It was another dull, dreary mission for Torrel and the rest of his Pokémon exploration team. The Quilava assumed that since he’d finally evolved, that would have given their crew the extra strength and endurance needed to tackle something more exciting and adventurous! Kyla, their Vulpix team leader, dashed hopes of that though when she brought a so-called high priority case to their attention, volunteering the three to a long, boring affair. It took a lot for Torrel to swallow his reflexive action to decline and relax in the guild all day, eating at his whim to feed his apparently-bottomless pit of a belly he’d evolved into. Trekking through a rainy forest in order to complete this “super important task” was not his idea of a good time.

“Hey! Kyla! Torrel! Over here! I think I found it!” the squeaky voice of an Oshawott ripped Torrel from his grumbling train of thought back to reality. He and Kyla loped over to where the third team member was indicating, a swamp in the midst of the forest, with something gleaming near the middle. When Torrel’s shadow loomed and Kyla’s tails flicked in interest, the Oshawott cringed slightly. “E-er at least I think that’s it…”

“Better than anything I’ve seen so far, Wotty,” Torrel smirked, giving the Water-type a rough scruffle on the head. Wotty, whose actual name was something Torrel never bothered with, smiled awkwardly at the roundabout praise.

“Want me to go after it? It’s pretty murky water so I well… wasn’t sure if there were any baddies beneath?”

“Go on, we’ll keep a lookout,” Kyla assured with a nod. “We wouldn’t fare very well in the water, you know.”

“Right right right,” Wotty fidgeted, then dove right into the water, vanishing beneath the surface and motoring his way to the shiny thing. As Kyla ventured, she and Torrel kept guard, and hoped they wouldn’t miss out a hungry Pokémon lurking down below the swampy depths.

Torrel yawned and scratched at his belly, which rumbled slightly. “C’mon Wotty, hurry it up,” he mumbled. “If this is it we can make it back to the guild in time for mid day meal.”

“Why don’t you have at your rations, Torrel while there’s a lull in the action?” Kyla offered with a smirk of her own. There was hardly any action to go about on this mission.

“Tore through it an hour ago. Lovin’ this new body, don’t get me wrong, but man does it burn through what I eat like nobody’s business.” The pair grew silent and watchful, before a telling rumbling growl broke it. Kyla snickered and Torrel huffed. He dropped to all fours and shook himself dry, badge jingling on the scarf about his neck. “Can’t believe the Guildmaster thought that–”

“How the Guildmaster prioritizes missions,” Kyla cut off, “is up to the Guildmaster. No matter how… not evident it is to see why.” Torrel rolled his eyes. Kyla chuckled again. “I’m surprised you didn’t leap right into the swamp, if you thought the mission would end so soon after. Seem to recall you leaping straight off a cliff once, thinking you found a shortcut.”

“Hey it was a shortcut!” Torrel defended with a grumble. “Just not exactly a painless one… And I’m wet enough as it is with all this damn rain. Last thing I want is to be doused and dripping as a big mean snake gets the drop on us again.”

Kyla rolled her eyes. “Suppose that’s true. I wonder when–” A sudden splash of muddy water leapt from the swamp as a very mucky Oshawott emerged to pull himself out. With nothing in his paws. Torrel barely dodged out of the way of sharing Wotty’s dirty fate, and noted he carried no shiny things.

“Ugh, don’t tell me…”

“Just a piece of scrap metal or something. Not what we’re after,” Wotty informed, before promptly spraying water all over himself to clean off. Once dripping with fresh, clean water and looking good as new, buffing his little seashell until it shone, he sighed. “Sorry…”

“Quite alright,” Kyla assured with a pat to Wotty’s shoulder. “We’ll press on. Surely the Guildmaster’s precious treasure didn’t wander too far away.”

“Oh, sure,” Torrel rolled his eyes, stomach complaining.

*	*	* 

A groan emanated from Torrel, and it wasn’t from his stomach this time.

“Come oooon where is this stupid thing?”

“I’m sure it’s around here, Torrel. Quit your bellyaching, and keep that fire going. We can’t see a thing in here without it.”

Torrel sighed, but obeyed Kyla, pouring more energy into the flames around his head and backside, brightening the cave they’ve found. Only Wotty appeared chipper among the trio, peeking under rocks, around corners, looking pleased.

“Look on the bright side, Torrel!” he chirped, “at least it’s not raining in here.”

