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You should have known better than to end up in a snake's coils. A rat like you has to be especially careful. There's just something about you that serpents seem to find irresistible, and now you're caught up in the muscular grip of the biggest one you've ever met. There was something different about that massive cobra ever since you first laid eyes on her casually slithering down the street. It wasn't just the size of her, even if she's something more akin to a dragon with such imposing length and heft. She had a way of seducing you without even moving, and when she began to calmly slide on down the road, you found yourself following, stalking her even, wanting to be wherever she was headed, no matter the dangers of being alone with her. Whether she meant to lure you out into the woods, well away from anyone who might hear your frightened squeaks is anyone's guess, but now she has you. At least the scenery is nice.

It feels as if you've stumbled into Eden itself, fragrant and lush, given your flowery surroundings. A hidden garden among the trees, where nobody would normally wander, and you've discovered it all by accident. Of course, it wasn't a few moments beneath the shelter of the leaves before she caught you. A snap of her body, acting more on instinct than conscious thought, and you were immediately locked in that deadly hug. At least she's not a python or other squeezy type. Her grip is tight, but it's not crushing your ribs. You can breathe, though you hardly dare. Staring into her eyes makes the air freeze in your lungs. Her inflated hood frames her face so elegantly, but it only makes her seem larger than she is.

You squirm just a little, but you can hardly move a muscle. Your arms are trapped to your sides, your legs not touching the ground, and you're left to stare skyward as the giant snake looms over you, breathing slowly. The air puffing over your face is oddly cool, carrying a refreshing scent like lilies. Though there's something else beneath that. Not an unpleasant scent, but a sharper one, one that makes your eyes water just slightly. You can only barely glimpse her fangs behind her lips, but you know they're there, waiting, dripping with venom so potent you'd probably drop dead the instant it touched your tongue. Or so you assume. The snake is entirely capable of ending you, right in that very moment, but for now she's doing nothing more than holding you, keeping you, examining you with those golden eyes. And smelling you, as her long, forked tongue wriggles just an inch or two from your face, taking in your scent while she seems to consider her next move.

A slow hiss escapes her as she lingers, only for her low voice to break you from your mesmerized state.

"I apologize. I don't know what came over me when I saw you following me, but I ... well, this just feels natural, doesn't it?"

Despite the apology, she's not loosening her grip on you in the slightest.

"Not ... really," you manage to squeak.

"No?" She tips her head at you, as inquisitively as a snake can manage. "And here I thought that was the whole point of this encounter. I have met those like you before. That look in your eye - that fascination. It's flattering."

"I'm sorry," you say, just in case she's implying that you've offended her somehow.

"You don't need to be. We're both only doing what comes most naturally to us. And I always enjoy this."

She draws closer still, her presence silencing the questions on the tip of your tongue. Her own interrupts you. You can feel it dancing over your face, leaving a light layer of saliva clinging to your features. Her hisses are strangely warming, echoing in your ears, feeling as if they're passing right through your body. They sound like flowing water, leaving you shivering in her coils for the primal effect they have on you, just to hear them. She's not squeezing any tighter, but she's not loosening her hold in the slightest either, keeping you on edge, only able to breath in short, shallow gasps. It's not quite enough to keep a very gradual feeling of suffocation from welling up in your lungs, making your eyes wide, your throat tight, and a rising sense of panic working its way through your veins. You're in a lot of danger, and your instincts know it.

The sun catches her scales through the trees right in that moment, glistening over her broad hood. It looks like she's wearing a crown of molten gold. She's as regal as a queen as she stares into your eyes, all but forcing you to stare right back and lose yourself in her unblinking gaze. There's nothing unnaturally hypnotic about her eyes - no magical abilities or insidious properties. They're simply too enticing to look away from, leaving you feeling as if you're swirling towards the dark slit of her narrow pupils as if being sucked into a black hole. The only thing that can break you from that mesmeric stare is the glint of her fangs as they overwhelm your sight. They're dripping. You're not sure if it's just drool or something more murderous that's lightly drizzling on your cheeks, but you don't dare open your mouth to find out.

