“Tris, where’s your door, you smelly dog!?” 
The Labrador perked up and smirked at hearing the confused cry of his guest, casually strolling to the sliding glass door in his kitchen, opening it, before walking down the steps past the garden, and opening a gate in the fence. “Hey, Jag. Did you even look or did you just park, see no door, and start screaming?”
The house was set far back on the lot, with a long driveway leading up to an area of asphalt that could be used as a parking lot, only to be overloaded if there was a big enough party. 
The jaguar in question had parked right next to Tris’ car. He mewled, stalking over towards the dog. “You could have told me you had a dumb backwards house!”
“I did.” Tris smirked, patting Jag on the shoulder, before turning around and starting back up the steps. “Months ago. C’mon, I’ve got pizza and stuff.” His big fluffy tail thwapped across the cat as it wagged behind him.
Jag swatted at the tail, paws nearly a blur as he flailed his arms at the elbow in front of him, but it seemed to have no effect on his host. His own tail flicking behind him, the faintly spotted black feline followed the larger male up the stairs and through the open sliding glass door. 
On the kitchen counter there was laid out a pizza box, a couple glass bottles of soda, and a plate of brownies. Tris offered the cat a plate. “You get eating and I’ll set up the game, okay? Unless you’d rather watch a movie first?”
Taking the plate, Jag shrugged, “Either way is fine.”
The big dog headed off into the next room, tail bapping the doorframe on the way through from the casual wag he had going. “Can you hear me okay in there?” He called back over his shoulder.
The cat tilted his head a little, halfway through opening the pizza box. “Yeah?”
Tris smiled, heading over to the case on the wall with all his DVDs and Blu-Rays. “Okay, good. I wanted to talk a bit about Mothra…” 
…and Jag immediately tuned out what the dog was saying in favor of paying attention to the food. He set about munching happily on a slice of pizza. He reached over to one of the glass bottles and popped the top with a deft use of his feline claws, taking a swig from it once his first slice of pizza was completed. The jaguar flicked his tail idly as he reached for another slice of pizza, merrily munching away. 
It was a really tasty pizza, and Jag was starting to wonder how it would pair with dog. He looked from the kitchen over to the other room, and watched the soft, heavy canine move around. He was looking through his many DVDs while continuing to just yap away about something, his tail thwapping around behind him. That tail knocked some stuff off a shelf and he groaned and turned to pick it up, which just showed off his shapely rear to the cat. 
Absentmindedly, the jaguar reached for another slice, watching. Despite the fact he was stuffing his face, just watching his friend was making him hungrier. 
Tris started gathering DVD cases in his paws. He seemed to stop and start talking a lot more while doing that, getting distracted back and forth between whatever he was rambling on about and his selection process.  Shortly, however, the labby started into the kitchen with his stack.
Jag swallowed the last of a slice of pizza, and looked down at the box. His tail fluffed out behind him. There was a quarter of the pizza left! Was he that hungry? Trying to be nonchalant, the jaguar closed the box and took another sip of his soda.
The black dog walked over to the side of the counter, where there was a free spot, and spread the stack of DVDs out. “Okay, so here’s a selection of movies we could watch. But if you don’t wanna watch any of these we could just get right down to gaming after we finish eating. 
About to speak, the spotty male opened his mouth, striding with feigned confidence to the larger dog. However, his belly saw fit to that moment, glrn around its contents, displacing gas. The small feline let out a loud, pizza-scented belch, practically in his friend’s face. 
Tris blinked at this, momentarily, and then blepped, “And you say I’m gross.” He started around the feline to get at the food. 
“You are, mew.” The black cat idly looked down at the DVDs. There wasn’t a one he recognized. They had covers that looked painted at the most recent 40 years ago. They varied between abstract poster designs and illustrations of kaiju, actors Jag had never heard of posing with their names beside them, and one with a big 5 pointed starfish looking thing with blades sticking out of it under a made up fantasy word. “What are these…?” 
Tris had been about to open the pizza box. He paused, looking over, and pointed. “That’s the first Mothra movie, in the original Japanese with subtitles. It’s good campy fun and I love…”
Jag couldn’t bring himself to care, but he also saw that the dog’s big paw was gradually closing the pizza box again, so he decided to look interested, and nod a lot. But even that started to wear thin for the cat. He was plotting how to get a potion into the dog so he’d be more bite-sized.
