knows that the god does truly bleed!"

“I think he shouldn't be worrying quite yet about what comes after. He needs to hunker down and styme the bleeding here, before it gets any worse."

…

And the caster was right about one thing. It certainly got worse.

Oh boy did it get worse.

Fans excited roars shifted to anguished cries. The world was stunned. Little by little the drake climbed up his opponent's torso. Time after time the viper lost grip on what he'd swallowed down nearly an hour before. And when the shoulders popped loose from his throat, it was an agonizing descent from his throne thereafter.

“This is a moment to remember folks…"

Another dramatic slip up, and out spilled the drake's barreled chest. The crowd was losing their minds, Kit's included.

“We all thought the champion's place at the top to be secure…"

The drake now surpassed his competitor, steadily moving his way further and further up, causing more and more of those red- gold scales to vanish within his maw.

“We all thought the king's throne impossible to overthrow…"

Garou's panicked struggling became clear to see, so desperately wanting to reach out his claws and slash at his assailant's flank—except he knew the rules didn't allow such interference, and he'd only be sealing his fate if he did so. Death by disqualification would be a sad way to see his two-year empire crumble.

Not that Kit was happy to begin with. The fox would be bawling his eyes out right now, but the moment was too shocking for tears to be shed. It was a fate he hadn't imagined for his favorite predator, not for many, many more years on top.

“We're watching a dynasty fall before our eyes. This is an upset like we've never seen before. It appears that we must say an unexpected goodbye to The Devourer's long-lived kingdom, and welcome our new king at the same time—The Iron Jaw lives up to its nickname tonight. He kept his grip true on his prey. He stayed calm and steady, pacing his stamina until going on the offensive when his opponent's guard was down. He played the champion a fool, and now he'll have his fill of him, too."

There was an awful moment's silence after that finality from the announcer. A moment of dreadful emptiness for the fox, all while the drake's stomach stretched fuller with every passing minute.

“It's not quite over yet, but I think there's no stopping this momentum. Garou seems out of wind and out of hope." Another lurch draws the drake's hips from the viper's weary jaws. “…And I believe his last grip on the match just slipped away."

“—And he'll be slipping away in just a few more minutes. Don't look away now, because coming up will be the final speech from the greatest of the greats. The final speech of Garou The Devourer."

Sulivan was at the final hurdle now, and without any visible effort, he forced his way past Garou's shoulders, pinning the viper's arms against both sides of his collapsed snake hood. With the excruciating pressure of the drake's esophagus squeezing at the serpent sides, The Devourer coughs up his last attempt at a meal. Sulivan's tail comes slithering out, dripping of stomach juices plenty, until the tip finally frees itself from the Garou's clutches.

It's over.

He—

“No…"

“Yes, there you have it. Our newest champion, our throne usurper, and likely the world's greatest predator for some time to come… Sulivan Iron Jaw!"

“No," Kit repeated, a barely audible whimper escaping his lips. “It's… this can't be happening…"

“This is real! This is our reality! Even when you think you've asserted your position on top, out comes death from the shadows! Whether it's the folly of Garou or the genius of Sulivan, it matters not!"

A rumbling chant started to roll through the arena…

“Final speech."

“Final speech."

“FINAL SPEECH."

“The crowd wants to hear from their fallen king! Our interviewer is in the ring now, and Garou's final words will be delivered right now!"

The camera centered on the bulbous drake at the center of the brightly lit stage. Even so, shadows of a wriggling body were cast from the gut of the successful hunt. Hanging limply from Sulivan's maw was the head of the writhing mass, looking as pathetic as a once-champion could look.

“I'm here with our victor and his meal-to-be!" The busty snow leopard announced into her mic. She turned to face the drake's dangling dinner. “We go first to tonight's prey, and a surprising one at that—Garou, I must ask: what's running through your head right now?"

“…I'm considering how wonderful I tasted on the way down, I suppose," replied the viper with a sad smirk. Drool caught the crest of his left eye, forcing him to squint.

The snow leopard laughed while wiping away the saliva from her interviewee. “Even on the losing side of another predator's bowel movements, our favorite viper is still the same charming character we know and love."