A further stretch reveals the full extent of her glistening maw. Her fangs are an obvious focal point, but so too is that wriggling tongue, or the rounded shape of her glottis, and all the little teeth decorating the inside like pebbles on a path. It all leads back towards the gape of her dark throat. That smooth, undulating passage is pink until it's utterly black, like the void opening before you. Her breath remains pleasant, sweetened by something, working over your stunned facial features like a cooling breeze. You realize that you're not breathing, and that doesn't change as she descends. In the most vital moment, you're too paralyzed by fear to do a thing about your approaching doom, holding perfectly still but for a bit of twitching as the cobra sinks one of those fangs directly into the side of your neck. Maybe you're just numb by now, but it's far less painful than you expect.

You try not to let it dawn on you, but the reality is undeniable. That's it. She got you. It might have only been a drop, but cobras like her are not known for their mild venom. You can already feel it in your veins, or feel something at least. It starts as a sort of tingle, and spreads outwards from the tiny wound to reach the very tips of your fingers, working down to your toes. It's not painful. If anything, it feels good, soothing the tension in your muscles, letting you finally relax in her coils. It even feels like she's holding you a little more gently once she's lightly envenomed you. Though the tension isn't fully gone - it's just moved. With her scales rubbing against your whole body like that, lightly brushing back and forth with her every steady breath, you can't help notice she's grinding just a little on the bulge in your pants. And it's only growing bigger as that potent toxin does its work on you, forcing you to be turned on by her slightest touch, no matter how badly you want to escape from her and run for your life.

"There we go. That should help you relax," she says, her voice as calm as a summer's breeze. A bit of mirth creeps into her voice as she continues. "All you need to do is hold still now. I will take care of the rest. It seems you're already enjoying yourself. "

On hearing those words, you do your utmost to defy her, to wriggle and squirm as wildly as possible. The effort is exhausting and amounts to very little. You just don't have full control of your muscles anymore, left to struggle against the partial paralysis of that oddly calming venom. It feels more like a forced relaxation now, more a sedative than a soothing concoction. For all you know, your body is already dying, already fatally poisoned by the drop running through your veins, and it's only a matter of time, even if you do somehow manage to escape her grasp. Though that doesn't seem likely. She's opening up wide again, letting you see the inner confines of her jaws. It's all the same as your last glimpse, but for the extra shine. Her mouth is getting wetter. For all her elegance, the giant snake is drooling with the anticipation of devouring you.

All you can do is grit your teeth and do your best to gasp out something like a protest or a cry for help as she slips towards your face, maw spread wide. Something like a sigh escapes her as she envelops you in that humid embrace. Her mawflesh is as slippery to the touch as it looks, swiftly coating your fur in a glossy layer that helps you slide along towards the back. Her tongue curls beneath your chin and against your chest as you sleekly slip your way inside, bumping over the details, feeling those short teeth catch on your shoulders. With your head fully within her, she closes her mouth for a time, sealing you in her maw. She might not have the perfect anatomy for it, but she's soon making her best effort at sucking on you, surrounding you in the kneading flesh of her mouth, working to soak your increasingly sopping fur. When enough saliva wells up in her mouth to partly submerge you, she tips her head just slightly, overwhelming you with the sound of a deep, wet gulp. She's taking your flavour inside, sucking it right out of you, delighting her own senses with familiar taste of rat that snakes like her so enjoy.

The satisfied hiss that comes with such a thorough sampling rolls through her whole body. You feel as if it's coming from several directions at once, immersing you in that wet sound. The sound of her swallowing won't leave your mind. Even in the darkness, you can sense the power, the sheer unrelenting strength of your gullet. Once it has a hold of you, that's it. You're not getting away. That was probably true as soon as she had you in her coils, but at least then you weren't left with the utter certainty that your fate is to be devoured by a giant cobra, to slide your way down into her coils and digest like any other meal. She's taking her time, inching you along and working her tongue beneath your shirt, until it feels like you're barely wearing one for all the drool soaking through the thin fabric. Those fork-tipped slurps tickle along your fur, maybe even in a pleasant way, but you're left knowing that every wriggling stroke is another moment she's absolutely infatuated with your taste. You're not just a meal, but an indulgence for the hungry serpent.