The dog’s mouth just kept moving, as his free paw pointed to case after case, speaking long-windedly about every single one. 
Looking down at the cases, Jag idly felt over his potions case he kept on him most of the time, the container filled with small vials he could use at a moment’s notice, as long as he got the chance to. He swigged his soda, nodding absently.

The Labrador opened the pizza box and slipped his paw in, thinking he’d at least get his first course ready to eat while he talked, and blindly felt around. His explanation stalled as he felt around. There were only a couple slices left. Of that whole pizza. 
“Uh-huh…” Jag murmured, staring blankly at the DVD cases. 
“And the thing is about that movie…” Tris started, closing the box subtly, “…Is that Bela Lugosi finally breaks free of his typecasting and is finally the victim, getting devoured by Boris Karloff right on camera. It’s a rather formative experience.” He lied blatantly. 
Jag just hmmed, feigning thoughtfulness, not looking at any one case. 
“And finally, kitty, we have a grand tour of the canine digestive system. I really like this one, the performances aren’t all that convincing, but the special effects, well, you can’t ignore them.” The dog’s stomach growled as he made his way back around the counter, up behind the feline.
“Yeah, these all sound good…” The jaguar murmured, fidgeting with something in his pocket.
Tris’ big handpaws wrapped around the skinny cat’s waist, pinning his arms to his sides in one fell swoop, before lifting him off his feet. “I guess we’ve made our decision, then!”
Mewling in surprise, Jag writhed, trying to tug his arms free. “Stinky dog, what’re you doing?” He tilted his head back to look up at his host.
The black canine wasn’t listening, it seemed, judging from how all the cat could see of his captor was the glistening abyss of the black inner flesh of his friend, framed in the glossy white teeth.  Those jaws clamped down around his whole head and neck, shoulders smushed to his cheeks. 
The jaguar’s head was almost immediately saturated in the copious drool filling this environment. The scent of dog breath joined it, and the feline protested weakly, while blushing and squirming.
Shifting his head just a bit to work the corners of his mouth around the spotted feline’s narrow shoulders, Tris pulled and swallowed firmly, his stomach loudly letting out a “Glurrroooogh” as the tastebuds told the digestive organ that it’d soon be having cat. As his jaws descended enough to get the cat’s elbows inside, the dog delved his paw into the pocket Jag had been fiddling with.
Sputtering a bit and blushing all the deeper at hearing that prolonged sound of the belly below preparing for his visit, Jag mewled aloud as he realized where that paw was going, kicking his shoes against the cabinet beneath the counter. If the dog got the potions off him, he wouldn’t have any means of escape, and he’d be dog pudge for sure!
The Labrador turned away from the counter and tilted his head back to raise the cat more on horizontal, putting less strain on his throat as he dug around. He got his hands around a familiar feeling case in one paw, and grasping it tightly. He tried to withdraw with his prize, but felt it stuck in the cat’s grip. Pondering this impasse for a moment, the dog smirked a bit around his meal and used his other paw to start tugging the cat’s wallet and keys free.
The cat practically flailed as he was pickpocketed, one shoe colliding with the ceiling as he kicked about. In his frantic motion, his grip slipped, but he re-grasped onto the potions case before it got out of his hand’s limited area of influence. 
Changing tactics, Tris shifted his tongue around, the broad oral organ soaking more of the cat’s shirt, before with a deft twist, it slipped under the collar and slorped directly along the cat’s back-fur. With practiced ease, the powerful muscle flexed and ground along the tasty feline’s spine, drooling all the more around him. His shirt was saturated by now, along with much of the fur beneath, and flecks were darkening his jeans. 
Mewling weakly, Jag didn’t notice until it was too late that he was no longer holding onto his case. He started kicking again, but suddenly he was upturned.
The dog had tilted his head back and swallowed firmly again, working the feline’s legs towards vertical. With the ceiling height in the kitchen, he got a mischievous idea. With his paws he tugged the cat’s knees up to either side of his head so that the two shod feet would be parallel with the celing, and gave another slurp, catching a sensitive spot.
The desired reaction was induced. Jag kicked his legs straight sharply. Unfortunately, because of his current position, that meant his feet planted on the kitchen ceiling and he “Stood” himself thighs-deep in the gullet of his friend turned predator. The same abrupt motion shoved his head through the fleshy valve into the waiting stomach. The air was thick with the scent of stomach juices that had been stewing on nothing for a considerable amount of time.