“I accepted long ago that I'd be giving my body to this sport. I've been blessed to be a part of this journey, and to have the backing of all my fans… my family… it meant the world to me, as I'm sure it will for Sulivan too." Garou put on a brave smile while the crowd cried out their support in unison. “I don't have much time to appreciate Sulivan's victory, but I'll be watching from close by, in spirit—and in his body fat. I'm sure Iron Jaw will put good use to the protein slurry I'll become, and I wish to him a bright future and a full belly."

“There you have it! One last round of applause for The Devourer!"

His fan's roared to life one last time for Garou to hear, and Kit couldn't hold back the squeak climbing his throat, all while the viper slid peacefully down Sulivan's. A final glint of red-gold scales, then a close-up of the depression trailing down the drake's throat. The lump smoothed out inside Iron Jaw's rounded gut. A few more bulges were settled out by laying his weight atop the meal, and there was an audible belch of air escaping the victor's maw.

“Well here we are, Iron Jaw. You challenged a titan, and shook the world when you toppled him! How is the feeling of knowing all eyes are on you at this moment?"

The drake let loose another boisterous belch as the start of his victory speech, much to the amusement of the crowd. “I suppose the feeling is not unlike… soothing a swollen stomach after a long day. It feels good, and that feeling isn't going away anytime soon."

“I'm sure it isn't! It'll surely take a few days for our previous champion to pass through your body, and plenty longer to work him off your curves."

“And I wouldn't want it any other way. He's been my hero for so long—and they say to never meet your heroes! But I suppose they never were using the right type of 'meat' in that phrase…"

The interview continued on with plenty more words shared between the two about the matchup—with plenty of generous closeups on that distended gut—but Kit didn't want to hear it, and he certainly didn't want to see it. He wanted nothing to do with the television. He wanted nothing to do with the many phone notifications coming through. He wanted nothing to do with the rest of this godforsaken night.

“Kit…"

He absolutely didn't want anything to do with his roommate. That bastard was sure to roast him for the rest of the school year.

“When ya said earlier that ya'd wanna go down with him... did ya really mean it?"

Kit picked his snout out of his hands enough to side eye the raptor. He was lounging back in his sofa quite comfortably. A creeping smile was curling up his jawline, with a line of teeth glimmering behind those jowls.

Maybe he was planning on dissolving him instead…

“What? N-No, I didn't mean that. I didn't…"

“Ah." Johnny shrugged. “Not like I care if ya meant or not. Still said it, and I warned ya: never leave fate in another pred's jaws." He heaved upwards, his conical head hovering two feet over the fox's flattened ears. “Lucky ya got a pred like me, eh? I'll make it a comfortable trip, won't feel a thing."

“…Johnny. Come on man, it wasn't meant to be serious… it was just something I said in the heat of the moment."

“Sorry foxy. Ain't nothing ya gonna do to convince me, whether or not ya meant it," said the raptor, no hesitation in his voice. He glanced to the television, and he cracked a great smile. “But I can make it fair. Let's make it one last vore-off."

“You know that's not fair—"

“It's as fair a game as I'm gonna give ya."

Kit was in trouble. More than trouble; it was a life-or-death situation now—and there were no signs of life to be seen, because he sure as hell wasn't going to win a vore-off with Johnny. Kit couldn't even swallow anything much bigger than one of his rodent classmates. Johnny was anything but small.

So this was it. This was Kit's final night as much as it was Garou's.

“Fuck…"

“…Or I could make it messy, if you're thinking about runnin'."

“Damnit—there's no way I'm talking my way out of this?"

“Nah. To be honest, I got a craving for something to fill me up. That bag of popcorn ain't doing it."

Reduced to being the discussion point of the raptor's next meal was flustering the fox beyond belief. A predator shouldn't have those feelings. Would anyone count the scrawny fox as much of a predator anyways? No. They'd deem him just the same: a follow-up to fucking popcorn...

“…Fine."

Kit knew it was the only good answer. Better to enjoy the fact that he'd be a satisfying pooch in his roommate's tummy. Definitely beat the painful end it'd be for him if he didn't comply.

“Alright, let's just… get it over with."

The raptor stood on his wicked talons, his long tail waving in long, lazy circles behind him. “Heh, I was thinking the same thing."