Torrel sighed. “Can’t believe we searched the entire forest and now have to spelunk.” This time, it was his stomach growling. He looked between his teammates, marching between them to give them all the most light possible. “Can’t we take a breather? I’m starvin’ here.”

Kyla looked from him to Wotty, then smiled. “Sure. We should keep in mind you’re still getting used to being a Quilava. And we are asking a lot of you to keep burning so we can see.” The Vulpix had tried lighting up fallen branches to carry into the cave, but the rain had made them all too damp to be of any use. “Let’s settle up for a spell.”

“Great!” Torrel took a seat right then and then, then dragged the unsuspecting Oshawott backwards by the tail. He yelped but didn’t protest. “Hey Wotty, can I have some of your grub? I’ve been out since this morning. Don’t think I need to tall ya how hungry I’m gettin’ here.”

Wotty brushed up against the furry gut of the Quilava, which rumbled seemingly at the touch. Wotty picked himself up and shook his head. “I haven’t had a thing to eat all day and I’m kinda hungry too.” Torrel growled and he flinched. “S-sorry!”

“Aw c’mon Wotty. You’re not the one with a big new body the support here. And who’s been the one burnin’ for light the past two hours? I’m running on empty here.”

Wotty’d already produced a berry from his satchel and was munching down on it. He mumbled a halfhearted apology around it and shyly scarfed the rest down, looking to Kyla for support. Kyla herself was already working into her own rations. Torrel looked to her for support, but received none “I’m afraid he has a point Torrel. We all have our fair share of food. I’m sure the Guildmaster can see to it you get more in future assignments.”

Torrel narrowed his eyes, then sighed, letting his flames dwindle more. “It’s the Guildmaster’s fault we’re out on this stupid errand,” he grumbled, watching Wotty stuff his face with delicious-looking fruits. His stomach growled again, even as the Water-type finished off his own supply, licking at his paws for spare juices. Torrel quirked his head and looked over the unsuspecting Oshawott closer. He hadn’t realized just how squat and chubby the little Pokémon was. Drool dribbled from the corner of Torrel’s maw, and his hunger drove him to a rash decision. “That does it. I’m starving and I will get something to eat,” he announced. Wotty looked up just in time to see a swipe of a Quilava paw knock him flat on his belly.

“Wah!” Wotty was hefted up by the nape of his neck, tail, scarf, legs, arms all dangling down… right into a Quilava mouth that had slowly sprawled open. “N-no! T-Torrel you can’t do this I’m not your food!”

“Mlaaaaaaaah,” vocalized the hungry Quilava, who closed his eyes and drooled more at the prospect of a plump Pokémon meal to sate his appetite. The Oshawott tail brushed along the tongue, and Torrel smiled at the taste of his incipient treat.

“K-Kyla, help me!”

“Torrel, stop.” The much more stern command from the team leader snapped Torrel free from his blind hunger. He closed his mouth and opened his eyes, lowering a squirming Wotty down, but keeping his grip. “You can’t eat a teammate!”

“Why not?” he demanded, hugging the Oshawott against his gut, like one would any food that could skitter away. “I’m out of food and I’m literally gonna starve if I don’t get something to eat! And I’m not gonna wait until we get all the way back to the guild, I can’t.”

Wotty’s eyes quivered, when Kyla didn’t immediately dismiss Torrel’s defense out-of-paw. “Kyla please! Y-y-you can’t just let Torrel eat me alive! I matter too! I… He… I know it’s not his fault technically b-but…” Torrel suddenly yanked the timid Oshawott forward and held him up in front of Kyla, and no matter how much he squirmed, he couldn’t break from Torrel’s grip.

“It’s either Wotty goes or I end up starving, Kyla,” Torrel claimed, flames growing brighter with stress and hunger piling up. “Who’s it gonna be?”

Now, Kyla was not the most experienced leader in all of the guild. In fact, she was their team’s leader primarily since she simply claimed as such. And now, faced with a rather tough decision (being guided to the idea that these were the only two options), her inexperience showed. Kyla looked between the two, and, perhaps motivated by self-preservation, nodded. “I guess we can’t have you starving to death, Torrel.” Wotty gasped, mouth hanging open and eyes wide in shock. “Sorry, Wotty,” she said half-heartedly, even using the nickname Torrel constantly teased him with instead of his real one, “but Torrel has to eat someone. And you’re it.”