She's inching you in with her coils, pressing up under your thighs and rear. There's still plenty of attention to your groin too, ensuring that despite the mortal fear in your heart, you're going to face it with an unwanted hard-on. At least brushing your bulge against her scaled underside is stimulating. You can hardly focus on the feeling, much less get off on it, but the fact remains. For all the horrifying implications of what she's doing to you, it feels good to be devoured by a snake. Your body fits so snugly in her mouth, your shoulders hardly giving her any pause, and once your throat crests over the back of her maw and finally sinks into her throat, the embrace is immediate. Her gullet clamps on you as if immediately sensing the presence of food. You're squished from every side by the walls of soft flesh, momentarily smothered before she relents. All you can do is gasp for breath, your whimpers to be your last words as you glide half-paralyzed along the silky surface of her mouth and descend into that welcoming hug of eager peristalsis. She's swallowing you whole.

It feels as if you're being squeezed from a hundred directions all at once as that gullet seals up tightly around your head once more, tugging you inwards and swiftly gripping on your shoulders with insistent force. With that comes a heavy ullp that sounds like a conscious effort on the serpent's part. The complexities of her inner workings would astound you if you weren't so frozen by the fear. At least you manage a few small kicks, though they amount to little more than writhing as you descend into her throat, bulging outwards on those scales. A cute little outline of a rat's dazed expression is surely visible on the outside of her golden coils for how tightly her insides are hugging you, loudly squishing on your features as she yanks you into the darkness, letting the freshness of the air outside be replaced by a hot and humid staleness. She's still surprisingly pleasant on the inside, but it's a small comfort.

As she works and massages over your helpless body, her swallowing starts to sound something more like slurping. You're a big rat-shaped noodle for her, one to be sucked down in a single go. She can afford to take her time, breathing freely while she eats you. Her gullet swells and softens with her steady breath. This isn't a moment of aggression. Her heartbeat remains slow and steady, calm as she began. This is a luxury, an evening of fine dining, rather than something vicious and predator. You might even find it flattering in a way, if the circumstances were different. She's treating you like the finest of treats, savouring your body, making sure to get her tongue beneath your clothes as she ever so slowly works you into her gullet. Only when she's given some thorough attention to a part of you does she feed you further, making sure very little of you gets ignored, audibly delighting in the feeling of your fur upon her tongue. Soon she isn't only hissing, but blending those sounds with something less serpentine, rumbling from within with extended, if muffled moans that vibrate all around you as they rush up past your body.

Feeling the forked tip of her tongue working into your pants is enough to make you remember your voice. It's not much, but you manage to yelp out, somewhere deep within her coils as she licks along your hardened shaft. You're excessively aroused by then, and not even by your own will. Part of you wishes you could shout and deny that you're hard because of what she's doing to you, but you're just going to have to go on letting her assume devouring you alive is enough to make you soak yourself with the sheer amount of pre you're putting out. You don't know if you've ever been so productive. Everything is so sensitive, every nerve on full alert, leaving a few simple licks to your shaft like the best blowjob you've ever received. For a moment it even feels like you're going to cream yourself, leaving you grinding your front teeth, but that feeling subsides. That's just worse. Now you're left throbbing hard, aching for release, yet never quite finding it as you inch into her depths, feeling your centre of gravity shifting as your waist slips past her lips. Another swallow and she's got most of you inside, left with little more than to suck down your legs and naked tail, brushing you past her folded fangs as she feeds you into her jaws with a push of her muscular coils.

As calm as she's been so far, there's a certain urgency there. She isn't just easing you along, she's shoving you down while her throat works around you in rapid succession. The tightness on your thighs makes your toes twitch, and the squeeze on your shaft is enough to keep you at that peak. A thump of pleasure shocks its way down your legs, keeping your tail flailing. That's the most you've managed to move ever since she bit you. Your tail goes down like a wriggling noodle nonetheless, but at least you managed to show a little panic. Maybe that venom is wearing off - if such a thing is even possibly without an antidote. Or maybe you're just finding some deep reserve within you, some remaining spike of adrenaline as your fate looms so very near. A few more swallows and you'll be done. You'll be fully inside the cobra, never seen again. And you didn't even manage to learn her name.