For just a bit more teasing, Tris raised himself up onto his tiptoes, slurking up to the mewling cat’s knees, before rocking back to his heels. He reached up his mitts and braced them against the wiggling shoes’ soles, and started to pull, not even swallowing.
Down inside, this motion was forcing Jag to get his face smushed right into the stomach lining, his drool-saturated fur giving him the barest protection against the concentrated enzyme slurry that awaited him. As his shoulders pressed through, he started having to curl up, his chin getting forced against his chest. He curled his toes in his shoes, mewling pitifully, that even his toeclaws would be unhelpful wrapped in his sneakers. 
The hefty dog’s shirt couldn’t keep up with the swell of his belly as the cat was deposited within, riding up to show more and more of his black fur. Tris shoved the shoes into his mouth, then slapped his gut with one paw, while the other made a V and placed one claw on each sole. With a low glrrrn, he pushed until his fist met his uvula.
The cat mewled at the slap, momentarily distracted from just how much of him was left free outside. The tightness working around his ankles let him know soon enough. As Jag felt the last of his body get forced into the big dog’s throat, that final, damning swallow sounded out around him, and his knees had to bend to accept his legs into the stretching chamber. 
As Tris felt the last of the cat spill into his belly, his gut bounced down with the impact. He wagged happily, groping over his belly with both paws. “There we go. The main feature should be starting soon. I just need to make a call.”
“M-main feature?” Jag wriggled around until it felt as though he was on his knees, able to push his paws outward, every motion of the canine swaying him around. 
Tris speed-dialed on his house phone, looking at his cell phone for the menu. A muffled voice at the other end sounded out. “Yeah, hi. I’d like three lamb gyros sandwiches, a side of extra gyros meat, and a side of fries. No drink, no. Alright. I’ll be there.”
The cat listened to this, confused, his paws and face making distinct shapes despite the layer of padding they had to contend with. “Mew..? Doggy’s gonna get something else to eat? Can I come out?”
Tris groped his belly and let out a low belch, tightening it up on the cat. “Tell you what. Ten minutes to get the order, most of that is the drive down there. When we get back, I’ll let you out, on one condition.”
“W-what’s that, mew?” Jag squirmed as the tighter space forced more of the fluids to mingle with the drool in his fur.
“That you’re still solid enough to come out.” The dog teased, wagging, as he got his keys and wallet out of a cabinet. He grinned at the extra movement this elicited, picking up the pizza box and carrying it outside. He locked the sliding door behind him, and headed down to his car. 

Over the short drive, Tristan easily finished off the pizza with one hand while the other stayed on the steering wheel. Over the sound of the AC and the road noise he couldn’t hear the cat’s complaints of food raining down on him, but he could feel he was talking, and couldn’t stop smiling broadly. 
After a few red lights to wait, and a careful left turn, the canine parked next to a mini mall, and slipped out of the car, cradling his gut with one paw. “Alright, we’re here, kitty. Behave and we’ll be out in no time.”
Jag pressed out with a paw, making a fairly clear handprint. “Mew, you got me covered in drooly mashed up pizza!” He shifted, his face joining the paw as he shifted around inside the cramped chamber.
“That is irrelevant to anything I just said.” The dog chuckled and mooshed his paw down over the shapes the cat made, and tugged his shirt down as far as it would go. That wasn’t very far along the dome of his occupied belly, and it still left his navel well exposed. He made his way over to the restaurant, stepping right in with a casual press of the door, causing the electric chime to sound. 
The jackal working behind the counter put on his work smile. “Hello, can I help you?”
“Yes, I called in an order?” Tris stepped up to the counter, slightly mooshing his gut into the corner. He blushed a little as he realized he’d mis-judged the distance between himself and the furniture.
“Tris?” The worker looked at the order slip. “That’s not done yet. Would you like to wait here right now or come back in about five minutes?”
The hidden cat wiggled, a handpaw noticeably pressing back against the corner of the counter jabbing into the black furred dome. 
The cashier looked as though he wasn’t sure if he’d seen it or not, staring, a little.