Excitement at the prospect of a tasty meal flooded Torrel and his fires flared brighter than ever. “Excellent!” He flipped Wotty around and gripped to his sides, arms and feet kicking uselessly. Torrel licked his lips hungrily as he squeezed around the plump Oshawott tightly, seashell popping off his belly. “Hope you enjoyed your food Wotty, cuz now I’m going to.”

“No! NO!” Wotty squealed, flagging his tail in addition to all his limbs. He squirmed and struggled in the tight Quilava grip, to no avail. “Kyla! Kyla, you can’t let him do this!” he shrieked desperately. But Kyla looked away, finding the blank cave wall to suddenly be the most fascinating sight. Her ears twitched at Wotty’s squeals but she did nothing to stop Torrel from having his way.

The Oshawott was just lunch now, and nothing more.

Torrel spent the next few moments stripping Wotty of everything that identified him as an explorer. The scarf about his next was pulled apart, knot undoing itself with the effort, then casually tossed aside. It and the badge attached to it clinked to the cave floor, nearly making Wotty tear up. He’d worked so hard to become an explorer, and he was so easily dismissed from the team, demoted to “lunch” without so much as a protest from their team leader. Torrel then ripped the satchel strap in two and let the mostly-empty sack tumble to the ground next. He kicked it aside, and now had a completely bare Oshawott in his paws. “Probably would’ve had a time digesting all that stuff, eh Wotty?” he grinned, in much higher spirits now that he had a guaranteed full stomach in his imminent future.

“N-no! I mean yes probably…” Wotty stammered, then shook his head and stopped letting himself get distracted. He was about to be eaten alive. “Put me down Torrel! Please! I-I’ll go find you food! Even be bait for another Pokémon! There has to be one in this cave somewhere! I…” Words failed Wotty when a slimy hot tongue slowly ran up his stomach and across his face, leaving the Water-type positively drenched in slobber so hot it tingled against him. “Ack! D-doooon’t!” But a hungry stomach growl told the Oshawott just how delightful he was to his teammate’s taste buds.

“Mmmm, so good,” Torrel mumbled, loudly smacking and licking his lips. “I’m surprised, Wotty! Never knew you were so delectable.”

“You know it’s impolite to play with your food,” Kyla cut in, still looking away with her tails fidgeting across the floor. “Just eat him already so we can carry on with the mission.”

“Food… Th-that’s all I am now?!” Wotty exclaimed. His whole body shivered, to the point where he could barely muster a denial. “I’m not food! I’m… I-I’m...”

“Tasty.” Torrel wanted to sample more of what the clutched Oshawott had to offer, but didn’t want Kyla to change her mind if he lingered too long. Before he could be stopped, Torrel once again yawned his jaws wide, this time guiding Wotty towards his lips like a big chubby Water-type sandwich. Drool drizzled from those lips in thick gooey strands, some of which ladled right over Wotty. “Y-you shouldn’t eat me! Torrel! Puh-please!” Wotty begged. He tried bracing against the Quilava’s snout but his paws slipped right past them and his head pushed right in between those jaws, with his cheek squished against the thick tongue awaiting him. “D-don’t eat meee–” SCHLMP! “–mmmmffff!!!”

The small fat Oshawott slotted into the Quilava’s jaws with ease. Slobber instantly caked the bulk of his body and things grew sticky, hot, and terrifying for Wotty. A wide tongue glided back and forth over his face and down his chest, mouth compressing into his plump body and squeezing tight, little arms stuck against his blue fur. Wotty cried out again that he wasn’t Torrel’s meal, despite current evidence to the contrary, and couldn’t stop staring beyond the active tongue into the twitching dark gullet beyond. Torrel noisily mumbled in satisfaction, eating a comparatively hefty meal, sitting back on his hinds with his head pointed down, working his jaws around Wotty and savoring his taste. Perhaps this is what higher evolutions should be eating more often, because Torrel felt he could never go back to normal rations after something like this. Lost in the moment, he gnashed and slurped and squished and bit against his scrumptious Water-type snack, enjoying the reverberations caused by the squeals within his mouth.

Only Wotty’s rear end, flipper-like hindpaws, and flickering flat tail protruded from Torrel’s mouth before long. Kyla busied herself with collecting Wotty’s things into her own bag, and couldn’t help but steal the occasional glance at the kicking, squirming thing that was her former teammate. She sighed, but knew that it would be a completely valid explanation to the guild why Wotty had to go. Her leadership would not be called into question. The Vulpix got things all packed up and she was idly looking about for their mission objective, though the loud means in which Torrel was devouring Wotty, and the Oshawott’s continued begging for mercy, were not conducive to concentration. “Hurry it up, Torrel, would you? We would like to get back to the guild by nightfall.” Torrel paused in his delighted soft chewing and gave Torrel a glance, smiling around the still-squirming Oshawott, whose pleas not to be eaten dominated the scene. He nodded, licked Wotty across his squishy face, and lifted his head upwards. Wotty wailed when his tail flitted across the ceiling of the cave, hinds kicking back and forth, desperate to try and flail his way out of being a Quilava’s lunch.