Perhaps its theatrical flair or just self indulgence that drives her to toss her head back like an alligator as she finishes off the last of you. Your feet go flailing along with the tip of your tail, jerked by the sudden motion. It's almost violent, in comparison to her slow, sultry manner of before. She's gobbling you now. It's no longer an elegant swallow, but a steady, forceful GULP that drags your inverted body straight into her coils. All is dark and then darker still as she closes her mouth just as the top of your wiggling tail slips past her lower lip. One more heavy knead of those gullet muscles, and you're slipping down her throat. She's eaten you. Though that's far from the end of your journey, one that sends a rat-shaped bulge winding back and forth along her lopped coils, working through a gullet that feels to you like it goes on forever. Foot after foot of muscular squeezing, and you're not even close to the end, only finding a stopping point after several minutes spent descending through that slippery tunnel. It's warmer there, and air is scarce, but the acidic scent hitting your nostrils keeps you from even considering passing out just yet. A little push past some momentary resistance, and you're officially inside her stomach.

A hissy exclamation that sounds near-orgasmic soon fades into a deeply moaned sigh as she settles down and coils all around you, fitting you snugly into her belly.

"Ahhhh, yesssss ...that was wonderful. Such a gift you were." You feel her pressing in against you, laying her head atop the bulge you make in the middle of her coils. "You've made this old serpent feel very nice, I'll have you know. I hope it's not too unpleasant in there."

In truth, it's more accommodating than you'd think. Her stomach doesn't feel much different from her throat, though it's wetter in there, with a certain slimy texture to the walls that tightly hug around your every detail. You're soaked and left to listen to the slow grumble of her digestive process awakening, but for the moment you're unharmed. That doesn't much help with the fearful feeling of being trapped somewhere so dark, so tight, knowing the snake fully intends to digest you. You hate to even imagine what that will feel like, but you're not so sure you'll be conscious by then. Whenever you breathe in, there is indeed air, but it feels a little musty, a little thin. Your head is spinning, but that could be for all number of reasons. There's probably still venom in your bloodstream too, and you don't know what that'll do when it reaches your heart. While there's no small part of your brain that's utterly panicked, wracked by instinctual terror and the desire to escape, you couldn't fight her even if you tried. There's no amount of energy or strength a small rat like you could muster up to break free of that digestive embrace, and every moment you spend marinating in her enzymes is one you grow just a little weaker.

You're left to contemplate the darkness as the snake cuddles up against the bulge of you, flicking her tongue against your constricted face as if giving you a little kiss. Then she's settling down, letting all the excitement fade from her muscles. You can hear her heartbeat slowing, her breathing growing more rhythmic. The snake is swiftly asleep, all coiled up around her prey, keeping you trapped not just in her stomach but in that possessive hug. She's going to keep you, and there's nothing you can do about it. A few little wiggles are nothing more than token resistance. Everything is fading, dulling, softening. Even the rising tingle that comes with those fluids sloshing over your body, pouring out from all around you and soaking you from head to tail can't rouse you to action. In those fading moments, you want nothing more than to simply join her in the sweet embrace of slumber. You're ready to give up and let her have you. This is your place in nature now.

Sleep never actually comes to you. You're left simmering in there, aware and conscious, if severely dazed by the venom and lack of air. There's just enough to sustain you, to keep you from passing out or dying, as the minutes roll by and the chamber slowly rocks around you. It makes such slimy noises as it savours in your succulence, schlurping loudly every time it compresses around your body, but never crushing you. Even mostly immersed in digestive acids, you're not suffering. They work slowly, luxuriantly, working over your fur and tail with a faint tingle just to let you know they're active, but not accomplishing very little in terms of actually melting you down into cobra food just yet. The snake permits herself a lengthy nap, and you're left to wonder just how much time is passing, and whether anyone might stumble upon her in the meantime, and notice the very obvious person-shaped bulge gurgling in her coils. Even after what you're sure must be several hours, rescue doesn't come. You're imprisoned in her body, left digesting a little at a time, churn by churn, getting intimately familiar with the way her stomach massages on your captive self for what feels like hours in the darkness.