“Oh, I’ll just go over to the Dragon’s Den.” The Labrador waved, flustered, his other paw plapped across his tum firmly as he backed up from the counter. Pivoting with a heavy wobble, he started for the other door, opposite the one he came in through. Pressing the door open, he walked out into the half-courtyard of storefronts that made up the mini mall.
“Mew?” The hidden cat squirmed a little. “What’s the dragon’s den?”
Tris chuckled, “Game shop next to the gyro place.” He passed a small ornamental fountain he’d never seen turned on. “Might as well see if they have the new splatbook while I wait for my order.”
“You said it’d be ready when we got here, mew!” The soggy jaguar wriggled in distress. 
The labby wrapped both of his mitts under his belly, lifted with a grunt, and dropped his belly, bulges of Jag’s face and hands pushing out the underside for a moment while it bounced down. He followed this up with a firm squeeze of his abdominal muscles. “Now, be a good kitty like I said.”
A tabby coming out of the shop Tris was headed for had frozen in place, having seen the whole display. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were fixated on that gravid belly.
The black dog blushed as he realized he had an audience, walking for the door and realizing the domestic cat’s position was nearly blocking his path. “erm, pardon me…” He slipped past the cat in a way that he felt would get through the door easily. Once again he’d miscalculated based on his new belly, and the soft dome ground along the other customer’s arm, eliciting a squirm beneath the surface. “S-sorry…”
A white rat was standing behind the counter, bored, but his eyes lit up behind his round glasses as he spotted the canine entering the establishment. “Hey, Tris!” His eyes trailed down to the significantly larger belly. “Eating well, I take it?”
The already flustered pup chuckled, absentmindedly holding his belly with one paw. “In a manner of speaking. I was wondering if you had Endrokanen’s Book of Baddies in yet?”
“Yeah, but remember you’re already using two splatbooks in our Sunday games.” The rat turned from the counter to get a book off the shelf behind him. 
“I doubt there’s much character customization info in this one.” Tris gently kneaded with his paw and brought his other paw up to his muzzle to stifle a rumbling belch that puffed out his cheeks. The dog blushed, swallowing down some fresher air for his passenger to replace what had been displaced. 
The process, however, had set the feline back to squirming, complete with muffled mewls.
One of the cashier’s dish-like ears twitched, but he remained professional, retrieving the book and turning around, notably holding it at an angle where it obscured his view of the dog’s belly for the moment. “You’d be surprised.”
Pulling out his wallet, the Labrador tried his best to play off the moment, though his cheeks were practically glowing beneath his black fur.  “Oh, is Janus GMing this weekend?”
“Yeah, they’re running a table.” The rat accepted Tris’ payment card deftly and jammed the slightly delaminated plastic into the chip reader attached to the till. 
“Good. Janus always makes it real.” The dog smiled broadly. 
“Speaking of real,” The cashier whipped his rope-like tail behind him. “If you want me to get you a position here, I’m gonna have to convince the boss you’re not going to just gobble up customers.” He finally addressed the handprints and footprints and kneeprints and faceprints that were shifting around the canid’s belly.
Tris stammered for a moment. “H-hey, if it makes him feel better, I only ate this guy because he stole from me. I’m good for loss reduction.”
The rat snicker-squeaked, adjusting his glasses. “Not a liability at all.” 
“It isn’t if there’s a prominently displayed sign reading ‘shoplifters will be ingested’, right?” Tris contended, his blush fading as he got into the teasing idea, his tail wagging about.
The cashier printed out the receipt and passed it and the card back to Tris. “As long as it’s paired with ‘Beware of Dog’, I’m sure.”
The Labrador stuck his tongue out as his stomach glrrrned around its contents, joining the faint mewls muffled by adipose. “I’ll see you on Sunday, Non.”
Chuckling, the rat passed Tris the book. “You’re the only one who calls me that.”
Another blep from the canine was his only response, pivoting and nearly overbalancing from momentum as his gut swung around, he blushed and headed out of the shop with his purchase, held against once side of his belly, under his arm. “Now, we’re almost done. Just hold on, okay?”
“We were supposed to already be done!” Jag whined, pushing his handpaws out to either side. 
Tris pressed the door to the restaurant open again, stepping inside. 
The Jackal perked, and gathered up the take-out order in a big bag, before setting it on the counter.
Passing his payment card over (after nearly handing the cashier his receipt for the book instead) Tris wagged, his stomach growling aloud as his nose was filled with the smells of his order.