The coffee table was slid out the living room, leaving enough space for the two predators to get comfortable on the floor, tail tip to the head of the other. Merely seeing the fat tail flopped down in front of Kit's snout was a reminder of just how fucked he was.

“I'll give ya a head start, not that it'll make a lick of difference."

Johnny was right. It wouldn't.

When the imaginary bell rang, Kit slurped up the raptor's tail into his jaws, but hit a roadblock immediately thereafter; only a half-foot up the appendage was enough to grind the fox's progress to a halt. He couldn't force anymore down his throat. His jaws wouldn't open any wider. Tears ran down his eyes from the combined pains of choking and bitter defeat.

“Pitiful."

The raptor didn't let the Kit's struggles go on much longer. With a quick chomp on the fluffy tail and an ensuing yank, he completely dislodged the fox from what little bit of tail he was able to force down. The competition truly had been a formality after all. There'd be no Cinderella story for Kit like there had been for Sully. It turned out that television really didn't equate to reality after all.

Kit didn't scream out for help. He'd probably only get a painful walloping if he did so. It was easier to let it happen without resistance. Hmph. Some predator he was. He even went so far as to make his body as small as he could, guiding his limbs into comfortable positions within the fleshy tunnel he slipped through. He was consumed in a quick and orderly fashion; the raptor didn't care to make a show of it, and he wasn't lying about being famished. The fox would make a better meal than a roommate anyways.

His hips were no differently shaped than his torso, his flat ass doing him no favors, and so the raptor never struggled once to consume the fox's body, nor did he ever slow down. The only halting of the snack's descent to the raptor's stomach was when only a head was left emerged, where of course Johnny would want to torment him with a final speech.

The fox spoke only a syllable before a talon clamped his snout shut prematurely. Johnny stood up easily enough from the floor—the fox hardly put a dent in the larger pred's belly—and lumbered his way into the single bathroom of their apartment. He went to the sink mirror, giving Kit a good view of his pathetic situation.

Kit's head was framed by rows of teeth above and below. Just a single swallow away from being another forgotten student on campus. He would hardly be missed. A phone came into view, and Kit could see that the video recorder was on. He wanted to immortalize his meat's final speech, probably to beat his other meat to afterwards. Insult to fucking injury—not that Kit would be bothered by whatever was done with the recording afterwards.

Johnny flicked a talon against the fox's snout, coaxing a whimpering start to the loser's last words, “Ahh! Fuck—I don't k-know what to say…"

Incapable of speaking, Johnny merely waved his claws in a circular motion.

“Okay, okay… Uhm. Mom and dad—I love you guys, and I wish I could've been a better son—and a better predator. I wish my roommate a… a h-happy gut and a healthy passing of m-my remains. My name is—"

SNAP!

Whatever the fox might've finished saying was cut off by the jaws shutting around him. With a hearty swallow, his head went down with the rest of his slimy body. His descent was recorded from outside, panning down the raptor's distended throat, then to the insignificant bump that formed below.

The camera panned back up to show a toothy grin on the victor of their informal match. “Heh. Bad sportsmanship to swallow prey before they finished speaking—but he wasn't saying anything worth listenin' to…"

Johnny made a show of getting every angle of his newest addition. Once he was satisfied, he stopped the recording and gave his belly a pat, enjoying the squirming going on inside.

“Another few beers outta quiet ya down… or at least get ya sloshin' a bit faster."

The raptor returned from the kitchen with a beer bottle in each hand, one dropped on the couch while he popped the top off another, and settled himself back into the cushions. Johnny's stomach went to work digesting his meal while Sulivan continued to settle his own rotund belly in the post-match interview. They were still jabbering away a bunch of nonsense on-screen, but Johnny didn't have any other plans for the night. Besides, the rookie was rather entertaining to listen to.

“Ya know… this Iron Jaw guy just might be my new favorite pred. Sure beats the hell out of that dumb snake." He slapped his tummy, causing a stirring on the other side. “The Devourer, ain't it?"

Johnny shook his head. “…Nah—The Devoured makes more sense. Sounds better too, don'cha think?" He prodded his gut. There was no reaction from within. “I say good riddance to him…"

“…Heh. Good riddance to ya both."