Torrel yawned his jaws open as wide as he comfortably could, which did make Wotty sink inward a chunk. The bulbous nose of the Oshawott sank into the pulsating gullet first, the wide-eyed Wotty crying out in terror. Torrel murred and reached a paw up, planting it against Wotty’s rump, and squishing hard into it. GLNK! Loud cries became much quieter muffled pleas, as Torrel swallowed down the round Oshawott head, it bulging delicately out of his neck. Wotty’s terrified yells were doused by the compact squishy muscles of the throat, which compacted around his head on all fronts, with most of his body noisily sliding into the jaws leaving just hindpaws and tail sticking out. Torrel couldn’t quite snap his jaws shut yet, mouth full of tasty Oshawott meat, but he did squish them mostly close again and again, flavor oozing out his Pokémon prey and filling him with joy. The Quilava’s flames brightened even, when his tongue worked its way beyond Wotty’s belly and cupped up under his legs, serving to anchor the Oshawott further in, much to the Water-type’s dismay. ULK! ...SCHGLK! Torso and more flooded into the throat next, and any appendages of the Oshawott slipped away from view, a squishy-cheeked Torrel sealing his lips around his teammate. “Hllllp!” Wotty, who was pushed down into Torrel’s chest, cried in futility. He cringed feeling Torrel lick and taste over his now-available backside, and flailed his rudder-like tail all he could. His breaths picked up, heart pounding, the Oshawott hearing the yearning groans of the stomach beyond. With all of him completely encased within the Quilava, he was gradually understanding that his ultimate fate was nothing but a single meal for a greedy explorer Pokémon.

And Torrel couldn’t be happier for it! His smile never left his drool-coated face, working Wotty further back with a series of smaller swallows. Kyla’s ears flicked at every one, though the Vulpix was grateful all that annoying yelling was put to bed. Torrel fell to all fours, but kept his head held up, Wotty jostled about deep in his throat and made dizzy by the sudden motion. Torrel yawned his jaws open, allowing his tongue to more freely glide across what little of the Oshawott was still available in the maw, a wriggling butt and kicking hinds with a tail smacking the roof of the mouth over and over. But after catching Kyla’s eye, and feeling and bubbling groan from his starving belly, Torrel finished off the squealing Oshawott. The Quilava’s jaws snapped shut, and Wotty screamed mostly to himself when his body was ushered backwards by the now-practical tongue.

He was swallowed whole with a definitive slimy GLOURK, and visibly squelched downward towards the burning Quilava stomach while Torrel smacked his lips appreciatively. “O-ohhh that was great,” Torrel mumbled, suppressing a belch when a very heavy weight suddenly slop’d into his stomach. His belly swelled and smacked the cave floor, Wotty bulging out either side of his comparatively thinner body. Torrel’s flames flickered some but the sudden intake of food had his spirits at an all-time high for the day. The Quilava waddled over to Kyla, ignoring the sudden groan (and subsequent muffled scream) from his tummy, and nudged at Kyla with his snout. “All done! Let’s go find us the Guildmaster’s trinket!”

Kyla looked past Torrel, down to his bubbling belly. Having made peace with the decision, she offered Torrel a half-smile, and nodded. “Just keep those flames going and we should be able to spot it in now time.”

“You got it, boss.” The two Fire-types made their way further into the cave, both ignoring the muffled wails from the eaten Oshawott. While Torrel’s belly noisily swayed and sloshed back and forth to his gait, Wotty was crammed tighter than he’d ever been in his life, limbs and tail bundled in on himself, head pressed into his stomach, with drool and coming-to-life stomach fluids seeping in all around him. A loud GLRRRRN of a grumble roared all around him, the walls tightening, sticky substances starting to tingle against his fur. Wotty knew that digestion was rapidly ramping up, and he had no idea how long it would take before his was nothing but mush in a sated Quilava’s gut.

He squirmed and struggled all the while, practically feeling energy sapped from his being with the digestive enzymes working into him. “No...”