That's not the only thing rubbing over you. Now and then she nuzzles at you, even licks you, though it's getting increasingly harder to tell. One thing you can't mistake is the sensation of hands pressing in on you, squeezing as you soften beneath their grip. There are other people out there. You can hear them murmuring. But if you expect some sort of very late rescue effort, it never comes. If anything, it seems more like they're admiring you, pressing inwards with a certain insistence, helping you to realize just how very digested you are by that point. It all happened so gradually that you hardly noticed until that moment, however many hours or even days later it is. There's not much left of you. The vital pieces are still there, but you're sloshing, sludging, melting down to something much less than the rat that was you. You can't so much as gasp, carrying on through automation alone. Your lungs still breathe, your heart still pumps, but it's all slower, softer, as other sensations fade out. There's nothing left to feel them with.

In the end it's as simple as closing your eyes. You feel next to nothing at all. It's impossible to tell how long it's been, or how much is left of you. Maybe you're asleep, maybe you're awake, but all you have left are your clouded thoughts, barely forming. That belly is a void to you, a hollow place no longer giving off sound, to your numbed senses. One last sigh, barely anything, and you slump down into the slowly simmering stew that is what you've become. A few bubbles and blorps rumble through the snakes stomach as she finishes you off through no conscious effort of her own. It's merely the cumulative churning that's worn away all your resistance, all your layers, rendering you down to something softer and more easily absorbed in her intestines. The bulge of rat in her coils flattens over, allowing her to slither freely about without so much as a hint of the person she ate whole. You're simply gone.

Not that there's absolutely nothing left. There's still plenty of you left within her, albeit liquefied. The process of absorbing you, of claiming every nutrient from your digested form and pushing the rest through her system is just as slow as ever. It's a full two weeks since she first devoured you that she's slinking back to the place you met, stretching her coils out among the flower garden of a forest and sighing once more. That same hiss escapes her, smooth and soothing as she searches for the perfect spot. It's an out-of-the-way place, somewhere near the roots of a great towering oak. She remains stretched out, reaching across the forest at roughly the length of a bus, while she lifts her tail end up in an arch. That's just the right angle for her to start relieving herself of you, now that her body is finally done taking everything one cute rat has to offer.

There are a few signs it used to be you. Little traces of fur, or partly-digested bone are embedded in the heavy logs of snake shit squeezing from her cloaca. Some of your clothes are left too. They're mostly ruined, little more than scraps and rags, stained from their journey, but nonetheless they join the growing pile. An impressive mound is soon piling up there beneath the tree, smoothly exiting the cobra as she faintly hisses. It's all smooth and comfortable for her. Her body is made for digesting rats like you, so you don't give her a hint of trouble on the way out. There's no trophy, no landmark or grave marker left over. The biggest piece of evidence is a bone fragment that's a little larger than the others. Your skull is pulverized into dust, and every other hint of what you used to be soon vanishes beneath the rest of the mess that accumulates where it can be slowly absorbed by the roots of that old tree. First you nourished a snake, and eventually you'll feed the forest with what remains, fertilizing the soil as nothing more than a great big steaming pile of former rat that accumulates beneath her lifted tail end.

She slithers off with a sigh once she's finished, moving to cool and clean in a nearby river. It's deep and rapid enough to sweep a small person away, but the water collides against her coils as if she were a dam. She's just a little thicker for your contributions, though it's hardly noticeable. Your body is hers to keep for good, made part of the snake as nearly imperceptible snake fat, and the only evidence of what she did to you is cooling on the grass, left behind and forgotten. She's hungry again, having fasted while she digested you. Even now, as the water babbles around her body, she can't help but think about how you tasted. Those little squeaks, the touch of your fur on her tongue, and the delightful slurp she gave your tail on the way down - it's making her think about eating another rat already. You're long gone, but if you weren't, you could at least take some pride in knowing she so delighted in devouring you that you firmly convinced her rats are in fact her favourite food. Though that might not be such good news for others like you.