As the worker passed over the order, receipt, and card back to his customer, his eyes couldn’t help fixating on the exposed dome of belly as it wobbled and shifted of its own accord, and especially as a face pressed out just above the navel. The jackal couldn’t help blushing as he watched, a noticeable shiver going up his spine.
Tris blushed deeply once more, taking his things. “Thank you.” He made his way out towards where he’d parked, twisting to the side to press the door open with his hip because both arms were well occupied now. 
It was the occupation in his belly that got the most looks as he passed other shoppers, the active feline refusing to be subtle.

Jag mewled weakly, pushing out with his foot, and wriggling as the stomach walls started to compress in on him in powerful kneading motions, grinding along him firmly. He felt one of his shoes coming loose as the dog’s stomach squeezed and rolled him about, and beneath his clothes his fur was starting to feel less like fur and more like more of the dog’s slimy chyme. 
The jaguar felt the canine sit down, and the band of nylon smush down on him at a strange angle. He grunted as a motion outside pressed him against what must have been a center console, and then the steering wheel. He yowled as one of his wriggles elicited a honk from the vehicle. “Too loud!”
Tris’ laughter rumbled around him. “You’re the one who hit the horn, silly. Now sit tight and stay solid until I get home.” The dog’s teasing voice just brought out more squirming, as the muscular walls possessively pulled in on their contents, squeezing and slorping. There were no distinct signs of masticated pizza left, all it had to work on was the cat.
And the dog was in an enclosed car with very tasty smelling food.

As Tris pulled up to his house and parked, he wobbled his gut with one paw. “Alright, we’re back.” 
A weak mewl was his only response from down below, along with the belly rocking on its own with no protrusions. 
The labrador picked up his book and his take out, clambering out of the car and closing the door with a hip-check. He climbed up the stairs, feeling his gut threatening to release more gasses, but he held it in as best he could. Tris unlocked his door and slid it open, putting his purchases on the kitchen counter, before he headed over to the bathroom.
Flipping on the light switch with a paw, he tugged off his shirt, revealing the white diamond marking on his chest. Tris turned to faced the mirror, groping over his belly as it rocked from the motion. “Alright kitty, gimme a good squirm so I can appraise how solid you are.”
With a wet sloshing sound, the belly wobbled, and a few ill-defined shapes pressed out. “No fair…” The jaguar’s voice was weak but still just discernable.
Kneading more firmly over his gut, Tris felt the shape inside. More importantly, he felt the shape give under pressure. “It was totally fair. If you didn’t want to be digested, you should have been less digestable.” He teased. “Yeah, can’t let you out now. Better to churn you down. We can try playing games and watching movies another time.”
The cat inside squirmed more energetically, but was still too weak to make any distinct shapes press out of the belly dome. 
“Lemme just get you settled in.” Tris closed his eyes, focusing, as the walls started to eagerly clench and grind, churn and squeeze, the cat’s protests getting less and less coherent, the movements getting less distinguishable from the belly’s digestive motions, contractions softly rippling the furred dome. He stretched his arms over his head, pressing both palms to the ceiling, and clenched down firmly with his abs. The dog’s belly contracted to nearly the size it was before he added a full grown jaguar to it with a wet GLORP. 
Then, all at once, it bwomp’d back out to the size it was holding the cat with a wobble, a silver marking having appeared in the fur just above his navel. He patted the mark with a happy sigh, and slipped his shirt back on as he headed back towards the kitchen. That pressure from before threatened him again, so he made an abrupt turn, through the door into the den, and another into the small laundry room to one side.
Tris grasped the lid of the washer, yanked it open, and relaxed his throat. A thick bulge came up his gullet, before two shoes, a pair of jeans, and a shirt disgorged as a wadded up mass, splatting right into the washer, followed by a long wet belch that had carried the indigestibles up. 
He patted his gut, noticeably smaller with the clothes and gasses released. Tris appraised the curve of his belly, rubbing a thumb over the marking in his fur. “They’ll be clean by the time you need them again, no worries.” He addressed the absorbed cat, looking down into the washer. 
He could just faintly hear a flustered mewl in the back of his mind. Tris sighed contentedly and headed back towards the kitchen. His belly let out an empty rumble, swaying and jiggling with every heavy step. He chuckled, slurping over his chops. After all, he still had his take-out to eat, and those brownies!