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naga #vore
tired and weak as i am still feeling the press of my body against itself, skin creaking against skin, sliding tighter and tighter, pressing in every direction, in one direction – inward – until the pop as something slackings that pushed in one direction – outward – and every direction pushes less, the air wrung out, the fight wrung out, the life packed tight into this envelope, i slacken, my own muscles popping as they loosen and i hang, just enough to hold my treat, i slide over,
naga #vore
jaw popped wide and still over this final unbroken bone on top i move up and down, when was the last meal this size, walking my teeth over rapidly cooling flesh, up and down, loosening my coils but not too quickly lest it fall and that's fine but i like to keep form, up and down, and i'm past its chin and its neck and the rest will be easy except where i feel myself stretching to take in my quarry, up and down, remember to breathe, up and down, marching my teeth down torso, waist, leg,