*	*	*

It took the remaining explorers 20 minutes to find the Guildmaster’s flute.

The shiny instrument treasured so was lost when the Guildmaster last left the hall. Torrel, groaning stomach bouncing against the ground every third or fourth step, easily spotted it not too much further into the cave. “Well, there it is,” he called lazily to Kyla, who gingerly stashed it. Torrel sat up and looked down at his sagging belly, smirking and rubbing at it some. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Kyla agreed. “Shouldn’t take too long to make it back to the guild. Follow me, I know these caves well.” Torrel obeyed, but not before sneaking another hard massage into his squirming belly, and taunting the devoured Oshawott.

“You sure made a good – urp – sacrifice, didn’t ya Wotty?”

Deep in the belly of the sated Quilava, Wotty was in a daze. The eaten Oshawott was still bundled against himself, though his eyes were half-lidded and he only occasionally twitched and squirmed. He once more felt the world quake about him when Torrel began walking on all fours again, rocked back and forth to the sways of the gurgling stomach. He’d been whining for release all this time, but was confident he wasn’t even audible any more. He’d grown numb to the constant roiling sounds all around him, but he couldn’t ignore the gradual itchiness and stings from the stomach fluids constantly buffeting and flowing over him. It was a miracle he had any room to breathe at all! Wotty moaned and occasionally sputtered, begging to be let out, to not be digested. He lost all track of time, blind in the complete darkness of the squishy confines, having no idea what was going on outside.

It was certainly a lot more walking, no more stopping, with Torrel and Kyla making a beeline for the guild. Torrel could tell that Wotty had gotten his second wind, as his churning gut was certainly more lively by the time they’d made it back to the guild. He could even hear the occasional “mphff!” or “hllp!” mingled with the throes of digestion, only reminding Torrel of how great it was to devour Wotty. The two Fire-types made it back to the guild without issue, and delivered the recovered flute to the very-pleased Guildmaster, who’d promised them a generous reward for completing such a harrowing mission.

“Glad we’re getting something useful out of finding that stupid thing,” Torrel muttered to Kyla, who giggled at her partner’s exasperation. Others of the guild were filtering in from the day’s mission, and the Quilava’s sagging, groaning, active belly did not go unnoticed. Wotty, who heard a lot more muffled voices on the outside, deduced where they were and renewed his screams and pleas for help.

“Someone! Can anyone hear me?! Torrel ate me alive! Help meeee!!!” Wotty was cut off when a wave of fresh stomach acids sloshed overhead and temporarily buried the Oshawott, as the stomach lining congealed against him from all sides and a powerful GRRRRRRLT deafened him. “Ugh, no, someone quickly! I-I don’t have long left!”

Wotty had no idea how much he got through to others, though Torrel was anything but shy about his catch. “Yeah, had to eat the poor Oshawott. But he was mostly cool with it,” the Quilava claimed. He laid out on his side, letting his gurgling stomach sag out and across the floor of the guild. Various onlookers chuckled and patted Torrel on the shoulder, some wishing they’d gotten the chance instead. But the duty to the mission came first, and nobody faulted Torrel or Kyla for sacrificing one of their team for the good of it. Torrel rolled onto his back and stretched, letting other guild members poke or rub into his sprawled furry tummy, it quite squishy and occasionally reciprocating with a gurgle or muffled cry within. Wotty felt every little paw rubbing inward, which only seemed to stimulate the flow of acids and constriction of the walls further.

Eventually, the others made their way out, since supper was soon. Torrel spotted Kyla up near the guild membership listing hung next to the mission board, crossing Wotty’s name off their team list. “You realize we’ll need to find a new partner, right? Not too much to choose from currently.”

Torrel rolled onto his stomach, making Wotty feel like the whole world would cave in, until the Quilava sat up and shrugged. “Fine by me,” he said, scratching his wide stomach. “We can worry about that later though. It’s suppertime!”

Kyla quirked her head. “You’re actually hungry?” Torrel licked his lips and nodded.

“Wotty was great, but he was only lunch!”

So he and Kyla joined the rest of the guild for the usual dinner. No longer starving, Torrel once again appreciated the smooth, tasty sweetness of the spread of berries that the guild typically procured for meals. Despite his bloated belly squashing against the edge of the table, making Wotty whine and cry at the feeling of being even more compressed in the gut, Torrel was able to clear several plates of fruity goodness without issue. Usually guild members weren’t permitted such a feast, but he and Kyla were very much in the Guildmaster’s favor that day, who was busy playing a chipper tune on the flute while the guild ate. Torrel stuffed himself and then some, and Wotty’s day got all the worse, as mounds of chewed up berries and sluicing juices poured all over him. The devoured food sizzled all around, the belly growing hotter and hotter as easy-to-digest foodstuffs activated still-inert fluids about him. “Agh. A-AAAAAH!” Wotty squealed, squirming and flinching all over but unable to escape the oven-like stomach’s machinations. He pushed against the walls, which pushed back around him, scrunching his chubby body together further, head pressed from all sides, ears hearing every ounce of food – and Pokémon – being digested. “Heeeeeelllp!!!”

But the ruckus of everyone eating, and the cocoon of much louder noises of digestion, deafened the world to the digesting Oshawott’s pleas. Wotty continued to shout and yell and plead all through supper, having to negotiate his head past the continued influx of devoured berries, until he could no longer move due to the cramped nature of the stomach. Torrel and Kyla retired for the evening not much later, the long mission having taken its toll. Kyla curled up neatly in her bed, with Torrel sprawled lazily on his side. His stomach half-hung off the edge, visibly twitching with the fidgeting struggles of his lunch. Constant groans and gurgles permeated the team members’ bed chamber, the two Fire-types easily falling asleep to its tune. Kyla was exhausted from the day’s efforts, and Torrel was in a food coma, though still smiling and licking his lips as he slept and dreamed of a berry-stuffed Wotty gliding down his gullet.

Wotty’s empty bed would be occupied again soon, but that was a matter for another day. Wotty himself continued to futilely fight for his life, consciousness barely hanging on, but unable to sleep in the burning squelching stomach of a Fire-type Pokémon. “Can’t… take this… much more…” he whimpered, fresh stinging too-hot acids nearly burying him. His body shifted about to the whims of the stomach, and his whole night was spent in this state, the Oshawott at Torrel’s utter mercy.

The next morning arrived, and Torrel woke with a loud, exaggerated yawn and the smacking of lips. He instinctively rubbed into his belly, which still was full of a twitching, barely-alive Oshawott, who flinched at the external pressure. His voice was gone, only able to silently beg to be let out, mostly buried in the burning fluids all night long. Torrel smiled down at was reminded of his great feasts yesterday, and slowly rolled out of bed, landing on all fours. He waddled out of the chamber, leaving the snoozing Kyla be, and went for a leisurely morning stroll on the outskirts of the guild hall. He greeted a few other early risers with a nod, but mostly kept to himself, working on his gait to not look too ridiculous despite the waddling motion.

Wotty was nauseated from the renewed sloshing and swaying of the still-churning belly. The berries were completely digested by this point, only the occasional flaps of skin from the fruit still rubbing against his fur. It was a brief relief, but a moment later they’d shift, and burning fluids would once again rub into his softened-up body. Wotty couldn’t take it, having survived hours and hours of digestion, hanging on by a thread. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Torrel had eaten him alive. How Kyla had allowed it. And how he was soon going to be nothing but fat sagging off the Quilava’s stomach and sides forevermore, nothing but a guild member’s meal, his aspirations dead.

Wotty managed one more loud squeal to be freed from said fate as food, when Torrel returned to the bed chamber. Kyla had gotten up at some point, as the space was deserted, but that was fine by Torrel. He and Kyla had the day off, with the leader Vulpix likely off recruiting. Torrel, meanwhile, fancied a post-walk nap, and lazily crawled back into bed. His wide stomach scrunched and dragged against the side of the mattress, causing Wotty’s last cry to ring out as a muffled noise among a sea of gurgles. When fully atop the bed, Torrel idly flumped belly-first down, legs spread wide. Wotty never recovered from that, the stomach too-tightly compressed, the last of his vitality snatched from him. The solid bulges from Torrel’s stomach lost all constitution with the weight of the Quilava crashing down, and a roaring CHRRRRRRGLE filled the room. Torrel’s stomach sloshed greatly, with pockets of digested Pokémon fat sprawled out from under each of his sides as well as under his rear.

Torrel belched thickly and clapped his lips together, the last of Wotty’s aftertaste dancing along his tongue. “Ahh… don’t think I’ll have a day like that again any time soon,” he chuckled, wiggling his backside to get comfy atop the still-churning softened belly. “Your sacrifice was totally worth it, Wotty. After all, the Guildmaster’s flute was returned safe and sound!”

GRRRRN.